Adultery FALL OF THE ARROGANT MOTHER

[Momhunter123]

Part 5 - the INVASION

Seven days after the bus.

Friday afternoon, the lane baked under the July sun. No breeze, no people, only the distant bark of a street dog.

Fifty metres away, two bikes waited in the shade. Rocky, Sahil, and Bishal sat motionless as Sunirmal Basu locked the front door, pulled the grill shut, and walked off toward his tuition. Vumika’s shadow vanished inside.

1:24 PM.

Rocky moved first.

He crossed the empty lane, climbed the drainpipe in silence, and slipped through the kitchen window. The small hand-cam in his left hand recorded every breath, every soft step on the cool tiles.

At the half-open bedroom door he stopped.

Vumika lay on her stomach, sky-blue cotton saree clinging to every roll, sleeveless cream blouse stretched tight across her wide, meaty back. Thick arms lay beside her head, soft flesh spilling over the mattress. Her phone glowed on her face. Thick calves and bare alta stained feet dangled off the edge. With every slow breath her massive ass lifted and sank under the thin cotton.

Rocky’s breathing grew heavy. The camera zoomed in, slow and hungry.

She suddenly fanned herself. “Too hot,” she muttered, sat up, and padded to the attached bathroom, door half open.

The second she disappeared, Rocky stepped in, poured the clear liquid (strong aphrodisiac mixed with alcohol) into her steel water glass, stirred once with his finger, tasted a drop, and put the glass back.

He hid in the dark corner of the corridor, hand-cam aimed through the gap.

The toilet flushed. Vumika returned, hair in a loose bun, a few water drops shining on her neck. She drank almost the whole glass in long gulps, lay back on her stomach, and kept scrolling.

At first she was still. Then her thick thighs rubbed together. Her hips began slow circles against the mattress.

A soft moan “Uffff…” escaped from her mouth.

The pallu fell away. One hand disappeared under her heavy belly.

The saree and petticoat climbed higher until thick milky meaty thighs opened wide. Her fingers moved fast inside the panty, wet sounds filling the room. Small desperate moans leaked in the air. Her whole body stiffened, toes curled, a long shaking climax tore through her. She moaned into the pillow and collapsed. Rocky's camera recored everything.

A minute later she caught her breath, pulled the saree and petticoat down with trembling hands, fixed the pallu, and lay on her stomach again. Fifteen minutes later the phone slipped from her fingers. Her thick arms relaxed. Deep, drugged sleep swallowed her completely.

Rocky watched a moment longer, then quietly opened the front door.

Sahil and Bishal stepped inside.

The three entered the bedroom together.

Vumika lay dead to the world, face turned to the side, her mouth slightly open.

Rocky went straight to the bed. He placed both palms on the saree-covered ass and pressed, no reaction. Satisfied, he lifted the sky-blue cotton and white petticoat together from the back, slow and deliberate.

Thick calves appeared first. Rocky ran his hands over them, feeling the heavy, warm softness of her flesh. Then the sudden appearance of pale thunder thighs. He stopped when the cloth bunched at her waist.

Her light-pink flowery panty was soaked through. He peeled it down to her knees. The wet cotton made a soft, sticky sound as it left her skin.

Now her huge naked ass filled the golden afternoon light.

Rocky placed one palm on each enormous cheek and spread her wide. The deep crack opened. In the centre sat her small, clean pink-brown asshole, tight and puckered. Below it, swollen pussy lips still dripped.

He lowered his face into the warm valley, pressed his nose deep between her cheeks, and breathed her in long and slow, eyes closed, body shaking. Then his tongue dragged from the bottom of her pussy to the top of her crack in one wet, greedy lick. He circled her asshole slowly, then gently pushed the tip inside.

Vumika gave a tiny unconscious moan, hips twitching once, but stayed lost in sleep.

Sahil knelt on the left and slid his hand inside the armhole of her sleeveless blouse, cupping one heavy hanging breast, rolling the stiff nipple between his fingers.

Bishal knelt on the right, hands roaming the backs of her thighs, fingers sinking into the soft crease under each cheek.

After a minute Rocky lifted his face, shiny and wet. He gave a small nod.

