19-03-2026, 06:20 PM
(This post was last modified: 20-03-2026, 12:07 AM by ashuezy2. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Auntie's Touch
Scene 87
It was evening, hundreds of people waiting outside. After the Singh family left, my body was still buzzing, my skin feeling sensitive under my silk trousers. We were still in the hallway when the second family of the night was in, the Guptas. They looked rich but broken. Mrs. Gupta was about 30, with a very soft, pretty face and a heavy body that looked like it was made for motherhood, but her eyes were red from years of crying. Their problem was simple and painful: Mrs. Gupta had not been able to get pregnant even after five years of marriage.
God Mother sat back on her throne, her silk saree clinging to her curves. She looked at them with that sharp, predator like gaze that felt like it was peeling away their clothes.
God Mother: “Five years is a long time to stay empty, Mrs. Gupta. Tell me the truth, Does your husband have a fertility issue, or can he simply not get it up?”
Mrs. Gupta looked down at her hands, her voice a small, shaky whisper.
Mrs. Gupta: “He… he is unable to get it up, Mother. We have tried everything, but he is always like a cold stone.”
Mr. Gupta was standing in the corner, a thin man with nervous eyes who wouldn’t look at anyone. He didn’t say anything, just stared at the marble floor.
God Mother: “I have a solution. But first, I must know what is wrong.” She looked at Mr. Gupta, her eyes narrowing. “Mr. Gupta, tell me, are you interested in women at all?”
Mr. Gupta: “Yes… of course, Mother.”
But looking at his face, I could tell God Mother had her doubts. She didn’t believe him for a second. In order to test her theory, she signalled for the heavy golden curtains to come down, sealing us into a dark, hot world of silk and secrets. She stood up and walked toward him, her powerful form visible under the thin silk of her saree. She put her hands on Mr. Gupta’s penis, her fingers kneading the fabric of his trousers. Then, she gave him her “Prasad,” her mouth closing around his lips in a long, deep kiss while her hand worked him relentlessly. She kept going for two minutes, the wet sounds of her mouth and the frantic rhythm of her hand filling the silence, but he didn’t even get an erection. He stayed soft, his body shivering with fear rather than desire.
God Mother pulled back, her lips wet, her eyes flashing with a cold, divine anger. She asked him again, her voice a low vibration that made the floor tiles tremble.
Mr. Gupta: “I… I am sorry, Mother. I am not interested in women… I have different tastes. I have tried to be ‘proper,’ but my heart is elsewhere.”
Mrs. Gupta began crying loudly, her hands over her face. She begged for help, saying her life was a waste. God Mother invited her to stay in the Ashram and leave the Gupta family behind, telling her that her that she didn’t deserve to be alone. Listening to this, she got incredibly emotional, her whole body shaking with relief. God Mother then called Mansi from outside and told her to take Mrs. Gupta and wait outside the curtains.
God Mother: “Mansi, we will take this child to Parking Level B3. A new lot is waiting there. For now wait outside.”
So far, only Pallavi had access to the B3 parking, but now Mansi had been upgraded, her eyes shining with the pride of being part of the inner circle.
Mr. Gupta was still standing there, looking down at the floor, his face pale. Mrs. Gupta had left, but God Mother was still a little angry.
God Mother: “You lied to me, Mr. Gupta. You wasted my time with your impotency.”
Mr. Gupta: “I am sorry, Mother. But it was really hard for me to tell anyone. Society won’t accept me… what would I tell my family?”
He seemed lost, a man without a place. God Mother provided him with a solution, she told him he would be moved to the “Men’s Wing” of the Project, where his “different tastes” would be used to heal other men who were lost in the same lies. He would no longer be a husband, but a “Brother of the Inner Circle”. She gave Mr. Gupta a phone number and he left.
For the next few hours, it was a blur of devotion. God Mother saw a few more families, her “Prasad” flowing like a river, her hands and mouth working to break the blockages in their souls. She was tireless, her body radiating a heat that made the whole hall feel like an oven.
But the crowd outside was getting bigger. I could hear them through the walls, hundreds of people chanting slogans, their voices rising in a rhythmic roar that sounded like a storm. It was too much to handle one by one. Mrs. Gupta had been waiting too, it was 7 PM and getting late for the B3 Parking session. God Mother finally stood up, her red saree dishevelled, and she stepped out of the curtains. She held a microphone, her voice booming through the speakers and over the heads of the waiting masses.
God Mother: “My children! You crave love, but you are afraid of the truth! You hide your hunger behind the walls of your houses! Today, I command you to open your hearts! Accept these flowers from the baskets, they have been blessed with my energy. Let them take your sadness away until we meet again!”
Then, right there in front of the cheering, gasping crowd, she did something completely uninhibited. She reached for me and pulled me close, her hands quickly unbuttoning her blouse in the middle of her speech. She let her enormous breasts spill out, the dark nipples weeping with the heavy, sweet milk of the Project. In front of hundreds of people, she guided my head to her breast and let me suckle, showing the world that she was indeed everyone’s mother. The crowd went silent, then erupted into a roar of “Mother! Mother!” as they saw the raw, physical truth of her love.
Mansi was standing outside the curtain with Mrs. Gupta, her face flushed with a new, frantic desire. Now God Mother and I were walking toward them, the golden light of the hallway making us look like divine beings. We entered the lift, and God Mother pressed the button for B3.
God Mother: “Time to open your mind and see love as it is, Mrs. Gupta. The basement is where the truth is finally born.”
As the lift descended, I felt the waves coiling in my belly. We were heading into the dark, but I knew that for Mrs. Gupta and for us, the light was just about to be turned on.
