Adultery Whispers of Lust: My Mom's Forbidden Path

[Rajeev Gupta]

The morning air was thick with unspoken sins as Dad left for work, his briefcase swinging, oblivious to the filth staining our home. Mom—Rekha—stood by the window, her face pale, guilt carved into her eyes. She’d hidden everything from Dad: Manoj’s violation of her body, the butt plug in her asshole, Ganesh’s cum on her back. 

Her heart churned with shame, and she swore to herself, clutching her saree, never to meet Manoj again, to reclaim her purity as Amit’s wife and my mom. But her sins clung like a shadow, heavy and unyielding.

I watched her shuffle to the bathroom, the butt plug still in her asshole, her steps gingerly, each movement a reminder of Manoj’s perversion. Her saree—a soft pink with gold embroidery—clung to her curves, outlining her big boobs and fat ass, her navel a sensual dip above the low waist. 

She closed the bathroom door, but it didn’t latch, leaving a sliver I couldn’t resist. I peeked, my heart pounding, and saw her stand, lifting one leg, her toe pointed delicately. With one hand, she spread her asscheeks, her plump, jiggly flesh parting to reveal her tight, pink asshole, stretched around the plug’s base. Her other hand gripped the plug, pulling slowly, her face twisting with pain and relief






The plug came out bit by bit, her asshole stretching painfully, the rim widening as the widest part emerged, slick with her body’s natural lube. She gasped, her boobs heaving, and with a final tug, it popped free, her asshole clenching shut, red and slightly puckered. 

She held the plug, glistening and warm, gazing at it with a mix of disgust and fascination, her fingers tracing its curves. Then, to my horror, she brought it closer, sniffing it, her nose wrinkling at the musky, earthy scent. Her eyes widened, shocked by her own curiosity, and she shook her head, muttering to herself.

Mom - “Manoj, you filthy monster… how could you drag me into this?”

Mom - “I was pure… a wife, a mother… you turned me into a sinner.”

Mom - “This… this thing… you’ve ruined me, Manoj.”

I felt sick, my stomach churning—why was she smelling it? The plug, lodged in her asshole all night while Dad slept beside her, was a disgusting mark of Manoj’s lust. 

I couldn’t believe she’d slept with it inside, her holy body corrupted as Dad lay unaware, his wife tainted by another man. It felt suspicious, like she wasn’t entirely innocent—maybe she’d tolerated it more than she admitted. Poor Dad, so trusting, not knowing his wife carried Manoj’s filth in her most private place, a betrayal that tore at my heart.

Mom set the plug on the sink, her hands trembling, and stepped into the shower. Water cascaded over her curvy body, her big boobs glistening, nipples hard under the stream, her fat ass jiggling as she turned, her navel catching droplets like a jewel. I cursed myself for gazing, my eyes tracing her holy body—once pure, now Manoj’s prize.

Dad’s prize, her curves a treasure, had been stolen by that bastard, who’d fucked her pussy, tried her asshole, and made her swallow his cum. I hated myself for looking, but her body was magnetic, a sinful lure I couldn’t resist.

She emerged, wrapping a towel around her, her skin glowing, and later that evening, she was in the kitchen, cooking dinner to impress Dad, perhaps to reconnect with him intimately to erase Manoj’s touch. 

She wore a sexy red saree, low-cut to reveal her boobs’ cleavage, the fabric hugging her ass, her navel exposed, a deliberate seduction for Dad. Her hair was loose, framing her face, and she hummed softly, stirring curry, the aroma mixing with her perfume. 

But her phone buzzed relentlessly, a sharp chime she’d set for Manoj. She blocked the first few calls, her jaw tight, but after the tenth, she sighed and answered, her voice low and fierce.

Manoj - “Hey, slut! Miss my cock yet?”

Mom - “Manoj, stop it! I’m done with you—don’t call me that!”

Manoj - “Done? Bullshit, Rekha. You’re still thinking about my cock.”

Mom - “No, I’m not! My husband’s around—I’m his wife, not your… your toy.”

Manoj - “Your husband? Amit’s a fucking loser—can’t fuck you like I do.”

Mom - “Don’t you dare talk about Amit! He’s a good man, better than you!”

Manoj - “Good? I ain’t scared of him, Rekha. I’ll fuck you right under his nose.”

Mom - “I’m religious, Manoj—a wife, a mother to Sanjay. You ruined me!”

Manoj - “Ruined? You loved my cock in your pussy, swallowing my cum like a slut.”

Mom - “I hated it! You forced me… I’m not that woman.”

Manoj - “Forced? Your moans said otherwise. I’m coming tonight, Rekha.”

Mom - “No! I won’t open the door—you’re not welcome here!”

Manoj - “I’ll get in, slut. Bet your asshole’s ready for my cock now.”

Mom - “I removed the butt plug, Manoj—I threw it away. I’m done with your filth!”

Manoj - “Threw it? Fuck, Rekha, I haven’t fucked your asshole yet—it’s mine.”

Mom - “Never! I’ll never let you… it’s wrong, disgusting!”

Manoj - “Disgusting? You’ll beg for my cock in your asshole, watch.”

Mom - “Enough, Manoj! Leave me alone!”

She hung up, her face flushed with anger, her hands gripping the counter, a ladle clattering to the floor, curry splashing faintly. I sensed her fury from the sitting room and entered the kitchen, my voice cautious.

Me - “Mom, why’re you so angry? Was that Manoj?”

Mom - “Sanjay! Go back to the sitting room—stop asking nonsense!”

Me - “But, Mom, you’re shouting… what’s wrong?”

Mom - “I said go! Leave me alone, Sanjay—please!”

