23-08-2025, 08:56 AM
The moment my mom opened her cupboard, my eyes locked on her buttocks swaying gently as she bent forward. She pulled out a new black bra and new black panties from a crisp plastic cover, the sound making my pulse quicken. I watched her fingers slowly lift the black bra, the straps dangling, before she laid the black panties neatly on top of a white towel.
She turned toward me, her deep navel showing just above the yellow petticoat she still had on. “Wait, Varun… I’ll have a quick shower and will be back in five minutes,” she said, her lips curling in a smile that made my chest tighten.
My gaze couldn’t leave the sight of the black bra in one hand, the black panties in the other, and how the white towel rested against her soft waist. Her breasts shifted subtly under her blouse as she moved, and each step toward the bathroom made her buttocks sway in a slow, hypnotic rhythm until the door closed behind her.
The sound of the latch clicking sent a shiver through me. I could hear her gentle movements inside — the rustle of her saree being loosened, then the faint slide of it falling to the floor. My mind instantly pictured Mom in her blouse and petticoat, standing barefoot, unhurried.
There was a pause, and then I heard the soft tug of hooks — the blouse coming open. I imagined her slipping it off, her shoulders glowing under the bathroom light. Then came the sound I knew so well — the clasp of her White bra being unhooked. In my mind, her breasts spilled free, round and full, the nipples tightening in the cool air.
A faint thud followed — maybe her petticoat hitting the floor. She would still be in her White panties, hugging her buttocks. I imagined her fingers slowly curling into the waistband of her White Panties, pulling it down her thighs, bending slightly, her buttocks shifting as the panties slid lower until they dropped at her feet.
The shower hissed to life, and I froze. I pictured her stepping under the stream, tilting her head back, the water pouring over her hair, running in rivulets down her shoulders and over her breasts, tracing the curves before dripping from her deep navel.
A low sound escaped her lips — soft, breathy. My heart thudded. Was she… enjoying the warmth? Or something else? I could hear her hands gliding over her body, slow strokes, circling her breasts, sliding down her waist, lingering low.
Then another sound — a quiet, involuntary moan — and my imagination ran wild. I could see her leaning against the wall, eyes closed, her body arching slightly as her own touch lingered where the water streamed hottest.
The shower’s rhythm filled the room, but all I could hear was her.
Another soft moan — longer this time, warmer — slipped through the sound of the water. My mind painted it perfectly.
Mom’s right hand would be cupping her breast, her thumb circling the nipple, teasing it until it hardened under her touch. I imagined her tilting her head, eyes shut, lips parted, her breathing quickening as her fingers squeezed gently.
Her other hand, I knew, was travelling lower — slow, unhurried — down her slick stomach, over her deep navel, and further still. The water must have been cascading over her mound, making it glisten. My chest tightened as I pictured her fingers parting herself, tracing lightly at first, then pressing in with a familiar rhythm.
The next moan was sharper, her breath catching as if she had touched the exact spot of her Pussy. My mind wouldn’t stop — I saw her hips shifting, her buttocks tensing, her knees parting slightly for better access. She was leaning forward a little now, letting the spray hit her back while her own fingers worked her.
She let out a low, trembling “Mmm…” and my pulse spiked. It wasn’t just pleasure — it was surrender. She was lost in it, touching herself the way she liked best. I imagined her curling two fingers inside her Pussy while her thumb circled her clit, her whole body moving in slow, needy waves.
Her moans started coming quicker, softer at first, then louder, almost like she was trying to keep them in but couldn’t. I pictured her biting her lower lip, her breasts rising and falling faster, her hips rocking against her own hand until she reached that moment when her body would tense completely…
Her moans were faster now, each one a little sharper, a little higher.
I could almost feel the moment her hips began to lose their rhythm — the way she must be moving in short, urgent bursts instead of slow strokes.
Mom’s breathing came hard through the thin bathroom door, her voice breaking into little gasps. I imagined her pushing her fingers deeper inside her Pussy, her thumb rubbing harder against her clit. Her breasts would be swaying with each movement, nipples tight and begging to be touched, her buttocks clenching as she fought to keep her balance under the water.
Then it came — “mmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmm,” that sound I’d never forget. A deep, trembling moan, longer than the rest, one that told me she was right there on the edge. Her whole body must have frozen for a heartbeat, every muscle tightening as the wave hit.
She let out a breathless “Ahhh… mmmmmmmmm…” and came all over her fingers, and that moan melted into a series of soft whimpers. In my mind, her thighs were shaking, her stomach contracting with each pulse, her fingers still working inside her as her body rode the pleasure in slow aftershocks.
I pictured the water streaming over her flushed skin, dripping from her nipples, sliding between her thighs as she finally let her hand fall away, panting, leaning one palm against the wall for support.
Even after the moans faded, I could hear the faint shift of her feet in the water — the small movements of someone still recovering, still glowing from what they had just done. My own heart was pounding so hard, I had to close my eyes.
The bathroom door clicked open and a rush of warm, scented steam spilled into the room.
My Mom stepped out, droplets clinging to her skin, her wet hair falling over her shoulders as she rubbed it with a towel.
She was wearing nothing but her black bra and black panties, both clinging to her from the shower. My eyes trailed over the way her breasts lifted and shifted under the bra, the way the damp panties hugged her buttocks so perfectly I could make out every curve.
She caught me staring. A teasing smile curved her lips as she tilted her head.
"Why are you looking at me as if you’ve seen me in my bra and panties for the first time?" she asked, her voice playful, almost daring. Then she laughed softly, shaking her head as if she found my reaction amusing.
