Porn addicted son

[samanthasam]

In the bustling streets of Mumbai, lived a simple widow named Priya. She was 42 years old, innocent and devoted to her family. Priya had lost her husband five years ago in a tragic accident. She raised her only son, Rohan, who was now 19. They stayed in a small chawl in Andheri, where life was tough but manageable. Priya worked as a clerk in a tiny accounting office near Dadar station. Her salary was meager, just enough for rent, food, and Rohan's college fees. Rohan studied engineering at a local polytechnic but had fallen into a bad habit. He was addicted to porn. Priya noticed it first when she found suspicious websites on his laptop. She felt heartbroken. 'How can my son do this?' she thought. Priya decided to help him quit. She talked to him gently one evening after dinner. 'Beta, this porn is ruining you. It will affect your studies and health. Please stop,' she said. Rohan looked ashamed but nodded. He promised to try. Days passed. Priya monitored him closely. She hid his phone at night and encouraged outdoor activities. But Rohan's addiction was strong. One afternoon, after college, he came home frustrated. 'Maa, I need some help,' he said. Priya sat beside him. 'What is it, beta?' Rohan hesitated. 'I... I want some movie CDs. Normal ones, to distract me.' Priya smiled, relieved. She thought he meant Bollywood films. 'Okay, I'll buy them tomorrow.' The next day, Priya finished her office work early. She went to the local video shop in the market, run by Raj, a middle-aged man with a potbelly and sly eyes. His laborer, Amit, was a young, muscular guy from Bihar. Priya had seen them before but never interacted much. She entered the shop. 'Bhaiya, some good movie CDs for my son,' she said. Raj grinned. 'What kind, aunty? Action, romance?' Priya picked a few: Shah Rukh Khan films. But Rohan had whispered 'adult movies' earlier, though she pretended not to hear. As she paid, her purse felt light. Her salary was delayed this month. 'How much?' she asked. 'Two hundred rupees,' Raj said. Priya counted her notes. Only hundred and fifty. 'Sorry, bhaiya, I forgot cash. Can I pay later?' Raj's eyes roamed her body. Priya wore a simple salwar kameez, her figure curvy from years of home cooking. Her blouse hugged her full breasts. Amit, stacking shelves, watched too. 'No problem, aunty. But maybe you can... help a little,' Raj said with a wink. Priya frowned. 'What help?' Amit locked the shop door quietly. Raj stepped closer. 'Just a touch, aunty. You're so beautiful.' Priya stepped back. 'No, this is wrong!' But Raj grabbed her wrist. Amit came from behind, pressing against her. His hands squeezed her waist. Priya struggled. 'Leave me!' Raj's fingers brushed her breast over the cloth. He pinched her nipple through the blouse. 'Soft, aunty.' Amit groped her ass, rubbing hard. Priya gasped, a strange heat building despite fear. They touched her everywhere—thighs, belly, even between legs over the salwar. But they didn't undress her or penetrate. 'That's enough for now,' Raj said, releasing her. Priya ran out, CDs in hand, humiliated but oddly aroused. She didn't tell anyone. At home, Rohan watched the CDs. They were normal, but he sneaked porn online. Priya cried in her room. Weeks later, Rohan asked again. 'Maa, I need more CDs. And... a camera. For studies, video projects.' Priya sighed. She wanted to help. Her salary came, but bills ate it up. She returned to the shop. Raj smiled wickedly. 'Back so soon, aunty?' Priya avoided his eyes. 'CDs and a cheap camera.' She had two hundred now. But the camera cost three hundred. Again, short. 'Same problem?' Raj asked. Amit chuckled. Priya nodded reluctantly. This time, they were bolder. Raj pulled her into the back room. 'Just a little more, aunty.' He made her sit on a stool. His hands slipped under her dupatta, cupping her breasts fully. He squeezed, thumbs circling nipples. Priya moaned softly, betraying her body. Amit knelt, lifting her salwar slightly, kissing her calves, then thighs. His fingers traced her panty line. 'Wet already,' Amit whispered. Priya closed her eyes, shame mixing with pleasure. They fingered her over cloth, making her cum lightly. No fucking, just molestation. Priya left with items, trembling. But she started thinking of them. Raj's rough hands, Amit's strong grip. At night, she touched herself, imagining more. One month in, Priya's resolve weakened. She visited the shop 'for batteries.' Raj invited her back. This time, willingly. 'Touch me properly,' she whispered. Raj laughed. He unbuttoned her blouse, sucking her nipples. Amit joined, pulling down her salwar. They licked her pussy, fingers inside. Priya came hard, screaming. Still no penetration. 