Fantasy Mom and them

[Rupakpolo1]

One day i saw him with his two friends entering the servant quarter. I could not control my curiosity.

I followed them, keeping a safe distance so as not to be seen. They sat in a circle, passing a bottle of local liquor around. The air was thick with their laughter and lewd comments. They spoke about my mother, Kakoli, their voices low and hungry. My cheeks burned with rage as I heard the words that should never have been spoken about her.

"Look at the way she moves," Rafiq slurred, his eyes glazed. "So graceful, like a deer in the forest. Just waiting to be caught."

Shambhu chuckled, his teeth stained from years of chewing paan. "And those eyes, so innocent, so... ripe."

Rafiq nodded, his lecherous grin widening. "Can you imagine her pink lips wrapped around our cocks?" His tongue darted out, licking his own lips as if he could already taste her.

Shambhu took a swig from the bottle and passed it to Raghu, his eyes gleaming with lust. "Her mouth, so soft and warm," he said, his voice thick with desire. "It'd be heaven to feel those lips sliding down, taking all of us in."

Raghu nodded, his gaze distant, as if he was already seeing the scene play out in his depraved mind. "Her eyes," he murmured, his hand moving to his crotch, "those big, scared eyes looking up at us, begging for mercy while she chokes on our cocks."

Rafiq leaned in, his eyes shining with excitement. "And her body," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "so soft and delicate. Like a freshly plucked flower, waiting to be crushed under our weight."

Shambhu let out a low whistle, his eyes glinting with greed. "Her breasts," he said, cupping his hands in the air, "so full and ripe, bouncing with every moan she makes."

Rafiq leaned back against the wall, his hand sliding down his shirt to his pants. "And those pink nipples," he groaned, his eyes half-closed, "so sweet and sensitive, just begging for a bite."

Shambhu took the bottle from Raghu, his hand shaking with excitement. "Her skin," he said, his voice a low growl, "so soft and smooth, like fresh milk. The way it'd feel against our bare chests as we take turns pumping into her tight, wet pussy."

Rafiq nodded, his eyes glazed with lust. "Yeah," he agreed, "and she's gotta have a tight one. You know how these high-class bitches are, saving it all for their husband."

Shambhu laughed, his eyes on the bottle as he took another swig. "Fuck her husband," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "We're going to show her what real men are like."

Rafiq leaned in, his grin turning predatory. "We'll make her anniversary a night she'll never forget," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "We'll give her the kind of celebration she deserves."

Shambhu's laughter grew louder, echoing through the small room. "But first," he said, slapping Raghu on the back, "we need to make sure the engineer doesn't come home." Raghu nodded in agreement, his gaze never leaving the bottle of alcohol as it made its way around the circle. His mind was racing, thinking of ways to ensure that my father would be detained.

Rafiq, the cleverest of the three, spoke up with an idea. "Why don't we cause some trouble at the worksite?" he suggested, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. "A small 'accident' would keep him busy for hours, maybe even the whole night." The other two men grinned, the plan already taking shape in their minds.

Shambhu added, "Yeah, and we can say it's urgent, that we need him to come right away." Raghu nodded thoughtfully. "It's worth a shot," he said, his hand still resting on his crotch as if he was already imagining something.

Their conversation grew more heated, their voices rising in excitement as they plotted. I crouched there, my heart hammering against my ribs, my mind racing to understand the depth of their depravity. They were going to hurt my mother, use her, and then discard her like a piece of trash. The thought made me sick. I had to tell someone, but who? I couldn't tell my father, not without proof. And what if they found out I knew?

Raghu's eyes grew more intense as he spoke. "We need more than just a night," he said, his gaze flicking to the calendar on the wall. "We need to plan this right.”

It was true my mom and dad anniversary was near. I heard them talking about it. I was not sure how Raghu came to hear about this. It may happened that he had overheard the conversation of my parents. I did not disclose anything about this discussion to my parents. It may be because I was naive enough to understand what Raghu was planning.

Finally our parents anniversary day came. My dad went to working site as usual like other days. Mom wanted dad to stay at home on that day but my dad said he can't do that but promised my mom he will be back soon. My mom seemed excited all day. She cleaned all our rooms and cooked good food for us but my dad did not return from site as expected. She got upset about all this. Kamala told my mom before she left-‘ Bhabhi...dont get upset... Engineer Saheb must have got busy with his work...he will come soon‘.

I saw her crying when my dad did not return by evening.

I asked mom - ' Why are you crying mom'

Mom sighed and said - ‘Work is important to your dad instead of us‘.

Mom had gone to great lengths to prepare for the day. She had worn a stunning red Benarasi sari that she had bought during our last trip to Kolkata. The intricate gold and silver threads woven into the fabric caught the light, giving it a mesmerizing glow. The blouse was tight, hugging her full breasts, making them look like two ripe mangoes waiting to be plucked. Her fair skin was flawless, glowing from the light dusting of powder she had applied, and her eyes were lined with kajal, making them appear even more alluring than usual.

But it was her rosy lips that truly stood out. They were the color of freshly picked raspberries, a perfect shade that made me wonder if she had stolen a bit of the setting sun's beauty for herself. The lipstick she had chosen was a deep red, the kind that seemed to whisper secrets and promises in the most intimate of moments. It was the same shade she wore on special occasions, and every time I saw her with it on, I knew something important was happening.

As the night grew darker and my dad's absence grew heavier, I could see the hope in my mother's eyes slowly fading. She tried to put on a brave face, telling us she was sure he'd be home soon, but I could see the cracks in her armor. Her eyes searched the horizon, willing him to appear, but all she was met with was the indifferent stare of the stars.

Little did we know, the three men had been watching our house from the shadows of the night, their hunger for her growing with each passing moment. They had bided their time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce. And tonight, with my father's unexpected absence, it had arrived.

Mom's eyes searched the room, looking for something to distract herself from the sadness that had settled in. She picked up a book from the bedside table, her fingers tracing the spine without really seeing the title. "Why don't you go have your dinner?" she suggested, her voice brittle. "I'll wait up for your father."

I nodded, my stomach churning with unease. As I made my way to the dining room, I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. The house felt eerily quiet, the silence only broken by the occasional chirp of a night cricket. The food lay untouched on the table, growing cold and forgotten.

It was much later, after what felt like hours of tossing and turning, that I heard the unmistakable sound of a car engine approaching. I sat up in bed and decided to check who it was.

I tiptoed to the window, peering through the curtains. The headlights of the car swept across the garden, illuminating the house with an eerie glow. I watched as my mother, still dressed in her stunning sari, walked out onto the porch.

"Switch off the lights," she called out, shielding her eyes from the harsh beam.

The engine cut off, and the world was plunged into darkness. The headlights of the car remained on, casting a ghostly pallor on the porch and blinding my mother as she stepped out into the night. I held my breath, watching from the safety of my bedroom window.

"Raghu?" she called out, squinting against the brightness. "Is that you?"