[Steel]

This series is INSANE so far.  

WOW, Just where were you all these days?

Eagerly waiting for mom-son together enjoyments ahead.

Thank you.

[Steel]

The next evening, twilight dbangd the city in a soft purple haze. The AC hummed inside the living room, a feeble defense against the humid air. Madhuri reached home from work, sat on the sofa in her loose shirt and pajamas, still haunted by the close encounter on the terrace with Ishaan.

She glanced at Ramesh, who is flipping through shows on Netflix, oblivious to the storm within her. She quickly surfed a few pics on her phone and changed her wallpaper.

Madhuri : “Ramesh,” she said, her voice a forced lilt, “how about some mehndi? It’s been a while.” She offered a shy smile, playing a happy wife, though her heart raced for a naughty plan.

Ramesh : “When is the last time I saw you being shy,” his face lit up. He grabbed a mehndi cone from a drawer, settling beside her. “Let’s make it special.”

His fingers worked deftly, tracing intricate patterns on her palms, binding her hands as the paste dried. 

Ramesh : “All done,” he said, kissing her forehead gently. “Don’t work those hands, love. Let it dry. I’ll check on dinner.” He left, humming, unaware of the chasm between them.

Alone, she entered her bedroom and glanced through the door for Ishaan. As he passed by the stairs heading down, she shouted from inside, “Can anyone come over?” and Ishaan sauntered in.

Ishaan : “You called, aunty?”

Madhuri : “I need help with something.” she said, sitting next to the vanity table, her voice thick with need. Her eyes locked onto his.

Ishaan : “What can I do?” he said, smirking at her mehndi-covered hands. 

Madhuri : “Can you just… check my mails, my hands are a little busy,” she said, nodding toward a pile of envelopes on the table, an excuse to keep him near.

Abhi : “Mom, was that you calling?” his voice sliced through the moment. Her son stood in the doorway, a bit embarrassed to enter the bedroom.

His eyes narrowed with sullen jealousy as he rushed and snatched the cards from Ishaan.

[Steel]

Madhuri : “Wait.. he's just helping, Abhi, I called him,” she said weakly, her eyes never leaving Ishaan.

Abhi doubtfully returned them, leaned on the wall next to the table, his face shadowed with envy for Ishaan, his gaze drifting to the drawer, wardrobe and the curtains, evoking memories of his dread and fear.

Among the letters was a wedding card, its gold embossing catching the light. 

Ishaan : “Requesting the pleasure of your presence to grace the wedding of Sumit and Nisha,” he read out loud.

Madhuri : “Oh wait, I need to call them,” Madhuri said, her voice unsteady. “My phone… Oh.. it's in my pocket.” Her thighs shifted, revealing the curve of her hip.

Ishaan grinned as he reached into the pocket of her pajamas, his fingers grazing her thigh, pausing where he expected her panty but found only skin. The absence of inners hit him like a spark, and her own excitement flared at his teasing smile.

Abhi’s face flushed with jealousy, as Ishaan casually explored the pocket. 

Madhuri : “Oops, wrong side,” Ishaan smirked at her and reached into the other pocket.

He pulled out the phone, glancing at its screen, a provocative wallpaper, a curvy woman’s silhouette, adorned with demon horns, wearing a blindfold, striking a seductive pose, possibly nude, clutching handcuffs.

Ishaan : “Fascinating art, Aunty. Curious who the artist is,” he teased, his voice low as he dialed the number.

He gripped the phone, holding it right beside her ear and stepped closer.

His free hand massaging her shoulder, his touch firm yet sensual. Madhuri’s bound hands made her clumsy as she took the phone, her body trembling under his control.

Their eyes locked through the mirror, his gaze piercing through her with unspoken intent. She tried to play it cool, talking nonchalantly on the phone with her cousin.

Madhuri : “Nisha, congratulations! I’m so thrilled for you,” she said, her tone warm and festive. “I’ve started applying mehendi already, can’t wait to see you at the wedding!” Her lips curved into a smile.

Meanwhile, Ishaan’s hands slid lower, his fingers brushing below the collarbone under the guise of a gentle massage.

[Steel]

Madhuri didn’t flinch, her smile unwavering as she continued, “Oh, Nisha, the designs are gorgeous, you should see them!” Yet her gaze met Ishaan’s in the mirror, a spark of mutual longing passing between them.

Abhi, leaning behind, watched the scene unfold, his chest tightening with a mix of envy and a strange, conflicting thrill. 

Abhi : “How can she just let him…” he muttered under his breath, his face flushing with resentment.

