Adultery The Motherly Slut of Paschim Vihar

[bikiniking]

The next day dawned with a heavy fog of confusion and arousal clinging to my mind like the Delhi smog that often blanketed Delhi in the mornings. I woke up early, my body still buzzing from the illicit spectacle I'd witnessed the night before my mom, entangled in a passionate frenzy with my friend Sahil. Her moans echoed in my ears, low and throaty, the way her body had arched with him, her full lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him with a hunger that made my own dick twitch even now as I lay there in bed. The sheets were tangled around my legs, damp from the sweat of my restless sleep, and I could feel the familiar ache in my groin, that insistent morning wood demanding attention.

I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom, the fan whirring lazily above me, stirring the humid air. Why did it turn me on so much? She was my mom, for God's sake - 38 years old, a curvy Punjabi beauty with 36D breasts that jiggled enticingly in her sarees, a bubbly ass that swayed when she walked through the house, and those almond-shaped eyes that could melt steel when she smiled. 

But seeing her like that, transformed from the nagging, homely mother who scolded me for leaving dirty cricket gloves on the floor into a wanton slut, begging for Sahil's cum as she played with it on her skin... it had me hooked. I couldn't deny it anymore. My hand instinctively slid under the sheets, gripping my throbbing cock, the shaft hot and veiny in my palm. 

I stroked slowly at first, replaying the scene in my head—the way Sahil had bitten her neck, her gasps as he licked her inner thighs, her moans when he licked her pussy and finally cumming in her pussy. 

Fuck, it was too much. I pumped faster, my breath coming in ragged gasps, imagining it was me instead of Sahil, my cock buried in her wet heat. The pressure built quickly, and I came hard, ropes of cum spilling onto my stomach, biting my lip to stifle my groan so no one would hear.

After cleaning up, I dressed quickly in jeans and a t-shirt, my mind racing with questions as I headed downstairs. The house was alive with the usual morning bustle, the aroma of fresh parathas and chai wafting from the kitchen.

Dad was due back today from his business trip, arriving at the New Delhi train station around noon. He'd been gone for a week, speaking at some marketing conference in Chennai, leaving Mom alone, or so he thought. I wondered if she felt any guilt, or if the thrill of her affair with Sahil had erased it all.

Would she act normal around me?
Would Sahil show up again, that smug grin on his face, knowing he'd fucked my mom like a cheap whore the night before?

The thought made my cock stir again, a confusing mix of anger and arousal.

Mom was at the stove when I entered the kitchen, dressed in a light blue salwar kameez that hugged her curves like a second skin.



The top was tight, the neckline plunging just enough to show a tantalizing hint of cleavage, her breasts straining against the thin fabric as she flipped a paratha on the tawa. The material was almost sheer in the morning light streaming through the window, outlining the lacy bra beneath, her nipples faintly visible as they hardened slightly from the cool air.

The salwar clung to her thighs and ass, the light blue color accentuating every curve, the fabric so snug it looked painted on, riding up slightly between her legs as she moved. Her hair was well combed and straight, and she hummed a soft tune, seemingly carefree, as if last night's debauchery hadn't happened.

"Morning, beta," she said with a warm smile, her voice as sweet and maternal as ever, though I detected a slight huskiness, perhaps from the moans she'd let out the night before.

"Breakfast is almost ready. Your dad's train arrives at 12:30. I need to go pick him up."

I nodded, sitting at the table, my eyes lingering on her ass as she bent slightly to check the oven, the salwar stretching taut over her bubbly cheeks.

"Yeah, okay. Want me to come?" I asked, half-hoping she'd say no so I could snoop around the house, maybe find some evidence of their affair to fuel my twisted fantasies.

She turned to face me, her breasts jiggling slightly with the movement, the tight kameez doing nothing to hide their fullness. "

No, Bunty, you rest. Practice was tough yesterday, na? Sahil offered to drive me. He's such a helpful boy."

Her eyes twinkled with something I now recognized as mischief, and I felt a pang of jealousy stab through me. Helpful? Yeah, helpful in bending you over and fucking you like a slut while I watched from the shadows.

Sahil arrived soon after, knocking on the door with that cocky swagger he'd developed ever since he'd started banging my mom. He was dressed casually in a t-shirt and jeans, his lean build from cricket practice making him look confident, almost arrogant.

"Morning, Aunty," he said, his eyes devouring her outfit from head to toe, lingering on the way the light blue salwar kameez hugged her curves, the tight top accentuating her breasts, the pants molding to her thighs and ass like they were made for sin. "Ready to go? My car is fueled up."

