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My Mother's Desperate Summer

Hi, my name is Arijit Guho. I'm a 22 year old guy from Calcutta. This story is about my mom - Shikha. Shikha is a housewife. At 42 years old, she is somewhat wider on the curves, slightly fatter along her waist as expected from any bengali housewife of her age. She has a beautiful face though, she has fair skin with no marks on her face and very few marks on her body. She has protruding lips just like Angelina Jolie which accentuate her pretty face. Ours is a wealthy family. My father is a rich businessman who remains out of the city most of the time. He comes home only once or twice a month.

My mother has a lovely figure - 36DD-28-40. Her boobs have not at all sagged. Despite her age, they are quite stiff and her nipples seem to poke from her blouse whenever she's at home and not wearing a bra. Her most alluring feature has to be her ass - the cheeks are plump as melons and lewdly sway like the tides whenever she moves. Her navel's quite deep and whenever she wears a saree, somehow or the other she ends up showing her navel, much to the delight of whoever's looking.

I love my mother but I have never truly visioned having sex with her. But sometimes, I do dream about her engaged in steamy sex with my father's office colleagues, my father's business partners, my uncles etc.

My mother has "mostly" been loyal to my father. However, she's quite innocent and easy to influence. She's also quite strict about monetary matters and would be willing to put up with anything to save a few bucks, as you will see in this story. As a result of these qualities, some dirty-minded people end up taking advantage of her innocence.

There are several parts to this story, describing several incidents that happened between my mother and a couple of commoners - the milkman, the sabziwala (fruit-seller), my Dad's office clerk, the man-servant, the driver, my private tutor and my distant uncle. This was the introductory part. Let me know if you like them and also leave your comments about my mother (the dirtier the better). Also leave your suggestions. I will be posting updates soon.

Here's an incident that happened this summer:

Summers are quite harsh here in this city. People sweat gallons and yet they are forced to carry out their day-to-day duties. My mother decided to go to the market that day. While serving me breakfast, she was wearing a pink colored nighty which seemed rather tight on her luscious figure. She wears a nighty quite often when she's at home, and almost always without any bra or panties. This particularly nighty accentuates her curves beyond any other apparel. And the absence of a bra, causes her nipples to be constantly visible. Her nighty is such that as she walks towards u, u notice her succulent breasts swaying proudly with every step she takes and as she walks away, u notice her pantyless arse jiggle timidly as if they're teasing you, taunting you to grab it and bite it if you have the guts.

After serving breakfast, she said to me, "Beta, ami ektu bajare jabo. Keu bell bajale take boshte bolish ebong bolish je mummy ektu bade firbe!" ("Son, I'm going to the market. If someone comes in my absence, tell them to sit and wait, since mom will be here shortly"). Then she went in her room to change.

As soon as she came out, my jaw dropped. She was wearing a red color light chiffon sari and a beet-red blouse underneath. The fabric of the saree was so thin that the part of it draped around her upper body seemed to become see-through the moment she stepped into the sun. Plus, the blouse was so tight that her boobs seem to be trying to burst out of it. Although she had covered her ample bosom with the sari, her curves were perfectly conducive to her clothing.

"Tumi eta pore jabe?" ("Are u going out wearing this?"), I asked her

She looked down and twisted the folds of her saree and asked, "Keno, kharap ta ki a6e etate?" ("Why what's wrong with it?")

Now, I must say something here. The market where my mother was headed to was located in a densely populated area. There, several hawkers - from sabziwalas to butchers to fishermen - sit on the ground side by side, against the walls of old broken buildings, selling their stuff. The hawkers aren't the nicest lot. They're a band of low-class merchants with pot-bellies and blackened teeth, yet with strong muscular arms. They wear dirty old shirts that have seen more days than their wearer and lungis that have small patches stitched all over them. Their mouths are foul but their minds are fouler.


On a recent night I heard two of them speaking in their drunken state, "Sala, esob boro ghorer magigulon ke chode key ami jante chai! Doodhgulo dekhe6is ek ek tar?" ("Fuckers, I want to know who fucks these rich ladies! Have you seen their tits?")

"Ha re Nayan. Sala oi doodh toh khali ekjon er kache chodon khey toiri hoyni. Bor ke chara nischoe baire kaur ka6e nijer bhodar agun nebhate jae era!" ("You're right, Nayan. Those boobs can't have been the result of just one man's fucking. Surely, they go to other men than their husbands to satisfy their urges.")

