Vickram Dutt, or Vick for short, was born in Vancouver, Canada, but his background was Indian. In terms of physique he was tall and muscular, a build he had acquired from all his time spent working out at the gym or at home. With fair brown skin and short black hair, Vick had a handsome face and figure; his dark brown eyes and strong jaw completed the striking portrait. Just last month he had celebrated his nineteenth birthday, and he was currently on his summer break after having completed the first year of university.
Life had been great for Vick except for one problem: he was still a virgin. It was a state of constant agitation for him: hormones raged, blood boiled, and his sensual appetite sparked at the smallest glimpse of a pretty girl's flesh. Because of his Indian background and the strict rules against sex before marriage, Vick was doomed to remaining a virgin for many years to come. Though dating was tolerated in Indian culture, Vick's mother, Mala, wouldn't let him date. She was adamant when it came to maintaining tradition, and his father was even more stringent.
Yes, Vickram Dutt was still a virgin and he was quite sure that both his sisters were as well. It was a dismal circumstance and the only escape afforded to virgins like Vick was masturbation—which he often practiced.
But his days of doing that would soon end....
On a warm Friday evening Vickram Dutt lay relaxing on the couch, his feet propped on the armrest, watching television. He lived in a large house with a spacious living room from whose wide glass doors he could see the backyard and the purple sky above. Mala was in the kitchen cooking, and Vick could see her stirring a large iron pot. Every few seconds she would lean down and breathe in the rising fumes.
Vick watched a Bollywood music video on the large screen TV; his skin felt hot and the hairs on his arms stood up. He shifted his body in little restless movements as the lead female dancer in the music video, half-naked in her short red skirt and white tank-top, gyrated her hips to the music. Her face was wrapped in desire as she bit her lips, licked her tongue, and moaned while dancing.
What amazed Vick was that she closely resembled a younger version his mom.
He looked over at his mother in the kitchen cutting vegetables with her back to him. Mala was only 37 years old. She had given birth to Vick's oldest sister, Lara, when she was only 17 because her parents decided to get her married at a young age. When Vick was born she was only 18, and 19 when she had had Sonia.
It was a fact acknowledged (albeit not out loud) by those who met Mrs. Dutt that she was a very beautiful woman who still looked to be in her prime. Vick stared at her tall, voluptuous figure standing with her back to him, dressed in a white silk sari which revealed the light brown skin of her lower back. His eyes were transfixed on that little hint of brown flesh. It was amazing how the material stuck to her body, highlighting her rounded shoulders, the curves of her waist, the dip of her hips, and the contours of her long legs.
Mala's long black hair was tied in ponytail which dropped to her lower back. The sari's cotton top, also called a choli, ended just below her breasts. Normally it would leave most of Mala's midriff and back exposed but these were covered by a long white shawl. The sleeves of her choli ended inches above her elbows and left her fair arms exposed.
Oh man, thought Vick, that sari's hugging every part of Mom's body.
Whenever she moved it rustled like silk. In fact, it was so tight that when Vick's mother turned around he could see the spheres of her breasts standing high and firm on her chest.
Mrs. Dutt's face was kind and timid: she had a high forehead with robust cheeks dappled red from all the work she'd been doing. The most striking feature of Mala's face was her eyes: their dark brown irises were so clear that it was hard to not feel a thrill passing through your body as she stared at you. These, along with her full pink lips, completed the enchanting portrait.
I can't believe it, thought Vick, now sitting up on the couch with his fingers clenched, I've been checking out my own mom!
He didn't want to think about it but it was impossible to resist: Mala was such a beautiful and sultry woman, and her son was a 19 year old virgin with the female body dominating his every thought.
Mala turned towards the living room and wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. She smiled warmly and asked her son in Hindi, "What are you looking at?" Mrs. Dutt was very soft-spoken, a quality which added to her feminine mystique.
The question caught Vickram off guard. "N-nothing. ...what ya cooking?" he asked, shifting on the sofa again.
"I thought I told you," his mother answered in English. "Rice and curry." Her English was quite fluent with only the slightest accent.
"You probably did tell me, Mom," he replied, "but I'm in university so the only thing that stays in my head is homework-related."
Mala laughed in her sweet voice. Wiping her forehead again, she shook a finger at Vick and said, "Naughty boy!" Mother and son both laughed. "And where are your sisters?"
"Dunno," shrugged Vick. "Sonia's upstairs doing her homework, and Lara—I think she's still out."
Mrs. Dutt shook her head and muttered, "That girl...."
Lara, the oldest of the three siblings, was very untraditional. She preferred to hang out with her friends till late at night, dressed in provocative Western clothes, didn't listen to Indian music, and chose to speak in English. Lara, thought Vick, also had a superiority complex and whenever her family tried speaking to her she could be quite rude. In personality she was the total opposite of her mother, who was quiet and conservative. Sonia, the youngest child, was a mix of both Indian conventions and Western modernity.
"Yeah, Mom, what 'cha you gonna do? Lara's just a bad kid."
"She is not!" replied Mala, standing with her hands on her hips and frowning. "She is just too Canadian."
Vick laughed: that's a very nice way of putting it, he thought.
Mrs. Dutt returned to monitoring the stovetop. Some minutes later she turned around and exclaimed, "Finished!"
Reaching behind, Mala pulled out the red scrunchie from her ponytail. She shook her head left and right as her hair came loose—a thick black stream with streaks of silver light glimmering on its surface. After a few shakes of her head Mala's hair was undone and tumbled down to her hips. In a slow, prolonged motion she ran her hands up either side of her sweat-drenched face and began straightening out her hair.
Vick was absolutely stunned as he stared at this gorgeous woman.
She's so damn hot! he thought, his dick hardening. I don't want to admit it, but I'd just be lying to myself....
Vickram's mother walked over to the living room and stood halfway between the TV and the couch. With a groan of exasperation she took a hold of her shawl and wiped off the sweat from her face. This gesture afforded Vick an unobstructed view of his mother's upper body: the white choli cut off right under Mala's tits and exposed her flat brown midriff glistening with sweat. The blouse made it look as if Mala was just wearing a bra since it left so much of her abdomen bare. Just as enticing was how the lower portion of the sari embraced her figure, stressing her lean thighs and long legs.
Mom's so close to me, thought Vick as he stared at her. She's just a few feet away. I just want to reach out and—
But this enchanting vision soon ended as Mrs. Dutt readjusted her sari's sash to cover her stomach again. Before she could catch Vick ogling her figure he turned his face to the television and pretended to be watching the music video...yet all the while his mother's body was fixed in his mind's eye.
