[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. 

[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.

[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

[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.

[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.

[garamrohan]

Thanks a lot!  

Greateful to you nobita, xfirefox, fing fing and, rocky handsome for your encouraging comments. 
So excited to know you are liking it. 
You suggestions/critics are welcomed.

[garamrohan]

He lingered there for a min and stepped down. His legs moved in leisure or maybe in reluctance. But now when I think, what I did that time surprises me more. I was crawling on my knees keeping pace with that man. He turned away and looked around, ensuring the place was secluded, and in that quick twitch at his neck, I saw his reddened eyes and the gulp at his throat, sure shot indication something nasty was cooking into his head.


We were some ten steps high from the water level, where mummy was washing clothes on a round stone purposefully carved and placed there for washing clothes. A pile of laundry which included blankets and bedsheets was beside her. 

From the improved proximity, she was better visible; but with her back towards us, she didn’t seem to notice our presence and was all engaged in her job. And that was resulting in her natural, free and somewhat careless movements as if she was at home.

She stood up, with left hand on her waist and the other wrist on her forehead, she must be catching breaths. And I could see her soft back jiggle through the neck of her blouse as she kept breathing. It was a strange feeling. As eyes turned to the man, I saw him hushing as a hot stream of air exhaled from his mouth and he did something that startled me. 

He let the blanket over him fall to the ground, and his right hand moved over the zip area  of the pants and he rubbed there, with his palm moving up and down, rhythmically, slowly.

Now it was my turn to gulp. What the hell was I really looking at? Was it sane to keep at it? Why was my blood not boiling? Self-doubt had tightened around my mind, but there was more to it — a dirty seed of curiosity had been sowed. 

I kept looking as his hands enlarged the bulge of his pants even further. His manhood looked as if towering a tent. His eyes again ensured absolute privacy and he stepped down, taking out something, probably tobacco out of the pocket. I followed along with him, seeing his troubled walk caused by the full erection he has got. He was rubbing tobacco but his eyes darted to mummy.

She resumed; hitting and rubbing the cloth on the stone, and her whole body moved, showing what she was blessed of. For the sake of washing, she had pulled up the saree till calf and tugged in it tight by the waist. That was clearly depicting the voluptuous, shapely figure she had owned — uncommon for her age. I felt ashamed of myself, for I loved her so much and respected her utmost. Never in a dream I had ever thought of her in such a mean way I was actually doing now. 

Holy shit! How could I gaze at her bodily assets; compare them with other ladies and rank her? She was my own birthgiving mother! A careless moment suffices to slip you off a moral path, had I been pulled into dirt by that bastard man? My brain was probably tethering to his? Trying to understand his thoughts and bringing his lusty feelings along?

He licked lip at her shaking buttocks through the saree, and her hand stretched back to scratch at the skin under the blouse.  As she resumed patting the cloth, the locks of bra straps slipped out from below the blouse. 

His free hand, this time the left one, again rubbed at his manhood. He descended by two more steps.

Mummy stood up, and squeezed the piece of cloth to get water out and turned back to put it in the bucket. This is the first time her eye met the man.

She stood steady and he was looking at her only, for much longer than it would suit decency, and then he turned his face around and descended to sit at the step. I kept crawling till I reached much closer to him. I was able to see him clearly from the right side. 

Mummy’s initial anxiety washed away as she cleared hair traces off her face and bent to pick up the next piece of cloth. She was searching through the big pile of clothes. It was taking her a long to scramble through it and unknown to her, her pallu got displaced to one side. Her dark blue blouse, partially wet with the water, caught the attention. 

That was such a sight! Two coconut-sized, shapely breasts were tightly held between a well stitched blouse. That deep, dark cleavage formed by milky white flesh of her mammeries was clearly visible even from the distance I was hiding at. And I clearly heard the man’s sigh. Her chestal beauty twitched his already aroused mind, and I shamefully witnessed it. 

As she stood up with cloth in hand, she again looked at him. And probably she noticed him watching, as she looked at her chest and covered her chest properly by pinch-pulling the pallu. Still she didn’t anticipate what was coming to her.

