My name is Sunita, and I’m forty-two years old. I live in a quiet suburb with my only son, Rohan, who is twenty. After my husband passed away five years ago, it’s just been the two of us, and I’ve devoted my life to raising Rohan. I’m still attractive for my age—my fair skin, long dark hair, and full, curvy figure draw attention wherever I go. My large boobs and round ass, accentuated by the sarees I wear, often catch the eyes of men in our neighborhood. Rohan, tall and muscular with a charming smile, has always been a devoted son, but over the past year, I noticed a change in him. His gazes lingered on me longer, his hugs felt more intimate, and I could sense a hidden desire in his eyes. I tried to dismiss it as my imagination, but deep down, I knew he wanted me in a way a son shouldn’t. And, to my shame, I found myself intrigued by the thought.
It was a sultry Friday evening, and the summer heat was unbearable. Rohan and I were alone at home, as usual. I was in the kitchen, preparing dinner, wearing a thin cotton saree that clung to my curves, my blouse slightly damp with sweat. Rohan walked in, shirtless, his toned body glistening. “Mom, you look hot today,” he said, his voice low and teasing. I laughed it off, but my heart skipped a beat. “Don’t be silly, Rohan,” I replied, turning away to hide my blush. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “I’m serious, Mom. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said, his hand brushing my arm. The touch sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt a forbidden heat pooling between my legs. I should have stopped him, but I didn’t. Instead, I met his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes told me everything—he wanted to fuck me.
Dinner was a tense affair. We sat across from each other, but the air was thick with unspoken desire. Rohan’s eyes kept drifting to my cleavage, exposed slightly by my low-cut blouse. “Mom, why don’t we watch a movie tonight?” he suggested, his voice casual but his intentions clear. I agreed, hoping to diffuse the tension, but my body was betraying me. We settled on the couch, the lights dim, and a romantic movie playing on the TV. Halfway through, Rohan’s hand rested on my thigh, his fingers tracing small circles. My breath hitched, and I felt my pussy grow wet. “Rohan, what are you doing?” I whispered, my voice trembling. He leaned in, his lips inches from mine. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Mom. I want you so bad,” he confessed, his voice raw with need. My mind screamed to push him away, but my body ached for his touch.
Before I could respond, Rohan kissed me. His lips were firm and hungry, and the kiss ignited a fire within me. I kissed him back, my hands gripping his shoulders, guilt and desire warring in my mind. “This is wrong, Rohan,” I gasped between kisses, but he didn’t stop. “I don’t care, Mom. I need you,” he growled, pulling me onto his lap. I could feel his hard cock pressing against my ass through his shorts, and it sent a thrill through me. His hands roamed my body, tugging at my saree, and I didn’t resist. He unwrapped the saree, leaving me in my blouse and petticoat, my boobs straining against the fabric. “Fuck, Mom, you’re so sexy,” he said, his eyes devouring me. I blushed, feeling desired in a way I hadn’t in years.
Rohan unhooked my blouse, freeing my heavy boobs. They bounced slightly, my nipples already hard. “God, your boobs are perfect,” he murmured, cupping them and squeezing gently. I moaned as he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my pussy. “Rohan, oh God,” I gasped, my hands tangling in his hair. He lavished attention on my boobs, his tongue swirling around my nipples, while his hands slid under my petticoat, finding my soaked panties. “You’re so wet for me, Mom,” he said, his voice thick with lust. I should have been ashamed, but all I felt was need. He pulled my panties down, his fingers brushing my pussy, and I shivered at the contact.
He laid me back on the couch, spreading my legs wide. My pussy was exposed, glistening with arousal, and Rohan’s eyes darkened with desire. “I’ve dreamed of this, Mom,” he said, lowering his head to lick my pussy. His tongue was warm and skilled, teasing my clit and dipping into my folds. I moaned loudly, my hips bucking against his mouth. “Oh, fuck, Rohan, don’t stop,” I begged, lost in the pleasure. He sucked my clit, making me writhe, and soon I was cumming, my body shaking as waves of ecstasy washed over me. He didn’t stop, licking up every drop of my juices, and I felt like I was in heaven.
