Adultery Whispers of Lust: My Mom's Forbidden Path

[Rajeev Gupta]

The air in the house was thick with tension, the faint musk of sweat and sin lingering like a ghost as Dad’s heavy footsteps started up the stairs. 


My heart hammered, my palms slick with sweat, certain he’d burst into the bedroom and see Mom—Rekha—her fat ass spread, Manoj’s cock buried in her asshole, the ultimate betrayal of his holy wife. 


The torn scarf on the couch, the broken high heel under the table, the earthy odor Dad had noticed—they were clues piling up, threatening to unravel everything. 

I couldn’t let him see her like this, couldn’t let our family shatter. My voice cracked as I called out, desperation clawing at me.

Me: Dad, wait! I’ll go get Mom! She’s… probably still cleaning. You don’t need to go up!

Dad: Alright, Sanjay. Hurry up, though—I’m starving, and this house feels off tonight. I’ll wait in the sitting room.

Dad turned, his footsteps retreating to the sofa, the creak of the cushions a small relief. I bolted upstairs, my legs trembling, the staircase seeming to stretch endlessly, each step a thudding echo of my fear. 

The hallway was dim, lit only by a flickering bulb, casting shadows that danced like spect in the cracked mirror above the landing. 

As I neared Mom’s bedroom door, her screams hit me like a punch—raw, erotic, laced with pleasure: “OOOH, YES, YES, FUCK MY ASSHOLE!” 

My stomach lurched, shock rooting me to the spot. Mom, the woman who lit incense every morning, who dbangd sarees modestly for temple visits, was moaning like a porn star, using “fuck” with abandon. 

I’d known she was slipping—her bare pussy under the satin dress, the butt plug, her lies about Manoj—but this? Her voice dripped with lust, her holy facade obliterated. 

I’d tested her with my “ass” question, and her weak lie had hinted at her sluttiness, but hearing her beg for her asshole to be fucked by the pervert Manoj shattered every illusion. 

She wasn’t just trapped; she was reveling in it, her filthy asshole craving Manoj’s cock, her moans a siren’s call to sin. My chest tightened, betrayal and fascination warring within me, my cock twitching despite my horror.

I pressed my eye to the keyhole, the brass cold against my skin, and saw Manoj fucking her rapidly, his hips a blur, his cock pistoning in and out of her asshole with relentless force. 






The pace was ferocious, each thrust a wet slap, her ass cheeks rippling like storm-tossed waves, the bed’s frame shuddering, its legs scbanging the floor. Ooh her poor asshole is being ravaged.

Her asshole stretched wide, the rim glistening with oil, red and puckered from the abuse, juices leaking down her thighs. 

The rapid fucking made her boobs bounce wildly under the dress, her nipples stabbing the fabric, her hair a sweaty tangle whipping across her back. I never imagined the mom who I knew and taught me good manners was doing the worst sin on her marriage bedroom with another man.


Mom’s hands clawed the sheets, tearing the cotton, her knees buckling, her body lurching forward with each thrust, her moans a crescendo of ecstasy.


Manoj spoke, his voice a twisted blend of romantic sweetness and filthy slurs, his hands gripping her hips, sweat beading on his brow.

Manoj: Rekha, my darling, your ass is a fucking whore’s dream, so tight and greedy. You’re my sweet slut, loving this cock, aren’t you? Tell me you love it, my precious bitch.

Mom: OHHH! MANOJ, IT’S TOO MUCH! I… I can’t believe I’m feeling this! Why are you doing this to me?

Manoj: You like it, don’t you, my love? Your asshole’s sucking me dry, you filthy goddess. Why’s it gripping me so hard, Rekha?

Mom: I… yes, a little, but it’s wrong! Why do you keep asking me these shameful things? I’m not supposed to feel this way! Aaahhh ooohhhhhhh

Manoj: Because you’re a slut under that holy mask, darling. Is your pussy wet from this, Rekha? Is it dripping for my cock in your ass?

Mom: Stop it, Manoj! Why do you say such disgusting things? I’m… I’m not like that, I swear!







The room reeked, a filthy stench of sweat, oil, and something rawer—Mom’s asshole, its musky, earthy odor lurking in the air, seeping into the hallway. 

It was unmistakable, the scent of her spoilt asshole, mingling with her perfume, a sickening blend that clung to my throat. 

I knocked on the door, my fist trembling, and saw Mom’s head snap up, her eyes wide with shock, her body pausing mid-moan. But Manoj didn’t stop, his cock still buried deep in her nasty asshole, his thrusts slowing but relentless, a smug grin on his face.

Me: Mom! Dad’s home! He’s downstairs and wants to see you now!

Mom: Sanjay?! Oh God, where is he? Is he coming up here?

Me: He’s in the sitting room, Mom, but he’s asking questions! Hurry, please!  What are you doing mom? Did Manoj not finish the massage?

