Adultery Whispers of Lust: My Mom's Forbidden Path

[Rajeev Gupta]

The bedroom was a crucible of sin, its air saturated with the rancid, earthy stench of Mom’s asshole, a dirty odor that clawed at my throat, mingling with the sour reek of Manoj’s sweat and the faint, dirty sweetness of a cracked jasmine candle on the dresser, its wax pooling like tears. 


Dad lay crumpled on the floor, his drugged snores a guttural drone, his cheek smeared with dust from Manoj’s cruel kick, a half-spilled glass of orange juice beside him, its sticky residue glinting in the dim light. 

My mom screamed, “AAAHHH! MANOJ, IT’S TOO MUCH!” as Manoj pushed his cock deeper into her asshole, the tip stretching her gaped, red rim, slick with oil and her body’s juices. 

Her naked body shimmered with sweat, her fat ass raised on the bed’s edge, the cheeks quivering like storm-tossed dunes, her big boobs dangling, nipples hard as polished agates, rivulets of perspiration tracing the curves of her spine, pooling in the hollow above her ass.

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Manoj’s cock pressed forward, and Mom’s asshole opened wider, the rim parting like a velvet curtain, soft and pliant from the butt plug’s earlier stretching, now yielding to his thick shaft, the flesh trembling as it engulfed him inch by inch. 


Mom's cute asshole rim was red, swollen, glistening with oil, a delicate pink star transformed into a loose, hungry maw, its edges pulsing with each thrust. Her asshole was opening wider and wider as Manoj's dick dug deeper in her asshole.


Manoj’s hands gripped her hips, his fingers sinking into the jiggly flesh, his eyes gleaming with predatory lust as he spoke, his voice a twisted blend of romance and filth.


Manoj: Rekha, my darling, your asshole feels like a fucking paradise, so warm and tight, you slutty queen. It’s sucking my cock like it was born for it, my sweet whore. Push back, love, let this precious hole take me deeper.

Mom: OOH YESS, MANOJ! It’s… so overwhelming, I can’t control this feeling! Why does it feel so strong, you disgusting beast ooohh ooohhh Manooojjj ooooooh eeeeeeeee aaii aiii aaii eeeeehh ooooh please yes yes oh oh dd slowly dear please do it slowly

Manoj: Shut up my slut! I see you’re a filthy goddess, Rekha, built for my cock, darling. Your ass is a treasure, gripping me like a lover, you bitch. Move those hips, make it sing for me, my precious slut. You were religious earlier but now a slut

Mom pushed back, her ass cheeks spreading wider, the flesh parting to reveal her gaped asshole, her knees digging into the mattress, the bed’s springs creaking like a ship in a gale. Woow my mom was being such a slut.


Her hips rocked, a slow, deliberate grind, and Manoj’s cock slid deeper, three-quarters of its length now buried, the glistening shaft stretching her rim to its limit, juices leaking down her thighs, soaking the sheets in a dark, shameful stain. 


I couldn’t believe this was my Mom—the woman who braided her hair with jasmine flowers, who whispered prayers at dawn—her holy body a whore’s playground, her asshole yielding to Manoj’s cock, her moans a betrayal of everything sacred. 

She wasn’t the pious mother I’d known; she was a slut, her face contorted in ecstasy, sweat matting her hair, her lips parted, spilling words like “OOH YESS, FUCK ME!” that seared my soul. 

Manoj held her fat ass, his hands kneading the flesh like dough, pounding deeper, each thrust a wet, resonant slap, her cheeks rippling like waves crashing on a jagged shore. 

Mom didn’t deny it anymore; she moaned, her voice a siren’s wail, “OOH YESS, MANOJ, FUCK MY ASSHOLE HARDER! I don't care from now onwards, I am a real slut you made me a slut and now  let me be a good slut” the words dripping with lust, her body alive with forbidden pleasure.

I stood at the keyhole, my hand in my pants, rubbing my dick, a perverse thrill surging through me like a wildfire. I was angry with myself for rubbing my dick while seeing my mom being assfucked by another man. 

What kind of a son am I? What kind of a son sees his mom being fucked in her fat ass and he rubs his dick while continuing to watch? What am I doing? But I couldn't control myself. 



Dad’s passed-out body, sprawled inches from Mom’s sodomized ass, made it unbearably erotic—his wife, his holy treasure, fucked in her dirtiest hole while he lay oblivious, a drugged fool. 