The sight of Ishaan’s hands on her, the way her smile held a secret, stirred something unsettling in him.

Unable to stand it any longer, he turned to the AC’s wiring panel nearby, his fingers trembling as he yanked at the cords, an experience he learned before. 

Abhi : “Let’s see how they stay in the room, ” he whispered to himself, cutting the connection to the unit with a quick, angry tug.

Madhuri laughed into the phone, oblivious to Abhi’s actions. 

Madhuri : “Nisha, you better save me a dance at the sangeet!” she teased, her voice light, her eyes catching his smirk in the mirror.

His fingers pressed a little firmer, a little lower, grazing the gap near her buttons. 

Ishaan : “You’re gonna steal the show, Aunty,” Ishaan said softly, his tone laced with mischief. She shot him a playful glance through the mirror, starting to realize something's off in the room.

The AC sputtered and died, the room growing stifling. “It’s so hot, Ishaan, Do something,” Madhuri complained, her voice a mix of frustration and invitation.

She unbuttoned her shirt to her cleavage, exposing the swell of her chest.

Ishaan grabbed a hand fan, his eyes glinting. “I’ve got you,” he said. He fanned her, his breath cool against her skin, his fingers brushing the revised edge. The intimacy was brazen, her body responding with every touch.

Abhi grunted, a mehndi cone in hand, his eyes flashing with anger and something darker, amusement, perhaps, at his mother’s flushed state.

He squeezed the cone, splattering paste across the floor. 

Abhi : “Dad's calling, Ma,” he said, his tone sharp. Guilt stabbed Madhuri, on the phone, she struggled to speak, her words faltering as Ishaan’s fingers brushed her skin.

Madhuri : “Sure, we’ll attend in advance,” she managed. 

Ishaan ended the call, his eyes held hers, a silent promise of more.

[Steel]

The next morning, TV in the living room hummed with a cricket commentary. Dressed in a casual chudidhar, Madhuri, sat on the sofa, gazing at her mehendi, its bold maroon design captivating, her mind still reeling from last night's magic at the vanity.

Her desire for Ishaan burned, a forbidden flame warring with the guilt that gnawed at her. Ramesh, sat across, engrossed in cricket highlights.

Madhuri : “Ramesh,” she said, forcing a smile, “Nisha's wedding is coming. I’m thinking of shopping today. Maybe a saree.”

Before Ramesh could respond, Ishaan strode in from Abhi's room, his red checked shirt and jeans exuding a dangerous charm. 

Ishaan : “Saree would be perfect, Aunty, not for your cousin’s marriage," he said, his voice sudden and teasing, “But to spice up your own," he said low, flashing a wink at Ramesh. 

Ishaan : "I'm talking about a little gift for Uncle tonight." His gaze held hers, stirring a rush of yearning, "She said, the outfit didn't fit her well the last time, let me take aunty with me, I'll get her ready for a show.”

Ramesh : “Great idea, my boy! Spoil her a bit,” he said, clapping Ishaan on the shoulder grinning broadly, oblivious to the undercurrents. 

Leaning closer, his voice dropped to a whisper. 

Ramesh : “Listen, Ishaan, the bedroom’s gone cold again. I couldn’t even, you know.. rise to the occasion last few nights. Here.. take my card and keys. I need you to save me from these bedtime embarrassments.”

Ishaan’s eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and assurance. 

Ishaan : “Don’t worry, Uncle,” he replied smoothly, his tone low and confident. “Just lay off the booze this time and leave the rest to me.”

Ramesh sighed and winked at Madhuri, his trust a sharp pang in her chest. 

Abhi overheard this from his room and quickly entered the living room in an attempt to stop Ishaan's plans from brewing further.

Abhi : “Did I hear shopping?” he asked looking at Ishaan with a huffy face and Ishaan smirked.

Ramesh : “Yeah Abhi, mom needs a few clothes and accessories for Aunt Nisha's wedding. Go on, love. Ishaan has a great taste. I'll wait to see you tonight,” Her guilt deepened, but her body trembled with anticipation as she nodded.

Feeling a dark unease, Abhi turned to his father. 

Abhi : “Dad, we both could use some new clothes too. Why don’t you come along? ”

Ramesh, still smiling obliviously, waved a hand dismissively. 

Ramesh : “Sorry, son, I’m tied up today. Got an appointment with my executive this afternoon, can’t miss it.” He glanced at Abhi, then at Ishaan, nodding encouragingly. “You go along with them. It’ll be good for you to join your mom and your friend.”

With a reluctant nod, Abhi followed his mother and Ishaan as they headed out, the air thick with unspoken tension.

