My Amma and I

Another mother-son incest story.

Graphic descriptions of sex between a mother and son and panty fetish are included. Please be warned. Please do not read further if you find this kind of relationship offensive.

The story development is slow, so I request you to be patient. Please be aware that this is completely fictional and imaginary and a fantasy and would not happen in real life. I have taken a lot of liberties in creating situations and scenarios. Some of them are very contrived. Comments of any sort are welcome. Thanks to a kind reader's comments on a previous story, which gave me the idea and storyline for this one.

Legend:

Amma = Mother

Appa = Father

Akka = Elder sister. Sometimes used as a mark of respect for an older woman.

Saree =The principal garment of a Hindu woman, consisting of a long piece of silk or cotton cloth, wrapped round the middle of the body, with one end falling nearly to the feet, and the other thrown over the shoulder.

++++++++++++++++++++

It was the summer break between my first and second year of college. I was with my friends, chatting about meaningless things and reflecting on our life and about the prospect of an endless, shining future stretching out in front of us. Times were good.

But as I walked into my house later that evening, amma rushed to me, flustered and scared and nervous. She almost screamed at me, "Aiyoh, Raja! Something has happened to your appa! He has been taken to the hospital. Aiyoh, I don't know what to do!!" She broke down and slumped to the floor.

Seeing her in that state, I knew something serious had happened. I went cold all over. Between sobs she told me that my father had suffered a stroke and was in the ICU. That was the moment my world and dreams came crashing down.

Needless to say, we went through the next few weeks as if in a trance. The good doctors did their very best with him. It was touch and go, but he was a fighter and he survived. Weeks of rehabilitation and physical therapy followed. But try as we may, we could not get him back one hundred percent. One side of his body was completely paralyzed. He lost the use of his left arm and leg. He did not recover his speech completely. We reconciled ourselves that he would be wheelchair bound for the rest of his life. And within a couple of months, my mother and I were left to fend for ourselves and to take care of my invalid father.

That's when I really came to appreciate my amma. It was an eye opening experience, in more ways than one.

+++++++

My father and his family were a large, overbearing presence in our lives. Everything revolved around them. My life until then, and my future was carefully mapped out without a regard to my wishes and desires. If it was bad for me, it was more so for my mother. We both were in the tight grasp of my father's family. But I did not realize it at that time, when I was young. I thought it was natural, it was how it was with every family. I took it without a second thought.

It was natural for my appa to whine, complain and be demanding in the situation he was in. He was helpless and dependent on us for everything. But amma was calm and composed even in the midst of all this and attended to my appa's each and every need without a work of protest whatever the time of day or how inconsiderate my appa's demands and requests were. I felt bad for amma. I was almost ashamed of what appa was doing to her, to us, even in the handicapped state he was in.

I had almost completely ignored my mother's presence in my life until then, what with my father's larger-than-life influence and control over me. I considered her a constant in our midst, someone who was always there, always smiling, someone to take care of whatever was required to keep the house running - cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, laundry, shopping etc. I am exaggerating, of course. I helped her around the house, fixing things that were broken, doing minor repairs and accompanying her to the market when it suited me. I did not remember having extended conversations with her or cracking jokes and talking about general issues like I did with my father. But the fact was that I had taken her for granted.

But not anymore. My regard for her changed as I saw her handling the household, with my father relegated to his wheelchair and bed. Now that she and I were the only ones at home, we couldn't help but spend time in each other's company. I realized a new appreciation for what she was doing and what she had done for us all along. I noticed things about her that I really did not pay much attention to earlier in my life. A wave of guilt and shame washed over me every time I saw her smiling face, as she worked quietly in the midst of all our problems.

I guessed it was the same for her as well. To see me spending so much time at home now, whereas earlier I would spend almost all my waking hours with my father or my friends.

++++++++++

A minor incident that transformed my image of my amma occurred that summer. We had a neighbor, whom I shall call Rekha-aunty, who visited our house to provide physical therapy to my father about three times a week. One day she and amma were relaxing on the verandah, drinking coffee. I guess they were not aware that I was also at the house at that time and I could clearly hear their conversation.

I caught the end of what Rekha-aunty was saying "....only once or twice a month. You know what happens to men when they hit their mid-forties...."

Amma giggled in response. And then Rekha-aunty said, "It must be very hard for you also Renu, no? It has been, what, four - or five months since anna had that stroke? How is he now, is he, you know, able to..yes?" Rekha-aunty called my father anna, as a mark of respect

I heard amma's sharp intake of breath and a whispered response, "Aiyoh, akka! What are you saying? Chee-Chee, how can you even think of that now..."

Rekha-aunty said, "I was only asking..you know..."

My mother's voice came over, in a hushed manner, "Akka, I..I think it's too..soon....for him..actually..I don't know..if..he.can..anymore...I am afraid...that's all for..us...me....in life."

Rekha-aunty exclaimed, "Aiyoh, oh no Renu..!"

