This is a print version of story FOR HER HUSBANDS SAKE by sexaddict66 from


8.15 pm, The Bungalow

"That was exquisite," said Prem, smiling approvingly at the panting duo that lay, arms entwined, chests, bellies and pubic regions still in copious contact, on his lavish queen-sized bed. The male was a good-looking athletic young man of 18. More than his body, his youthful face was a dead giveaway that he was significantly younger than the female. This is not to say that the woman looked over the hill -- far from it. Had she looked like most other 41 year-old women, she would not have found herself f***ed to make this choice. If you could call it a choice....


The woman was, to put not too fine a point on it, a beauty. In her youth she had made more than a few hearts and cocks flutter with her angelic features, large, innocent dark brown eyes and fair complexion. Almost never had a blemish crossed her flawless light brown Indian skin. She was irresistible and had known it almost as long as she had been alive. Known it since she had known that men cherish beauty in a woman, and very little else. Seen it, felt it, in the naked hunger in the eyes of boys and men who had clumsily tried to woo her. Known it in the reproachful gazes middle-aged wives gave their husbands when they caught them staring at her lush, youthful breasts - breasts that she exposed as much as she could without inviting the wrath of her protective Indian parents.

Her father, bless his soul, used to get particularly distraught when she strutted around in her short skirts, leaving her calves, knees, even a hint of her thighs exposed to the servants. "My c***d, you are a beautiful girl, and that is the greatest gift a woman can be born with in this world. But if you're not careful, your beauty could become a curse, and your father knows this," her mother used to tell her, explaining her husband's distress at his daughter's attire when she went out with her 'friend' to the movies, or visited her tutor's house with her blouse cut a little too low. Her father's fears would been justified on both these occasions, though -- for his daughter, classic Indian beauty, had an appetite for sex that Indian women are simply forbidden to...

She had a protective father; that was for sure. But even in his eyes, in those rare moments when he dropped his guard a little and saw his daughter revealed in front of him as not his little girl, but a woman, she had seen that same fire. And then she had known...

Her father was a good man, and had tried to make up for these lapses by turning to Lord Krishna, losing himself in his meditations, trying to erase those wicked, forbidden thoughts about his daughter that grew even more frequent as she matured and became a mother at 23, and went from exquisite adolescent beauty to voluptuous young mother, the pride of her successful business executive husband and the envy of his friends.

Her husband Raj Chopra knew that he had struck gold when he managed to hit it off with Aarti, the most popular girl in college, widely hailed as the finest piece of ass to have adorned the classrooms of that venerated institution; the girl who hardly seemed to have the time to study, yet always finished near the top of her class. There is an unfortunate tendency in Indian society to attribute whatever academic and professional success women enjoy to their looks, yet in this case the male chauvinist pigs would have been dead right, as the satisfied cocks of several professors would surely have attested, had cocks been endowed with the ability to express gratitude for the expert attentions of young female students.

Anyway, Aarti had never been particularly interested in a career, knowing that she would never need one to support herself. This is not to say that she married her husband just for financial security. She was crazy about her husband. He was her companion and her lover. She loved him and adored his cock and his fucking, and she adored even more the beautiful boy that had resulted, and who had grown to be strapping young lad of 18.

The approach of middle age had not inhibited Aarti as a sexual being, and she took good care of herself and her gorgeous figure. Married or not, being attractive to the male gaze was a part of herself she was going to hold on to as long as she could.

Although her husband's long business trips f***ed her to look outside marriage from time to time to satisfy her voracious sexual appetite, she was always discreet: The young lads of 18 and 20 who delightedly attended to this stunning MILF did not need to be told twice that if they shot their mouths off about their sexual exploits, Aarti's pussy would be forever closed to them.


Aarti would have been the first to admit she was not a saint, but if she had been informed that evening of just what she would be doing less than a couple of hours later, she would have said that karma was being pretty fucking harsh on her.


6 pm, The Chopra Residence

Aarti was bored. Her husband, Raj, had not responded on his cell phone when she had called to ask when he would be back. Work had been particularly taxing on Raj lately, and they hadn't been having much sex. Even when they did, Raj had been too tired to really satisfy his wife.

When their son was asl**p in the next room and Aarti reached across and slipped her hand down her husband's shorts, caressing his dick, Raj would either turn away, saying, "Not tonight, jaan," or let out what sounded like a sigh of resignation, lie on top of his wife of 19 years, slip off her nightdress, and slide into her. Just when Aarti was getting worked up, her heart rate accelerating, her hips beginning to get into the rhythm of her husband's thrusts, her husband would tense up, back arched, and deposit his semen into his partner. And then he would roll off without a word. No lingering post-sex cuddling, no looking deep into her eyes and telling her how much he loved his jaan. It had been ages since her pussy had been treated to the attentions of her husband's tongue.

These past few weeks, it was almost as though she had become a sl**ping bag for her husband. sl**ping bags. Where was it she had read that most Indian men treated their wives like sl**ping bags? It seemed her marriage was fast turning into an Indian cliché.

She didn't really blame her husband though. She knew her husband would never be unfaithful to her, and Lord Krishna knew his job had been a killer lately. With their son, Vikram, due to graduate from school in four months, the pressure to save up enough money and get Vikram a good education, maybe even send him to the United States, was definitely on.

Vikram. If there was one thing Aarti loved even more than sex or her husband, it was her son, her beta. At 18, he was physically near his peak, and took after his father in his built. He stood 5 feet 10 inches tall, and carried his athletic physique with the confidence of a boy who knew he looked good. He had inherited his mother's angelic face and his dreamy brown eyes had made more than one young woman go week in the knees. He had never had a steady girlfriend, though he had made out on a number of occasions and even received oral sex from a classmate once. But he hadn't 'gone all the way' yet.

"Umm, I've done... you know... stuff, but I... haven't done it yet," had been his embarrassed reply when Aarti had pressed him on the subject. Vikram and Aarti were close, always had been, but like most sons, Vikram was a tad shy when it came to discussing sexual matters with his mother. Aarti thought it was adorable how her son's cheeks went all red whenever she broached the subject of intercourse, and she derived a peculiar guilty pleasure watching her beloved boy squirm in front of his mommy.

In some of her more unguarded ruminations, she had found herself wondering if there might not be more to Vikram's embarrassment than the modesty of a son. She had on more than one occasion caught her son staring at her. He would leer at her generous bust and her perfectly rounded calves after kissing his mother good morning when she was in the kitchen, still in her nightgown, and quickly turn his gaze away when Aarti looked directly at him. However, she had never reprimanded him.

It was always refreshing to be reminded she was beautiful, even if the reminder came in the form of a sizeable bulge in her offspring's shorts. Besides, like most Indian mothers, Aarti was fairly intimate with her son, and it seemed inevitable that her son's raging adolescent hormones would occasionally let this emotional intimacy spill over into his sexual thoughts.


Aarti happened to be thinking about her son at that moment, half-lying on her bed in pajama bottoms and a tank top and flipping through the pages of an inane Bollywood magazine, when her cell phone rang.

It was Raj. Expecting he was calling to inform he would be working late yet again, she sighed, reached out and answered the phone.

"Hi, honey."

"This is not your husband, bitch."

"Hey, who is this?"

"Shut up and listen. We have your husband. If you want to see him alive, listen very carefully to me."

Aarti gasped. She calmed herself with a deep breath.

"Go on," she said, unable to keep her voice from quivering.

"Firstly, no police business, you understand? It's pointless, and will fuck things up for me, for you and especially your darling husband. Now, take down this address." The voice dictated an address on the outskirts of the city.

"I want you and your son here by --"

"My son? Why-"

"Don't interrupt me, you cunt. I was saying, I want you and your son at that address in one and a half hours. Don't be late. Also, there is to be a dress code for our little rendezvous. You are to wear that red halter top and mini-skirt your husband so loves --"

"But how do you-"

"Next time you interrupt, I swear I'll carve your husband's balls out. Your husband told me. I asked. Wear a black tank top, the mini-skirt, and stiletto sandals. Also, a black bra and panties. Your son will wear faded jeans, blue t-shirt and sneakers. He can wear whatever underwear he likes. No jewellery, watches, wallets or cell phones, both of you. Understood?"

"Yes. But why-"

"Consider it one of the many whims of your husband's a*****or. I'm sending you a photo of your husband, in case you doubt me. It's an hour and a half's drive from your place." He hung up.

Aarti sat up straight on the bed, her back unusually straight and her mouth half open in a bewildered gasp. Too many thoughts were running through her mind, threatening to overwhelm her. She tried to calm herself using her usual method - thinking happy thoughts. Unfortunately, her happy thoughts involved her f****y and thinking of her wedding day only brought thoughts of her husband, bound and helpless in her mind's eye: her husband being tortured and killed, the chopped up pieces of his body being delivered to her by mail...

