[garamrohan]

Sorry guys. Very busy these days. Will update as soon as possible

[Gladiator967]

Please update

[Erotica erotica]

Update bhai..... where are you????

[The Great One]

Your story is nice. Update it.

[garamrohan]

By the time I reached the Station, the train had left the platform and was slowly moving to pick up the momentum. 

“Jiju… Di…” I cried, struggling for breath, hoping my voice would reach them piercing through the noise on the platform. With my head bent and my both hands on my knees, I kept looking at the window they were sitting at. 

Papa had bidded goodbye and had turned back, walking toward me, and then Di saw me and shook her hand. I stood up and ran fanatically, catching with the compartment they were sitting in. On the road, I brushed against papa, ignoring what he expelled, I kept running to the platform by the window. 

“Hey Babu, Why are you here? Didn’t we tell you to take a rest?” Di’s concerned and kept talking which my brain didn’t make out. All I was focused on was - Jiju.

“Please come back soon, Jiju..” I panicked. I felt my voice shaking. And both of them were startled seeing me get this emotional. Little did they know the big trouble that had knocked the door, and the fact that we as a family of three were incapable of facing it. 

They looked at each other, and smiled at me, waving me goodbye. With a promise - “They will be back soon.”

—-

I directly walked in the house. I wanted to ensure mummy had cleaned up the mess as papa was on my behind only. Mummy didn’t poked me as I walked by her, and proceeded with tulasi puja that had been discontinued some time ago.

I walked through the bedroom. It was cleaned impeccably. As if nobody had walked to the room since the morning; as if nothing had ever happened there. The bedsheet has changed, the scattered books were neatly arranged, the floor was washed mirror-clean. No trace of goo; no sickening smell in the air that had suffocated me during my earlier walk there. 

I breathed out the relief and turned to walk back to the main door. 

“Such a disgusting kid you are!” my dad barked as he walked in the house. I paid no attention. I had more serious things to worry about than reacting to his nonsense behavior that was not supposed to change… ever.

I stood by the verandah. Looking at mummy with pity and sympathy, and controlling my emotions from leaking out of my eyes. What a gem of a woman I had as my mother! She was the prime victim. The bruises on her body and mind were more direct and painful. Yet she stood up firmly real fast, and got engaged herself into daily chores. And here I was completely collapsed. A hopeless, shameless son that could have lived.    
   
She had changed into an orange saree, this time the old one. But she was looking equally graceful – the way she looked in any saree at any time. But she looked a bit tired; and for the obvious reason. Just like a stretched rubber band takes time to come to its original dimension, she was in need of ample rest to look the same cheerful again, I thought, and immediately felt ashamed of thinking that way.

And I noticed the bruises on her lower lip. My heart raced again. Had he bitten her, or that’s something else? My puzzled eyes kept observing her for other obvious signs of the exploitation. She had 11 bangles in both hands, no? Only 7 in left and 9 in right hand now.

I hissed and retired to my room. I pierced my face into the pillow and started crying. The incidents passed before my eyes like a video tape and my helplessness and shame tightened in the chest, I let out a big sigh; and then another. In no moment I started crying like a child. 

“What happened, babu?” I heard mummy’s voice and alerted immediately.

I sat up rubbing my dampened and red eyes with my wrist and said nothing.

She walked near me, putting the puja thali on the table by the door and stood before me. Her soft hand moved through my hair, full of motherly love, and I couldn’t help but embrace her by her waist and push my face into her stomach and let my feelings wash away.

“Easy… Don’t behave like a child,” She patted with affection, “Di and Jiju are going to return soon. They will stay longer next time. Isn’t Di’s exam schedule spanning over a month?”

I felt relieved for her misunderstanding of why I had become so overwhelmed. But my heart twitched even more knowing that the danger had only increased now, and I am incapable of protecting my own mother.

“Everything will be all right na mummy?” I sobbed; my face still stuck to her abdomen, seeking motherly reassurance. And she answered in her sweet but cracking voice, “Yes Rohan babu, everything will be all right!”

