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

[Mohit.Kumar]

Yet, every so often, the image of Madhu's gaping asshole and the sound of her fart echoed in his mind, sending a shiver down his spine. He had to admit, the sight had been utterly fascinating. There was something primal about it that called to the deepest, darkest parts of his being.

 

Aman found himself getting hard at his desk, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the persistent throb. It was as if his body was rebelling against his mind, urging him to act on the impulses he knew were wrong.

 

The rest of the day passed in a blur of half-hearted concentration and furtive glances at his phone, scrolling through porn sites, searching for something that would match the intensity of what he had witnessed. But everything felt pale in comparison to the raw, unfiltered reality of his mother's body.

 

When he returned home that evening, the apartment was suffused with the scent of Madhu's cooking. The aroma of garlic and spices filled the air, but underlying it all was the faint, lingering odor of her morning ablution. He couldn't ignore the way his nostrils flared, his senses heightened by the memory of the smell in the bathroom.

 

Madhu greeted him with a warm smile, her eyes seeming to hold a secret that only she knew. Aman felt his face heat up as he took in her simple cotton sari, the way it clung to her curves in a way that made him acutely aware of her womanhood.

That evening, as he lay in his bed, unable to sleep, he found himself scrolling through his phone, looking for a release from the thoughts that haunted him. He stumbled upon a link to an anonymous online forum. The title was innocuous enough, but the description sent a thrill through him: "Sharing Our Forbidden Desires."

 

He clicked on it, and the door to a world of taboo and temptation swung wide open. There, he found others like him, sharing their experiences, their fears, and their darkest fantasies. Men and women from all walks of life, all bound by a shared secret that had brought them together in this digital sanctum.

 

Aman read post after post, his eyes glazing over as he absorbed the tales of incestuous longing and the graphic descriptions of illicit acts. Some of the stories were disturbing, but many were eerily similar to his own burgeoning desires. He found himself nodding along, understanding the complex mix of emotions that these strangers described.

 

One post in particular caught his eye. It was from a user named 'BihariMamma', who spoke of their own mother, her plump body and the way she moved around the house in her sari, the fabric whispering against her skin. Aman felt a jolt of recognition, his heart racing as he read on.

 

BihariMamma spoke of the moment he had realized his desires, the way his mother's scent filled the room, a mix of sweat and something more primal. He described the way her breasts swayed as she worked in the kitchen, the soft jiggle of her stomach as she walked, and the way her sari would sometimes reveal a tantalizing glimpse of her thigh. The words painted a picture that was all too vivid, and Aman found himself stroking his cock, his mind racing with the possibilities.

 

He read on, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, as BihariMamma recounted the slow, deliberate dance of seduction. It had started with small things, a lingering touch here, a gentle brush there. He had made sure to be around when his mother was at her most vulnerable, when she was getting dressed or undressed, when she was in the shower with the curtain slightly ajar. He had studied her, learned her routines, her likes, and dislikes, and used that knowledge to insinuate himself into her personal space.

 

Aman's hand moved faster on his cock, his arousal building to a crescendo as he imagined doing the same to Madhu. He could feel the wetness spreading across his palm, a silent testament to his own depravity. Yet, as he read further, he found himself nodding in understanding. BihariMamma spoke of the guilt that ate away at him, the constant battle between his love for his mother and his burning lust.

 

He described the first time he had acted on his desires, the way she had looked at him with a mix of shock and something else, something that could have been desire, before pushing him away. But he had been relentless, wearing her down with his attentions, his touches growing bolder each day until she had finally given in.

 

Aman's cock was now throbbing, the veins pulsing with the force of his arousal. He had never felt such a powerful urge before, and it terrified him. Yet, as he continued to read, he found himself inching closer to the edge, his mind racing with thoughts of Madhu. He imagined her plump body sprawled on the bed, her sari discarded on the floor, her breasts heavy and full, her thighs spread wide in invitation.

 

His hand tightened around his shaft, stroking faster, as he read about BihariMamma's first time with his mother. The way she had struggled at first, her cries of protest muffled by a pillow, until she had succumbed to the pleasure he had coaxed from her body. The way her cunt had gripped his cock, wet and tight, as he had thrust into her, claiming her in the most forbidden of ways. The story was raw and explicit, and Aman could almost feel the heat of her, the slickness of her sex as he pumped his hand in time with the words on the screen.

 

His balls tightened, and with a strangled groan, he came, spurts of semen painting the wall beside his bed. His heart raced, his chest heaving with the force of his orgasm. As the pleasure receded, the guilt crashed over him like a tidal wave. What was he doing? He couldn't act on these thoughts, not with his own mother. But the seed had been planted, and he knew it would be difficult to ignore.