[garamrohan]

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

Thanks for the sweet words, Bhanu. Also glad to know you resonate with the kind of stories I write.

[garamrohan]

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

Thanks you bro :)

[garamrohan]

so mumma's boy plan to ditch his mother and go play with friend's had been thwarted by none other than the Rambo.

well his mother seem unbothered by unknown person's presence, unless she may have seen him before lurking and hanging around here and there and particularly those steps near the pond. otherwise any sane women would have obejcted for him sitting only few feet apart and all alone when no one is closeby. or maybe Only her son got to witness him in this situation the first time. he's a wanderer, so generally people like him are usually invisible to society.

Rambo doesn't work on regular basis or seem like it, so some random people must be offering him food or clothing from time to time as a donation gift or maybe for the services\help that rambo could be providing around the residential society, like carrying stuff, washing and cleaning, dusting houses courtyard or something like that.

intriguing so far, lets se how it all unfolds.

Another amazing update.....and that last paragraph part "two coconut size breast" amazing..... keep it up bro

Thanks a lot 


New update coming tonight.

[garamrohan]

He descended down further with a savage attitude. Of a hunter who is ready to attempt on his prey at any time. My excited, oversensitized mind felt that subtle change in his attitude, and I understood there was no possibility of him turning back. Unless, unless… somebody steps in. But who’s going to be that somebody? Me? That was the difficult question.

He coughed as he passed beside her and stepped into the river, sat and washed her face. I was breathlessly observing the act, and mummy took a few steps away from him, with wet cloth in her hand, as she noticed him sitting very close to the stone.

He coughed, cleaned his throat and just sat there on his toes. Poor mummy was hoping he would retire soon, and seeing him sit there didn’t raise alarm into her naive mind.  With her face turned to the other side, she started fluttering off the cleaned clothes to dry out those further. 

The Rambo man’s face turned to her and I could see his misaligned teeth with a yellow-brownish tint through his gaped mouth as he put tobacco in his mouth. His eyes had got uglified with overwhelming primal lust. The societal reality of him being under-privileged, and the lady working next to him coming from cultured, decent family background, all faded down for him. She was just a female, an object that felt extremely alluring to his unmet desire. The owner of beautiful, soft, warm flesh he most likely hadn’t tasted since long or ever, and he was dying to have his hands on her.

Mummy’s back, although not exposing as per the norms, was too much for the aroused mind sitting behind her. The small pits forming on her creamy back, the water droplets running over her shapely calves, crossing silver anklets to reach till her mehendi-painted heels, and alluring ripples forming on her saree-covered bottoms. He stood and quickly progressed towards her, without making noise and my heart skipped!

From just a foot he eyed her body, top to bottom; his eyes freaking amazed. And his hand moved from below, brushing her soft, fleshy bum till her waist. And she jumped!

“Ahh..” she sighed with fearful eyes, turning back to him.

He didn’t shy away, nor the hungry expression on his face faded. With excitement, his shaky hands touched her at arms, rubbed around her waist and her body kept shrinking as if getting burns. 

“Wha.. wha… what do you want?” she stammered, and while he was not going to answer, all three of us present there had understood he had absolutely liked the feminine figure standing next to him, and he was going to use it to quench his primal thirst which had become the utmost necessity of him for the moment. Breathing heavily, her hand reached for and straightened her mangalsutra so that he could clearly see it — that weak hope of her that he might turn back respecting matrimonial sanity and her chastity will be saved.

He pulled her close by waist and she bumped into him. She backed away the next moment, annoyed and faint with fear. He was certainly powerful. He immediately pierced his face into her neck feeling warmth and softness of the collar area as mummy’s gaping, fearful face struggled to catch breath. 

His face lingered there, probably his hungry mouth busy nibbling. His greying, uneven beard scratched against her delicate skin as his hands tightened around her waist. 

“What are you… doing?” she pushed him away with all force. Both were running short of breaths. She quickened her action and moved to gather laundry. He followed, touched her bums, his dirty long fingers moved on her nape and backskin visible through the blouse neck. Each of his advances flicked down by mummy’s stern hit. 