[Erotica erotica]

Need big update boss!! (Elaborate sex scene with pic + gifs and definetly waiting for your mom new marriage with beggar and new family. Remember Anyone's mother who remarried after the children are grown up (like 15-20 years or more) is extremely sexy and hot as hell )

PLEASE PLEASE UPDATE AND DO NOT TAKE SUCH LONG TIME

[Fing fing]

Need a big update, waiting for next chapter eagerly

[Krishna11]

Waiting for big update

[garamrohan]

Thanks Erotica Erotica, fing fing and Krisna11.

I understand you guys want big update, but due to the nature of the story and limited time, I am struggling to give big updates. Hope you will bear with me.

Posting next update by end of the day.

[garamrohan]

I turned onto my right side, my body heavy with exhaustion. It’s just a dream, I told myself again. I was so drained that even the restless interruptions in my sleep couldn’t keep me awake for long. I extended my feet, and dragged the tangled blanket back over my legs with my feet, eyes still closed, then sank once more into the overbearing sleep.
---

Mummy is looking breathtaking in that magenta pink saree. She always looks beautiful, but this one is different, reserved only for special occasions and festivals. The rich silk clinging to her full curves, the color glowing against her fair skin like petals covering white marble floor. She has dbangd the pallu modestly over her head, the way she always does, with minimal jewellery – just her long magalasutra and jhumkas in ear, catching the light whenever she is moving. The simplicity is making her look even more radiant.

But what is she doing here, near the temple?

The temple bells are echoing in the background, movements of the devotees are felt, and the murmur of prayers is coming from a distance. The air smelled of incense, camphor, and jasmine. Then I see it – she is standing gracefully on the wide stone steps, offering food to the poor sitting there. This is something she does several times a year, ever since Pandit ji had advised her. She is interacting with quiet dignity as she is leaning forward to serve. The dbang of her saree accentuating the generous swell of her breasts and the soft curve of her waist. 

The beneficiaries are blessing her and she is just smiling and accepting those with a genuine namaskar. She is too generous, too heavenly to get disgusted by those poor, unhealthy people and her face is looking as fresh as ever. 

She extends the plate toward the next man with a gentle smile. His fingers deliberately brushes against hers as he takes it, lingering a second too long. She pretends not to notice and softly says, “Please enjoy the food,” before turning away. That’s when the man’s one hand catches her hand and pulls her down to him. Her eyes widen with disbelief and she can’t even breathe with fear as the man speaks, and the voice that comes out is dangerously familiar — low, husky, and dripping with hunger - “Just Khana? I want Maja as well…”
---

I gulped, wetted my dry lips and changed the side… What a filthy dream it is. I pulled the blanket, this time covering my face as well and forced myself to sleep.

---
It’s a pleasant evening. Mummy is walking the road from the bazaar to my house. The road is fully secluded, not even a dog wandering around. And I can see mummy is tired with both hands holding bags full of veggies, fruits and ration. Her fair face is covered with sweat droplets as if those are dew, and she is hissing and walking slowly towards the house. 

And suddenly a figure blocks her road. She gulps, her face depicts the limit of panic. The bags literally spill out of her hand and items scatter on the road. Her head shakes in denial. 

“Majaaaa” the voice comes and she starts running to the opposite direction, picking up her saree plates with one hand and her fleshy and juicy bum jiggles erotically through that saree. The figure follows her with confident and unhurried pace. As he passes through the scattered groceries, he steps over a juicy, ripe orange. The fruit burst under his shoe with a wet, obscene sound. Pulp explodes outward, sweet juice spraying across the road like thick, sticky nectar.

---

Man that was another filthy dream. Had I lost my mind? I felt helpless. I bit on the blanket fabric and soon regretted it. My dry-turning mouth bittered as some fabric loosened into my mouth. I slept on my stomach now, dug my face in a soft pillow and slowly fell asleep.

---

Mummy is standing at the door. She is holding two tiffin boxes in her hand, one for me and the other for papa. As we say goodbye to her, she responds cheerfully, reminding me that she wants to see my tiffin empty. And that for papa she has made his favorite methi (fenugreek leaves) sabji, which doctor has also suggested him to have as he has turned diabetic.

She turns back and there he stands. 

“All gone… with khana… give me mine..”  