[Steel]

The car started as Ishaan gripped the wheel. Abhi wanted to claim the front seat, forcing Madhuri to sit in the back, but she already made her place next to Ishaan.

The air was thick, charged with unspoken emotions. Ishaan tilted the rearview mirror, catching Madhuri’s gaze. She sat in her casual churidar, her vibrant mehendi glowing against her skin, her eyes locked on his.

A slow, teasing bite of her lip sent a spark through him, and she tilted her head playfully, a silent invitation.

Abhi caught the exchange in the mirror, his face flushing with shame and rage. His mother, flirting so openly with Ishaan, seemed to be slipping into something he couldn’t digest, from a devoted mom to his bully’s plaything.

Abhi : “Keep your eyes on the road and drive,” he snapped, his voice sharp.

Madhuri flinched, her smile faltering as she looked out the window, breaking the moment.

Ishaan chuckled, unfazed. 

Ishaan : “Relax, Abhi,” he said, his tone mocking. “Why don’t you head to the kids section at the mall and pick something out, while I take care of your mom on the ladies floor.” His words dripped with condescension, belittling Abhi further.

Abhi’s fists clenched, his anger simmering, but couldn’t say. Madhuri stifled a chuckle, her hand covering her mouth, though her eyes still glinted with amusement.

Within a few minutes, they pulled into the mall’s parking lot. As they entered, Abhi bolted toward the escalator. 

Abhi : “I’ll grab something quick,” he said, heading to the men’s floor. “Stop me if you can,” he muttered, determined to prove a point.

The sprawling complex was a chaotic symphony of weekend crowd and luxury, the cold air inside heavy with neroli fragrance.

Ishaan, with a sly grin, guided Madhuri toward the women’s apparel section, steering her to a corner where modern, revealing dresses screamed audacity.

[Steel]

Madhuri, in her late 30s, felt a flush of embarrassment, noticing she was older than the other women there, all younger and polished. Unbeknownst to her, every salesman's eyes lingered on her, drawn to her allure.

Madhuri hesitated, her cheeks warming. “These are… a bit much,” she murmured, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of excitement.

Ishaan picked out a few dresses.

Ishaan : “Come, try these, Aunty,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “They’ll look stunning on you.”

He smirked, leading her to the changing rooms. The worker there, a stern-looking man, eyed Ishaan suspiciously as he removed the tags from the dresses. “Only one person per room,” he said gruffly, his gaze lingering on them.

Ishaan nodded, his smile unbothered. “No problem,” he replied smoothly, gesturing Madhuri to step inside and followed her until the aisle.

Ishaan lounged on a chair, his eyes glinting as he handed Madhuri the first dress, an emerald sequined crochet slip dress with an asymmetrical hem that shimmered under the fluorescent light. “Try this one, Aunty,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Let’s see how it looks.”

Madhuri smirked, snatching the dress and locking the door with a click. The attendant outside shot Ishaan a wary glance, as if expecting trouble.

Moments later, the lock clicked again, and Madhuri stepped out, the dress clinging to her curves. Ishaan’s gaze roamed over her, a slow grin spreading. “Can you step forward,” she hesitated, then extended her leg, the high slit parting to expose the thick thigh. “Like this?” she asked, her tone playful but nervous.

Ishaan : “Damn, Aunty, you’re starving me already. Uncle’s gonna have a feast tonight.” She let out a chuckle.

He handed her the next dress, a weird looking brown dress. As she took it, Abhi’s voice pierced the air from outside. 

Abhi : “Ma, you in there? I’m done shopping, from the men’s section!” he insisted.

Madhuri froze, “Just wait, Abhi!” she called, her voice strained. “I’m changing!” She shot Ishaan an awkward look, her cheeks flushing, and shut the door to slip into the new dress.

She wore it and peered into the mirror, it looked like an ordinary sheath dress. Turning to the side mirrors, she was stunned to see a sleek, form-fitting gown with detailed triangular cut-outs woven along her sides.

When she opened the door, the cut-outs hugged her curves, exposing the sides of her breasts, waist along her legs in a daring display. She stood hesitantly, meeting Ishaan’s eyes.

“Turn around,” he said, his tone commanding yet teasing. “Let me see it all.”

Smirking, Madhuri twirled, the dress accentuating every curve, her bare skin flashing through the laced gaps.

Abhi’s voice rang out again, impatient. “Mom, these bags are heavy!”

Madhuri : “Just a few more minutes, sweetie!” she shouted, exasperated. Turning to Ishaan, she muttered, “Can you give him your chair?”