Mom smiled, grabbing her dupatta and dbanging it loosely over her shoulders, doing little to hide the way her body moved under the fabric. "Yes, Sahil. Thanks for driving. Bunty, we'll be back soon. Be good."

She leaned down to kiss my cheek, her breasts brushing against my arm for a split second, her perfume; jasmine and a hint of musk - filling my nostrils and making my cock stir again despite my earlier release.

I watched them leave from the window, Mom's ass swaying hypnotically in that tight salwar, Sahil's hand brushing her lower back as he guided her to the car, a possessive touch that made my blood boil.



The i20 pulled out of the driveway, and I was left alone in the house, my mind swirling with suspicions. What if they did something on the way? The train station was a 45-minute drive through Delhi traffic - plenty of time for detours. The thought made me hard, but also furious.

I paced the living room, trying to distract myself with TV, but my mind kept drifting to the night before: Mom sucking Sahil's cock, her lips stretched wide, her moans as he rubbed her pussy, stopping just before cumming to paint her body with his load. Fuck, it was too much.

To kill time, I rummaged through Sahil's bag - he'd left it in the hall after "helping" last night. Nothing incriminating, just cricket gear and a notebook. But the seed of doubt was planted. I knew Sahil had a dashcam in his i20, he'd installed it after a minor fender-bender last year, bragging about how it recorded everything for insurance.

If anything happened in the car, it might be captured. But I'd have to wait till they returned to check. The hours ticked by slowly, my imagination running wild: Mom in that tight salwar, Sahil's hands on her thighs, her moaning in Hindi as he fingered her while driving. I jerked off again in my room, cumming to the fantasy, guilt and excitement warring inside me.

Finally, around 1:30 PM, I heard the car pull up. Dad's voice boomed as they entered, laughing about his trip. "Arrey, Darling the house looks spotless! Missed you, jaan," he said, hugging her tightly, his hands on her waist.

She smiled, returning the embrace, but I caught the subtle flush on her cheeks, her dupatta slightly askew, one end tucked awkwardly as if hastily adjusted. Her light blue salwar kameez looked rumpled at the thighs, the fabric creased in ways that suggested more than just sitting in a car.

Sahil grinned at me from behind them, winking subtly, his hair a bit disheveled, a smug satisfaction in his eyes. "Hey, Bunty. Your dad's back family time!" he said, clapping me on the shoulder a little too hard.

Dad looked tired but happy, dropping his bag in the hall. "Train was delayed, as usual. Sahil, thanks for picking me up, beta. Good lad." Sahil nodded modestly, but I saw the flicker in his eyes, the secret knowledge that he'd probably fucked my mom on the way.

Mom bustled into the kitchen, calling out, "Lunch is ready! Wash up, everyone." Her voice was cheerful, but I noticed her walking a bit gingerly, as if sore between her legs.

Dinner that evening was normal on the surface - Dad regaling us with stories from Chennai, the humid heat, the spicy food, the boring seminars. Mom laughed at his jokes, her hand on his arm, playing the perfect wife. But I couldn't stop observing the little things: the way she shifted in her seat, wincing slightly, as if her pussy was tender from a recent pounding; the stolen glances she gave Sahil, her eyes lingering on his crotch; the way her salwar pants seemed stretched at the seams, as if they'd been pulled down and up in haste. Sahil was his usual self, chatting about cricket, but his foot brushed Mom's under the table - I saw her jolt slightly, her cheeks flushing.

After dinner, Dad retired early, jet lag hitting him hard.

Dad - "Goodnight, family. Sahil, thanks again for the ride."

Sahil nodded, "No problem, Uncle." Mom kissed Dad goodnight, her lips lingering on his cheek, but her eyes flicked to Sahil.

Once Dad was upstairs, Sahil lingered in the hall, "Aunty, need help cleaning up?" Mom smiled, "No, beta, you go slee in the guest room. It's late." But her tone was teasing, and he left with a wink.

The house quieted, and I waited until everyone was asleep before sneaking to the garage. Sahil had left his keys on the hook - sloppy, but lucky for me. I slipped into the i20, the scent of Mom's perfume still lingering in the air, mixed with something muskier, like sex. The dashcam was there, a small black device on the windshield, recording everything for "safety." I popped out the SD card, my heart pounding like a drum, and rushed back to my room, locking the door.

