(The following is an excerpt from my mother’s diary. The date goes back around twelve years, when she was around forty-three and I, an youth of twenty-two. She is a demure Bengali housewife from a somewhat upper middle-class family in Kolkata. I have translated the Bengali into English for the benefit of the non-Bengali speaking readers. The Bengali version is also given in brackets and italics.)
My eldest son, Sandip, attends university in Mumbai. During his summer vacation he could not come home because he was scheduled to attend an interview. Since my husband would not take the time from his business, I packed my bags and left for Mumbai.
I arrived at around four o’clock that afternoon. Sandip met me at the airport saying how pleased he was that I had come.
“Shall we go out for dinner this evening?”
(Aaj ratre ki amra baire kheye nebo?)
I asked.
“That would be nice Ma, but some friends and their girlfriends are coming over for a party.”
(Tahole bhaloi hoto kintu amar koyekjon bondhu o tader bandhobider asar kotha ache amar ekhane.)
“Do you have a girl coming too?”
(Tor bandhabi asche na?)
I asked, curious about my son’s college life.
“Sure. You have always been my best friend, you know.”
(Nischoi. Tumi to amar sob theke priyo ebong purono bandhabi.)
He surprised me by putting an arm around my shoulder and giving me a hug.
I laughed and blushed a little. My color heightened even more as my son held me slightly away from him. His gaze lowered over my body. I was painfully aware that I had added quite a few kilograms over the years, not to mention the age lines. Yet, to my amazement, Sandip didn’t seem to notice these things.
“You’re more beautiful and sexier than any girl I’ve ever met, Ma. Tonight, I’m going to pretend you’re my girl.”
(Ma tumi onyo je kono meyer theke sundar ebong sexy. Aaj ratre ami etai bhavbo je tumi amar premika.)
He pulled me roughly into his arms and growled, “So be warned, Ma. I’m out to get you.”
(Sabdhan Ma. Amar tomake chai.)
I couldn’t deny the spark of excitement I felt at the prospect of being pursued. It had been a long time since I felt really desirable to a man. “Quit fooling around,”
(Chup korbi tui)
was all I could think of to say. Suddenly, Sandip laughed and let me go.
I managed a shaky laugh myself. Yet all afternoon, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way my son had made me feel so sexy, desirable, and yes --- I admit it --- horny. So horny that I locked myself in the bathroom and masturbated
(Gude angli korlam)
. Feeling ashamed of myself, yet more relaxed, I settled down to preparing food for the party.
As my son’s friends and their girlfriends arrived, Sandip introduced me as Sumi, his best friend from Kolkata. Not one of them looked surprised that I was so much older than Sandip. Right from the start, they treated me as one of them. I couldn’t help but notice that a couple of the girls were on the heavy side too.
I wasn’t sure then, and I still wonder, if anyone realized that I was Sandip’s mother. Sandip certainly didn’t treat me as if I were his mother. You’ve heard about women being swept off their feet? Well, Sandip made me feel like a girl of eighteen again. He put me in the middle of everything going on. Not for one minute did he let me feel like I might be a drag or a wet blanket among his young friends. He fixed me drinks and brought them to me. He hung on to my every word. And we must have danced at least twenty times with Sandip holding me close, just as he would a girl he really cared about. And, between us, he sported a large erection.
I found it harder and harder to ignore that piece of meat. My brain told me not to respond to the intimate contact of our bodies, but my body didn’t listen. More than once, I melted against him.
My pussy was creaming so much that my panties were soaked and I almost climaxed right on the dance floor. Once or twice, I thought I felt my son’s fingertips brush the side of my breasts as we danced. I told myself it was an accident. I thought I felt his lips brush the top of my hair, I told myself I was imagining things.
Around midnight the party broke up. As soon as the door closed behind the last guests, Sandip turned to me. His eyes glinted with a strange light I’d never seen before. I wondered if he’d had too much to drink.
“Thanks, Ma. The party was a big hit. So were you. All the guys were giving you the eye. You’re so pretty. I told you they’d never suspect you are my real Ma.”
(Thanks Ma! Partyta darun jomechilo. Tumio jomiye diecho. Amar bondhura sudhu tomakei dekhchilo. Tumi eto sundar. Tomake bolechilam na ora bujhtei parbe na je tumi amar asal Ma.)
My son reached for me and pulled me up against him.
I arched my back and looked up at him, which was a mistake. Our lower bodies met. My heart fluttered wildly and my senses leaped to life. I could tell that my son hadn’t said what he did in order to make me feel good. I could tell he really meant it by the way his hard cock pressed into my belly.
“Let’s leave the cleaning up until tomorrow. I don’t leave until three,”
(Kalke sob poriskar kore nebo. Ami to dupur teenter age berobo na.)
he said.
