Misc. Erotica Mom's Cricket Challenge with my Friends (COMPLETED) - By Novelist Casanova

[novelistcasanova]

Over 1, Ball 1
Prakash took his run-up, eyes flicking briefly toward My Mom. She stood at the crease, bat ready, yellow saree clinging to her Buttocks, yellow blouse stretched over her Breasts, black Bra visible beneath, and the teasing line of her black Panties showing above her petticoat.
The ball flew toward her, fast and precise, but she swung too early, missing entirely. The ball rolled past, wasted.
“Ahh, missed it, Aunty!” Prakash called out, though his eyes were fixed on her Breasts and Buttocks, not the ball.
My Mom blinked, cheeks flushing pink. She adjusted her grip on the bat, Breasts lifting with the movement, Pantyline shifting slightly under the petticoat, and I felt my pulse thud in my ears.
“Don’t worry, Mom… next one’s yours,” I whispered under my breath, heart hammering. My eyes couldn’t leave her Breasts rising and falling, or the sway of her Buttocks as she repositioned herself.
Deepak and Karthik were struggling to act casual, but I caught them stealing glances at her Breasts and the glimpse of Panties. Even Rajan, Arjun, and Naresh seemed more focused on Aunty than the game.
Deepak's Dad, standing in his white T-shirt and White Track Pants, called out softly, “Take it easy, Sudha. You’ll get it next time.” His voice had a teasing lilt, and My Mom smiled at him, brushing a hand over her Breasts, and I had to swallow hard to stay upright.
The first ball was gone, but the air around My Mom felt hotter than ever. Every movement, every sway of her Buttocks, every lift of her Breasts, and every teasing glimpse of Bra or Panties made it impossible to think about cricket.


Over 1, Ball 2
Prakash adjusted his stance, eyes briefly flicking toward My Mom again. She gripped the bat tighter, yellow saree hugging her Buttocks, yellow blouse stretching over her Breasts, black Bra showing beneath, and the top of her black Panties peeking over her petticoat.
The ball came fast, but once again, My Mom swung and missed. The ball rolled past harmlessly.
“Aunty, focus!” Rajan called, though his eyes lingered on her Breasts and Buttocks.
My Mom bit her lip, her cheeks flushing darker. She stepped back, adjusting her stance, Breasts rising and falling as she exhaled sharply. I could see the frustration in her eyes—she hated missing, hated disappointing us, even if she was teasing us too.
Deepak's Dad, standing in his white T-shirt and White Track Pants as umpire, leaned slightly forward, voice soft but firm: “Don’t worry, Sudha… it’s just the first two balls. You’ll get the next one.”
My Mom looked up at him, a faint smile breaking through her frustration. She brushed a hand lightly over her Breasts, and I felt heat surge through me. His support seemed to calm her, even as her Pantyline shifted teasingly under the petticoat.
Deepak shifted slightly at the non-striker’s end, but even he couldn’t keep his eyes off My Mom, her Breasts and Buttocks glowing in the sun. I swallowed hard, my mind racing with the sight of her anger mixed with that small, teasing smile Deepak's Dad had drawn out.
The first two balls were gone, and My Mom’s frustration only made her more intoxicating. Every sway of her Buttocks, every lift of her Breasts, and every glimpse of Bra or Panties made it impossible to focus on cricket.


Over 1, Ball 3
Prakash took his mark again, eyes glancing toward My Mom, who gripped the bat tighter, yellow saree clinging to her Buttocks, yellow blouse stretched over her Breasts, black Bra peeking beneath, and the black Panties at her waistline teasingly visible under her petticoat.
The ball sped toward her, but once again, My Mom swung and missed. The ball rolled harmlessly past her, wasted.
“Haha, Aunty! Still can’t hit it!” Arjun and Naresh laughed loudly from the opposing side, eyes shamelessly fixed on her Breasts and Buttocks. Even Rajan smirked, shaking his head, unable to hide his amusement.
My Mom’s hands trembled slightly on the bat, Breasts rising sharply with each frustrated breath, and her Pantyline shifted as she took a small step back. Her frustration was clear—cheeks flushed deeper, lips pressed in a thin line, jaw tightening.
Deepak's Dad, standing as umpire in his white T-shirt and White Track Pants, leaned forward, voice calm and teasing: “It’s okay, Sudha… relax. Don’t let them get to you.”
I could see the tiny flicker of relief in My Mom’s eyes, but it didn’t hide her irritation. Every sway of her Buttocks, every lift of her Breasts, and every subtle glimpse of her Bra and Panties made my pulse pound harder.
Deepak shifted nervously at the non-striker’s end, stealing glances at My Mom, clearly captivated by the mix of her frustration and raw sensuality. I clenched my fists, trying to stay composed, but My Mom’s every movement—the angry lift of her Breasts, the tense sway of her Buttocks—was driving me wild.
Rajan’s team laughed louder, mocking her misses, but My Mom’s glare could have cut steel. She was upset, yes, but that heat, that tension, made the match feel dangerously charged, far beyond mere cricket.


