My name is Raghav.I've grown up in a traditional South Indian household.My father,Mohan works in Gulf, a common scenario for many families here due to the lure of better financial opportunities.
This has meant I've been living alone with my mother,Sunitha for as long as I can remember.My mother and I live alone in our house on the outskirts of town, surrounded by lush green fields that stretch as far as my eyes can see.
My mom is 45 years old but looks much younger. She has long, dark hair and piercing brown eyes that seem to see right through me whenever I'm up to no good.
She always wears traditional Indian sarees, which make her look even more beautiful.Her sarees would drape in a way that accentuated every curve, the pallu sometimes falling off her shoulder when she moves around in our living space.
I'm ashamed to admit, but as I've grown older - around 18 or so and after that also- my attraction towards her has intensified, like any adolescent.I've had times when I'd jerk off thinking of her, trying to suppress these urges by distracting myself with video games or long walks along the fields behind our house but as it generally does - thoughts always come flooding back.
I must admit, there were times I've peeped through her dressing room's slightly ajar door when she changes her saree. Guiltily, I'd sneak quick glances trying not to get caught.
But everything changed since yesterday night.The heat of the afternoon pressed against the house, thick and heavy. I'd been pretending to read on the veranda, but my eyes kept flicking toward her bedroom door--slightly open, as always.
I'd made my decision last night. Packed a bag. Told myself I couldn't live like this anymore, these forbidden thoughts twisting in my gut every time she moved through the house in that swaying silk saree of hers.
But when I said I was leaving, her face had crumpled. "Who will take care of me?" she'd whispered, fingers clutching my wrist. "I can't be alone in this house."
Now, inside her room, mom moved with that same devastating grace. The rustle of silk as her saree pooled on the floor made my pulse kick. She bent to pick up her used clothes, the curve of her bare back glowing in the sunlight.
I adjusted my jeans, fabric straining. The guilt was still there--but so was the memory of her voice last night, trembling. "Stay," she'd pleaded. And then, softer: "I'll... reward you."
A floorboard creaked under my shifting weight.
She turned.
Her eyes locked onto mine through the gap in the door. No shock. No outrage. Just that same knowing look from last night--when she'd cupped my face and promised things I hardly let myself believe.
The air between us thickened.
"Raghav." My name was a breath on her lips, the same way she'd said it in the dark. A jolt of heat went straight to my cock.
I should've left. Should've run. But my feet stayed glued to the spot.
Her fingers curled against the doorframe. Then, deliberate, she pushed it open another inch.
"Naughty boy," she murmured--but there was no scold in it. Only that unspoken offer from last night, hanging between us.
The door swayed wider.
And like a man stepping off a cliff, I crossed the threshold.
The ceiling fan's lazy rotations did nothing to cut through the thick afternoon air as I stepped inside.Mom stood by the carved teak bedpost, draped in her deep red saree--the one that clung to the curve of her hips.
Her fingers toyed with the pallu, letting the silk slither between them before tucking it back over her shoulder with deliberate grace. The blouse beneath was buttoned fully, but the tight silk betrayed every detail--the stiff peaks of her nipples, the quickened rise and fall of her chest.
"You think I didn't notice?" she murmured, strolling toward me with slow, deliberate steps. Her palm pressed flat against my chest, pushing me back against the doorframe. "The way your eyes followed the sweat trickling down my neck when I cooked for you?" Her fingers trailed lower, nails scraping my stomach through my shirt. "How your breath caught when I'd bend to pick up your laundry?"
The remaining silk whispered as she peeled my shirt open button by button, her lips brushing my collarbone between each pop. "That summer when I wore the white sari--" Her tongue flicked my earlobe. "--you nearly spilled your tea watching it turn sheer in the sunlight."
The silk of her saree brushed my bare chest as she shoved my pants down.I stood frozen, my cock throbbing as my mother let her saree slip further down her hip. Her grip closed around me. Precum glistened on her thumb when she swiped it over my tip, her other hand pulling the pallu aside to bare a breast.
"Tell Amma how long," she demanded, squeezing the base of my cock. The pet name sent a forbidden thrill down my spine.
"Since--fuck--since I first noticed your boobs through your saree, in my teenage years" I gasped.
Her laughter was low, throaty, as she sank to her knees on the rug. "Poor boy," she cooed before her tongue lashed the underside of my shaft.The contrast of her maternal cooing and the obscene slurping sounds as she took me deep unraveled me.I fisted her pinned-up hair watching tears bead in the corners of her kohl-lined eyes as she gagged on me.
When she pulled off with a wet pop, she crawled onto the bed and spread her thighs.
