Adultery Amorous Ayesha

[Sengolan]

Hi Friends, 

This is my first story to be written in any forum. So I might make mistakes, errors etc. I am not obliged to make regular updates. However, I will try for that. Please don't expect me to write according to your  expectations or wishes. I write what I feel like. Also I am not a seasoned writer like the forum's stalwarts. I am not good in finding appropriate images and posting them here too. Hope you wll bear me.

Now let's start.....

The bass from the speakers vibrated through the floorboards upstairs, rattling Ayesha’s teacup where it sat on the kitchen counter. She sighed, setting down her book—another paragraph lost to the thumping chaos below.


Down in the basement, Faiz leaned against the wall, nursing his third beer, watching his friends laugh too loud at nothing in particular. The room smelled of spilled whiskey and sweat, the kind of atmosphere that usually made him feel alive. Tonight, though, his stomach twisted every time someone shouted over the music.


Footsteps creaked on the stairs. His head snapped up just as the door swung open, revealing his mother silhouetted in the dim light. Ayesha stood there, her saree neatly dbangd, her expression unreadable. The music scratched to a stop as someone fumbled with the aux cord.


"Ma," Faiz blurted, voice cracking. "We were just—"


"Having fun?" she finished for him, stepping inside. Her eyes skimmed over the bottles littering the table, the half-drunken grins of his friends. No anger, no shock—just a faint, curious tilt of her head.

Ravi was the first to recover from the collective shock, his grin widening as he held up a half-empty bottle of whiskey. "Aunty, you want a drink?" His words slurred slightly, but the mischief in his eyes was sharp. Faiz felt his fingers tighten around his beer bottle, nails digging into the label. He could already hear the scolding—his mother’s voice cutting through the haze of alcohol, shattering the night into something ugly and tense.


But Ayesha only laughed, a soft, throaty sound that made Faiz’s stomach drop. "Why not?" she said, plucking the bottle from Ravi’s hand with an ease that suggested she’d done this before. Faiz blinked as she tipped it back, swallowing without so much as a wince. The boys erupted into cheers, Tony slapping the table hard enough to make the glasses rattle.


"Damn, Aunty!" AK whooped, leaning forward. "Didn’t know you were this cool."


Ayesha wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her gaze flicking to Faiz for a second—long enough for him to see the glint there, something he couldn’t name. "There’s a lot you don’t know," she said, and the way she said it made Samar chuckle nervously into his drink.


Faiz wanted to vanish. He could feel the heat crawling up his neck as his friends exchanged glances, their drunken brains no doubt spinning with possibilities. His mother wasn’t supposed to be *here*, wasn’t supposed to *drink with them*, wasn’t supposed to smirk like she knew exactly what they were thinking.

Then she asked the question. "So," Ayesha mused, tapping her fingers against the bottle, "why only boys tonight? No girls?"


The room went still. Ravi’s grin turned wolfish. "Because Faiz said no girls allowed," he drawled, jerking his thumb in Faiz’s direction. "Strict orders."


Ayesha’s eyebrows arched. She turned to Faiz, her head tilting. "Is that so?"


Faiz opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His mother’s expression was unreadable, but there was something in the way she held herself—looser, lighter, like she’d shed some invisible weight the moment she stepped into the basement.


Then she laughed again, shaking her head. "Oh, beta," she said, and the old endearment felt strange in this new context. "I didn’t mean girls from outside. I meant *your* girls. Girlfriends, friends—whatever." She shrugged, taking another sip. "No objections from me."


The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Faiz could feel four pairs of eyes burning into him, their disbelief almost palpable. Samar coughed, hiding his laugh behind his fist.


And then Ravi, ever the instigator, leaned forward, his voice dripping with playful challenge. "So, Aunty," he said, grinning, "does that mean you’re the only female attraction here tonight?"

"Guess so," she said, and raised her bottle in a mock toast. The boys cheered again, louder this time, their voices blending into the music someone had restarted. Faiz stared at her, his throat tight.


This wasn’t his mother. This was someone else entirely.


The basement's dim lighting did nothing to hide the way Ayesha's saree clung to her curves as she shifted her weight, the fabric whispering against her thighs with every slight movement. At 38, she carried herself with an effortless grace that made it impossible to look away—the kind of woman who turned heads without trying, even in her modest collegeteacher attire. Tonight, though, the boys weren’t just glancing; they were staring. Ravi’s gaze lingered a beat too long on the dip of her waist, Tony’s fingers twitched like he wanted to reach out, and AK’s usual cocky smirk had melted into something slack-jawed and hungry. Only Samar seemed to remember Faiz existed, shooting him occasional apologetic glances before his eyes dragged back to Ayesha’s lips as she took another sip of beer.

Faiz’s stomach churned. He’d seen his mother through the years—strict at parent-teacher meetings, stern when he’d skipped classes, soft when he’d cried over scbangd knees—but never like this. The way she licked a stray drop of whiskey from her lower lip made his friends’ pupils dilate, their laughter turning breathless. Her blouse, usually buttoned primly to the throat, had loosened just enough to reveal the hollow of her collarbone, and Ravi’s fingers drummed against his knee like he was counting the seconds until he could touch.



"Aunty," Tony slurred, leaning so far forward his chair creaked, "you ever dance?" The question hung in the air, thick with implication. The bass-heavy remix of some Bollywood song pulsed around them, and Ayesha’s hips gave an almost imperceptible sway—just enough to make AK’s grip tighten around his bottle.


Faiz’s nails dug into his palms. "Ma," he tried, voice cracking, "maybe you should—"


"Should what?" she interrupted, turning those dark, amused eyes on him. "Go upstairs and pretend I don’t hear you boys wrecking my house every weekend?" Her chuckle was low, throaty, and Ravi’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Relax, beta. I’m just having fun." She stretched her arms overhead, the movement pulling her saree taut across her chest, and Tony made a noise that wasn’t quite a cough.

The air felt charged, suffocating. Faiz watched helplessly as his mother—his *teacher* mother, who’d once made a rowdy class of tenth graders tremble with a single look—became something else under the basement’s flickering string lights. When she bent to refill Samar’s glass, the pallu of her saree slipped, revealing a sliver of smooth back, and AK actually bit his lip. Faiz wanted to vomit.



Then Ravi, ever the snake, slid closer to her on the couch. "Aunty," he murmured, voice dripping with false innocence, "you ever let loose like this when you were our age?" His knee brushed hers, and Faiz saw red.


But Ayesha just smirked, tilting her head like she was considering the question. "Oh, Ravi," she sighed, patting his cheek with a condescension that should’ve sobered him, "you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve done." The way she said it—slow, deliberate—made Tony choke on his drink. Even Faiz froze. His mother had never spoken like that, never *looked* like that, like she was dangling some secret just out of reach.


The music switched to something slower, sultrier, and Ayesha’s fingers tapped the rhythm against her thigh. Ravi’s eyes tracked the movement like a predator. Faiz’s pulse roared in his ears. This wasn’t happening. Couldn’t be happening. Not with his mother, not with his *friends*—