Rohan stood up, stripping off his shorts, and his cock sprang free—long, thick, and rock-hard. My eyes widened at the sight, and my pussy clenched with anticipation. “Do you want this, Mom?” he asked, stroking his cock. I nodded, unable to speak, my body aching for him. He positioned himself between my legs, his cock brushing against my pussy. “Tell me you want it,” he demanded. “I want you to fuck me, Rohan,” I whispered, my voice trembling with desire. He pushed into me slowly, stretching my pussy with his thickness. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, filling me completely. I moaned, my nails digging into his back as he started thrusting.
His thrusts were deep and powerful, each one sending shocks of pleasure through me. My boobs bounced with every movement, and Rohan’s eyes were fixed on them. “You feel so good, Mom,” he panted, fucking me harder. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper, my pussy gripping his cock. “Fuck me, Rohan, fuck your mom,” I cried, lost in the taboo pleasure. He grabbed my ass, squeezing it as he pounded into me, the couch creaking under us. The sound of our bodies slapping together filled the room, mingled with my moans and his grunts. I felt another orgasm building, my pussy tightening around him.
Rohan flipped me over, bending me over the couch. “I want your ass, Mom,” he said, his voice rough. I hesitated, but my desire overpowered my doubts. He spread my ass cheeks, his cock pressing against my tight hole. “Relax, Mom,” he whispered, pushing in slowly. I gasped at the intrusion, a mix of pain and pleasure, but soon he was fucking my ass, his cock sliding in and out. “Oh, fuck, your ass is so tight,” he groaned, slapping my ass lightly. I moaned, pushing back against him, the sensation overwhelming. He fucked me like that for what felt like hours, switching between my pussy and ass, driving me to the edge again and again.
I lost count of how many times I came, each orgasm more intense than the last. Rohan’s stamina was incredible, and he fucked me in every position—me riding him, him taking me against the wall, even on the floor. “Mom, you’re so fucking hot,” he said, his hands everywhere, worshipping my body. I felt desired, alive, in a way I hadn’t in years. “I’m yours, Rohan,” I moaned, surrendering completely. His thrusts grew faster, more desperate, and I knew he was close. “I’m gonna cum, Mom,” he groaned. “Cum inside me,” I begged, wanting to feel him fully. He thrust hard, and I felt his hot cum flood my pussy, triggering my final orgasm.
We collapsed onto the couch, sweaty and breathless, our bodies entwined. “That was… unbelievable,” Rohan said, kissing my forehead. I nestled against him, my heart still racing. “We shouldn’t have, but I don’t regret it,” I whispered, my voice soft. He held me close, his hands stroking my back. “I love you, Mom, not just as a mother,” he said, his voice sincere. I looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his feelings. “I love you too, Rohan,” I admitted, tears prickling my eyes. We lay there, basking in the afterglow, knowing we’d crossed a line we could never uncross.
The next morning, everything seemed normal on the surface. I made breakfast, and Rohan helped, our interactions casual but charged with our secret. “Last night was the best night of my life,” he whispered when no one was around. I smiled, feeling a mix of guilt and excitement. “It’s our secret,” I said, squeezing his hand. We knew we had to be careful, but the bond we’d formed was undeniable.
Our relationship changed after that night. We stole moments when we could, fucking in secret, each encounter more passionate than the last. “Mom, I’ll always want you,” Rohan said one day, his cock hard again. I pulled him close, knowing I’d never deny him. “I’m yours, Rohan,” I replied, and we kissed, sealing our forbidden love.
That night opened a door we could never close, a secret that bound us in a way no one could understand. Rohan and I had found a love that was wrong but felt so right, and we embraced it fully, knowing it was ours alone.