Yesterday, 03:50 PM
His voice was a low, velvety purr, thick with innuendo, and he shrugged off his shirt with a slow, deliberate motion, revealing a tight vest that clung to his broad, muscled chest—dark hair curling over taut, sweat-slicked skin.
This was few minutes later while he was sitting on the couch.
He stretched, flexing subtly, a sensual display that made his presence magnetic, and Mom’s eyes flickered, caught for a moment by the raw, masculine allure of his chest.
She masked it quickly, her tone sharpening with a hint of unease.
Sorry for the late update friends
The next morning, I woke to the smell of parathas wafting through the house.
Mom was already in the kitchen, bustling around, the clink of utensils a familiar comfort. I shuffled to the table, rubbing sleep from my eyes, and started eating—hot, buttery parathas with curd, her specialty.
She stood by the stove, dbangd in a tight saree that hugged her curves like a second skin.
The fabric clung to her 38-inch breasts, outlining their full, soft shape, and cinched her narrow waist, flaring out over her plump, juicy ass.
It wasn’t her usual modest dbang—Shalini’s influence was clear, pushing my holy mom into something bold, sexy, meant to catch eyes.
Me: - “Ma, you’re dressed up nice—where you going today?”
Mom: - “Oh, nowhere special, Sanjay—just felt like wearing something good. Manoj might come by to see us later.”
Me: - “Manoj? Okay… cool, I guess.”
She didn’t tell me the truth—her vague answer hid something, and I knew it tied to last night’s fire, the horny edge Manoj had left her with.
I nodded, digging into my food, keeping my suspicions quiet.
That evening, the doorbell rang, and Manoj stepped in, carrying a jug of passion juice—Mom’s favorite, a bright orange tease in his hands.
He grinned wide, too wide, and I wasn’t friendly. I knew his intentions—to fuck my mom, to take what he’d stirred in the car—but I trusted her strength, her faith, to keep him at bay.
She greeted him, cautious, not overly warm, her respect a thin shield.
Mom: - “Manoj, you’re here—thanks for the juice. Sanjay, say hello.”
Me: - “Hey.”
Manoj: - “Hey, kid—good to see you too. Rekha, you’re looking… radiant.”
Mom: - “Thank you—just a simple day. How was your drive?”
Her tone stayed careful, a shield against his charm, but Manoj’s gaze roamed over her, settling on her breasts with a sultry, unabashed hunger.
He stared, drinking in my mom's full, luscious shape of her breasts, the saree straining to contain them, his eyes tracing every curve as if he could already feel them under his hands.
Mom noticed, she didn't like the hungry attention she is getting from another man , and she adjusted her pallu, pulling it higher to cover her chest.
Manoj: - “Oh, Rekha, don’t go hiding those gorgeous milkshakes—they’re too perfect to tuck away.
Let them breathe, let them tease the world a little, like the slutty treasures they are.”
Mom: - “Manoj, please, watch what you say my son is close—it’s just a saree, and I’d rather you didn’t talk like that in front of Sanjay. Keep it respectful, alright?”
Manoj: - “Respectful’s fine, but this saree’s a tease all on its own—it’s hugging you like it wants to slip off, showing off those curves that’d make any man weak. It’s a warm night, Rekha, and you’re the heat.”
His voice was a low, velvety purr, thick with innuendo, and he shrugged off his shirt with a slow, deliberate motion, revealing a tight vest that clung to his broad, muscled chest—dark hair curling over taut, sweat-slicked skin.
This was few minutes later while he was sitting on the couch.
He stretched, flexing subtly, a sensual display that made his presence magnetic, and Mom’s eyes flickered, caught for a moment by the raw, masculine allure of his chest.
She masked it quickly, her tone sharpening with a hint of unease.
Mom: - “Manoj, please put your shirt back on—it’s not that hot in here, and I’d feel more comfortable if you stayed dressed properly while you’re in my home.”
Manoj: - “Feels like a furnace to me, Rekha—your radiance is setting me ablaze, and this vest is all I need to cool off. Relax, let me enjoy the night’s heat with you.”
He leaned closer, his musky, primal scent drifting toward her—a heady tease—and she turned away, pouring the juice with hands that trembled slightly, fighting the erotic spell he cast.
Night fell, and sleep loomed. Mom fixed me with a steady, protective look.
Mom: - “Sanjay, you’ll sleep in my room with me tonight—Manoj can take your room. We’ve only got two, and I’d rather keep you close.”
Me: - “Okay, Ma.”
I understood—her caution around Manoj, his simmering intent to fuck her tonight, made her want me nearby.
In her room, I settled close on the bed, her familiar jasmine scent calming me.
She locked the door, checking it twice with a careful twist, then slipped into a loose nightgown, her big, juicy ass swaying as she climbed in beside me.
We drifted off to sleep, the house hushed.
At midnight, I woke, my bladder nudging me. I slipped out, used the bathroom in the dark went to pee and padded back—then froze.
Manoj stood at Mom’s door, his vest tight against his chest, eyes dark with a quiet, sensual purpose. My stomach tightened—I didn’t like seeing him there.
Me: - “Why are you here Manoj?”
