Chandra lay there on the bed, her legs spread open. His penis plunged into her, again and again, huffing and puffing. He grunted as he finally came, his hot semen trickled into her womb. Ninety seconds. This time, it was a mere ninety seconds. He got off her, lying next to her, panting. There was no cuddling, no whispering how much they love each other. These days, it’s all about a quick lay just to satisfy their natural urges, between a man and a woman.
Mann got up and sat at the edge of the bed, bend down looking at his wet, his limp penis. He reached for the box of cigarette on the table lamp next to the bed.
‘You should quit smoking,’ Chandra said softly, as Mann lit one, running his fingers through his hair. Chandra got up and crawled to him. She sat behind him, her hands and legs clasped his firm, muscular body. Her perfectly large, natural breasts caressed his back, her lips kissed the back of his neck – just the way Mann liked it.
For a while, it worked: there was some form of intimacy between the mother and her son. Mann quivered to her gentle stroke of his chest, legs. Yet when his mother’s hands moved up to his groin, he stopped her hands and got up.
‘Why? What’s wrong with you, Mann?’ his mother was pleading. Tears welled up in her eyes. ‘Is it because of her? You love her don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ he whispered. He took another drag of the cigarette, breathe out the smoke. His shoulders dropped, knitting his eyebrow.
Chandra knew he loved that dark skinned girl. What was her name? Ramani? She knew there would come a day when he would fall in love with one of the girls he’d bring back from his nights out, roaming the city, partying at the clubs. Sometimes, she’d join him, dressed in minis, tank tops and stilettos. Men would always cast a lustful glance at her, yet she’d always reject their advances.
The women, well, Chandra would invite some of the women to dance with her and Mann, thrusting her buttocks against them, her hands would roam their slim, sexy bodies. When it’s time to leave, they would follow, unknown to them, both mother and son to their studio. Sometimes, Chandra would meet other mothers at the club, mothers who were there with their daughters. They would dance together, the mothers, the children. They would then spend the night at Chandra’s, she and Manoj would make to both mother and daughter. Despite all this, her eyes were set on one man and one man alone: her son, her lover.
Mann is Chandra’s passion, her sole comfort in these latter days of her life. She gave birth to him during her turbulent marriage back in India, after which, she ran away from her family, her village, her country. She came to Los Angeles, hoping her education would allow her a fresh start at life.
It was hard, at first, being a single mother, an accountant, alone in a foreign country. It was nerve wrecking. She was constantly afraid, for her life, afraid of Mann’s future if his mother was taken away from him violently. She had no one to rely on, apart from a handful of neighbors who were kind enough to care for Mann when she’s at work.
Work wasn’t easy as well. Her rudimentary English was a constant stumbling block to her progress. Yet, some of the men within her company would take the trouble to teach her the ropes, thinking it charity. However that wasn’t the case, at least not always.
Some of the men were really into her. Take for example, Jason, one of her colleagues, who constantly watched over her shoulder. Sometimes he would bring her along for lunch, chatting about his wife, kids. Sometimes he would drop her off from work, even when she refused. It was during one of these evenings, Chandra, wanting to thank Jason for his kind support, invited him in for some coffee.
They would go up to her small apartment littered with toys, the smell of jasmine, her favorite flower, floating in the air, with the then one-year old Mann still at the neighbors. They sat on the sofa, next to each other, drinking the coffee, chatting about the apartment, about her life in India, which she reluctant narrated to him. Jason would gently stroke her soft silky hand as she recounted her marriage at the age of eighteen to the fifty year old brute, who as her husband, would not hesitate to hit her if she was disrespectful. She would openly weep at end of her narration; Jason brought her head closer, holding her to his chest.
They would sit there, Chandra crying in his arms. Jason took her head in his hands, kissing her on her lips, surprising her. She would push him away, her wide teary eyes fixated on his. Jason, fear in his eyes, was trembling with fear, lest she takes it up to the police.
‘I’m sorry if I hurt your feeling,’ Jason spoke softly.
Chandra sat there motionless, gaping at him. Jason looked down, dejectedly, got up to leave. Yet to his surprise, Chandra took his hands, pulled him towards her and would return the kiss.
