I was amazed at how far my mom had come from being a shy, loyal, conservative housewife to a horny, submissive slut. True, she was being controlled by a perverted old man. But even a blind man could see that something inside her was stirring and she too was enjoying the perversions that she was being subjected to.
When she went inside the bathroom, I could hear faint sounds of moaning inside alongwith the trickling sounds of the shower. She was probably fingering her excited, mature pussy after having such an intense session with the milkman. I knew she longed for a fuck, especially after some of the intense orgarsms that she had thanks to the milkman's finger-fucking. If the young low-class man wanted to, he could've easily fucked her. I knew my mom wouldn't protest, given that she was enjoying his thick, manly cock inside her mouth so much so that she allowed him to cum all over her, and even drank some of it like a professional whore. But I guess he was afraid of me showing up at the wrong time. Nonetheless, now that he had opened up this little channel with her, there is no doubt that there would be more sessions coming up every morning. And I would get a lot of opprotunities to masturbate on my mom's private sex shows!
After nearly an hour, my mom exited the bathroom, not knowing that I was sitting inside the living room waiting for her to come out. As soon as she stepped out, my eyes almost popped out of their socket. My mother was there, naked and dripping wet thanks to the shower. She was not even wearing a towel! Her amazing tits were like two big melons proudly protruding from her chest and beads of water trickling from the edge of her stiff, grape-like nipples. Her pink pussy lips were wet as well and somewhat swollen, probably because of the brutal fingering that had been going on since morning. I was getting an instant hard once again, just by looking at her gorgeous face and attractive figure.
Suddenly my mom looked in my direction and was shocked to see me staring at her. She immediately covered her thick coconuts with one arm and with the other she covered her juicy twat, in embarrasment. "Babu, tui ki korchis ato sokale?" ("Babu, what are you doing so early?"), she cried.
Her sudden cry jerked me back to reality and I was about to say something, before she interrupted, "Dara ami aschi." ("Wait I'm coming.") Saying that, she rushed inside the dressing room - the same room in which she and the milkman had recently had their erotic session - and locked the door from the inside. I could hear some shuffling noises from inside. She was probably trying to get the place in order so that I don't come in unexpectedly and find something suspicious. Oh my mom is so naive! It almost made me laugh.
After a few minutes, she came out of the room dressed in her usual red silk nightgown that she wears at home - without inners - and asked me in a worried tone, "Tui kokhon uthechis re ghum theke?" ("When did you wake up?")
"Ami? Ei 5-7 minute age." ("Me? Just 5-7mins ago."), I lied. My mom breathed a sigh of relief. Then I decided to have some perverted fun. "Acha, doodhwala aaj eschilo?" ("Did the milkman show up today?")
My mom immediately went red and I saw her gulping. "Uhh...Hain e-eschilo toh. Tor kotha jigesh o korchilo. T-Ta tui chinta korish na, ami sokale uthe sob byabostha thikthak moton kore niechi." ("Uhh...yeah, h-he was here. He even asked about you. B-But you don't have to worry, I woke up early this morning and took care of everything.").
I could see that she was stuttering, so I decided to push the envelope. "Oh acha. Toh or sob doodh nie niecho toh?" ("Oh alright. So you've taken all his milk, yes?") I purposely made the question more probing, but my mom was too innocent to understand the hidden double-meaning.
"Na shob doodh nite jabo keno? O sobsomoy jotota dey tototai niechi." ("No, why would take all his milk? I've taken the amount that he always gives."), she replied innocently. I giggled at her naivety.
A few hours later, our temporary servant Haria showed up for work and as usual he was passing lewd but fleeting stares at my mom. She was sitting on the sofa watching T.V. - she was shifting quite a lot because of her sore rosebud - totally oblivious of her low-class servant's dirty gazes. His eyes were constantly drifting over her gigantic hemispheres, which were expectedly streching against the thin fabric of her nightgown and he was licking his lips while eyeballing her nipples that were almost poking out like two small, delicious grapes. Even when she's fully covered, the sight of her can make any cock rock hard.
While this was happening, I suddenly heard my cell-phone ringing in my bedroom. Wondering who it was, I quickly climbed the stairs to my room and then I saw that the call was from an unknown number. I picked it up and said, "Hello? Ke bolchen?" ("Hello? Who is this?")
"Bunty! Kemon achis?" ("Bunty! How are you?") As soon as I heard the coarse voice of the man who was on the other line, my heart skipped a beat. It was Shyam Uncle!
"Kire amra pasha-pashi thaki. Ekbar dekha kore jete paris toh toder parar ei buro jethar sathe." ("We stay so close to each other. Yet you still can't find the time to meet this old neighbor uncle of yours.")
