07-04-2025, 10:53 PM
The car slowed to a stop in front of our house, the engine’s hum fading into the quiet night. Mom was still slumped in the front seat, her head resting against the window, lost in a deep, dizzy sleep.
Her legs wide and her thighs exposed, her pussy juices some flowing on the car seat.
I stirred in the back, blinking awake as the streetlights cast soft glows through the windows. I leaned forward, noticing her legs—spread slightly, the creamy dress hiked up, revealing the smooth curve of her thighs.
A faint sheen glistened between them, a subtle wetness that caught the light. My stomach tightened, unsure what it meant, but I shook Mom’s shoulder gently.
Me: - “Ma, wake up—we’re home.”
Mom: - (groggy) “Hmm? Oh… Sanjay, we’re here?”
Me: - “Yeah, just pulled up. You were out cold.”
She blinked, coming back to herself, and shifted in the seat. Her hands brushed her thighs, and she froze, feeling the dampness. Her legs snapped together, the dress rustling as she tugged it down, her eyes wide with confusion.
Mom: - “Why… why are my legs like this? And this—why’s it wet?”
Me: - “I dunno, Ma. You were sleeping the whole ride.”
She glanced at Manoj, her cheeks flushing. He was staring—his eyes locked on her exposed thighs, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, though he quickly masked it with a casual shrug. Mom’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t press me further, turning to him instead.
Mom: - “Manoj, thank you for the ride. I… I fell asleep, didn’t I?”
Manoj: - “Yeah, Rekha, you were out like a light. Long night, huh? Looked peaceful, though.”
Mom: - “I suppose. It’s been too much. Thanks again—we’ll head in now.”
I loved how my mom was friendly with him despite him kissing her earlier. This was my mom's core behaviour. Her religious norms always taught her to be friendly towards strangers.
Manoj: - “Wait, Rekha—why not invite me in? Just for a bit. Could use a glass of water after driving.”
Mom: - “Oh, no, it’s late. Sanjay and I need to rest.”
Manoj: - “Come on, just a quick stop. You’ve got a nice place—I’d love to see it. Been a good host all night, haven’t I?”
Mom: - “You’ve been kind, yes, but it’s not proper, especially what you have done earlier. My husband’s not here, and… it’s not our way.”
My mom was speaking in hushed tone because she was thinking I was listening to her.
Manoj: - “Proper? Rekha, we’re friends now, aren’t we? Nothing wrong with a little hospitality or that small kiss I gave you earlier”
Mom: - “In our culture, Manoj, it’s different. I don’t invite men in when my husband's away—it’s not right.”
Manoj: - “Culture’s fine, but you’re modern too—look at that dress. Just a water, five minutes, then I’m gone.”
Mom: - “No, really. I’m tired, and it wouldn’t feel right. Thank you, but we’ll manage.”
Manoj: - “Night’s not over yet, Rekha. Sure you won’t let me in? Could keep you company.”
Mom: - “No, really—it’s not our custom. I’ve got Sanjay to think of.”
Manoj: - “Sanjay’s a big kid—he’d be fine. Just a chat, Rekha—nothing more.”
Mom: - “I don’t think so. It’s late, and I’m not feeling myself.”
Manoj: - “You’re feeling plenty, I’d say. That dress, that glow—invite me in, let’s unwind.”
Mom: - “Manoj, please. My faith doesn’t allow it—I can’t.”
Manoj: - “Faith’s important, sure, but so’s living a little. You’ve got a spark tonight—don’t douse it.”
Mom: - “I’ve lived enough for one night. Thank you, but no.”
Her voice was firm, rooted in the religious values she held dear—the ones that guided her daily pujas, her modest life. Manoj tilted his head, his gaze softening, but he didn’t push too hard, switching tactics.
Manoj: - “Alright, I respect that. How about your number, then? So we can keep in touch.”
Mom: - “My number? Why would you need that?”
Manoj: - “Why not? You’re interesting, Rekha—beautiful, strong. I’d like to check in, see how you’re doing.”
Mom: - “I don’t give my number out like that. It’s… personal.”
