Misc. Erotica ...And My Mother doesn't Remain Ours

[garamrohan]

Hello dear readers, 


Thanks a lot for the love you have given to my earlier stories. Its always heart warming to see the stories I have written getting appreciated and stand for readers. 

Today, I’m excited to begin a new story. The core idea may feel familiar, and perhaps you’ve come across similar themes before — but this time, I want to explore it in my own way, with my interpretations and twists.
I hope you enjoy reading this story just as much, and I look forward to your support through your comments and feedback. 

[Nobita]

We are waiting for the first update .....welcome back

[garamrohan]

Chapter 1 : Silence before the storm

I come from a town blessed with absolute nature — a beautiful river flowing all year through the center of the town, the group of temples on its bank, built sometime in the 16th century, and the stunning river ghat, all built with stone steps. During sunset, when the soothing, golden sunlight spreads over this area, glittering its glory, it doesn’t look less than a picture of a paradise.

Due to ample water, citizens of our town are well to do. Many do farming and produce a variety of grains, fruits and commercial crops. Our town has the biggest market of the tehsil and no wonder, there are a lot of big and rich merchants in our town. Roads are much better as compared to elsewhere, and the town has properly been planned, unlike cluttered houses seen very commonly in other towns.

Despite this prosperity, our town was a quiet place, until very recently when a road went through our town to connect a corridor on one side with a state highway on the other side. Those days of construction were miserable, polluting the breath and calmness. It took a good one year to complete the road construction.

But alas, the real pain was yet to come!

The flyover that was built caused a lot more trouble than what we had anticipated. It completely diverted the long route passengers and the many customers from outside the town, as commuting to the city twenty km ahead became very easy. 

On the other hand, the flyover became a resort to many beggars, wanderers and homeless. The entrance of our town was uglified by this tall flyover and residents under it. On top of that, many of these people started entering the market, wandering through the town, either begging or looking for some daily-wage work to feed themselves.

I don’t know about others, but I absolutely hated these people from the beginning. But my father was a bit oblivious. “Everyone has his own battle to fight, we should be compassionate, well, at least not hate anyone,” he said once when I bursted out my frustration. 

The colony where we started living just a few years back was spacious, not many constructions had happened, as it was recently plotted. But the water, electricity and road facility was all in place. Mostly middle class and upper middle class employees had booked the plots in the surrounding area. So it was supposed to be a great locality as it was proving to be. 

Like typical salary earners and pensioners, people had chosen to stay here to cut from the market noise and enjoy calmness. Many had formed gardens in the front or back yard and so the compounding was inevitable. While going to each other’s house was not a taboo, it wasn’t routine either; as it happens in typical crowded colonies and apartments.

We had repurchased a house which was in a good condition. It was not an RCC building — a one-storied, spread out, sand and bricks construction it was! The roof over most of the rooms was tiled, only the newly constructed storeroom in the backyard and one more room has iron sheets at the roof. 

The plot had a strong wall compound of 6 feet height from three sides of the house, while the front side, including the verandah was all open. The road was hardly 50 feet from our front door. The river, the marketplace, even college and colleges were within 15 mins walking distance from the house. The only issue was the bathroom and toilet was not attached, but everyone in the family was okay with that.

In fact all our family, including me and my sister, had fallen in love with this house of ours. Ours is a family of four - My father Dhiren, mother Madhurima, Sister Minakashi and myself - Rohan. 

My sister got married this January, leaving only three of us here. It was not planned, she wasn’t fully ready either. But the rishta (groom) was so good that everybody agreed. Minakshi didi is in the last year of her B. Tech and was doing an internship in a firm, which she still continues to do. This was the only condition she put forth to the handsome and successful Jiju (brother-in-law) of mine which he readily agreed on.

I am a decent guy, still completing my studies, and have an absolute obsession with sports. I also play cricket for the team my educational institute has. While dad feels it's a total waste of time, he never stopped me from pursuing it, and I also attend professional cricket coaching in the town only.

The story I am going to narrate now, rather I cannot keep myself from telling, is the tale of the terror and grief that I have been experiencing since the last few months. I am not able to find a way out of this web, so I am hoping to relieve some burden off my wounded heart. I hope you will bear with me across the narration. 

[garamrohan]

We are waiting for the first update .....welcome back

Thank you Nobita bro :-) Next update will come soon.

[Rocky@handsome]

Nice Start!! Please Give Regular Updates!!
❤️❤️❤️❤️

[Nobita]

Very nice start .....well written ...this font looks good but I find difficulty in reading with this font please change this font

[aravindkkumar08]

Can you repost the story with normal.font unable to read

[garamrohan]

Corrected the font. I don't know how it got switched to this weird one. Was looking fine on pc, but messed up on mobile view

[Projectmp]

Amazing start garammohan sir. Always been a fan of your creativity and contribution to this world of erotica. Eagerly waiting for next updates.