Without hurrying, she picked up her yellow petticoat and stepped into it, her hips swaying slightly as she pulled the soft fabric up over her thighs. My eyes were fixed on the waistband sliding higher, covering her panties inch by inch until only the faint outline of her panties remained beneath the thin yellow petticoat.
Her fingers smoothed the petticoat around her waist, tucking it in gently while still towelling her hair, as if she wasn’t even aware of how much she was showing me. But she knew. She had to know.
My mom reached for her yellow blouse, holding it in front of her for a moment as if deciding how to put it on. Then, with a smooth movement, she slipped her arms through the sleeves, the black bra still visible until the blouse settled against her shoulders.
The thin yellow blouse clung lightly over her breasts, and as she pulled the two sides together in front, I caught one last glimpse of the dark straps before her fingers began hooking it up one clasp at a time. Each hook seemed to close with a soft click, drawing the blouse snug around her chest and making the shape of her breasts stand out even more.
"Varun… get the bike ready," she said casually, adjusting the blouse at her waist.
I shook my head, a little smile forming. "No, Amma… we’ll go in Deepak’s car."
She paused, her hands still smoothing the blouse. Then she looked at me, that knowing glint in her eyes, and a small, slow smile curved her lips. She didn’t argue… she just smiled—like she knew exactly what I was thinking.
My mom reached for her yellow chiffon saree, holding the soft folds in her hands for a moment before giving them a little shake so they flowed open. She glanced at me once, almost mischievously, before stepping closer to the mirror.
She wrapped the first end around her waist, tucking it neatly into her yellow petticoat, making sure the pleats sat flat. But she wore it low—so low that her deep navel was fully visible, the shape of her lower waist drawing my eyes helplessly.
Each time her fingers smoothed the saree into place, my gaze followed them, lingering on how the chiffon hugged her hips. The black panties beneath the yellow petticoat still teased in my mind, as if they were hiding in plain sight.
She pleated the front with slow, practised motions, then tucked them in, the saree resting deliciously below her navel, making me wonder if she did it on purpose… knowing I was watching.
She gathered the loose end of her yellow chiffon saree, lifting it in one graceful sweep and bringing it across her black bra and yellow blouse. Instead of dbanging it quickly, she slowed down—letting the soft chiffon slide over the curve of her breasts, the pallu falling loosely so the outline still tempted my eyes.
"Why are you staring at me like that again?" she asked, a playful smile on her lips as she adjusted the pleats of the pallu over her shoulder. "As if you didn’t just see me in my bra and panties a minute ago."
She gave a little laugh, tilting her head, then reached behind to straighten the saree at her buttocks, her fingers lingering just long enough to make my heart race.
"Come on, Varun… Deepak must be waiting," she said, brushing her hair over one shoulder as if nothing had happened, yet fully aware of how much she was teasing me.
She stepped closer to the dresser, her yellow chiffon saree still sitting daringly low on her waist, the pleats swaying against her black panties underneath. Picking up a handful of glass bangles, she began sliding them over her wrists one by one, the faint clink and shimmer catching my attention.
I couldn’t stop my eyes from drifting lower—her deep navel framed perfectly by the pallu that barely covered it, the curve of her buttocks still visible from the back when she bent slightly to pick her perfume bottle.
She sprayed a little on her neck, then on the valley of her breasts, and finally on her saree near the waistline. "You like this scent, right?" she asked, turning to face me with that half-smile that knew exactly what it was doing to me.
When I nodded without thinking, she chuckled softly. "Good… now stop staring and call Deepak. We’ll go in his car."
Her tone was casual, but her eyes told me she knew I’d be thinking about this moment the entire day.
My mom adjusted the pallu loosely over her breasts, then turned toward me with a playful tilt of her head. "So… tell me, Varun… how do I look in my yellow saree?"
I let my eyes move slowly from her face, past her breasts pressing against the blouse, to her waist, where the saree was tied well below her deep navel. My gaze went further down over her hips until I stood behind her.
The saree was wrapped tightly across her buttocks, and through the yellow chiffon I could clearly see the straight horizontal line of her panties running across the middle of them.
"Your panty line is showing," I said, my voice low.
She turned her head slightly with a playful smile. "Hmm… that’s unavoidable, Varun. Chiffon always shows it."
I kept looking, unable to stop. She gave a teasing laugh. "The only way not to reveal a panty line… is not wearing any panties at all."
Her laugh lingered in the air as she adjusted her pallu again, leaving me with that thought burning in my mind.
My mom walked out of the bedroom beside me, her hips swaying naturally as she moved. The yellow saree clung snugly around her buttocks, the panty line still perfectly visible through the chiffon saree. Her pallu slipped slightly forward, giving an even fuller view of her breasts beneath the matching yellow blouse. The saree was tucked low at her waist, leaving her deep navel in full view with every step.
In the hall, Deepak and Karthik were sitting on the sofa, but the moment they saw her, their conversation stopped. Their eyes widened.
Karthik’s gaze dropped immediately to her deep navel, then rose slowly to her breasts, lingering there. Deepak’s eyes traveled lower, over the tight wrap of her saree across her buttocks, clearly catching the line of her panties.
Neither of them said a word. They just stared — spellbound, as if my mom’s beauty had frozen them in place.
My mom, pretending not to notice, gave a small smile and kept walking past them toward the living room, the swish of her saree leaving the faintest scent of her perfume in the air.
“Just a moment, I will get my handbag,” as my mom said and went inside the bedroom, her buttocks shifting gently under the yellow saree, Deepak leaned slightly toward Karthik, his eyes still fixed on her.
“Bro… did you see her navel? It’s so deep… I can’t look away,” he whispered, almost in awe.
