After that failed ejaculation attempt, I was really pissed off. I wondered what caused my mother to react in such a way. What did she see out the window? I quickly straightened myself and went to the balcony. There I saw him! It was Shyam Uncle - the same perverted old man whom my mom and I had met a few days ago during that trip to the market. To recall, he was a man in his mid-fifties, with an ugly face and rugged features. His house was directly opposite to ours and the window through which he was looking was directly opposite to my mom's dressing room window. He must've seen everything! The way mom was holding those window grills - her naked tits swaying against Haria's rhythmic squeezes and strokes - was so lewd and the "kamuk" expression on her face must've been awfully sexy. I was getting hard again while imagining this old pervert jerking off to the sight of my mother's hot luscious naked body.

Meanwhile Haria having released his load was now extremely worried about my mother's violent reaction. The moment she came out of the bathroom, she was fully clothed. She didn't speak a word to our servant and was constantly avoiding eye contact with him. Haria too decided not to speak too much and with a lowered head, he was silently chopping vegetables in the kitchen. I thought she might fire him. But instead, she came to the living room and sat down, looking visibly tired and nervous.

Just then I entered the living room and immediately my mother cried, "Tui? Tui ekhane ki korchis?" ("You? What are you doing here?") She was thoroughly shocked to see me.

I acted surprised by my mother's reaction. "Ami asole ektu kacher dokane gechilam. Sobe firlam." ("I had just gone to the nearby store. Just came back.")

My mother seemed relieved on hearing that. "Oh acha. Ami asole toke dakchilum. Kono shara pachilam na bole jigesh korlam." ("Oh alright. Actually I was calling you. You weren't responding so that's why I asked.")

"Keno? Kichu dorkar chilo?" (""Why? Did you want something?"), I asked in an innocent voice.

My mother became nervous again. She obviously didn't wanna reveal what had happened between herself and Haria. "Na, kichu na. Emni toke khujchilam." ("No, nothing really. I was just looking for you.")

"Tumi toh emni emni amae kokhono dako na. Nischoe tomar kichu kaj chilo amake die." ("") I began to push her now and I could see her nervousness increasing ten-fold. Somehow, the tension in her face excited me and I wanted to hear from her mouth what she had been doing with this low-class servant, even though I had seen the truth.

While my mother was fiddling for answers, Haria suddenly moved out of the kitchen and came to the living room. Seeing him my mom became furious. "Ekhane ki korcho? Jao! Ranna ghore jao!" ("What are you doing here? Go! Go back to the kitchen"), she screamed.

Both Haria and I were shocked - and a little scared - by her reaction. Haria spoke meekly, "Boudi, asole ghore ektuo mangsho nai. Apni boliyashilen mangsho ranna korite." ("Bhabhi, actually there's no mutton in the house. You told me to make mutton curry.")

Upon hearing that, she calmed down. "Oh acha. Tahle ami ekhuni bajare gie niye aschi. Ayan, tui jabi amr sathe?" ("Oh alright. Then I'll go to the market immediately and get it. Ayan, will you come with me.")

"Amar apotti nei. Tumi ki change korbe na?" ("I don't mind going. Aren't you gonna change?")

"Na. Khali jabo r mangsho ta kine chole asbo. Dress paltanor proejon nei." ("Nope. We'll just go and get the mutton, then come back. No need for changing.") It's important to mention here that my mother was dressed fairly conservatively. She was wearing a proper red-and-yellow silk saree, a red color blouse which showed about 45-50% of her cleavage though it didn't matter since her saree was covering her ample bosoms quite securely. In the sun, her saree became slightly translucent which showed off her deep round and fleshy navel as well as her chubby folds.

"Thikache. Tahle cholo." ("Fine. Then let's go.") We moved out of the house and headed towards the marketplace. When we got to the butchers shop, I was shocked to see who was manning it. It was that same man who was talking dirty about my mother a few days ago - the man named Nayan. The way he was talking about my mom that day made me feel like he was talking about a cheap whore. He had, in fact, made me cum with his dirty chatter. He was probably in his mid-thirties, same height as my mother, strongly built despite a pot-belly and his face almost looked like a bhojpuri movie villain (no offence to bhojpuri movie villains). He had an assistant who was working with him - about a 18-19 year old boy.

The moment he looked up and saw my mother, his face lit up. "Didi, asun asun." ("Didi, please come come."), he called excitedly. Since it was a weekday, the market was relatively empty and there was no queue on the butcher shop. My mom and I quickly went there.

"Acha, doo kilo mangsho din. R bhalo dekhe deben." ("Alright, give me two kilos of mutton. And make sure they're good pieces."), she said to him.

"Chinta korben na, didi. Ami apnar size moton i mangsho debo." ("Don't worry, Didi. I'll give the meat according to your size only."), his eyes lewdly roamed over her mature sexy figure while he said those words.

