Life begins at forty. Oh really? I am forty-two. And, my life is at a crossroads. You know what. I lost Saakib to COVID-19 in May 2020. Saakib was my loving husband. He treated me - his darling wife - like a queen. He and I were made for each other. That was until Coronavirus struck and ripped through my dreamy marital life of almost two decades.
Saakib was a well-built, tall handsome hunk. He was forty-five years old when COVID-19 claimed him, throwing my life upside down. What has happened has happened. No power on earth can undo the tragic fate that befell me at the prime of my youth. That said, I am ready to move on after three years of deep mourning.
If the truth be told, I have my entire life before me. It is time to press the reset button and start all over. But how? Well, I have an idea.
**
Loneliness. Boredom. They are my constant companions. I am Ashfaq - aka Ashu. I am just twenty. I was close to my father who doted on me. I was his only son. He wanted me to grow up to be a software engineer. Oh no. No cliche. Alright. I am sorry. This is how it is. Parents always want their sons and daughters to grow up to be either doctors or engineers, don't they?
As luck would have it, my loving father is no more. We lost him to Coronavirus. I was seventeen when my father was snatched away from me. Now it is my responsibility to take care of my grieving mother who was head over heels in love with my handsome father.
My father was a fitness freak. Suffice it to say that although he was forty-five, he looked not a day older than thirty-five. I know that my mother has been devastated. She misses my father a lot. I have been trying to fill in my father's rather large shoes. Albeit unsuccessfully. How could I think of replacing my father who had impeccable looks and physique like a Greek God?
My mother is in her early forties. She has maintained herself so well that she looks like someone who is in her early thirties or so. My mother has got dusky skin. Her jet black hair with a streak of grey in the centre adds to her distinct charm and ethereal aura.
Her larger than life personality. Her deep husky voice. Her big eyes behind rimless glasses. Her innocent smile. That cleft underneath her chin. Her chubby cheeks. Her full bosoms. Sublime hips. Thick thighs. To cut a long story short, she is an undisputed beauty queen. Men worth their salt will be ready to give their right arm to be with my adorable mother.
After we lost my father - the centre of our small universe, had my mother wanted, she could have just flicked her fingers and men would have fallen at her feet. But she chose to spend the rest of her life with her only son.
Yes, my surreally beautiful mother has sacrificed a lot for me. I want to do something in return for her. I want her to be happy, chirpy, full of life and vigour just like the good olden days when my father was alive and our happy world consisted of my mother, my father and me. Just the three of us. Nestled in the bosom of happiness and tranquillity until a tragedy named Coronavirus turned our world upside down.
**
Saakib was fond of trendy vests and shorts. There is a huge collection of these sexy undergarments. Ashu has grown up. He is just as strong and tall as his father. I am proud of my tall son. He is good looking. Girls swoon over him. But he seems uninterested.
I want Ashu to have his father's designer's wardrobe including his collection of macho undies and vests. I can picture Ashu dressed in his late father's brief. It will fit him snuggly. He will look so sexy. I am sure that my lonely son would love to step into his father's shoes and live up to his loving mother's expectations. I think I have waited enough. It is time to throw caution to the wind and break taboos.
I know that Ashu loves me. I know that in every girl he looks for his mother only to get disappointed. He is a quintessential mama's son. What a caring son he is! He looks so concerned at times. His heart beats only for me. I am his entire world.
Wait a minute. Am I delusional? Have I lost touch with reality? Ashu has grown up. He is a man now. He loves to show off his gym-toned body. He loves to flaunt his six-pack abs. He knows that his mother is vulnerable. Is he trying to seduce me?
Once I noticed something bizarre. One of my panties went missing under mysterious circumstances from the laundry basket. They were ruby red panties - Saakib's favourite. I was at my wits' end. After two days they appeared exactly where I had left them. In the laundry basket. I felt intrigued. I held my panties in my hands and examined them closely. The front part that covered my crotch had stains.
It appeared as though the stealer of my panties had put them on and masturbated. After ejaculation he waited patiently for the semen to dry so that he could return them to the laundry basket without arousing suspicion.
Who could have done it? The needle of suspicion points towards Ashu. Yes, my son has come of age. The thought that he fantasises about me and masturbates with my panties on leaves my face red. I cannot stop smiling. I am surprised at my reaction. Instead of getting angry and teaching my son an unforgettable lesson, here I am standing with semen stained panties in my trembling hands while plotting my next moves.
What kind of a mother am I? I just want to find out what is going on inside my son's head. Is he sexually interested in me? I cannot imagine my life without Saakib. Ashu looks exactly like Saakib. Can he love me like Saakib? Can he prove himself? Can he replace his father?
I want to give Ashu a chance. He deserves it. My poor son. He has been lusting after me. If any man can impress me, sweep me off my feet and warm his way into my heart, it is Ashu who is undoubtedly a fully grown-up man now. He no longer needs a mother. On the contrary, he needs a woman who can take care of him, arouse him, love him selflessly and reciprocate his feelings.
I devise a plan. If it succeeds, Ashu will lose his virginity to me. Yes, my mind is made up.