I was terrified. My throat was dry and I was starting to sweat. Uncle Shyam had seen me watching him dominate my mom in the master bedroom. He knew my secret. So why is he calling? Is he going to threaten me? Is he going to tell my mom that I was watching her while she was engaged in illicit activities with this uncle? That would be disastrous! My voyeuristic days would be over.
I was shaken, and so slowly and timidly I said, "N-Na asole ami kota din ektu k-kaje byasto chilam tai dekha korte aste parini." ("N-No, actually I was busy with w-work so I couldn't come.")
"Hahahaha!! Arey kono byapar nei. Ta aaj byasto nei toh?" ("Hahahahah! No problem. So, are you busy today?")
I was fumbling for answers, "Er...na, serom ekta na." ("Er...No, not too much.")
"Darun!" ("Good!"), he yelled excitedly, "Amar barite chole esho tahle." ("Come to my house then.")
I was shocked. "Keno?" ("Why?"), I asked.
"Arey 'keno' abar ki? Aste bollam bole!" ("What do you mean by 'why'? I want you to come, that's why!") I was scared by his reaction. His voice seemed more dominating now, like the time when he was controlling my mother.
I was afraid to respond. Seeing that, he lowered his tone somewhat and said, "Arey tomar jnoo ami amar canteen theke ekta Royal Stag enechi. Dujone mile dupure khabo aar jomie adda debo. Chole esho taratari." ("I've brought a bottle of Royal Stag whiskey for you. We'll both have it together and have a wonderful time. Come quickly.")
"Uh....kintu ma toh..." ("Uh...but mom...")
"Arey ma ke bolo kono bondhur bari jacho. Amar naam nite hobena." ("Tell your mom that you're going to a friend's place. Don't tell her it's me.")
"Acha...Thikache. Ami aschi." ("Ok...Fine. I'm coming."), I reluctantly said, knowing full well what this was about. I hung up the phone and climbed down the stairs to the living room, where my mom was still watching T.V.
"Ma ami ektu aschi." ("Mom, I'll be back.")
"Arey, kothae jachis eto belae?" ("Hey where are you going at this hour?"), she asked with surprise.
"Pramit er bari. O ektu daklo. Chinta koro na, taratari fire ashbo. Aar lunch okhanei kore nebo." ("To Pramit's house. He called. Don't worry, I'll be back soon. And I'll be having lunch over there.") Without saying much else, I quickly rushed out of the house leaving my mom and Haria inside, and went straight to Shyam Uncle's house.
When I got there, I knocked on his door and within a few seconds he opened. "Arey, eshe gechis? Darun! Aye aye bhetore aye!" ("Hey, you've arrived? Good! Come inside!") His potbelly seemed to have grown a few more inches and his rugged beard was still there. But the unusual thing was, he seemed to be in quite a jovial mood.
He guided me to his small bedroom, which appeared to be as dirty as himself - the room was damp and had a weird alcoholic stench all over, at the center was an old bed that creaked the moment I sat on it, a crooked table placed close to the bed, spider-webs hanging from the corners of the ceiling, and the floors were greasy as shit.
"Ek minute, ami aschi." ("I''ll be back in a minute.") He stepped out of the room and came back a few minutes later with a bottle of RS and two large glasses in his hands.
He placed them on the table and poured both of us a drink. I was waiting patiently for him to say something, but the bastard was taking his time; enjoying the fact that I was miserable and trapped. Finally, he decided to speak, "Kire, bhalo legeche ager din er drishya ta?" ("So, did you like the show yesterday?")
Immediately I felt scared and my heart started beating rapidly. But I wasn't going to give up easily. "Apni ki bolchen ami kichui bujte parchina." ("I don't know what you're talking about.")
"Aha aar sokhi sajte hobena. Ami toke onekhon dhorei sedin lokkho korechi." ("No use in trying to act innocent. I had been watching you for a long time that day.") My worst fears were confirmed. My secret was out. This perverted, old man knew everything and could manipulate me however he wanted. I was petrified. "Kire, kichu bolchis na keno?" ("Why aren't you saying something?") He came close to my ear and whispered, "Ma ke chudte dekhte bhalo lage?" ("Do you like watching your mom get fucked?"). I grabbed the bedsheet between my clenched fists; not in anger or fear, but in a sense of rising excitement. I don't know why, but the word "chudte" ("sex") was having an arousing effect on me. I am, after all, my mom's son.
"Kire, bol!" ("Come on, say it!")