Karthik gave a slow nod, his gaze still locked on My Mom’s swaying figure.
“And her buttocks… the way that saree is hugging them… and you can see her panty line so clearly,” he murmured, his voice thick.
Deepak exhaled sharply, almost as if he was trying to control himself.
“Her breasts in that blouse… man… she’s perfect.”
They both sat back, still stunned, watching her every step as she moved further away.
I caught the way Deepak and Karthik’s eyes followed her. She hadn’t even turned the corner before Deepak leaned toward Karthik.
“We have to enjoy today at any cost, bro… this chance won’t come again.”
Karthik grinned, eyes still fixed on the spot where she had been.
“I was thinking the same… we can’t waste a beauty like this walking around us all day.”
Their words sent a jolt straight through me. I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Just moments ago, I had been ogling her myself—my mother—in that yellow saree, the deep navel peeking when the saree shifted, the swell of her breasts against the blouse, the sway of her buttocks, and that clear panty line running across her hips.
Hearing them talk about her like that didn’t make me angry… it made me hard. I shifted slightly, trying to hide my growing arousal, but their voices kept replaying in my head, making my chest feel tight and my breathing heavier.
A few minutes later, my mom stepped out of the bedroom, her yellow saree dbangd low at her waist, deep navel showing, breasts pressing against her yellow blouse, buttocks shaped by the petticoat, and the panty line faintly visible beneath the saree. She smiled at me and said, “I’m ready… shall we go?”
As she walked toward the front gate, I noticed neighbors peeking from windows and balconies. Their eyes followed her every step, some whispering among themselves, clearly stunned by her beauty. My Mom noticed too and straightened her posture, a small, proud smile forming on her lips.
At the gate, Deepak’s luxury car gleamed in the sunlight. My mom’s eyes widened, and she ran a hand lightly over the smooth body of the vehicle, admiration clear in her expression. “Wow… such an expensive car in front of our house,” she murmured to herself, pride and delight in her voice.
Deepak held the front passenger door open. She slid into the seat next to him, buttocks settling on the leather, black panties faintly visible beneath the yellow saree, breasts pressing lightly against the blouse, and her navel still partially exposed above the tucked-in petticoat.
Deepak got in behind the wheel and started the engine. I stayed back for a moment, taking in the sight: My mom sitting in such a lavish car, neighbors watching, and the look of quiet pride on her face. My chest tightened, a hot mix of admiration, desire, and excitement.
Deepak’s hand brushed casually against the console, close enough that his fingers nearly touched my mom’s thigh, just above the yellow Saree and yellow petticoat, and I could see her panty line through the saree. She didn’t move away; instead, she rested her hand lightly, letting him know she was aware of the closeness.
He leaned slightly toward her, his voice low and smooth. “You look amazing, Aunty… this saree suits you perfectly.”
My mom smiled, tilting her head in that confident, teasing way she always did. “Thank you… Deepak. You’re too kind.”
Every subtle movement—the way she shifted on the seat, how her buttocks pressed against the leather, how her breasts brushed the blouse as she reached for her bag—made my pulse spike. My hands clenched on my thighs, my heart hammering. I could feel the heat spreading through me, a mix of jealousy, awe, and desire.
Even Karthik in the backseat noticed, his eyes darting briefly toward her, but I couldn’t look away. Every glance she gave Deepak, every flick of her navel above the low waist of the saree, kept me on edge.
My mom laughed softly at something Deepak said, the sound like silk sliding over my nerves. I tried to keep my composure, but it was impossible—her presence, her beauty, the way she seemed to own the space, it all had me completely tangled in desire.
Deepak’s hand moved slightly, brushing against My Mom’s hand as he held it near the console. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she let her fingers linger over his for a moment longer, just enough to make the contact feel intentional. My chest tightened as I watched, my pulse quickening.
Then, as he adjusted the rearview mirror, his elbow brushed the edge of her shoulder, and she shifted slightly, letting the yellow blouse press more against her breasts. She smiled at him, that teasing, confident smile that always made my stomach twist.
Every small movement—the saree sliding a little over her buttocks, her navel peeking above the tucked-in petticoat, the panty line faintly visible—hit me like a jolt. I could feel the heat pooling low, my arousal growing with every glance she threw Deepak’s way.
Her soft laugh, the tilt of her head, the way she casually rested her hand on the console, it all drove me wild. I had to look away for a second, then quickly stole another glance, unable to resist. My hands fisted on my thighs as desire coursed through me, jealousy and excitement mixing together, leaving me tense and desperate.
My mom leaned slightly back, adjusting her yellow saree at the waist, her navel still visible above the tucked-in petticoat, breasts pressing lightly against the blouse as she turned toward Deepak.
“So… tell me about your father, Deepak. He’s a politician, right?” she asked, her voice light but curious.
Deepak’s eyes lit up, and he leaned a little closer to her side, confident. “Yes, my father is a senior DMK Minister’s right hand,” he said smoothly. Then he began detailing the political network, the influence, the wealth, the connections, and the huge properties his family controlled. He talked about Mr. Deepak's Dad Kumaran’s power, the luxury cars, the houses, the businesses… everything that made him untouchable in the city.
My Mom listened intently, her eyes widening as each detail sank in. She reached over slightly to adjust her yellow blouse, the movement revealing her navel and a brief glimpse of the panty line above the petticoat.
“Wow… that’s… incredible,” she murmured, her voice full of admiration. Her fingers brushed the saree at her waist absentmindedly, and I could feel my pulse quicken seeing her so impressed, her beauty amplified by the way she held herself.
Even from the backseat, I could see the way her breasts moved as she leaned slightly forward, hanging on every word Deepak said, the sway of her buttocks in the seat drawing my eyes irresistibly.