Mom’s hands flew to her mouth, muffling a gasp, her face pale, her boobs heaving as she whispered to Manoj, her voice frantic. She didn't know what to do and things were going really fast. Could this be the last time my mom and dad will see each other after they divorce?

Mom: Manoj, what am I going to do? My husband Amit is here—he’ll divorce me if he finds us! Please, we have to stop!

Manoj: Relax, my sweet. He’s downstairs, clueless. Just keep that ass open, and we’ll finish quick.

Mom: No, Manoj, are you out of your mind? You don’t understand! My marriage, my son—everything’s at stake! Why don’t you care? This is risky please enough of this aaahhh aooooohhhhh

Manoj didn’t care, his eyes gleaming with defiance, his hands caressing her ass as he gave slow, deliberate pushes, his cock sliding in and out, savoring her asshole’s grip. 

His thrusts were measured, almost taunting, the bed creaking softly, a stark contrast to the earlier frenzy. Mom’s body trembled, her ass cheeks quivering, her face a mix of terror and unwilling pleasure, her asshole stretched around his shaft, juices dripping onto the sheets.


I knocked again, harder, my voice shaking, my eyes darting behind me to check for Dad’s shadow on the stairs. I was afraid if he would climb the stairs again. Tension coiled in my gut, a cold sweat soaking my shirt, every second a ticking bomb.

Me: Mom, please! Dad’s waiting—he really wants to see you! Come out now! He is coming upstairs

Mom pushed against Manoj, her hands shoving his chest, her legs kicking to dislodge him, her voice a desperate hiss.

Mom: Manoj, stop it! Don't ruin my marriage.  My husband Amit is downstairs—we can’t keep going! Please, just stop for a minute! Aaahhhh ooohhh shit remove your dick please oooohh Manoj please this is risky.

Manoj: Stop? My darling, your ass is too fucking good to quit now. Why’re you panicking? He’s not coming up.

Mom: You’re ruining my life! I need to go to him, or he’ll suspect something! Why are you so reckless? I can't afford to let him see what I am doing

Manoj: Reckless? I’m giving you what you crave, you slutty goddess. Let’s finish, then you can play the good wife. Open your asscheeks more you slut

Mom: Aaahhh oooooooohh ssshitt aaaahh!!! No, Manoj, I’m begging you—pull out, just for a minute! I can’t face Amit like this! Please, have some mercy!

Manoj sighed, his grin fading, and slowly withdrew his cock, the shaft slick with oil and juices. 

Mom shouted in relief, “AAHH!” her body collapsing onto the bed, her asshole gaping wide, a dark, stretched hole, red and raw, leaking a mix of oil and her body’s fluids. It was dirty.

I couldn’t believe how gaped it was—her asshole, once tight, now a cavern, the rim swollen, unable to close. The butt plug had loosened her, but Manoj’s relentless fucking had ruined it, transforming her into a slut. 



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All sluts take it up the ass, I thought, Shalini’s words echoing faintly, and Mom was one now, her holy vows meaningless, her body marked by sin.

Mom sat up, her face etched with worry, her hands wringing, the room’s stench overwhelming, her asshole’s odor tainting everything.

Mom: Manoj, this room smells awful! My husband Amit will notice—it’s so embarrassing! What do we do? I feel scared!

Manoj: It’s your ass, darling, making this place a fucking whorehouse. Smells like heaven to me, you filthy slut.

Mom: Don’t say that! It’s disgusting, and Amit’s downstairs! Hide! Hide! Hide now please, before you ruin everything!

Manoj: Hide? Gimme my trousers first, my sweet. Can’t run around with my cock out, can I?

Mom: Trousers? What for? Manoj please stop this nonsense! Why didn’t you keep them close? You’re impossible, Manoj!

Manoj: You were too busy moaning, darling. Grab ’em from the floor, quick.

Mom stood, her fat ass swaying as she crossed the room, the cheeks jiggling with each step, her bare pussy glistening under the dress. Manoj’s eyes devoured her, his gaze hungry, lingering on her fat ass. Her boobs, full and heavy, bounced slightly, the satin clinging to their perfect shape, the nipples still hard, a testament to her body’s betrayal.













She snatched the trousers from the corner, tossing them to him, and Manoj rummaged in the pocket, pulling out a small packet of white powder. Mom froze, her eyes narrowing, confusion etching her face.

Mom: What’s that powder, Manoj? Why do you have it? What are you planning?

Manoj: Don’t worry, my love. If Amit comes up, mix this in his juice—it’ll keep him calm. You want him out of the way, don’t you? You want me to continue fucking your asshole right?

Mom: No! I’m not drugging my husband! You are going to far Manoj! I cannot drug my husband and I don't know what that powder is. What is that stuff? Tell me, Manoj!

Manoj: It’s just a little relaxant, darling. He’ll sleep, we’ll finish, no drama. Trust me, you need this, you slutty queen. I know you want me to continue fucking your asshole while he passes out near you, right?