"R haar ta kom deben." ("And don't give too many bones.")

"Aha! Erom norom tultule mangsho samne thakle haar er ktha keu chinta kore." ("Aha! How can anyone think of bones when there's so much soft meat on display.") This time he stared at her protruding melons while uttering those words. The young boy too was smiling at this butcher's dirty comments.

"Na, tobuo bole dilam." ("No, I'm just letting you know.") My innocent mother had no clue as to what this perverted man's words actually meant. My head was low. I was enjoying his comments, but I didn't want them to know about it.

Then, he proceeded to chop the meat and as soon as his cleaver hit the thick portion, a gush of blood poured out like a fountain and hit my mom's saree covered mountains. Some of it even landed on the side of her neck, chin and lips. She was startled and attempted to rub them off with her napkin when the butcher held her hand and stopped her.

"Na na, didi. Ota kapor diye muche labh nei." (No no, Didi. It's no use removing it with a handkerchief.") My mother was surprised. "Kacha mangshe hani-karog jib-jantu thakte pare. Kapor diye muchle kichhu hobe na." ("Raw meat might have tons of germs. That piece of cloth won't do you any good.")

"Ki bolcho? Ami toh nijer hathe mangsho ranna kori bari nie giye. Tokhon toh kichu hoena." ("What are you saying? I cook meat at home with my own two hands. Nothing happens at that time.")

"Kintu apni mangsho ranna korar por toh saban die hath dhuyen toh naki?" ("But you do wash your hands with soap after you cook them right?")

"Hain, ta bote." ("Yes, that's true.") My mother was utterly confused now. "Tahle ki korbo? Tomar kache saban ache." ("Then what will I do? Do you have soap with you?")

The butcher flashed a devilish grin. "Na, amr kache toh nei. Kintu amar kache saban er thekeo ekta bhalo jinis ache." ("No, I don't have it. But I have something better.")

"Ki?" ("What?")

"Ei dokan er pichhone amar ekta chotto kuthi ache. Apni jodi amar sathe amar kuthi te aste paren tahle ami apnar ei somossha dur kore dite pari." ("Behind this shop lies my small hut. If you can come with me to my hut then I can solve your problem.")

My mother appeared hesitant. "Kintu....Amar chele?" ("But...What about my son?"), she pointed at me.

"Apnar chele ekhanei darak. O amar ei bhaipor sathe golpo korbe. Asole kuthi te jaegata khubi choto toh. Or gorom lagte pare." (Your son can stay here. He can chat with my nephew here. Actually, the hut is too small for the three of us. He'll feel hot inside.") Nayan winked at the last statement.

Immediately, I added, "Hain. Tomra jao. Ami ekhanei thakbo." ("Yes. You guys go ahead. I'll stay here.")

Now, my mother couldn't make any more excuses. She reluctantly agreed. Nayan's face lit up like a Christmas tree. He said, "Cholun didi. Jawa jak" ("Alright didi. Let's go.") He came down from his place and then escorted my mom towards the back of shop where his hut was.

"Chotu, dokan ta shamla ar amader choto babu'r kheyal rakhis." ("Chotu, take care of the shop as well as our young master.") He said before entering the hut and closing the door.

As soon as they went inside and we heard the door shut, Chotu leaped out of his spot and whispered, "Bah. Pathie dile tomar ma ke oi haramjadar sathe?" ("Nice. Sent your mom off with that bastard?")

I was shocked to witness such a transformation from this young boy. "Esob ki bolcho tumi?" ("What are you saying?")

"Arey sala Nayan ta ek nombor er tharki. Tomar ma er moton prochur mohilader erom ghore niye giye sujoger labh othae." ("This piece of crap Nayan is an asshole. He has taken a lot of women just like your mom, in his hut and taken advantage of them.")

Although I was sure that this was true, I pretended to act surprised. "Dhushh! Ki ulto-palta bokcho?" ("What the hell are you talking about?")

"Bishwash hochhe na? Tahle cholo amar sthe. Ami tomae dekkhachi." ("Don't believe me? Then come with me. I'll show you.") With that he guided me towards the back and we reached the back wall of the hut. I noticed there was a brick missing on the wall. "Ei bhabhe ami amar tharki kakar somostho ku-karma dekhi. Er bhetor diye. Cholo amra dujon tomar ma'r sthe o ki kore." ("This is how I watch my asshole Uncle's dirty deeds. Through this hole. Let's watch what he does with your mom.")

Her heartbeats were increasing rapidly as I peeped into the hole made by the absent brick.

Both me and this butcher's nephew (his name was Puchu, as I came to know later) peered through the hole in the wall. The hut was not very spacious - about seven feet in length and five feet in breadth - and most of it was occupied by a wooden cot which was placed against the wall.