My mom’s yellow saree stayed tied low at her waist, the navel visible and her breasts pressing softly against the blouse as she turned slightly toward Deepak, hanging on his every word.
“And what about the properties? The businesses? How many houses does your family own?” she asked, voice curious, eyes shining.
Deepak smiled, clearly enjoying her attention. “We have multiple houses across the city, luxury cars, investments… my father, Mr. Deepak's Dad Kumaran, controls it all. The money, the influence, everything. No one can touch us.”
My mom’s lips parted slightly, her admiration obvious. “That’s… amazing. I’ve never seen so much wealth.” She reached up to smooth the pallu over her breasts, her navel still teasingly exposed, and her panty line faintly showing through the yellow saree at her buttocks as she leaned forward.
I could feel my chest tighten, a heat building low in my body. Seeing her so proud and impressed made her even more irresistible. Every small movement—the slight sway of her hips, the adjustment of her waist, the shift of her breasts—sent waves of desire through me.
Even Karthik in the backseat was shifting, clearly noticing her too. I swallowed hard, torn between jealousy, awe, and excitement, my pulse racing as My Mom asked yet more questions about Deepak’s wealth, completely captivated by him.
My mom leaned slightly forward, her yellow saree brushing against her waist, buttocks pressing lightly into the seat, and her breasts shifting in the yellow blouse as she listened. Her navel peeked above the tucked-in petticoat, catching the sunlight through the car window.
“I can’t believe all this… the houses, the cars, the influence,” she murmured, voice soft, almost dreamy. “It must be amazing to live like that.”
Deepak caught the admiring look in her eyes and smiled. “It’s not just the wealth… it’s the freedom, the connections. You can get anything you want.”
My mom’s hand brushed absently over the pallu at her waist, and a tiny shiver ran through me as I noticed the faint panty line along her buttocks. Her mind seemed elsewhere, imagining the life she could have, her breasts rising and falling with each small breath, her navel exposed and tempting.
I felt a mix of pride, longing, and sharp desire. My pulse raced, my body reacting despite myself. Seeing her so impressed, so proud, so beautiful—it made every part of me restless. Even Karthik kept glancing at her, but I couldn’t look away either, caught in the spell of her presence.
The car rolled smoothly along the wide street, and soon we reached Deepak’s house. My eyes followed My Mom as she took in the sight—her yellow saree low at her waist, buttocks pressing lightly into the seat, breasts filling the blouse, and navel visible above the tucked-in petticoat.
My mom’s eyes widened as she scanned the enormous property. The sprawling driveway, manicured gardens, and multi-storey façade left her clearly impressed. “Wow… this is… incredible,” she murmured softly, her fingers brushing over the pallu at her waist, glancing at Deepak with a mix of admiration and delight.
At the gate, a uniformed security guard stepped forward. As the car approached, he clicked open the heavy metal gates, letting us pass. My Mom leaned slightly forward, her breasts moving against the blouse, her buttocks shifting in the seat as she watched the gates swing open, and the luxury car rolled inside the driveway.
Every detail—the grandeur of the house, the open gate, the polished driveway—made my mom sit a little straighter, her pride and excitement clear. Deepak’s smirk told me he noticed her awe and was quietly pleased.
I stayed in the backseat, my eyes still drawn to my mom’s panty line, her navel, her breasts, and the confident way she held herself. The house, the car, the attention—it all made her glow, and I could feel my body reacting, tense and restless with desire.
We all stepped out of the car. My mom moved gracefully, her yellow saree tied low at her waist, buttocks hugging into the petticoat, breasts full in the yellow blouse, and her navel clearly visible above the tucked-in petticoat. She paused for a moment, adjusting the pallu over her breasts and smoothing the blouse, then glanced at the car mirror, making sure she looked perfect.
Deepak’s phone rang. He answered quickly, his voice smooth and authoritative. As he walked toward the main door, Karthik followed beside him, eyes glancing repeatedly at My Mom.
I noticed the security guard in his small kiosk staring straight at her. He didn’t hide it. His eyes traveled from her navel to her breasts, then over her buttocks, and he looked directly at the line of her black panties visible beneath the yellow saree as she shifted slightly while adjusting the pallu.
My chest tightened. Seeing him openly staring at my mom, seeing how confidently she carried herself, made my body tense. Every sway of her hips, every movement of her breasts in the blouse, every glimpse of her panties under the saree, kept me restless, my desire growing with each step she took.
My mom paused near the car, her yellow blouse snug against her breasts, and reached behind to adjust the bra strap, the movement making her navel more visible above the tucked-in petticoat. She smoothed her saree over her buttocks and waist, taking a deep breath.
“Varun… do you think I could ask Deepak’s dad for financial help… maybe thirty lakhs… to build our house?” she asked, eyes sparkling with a mix of hope and excitement.
I grinned at her, my pulse quickening. “Thirty lakhs is nothing to him, Mom. He can give it without even thinking twice.”
Her eyes widened, and a shiver ran down my spine as I noticed her reaction—her breasts shifting slightly in the yellow blouse, the navel peeking above her waist, the buttocks pressing lightly against the petticoat. She looked exhilarated, imagining the possibilities.
Then my gaze flicked to the security guard sitting inside his small kiosk. He was leaning forward, eyes fixed on my mom, and my stomach tightened as I realized he was stroking his watch watching my mom openly, clearly caught by her beauty and confidence.
I felt a wave of heat rush through me, my own cock erected as I watched my mom adjusting herself, excited about the idea of the money, while the guard’s shamelessness only made the moment feel more charged.