Plugging it into my laptop, I fast-forwarded through the initial footage - them leaving the house, Mom buckling up, her light blue salwar top stretching tight over her breasts as she adjusted the seatbelt, accentuating her cleavage. Sahil started the engine, pulling out of the driveway.

At first, it was innocent chit-chat: "Aunty, traffic might be bad today," Sahil said, his voice casual. Mom replied, "Haan, beta, but with you driving, I'm not worried."

But as they hit the main road, weaving through Delhi's chaotic traffic - honking autos, weaving bikes, the smoggy air visible through the windows - the conversation turned dirty, the dashcam capturing every word and movement in crystal clear audio and video.

"Arrey, Sahil, drive carefully," Mom said in Hindi, her voice playful, a hint of breathlessness already creeping in. "Tumhare haath kahaan ja rahe hain?" (Where are your hands going?) The camera showed Sahil's right hand sliding off the gear shift to her left thigh, squeezing through the tight salwar fabric, his fingers tracing the curve of her leg.

Sahil chuckled, his eyes flicking from the road to her body, lingering on how the light blue kameez hugged her breasts, the material so thin the outline of her bra was visible.

"Aunty, aap itni tight kameez mein kitni hot lag rahi ho. Yeh salwar... uff, your ass looks amazing in it. Kal raat ko socha tha aapko peeche se chodu, par time nahi mila." (Aunty, you look so hot in this tight kameez. This salwar... uff, your ass looks amazing. Last night I thought about fucking you from behind, but we didn't have time.)

Mom giggled, slapping his hand lightly but not moving it away, her legs parting slightly as his fingers crept higher, rubbing her inner thigh.

"Badmash ladka. Bunty ke dost ho, aur uski maa ke saath aisi baatein? Kal raat tune mujhe itna choda, abhi bhi mann nahi bhara?" (Naughty boy. You're Bunty's friend, and talking like this to his mom? Last night you fucked me so much, still not satisfied?)

His hand inched up, now pressing against her pussy through the salwar, the camera capturing her subtle squirm, her breath quickening.

"Aunty, aapki choot garam ho rahi hai. Feel karo mera lund—kitna hard hai aapke liye. Station jaate hue, kyun na thoda maza karein? Daddy aa jayenge, phir chance nahi milega." (Aunty, your pussy's getting hot. Feel my dick - how hard it is for you. On the way to the station, why not have some fun? Daddy's coming, we won't get a chance later.)


She bit her lip, her hand reaching over to stroke his bulge through his jeans, the dashcam showing her fingers tracing the outline. "Haan, beta... Par yahaan car mein? Traffic mein koi dekh lega. Ruko, station parking mein khali jagah dekh kar car lagana." 

The video continued, their dirty talk escalating as they navigated the crowded roads. Sahil's fingers rubbed her pussy harder, the salwar darkening slightly with her wetness.

"Aunty, kal raat ke baad se to main aur pagla gaya hun. Aaj station pe chudwaogi?." 

Mom moaned softly, her hips grinding against his hand. "Haan, Sahil... I too loved it, I want more!! Baby let's be safe, bas koi dekhe na"

They pulled into the station parking lot, a dirty, dimly lit area on 5th floor of multi level car park cluttered with abandoned cars, trash strewn about, the air thick with the smell of exhaust and urine from nearby walls.

Sahil parked between two rusty sedans, the dashcam capturing the shadowy space, the camera angled to show the front seats but not the back or outside fully.  He unbuckled, leaning over to kiss her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth, his hand yanking her salwar top up, exposing her lacy blue bra that matched the outfit, her breasts heaving as he squeezed them.

Mom moaned into the kiss, her hands fumbling with his zipper.  The camera showed them climbing out, the doors slamming, the video going dark as they moved to the back, but the microphone picked up everything - the rustle of clothes in the dirty lot, Mom's gasp as Sahil pushed her against the car trunk, bending her over between the two vehicles.

"Bend over, Aunty... show me that ass," Sahil growled, his voice echoing slightly in the empty lot.

The audio captured the sound of her salwar being pulled down, I could imaging the light blue fabric bunching at her knees, her ass exposed to the grimy air, her lacy panties pushed aside. Mom's breathy moan followed as Sahil dropped his jeans, his cock springing free, hard and veiny, rubbing it against her ass crack, teasing her pussy lips. "Kitni geeli ho, Aunty. Yeh tight salwar mein aapki gaand kitni sexy lag rahi thi—ab mera lund logi?" (How wet you are, Aunty. Your ass looked so sexy in this tight salwar—now take my dick?)