I didn’t feel bad; I felt good, my cock throbbing as I stroked, the betrayal a dark symphony that set my blood ablaze. Mom’s sluttiness, her moans, Manoj’s cock plunging into her asshole—it was wrong, vile, but I loved it, my hand moving faster, my breath ragged, my shame drowned by the intoxicating sight. 

The intensity of how Manoj dick ravaging mom's asshole made it certain that my mom's asshole was so much loose by now. It was not tighter anymore!


I didn’t pity Dad; I envied Manoj, his luck in claiming Mom’s precious asshole, a forbidden jewel he hadn’t yet filled with his cum. To be honest, every body in our neighborhood, especially the bigger married men, have always dreamt of fucking my mom in the ass.

I am sure if they were told to divorce their wives to marry my mom so that the can fuck my mom's asshole, then I am sure and gurantee that they would have divorced their wives.

But this night, Manoj was a very very very luck man to fuck this big ass of my mom.



The room’s filth was suffocating, the asshole smell of my mom now laced with a sour, metallic tang, as if the bed’s iron frame were sweating in protest. 







A shattered perfume vial on the dresser leaked rosewater, its sweetness warring with the room’s depravity, while a neighbor’s wind chimes tinkled faintly, a mocking contrast to Mom’s screams. 

During the doggystyle anal, Manoj’s hands roamed, slapping her ass, the cracks echoing like thunder, her cheeks blooming red, his fingers twisting her hair, yanking her head back, her boobs bouncing wildly, sweat flying like diamonds in the lamplight.

I didn't ever imagine my pious mom would be reduce to this filthy slutty woman being fucked in the asshole so hard.


Manoj leaned closer, his voice thick with desire, probing her pleasure.

Manoj: Rekha, my sweet slut, how’s my cock fucking your asshole? Is it filling you like a whore deserves, you filthy darling? Tell me how it feels, you precious bitch. Do you feel like a whore?

Mom: OOH YESS, MANOJ! It’s… so deep, it’s driving me crazy! Why’s my body loving this when it’s so shameful. You turned me into another woman totally different.

Manoj: Because you’re my slutty queen, Rekha, made for this, my love. Your ass is singing for my cock, darling. Let it scream louder, you whore.

He spoke again, comparing her holes, his thrusts unrelenting, the bed shuddering, its legs scbanging the floor, a porcelain figurine on the nightstand wobbling, threatening to topple.

Manoj: Rekha, your asshole’s sweeter than your pussy, darling, so fucking tight and warm, you slut. It’s gripping me better than any cunt could, my precious whore. Why’s your ass so perfect for my cock, you filthy goddess?

Mom: OOH YESS, MANOJ, STOP THAT! Don’t compare them—it’s disgusting, humiliating! Why do you say such vile things, you monster?Aaahh hhhh ssshh ooh ooh ooohh Manooojjj!!

Manoj: Because your ass is a fucking masterpiece, Rekha, outshining your pussy’s wet grip, my love. It’s sucking me dry, you naughty slut. You crave this hole fucked, don’t you?

Mom: NO, I DON’T! It’s… overwhelming, but my body’s betraying me! You’re forcing me to feel this, you beast!

Manoj pushed her forward, her body shifting, her face now hovering over Dad’s passed-out form, his snores a pitiful hum, a streak of drool on his chin glinting in the lamplight. Her boobs shook, swaying like ripe fruit in a monsoon, her fat ass jiggling with each thrust, sweat cascading down her back, pooling in the dip above her ass, her skin gleaming like polished copper.



Manoj: Look at your husband, Rekha, you slutty darling. He’s a fucking pathetic loser, snoring while I fuck your asshole, my sweet. Tell me you love betraying him, you whore.

Mom: OOH YESS, NO, MANOJ! I can’t… I won’t say that! I love my husband Amit, I swear!

Manoj: Don’t lie, my precious bitch. Your asshole is being broken by my cock—say it, or I’ll ram you harder, you slut. Do you love cheating on this useless bastard?

Manoj forced her, his hand gripping her hair, twisting it until she winced, his cock slamming deeper, her asshole stretching wider, her screams melting into whimpers. Mom’s face crumpled, her resistance shattering, her voice a broken sob.