She pushes him and vanishes inside the home. And that Rambo guy smiles mischievously as he locks front door from inside and spells “Khub Khana, bahut Maja”

---
I finally woke up. Full of sweat and a shameful erection. I checked at the clock. It was 4 AM in the morning and I understood I needed to do something for our well being, our mental health – mine and for my mummy’s too. 

[Fing fing]

Please update more, this update is sexy but small. Please update next part !

[Waseem990]

next update waiting

[Erotica erotica]

update !!

[img]<a href=[/img]" />

[garamrohan]

I woke up only after the whole room was glowing with fiery sunlight, it shouldn’t have been earlier than 9 PM. I could hear my parents’ murmur in the backyard, and I quietly sat up and reclined against the cushiony pillow. Nervously, I extended my hand and checked my undie. It was damp at the groin area. It was clear that I had wet dreams, but it was not having those, but the kind of the dreams that was troubling me.


I smelled my finger, which carried the pungent smell of drying out semen and wondered if I was a devil born to a noble woman. Not having guts to take on her exploiter was another thing, here I had sexual arousal imagining nasty possibilities and had had a powerful orgasm. “So hopeless you are, Rohan” I cursed myself and suddenly I noticed someone at the door. I don’t know why but I slid under the blanket and pretended to be sleeping.

“My god... Are you still sleeping? What’s wrong with you Babu”, mummy muttered, still maintaining calmness in her voice. 

“Wake up.. Rohan. Wake up before your dad walks in. He has been cleaning the backyard since early morning and was asking for you.” she said, and pulled my blanket.

This startled me and I clutched the blanket between my thighs. “Let me sleep na, mummy” I said as if I was in deep sleep and flipped on the stomach. Hiding my wet undie from her eyes was of utmost importance to me.

“Let you sleep? Check the time and surroundings with your open eyes. It's been 10. Did you fight any battle the whole night?” she taunted, “Get up, let me make your bed.”

“Oh, come on, Mummy, I’ll do it myself. Just let me sleep for five more minutes, and I’ll get up,” I mumbled, burying my face deeper into the pillow.
What else could I have said? Of the battle that I had actually fought?

—

A mowing machine and mechanical cutter would have really helped, but I knew dad won’t agree. He was cutting the branches of spread out trees, clearing off shrubs and grass near the backyard wall compound. I was neatly piling up the cutted pieces of wood by the wall. Those were to be used for water heating and seldom cooking on the chulha (brick stove) in the backyard.

“Look out, there is a honeycomb,” He cried.

It was right at the corner of my parental bedroom’s window. Didn't bees find a better place? I thought. It was small, probably started a few days ago. 

“Shall we remove it?” I yelled.

“No.. Let it grow. We will harvest the honey at the appropriate time,” He uttered, thinking of something, “These bees don't look to be a dangerous species. Anyway, Madhurima, just be careful you won’t disturb them.”

Mummy, who had entered the scene with tea for us, nodded in agreement. 

As we were enjoying tea during a small break, I panicked again – worrying about what would happen behind us. Neither dad nor me was to be at home for the whole day. And that psycho would easily intrude the house. What if I stay at the house all the time? Wont my presence will keep him from misbehaving with mummy. By then I was mindful of how cowardly I am, and I definitely was incapable of fighting him if time comes. But mind that he never attacked her when someone was around. At both the exploitations he had ensured privacy and then only proceeded for the raunchy looting of mummy’s chastity. 

“Papa, I was thinking of staying home to study,” I proposed.

Papa kept working, offering no response.

“I mean, preparatory leave is starting soon anyway, and the syllabus is already finished. It just doesn’t make sense to go to college anymore.”

Papa stopped working and had a sharp, angry glare. “You won’t bunk a single class. Understand?” He immediately returned to his work.

I resumed collecting the sticks, silently and defeated. My plan to stay home and keep the Rambo guy from lingering around the house was ruined. Desperate, I gave a pitiful look at Mummy, silently begging her to intervene. She just widened her eyes and with a sharp, raised-eyebrow look she clearly conveyed: Don't look at me, you're on your own.

Little did she know, this all I was doing for her only.

—

“What’s wrong with you, Rohan?” Ms. Rawat, our english teacher, was thoroughly disappointed. I stood beside her desk, my eyes glued to the floor.

