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Author's note: I would like to thank all my readers for their terrific response to my first story on the site. Thanks for voting, and thanks for the comments and feedback! I had expected to complete the second chapter a little sooner, but unforeseen engagements have occupied too much of my time.
This is the second chapter of a story which details incest between an Indian mother and her son. Though this chapter can be read independently of the first, in order to fully appreciate the characters and the dynamics that develop between them, I recommend that readers enjoy the first chapter before reading this one. As always, comments and suggestions are welcome, and will shape what transpires in the third chapter.
***
"Goodbye, sweetheart," Aarti kissed her husband goodbye as he left for work for the first time after being abducted and released after his wife and son had consented to fuck each other for the pleasure of his abductor. Of course, Raj knew none of these details. In fact, the little that his wife had told him about that night had seemed muddled and confused: the sort of thing you might expect from someone who is desperate to spin a story, no matter how unconvincing, because the truth is unspeakable. Of course, you might also expect such behaviour from a woman whose brain is somewhat addled from the trauma of her husband's abduction and who does not wish to say a great deal about this unpleasant experience. Raj had, predictably, invoked this second explanation with the result that what had happened a week earlier between Aarti and Vikram remained between the two of them, the abductors and their 'clients'.
Aarti waved, smiling, as her husband's Honda pulled out of the driveway until Raj could see her face, before abruptly turning around to head back inside, her face sombre yet purposeful. It was time. Much as she enjoyed her husband's company, she needed him to be away before she could broach the subject with her son she had run through mentally at least a thousand times in the intervening week. For seven days, her husband had not given her the chance to share some alone time with their only son. This was annoying to her, and to Vikram, it was... she did not know. Vikram had been inscrutable all this while, performing to perfection an imitation of a loving son who has never had sex with his mother. It was good, she supposed, that her son was such a good actor, and she was pretty sure that her husband had not an inkling of what had transpired between them.
Thankfully, her workaholic husband had gone, and would stay gone for a good few hours. Time enough for her to have a little heart-to-heart with Vikram.
Her son was sitting on the sofa in the living room, pretending to read a newspaper. He had not gone to school today, telling his father that he felt ill. Aarti thought she had a pretty good idea what had brought on this sudden onset of 'fever', but had kept her speculation to herself.
Aarti sat down next to her son. Vikram looked away from his newspaper to glance momentarily at his mother's knee. His mother's crossed legs had caused her robe to fall away, very becomingly he thought, to leave a good part of her left leg exposed. He glanced up to look at her face.
"
Beta
," Aarti began, "We can't just let what happened hang in the air. We have to talk."
"What is there to talk about? That -- bastard, made us do something, and we did it. For my father."
"Yes, but, what we did -- mothers and sons aren't supposed to do that. And certainly not the way we -- I mean we actually --
enjoyed
it, you know."
"If you want me to say sorry, I'm not going to," said Vikram, unable to meet his mother's gaze, his face a mixture of obstinacy and embarrassment.
"No, no, that's not what this is about. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I'm the parent, after all."
"Hey, we're both adults, mom. If we enjoyed it, so what. I'm not emotionally scarred or anything, and neither are you, I think."
"It's not that simple. Look, I know you probably don't want to hear this about your mother, but I've always been very -- liberated, sexually. And I want you to have a healthy attitude towards sex. Because believe me, it can be the most wonderful thing in the world under the right conditions. Otherwise, it can be...
unpleasant
. I just hope you weren't damaged in any way by what happened."
"You really don't get it, do you?" a tremulous note had crept into Vikram's voice. "I'm not a child. I was forced to do something, and I ended up enjoying it. I am never going to regret that. And nothing you could do to me could ever damage me. In fact, what you did, what we did -- it was the most beautiful thing I've ever done. You're a beautiful woman and you happen to by my mother. What more could I want? I love you."
Aarti took her son's warm hands in hers, words escaping her. She had certainly not been expecting this monologue. To her surprise, her eyes had become moist, and all she could do was stare helplessly as her son continued looking unabashedly at her, his face inching closing to hers.
A feeble hand came up in a half-hearted attempt to fend off her son's advances, but Vikram was gaining in confidence. He grabbed hold of the resisting hand, pushing it down to his mother's side and crushing his lips against hers. Her lips resisted, but capitulated to her son's urgency. He reassuringly massaged her arm, moving up her arm and under her robe till his fingers poked out of his mother's night-robe, squeezing her bare shoulder.
"THIS IS WRONG!" screamed a desperate voice inside Aarti, but it was powerless against the passion that was rising up inside her body. Between her son's ardour and the unspeakable cravings that were taking over her body and soul, there wasn't much she could do to avert the inevitable.
She resigned herself to the primal urges of her body and allowed her son to ravish her. She loved the feel of his hands on her skin and closed her eyes to shut off all other stimuli so that all she was aware of was her body responding to her son's magical touch. Sensing his mother's barriers falling away, Vikram had become bolder and moved to her more intimate parts. Pushing back her robe over her shoulders so that the only thing holding it in place was the friction to the cloth afforded by the skin of her arm -- and unreliable force which could cease to act at the slightest of tugs - he cupped her breast. He loved the feel of her stiff nipple against his palm, and moved his hand in slow circles with her flesh in his grip.
Aarti cradled her son's chin as she returned his kisses, allowing him inside her mouth. She ran her hand over his flushed cheeks and affectionately through his soft hair -- an almost unconscious gesture of affection she had often used to express her approval since Vikram was a boy. She moved her mouth and lightly kissed all over his face, before burying her own face in her son's neck. Vikram groaned in pleasure, and removing his hand from her breast, fumbled with her robe.
Aarti reached for her front and undid the only piece of clothing on her body in one swift motion. She placed her hands on Vikram's shoulders to get him to stand up along with her, and allowed the dress she had worn to bed to slide off her body and gather in a heap on the floor.
Vikram was still clothed. To remedy this state of affairs, she roughly pushed down his shorts, freeing his erect cock which oscillated because of the sudden motion, and rolled up his t-shirt over his head and over his raised arms. A thrill passed through Vikram as his mother's actions reminded him of his childhood, when he used to raise his arms in preparation for his mother to remove his shirt. Same motion, different purpose, same mother. The woman who had loved him since he was born now gazed at his body with adoration. But mixed with adoration in her eyes was unmistakable hunger. She loved him, and she wanted him, her son, to love her back, but as a man.
