Adultery The Glass Dolls (victims of the nature) (Upd Aug 01)

[opendoor]

Read the story of two sons and moms who have started developing feelings at each other due to nature’s curse

Madhavi and Rahul

Pooja and Suman

Read from Rahul’s own words..

 

After the annual exams, Pooja Aunty and Suman came to our house for the holidays. Suman and I were good friends, just like Mom and Pooja Aunty. We were really enjoying the break. Then, one morning...

After we had applied oil to our hands, Pooja Aunty said, "Hey, go to the backyard, wash the oil off your hands with soap, and come back. Take off your undershirts."

We obediently went, washed our hands with soap, and returned wearing only our lungis. The room was dark; there was no bedside lamp on. A faint, flickering light from the hall's bedside lamp was filtering in through the window. Rays of light from the outdoor tube light were also streaming in through the gaps in the closed window. Within five minutes, our eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Once our eyes adjusted, this is what we saw: Pooja Aunty and Mom had both removed their sarees and were lying face-down on the mats, dressed only in their petticoats and blouses.

There was a bowl of ghee between them.

Suman went and sat near Mom's feet; he applied ghee to his hands and began massaging her legs. I did the same for Pooja Aunty, massaging her legs with ghee-coated hands. Both women lay face-down with their eyes closed, enjoying the massage.

There was a gap of about a yard between the two mats. I sat on Pooja Aunty's side, while Suman sat on Mom's side. The space between the two women was completely empty. We could both see the women's bodies. However, since their faces were turned sideways, facing away from each other, I could see my mother's face, while Suman could see Pooja Aunty's face.



Pooja Aunty said to me, "Hey Rahul, make sure the ghee doesn't stain the petty coat." Not knowing exactly what to do, I looked at Suman. He lifted my mother's petty coat up to her knees and began massaging her lower legs.

After massaging for a couple of minutes, Pooja Aunty said, "Suman, massage higher up..." Hearing this, Suman lifted my mother's pettycoat to just below her buttocks and started massaging her thighs. I began doing the same to Pooja aunty

Essentially, I was doing to Pooja Aunty exactly what Suman was doing to my mother, following his lead.

So, Pooja Aunty gave the instructions, Suman carried them out, and I imitated Suman. My mother remained silent, acting merely as a passive participant.

After a while, Pooja Aunty said, "Hey Rahul, rub some on my back."

Suman got up from where he was sitting and moved to sit near my mother's waist; I did the same beside Pooja Aunty.



As Suman and I were applying the ghee to their backs, Pooja Aunty said, "Not like that; rub it so that your palms move along both sides of my spine." When I tried moving my hands that way, I found that one hand was applying more pressure than the other. I felt awkward rubbing it like that. Pooja Aunty spoke up immediately: "Hey Rahul, it works best if you sit right next to me. If you straddle my buttocks—positioning yourself so your thighs press against mine—and lean forward while resting your hands on either side of my spine, your weight gets distributed evenly across your hands, making the massage much better. It makes giving the massage easier for you, too."

Suman straddled Mom’s hips, sitting on them, and began massaging her back with his palms; I started doing the same.

After about five minutes, Pooja Aunty asked us to move our hands aside so she could have her waist massaged on both sides. Then, she had us move our hands to her stomach; she had us lift her belly slightly, press it down against the floor, and massage it by applying pressure against our hands. Finally, she asked us to rub along both sides of her spine again.

Pooja Aunty remained calm, but Mom’s breathing grew heavy and hissing, punctuated by faint moans. Compared to me, Suman seemed more confident and bold in his massage technique.

 

Pooja Aunty told me to move my hands up toward her shoulders. She warned me not to get the blouse greasy by massaging over the fabric.

Just then, I noticed Suman had slid his hands firmly underneath Mom’s blouse to massage her. Pooja Aunty remarked that putting hands under the blouse like that might snap the hooks, so she told Mom to undo them. Pooja aunty lifted her elbows and shoulders, unhooked her blouse, and lay back down on the mat. With the blouse loosened, my hands easily slid underneath onto Pooja Aunty’s back, and I began to massage her. As Mom lifted herself slightly on her elbows—just like Pooja Aunty—Suman boldly unhooked her blouse and pushed the fabric up towards her neck. Mom let out a low moan and started to say something like "Oh... shoo..." but before she could finish, Pooja Aunty reached out and playfully tapped Mom’s cheek twice. Mom started to speak but stopped herself.

While I was massaging Pooja Aunty’s broad back beneath her blouse, she said—in a slightly drowsy, sultry tone—"Rahul, don't put weight on the whole back at once; you need to scratch the neck while massaging the waist."

