Chapter 2
The next few days were extremely awkward in our house. Mom and I barely spoke to each other. Whenever I entered the house, she would suddenly find some work in the kitchen or the puja room. Even during dinner, when Papa was around, she tried to avoid looking in my direction. Even if our eyes accidentally met, she would quickly look away. I could see her cheeks turning pink with embarrassment.
I knew she was feeling ashamed about what happened that afternoon. The memory of her wet naked body was burning me from deep within every single moment. Every time I would close my eyes, I see her big breasts with brown nipples, her soft waist with deep navel and her hairy pussy between her thick thighs, making my dick rock hard instantly. I craved for her so badly, but I knew that I had to be careful, otherwise it would mess up everything. My mom, Pallavi was a simple, innocent, religious lady who was completely devoted to her family.
I decided that I could not let this awkward silence continue forever. I needed to talk to her, to make her comfortable with me like before and very slowly take things further to reach my ultimate goal - to fuck my sacred beautiful mom.
After few days left, on one bright morning, I greeted her with a cheerful "Good morning, Mom," trying to act as normal as possible.
She replied softly, though I could sense a noticeable awkwardness in her voice. We exchanged only a few polite words over breakfast.
That evening, when I returned home from college, Mom was busy cooking in the kitchen. I walked in and casually sat on the kitchen platform right beside her.
"Mom, what are you making for dinner?" I asked, trying to start a conversation.
"Butter chicken," she replied, stirring the gravy.
"Wow, I love butter chicken! Can you teach me the recipe, Mom?" I said excitedly.
"Sure, but you'll have to pay full attention. Next time, you should be able to make it yourself," she answered with a small smile.
"Challenge accepted!" I replied, standing up and moving right next to her.
I followed her every instruction carefully, standing close enough to smell her subtle feminine scent mixed with the aroma of spices. She seemed genuinely happy that I was showing interest in cooking and for a while, it looked like she had pushed that afternoon's naked encounter out of her mind. After we finished, I helped serve the dishes on the dining table.
"Yash, I must say, you have cooked quite well for a beginner!" she praised, taking the first bite.
"Thanks, Mom. But all the credit goes to the teacher. I just followed your instructions," I said warmly. "I really loved cooking with you. I want to learn more recipes from you."
"Sure," she chuckled. "At least I'll have a helpful assistant now."
After dinner, I helped her with the dishes, wished her good night, and went to bed, but I was not able to sleep. The image of Mom's naked, wet body kept replaying in my mind -- her massive boobs with those brown nipples, her soft belly, and hairy pussy and round thick ass cheeks. For a 45-year-old woman her figure was quite well maintained. I desperately wanted to know exact measurements of her figure.
A naughty idea struck me. Tomorrow morning, after she finished her shower, I would sneak into her room and search for her used bra and panties.
The next morning, I woke up early and waited until I heard the shower running. As soon as she went into the kitchen afterward, I slipped quietly into her bedroom and rummaged through the laundry basket. Under a maxi dress and petticoat, I found exactly what I was searching for, her used bra and panty.
I quickly stuffed them into pocket of my shorts, my heart beating really fast and I hurried back to my room, locking the door behind me.
I spread my mom's used bra and panty out on my bed like sacred treasures. Her bra was a lightly padded, baby pink in color with delicate lace borders. I had already seen her big boobs with my eyes; I knew that she didn't need much padding. The panty was of matching, soft pink color, with similar lace border and small bowlike design on front. For a simple religious woman like Pallavi, I found them stylish and raunchy.
I frantically checked the labels to discover her measurements. Bra size: 36DD. Panty: 32-inch waist and 40-inch hips.
My eyes widened in disbelief. I had always known Mom was curvy, but these numbers confirmed she was a full-blown voluptuous MILF with hourglass figure, having big tits and wide breeding hips. A figure just made for fucking.
I picked up her panty and examined it closely. There was a visible wet spot on the crotch with a thick, whitish stain made of her dried pussy juices. The musky scent hit me instantly. I brought the damp fabric to my nose and took a deep, greedy breath, inhaling the intoxicating aroma of my own mother's cunt, which reminded me of the summer nights I used to take a glimpse of her wide-open pussy, while she was asleep. It smelled so fucking good; it felt warm, slightly tangy, and purely feminine.
