Adultery My Shy Mom Seduced And Fucked by Sir Suresh

[nadia]

CONTINUATION





The next morning, I awoke and headed towards the sitting room, my usual routine. I found my parents already there; the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wafted from the kitchen. 


My mother was sat on my father's lap, a scene that was both surprising and slightly unsettling. It was an unexpected sight; it was a scene I had never witnessed before. 

It was a scene very rare because all this time, my mom was only being fucked and sitting on Arjun Sir's lap.

From where I stood, it appeared she was attempting to reconcile with him after her angry quarrel the previous night, a clear attempt to smooth things over and restore a sense of normalcy.

I hesitated, unsure of how to approach the scene. It felt awkward and intrusive to just walk in. I decided to observe from a distance, hiding and listening to their conversation. 



Mom: (sitting comfortably on Dad's lap, with a playful smile on her face) Hey, my love. Are you still holding onto that grumpy look from last night, or did I manage to get extra cute overnight? 

Dad: (sipping his coffee, his arm wrapped gently around Mom's waist as he glances over at her) Well, the cute factor is definitely there, but I can’t just wipe the slate clean that easily. 

I mean, it’s hard to forget how you shouted at me last night. But really, why were you so angry last night? It felt more intense than usual.

Mom: (pouting lightly, her head on Dad's chest) Okay, fine. If you must know, it’s because you keep asking so many questions! Sometimes it feels like you’re trying to dissect every little thing I do. 

Plus, your overprotectiveness can get a bit suffocating. I just want to feel a little more relaxed, you know? A little free.

Dad: (sighs, putting his cup down and gently stroking Mom's hair) “I had no idea my concern was bothering you that much. I thought I was just trying to look out for you."

"But I get it; I guess I need to ease up a bit. It just comes from a place of love, but I see how it can come off the wrong way."

Mom: (snuggles into Dad's chest) “Exactly! And last night was just the tipping point. I promise I’ll try to be less reactive if you can promise to be a little less… intense with the questions."

"Let’s turn these misunderstandings into more playful conversations, just like we used to!”

Dad: (smiling down at Mom) “Playful conversations sound much better than interrogation. I guess a little light-heartedness could make things easier between us. By the way, I love how cozy you are on my lap.”

Mom: (winks, her eyes sparkling) “I love being cozy with you too. Maybe I’ll whip up my famous pancakes as a peace offering, and you can enjoy them with a side of playful banter."

"And don’t worry, I won’t bite too hard if you ask me too many questions this time. But I will bite your dick tonight on the bed, hehehe”

Dad: (chuckles, shaking his head) “Well, if we’re negotiating biting my dick recipes, I expect a generous portion of that charming pussy on the side. And I promise to be on my best behavior, with minimal interrogation. Deal?”

Mom: (nods, her head still on Dad's chest) “Deal! I’ll make sure to ride your dick with a sprinkle of sweetness and a dash of understanding."

"And let’s make a pact—no more lingering silence, only laughter and love from here on out!”

Dad: (smirks) “That sounds perfect! Just know that if I slip and ask too many questions, it’s only because I care. But I think I can keep things in check as long as you keep snuggling like this.”



After a while, their quiet conversation ended. I cautiously entered the sitting room, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Good morning, dear," my mother greeted me, a genuine warmth in her voice that surprised me. 

"Good morning, Mom," I replied, trying to maintain a natural tone despite the unusual morning scene and the slightly uneasy feeling lingering in the air. 

"Good morning, son," my father said, his voice a bit rougher than usual. "Sleep well? It’s a new day; hopefully it will be a better day than yesterday." 

He seemed eager to start fresh, to put the previous night's events behind them.

"Yeah, Dad, I slept well, thank you. And you? How did you sleep after the events of last night? I'm just curious; I'm hoping everything is okay"

 I replied, trying to sound relaxed, despite the tension still lingering in the air. My concern was genuine; I wanted my parents to be happy.

"I slept alright, son," he said, his voice more hesitant now. "Your mother...well, let's just say she kept me awake for a little while. It's all water under the bridge now though hehehe" 

The remark was indirect, carefully avoiding any explicit mention of their argument. It was an attempt to minimize the conflict and avoid unnecessary drama.

We talked about the anniversary, about the food, about the music – anything to avoid dwelling on the previous night's events. 

