Girlfriend's Mother Buys Me Clothes

This is a story about the beginnings of an unexpected and incredibly exciting affair, I enjoyed with Mrs Neeta Seth, the mother of my girlfriend, Mira. I had been going steady with Mira for nearly two years when the events described in this story took place. Mira and I had met at university in New Delhi studying on the same journalism programme.

We were both twenty-one and living with our parents at the time, as most young people in India tend to do till they marry or move away for work. This lack of having one's own place also means that young lovers in India struggle to find safe and private spaces to be intimate. It was therefore a matter of great good fortune that Mira's home was quite close to the university and freely available to us.

Both her parents worked, her father heading an accountancy firm, and Mrs Seth as a Mathematics teacher at a private school. They were both away till late afternoon throughout the working week. Mira and I had the house to ourselves and spent many happy and lazy afternoons making love and hanging out.

Mira was not a classical beauty but very pretty. She had long black hair, beautiful olive skin, lovely brown eyes, and a full mouth with sullen but very kissable lips. Her 5'7 body was lush and curvy, big droopy breasts capped with large dark nipples that I loved to chew on, and broad heavy hips, I grabbed and squeezed luxuriously when making love to her. She had a full bush of thick black pubic hair which covered her plump pussy lips. I loved carefully parting the curtain of her dark brown vulval flesh to lick at her quivering pink insides.

While I always enjoyed our love-making, I felt that Mira was at times a bit too passive. She didn't much enjoy giving blowjobs and I was often left wishing that she sucked my cock for longer and with more enthusiasm and pleasure. I also hoped that at some point she would relent and agree to having anal sex- my big fantasy fetish. Despite these minor resentments, making love to Mira in the house she shared with her parents gave me a special thrill; there was a certain illicitness to it that made everything more intense.

The house was built on two floors; the ground floor with the living room, kitchen, and en-suite bedroom of Mira's parents, and the first floor with Mira's en-suite bedroom where we made love, showered, and relaxed together. On these afternoons, there was always a delicious undercurrent of tension- the possibility that one of her parents could return early and catch us in the middle of our love-making or as we lounged about naked.

At times, we did have to hurriedly cut our love-making short and put on our clothes as we heard a door opening. On most of these occasions it was Mira's mother, Mrs Seth, returning from her work early. Mrs Seth, Neeta, was in her late forties and in many ways, an older, mature version of her daughter.

Her complexion was fairer and her face more classically beautiful- big expressive black eyes, an elegant nose, and a beautifully sensual mouth with full lips. She had long black hair that she wore tied up in a bun. Like her daughter, she was 5'7 and had a full curvy body. Her breasts and hips were rounder, fuller, with the heaviness of maturity but still firm and shapely. She clearly took very good care of herself and I secretly wondered if Mira would age so well.

I could however only get a fleeting sense of the full sensuality of Mrs Seth's body always encountering her dressed in the cotton sarees she wore for work; these were always in sober shades of blue or great, draped elegantly but conservatively, always covering the pale flesh of her bare mid-riff and the thin cotton blouses that sheathed the incredible mounds of her breasts. Upon first meeting her, I had joked with Mira that I would have certainly developed a love for Mathematics if I'd had a teacher as delicious as Mrs Seth. Mira had made a face and not bothered with a response.

Mrs Seth or "Neeta Aunty" as I called her (in the manner that mothers' of one's friends are invariably referred to in India), always returned tired and sweaty from her work. The nearly year-round heat of Delhi and the tiredness of her work meant that she could summon little enthusiasm to greet me and Mira when she happened to 'interrupt' our afternoons. She also had a sternness of manner that came as part of her role at work as a high-school teacher. I did not see her smile very often; her beautiful face was almost always tired or tautly drawn with tension that she struggled to shake off.

Overall, while she was always polite, I never felt any real warmth or affection on her part towards me. This did not bother me very much; her lack of engagement meant less effort on my part to make conversation or appear interested in her work and life. It also made it easier for me and Mira to retreat back to the first floor bedroom for some further furtive fun. I did not know it then but things were going to change in a dramatic way in the relationship between me and Neeta Aunty.