Mom: OOH YESS… YES, I LOVE BETRAYING HIM! I’m a filthy whore, Manoj, I can’t help it! Why did you make me admit this? OOohhhhhh

Manoj: Because it’s the truth, my darling slut. Does it feel good, fucking me with him right there? Are you my whore forever, Rekha?

Mom: YES, IT FEELS SO GOOD! I’m… your whore, God forgive me! I hate you for this, but my body won’t stop!

Manoj: That’s my girl, you filthy queen. Now tell your husband you’re sorry for being a bitch and whore. Scream it, darling, let his sleeping ass hear your shame.

Mom: OOH YESS, AMIT, I’M SORRY! I’M A BITCH, A WHORE! I DIDN’T WANT THIS, BUT I LOVE IT! Please Manoj stop just stop aahhhhh I can't be doing this ooooohh please easy on my asshole please!

Manoj: Louder, you slutty love. Tell him your asshole’s mine now, you filthy bitch. Make him feel your betrayal, even in his drugged haze. 

Mom: AMIT, I’M SORRY! MY ASSHOLE’S HIS, I’M A WHORE! I’M LOST IN THIS SIN, AND I CAN’T ESCAPE!

Mom’s breasts shook violently, her nipples scbanging the sheets, her fat ass jiggling like a storm-tossed sea, sweat dripping onto the floor, mingling with Dad’s spilled juice. Her asshole was loose, a yawning chasm, like a velvet glove stretched beyond repair, no longer the tight star it once was, its rim red and swollen, leaking juices in a slow, shameful trickle. 

I wondered why Manoj chose that dirty hole, where women shit, a place of waste, not for pleasure. It was disgusting—Manoj was disgusting for craving it, his cock defiling Mom’s precious asshole, a sacred, intimate part of her holy body, meant for private functions like shitting, not this perverse violation. 

But now his cock was deeper in that precious but filthy hole that was for shitting. Ever since my mom became pious, she only knew the place for sex was pussy but not asshole. However, now, her asshole is being opened to the furthest distance.

Yet I loved it, my dick throbbing as I rubbed it with my hands, the taboo fueling my arousal, the filth of her asshole-fucking a dark thrill. Her asshole was tiny, a delicate pink jewel hidden between her fat cheeks, so hard to reach, its plump flesh a barrier, yet Manoj had conquered it, his cock claiming that precious hole. 

A woman’s asshole, like Mom’s, was precious—intimate, forbidden, a secret only the boldest could possess, its tightness a rare trophy, its violation a mark of ultimate dominance, a testament to her fall from grace.

Manoj fucked her rapidly, his cock a glistening blur, coated in her juices. His dick was now coated with a brown, yellowish paste-like substance, spreading with each thrust, a warm, sticky coating I didn’t understand, my youth blinding me to its origin. 

The rapid pace sent her ass cheeks clapping, the sound a rhythmic drum, her boobs bouncing, sweat flying, the bed’s frame groaning, a rusted nail in the headboard glinting as it shook loose. 







A tattered prayer shawl, Mom’s keepsake from a pilgrimage, lay trampled on the floor, its silk threads catching the lamplight, a silent judge of her sin. The room’s stench grew, the asshole odor now laced with the brown paste’s sour, acrid edge, a neighbor’s incense drifting through a cracked window, its sandalwood notes a futile protest against the house’s corruption.

Manoj noticed the brown substance, his eyes narrowing, his voice clever but pointed, masking the truth with a sly tone.

Manoj: Rekha, my darling, your ass is leaving a special mark on my cock, you slutty queen. It’s coating me with this warm, thick paste, my sweet. Didn’t think your precious hole would gift me something so… unique.

Mom: OOH YESS, MANOJ, YOU FOOL! Aaahhhh! I told you if you fuck my ass like that then it was bound to get messy! You ignored my warnings, you filthy pig, now deal with it!

Manoj: Messy? Your ass is a fucking artist, darling, painting my cock with its secrets, you whore. You love this dirty gift, don’t you, my naughty love?

Mom: NO, I DON’T! It’s gross, and it’s your fault for pushing so hard! Why do you make everything so vile, Manoj?


Manoj leaned in, his thrusts unrelenting, and reminded her of her complicity, his voice a taunting mix of accusation and lust.