Manoj: - “Personal’s the point. Tonight was special—don’t you think? Just a call now and then, nothing big.”
Mom: - “I don’t know, Manoj. What would we even talk about?”
Manoj: - “Anything—your day, Sanjay, that glow you’ve got. Maybe even the kiss. I’d just like to hear your voice again.”
Mom: - “You’re persistent, aren’t you? I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
Manoj: - “It’s the best idea. Come on, Rekha—one number won’t hurt. I’ll be a gentleman—promise.”
Mom hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the dress’s hem. Her cultural instincts tugged at her, but his charm—smooth, relentless—wore her down. She sighed, relenting.
Mom: - “Fine…. But don’t misuse it, Manoj.”
Manoj: - “Wouldn’t dream of it. You’re a gem, Rekha—thanks.”
Mom then gave him her number.
She nodded curtly and pushed the door open, stepping out with a wobble. Manoj leaned over, his voice dropping low.
Manoj: - “Oh, Rekha—go to the bathroom when you get in. You’ll find something nice between your thighs.”
Mom: - “What? What do you mean by that?”
Her eyes narrowed, inquisitive, searching his face. He just smiled, cryptic and knowing, his gaze flicking to her legs. Mom’s lips parted, puzzled, but then she glanced at me, noticing I was listening.
Mom: - “Sanjay, go open the door—quickly now.”
Me: - “Okay, Ma.”
I hopped out, heading to the house, but I knew what Manoj meant. That wetness between her thighs—the way he’d rubbed her pussy in the car, his fingers lingering, tasting her pussy juices, that is what he meant.
She didn’t want me to hear, but I’d seen it all, pretending to sleep. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, leaving it ajar, my mind racing.
Mom lingered by the car a moment, then followed me in, her heels clacking unevenly. We’d eaten heavy snacks at the party—samosas, pakoras, sweets—so she didn’t need to cook.
She muttered something about washing up and headed straight for the bathroom, her curiosity piqued by Manoj’s strange comment.
I trailed behind, quiet, drawn by my own mix of confusion and unease.
She slipped into the bathroom and locked the door with a soft click. I crept closer, my socks silent on the floor, and pressed my ear to the wood, peeking through the tiny keyhole.
Mom stood there, her breathing quick, and yanked the tight dress up over her hips, revealing her milky thighs that were wet with her pussy juices.
The creamy fabric bunched at her waist, revealing her smooth, golden thighs—and there it was, a faint, glistening wetness between them. Her fingers brushed her pussy which was shaved, and her eyes widened, a flush creeping up her neck.
She clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a gasp, her face twisting with embarrassment.
She knew now—Manoj’s fingers had stirred something in her sleep, coaxing that womanly pussy release from her. Her religious heart recoiled; this was unforgivable, a betrayal of her vows, her purity.
She parted her thighs slightly, checking again, her fingers trembling as they traced the slickness of her pussy. Her breath hitched, shame and realization crashing over her.
That manoj was actually rubbing and fingering her pussy the whole ride. This was a shocker to my mom.
She turned on the faucet, splashing water on her face, then stripped the dress off completely, letting it fall to the tiles.
Her body—38-inch bust, 34-inch waist, 44-inch ass—glowed in the dim light, curves full and soft, but her expression was tight, conflicted.
She stepped into the shower, the water hissing as it hit her skin, washing away the night’s corrupt traces of her juices. Her hair clung to her shoulders, wet and heavy, and she scrubbed her thighs, her movements quick, almost frantic, as if she could erase what had happened.
I pulled back from the keyhole, my chest tight, and slipped to my room, the image of her—beautiful, vulnerable, ashamed—burning in my mind.
Even for myself, I couldn't believe I was watching my mom naked in the bathroom, those breasts, those flat tummy, her shaved pussy, her blessed milky thighs and those magnificent two pieces of ass globes.
What is happening to me? I'm I fantasizing of Manoj, the stranger who just met my mom, fucking my mom? Him using my mom's body? And will this happen?