"Yes, akka!. Even...before..it was..we..did..he did about once or twice a month..but now...." her voice trailed off.

There was a few seconds of silence, after which Rekha-aunty said, "Well, why do we need men now, anyway. They gave us children and that's enough, no? Anything else, we can manage...we can take care of ourselves." She then stifled a laugh and said, "Anytime we want, no? We have our hands..and..fingers!" and then she really gave a soft laugh.

Amma said, "Aiyoh, akka!,you are too much..."

Rekha-aunty rebuked my amma, "Come on Renu...do you want me to believe you have never done.."

Amma cut in, "Akka!, sometimes you are too..too" she couldn't finish as both of them started laughing.

I stood rooted to the spot behind the door. amma and Rekha-aunty were discussing sex! And talking about masturbation! Fuck! My amma? Did she..and Rekha-aunty.. did they..jerk off..even now..I was sure that;s what Rekha-aunty meant when she said 'hands and fingers'?? What the fuck?

The Rekha-aunty started talking again, but now in a whisper, "Hey Renu, I have this new thing. It..it...runs on batteries..and the shape....you know..it is like a man's...thing."

Amma exclaimed, "What? Aiyoh, what are you saying..why..."

Rekha-aunty continued after yet another shirt laugh, "It is heavy, and is hard..made of rubber, and..and.. you can put it inside..."

Amma almost shouted, "What? Chee..you are horrible..what dirty things you are saying..."

Rekha-aunty said soothingly, "Listen to me..let me finish!! You can put it in and turn on the switch and...and it just shakes and vibrates inside you...aiyooh...ufff... Renu I tell you.. What a feeling..soo much better than the real thing. So heavy, thick and it goes on forever..ammmma.. My water comes out every time I"

"Akka! Please, this is so bad, what you are doing, saying. I never expected you..."

Rekha-aunty said, "You know what Renu? I will give it to you.... Just try it...and you will see.. You will beg for one yourself..I guarantee.. Promise!!

Amma said, in disgust. "Aiyoh.. No! I don't.. I cannot!!" But I sensed a bit of hesitation on her part.

I was stunned. I never imagined grown women talking about masturbation, vibrators and dildos! That too, my dear, innocent, amma! Fuck!

Just then the doorbell rang and I slipped away to my room.

+++++++++++

Later that night, I played the conversation back in my mind as I lay on the bed. My amma had confessed to her friend that she had not had sex with my appa that frequently and that she feared her sex life might be over already. Rekha-aunty had practically said the same. I had thought it was bad and crude that the women were talking like that.

But then again I questioned : why? Why was it wrong for them to talk about sex, about their sexual activities. They were normal people, talking about normal acts between a husband and wife. It was I that was wrong in my thinking, I reasoned. The fact that appa and amma had sex had never crossed my mind. It was taboo even to think about such things. But they did happen, of course.

But now, after what I heard, I could not stop my mind from conjuring images of my parents having sex. Fuck! What would they have done? Missionary? Doggy style? Was appa a horny bastard? Was amma supportive of his lust, did she spread her legs whenever and wherever he wanted to do it? Did she suck his cock? Did he go down on her? Fucking God in Heaven! Images came and went in my mind and I could not stop.

The next morning I woke up with a heavy, hard erection. I fisted my cock, and as usual, started my day by masturbating. I started slowly and I wanted to edge for a long time. It was a Sunday and I had nothing pressing to do all day. As I fantasized and stroked my dick, I constructed images in my mind to heighten my pleasure.

Suddenly, I froze! Then I felt like I was hit by a ton of bricks!!

I was fantasizing about my amma! She was completely naked. We were having sex! I was on her, inside her, fucking with long, smooth strokes. She was moaning and pressing her tits and calling out my name, "Raja, Raja, Raja!". I was grunting, "amma, amma, amma, so good, so nice!!"

Fuck! What was going on! I looked down at my swollen cock and I could no longer hold back. I ejaculated and spurted, stream after long stream of creamy ropes of white cum all over my bed, with images of my mother - naked, legs spread wide open, her hairy crotch visible, her cunt lips open and shining with her cream, clutching and squeezing her breasts - running through my mind. Fuck!!

It felt so wrong to be thinking about amma this way. But ...but,,but...,it felt so goooood, at the same time. My release was nothing I had experienced recently. Motherfucker!!

+++++++

The next morning I could not meet amma's eyes. I made little conversation and tried to stay away from her. But her intuition kicked in and she sensed that something was not right. "Hey Raja," she started. "What is wrong? Tell me. I can help."

She was homely and motherly. I never really attributed any other quality to her. She was pretty, but not strikingly beautiful. But I realized there was an inner beauty in her. But with my newly awakened senses, all I could see was the latent sexiness and seductiveness in her. Her wide eyes, dark lips and even white teeth, her larger than average breasts. She wasn't slim but her waist was narrow and her hips wide and big. Her saree clung to her thighs and her behind as taut. When her saree rose above her ankles when she went about her work, I could make out her thick, firm, calves. On most days I wouldn't pay much attention to her when she did her daily pooja. But now though, I was looking forward to the time when she would pray to the idols, kneeling down, bending forward and touching the floor with her forehead. Her saree stretched taut, very stiff across her massive ass, and as she rose, I could see her ass-cheeks outlined as the cloth stuck in her crack. What the fuck! Was I ogling my amma?

