Incest Mom tricked by Bully (Mask of Desire)

[Steel]

Madhuri's eyes widened, scanning the grades, her son, Abhi, the boy she'd always thought a bit dull, had scored impossibly high, matching Ishaan's near-perfect marks. Little did she know how helpful Ms. Sherley's extra classes were.

Shock jolted through her, mingled with pride, though suspicion lingered. "This… this is amazing," she said hesitantly, her voice soft, her gaze flickering to Ishaan's smug expression. "Congratulations, both of you."

Abhi grinned, bouncing with excitement. "Maa, since we did so well, can I ask something for me and Ishaan to play with indoors? You know, as a reward?" His eyes sparkled, oblivious to the tension crackling in the room.

She met Ishaan's gaze, his devilish grin widening, a glint in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine, half fear, half something darker, hotter.

She quickly looked away, swallowed, her throat dry. "Fine," she said, her voice tight, "but keep it reasonable." Abhi whooped, already pulling out his phone, while Ishaan’s gaze locked on her,

"Good, umm... I'll... leave you guys to it then," she mumbled, turning to flee, berating herself, "Why did I think this was a good idea, walking in here?"

"Wait mom, he couldn't stop raving about your Biryani from last time, tell her, Ishaan!" Abhi piped up, crunching chips, and Ishaan's laugh rumbled, low and warm. "Oh Abhi, your mom's a killer, cooking's just the start. Bet every guy's dying to taste... whatever she's serving," he said, his eyes flicking down her curves, deliberate, bold.

Her eyes flared open, "Do you always talk like this?" she muttered, turning again grabbing a water bottle, but her hands shook, spilling drops on her robe, his stare tracked it, and her cheeks burned.

"Depends on who's listening, some people make words slip out a little smoother," he quipped, voice low and thick with intent, she gripped the desk, fighting to look away, his quiet charm tugging at her like a hidden thread she prayed Abhi wouldn't notice.

"Gotta run, bro, catch you later," Ishaan said suddenly, clapping Abhi's shoulder, but his eyes lingered on her, slow, searing.

"Take care, aunty, don't let the day get too dull without me," he added, winking, his stride casual as he brushed past her, his arm grazing her hip like a spark, and she froze, her breath hitching.

"Bye, Ishaan," Abhi called, but she barely nodded, her voice lost, "Yeah... bye", and he was gone, the door clicking shut, leaving her trembling.

His eyes, exactly matched the stalker's from the bus's dark fire, and her mind spun: "Is it really him!?"

Her pussy throbbed, wetter now, and she sank onto Abhi's chair, her resolve crumbling, his charm, his flirtation, a mirror to the stranger who'd owned her, and she couldn't unsee it.

"Maa, you okay? You look weird," Abhi asked, frowning, and she forced a smile, standing fast.

"Just... tired, Abhi, going to rest," she lied, fleeing upstairs, her robe sticking to her thighs, her heart pounding. She locked her door, leaning against it, his voice replayed, "dying to taste," and her hand drifted down, brushing her clit through the leggings, a soft "Ohh" slipping free.

"Is that him? No way! But, those eyes? Ughh.. I'm confused..." the doubt clawed, the matching eyes flashing her memories from the bus, her shame warring with a need she couldn't kill.