I slammed the door behind me after a long day at the office, sweat sticking my shirt to my back in the Mumbai heat. Mom was in the kitchen, her saree tied low on her hips, the thin blouse clinging to her heavy tits. At 45 she still had that thick, curvy body that made half the building stare. I was 25, single, and horny as hell from weeks without a proper fuck.
"Rahul, beta, come eat," she called, voice soft like the audio stories I jerked off to every night. Those desi incest clips where sons pound their moms raw. I never thought it would happen for real.
I walked up behind her, pressing my hard cock against her ass as she stirred the curry. "Ma, stop cooking. I need something else." My hands slid around her waist, grabbing those fat tits through the blouse. She gasped but didn't pull away.
"Rahul… what are you doing? This is wrong." Her voice shook, but her nipples poked hard against my palms. I pinched them, rolling them between my fingers, and she moaned low, pushing back against my dick.
"Wrong feels good right now." I yanked her saree up, fingers diving between her thick thighs. Her pussy was already wet, the cotton panties soaked. I rubbed her clit hard, two fingers sliding into that hot, tight cunt. "Listen to how wet you are for your son. Just like those Indian audio stories you pretend not to know about."
She turned, eyes dark with lust, and dropped to her knees right there on the kitchen floor. Her hands fumbled with my zipper, pulling out my thick cock. "Fuck, beta, it's so big." She licked the head, then swallowed half of it in one go, sucking like a whore in those audio files. Spit ran down my balls as she bobbed, gagging herself on it.
I grabbed her hair and fucked her mouth, thrusting deep until her throat squeezed me. "Suck your son's cock, Ma. Tell me you want it." She pulled off gasping, strings of spit connecting her lips to my dick.
"I want it. Fuck your mother's pussy. Fill me up." She stood, turned, and bent over the counter, yanking her panties aside. Her hairy, dripping cunt winked at me. I slammed in balls-deep in one thrust. She was tight, hot, and slick, walls gripping my shaft like a vice.
I pounded her hard, the wet slap of skin echoing through the flat. Her big ass rippled with every stroke. "Harder, Rahul! Fuck me like in those stories. Make your mom cum on your cock." I reached around, rubbing her swollen clit while I drilled her, feeling her pussy clench and flood.
She came screaming, juices squirting down my thighs. I didn't stop.
I flipped her onto the table, spread her legs wide, and drove back in, watching her tits bounce free from the blouse. Her nipples were dark and stiff. I sucked one while hammering her cunt, the table creaking under us.
"Ma, I'm gonna cum inside you." She wrapped her legs around me, heels digging into my ass. "Do it, beta. Breed your mother's pussy. Give me all that hot cum." I exploded deep, pumping thick ropes into her, filling her until it leaked out around my cock.
We didn't stop there. I carried her to the bedroom, laid her down, and ate her cum-filled cunt until she squirted again on my face. Then she rode me reverse, that fat ass bouncing while she moaned every filthy thing from those Indian incest audios. We fucked until dawn, raw and loud, her begging for more of her son's dick.
By morning she was on all fours again, my cum dripping from both holes, whispering how she wanted it every night from now on. The audio stories had nothing on the real thing.