Manoj: - “Hey, little man—don’t worry, just go sleep in your room, okay? Your mom and I need to give your mom a massage, she told me she wanted massage after long night"
Me: - “A massage? But it’s so late—why now?”
Manoj: - “She’s been tired all day, Sanjay—grown-ups sometimes need to massage each other late. It’s nothing for you to think about, just head back to bed.”
Me: - “This late? That’s strange.”
Manoj: - “Not strange at all—just helping her unwind. Be a good kid, off you go—I’ll take care of everything.”
His voice was soft, treating me like a child who shouldn’t know more, and I hesitated, then nodded, walking back to my room.
I felt uneasy, wishing I’d stayed with her, sensing he’d try to fuck her—but his gentle tone had eased me away.
The door clicked shut, the lock snapping into place, and worry twisted inside me—I’d let him in too easily.
Minutes later, I couldn’t stay still. I sneaked back, heart pounding, and peeked through the keyhole. Manoj was naked—his clothes a crumpled heap, his body a sculpted tease in the dim light.
Mom was still sleeping, unaware of what was unfolding before her.
His cock was huge, thick and veiny, a pulsing length he stroked with slow, sensual intent, whispering her name—
“Rekha, wake up, my slut”—his voice a husky, seductive murmur. It hung heavy, a massive, erotic beast that swayed with each stroke, its raw power a shock to my wide eyes.
Why is he calling my mom a slut? I felt anger boil in me.
Mom stirred, blinking awake, then gasped, her eyes locking on him—on that cock, bold and thrusting toward her.
Her nightgown clung to her curves, her plump ass shifting as she sat up, shock and a flicker of awe washing over her face.
Mom: - “Manoj—what are you doing in here? Get out of my room this instant—I didn’t invite you!”
Manoj: - “I’m here to fuck you, Rekha—to satisfy that needy pussy that’s been aching for me ever since the car ride. You can’t deny how bad you want this, slut.”
Mom: - “You’re out of your mind—where’s Sanjay? What have you done with my son, Manoj? Tell me now!”
Manoj: - “He’s safe in his room, don’t fret, slut—this is our moment now. Your body’s been screaming for my cock, and I’m here to give it what it craves.”
Mom: - “Don’t you dare call me that—move away from me, Manoj, I’m serious! I’m not some toy for you to play with—get out!”
She stood, her gaze dropping to his cock—thick, intimidating, a monster that stole her breath.
I saw the shock in her eyes, its size hitting her like a wave, and she pointed, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance.
I am very sure my mom knew his cock was bigger than my dad's tiny rod.
Mom: - “Hide that filthy thing right now—it’s shameful and disgusting, and I don’t want it anywhere near me!”
Manoj: - “Shameful? This cock’s your deepest fantasy, Rekha—big, hard, throbbing just for you. It’s ready to fuck you deep, make you moan like the slut you’re dying to be.”
He lunged, a smooth, erotic hug, his lips crashing onto hers with a lover’s fiery passion.
Mom twisted, pushing hard at his chest, her head dodging his kisses—not forced, but firm, his strength a sensual cage.
Her hands pressed against him, her fat ass jiggling but his mouth claimed hers, a deep, wet kiss that melted her resistance with its intensity.
His breath—rancid, sour, a filthy tang—drifted through the keyhole, making me wrinkle my nose, but his erotic pull held her captive.
Mom: - “Let me go, Manoj—I’m holy, not your dirty slut! Your breath is awful—it stinks, and I want you off me right now!”
Manoj: - “Holy? Your pussy’s been wet for me since that car, Rekha—I won’t stop till I fuck you senseless. You need this, slut, and I’m not leaving until you’re mine.”
Mom: - “No—you’re completely wrong, Manoj! I don’t want you—I want you out of my house, away from me! I have a husband”
Manoj: - “Your heart’s begging for my cock, Rekha—your mind’s just playing shy. Remember the car incident? Your juices dripping on my fingers, your body trembling for more?”
She stiffened, his words a sultry, piercing memory, but he didn’t pause. His hands tore at her nightgown, ripping the bra free, her 38-inch breasts spilling out—full, ripe, nipples dark and taut with unwilling tension.
He dove in, sucking one with a wet, greedy slurp, his tongue swirling slow and deliberate, spit dripping down her skin in a warm trail.
His other hand squeezed her boob, fingers kneading deep with a sensual, possessive grip, leaving her skin flushed and marked. His saliva coated her nipples, slick and glistening, his mouth smacking as he worshipped them with an erotic fervor that filled the room.
Manoj: - “Fuck, Rekha—these boobs are pure heaven—juicy, perfect, made for my lips to devour. I could suck these all night, slut, and still want more.”
Mom: - “Aaahhhh stop it, Manoj—don’t say those filthy things! Get off me—I don’t want this, I don’t want you touching me like this!”
Manoj: - “Can’t stop, Rekha—they’re too fucking sweet, these gorgeous tits. I’m gonna suck them till you’re moaning my name, till you admit you’re my slut.”
His tongue lapped broader strokes, leaving her breasts slick with his spit, his erotic hunger a relentless tide against her fading fight—and maybe, buried beneath her protests, that horny spark he’d ignited, now flickering brighter under his sensual assault.
Then he threw her on the bed.......
To be continued in the next 16 hours...
Your thoughts friends
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