I never planned to fuck my mom. It just happened one sticky Mumbai night when the power went out and the whole flat smelled like sweat and jasmine oil. I was twenty-five, back from Dubai with money in my pocket and no girlfriend. She was forty-six, still thick in the hips and heavy in the tits, always walking around in those thin cotton nighties that stuck to her skin.
That evening she called me into her room because the fan wasnt working. Beta, come fix this, she said, voice low. I walked in and she was lying on the bed in just a petticoat and blouse, the blouse damp and half-open. Her dark nipples showed through the wet cloth. She didnt cover herself when I looked.
Too hot, she muttered, fanning herself with one hand. Your father is gone for the week. Help me.
I sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the fan switch. She shifted and her thigh brushed my leg. Soft. Warm. She didnt move away. Instead she let out a small sound, almost a sigh.
Ma, youre burning up, I said.
She laughed, short and rough. You think I dont know what you look at? Every time I bend to sweep you stare at my ass like a hungry dog.
My cock twitched. I tried to stand but she grabbed my wrist.
Stay, she said. Lock the door.
I did. When I turned around she had pulled the blouse open.
Her heavy brown breasts hung free, nipples hard. She pushed the petticoat down her hips and kicked it off. No panties. Just a thick black bush between her legs, already shiny.
Come here, beta, she said, spreading her thighs. Show your mom what that big Dubai cock can do.
I stripped fast. My dick stood straight out, leaking. She reached for it and stroked once, hard, like she owned it.
Fuck, I groaned.
She pulled me down on top of her. Her body was soft and hot, skin slick with sweat. She guided my cock straight into her cunt in one push. She was wet, tight, and burning. We both hissed at the same time.
Harder, she ordered. Your father never fucks me like this.
I slammed into her. The bed creaked. Her tits bounced and slapped against my chest. She wrapped her legs around my waist and dug her heels into my ass, pulling me deeper.
Chodo mujhe, she moaned in Hindi. Fuck your mother properly.
I fucked her like that for long minutes, raw and fast, the wet sound of my cock pounding her pussy filling the dark room. She came first, cunt squeezing me, nails raking my back, cursing in a mix of Hindi and English.
Dont stop, she panted. Fill me up. Give your mom your cum.
I buried myself to the balls and shot inside her, pulse after pulse, while she kept milking me with her walls. When I finally pulled out, thick white cum leaked from her swollen slit onto the sheet.
She didnt let me rest. She rolled onto her stomach, lifted her ass, and looked back at me.
Again, she said. This time from behind. Make it rough.
I climbed on and shoved back inside her sloppy cunt. I gripped her wide hips and pounded her, watching her ass ripple every time I bottomed out. She reached between her legs and rubbed her clit, coming again with a long, low moan.
After that night we didnt stop. Every time my father left for work we fucked like animals. On the kitchen floor, in the shower, once even on the balcony at night while the city lights blinked below us. She taught me exactly how she liked it: deep, dirty, and loud. She loved when I called her maa while I was balls-deep in her.
One afternoon she made me sit on the sofa and straddled me, guiding my cock into her asshole for the first time. She rode me slow, grunting, sweat running down between her tits.
Such a good boy, she whispered. Fucking your own mothers gaand.
I came so hard I saw stars.
We never talked about stopping. It was just our secret, raw and simple. Every time the power cut or my father traveled, she would look at me with that same hungry smile and say, Come here, beta. Your mom needs you.
And I always went.