It was merely caress at first. Jason would then explore her mouth with his roving tongue, leading her. Chandra was more receptive towards him. Soon they were undressing each other, Jason lips still locked to hers. He would then move to her neck, his gentle caress sent shockwaves through out her body. She moaned. The excitement turned her on, pushing Jason’s head down, down to her vagina. He need not be told. He started lapping his lips against her clitoris, sucking them. Chandra twitched, shivered at his deft foreplay.
Finally Jason entered her tight pussy. Chandra uttered a sharp cry, more of pleasure than pain. Tears flowed down her cheeks, as she lay there, on the sofa, pushing her hips up to meet Jason’s thrust. They swayed to each other’s rhythm, kissing, fondling, and groaning. An hour later, after two orgasms, they lay in each other’s arms, panting, their bodies glistening with sweat. Soon they took a shower together, making love one final time before Jason dressed up, kissed Chandra goodbye and left. She stood there, in her bathrobe, for the first time in her life, left the carnal pleasures that were missing in her life. It didn’t stop there.
Soon, men from Chandra’s office were lining up to take her to dinner, hoping to spend some casual time with her. She would agree, understanding their needs, urges. She’d never meet another stranger from outside the office; it was always those from the firm. It always ends in the same manner: with her making love to them, on her bed, while Mann was sleeping in the adjacent room. The men would offer her rewards – most notably money – she would gladly accept them, spending some on her son, saving the rest for his college fund. Yet when some offered her promotion, she refused, saying it was unfair to other women within the firm. She didn’t have to.
She worked longer than others, was more productive than the rest. She’d even attend night classes to improve her English. It didn’t astonished her colleagues when she rose up the ranks, even bypassed those who were more experienced than her. It was her hard work and dedication that allowed her to obtain a seven-figure income when her only child finally completed high school. By then she gave up seeing men for three years, spending more time dotting her only child, and when he completed his college, she’d found her one true love: Mann, her passion.
It was a conflicting time for both of them, his days after college. The attraction to each other was strong, yet it felt wrong; nevertheless, they’d both moved to a new penthouse, in a discrete quiet neighborhood where the affluent could find privacy within the exclusive gated community. There, they began what they were afraid of, yet badly want from each other.
They’d good times together, mother and son. They’d threesomes, Chandra having tasted her first female lover after a night at a local club. Mann, at times, was distant, and more affectionate towards his mother. He’d make love to her almost every hour of everyday spent with her, Chandra having been surprised at his vigor, never knew any men that aroused. Yet, she was never happier since they begun this incestuous affair. Sometimes, Mann would take videos or photographs of Chandra making love to a woman they brought home from the club. Sometimes, Chandra would do so, gently stroking her vagina in synch with her son’s love making.
All that changed when Ramani enter their lives.
She was of the same age as Mann, the two having met at his office. There was something in her that drew the attention of Chandra’s lover. The day he’d brought Ramani home, Chandra thought he would want to introduce her to their lifestyle. To her amazement, he didn’t.
They’d had dinner, the conversation mostly on Ramani and her family. She was coy, with Mann’s eye constantly fixated on her.
‘She’s a real stunner,’ Chandra said. She was washing the dishes with Mann in the kitchen, with Ramani out of sight, in the living room, looking at the vacation pictures. ‘So, is she really into threesome? Cause I can’t wait to taste her.’
‘No, mother,’ Mann seethed. Then whispering into her ears, he said ‘She doesn’t know, and I intend to keep it that way.’
This was surprise to Chandra. First of all, she couldn’t remember the last time her son called her mother. He’d always called her by her name, well since they’ve been more than a mother and her son anyway. Then there was this reluctance to reveal the true nature of their relationship to another woman he’d bring home. They’d always told their casual partner of the day the true nature of Chandra’s relationship with Manoj, the woman would always respect their privacy, even supportive of them.
Still, Chandra could see the difference in her son’s eyes today. There was more than the usual lust, passion. Could it be? She wondered. Could he have finally found love? If so, she hadn’t expected it.
‘Very well,’ Chandra gave in. She looked Mann in the eyes, saying, ‘Just remember, sooner or later you’d have to tell her.’
‘Tell me what?’ Ramani asked.