My mom straightened her yellow saree over her waist, buttocks pressing lightly against the petticoat, breasts full in the yellow blouse, and her navel clearly visible above the tucked-in petticoat as she followed Deepak toward the main entrance.
She turned toward me, her deep navel showing just above the yellow petticoat she still had on. “Wait, Varun… I’ll have a quick shower and will be back in five minutes,” she said, her lips curling in a smile that made my chest tighten.
My gaze couldn’t leave the sight of the black bra in one hand, the black panties in the other, and how the white towel rested against her soft waist. Her breasts shifted subtly under her blouse as she moved, and each step toward the bathroom made her buttocks sway in a slow, hypnotic rhythm until the door closed behind her.
The sound of the latch clicking sent a shiver through me. I could hear her gentle movements inside — the rustle of her saree being loosened, then the faint slide of it falling to the floor. My mind instantly pictured Mom in her blouse and petticoat, standing barefoot, unhurried.
There was a pause, and then I heard the soft tug of hooks — the blouse coming open. I imagined her slipping it off, her shoulders glowing under the bathroom light. Then came the sound I knew so well — the clasp of her White bra being unhooked. In my mind, her breasts spilled free, round and full, the nipples tightening in the cool air.
A faint thud followed — maybe her petticoat hitting the floor. She would still be in her White panties, hugging her buttocks. I imagined her fingers slowly curling into the waistband of her White Panties, pulling it down her thighs, bending slightly, her buttocks shifting as the panties slid lower until they dropped at her feet.
The shower hissed to life, and I froze. I pictured her stepping under the stream, tilting her head back, the water pouring over her hair, running in rivulets down her shoulders and over her breasts, tracing the curves before dripping from her deep navel.
A low sound escaped her lips — soft, breathy. My heart thudded. Was she… enjoying the warmth? Or something else? I could hear her hands gliding over her body, slow strokes, circling her breasts, sliding down her waist, lingering low.
Then another sound — a quiet, involuntary moan — and my imagination ran wild. I could see her leaning against the wall, eyes closed, her body arching slightly as her own touch lingered where the water streamed hottest.
The shower’s rhythm filled the room, but all I could hear was her.
Another soft moan — longer this time, warmer — slipped through the sound of the water. My mind painted it perfectly.
Mom’s right hand would be cupping her breast, her thumb circling the nipple, teasing it until it hardened under her touch. I imagined her tilting her head, eyes shut, lips parted, her breathing quickening as her fingers squeezed gently.
Her other hand, I knew, was travelling lower — slow, unhurried — down her slick stomach, over her deep navel, and further still. The water must have been cascading over her mound, making it glisten. My chest tightened as I pictured her fingers parting herself, tracing lightly at first, then pressing in with a familiar rhythm.
The next moan was sharper, her breath catching as if she had touched the exact spot of her Pussy. My mind wouldn’t stop — I saw her hips shifting, her buttocks tensing, her knees parting slightly for better access. She was leaning forward a little now, letting the spray hit her back while her own fingers worked her.
She let out a low, trembling “Mmm…” and my pulse spiked. It wasn’t just pleasure — it was surrender. She was lost in it, touching herself the way she liked best. I imagined her curling two fingers inside her Pussy while her thumb circled her clit, her whole body moving in slow, needy waves.
Her moans started coming quicker, softer at first, then louder, almost like she was trying to keep them in but couldn’t. I pictured her biting her lower lip, her breasts rising and falling faster, her hips rocking against her own hand until she reached that moment when her body would tense completely…
Her moans were faster now, each one a little sharper, a little higher.
I could almost feel the moment her hips began to lose their rhythm — the way she must be moving in short, urgent bursts instead of slow strokes.
Mom’s breathing came hard through the thin bathroom door, her voice breaking into little gasps. I imagined her pushing her fingers deeper inside her Pussy, her thumb rubbing harder against her clit. Her breasts would be swaying with each movement, nipples tight and begging to be touched, her buttocks clenching as she fought to keep her balance under the water.
Then it came — “mmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmm,” that sound I’d never forget. A deep, trembling moan, longer than the rest, one that told me she was right there on the edge. Her whole body must have frozen for a heartbeat, every muscle tightening as the wave hit.
She let out a breathless “Ahhh… mmmmmmmmm…” and came all over her fingers, and that moan melted into a series of soft whimpers. In my mind, her thighs were shaking, her stomach contracting with each pulse, her fingers still working inside her as her body rode the pleasure in slow aftershocks.
I pictured the water streaming over her flushed skin, dripping from her nipples, sliding between her thighs as she finally let her hand fall away, panting, leaning one palm against the wall for support.
Even after the moans faded, I could hear the faint shift of her feet in the water — the small movements of someone still recovering, still glowing from what they had just done. My own heart was pounding so hard, I had to close my eyes.
The bathroom door clicked open and a rush of warm, scented steam spilled into the room.
My Mom stepped out, droplets clinging to her skin, her wet hair falling over her shoulders as she rubbed it with a towel.
She was wearing nothing but her black bra and black panties, both clinging to her from the shower. My eyes trailed over the way her breasts lifted and shifted under the bra, the way the damp panties hugged her buttocks so perfectly I could make out every curve.
She caught me staring. A teasing smile curved her lips as she tilted her head.
"Why are you looking at me as if you’ve seen me in my bra and panties for the first time?" she asked, her voice playful, almost daring. Then she laughed softly, shaking her head as if she found my reaction amusing.
Without hurrying, she picked up her yellow petticoat and stepped into it, her hips swaying slightly as she pulled the soft fabric up over her thighs. My eyes were fixed on the waistband sliding higher, covering her panties inch by inch until only the faint outline of her panties remained beneath the thin yellow petticoat.
