I was 16 when my father who was 44 and a widower married again under the pressure of family members. My new mom was 28 years old and a beauty. She was a divorcee whose husband had left her for another woman. I could not take her as my mother for two reasons; firstly my own mother had died just two years ago and her memory was still vivid in my mind; and the second reason was that my new mother was too young and beautiful, attributes that I could hardly attach to a real mom. She was an alien to me and I maintained my distance from her though she tried her best to be good towards me. Somehow I always felt a little uncomfortable in her presence and though I did not have any ill-feelings towards her, I considered her an intruder and my father’s property in which I did not have any share. I was in boarding school at that time and came home only during holidays. My mother did her best to make me comfortable and washed my clothes and cooked for me but never fed me with her own hand as my real mother did not that I wanted to be fed by this woman. She asked me about my school and studies and friends and engaged me in polite conversations which I mostly answered in monosyllables. During these holidays I was more interested in meeting my friends from the locality and playing with them all over the mohalla, flying kites, playing cricket and secretly watching young village women bathing in the ponds.
It was during one such holiday, when I was already 17 and my father had been married for more than a year that something happened that changed the course of my adolescent life. I had woken up early that day, around 7 am and casually pulled the curtain of the window beside my bed that overlooked the courtyard. I was struck by a sight that drove heat through my young blood. My mother was hanging clothes on the clothesline in the courtyard. She had just emerged from her bath and her long hair was still wet. She was wearing a thin yellow cotton sari which was wrapped around her wet body in a very casual manner and she wore it much below her waist line, exposing her midriff and thickset waist. And she wore no blouse beneath. The pallu of her sari was tucked at her waist and every time she bent to pick up the clothes from the bucket, her pallu hung loose and I could glimpse her naked breasts as they hung from the side. They were big and fare and lovely, like a pair of melons. It was a delightful site. I could even see her nipples. When she raised her hands to hang the clothes, I could see her armpits and noticed that she had tufts of hair in her armpits. She looked so lovely like that, engaged in her work and humming a Hindi film song. I could not believe my eyes. She was unaware that I was spying her from my window from behind the curtain.
This was the first time that I saw my mother from a sexy angle and my whole holiday changed its focus from that day. I looked at my mother in a new light. Every morning I waited for my mother to come to the courtyard and invariably she wore a wet cotton sari without any blouse and hung clothes from the clothesline, humming a tune. I sat by the window, hiding myself and took off my shirt and pants and sat naked, watching my mother and her breasts and held my dick and stroked it till I could contain myself no more and masturbated. I realized my mother had put on weight in the last one year and her ass had become fuller and there were layers in her waist line. She wore a thin golden chain around her waist that accentuated her folds and payels around her ankles that made tinkling sound as she walked. She had become a buxom woman, a full-bodied fair and lovely, fleshy sexpot that I began to desire during my waking hours. This was the first time that I realized that women have hair in their armpits like men and it drove me crazy. I was struck by everything in her body: her ample ass which swayed as she walked, her healthy arms and her thickset waist, encircled by the girdle. She was uninhibited inside the confines of our house and often scratched her armpits and ass, oblivious of the fact that I was spying her. I just longed to see her naked but i knew that was impossible. There were times when her sari got stuck in the crevice of her ass as she bent down to pick up the clothes and rose again, but she did not bother to pull it out.
I found myself working up excuses to be near her. When she cooked in the kitchen, crouched on the floor, she pulled her sari above her knees and I would enter the kitchen in some pretext and stared at her thickset waist and legs. When she bent down to give me food during lunch hours when my father was not at home, (ours was an old-fashioned house where we sat on the floor and ate), i would steal a glance at her cleavage. She seemed to be quite cool and never bothered to cover her breasts when her pallu slipped aside because she thought that I was a child. She would crouch on the floor and as she bent forward to serve me a helping, her breasts pressed against her thighs and since she generally wore low cut blouses, her breasts popped out of her blouse considerably. When she turned the other side, I looked at her lovely buttocks and when she got up to fetch something, her sari got stuck inside the crevice of her fat ass. I realized that I was not the only one to notice the sex appeal of my mother. She was a topic of heated discussions amongst my friends in the locality who lusted after her. All of us were young and hungry for sex and many of my friends engaged in homosexuality out of necessity, including me when I was in the hostel. Sonu who was my age was the brashest of them all and we frequently got into fights over kite flying and other small matters. On those occasions he used to be very nasty with me and called me names and teased me about my mother. I used to get very angry with him, specially when he mocked me about my mother and her body and wondered if I slept with my mother. I could not take the insults anymore and we got into a major fight one day. He was too much for me and i got bruised badly and lost the fight.
