19-08-2025, 10:24 AM
(This post was last modified: 19-08-2025, 10:39 AM by Lalith. Edited 2 times in total. Edited 2 times in total.)
The Inheritance of Desire
Kiran lounged on the sofa, a smirk playing on his lips as Raj entered the apartment, textbooks clutched in his hands. "MBA treating you well, little bro?" he drawled, not bothering to look up from his phone.
"It's… intense," Raj mumbled, already feeling the familiar knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. Living with Kiran was like living next to a live wire, a constant hum of restless energy and unchecked ambition. And lately, a different kind of energy, a dark undercurrent he couldn't quite understand, but felt drawn to nonetheless.
It had started subtly. Raj, struggling with his studies, had borrowed Kiran’s laptop to research a case study. A folder, innocuously labeled "Projects," had caught his eye. Curiosity, a dangerous beast he usually kept caged, gnawed at him. He’d told himself it was just a quick peek.
The videos… they were a revelation. Kiran, smooth and confident, with a revolving door of women. Colleagues, acquaintances, even older women with a certain…maturity. Raj had been both disgusted and fascinated. He’d closed the laptop, heart hammering, but the images had burned themselves into his mind.
He hadn't been able to resist going back. The secret viewing sessions became a routine, a guilty pleasure laced with shame and a disturbing sense of envy. He was nothing like Kiran. He was awkward, unsure, perpetually stuck in the friend zone. Kiran, on the other hand, seemed to possess a magnetic allure, a primal confidence that women couldn’t resist.
Yamuna, Raj's mother, arrived bearing gifts and the aroma of homemade spices. She fussed over them both, her love a warm blanket against the city's cold indifference. Kiran, always charming, treated her with a special tenderness. Raj knew why. Yamuna had practically raised Kiran after Rushendra, his own mother, had fallen ill. They shared a bond that transcended blood, a deep, unshakeable affection.
During those four days, the apartment felt like a home again, filled with laughter and the comforting rhythm of Yamuna's cooking. She told stories of their childhood, embarrassing Kiran with tales of his youthful mischief. Raj watched them, a strange mix of longing and resentment swirling within him. He craved that kind of connection, that effortless ease of being.
Then came the day he dared to ask. "Kiran, can you… help me?" he stammered, the words catching in his throat. "There's this… older woman… at the library. I… I don't know how to…"
Kiran had raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "An older woman, huh? You got a thing for MILFs, little bro?"
Raj flushed crimson. "It's not like that! I just… you're good at this. I'm not."
Kiran had offered a few pointers, the kind of practiced lines he probably used on all his conquests. Raj tried them, but they fell flat. The woman, a kindly librarian with a sensible cardigan and a no-nonsense demeanor, simply smiled politely and pointed him towards the reference section.
Dejected, Raj confessed his failure to Kiran. "I'm just not like you. I don't have the… the talent."
Kiran had been silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, a slow smile spread across his face. "Maybe you just need a little… inspiration."
He grabbed his phone, scrolling through his gallery. "Here, take a look at this."
The video started innocently enough. Kiran setting up his phone, positioning it carefully in a corner of what looked like a hotel room. He stopped abruptly as a knock sounded. He straightened his clothes, a predatory gleam in his eyes, and opened the door.
Raj watched, mesmerized, as Kiran greeted the woman. He couldn't see her face at first, but he could hear the playful banter, the suggestive undertones in Kiran's voice. He leaned in closer, his heart pounding.
Kiran was flirting, touching her arm, trying to steal a kiss. She resisted, playfully at first, then with a hint of real resistance. But Kiran persisted, his charm relentless. He led her towards the bed, his voice a low murmur.
The woman stumbled, and suddenly, she was on the bed. Her saree had slipped, revealing a glimpse of bare skin. Kiran was on top of her, kissing her deeply. Raj’s breath hitched. He saw a flash of gold – a mangalsutra, nestled against the woman’s breast.
Kiran unbuttoned her blouse, revealing her slim, surprisingly youthful breasts. He removed her petticoat, his movements deliberate, almost ritualistic. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, his hand tracing the curves of her body.
Then, the woman's face came into view.
Raj froze. His blood turned to ice.
It was Yamuna.
His mother, his sweet, innocent mother, lying beneath Kiran, her eyes closed, her face flushed with a mixture of shock and… something else.
Kiran’s fingers were exploring her intimately, teasing her until she moaned softly. He positioned himself, his body covering hers, and thrust into her. Yamuna gasped, her eyes snapping open. She tried to push him away, but her struggles were weak, almost perfunctory.
