Incest Salman and his Ammi

[neerathemall]

"I have another video. Do you want to see it, Ammi? I think you'll like it," I said, and put on the video from the previous day.

Ammi just stood there transfixed, wordlessly staring at the phone.

Then she grabbed for the phone, but I held my phone straight up above my head. I am quite a bit taller than my Ammi, so there was no way she could reach it.

She jumped up and down a few times to reach it, every time bumping into me. I laughed to see her desperation.

She realised it was futile, and stopped jumping. "Please Salman, give your phone to me."

"No. Jump some more," I said.

She started jumping again, and I held the phone a bit back, so that every time she jumped, she landed almost onto me. Once, she lost her balance and almost fell, and I held her by the waist, pulling her to myself, crushing her large breasts on my chest.

She stopped jumping, and with all her force, pushed me again.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing. I'm going to send this to Abbu."

"Are you mad? Do you know what will happen?" she said, horrified.

"Yes. Abbu will give you a thrashing."

"He will do more than that. What I've done is Zina. He will have me killed. Please Salman, don't tell anyone," she pleaded.

"But I will. You should be punished for your Zina."

"Salman, no, please. I'll do anything you want. What do you want me to cook for you? Do you want new clothes? A new mobile?"

I grinned at her desperation and took my eyes down her body. Her dupatta had come off, revealing a bit of her cleavage, and my eyes stopped at her large breasts, heaving with the exertion of jumping.

She took a step back, realising my intentions, a look of horror on her face.

"No," she said.

"Yes. Otherwise, I will tell Abbu."

Her eyes become downcast, looking at the floor. She knew she had no other options.

"Don't you love me, Ammi?"

Now she looked up at me with a confused look.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you love me, Ammi?"

"Of course, I do. You are my child."

"Then love me. Why are you so hesitant?"

She stood there, unmoving.

I reached out, took her face in my hands, to kiss her. Pulling her roughly to myself, I kissed her roughly, biting her lips, mauling her like a crazed animal.

"No, no," she said, struggling, and managing to free herself from my mauling.

"Not like that. Slowly. Gently," she said, finally resigning herself to her fate.

A bit like her namesake Safiyya, who had resigned herself to her fate hundreds of years ago in the deserts of Arabia, with a man who had just killed her father and husband, I thought. And in doing so, the man had set a template and example for the men of my community, that they could take any woman they wanted, from whoever they wanted, and however they wanted. But the reality in my family had turned out quite the opposite, where a ***** man had taken my Ammi and given her three children. And she had given herself to him willingly.

I tried again, a bit gently, but she pushed me away again.

"Let me show you," she said, and brought her lips to mine, softly nibbling, biting lightly.

She brought her tongue between my lips, pushing it between, touching mine, and sending my temperature rising.

"My Ammi is kissing me!" I thought. My dick was hard as a rock, aroused by the very thought.

We continued kissing, and then Ammi took my hand and led me into the bedroom.

In the bedroom, she pulled my kameez up, and I raised my arms, to help her take it off. Once it was off, she tentatively felt by chest with her fingertips, running them lightly, feeling me. Then she undid the string of my shalwar, and slowly let it fall, releasing my hard and raging dick.