[storywriter]

The college bus dropped me at the village center next to the tea shop, and i started the long walk of 3 kilometers to my home. After the stressful day in college, the peaceful walk by the small houses and the green fields and farms, through dense woods and over the hills and across streams felt relaxing. As the college had closed earlier today, the sun was still up and bright as i entered through the gate to our land and walked the final 5 minutes to the house.


The house was quiet when i pushed open the main door and came in. I dumped my bag in my room and went straight to the kitchen, calling for my mom. But i didn’t find her there. I was hungry. I drank a glass of water and came out from the back door and stepped towards the cow shed, calling even louder for mom. No answer. Glancing around in the cow shed, finding no glimpse of her anywhere, i went back inside the house and through every room, still no clue of her. I came out of the main door and on to the front yard, checking if i had missed her earlier. She was not there. Dad would be out in town this time of day, and mom usually does not go to the fields at this time, but since i could not find her anywhere else and being very hungry, i stepped out to the fields to find her.


I walked 5 more minutes along the muddy, rocky path through our fields, under the shade of huge ancient trees. A frog jumped across my path and vanished in the thick bushes surrounding the path. But no sign of my mom anywhere. I had reached a pond we use for irrigation, a small brick shed with tiled roof perched next to it. It was the pump house for irrigation. I was walking along by its side, when a strange sound made me stop suddenly.


Taken by surprise, i stood still and looked around silently. The sound came again, and this time i realized it’s coming from inside the pump shed. I listened. The sound came again, and again, rhythmic, low, soft, strange. I padded silently towards the window, and peeked through a gap in the bamboo wooden shutters.


My mom was inside, completely naked, sprawled under Shekhar from the next village who frequently comes to work in our fields.


I stood still, shocked, transfixed. 


Shekhar was on top of my mom, moving up and down, his hips thrusting into her. Both were naked, the hard lean dark brown body of Shekhar and the slim soft milky fair body of my mom. His feet and toes were rubbing against hers. His hands pressing her voluptuous shapely breasts. Their sweat mingling, their saliva mixing, as he pressed his mouth over her soft red lips.  Her hands were wrapped around his back, her nails digging into his skin and flesh, pulling him deeper into her.


I felt the sudden urge to barge inside and kill him. But my feet were frozen. I stood there hypnotized by the deep soft moans of pleasure coming from my mom. Watching their bodies move erotically entwined in deep lust.


After a few long moments, i suddenly came back to my senses and pulled myself away from there, and started walking back home with heavy legs and a heavy feeling in my chest, my head buzzing and empty. The moans faded as i walked farther away. And i became suddenly aware that i was rock hard.

[storywriter]

I spent the next few hours in a chaotic whirlwind of emotions. Married women being unfaithful, having affairs was only a concept until then. Something that’s joked about with friends. Something that happens with other people, never can happen to us, at our own homes. Our women are good. Our women would never even dream of such a sin. That’s what we always thought. But my foundational beliefs had broken today. And strangely i was not depressed as i might have expected.


Mom had already come back home as if nothing had happened, but i was no longer hungry to eat anything. My father had come back from town and had finished taking a bath. I heard his voice from my room and came out to the kitchen. He was telling my mom that he is going to the temple tonight and will have his meals there. As an important person of the village, he was in the administrative committee of the village temple and it was not uncommon for him to go there on some days with special occasions, events and poojas and return after midnight after finishing his duties in the temple office.


But this evening i had a strange feeling when he was stepping out of the door, grabbing a bag from mom with fruits and flowers to offer at the temple, putting on his sandals and leaving the house. A part of me wanted to tell him not to go today and stay home. But something stopped me from uttering a word and i silently watched him go.


I was having my dinner in the kitchen soon. I had forgotten how hungry i was until then. But the food didn’t taste like it usually does. And there seemed to be something inside me- a hunger, a fire, a pit- that didn’t seem to quiet down, no matter how much i ate. My mom saw me looking at her from time to time, and finally she asked, “What happened?”