The conversation felt forced, yet there was a clear attempt to regain a sense of normalcy and family unity. 

While I spoke to my father, my mother busied herself in the kitchen, but I noticed her repeatedly glancing at her phone, quickly looking up to ensure we weren't watching her.

I knew exactly what she was doing. It had to be Arjun Sir, texting her, possibly wondering why she had been so distant at the anniversary, why she’d seemed so angry and withdrawn. 

The reconciliation with my father meant nothing; her heart, her emotions, were clearly still with Arjun Sir.

As she sectetly checked her phone, her face was pale, a stark contrast to the lively exterior she presented to us. It was obvious to me that her mind was far away; her heart was not with us; her loyalties were divided.

I excused myself and went to have a bath. I needed to clear my head, to process the complex emotions swirling within my family, and to prepare myself for the day ahead.

When I emerged from the bathroom, refreshed and ready for the day, my father was preparing to leave for a meeting before his upcoming trip.

"Jaya called," my mother announced, "She needs help with some shopping, and she specifically asked for me. So I'm going with her; it will be nice to get out of the house for a little while." 

"Okay, Mom," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. "That's perfectly fine. You two seem to get along well; it sounds like a nice outing for the two of you." 

It was clear to me what this was about; I had known this all along. I wished I could say something, but I knew it would be futile. It was better to stay silent; there was nothing I could do to stop it.

"Sounds good," my father agreed, trying to remain calm and maintain a semblance of normalcy. He was clearly uncomfortable with the prospect of his wife spending time outside. 

My dad was polite, and maintained a calm exterior, yet underneath I could sense the unrest and the brewing tension. He was clearly uneasy, but there was also resignation, and a forced acceptance of what was happening.

I went to my room to change, planning to visit Priya again and probably fuck her pussy.

As my mother emerged from her bedroom, she was transformed. She was wearing a light purple dress, short, barely reaching her upper knees. It was a striking contrast to her usual modest clothing. 

It revealed almost half of her thighs, and the overall look was strikingly revealing, bordering on provocative. It was a shocking transformation; this was a different woman, a woman I barely recognized.









She entered the sitting room, approaching my father, who was still gathering his things. "How do I look?" she asked, her voice betraying a mix of confidence and apprehension. 

She was clearly seeking his approval, yet the undercurrent of defiance was unmistakable. It seemed she had made up her mind, and she was seeking validation.

My father looked up, startled by her appearance. "You…you look…nice," he stammered, his voice unsure. He was caught off guard; he clearly wasn't prepared for this dramatic change in her appearance. 

He tried to find words that wouldn’t be confrontational, yet he was clearly uncomfortable. Deep down, he was deeply unhappy about her wearing something so revealing. He wasn't quite sure how to respond.

"Are you sure?" she pressed, her tone playful, yet suggestive. She was clearly seeking his approval.

"Yes," he said, forcing a smile. "You look…very…nice. It’s…different. A new look for you," he added, carefully choosing his words to avoid a quarrel. 

He knew a conflict would only escalate the tension and cause further damage. He was trying to maintain peace and avoid an unnecessary confrontation. He was clearly worried.

"I want to look beautiful," she explained. "I want to feel good about myself. It's important for me to feel confident and attractive. I'm going through a phase of self-discovery"

"I'm experimenting with my style." Her words carried a double meaning. 

She was both expressing a desire for beauty and hinting at the transformation she was experiencing outside of her marriage with non other than Arjun Sir.

It was a veiled reference to her feelings for Arjun.

"You always look beautiful to me," my father replied, but his eyes betrayed a deep-seated discomfort. He was worried about her decision to wear such a revealing outfit. 

He was worried about what might happen when she ventured outside the home in this attire, what kind of attention she might attract. He couldn't quite articulate his concern, yet he was deeply uneasy about this sudden change. 

He couldn't understand why she had suddenly started to dress in a so revealing manner.



"Goodbye, dear," my mother said, her voice light, almost breezy, as she stepped out of the house. 

She paused at the door, offering a fleeting smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, a smile that seemed more for show than genuine emotion. 

It was a quick, almost careless goodbye, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil I knew she was experiencing.

"Bye, Mom," I replied, my tone even and controlled.

"See you later, dear," my father said, his tone subdued. It was clear he wasn't happy with her choice of attire, but he was trying to maintain a calm and controlled demeanor to avoid any further conflict. 