The events unfolded with a frantic mid-morning phone call I received from Mira. She had recently moved away to the US for a fine arts degree. We had been carrying on with our relationship but the long-distance, different time zones, and most importantly, the impossibility of any real physical intimacy was putting a big strain on things. I was now 23, working as a magazine journalist, and also planning a move to the US or UK for PhD study.

The phone call from Mira was unexpected as we usually caught up over Skype or other internet messaging platforms; phone calls were expensive and rare. I could tell immediately that something was wrong. She told me that her father had suffered a heart attack and was in the hospital undergoing an operation. Neeta Aunty was in the hospital with him. Friends and relatives were with her to provide support but Ania was desperate for me to visit the hospital and reassure her that things were ok with her father.

"Of course, I would do everything I can," I said and rushed to the hospital.

When I entered the waiting room, I saw Neeta Aunty with a huge look of worry on her face, sitting in a corner with a couple of people beside her, who I presumed were friends or relatives. She had clearly left home in a hurry- she had no make-up on, her hair was roughly pulled back into a knot, and she was dressed in a fleece jacket, pyjamas, and running shoes.

I felt very sorry for her and Mira and paused for a moment to think about what I should say and do. Immediately as she saw me, she stood up, rushed towards me and pulled me into a desperate hug. I was surprised by the intensity of her reaction. I think she was just really glad to see a familiar and friendly face in her moment of suffering. She held me for several minutes and I gently stroked her back trying to offer what comfort I could, telling her everything would be alright.

Even after letting me go, she held on to my hand for a long time and we sat together awaiting news of Mr Seth's condition. Eventually, the doctors informed us that things were ok and that Mr Seth would recover in time. As Neeta calmed down, I left her in the company of some relatives, and phoned Mira to let her know the good news.

Something changed in these few hours I had spent with Neeta in the hospital. While I did recall the softness and warmth of her body pressed against me and the heat of her hand in mine afterwards, there was nothing really sexual in the physical contact that occurred between us in this moment of grief and suffering. It however created a familial bond between us, a familiarity and intimacy that had been missing before in our relationship.

The support I provided to Neeta in this moment of crisis and in the weeks of Mr Seth's recovery which followed meant that the she and her husband truly began to appreciate and accept me as a 'partner' to their daughter, a member of their family, a kind of 'son' to them, or more accurately, the to-be 'son-in-law'. This emerging familial intimacy proved to be the fuel of the sexual tension that was soon to emerge between Neeta and me.

A couple of months later, once Mr Seth had recovered from his heart attack, Neeta invited me for a family dinner, an informal celebration of Mr Seth's recovery. It was also a kind of farewell meal for me, as I was to shortly leave for England to start PhD study. We left together from their house with dusk falling, Mr Seth sitting up front with the driver and Neeta and I sitting in the back seat.

There was something different about Neeta on that evening. I had sensed it immediately when I saw how she was dressed. She wore a striking powder-blue saree made out of georgette, a silky sheer fabric, very different to the cotton sarees I was used to seeing her in. She was also wearing it much lower on her waist than her usual style.

A thrill ran through me as I caught sight of her bare navel through the sheer fabric of the saree. Her stomach was flat, without any of the flab that women her age sometimes acquired. There was however a sensual softness to it, a gentle roll of flesh below the belly-button enticingly sloped away towards her pelvis. The white blouse she wore, also clearly visible beneath the saree, tightly stretched across her breasts. Its tightness squeezed her breasts together; the sight of the tops of her breasts and the beginning of the deep valley between them took my breath away.

I had never seen her dressed this sexily before but perhaps she always dressed like this for evenings out, I rationalised. She caught me staring at her breasts as we got into the car and I mumbled out a compliment to hide my embarrassment.

"That's a beautiful saree you are wearing, Neeta Aunty. You look lovely."

Her face flushed upon receiving this compliment but she seemed pleased. A strange and lingering smile played upon her lips as she settled down beside me in the deepening gloom of the evening. The sedan had a wide backseat and she sat to my right looking out of the window.

Mr Seth sitting in the front seat beside the driver kept up a steady stream of conversation as we set off. He was in a jovial mood and seemed keen on pulling my leg a about the many new adventures awaiting me in England where I was to travel shortly for the start of my PhD.

