Rahul slammed the door behind him after a long day at the office, sweat clinging to his shirt in the Mumbai heat. His mother, Priya, was in the kitchen chopping vegetables, her saree draped low on her hips, the thin fabric clinging to her full curves. At 45, she still had a body that made his cock twitch every time he looked at her. He was 25 now, old enough to know better, but the way her heavy breasts strained against her blouse had been driving him crazy for months.
"Arre beta, wash up and come eat," Priya called without turning around. Her voice was soft, motherly, but Rahul heard something else underneath it lately, a warmth that lingered too long.
He stepped behind her, pressing close under the pretense of reaching for a glass. His hard dick brushed against her round ass. Priya froze for a second, then pushed back slightly, her voice dropping. "Rahul…
what are you doing?"
"Nothing, Ma," he muttered, but his hands slid around her waist, gripping the soft flesh. "You feel so good."
Priya turned, eyes dark with the same hunger he'd seen building. "This is wrong. I'm your mother." But her hand was already on his chest, sliding down to feel the bulge in his pants. She squeezed it through the fabric. "God, you're so hard for me."
Rahul groaned and yanked her saree pallu aside. Her blouse came open with a few quick tugs, exposing large, dark-nippled tits that spilled into his palms. He sucked one nipple hard, biting just enough to make her gasp. Priya's fingers fumbled with his zipper, pulling out his thick cock. She stroked it raw and fast, thumb smearing the precum over the head.
"Take me right here," she whispered in Hindi, voice filthy. "Chod mujhe, beta. Fuck your mother like the slut she is."
He spun her around, bent her over the counter, and hiked up her saree. No panties. Her pussy was shaved and dripping. Rahul slammed into her in one thrust, burying his cock balls-deep in her wet heat. Priya cried out, pushing back to meet every stroke. The kitchen filled with the wet slap of skin and her moans. "Harder! Fuck me harder, Rahul!"
He pounded her relentlessly, one hand reaching around to rub her swollen clit while the other twisted her nipple. Priya came first, her cunt clamping down, juices running down her thighs. Rahul didn't stop. He pulled out, spun her to face him, and lifted her onto the counter. Legs spread wide, he drove back in, watching her tits bounce with every thrust.
They moved to the bedroom after, stripping fully. Priya got on all fours, ass up, and begged for it. "Daal andar, beta. Fill your mother's pussy." Rahul fucked her from behind, gripping her hips, slapping her ass until it reddened. He reached under to finger her clit again, making her squirt a little around his cock.
Later she rode him, her heavy tits in his face while she ground down, taking every inch. "I love your big lund, Rahul," she panted in Hindi mixed with English. "No one fucks me like my own son."
They switched positions all night. Missionary with her legs over his shoulders so he could go deep. Her on top again, leaning back so he could watch his cock disappear into her. Doggy style once more, this time with him pulling her hair. Each time she came screaming his name, begging for more.
By morning, cum leaking from her well-fucked pussy, Priya kissed him softly. "This stays between us. But don't stop, beta. I need it every night now."
Rahul smiled, already hard again. Their secret had only just begun.
