FLASHBACK -- 4
He wasn't much to look at. In fact, it was difficult to make out his features, hidden as they were by the thick luxurious beard. He had a large forehead; that much was obvious and equally, large cauliflower-like ears. The hair beneath the proverbial black cape was surprisingly thin as compared to the beard: he was almost bald.
The eyes behind the horn-rimmed spectacles were however the most notable of his features. Large and black, jet-black. It was like viewing a rattlesnake's eyes through a magnifying glass.
It was only when they flashed and only when his deep bass voice rose to a crescendo that his magic became apparent.
He should have been a hypnotist. He wasn't.
He was the Mighty One, the leader of the Cell.
Sworn enemy of the firangi and the non-believers
At five-ten and about a hundred and forty pounds, he was slim and lean and if one were to introduce him at a party, he would be forgotten immediately.
Yet, he was the same man who had transformed thousands of illiterate, madrassa-attending and malnourished ordinary people into a lethal group of jihadis.
At the moment however, he wasn't talking to any of those thousand soldiers of death. Nor indeed did he have any audience, save his family.
The Mighty One had one problem nobody outside the family was aware of.
The Mighty One couldn't raise an erection without specific help.
And that help, as his wife Riana had learnt immediately after her marriage, was none other than his own mother.
His mother was a robustly built, pink skinned attractive woman in her fifties. Ever since she had lost her husband during the long war in 1982, she had been forced to seek her release with what would be available within the walls of her house.
Her husband was a legend and precisely for that reason, no other man ever dared to have any relations with her after she was widowed. And that left her with little choice but to seek the company of the only other man who was allowed to live in the same house. Her son.
She had to wait till he first grew up. He was training with the rest of the jihadis ever since he had turned fifteen, a year before his father was shot dead. So he hardly had any time for women.
Except that he had to return to his house every night. And the only woman who was in the house was his mother.
He was a little over eighteen when Zohra eventually seduced him. Her daughter, Nazneen was with her aunt (Zohra's sister) that day. So, she had intentionally asked Salim to watch the bathroom door when she was bathing that day, complaining that the door wouldn't close. (She had slipped off the hinges).
And when the young Salim stood by the door, Zohra had casually asked him if he would mind soaping her back.
"I have pain in my right hand, son."
Never having seen a naked woman before, it was natural that the young boy was taken aback at the sight of a naked Zohra, wet from the bath she was having.
As he rubbed the soap onto her silky back, he couldn't help but notice the generous curves of his mother's breasts and those pink large nipples. He had peered downward and spied on the smooth, clean shaven mound between her legs, surprised by its appearance, for he had never seen another woman like that.
In fact, he had never seen a naked woman.
Zohra was about thirty-six at that time and she knew that all the men in the town lusted after her, a few women too did, and not for nothing. At about five-eight, she was extremely fair skinned. Her eyes were a startling blue and her long silky hair, the color of chestnut brown, reached her buttocks. She had a medium size nose, slightly upturned. Her lips looked like they were perennially painted with a deep pink shade and that complimented her very well. She had a slightly oval face with a sharp chin and when she smiled, dimples appeared on her cheeks.
If her face wasn't enough for the men and the women to be attracted to, and few would accept that, then her body was a knockout.
First, her shoulders, which were pretty broad and then her breasts that were way too large. You could clasp her waist and span them with your fingers intertwining behind. Her buttocks flared outwards, firm and round and her long, creamy legs were topped off with those strong thighs.
All in all, she was one hell of a woman!
Now, she shivered as she felt her son rubbing the bar of soap across her back, slowly lowering it to rub it across her lower back and then, back up again to rub it across her shoulders. She sat on a low stool as he allowed the bar of soap to slide over her back. Finally, in a hoarse voice she said, "Would you also do the front?"
Salim was taken aback. He had heard a lot of crude jokes among his fellow jihadis and had a vague idea of what sex was all about. None of the jokes however were ever associated with the woman taking the role of an aggressor.
"Whatever you say, ammi," he replied, stepping back to allow his mother to swivel around on the stool.
His mouth fell open when he saw the sight of his naked mother facing him. Those amazing breasts were now completely exposed to him and he stared at those huge pink nipples surrounded by the areola.
Her hair was slightly wet at the temples and she pushed them back over her forehead. Her eyes sparkled when she saw him licking his lips and trying to hide his erection behind his robes. It was obvious he had an erection, and a raging one at that and she was amazed that she could see the bulge in spite of the loose robe he wore.
She tilted her face up at the ceiling and whispered, "First the face, my little he-man."
She always called him that and for a strange reason, he liked it.
He leaned close, somewhat uncomfortably, and ran the soap gently over his mother's beautiful face. She had squeezed her eyes shut and he took the opportunity at openly stare at the heaving breasts, drinking in the rare and wonderful sight.
Very often, Salim would go swimming with his younger sister and her best friend, Riana at the waterfall. But Nazneen and Riana always wore their knee length robes when they were under the waterfall. Even then, he would steal glances at their bodies and when they stood directly under the waterfall, he could clearly see their budding breasts through the gowns and invariably, he would end up having a raging erection, which he would then relieve by masturbating. He would swim far away from them and would quickly masturbate under the water without pulling down his shorts.
But this was the first time that he had ever seen naked breasts. And forget that they belonged to his mother they were for real. He never imagined that breasts would be this big and that nipples would be that prominent. Why, he thought, they almost looked like a pair of penises!
Added to the extremely erotic situation was the way that his mother was behaving. She seemed not to care that she was completely naked and he thought she was breathing harder than usual by the way her massive chest heaved.
He felt his penis growing inside his shorts that he wore underneath the robes and he flushed. The erection felt pretty uncomfortable and he longed to run away to his room, whip it out and masturbate. He knew that she was his mother, but by god, he had never seen a more beautiful and a sexier woman than her.
"If you are finished with the face, he-man, please do me here as well," she whispered throatily, indicating her breasts.
He almost passed out. His hands shook as he slowly reached out, making sure that it was the soap that touched her breasts and not his hands. He began to slide the bar back and forth across and over her breasts.
"Between them too, he-man," she said.
Her cleavage was so long and so deep, that the bar of soap almost disappeared inside.
