This is a continuation for the part 1 of this series and might continue this depending on the feedback. As of feedback, I must say I am just another guy with ample knowledge in grammar but not so good in vocabulary trying to write eroticas, so if you feel like this is just low quality, good luck in finding something which turns you on. Or if you do find this interesting, do leave a comment or feedback, I'll continue the series.
Despite the context being Indian, the language will still be in English, so spare the logical fallacy there!
Happy reading...
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It's been 3 months since I started to have this special dynamic with my mom. Some might say it's weird, some would say it's downright incest and against our tradition and a crime blah blah, given the Indian societal aspect. Little do they acknowledge the pleasure I'd get from my mum, way far better than the pleasure I'd get from any girl, and I didn't even go to the extent of looking her fully naked yet. I have been making my moves to finally go between her legs, exactly where I came from, but her moral defences are stronger than my kinky will. However I managed to maintain the milking relationship with her, for 3 months straight, 2 times a day, with her being semi naked throughout the milking sessions, with me lying in her lap, latching my lips around her areolas, looking up her bland face, emotionless, dilemmatic, guilt, low-key pleasure.
I must say her areolas became wider with the constant sucking for 3 months, they're coin sized now, dark brown, patching her voluptuous squishy breasts, and they aren't even saggy like the western milfs' breasts I usually see in porn videos, they're firm but soft, filled with milk. However, lately I have been observing her milk reserves seem to be getting empty. I couldn't get more milk like I used to get from her tanks and these days, the sessions would end within 8-10 minutes even before I could actually fill my mouth. They used to last 20-30 minutes before, and excess milk dripping occasionally in middle of sessions from my mouth, those were the days. And just as the milk production started to reduce, her necessity to let me milk her started to reduce too. I had this leverage on her and now, it's diminishing with her milk production. I couldn't sleep at nights as I'd fill my thoughts with how to take next step in this weird yet beautiful relationship with my mother.
And this night isn't any different either, she just looked at the wall, with a disinterested face while I suck her breasts until I could get the last drop of milk out of those tanks. She used to run her fingers through my hair but now, it's just nothing.
After a 10 minutes session, she covered her breasts with her white nightie and tried to sleep while I switched off the lights and start to stare at ceiling thinking of my next moves. My tendency towards her touch is growing day by day and I couldn't just suppress it by masturbating in bathroom thinking of her. No, I need her actual touch, her soft motherly hands smothering my chest hair, her mature body caressing with mine, becoming one, just like 21 years ago when I was her.
Finally, I decide to do something about it other than fantasizing about it for too long, at least do something before the milk reserves get exhausted. I slowly slide towards her, she's sleeping on her side, facing me with one hand folded and under her head, while the other hand aligning with her body on her waist. Slowly, my shaking hands slide by the gap between her curvy waist and her straight arm, sliding further towards her back. The nightie is loose enough for her to wake up just because of this small touch, but the experience is warm enough for me to get a hard-on just by touching her clothed curvy waist. One thing I know for sure already is that I need to make my moves slowly and wisely. As much as a cow she had become for past 3 months, she wasn't a submissive woman type who would just spread her legs for her son just because his hormones are raging.
However, she is a slave for emotions, just like any other Indian mom, or any mother for that matter. And as I slow down my moves and decide to stay in this position for a while and then proceed, I start to think of the emotional aspect and how can I capitalise that in this relationship. Emotional approach should have been my first move, not this blind I LAY HANDS ON YOU, THEN YOU WRAP LEGS AROUND MY COCK kind of approach, but her skin is too warm and soft to let go of at this moment. And as usual, my cock brings out the worst of my thinking abilities and I keep sliding further towards her until my face is just at her chin and neck, my chest just below her breasts, my hand wrapped around her curve like a snake to a tree, my legs waiting for the warmth being provided by her.
My breaths are directly hitting her bare neck, her breaths are hitting my forehead forming a cloud around me, her body odour filling the environment around me. As much as weird or gross it may sound, I must say that her body odour is just unique and it turns me on to the greatest extent. Especially her shaved armpits, and the musky odour when they're damp or when they sweat, I used to love it during the morning steamy milking sessions with her when she used to be sweaty with house work and I proceed to milk her while keeping my head just beneath her breasts and armpits. And now I can feel it even closer, and even straighter on my face directly. I just take a deep sniff closing my eyes even though it's pitch black already, my face slowly pressing further to her body, my nose and lips going towards her neck and her nightie buttons. Her breasts press against my upper chests, just like two milk filled soft pillows.
My dry lips gently touch her neck and I am careful enough to stuff my cock between my stiff legs so that she won't wake up with something poking her thighs in her sleep. One step from here would definitely wake her up and I can't hold on but to take that step. I slowly smooch her neck and blow my warm breath at her upper breasts, and no woman would ignore this feeling, even in her sleep. And my mom is no exception for this either.
She opens her eyes quickly, her mind still in half sleep, but her Indian motherly instincts up and defensive already, pushing me away from her. She turns on the light quickly and sits on the bed holding her nightie and covering her neck and breasts. "Karthik! What were you doing?" She asks furrowing her brows looking fiercely at me.
She looks completely different now compared to how she looks during our milking sessions. Like a raging bull rather than a submissive cow. "Uhm nothing mom, I was just having a bad dream and I just felt like being closer to you." I stammer and my worse acting skills must go without saying.
She closes her eyes as if she completely understands where this is going and where this is coming from too, holding her forehead with her palm and looking down at the bed with a sigh. "Karthik, this... this is just not correct." She says hopeless as she can't obviously hit her grownup son but I'm sure she would have killed if it's someone else.
"I..." I stutter unable to speak in front of her, "I swear mom, I was just having a bad dream and I felt like laying my hand on you." I repeat same thing again.
She shakes her head with a sigh and even worse, with an expression of disgust in her face as she lies down on bed covering herself with a thick blanket and turns off the light. I can't sleep, I made a mistake. I let my horniness get the worst out of me, all I had to do is to wait and get her defences loose somehow and I just made them stronger. I stare at the ceiling, hopeless, guilty, not because I have such feelings for my mom, but because I am not making the best out of those feelings.
After a sleepless night, the next day when I wake up, I notice she's not on bed. I walk towards the kitchen and notice her cooking for lunch and breakfast already and the way she handles the utensils, I can understand she's still angry at me. That's the thing with Indian moms, they handle the utensils harsher, and you can hear the sound of an aluminium or steel utensil landing on the kitchen counter, when they're angry or pissed off at someone inside the house, and in our house, it's just the two of us.
"uhm mom, should I facewash and brush my teeth so that you could finish cooking and we can finish our morning routine?" I ask wantedly even though this went without saying so far, but now I doubt my chances after what happened yesterday.
She doesn't speak, stands silent, with a steel utensil in her hand. I hear a loud smash of the utensil to the kitchen counter when she turns around gritting her teeth, fists held tightly, controlling her anger completely, staring at me. She lets out a deep breath, "What do you think of me? Like what do you think of this relationship or this house?" she asks staring at me.
I can understand what's gonna happen for the next 1 hour, the usual traditional, cultural, moral, ethical class while I'm supposed to stand in front of her. "mmm what do you mean? You're my mother and I'm just helping you out with your womanly problems?" I say still trying to act as if what happened yesterday is an ignorable thing.