[Fing fing]

Please do not forget to add pics and gif for making story even sexier and engage reader more......

[Givemeextra]

Good start. Eager to read the pain/suffering of Son and Enjoyment of Mom

[Bhanu180]

Finally u have started.
I like the way of ur telling stories in a non consensual way...as in the beginning woman will be doubtful, unwilling and somehow after some scenarios they will happily mate with them...leaving the family members in jolt
One of the underrated writers u are...Just Keep going

[Nobita]

Waiting brother

[garamrohan]

All eyes were fixed on me; full of hope. It was the last ball and I had to drive it across the boundary to win. I had beaten a good 16 runs on the last five balls, and this victory would have been celebrated for days, if it happened. I could feel my palms sweating as I reassured my grip, whirled my eyes to look for the gap, as the bowler started the run.

“Common Rohan… You can do it man,” Cheering from the team standing by the boundary on the other side.

I concentrated, took a deep breath, and positioned myself to take a big hit. Unexpectedly; it came as a full-toss, and I struck it with full might. The crowd chirped like anything - clapping, yelling; and I started running – relieved – looking at the ball that was bound to cross the line as a fielder hopelessly followed it.

And suddenly he came as an obstacle!

“Iski maa ki…” He signed.    
(“Aaah fuck..” He signed.)
 
The opposite team started laughing and dancing next to us, celebrating the saved boundary and I started walking, frustrated, clutching my teeth and holding the bat tight, thinking of giving that bastard some good whipping. 

“That the fucking Rambo guy it seems… that bastard.” A couple of my team members fiercely ran toward him and I followed. By the time I reached him, my friends were tussling with him and he was pushing them apart. He wasn’t saying a word and just hissing as he pushed them while my friends were slagging on him. 

“Matherchod… match hara di tune,” my friends were cursing him. 
(“Motherfucker… you caused us to lose the match.” my friends were cursing him.)

I whirled my bat in full force and I was to hit it on his leg and suddenly our eyes met.

His eyes! There was something odd and wild in his powerful eyes that paralyzed me. I was standing like dumb as my heartbeat rose up.

And I just stood there watching him. Dressed in old and torn clothes, and discoloured dirty jeans, that broke-man, whom the boys used to tease as a Rambo , walked carelessly on his path, flicking away my friend like flies. He didn’t appear particularly hygienic. His skin was rough, and scaly, probably due to extreme weather and his own negligence. White hairlines were visible on his messy hair, but still it was difficult to guess his age, especially due to the physique he has got. While it was pun to say him Rambo, he has got lean and strong build like a martial artist. While he used to beg, I had also seen him picking up grain sacks in the market.

I left the ground with my friends, full of grief and a strange feeling of curiosity about that man.

[garamrohan]

It took nearly an hour to track down everything on Mummy’s list, navigating the crowded stalls until the bags on my shoulders felt heavy with the weight of potatoes and grains. Task complete, I decided I deserved a reward. I headed straight for my favorite pani-puri stall, the alluring scent of tamarind water was pulling me in like anything.

"Make it as spicy as you can," I told the bhaiya, desperate for the burn of the chili to distract me from the lingering frustration of the match.

I was just about to pop the first hollow, water-filled shell into my mouth when a heavy hand slammed onto my shoulder, nearly making me choke.

“Akele akele? Eating all by yourself?”

I spun around to find Vicky and Sumit standing there, wearing identical, devilish grins. I groaned inwardly, but I couldn't help a small smile. "Fine, fine," I muttered to the vendor, gesturing for two more plates. 

We stood around the thela, the evening air cooling our skin while the fiery pani-puri heated our palates. We talked about everything and nothing—the neighborhood gossip, a movie someone had seen, a joke from class. And suddenly Sumit burst into laughter. We turned our heads in the direction he was looking at.

There he was - about twenty feet away - the man we teased as Rambo stood facing a brick wall. A bright, Hindi movie poster had been pasted there, and he was staring at it as if he had lost himself in another world.

It was obvious what he was looking at. The poster showed the movie's actress in a bold, revealing backless blouse, looking back with a seductive expression. He stared at her so hard it seemed like he had forgotten the noisy market was even there.
Vicky made a crude joke and started laughing, and Sumit joined in. But as they laughed, I felt an uncomfortable knot in my stomach.

I knew it was just a natural human instinct, but seeing it felt strange and wrong. It was jarring to see a man in such a miserable, broken state; someone who barely had a roof over his head; still having the same desires as any other man. Seeing him dream sexually about a woman like that while standing there exposed me to the reality I didn't want to think about.

[Nobita]

Very nice buildup bro ....nice update

[Pvzro]

Keep going nice

[garamrohan]

Chapter II : The Attack

I couldn’t sleep well that night. In my dreams, I was wandering between the ground to the home and then to the market. Boys kept teasing me for losing the match at the last moment and I couldn’t reason enough to convince them and wash out my own guilt. 