I ran back, my heart pounding. I understood her anger—Manoj’s calls, his threats, were dragging her back to sin. Her outburst hurt, but she was trapped, fighting to protect her family. At 7 p.m., a knock came at the door, sharp and sudden. 

Mom, thinking it was Dad, hummed happily, smoothing her saree, and ran to open it, singing softly. She swung the door wide, but no one was there. She stepped out, looking around, the street dim with dusk, a neighbor’s dog barking faintly, a streetlamp flickering. 

Then Manoj appeared from the shadows, grabbing her arm and dragging her inside, locking the door with a click.

Mom - “Manoj?! Where did you come from? How are you here?”

Manoj - “Don’t worry about that, Rekha. I’m here for your ass.”

Mom - “No! You can’t just… barge in! Amit could be home any minute!”

Manoj - “Amit? Fuck him. I’ll take what’s mine, right now.”

Mom - “Stop it, Manoj! This is my home—get out!”

He kissed her hard, his lips crushing hers, his hands pressing her fat ass, squeezing through the saree. He whispered, “Cleaned your asshole for me, slut?” Mom stiffened, then saw me in the sitting room and pushed him back, her voice a frantic whisper.

Mom - “Manoj, stop! Sanjay’s here—he’s watching us! Please I don't want my son to watch this”

Manoj - “The kid? Shit, didn’t see him there.”

Mom - “Please, Manoj… go. He can’t know what’s happening.”

Manoj turned to me, his grin wide and shameless, his arm still around Mom’s waist.

Manoj - “Hey, kid! Just here to give your mom a massage—gonna rub her down real good.”

Mom - “Sanjay, it’s… just a massage, baby. To help me relax. Just like the other night ok? Don’t worry.”

Me - “A massage? Like last time? Why’s Manoj here again, Mom?”

Mom - “It’s… just to help with my stress, Sanjay. It’s nothing important.”

Manoj - “Nothing important? I’m gonna work her whole body, kid—her back, her ass, every inch.”

Me - “Her… ass? Mom, what does he mean by ‘ass’?”

I knew what “ass” meant—I’d heard it before, knew it was her backside, like “pussy” meant something private—but I asked to see how she’d lie, to test her. Her eyes widened, her cheeks flushing, and she fumbled for words, keeping her innocent act.

Mom - “Sanjay, it’s… just a word for… part of the body, like the back. He means my back, that’s all.”

Manoj - “Her back? Nah, kid, I’m gonna make her ass feel so good, she’ll be moaning loud.”

Me - “Moaning? Mom, why would you moan? Are you sick or something?”

Mom - “No, baby, I’m not sick. Manoj’s… joking. It’s just a normal massage.”

Manoj - “Joking? I’m gonna have her screaming, kid—just like last time. I am going to use her ass so hard”

Me - “Screaming? Mom, is this safe? Why’s he talking so weird?”

Mom - “Sanjay, please! It’s fine, he’s… exaggerating. Just go play, okay?”

Me - “But, Mom, why’s it always Manoj? Can’t Dad massage you?”

Mom - “Sanjay, enough questions. It’s… just a favor. Don’t worry about it.”

Manoj - “A favor? I’m gonna rub her till she melts, kid—her ass is gonna love it.”

Mom’s cheeks burned red, her eyes blazing at Manoj’s audacity, but she kept her innocent act, her voice soft to shield me. My stomach twisted—her lie about “ass” was weak, confirming she was hiding something. 

Manoj’s words—“ass,” “moaning,” “screaming”—made it clear this wasn’t a massage, and her vague answers only deepened my suspicion. She whispered to Manoj, her voice desperate.

Mom - “Manoj, let go of me—Sanjay’s watching. Please, stop this.”

Manoj - “Fine, Rekha. But we’re not done.”

He released her, and Mom turned to me, her face forced into a calm smile.

Mom - “Sanjay, I’m… getting a massage to relax. I’m sorry for shouting earlier, baby.”

Mom - “Please, tell me when Dad comes home, okay? And… don’t tell dad Manoj’s here.”

Me - “Okay, Mom… I won’t tell Dad. But why’s it a secret?”

Mom - “It’s not a secret, baby… Dad’s just tired, and I don’t want to bother him.”

I was shocked—tonight, Dad might find out, catch his wife with Manoj. Anger surged; Mom was trapped, unable to resist openly or I’d think she was in danger, but she was doing something wrong, dragging me into her lies. 

Manoj’s brazen words made it clear he planned to do bad things, and Mom’s lie about “ass” proved she was covering up. She led the way to the bedroom, her fat ass jiggling under the saree, each step a hypnotic sway. 

Manoj licked his lips, his eyes hungry, and I cursed myself—I knew enough about sex to know Mom was sinning, but a shameful part of me wanted to see what Manoj would do, to watch her body in ways I shouldn’t. 

Manoj looked back, winking at me, and I smiled, confused, my stomach twisting. Then he slapped her ass, a loud crack, her cheeks rippling, and she shouted, her voice sharp.

Mom - “Manoj! Stop it—Sanjay’s right there!”

Manoj - “Kid’s seen us before, Rekha. He knows I’m gonna make you scream.”

Mom - “No! He doesn’t… please, Manoj, not in front of him.”

Manoj - “Fuck, Rekha, your body’s begging for it. He’s fine—let’s go.”

Mom - “Manoj, I’m begging you… don’t say that. He’s my son.”

They disappeared into the bedroom, the door locking with a click. My innocent body reacted, a shameful twitch in my pants, and I ran to the door, pressing my eye to the keyhole, cursing myself for my curiosity, my anger mixing with a sick desire to see Mom’s holy body defiled again