Tag: son

After my mom and I returned home, we saw our servant waiting for us in the living room cutting some vegetables. When he saw my mom's condition, he kept staring at her with lust-filled eyes. His hungry eyes were fixed on the side of her wet blouse that was clinging to her mature body. Also, her hair was in a severe mess and I'm sure that seeing her in such a nasty state, this low-class servant had some idea as to what she had been through. My mother then quickly went to the bathroom to have another shower. I was tired after having that immense orgasm and so I went to my room and slept off.I woke up in the afternoon when it was close to 3 pm. The reason I woke up was because I heard male voices coming from our downstairs living room. I was surprised because Haria was scheduled to finish his work by 2pm and leave. But I realized later that the male voice I heard didn't belong to Haria or even my dad. It was the voice of Shyam Uncle who had been spying on my mother this morning, when she

After that failed ejaculation attempt, I was really pissed off. I wondered what caused my mother to react in such a way. What did she see out the window? I quickly straightened myself and went to the balcony. There I saw him! It was Shyam Uncle - the same perverted old man whom my mom and I had met a few days ago during that trip to the market. To recall, he was a man in his mid-fifties, with an ugly face and rugged features. His house was directly opposite to ours and the window through which he was looking was directly opposite to my mom's dressing room window. He must've seen everything! The way mom was holding those window grills - her naked tits swaying against Haria's rhythmic squeezes and strokes - was so lewd and the "kamuk" expression on her face must've been awfully sexy. I was getting hard again while imagining this old pervert jerking off to the sight of my mother's hot luscious naked body.Meanwhile Haria having released his load was now extremely worried about my mother's

My mom was in trouble. My mom seemed quite upset after that time when she fucked with the tailor and that brute, Haripada. But I also new that deep down inside pits of her womanhood, she was writhing for more male touches. The day after that incident, Haria - our new servant - arrived at our house. Our main door was unlocked and thus, he was able to enter the house. I was in my room studying, when I heard footsteps as though someone was walking up the stairs. I quickly jumped out of my bed and saw that it was our interim servant. He was wearing a light yellowish kurta and a white dhoti. He had entered the house and walked up the stairs until he reached the second floor.Meanwhile, my mother was in the bathroom taking an early shower. I could clearly hear the water pouring from inside the washroom and my mom singing a bengali song with her sweet voice, just like a koel sings in the spring. When Haria heard that, he called out, "Didi. Didi." The volume of his voice was so low that even I

Hi, my name is Arijit Guho. I'm a 22 year old guy from Calcutta. This story is about my mom - Shikha. Shikha is a housewife. At 42 years old, she is somewhat wider on the curves, slightly fatter along her waist as expected from any bengali housewife of her age. She has a beautiful face though, she has fair skin with no marks on her face and very few marks on her body. She has protruding lips just like Angelina Jolie which accentuate her pretty face. Ours is a wealthy family. My father is a rich businessman who remains out of the city most of the time. He comes home only once or twice a month.My mother has a lovely figure - 36DD-28-40. Her boobs have not at all sagged. Despite her age, they are quite stiff and her nipples seem to poke from her blouse whenever she's at home and not wearing a bra. Her most alluring feature has to be her ass - the cheeks are plump as melons and lewdly sway like the tides whenever she moves. Her navel's quite deep and whenever she wears a saree, somehow or

My name is Raju now a 16 year old budding boy living with my mom and dad. My Elder Sister,Priya was elder to me by 8 years. She was married to a software engineer in Bangalore.It was the month of may, I was having my school vacation. Priya Sister called one day saying that her Husband received a direct order from his office in Europe. She asked mom to come and stay with her since the place where she stays is remote from the city and isolated without any neighbours nearby. Mom said she would come there the next day with me. Unfortunately my mom and dad had to go to Madurai the next day in order to attend a funeral of a close relative. Mom told him "Raju go to sister's house and stay there for three months till your vacation". Mom asked him take his school books so that he can study when it gets bored. Mom also told that she would come there next week..I took the night train to Bangalore. While on travel I remembered about my elder sister(akka). My Akka looks like Hollywood actress

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

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.