Bihari mother's MILF-ware update: A cybernetic saga set in Bengaluru

[Mohit.Kumar]

Her petticoat had ridden up in her sleep, revealing the soft, round curves of her thighs. Aman's eyes traveled upward, taking in the swell of her breasts under her blouse. The material clung to her wet skin, outlining the darkened areolae of her nipples. He couldn't help but feel his pulse quicken.

The room was thick with the scent of her, a mix of soap and something uniquely maternal that he had never noticed before. His gaze lingered on her, the soft rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the way her hair fanned out across the pillow.

Against his will, he felt his body respond, his cock thickening in his pants. He tried to look away, but his eyes kept returning to her. It was wrong, he knew, but the sight of his mother, so vulnerable and alluring, was like a siren's call he couldn't resist.

Her skin, usually hidden under layers of clothing, was smooth and inviting. He felt his hand twitch, a desperate need to reach out and touch her. To feel the warmth of her flesh under his fingertips, to reassure himself that she was real and here with him.

A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, and his heart pounded in his chest. He knew he should leave, that he was crossing a line he could never uncross. But he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. The desire was too intense, too overwhelming.

He took a step closer, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. Madhu stirred in her sleep, her hand moving to rest on her stomach, just above the waistband of her petticoat. The fabric had ridden low, exposing a hint of her belly button. Aman's cock grew harder, straining against the fabric of his pants.

He leaned down, his breath hot against her neck. The urge to kiss her, to claim her as his own, was almost too much to bear. He could feel her warmth, see the pulse at the base of her throat, beating like a drum in time with his own erratic heart.

Madhu's breathing grew deeper, more rhythmic. Her hand shifted on her stomach, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of her blouse. Aman watched, transfixed, as the material tented upward, revealing the outline of a hardened nipple. His mouth watered at the thought of tasting her, of feeling her body react to his touch.

He took another step closer, his heart hammering in his chest like a drum. His hand reached out, hovering above her skin. It was as if there was an invisible force field around her, holding him at bay. But the need to bridge that gap was too strong.