“You never used to be like this. Something is definitely wrong,” she said, her voice heavy with frustration. “Do you even realize how close the exams are? I certainly didn’t expect a performance like this from you, Rohan, especially not right now.” She whirled my graded test paper across the desk toward me. 

Disappointed, I walked back to my desk and slumped into my seat. 25 out of 40. Not to boast, but I was capable of so much more than that. If only that Rambo guy hadn't completely eclipsed our lives. I kept staring blankly at the paper, hardly turning even a single page.

“Hey Rohan, bro... What’s up?” asked Aditya, my desk partner for the day.

I just managed a weak smile in return and rubbed my unhappy eyes.

Aditya was an orphan. Originally from Bengal, he had somehow ended up in Maharashtra a few years ago. An NGO found him struggling to survive on the streets, and recognizing his raw potential, they took charge of his education. That was how he landed in our college – a government institution with a hostel facility that partnered with various NGOs. Over the years, Aditya had groomed himself remarkably well. He didn't just excel in academics and extracurriculars; he picked up Marathi so quickly that he now spoke it as flawlessly as the rest of us. 

“By the way, you can always discuss your problems with me,” Aditya said with a warm smile. “And be assured, it’ll stay between us. God promise.”
“There’s nothing to tell...” I muttered.

“I’m not forcing you to speak right away,” he replied, looking back down at his own paper. “I’m just saying I’m here to listen whenever you feel like sharing. Believe me, sharing a burden makes the pain hurt a little less.”

I glanced sideways at his desk. He had scored a 39 out of 40. That could have been my score, I thought, bitterness creeping into my chest; but suddenly I felt shameful as this very guy was offering help to me out of courtesy.

I smiled at him, this time with genuine gratitude, but how he could have helped me with my weird problem. He was just another immature guy like me.
 
“So let it go.” He said, as if he had read my mind.

“Sorry?”

“I mean, don’t stress over things you can’t control,” Aditya said. “Just focus on what you can do, and give it your best shot. Not every problem can be solved right away. Honestly, some things are better left alone.” 

I just kept looking at him. 

“Time, my brother. Time is the ultimate medicine,” Aditya said, a wise, knowing smile spreading across his face. “Even the most impossible puzzles unravel on their own once the tide turns. We just can't lose our patience before the enemy is reduced to ashes. Until then, we keep fighting the small battles.” 

It was clear he didn’t know what I was dealing with, but his advice hit the mark perfectly. Instead of a lecture, it felt like a steady hand reaching in to stop my panic. 

— 
That night, I slept peacefully. 

Aditya’s words acted like a balm on my bleeding mind. Reflecting on his wisdom, I made a decision: I would do everything in my power to protect Mummy, and stop agonizing over things that were out of my hands. Right now, I didn't have the strength or the resources to teach that bastard a lesson. But I had a brain. I just needed to bide my time, wait for the perfect opportunity, and then eliminate him entirely. 

I know it’s hard to understand why I kept Papa in the dark. Frankly, I don't even have a good reason, much like Mummy couldn't explain why she didn't tell him the day Rambo guy first bangd her. It was just an instinct out of knowing him for these long years. The mere thought of bringing this chaos to Papa and expecting him to be our savior felt like a recipe for disaster. 

So, my new daily routine looked like this: I would wake up and stay at home, studying and helping Mummy until it was time for college. When I left, I’d carry a large bag with me to pick up whatever groceries she needed on my way back. I absolutely refused to go to the bazaar in the evening and leave her alone again. I also decided to completely abandon my evening cricket practice until exams were over. By that time, Di and Jiju would be back to stay with us for her exams. That was the window I was waiting for—the perfect time to figure out how to eliminate Rambo from our lives. And Jiju was going to be my prime accomplice. 

It wasn’t easy, but I learned to control my anxiety. I noticed a distinct pattern: every five to six days, that bastard Rambo guy would get restless, and his footsteps would lead him right back to our house. I could tell just by watching him linger around our neighborhood at those exact intervals. But what really confirmed it was something I noticed near our backyard bathroom. 

