Misc. Erotica Tricked (COMPLETED) - By Novelist Casanova

[novelistcasanova]

Tricked

By Novelist Casanova 

In our small beautiful village in Tamil Nadu, coconut trees stood tall around every house, their green leaves swaying gently in the evening breeze. Red earth roads wound between mud walls painted with white kolam designs, and temple bells rang softly from the distance. Women walked with grace, their sarees dbangd low on wide hips, pallu tucked neatly, deep navels peeking whenever they lifted arms to carry water pots. Young girls in half sarees and blouses laughed together, their boobs bouncing lightly, while others wore tight kurti tops over leggings, ass cheeks round and full, moving with every step. Their thighs looked strong and smooth under the evening light, and every man in the village stole glances at those hot Tamil bodies, hearts beating faster.
Women of my mom’s age never wore bra or panties inside their saree and blouse, not because they did not want to, but because nobody really cared in the village. It was the old way, simple and free, and no one questioned it.
It was around 8 PM. I, Sudha, stood in front of the small mirror in our room, just finished getting ready for my journey to Chennai. I wore maroon colour panties hugging my ass cheeks and pussy lips, white colour bra holding my heavy boobs firmly with hooks behind, white petticoat tied tight around my waist, and then the white saree with purple border wrapped slow and careful over my hips, pallu falling over one shoulder. My matching purple blouse had front hooks, squeezing my boobs together, nipples already slightly erect under the blouse.
My mom stood nearby, still in her old saree and blouse, looking shy. I turned to her, grabbed her waist gently, and said, "Amma, today you also change. Remove your saree, blouse, petticoat. Wear only white bra and white panties like me."
She shook her head fast, cheeks turning red, and whispered, "No Sudha, I never wore bra or panties under my saree in my whole life. What is this madness?"
I smiled, pulled her closer, and started unwrapping her saree pallu slowly. "Just once, Amma. See how beautiful you still are." She tried to stop my hands but I tugged the saree away, let it drop to the floor. Then I unhooked her old blouse front hooks one by one, opened it wide, and removed the blouse completely. Her full boobs hung free, nipples dark and thick. I untied her petticoat string, pushed it down her hips and thighs until it pooled at her feet, leaving her completely naked, covering her boobs and pussy with both hands.
I took the white bra and white panties I prepared, slid the panties up her thighs slowly, pulled them over her ass cheeks and pussy lips until they sat snug. Then I hooked the bra behind her back, adjusted the straps, and made her boobs settle into the bra cups, nipples poking softly over the bra.
I turned her toward the mirror, stood behind her, and hugged her waist from back. "Look at yourself, Amma. See these full boobs, this round ass, this deep navel. You can still make any man go crazy with just one look."
She stared at her reflection, eyes wide, then yelled playfully, slapping my arm lightly. "You naughty girl! Stop talking dirty and get ready fast. Your husband is waiting in Chennai. The sleeper bus will arrive at the highway soon. Hurry up!"
I laughed, kissed her cheek, and felt my own pussy lips getting wetter inside my maroon colour panties while watching her shy beauty in white bra and white panties. In Chennai, we sometimes went out without bra and panties under our sarees, just to feel that naughty thrill of boobs bouncing free, nipples rubbing against blouse, pussy lips sliding together with every step, the secret excitement making thighs warm and pussy juicy. The night air felt warm, the journey ahead felt long, and my heart beat slow with excitement and nervousness.