I was drenched with sweat and watching the hideous act happening in front of me as if it was a movie. Wasn’t I mature enough to run for my mother’s help? Or I didn’t want to help? 

 Mummy literally started running up the ghat, shaking and face whitened with fear. She had a bucket in her hand with laundry pushed into it in a hurry. But he was determined! Annoyed by the rejection, he followed her and held her free hand and twisted it to turn her back.

“Leave me…” she hissed, and looked around for help, but nobody happened to be there as it was 6 AM on a winter morning. He wasn’t saying a word, but his actions were detrimental, he wanted to enjoy my mummy and was not going to let her go until she satisfied him.

He picked her by the waist, again demonstrating his strength and mummy let out a weak weep, her eyes sink in disbelief for she would never have thought in dream such a thing could happen to her.  And as he rushed down several steps forcefully carrying her, the clothes from the bucket scattered across the steps. 

He dropped her to her feet and impatiently started with her. His hands rubbed, pressed, squeezed her voluptuous body as his hungry, water drooling mouth tried to come to her. He tightened his arms around her, to make her his!

“Aahhh… aaah…  nnnooo,” all she could utter, as she tried her best to save from his approaching face by turning face and using hands as an obstacle. 

He continued untiringly, his groin area was rubbing against her stomach and he was enacting intercourse activity. He forced his face towards her despite her soft hands pushing him away and he slurped her round, soft, reddened cheek. 

“Naaa..” she cried out of helplessness. His hands further tighten around her, squeezing her, claiming her. Her stomach felt his dry but powerful humps and she kept struggling to keep his face off.

He held her face, letting go of the rest of her body and went on to fully taste her beautiful face. His wide, open mouth surrounded by a messy mustache and beard craved to land on her glowing cheeks, to lock on her pink, pouty lips.  

His thrust increased and so did his sighs; I started getting to hear their hisses loudly, from several feet. With a sobbing face mummy was struggling hard to save herself, and her one leg slipped off the step, and she collapsed to one step down, near the stone where she was washing laundry.

He followed, and as she was trying to stand up, he held her by the waist and started dry-humping her bottom mercilessly, his penis was looking extremely huge now, even from over the old denim pants. And my mummy, whom I had seen countless times in this decent, beautiful peacock-blue colored saree had helplessly bent before with her bottom to him.

“Noooo…”, she grunted, under fear, shame and now throbbing pain at left knee. But he didn’t stop. There was no escape now.

His arousal reached its peak. He let her go, and unhooked his pants. And mummy escaped to go stand on the washing stone in the water. 

She was just shaking her head in denial. Her beautiful eyes became full of fear, ripe body started to shake. And her hand held pallu by mouth to suppress her own cry. 

He took a step further, and with big eyes she backed away, forgetting she was standing on a stone within the water and she collapsed in the water, yelling out with her hands waving in the air, looking for support. But who was there to hear her call, to save her? Her slippage in the water only ensured that she was surely to be looted on the day.

He undid his pants and he was all naked, with his back at me, I could only see her strong hips and lean buttocks, a thick line of whitened hair was running between his ass crack. He was probably rubbing his manhood as he watched my mummy helplessly trying to reach the bank and the next moment he dived into the river.

I was astonished. The sun was yet to rise, and fog was still around, I lost him out of my gaze somewhere in the river. And when I looked at mummy, she was terrified, anticipating where he might appear, and her fear was obvious. 

I saw him emerge from the water just behind her and he grabbed her. The two wet bodies tussled again. His mouth dug into her shoulder to taste her skin and she cried helplessly, her hands flickered and splashed the water as he nurtured on her feminine body. Her bindi was displaced, her pallu was off her shoulder and floating on the water, and her big, shapely breasts were still captive of her wet blouse and bra. Immediately his dark, long-fingered hands moved from under her arms to take charge of her chest and she could do nothing but tighten her eyes and grunt as he crushed her mounds — her pride, with her mangalsutra hanging in between.