Manoj: Rekha, my sweet slut, you wanted this when you drugged your husband, you filthy darling. You poured that powder in his juice, you whore, to keep him out while I fuck your ass. Admit it, you craved this betrayal, my precious bitch.

Mom: OOH YESS, NO, MANOJ! I didn’t want this—I was forced, you monster! I drugged him to save my marriage, not to become your slut!

Manoj: Save your marriage? You’re moaning like a whore, darling, with his cock in your ass, you slutty queen. You chose this, Rekha, and your ass loves it, my naughty love.

Mom: I HATE YOU FOR THIS! I did it to protect Amit and Sanjay, not to enjoy it! Why do you twist everything, you vile man? Aahhh ahhhhhh 

The bed shook harder, its legs clawing at the floor, a chipped teacup on the dresser rattling, its floral pattern a cruel reminder of Mom’s lost innocence. 

A gust from the cracked window stirred a pile of Mom’s henna-stained bangles, their clink a faint echo of her former purity, now drowned by her moans. I rubbed my dick faster, the sight—Dad’s betrayal, Mom’s loose asshole, Manoj’s brown-coated cock—pushing me to the edge, my shame buried under the thrill of their sin. 


Mom’s asshole, once a tiny, precious star, was now a loose, defiled chasm, and I loved it, hated it, wanted it, my hand a blur, my heart a battlefield of disgust and desire


Manoj gripped her hips, his fingers sinking into her jiggly flesh, pounding deeper, each thrust a wet, resonant slap, her ass cheeks rippling like waves on a stormy sea. Mom’s face was a mask of conflicted ecstasy, her eyes half-closed, lips parted, sweat beading on her forehead, her cheeks flushed with a mix of shame and pleasure, her hair a sweaty tangle plastered to her neck. 

The brown substance on Manoj’s cock grew, a sticky, warm coating, and he addressed it in a long, pointed conversation, his voice sly but explicit.


Mom’s moans grew louder, “OOH YESS, FUCK ME!” her body no longer resisting, her hips grinding back, her asshole loose and welcoming, the rim a stretched, red circle, leaking more juices onto the soaked sheets. 

Dad remained unaware, his snores a pathetic backdrop, his body limp, a faint drool pooling on the floor beside him. Mom’s face twisted, her eyes darting to Dad, then back to Manoj, and she spoke, her voice shockingly slutty, a plea to end the ordeal.

Mom: MANOJ, CUM INSIDE MY ASSHOLE! Finish this once and for all, I’m begging you! My ass can’t take any more, you filthy man!

Manoj: Cum inside? Fuck, Rekha, why’re you talking like a slutty whore, my darling? Where’d you learn words like “cum,” you naughty queen?

Mom: I… I just want it over, Manoj! I’m tired, my asshole’s sore, that’s all! Don’t make it sound like I’m something I’m not, you pig!

Manoj: Bullshit, my sweet slut. You’re a true whore, watching porn behind your husband’s back, aren’t you? Those words don’t come from nowhere, you filthy goddess.

Mom: NO, I DON’T WATCH PORN! I’ve never done that, I swear! You’re twisting everything, you vile beast!

Manoj: The truth’s out, Rekha, my precious bitch. Only a slut knows “cum” like that, darling. You’re fucking busted, you whore.

I stood at the keyhole, my hand rubbing my dick, shocked that Mom knew words like “cum,” a term she’d never uttered, her holy facade hiding a secret filth. I wondered where she’d learned it—late-night whispers with Manoj? 

Stolen glances at forbidden videos? She’d never spoken of such things, her prayers and sarees a mask for this sluttiness, and it thrilled me, my cock throbbing harder. One part of me felt wrong, sickened by her corruption, her asshole defiled by another man’s cock, a betrayal of Dad’s trust. 

But another part was happy, electrified by the filthy anal adultery, Mom’s moans and Manoj’s cock in her loose asshole a perverse masterpiece I couldn’t look away from. My hand moved faster rubbing my dick, the shame buried under a dark, pulsing joy, my breath ragged, my eyes locked on her sweating, moaning form.

Mom’s pleas continued, her voice strained, her asshole sore from the relentless fucking, which had stretched to 45 minutes, an unbroken marathon that left me stunned. I didn’t know where Manoj’s strength came from, his hips a tireless machine, his cock a glistening spear, coated in brown paste, plunging into her ass without pause. 