"Yes... put it in. Fuck me hard, Sahil... here in this dirty parking lot, like a whore."

Her voice was raw, desperate, the risk of being caught, trains whistling in the distance, distant voices from the station adding to the thrill. Sahil thrust in from behind, his cock sliding into her wet pussy with a slick sound, her moan loud and unrestrained, her body rocking forward against the car trunk.

The audio was vivid - the slap of skin on skin as he fucked her standing, bent over between the cars, his hands gripping her hips through the rumpled salwar top, pulling her back onto his cock.

"Ohhh, Sahil... harder... your dick feels so good in my pussy!"

Her moans grew louder, the dirty lot amplifying them, the grime and trash around them contrasting her light blue outfit, now stained with dust from the car.

Sahil slapped her ass, the crack sharp in the audio.



"Take it, slut... your choot's so tight, even after last night. Bunty ko pata chala to kya hoga - uski maa parking mein uske dost chud rahi hai." (If Bunty finds out, what will happen—his mom getting fucked in a parking lot.)

She laughed breathlessly, pushing back against him, her ass jiggling with each thrust. "Usse kya farak... ab mujhe chodo, Sahil... cum inside me!" (What difference does it make... just fuck me now, Sahil... cum inside me!)

He fucked her relentlessly, the rhythm building, her cries echoing, the risk heightening the intensity - a stray dog barking nearby, the distant rumble of a train. She cummed hard, her scream muffled as she buried her face in her arms on the trunk, her pussy clenching around him, juices dripping down her thighs onto the dirty ground.

But they weren't done. The audio captured them moving to the back seat, the car door opening and closing, the vehicle rocking slightly as they climbed in.

"Back seat pe, Aunty... doggy style mein chodunga tumhe." (On the back seat, Aunty... I'll fuck you doggy style.)

Mom's voice was eager, the dashcam now showing the car interior dimly lit, the back seat in view. Mom climbed in first, her salwar top open, breasts spilling out, nipples hard and dark, her pants still bunched at her knees. She knelt on the seat, ass up, facing away, her light blue kameez riding up to expose her curves.

Sahil followed, positioning behind her in the cramped space, his cock still hard, slick with her juices. She lowered onto his cock, her pussy swallowing him whole, a moan escaping her lips as she started riding, her ass cheeks spreading and clapping against his thighs. "Ohhh... Sahil... itna andar... haan, beta... fuck Mommy's choot!" (Ohhh... Sahil... so deep... yes, beta... fuck Mommy's pussy!) The car creaked with her movements, her breasts bouncing in the reflection of the rearview mirror, her face contorted in pleasure.



Sahil gripped her ass, spreading her cheeks, thrusting up to meet her, his fingers digging into her flesh. "Fuck, Aunty... your gaand is perfect. Cum for me again. Show me how much you love my lund." (Your ass is perfect. Cum for me again—show me how much you love my dick.)

She pushed back harder, her moans filling the car, the windows fogging from their heavy breathing. "Haan... cumming... oh, Sahil!" She grunted again, her body shaking, pussy squirting onto his cock and the seat.

He flipped her onto her back, the back seat cramped but intense, her legs over his shoulders, salwar pants dangling from one ankle. "Now missionary, Aunty... gonna cum in you deep."

He thrust in, her pussy squelching with each pound, her breasts jiggling wildly. "Ohhh... yes... zor se... fill me, Sahil... daddy ke aane se pehle meri choot bhar do!" (Ohhh... yes... harder... fill me, Sahil... fill my pussy before daddy arrives!)

He fucked her with force, the car rocking, her moans raw and desperate.



Finally, he groaned, thrusting deep. "Cumming, Aunty... take it!"

His cum flooded her pussy, hot jets spilling inside her, leaking out as he pulled back slowly. She moaned, her fingers dipping into her pussy to feel the creampie, rubbing it on her clit with a satisfied sigh. "Mmm... kitna garam... perfect, beta." (Mmm... so warm... perfect, beta.)

They panted, kissing sloppily, fixing their clothes hastily, the light blue salwar kameez now wrinkled and stained.

I watched the entire recording twice, stroking myself the second time, cumming hard to the sight and sound of my mom being fucked like a desperate slut in a dirty parking lot and cramped back seat.

It was the hottest, most depraved thing I'd ever seen till that point, because what I saw next in the house was....

To Be Continued!!!