This is a purely imaginary story, set in a Bengali household in India.
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My dad had divorced mom seven years ago. The alimony had been decent, not too big, just sufficient. Mom got the flat where we lived in, as part of her alimony, apart from some money which she had invested in a fixed deposit in a bank. The bank paid her a monthly interest on her deposit, which was her only steady income. She supplemented her somewhat meagre means by doing odd jobs here and there. The jobs were temporary. So when she was out of one, our situation used to be pretty tight.
Divorce had made her irritable. When she was married, she had a cushioned life. Dad was a senior executive in a reputed company and earned a handsome salary plus a lot of perks. Mom had nothing to care for. But after her divorce, she had to bear the burden of the family of two on her own. It was difficult indeed, in times of rising prices. She had the self esteem not to beg for help from anyone or accept any unsolicited assistance.
Both my parents had a healthy sex appetite. Dad fucked mom regularly when they were married. After divorce, he married his secretary Trisha, a young nymphet, who had a reputation for giving the most heavenly blow jobs.
Mom had gone without sex for seven years since her divorce. Not only had she not remarried, there had been no boy friends or one night stands in her life since divorce. Running the family had kept her occupied fully. She just could not find enough time for romantic escapades or sexual diversions. Forced sexual abstinence for a middle aged healthy woman with a healthy sex appetite, can induce an irritating trait in her behaviour. Mom rarely smiled and was prone to yelling at me at the slightest pretext. No wonder, I was pretty tired of her irritation and unreasonable fits of rage.
Moreover, deep in her mind there was a tinge of jealousy for Trisha, dad's second wife, who has a body to die for and an abundance of sexual charms. Mom did not show any apparent envy towards Trisha or any regret that dad had left her for a younger and sexier chick. In fact, she avoided any discussion regarding dad or Trisha, but I was sure that envy existed in her mind, which manifested in her fits of rage.
Although I was grateful to mom for having supported our family and my education with her meagre means by toiling day and night and denying herself a lot of worldly pleasures, I avoided her as much as possible. Spending the better part of the day outside, I usually returned for lunch in the afternoon and again late in the evenings. Her irritable nature annoyed me. I found more comfort outside, especially in the company of my girl friend Swapna, than I found at home. Swapna was my true love and gave me solace in my troubled times.
Things started to look up after I successfully passed out from university and got a well paid job almost immediately. Considering that I was just twenty-one years old and that was my first job, a five figure salary from the start could only be a dream come true. But the job was in a far off city. There was no way I could stay at home and work. I asked mom to move out with me, but she declined. She preferred to stay there, simply because she had been living in that quite, small town for a considerable period of time and liked the place immensely.
So I decided to move out to my place of posting and leave mom on her own, there. I would send her some money every month and also visit her as and when possible. With just herself to look after, she could also live comfortably with whatever income she had. My remittances would be an additional help.
We lived on the third floor of a five storey building. There were two flats in each floor of the building. The other flat on our floor belonged to Vipin Bhatia, who had purchased it from its earlier owner a year ago. He owned a small business dealing in chemicals and has an office in the main commercial area of the city. Vipin uncle was nearly the same age as mom, possibly older by a couple of years. He had a huge, hairy body.
Although much younger than him, Vipin uncle and I were quite friendly. The reason was that he invited me occasionally for drinks in his flat. Apart from food and drinks, there was another attraction in such get togethers. We viewed porn DVDs together, in his house. Of course, mom did not know about this. Any knowledge of such activities would have let loose a torrent of verbal abuses from her. Vipin uncle was a widower. His wife had died in a road accident four months after their marriage. He had not married since. But, he had an exceptionally voracious sex appetite and had sex frequently, with expensive call girls. But by his own confession, he was pretty tired of his peccadilloes and wanted a mature, homely woman to start a relationship of a permanent nature.
During our many meetings, Vipin uncle invariably inquired about mom. And every time he used to compliment mom, praising her looks. "Hey Sandip, how is Shobhaji? Say namaste (a respectful Indian salutation) to her on my behalf. Saw her going to the market without an umbrella the other day. It is too hot these days. She is such a nice looking lady. Without any protection from the sun's harsh rays, she would only spoil her looks." I had a strong suspicion that he had a crush for mom, which he tried to keep a secret.
My mom Shobha Banerjee, forty-five years old at that time was nowhere near to any of those pin up models as Vipin uncle made her out to be. She was somewhat on the heavier side with big 28 DD breasts, wide hips and a big broad ass. Her voluptuous breasts sagged just a little under their weight. But they are not drooping. She was pleasantly plump, the type men love to squeeze and cuddle. Mom was short and stood at five feet and three inches. Her complexion was milk white. She had a pretty face with thin arched eyebrows, large eyes with a look of innocence in them and thick, luscious, pouting lips. Her hair was trimmed to shoulder level and dyed in a burgundy shade. She had pearl white teeth and a very sweet smile, though she smiled little and smirked more those days.
Inspite of her preoccupation about managing the just about adequate finances to run the family, she did care for her looks. Whenever she went out, there was never a hair out of place. In fact from the way she decked herself up, like carefully applying nail polish on the nails of her hands and feet or applying lipstick on her lips or sporting her hair in different styles, it was clear that she was extremely conscious of her looks. She was fashionable in her own way, but her fashion was not expensive. She picked up her cosmetics, clothes, jewellery and fashion accessories at bargain stores and thus did not have to spend a fortune for her looks.
Mom usually dressed in sarees (Indian dress for women comprising of nine yards of cloth to cover the lower part of the body from the waist to the feet, while also covering the breasts and going over the left shoulder) and occasionally in salwars (Indian pants, usually loose fitted and tied at the waist with a cord, usually worn by women). She preferred dresses that highlighted her abundant curves. Semi transparent chiffon sarees, either plain or sequined at the borders were her favourites. She tucked her saree an inch below the navel. It gave a great view of her plump, fleshy, milk white belly. On account of some fat having collected around her middle, there were two distinct folds on either side of her midriff. Her salwars were very tight around her legs and fat thighs. The contours of her hefty thighs and legs became very clear when she wore those tight salwars.
