Adultery Whispers of Lust: My Mom's Forbidden Path

[Rajeev Gupta]

The doorbell’s sharp ring pierced the air, signaling Dad’s return, but I froze, my hand still on my pants, my cock throbbing from watching Mom—Rekha—upstairs. I was in a dilemma, should I continue watching my mom's asshole being fucked raw or should I go and open the door for dad?

But if I open the door then it would mean that I would be opening the door for their divorce.

Her fat ass jiggled with each of Manoj’s thrusts, his cock buried deep in her asshole, a place meant for shitting, not fucking. 








My holy mother, who prayed daily, was being sodomized for the first time, her fat thighs wiggling, her bare pussy exposed and her asshole being stretched to the limit. I didn’t want to face Dad, to see his trusting eyes while Mom moaned in sin. 

Instead, I crept back upstairs, drawn to the keyhole, my heart pounding with shame and curiosity, my breath catching as Mom’s loud moans of pleasure filled the bedroom. My dad kept ringing the door bell and I didn't care to open.

I returned to my position at the keyhole to watch my Manoj continue fucking my mom's asshole so hard that he even began sweating. The sweat on his back and forehead confirmed to me that he was really an alpha male with strength for fucking a woman's asshole.



Inside, the bed shook, its wooden frame groaning under their rhythm, the headboard tapping the wall like a heartbeat. Mom’s body rocked, her big boobs swaying under the dress, her nipples hard against the fabric, her fat ass quivering as Manoj pounded her. 







She arched her back, her fingers clawing the sheets, her toes curling into the mattress, her moans a mix of surrender and ecstasy, her hips pushing back to meet his thrusts. 


Was my mom enjoying being fucked in her asshole? The forbidden hole? Why was she moaning and yet she was having sex with another man? Is she that level of a slut? How did Shalini know this? How did she know my mom was such a slut who was just covered in religious matters?


Sweat glistened on her skin, rolling down her spine, pooling in the dip of her lower back. Manoj leaned in, his tongue tracing her neck, licking the salty sweat, then dragging along her back, savoring her taste. I could see his dick was deeper in her anus, making more way in her asshole. So filthy.



He was shameless, fucking another man’s wife, his hands gripping her big ass, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He was lucky—too lucky—to use Mom’s asshole, a sacred woman’s forbidden place, fucking what Dad cherished.







Manoj spoke, his voice blending romantic sweetness with filthy slurs, teasing her as he thrust deeper.

Manoj: Rekha, my darling, your asshole is a fucking dream, sucking me in like a whore. You’re so beautiful, my sweet slut. Feel how deep I’m loving you, bitch.

Mom: OHH… Manoj, please, it’s too much! I’m not a whore, but… this feeling, it’s overwhelming! You’ve corrupted me, made me sin like this! Oohhh I can't believe I am doing this oooh oohh ssshhhhh ooooohh aaaaahhhh

Manoj: You’re my goddess, Rekha, even if you’re a filthy slut. Your ass is pure magic, darling. Let it love me back, my precious whore. Push that fat ass of your back on me, let my dick go deeper in your asshole.

I was shocked, my stomach twisting—Mom was moaning in pleasure, her body betraying her holy claims. She tossed her hair, her lips parted, her eyes half-closed in a haze of ecstasy, her hips grinding against Manoj, her ass cheeks clapping softly. 


Her pleasure was undeniable, her moans louder, her body alive with sin. Shalini’s words flashed once: “All women are sluts inside.” Mom was proving it, her pious mask shattered, her asshole opening up, welcoming Manoj’s cock.








Manoj’s thrusts grew bolder, the bed’s creaks mixing with the faint hum of a the TV through the wall, the room heavy with the scent of sweat and oil and the filthy smell of mom's asshole.


He spoke again, his voice dripping with filth, focused on her asshole.

Manoj: Rekha, your asshole’s sucking my dick so deep, like it’s hungry for it. It’s fucking gripping me, darling. This tight hole’s made for my cock, isn’t it?


Mom: OHH… I don’t know, Manoj! It feels so strange, so full! I didn’t want this, but… my body’s doing things I can’t control! I am beginning to like this but.....aaaaahhhhh don't push further please.. aaahhhh

Manoj: That’s it, my sweet. Your asshole’s a fucking vacuum, pulling me in. You’re built for this, Rekha, even if you deny it.