His squeezing was full of lust and he moaned with happiness with that pleasurable feel of her mammeries in his rough hand, even through from over the fabric. He started moving his waist under the water, making mummy move along with him, probably he had resumed rubbing his manhood on her bum. 

His mind was still not content with the delight he was having with her motherly tits. He squeezed her both mammeries so powerfully that the blouse was incapable to hold it further, and some fair, swollen up flesh popped out from the collar of the blouse, with a line of black bra and an exotic bindi sized, black mole on the left breast. 

I am really ashamed letting you know how I felt. It was strange. I was disturbed, I knew it was an absolute sin happening in front of me and I should try my best to stop it. But I was afraid as well as somehow intrigued by what was happening beyond me, I couldn’t take my eyes off the scene and my mind was playing more and more imaginative and dark thoughts as commentary.

The water kept dripping out of her blouse as he squeezed further, she only howled, closing her eyes tights. And looking at that rain off her wet blouse my immature mind wondered, is it only water or he is squeezing out sweet nectar out of those big and juicy appearing tits? 

He pulled up her saree from behind and she understood what's on his mind. She started moving, trying her best to escape, her hands and legs again started splashing the water.

“Naah… nahi…” she cried and ran a couple of steps towards the ghat. The stone and the first step were just a couple of feet away, the water level fell till her knee and he was there just behind her. She hurried into gathering pallu floating on water and turned to run but it was late by that time. 

He caught her by shoulders and turned her back swiftly, she stood steady like a statue as his face lowered and fixated on her face caught between his two palms. 

Striking silence! As if nothing has happened so far. No splashing water, no hurried movements, no grunts, no cries, just silence!

The soft bell sound from the temple on the other bank of the river was the only audible thing. And with mummy’s back at me, I couldn’t see their faces or exactly what they were doing, but I could sense his mouth was in action, slanting to left, sometimes to right and sometimes straight up. Just delayed, echoing sound-cycle continued for next several minutes  —

“Chyuuuuk…”
…
…
…
“Slurpppp…”
…
…
…
“Chyuuukk…”

His hands left her face, keeping his mouth mounted on her. After a squeeze at her neat hair bun, his fingers squeezed and dug into her soft shoulders, then moved down to squeeze her waist and then settled on her bums caressing and squeezing those.

And she didn’t move! Literally no movement from her, only the jhumka (special type of earrings) in her ears dangled as reaction to rambo guys' mouth work.

When he stopped and she eventually turned, I could read from her face that she won’t run now. She was tired. She had lost the battle. Her eyes overflowing with tears declared her defeat, she had surrendered to the lust of that lewd, uncivilized but overpowering predator.

He thrusted her hurriedly to the bank, catching her by shoulders and made her lie flat nearby the first step. She laid, like an obedient girl, helplessly, with her legs towards the river and I could only see her two knees and him standing in front of her.

That was the first time I saw his cock. My god! I haven’t seen such a monster till date. It was easily longer than a typical cucumber and the head was like a big onion. That ugly and sticky tool had erupted from a thick bush of curly, black-grey hair which had spread all over his abdomen. It looked ugly and terrifying at the same time.

He came to knees between her legs and shagged his cock. His mouth was still gaping looking at the beauty spread next to him. He picked up both of mummy’s legs in the air, that was the only part of her that was coming to my view and he put hands inside her saree. Her saree slipped down, revealing her moon-fair legs, prettified by soft silver anklets and mehendi. 

He hand came up with her panty and he swiftly threw it beside. Now with clenched teeth, he started beating his cock between her legs. Her both legs were held by him to his shoulder. And his grunts had become animalistic.

And suddenly I heard both of their moans. One full of pleasure and one shaking with pain. He had entered my mummy, spoiled her and I could do nothing but watch and the worst part — it was still not bothering me as it should.

He kept ramming in her, showing no attention to her wailing. He was riding the tide of pleasure that had been out of his reach. And with clenched teeth he was moving his waist lightning fast. His big penis was definitely giving a hard time to my mummy.

“Huh.. huh.. Aah”, he kept moaning and fucking her as he licked and bite her ankles and toes. He has turned into the animal in charge who has claimed his female. His thrust increased and so did the noise.