"Salim, erom boro ghorer bibhahito magi ke ekbar hath e pai na re, sala gud chude manhole baniye debo khanki magir!" ("Salim, if i get a hold of one such rich married woman, I'll fuck that slutty whore's cunt dry!")

"Ei toh sedin oi mohila ta eschilo fol kinte, shei Guho barir theke! " ("That day itself that woman from the Guho family came here to buy fruits.") My heart skipped a beat when I heard my mother's reference.

"Sali randi, buke oto boro boro torbuj niye ghure berache, abar fol kisher jonno chai?" ("Fucking slut, when she has such melons hanging from her chest, what does she need fruits for?") I should've been angry with them for talking about my mother in such a manner. Surprisingly, I felt my dick begin to stir instead.

"Na re, Nayan! Sala sedin magitar blouse er duto hook khola deklam. Doodhgulo moneho6ilo fete beriye asbe. Amar toh dekhei khara hoege6ilo. Pashe Shontu r Habib dekhi lungir opor hath bola6e. Onek koshte ami bara take shanto kore boshe chilam." (No wait, Nayan. That day I saw that slut's blouse had two hooks open. Her tits seemed eager to burst out of those confines. My dick came to life after seeing such a sight. Beside me, I noticed Shontu and Habib rubbing their cocks over their lungis. It was hard for me keep my dick in check"). I remember that day. Mother had sent all her clothes for washing and the only thing left for her to wear was an old blue chiffon sari and an old blouse with the top two hooks torn up. She had hesistated going to the market wearing that, but I insisted on her bringing a few apples as I had run short on them. I never realized, until today, that these low class merchants had such an eye.

As I heard these filthy low class people going on about my sweet and innocent mother, I realized that I wanted to hear more. My dick had now grown to almost its full length and I felt butterflies fluttering violently in my stomach.

"Ki bolis re haramjada! Ha ha ha! Tui, Shontu r Habib toh tahle sedin dupure bari giye toder bouke bhaloi chudechis asha kori, erom drishyo dekhe!" ("What are you saying, you bastard? Ha ha ha! That means you, Shontu and Habib must've fucked your wives like crazy upon getting home that afternoon!") I was surprised to hear them not only talk dirty about my mom, but their wives as well. The filthy animals!

"Amader chotolok barir bouder modhe ki aar shei rosh ache! Boyesh er sathe sathe shob rosh beriye geche. Kintu ei boro ghorer boudira ekono tatka a6e! Ekdin khali sujog pete de!" ("Our low class wives don't have the same sex-drive that they once had! With age, their cunts have become dry. But these upper-class wives still look like fresh meat! Let me just get one chance with them!"

They both laughed hysterically at the comment. As soon as their conversation ended, I felt my dick. It had grown to full size and as I held it in my hand, it was throbbing like crazy. I immediately unzipped my pants, took it out and stroked it hard. After a few seconds of stroking, cum oozed out like a river.

*Flashback ends*

After remembering that debacle, I said, "Mummy, amio jabo aaj tomar sthe bajare." ("Mom, I will go with you to the market today.")

"Keno? Hothat ajke?" ("Why? All of sudden, today?")

"Amar koyekta jinis dekhar a6e." ("I have a few things to see.") I smiled.

My mom was a little reluctant to leave the house empty, but eventually i convinced her. As we headed out into the burning sun, she occasionally stopped to speak to some people of our neighborhood. However, after meeting a few of the men, I realized they were stealing glances at her body every now and then. Not only that, some of the other men on the streets were also staring at her. I couldn't understand the reason until I look at her myself. I moved two steps away from her while she was busy chatting with one of our neighbors. Again, I was dumbfounded.

The part of her saree covering her upper treasures had become almost see-through. One could easily make out her fleshy curves and her deep lusty navel due to the thin fabric. Her beet-red blouse could be seen from a mile away. About two-three inches of her cleavage was also visible owing to the tightness of the blouse alongwith the bra she was wearing underneath. Thankfully, due to the folds in her saree, everything below the waistline seemed at least decent.

I know for a fact that she is a loyal housewife and a devoted mother. It's just that sometimes she's too careless and naive. She believes the world is filled with good trustworthy people, but clearly it isn't.

I glanced back at the man who was chatting with my mom. He was in his mid-fifties, with an ugly face and rugged features. He was still stealing glances of her cleavage, that old pervert. Suddenly he looked at me and as soon as our eyes met, he got somewhat scared. "Didi, aaj tahle baad dao. Pore ekdin tomar barite jabo khane!" ("Didi, let us part for now.
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