He had accepted the situation, but not without inner turmoil.

My mother's fat ass shook slightly as she waved goodbye; the gesture was subtly telling. The shakiness of her big ass wasn’t due to age or nervousness, but to the sheer intensity of the excitement.






A few minutes later, I left to visit Priya, my mind still preoccupied with the events unfolding at home. I felt a strange mix of anticipation and unease.

My phone buzzed; it was an unexpected call from Arjun Sir.

"Hello," he said, his voice a smooth baritone, surprisingly jovial. "How's the young man doing today?"

"Hi Arjun Sir," I replied, trying to keep my voice casual. I was surprised and slightly startled by the call. It was an unexpected phone call that put me on the defensive. "I'm doing fine. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm doing very well, thanks. And Priya? How is my sweet Priya?" he asked, his tone laced with a playful inquisitiveness. I was clearly being tested. I could sense the undercurrent of curiosity, maybe a hidden desire.

"She's amazing, Sir," I replied, a smile tugging at my lips. "She's doing great; she's smart, kind, and incredibly fun to be around. You've raised a truly wonderful daughter." 

I meant every word; Priya was truly exceptional. The praise was genuine, completely sincere.

"You make me very proud, my boy, Rajeev" he said, his voice now serious, deeply heartfelt. "You really do. You made me extremely happy." There was genuine affection in his tone.

"Why, sir? What did I do?" I asked, genuinely curious about his unexpected praise. It felt strange, unnerving, and deeply intriguing. I sensed a hidden depth behind his words.

"Last night, at my anniversary," he began, "I saw you…fucking Priya's asshole very hard. In her bedroom." His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension in his words.

My mind reeled. "How…how did you see that?" I exclaimed, genuinely bewildered. 

How could he see us??; he was in the main hall, far from Priya's room. The whole situation was completely baffling; it seemed impossible.

"I have a hidden camera in Priya's bedroom," he revealed, his voice perfectly calm, devoid of any hint of guilt or embarrassment. "A small, discreet camera."

My astonishment was absolute. "Woow sir, why? would you do that?" I stammered, struggling to process the information. 

"I…I like to watch Priya sometimes, I love to see her naked" he confessed. 

"You know, when she's changing, getting ready. It gives me a sense of peace. I'm proud of her; she's my daughter, and it's nice to just keep track of her from time to time." 

His explanation was somewhat unconvincing, bordering on perversion. I knew there was more.

"You…you watch her…changing?" I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. The image was deeply unsettling. It was deeply inappropriate.

"Yes," he admitted, his voice devoid of remorse. "I love to watch her plump sexy ass, her sweet curves. There is something unique and appealing about her." 

He paused, then added, "It's a father's love; it's unique and incomparable. It’s a feeling of warmth and affection. She is my daughter. I simply enjoy watching her."

I was shocked. A father saying this about his daughter? It was deeply naughty, crossing the line into unhealthy obsession. 

Yet, I couldn't deny a strange, unsettling feeling of excitement. It was a strange cocktail of emotions.

"You’re a naughty man," I said, a nervous laugh escaping my lips. It was an awkward attempt to diffuse the tension.

"Perhaps," he chuckled. "But a loving father nonetheless. I just love to see Priya naked and also when she baths and also when she shits in the toilet; there is nothing wrong with that."

"Since when have you been doing this?" I asked, trying to maintain a calm exterior despite the turmoil within. It was disturbing yet strangely compelling.

"From way back" he confessed without hesitation. "I've installed a camera in her bedroom and bathroom long ago"

"Do you…do you have feelings for her?" I asked, the question hanging heavy in the air. The idea was both terrifying and strangely exciting.

"No, of course not," he said firmly. "But I love watching her; she’s like a work of art. There’s a sense of profound admiration that is hard to explain."

"I simply adore her curvy body, her youthful energy, her innocence."

"You're a good dad," I said, surprising even myself. It was a strange, twisted kind of admiration.

"Actually, I also have a secret recorder installed in my Rolls Royce," he said, shattering any remaining sense of normalcy. "I watched you and Priya…getting intimate, on her birthday party. "

I gasped, stunned into silence. "What??? Really??!!"

"The recorder is strategically placed; it’s designed to capture everything that happens in the back seat. It's discreet, high-resolution, and it has a wide-angle lens. The audio quality is exceptional."