My head was hung low and I was shivering like a leaf. I couldn't speak, therefore I just nodded my head in approval. As soon as I did that, an evil smile appeared across his hairy cheeks.
When she went inside the bathroom, I could hear faint sounds of moaning inside alongwith the trickling sounds of the shower. She was probably fingering her excited, mature pussy after having such an intense session with the milkman. I knew she longed for a fuck, especially after some of the intense orgarsms that she had thanks to the milkman's finger-fucking. If the young low-class man wanted to, he could've easily fucked her. I knew my mom wouldn't protest, given that she was enjoying his thick, manly cock inside her mouth so much so that she allowed him to cum all over her, and even drank some of it like a professional whore. But I guess he was afraid of me showing up at the wrong time. Nonetheless, now that he had opened up this little channel with her, there is no doubt that there would be more sessions coming up every morning. And I would get a lot of opprotunities to masturbate on my mom's private sex shows!
After nearly an hour, my mom exited the bathroom, not knowing that I was sitting inside the living room waiting for her to come out. As soon as she stepped out, my eyes almost popped out of their socket. My mother was there, naked and dripping wet thanks to the shower. She was not even wearing a towel! Her amazing tits were like two big melons proudly protruding from her chest and beads of water trickling from the edge of her stiff, grape-like nipples. Her pink pussy lips were wet as well and somewhat swollen, probably because of the brutal fingering that had been going on since morning. I was getting an instant hard once again, just by looking at her gorgeous face and attractive figure.
Suddenly my mom looked in my direction and was shocked to see me staring at her. She immediately covered her thick coconuts with one arm and with the other she covered her juicy twat, in embarrasment. "Babu, tui ki korchis ato sokale?" ("Babu, what are you doing so early?"), she cried.
Her sudden cry jerked me back to reality and I was about to say something, before she interrupted, "Dara ami aschi." ("Wait I'm coming.") Saying that, she rushed inside the dressing room - the same room in which she and the milkman had recently had their erotic session - and locked the door from the inside. I could hear some shuffling noises from inside. She was probably trying to get the place in order so that I don't come in unexpectedly and find something suspicious. Oh my mom is so naive! It almost made me laugh.
After a few minutes, she came out of the room dressed in her usual red silk nightgown that she wears at home - without inners - and asked me in a worried tone, "Tui kokhon uthechis re ghum theke?" ("When did you wake up?")
"Ami? Ei 5-7 minute age." ("Me? Just 5-7mins ago."), I lied. My mom breathed a sigh of relief. Then I decided to have some perverted fun. "Acha, doodhwala aaj eschilo?" ("Did the milkman show up today?")
My mom immediately went red and I saw her gulping. "Uhh...Hain e-eschilo toh. Tor kotha jigesh o korchilo. T-Ta tui chinta korish na, ami sokale uthe sob byabostha thikthak moton kore niechi." ("Uhh...yeah, h-he was here. He even asked about you. B-But you don't have to worry, I woke up early this morning and took care of everything.").
I could see that she was stuttering, so I decided to push the envelope. "Oh acha. Toh or sob doodh nie niecho toh?" ("Oh alright. So you've taken all his milk, yes?") I purposely made the question more probing, but my mom was too innocent to understand the hidden double-meaning.
"Na shob doodh nite jabo keno? O sobsomoy jotota dey tototai niechi." ("No, why would take all his milk? I've taken the amount that he always gives."), she replied innocently. I giggled at her naivety.
A few hours later, our temporary servant Haria showed up for work and as usual he was passing lewd but fleeting stares at my mom. She was sitting on the sofa watching T.V. - she was shifting quite a lot because of her sore rosebud - totally oblivious of her low-class servant's dirty gazes. His eyes were constantly drifting over her gigantic hemispheres, which were expectedly streching against the thin fabric of her nightgown and he was licking his lips while eyeballing her nipples that were almost poking out like two small, delicious grapes. Even when she's fully covered, the sight of her can make any cock rock hard.
While this was happening, I suddenly heard my cell-phone ringing in my bedroom. Wondering who it was, I quickly climbed the stairs to my room and then I saw that the call was from an unknown number. I picked it up and said, "Hello? Ke bolchen?" ("Hello? Who is this?")
"Bunty! Kemon achis?" ("Bunty! How are you?") As soon as I heard the coarse voice of the man who was on the other line, my heart skipped a beat. It was Shyam Uncle!
"Kire amra pasha-pashi thaki. Ekbar dekha kore jete paris toh toder parar ei buro jethar sathe." ("We stay so close to each other. Yet you still can't find the time to meet this old neighbor uncle of yours.")