I said, “Nothing, why?”


“I don’t know, you have been quiet”.


“Oh? No, nothing... So, dad must be after midnight to return, no?”


My mom seemed to get lost in her own thoughts as she distractedly replied, “Hmmm, yes.. i think so.”


I was back in my room by 9:30, my usual bedtime. I turned off the lights and hit the bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. I tossed and turned, eyes closed, awake. When i opened my eyes and looked at the clock on the wall, it showed 10:10. I closed my eyes again and slowly started to drift into sleep. Pictures of my mom, Shekhar, and my father were all getting jumbled up when suddenly my eyes opened again. The clock showed 10:35.


I felt thirsty. I got up from my bed and silently walked to the kitchen, when i heard the sounds again. The same sounds from the afternoon. Yet, different. It was different because it was coming from inside our house. From the spare bedroom. The one we give to guests, which was empty these days. But it was not empty now.


But my parents room was empty. My mom was not there.


The sounds were hushed, muffled, urgent.


My feet carried me to the door of the spare bedroom, which was closed and seemed to be locked from inside.


I knocked.

[storywriter]

I knocked. Tup, tup. But it was weak, barely audible. I steadied my hand and knocked again, hard this time. Tupp, tupp, tupp.


A sudden hush fell inside the room.


A few tense moments passed by. Nothing happened, everything silent.


I cleared my throat. “Mom, it’s me. Can you open the door please?”


The silence seemed to deepen. No answer. No reaction.


“Mom?”


I started to hear hushed whispers, a rustle of sheets and clothes from inside the room. I waited. A few more moments passed by, but still no answer, no response.


“Mom, I know you are in there with Shekhar.. I know, mom.. But it’s okay. It’s fine. Just, open the door. I just want to talk. It’s okay”.


The silence lasted a few more moments, and then it was broken by urgent whispers and sound of feet moving about the room inside, sound of clothes, and continued whispers.


“I am waiting mom..”


Each passing minute feeling heavier, after about 5 minutes, the door creaked open, partially. My mom stood behind in all her beauty, with her long dark hair pulled up into a loose bun, her saree hastily worn over her slim figure, the chest heaving and bulging prominently above the small flat stomach, one hand holding the door while the other hand protectively clutched the saree near the chest.


Shekhar stood in a corner of the room, in a pant and shirt handed down to him by my father, his face white with fear.


I pushed the door open and stepped inside the room.


My mom’s eyes looked terrified as she tried to look at me and failed and looked down and away. Then she made another attempt to look at me, and her voice broke as she started to say “I was just...”


I cut her off. Looking straight at her, my eyes travelling all over her, i cleared my throat again and said, “Mom, look, you don’t have to explain. You and Shekhar are both adults. I won’t come between whatever you both want to do with each other consensually. I don’t want to come between your pleasure. But, what you both are doing now is too risky. Meeting in the fields, and at home like this when dad can come in anytime.. it’s not good. If anyone gets to know, we won’t be able to live in the society”.


Mom was looking at me now with wide eyes.


I looked at Shekhar and said, “Shekhar, from now on whenever you want to meet my mom, you call and ask me first. I will will tell you if it is safe or not. Then you can come here to our home, and i can keep a lookout and warn if my father or anyone else is coming”.


Both Shekhar and my mom were looking at me with their mouths open, speechless.


“Okay, there is still some time for dad to come back. You both can close the door and continue in here. I will be outside. Shekhar, just let me know when you leave”.


Saying this, i stepped out of the room, pulling the door half closed behind me. I went to the couch in the living room and sat down, facing the main door.


I heard voices from the room. My mom urging Shekhar to leave. But encouraged by my words, Shekhar seemed reluctant to leave. Their hushed voices continued for some more time. And then the room door slowly creaked close again, and locked from inside. And the bed started creaking again.

[storywriter]

As I sat in the couch, hearing the sounds from the locked room, I once again realized how hard I had become. It was throbbing, moving without touching. While breathing hard, I hesitantly brought my hand up, and just put a finger on it over the fabric of my shorts, and immediately burst out in a wet jet. Cursing myself, I tried to stop the flow, but no use. I was already soaked through.