Both mother and son were caught by surprise, moved away from each other, Mann walking towards Ramani, leaving the dishes to Chandra.
‘Nothing,’ Mann said. He looked at Chandra. ‘It’s just mother told me not to tell you that she likes you, a lot.’
Ramani smiled, sheepishly. ‘Thank you.’
That was more than a month ago.
Ever since, Mann and Chandra’s relationship was more and more platonic, their love making was just to appease each other’s urges. Chandra would prod him to talk about their declining relationship, yet each time, Mann would evade the subject. He’d spend more time with Ramani, his new love.
Sitting at the bed, Chandra looked at her son, her lover, standing next to her, the cigarette in his hands.
‘Please Mann,’ she was sobbing. The tears trickled down her face. ‘Look at me, please.’
Mann put out the cigarette. He sighed, turned towards his mother. He saw the tears. It disturbed him. He walked to Chandra, sat next to her, wiping away the tears.
‘Chandra,’ he began. He caressed her cheeks. He was torn between Ramani and his mother, Chandra could see it in his eyes. Mann move closer to her, his lips brushing against hers. Softly, he kissed her. His fingers ran through her black curly hair, pulling her head back. He kissed her neck, sending shivers through Chandra’s nerves. She grabbed his head, held it tight.
Slowly, but surely, Mann moved down her body, dexterously licking, kissing her navel, her succulent breasts, her tummy, and finally her clitoris. Each time he kisses her body, Chandra lets out a soft moan.
Mann started licking her pussy, first toying with her clits, massaging it with his finger. Chandra gyrate her groin according her son’s rhythm, her body jerking, twisting to his ginger flick of his tongue.
Soon, Chandra pulled Mann up to her, her gentle eyes were on his, saying, ‘Please Mann, please make love to me.’
Mann looked at her with affection, his fingers pushing aside her curls. He kissed her, a gentle kiss. He began exploring her mouth, with the same vigor when he first explored her mouth, tasting her sweet saliva. Chandra, for her part, let him explore her, her fingers, oh his back, ran up and down his spine. Her tongue, intertwined with her passion’s, explored his mouth.
Before long, Chandra, her hands got hold of Mann’s swollen penis, pushed it inside her inflamed vagina. Chandra gasped, as she always did, whenever his enlarged penis penetrates her.
Mann began pushing his body into his mother’s womb, little by little. Chandra raised her hips to meet his son’s thrust, groaning at each shove. They kept it at a steady pace, not wanting to rush their lust for each other, their increased bit by bit. Mann kissed his mother, fondling, sucking her breast, pinching her nipples. They were both aroused like never before, Mann thrusting his hips in and out of her, with the passionate fervor. Chandra’s moans got louder, her breathing rapid, heavier. Their hearts were beating as one; their rhythm faster, more energetic.
Mother and son were moaning, calling out each other’s name, kissing passionately, finally coming together in one explosive orgasm. They were grunting, gasping for air. The son kissed his mother, which lasted for minutes, but they were enjoying this.
‘Mann,’ Chandra moaned. ‘Oh god! Mann, you were great today, i’ve never felt like this in seven years!’
‘Me too, Chandra!’ Mann said. He looked at her, smiling, gasping for breath. ‘Me too. The best i’ve ever had!’
He got up, turned around and that’s when he saw her, standing at the wide opened door, holding the key he gave her yesterday. He’d totally forgotten about it!
‘Ramani!’ he exclaimed. Chandra got up, cover her breasts with her hands, her eyes wide, and mouth gaping.
Ramani stood there, stunned by what she’d seen, couldn’t believe what she heard when she came in, using the key Mann yesterday. When she saw it with her own eyes, she stood still, her breathing became laborious, which her new boyfriend probably didn’t hear over all those groaning, crying out for his mother’s name.
Mann walked to her, taking her hands. ‘Ramani,’ he said. ‘Listen to me. It’s not what you think!’
‘Let go of me!’ she snapped back. She pushed him aside, yelling, ‘I know what I saw!’ She turned around and ran out of the penthouse.
Mann turned towards Chandra, the tears flowing down his cheeks. She held out her hands, waving them, calling him to her arms. She had never seen him cry like this before; she felt vulnerable, unable to comfort him.