I could feel the virile throbbing of his manliness. My insecurity with the situation made me suddenly anxious to escape from my son’s disturbing presence. I could tell that Sandip wasn’t drunk --- he was just horny as hell. For that matter, so was I, and I couldn’t wait to get to the bathroom and finger my cunt to bring myself off. But to my shock, Sandip wouldn’t let me escape. He held onto me.
“Wait a minute, Ma. There’s something I have to tell you.”
(Ma, ek minute. Tomar sathe kichu katha chilo.)
To my dismay, his voice broke slightly. He took a deep breath and said it quickly. “Since I was eighteen, I’ve dreamed of being with you like this.”
(Amar atharo bochor boyes theke tomar sathe ei bhabe thakar swapno dekhechi.)
Sandip looked down into my eyes and tightened his arms around me even more. On his face was an uncertain, yet determined look. His compelling eyes riveted me to the spot as he continued, his voice husky and intense.
“In my fantasy, your body is molded to mine, like it is now. You slide your arms up around my neck. Then you kiss me on the mouth, like a lover, putting your whole heart and soul into it.”
(Amar kolponai tomar amar sarir ei bhabe ek hoye geche. Tumi aste aste amar gola joriye dhorecho. Tarpor tumi premikar moto somosto mon-pran diye amake chumu khachho.)
I was stunned. Yet I was feeling an overpowering attraction to my son. Perhaps it was all those compliments and attention that made me feel so wantonly sexy and willing.
I smiled up at my son, and slowly slid my arms up around his neck. Sandip gasped. I felt him shiver. Then, his head came down. His lips moved closer and closer to mine, and when they met, we both moaned.
From the moment his sweet young lips touched mine, I experienced a quick flaring of hungry passion that sent me reeling. My son’s tongue thrust needfully between my teeth, and I sucked on it. The struggle with my conscience had ended.
Dizzily, I felt myself being lifted and carried into the bedroom. Sandip slowly and lovingly undressed me and lay me back across the bed. Then, he took his clothes off.
For a long, heart rending moment, he stood there and seductively drunk my nakedness in. There was no turning back now, and we both knew it. My whole being seemed to fill with desire so strong that I couldn’t think of anything else but my wanton needs to have my son fuck me. As he watched, I slowly, temptingly drew my legs apart. I watched my son’s eyes devour the sight of my pussy. He leaned down and kissed my cunt, then licked it.
Thrills shot through my cunt, up my spine and made my nipples pop out like popcorn from a kernel.
“My son, it’s going to happen,”
(Sona bachcha, amar asche.)
I wailed arching my back and raising my plump hips off the bed, straining for my orgasm.
My son gave a loud groan and buried his face in my cunt, slurping and gobbling the juice right out of my pussy. His thumb rhythmically stroked my distended clitoris, driving me deep into rutting lust. I writhed and gasped with erotic passion. I came and came and came --- hard --- my sweaty, quivering loins clamped against my son’s ears.
Sandip moved up over me, his generous-sized cock in his hand, and aimed it at my vagina.
“Ma, I’ve always wanted to fuck you,”
(Ma, ami koto din theke tomake chudte chai.)
he moaned, a sense of urgency driving him to quickly slide his length into my willing wetness.
I cried out in ecstasy. My son’s thick cock felt good, big, and full, inside me. Sandip kept looking at me spread wide open beneath him, as if he were photographing me with his eyes. I watched my son’s gaze slide downwards to where our joints were coupled and moving in an intimate kiss of love.
My son was good at fucking. He was rough and gentle at the same time. He alternated between slow, full glides and short, quick thrusts. Oh, he was experienced all right. Enough to use his fingers lightly, in almost feather touches, on my sensitive clitoris. And he knew when to change the pressure there too. My son gave me more rapture than I’d ever known with a man, not even my husband, his father.
Perhaps some of my excitement was due to knowing that what we were doing was so forbidden, so incestuous, I don’t know. I only know that his virile cock ignited a growing fire in my cunt. My insides jangled with passion as I drove my hips up to meet his thrusts.
“I love your full belly and your big, hanging tits,”
(Tomar bhorat pet are lau-er moto jhola chuchi ami khub bhalobasi.)
Sandip murmured, reaching for one of my jiggling jugs and squeezing it.
Having him say that, and seeing the intense emotion in his eyes was a definite turn-on for me. Everything inside me exploded when Sandip leaned forward, his mouth wide open, and ate my tit. His strong sucking pulled the vibrant chords between my breasts and pussy. A constant guttural moan came from my throat as I came again and again. On and on the delicious, strong spasms rolled, one after the other. “Fuck me, fuck me my son! Fuck my brains out! Fuck my cunt, my son!”
(Chod, Sona Manik amar, chod! Chude chude amake hore kore de! Amar gud phatiye de, Sona bachcha!)