She slapped herself hard, bringing herself back to reality. She checked her cell phone. True to his word, the bastard had sent a photo of her husband. He wasn't bound or gagged, and did not appear to be in any physical discomfort. Two masked men with guns flanked him on both sides though, in what appeared to be a fairly large, well-lit room.

Whoever this guy was, he meant business. But what did he want from her? He didn't ask for any money - Just her presence and her son's presence in specified attire at a certain place at a certain time. Maybe they would get further instructions once they reached the address.

Or maybe there was another explanation. One in which her own extraordinary attractiveness and her son's good locks were of salience. Aarti was not naïve, and she knew that people had fetishes...

For an instant, an image of her naked son pumping his dick into her, her legs wrapped around his ass, her breasts crushed against his broad chest, his eyes boring deep into his eyes, his boyish features twisted with indescribable ecstasy as he fucked his mother missionary style, flashed through her mind. For a second, her whole body seemed to be on fire, and then it was gone. She felt giddy, and could feel the beginning of sweat forming on her forehead. What the fuck was wrong with her?


Vikram was a good boy, but like all teenage boys, he had a dick that demanded attention. And giving his dick proper attention was exactly what he was doing when his mother received that fateful call. Blissfully unaware of happenings in the room adjacent to hers, he was sitting in front of his laptop, erect cock in hand.

Though he had enjoyed making out with girls his age, he had never attempted to complete intercourse with them. He wanted his first experience to be memorable and somehow none of the girls he had fooled around with, gorgeous though they might have appeared to most, had made the cut. When he finally had sex he wanted it to be with an alluring, voluptuous woman. Someone not merely attractive but exquisitely beautiful. Someone like his mother...

He was usually capable of shutting off these sinful thoughts when they came to him. Sometimes, though, he would allow the fantasy to take over, and log on to one of the many porn sites offering the sight of 40-somethings debasing themselves in front of the camera with a dude half their age. He would open one of these videos, usually one with an Indian MILF. As the scene unfolded, his cock would grow stiff, and he would wrap his palm around it and start to masturbate. He allowed his imagination to take over, imagining that the curvaceous woman of forty on his screen was not some unknown chick fucking for money but his beloved mother. At this point his penis would become even larger and he would come close to the brink.

It was exactly at this point that he heard his mother knock on his door. Had it been even a second later, he would have reached the point of no return and been f***ed to clean up in a hurry. Thankfully, that wasn't necessary. He hurriedly closed the porn site that had been open on his screen, gathered his sizeable penis inside his underwear and walked to the door.

"Hi, mom."

"Beta, something's come up."

Vikram looked up at his mother's face and immediately knew something was wrong. Worry was writ large on her face. Her brows were furrowed, her forehead was sweaty, and her stricken expression conveyed that bad news was coming.

"It's about your father. He's been k**napped."


"Yes, it's true. And your k**napper wants the two of us to meet him in two hours' time."

"Let's call the police! They will take care of him."

"I don't think that's a good idea. The man sounded like he meant business, and he sent a photo." She showed her son the picture of his father the man had sent.

He looked up. "What does he want from us? Money?"

"Maybe. Or... yeah, it's got to be money."

"But it doesn't make sense! I mean, we're well off and everything, but we're hardly the richest people in the city."

"I know, beta. Now is not the time to think of these matters. It's one and a half hour's drive to the place at rush hour, which leaves us fifteen minutes to get going. He also said that you are to wear a blue t-shirt, faded jeans and sneakers."

"What the hell for? Do you have to wear the same clothes too?"

" He told me to wear something else. Anyway, get dressed. I'll go and get ready too."

With that she left him staring bewildered after her.


7.30 pm, The Bungalow

The Corolla pulled up the driveway of the house the mother-son duo had been instructed to arrive at. The house in question was a spacious bungalow in one of the more deserted parts of the outskirts of the city. The street was a cul-de-sac, and none of the 4 or 5 other houses there appeared to be inhabited. Just the sort of place, in other words, where activities of an i*****l nature could be conducted without interference.

The driver killed the engine, and a pair of shapely legs, clad in a very fetching miniskirt, leg muscles accentuated by the stilettos, emerged from the driver's side. The driver's torso was covered in a tight-fitting, low-cut halter top that finished several inches above her belly and exposed a good part of her. Simultaneously, this strikingly attractive woman's very handsome son dressed in typically boyish clothes came out from the other side. Inside the bungalow, Prem smiled. They looked perfect, and the anxiety on the woman's face gave him a hard-on. He gave a signal and the front door was opened.

"Welcome, dears," Prem positively gushed, proffering Aarti a handshake . "Where's my husband?" Aarti ignored the outstretched hand.

"All in good time, love. Please come in first."

A short, scruffy-looking man with a pistol shoved under his belt came forward and frisked mother and son. He took his time with Aarti, running his hands down her calves, slipping them under her skirt to massage her thighs, even squeezing her fleshy breasts, before appreciatively squeezing her arms.

"All good, sir," he said, his leering still gaze fixed on Aarti.

"Great." Prem led them into a spacious living room and gestured them to sit on a sofa.

"Your husband is in this house. Don't bother, he can't hear us from here," stopping Aarti with her mouth still half-open.

"Now, I want the two of you to do me a favour," Prem went on.

"Meaning?" asked Vikram.

"I think your mother has a pretty good idea, and so do you, I fancy."

Vikram gulped. Like his mother, he was no fool, and his apprehension had been building ever since he had seen his mother step out of her room in the kind of outfit street whores usually wore. When he had asked her why she thought his father's a*****or wanted her dressed like that, she had merely shrugged, but her eyes had betrayed her fear.

Prem continued. "I want the two of you to perform. Sex, that is. I want you, mother and son, to fuck each other's brains out while I watch."

"What! Are you crazy? You expect me to ... have sex... with my own son?"

"Spare me the outrage. You know you have to do what I tell you, or your husband never sees the light of day again. Besides, you might enjoy it."

Vikram cast his eyes downward, his lips trembling. Next to him, his mother cut a similarly bleak figure.

"Come on, you two. It's not like you have any other option. You're going to fuck no matter what, so you might as well try to enjoy it a little. Follow me."

Both mother and son, along with the armed man who had frisked them, followed Prem into a bedroom. Vikram and Aarti both bore stricken looks on their faces. The armed man, on the other hand was grinning from ear to ear, and staring at the sluttily dressed 41 year-old had caused a tent to form in his trousers. Aarti recoiled at the prospect of being naked with her son under the lecherous gaze of these creeps.

In front of them was the bed they were to commit the unholy act on. Queen-size, with white sheets and a lush pillow, it was the kind of bed that honeymooning couples used for their nightly frolics. That's exactly why Prem had chosen it for the night's main event.

"I'm guessing I'll have to choreograph you two lovebirds a little bit at the start. After that, unless you want my assistant here to join in the fun, I want you two to get into it in all earnest. Understood?"

Vikram looked extremely nervous, like he might cry at any moment. A reassuring glance from his mother made him nod his head and bite his lip.

Aarti nodded at Prem's instructions. She had been dreading this moment, but right now she felt strangely calm. She knew that this was not her fault; there was nothing she could have done to avoid this moment, and now that she was in this situation, she found herself accepting her fate with composure. She could do worse than her son when it came to finding a sexual partner, a small voice in a dark corner of her mind told her. What she was really worried about was how Vikram would pull through. Would he be damaged for life and become like one of those serial r****ts whom you later found out were abused when they were young? Her son might be an adult, but he was a virgin. And here he was, about to have sex for the first time - with his mother.

"Vikram, take your jeans and underwear off. And your socks and shoes too," rang out Prem's command.

Vikram complied.

"Ha! Who would have thought? You're already beginning to have an erection! Now sit on the bed."

His face red, he lowered his ass to the bed, his penis, already almost 6 inches long at a half-erection, jutting out between his legs.

Prem turned his attention to Aarti. "Take your top off and undo your hair. Give your son a blowjob. When he comes, I want you to swallow. And Vikram, make sure you play with your mother's tits."

This demand was met with compliance. She unclasped her hairpin and reached behind her neck to undo the halter top, which she discarded at her feet. Revealed in their semi-nude glory were firm, ample breasts which resided above her ever-so-slightly curved belly -- the body of a ravishing woman who was also a loving wife and nurturing mother.

Seeing his mom's tits covered only by her bra now had got Vikram aroused, much to his chagrin, and so when Aarti held her son's cock tenderly in her hands, it was already stretched to its length of 7 inches.

Aarti knelt on the carpeted floor by the bed, and kicked off her stilettos to make herself comfortable. Gingerly, she brought her head down to her son's organ and flicked its head. Vikram's whole body stiffened as if electrified, as his respected parent ran her outstretched tongue expertly down his shaft all the way to his balls. She sucked his balls devotedly, like a baby at its mother's teat, before withdrawing abruptly. For a moment the cock in her hand twitched, as if startled at the sudden loss of contact with the maternal tongue.