Ishaan chuckled, leaning back. 

Ishaan : “I’m polite to all the ladies out there, Aunty, but these little boys? They can wait.” He winked, his voice dripping with suggestion. “I’d get up anytime for a woman who wants to… sit. You get me?”

Madhuri’s throat tightened, catching his double entendre. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said quickly, brushing it off, and grabbed the final dress, a long-sleeve mesh corset mini dress.

She locked the door, changed, and stepped out, her cheeks burning. The tight fabric hugged her, her breasts straining against the mesh, the hem riding high above her knees, outlining her ass. She tugged at it, flustered, trying to pull it lower.

Ishaan’s eyes gleamed. “This is too cute, Aunty. But Uncle doesn’t deserve this much.”

She laughed, a nervous edge to it. “Which one’s your favorite?”

He tilted his head, smirking. “All three look killer, but honestly, I’d like you best in nothing at all.”

Madhuri’s face flushed, and she looked away. “Ishaan, that’s no way to talk to your aunt,” she scolded softly.

“Sorry, just being honest,” he said, his grin unapologetic. “It’s how I am.”

She shook her head, waving it off. “Alright, let’s go. Abhi’s waiting.” As she turned to change, Ishaan stopped her, holding out a saree. “Wait. This one’s for your cousin’s wedding. You almost forgot.”

[Steel]

Madhuri sighed, taking the saree. “Right, the wedding.” She changed quickly, dbanging the fabric over her curves, and stepped out and Ishaan beckoned her closer. 

Ishaan : “Come out, let me check the fit.” He circled her, as she stepped in the aisle, his fingers brushing the fabric lightly, ensuring it hugged her well, his gaze intense but subtle.

Ishaaan : “Perfect,” he murmured, as Madhuri’s heart raced, the weight of Abhi’s impatience lingering just outside.

Ishaan : “But it needs a few tweaks, let me fix it,” he said, adjusting her saree with deft hands. His fingers grazed the edge of her blouse, slipping slightly inside and brushing her breasts.

She stifled a gasp as the worker glanced over, visibly startled.

Noting the blouse needed loosening, he tugged it down slightly, then smoothed the saree thin over her hips, accentuating her navel.

He turned her to face the mirror, showing off her beauty, and hooked his thumbs into her waistband, pulling it lower to display her V-line.

Pretending to adjust the fabric, he deliberately brushed his fingers across the stubble above her pussy through the thin saree.

Madhuri gasped, whispering, “Ishaan, wait..” she whispered, but her body arched towards him, craving more. The shopkeeper, a middle-aged man, glanced over, momentarily stunned by their intimacy, but said nothing.

Abhi : “Hurry up, Ma,” he barked, his voice laced with irritation.

She broke free from his embrace, slipped into the changing room, and locked the door to switch back to her churidar and both stepped out.

Ishaan passed another bag containing three new dresses and a black saree to Abhi, forcing him to carry since they were occupied.

[Steel]

Ishaan’s eyes glinted as he leaned closer to Madhuri, his voice a low, seductive murmur. 

Ishaan : “That was a start, Aunty, but let’s get something… intimate for Uncle.” He paused, letting the word linger. 

Madhuri : “As in?” she asked, her voice soft.

Ishaan : “I’m talking about custom lingerie. He’ll love it.” His smirk was a challenge, and Madhuri’s breath hitched, her pretense of reluctance crumbling.

Madhuri : “I… don’t know,” she said, her voice trembling. “It’s a bit much, Ishaan.”

Ishaan : “Trust me, come on” he replied, guiding her toward a designer’s boutique tucked in a quiet corner of the mall. Abhi trailed behind, struggling with the heavy bags, his face a mix of frustration and suspicion.

They stepped into the boutique, its sleek walls adorned with silk and lace, the air thick with an intimate allure despite the humming AC. 

The designer, a wiry man in his thirties and an old acquaintance of Ishaan’s, greeted them with a sly, knowing grin. 

“May I help you, Sir?” he asked, his eyes briefly scanning Madhuri’s flushed face.

“Yeah,” Ishaan replied confidently, “I need custom lingerie for her.”

The designer nodded, unfazed, and handed Ishaan a design catalogue. “Sure, please take a look and customize while I get the tape.”

Ishaan took the catalogue with authority, flipping through its pages, his eyes lingering on each design as he glanced at Madhuri, picturing her in the delicate, revealing pieces.

[Steel]

Madhuri’s cheeks burned, shame surging through her as she stood under their gazes. The designer turned to her, his tone professional but probing. “May I take your measurements, ma’am?”