"Did you…did you enjoy it?" I asked, a strange mix of curiosity and apprehension swirling within me.

"It was…interesting. It gave me a unique perspective. It allowed me to understand my daughter more. To understand her desires, her passions. I loved how you fucked her pussy and she moaned"

"Have you ever…rubbed your dick, thinking of Priya?" I asked, the question a culmination of my shocked curiosity.

There was a long pause. "A couple of times," he finally admitted, his voice low. "Sometimes the longing is very difficult to control."

"If you had the chance…would you fuck Priya's asshole?"

"No," he said immediately. "In my dreams, perhaps. But in reality? Absolutely not. She is my daughter. That would be wrong on so many levels."

"You know," he continued, "I congratulate you for fucking Priya’s asshole for me. I was tired of watching her ass, knowing that it hadn’t been fucked yet. It was driving me mad."

"Why? What does that even mean?" I asked, bewildered. This whole conversation was surreal.

"It means," he explained, "that you fulfilled a desire I couldn't fulfill myself. You know; it's forbidden, of course. I simply enjoy watching her naked, nothing more."

"But your actions...they satisfied a part of me that I couldn't act upon myself. I want my daughter to be a slut and a good whore"

"So, because I fucked her asshole twice, I have to fuck her three more times to make it five?" I questioned, still trying to process the oddness of the situation.

"Exactly," he said, a chuckle in his voice. "Five times; it's a magical number. It's a symbol of completeness. If you fuck her asshole 5 times wihout using her pussy, she will love you"

"But my dick smells like her shit," I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"I know," he laughed. "The smell of your mother's shit is also on my dick. It smells really good even now"

"Why doesn’t the smell go away, even after washing with soap?" I asked, still amused.

"Because it's ingrained," he replied. "It's a deep, lingering scent. The memory of the sensations and emotions is too strong, too deep-seated. It is a feeling that stays with you."

"You actually love the smell of my mom's shit on your dick?" I asked, intrigued by his openness.

"Yes," he confessed. "It represents a secret pleasure, a forbidden desire. It's a reminder of something intimate, something forbidden yet deeply satisfying. It's a peculiar kind of satisfaction."

"I love the smell of Priya's shit on my cock too," I admitted.

"Hey can I ask, is your Mom mad at me?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"I guess," I replied. "She was watching you dance with Hareeta last night. She looked so jealous."

"It was all part of the plan," he said. "To make her jealous, to make her desire me even more. The jealousy was good; a way to intensify her feelings towards me."

"I really love your mom. It was calculated, calculated to make her crave my attention. It is the ultimate expression of love."

"Very soon," Arjun Sir said, his voice low and conspiratorial, "your mother will leave your father. She'll move in with me. It's all but inevitable; it's just a matter of time."

"The process is well underway; we're both fully invested. It's only a matter of time now before she makes the final decision. It's an exciting development."

"Why?" I asked, a surge of excitement coursing through me. The thought of my mother leaving my father, of her abandoning her family for another man, filled me with a strange, exhilarating thrill. 

It was a shocking and audacious revelation. It seemed like a dream.

"Because she loves me," he replied simply, his tone laced with self-assurance. "It's something deep and profound; it's a love that transcends all boundaries"

"And it is because she loves my dick in her asshole."

"How soon?" I pressed, eager for more details. The anticipation was killing me.

"Very soon," he repeated, "but not so soon. We need to let things develop naturally; we don't want to rush it. We need to savor the moment"

I shifted the conversation, a new thought grabbing my attention. "What about the video? The video you recorded of me and Priya?" 

"That's why I called," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I have something in mind, something…interesting."

"What do you have in mind?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. 

"I'm going to send you that video," he said, "and I want you to send it to Rahul."

A wave of shock washed over me. Rahul, Priya's boyfriend, would be furious if he saw that video. It was a reckless, possibly dangerous act. The consequences were potentially disastrous. 

"Why?" I asked, my voice laced with disbelief. 

"Because," he said, his tone hardening, "friendship means nothing. Pleasure is what matters. Pure, unadulterated pleasure. It is the pursuit of pleasure that dictates our actions"

His words struck a chord, stirring something deep within me. I'd always hated Rahul, his success, his effortless charm. 