A whimper of satisfaction escape Vikram's lips as his mother kissed his foreskin and lovingly licked off the pre-cum that had gathered at the tip. She wrapped her mouth around his distended penis, taking it all the way in till her lips touched its base. She held this position for a while and let her tongue gently massage the sensitive skin. Then she withdrew slowly, her boy's cock emerging gently from her mouth like a popsicle.

Meanwhile, Vikram was following his orders as he gently moved his mother's silky hair aside to give his hands unfettered access to the mound that had provided him nourishment as an infant. Moving his hands up and down her generous bosom, he cupped each breast in his palm, feeling its smoothness, and squeezed gently.

Aarti let out a sigh of satisfaction as she repeated her cycle of motion, increasing the tempo of her mouth while her son started moving her hips in rhythm to his mother's movements. Vikram's head was thrown back, his face a mask of ecstasy as his mother continued to pleasure him like an experienced whore. Aarti's hands, which were previously on his hips, began to move and gently caress his thighs before moving up to his crotch and teasing his balls. Vikram's hands continued to be active and he playfully moved his fingers all over his mother's ample breasts and over her bra.

Every few moments, Aarti would take her mouth off his cock and look up at him. Vikram happened to look down at one of these moments and their eyes met. He was suddenly conscious of just how shocking this was, a mother tending lovingly to her 18 year old's erection, and a thrill ran through him, reaching even his cock and making it throb in protest.

"Oh yes, Mom," he whispered, softly enough that only she could hear him. The pleasure was becoming unbearable. Aarti slowed down her movements a little bit. She continued to bob her head up and down, working her tongue to make sure that no part of her progeny's penis felt unattended to, and kept moving her hands, occasionally clutching Vikram's pubic hair, sometimes rubbing her palms gently over his belly. She was pretty good at oral sex, and the fact that she was sucking off her son's cock in front of her husband's captors did nothing to diminish her fellatio abilities. She was sickened, sure, at what she was doing, but she couldn't deny the fact that she was enjoying taking care of her son's seven inches. He was a good one inch bigger than his father, and much more responsive too.

His breathing was becoming labored now, and he was letting out guttural noises with increasing frequency. He was becoming more adventurous with his hands, and reached under his mother's bra to gain access to her nipples. Aarti's nipples became stiff. God, her son was good with his hands. For a guy who was fucking his mother's mouth against either of their wishes, he was doing remarkably well. So was she. Her breasts, her thighs, her belly, her cunt, were screaming for attention. She nursed Vikram's cock even more earnestly, bringing him close to the edge.

"Mom, please stop ... I'm going to cum," he gasped. He let out a groan expressing his helplessness. His hands sharply became more frenzied, first squeezing Aarti's breasts hard and then moving up to her shoulder and neck and finally her face. He brought his hand to the back of his mother's head, pushing it further down his cock to push his testicles right in to her gaping mouth, almost making her gag. Aarti felt her son's cock twitch in her mouth as orgasm began to take control of his body.

"Ohhh, mom...fuck...yeah," disjointed words came from Vikram's mouth as wave after wave of exquisite pleasure rolled through his body, converging at his cock and issuing forth as the hot wetness of his semen. In the throes of orgasm now, Vikram held his mother's head in place with his left hand, playing all the while with her soft hair, and used his right hand to ravage her upper body. His right hand ran frantically over Aarti's naked shoulders and back, gathering lumps of flesh like sand and squeezing hard as he climaxed. He lost count of how many times he spurted his hot seed into the welcoming mouth of his mother, who dutifully swallowed every milliliter of the precious fluid.

She let Vikram's cock slowly go back to normal size in her mouth before taking her mouth away. She looked up at her son, running her tongue over her lips to scoop up the little bit of semen that had leaked out. The corners of Vikram's mouth were upturned in a faint smile, still revelling in the aftermath of the orgasm his mother had given him.

"Great going, you two," said Prem, "But we're not finished yet. Aarti, your son is only 18. I know you can make him hard again. Get up on the bed and make out with your son."

Aarti didn't need to be told twice. She pushed her son back on the bed, resting his head on the pillow, and straddled his upper body with her legs; her knees were planted firmly on either side of his chest. Her son's arms instinctively wrapped around her, running up and down her back and underneath the clasp of her bra. Vikram adroitly removed his mother's bra and gasped at the sight of her breasts hanging freely, her dark brown nipples erect. Her hands lightly gripping her son's shoulders, Aarti gently brought her face down to meet his. Her nose gently brushed against his before their lips met. Aarti led their kiss, first brushing her lips against her son's a few times and then gradually easing his mouth open so they could explore each other.

Vikram's heart raced as he lay on his back with his lips locked with his mother's. Tentatively, he moved his tongue forward, and found his mother's tongue waiting for the contact. For a while, the two of them let their tongues roam over each other, before moving on to the insides of each other's mouth. The duo continued their passionate kissing, taking turns to such each other's tongue, running their tongue over each other's teeth and inner cheeks, each delighting in the taste of the other. Mother and son complemented their mouth-fucking with the motion of their hands. Vikram traversed his mother's bare back with his hands, gently tracing her spine with his finger and eliciting an involuntary shudder. He brought his hands inwards to fondle the sides of Aarti's hanging breasts and crept slowly towards her stiff nipples, which he pinched, causing her to let out a moan.

Next he turned his attention to her legs, caressing the back of her thighs till he reached the junction as which her legs were bent. He let his fingers rest for a while in the warmth created by the flesh there before tracing her calf muscles with his fingers. He moved back up, this time slipping his hand under the mini-skirt and feeling Aarti's ass through her panties. He moved his hand back down, bunching up his mother's skirts around her ass and squeezed. Aarti moaned, partly in pressure and partly in pain, sucking even harder on her son's tongue.

Aarti disengaged her mouth from his and gently kissed his nose, peppering her son's face affectionately with kisses as she moved down to his lips, chin and neck. Abruptly she moved her face down to the bottom of his t-shirt, which she rolled up to his nipples. She looked down at her son's penis and was pleased to see it was starting to stir back to life. She kissed its head lightly and showered her attention on her son's athletic torso, expertly massaging it using her tongue and lips. When she reached the bottom of her son's rolled-up t-shirt, she rolled it up even further, making her son stretch his arms behind him so she could take off his only remaining piece of clothing.

There they lay, the soon-to-be-fucking mother-son couple, oblivious to all but each other and their gratification. Prem nodded in satisfaction at the topless mother atop her naked son. Mother and son couples were always the best. You would think that forcing a mother and son to fuck each other would result in painfully awkward sex, but this almost never happened. All the mother-son couples he had had screw on this very bed had made for excellent viewing. There was not a son in the world who hadn't ever thought of bedding his mother, and once you gave them the chance, there was no holding back.

But what really got him off was the sight of a mother transforming her nurturing instinct into unbridled lust for the person who had once stayed in her womb. When a mother and son fucked, you could see two people who loved each other unconditionally expressing this love by using their bodies to pleasure one another. This pair though, was exceptionally sexy even by those standards. They were both good-looking and possessed a prodigious sexual energy that made the sight in front of Prem incredibly erotic.

"Okay, enough frolicking. Now for the real deal," was his elegant command, "Time to fuck."

Not that they needed his permission.

Aarti was startled as her son suddenly sat up and roughly pushed her down on her back, staring at her hungrily. Enough of the gently motherly guidance, he thought. It was time to be a man and take charge. Looking at his mother lying underneath him waiting to be fucked by her son, drove him wild. This might be his first time but he knew what he was going to do. His first time with his mother was going to be a good old-fashioned missionary fuck, with Aarti squirming underneath his heaving weight. Making out with his mother had restored his cock to full size, and he impatiently reached down to remove his mother's remaining clothes. Aarti helped her son undo her mini-skirt, which he pulled roughly down her legs and flung at the wall. Her panties received similar treatment, and there she lay on her back, her pussy already moist with anticipation, her skin tingling pleasurably all over.

Without preamble, Vikram brought his face down to his mother's crotch, drinking in the sight of his mother's moist pubic hair and running his tongue lightly up and down her slit.

"Put it inside me, beta," Aarti pleaded, not even bothering to keep the observers from hearing her, "Mommy needs your tongue inside her."

They were by now both in their own little private paradise, and Prem doubted that he could have made them stop even if they wanted to. Prem and his assistant might not even have been there, for all the effect their presence was having on these two. Instead of his tongue, Vikram first inserted his index finger in her vagina, probing the inside of her pussy, relishing the feel of her pussy muscles fucking his finger. He withdrew his finger and licked his mother's cunt juices off it.

"You taste good, mom."