"A handsome young fellow like you will have plenty to look forward to over there. The women over there are very friendly once they've had a drink or two," he said, with a knowing lecherous guffaw.

I didn't quite know how to respond to this but shot a quick glance at Neeta. She had a frown on her face, clearly also not enjoying her husband's attempt at humour.

"Neel is cut from a different cloth than you, Raj!" she said, using the teacherly sternness that came easily to her.

She then looked me over, as if checking the truth of Mr Seth's claim about my handsomeness. I was 5'11, slim and muscular. I was also quite confident of my 'handsomeness' and knew that women tended to find my eyes, in particular, very attractive. For now however, I kept my eyes looking straight ahead as Neeta carefully evaluated me.

To be 'checked out' in this manner, by this incredibly desirable woman was like basking in a special warm glow. Her inspection over, she smiled and went on, now only in a tone of mock anger.

"And, I'll be telling Mira when I speak to her next about how her father is actively working to sabotage her relationship by giving her 'handsome' boyfriend flirting advice."

This made Mr Seth laugh even more.

Just then the car jerked violently as we seemed to hit one of the many huge pot-holes lining Delhi roads. Mr Seth uttered an expletive ridden exclamation; the poor driver mumbled an apology.

Neeta and I had not bothered with seat belts; the huge bump made us tumble and reach out instinctively for one another to keep from falling over. As we righted ourselves, I found her sitting right next to me, the sides of our bodies pressed firmly together from shoulder to toes.

My right hand was resting on the soft saree-covered flesh of her upper thigh, and in turn, held in place by the firm pressure of her left hand. When I tried to gently move my hand away, her hand stayed firm. I also now became aware of our bare skins rubbing together; the skin of my forearm rubbing against the incredibly soft skin of her belly. Most thrillingly, I slowly became aware of the soft and firm pressure of her left breast as it partially rested on my arm.

She seemed to be sitting hunched over slightly, leaning over my arm. To me it didn't seem like a very comfortable or natural position for her but she didn't change her pose or try to move away. She kept looking ahead, and carried on with the banter her husband had started.

"I am sure Neel will resist all temptation and just to make sure that he does, I am going to ask my cousin Sujata who also lives in England to keep an eye on him! Mira is going to thank me for that!"

She said this with teasing laughter in her voice and Mr Seth guffawed again.

"Be careful of Sujata, Neel. She's a looker. You'll be needing protection from her!" he reparteed.

As they carried on with their exchange, I could barely focus my mind which was burning with the combined sensations of Neeta's soft inner thigh under my hand, warm beneath the thin and textured saree, the friction of the incredible contact with her velvety belly, and the searing every changing pressure of her breast jiggling against my arm as the car moved. I had a rock-hard erection.

The temptations of England were far away; my biggest temptation right now was the suddenly incredibly desirable and sexy mother of my distant girlfriend sitting next to me. Through the sexual fog clouding my head it was hard for me to figure out if Neeta was deliberately teasing me with the bodily contact or simply unaware of the effect it was having on me.

I concentrated hard on trying to control my erection so it was not obvious to her when I got out of the car. It was a losing battle and as we arrived at the restaurant, I got out with some haste to cover my embarrassment. Neeta took her time getting out the car as I held the door open for her.

She bent low as she came out of the car, her pallu, the end of her saree covering her chest, fell down. I got a glorious view down her blouse of her milky breasts. As she righted her saree and slowly stood up, she looked me straight in the face with a knowing smile. She then turned around and bent over at the waist to get her handbag from the car. I should have moved back but was frozen on the spot. I saw her gorgeous backside encased in the sheer silky saree rise up slowly and move back to press deliberately and firmly into my rock-hard erection.

Oh, she certainly knew what she was doing. My god, what had I got myself into!

After the crazy teasing, in the private gloom of the backseat, which I now knew had been quite deliberate, Neeta thankfully reverted to the more conventional role of a concerned to be mother-in-law doting over her son-in-law, during the course of the dinner.