Mom: I won’t do it! You’re insane—poisoning my husband Amit? How dare you even suggest it! Get in the closet now and hide, I can't do this nonsense Please Manoj stop trying to ruin my holy marriage. I am a married woman, not an evil woman, I can't do this to my husband.

Manoj: Listen Rekha, It’s harmless, my sweet. You want your marriage safe? This keeps him clueless. Or you want him seeing your gaped ass? Do you want him to know that you are a true slut who had taken my dick in your pussy and sweet asshole?

Mom: Stop it, Manoj! I can’t believe you’d ask this! You’re destroying everything I care about!

Manoj: Destroying? I’m saving your ass, literally. Take it, Rekha—do it for us, you filthy goddess. Pour a glass of juice for him and mix this powder in it, he will pass out then we will fuck near him.

Mom’s hands shook, her eyes darting to the door, then back to the powder. She didn't have a choice, perhaps a portion of Manoj's evil words was making sense to her.

She snatched it reluctantly, her face twisted with disgust, not wanting to comply but cornered by fear. Manoj smirked, tucking the trousers under his arm. I could not believe what my mom just did. Did she just accept the evil words and suggestions of Manoj? Woow!!

I knocked again, my fists pounding, my voice cracking, the hallway’s stench choking me, my eyes scanning the stairs for Dad’s silhouette.

Me: Mom, come out! Dad’s getting impatient! Please, hurry!

Mom spun, her voice sharp, her boobs swaying as she pointed at Manoj.

Mom: Manoj, hide now! Don’t ruin my marriage—you’ve done enough damage! Get in the closet, quick!

Manoj: Relax, darling. I’ll hide, but only if you give me a kiss first. One sweet kiss, my slutty love.

Mom: A kiss? Now? You’re shameless, Manoj! Move, or I’ll scream for Amit!

Manoj: If you scream that is when you will ruin everything. No kiss, no hiding. C’mon, Rekha, those lips are begging for me. Make it quick, you whore.

Mom’s face flushed with anger, her eyes blazing, but she was naked, her dress barely covering her, her gaped asshole leaking. I was shocked as she stormed to him, her hands grabbing his head, and kissed him passionately, her lips crashing into his, their mouths intertwining, tongues dancing in a wet, desperate embrace. 







I thought she loved his lips, despite his bad stinky breath, the faint reek of saliva and lust. Manoj’s hand slid between her sweaty asscheeks, his middle finger probing her asshole, pushing in deep. Mom jolted, her body tensing, a muffled moan escaping their locked lips, her hips twitching as his finger invaded her raw, gaped hole.

She didn't want his middle finger around her already sore asshole.


Her ass swayed left and right, trying to dislodge his finger, but it was buried deep, wiggling inside, stretching her asshole further. She pushed against his chest, her nails digging in, trying to move away, her boobs pressed against him, but Manoj held her tight, his other hand gripping her neck, forcing the kiss. 


Mom’s moans turned to whimpers, her legs trembling, her body caught between resistance and the overwhelming sensation in her asshole. She bit his lip, hard, and twisted her head, breaking the kiss with a gasp, her lips swollen, her face flushed. How could this two illegal love birds be doing this while my dad is at home downstairs.

Mom: Manoj, your breath stinks! Stop this—I can’t breathe! Why are you so disgusting?

Manoj: Stinks? You love it, darling, you kissed me like a hungry slut. That’s the taste of your ass on my lips, my sweet.

Mom: No, I don’t! You’re vile, Manoj! Hide, now, or my marriage is ending today move please.

Manoj: Alright, my love, I’m going. I wish I destroy your marriage ooh my love. But you felt that kiss, didn’t you? Your ass is still mine, you whore.

Mom shoved him toward the closet, her hands pushing his chest, her boobs bouncing with the effort. Manoj resisted playfully, dragging his feet, grinning as she struggled. She opened the closet door, its hinges squeaking, and pushed him inside, her strength fueled by panic.

Manoj: I’m in, darling. Don’t forget—mix that powder in Amit’s juice. And Rekha, I’m not done fucking your asshole, you slutty queen.

Mom: Shut up, Manoj! Stay quiet, or you’ll destroy my life! I’m locking you in—don’t make a sound!

Manoj: Lock me up, my sweet, but you’ll beg for my cock again. That gaped ass needs me. Make sure Amit drinks it, or you are fucked.

Mom slammed the closet door, twisting the key, her hands shaking, the white powder packet clutched in her fist, her eyes darting to the door. 

She looked at it, then at the closet, her face a storm of fear and resentment, her gaped asshole a constant reminder of her fall. I knocked again, my voice a desperate shout, my heart pounding, the hallway’s stench suffocating, Dad’s presence downstairs a ticking clock.


Me: Mom, please! Dad’s waiting! Come out now, or he’ll come up!

Mom: I’m coming, Sanjay! Just… give me a second, baby! I’m on my way!