Mom’s asshole was opening, the rim stretching wide, slick with oil, her flesh yielding as Manoj’s cock slid in and out, her moans punctuating each thrust. 

The bed shook harder, a glass of water on the nightstand trembling, threatening to spill. A curtain fluttered from a cracked window, letting in a whiff of jasmine from the garden, clashing with the room’s musky heat. 


Manoj held her fat ass, his fingers sinking into the jiggly flesh, pounding her with steady force, her cheeks rippling like waves on a stormy sea.


Mom’s moans turned to a desperate edge, and she blamed Manoj, her voice thick with pleasure and guilt.

Mom: OHH… Manoj, you’ve ruined me! You pushed me into this sin, made me feel this filthy pleasure! I was a good wife, a pure mother, and now I’m… this! I don't feel like I am a good wife... oooohh ah ah ah ah

Manoj: Ruined? You’re thriving, my darling slut. You are my slut from now on. Don't be religious, just be my whore only. I just woke up what was sleeping inside you, Rekha. Your body’s thanking me, fucking loving every inch of my cock. Now my cock deeper in your filthy asshole.

Mom: No, aahhh aahhh ooohhhh you corrupted my soul! I wanted to stay holy, to honor my husband Amit, but you dragged me into this shame! These feelings… they’re wrong, but I can’t stop them!

Manoj: Shame? You’re a fucking queen, Rekha, taking my dick like a pro. I’m just giving you what you were born for, sweetheart. Moan louder, let it all out. Moan loud as I fuck your big gaand.

Mom’s body shuddered, her asshole now loose, accepting him fully, the rim glistening, her moans a symphony of conflicted pleasure. She shifted, wincing, and pleaded to adjust her position, her voice strained.


Mom: OHH… Manoj, please, let me adjust my bending! This angle hurts, it’s too deep! I need to move a little, ease the pain!

Manoj: Adjust, darling? Why’s it hurting now? I thought you were liking it, my cock is already deep, no need to change the position. Is it the angle or my cock stretching you too much? Tell me, my sweet.

Mom: It’s the angle, Manoj! My hips are cramping, the pain’s sharp! Please, let me shift, I can’t stay like this! Your penis is so big, it hurts more in this angle and position aaahhhhh!

Manoj: Alright, my love, move however you need. Find the spot that feels right. But keep that ass open for me, Rekha. Don't remove my dick from your asshole.

Mom: Thank you… yes, this position’s better. It’s less painful now. Just… keep going slow, please. Keep going but don't push hard, the pain will be sharp.

Manoj: Perfect, darling. Is this how you want it, bent just like this? You’re so fucking gorgeous, Rekha.


I didn't believe my mom was telling Manoj to continue fucking her asshole. Why is mom behaving like a bitch?


Mom adjusted, raising her hips slightly, her knees spreading wider, her ass cheeks parting naturally, her asshole more accessible. Actually my didn't know but this angle actually made Manoj's dick go deeper in her asshole, it was the worst preference she chose.


Manoj resumed, his cock sliding smoothly, her moans softer but still laced with pleasure. 







The doorbell rang again, sharper, insistent, and I panicked, my heart racing. I ran downstairs, terrified Dad would discover Mom’s sin, certain today he’d divorce her, our family shattered. 


My hands shook, my breath ragged, as I reached the door, the tension a vise around my chest. I opened it, and Dad stood there, his face tired but puzzled, his briefcase in hand, a faint curry scent clinging to his coat from lunch.

Dad: Hello Sanjay, why didn’t you open the door sooner? I knocked like a thousand times, son. Were you asleep or something?

Me: Uh… no, Dad, I was… in the bathroom. Sorry, I didn’t hear you. I came as fast as I could.

Dad stepped inside, sniffing the air, his brow furrowing. The house smelled odd—musky, like sweat and something filthy, mixed with Mom’s and Manoj's perfume lingering in the hall.

Dad: Why’s the house smelling so funny, Sanjay? It’s not the usual clean scent. What’s that… heavy odor?

Me: Funny? Um… I don’t know, Dad. Maybe it’s… the curry Mom was cooking earlier? You know she cooks really tasty food maybe today she added more spice

Dad: Curry and spice? No, it’s… earthier, like something’s off. Did someone spill something?