Her fingers smoothed the petticoat around her waist, tucking it in gently while still towelling her hair, as if she wasn’t even aware of how much she was showing me. But she knew. She had to know.
My mom reached for her yellow blouse, holding it in front of her for a moment as if deciding how to put it on. Then, with a smooth movement, she slipped her arms through the sleeves, the black bra still visible until the blouse settled against her shoulders.
The thin yellow blouse clung lightly over her breasts, and as she pulled the two sides together in front, I caught one last glimpse of the dark straps before her fingers began hooking it up one clasp at a time. Each hook seemed to close with a soft click, drawing the blouse snug around her chest and making the shape of her breasts stand out even more.
"Varun… get the bike ready," she said casually, adjusting the blouse at her waist.
I shook my head, a little smile forming. "No, Amma… we’ll go in Deepak’s car."
She paused, her hands still smoothing the blouse. Then she looked at me, that knowing glint in her eyes, and a small, slow smile curved her lips. She didn’t argue… she just smiled—like she knew exactly what I was thinking.
My mom reached for her yellow chiffon saree, holding the soft folds in her hands for a moment before giving them a little shake so they flowed open. She glanced at me once, almost mischievously, before stepping closer to the mirror.
She wrapped the first end around her waist, tucking it neatly into her yellow petticoat, making sure the pleats sat flat. But she wore it low—so low that her deep navel was fully visible, the shape of her lower waist drawing my eyes helplessly.
Each time her fingers smoothed the saree into place, my gaze followed them, lingering on how the chiffon hugged her hips. The black panties beneath the yellow petticoat still teased in my mind, as if they were hiding in plain sight.
She pleated the front with slow, practised motions, then tucked them in, the saree resting deliciously below her navel, making me wonder if she did it on purpose… knowing I was watching.
She gathered the loose end of her yellow chiffon saree, lifting it in one graceful sweep and bringing it across her black bra and yellow blouse. Instead of dbanging it quickly, she slowed down—letting the soft chiffon slide over the curve of her breasts, the pallu falling loosely so the outline still tempted my eyes.
"Why are you staring at me like that again?" she asked, a playful smile on her lips as she adjusted the pleats of the pallu over her shoulder. "As if you didn’t just see me in my bra and panties a minute ago."
She gave a little laugh, tilting her head, then reached behind to straighten the saree at her buttocks, her fingers lingering just long enough to make my heart race.
"Come on, Varun… Deepak must be waiting," she said, brushing her hair over one shoulder as if nothing had happened, yet fully aware of how much she was teasing me.
She stepped closer to the dresser, her yellow chiffon saree still sitting daringly low on her waist, the pleats swaying against her black panties underneath. Picking up a handful of glass bangles, she began sliding them over her wrists one by one, the faint clink and shimmer catching my attention.
I couldn’t stop my eyes from drifting lower—her deep navel framed perfectly by the pallu that barely covered it, the curve of her buttocks still visible from the back when she bent slightly to pick her perfume bottle.
She sprayed a little on her neck, then on the valley of her breasts, and finally on her saree near the waistline. "You like this scent, right?" she asked, turning to face me with that half-smile that knew exactly what it was doing to me.
When I nodded without thinking, she chuckled softly. "Good… now stop staring and call Deepak. We’ll go in his car."
Her tone was casual, but her eyes told me she knew I’d be thinking about this moment the entire day.
My mom adjusted the pallu loosely over her breasts, then turned toward me with a playful tilt of her head. "So… tell me, Varun… how do I look in my yellow saree?"
I let my eyes move slowly from her face, past her breasts pressing against the blouse, to her waist, where the saree was tied well below her deep navel. My gaze went further down over her hips until I stood behind her.
The saree was wrapped tightly across her buttocks, and through the yellow chiffon I could clearly see the straight horizontal line of her panties running across the middle of them.
"Your panty line is showing," I said, my voice low.
She turned her head slightly with a playful smile. "Hmm… that’s unavoidable, Varun. Chiffon always shows it."
I kept looking, unable to stop. She gave a teasing laugh. "The only way not to reveal a panty line… is not wearing any panties at all."
Her laugh lingered in the air as she adjusted her pallu again, leaving me with that thought burning in my mind.
My mom walked out of the bedroom beside me, her hips swaying naturally as she moved. The yellow saree clung snugly around her buttocks, the panty line still perfectly visible through the chiffon saree. Her pallu slipped slightly forward, giving an even fuller view of her breasts beneath the matching yellow blouse. The saree was tucked low at her waist, leaving her deep navel in full view with every step.
In the hall, Deepak and Karthik were sitting on the sofa, but the moment they saw her, their conversation stopped. Their eyes widened.
Karthik’s gaze dropped immediately to her deep navel, then rose slowly to her breasts, lingering there. Deepak’s eyes traveled lower, over the tight wrap of her saree across her buttocks, clearly catching the line of her panties.
Neither of them said a word. They just stared — spellbound, as if my mom’s beauty had frozen them in place.
My mom, pretending not to notice, gave a small smile and kept walking past them toward the living room, the swish of her saree leaving the faintest scent of her perfume in the air.
“Just a moment, I will get my handbag,” as my mom said and went inside the bedroom, her buttocks shifting gently under the yellow saree, Deepak leaned slightly toward Karthik, his eyes still fixed on her.
“Bro… did you see her navel? It’s so deep… I can’t look away,” he whispered, almost in awe.
Karthik gave a slow nod, his gaze still locked on My Mom’s swaying figure.
“And her buttocks… the way that saree is hugging them… and you can see her panty line so clearly,” he murmured, his voice thick.