I quickly got up and went to my room and changed into a fresh shorts, throwing the wet one into a corner of the room. Then I quickly came back and sat in the living room couch again. The sounds were still coming from the locked room, and to my surprise I was hard again. But this time I didn’t make the mistake of touching myself.


After some long minutes the sounds stopped, and after a few more moments the door opened and Shekhar came out slowly. He walked in the direction of the main door and then paused and slowly looked at me. I looked at him, not saying anything. He looked sheepish, awkward, and then he moved his head in a way that was partly expressing gratitude and partly asking permission to leave. I moved my head, wordlessly saying ‘Okay, go!’


After he closed the main door behind him and left, I went and locked it, and then turned towards the spare bedroom and went in there.


Mom was sitting on the bed, her saree and blouse were down in a heap on the floor, and I saw her bra near the pillows. She had pulled up the sheets covering herself, clutching at the sheets with her hands so tightly that her knuckles were turning red. Her hair was fully open and messy, her sindhoor slightly smudged, and she was softly sobbing.


My first thought when seeing her like that was how beautiful she looked, her face red and covered in tears.


I told her in a voice that I hoped was soft, “Mom, you should get dressed and go back to your room, before dad gets home.”


She looked at me, her face twisting in a wordless anger and disgust.


I said nothing and threw up both my hands, as if saying ‘Okay, okay, fine!’ And I backed out of the room and closed the door, giving her privacy to get dressed.


I stood outside, waiting, and after around 10 more minutes, mom came out dressed, her hair still open. She didn’t even look at me as she passed by and went straight to her bedroom. I turned off the lights and went back to my room, and slept.

[storywriter]

The next day morning my mom didn’t talk to me at all. She even avoided looking at me as much as she could. I wondered if my dad would notice it, but it didn’t look like he did.


She had cleaned up well. She had taken a full bath, with her hair wrapped up in a towel and wearing a red bindi and sindhoor, glass bangles- she looked like a typical beautiful village housewife.


After lunch, I was sitting in the living room watching some TV, and my dad was sitting in the front porch reading newspaper, while my mom was cleaning up in the kitchen. That was when I heard the voice of Shekhar from the front porch.


I came out and saw my dad greeting him. “Oh Shekhar.. Haven’t seen you in a few days. Where have you been?”


Shekhar just gave a sheepish grin.


My dad called out to my mom, “Shilpa! Our Shekhar is here! Bring him some tea.”


I looked at Shekhar. He grinned at me awkwardly, and then looked away.


As Shekhar and my dad started talking- my dad sitting in his easy chair while Shekhar standing with his hands folded respectfully, my mom brought a cup of tea in a steel mug, and another in a ceramic cup. She handed the ceramic cup to my dad quietly, and then gave the steel mug to Shekhar, her face down, not looking into his eyes. He was looking at my mom with a hungry look. His fingers brushed and lingered on my mom's fingers as she handed him the mug, and I thought her cheeks had turned red.


Then my mom quietly turned around and went back inside.


As they sipped their tea, my dad told Shekhar, “There is not much work in the fields today, hmmm.. okay, do one thing. Some pests have grown in the vegetable garden. You can clean them today.”


Shekhar shook his whole head in acceptance, his torso bowing in front of my dad. As he sipped his tea, his eyes were searching in the direction of the kitchen for my mom, but she could not be seen.


He drained his mug and cleaned it from the tap of water near the garden, and kept the mug on the floor of the front porch. Then he went to the front yard of the house to work in the vegetable garden.


My dad took a nap in his easy chair. And after waking up about half an hour later, he went inside his room and came back dressed, informed me and mom that he will go to the town for some work, and left through the front yard.

[storywriter]

You write very well. I have just read your bus story and I cannot tell you how much I liked it. You are writing this story very well too. I hope you both will complete the story. It would have been great if you had given the next part today. Otherwise, you are an excellent writer.