With each thrust, her protests faded, replaced by moans that grew louder, more desperate. Her body arched against his, her hands clutching at his back. Finally, they both shuddered, their bodies locked in a paroxysm of release.
Raj felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to tear Kiran apart. But he was paralyzed, trapped in the nightmare unfolding before his eyes.
Kiran rolled off Yamuna, breathing heavily. He looked directly at the hidden camera, a triumphant smirk on his face. Then, he stopped the recording.
Raj ripped the phone from Kiran's hands, his voice a strangled whisper. "What the fuck was that? How could you do that to her? To my mother?"
Kiran shrugged, his eyes cold and calculating. "You wanted to fuck someone else’s mother, didn't you? I just showed you it's possible. Your mom is a woman, just like any other."
"But… she loves you! Yamuna treated you like her own son!" Raj sputtered, his mind reeling.
"Exactly," Kiran said, his voice dangerously low. "When she visited, after you left for college, I called her into my room. I told her what I wanted. She didn't agree at first, but she didn't scream, she didn't run. She raised me, she wouldn't want to make a scene, especially not one that would hurt me. So I dared. And later… she enjoyed it."
Raj stared at him, speechless. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the familiar landmarks of his life dissolving into a swirling vortex of betrayal and disgust.
"So, now what?" Kiran asked, his tone almost casual. "You gonna cry to mommy? Or are you gonna learn something from this?”
Raj’s anger hardened into a cold, burning rage. “You think this makes you a man? You think you’re so clever?”
"Think you can do better?" Kiran countered challengingly. "Go ahead. Show me. Fuck my mother, Rushendra. See if you have what it takes."
The air crackled with unspoken threats. Raj looked at Kiran, and for the first time, he saw not a charming older brother, but a monster, a predator lurking beneath a veneer of sophistication.
"I will," Raj said, his voice barely a whisper, but filled with a chilling resolve. "I will fuck your mother. And then we'll see who the talented one really is."
Kiran simply smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Be my guest. But be warned, little bro. Rushendra is a different breed. She won't be as easy as your precious Yamuna."
Raj didn't reply. He turned and walked out of the apartment, the image of his mother's face, caught between shock and pleasure, seared into his mind. He had a new goal now, a twisted, perverse ambition that consumed him utterly. The inheritance of desire had been passed down, and Raj was ready to claim his birthright. The game had begun.
Kiran lounged on the sofa, a smirk playing on his lips as Raj entered the apartment, textbooks clutched in his hands. "MBA treating you well, little bro?" he drawled, not bothering to look up from his phone.
"It's… intense," Raj mumbled, already feeling the familiar knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. Living with Kiran was like living next to a live wire, a constant hum of restless energy and unchecked ambition. And lately, a different kind of energy, a dark undercurrent he couldn't quite understand, but felt drawn to nonetheless.
It had started subtly. Raj, struggling with his studies, had borrowed Kiran’s laptop to research a case study. A folder, innocuously labeled "Projects," had caught his eye. Curiosity, a dangerous beast he usually kept caged, gnawed at him. He’d told himself it was just a quick peek.
The videos… they were a revelation. Kiran, smooth and confident, with a revolving door of women. Colleagues, acquaintances, even older women with a certain…maturity. Raj had been both disgusted and fascinated. He’d closed the laptop, heart hammering, but the images had burned themselves into his mind.
He hadn't been able to resist going back. The secret viewing sessions became a routine, a guilty pleasure laced with shame and a disturbing sense of envy. He was nothing like Kiran. He was awkward, unsure, perpetually stuck in the friend zone. Kiran, on the other hand, seemed to possess a magnetic allure, a primal confidence that women couldn’t resist.
Yamuna, Raj's mother, arrived bearing gifts and the aroma of homemade spices. She fussed over them both, her love a warm blanket against the city's cold indifference. Kiran, always charming, treated her with a special tenderness. Raj knew why. Yamuna had practically raised Kiran after Rushendra, his own mother, had fallen ill. They shared a bond that transcended blood, a deep, unshakeable affection.
During those four days, the apartment felt like a home again, filled with laughter and the comforting rhythm of Yamuna's cooking. She told stories of their childhood, embarrassing Kiran with tales of his youthful mischief. Raj watched them, a strange mix of longing and resentment swirling within him. He craved that kind of connection, that effortless ease of being.
Then came the day he dared to ask. "Kiran, can you… help me?" he stammered, the words catching in his throat. "There's this… older woman… at the library. I… I don't know how to…"
Kiran had raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "An older woman, huh? You got a thing for MILFs, little bro?"