She hesitated, her heart racing, “Is this necessary? I already know my sizes,” she said, her voice unsteady, trying to deflect.

The designer smiled reassuringly. “Our measurements are non-standard, ma’am, but they ensure a perfect fit.”

Madhuri hesitated, doubt flickering in her eyes, but she relented. “O-Okay,” she murmured, barely audible, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on her.

Outside, Abhi reached the boutique’s corner, only to be stopped by a stern security guard. “My mom’s inside,” he protested, his voice tight with frustration.

“Sorry, kid, This is no place for children,” the guard replied, unmoved. 

“I’m not a kid. Stop calling me that,” Abhi muffled and slumped onto a nearby bench, fuming, clutching the bags and waiting for them to come out.

Inside, the designer began measuring Madhuri’s bust, his tape measure “accidentally” slipping. Ishaan, watching closely, stepped forward, his voice firm. 

Ishaan : “Let me hold it. You note it down.”

Madhuri raised her arms, her breath catching as Ishaan wrapped the tape around her chest, his fingers deliberately pressing through her churidar, grazing her nipples, which hardened under the touch.

The designer jotted down the measurement, unfazed. “Now under the breasts,” he instructed. Ishaan slid the tape lower, and tightened, his touch bold, eyes locked on hers.

“And her breasts, over the nipples, like this.” he said, Ishaan's fingers brushing her again, unapologetic.

He continued, measuring from her shoulder, neck down to her navel, his movements precise but charged. The designer nodded.

“Now the hip size.” Ishaan circled the tape around her, dragging it slowly over her body, lingering where her curves protruded most, his fingers grazing her ass. 

As soon as the designer noted it down, Madhuri exhaled in relief, thinking it was over. “Thank G0d,” she muttered.

The designer glanced up. “A few more measurements, ma’am. Please lift your churidar.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Why?” she asked, voice trembling.

“Just a couple more for... accuracy,” he replied calmly, though his eyes flickered with something else. Madhuri’s heart raced, caught between embarrassment and the electric pull of Ishaan’s presence.

[Steel]

Madhuri’s hands trembled as she hesitantly lifted her churidar top, revealing the leggings clinging to her curves.

The designer, his tone clinical yet probing, instructed, “Please put your feet apart slightly, ma’am.” 

As she did that, he glanced at Ishaan, “Measure from her inner thigh, near the crotch, to the hip joint.”

Both men knelt before her, Ishaan’s eyes glinting as he positioned the tape, the designer observing closely. Madhuri’s breath hitched, unsure of the situation, her mind racing.

Ishaan began, his fingers brushing from her ass down to her inner thigh, grazing her sensitive skin. A jolt of pleasure shot through her, memories of that blindfolded night with Ishaan flooding back. She tried to steady herself, but his lingering touch made her knees quiver.

He took multiple attempts, each one brushing her most sensitive spots, igniting a warmth that left a small wet patch on her leggings. Her heart pounded, praying they wouldn’t notice.

The designer’s eyes flicked to the damp spot but said nothing, his voice calm.

“Now, measure along the bottom, start at the creak of her buttocks, down through to the navel.”

Madhuri’s eyes widened. “What? That’s… such a strange way to measure,” she stammered, her voice shaky.

“It's a crucial step for our precision,” the designer assured smoothly, his tone almost too polished.

Ishaan held one end of the tape at the top of her butt crack, passing the other end under her crotch to the designer, who then placed it against her bare navel.

Both of them touching wherever they want sent a shock through her, her body trembling with illicit excitement. She gripped her churidar top tightly to keep it from falling, her breath uneven.

They pulled the tape slowly from both ends, grazing her crotch, over the leggings, their movements deliberate under the guise of calibration. The friction against her honeypot made her knees buckle inward, a soft moan escaping her lips as the dampness grew, her leggings betraying her arousal.

Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the AC, her expression shifting to one of barely contained desire. “Mmmh..” she let out a soft moan, eyes closed as they lingered, teasing her with subtle rubs, watching her squirm awkwardly from below.

Finally, the designer stepped back, his voice polite. “Thank you for your cooperation, ma’am. You can relax now.” 

Madhuri came back to this world and opened her eyes. The tape was visibly damp from her juice, but he said nothing, noting the measurements.

Ishaan, with a smirk, detailed the customizations he wanted, and the designer nodded modestly, agreeing.

They exited the boutique, finding Abhi outside, his face a storm of anger and anticipation. “Mom, why’d you leave me out here?!” he demanded, gripping the bags tightly.