I was sure Mom had never been fucked like this—Dad’s small dick, quick and unsatisfying, could never match this, could never stretch her asshole into this loose, gaping chasm. The brown substance increased, a thick, yellowish coating spreading across Manoj’s shaft, dripping onto the sheets. 

A mystery to my young mind, its sour stench mixing with the room’s filth, a testament to the depravity of their act.


Manoj noticed the growing mess, his eyes narrowing, and he pulled his cock from her asshole, the shaft slick and brown, the rim of her asshole gaping wide, like a soft, red rosebud stretched into a cavernous bloom, its edges trembling, leaking juices and that brown paste I didn't fully understand because I was still young. He spoke, his voice commanding, ordering her to turn.

Manoj: Rekha, my darling, turn around and suck my cock, you slutty queen. Clean this mess you made, my sweet whore. Your ass’s gift needs your lips now, you filthy love.

Mom: OOH YESS, MANOJ, NO! I… I can’t do that, it’s too disgusting! Please, don’t make me, you vile man!

Manoj: Don’t play shy, my precious slut. Get on your knees and suck it, darling. Your ass made this, you clean it, you whore. Clean my dirty dick which came from your asshole right now!

I was shocked—Mom didn’t protest, turning quickly, her fat ass shaking as she spun, her boobs bouncing, her face pale but determined. I thought she complied to make him finish, to end the ordeal, but her speed betrayed a whore’s instinct, her body trained by Manoj’s dominance. 

She felt bad, I could see it—her eyes flicked to Dad, guilt flashing as she faced the man fucking her in front of her drugged husband, her asshole raw and leaking. 

She knelt, staring at Manoj’s cock, the brown-coated shaft glistening, a sour, filthy stench wafting from it. She hesitated, her fingers trembling, holding it with just her fingertips, as if she was not sure what she was holding, her face twisted with disgust.

Manoj: Why’re you hesitating, Rekha, my sweet slut? It’s your ass’s work, darling, nothing new for a whore like you. Suck it clean, now, you filthy bitch.

Mom: MANOJ, PLEASE! It’s… too gross, I can’t put that in my mouth! Let me wipe it first, I’m begging you!

Manoj: Wipe it? I don’t fucking care, you slutty queen. Clean me with your lips, darling, or I’ll make you regret it, you whore. You made my dick dirty and it is your duty as a slutty wife to clean my dick! Do it Rekha!

Mom: NO, MANOJ, I’LL GAG! It smells awful, it was from my asshole, let me clean it first, please! I can’t do this, it’s too much!

Manoj slapped her, a sharp crack across her cheek, his hand grabbing her hair, yanking her head toward his cock, but Mom resisted, her lips sealed, her eyes watering. She pleaded, her voice desperate, and he relented slightly, his grin cruel.

Mom: MANOJ, LET ME WIPE IT! I’ll suck it after, I swear, but I can’t with… that on it! Please, don’t force me like this!

Manoj: Fine, you whining slut, wipe it quick, my darling. But you’re sucking it right after, you filthy whore. Don’t test me, Rekha. I don't care how it smells for your but you must suck it or I will make you regret it you bitchy whore!

Mom grabbed a towel from the bed, its edge already damp with her juices, and wiped his cock, her fingers trembling, the brown paste smearing onto the fabric, the sour stench intensifying, making her gag, her throat convulsing as if she’d vomit. Until now, I didn't understand what this brown substance was.

Why was my mom resisting to suck this brown substance? I didn't fully understand but I just kept watching because I knew I would ask her maybe the next day or maybe ask my dad in a secret way. 


She spoke, her voice weak, her face pale.

Manoj: Don’t fucking vomit, Rekha, my sweet. You’ll mess things up worse, you slutty queen. Suck it now, darling, clean your ass’s work, you whore.

Mom: I’M TRYING, MANOJ! The smell… it’s making me sick, it’s from my ass! Why are you so cruel Manoj?

Mom started sucking, her lips tentative, barely touching the shaft, but Manoj grabbed her head, forcing her deeper, her mouth stretching around his cock, her eyes watering, her throat gagging from the taste of her asshole’s residue. 









She sucked like a whore, her lips sliding up and down, saliva mixing with the remaining paste, her face twisted with disgust, her stomach heaving, the sour, acrid flavor overwhelming, her body trembling as she fought the urge to vomit. 