Will my mom fall into Manoj's temptations or will she try her best and go back to her religious ways?
Stay tuned guys! Hope you are following the story....
Her legs wide and her thighs exposed, her pussy juices some flowing on the car seat.
I stirred in the back, blinking awake as the streetlights cast soft glows through the windows. I leaned forward, noticing her legs—spread slightly, the creamy dress hiked up, revealing the smooth curve of her thighs.
A faint sheen glistened between them, a subtle wetness that caught the light. My stomach tightened, unsure what it meant, but I shook Mom’s shoulder gently.
Me: - “Ma, wake up—we’re home.”
Mom: - (groggy) “Hmm? Oh… Sanjay, we’re here?”
Me: - “Yeah, just pulled up. You were out cold.”
She blinked, coming back to herself, and shifted in the seat. Her hands brushed her thighs, and she froze, feeling the dampness. Her legs snapped together, the dress rustling as she tugged it down, her eyes wide with confusion.
Mom: - “Why… why are my legs like this? And this—why’s it wet?”
Me: - “I dunno, Ma. You were sleeping the whole ride.”
She glanced at Manoj, her cheeks flushing. He was staring—his eyes locked on her exposed thighs, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, though he quickly masked it with a casual shrug. Mom’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t press me further, turning to him instead.
Mom: - “Manoj, thank you for the ride. I… I fell asleep, didn’t I?”
Manoj: - “Yeah, Rekha, you were out like a light. Long night, huh? Looked peaceful, though.”
Mom: - “I suppose. It’s been too much. Thanks again—we’ll head in now.”
I loved how my mom was friendly with him despite him kissing her earlier. This was my mom's core behaviour. Her religious norms always taught her to be friendly towards strangers.
Manoj: - “Wait, Rekha—why not invite me in? Just for a bit. Could use a glass of water after driving.”
Mom: - “Oh, no, it’s late. Sanjay and I need to rest.”
Manoj: - “Come on, just a quick stop. You’ve got a nice place—I’d love to see it. Been a good host all night, haven’t I?”
Mom: - “You’ve been kind, yes, but it’s not proper, especially what you have done earlier. My husband’s not here, and… it’s not our way.”
My mom was speaking in hushed tone because she was thinking I was listening to her.
Manoj: - “Proper? Rekha, we’re friends now, aren’t we? Nothing wrong with a little hospitality or that small kiss I gave you earlier”
Mom: - “In our culture, Manoj, it’s different. I don’t invite men in when my husband's away—it’s not right.”
Manoj: - “Culture’s fine, but you’re modern too—look at that dress. Just a water, five minutes, then I’m gone.”
Mom: - “No, really. I’m tired, and it wouldn’t feel right. Thank you, but we’ll manage.”
Manoj: - “Night’s not over yet, Rekha. Sure you won’t let me in? Could keep you company.”
Mom: - “No, really—it’s not our custom. I’ve got Sanjay to think of.”
Manoj: - “Sanjay’s a big kid—he’d be fine. Just a chat, Rekha—nothing more.”
Mom: - “I don’t think so. It’s late, and I’m not feeling myself.”
Manoj: - “You’re feeling plenty, I’d say. That dress, that glow—invite me in, let’s unwind.”
Mom: - “Manoj, please. My faith doesn’t allow it—I can’t.”
Manoj: - “Faith’s important, sure, but so’s living a little. You’ve got a spark tonight—don’t douse it.”
Mom: - “I’ve lived enough for one night. Thank you, but no.”
Her voice was firm, rooted in the religious values she held dear—the ones that guided her daily pujas, her modest life. Manoj tilted his head, his gaze softening, but he didn’t push too hard, switching tactics.
Manoj: - “Alright, I respect that. How about your number, then? So we can keep in touch.”
Mom: - “My number? Why would you need that?”
Manoj: - “Why not? You’re interesting, Rekha—beautiful, strong. I’d like to check in, see how you’re doing.”
Mom: - “I don’t give my number out like that. It’s… personal.”
Manoj: - “Personal’s the point. Tonight was special—don’t you think? Just a call now and then, nothing big.”