**
I am a lover of panties. Yes, designer's panties. My mother has an entire collection of sexy panties from world famous designers. You name the colour. She has it. I am sure that my father loved to see my mother dressed up in those sexy panties and bras between the sheets. My father was a man of impeccable taste. I am proud of him.
The other day I chance upon my mother's red panties. They look both wickedly sexy and utterly tempting. The silky material. The see-through crotch. I find myself aroused. I sneak them into my room. I remove my pyjamas and place my mother's panties on top of my manhood that is hard as a rock. I begin to play with my erection and lo and behold I end up ejaculating. My mother's panties are spoiled. I hide them underneath my pillow. I do not know what to do. Two days pass. I keep a close watch on my mother's behaviour.
Much to my relief, there is nothing amiss in her behaviour. I sneak her panties out of my room and return them to the laundry basket praying fervently all the while. Oh god, please forgive me. I do not want my mother to notice her soiled panties.
My mother is a nice woman. She is always lost in thoughts. After this mishap, I notice no visible changes in her behaviour. I safely assume that the storm has passed.
One week passes. There is a sudden change. We have a lovely guest. Yes. My mother and I are entertaining a guest in our three-bedroom flat for the first time in three years.
Her name is Fiza.
Fiza happens to be my mother's cousin's daughter. Her parents are on a vacation to Goa for a week ostensibly to celebrate their twenty-fifth marriage anniversary. They do not want their twenty-one-year old daughter to stay alone in their apartment when they are not around.
Fiza is like a breath of fresh air in our life. She is going to be with us only for five days. My mother takes an instant liking to Fiza who is a strikingly beautiful girl. She has finished her graduation and is preparing for post graduation entrance test.
I cannot take my eyes off Fiza. She is always dressed in an easy breezy t-shirt and leggings. She has got large breasts and shapely buttocks. Her meaty thighs look irresistible underneath her snugly fitting leggings. She has a broad forehead and thick lips. When she smiles, you feel as if the sun is shining and birds are chirping and a cool breeze is rustling the tree leaves. Yes, her smile has the power to light up the entire neighbourhood. Some girls have that charisma. Fiza is one of them.
I am grateful to my mother. Fiza likes me a lot. This would not have been possible without my mother's love and affection for me. Fiza and I become very close. My mother spends time praying, checking newspapers and magazines and reading novels. Fiza studies in the morning for her University Entrance Test. Then she helps my mother in the kitchen. Post lunch she plays chess with me.
Two days have passed. Everything appears to be calm. But in my heart of hearts I know that the calm that prevails in the household is deceptive. I am sexually attracted to Fiza whose boyfriend has broken up with her. In other words, she is nursing a broken heart. Oh my god! She needs a strong shoulder to lean against and cry her heart out. I am waiting for her with a handkerchief in hand. I am ready to wipe her tears and put a smile on her round face.
How kind and considerate of me!
How do I know so much about Fiza in such a short span of time? Well, I notice her stealing glances at her smartphone from a distance. It is as though she is expecting a message from someone special. I never see her holding her smartphone in hands. It is as if she were scared of touching it. Lest that smartphone might infect her with some deadly virus.
I search for her on Instagram and find out that she is going through a bitter break up. Her recent posts - that have garnered thousands of likes - talk about betrayal, heartache and loneliness. The comments leave me in no doubt that a guy named Anwar has dumped this bombshell for a girl whom his parents seem to have foisted upon him. What a loser!
All said and done, here's a damsel in distress. It is my moral duty to help her out, isn't it?
**
Three days have already passed. Fiza will be gone soon. How can I miss this given-on-a-platter opportunity? I need a breakthrough. Fast. There is no time to waste. Come on.
**
After finishing our lunch, we are playing chess in my room. My mother is taking a siesta in her bedroom. Fiza is dressed in black leggings and a yellow kurti. Her hair is down. She is looking smoking hot. I am trying to sneak a peak between her slender neck and large breasts. I can see the straps of her pink bra. I am imagining her to be wearing matching panties underneath those shiny black leggings. Suddenly she gets up and excuses herself. She wants to use the restroom.
"Ashu, can I use your restroom?" She asks. We are in my room. She does not want to go to her room. It is evident from this request.
"Of course. Please go ahead." I reply with my heart in my mouth.
**
There is an eerie silence. My ears are ready to pick up any sound emanating from my restroom. I close my eyes. And to my surprise I can clearly see what is going on inside the restroom behind closed doors. Fiza removes her black leggings. She takes her position on the commode and relieves herself. She wipes her cleanly shaven pussy with tissue paper before washing it with water.
I cannot believe what I am able to see with my eyes closed. My jaw drops as she untangles her pink panties from her leggings. My heart beats quicken even as she places her panties into the crook of the door handle. She puts her leggings on. She is not wearing panties underneath. What made her get rid of her panties? Why was she leaving her panties behind? I find myself asking these questions.
The door comes open. "Thank you", she says, taking her seat. The game resumes. Needless to say that I am unable to concentrate. I am all the while thinking of this drop dead gorgeous girl sitting opposite me without panties on instead of making winning moves on the chessboard. I deliberately lose the game. She smiles triumphantly and excuses herself. I am anxiously waiting for her to leave my room. As soon as she is out of my room, I bolt the door from inside and run into the restroom.
