Misc. Erotica ...And My Mother doesn't Remain Ours

[garamrohan]

Chapter II : The Attack

I couldn’t sleep well that night. In my dreams, I was wandering between the ground to the home and then to the market. Boys kept teasing me for losing the match at the last moment and I couldn’t reason enough to convince them and wash out my own guilt. 

At home, I could ‘feel’ mummy’s resent for me, for not keeping my words through all the actions. She wasn’t speaking it loud — she never does, but I was feeling it somehow, and sadly couldn’t even agree to help her out.
 
And then there was the "Rambo" guy.

He kept flickering into my mind like a worn out film reel. One moment he was smirking at me, his eyes mocking — was that block intentional? Did he mean to ruin it for me? And the next moment I was able to see him from back, lost in the beauty of a seductress on a b-grade movie poster. Boys laughing in the background, but that got suppressed by his loud hisses, as those were on the ground when we attacked him. The only difference being he was looking at the poster, and he wasn’t angry at all; he was excited.
It was all evident from subtle shaking of his body, his heavy breaths and grunts. I kept feeling “his” excitement between my legs and I kept getting hardon over the night. 

“Rohan… Wake up babu.. It's already 5:45.  Aren’t you going to practice? It will be very good of you if you help me wash blankets dear.”

That call from mummy as she was collecting all the laundry and buckets made me stark awake. 

“Damn, it's already 15 mins late.” I cried to myself but stopped. I couldn’t get the blankets off. My manhood was erect, and mummy was next to me.

“Babu, at least carry this laundry to the ghat over your bicycle. I will quickly make tea for your father and will follow you immediately.” She left for the kitchen and I ran to the washroom in the backyard.

I freshened up, and before hearing another request, pulled on my jersey and loaded a cricket kit over the carriage and started paddling the cycle.

“Babu… wait.” Mummy’s sweet call followed, but I ignored it.

I raced the bicycle towards the east, and took first right to turn towards the south — the way to the market and colleges. The opposite route of this, towards the north, was leading to river ghat. When I was taking one more right turn in the next square, I saw the Rambo man standing by the shutter of a grocery shop. He had wrapped a torn blanket around him and was rubbing his hands for warmth and cravingly looking at the poster pasted on a nearby public toilet. 

It was the same B-grade movie poster we caught him looking at last evening. 

I had already crossed him, but curiosity made me stop and I jumped off the cycle. He looked really aroused and sexually frustrated. It seems, understandably, he was a wanderer without any family. And this erotic, cheap poster had awakened male inside him. 

Shouldn’t he shag up and relieve himself? I thought to myself. Masturbation had been routine for me by then. Oh man! But does he know about sex and all in the first place? Is he of sane mind? Another thought came to my mind as I was slowly taking steps while my head turned back looking at him only.

And suddenly I realized he had got his eyes off the poster and he started looking at something else towards the road from which I had come to cross him. He straightened like a dog in attack mode and walked at a fast pace towards the north and disappeared from my gaze. I wondered what he saw, and walked a few steps and stopped. 

The sudden change in his position sparked curiosity in my mind about what he really saw, and what was so special in it for him to get out of trance of looking buxom, poster-lady he was lost into? 

I thought something and turned back walking still with the cycle in my hand. And when I reached the square, the road was all empty. I could see  nobody on the road but him. Confused, I followed him a few more steps and from the darkness of the dawn and fog film, what I saw twitched my stomach. 

My mummy was walking the road towards the ghat, with a laundry bucket at waist, and in her peacock blue saree with pallu on head, as she always walks outside the house.

My brain got frozen for a moment. This was least what I anticipated to have garnered Rambo guy’s attraction. But there was no one or nothing else on the road as I looked around and it was evident the guy was following her only.

I felt a rush of heat running through my body on that cold morning. I was confused, in a complete denial mode. Knowing the man was sexually aroused and looking at an explicit image at one moment, how can suddenly he start following my mother?

Does that mean….

The guess was dark, raw and illicit and hence forcing me to follow for confirmation.
 
I was tiptoeing, keeping enough distance between us so he won’t even doubt. As he started stepping down the steep ghat steps, I waited for a good two minutes to ensure he would go down enough. And then I parked my cycle in the bush beside the road and slowly followed him. I intentionally didn’t walk the steps, rather I dodged and moved along greenery that erupted on the side of the path. I didn’t want to come to anyone's eyes - his, mummy’s or anyone else’s. 

He was halfway down the ghat, and I was just a few feet behind him, under a bush, and I could hear the splashing sound of laundry getting washed. I looked down and in the thick layer of fog of the early dawn, I could make out a womanly figure — she was mummy, indeed. 

And when I turned my face to the guy, I was stunned. His gaze was fixated to her only. He was spellbound looking at her from the much taller position; and the worst part — I realized his breathing racing up, hot steams coming out of his mouth with his audible hisses. 

He was getting on heat and I started shaking, my hands and feet turned cold for what dirtiest thing I had anticipated was turning out to be true.