Thank you very much.

[storywriter]

I stepped out to the front porch as my dad left, and saw Shekhar looking at him leave. Within a few moments, he stepped upto the front porch with heavy steps, tried to look inside the house, saw my mom sitting down in the living room couch. Their eyes met, and Shekhar licked his lips as he stared at her up and down. And then he turned and looked at me with a hungry expression.


I gave a look inside and saw my mom, and then I glanced outside towards where dad had left, and then I turned to Shekhar and moved my head towards the door while jabbing my thumb in the same direction, signalling him to go inside.


He took a deep breath and stepped inside, as I followed him and closed the main door.


My mom was looking at him with wide eyes, her chest heaving up and down at a quickly increasing rhythm over her small waist, along with her mangalsutra. Her freshly washed hair was covered in a towel in a loose bun.


Shekhar took a couple of steps towards her, his eyes locked with hers, and then he unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, and dumped it on a nearby chair, revealing his flat stomach and slightly muscled, well defined chest, his eyes still locked with hers.


My mom made a quick move and got up from the couch, and tried to walk away towards her bedroom.


But Shekhar blocked her path with just a couple of fast strides, and took her in his both arms.


My mom struggled in his arms, twisting and turning, trying to wriggle herself away, her hands softly beating at his bare chest and shoulders, her bangles clinking, but only ended up buried deeper in his arms.


He started to pull her towards the spare bedroom now, and mom kept resisting, writhing like a fish out of water. His arms and his hands were moving all over her neck, back, waist, buttocks, and arms, as she kept twisting and squirming, panting heavily. The towel keeping her hair in a bun got looser and quickly fell down, and her hair cascaded down like a waterfall. They were too close to each other for her beating hands to have any effect on him, so she tried to push him away, her palms pressing on his naked chest and shoulders, her nails gouging into his skin, but he simply pulled her closer, as he kept stepping towards the spare bedroom.


I felt a slight uncertainty while watching, about whether I should intervene, whether I should stop this. But I had seen how my mom was cooperating so fully with Shekhar in the shed, how mutual was their involvement. I had heard her moans in this very same house last night, and I also knew that she had given in to him again last night, when I had given them privacy. I was no expert on women, but I just knew that this was just shame that I was seeing, not true unwillingness.


By then Shekhar had already half dragged and half carried my mom into the spare bedroom, and he was about to close the door. He was slightly struggling to close the door one handed, while trying to manage to hold on to my mom with his other arm, but it looked like her resistance was fading already, and she seemed ready to finally give in to her young lover.


I yelled, “Stop!”


They both looked up at me with surprise.


Was that a slight disappointment I saw on my mom’s face?


I said “No need to close the door.. just leave it open..”


My mom’s eyes became bigger than ever, and I saw the front of Shekhar’s pant give a violent twitch, as he pulled her pallu down, and nuzzling his face in her neck lustily, he pulled her down to the bed.


I slowly walked towards the room.

[storywriter]

I quietly went to a corner of the room where a lone plastic chair was bearing witness to the debauchery. As I sat down, Shekhar was pulling my mom down on his lap, and hungrily moving his hands all over her neck, back, and waist; his rough calloused hands navigating their way through her dense curtain of open hair.


My mom’s eyes were looking down and away, her breathing uneven. She was deliberately not looking at either me or Shekhar, as she sat on his lap with her legs outstretched, and her hand holding onto his bare shoulder tightly for balance.


Then in a swift fluid motion, Shekhar put his hands under my mom’s armpits, and half lifted, half pulled her down on the bed on her back, and the next moment he was on top of her, sitting over her, his legs straddling her hips.


He bent down over her, his left elbow on the bed next to her, and he started dragging his right hand over through her, starting from the top of her head. He dragged his hand erotically from her head, and then her face, and then the neck, and came to a stop at her chest which was heaving up and down, her pallu already down.