My mom stood there in front of the mirror for a long moment, her full boobs rising and falling slowly inside the white bra, nipples still poking softly over the bra cups. She took a deep breath, cheeks still red from shyness, then walked to her room where my dad waited, her white panties hugging her round ass cheeks and pussy lips tightly. She picked up her old white saree from the floor, wrapped it slow and careful over her white bra and white panties, tied the petticoat string again around her waist, dbangd the pallu over one shoulder, and tucked it neatly. The saree sat low on her wide hips, her deep navel visible just above the petticoat knot, and now the white bra straps showed over her shoulders under the blouse she put back on, front hooks closed tight.
As she adjusted her mangalsutra between her heavy boobs, making it swing gently, she glanced back at me once with playful eyes, then went inside her room. I heard my dad’s low voice from there, surprised and warm, asking something soft about why she looked different tonight, but my mom only laughed quietly and shushed him.
I stepped out of my room carrying two bags. In one kit bag I had my cellphone, my spare clothes for the journey, and a dozen of my dirty panties and bras that I had worn for one full week now, the panties still carrying the strong smell of my pussy lips and the bras marked with sweat from under my boobs. I folded them carefully inside so no one would see, but the thought of taking them to Chennai, maybe washing them later or keeping them as secret naughty reminders, made my pussy throb a little inside my maroon colour panties.
The second bag was full of snacks my mom prepared with love for my husband and my three sons: crispy murukku, golden porulangai urundai, sweet athirasam, all packed tight so the aroma filled the air around me. My heart felt heavy with emotion thinking of my husband waiting in Chennai, his strong arms that would hug me soon, and my sons who would run to me shouting Amma. I adjusted the pallu of my white saree over my shoulder, felt the weight of the bags pulling at my arms, and walked toward the door.
Outside, the night was quiet except for crickets and distant dogs barking. The highway was not far, and the sleeper bus would arrive soon. My boobs bounced gently inside my purple blouse with each step, nipples rubbing softly against the blouse, and my ass cheeks moved full and round under the saree, white petticoat rustling. Inside my maroon colour panties, my pussy lips felt warm and slightly wet from the earlier excitement of dressing my mom, from the secret thrill of Chennai habits, and from the long journey ahead that always made my body feel alive and restless. I took slow steps toward the highway stop, bags in hand, heart beating deep with love, duty, and that hidden naughty pulse only a Tamil wife knows.


Inside my parents’ room, the small oil lamp burned low on the wooden table, casting soft yellow light over the old cot and the walls painted with faded gods. My mom stood near the door, her white saree dbangd over the white bra and white panties she still felt strange wearing, mangalsutra resting heavy between her full boobs. She looked at my dad who sat on the edge of the cot in his dhoti, eyes curious and warm.
My mom blushed deep red, lowered her eyes for a second, then whispered, "I am wearing bra and panties today."
My dad’s eyebrows rose high. "Really? You? After all these years?"
She nodded slowly, cheeks burning hotter, and continued, "Sudha made me. I saw myself in the mirror in her room. I looked like those heroines in the movies, standing there in bra and panties." She paused, searching for the right word, since she did not know what bikini meant. "You know, just bra and panties, nothing else."
My dad leaned forward, voice dropping low with excitement. "Can I see now?"
My mom smiled naughty, stepped closer to him, swayed her wide hips a little so her ass cheeks moved full under the saree, then teased, "No, not now. I will show it to all your friends. I will stand in front of them in only bra and panties, let them lust after my boobs, my ass cheeks, my pussy lips outlined over the panties. They will go crazy wanting me."
My dad’s face changed instantly, jealousy flashing in his eyes. He grabbed her waist through the saree, pulled her body closer to his chest, voice rough. "Don’t even joke like that. You are mine."
My mom laughed soft and low, then leaned in and kissed his lips slow and deep, her boobs squeezing against his chest over her white bra and white saree. She pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth, "I was just joking, old man. Only you get to see. Now get up, drop Sudha at the highway, stop the sleeper bus, help her with the bags, and come back home to me."
My dad smiled wide, the jealousy melting into love and heat. He nodded, stood up, adjusted his dhoti around his hips. Then he looked at her again, eyes hungry, and asked quietly, "Can I fuck you quick before I go?"
My mom slapped his arm playfully, shook her head, boobs jiggling inside her white bra under the saree. "No. Only after you drop Sudha at the bus and come back. Then you can take me slow and deep."
Both of them smiled at each other, the air thick with promise and filthy anticipation. My dad grabbed his shirt from the hook, slipped it on, and walked out toward the door where I waited with my bags. My mom followed him to the threshold, pallu slipping a little to show more of her deep navel above the petticoat, her white panties hugging her ass cheeks tight underneath everything, her pussy lips already warm from the teasing words and the secret thrill of wearing bra and panties for the first time. The night waited outside, the highway calling, and the sleeper bus coming closer with every slow heartbeat.