Raj flushed crimson. "It's not like that! I just… you're good at this. I'm not."
Kiran had offered a few pointers, the kind of practiced lines he probably used on all his conquests. Raj tried them, but they fell flat. The woman, a kindly librarian with a sensible cardigan and a no-nonsense demeanor, simply smiled politely and pointed him towards the reference section.
Dejected, Raj confessed his failure to Kiran. "I'm just not like you. I don't have the… the talent."
Kiran had been silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, a slow smile spread across his face. "Maybe you just need a little… inspiration."
He grabbed his phone, scrolling through his gallery. "Here, take a look at this."
The video started innocently enough. Kiran setting up his phone, positioning it carefully in a corner of what looked like a hotel room. He stopped abruptly as a knock sounded. He straightened his clothes, a predatory gleam in his eyes, and opened the door.
Raj watched, mesmerized, as Kiran greeted the woman. He couldn't see her face at first, but he could hear the playful banter, the suggestive undertones in Kiran's voice. He leaned in closer, his heart pounding.
Kiran was flirting, touching her arm, trying to steal a kiss. She resisted, playfully at first, then with a hint of real resistance. But Kiran persisted, his charm relentless. He led her towards the bed, his voice a low murmur.
The woman stumbled, and suddenly, she was on the bed. Her saree had slipped, revealing a glimpse of bare skin. Kiran was on top of her, kissing her deeply. Raj’s breath hitched. He saw a flash of gold – a mangalsutra, nestled against the woman’s breast.
Kiran unbuttoned her blouse, revealing her slim, surprisingly youthful breasts. He removed her petticoat, his movements deliberate, almost ritualistic. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, his hand tracing the curves of her body.
Then, the woman's face came into view.
Raj froze. His blood turned to ice.
It was Yamuna.
His mother, his sweet, innocent mother, lying beneath Kiran, her eyes closed, her face flushed with a mixture of shock and… something else.
Kiran’s fingers were exploring her intimately, teasing her until she moaned softly. He positioned himself, his body covering hers, and thrust into her. Yamuna gasped, her eyes snapping open. She tried to push him away, but her struggles were weak, almost perfunctory.
With each thrust, her protests faded, replaced by moans that grew louder, more desperate. Her body arched against his, her hands clutching at his back. Finally, they both shuddered, their bodies locked in a paroxysm of release.
Raj felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to tear Kiran apart. But he was paralyzed, trapped in the nightmare unfolding before his eyes.
Kiran rolled off Yamuna, breathing heavily. He looked directly at the hidden camera, a triumphant smirk on his face. Then, he stopped the recording.
Raj ripped the phone from Kiran's hands, his voice a strangled whisper. "What the fuck was that? How could you do that to her? To my mother?"
Kiran shrugged, his eyes cold and calculating. "You wanted to fuck someone else’s mother, didn't you? I just showed you it's possible. Your mom is a woman, just like any other."
"But… she loves you! Yamuna treated you like her own son!" Raj sputtered, his mind reeling.
"Exactly," Kiran said, his voice dangerously low. "When she visited, after you left for college, I called her into my room. I told her what I wanted. She didn't agree at first, but she didn't scream, she didn't run. She raised me, she wouldn't want to make a scene, especially not one that would hurt me. So I dared. And later… she enjoyed it."
Raj stared at him, speechless. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the familiar landmarks of his life dissolving into a swirling vortex of betrayal and disgust.
"So, now what?" Kiran asked, his tone almost casual. "You gonna cry to mommy? Or are you gonna learn something from this?”
Raj’s anger hardened into a cold, burning rage. “You think this makes you a man? You think you’re so clever?”
"Think you can do better?" Kiran countered challengingly. "Go ahead. Show me. Fuck my mother, Rushendra. See if you have what it takes."
The air crackled with unspoken threats. Raj looked at Kiran, and for the first time, he saw not a charming older brother, but a monster, a predator lurking beneath a veneer of sophistication.
"I will," Raj said, his voice barely a whisper, but filled with a chilling resolve. "I will fuck your mother. And then we'll see who the talented one really is."
Kiran simply smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Be my guest. But be warned, little bro. Rushendra is a different breed. She won't be as easy as your precious Yamuna."
Raj didn't reply. He turned and walked out of the apartment, the image of his mother's face, caught between shock and pleasure, seared into his mind. He had a new goal now, a twisted, perverse ambition that consumed him utterly. The inheritance of desire had been passed down, and Raj was ready to claim his birthright. The game had begun.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)