I stood frozen at the keyhole, my stomach churning, unable to believe my mom, Rekha, was sucking Manoj’s massive cock, slick with the brown, yellowish paste straight from her asshole, the filthy hole where she shits from. 


Her mouth, once a sanctuary of religious prayers, chanting mantras with serene devotion, had only ever tasted pure foods and cool drinks, never anything dirty. 

Now, that same sacred mouth was degraded, wrapped around a shaft coated in her own foulness, the sour, filthy stench of her asshole tainting her lips, defiling her holiness. 



I felt like vomiting, my throat tightening, bile rising as I imagined the taste—her asshole's dirtiness, warm and sticky, invading her tongue, a place meant for purity, not this vile act. 

Her asshole, always hidden, always smelling of shame, was now her mouth’s master, its filth a chain Manoj had forged. He stood triumphant. 

His grin a predator’s, his eyes gleaming with victory, having turned my pious mother into a vessel of full filth, her mouth a sewer for her own degradation. 

My heart twisted, nausea warring with a dark fascination, never imagining Mom would sink so low, her sacred lips now a whore’s tool, forever stained by her own shit’s embrace.




Manoj’s thrusts into her mouth were relentless, his hands gripping her hair, her boobs swaying with each movement, sweat dripping onto the floor.
After 10 minutes of her sucking the dirty thing, before pulling out, Manoj issued a vile command, his voice a menacing growl.



Manoj: Rekha, my darling, I want you to vomit on your husband’s face, you slutty queen. Puke on that sleeping bastard, my sweet whore. Do it, or I’ll wake him up, you filthy bitch.

Mom: (she nodded no) mmmmhh mmmmmhhh!

Manoj: Vomit on his face, darling, or I’ll shake him awake, you whore. Nod yes, you slut, and do it now.

Mom nodded, her eyes wide with fear, her face pale, and Manoj pulled his cock from her mouth, saliva and paste dripping from her lips. Manoj withdrew his cock from her mouth. The thing was so clean.

It was coated in mom's saliva which meant that she absolutely sucked it clean.

She turned quickly, her fat ass shaking, the cheeks jiggling like overripe melons, and leaned over Dad’s passed-out form, her boobs swaying, sweat dripping onto his chest. 

She gagged, her throat convulsing, and vomited, a thick, yellowish stream erupting from her mouth, splattering Dad’s face, the vomit a mix of bile, brown paste, and the sour residue of Manoj’s cock, pooling in on dad's open mouth, streaking his cheeks, matting his hair. 

The vomit was warm, chunky, with flecks of undigested food, its stench a nauseating blend of acid and decay, mingling with the brown paste’s sour edge, a grotesque mask on Dad’s oblivious face. 

Mom’s act was a vile desecration, her disrespect unimaginable—vomiting on her husband, the man she’d vowed to honor, while another man’s cock marked her asshole. 

I was shocked, my hand still on my dick, the sight pushing me to the edge, my arousal a dark, twisted flame, my shame buried under the thrill of her evil.

Manoj grinned, congratulating her, his voice dripping with mockery, as Mom spat on Dad’s face, a thick glob landing on his vomit-soaked cheek, further defiling him.

Manoj: Fuck, Rekha, you’re a true slut, my darling, puking on your husband like a filthy queen. That spit’s the cherry on top, you whore. You’ve ruined him, my sweet bitch.

Mom: STOP, MANOJ, PLEASE! I’ve done enough, you’ve destroyed me! Let this end, I’m begging you, you monster!

Manoj: Destroyed? You’re thriving, darling, vomit on your husband’s face, you slut. Keep going, my precious whore, we’re not done.

Mom: NO MORE, MANOJ! My ass, my mouth—it’s too much, I can’t keep doing this! Why do you hate me so much, you pig?

Dad’s face was a grotesque canvas, vomit and spit mixing with the brown substance’s faint traces, his snores bubbling through the mess, his dignity obliterated by Mom’s actions. 

She’d disrespected him beyond redemption, her holy vows shattered, her body and soul a whore’s domain, her love for Dad drowned in the filth of her betrayal. 










I rubbed my dick harder, the sight of Dad’s defiled face, Mom’s gaped asshole, and Manoj’s brown-coated cock a perverse masterpiece, my arousal a betrayal of my own father, my heart torn between horror and ecstasy


But the game was not over yet, Manoj was not done......what would he do next?