Unsure of exactly what to do, I glanced at Suman. He had climbed onto Mom—who was lying face-down—and was massaging both sides of her waist while gently biting the back of her neck with his front teeth. Mom moaned, breathing heavily and gasping, "Suman... oh... ah..." I could feel Suman pressing his crotch against her buttocks.



When I mimicked his actions, Pooja aunty said, "That's it... bite down hard... you son of a bitch..." Startled by her words, I gave a sudden jerk, and my cock got wedged right into the cleft between her buttocks, beneath her petty coat. Pooja Aunty spread her buttocks slightly, pulled the cock deeper into the cleft, and then brought her thighs back together; the cock was now snugly squeezed and trapped between her buttocks.

"Rahul beta, stroke my belly with your hands," Pooja Aunty said. As I stroked her belly and glanced at Suman, I saw his hands positioned beneath my mother's breasts—his palms were pressed against the space between the floor and her bosom. When I followed suit, Pooja Aunty lifted her upper body slightly on her elbows, raising her chest, shoulders, and head so that her breasts hung down loosely; the rest of her body, from the belly down, remained on the mat.

Suman whispered into my mother's ear, "Position your hands just like mom’s, Madhavi mom’s." As my mother opened her eyes, looked at Madhavi Aunty, and propped herself up on her hands, Suman began kneading her breasts as if he were working chapati dough.

Mom started moaning, "Suman... ooh... aah... phew... jaah..."

As soon as Pooja Aunty turned onto her back, I fell off. When she pulled me back onto her, I felt moisture against my cock through her thin pettycoat; beneath that wetness, I could feel the coarse texture of her pubic hair. The pettycoat covered her pussy, but her thighs—bare just an inch below it—were touching me.



Pooja Aunty pressed my head against her breasts, guided her nipple into my mouth, and said, "You’ve been rubbing ghee on me all this time; now, you drink the milk."

As I sucked on Pooja Aunty’s nipples—which were larger than tamarind seeds—I glanced at Suman. He had climbed off Mom, turned her onto her back, and was now lying prone over her, sucking her breasts voraciously as if they were ripe mangoes; Mom was writhing and moaning, "Suman... ooh... aah..." Suman had more than half of her breast in his mouth, sucking noisily.

Pooja Aunty wasn't writhing quite as much, but she had me alternate between sucking her breasts. "Rahul, you're giving Pooja Aunty so much pleasure... I need to turn you into a real man," she said. She pushed my head between her thighs and hiked up her petty coat—which was already lifted an inch above her thighs—all the way to her navel. Even in the dim light, I could see the tuft of hair between Pooja Aunty's thighs and the hairless slit beneath it; it was slightly parted, revealing a thin, reddish opening.

As I gazed at Pooja Aunty's pussy in the semi-darkness, I suddenly heard Mom moan, "Ha... Suman... don't..." Turning my head, I saw Suman—like a calf nudging a cow's udder to drink milk—sucking on Mom's pussy, making loud slurping sounds as he licked deep inside.

I, too, began kissing and licking Pooja Aunty's pussy as best I could.

I licked her for quite a while, but upon hearing Mom's moans and a wet slapping sound, I looked up to see Suman fucking Mom.


I did the same. Within two minutes, Suman ejaculated, and I followed a minute later.
 



After ten minutes of heavy breathing—once our fatigue and racing heartbeats had subsided—Pooja Aunty said, "Madhavi, I’ve turned your son into a real man."

Mom replied, "Is that so, Pooja? Well, your son awakened the woman in me. It’s been over ten years since my husband gave me this much pleasure."

"Is my son such a stud? Let me take a look," she said, pushing me onto Mom, while Suman moved over to his own mother.

We both lay down beside our respective mothers and held them close. A quarter of an hour later, as Pooja Aunty pulled Suman onto herself, he began thrusting his hips. Mom and I followed suit, imitating them.

When Pooja Aunty whispered into her son's ear, "Did you fuck Aunty well, darling?", Suman’s thrusting speed increased.

Hearing Pooja Aunty’s words made my cock even harder. Immediately, Mom whispered in my ear, "You need to fuck even harder than Suman, darling," so I also picked up the pace of my thrusting.

"Get up now... it's time for sch ool," Mom said, shaking me awake firmly. I snapped out of my sleep instantly. Rubbing my eyes and looking around, I saw that neither Pooja Aunty nor Suman was there. So... was it all just a dream? Me, Suman, Pooja Aunty, and Mom all getting massages together... Ugh! Cursing Mom for ruining such a wonderful dream, I went to take a shower.



Shortly after returning home from the hostel, the way his mother was growing closer and acting so boldly felt like an unbelievable dream to Rahul.

Madhavi smiled, as if she had read her son's innermost thoughts.

