I grew up in a sleepy little village of coastal India.  My name is Kamode and I was an only child of my parent.  We were not a rich family but we enjoyed a healthy lifestyle. The villagers were kind towards us and they would help us during times of distress.  We had some land for farming and we had employed a couple of people to take care of it.My dad wanted me to be educated so after the matriculation from a local school, he sent me to a city hostel.  I used to pay occasional visit to my parent but never realized that they are getting away from each other.  I was doing my graduation when I received the news that my father is marrying again.  I decided that my mother would need my support so I went immediately to my village.Although I was going to meet mom in a grim situation but it was something I was looking forward since my last visit home.  Name of my Mom was Minnoli and she was 38.  Being a house wife she was not perfect in body shape but

It is for you to decide whether I am a hero of this story or not.  Let me start from the time I was 25, and working in Dehli, away from my hometown. I was living in a shared flat and eating at cheap restaurants because of my limited pay.  One day my cousin Tarun paid me a surprise visit at my office. He was the son of my aunt Vasundra who was a real sister of my mother.  For some period of time our families were not in contact with each other.  The fact was that since becoming a widow, seven years ago, aunt Vasundra stopped meeting relatives.Tarun started by asking about well-being of my family and told me about that of his family.  About his mother he told me that she is now very religious and spend most of her time inside the house.  After supplying me with these details he came to the point proper.  He told me that he got a job in the Emirates and wanted to go there within four days.  This was a big opportunity for him and he wanted to avail

Although I am not comfortable in writing this story of mine still I want it to be known to everyone so that someone may learn a lesson from it.  I must admit that I have changed names, including mine.  I am Roshan, a 23 years old man belonging to the rural area of Gujarat (India).  I am an only child of my parents.  I was only two when my real father died.  My mom Malthi was 21 at that time.  After a year or so her relative pressed her to remarry.  She resisted initially but eventually she agreed.  The man she married was a widower and much older than her.  The only good thing was that he was a rich landlord.  Despite the re-marriage of my mom there were no more children and that was good news for me.  I remained an apple of my mom's eyes and got all the attention I needed when I was growing up.  My step-father treated me as his son and we were a happy looking family at least for the time being.After completing my early

When my father died, I was 25 and my mother was around 50.  I had one married sister who had a small daughter of her own.  This made mom a grandmother technically though she didn't looked like one.  Being the only son I was supposed to look after the family business and the household.  The household was actually ran by mom but I was supposed to fulfill its financial requirements.  I was in the age when I should be marrying someone but this was not in sight.  Just before his death my father talked to me about a couple of marriage proposals but since his death mother was silent on this subject.  I could understand her sorrow but it was hard to believe that after six months of the death of my father she was still mourning.  I wanted her to bring this topic up but I myself was not sure about my answer. Young girls my age doesn't interest me as I found them superficial and immature.  I had sex with only one woman in my life, who was a mature

As I entered into my teens I got myself attracted to the shapely pair of firm lactating breasts.  I wanted to drink milk from lactating breasts but knew well that my dream can never turn into reality.  How wrong was I.I was 17 when my father started spending days away from home.  Clearly his interest was somewhere else.  My father was a jerk because my mom was not bad looking at all.  She has lovely long black hair and always looked beautiful even when she wearing an old used Sari and blouse.  I don't think that she was a teaser but her dress up was such that it could bring back life to the dead ones.Mom wanted to win her man back at all costs.  She tried to clad seductively and cook good food for him whenever he was around.  Nothing worked.  Then one of her friend told her to get pregnant.  A new baby could surely pull her marriage together.  That was a vain idea.  At thirty six mom was not even sure that she could get

Since attaining puberty I saw my mom weeping.  As soon as something unwanted happened she started weeping.  As soon as something good happened she started weeping.  Sometimes her weeping had a reason but not always.  She had the amazing ability to weep on trivial matters like forgetting to buy something from the market.  The biggest reason of her weeping was my dad.  Any time the slightest thing went wrong, it didn't matter what, he would come home and beat the daylights out of mom.  He behaved as long the parents of my mother were alive but as soon as they died he became a different man altogether.  He started shouting at mom and beating her on one pretext or other.Since my 12th birthday I can hardly remember a single day when she wasn't weeping and dad hasn't beaten her.  As I approached my teens I started trying to protect her, but that backfired, because he would hammer the crap out of me, and then give Mom an even worse beating.

As the parents of Guru belonged to village, they married early.  Soon after the marriage his mother faced a hostile mother-in-law.  Their relationship turned so sour that one day, when Guru was four, his father divorced his mother.  He kept Guru with him, only as a gesture of male dominance.  As per village tradition his father and mother re-married soon. After his second marriage his father decided to move to a nearby town.  His mother, however, remained in the village.  He occasionally visited the village and was aware of the fact who his real mother was but not permitted to meet her.  Change, however, had the final say.As Guru turned nineteen his father died.  His step mother declined to keep him in her home.  He shifted back to his village and started to live with one of his uncle.  There, he was treated as a servant and kept busy in different chores all day.  Seeing his plight, one of his maternal uncle asked Guru to start

Like many young lads my sex life started as a voyeur.  I was an only son of my parent and both of them were working people.  My parents shifted from India to Dubai when I was 11.  In Dubai I had a friend named Robinder.  We became so close that we used to spend some nights at each other homes.  The mom of my friend was a beautiful woman named Malini.  She was not very careful in her dressing.  Robinder had no problem me watching her in different stages of dress.  We would sit in the bedroom playing as innocent people while she used to come out of the bathroom after the shower.  Unknown that we were there she would wrap a towel on her body and come out. She had a beautiful smile and long legs.  When she would see us she would smile and ask us to leave.One day we were playing 'hide and seek' with couple of other friends.  I decided to cover myself in a sheet and hide under the bed.  Usually the dirty sheets are tugged under the

Here is a brief account of rather unsettling series of events that has transpired to me recently.  When I reflect upon them, I feel ashamed.  I'm a very different person now than who I used to be, and not entirely in a good way.  I am Japio Mehta, a tall and well built Indian man.  A year ago my wife died in child-birth.  Like many other Indian marriages mine was an arranged marriage but I still loved my wife.  Her sudden death was a big blow to me.  My parents came to console me attend her funeral.  I was 28 then, so my dad suggested me to remarry.  My mom Purva, however, was not amused at this suggestion.  She told my dad that he should let me get over my grief.  Frankly speaking I was not in a mood to repeat the experience so soon.Mom stayed for another week to help me settle in life again.  On the fifth day a strange incident took place.  Mom had some back pain.  She discussed it with the house maid who told mom

I am an Indian man of 22 who lives in the city of Varanasi with his mother Rukmani and Uncle Satish.  I was 11 when my father died making me a orphan and my mother a widow.  My mother at that time was only 31.  She was not much educated so pulling the life alone was not possible for her.  Her elder brother Satish was living alone too due to the fact that his wife divorced him.  A deal was struck between him and my mother that she will look after his house and he in return will take her and my care.  My uncle was kind to me as he had no children of his own.  He was a bit bitter about women in general because he felt that his wife cheated on him.  He put certain restraints over mom so most of her time was spent inside the house, either doing kitchen work or doing puja.  She used to wear white saree only but otherwise she was a beautiful woman.  She never talk dirty words and was always polite with others.  I was her obedient son and