Deepak exhaled sharply, almost as if he was trying to control himself.
“Her breasts in that blouse… man… she’s perfect.”
They both sat back, still stunned, watching her every step as she moved further away.
I caught the way Deepak and Karthik’s eyes followed her. She hadn’t even turned the corner before Deepak leaned toward Karthik.
“We have to enjoy today at any cost, bro… this chance won’t come again.”
Karthik grinned, eyes still fixed on the spot where she had been.
“I was thinking the same… we can’t waste a beauty like this walking around us all day.”
Their words sent a jolt straight through me. I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Just moments ago, I had been ogling her myself—my mother—in that yellow saree, the deep navel peeking when the saree shifted, the swell of her breasts against the blouse, the sway of her buttocks, and that clear panty line running across her hips.
Hearing them talk about her like that didn’t make me angry… it made me hard. I shifted slightly, trying to hide my growing arousal, but their voices kept replaying in my head, making my chest feel tight and my breathing heavier.
A few minutes later, my mom stepped out of the bedroom, her yellow saree dbangd low at her waist, deep navel showing, breasts pressing against her yellow blouse, buttocks shaped by the petticoat, and the panty line faintly visible beneath the saree. She smiled at me and said, “I’m ready… shall we go?”
As she walked toward the front gate, I noticed neighbors peeking from windows and balconies. Their eyes followed her every step, some whispering among themselves, clearly stunned by her beauty. My Mom noticed too and straightened her posture, a small, proud smile forming on her lips.
At the gate, Deepak’s luxury car gleamed in the sunlight. My mom’s eyes widened, and she ran a hand lightly over the smooth body of the vehicle, admiration clear in her expression. “Wow… such an expensive car in front of our house,” she murmured to herself, pride and delight in her voice.
Deepak held the front passenger door open. She slid into the seat next to him, buttocks settling on the leather, black panties faintly visible beneath the yellow saree, breasts pressing lightly against the blouse, and her navel still partially exposed above the tucked-in petticoat.
Deepak got in behind the wheel and started the engine. I stayed back for a moment, taking in the sight: My mom sitting in such a lavish car, neighbors watching, and the look of quiet pride on her face. My chest tightened, a hot mix of admiration, desire, and excitement.
Deepak’s hand brushed casually against the console, close enough that his fingers nearly touched my mom’s thigh, just above the yellow Saree and yellow petticoat, and I could see her panty line through the saree. She didn’t move away; instead, she rested her hand lightly, letting him know she was aware of the closeness.
He leaned slightly toward her, his voice low and smooth. “You look amazing, Aunty… this saree suits you perfectly.”
My mom smiled, tilting her head in that confident, teasing way she always did. “Thank you… Deepak. You’re too kind.”
Every subtle movement—the way she shifted on the seat, how her buttocks pressed against the leather, how her breasts brushed the blouse as she reached for her bag—made my pulse spike. My hands clenched on my thighs, my heart hammering. I could feel the heat spreading through me, a mix of jealousy, awe, and desire.
Even Karthik in the backseat noticed, his eyes darting briefly toward her, but I couldn’t look away. Every glance she gave Deepak, every flick of her navel above the low waist of the saree, kept me on edge.
My mom laughed softly at something Deepak said, the sound like silk sliding over my nerves. I tried to keep my composure, but it was impossible—her presence, her beauty, the way she seemed to own the space, it all had me completely tangled in desire.
Deepak’s hand moved slightly, brushing against My Mom’s hand as he held it near the console. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she let her fingers linger over his for a moment longer, just enough to make the contact feel intentional. My chest tightened as I watched, my pulse quickening.
Then, as he adjusted the rearview mirror, his elbow brushed the edge of her shoulder, and she shifted slightly, letting the yellow blouse press more against her breasts. She smiled at him, that teasing, confident smile that always made my stomach twist.
Every small movement—the saree sliding a little over her buttocks, her navel peeking above the tucked-in petticoat, the panty line faintly visible—hit me like a jolt. I could feel the heat pooling low, my arousal growing with every glance she threw Deepak’s way.
Her soft laugh, the tilt of her head, the way she casually rested her hand on the console, it all drove me wild. I had to look away for a second, then quickly stole another glance, unable to resist. My hands fisted on my thighs as desire coursed through me, jealousy and excitement mixing together, leaving me tense and desperate.
My mom leaned slightly back, adjusting her yellow saree at the waist, her navel still visible above the tucked-in petticoat, breasts pressing lightly against the blouse as she turned toward Deepak.
“So… tell me about your father, Deepak. He’s a politician, right?” she asked, her voice light but curious.
Deepak’s eyes lit up, and he leaned a little closer to her side, confident. “Yes, my father is a senior DMK Minister’s right hand,” he said smoothly. Then he began detailing the political network, the influence, the wealth, the connections, and the huge properties his family controlled. He talked about Mr. Deepak's Dad Kumaran’s power, the luxury cars, the houses, the businesses… everything that made him untouchable in the city.
My Mom listened intently, her eyes widening as each detail sank in. She reached over slightly to adjust her yellow blouse, the movement revealing her navel and a brief glimpse of the panty line above the petticoat.
“Wow… that’s… incredible,” she murmured, her voice full of admiration. Her fingers brushed the saree at her waist absentmindedly, and I could feel my pulse quicken seeing her so impressed, her beauty amplified by the way she held herself.
Even from the backseat, I could see the way her breasts moved as she leaned slightly forward, hanging on every word Deepak said, the sway of her buttocks in the seat drawing my eyes irresistibly.
My mom’s yellow saree stayed tied low at her waist, the navel visible and her breasts pressing softly against the blouse as she turned slightly toward Deepak, hanging on his every word.