Madhuri, still flushed, forced a smile. “Sorry, sweetie, women’s shopping takes time. Didn't want to bore you.” Her voice wavered, deflecting his frustration.

Without another word, they headed home, the air between them heavy with unspoken tensions and front mirror communications. Madhuri’s mind still reeling from the charged encounter, Abhi’s anger simmering, and Ishaan’s knowing glance lingering in the silence.

[Steel]

is this a repost from literotica ?

I was the author of that story. Glad you read it, but the story I am writing here has extra details, scenarios and chapters added, along with all the pictures.

[Steel]

They reached home late in the evening. Madhuri entered and lounged on the sofa, Her body still carried the echo of the shopping mall.

Her husband, Ramesh, paced near the dining table, his phone pressed to his ear. “Yes, tonight. I’ll be on the 10 p.m. flight to New York,” he said, voice clipped, brows furrowed. He hung up, glancing at Madhuri. 

Ramesh : “What took you guys so long, Uhh.. I got a work emergency, babe. I’m off to the US again for a week. Leaving tonight. Where's Ishaan?”

Madhuri’s heart skipped, a mix of guilt and strange relief washing over her. 

Madhuri : “Again? This urgent?” she asked, her voice softer than she intended. "Ishaan's.. parking the car."

Ramesh shrugged, distracted, already mentally elsewhere. He crossed the room, planted a quick kiss on her forehead, and grabbed his keys. 

Ramesh : “I’ll call you when I land. Take care of Abhi.” The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the room quieter, heavier.

Madhuri sank deeper into the sofa, her fingers tracing the edge of her chudidhar, her mind replaying Ishaan’s hands adjusting the tape measure.

The door swung open, and Abhi shuffled in, his face sullen, clutching shopping bags, his shoulders hunched. 

Abhi : “Dad’s leaving again, isn’t he?” he muttered, placing the bag onto the coffee table.

Abhi : “And this stupid shopping. What took you so long? What even is in these bags?”

Madhuri : “Abhi, don’t start now,” her chest tightened, “I had to buy a few extra things for your aunt’s marriage.”

Abhi : “Whatever,” he cut her off, his voice sharp with resentment. “Dad’s not going to be here. And I know you’re fine with it.” he whispered to himself.

A few minutes later, the doorbell chimed, Madhuri’s breath caught. She knew who it was before she opened the door. Ishaan stood there with a leather bag slung over his shoulder.

[Steel]

Ishaaan : “Aunty,” he drawled, stepping inside, the smirk growing as he set the bag down. “Don’t worry about Uncle. We had a little chat.” He patted the bag, his eyes never leaving hers. “He handed me this camera and some… responsibilities.”

Madhuri : “Camera? What for?” her brow furrowed, confusion settling in. 

Ishaan’s smirk widened, a sly edge to it. 

Ishaan : “Since he’s leaving and won’t see you for a week, I suggested a photoshoot with you. You know, so he can see what he’s missing across oceans.” his tone dipped.

Ishaan : “He loved the idea and thanked me. Even asked me to handle it myself, saying I’m trustworthy.” He paused, his gaze lingering. “Look at your phone.”

Madhuri’s mouth went dry. She grabbed her phone from the coffee table, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened Ramesh’s long unread message. Her eyes scanned the long text: "Hey dear, sorry for the unexpected trip. All my emails were suddenly archived, and I missed the heads-up about it. My boss mentioned it this afternoon after you guys left. I could’ve canceled if I’d seen it sooner, but it’s too late now. Don’t worry, I told Ishaan about a photoshoot. Please cooperate with him for my sake. He’s a good kid, do what he says. Let’s exchange pics for now. I’ll be back soon. Bye, my love."

Her heart sank, she knew Ishaan’s fingerprints were all over this. She typed a quick reply, her fingers moving instinctively: "Anything for you, honey. I’ll miss you. Take care."

Hitting send, she looked up at Ishaan, his grin now unmistakably predatory.

Abhi perked up, “I can take the photos!” he said, grabbing his phone. “I’m good with angles, Mom, you know that.” eager to steal the chance.

Ishaan’s smile sharpened, his gaze flicking to Abhi with a dismissive edge. “No offense, snowflake, but uncle likes it all professional. I need control of the frame and you’d just get in the way.” His tone was cold, final, cutting through Abhi’s enthusiasm like a blade.

[Steel]

Abhi’s face fell, his jaw tightening. “Fine,” he snapped, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Do whatever.” He stormed toward his loom, closed the door with a thud and hopped on his bed staring at the ceiling, leaving Madhuri’s guilt to twist tighter. 