Vikram dived and hungrily feasted on his mother's pussy. Aarti's legs moved convulsively and lifted off the bed to caress her son's back and shoulders while he nursed her pleasure spot, tantalizingly moving his fingers over her hips and belly, stopping just short of her breasts. She felt a flush of pride at the skill with which her son was using his lips and tongue to bring off his mother. Her pelvis convulsed under her son as he playfully flicked her clitoris with his tongue, his thumb nursing her swollen labia. She could feel herself reaching her peak as Vikram sucked harder. Her bare legs wrapped around her son's back, she dug in her heels, spurring her son to fuck her with his mouth. Vikram felt his mother's nether muscles involuntarily convulse as a powerful orgasm overwhelmed her body.

Aarti was in heaven. Her pussy muscles clenched and unclenched over her son's tongue, and the familiar pleasure permeated every inch of her body. She let out a loud, throaty moan as she reached her crescendo. Her face scrunched up in pleasure, legs spread wide as she lay on the bed, she was the picture of a sensuous woman. Once the climax subsided, she lay heaving, her face flushed and her breathing shallow. Her heart raced with love and lust as she grinned at her smug son, who had been watching his mother's orgasm-ridden body with endless fascination. She patted her son's head and ruffled his hair in an expression of gratitude -- the same expression that Vikram was used to receiving at the end of a job well done. She brought her hands under her son's armpits and pulled him up so that they were face to face. She spread her legs to welcome her son's body.

Vikram grabbed hold of her tits, roughly crushed his lips against his mother's and inserted his tongue into her welcoming mouth. Aarti reached down and wrapped her fingers around her son's cock to bring it to full readiness for penetration. Vikram's hips bucked slightly as he slowly fucked his mother's hand.

"Oooh...I love you so much," Aarti cooed, her head thrown back to allow her son to nuzzle her neck. Her shoulder braced slightly as her sweet son kissed her gently at the base of the neck. He moved down to the twin protrusions of flesh that he had so contentedly sucked on as a baby, and gently encircled her areolas with the tip of his tongue. He took his mother's right nipple between his lips and flicked the tip with his tongue, sending ripples of pleasure down her chest. He attended to the left breast with this hand, gathering up as much of the fleshy knob he could in his hand and kneading it like dough. He interchanged breasts and repeated the same technique. He moved down and rubbed his face against Aarti's belly, feeling the warm flesh move rhythmically against his lowered cheek.

"Make love to me, my son," Aarti exhorted, bringing her mouth close to her son's ear. Vikram looked deep into her dark eyes. "Yes, mom. I'm ready for it too."

With this he grabbed hold of his mother's knees and spread them apart, splaying his mother's legs to allow him to reach the treasure within him. Aarti guided his stiff cock to the entrance of her slobbering pussy, rubbing its head gently up and down her slit. She closed her eyes and embraced her son with her legs as her only c***d entered her.

He couldn't believe how tight, how right his mother's vagina felt around his cock as he buried himself deep inside her, holding his position to savour the moment. He felt his mother sigh softly from the movement of her abdomen against his. Aarti's nipples rubbed lightly across his chest as he started to move inside his mother, fucking her with slow, deep strokes, pushing inside her until his balls slapped rudely against her ass. His mother held him in her arms, her fingers clawing into his back, and rubbed the back of his legs with her feet. She slowly moved her legs upwards, stopping once she had lodged her heels against his ass. She lost herself in the rhythm of her son's soulful fucking, using her hands and toes to playfully tickle his back and ass as mother and son moved their pelvic regions together in a symphony of lovemaking.

Meanwhile, Vikram was experiencing the most sublime sensations he had ever felt. He caressed his mother's hair to expose her forehead and bestowed it with a kiss expressing the deepest tenderness. A wordless gaze passed between Aarti and Vikram, and they both increased the tempo of their fucking.

Prem had long stopped giving the couple instructions. He, too, was lost in the intensity of the union he was witnessing. Besides, it wasn't as if the interlocked pair on the bed, their bodies as one as they ascended towards the crescendo of their i****tuous coupling, needed to be directed.

Vikram knelt on the bed and reached behind him to grab hold of Aarti's legs above her ankles. He lifted them up so that they pointed straight up in the air, and pushed them down further and also increased the angle between them, testing the limits of his mother's flexibility.

They must have continued fucking like this for at least another fifteen minutes. Aarti was wriggling in delight beneath her son, gripping on to his cock for dear life with her pussy as he penetrated her deep and hard. Vikram had an entranced expression on his face as he made his lovely mother his fuck-toy, turning his head sideways every now and then to taste the skin of her perfect legs. He had already cum once, so he was able to enjoy the feel of his penis in the vagina that had given him birth eighteen years ago for a much longer period. The room was utterly silent except for the sound of their passion complemented by the slurpy sound of his penis as it slid in and out of his mother's well-lubricated birth canal and the sound of his balls slamming powerfully against his mother's ass at the end of each stroke.

"Your pussy feels so good, mom," moaned Vikram, panting.

He began to pant faster, and his face contorted as he inched inexorably towards his climax. He felt his mother's pussy muscles twitch and grip and release his penis uncontrollably as her body flew over the point of no return. This was too much for his eighteen-year old cock, which exploded in orgasm, spurting his seed deep into the recesses of his mother's body.

"I love you, mom... oh... I'm coming," he whispered.

"I love you too, beta. You're making your mother so happy."

The room reverberated with the sound of pleasurable agony, as mother and son groaned under the torrent of pleasure brought to them by their simultaneous orgasms.

His load spent, Vikram's lowered his mother's legs first to his shoulder and then brought them down to rest on the bed. For a while, mother and son both lay entwined in the position they were introduced in at the beginning of this story.

"That was exquisite," said Prem. He meant it. "Better get dressed now."

Aarti and Vikram ignored him for a while, lost in each other's gaze as mother cradled her son in her arms.

Suddenly, they both got up and gathered their discarded clothes, which were strewn all around the room. Once they were dressed, all four wordlessly marched back to the living room.

"You got what you wanted, pervert. Now give my back my husband," said Aarti, fixing Prem with an angry gaze.

"I see," said Prem, "I'm the pervert, though you're the one who just fucked your son. Interesting. Anyway, you won't get your husband just yet. Go home and I'll have him delivered to your house by midnight. I suspect he'll put two and two together if he sees you two like this."

"Is this really why you went to all this trouble for? Just to see a mother have sex with her son?" Aarti inquired.
"Well, that's not all. I was considerate enough to capture your exertions in that bedroom there on camera."

"It's okay," Prem went on, noticing the expressions of mortification that were fixed to both faces, "I'm only going to distribute the video to some select clients. Clients who are particular about what they want and willing to pay. And discreet. As long as you don't try to track me down or go to the police, you'll be fine. If, on the other hand, you set out to seek vengeance, that video will be sent to every one of your friends and relatives, starting with your husband. Before being leaked on the internet, that is."

Aarti nodded dumbly. There was nothing she could say.


In the car, neither of them said a word. Vikram kept staring ahead, though intermittently he stole a furtive glance at his mother's body and impassive face. He was partly ashamed at his enjoyment at what they had done, but also curious if they would have sex again. He knew his mother had liked it, too, and now that they had crossed the line, why come back?

Aarti had a lot to think about, too. What would she tell her husband? She would make up some story about a ransom. But where did she get the money from? A secret account whose existence she had never divulged to her husband, she supposed. Her husband would have to believe her. He would have to. What choice did he have?

"Your beauty could become a curse..." her mother's words came back to her. But surely, even her mother could not have been picturing her daughter and grandson being f***ed to make love when she had uttered those words.

Aarti knew she had just been through an ordeal, but what really pinched her was that she had actually enjoyed it. With her own son. And he had too. What kind of mother was capable of enjoying a carnal union with her own son, and capable of raising a son who enjoyed ravishing his own mother? For all her promiscuity, a small but long-forgotten part of the traditional Indian girl her parent s had tried to raise still resided inside her. And that voice was threatening to rise up inside her, tormenting her for her enjoyment at the sin she had participated in tonight.

But as soon as she managed to silence that voice, another, more compelling voice spoke -- one that answered only to her heart. And that voice was telling her to do things that shocked her. She sighed. She and her son would have to talk. Not tonight, though. Tomorrow, when she had sent her husband off to the hospital to check if he was okay after his ordeal, she and her son would be alone. And then they would talk...

"Goodbye, sweetheart," Aarti kissed her husband goodbye as he left for work for the first time after being a*****ed and released after his wife and son had consented to fuck each other for the pleasure of his a*****or. Of course, Raj knew none of these details. In fact, the little that his wife had told him about that night had seemed muddled and confused: the sort of thing you might expect from someone who is desperate to spin a story, no matter how unconvincing, because the truth is unspeakable. Of course, you might also expect such behaviour from a woman whose brain is somewhat addled from the trauma of her husband's a*****ion and who does not wish to say a great deal about this unpleasant experience. Raj had, predictably, invoked this second explanation with the result that what had happened a week earlier between Aarti and Vikram remained between the two of them, the a*****ors and their 'clients'.