Mom: - “I don’t know, Manoj. What would we even talk about?”
Manoj: - “Anything—your day, Sanjay, that glow you’ve got. Maybe even the kiss. I’d just like to hear your voice again.”
Mom: - “You’re persistent, aren’t you? I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
Manoj: - “It’s the best idea. Come on, Rekha—one number won’t hurt. I’ll be a gentleman—promise.”
Mom hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the dress’s hem. Her cultural instincts tugged at her, but his charm—smooth, relentless—wore her down. She sighed, relenting.
Mom: - “Fine…. But don’t misuse it, Manoj.”
Manoj: - “Wouldn’t dream of it. You’re a gem, Rekha—thanks.”
Mom then gave him her number.
She nodded curtly and pushed the door open, stepping out with a wobble. Manoj leaned over, his voice dropping low.
Manoj: - “Oh, Rekha—go to the bathroom when you get in. You’ll find something nice between your thighs.”
Mom: - “What? What do you mean by that?”
Her eyes narrowed, inquisitive, searching his face. He just smiled, cryptic and knowing, his gaze flicking to her legs. Mom’s lips parted, puzzled, but then she glanced at me, noticing I was listening.
Mom: - “Sanjay, go open the door—quickly now.”
Me: - “Okay, Ma.”
I hopped out, heading to the house, but I knew what Manoj meant. That wetness between her thighs—the way he’d rubbed her pussy in the car, his fingers lingering, tasting her pussy juices, that is what he meant.
She didn’t want me to hear, but I’d seen it all, pretending to sleep. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, leaving it ajar, my mind racing.
Mom lingered by the car a moment, then followed me in, her heels clacking unevenly. We’d eaten heavy snacks at the party—samosas, pakoras, sweets—so she didn’t need to cook.
She muttered something about washing up and headed straight for the bathroom, her curiosity piqued by Manoj’s strange comment.
I trailed behind, quiet, drawn by my own mix of confusion and unease.
She slipped into the bathroom and locked the door with a soft click. I crept closer, my socks silent on the floor, and pressed my ear to the wood, peeking through the tiny keyhole.
Mom stood there, her breathing quick, and yanked the tight dress up over her hips, revealing her milky thighs that were wet with her pussy juices.
The creamy fabric bunched at her waist, revealing her smooth, golden thighs—and there it was, a faint, glistening wetness between them. Her fingers brushed her pussy which was shaved, and her eyes widened, a flush creeping up her neck.
She clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a gasp, her face twisting with embarrassment.
She knew now—Manoj’s fingers had stirred something in her sleep, coaxing that womanly pussy release from her. Her religious heart recoiled; this was unforgivable, a betrayal of her vows, her purity.
She parted her thighs slightly, checking again, her fingers trembling as they traced the slickness of her pussy. Her breath hitched, shame and realization crashing over her.
That manoj was actually rubbing and fingering her pussy the whole ride. This was a shocker to my mom.
She turned on the faucet, splashing water on her face, then stripped the dress off completely, letting it fall to the tiles.
Her body—38-inch bust, 34-inch waist, 44-inch ass—glowed in the dim light, curves full and soft, but her expression was tight, conflicted.
She stepped into the shower, the water hissing as it hit her skin, washing away the night’s corrupt traces of her juices. Her hair clung to her shoulders, wet and heavy, and she scrubbed her thighs, her movements quick, almost frantic, as if she could erase what had happened.
I pulled back from the keyhole, my chest tight, and slipped to my room, the image of her—beautiful, vulnerable, ashamed—burning in my mind.
Even for myself, I couldn't believe I was watching my mom naked in the bathroom, those breasts, those flat tummy, her shaved pussy, her blessed milky thighs and those magnificent two pieces of ass globes.
What is happening to me? I'm I fantasizing of Manoj, the stranger who just met my mom, fucking my mom? Him using my mom's body? And will this happen?
Will my mom fall into Manoj's temptations or will she try her best and go back to her religious ways?
Stay tuned guys! Hope you are following the story....
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