I came back home with my bruises and my mother was aghast on seeing my like that and asked me what happened? I said that i had fell down and hurt myself. She got very concerned and immediately held my hand and took me inside the bathroom adjoining the courtyard. I was still smarting from the fight with Sonu and was angry. My mother asked me to take off my t-shirt which was torn and dirty. I took off my t-shirt and stood there in my shorts in front of her. She examined the bruises all over my body. I stood there like a fool while she tucked her sari at her waist and switched on the geezer and took a piece of cloth and dabbed it in hot water and poured dettol into it and began to apply over my bruises. She crouched on the floor as she applied the cloth over my injuries on my leg and suddenly all my pain and anger vanished. I was standing and looked down at my mother and was treated to a glorious view of her cleavage because her pallu had moved aside. I stared down her breasts and could see the red brassiere that she was wearing beneath her blouse and I felt my cock rising. I started shivering in excitement. She looked up at me and smiled and told me that everything will be alright. Then she got up and started cleaning the bruises on my chest. She stood so close to me that I could smell her sweet aroma.
I don’t know what and how it happened, but I could not control myself and suddenly grabbed my mother’s breasts. She was thunderstruck. She stopped her treatment but I clutched her breasts with both hands. Before I could understand, she slapped me hard across my face with all her force and i fell down. “bastard,” she exclaimed and stomped out of the bathroom. I knew I had created a blunder and was horrified. I had done the unpardonable and shook with shame at my action. I ran out of the bathroom and went to my room and closed the door and began to cry like a little baby. I didn’t know how to show my face to my mother again and what’s going to happen next. She would definitely tell my father and i shuddered at the outcome. I cried and cried for how long I don’t know till I gradually fell asleep. I don’t know how long i slept when a knocking at the door woke me up. I got up and slowly opened the door. It was my mother. She got inside the room and closed the door behind her and looked at me. I looked down on the floor, ashamed. I was still bare bodied and was wearing the shorts. She held my hand and took me to the bed and made me sit. She sat beside me. I could not look into her eyes. I began to cry. She suddenly held me in her arms and rested my head on her breasts. I gave myself up and began to weep like a little child on her breasts. She let me cry and ran her hand over my hair, soothing and comforting me. “it’s all right Rakesh, I understand. I don’t mind. Now stop crying and look at me,” she said. I looked up at her and she smiled at me and rubbed the tears off my eyes with her Pallu. “I am sorry, mother. I will never do it again,” I said. She smiled at me and said, “it’s alright. You are young but you must understand that I am your mother.” I said sorry again and told her that I will never do it again but please don’t tell my father, please. She assured me that she will not tell my father.
There was an uncomfortable silence between us. I looked down on the floor as she kept looking at me and smiled. Suddenly she said, “do you want to see?” I was surprised, “what, mother?” She reiterated, “do you want to see me?” I could not understand her. She smiled at me, “O.k. i slapped you hard and i am sorry too. So i will show it to you but you promise you will never tell it to anybody.” I still could not understand what she was trying to say or what she wanted to show. “you stupid boy,” she smiled at me and to my amazement, she moved aside her Pallu and exposed her heaving breasts. I stared at them; then i looked at her. She was smiling at me. “you want to see them?” I didn’t know what it was getting at; i nodded my head sheepishly. She began to take off the buttons of her blouse one by one as i looked on in amazement as she bare her big breasts. I was thunderstruck. She wasn’t wearing any brassiere inside and her nipples jutted out like corks. She looked at me and smiled. “you like them?” She asked and i said yes. She peeled off her blouse completely and raised her hands and tied her hair into a bun. She had not shaved. I looked at her naked breasts the size of melons and started breathing heavily. “you want to touch them?” I couldn’t reply in shock. She then gently took my hands and laid them on her naked breasts. They felt so warm and reassuring; i didn’t want to leave them; the blood coursed through my veins as i relished the soft touch. The big erect nipples pressed against my palms and i could smell her sweat. She raised her hands and pressed her palms on my hands and smiled at me. “that’s enough,” and she held my hands and removed them from her breasts. I sat looking at her, breathing heavily, my cock tight under my pants.
Now she pulled up her Pallu and covered her naked breasts. She picked up her blouse from the bed and got up. She turned away from me and i looked at her broad back and the girdle around her thick waist. She once again removed her Anchal and began to put on the blouse. “mother,” I suddenly found myself calling her. “yes son. “please don’t put on the blouse.” She turned towards me and smiled at me. I gathered courage and told her, “just be in the sari, don’t put on the blouse please.” “you like me like that?” I nodded my head. She replied, “just like your father. He also likes to see me without the blouse.” And she covered her naked breasts with her Anchal and tucked the end at her waist. Then she walked up to me and kissed me on the mouth. “but how long can I stay like this? Without the blouse?” I answered, “why not mother, nobody is at house. I want to see you like this.” She suddenly changed her tone, “no my son, you shouldn’t indulge in fantasies anymore about me. Now go and take your bath.” Then she picked up her blouse once again and walked out of the room, swinging her fat ass as her ankles made tinkling sound. As soon as she was out of the room, i got out of my pants and stood naked in the middle of the room and began masturbating vigorously, thinking about the whole incident and wondering if it all was a dream but what I didn’t know that there was more to come in the course of the next few weeks that I stayed at home I kept on masturbating. [email protected]