I nearly fainted, my legs wobbling, certain he’d sense Mom’s betrayal. Today might be the day my dad knows that his wife is pleasing another man inside his bedroom. 

The smell was Manoj’s sweat, Mom’s body, their sin seeping through the house. Dad noticed a torn scarf on the couch—Mom’s, ripped by Manoj weeks ago—its silk frayed, and a single high heel under the table, its strap broken. His eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering.

Dad: That scarf’s torn, and… a broken shoe? What’s going on here, Sanjay?

Me: Oh, that… Mom was… cleaning, and stuff got messed up. It’s nothing, Dad.

I couldn’t believe Dad was in the house while Mom was upstairs, her asshole fucked by Manoj, their thumping bed a secret I held. My stomach churned; I’d just betrayed Mom’s orders not to tell Dad where she was or that Manoj was here.

Dad: Where’s your mom, Sanjay? She’s usually down here cooking by now.

Me: Uh… she’s… upstairs, Dad. Probably… resting or something.

Dad: Resting? She’s not sick, is she? You’re stammering, son. I hope she is not sick or something.

Me: No, she’s fine! I just… uummm....I’m a bit cold, that’s all.

I shook, my palms sweaty, and Dad sat on the sofa, his eyes scanning the room. He called upstairs, his voice loud. I knew dad knew that the house today was somehow not in the normal state.

Dad: Rekha! Come down, love! I’m home!

No reply came—the bedroom’s thick walls and Manoj's and Mom's sex drowned out his voice. Dad looked confused, looking at me.

Dad: Why’s she not answering, Sanjay? Is she okay up there? 

Me: She’s… probably asleep, Dad. She was tired earlier. Maybe she didn’t hear you.

Dad: Asleep? Well I don't know! And You’re sweating, son, but you said you’re cold. Or did you play so hard today?

Me: It’s… just the cold, Dad. I’m fine, really. Maybe I’m coming down with something.

My lies were crumbling, my face hot, sweat beading on my forehead. A faint thumping drifted from upstairs, the bed’s rhythm, Mom’s muffled moans barely audible. Dad’s head tilted, his eyes sharpening.

I was sweating for the fear of two things. One, that my dad will know the true colors of my mom and secondly, my dad will divorce my mom today and that will be the end of their love life.

Then a faint thump from upstairs were heard, it was quick sharp thumping and thuds.


Dad: What’s that noise, Sanjay? Is your mom moving furniture or something? Why’s there thumping?

Me: Oh, that? Mom’s… probably rearranging her closet. She mentioned cleaning up there.

Dad: Rearranging? I thought you said she was sleeping? Sounds louder than that. Well, whatever, I feel thirsty. Go get me some water, son.

I bolted to the kitchen, my heart hammering, fear clawing at me like a trapped animal. I was terrified Dad would climb the stairs, see Mom’s bare ass, Manoj’s cock in her asshole, and end our family. 

In the kitchen, I froze because I saw Mom’s phone lay on the counter, the screen glowing with a penis picture, Manoj’s cock, sent via WhatsApp. 







I scrolled, my hands trembling, and saw their earlier chats—filthy messages, Manoj’s demands, Mom’s reluctant replies. If Dad had come here, he’d have seen it, the truth exposed. I shoved the phone into a drawer, my pulse racing, and grabbed a glass of water.

Dad: Sanjay! Why’re you taking so long? It’s just water, son!

Me: Sorry, Dad! I… dropped the glass, had to clean it up. Here’s the water!

I ran back, handing him the glass, my hands shaking. The thumping grew louder, Mom’s screams faint but unmistakable, and Dad’s brow furrowed again.

Dad: Why’s your mom screaming, Sanjay? That’s not cleaning—it sounds like she’s hurt.

Me: Uh… maybe she saw a spider, Dad. She hates those. I’m sure she’s fine.

Dad: A spider? That’s a lot of noise for a bug. I’m going upstairs to check.

Panic surged, my vision blurring—Dad was moving toward the stairs, his steps heavy, and I knew the truth was seconds away from exploding









Whoooaa! Guys! Is my dad finally going to see my mom being fucked in her asshole by Manoj?