She wanted to call after him, to soothe his hurt, but Ishaan’s presence anchored her in place.

Ishaan : “Don’t worry about him, aunty” he said, stepping closer, his voice low, almost a whisper. “He’ll get over it. Let’s focus on you.” His fingers brushed her arm as he handed her the shopping bags, the touch deliberate, electric. 

Ishaan : “Go and change. I’ll set up in your bedroom.”

Madhuri’s heart pounded, her body aching with a mix of shame and desire. “Ishaan, I-I don't think this is right,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

He tilted his head, his eyes locked on hers, bold and unyielding. 

Ishaan : “Don't you see how desperate uncle is? Do it for him aunty. Why fight it?” 

Madhuri forced a small, uneven smile, masking the flutter of excitement and unease in her chest. 

Madhuri : “Umm, okay,” she said, her voice light but laced with suspicion. “But, I need to freshen up first.”

Ishaan’s eyes gleamed, catching the playful edge in her tone. 

Ishaan : “I know. You were sweating buckets at the boutique even in the AC. Take your time, Aunty,” he said, leaning casually on the sofa, his fingers brushing the strap of the camera bag. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Her legs moved before her mind could catch up, carrying her upstairs. The bag felt heavy in her hands, her thoughts a tangle of maternal guilt, loyalty to Ramesh, and the reckless thrill of Ishaan’s gaze.

[Steel]

Madhuri slipped into the bathroom, leaving the bedroom door slightly open. She knew Ishaan would follow.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Abhi lay sprawled on his bed in the dark, the lights off, his chest heavy with betrayal. His mother’s complicity stung, and he vowed silently to himself: "No more. I wouldn’t be part of his schemes, no more watching my mom taking orders from him."

Upstairs, Ishaan moved with purpose, removed his shirt, arms bare in a tank top, and stepped into Madhuri’s bedroom. He began setting up, pulling equipment from his leather bag and stuff from the storeroom, a tripod, softbox lights, a reflector.

His movements were deliberate, practiced, as if he’d planned every detail. 

Madhuri emerged from the bathroom, her damp hair clinging to her neck, a thick robe loosely tied around her. She caught his eye, and his smirk returned, sharp and knowing.

Ishaan : “Go Aunty, change behind those curtains,” Ishaan said, nodding toward the corner of the spacious room where her vanity shifted. “I’ll finish setting up.” He shifted her bed to one side, clearing space.

Madhuri grabbed the shopping bags, took out the first dress he'd chosen, her bare feet leaving faint wet prints on the hardwood floor as she crossed to the makeshift changing area.

Her pulse quickened, an unfamiliar excitement buzzing under her skin. Behind the curtain, she let the robe fall, drying herself, sliding her arms into the sleek, emerald slip dress, its fabric cool against her skin.

[Steel]

Ishaan locked the door from inside, the soft click sent a shiver through her.

The camera shutter clicked, and Ishaan snapped a quick selfie, tongue popped out, his grin sharp and wicked against the backdrop of the meticulously arranged bedroom.

The image instantly beamed to the movie night projector in Abhi’s room downstairs, a soft chime announcing its arrival. The wall lit up, casting Ishaan’s smug face and the staged scene across the dark space.

Abhi’s eyes snapped open, his stomach twisting at the sight of his parents’ bedroom transformed into Ishaan’s playground.

Clenching his fists, Abhi buried his face in his pillow, smothering the urge to scream. He wouldn’t watch. He couldn’t.

Upstairs, Madhuri made her hair, adjusted the dress, her fingers trembling slightly, and stepped out from behind the curtain, her eyes meeting Ishaan’s.

The slip dress hugged her frame, its asymmetrical hem catching the light, shimmering with every step.

He stood by the camera, his expression unreadable but charged, the lights casting sharp shadows across his face.

The room’s ambiance, the soft glow of the lights, the faint scent of jasmine from a diffuser, heightened the electric hum in her veins.

Ishaan : “Well, look at you,” he said, leaning against the tripod, his voice smooth, laced with something daring.

Ishaan : “Ready to make uncle happy?” He gestured toward the center of the room, where the lights converged. “Step in here, Aunty. Let’s make this worth his while.”

[Steel]

Ishaan’s voice cut through the charged silence, calm but commanding. 

Ishaan : “Alright, first pose. Turn slightly, look back over your shoulder, bend a knee slightly.” Madhuri complied, stepping into the pool of light.

The slit parted subtly, accentuating her leg as she angled her body. Ishaan adjusted the lens, his eyes sharp behind the camera. 