Aarti waved, smiling, as her husband's Honda pulled out of the driveway until Raj could see her face, before abruptly turning around to head back inside, her face sombre yet purposeful. It was time. Much as she enjoyed her husband's company, she needed him to be away before she could broach the subject with her son she had run through mentally at least a thousand times in the intervening week. For seven days, her husband had not given her the chance to share some alone time with their only son. This was annoying to her, and to Vikram, it was... she did not know. Vikram had been inscrutable all this while, performing to perfection an imitation of a loving son who has never had sex with his mother. It was good, she supposed, that her son was such a good actor, and she was pretty sure that her husband had not an inkling of what had transpired between them.

Thankfully, her workaholic husband had gone, and would stay gone for a good few hours. Time enough for her to have a little heart-to-heart with Vikram.

Her son was sitting on the sofa in the living room, pretending to read a newspaper. He had not gone to school today, telling his father that he felt ill. Aarti thought she had a pretty good idea what had brought on this sudden onset of 'fever', but had kept her speculation to herself.

Aarti sat down next to her son. Vikram looked away from his newspaper to glance momentarily at his mother's knee. His mother's crossed legs had caused her robe to fall away, very becomingly he thought, to leave a good part of her left leg exposed. He glanced up to look at her face.

"Beta," Aarti began, "We can't just let what happened hang in the air. We have to talk."

"What is there to talk about? That -- bastard, made us do something, and we did it. For my father."

"Yes, but, what we did -- mothers and sons aren't supposed to do that. And certainly not the way we -- I mean we actually -- enjoyed it, you know."

"If you want me to say sorry, I'm not going to," said Vikram, unable to meet his mother's gaze, his face a mixture of obstinacy and embarrassment.

"No, no, that's not what this is about. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I'm the parent, after all."

"Hey, we're both adults, mom. If we enjoyed it, so what. I'm not emotionally scarred or anything, and neither are you, I think."

"It's not that simple. Look, I know you probably don't want to hear this about your mother, but I've always been very -- liberated, sexually. And I want you to have a healthy attitude towards sex. Because believe me, it can be the most wonderful thing in the world under the right conditions. Otherwise, it can be...unpleasant. I just hope you weren't damaged in any way by what happened."

"You really don't get it, do you?" a tremulous note had crept into Vikram's voice. "I'm not a c***d. I was f***ed to do something, and I ended up enjoying it. I am never going to regret that. And nothing you could do to me could ever damage me. In fact, what you did, what we did -- it was the most beautiful thing I've ever done. You're a beautiful woman and you happen to by my mother. What more could I want? I love you."

Aarti took her son's warm hands in hers, words escaping her. She had certainly not been expecting this monologue. To her surprise, her eyes had become moist, and all she could do was stare helplessly as her son continued looking unabashedly at her, his face inching closing to hers.

A feeble hand came up in a half-hearted attempt to fend off her son's advances, but Vikram was gaining in confidence. He grabbed hold of the resisting hand, pushing it down to his mother's side and crushing his lips against hers. Her lips resisted, but capitulated to her son's urgency. He reassuringly massaged her arm, moving up her arm and under her robe till his fingers poked out of his mother's night-robe, squeezing her bare shoulder.

"THIS IS WRONG!" screamed a desperate voice inside Aarti, but it was powerless against the passion that was rising up inside her body. Between her son's ardour and the unspeakable cravings that were taking over her body and soul, there wasn't much she could do to avert the inevitable.

She resigned herself to the primal urges of her body and allowed her son to ravish her. She loved the feel of his hands on her skin and closed her eyes to shut off all other stimuli so that all she was aware of was her body responding to her son's magical touch. Sensing his mother's barriers falling away, Vikram had become bolder and moved to her more intimate parts. Pushing back her robe over her shoulders so that the only thing holding it in place was the friction to the cloth afforded by the skin of her arm -- and unreliable f***e which could cease to act at the slightest of tugs - he cupped her breast. He loved the feel of her stiff nipple against his palm, and moved his hand in slow circles with her flesh in his grip.

Aarti cradled her son's chin as she returned his kisses, allowing him inside her mouth. She ran her hand over his flushed cheeks and affectionately through his soft hair -- an almost u*********s gesture of affection she had often used to express her approval since Vikram was a boy. She moved her mouth and lightly kissed all over his face, before burying her own face in her son's neck. Vikram groaned in pleasure, and removing his hand from her breast, fumbled with her robe.

Aarti reached for her front and undid the only piece of clothing on her body in one swift motion. She placed her hands on Vikram's shoulders to get him to stand up along with her, and allowed the dress she had worn to bed to slide off her body and gather in a heap on the floor.

Vikram was still clothed. To remedy this state of affairs, she roughly pushed down his shorts, freeing his erect cock which oscillated because of the sudden motion, and rolled up his t-shirt over his head and over his raised arms. A thrill passed through Vikram as his mother's actions reminded him of his c***dhood, when he used to raise his arms in preparation for his mother to remove his shirt. Same motion, different purpose, same mother. The woman who had loved him since he was born now gazed at his body with adoration. But mixed with adoration in her eyes was unmistakable hunger. She loved him, and she wanted him, her son, to love her back, but as a man.

"Let's take this to your bedroom," said Vikram, the first words either had spoken since they had started the abrupt foreplay.

She nodded.

He stepped out of his shorts which now lay on the floor, and, clutching each other's hands like teenage lovers, they both moved to the place where they would consummate their passion alone and in dignity, away from the prying eyes of perverted a*****ors.

On her husband's bed, Aarti fucked Vikram.

Dispensing with the oral sex, she pushed her horny son on his back and climbed on top of him. Holding his hands and pressing them down behind him, she moved her chest to and fro, tantalizing her son with her full breasts, inviting him to use his tongue on her nipples. She moved her palms over his chest, stopping to feel his racing heart, grabbing some of his chest hair in her fist.

She bent down and gave him an open-mouthed kiss. She French-kissed her son while she moved her feet to caress his. She entwined her toes with his as mother and son continued their tongue-fucking. She withdrew one foot and ran it seductively over her son's ankle and up his leg. Rising up and lifting her dripping cunt, she suspended it in mid-air for her son's appreciation.

Vikram reached forward for his mother's cunt and positioned it slowly over his vertical penis. Aarti gently lowered herself and admitted all of her son inside her body.

"You're bigger than your father, Vikram," she smiled, "I'm going to make you so happy."

She knew what she was doing was sinfully, unspeakably wrong, but she also knew that it just couldn't be any other way. What had happened in that bungalow that night had irretrievably altered the course of her relationship with her son. This was how she and her son were meant to be, and this was how they would be.

She moved her pelvis to slide her slippery hole up and down over her son's cock, as he mauled her breasts, her shoulders, her neck, slipping one finger inside her mouth so she could suck on it. Aarti supported herself by placing her hands on Vikram's well-toned abdomen.

"Mom, you're wonderful. Let's do this every day for the rest of our lives!" Vikram was delirious from the pleasure he was receiving from the motion of his mother's tight pussy over his cock. Aarti had her son tightly in her grip with her pussy, and she was moving it up and down and in a circle to give his penis sensations so exquisite they were painful.

"Fuck! I'm coming, I can't help it," screamed Vikram, not giving a damn about what the neighbours might think if they heard him fucking his mother so ferociously, and shot gobs of his hot seed into the passage that had brought him into this world.

Aarti increased the speed of her humping, desperate to bring himself to orgasm before Vikram went soft inside her. She fucked his cock mercilessly, until she felt her own climax taking over. She threw her head back and moaned like a bitch in heat as she climaxed all over her son's still erect cock, the convulsions of her pussy sending Vikram's sperm deep inside her womb.

Once the pleasure had subsided, she collapsed on top of her son, her hair strewn all over his face and neck.

They lay like that for a while, basking in the afterglow of their passion. They knew that whatever line that had still remained had now been crossed forever. There was no coming back from the world they had stepped into.

For what seemed like an eternity of cosiness and comfort, mother and son lay snuggled up to each other, whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears, unable to keep their hands off each other even after copulation had been completed.

After about half an hour of lying like this, Aarti felt her son's young cock begin to stir in her hand, and smiled.

"You want to do it again?" she whispered coyly into her son's ear. The jerk his cock gave was all the affirmation she needed, and she lay back and spread her legs to welcome her son inside her.

This time their lovemaking was less frenzied but far more satisfying. Vikram's staying power had temporarily increased, and he was able to pleasure his mother much longer. He fucked her one after the other with his cock, his fingers and his tongue, bringing her off each time. Aarti repaid her son by assaulting his balls and cock with his mouth, taking his seven-inch member all the way in, driving him crazy with her experienced tongue.