Together they rolled the heavy, burning-hot body onto her back. Her thick arms flopped above her head. The sleeveless blouse pulled tight under her arms, armholes gaping open, revealing soft, fleshy armpits with a few tiny black hairs in the centre.

Sahil lowered his face to her left armpit. The smell was warm, womanly, Ponds talc mixed with fresh sweat. He dragged his tongue slowly from the edge of the blouse to the soft centre, tasting salt and skin.

Rocky wedged himself deep between her heavy, trembling thighs, forced them impossibly wide, and lowered his mouth until his breath burned against her skin; then his tongue slid in one long, deliberate, claiming stroke across her swollen clit, slow enough to make her feel every inch of the invasion.

Her drugged body arched hard, a helpless jerk that rippled through all that soft flesh.

He circled faster, hungry now, then closed his lips and sucked with cruel, perfect pressure.

A low, broken moan spilled from her throat, thick with shame and unwanted heat.

Her eyelids fluttered, heavy, fighting to stay closed.

He gave her one last deep, merciless lick that dragged fire straight through her core.

Her eyes flew open.

In that single heartbeat the world crashed awake: two hot, wet tongues moving on her at once—one sliding slow and shameless through the warm, faintly hairy hollow of her armpit, the other locked on her clit, devouring without pause—and terror exploded inside her like ice and fire together.

A scream tore loose from the depths of her chest, raw, piercing, desperate to shatter the walls.

Before the sound could finish climbing her throat, two rough, powerful hands slammed down over her mouth, crushing the scream into a frantic, muffled wail that vibrated against unyielding palms.

Only her eyes remained free—huge, glassy, wild with panic—staring up into the shadows leaning over her, searching for faces she still could not see while the tongues kept moving, moving, moving…

Part 6 -  The PUNISHMENT

Her eyes cleared just enough to see through the blur of tears.

Bishal’s face hovered above her, his smile sharp and hungry, teeth flashing white while one strong hand pinned both her thick wrists high above her head, the flesh around his fingers turning pale and bloodless, his other hand holding the small hand-cam steady, red light blinking, recording every second of her shame.

Sahil’s tongue still moved slowly, shamelessly, in the warm hollow of her left armpit, lapping at her sweat like it was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted, and it was Sahil’s palm pressed hard over her mouth, crushing her screams into frantic, muffled cries.

She tried to twist away, tried to close her heavy thighs, tried to hide any part of herself, but Rocky’s hands were iron clamps around her legs, forcing them wide open, and his tongue never once left her clit, flicking faster and faster, punishing her with every wet stroke.

Rocky lifted his head just enough for her to see him clearly.

The same sharp jaw. The same cold eyes. The same faint pink shadow of her five fingers still printed on his cheek.....The boy from the market!

Everything inside her shattered.

A new scream tore against Sahil’s palm, raw and desperate, vibrating through his fingers like an animal trapped in a cage. Fresh tears spilled hot and fast down her cheeks.

She thrashed with everything she had; ninety-three kilograms of soft married flesh against three hard, determined boys was nothing. Her body only shook and jiggled uselessly under their grip.

Rocky’s tongue returned to her clit, faster, cruel, merciless.

Her hips jerked upward into his mouth even as her eyes screamed no.

Rocky suddenly pulled away and crawled up her body, knees forcing her folded thighs even wider apart, until his face hovered inches from hers, lips and chin shining with her own juices, the smell thick and shameful in the hot room.

He placed one wet finger against his lips.

“Shhhhhhhhh…” A long, slow hiss that froze her blood.

Her scream died instantly. Only terror remained.

Sahil’s hand stayed over her mouth, lighter now, but ready.

Rocky grabbed his phone, thumb moving fast across the screen, then turned it toward her.

The market upskirt video played silently: forty-five seconds of her thick thighs, light-pink flowery panty swallowed deep between her cheeks, one bead of sweat sliding slowly into her crack.

All three boys laughed, low, cold, victorious.

Her eyes went huge with pure horror.

She tried to scream again; only a muffled, broken animal sound escaped against Sahil’s palm.

Rocky leaned closer, voice soft and poisonous.

“Remember what you said in the market, aunty?  ‘My son is an engineer… security officer will catch you…’  Your son is far away in Bombay. And we are right here.”

The words burned her deeper than any slap. Tears poured faster.