And he started making hoarse sound, fucking into her like anything. He seemed to have reached an edge, after forcefully enjoying my mummy’s mature and one-used private place. The place from where I came to this world. That had become a fun tunnel for him, and he was  making best use of it. 

“Aaahhh Aaaah.” He moaned and jerked his body and collapsed on her. For next minute or so, I could only hear his heavy breathing my mummy’s sobbing. 

Then he stood up, put on his pants and smiled mischievously, looking below — definitely at her and hurriedly walked up the steps. As he was passing by me, I could hear him mumbling to himself - “Maja maja.. Kitna bada maja.”  (Fun.. fun.. my god, big fun!)

I stayed there — suddenly became worried about my mummy. But she took good five minutes to stand up, gather messed clothes and with tired steps and miserable face she stated walking my home’s path.
She was not the same lady that walked out of the house this morning. She had lost something extremely precious just now. Our family reputation was to doom if the thing becomes public. And how shameful, I couldn’t stop that happening.

[garamrohan]

Hello friends.

I am really happy seeing this story is so well received. For this story, I started drafting and building world around a very basic, random thought that came to my mind few days back. As you would agree, this is very tiring work. But I do enjoy writing such creative stuff and share with you guys. I would highly appreciate your comments, feedback, suggestions in return. 

Thank you again!

The next chapter - 'Didi is Home' is coming soon...

[garamrohan]

Thank you very much fing fing, rocky@handsome, nobita, farz123 and lovepookie for showing your love for the story.

Enjoy the new year update posted above!  

[garamrohan]

Thank you Nobita and Farz for your comments.

Happy new year brother. Very nice update everything happen so fast. Great update

Hello Nobita, the update may seem being written in rush and sex happening abruptly, but it is carefully planned to be so. I am pretty confident it was necessary for the plot and it won't spoil the fun of spicy, sensual things coming ahead in the story. 

And thanks for speaking your mind, please keep letting me know your thoughts/ideas.

Cheers!

[garamrohan]

a simple pious small town housewife ruined at the river bank so brutally in the morning that too in her hidden coward son's presence, then her future is already seem grim, god help this family.

now we know how this dude has gotten such a name 'RAMBO'. and he has proved it with flying marks. and it seems she wasn't his first prey. he has done this before, hence the name.

for the lady there seems to be too many things to worry about apart such a brutal act of bang, that is disease or hygiene, pregnancy, fear of going out, being alone, guilt, loss of enthusiasm and a fu**ed up psychology and on top of it all which she doesn't even know is her loss of her son (he is good as dead as when in need of time he just stood watching, when should he have died fighting for her no matter what the situation be).

lets see how she cops out with what has just happened to her, and how she faces her husband, society and especially herself.

Damn, even i didn't anticipated such an outcome, not in a long shot, writer has just surprised me. let's see what the future hold's for this family.

You are giving some serious thought to the story, friend. It's amazing and thanks for taking time to write elaborate feedback. I am hopeful the updates will unfold in way that won't disappoint you. Keep visiting.

[garamrohan]

reread the above post edited and added few of my other observations. engaging in a story is how i enjoy the story or anything that i like to read.

one way to enjoy a story is looking at it from writer's perspective, it raises my curiosity as what would and could happen, there could be so many alternative ways that this story could go, but what?

.

[garamrohan]

Update kab aayega

Next update will take time, you can expect by Sunday evening.

[garamrohan]

Didi is Home

I was totally lost. My mind was full of turmoil — sympathy for mummy and shame, guilt that I didn’t jump in to save my own mother. What a useless son I had proved myself!

I laid there watching her walk miserably, sighing in pain and burdened by sorrow. Her face was still in shock, unable to accept that such a cruel thing had happened to her, which she might have only read in the newspaper or seen in the movie. It was evident that she couldn’t even carry the bucket properly. I badly wanted to go and help her carry it, but I didn't. 

Me coming to her at the moment would have caused more damage than help. Which lady could bear her son knowing she has been corrupted? That would have made her position more awkward, the thing I wanted to avoid at any cost.