Vikram got on top of his mother and entered her with his cock for the final time. Mother and son gave themselves up to each other and fucked slowly and sensuously, holding each other close and revelling in the perfection of each other's bodies.

They reached orgasm together, Vikram groaning as though in pain as he emptied all his cock had to offer in his mother's pussy, Aarti biting her lip as she tried to prevent herself from announcing to the neighbours just how much she loved her son's fucking.

The rest of the day was much the same, with neither bothering with clothes or other articles of modesty. They frolicked like a newly-married couple that can't get enough of each other, punctuating their naked horseplay with bouts of comfortable and immensely satisfying lovemaking. They had only fucked twice, and yet they understood each other's bodies like seasoned lovers, and each made sure that their partner had as much fun as they did.

When it was time for Aarti's husband to get back, they changed into decent clothes, and went back to their mundane routines.

When Raj returned home to greet his wife and son, he found his wife watching TV and his son chatting with friends on his laptop: in other words, a perfectly normal mother and son.


Aarti rubbed her eyes and looked at the bedside clock. It was 1 am. She had only slept for two hours. She had made love with her husband tonight. The sex had been good, but she had realized that nothing Raj could do to her body could match her son.

The night was deathly quiet. Silently, Aarti slipped out of bed and exited her bedroom.

She cracked open her son's bedroom door. Vikram was sl**ping, but not peacefully. His bedsheets lay s**ttered all around him, exposing his bare chest. A smile rose to Aarti's lips when she saw his hands were down his boxers. Her son was masturbating in his sl**p. Thinking of whom? she wondered. She was pretty sure her son's dreams featured lewd images of his dear mother.

She felt the familiar warmth rising up in her again... No, it was too risky. But then... she bit her lips, in the midst of two conflicting choices. Eventually, her lust won out, and she wordlessly entered her son's room, closing the door gently behind her.

The soft slithering sound of her robe sliding off her body was followed by the almost imperceptible creaking of Vikram's single bed as she climbed in next to him, pushing him slightly to make room for herself.

Vikram's face twitched slightly as a warm hand was placed over his hand, assisting him in jacking off his dick. His hand was gently replaced by another, more dextrous one -- one which seemed more than willing to pleasure him in his sl**p.

She looked up and grinned almost lasciviously at her still sl**ping son and took his ear between her lips.

"Huh... mom?" Vikram awoke.

She put a finger to his lips to silence him.

"Just lie back and have fun," she whispered into the ear she was nibbling.

Vikram looked stunned to see his mother's naked form next to his body in the very bed she used to tuck him into not so long ago. The night light lent her body a calm, graceful quality quite different from the unabashed lewdness earlier in the day. He turned his head slightly and took in the elongated shadow of their two forms curled up next to each other.

He let his hands roam over her body, teasingly caressing her pubic region but not quite touching her cunt. Aarti's pelvis involuntarily thrust itself at her son, hungry for the attention of his fingers.

They lay like that for a few minutes, mother and son, she gently tickling his balls and massaging his cock, he savouring the damp warmth of his mother's cunt on his fingers.

Once they were both aroused, Vikram rolled over on top of Aarti, her legs clenched around his butt.

He eased his cock into her and fuck her gently, careful to minimize the sound of his shaft sliding in and out of his mother's passage.

They fucked like this for several minutes, stopping anxiously whenever the bed made a creak. After some trial and error, they calibrated their motion so that their fucking was almost soundless.

Vikram started to come in his mother's pussy, barely stifling a groan, and placed a hand over Aarti's mouth to stop her from moaning as she, too, reached her peak.

When they were both done, they lay in each other's arms for a few seconds, before Aarti pecked her son's cheek, said, "Goodnight" and retired to her bedroom for the night.


This state of affairs continued for two more weeks as Raj left for work every day and Vikram left for school. The moment he was back he and her mother would pounce on each other. They would make love in every possible location location: In the shower, Aarti's bedroom, Vikram's bedroom, the living room sofa, on the carpet, even on the kitchen floor.

They had become each other's d**g and every second each spent waiting for the opportunity to get their fix was pure agony.

Weekends were particularly hard, when apart from groping at each other when Raj was not around or playing a little footsie across the dinner table, all i****tuous activity was on hold, apart from one more instance of Aarti giving her son a midnight fuck as his father slept next door.

Aarti made up for the lack of her son's cock by being particularly vigorous in bed with Raj. The moment they retired for the night and their son switched off his bedroom light, Aarti would be on her husband like a tiger, merciless in her demands for carnal satisfaction. Raj was a little overwhelmed by this sudden change in his wife, but not completely surprised. After all, Aarti had never been a prude.

Vikram, for his part, would lie awake in bed and slowly tiptoe to his parents' closed door, listening to his mother's sighs of pleasure, her manic utterances of her husband's name as he pleasured her. A weird sensation would pass through him as it occurred to him that it was probably her son's name Aarti was thinking of in these moments. He would peer through the keyhole and catch a glimpse of his mother's legs spread out under her husband, matching him thrust for thrust in the age-old coital rhythm. If he was lucky he would get direct line of sight to her cunt and nipples.

These images would fire up his loins, and he would begin stroking his cock, masturbating as his parents made love just a few feet away from him. She would breathe out her husband's name in between her inarticulate moans, but who was she really thinking of? The thought of his mother fantasizing about him as she was fucked by his father was too much for him, and his cock would explode, forcing him to catch his semen in his hands, and hastily return to his room.


When Raj informed Aarti that he would be away for a week on work, her pout of disappointment did not quite reflect the emotions she was feeling. Aarti was screaming inwardly in joy, her pussy on fire. One whole week! One whole week with her and her son alone!

"I'll make it up to you when I come back, Aarti," said Raj, "Try to keep yourself busy till then."

"I will."

Vikram was pumped, too. After they had both bid his father goodbye at the door, he broached a subject that had been on his mind for a while.

"Mom, I have something I wanted to talk about."

"Ah, you want to confess about spying on me and your father having sex."

"No, not that," Vikram's face reddened, "And I haven't been spying on you."

"There's no need to deny it. It kind of turns me on to know my son is so... kinky."

A suggestive smile lit Aarti's face.

Vikram tried again.

"Umm... it's about a... erm... fantasy that I have. I think it would be great for me -- and you too, obviously -- if you could have sex with another guy. While I watch."

"My God, you've turned into quite the pervert, haven't you?" said Aarti in mock anger. "What makes you think your mother would do something like that?"

"Nothing. It was just a suggestion, that's all." Vikram averted his gaze, not sure if his mother was serious.

"You have been a very good boy, though. I suppose I ought to reward you. Do you have anyone particular in mind?"



"Let that be a secret. It'll add to the excitement."

"Wow, my son has really grown into a confident young man."

"I'll bring the guy I have in mind home in a couple of days."

"Okay, I guess till then I'll have to make do with pretty boy here," said Aarti, running her hand through Vikram's hair and bringing his face down between her boobs.

A few minutes later, the Chopra residence was filled with the cries of a young man and a middle-aged woman. Both sounded as if they were enjoying themselves.


Bobby was Vikram's best friend. Taller than Vikram but not quite as athletic, he was also the boyfriend of the hottest girl in class, Swati. Often in conversation Vikram would remark, only half-jokingly, how dearly he would love to fuck his best friend's girlfriend. Bobby would respond by echoing the same sentiment about Vikram' mother. He had always liked Aarti. She was undeniably sexy, and had a wonderfully sensuous quality that only a woman of her age could have possessed. He also fancied that she had gently flirted with him on more than one occasion, but this was probably a horny teenager's hyperactive imagination.

Vikram was aware of how Bobby felt about his mother. Until now, he had never really thought it especially significant, but his sex-addled brain had generated quite a few fantasies over the last few days, and he intended to use his friend's little crush for his own pleasure.

It was in lunch break that Vikram broached the subject. The two were setting on a bench, out of anyone's earshot, when Vikram said, "Hey Bobby, Swati's pretty hot; you know that?"

"Hey Vikram, your mom's pretty fuckable, you know that?"

This was a running gag between two old friends. Except this time, Vikram was not joking.

"I'm serious. I think I might be able to -- you know -- fix you up with my mom."

"What! Are you -- are you -- fucking serious, man?"


"But why?" Bobby's face was a mixture of shock and arousal. In view of the conversation he was having, he was remarkably calm.

"Does it matter?" replied Vikram, "Come on, I know you think she's sexy."

"That's true, but does she -- I mean --"

"She does. I'm sure of that."

"Wow." Vikram smiled at his dumbstruck friend. The expression on Bobby's face was priceless.

"When is the date then?"

"Tomorrow. Dad's away from home, so you needn't worry. And it will be a fuck date, just so you're clear."

"Wait. There's gotta be a catch. What do you want from me in return?"

