The year is well under way and my young students are completely won over. At the end of the classes there is a rush to tell me their stories and say goodbye. I joke with them, guiding them to the outside of the tatami, where their parents are waiting for them with a smile on their face. Among them, I notice Aïsha, the mother of Salim-the turbulent one. A single mother of moroccan origin, she finds it difficult to keep her neutral gaze when she looks at me. Little by little I detected the signs of envy. I make a point of never frequenting my students and their mother even less. I therefore remain cold but cordial during our exchanges.
While I think I'm alone and I fold my things, Salim reappears running.
"Yvan! Yvan! I wanted to invite you to dinner tomorrow evening to celebrate the end of Ramadan. It's my mum who cooks!"
Well embarrassed and touched at the same time by the invitation, I accept, knowing that Salim would be present.
At sunset I ring the doorbell of their flat. Salim opens it with a big smile and invites me in. As a courtesy, I bought a small bouquet of flowers. My heart misses a beat when Aisha appears from the kitchen, her hands loaded with trays full of food. Not that I'm food-loving, but Aïsha is super sexy in her light dress, which stopped at mid-thigh. She is small in size, you could say that her shapes are plentiful. Her dress, well fitted at the waist, moulds her large hips and her big round buttocks. Her large breasts are moulded in a sensual heart cover through which the halo of her nipples can be discerned. Her long black hair is tied up in a bun, revealing her fine and delicate neck. She is lightly made up and her smile is devastating. I can feel my sex contracting at high speed. She greets me with a gentle kiss on the cheek and, as she does so, she touches my arm with her opulent breasts. They put me on the couch and Salim takes me in on his stories. He seems to completely ignore his mother's provocative outfit. I concentrate on him so I don't look at her too much. I feel frustrated and she tries to get my attention with the food. I serve myself from the trays she hands me, thanking her, and then immediately turn my attention back to Salim, who expects no less. The game lasts an hour until Salim answers his mother's phone.
"It's Daddy! Yes? Yes! Okay, I'm asking mum!"
He turns to us looking annoyed and excited at the same time.
"It's Daddy, he wants me to join them for the party at home."
Aïsha blows then grants him permission. Salim is overjoyed and tells his father that he is coming. As soon as he hangs up, he apologises and rushes to his room to get his things. When he reappeared, I got up.
He said, "Good. Thank you very much Miss Shaïb. I'm not going to impose myself any longer."
I can clearly see the deep disappointment on her soft and pretty face.
"Wait Salim, I'll come with you."
"Bye Mummy, see you tomorrow!"
I quickly close the door and accompany Salim to the bottom of his father's building. I go back to my car, get behind the wheel and Aisha's face, when I had closed the door, comes back to my memory. She had tears in her eyes.
'No, you don't sleep with the mother of your students! Ha, but she's fuckin' alone at the end of Ramadan! You have no heart! Yes, but if I go, she'll suffer more than she will appreciate! Because, if I go back up, I'll shamelessly fuck her up! I'm too needy, right there!'
When she opened the door, she tried to wipe away her tears. I just announced my first name on the intercom and she opened the door immediately. By the time I got upstairs she was so excited that her nipples were already sticking out through her dress. I'm not a fan of round women, but I must admit that her body is very sexy. And when she lets me in, I feel very tight in my trousers. She offers me a drink, but her voice is so vibrant that I translate her words into :
"Will you fuck me like a savage on the living room table?"
I thank her when she feverishly hands me my glass of coke. She's short of breath and her chest rises outrageously. I settle down on the sofa and when she wants to sit down I forbid her with a wave of my hand. She remains incredulous in the middle of the room. I take a sip and calmly put my glass on the coffee table. I settle down comfortably with my arms outstretched, resting on the back of the sofa. She is hesitant and somewhat embarrassed by my insistent gaze.
"Aïsha... I know what you want!"
She gasps with apprehension, rubbing her hands, which I imagined moist with excitement.
"I NEVER sleep with the mother of my students."
It's like a cold shower and I see the deep sadness reappearing on his face.
'Oh yes, you bastard, you're holding her in the palm of your hand. She's going to cry.'
Tears come to her eyes and she tries to chase them away by looking up at the sky and blowing hard.
"Tell me what you want from me? Why did you invite me to your home? Why did you dress like a common whore?
She burst into tears, hiding her face in her hands, beautifully covered with henna. Her voluptuous body was shaken by her sobs.
'Fuck, how beautiful her tits are! And her hips! Hmmm! I want to bust that horny bitch's ass!'
"So! Aisha! I'm waiting!"
She pulls herself together and mumbles between her teeth.
"I'm sorry? Aïsha, you are going to look at me and tell me what you want from me!"
"I want... I want you to make love to me..."
"No!"
She gasps again and lets out a sob. I get up and approach her.
"You want me to fuck you!"
She looks at the floor. I take her chin and gently, but firmly, straighten her face. She looks at me with her watery hazelnut eyes.