I was terrified. My throat was dry and I was starting to sweat. Uncle Shyam had seen me watching him dominate my mom in the master bedroom. He knew my secret. So why is he calling? Is he going to threaten me? Is he going to tell my mom that I was watching her while she was engaged in illicit activities with this uncle? That would be disastrous! My voyeuristic days would be over.
I was shaken, and so slowly and timidly I said, "N-Na asole ami kota din ektu k-kaje byasto chilam tai dekha korte aste parini." ("N-No, actually I was busy with w-work so I couldn't come.")
"Hahahaha!! Arey kono byapar nei. Ta aaj byasto nei toh?" ("Hahahahah! No problem. So, are you busy today?")
I was fumbling for answers, "Er...na, serom ekta na." ("Er...No, not too much.")
"Darun!" ("Good!"), he yelled excitedly, "Amar barite chole esho tahle." ("Come to my house then.")
I was shocked. "Keno?" ("Why?"), I asked.
"Arey 'keno' abar ki? Aste bollam bole!" ("What do you mean by 'why'? I want you to come, that's why!") I was scared by his reaction. His voice seemed more dominating now, like the time when he was controlling my mother.
I was afraid to respond. Seeing that, he lowered his tone somewhat and said, "Arey tomar jnoo ami amar canteen theke ekta Royal Stag enechi. Dujone mile dupure khabo aar jomie adda debo. Chole esho taratari." ("I've brought a bottle of Royal Stag whiskey for you. We'll both have it together and have a wonderful time. Come quickly.")
"Uh....kintu ma toh..." ("Uh...but mom...")
"Arey ma ke bolo kono bondhur bari jacho. Amar naam nite hobena." ("Tell your mom that you're going to a friend's place. Don't tell her it's me.")
"Acha...Thikache. Ami aschi." ("Ok...Fine. I'm coming."), I reluctantly said, knowing full well what this was about. I hung up the phone and climbed down the stairs to the living room, where my mom was still watching T.V.
"Ma ami ektu aschi." ("Mom, I'll be back.")
"Arey, kothae jachis eto belae?" ("Hey where are you going at this hour?"), she asked with surprise.
"Pramit er bari. O ektu daklo. Chinta koro na, taratari fire ashbo. Aar lunch okhanei kore nebo." ("To Pramit's house. He called. Don't worry, I'll be back soon. And I'll be having lunch over there.") Without saying much else, I quickly rushed out of the house leaving my mom and Haria inside, and went straight to Shyam Uncle's house.
When I got there, I knocked on his door and within a few seconds he opened. "Arey, eshe gechis? Darun! Aye aye bhetore aye!" ("Hey, you've arrived? Good! Come inside!") His potbelly seemed to have grown a few more inches and his rugged beard was still there. But the unusual thing was, he seemed to be in quite a jovial mood.
He guided me to his small bedroom, which appeared to be as dirty as himself - the room was damp and had a weird alcoholic stench all over, at the center was an old bed that creaked the moment I sat on it, a crooked table placed close to the bed, spider-webs hanging from the corners of the ceiling, and the floors were greasy as shit.
"Ek minute, ami aschi." ("I''ll be back in a minute.") He stepped out of the room and came back a few minutes later with a bottle of RS and two large glasses in his hands.
He placed them on the table and poured both of us a drink. I was waiting patiently for him to say something, but the bastard was taking his time; enjoying the fact that I was miserable and trapped. Finally, he decided to speak, "Kire, bhalo legeche ager din er drishya ta?" ("So, did you like the show yesterday?")
Immediately I felt scared and my heart started beating rapidly. But I wasn't going to give up easily. "Apni ki bolchen ami kichui bujte parchina." ("I don't know what you're talking about.")
"Aha aar sokhi sajte hobena. Ami toke onekhon dhorei sedin lokkho korechi." ("No use in trying to act innocent. I had been watching you for a long time that day.") My worst fears were confirmed. My secret was out. This perverted, old man knew everything and could manipulate me however he wanted. I was petrified. "Kire, kichu bolchis na keno?" ("Why aren't you saying something?") He came close to my ear and whispered, "Ma ke chudte dekhte bhalo lage?" ("Do you like watching your mom get fucked?"). I grabbed the bedsheet between my clenched fists; not in anger or fear, but in a sense of rising excitement. I don't know why, but the word "chudte" ("sex") was having an arousing effect on me. I am, after all, my mom's son.
"Kire, bol!" ("Come on, say it!")
My head was hung low and I was shivering like a leaf. I couldn't speak, therefore I just nodded my head in approval. As soon as I did that, an evil smile appeared across his hairy cheeks.