"Well, I was thinking you could let me fuck your girlfriend once I've kept my part of the deal."

"No way!" Bobby tried to look enraged, the suitable reaction, he thought, from a guy who's being asked to whore out his girlfriend, but couldn't quite manage it. He settled for mild indignation.

"Think about it. I'll tell you what, if my mom thinks you fucked her good, you'll be under no obligation to me. Deal?"

"I guess, but how do you expect me to get Swati to sl**p with you?"

"Oh, stop k**ding yourself. You know she's like putty in your hands. She'll do anything for you. So, deal?"

They shook hands over it.


"Your cunt feels so good, you whore!" gushed Vikram, ploughing his mom's pussy relentlessly, merciless in his zeal to pleasure himself and his mother as they copulated.

"Oh, baby, fuck me harder, my darling beta," squealed Aarti.

It was night, after dinner. Her husband was away, so she didn't have to worry about being caught. They were fucking in the living room, in front of the television. On the television screen was playing a porno film about a bored housewife who seduces her gorgeous son to make up for the frequent absence of her husband.

Vikram moved in and out of her like a jackhammer, fucking her in long, regular thrusts, matching the fucking couple on the telly stroke for stroke.

Earlier, they had had a quiet dinner together at home. Aarti had worn the same little black dress she had worn many times to please her husband (and her young lovers, too, though she didn't tell Vikram about this). They had talked about many things: some mundane mother-son topics, like how he was doing at school, his best friends, his teachers, their extended f****y, and so on, and some rather more intimate topics, like what turned Aarti on, what made Vikram's penis hard, and eventually, exactly who was the young stud that he had in mind for his mother.

On this last question, though, Vikram had maintained a dignified silence.

"I want it to be a really special experience for you, mom. I promise you, you won't be disappointed."

Aarti had tried her best to tease the answer out of him, by grabbing his crotch, running her legs tantalizingly along his, and finally leaping to his side of the table to sit astride him, dry humping him while she fed him food from her mouth. Vikram, however, had kept his poise and remained unyielding.

The anticipation had been getting to be too much for Aarti. Any more of this suspense, she had thought, and her pussy would surely explode, sending its desperate, not-yet-satiated fragments flying to all corners of the room. However, she had been impressed at how adept her son was at resisting the charms of his sexy mother, and felt a quiet satisfaction in his accomplishment.

As her son pounded her pussy, she decided to give it one last try. Grabbing hold of the sides of his chest with both of her strong hands to impede his thrusts, she gasped, "No, beta, you can only come inside me if you tell me who is this man you have in mind."

Vikram's reaction was one which caused both horror and arousal. A fierce expression crossing his face, he slapped his mother hard.

"Stop asking me, you bitch!" he growled.

His anger quickly turned to regret when he saw the tears beginning to form in his mother's eyes.

"Oh, mom, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. Slap me if you want to." Vikram was appalled at his own actions, and would have considered it appropriate retribution if his mother had punched him hard in the balls.

"It's okay, beta," Aarti mumbled, still not fully recovered from the shock.

For some reason, though, she felt even more desirous of her son, and moved her hands to his ass cheeks, squeezing them, pleading through this gesture for her son to keep fucking her. She brought her face up to his shoulders and gave him a gentle reassuring kiss.

"It's okay, beta," she repeated, "Mommy understands. Don't stop making love to me."

Vikram brought his lips down to her eyelids, kissing them, drinking the beginnings of tears that oozed out as she closed her eyes.

After French-kissing his mother for a few moments, he resumed his fucking at full tempo.

"Oooh... You are the best son in the world!" Aarti moaned inarticulately, her voice, her expression conveying the extent of her desire for her son.

When the inevitable orgasms were reached, they held that position for several minutes, Vikram's cock buried deep in his mother's pussy.

For what must have been twenty minutes and felt like several hours, they lay there like that, caressing each other's faces like they were the most precious things in the world, clinging to each other like this was their last time together, spilling out their deepest, most intimate secrets. In those twenty minutes, as Aarti opened her heart to her son for the first time as a lover, she felt a level of emotional connection with him that she had never achieved in her most tender moments with Raj.

Vikram was going through much the same feeling emotionally. Of course, he had always been close to his mother, but the moments of companionable solitude that he shared with the woman who gave him birth after this bout of lovemaking were nothing like he had ever imagined. This was closeness. This was union, togetherness... so what if it was his own mother? Was there any other person on the planet who could have affected him so deeply as his mother? What he was feeling now belonged to the category of emotions that he had long ago labelled 'movies and girly novels only' , secure in the knowledge that they would never touch his heart.

His mother being fucked like a rag-doll by his best friend. This image, which had been implanted in his mind for days, suddenly became even more erotic as he lay in his mother's arms, the two of them holding each other like faithful lovers.

Vikram got off the living-room sofa and lifted his mother in his strong arms like he would a little girl, her arms wrapped around his neck.

Within a few minutes she was slurping away conscientiously at her son's cock before being repaid in kind by her song's marvellous tongue.

Once they were both stimulated enough for another fuck, she got down on her hands and knees, and allowed her son to enter her from behind, pushing as deep and hard into her as her cunt would allow. When it was over, her son collapsed on top of her, and Aarti reached back around herself and soothingly caressed her son's chest.


"How's your mom, Vikram?" asked Bobby at school.

"Just perfect. And very eager."

"Is she? Me too! You sure you're okay with me fucking -- I mean -- making love -- to your mommy?" asked Bobby in a mock high-pitched voice.

"Can't wait for it. You'd better bring your A-game today, buddy. Nothing less than the best for my mom."

"You bet. Once I'm done with her she'll refuse to fuck anyone else, even your dad."

"We'll see about that. You sure you won't be intimidated by her beauty?"

"Absolutely. I can't wait to fuck that gorgeous piece of ass."

"Me neither. It makes me really hard, thinking of the two of you together."

"You know something, Vikram?"


"You are one fucked up little shit."


"Come on, tell me who it is," said Aarti, snuggled up to her son on his bed, her fingers slipping under his shirt to massage his chest.

Vikram had barely come home from school and his mother was already trying to break him with her feminine wiles. And he had to admit, she was pretty good at using her sexuality to get her way. He wondered how often that happened with his father...

But Vikram had shown himself to be of exemplary resilience. He sat cross-legged on his bed, returning his mother's affectionate kisses and kneading her breasts with gusto, his shallow breath signalling his mounting arousal.

Aarti smiled with the certainty that she had won her horny son over and brought her ears to his mouth, expecting the hard-won answer to her question, only to hear her son whisper, "I won't tell you, mom."

Aarti let out a cry of mock anguish.

"Oh come on, beta, enough is enough. You've built it up so much I'm probably going to be disappointed by the guy."

"Maybe, though I doubt it. And you're going to be blindfolded and in your underwear when he comes."


Aarti was both impressed and disturbed by her son's newfound authority over her. It was almost as though he was the parent here. Or a domineering husband. Lately whenever he spoke to his mother, it was in the slightly contemptuous tone of a man who is talking to a woman he owns.

Though Aarti was a little disturbed by this development in the dynamics of the mother-son bond, she was also impressed, and a little amused. For a woman who was used to having every male in her life wrapped around her finger, this reversal in gender roles was a refreshing change.

"Yeah. It will make the experience more exciting for everyone involved. Now why don't you take your clothes off so that I can blindfold you?"

Aarti complied. Vikram surveyed his mother's attractive figure with satisfaction. Here she stood in her underwear, almost completely exposed to her son and soon to be exposed to his best friend. The woman who had nurtured him and made him the confident young man he now was would soon be in that most vulnerable of positions, writhing under Bobby as he helped himself to all the delights her voluptuous body had to offer.

Vikram produced a black cloth, which he opened and brandished before his mother, smiling from ear to ear.

"Be a good girl, now," he grinned as he covered his mother's eyes with the cloth and tied it tightly around her head. He tried inserting a finger between the cloth and the back of his mother's head. He couldn't. He nodded to himself, satisfied.

Aarti lay there on the bed, deprived of all visual input. On her back with her legs spread in eagerness, she felt as sexually alive as she ever had. She had always been adventurous in bed, but she had never fucked blindfolded. She wondered why.

Already she could tell that it was going to be exhilarating. With only four of her five senses in operation, her awareness of herself and her surroundings took on an entirely different character. A cock drilling into her pussy, though a familiar enough experience, would now be experienced entirely through the sound of sighs and moans, through the feel of hot skin against hot skin, and the taste and aroma of naked flesh.

The bell rang.

"There he is, I think," said Vikram, "You stay there, mom."

Vikram virtually flew to the door, almost knocking over a stray dining chair in the process. It was Bobby.

"Hi," Bobby smiled nervously, his face flushed. He had taken care to look his best for this occasion, and he exuded the overpowering scent of an eager young man who has put on too much deodorant. Otherwise, he looked perfect. Vikram would not have settled for anything less for his mother.