Scene 87
It was evening, hundreds of people waiting outside. After the Singh family left, my body was still buzzing, my skin feeling sensitive under my silk trousers. We were still in the hallway when the second family of the night was in, the Guptas. They looked rich but broken. Mrs. Gupta was about 30, with a very soft, pretty face and a heavy body that looked like it was made for motherhood, but her eyes were red from years of crying. Their problem was simple and painful: Mrs. Gupta had not been able to get pregnant even after five years of marriage.
God Mother sat back on her throne, her silk saree clinging to her curves. She looked at them with that sharp, predator like gaze that felt like it was peeling away their clothes.
God Mother: “Five years is a long time to stay empty, Mrs. Gupta. Tell me the truth, Does your husband have a fertility issue, or can he simply not get it up?”
Mrs. Gupta looked down at her hands, her voice a small, shaky whisper.
Mrs. Gupta: “He… he is unable to get it up, Mother. We have tried everything, but he is always like a cold stone.”
Mr. Gupta was standing in the corner, a thin man with nervous eyes who wouldn’t look at anyone. He didn’t say anything, just stared at the marble floor.
God Mother: “I have a solution. But first, I must know what is wrong.” She looked at Mr. Gupta, her eyes narrowing. “Mr. Gupta, tell me, are you interested in women at all?”
Mr. Gupta: “Yes… of course, Mother.”
But looking at his face, I could tell God Mother had her doubts. She didn’t believe him for a second. In order to test her theory, she signalled for the heavy golden curtains to come down, sealing us into a dark, hot world of silk and secrets. She stood up and walked toward him, her powerful form visible under the thin silk of her saree. She put her hands on Mr. Gupta’s penis, her fingers kneading the fabric of his trousers. Then, she gave him her “Prasad,” her mouth closing around his lips in a long, deep kiss while her hand worked him relentlessly. She kept going for two minutes, the wet sounds of her mouth and the frantic rhythm of her hand filling the silence, but he didn’t even get an erection. He stayed soft, his body shivering with fear rather than desire.
God Mother pulled back, her lips wet, her eyes flashing with a cold, divine anger. She asked him again, her voice a low vibration that made the floor tiles tremble.
Mr. Gupta: “I… I am sorry, Mother. I am not interested in women… I have different tastes. I have tried to be ‘proper,’ but my heart is elsewhere.”
Mrs. Gupta began crying loudly, her hands over her face. She begged for help, saying her life was a waste. God Mother invited her to stay in the Ashram and leave the Gupta family behind, telling her that her that she didn’t deserve to be alone. Listening to this, she got incredibly emotional, her whole body shaking with relief. God Mother then called Mansi from outside and told her to take Mrs. Gupta and wait outside the curtains.
God Mother: “Mansi, we will take this child to Parking Level B3. A new lot is waiting there. For now wait outside.”
So far, only Pallavi had access to the B3 parking, but now Mansi had been upgraded, her eyes shining with the pride of being part of the inner circle.
Mr. Gupta was still standing there, looking down at the floor, his face pale. Mrs. Gupta had left, but God Mother was still a little angry.
God Mother: “You lied to me, Mr. Gupta. You wasted my time with your impotency.”
Mr. Gupta: “I am sorry, Mother. But it was really hard for me to tell anyone. Society won’t accept me… what would I tell my family?”
He seemed lost, a man without a place. God Mother provided him with a solution, she told him he would be moved to the “Men’s Wing” of the Project, where his “different tastes” would be used to heal other men who were lost in the same lies. He would no longer be a husband, but a “Brother of the Inner Circle”. She gave Mr. Gupta a phone number and he left.
For the next few hours, it was a blur of devotion. God Mother saw a few more families, her “Prasad” flowing like a river, her hands and mouth working to break the blockages in their souls. She was tireless, her body radiating a heat that made the whole hall feel like an oven.
But the crowd outside was getting bigger. I could hear them through the walls, hundreds of people chanting slogans, their voices rising in a rhythmic roar that sounded like a storm. It was too much to handle one by one. Mrs. Gupta had been waiting too, it was 7 PM and getting late for the B3 Parking session. God Mother finally stood up, her red saree dishevelled, and she stepped out of the curtains. She held a microphone, her voice booming through the speakers and over the heads of the waiting masses.
God Mother: “My children! You crave love, but you are afraid of the truth! You hide your hunger behind the walls of your houses! Today, I command you to open your hearts! Accept these flowers from the baskets, they have been blessed with my energy. Let them take your sadness away until we meet again!”
Then, right there in front of the cheering, gasping crowd, she did something completely uninhibited. She reached for me and pulled me close, her hands quickly unbuttoning her blouse in the middle of her speech. She let her enormous breasts spill out, the dark nipples weeping with the heavy, sweet milk of the Project. In front of hundreds of people, she guided my head to her breast and let me suckle, showing the world that she was indeed everyone’s mother. The crowd went silent, then erupted into a roar of “Mother! Mother!” as they saw the raw, physical truth of her love.
Mansi was standing outside the curtain with Mrs. Gupta, her face flushed with a new, frantic desire. Now God Mother and I were walking toward them, the golden light of the hallway making us look like divine beings. We entered the lift, and God Mother pressed the button for B3.
God Mother: “Time to open your mind and see love as it is, Mrs. Gupta. The basement is where the truth is finally born.”
As the lift descended, I felt the waves coiling in my belly. We were heading into the dark, but I knew that for Mrs. Gupta and for us, the light was just about to be turned on.
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