Arjun Sir’s words were tapping into my own deep-seated resentment, fueling my desire for revenge and personal gain. He was subtly reminding me of my own plans to ruin Rahul's relationship with Priya. 

It was manipulation pure and simple.

"You want me to ruin their relationship?" I asked, the question hanging in the air, a heavy weight on my conscience. The statement was bold, provocative, and yet strangely appealing.

"Yes, ruin," he corrected. "Enhance. Enhance the drama, intensify the emotions. It’s all about pushing boundaries, exploring the darker side of human nature. It’s all part of the game."

"But…Rahul is my friend," I protested weakly. The act felt immoral, unethical. It felt deeply disturbing.

"Friendship is nothing, a tool to be used and discarded when it no longer serves a purpose. It's a fleeting thing, easily replaced. It's a temporary alliance."

"Pleasure, however, is everlasting. It’s enduring. It’s a feeling that stays with you long after the moment is gone."

He continued to weave his web of manipulation, painting a vivid picture of the benefits of destroying another person's happiness, of inflicting pain for personal gain. 


"Think of your mother," he said, his voice a smooth voice. "I'm in the process of ruining her relationship with your father, of taking her away from him. It's a process of manipulation"

A strange excitement began to bloom within me, a dark, intoxicating thrill at the prospect of destruction, of wielding power.

"Yes," I agreed, my voice echoing with newfound conviction. It felt liberating to abandon my moral compass. He had removed all inhibitions. I had found my newfound freedom. 

I had found a path to fulfilling my own desires.

"Send it now," he urged. "Send it today. Ruining other people's relationships is rewarding; it is inherently satisfying. It is a feeling of immense power, of complete control over another's emotions."

He used the example of his relationship with my mother, his calculated plan to break her marriage to my father, as a testament to the power of manipulating emotions and desires.

His words resonated deeply within me, igniting a sense of dark excitement and a desire for power.

"Yes, Arjun Sir," I replied, my voice filled with a strange sense of exhilaration.

"Now," he said, his tone more urgent. "Ruin your friendship with Rahul. Take Priya for yourself. It's a natural progression; it is an act of natural selection.:

"What do you value most? Your friendship with Rahul or your desire for Priya? Choose wisely. Only then can you begin to truly understand the depths of your emotions, desires, and your true motivations."

"Priya, Sir, I choose Priya, and I hate Rahul, I want to ruin his relationship, I hate him because he has Priya" I said without hesitation. My response was unwavering and resolute.

"And why?" he asked.

"Because she's beautiful, intelligent, and I feel a connection with her that I’ve never felt with anyone before. I am jealous."

"Good," he said, his voice approving. "Then follow my words. Do as I say. Destroy your friendship with Rahul; he is merely a stepping stone in your path towards greatness."

"He is nothing more than a means to an end. He is easily replaceable."





Dear friends, Rahul had been my best friend, always there for me, always ready to offer support and guidance. But now, none of that mattered. I wanted him gone away from Priya.

I wanted to destroy his happiness, to take everything from him. Arjun Sir’s influence had transformed me; I had undergone a a good change. I had become someone else.




"Send me the video," I said, my voice devoid of any remorse. My moral compass had spun wildly. I had lost my way. I had embraced the evil of Arjun Sir, my role model.





"You are a good boy," he said, his voice filled with praise. "You are learning fast. This is a triumph; this is a symbol of victory. This marks your ascension to the next level of understanding."

He sent the video, and I immediately forwarded it to Rahul.

I felt nothing. No guilt, no remorse, only a strange sense of pride, of satisfaction. Soon, Rahul's relationship would be over. Soon, I would have Priya. It felt good, very good. 

It was empowering to have control.

"Arjun Sir is a good person," I thought, a grin spreading across my face. "If it weren’t for his wisdom, I wouldn’t have gotten to fuck Priya in her pussy and asshole. 

He showed me that in life, lust, forbidden pleasures, and defying societal norms and expectations is what truly matters. It is a path towards self-discovery and liberation."

My mother, once a devoutly religious woman, was now the mistress of Arjun Sir. Immorality had conquered morality; the forbidden had triumphed over the sacred. 

Arjun Sir was right. He was an expert in human relations and being a pervert. I am also a pervert thank to him.

He was a master of manipulation. And I had learned at his feet, becoming a worthy disciple of hedonism. He had taught me the meaning of freedom and empowerment.