One evening, when I returned from college, Mummy was asleep in her bed. It was almost 5 PM, which felt incredibly unusual for her. Then I noticed something else: she had changed into a different saree from the one she was wearing when I left that morning. A sickening suspicion crawled into my mind – the Rambo guy had broken into our house that afternoon and had had sex with her again. But confirming it was going to be nearly impossible. Mummy was meticulous about cleaning up the room and leaving absolutely no clues behind. I had already seen how good she was at it on the day Didi and Jiju left. 

Lost in my thoughts, I went to the backyard bathroom to freshen up. I stripped off my clothes and took a quick bath. As I turned to leave, my eyes caught a bundle stuffed into the corner – it was Mummy's saree and undergarments. It was the exact same saree she had been wearing this morning.

A chill ran down my spine; this was the proof I needed to confirm my worst fears. With trembling hands, I lifted the saree. Her undergarments fell out onto the floor – a matching dark-purble colored brassiere and panty. I dropped the saree and gulped, my heart hammering against my ribs. I had never touched a woman’s intimate clothes before, and my mind was a chaotic blur. Hesitantly, I reached out and picked up the brassiere by its strap, holding it gently as if the fabric itself might burn my fingers.

38 D. The numbers on the tag caught my attention, and a sudden heat rushed to my face, making my ears burn. I turned it over in my hands, dangling it from my fingers as I stared at the voluptuous size of it and the soft, smooth fabric. When I caught its scent, a strange, suffocating aroma filled my chest. A dark fascination began to take root in me. Then, panic snapped me out of it. I threw the brassiere back onto the saree, horrified by my own thoughts, and reminded myself of the boundaries I was crossing, and exactly what I was looking for. 

This time, I reached down and picked up the panty. As I lifted it, a thick blob of white fluid spilled from the fabric, dripping heavily onto the cemented floor of the bathroom. Even in the dim light, the nasty, viscous discharge was unmistakable. A sharp, pungent odor instantly hit my nose, turning my stomach. There was so much of that semen. The air filled with the heavy, musky scent of a sexual encounter, foul and unmistakable. My throat went completely dry. I gulped, horrified, and the panty slipped from my trembling fingers. 

I dumped water over the concrete, bucket after bucket, until the floor was completely clean. Bending down, I grabbed the clothes and wrapped them back as before, placing them exactly where they had been hidden. That was when I noticed the stickiness on my fingers. It was the fluid left behind by Rambo and Mummy. Overcome by a sudden, sickening urge, I brought my hand to my nose and smelled it. 

“Fuck…” the word came out of my throat. My heart was hammering against my ribs, and to my absolute horror, I realized I was fully erect. What the hell is wrong with you, Rohan? Disgusted by my own mind, I desperately held my hands under the running tap, letting the force of the water scrub away the stickiness and the madness of the last few minutes. 

When I finally stepped out of the bathroom, Mummy was waiting by the kitchen's backdoor. Her eyes were red, and her long hair, usually pinned up neatly, was a wild mess. She yawned, looking utterly drained.

“When did you get home, babu?”

“Just now,” I lied smoothly. “Could you make me some tea?”

“Of course. Give me a couple of minutes to freshen up,” she replied, brushing past me on her way to the backyard bathroom. 

I watched her go. Even in her exhausted, disheveled state, there was an innate grace to her walk. I couldn't stop my mind from racing – was this deep exhaustion just the result of a sudden awakening from a heavy afternoon nap, or had Rambo put her through hell today?

[garamrohan]

Thank you Erotica, Waseem and Fing for your earlier comments, I hope you will like my recently posted update as well.

[Fing fing]

This story is unique and concept is rare. Superb update but please update regularly.... waiting for more

[prabudmt]

What a story man... I been following xossipy for few years... Mostly tamil stories... But your story is something super... Without sex scenes and story telling from sons point of view is so erotic man, imagening mom and rambo makes my finger shake.... Really awesome...I readed your previous story holy saviour it was super also... Please continue your good work... And post long regular and longer updates..

[amzad2004]

Why the sex session have skipped? What is the point to write a erotic story then?

[Waseem990]

next update fast

[garamrohan]

Thanks a lot Prabudmt, fing and Waseem. I will give next update in couple of days.