At home, I could ‘feel’ mummy’s resent for me, for not keeping my words through all the actions. She wasn’t speaking it loud — she never does, but I was feeling it somehow, and sadly couldn’t even agree to help her out.
 
And then there was the "Rambo" guy.

He kept flickering into my mind like a worn out film reel. One moment he was smirking at me, his eyes mocking — was that block intentional? Did he mean to ruin it for me? And the next moment I was able to see him from back, lost in the beauty of a seductress on a b-grade movie poster. Boys laughing in the background, but that got suppressed by his loud hisses, as those were on the ground when we attacked him. The only difference being he was looking at the poster, and he wasn’t angry at all; he was excited.
It was all evident from subtle shaking of his body, his heavy breaths and grunts. I kept feeling “his” excitement between my legs and I kept getting hardon over the night. 

“Rohan… Wake up babu.. It's already 5:45.  Aren’t you going to practice? It will be very good of you if you help me wash blankets dear.”

That call from mummy as she was collecting all the laundry and buckets made me stark awake. 

“Damn, it's already 15 mins late.” I cried to myself but stopped. I couldn’t get the blankets off. My manhood was erect, and mummy was next to me.

“Babu, at least carry this laundry to the ghat over your bicycle. I will quickly make tea for your father and will follow you immediately.” She left for the kitchen and I ran to the washroom in the backyard.

I freshened up, and before hearing another request, pulled on my jersey and loaded a cricket kit over the carriage and started paddling the cycle.

“Babu… wait.” Mummy’s sweet call followed, but I ignored it.

I raced the bicycle towards the east, and took first right to turn towards the south — the way to the market and colleges. The opposite route of this, towards the north, was leading to river ghat. When I was taking one more right turn in the next square, I saw the Rambo man standing by the shutter of a grocery shop. He had wrapped a torn blanket around him and was rubbing his hands for warmth and cravingly looking at the poster pasted on a nearby public toilet. 

It was the same B-grade movie poster we caught him looking at last evening. 

I had already crossed him, but curiosity made me stop and I jumped off the cycle. He looked really aroused and sexually frustrated. It seems, understandably, he was a wanderer without any family. And this erotic, cheap poster had awakened male inside him. 

Shouldn’t he shag up and relieve himself? I thought to myself. Masturbation had been routine for me by then. Oh man! But does he know about sex and all in the first place? Is he of sane mind? Another thought came to my mind as I was slowly taking steps while my head turned back looking at him only.

And suddenly I realized he had got his eyes off the poster and he started looking at something else towards the road from which I had come to cross him. He straightened like a dog in attack mode and walked at a fast pace towards the north and disappeared from my gaze. I wondered what he saw, and walked a few steps and stopped. 

The sudden change in his position sparked curiosity in my mind about what he really saw, and what was so special in it for him to get out of trance of looking buxom, poster-lady he was lost into? 

I thought something and turned back walking still with the cycle in my hand. And when I reached the square, the road was all empty. I could see  nobody on the road but him. Confused, I followed him a few more steps and from the darkness of the dawn and fog film, what I saw twitched my stomach. 

My mummy was walking the road towards the ghat, with a laundry bucket at waist, and in her peacock blue saree with pallu on head, as she always walks outside the house.

My brain got frozen for a moment. This was least what I anticipated to have garnered Rambo guy’s attraction. But there was no one or nothing else on the road as I looked around and it was evident the guy was following her only.

I felt a rush of heat running through my body on that cold morning. I was confused, in a complete denial mode. Knowing the man was sexually aroused and looking at an explicit image at one moment, how can suddenly he start following my mother?

Does that mean….

The guess was dark, raw and illicit and hence forcing me to follow for confirmation.
 
I was tiptoeing, keeping enough distance between us so he won’t even doubt. As he started stepping down the steep ghat steps, I waited for a good two minutes to ensure he would go down enough. And then I parked my cycle in the bush beside the road and slowly followed him. I intentionally didn’t walk the steps, rather I dodged and moved along greenery that erupted on the side of the path. I didn’t want to come to anyone's eyes - his, mummy’s or anyone else’s. 

He was halfway down the ghat, and I was just a few feet behind him, under a bush, and I could hear the splashing sound of laundry getting washed. I looked down and in the thick layer of fog of the early dawn, I could make out a womanly figure — she was mummy, indeed. 

And when I turned my face to the guy, I was stunned. His gaze was fixated to her only. He was spellbound looking at her from the much taller position; and the worst part — I realized his breathing racing up, hot steams coming out of his mouth with his audible hisses. 

He was getting on heat and I started shaking, my hands and feet turned cold for what dirtiest thing I had anticipated was turning out to be true.

[Nobita]

Very well written brother.....your writing skills are always best ....keep going

[xfirefox]

nice and erotic