Unable to resist, I stuck out my tongue and licked the crusty stain over crotch of her panty, tasting her salty, intimate nectar. My cock was rock hard, precum kept oozing from it in anticipation of getting my mom's pussy.
I laid the bra and panty back on the bed, imagining my busty MILF mom wearing them, and started stroking my throbbing hard dick furiously. I was fantasizing about burying my face in her hairy pussy and drinking the sweet honey directly from the source. I came so hard, shooting lots of cum, taking care not to spoil her bra and panty.
After cleaning up and getting ready for college, I quietly returned mom's undergarments to the laundry basket exactly where I had found them.
The entire day, I was excited with constant and painful hard on, my mind was filled with dirty thoughts of Pallavi with she being the porn star of my dreams and I was fucking her in various positions.
In the evening, I went to the kitchen to help her again. I made sure to brush against her body accidentally whenever possible like my arm grazing her soft breasts, my hips pressing lightly against her round ass. She seemed pleased with my company and didn't complain. We had dinner, chatted casually about how was our day and went to sleep.
Papa was always busy with his business, frequently traveling to different cities. He rarely gave Mom the attention or physical intimacy she deserved. My elder sister was married and lived with her husband in different city, visiting our home only during long weekends or holidays.
I took full advantage of the situation and started getting closer and closer to Mom, not just physically, but romantically too. She had become the queen of my wet dreams and the center of all my fantasies. I wanted to win her heart as much as I wanted her body. I knew I had to move slowly. One wrong step could ruin everything.
The next morning, Mom called out, "Yash, hurry up! You'll be late for college, and your breakfast is getting cold."
"Coming, Mom! Just a minute," I replied, combing my hair.
I came out, sat at the dining table, and started eating. She looked beautiful as always. I decided to make my move.
"Ma, you're looking gorgeous today," I said sincerely.
"Oh really?" she replied casually while working in the kitchen. "Tell me how."
Noticing her loose and freshly washed long, silky hair, I began, "Well, your long hair really suits you."
She turned slightly toward me. "So, you mean I look gorgeous only because of my hair?"
I finished my breakfast quickly, stood up, and walked behind her. She was still standing at the kitchen platform. Without warning, I wrapped my arms around her from behind in a tight hug and planted a soft lingering kiss on her cheek.
"Ma, I'm getting late. I'll explain properly later," I whispered, pressing my body against hers for a brief moment before letting her go.
"Okay..." she replied. She was clearly unsatisfied with the answer and wanted to hear more.
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Story from Pallavi's Perspective
My name is Pallavi. I am a simple, religious woman living in Ahmedabad with my husband and my younger son, Yash. I have spent my entire life devoted to my family. My daily routine is to wake up early for puja, cook meals, take care of the house and fulfill every duty expected from me as a good Indian wife and mother.
I was a virgin on my wedding night and have never even looked at another man in all these years. My body has only known my husband. I don't have enough time to take care of myself but thanks to daily household work, I have managed to stay fit even at the age of 45.
I usually dress conservatively - wear sarees or salwar kameez, wear my mangalsutra proudly, and apply sindoor every morning as a mark of my dedication to my husband.
My husband is a good man, but for the last many years he has been completely absorbed in his business. He travels often, comes home late, and rarely has time for me. The physical intimacy that every woman needs has almost disappeared from our marriage. Still, I never complain. I have accepted it as my fate and buried my desires in prayers and household chores. But sometimes, late at night, lying alone in the bed while he is snoring beside me, I feel an emptiness, a void I cannot describe.
Yash, my 22-year-old son, has always been a quiet and respectful boy.
Everything was changed on one hot May afternoon when I had just finished my shower and realized that I had forgotten to take a towel inside the bathroom. I thought that Yash had already left house for the movie with his friends and my husband was at work, I stepped out of the bathroom completely naked, still wet from the bath. Water droplets were sliding down my body.
The moment I stepped into the hall, I froze.
Yash was standing there, completely naked too, in the middle of changing his clothes.