* Click *  

The shutter snapped, and the image beamed to Abhi’s room with a chime.

Downstairs, Abhi’s resolve wavered. He tried to keep his face buried in the pillow, but curiosity tugged at him. He glanced up, and there she was, his mother, framed on the wall in that shimmering dress, he slowly got up and sat on the bed.

"Mom? How could she wear that? Is this what they’ve been shopping all day for?" he thought, fury spiking. "Posing like that for Ishaan, out of all?" He pulled the pillow, flushing his face deeper into it, trying to block it out.

Another chime. This time, she sat on the bed’s edge, legs crossed at the knee, the slit falling open to reveal her thigh. Her hands rested on her legs, her chest pushed slightly forward, her expression bold, almost provocative.

Abhi’s jaw tightened, a confusing heat stirring in him. His body betrayed him, a twitch of arousal he despised himself for.

[Steel]

Grabbing his phone, he typed a furious message: "Ishaan, stop this bullshit now." He hit send, glaring at the screen. The message sat on read, Ishaan’s silence a taunting dismissal.

Upstairs, Ishaan’s smirk didn’t falter. “Perfect,” he murmured, adjusting the camera for the next shot. 

After taking a few more clicks, Ishaan called her “Now, let’s do the next one, Aunty.”

His voice was smooth, coaxing, as Madhuri hesitated for a fraction of a second before complying, the air between them crackling with unspoken tension.

A soft chime broke the silence in Abhi’s room as another image flickered onto the wall.

Madhuri had changed into the form-fitting gown, its triangular cutouts along the sides exposing slivers of skin. The three-quarter shot, taken at mid-level, captured her standing with one hand on her hip, her body slightly turned to emphasize her curves, her boobs popping out, the silk stretching tight, almost cutting it off.

Abhi’s eyes betrayed him, lingering on the subtle skin show, unable to look away despite the knot of anger in his chest.

Another one, quick and relentless. Madhuri now lay on her side on the bed, propped on one elbow, her legs sprawled free on the bed. Her hands held her dress together preventing any slipping, the low-angle, eye-level shot from the bed’s edge making her seem larger than life on his wall.

Abhi swallowed hard, his mind screaming that she’d fallen into Ishaan’s trap, yet his body reacted, a shameful heat pooling within him.

"I don't get how dad agreed to all of this. Mom's clearly playing him!" he fumed, desperate to stop it, Abhi stumbled out of bed and yanked at his door but found it locked from outside. 

Ishaan had planned this, too. He grabbed his phone and fired off another text: "Take off the lock. Now! Get me out." No response.

Defeated, he sank back onto the bed, his eyes drawn unwillingly to the projection, fixating on the bare skin popping out of his mother’s deep cleavage, so openly displayed. His arousal surged, and he hated himself for it.

[Steel]

A few shots later, Madhuri appeared in the mesh corset mini dress, standing in front of the camera, hands on hips, eyes on the cameraman. Her curves strained against the tight corset, her boobs nearly spilling out. 

The next image, a full-length shot. She leaned back against the wall, chest slightly forward, hands above her head to elongate her body, angled to the side. Her long, bare legs gleamed under the lights, and Abhi’s resistance crumbled.

Abhi shot to his feet, a twisted cuckold excitement pulsing through him again, his dick throbbing as he stared at the provocative image.

He accepted his helplessness, sinking to the floor beneath the projection, his face positioned as if it was under her foot. His hand moved to his crotch, rubbing slowly, guilt and desire warring within him.

Another chime. A low-angle shot now, Madhuri kneeling on the bed, legs slightly spread, one hand on her knee, the other brushing through her hair.

Her torso twisted to highlight the corset’s fit, the lighting casting a shadow between her thighs, teasing at what lay beneath. Abhi’s breath hitched, his pulse racing as his eyes locked on the shadow between her legs.

Upstairs, Ishaan’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming as he watched Madhuri surrender to the moment, her compliance veiled as devotion to her husband. 

Ishaan : “You’re no less than a plus-size model, Aunty,” he said, his voice dripping with flattery and she smiled, bashful. He handed her a sleek, black bag, its contents hidden. “Change into this next.”

Madhuri took the bag, her brow arching. “What’s in it?”

Ishaan : “Custom lingerie, they delivered it quick.” his tone low. “And... something special from my side.”

Her pulse quickened as she slipped behind the curtain, unzipping the bag. Her breath caught at the sight, a white cropped button-down shirt, a black-and-white plaid mini skirt, and delicate lingerie beneath. It was scandalously bold, teetering on taboo.