"Come on in." They shook hands. Bobby was nervous, but Vikram reassured him. "She's gonna love you. She's waiting for you. Come -- and she's blindfolded, so don't let on who you are."

"You are a pervert," Bobby whispered. They were just outside the door that held his lover for the afternoon.

"Are you ready?" Vikram could barely conceal his excitement.

"Is he ... here?" Aarti was equally excited.

Her question was almost immediately answered as she felt the warmth of eager breath on her ankle, followed by the touch of lips and a little bit of tongue. Slightly bemused, she nevertheless signalled her appreciation with an approving sigh.

Bobby could not help himself. His original attention had been to climb on top of his friend's voluptuous mother the moment the door was opened to show his friend what a stud he was. But the sight of this almost unearthly beauty sprawled on the bed for him had aroused feelings of awe, and he could not help but perform this act of supplication. He was aware of how ridiculous he must look to Vikram, slobbering over his mother's feet, but he didn't really care. He knew he couldn't have helped himself if he'd wanted to.

Aarti let out a giggle and raised her leg slightly off the bed to allow this unknown man to lick the soles of her feet. No one had ever done this to her, and she had never thought she'd find a man who would enjoy this. Certainly, the thought of having her son's face at work on her feet would have made her feel guilty and ... unmotherly.

Bobby was having fun too, and decided it was time to move north. He ascended her legs slowly, relishing the feel of her soft flesh, and teased her pubic region with kisses, causing her to involuntarily move up her legs, and close them around his head. Aarti let out a gasp as he slipped the tip of a finger underneath her panties, expecting him to take them off. Instead, Bobby withdrew and for several moments Aarti thought her anonymous lover was gone.

Bobby had other ideas. He jumped on top of the bed and knelt with his knees on either side of her, bringing his face violently down against her. Aarti squealed a little at the sudden motion but quickly recovered to open her mouth and let in his tongue. A pair of hands grabbed hold of her tits and mauled them, a different sensation from the more sophisticated technique of her son and husband.

Contact was lost again for a while as Bobby removed his T-shirt before resuming making out with his friend's mom. Aarti raised her arms to feel her Bobby's youthful chest and arms, caressing her nipples and running her hands down his arms.

Aarti felt the bed recoil as Bobby abruptly leapt off and soundlessly removed his pants and underwear. Aarti was mystified and called out, "Did he leave?"

Vikram laughed at his mother's confusion, reassuring her with a "No, he's still here" and making his first contribution to proceedings.

He had watched first with amusement and then with mounting arousal as his friend took care of his mother. This was arousing him more than he'd thought, and he had begun to massage the bulge in his pants when Bobby and his mom started making out.

He watched with fascination as Bobby's erect cock emerged from his underwear and he stood fully naked, ready to fuck his mother. Bobby looked good naked, with a cock just slightly smaller than his own, and Vikram knew that he had made the right choice for his mother.

Bobby grabbed Aarti by the arms and made her sit up, guiding her mouth to his cock. He thrust his cock gently forward and eased open her mouth. He thrust in and out of Aarti's mouth slowly, while she gently played with his penis with her tongue, drinking the drops of pre-cum that emerged from within. She clawed at his buttocks as if to egg him on, and Bobby held Aarti's face in his hands, admiring its aesthetic perfection.

Feeling that he might cum if he carried on, Bobby withdrew and fumbled with her bra to free her bosom. Aarti reached around and undid her bra, smiling at his eagerness. She always liked feeling wanted. Bobby climbed on to the bed and sat face to face with her as they wrapped their legs around each other, both relishing the electric, sensous feeling of bare flesh against bare flesh. Aarti reached for her panties and started to take them off, and was helped by Bobby who was happy to bring them all the way to her feet, a casual flick of which was enough to leave Aarti completely naked.

Bobby dove into her large mounds, going ferociously at it while she caressed his hair. On an instinct, he turned around and would have gasped if Vikram had not raised his finger to his lips. Vikram was naked now, and his hand was moving up and down his stiff penis. Bobby didn't know whether to be shocked or amused at the sight of a son beating off to his mother having sex with his friend.

Vikram signalled Bobby to get off his mother and wordlessly approached her as Bobby silently stepped aside. Vikram pressed his mother down to the bed, and kneeling behind her head, f***ed her mouth open and slipped in his cock. Slightly surprised at her lover's newfound boldness, the blindfolded Aarti nevertheless obliged, producing slurping sounds and causing an indescribably fascinated expression to settle across the features of her son's friend, rapt as he watched his depraved friend fuck his own mother's mouth.

It was all Bobby could do not to scream out at the surreal events he was witnessing, and when he had somehow recovered himself, absorbed the fact that he was actually watching a real son fuck his mother's face, he noticed that Vikram looked like he had been gesturing for him to get to work on his mother's vagina.

In a trance, Bobby moved forward and, grabbing Aarti's legs by the back of the knees, slid his tongue inside Aarti's unprepared cunt. He was gentle with her, and Aarti's vagina started responding immediately as she realised that she was now being fucked by her son as well as her lover. Her cheeks reddened a little bit and a guttural sound, half of protest and half of pleasure, escaped her pretty mouth. The turmoil in her mind seemed to be manifested in the convulsions of her excited pussy, which was dripping wet under the loving care of Bobby's mouth.

Momentarily removing her son's thrusting cock from her mouth, she gasped, "Fuck me!"

This last command was in a tone of voice that made it clear it was not to be disobeyed, and Bobby hastily complied, holding his cock in his hands and guiding it into her pussy.

Clumsy at first, he gradually built up a steady rhythm, guided by Aarti's hands on his back and buttocks which helped modulate the timing and depth of the motion of his penis. Meanwhile, Vikram was mercilessly fucking his mother's mouth, producing an eerie glup-glup sound to go with the slapping of his friend's balls against Aarti's cunt opening.

Bobby and Vikram both looked at each other, Vikram grinning almost maniacally at his friend, whose brows were furrowed in sincere concentration. Watching Vikram defile his mother in this manner kicked Bobby's excitement up a couple of notches and brought him to the verge of climax. Vikram was almost at the end of his tether too, and Aarti could already feel her body about to plunge over the edge...

A few seconds later, the room was filled with the sounds of the three lover's amorous groans, and later laughter as Vikram removed Aarti's blindfold, allowing him to look at the man who had just given her an extremely powerful orgasm.

Vikram moved from his position behind his mother's head to lie atop his mother, where they could embrace. Bobby had obligingly given way and was standing at the foot of the bed, watching his friend and his mother snuggle close to each other like a honeymooning couple. The two of them might have been vulnerable and naked under his gaze, but they clearly occupied a safe spot in their own private world of intimacy, which shielded them from their nakedness, and the possibly judgemental gaze of an outsider looking at an i****tuous couple make a mockery of the deepest of all taboos.

Sensing that the young man was feeling left out of the party, Aarti gently nudged her son off her, kissing him lightly on the lips, and went over to hug Bobby, appreciatively feeling his arms and chest,and delicately holding his penis. She kissed his neck and whispered, "I always know you liked me, even when you were much smaller," adding, "Women always know," to answer the query on his surprised face.

"You'll make some girl really happy someday," said Aarti.

"Right now, I just want to make you happy."

Vikram cleared his throat. "I'm here, you know. And that's my mother, you know."

They all burst out laughing at this male appeal to maternal untouchability.


Aarti felt obliged to offer Bobby some tea, and make some small talk while they were at it. The conversation was quite unremarkable, and entirely consistent with what one might expect from a gathering consisting of a woman and her son and his friend. The unusually close distance at which mother and sat, and the careless, almost u*********s, way in which their legs kept playing with each other was the only giveaway that this was something more depraved.

Fully aware of the place of privilege fucking one's best friend's mother occupies in the hierarchy of possible conquests for teenage boys, she was a little worried about discretion on Bobby's part. But her son quelled those fears when he rightly reminded her that no one would believe Bobby anyway. They would believe him even less when he told them about Vikram and Aarti.

Her mind at ease, Aarti made it clear to Bobby that she would like to have sex with him again, this time possibly without her son as chaperone and participant, and Bobby nodded his head in passionate agreement, his ability for speech temporarily confounded by his sudden appreciation of just how lucky he was.

On his way out of the Chopra residence, after he had received a heartfelt kiss on the lips from his friend's mother, he was so overcome with gratitude for his friend that he hugged him, too, whispering, "You can have my girl," in his ear.

Vikram smiled at him as he closed the door, and was still smiling when he faced his mother.

"What happened?" Aarti asked.

"Nothing. Looks like you really made an impression on the guy."

Left alone and too tired to fuck again, mother and son sat down and had a long conversation, which led to several interesting occurrences afterwards. But what they talked about, and what those occurrences were, are the subject of another chapter.

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