For a few terrifying seconds we both were just staring at each other. My eyes involuntarily dropped to his groin. His cock was rapidly swelling and rising. It was twitching and growing harder right in front of me until it stood straight up pointing directly at me. I was seeing his cock for the first time since he became adult. The sight shocked me to my core. My own son was getting an erection because of me.
I quickly tried to cover myself with one arm across my large breasts (which I barely could hide with one hand) and the other hand pressed between my thighs trying to hide my hairy womanhood. But it was useless, Yash had already seen too much. I could feel my cheeks getting red with shame.
"Yash... I thought you had already gone out," I managed to whisper, my voice trembling with embarrassment.
"I'm sorry, Ma... I thought you were in the kitchen," he mumbled.
I couldn't speak anymore. I turned around quickly and almost ran to my bedroom, getting a feeling that Yash was still watching my heavy wet breasts jiggling and my round ass cheeks shaking with every step. I slammed the door shut with my heart racing wildly.
That night, when Yash returned home late, we could barely look at each other. I felt so ashamed. How could my own son see me like that? And worse... how could his body react to his mother's naked body? We quickly went into our rooms for sleep, avoiding eye contact.
The next few days were extremely awkward. Whenever Yash entered the house, I would find some excuse to go to the kitchen or the puja room, to avoid him. Even if our eyes accidentally met, I would blush and look away immediately. Deep inside, I couldn't forget that moment the way his young, hard cock had twitched and stood up for me. It was making me feel guilty, confused and strangely seen.
After few days, things were gradually getting back to normal. Yash was making efforts to initiate small talks. I also did not like awkward silence between me and my son. He began spending more time with me. He even started showing interest in cooking and learned few recipes. He also helped me do the household chores.
For the first time in years, I felt someone was genuinely interested in what I was doing. I was enjoying his company. He made me laugh with his silly comments, and for a few hours, the emptiness inside me felt a little less heavy.
One morning he complemented me by saying, "Ma, you're looking gorgeous today." When I asked how, he answered me that he noticed my long freshly washed hair. But I wanted to hear more. But he left me on the edge.
Before leaving for college, he suddenly hugged me from behind and kissed my cheek softly. I was taken aback, but I didn't push him away. His strong young arms around me felt warm. For a brief moment, I felt desired, something which I had not felt from my husband in a very long time.
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That evening, after returning from college, I changed my clothes and sat on the sofa beside her. She was watching a reality show and didn't seem in the best mood.
"How was your day, Yash?" she asked, her eyes still on the TV.
"Good mom. I learned a lot. How about you?" I replied, pretending to be clueless.
"To be honest, it was not so good," she said, finally turning to face me.
"Why?" I asked innocently.
"Because someone walked away in the middle of a conversation this morning without giving a proper answer," she said, sounding annoyed.
"I'm sorry, Mom. I was really getting late," I apologized.
"Do I need to ask again?" she frowned.
I acted confused for a second, then smiled. "Alright, alright. I said you were looking gorgeous, Ma."
"And then I asked you to explain how. Don't tell me it's just because of my hair," she pressed, eager for answer.
"Okay, Mom. But I'll need a have closer look to explain it properly," I said boldly.
I grabbed her hand pulled her gently off the sofa and made her stand in the center of the living room. Then I sat back down on sofa and let my eyes roam slowly over her body from head to toe. She was wearing a tight yellow salwar kameez that was beautifully hugging her curves, her massive breasts and wide juicy ass. My cock instantly started getting hard into a full erection.
I just wanted to grab her by her ass and throw her onto the sofa, rip her clothes off, and fuck her senseless right there. I wanted to bury my dick deep in her sweet hairy pussy and fill her with my hot cum.
"To be honest, Mom, you really do look beautiful," I said, struggling to control my lust.
"You look much younger than most women of your age."
"Keep going..." she encouraged, placing one hand on her waist and posing slightly, which made her curves even more prominent.
"You have a charming face, beautiful eyes, and..." I paused deliberately.
"And what?" she asked impatiently.
"Ma... you have an astoundingly well-maintained voluptuous figure which makes you look sexy," I finally blurted out, staring straight into her eyes while my cock throbbed painfully.