With a hungry look he licked his lips, and moved his head in my direction for just a flash of a second, and then he unhooked her blouse, revealing a cream coloured bra. My mom was gripping the bedsheet tightly in her palms as she lay there on her back, her head turned the other way, away from me.


He put his palm over the cup of her bra, and gave a squeeze. My mom’s breathing seemed to become slightly louder. He moved his fingers inside her bra from underneath, and his fingers played under the cream fabric for a few long moments, as her chest moved up and down, and her hands clutched the bedsheet tighter.


Then he deftly unclasped the hooks of her bra and pulled it aside, and I unconsciously licked my lips, my eyes glued shamelessly at my mom’s round voluptuous breasts that had popped open.


Shekhar moved his thumbs over her brown erect nipples in a circular motion. My mom let out a gasp of ‘ahh! huh! Haaaa!’


Shekhar looked at her, they had a short moment of eye contact, and then my mom averted her eyes again, and he smiled mischievously.


He bent down and gave a long deep kiss on her lips, and then he pulled back and whispered, “Good girl!”


My mom’s fair cheeks turned slightly red.


Shekhar pulled my mom’s saree completely off, she was wearing a petticoat underneath. He removed that as well. She was now only wearing a panty.


He started dragging his hand again, from her breasts, to her waist; he circled his thumb over her navel for a moment; and then down again, through her panty, and down to her thighs. He sensually rubbed her thighs, up and down, moving to her inner thighs.


My mom was breathing very audibly now.


Shekhar moved his fingers inside her panty, from underneath, just as he had done with her bra; and the moment his fingers touched some special secret spot underneath her panty, my mom gasped loudly, her mouth wide open in an ‘O’, sucking in air with a loud hissing sound, and then she started to moan, as he started moving his fingers inside her.


She was clutching the bedsheet harder than ever, and her upper body started to writhe up and down in an arc like she was possessed.


After a few long minutes, Shekhar withdrew his hand and pulled down her panty, which was soaking wet, and then in a flash he had pulled down his own pants and boxers. Just as I looked at his huge erect cock with a bulbous head, it disappeared inside my mom, as Shekhar mounted on top of her and gave a thrust.


The possessed writhing and moaning of my mom, which had taken a momentary pause, now resumed with a renewed intensity. Shekhar was thrusting slow and deep, and mom’s eyes were closed, and her hands wrapped around his back, pulling him closer.


Their feet were locked together, their toes dancing against each others lewdly.


The illicit lovers moved in an erotic rhythm.


As they kissed, thrusted, and moved, the bed was creaking.


My hand was inside my shorts, and I was masturbating shamelessly, vigorously.


I came in a gush of hot violent streams, long before they were done. I continued jerking myself for a few more moments, and then as a sense of the real world started dawning on me, I pulled up my shorts and quietly came out of the room.


Neither of them noticed me, lost in their own peaks of lustful sexual pleasure.


I could tell when my mom reached her climax, just by the crescendoed pitch of her moans.


And soon after, it was apparent that Shekhar had also reached his own climax, and I suddenly realized that he was not wearing a condom.


I watched through the open door, from the living room, as Shekhar got up from my mom several moments later, and rolled over to the bed on his back.


My mom didn’t move for a few minutes. And then she got up and heavily collected her undies one by one and put them on, without looking at Shekhar, and then put on her saree. Shekhar was resting his head on his elbows on the pillow and kept watching my mom get dressed in front of him.


When she was almost done dressing, Shekhar quickly got up and pulled on his boxers and pants.


I watched quietly as my mom gathered her hair up in a loose bun, and stepped out to the living room and started walking towards her room without looking at me. But just then, Shekhar came out with a few quick strides, and took her in a hug from behind.


He brought his face down next to hers, and then he turned his head towards me and looked me in the eyes. With a grin on his face, he turned and licked my mom’s neck. He squeezed her breasts, gave another lick near her ear, and then he withdrew himself, put on his shirt, gave me a mischievous grin, and stepped out of our house.


My mom’s eyes met mine. Neither of us said anything. She hung her head in deep shame, and turned and went to her room.