Over 1, Ball 4
Prakash ran in, eyes on My Mom. She gripped the bat tightly, yellow saree clinging to her Buttocks, yellow blouse stretched over her Breasts, black Bra showing beneath, and the black Panties peeking above her petticoat.
The ball came fast, but once again, My Mom swung and missed. It rolled past, wasted. Her frustration was clear—cheeks flushed, lips pressed tight, Breasts rising sharply with every irritated breath, Pantyline shifting under the petticoat as she stepped back.
Rajan’s team laughed openly. “Aunty, still can’t hit it!” Arjun jeered, eyes fixed shamelessly on her Breasts and Buttocks.
Deepak, standing at the non-striker’s end, moved closer, leaning casually toward her. “Aunty… just take the single,” he whispered, voice low and teasing. His hand brushed briefly against her Buttocks in a friendly, joking pat.
She froze, surprise flashing in her eyes, then bit her lip and let out a small, exasperated laugh. “Fine… just the single,” she murmured, shaking her head but not pulling away, Buttocks shifting slightly under his touch, Breasts rising as she exhaled in a mix of frustration and reluctant amusement.
I could hardly breathe, watching the subtle sway of her Buttocks, the lift of her Breasts, and the teasing glimpse of Bra and Panties as she adjusted herself. Every tiny movement of My Mom made my heart race, and I had to resist the urge to step closer myself.
Deepak's Dad, standing at the umpire’s position in his white T-shirt and White Track Pants, smiled knowingly. “That’s the spirit, Sudha. Keep it playful.”
The fourth ball ended, but the air around My Mom was thick with heat. Her frustrated, teasing, almost mischievous energy made the match feel far more charged than any cricket game should.


Over 1, Ball 5
Prakash ran in for the fifth delivery. My Mom gripped the bat tightly, yellow saree clinging to her Buttocks, yellow blouse stretched over her Breasts, black Bra outlined beneath, and the black Panties teasing above her petticoat.
She swung—and missed. Again. Five balls wasted in a row. Her face burned with frustration, cheeks deep pink, Breasts rising sharply with each ragged breath, and her Pantyline shifting as she readjusted herself.
Rajan’s team laughed openly. “Aunty, what’s happening? Five misses already!” Naresh jeered, eyes shamelessly fixed on her Breasts and Buttocks.
My Mom’s hands trembled slightly on the bat, and even Deepak looked concerned. But before anyone else could say a word, Deepak's Dad stepped forward, his T-shirt clinging to his chest, Track Pants fluttering slightly as he approached. His voice was firm, cutting through the tension:
“Sudha! You’re playing for thirty lakhs! Concentrate, focus, and play seriously!”
My Mom froze, eyes widening. Fear mixed with her frustration, a shiver running through her body. Breasts lifted sharply with the sudden intake of breath, Buttocks tensed under the saree, and her Pantyline shifted as she gripped the bat tighter.
For a moment, the teasing, playful aura disappeared, replaced with a serious, almost overwhelming pressure. The laughter of Rajan’s team faded into the background, and all I could see was My Mom’s wide, anxious eyes, the flush of her cheeks, and the tension in her Breasts and Buttocks.
I wanted to step forward, to whisper reassurance, but I stayed rooted, watching her reaction, my pulse pounding as My Mom faced the weight of Deepak's Dad’s words.


Over 1, Ball 6
Prakash ran in for the final ball. My Mom gripped the bat tightly, yellow saree clinging to her Buttocks, yellow blouse stretched over her Breasts, black Bra visible beneath, and the black Panties teasing above her petticoat. She tried to steady herself, but the pressure from the previous balls weighed heavily.
The ball came fast, and My Mom swung too late. The ball struck the stumps cleanly. Bowled.
Rajan’s team laughed, but their amusement was drowned out by Deepak's Dad storming forward, his face hard. “Sudha! What the hell was that? You’re useless! You’re not even fit to bat!” His voice boomed across the field. “If you lose this match, don’t even think about getting your thirty lakhs! Do you understand me?”
My Mom froze, wide-eyed, her Breasts rising sharply as her chest heaved, Buttocks tensing under the saree, and her black Panties shifting slightly as she gripped the bat tighter. Her lower lip trembled, and a sob escaped before she could stop it. Tears ran down her flushed cheeks, Breasts heaving with each shuddering breath.
Deepak and Karthik exchanged worried glances, while I felt a raw, helpless heat coursing through me. Watching My Mom cry, her Buttocks tensing and Breasts heaving under the yellow blouse, made my heart pound and my pulse race.
Even Rajan’s team quieted a little, sensing the intensity of Deepak's Dad’s anger, but My Mom stood there, trembling, scared, frustrated, and unbearably alluring. Every movement of her Breasts, every slight shift of her Buttocks, and every glimpse of Bra and Panties made it impossible to look away.


My Mom dropped the bat and ran toward me, yellow saree swaying with her Buttocks tightening under the fabric, Breasts heaving with every step. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, Pantyline shifting slightly as she moved.
She wrapped her arms tightly around me, pressing her Breasts against my chest. “Varun… I… I’m going to lose… I’ll never get the thirty lakhs!” she sobbed, her voice trembling.
I pulled her close, my hands resting gently on her Buttocks, feeling the warmth through the saree. “Shh, Mom… don’t worry. We’ll win the match. Just focus, breathe. It’s not over yet,” I whispered, holding her tighter.
She pressed her face into my shoulder, and I couldn’t resist—leaning forward, I pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek. The warmth of her skin, the soft rise of her Breasts against me, made my pulse spike. I felt the subtle reaction of my body against hers, every inch of My Mom intoxicating me.
“Thank you, Varun…” she murmured, hugging me tighter, Buttocks pressing against me, Breasts rising and falling rapidly. Her gratitude and vulnerability mixed with her sensual presence, making the moment impossible to forget.
I held her, running my hands lightly over her Buttocks, feeling the tension in her body slowly ease. “We’ve got this, Mom. Trust me,” I whispered again, planting another soft kiss on her cheek as she clung to me, trembling but slowly calming.
Even in her tears, her Breasts, Buttocks, and subtle Pantyline under the saree made my blood race. She hugged me back tightly, whispering thanks, and I felt the heat of her body pressed against mine, every second heightening the mix of care, desire, and longing between us.