I laid there, alone, long past she had left the ghat to go home. Thinking about the incident and what stopped me from acting? Why didn’t my blood boil seeing that bastard harassing my mother? And I burst out, crying, shedding tears on the already moist grass.

—-

I tiptoed in the home, praying to god to give mummy the strength so to get out of this bad experience. My mummy was a very simple and decent lady. She was never seen quarreling with my dad or for that sake anyone, nor did she ever scold me or didi. She was truly the pious, beautiful Indian lady. A perfect wife and even better mother.

I could not find her as I walked through the house and as my heart sank; for my mind started anticipating all the bad possibilities. I double checked her bedroom, kitchen but not even a fuss. The backyard was empty as well. Oh god… tell me she hadn’t done any harm to her life, I panicked. 

I sat on my toes, catching head in both of my head and heart throbbing like it would burst. And suddenly I heard fluttering on the clothes in the backyard, I ran like anything and as I saw her putting clothes and laundry on the wire for drying, I had the most relieving feeling of my life. I couldn’t have forgiven myself, had something mishap happened that day. 

As she turned and feebly asked, in the tired tone, “Aagaye? Do minute ruko khana banati hoon.”
(“You’r home? Give me two minutes and I will prepare food for you.”) 

I just nodded in affirmation, tightening my lips to control the whine and retired into the home.

—-

I didn’t disturb her after mummy went to the bedroom for a nap. I was to skip college as Didi and Jiju were coming home for the first time. Papa had also taken a half-day leave and would be coming home at any moment. While Jiju had his own car; as they were coming from Delhi, they were commuting via train. Papa and I were to pick them up from the station which was around 2-3 km, within walking distance from our home. 

Papa entered the home with a rush as he always does. Yelling how come things are not in place and pushed me to wear new clothes. As he turned to the bedroom to wake mummy up, I stopped him.

“Don’t Papa. She is tired and her leg is swollen.” Did I convey something that I should have kept to myself? I never had been that smart. 

With a bitter expression he turned, and went to freshen up in the backyard. As I was changing into new clothes, I overheard him complaining to himself — “Whenever there is any good occasion, she always catches ill…” 
 
We were at the station at 3:00 PM as the train was to arrive at 3:30 PM. Dad was sitting beside me, on a bench, with a rigid face. Over the road he had lectured me on how to behave in the presence of guests at home. He is a good natured person, but at times annoys with his paranoid nature. As much as I know him, he was planning out ‘khatirdari’ (hospitality) for his son-in-law on his first visit.  Actually, he along with my mummy had already done the shopping — the clothes for the couple and the gold-ring for Jiju. But he was living like a typical Indian father of a newlywed girl.
   
A handsome, tall guy stood before us, with bags in hand, and it took me for a moment to recognize my Jiju. With classy goggles on, he smiled with confidence. 

“Papa… Jiju is here.” I shook papa who had lost in a trance and stood up, smiling back at Jiju. My eyes were searching for Didi but in the crowd I couldn’t see her. 
 
Papa did a heartfelt welcome of his beloved son-in-law and enquired of the wellness of his family and how the travel was. He was so overwhelmed that he probably forgot his own daughter was also coming along.

And Didi came to my eyes, walking towards us from a shop at the platform, sipping juice from the bottle; and how beautiful she looked in that black anarkali dress and large glass on eyes, both suited to her fair colour. 

She came and patted me, as we shared a truly affectionate smile.

“You look quite different, di!” I exclaimed.

“Oh is that so? Maybe you not being there testing my patience might have bettered me?” she flicked her eyebrows. 

“How cheap…” Jiju playfully hit the back of her head and suddenly I noticed why she looked so different. She had cut her hair into long bob cut; which was suiting her very well and complementing her beauty, the kind of cuts my papa never had allowed.

As we walked the path to our home, we three were talking and cracking jokes. And as I was looking at papa through the corner of my eyes, he didn’t seem happy with the changes in Didi. It was no surprise; not for me, nor for Didi.