Sahil slowly lifted his hand.

The moment air touched her lips she gasped, voice cracked and shaking:

“Please… don’t speak my son’s name…  Whatever you want… money, anything… just delete everything… don’t show anyone… please…”

Before the last word left her mouth, Rocky dropped his full weight on her.

His mouth crashed against hers, hard, claiming, still tasting of her own pussy. His tongue forced its way in, thick with her shame.

She tried to turn her face. But he gripped her jaw and kissed deeper.

Her heavy legs kicked uselessly, thighs trembling, knees still forced wide by his body, the soaked panty hanging off one ankle like a white flag of surrender.

Sahil shifted to her right armpit, tongue dragging slow and wet across fresh skin, moaning into the soft, faintly hairy hollow.

Bishal leaned close to her ear, the hand-cam still recording every tear, every tremble.

“Stay quiet, aunty… or tomorrow the whole colony sees this.”

Rocky finally broke the kiss.

A thick string of saliva and her juices stretched between their mouths, then snapped.

Vumika sobbed silently now, mouth open, chest heaving, eyes red and empty.

Rocky sat back between her spread thighs, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked straight into her broken face.

“Now behave…  or your husband opens his phone tomorrow and sees his wife exactly like this.”

The room fell dead silent except for the wet sounds of Sahil’s tongue and her own terrified breathing.

They dragged her forward until she knelt in the centre of the bed, knees swallowed by the same mattress that still carried the faint married scent of her life with Sunirmal.

Rocky stood on his knees in front of her.

He turned his cheek slowly.

The faint pink print of her slap still glowed.

“Look. Still here.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes.

Rocky went behind her, sat close, pulled her damp meaty back against his chest. His left arm slid around her throat, fingers resting just above the mangalsutra, light but ready. His right hand seized her wrist and twisted it high up her back until pain shot through her shoulder.

Gold bangles clinked, sharp in the silence.

His mouth touched her ear.

“These soft hands hit me in front of everyone. Today they pay.”

He stripped the sky-blue saree from her body in one slow, deliberate pull, letting the cotton drag over her belly, her hips, the petticoat string.

Now she knelt in only the sleeveless cream blouse and white petticoat, bra straps visible on shoulder  ... cutting deep into soft flesh.

He seized both wrists, forced them together behind her back, and bound them tight with her own saree, knot after knot after knot, until her forearms were locked and her heavy breasts pushed forward helplessly.

Her voice came out tiny, cracked, pleading:

“Please… I’m your mother’s age… I have a son… a husband… let me go…”

Rocky placed one palm between her shoulder blades and pushed.

She understood.

Slowly, shaking, she lowered her face into the pillow, cheek pressed into the wet patch of her own tears and smeared sindoor.

With her hands bound, she couldn’t hold herself up. Her huge breasts hung and swayed with every sob. Her hips rose high, knees wide for balance, petticoat Above her wide thick hip.

Cool air kissed her naked ass, completely exposed, lifted, waiting.

Rocky’s voice came low and furious: “You called me a thief and slapped me in public.”

The first slap landed like thunder....PAK!

White-hot pain exploded across her right cheek. Her whole body jerked forward; the mattress bounced.

She screamed into the pillow, raw and unrecognisable.

Second slap, harder.

Third, fourth, fifth, faster, louder.

Every blow was fire. Her huge ass rippled like water; the flesh kept moving long after each hit.

The leftover drug betrayed her; every burning slap sent a shameful pulse straight between her legs.

Rocky’s voice rose with every strike: “Proud woman!  Today I make this ass pay for your hand!”

Left cheek, right cheek, sometimes both palms together.

Sahil knelt in front of her face, phone inches away, recording every tear, every smear of kajal, every broken gasp.

Bishal behind her, holding the hand-cam steady on the spanking, every jiggle, every fresh red print.

Rocky continued .....Fifty… eighty… one hundred.

He stopped.

Her ass was swollen, dark crimson, throbbing so hard she felt her own heartbeat in the burning skin.

Tiny helpless shakes ran through her hips.

Vumika Basu knelt bound and broken on her own marital bed, face drowned in tears, body trembling, completely owned by three boys younger than her son. 
A low, endless animal whimper leaked from her throat, the sound of a once-proud woman completely torn apart inside.