“And what about the properties? The businesses? How many houses does your family own?” she asked, voice curious, eyes shining.
Deepak smiled, clearly enjoying her attention. “We have multiple houses across the city, luxury cars, investments… my father, Mr. Deepak's Dad Kumaran, controls it all. The money, the influence, everything. No one can touch us.”
My mom’s lips parted slightly, her admiration obvious. “That’s… amazing. I’ve never seen so much wealth.” She reached up to smooth the pallu over her breasts, her navel still teasingly exposed, and her panty line faintly showing through the yellow saree at her buttocks as she leaned forward.
I could feel my chest tighten, a heat building low in my body. Seeing her so proud and impressed made her even more irresistible. Every small movement—the slight sway of her hips, the adjustment of her waist, the shift of her breasts—sent waves of desire through me.
Even Karthik in the backseat was shifting, clearly noticing her too. I swallowed hard, torn between jealousy, awe, and excitement, my pulse racing as My Mom asked yet more questions about Deepak’s wealth, completely captivated by him.
My mom leaned slightly forward, her yellow saree brushing against her waist, buttocks pressing lightly into the seat, and her breasts shifting in the yellow blouse as she listened. Her navel peeked above the tucked-in petticoat, catching the sunlight through the car window.
“I can’t believe all this… the houses, the cars, the influence,” she murmured, voice soft, almost dreamy. “It must be amazing to live like that.”
Deepak caught the admiring look in her eyes and smiled. “It’s not just the wealth… it’s the freedom, the connections. You can get anything you want.”
My mom’s hand brushed absently over the pallu at her waist, and a tiny shiver ran through me as I noticed the faint panty line along her buttocks. Her mind seemed elsewhere, imagining the life she could have, her breasts rising and falling with each small breath, her navel exposed and tempting.
I felt a mix of pride, longing, and sharp desire. My pulse raced, my body reacting despite myself. Seeing her so impressed, so proud, so beautiful—it made every part of me restless. Even Karthik kept glancing at her, but I couldn’t look away either, caught in the spell of her presence.
The car rolled smoothly along the wide street, and soon we reached Deepak’s house. My eyes followed My Mom as she took in the sight—her yellow saree low at her waist, buttocks pressing lightly into the seat, breasts filling the blouse, and navel visible above the tucked-in petticoat.
My mom’s eyes widened as she scanned the enormous property. The sprawling driveway, manicured gardens, and multi-storey façade left her clearly impressed. “Wow… this is… incredible,” she murmured softly, her fingers brushing over the pallu at her waist, glancing at Deepak with a mix of admiration and delight.
At the gate, a uniformed security guard stepped forward. As the car approached, he clicked open the heavy metal gates, letting us pass. My Mom leaned slightly forward, her breasts moving against the blouse, her buttocks shifting in the seat as she watched the gates swing open, and the luxury car rolled inside the driveway.
Every detail—the grandeur of the house, the open gate, the polished driveway—made my mom sit a little straighter, her pride and excitement clear. Deepak’s smirk told me he noticed her awe and was quietly pleased.
I stayed in the backseat, my eyes still drawn to my mom’s panty line, her navel, her breasts, and the confident way she held herself. The house, the car, the attention—it all made her glow, and I could feel my body reacting, tense and restless with desire.
We all stepped out of the car. My mom moved gracefully, her yellow saree tied low at her waist, buttocks hugging into the petticoat, breasts full in the yellow blouse, and her navel clearly visible above the tucked-in petticoat. She paused for a moment, adjusting the pallu over her breasts and smoothing the blouse, then glanced at the car mirror, making sure she looked perfect.
Deepak’s phone rang. He answered quickly, his voice smooth and authoritative. As he walked toward the main door, Karthik followed beside him, eyes glancing repeatedly at My Mom.
I noticed the security guard in his small kiosk staring straight at her. He didn’t hide it. His eyes traveled from her navel to her breasts, then over her buttocks, and he looked directly at the line of her black panties visible beneath the yellow saree as she shifted slightly while adjusting the pallu.
My chest tightened. Seeing him openly staring at my mom, seeing how confidently she carried herself, made my body tense. Every sway of her hips, every movement of her breasts in the blouse, every glimpse of her panties under the saree, kept me restless, my desire growing with each step she took.
My mom paused near the car, her yellow blouse snug against her breasts, and reached behind to adjust the bra strap, the movement making her navel more visible above the tucked-in petticoat. She smoothed her saree over her buttocks and waist, taking a deep breath.
“Varun… do you think I could ask Deepak’s dad for financial help… maybe thirty lakhs… to build our house?” she asked, eyes sparkling with a mix of hope and excitement.
I grinned at her, my pulse quickening. “Thirty lakhs is nothing to him, Mom. He can give it without even thinking twice.”
Her eyes widened, and a shiver ran down my spine as I noticed her reaction—her breasts shifting slightly in the yellow blouse, the navel peeking above her waist, the buttocks pressing lightly against the petticoat. She looked exhilarated, imagining the possibilities.
Then my gaze flicked to the security guard sitting inside his small kiosk. He was leaning forward, eyes fixed on my mom, and my stomach tightened as I realized he was stroking his watch watching my mom openly, clearly caught by her beauty and confidence.
I felt a wave of heat rush through me, my own cock erected as I watched my mom adjusting herself, excited about the idea of the money, while the guard’s shamelessness only made the moment feel more charged.
My mom straightened her yellow saree over her waist, buttocks pressing lightly against the petticoat, breasts full in the yellow blouse, and her navel clearly visible above the tucked-in petticoat as she followed Deepak toward the main entrance.
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