She quickly looked away, blushing deeply. Though she was completely covered in clothes, I could tell she was remembering the day I had seen her completely naked with her big boobs, hard nipples and dripping wet hairy pussy.
"You're just making fun of your old mom," she said, trying to laugh it off.
"Not at all, Mom. You really are pretty," I replied, still devouring her with my eyes. "Dad is such a lucky man to have a gorgeous woman like you as his wife."
Her smile faded instantly. "I don't know, Yash. I don't think your dad feels the same anymore." She turned and walked into the kitchen, sounding upset.
I followed her. "Why do you say that, Mom?"
"Because he barely gives me any time these days. Why would he do that if he truly felt lucky?" she said, her voice tinged with sadness.
"That's only because he's busy with work," I tried to console her, stepping closer. "But you know what, Mom? Out of all my friends' mothers, I think you're the most beautiful." I stood right behind her and wrapped my arms around her in a warm hug.
"You really think so, beta?" she asked softly, still chopping vegetables.
"I don't just think it, Mom. I know it," I whispered, tightening the hug so my chest pressed against her back. "I wish I could find a woman exactly like you."
"That's very sweet," she replied, her voice softening. "You must have a girlfriend in college, right?"
"No, Mom. I don't," I answered honestly.
"I don't believe that. Why not?" she asked curiously.
I already had a massive hard-on from the conversation, and my cock was tenting my pajamas obscenely. Gathering courage, I pressed my throbbing erection gently against the soft curve of her ass, letting her feel its heat and hardness.
"Because most girls in college are thin and skinny... and I like voluptuous, curvy women," I murmured, my lips brushing her ear.
Her breathing quickened. I could feel her heart racing, but she didn't pull away. Her plump ass felt incredibly soft and warm against my rock hard dick. I placed a gentle kiss on her blushing cheek, inhaled the sweet scent of her hair, and then reluctantly stepped back before things went too far. I went to my room, my cock still aching.
Over dinner, I kept the conversation light and casual, deliberately ignoring the sexual tension from earlier.
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Story from Pallavi's Perspective
That evening, after Yash returned from college, he changed into his comfortable pajamas and came to sit beside me on the sofa. I was watching a reality show, but my mind was still a little upset from the morning. I had been waiting for him to complete what he had started saying about my looks.
"How was your day, Yash?" I asked, trying to sound normal even though my eyes were still on the TV.
He replied casually. When I finally turned to him and told him my day wasn't good because someone had walked away without answering me properly, he looked genuinely apologetic. I liked that he cared enough to notice my mood.
When he smiled and said he needed a closer look to explain why I looked gorgeous, something fluttered inside my chest. He pulled me gently by the hand and make me stand in the center of the living room while he sat back on the sofa. My 22-year-old son was now openly looking at me from head to toe, his eyes moving slowly over my body.
I was wearing a tight yellow salwar kameez that hugged my busty figure quite prominently. I felt a strange thrill when I saw his gaze linger on my curves. At an age of 45, I never imagined a young man, especially my own son, would look at me with such open admiration. It felt wrong, but it also made me feel beautiful and desired in a way my husband hadn't made me feel in years.
Yash told me I looked much younger and sexier than most women my age. When he was admiring my curvaceous figure, I felt my cheeks burn. Flashes of that afternoon when he had seen me completely naked flew in front of my eyes. The memory made me blush even more, but from within, I liked that he found me attractive.
I tried to laugh it off, saying he was just making fun of his old mom, but he insisted I looked pretty. When he added that his father was a lucky man to have me, my heart sank a little. I couldn't hide my sadness and told him honestly that I didn't think his father felt the same anymore because he barely gave me any time or attention these days.
Yash followed me into the kitchen when I walked away to console me. He stood right behind me and wrapped his strong arms around me in a warm hug. Feeling his young, firm body pressed against my back felt comforting as well as strangely exciting. He told me I was the most beautiful among all his friends' mothers. He even said he wished he could find a woman exactly like me. His words made me feel special.
A 22-year-old boy finding his 45-year-old mother beautiful and desirable, it was flattering in a way I had never experienced before. I liked his attention. I liked how he was making me feel wanted again after so many years of feeling invisible in my marriage.....