"I’m telling you the truth, my dear... when your father passed away, I felt strongly that you were the anchor of my life. Let me share something I kept hidden from you: after I conceived my second child, your father felt that having you at home might be an obstacle for us. Yet, he would occasionally hint—'I made a huge mistake sending Rahul to the hostel. That’s the age when a young man might go astray. If he were home, the bond he shares with you would keep him from looking elsewhere, Madhavi. It’s your responsibility as a mother, too. There are things a mother can do that a father cannot.'

"Even though I understood the underlying meaning of his words, my heart wouldn't accept it at the time. But one weekend, when you came home from the hostel, you peeked in and saw me sucking your father's cock... and I saw you watching. I still remember the immense love for me that filled your eyes at that moment. That’s when I decided I wanted to anchor my life to yours. If that’s what you want too... then take me as your own. I will be both mother and wife to you, sharing my womanhood with you. Even now, I am ready to offer you my body and beauty without any conditions..." she said, affectionately caressing his manhood.

Her clear, explicit words completely... They won...

Moving closer to her, he wrapped his arm around her neck and shoulders, claimed her lips in an unhesitating first kiss, and let his other hand wander over her breasts, caressing them...

"Darling, I really loved your frank words... Even Dad, watching from above, would be delighted by your proposal—he certainly wouldn't say no. I’m confident of that. I assure you, this union will blossom into a rare, enduring bond that flourishes forever. Embrace me fearlessly and without hesitation; melt into me... Mmm... Whatever you want, however you want it—I’m ready, my love..." Saying this, he undid his trousers and thrust his hips forward...

"Squeeze out whatever you need for your 'coffee'—take as much as you want. I’m confident I can satisfy you thoroughly, even a couple of times over. You have the power to fill me with such inspiration and energy..." he said, encouraging his newly aroused lover...

"Then take hold of that 'cup'... yes... let everything stored in your 'balls' flow out passionately. Come on... yes... my golden king... let me bathe this massive cock in my wet pussy until the craving is satisfied... and then... finally... spray that thick, milky nectar, my man..." she murmured, caressing his length all over... guiding his member—which he was positioning perfectly—straight to her opening... rubbing it... gripping his cock... Whenever she drew close to his member,

She would tease it with her long fingers, tracing the vertical slit at its tip with her fingertips, stirring up a surging flood of juices within him.

She pressed her other palm against his naked chest, rubbing his nipples and kneading, pinching, and pulling at them, stoking the fire within her to a fever pitch.

“Oh God... you’re killing me... ha... hmmm... haha...” he gasped, his hips bucking and straining. “Mmm... I’ll bring you back to life, my dear... let me feed you my milk... it’s been so long since I’ve nursed you to your fill... come on, my king... let it flow thick... my darling...” she urged him on, coaxing the milk from his cock.

Realizing what she wanted, Rahul adjusted the cup to catch the spray; Madhavi guided the angle of his cock, passionately directing those thick streams into the decoction she had prepared.

 
After placing the cup on the table beside her own, Rahul took a moment to catch his breath, letting out a long sigh.

Madhavi snuggled closer, tenderly stroking his back, head, and shoulders. “Thanks, darling,” she whispered, planting a firm kiss on his lips.

A minute later, they both picked up their cups and... Stirring the floating layers of milk and gazing at each other, they smiled with contentment and affection.

Rahul took a small sip of that ‘coffee’.

Moments earlier, he had drunk that rich milk straight from her breasts.

But now, he was drinking that very breast milk mixed with coffee decoction.

He found it incredibly thrilling.

As each drop trickled down his throat, it felt like consuming nectar.

She watched her son—who was savoring the 'coffee' made from her own breast milk—as he swirled his tongue in the cup and looked up at her. Her heart swelled with a thrilling emotion as she playfully asked, "How is the coffee?"

Even though he didn't speak, the surging emotions within him conveyed their message to her silently.

With every drop, the fires of lust hissed like serpents within his body; the heat of passion spread like a peacock unfurling its plumage, dancing through every fiber of his being.
A woman's milk was a novelty to him. This new experience—drinking it in coffee—brought him sheer ecstasy.

With sparkling eyes, he conveyed his rapture and gratitude to his new queen of passion—his mother.

The arousal reached such a fever pitch that he felt an intense, raw urge to throw his mother onto the sofa, lift her saree to her navel, and ravish her—savoring her womanhood and fucking her with wild, unbridled intensity. However, he forced himself to exercise restraint, deciding not to rush things.
After the two of them had finished half their respective coffees, what if they suddenly swapped drinks and took a sip?!! As the thought struck them simultaneously, they gazed intently at each other, smiled, and swapped cups.

They sipped the drinks, savoring each other's tastes.

For the next five minutes, they both remained silent.

Madhavi struggled to suppress the intense urge to have her son milk his cock directly into her mouth.