Forbidden Lust: The son tells the story of his slut mother (True story)
The shrill morning alarm sent unruly bolts and waves into Manya’s body as she stirred, opened her deep eyes and cast a sleepy glance towards the place next to her. Her eyes met with the not so inspiring sight of her still snoring husband Desh, cuddled up like an insecure child, his breath carrying the odor of liquor and his chest heaving in monotonous regularity. The 36 year old housewife sighed and shifted her full frame slowly out of the bed to begin another day. Clad in a thin white blouse without a bra and a loosely tied petticoat which settled about six inches below her deep navel, she dragged her voluptuous body out of bed towards the bathroom, pausing for a moment to look at herself in the mirror on the way. She looked disheveled and two buttons of her blouse were unbuttoned as usual. Her brownish black aureole stared right out of her thin blouse and this morning the ends were sharp and pointed, indicative of her bodily need for a full blooded fuck. Almost involuntarily her hands went to the fleshy region between her thighs and almost expectedly she encountered wetness which began to gain in heat, the moment her fingers sought the warm folds. With an inaudible moan, she gave one loving squeeze between her inner thighs and went right into the toilet.
While peeing, she let out a shudder of relief as some of the accumulated horniness found alternate release. But only some of it. Stepping out and in the same scant attire she moved to the main door to collect the morning milk. Opening the door, she bent to pick up the milk and in the process her full breasts spilled out to form a delectable cleavage. From the corner of her eye she saw the milkman’s bicycle parked in the compound and realized that he was still around and was perhaps waiting for her daily appearance. A full minute was spent in gathering the milk during which her creamy breasts spilled nearly 80 percent out of her thin, low cut blouse. Giving this morning show was now a habit, both for her and the milkman, a strapping 25 year old guy. She got her daily starting charge from this flash and even when someone other than the usual milkman delivered the milk, they learnt to stay until Manya gathered her milk.
Turning her back to the milkman, she started closing the door, giving him a lingering view of her ample, meaty ass and a rousing rear view of her trunk, especially since the petticoat came down to well below her hips and settled almost at the beginning of her ass crack. Just before finally losing the door, she turned again towards the outside and offered another flash of her huge midriff, with its flaring curvature at the waist and the juicy, deep, inviting navel. This exercise was her morning tonic and a day was insipid without it.
The entire five feet seven inches of her full bodied, well stacked, lush form swayed with a heady grace as she made her way to the kitchen. Manya paused for a moment to peep into the room of her two sons, Deen aged 14 and Binu aged 12. Deen was curled up and content, hands between his thighs and lost in a dreamy world, while Binu was sleeping on his back, his right hand placed idly around his crotch. What caught her eye was, however the tenting in his shorts, sticking imposingly out at the ceiling. She smiled indulgently like a mother would, but a deep moistening crept up her pussy, which was already aroused by the morning show for the milkman. Turning away, she lazed into the kitchen to prepare the morning coffee and breakfast. Within an hour all hell would break loose as three males would rush through their morning routine, gulp their food and flee the house, leaving her all alone. The thought made her feel a bit empty but also filled her with an enterprise and abandonment that came from the knowledge that she would be all by herself with her voluptuous, sensuous body.
Deen was always the first one to wake up. Nearly six feet tall, he was a gentle giant, loose limbed and with the body language of a good and lovable kid. Manya continued to remain in her attire even before her kids and it had become normal for them to watch their skimpily clad Mom go about her chores every morning in that state of undress. She had been doing it now for the past 4 years out of sheer convenience and it never struck her that their bursting hormones would one day take cognizance of her ample charms, especially her well rounded buttocks, her fully exposed juicy waist and the generous cleavage.
“Good morning Mom”, called out Deen, as he entered the kitchen. Looking up, Manya returned his greeting, smiling into his soulful, loving and almost puppy like eyes. Deen could see right down her partly unbuttoned blouse and trace the full curves of both her melon like breasts with the entire glory of their semi pointed nipples.
His dick jerked to attention.
“Get ready dear. Today’s your special breakfast item. Manya moved towards the refrigerator, rubbing her full hips against his. Deen could feel the heat, softness and meat of his Mom’s hips as she went past him. He stifled a gasp as her dainty fingers inadvertently grazed his crotch. He wore no underwear beneath his shorts and he was startled by the near grasp of his throbbing young manhood by his very own biological mother. It stunned him and also confused him, like it did everyday. Manya however behaved very normally, adding to his dilemma. His first stirrings of manhood had been courtesy his beautiful Mom. His first dick caressing had taken place while he had seen her changing. His first major jerk off had been over her photograph of her carrying him as a three year old. He loved concentrating on his three year old hand clutching at Manya’s bosom in the picture. And when he came, he made sure that some drops always landed on the picture, if possible on Manya’s beautiful face.
But Deen was a shy kid. He never made his arousal obvious and strove to camouflage it. Manya, on her part, noticed her elder son’s disturbance but did nothing in terms of either her dressing or body language to divert him. If she was built sexy and left with an eternally horny body due to her husband’s slackness in bed, then she couldn’t help it. No force on earth can hide a woman in heat, especially a woman blessed with the rich contours and fleshy warmth of Manya. She had a body that craved loving. She had luscious breasts that ached to be caressed and fondled. She had a juicy waist that desired a man’s warm touch. She had a massive, protruding, more than proportionate ass that could well be her best asset. It was high, firm, wide and with a curvature that sent viewers’ passions soaring. There was not one of her husband’s friends that didn’t want to spank her voluptuous ass or plunge into her juicy pussy. She didn’t care about their advances and over time she learnt to live with them. Even those long alcoholic parties where men would indulge in subtle gropes and almost leering comments while her husband would be sizzled left her quite in control. Infact she was secretly thrilled that such a wide variety of men of all age groups lusted after her juicy body.
The moment Deen left for the bathroom, her younger son Binu bounded into the kitchen, cheery and bright.
“Hi Mom”, he greeted her with a big hug and kiss on the cheek. Binu was always the more demonstrative and physical of the two kids. His hug lingered a little longer than necessary but Manya made no move to free herself. Binu ended his hug with another kiss on his mother’s cheek, this time rather close to the corner of her mouth. Manya felt his young, 12 year old erection thrusting against her asscheeks. She shivered inwardly and felt her pussy moisten again. Binu’s acts awakened her dormant lust. Though twelve years old, his actions were obviously sex driven. He used every opportunity to grab her, rub his dick against her huge rump and let his hands roam all over his juicy mother’s expansive waist. His hands groped the bottom of her braless blouse and made enough contact with her mounds to make her squeal. It was easy for Manya to dismiss her little son’s acts as childlike. Only a part of her was convinced but she allowed that feeling to remain so that she was spared of any dialogue with her conscience. Unlike his elder brother, Binu knew his needs and made his moves very obvious, with no scope for any communication gap. Manya loved it. It made her feel very wanted and desirable. Binu on the other hand was sure that he was only expressing his extreme love for his mother.
Pages:
[