Adultery Home is where the scandals are !

[Lousy1995]

                                                It all kicked off on January 15th, a crisp Monday morning that felt like any other in our fancy new digs, but little did I know it was the spark that would ignite the filthy firestorm brewing under our roof. It'd been exactly a month since we hauled ourselves into this sprawling 4BHK palace at the end of the upscale street, tucked away like a secret fortress with that wild forest looming over the compound wall. Mostly, it was just me and Mom—Anuradha, my stunning MILF of a mother—rattling around in the echoing silence. Dad, that workaholic prick, was always jetting off to god-knows-where for his business meetings, popping in and out like a ghost with no warning, leaving us to our own devices. My elder brother Britto? That devout fucker was stationed out of town for his job, only gracing us with his holy presence every two months for a quick 2-3 day stint before vanishing again. So yeah, the house felt empty as hell, just Mom's graceful curves filling the space and my perverted mind churning in the background.

This particular shitshow started a few days after Mom mustered up the balls—or should I say, the tits—to knock on Shalini and Aravind's massive mansion across the street, begging for maid recommendations like a lost puppy. Now, that skinny dusky bitch Vini was splitting her time between their palace and our place, scrubbing floors and dusting shelves with that nervous energy, her cheap saree clinging to her tiny frame as she darted around. I'd catch glimpses of her skinny ass and high tits when she bent over, but she was just background noise compared to the real star: Mom.

I jolted awake around 5:30 AM, my internal clock a cruel bastard that dragged me out of bed even after crashing at midnight, no alarm needed. And like every goddamn morning, I was sporting a raging morning boner—my 8-inch cock tenting the sheets like a steel rod, throbbing and leaking precum, begging for release. Groaning, I grabbed my phone off the nightstand, the screen lighting up my face in the dim room as I flipped to my alt Instagram account under "insidedevil." I scrolled through the feed, hunting for fresh meat: hot aunties and MILFs going viral, their candid pics stolen and shared by fellow pervs. After a few minutes of thumb-flicking past mediocre shit, jackpot—a series of pics from some random stranger boy's account, sneaking shots of his own fucking mom. This chubby MILF was a goddamn dream: curves for days, her fat ass spilling out of tight leggings in one shot, deep cleavage heaving in a low-cut top in another, even a bathroom mirror selfie where her towel barely covered her dripping-wet body post-shower, nipples poking through like diamonds. Every angle captured her assets—those jiggling tits, wide hips, and a belly that screamed "breed me." The comments were pure filth: "I'd bury my face in that whore's cunt and eat her out till she squirts," "Look at those mommy milkers, begging for a tit-fuck and cum glaze," "Bet her son's jerking to this right now, the lucky incest perv."


Reading that shit made my cock twitch harder, veins bulging as precum oozed from the slit. I wrapped my fist around my meat, stroking slow at first, building the ache while zooming in on her pics—imagining slamming into her chubby pussy from behind, her ass cheeks rippling with every thrust, her moans echoing as I filled her with ropes of hot cum. The comments egged me on: "Pound that MILF hole raw," "She's built for breeding." My balls tightened, hand pumping faster, the wet slap of skin filling my room until—fuck—I exploded, unloading a massive load of thick, sticky cum all over my bedsheets in pulsing jets, splattering like a porn creampie. Gasping, I milked the last drops, then grabbed a tissue to wipe up the messy evidence, my cock softening but still sensitive as I tossed the cum-soaked rag in the bin.

Shaking off the post-nut haze, I swung my legs out of bed and padded out of my first-floor room, the empty one across the hall—Britto's old spot—staring back like a ghost. Descending the stairs in just my boxers, my semi-hard dick bouncing, I froze at the sight in the kitchen: Mom, Anuradha, in her soft cotton nighty that did jack shit to hide her body, guzzling water from a tumbler like she was parched from a wet dream. Water droplets spilled from her lips, trickling down her chin and neck, sliding teasingly into the deep V of her nighty where her 36C tits heaved with each breath. The thin fabric turned semi-transparent from the splash, outlining the lacy edge of her bra, her nipples faintly visible like hard little peaks begging for a pinch. Sweat from the humid morning—or maybe something hotter—made her skin glisten, and fuck, my cock stirred again, thickening against my boxers as I imagined sucking those droplets off her cleavage, burying my face between those mommy mounds.

I slapped my dick lightly through the fabric, whispering under my breath, "Calm the fuck down, bro—she's your goddamn mother, not some porn slut." But the throb didn't quit, not fully. Mom turned, spotting me, her face lighting up with that warm smile. "Morning da," she said softly, her voice husky from sleep, setting the tumbler down with a clink.

"Morning, Mom," I mumbled back, trying to play it cool while my eyes betrayed me, flicking to her curves. We chatted bullshit—weather, my internship, breakfast plans—her standing there innocently, oblivious to how her nighty clung to her hips. When she turned to head back to her room, I got the full rear view: that 38-inch ass jiggling with every step, the cotton nighty swaying like it was painted on, no petticoat or panties in sight—the outline of her bare cheeks and the faint shadow of her ass crack making my mouth water. Fuck, she was commando under there, her pussy probably warm and inviting, lips puffy from sleep. She disappeared into the master bedroom where Dad was still snoring away, dead to the world, leaving me alone with my throbbing cock and a head full of forbidden filth.