"Now," mom ordered, lifting her saree, "show Amma how much you want me."
I didn't hesitate. I pushed her onto the bed, the teak creaking under us. The stretch marks on her inner thighs--the ones I'd pretended not to see when she had her saree pulled up in kitchen--glistened with arousal. "Come," she panted, using that tone that used to make me drop my video game controller. "Be a good son and fuck your mother properly."
The teak bedframe groaned like it had when I'd jump on it as a child, now taking our combined weight.
Her thighs trembled as I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her petticoat, removing it and her panties both.The scent of her arousal hit me--musky, familiar and intoxicating--and I buried my face between her legs without hesitation, devouring the woman who raised me.
Her back arched off the bed, my tongue lashed her clit with rough, desperate strokes. "Yes--God, just like that--" She took off her blouse and bra and her boobs sprang free.
The taste of her was wrong and perfect, slick and salty as I drank her in, fucking her with my fingers while my tongue circled the swollen bud I had no right to know this well.Her cries grew ragged, her body tightening until she came with a choked sob, her cunt pulsing around my fingers.
I didn't give her time to recover. Rising over her, I dragged her hips to the edge of the bed.The blunt head of my cock pressed against her entrance, glistening with her wetness.
"Look at me, Amma," I growled.
Her dark eyes locked onto mine, fever-bright with shame and need, as I pushed inside in one slow, obscene thrust. She gasped, her nails digging into my shoulders as her cunt swallowed me whole, hot and tight like she was trying to take me back where I'd come from.
The bedframe slammed against the wall as I fucked her with a brutality that surprised us both.Her breast bounced with each thrust.
"Harder--" she begged, her legs hooking around my waist to pull me deeper. "Fuck your Amma like you mean it."
I obliged, pinning her wrists above her head, her gold bangles clinking wildly as I ruined her. Her cunt tightened around me, her body betraying her just like mine had betrayed me. I couldnt control any more and I came, spilling inside her with a groan.
Collapsed over her, I felt her fingertips trace the sweat on my spine."Again," she whispered, her heel digging into my ass.
Her heel pressed harder, forcing me deeper as I was still buried inside her. I could feel my own cum leaking out around my shaft, hot and thick, mixing with her slick as I dragged back only to plunge in again. Her cunt clenched greedily, sucking me back in with a wet sound that made my balls tighten.
"Don't stop," she panted, arching beneath me. Her hands yanked at my hair, pulling my mouth to hers. I bit her bottom lip, swallowing her moan as I rolled my hips in slow, filthy circles, grinding my cock against her swollen walls.
Her thighs trembled, but she rolled us over in one smooth motion.Now she rode me, her body rising and falling with desperate urgency, her tits bouncing as she took me to the hilt with every drop.
"Look at you," she murmured, grinding down in tight circles, her cunt squeezing me so hard I saw stars. "My good boy, fucking his mother like an animal."
Her words sent a fresh pulse of heat through me. I gripped her hips, guiding her faster, harder--until she threw her head back with a broken cry.I flipped her onto her stomach without pulling out, dragging her hips up as I mounted her from behind.
The first thrust punched a gasp from her. The second tore a scream. By the third, she was sobbing my name into the sheets, her fingers clawing at the mattress as I hammered into her, each snap of my hips driving us both toward ruin.
The slap of flesh was obscene, her ass reddening under my grip as I fucked her raw. I reached around, thumb circling her clit in rough, quick strokes. She shattered instantly, her cunt convulsing around me as I followed her over the edge, spilling inside with a groan.
She collapsed beneath me, breaths ragged. I didn't pull out--couldn't. Not yet.
"God, you feel even better than I imagined," I whispered, voice shaking.
"Tell me, son--how many times did you touch yourself thinking of this?"Mom asked panting.
"Too many," I replied.I pulled out and lay beside her, our sweat-slick bodies still pressed together.
The scent of sex clung to the air, the sheets tangled beneath us. She stretched lazily, the curve of her waist tempting me to reach out one last time--but the sharp click of her tongue stopped me.
"Not again." She smirked, standing with deliberate slowness, letting me drink in every sway of her hips as she gathered her discarded saree. The silk whispered against her skin as she draped it back over her shoulder.I stayed where I was, pulse still hammering, watching her fasten her blouse with practiced ease.
She caught my gaze, her smirk deepening and blew me a kiss as she smoothed the saree over her hips.
'Until next time,' Mom whispered, turning toward the door with a sway that made her ass cheeks shift under the thin material. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me alone in the rumpled sheets in my parents bed, cock already stirring at the thought of mom returning. This wasn't the end--just a pause. She'd be back, and when she was, I'd make my lovely mother scream louder than before.