I slammed the door behind me and turned around to see Amma standing there in the dim light of our small Chennai flat, her sari half-unraveled and her heavy tits pushing against the thin blouse.
"Fuck, Amma, you know what you're doing to me," I growled, my cock already rock hard in my pants. She was forty-five but still had that thick Tamil bodywide hips, round ass, and those dark nipples I could see poking through the fabric.
She didn't say a word at first. Just locked the door and stepped closer, her eyes dropping to the bulge in my jeans. "Arjun, this is wrong. Your father is downstairs."
"Shut up and pull that sari off," I said, voice low and dirty. I grabbed her wrist and yanked her against me. Her soft belly pressed to my crotch and she felt how stiff I was. She moaned, low and slutty, the way only a real Tamil mom does when she's finally giving in.
I ripped the pallu away. Her blouse came next, buttons popping as I tore it open. Those fat, brown tits spilled out, nipples already stiff and begging. I sucked one hard into my mouth, biting just enough to make her gasp. "Suck my cock, Amma. Right now."
She dropped to her knees like she'd been waiting years for the order. Her hands fumbled my zipper and my thick dick sprang free, slapping her cheek. She wrapped her fingers around the base and licked the head, slow and wet. "So big… bigger than your appa," she whispered in Tamil mixed with English, then opened wide and swallowed half of me in one go.
I fucked her mouth hard. Saliva ran down her chin onto her tits while she gagged and slurped. Every time she pulled back she looked up at me with those dark, guilty eyes and went right back down. I held her head and pumped until my balls tightened.
"Not yet," I said, pulling out. I hauled her up, spun her around, and bent her over the old wooden table. The sari hitched up over her ass. No panties. Her pussy was shaved smooth and already dripping. I slapped her ass hard, leaving a red handprint. "You want your son's cock in this wet cunt?"
"Yes… please, Arjun. Fuck your Amma."
I lined up and slammed in balls-deep in one thrust. She was tight and hot, clenching around me like she never wanted to let go. I pounded her right there, the table creaking, her tits swinging and slapping the wood. Every stroke made wet, filthy sounds. She pushed back, meeting every thrust, moaning loud enough that I had to clamp a hand over her mouth.
"Take it, Amma. Take every inch of your son's dick."
I flipped her onto her back on the table, legs spread wide. I fucked her harder, watching her face twist with pleasure and shame. Her clit was swollen; I rubbed it with my thumb while I drove into her. She came first, pussy pulsing and squirting around my cock, thighs shaking.
I didn't stop. I flipped her again, this time on all fours on the floor, and took her from behind like an animal. Her ass cheeks clapped against me. I reached under and pinched her nipples, pulling them hard. "Tell me you love your son's cock."
"I love it! I love my son's big cock fucking me!" she cried out in Tamil, voice breaking.
I felt my orgasm building fast. I pulled out at the last second, flipped her onto her back again, and straddled her chest.
I stroked once, twice, and shot thick ropes of cum across her face and open mouth. Some landed on her tits. She licked her lips and swallowed what she could, looking up at me like a well-used slut.
We stayed like that, breathing hard, the smell of sex thick in the small room. She reached up, wiped a streak of cum from her cheek with her finger, and sucked it clean.
"Tomorrow night," she whispered, voice hoarse. "When he's asleep again."
I grinned, already getting hard again. "Count on it, Amma."
