I came home from college late that night, the Mumbai heat still clinging to my skin. Mom was in the kitchen, her back to me, wearing that thin cotton nightie she always wore after Dad left for his night shifts. Her ass looked rounder than I remembered, hips wide from years of cooking and carrying me. She turned when she heard the door and smiled, but there was something different in her eyes, like shed been waiting.
Arjun, beta, youre late again, she said, voice low. Come eat. I kept some food warm.
I walked up behind her at the stove. She was stirring dal, and the smell of spices mixed with her sweat. I didnt plan it. My hands just went to her waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh through the thin fabric. She froze but didnt pull away.
Mom, stop calling me beta right now, I said, voice rough. My cock was already hard, pressing against her ass. She could feel it. I knew she could.
She turned slowly. Her eyes dropped to the bulge in my jeans. Arjun what are you doing?
I grabbed her hand and put it on my dick. Touch it. You know you want to. Ive seen the way you look at me when Dads not here.
Her fingers squeezed through the denim. She didnt let go. This is wrong. Im your mother.
Then why are you squeezing my cock like that? I pushed her nightie up. No panties. Her pussy was shaved smooth, lips already wet. I slid two fingers straight in. She was hot and tight, clenching around me.
She moaned, low and dirty. Fuck Arjun, we cant.
I pulled my fingers out and shoved them in her mouth. Taste how wet you are for your own son. She sucked them clean, eyes locked on mine. That was it. The line was crossed.
I bent her over the kitchen counter. The dal pot clattered. I yanked my jeans down, freed my cock, and slammed into her from behind in one thrust. She was dripping. Her cunt took every inch like it had been waiting for years. I fucked her hard, hips slapping against her ass, the sound wet and filthy in the quiet kitchen.
Harder, beta, she gasped, finally saying it the way I wanted. Fuck your mom like you mean it.
I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. Say it again.
Fuck me. Fill your mothers pussy. Her voice was raw, no shame left. I pounded her faster, one hand reaching around to rub her clit. She came fast, legs shaking, juices running down my balls.
I didnt stop. I pulled out, spun her around, and lifted her onto the counter. Her legs spread wide. I shoved back inside, watching her tits bounce under the nightie. I yanked the straps down so her dark nipples were out, sucking one hard while I fucked her.
She clawed my back. Cum inside me. I want my sons cum in my cunt.
I exploded deep, pumping load after load into her. She held me there, milking every drop with her pussy walls. We stayed locked like that, breathing hard, sweat mixing.
After that night it became regular. Dad worked nights, so every evening I took her wherever we were. On the sofa, her riding me, tits in my face while she whispered filthy things in Hindi mixed with English. In the shower, me behind her again, soaping her ass then fucking it for the first time while she begged for more. On her bed, legs over my shoulders, pounding her until she squirted all over my stomach.
She stopped pretending. One morning before college she woke me with her mouth on my cock, sucking like she needed it to live. My sons dick tastes better than anything, she said, then climbed on and rode me slow and deep until I filled her again.
We never talked about stopping.
It was just real now. Mom and son, fucking like we were made for it. Every time she came she said the same thing: Dont stop, Arjun. Dont ever stop fucking your mother.
And I never did.