'Soon, aunty,' Raj promised. She fell for them. Secret meetings followed. Priya sneaked to the shop after office. Raj and Amit took turns pleasuring her orally. She sucked their cocks clumsily, innocent but eager. 'Good girl,' Raj said, cumming on her face. Amit fucked her mouth deep. Priya swallowed, addicted now. Two months in, Rohan noticed her changes. She seemed happier, distant. He spied on her phone—messages from Raj. Jealous, but inspired. 'Maa, the camera works great. Can we make a video together? For my project.' Priya, guilty, agreed. 'What kind?' 'Just acting, maa. You as a simple housewife.' Rohan set up in their room. He directed innocently. 'Maa, pretend you're lonely. Touch yourself.' Priya hesitated but did, lifting her saree, fingering her pussy on camera. Rohan zoomed in, his cock hard. 'Now, suck this banana like... you know.' Priya obeyed, slurping. Rohan edited it into a porn clip: 'Innocent Mumbai Widow Masturbates.' He uploaded anonymously online, sold copies via dark web contacts. First earnings: five thousand rupees. Priya was shocked when he showed money. 'From your video, maa. You're a star!' She blushed but took the cash. It paid rent. Three months in, Rohan pushed further. 'Maa, let's make another. With me helping.' Priya, corrupted by shop visits, agreed. Rohan filmed her stripping, then him licking her pussy. 'Beta, this is wrong,' she said, but moaned as he sucked her clit. He entered her slowly, missionary. 'Oh, beta!' Priya's pussy gripped his young cock. He thrust gently at first, then harder. Cum inside her. Video: 'Mother-Son Forbidden Love.' Sold for ten thousand. Priya felt dirty but excited. Office life changed subtly. Her colleagues, mostly men, gossiped. One day, Ravi, her boss, watched a clip on his phone during lunch. 'Priya, is this you?' He showed her masturbating. Priya froze. 'No!' But he recognized her. Word spread. Colleagues leered. 'Nice acting, Priya ji,' one whispered. Another brushed her ass in the corridor. 'Want to reenact?' Priya endured stares, whispers. Her work suffered. But salary continued. Four months in, Rohan made more videos. Priya as maid, cleaning naked. Him fucking her doggy style, slapping ass. 'Harder, beta!' she begged. Earnings rose to twenty thousand monthly. They bought better clothes, food. Priya visited shop less, but Raj and Amit missed her. One day, they came to her chawl. 'We saw your videos online,' Raj said. Priya panicked. 'Please don't tell.' Amit grinned. 'Join us in one.' Rohan agreed, seeing profit. They filmed a group scene. Priya on knees, sucking Raj's thick cock while Amit fingered her. Rohan captured her pussy dripping. Then double penetration: Raj in pussy, Amit in ass. Priya screamed in ecstasy. 'Fuck me!' Cums filled her holes. Video sold big: 'Widow Gangbanged by Shopkeepers.' Fifty thousand earned. Five months in, office hell intensified. Colleagues cornered her in the storeroom. 'Show us live, Priya.' Boss Ravi forced her to blow him. 'Or fired.' Priya knelt, sucking his old cock. He came in her mouth. Others took turns—handjobs, quick fucks over desk. 'Slut,' they called her. Priya hated it but orgasmed. Rumors reached neighbors. Six months in, Rohan expanded. Hired actors for 'Innocent Mother in Orgy.' Priya center, fucked by five men. Cocks in mouth, pussy, ass. Cum baths. Earnings: lakhs. They moved to a better flat in Bandra. Priya quit office, ashamed. No more colleagues' abuse. Seven months in, Raj and Amit became regulars. They treated her like a queen-slave. Raj fucked her gently, whispering love. Amit rough, spanking, choking. Priya loved both. 'My masters,' she said. Rohan filmed their threesomes. Priya riding Raj's cock, Amit in mouth. Swallowing loads. Eight months in, social consequences hit. Relatives visited, saw changes. 'Priya, you're glowing. Secret?' She lied. But videos leaked more. A cousin confronted: 'Whore!' Family shunned her. Rohan comforted: 'Maa, you're free now.' Nine months in, Priya embraced it. She posed for photos, sold nudes. Rohan started a small studio. Videos featured her daily: morning blowjob to him, afternoon anal with Amit, evening pussy pounding by Raj. Ten months in, money flowed. They traveled to Goa, filmed beach sex. Priya naked, fucked in sand. Waves lapping as cum dripped. Eleven months in, Priya reflected. From innocent widow to porn star. Son's addiction cured—now he directed hers. Raj and Amit proposed living together. She agreed. Twelve months in, a year passed. Priya's life transformed. No regrets. She lay in bed, Rohan thrusting deep. 'Cum inside, beta.' Raj and Amit watched, ready for next round. Mumbai's nights hid their secrets. Priya's pussy clenched, orgasm crashing. Life was explicit, endless pleasure. But deep down, innocence lingered in her moans. Rohan pulled out, cum on her belly. She licked it clean. 'More tomorrow.' The cycle continued, year after year