With Mr Seth's support, and despite my many protestations, she extracted from me the promise of accompanying her on a shopping visit the following week where she was to buy me essential clothing for my upcoming travel to England. It was my first time travelling away from India and both she and Mr Seth, knew England well, having visited multiple times.

They were quick to inform me that I was woefully underprepared for what the cold and rainy country held in store for me. I would need warm clothing and boots and Neeta was going to help me pick these out and pay for them. I had never had enjoyed this kind of pampering from any of my girlfriends' mothers before and even as I protested, the idea of spending a full afternoon with this amazingly sexy women keen to 'mother' me was undeniably enticing. I was happy to give in.

I returned home that evening and called Mira on Skype for one our video-chats, which inevitably ended with us taking our clothes off and masturbating to the sight of each other. That evening after recounting a suitably censored version of the evening's events to Mira, I watched her take off her clothes on the screen, revealing her beautiful breasts, opening her long legs, pulling apart her pussy lips to show me her wet vagina.

As I slowly stroked my cock looking at her exposing her body for me shamelessly, I could not stop myself from picturing her mother in her place. I half-closed my eyes, hearing Mira's moans and mewls coming loud and clear through the headphones, as she vigorously rubbed her clit building up to her climax.

As she started to come with a high pitched wail I knew well, I opened my eyes and tried to focus on the dark winking pucker of her asshole, and imagined how it would be push my cock inside her mother's ass. I came almost immediately and intensely and had to stop myself from crying out aloud 'Neeta' as I ejaculated all over the screen! My desire and fantasies were out of control.

The day of the planned shopping visit with Neeta arrived. It was to be an afternoon visit to a huge shopping mall on the outskirts of the city with multiple branded clothing outlets and several superstores. I was picking up Neeta from her home in my car. I turned up a little bit earlier than the agreed time and rang the bell.

Considering what had happened on the evening of the dinner, my last meeting with her, I couldn't keep down a sense of sexual excitement and anticipation but I was also filled with doubt. I had surely exaggerated everything in my own head and built a mountain out of a little bit of harmless teasing. I told myself to be calm and not try anything stupid. I was determined to play things completely normally as I waited for the door to be opened.

Neeta opened the door and invited me in, immediately apologising for not being ready to leave. I had dressed casually but smartly in a pair of slim fit jeans, a close-fitting cotton shirt in a shade of ochre and brown slip-on shoes. I was pleased to see her nod approvingly as she looked me over from head to toe. She however was still in her loungewear; a grey cotton t-shirt and close-fitting white joggers.

I knew she was alone at home having taken the day off from work.

"Would it be ok for you to wait? Did you want anything to drink?", she asked.

I told her I was fine and in no hurry and thanked her again for taking the time to help me.

"Would you like to wait in the bedroom? That way you and I could still chat while I get ready?" she inquired, with a smile.

Even as I nodded and followed her into the bedroom, it felt like an odd request. Surely it be more convenient for her to get ready on her own? I could have easily waited in the living room. I didn't however voice these thoughts as I entered her and Mr Seth's bedroom for the first time.

Despite the many afternoons I has spent in the house with Mira, I had never seen her parents' bedroom. It was strictly off-limits and Mira was very particular about enforcing this rule. Now as I followed the gently swaying ass of her mother, beautifully round and enticing even in old white joggers, I finally had access to this forbidden space, as an invited guest!

What did Neeta have in mind? My lust-filled mind was already heating over.

The room was furnished quite austerely. Aside from the large double bed and two small bed-side tables, there was an arm chair in the corner, a dressing table, and a large wardrobe lining one side of the room. Everything was in shades of white and cream. The blinds on the french-windows were half-drawn; green-filtered light from a leafy plant-filled porch bathed the room in a soft glow.

A large bathroom was accessible through a set of sliding doors that were open, revealing a bathtub and a shower cubicle. I sat down on the arm chair trying to appear as relaxed and natural as I could in this very private of spaces. Neeta moved to the wardrobe opened it wide, pulled open some drawers and started picking out clothes. I looked away, seeking something I could pretend to be interested in. I picked up a paperback that lay on the bedside table but put it down immediately catching sight of the title 'Fifty Shades of Grey'. Terrific!