When I masturbated at night, I tried my very best to push the images of my parents, and especially of my amma, having sex, out of my mind. But I succumbed every time. I told myself it was just a phase and it would pass. This remained with me even after a few days.

A couple of evenings earlier, my amma had come to me and said, "Raja, you have to take care of your appa this evening. I am going to Rekha-aunty house. I need to.. eh.. she has..to..eh..give a book to me. Okay?"

Fuck! amma had gone to Rekha-aunty house to get the vibrator they had talked about that day. Oh god!

The following day it was my turn to look after appa while amma was out shopping for groceries. I sat beside my father watching cricket on the TV we had set up for him in the bedroom. He would communicate to me with his working hand, and also by grunting and sounding the words weakly from his mouth. I pitied him. What a fall. But at least he was alive.

Then a thought struck me. I walked to my mother's side of the bed and pulled open the drawer in a small side table beside it.

Fuck!! She hadn't even tried to hide it. Why would she have to? My father could not have seen it anyway, and I rarely ventured into their bedroom. But there it was. A black rubber dildo! I had only ever seen pictures of such a thing, but here it was, The real thing, and obviously used by my amma. Perhaps just this morning, lying beside my paralyzed appa. I looked up at him but he was engrossed in the game, none the wiser. I hesitated, and then picked up the dildo. It was made of hard rubber, I was thick and long and it really felt like a man's cock. It was huge, definitely wider and longer than mine. All veiny and taut, with the exact shape of a dick. In a trance, I raised it to my nose. I swooned! Fuck! The smell of sex! Of dried cunt juices! Yes, it could only be that. I could see some dried, white, milky stuff on it. It could only have been my amma's pussy juices. God! I could picture my amma. Her dress bunched up at her waist as she plunged the dildo in and out of her pussy, like I had seen women do in porn. Or perhaps she was completely naked, Or maybe she did it in the bathroom. Or did she want to take revenge on my appa for all he did to her, did she stand in front of him and jerk off as he was forced to watch? Fuck, I developed a boner right then and there.

As I masturbated to the images of my own amma that night, I imagined her also masturbating with the dildo. I mentally pictured us syncing our strokes - she thrusting the vibrator into her hole, me stroking my thick, black, smelly, veiny cock. When I finally ejaculated, I imagined she did too, reaching her orgasm with a quiet moan and a few shakes of her body, careful not to wake my sleeping dad, as she secreted thick, slimy juices on to the artificial cock inside her. Fuck. It was glorious!! I was thinking of her as I jerked off and spewed my cum by the side of the bed. Who was she thinking of, I wondered.

+++++++

Like almost all my friends, I was still a virgin at nineteen. And also like most of my friends, I was hooked on to porn. There was no dearth of the filthy stuff in our town and I devoured every kind of porn I could lay my hands on. I am not ashamed to admit it. I can go so far as to say that I craved a particular kind of porn - I had developed a deep, unrelenting fetish for women's ass and panties.

Not sure how or why, but there it was. I loved panties. I loved a female's ass. And above all I lusted after a panty covered ass. A quick peek at a panty line on a tight girl's ass was enough to send me into spin. My like minded friends and I walked around town ogling ass and imagining panties on them. I was into this to such an extent that I started imagining the ass and underwear under the dress of each and every woman I encountered during my day - the aunty next door, the girls waiting at the bus stop, my friend's sisters, the woman shopkeeper, our bank manager. The opportunity was endless.

What happened next was inevitable. What I did was almost automatic. That night I slipped out of my room and tiptoed silently to the room at the back of the house where my amma kept dirty clothes. In the semi-darkness, I put my hand into her basket and pulled out her clothes one by one, until my fingers realized what I had was her underwear. I tiptoed back to my room.

I was in heaven! I rubbed my face into my amma's panties. I inhaled the scent of her womanhood. It was the same smell as I had got while sniffing the dildo in her room! The aroma of her cunt!! My cock became harder than ever. I rolled her panties on my swollen penis. The feel of the cotton material on my turgid member made me delirious. I struggled to maintain control. I edged forever. I spewed my semen on the floor next to my bed. And I lay panting after my release. Before I fell asleep, I returned her panties to the basket.

I repeated this the next few days. It became second nature to me. I was amazed at how easy it was to satisfy my fetish, how unsuspecting my amma was to what I was doing. Then, I became bolder and I did the same during the day time when amma was not at home. I feasted my eyes on the different underwear she had. Surprisingly, she used various brands and materials and sizes. One day I found an almost new pair she had used just for one day and I recalled that she had gone shopping the previous day and I realized she may have bought new ones then. She had about half a dozen of them and used one every subsequent day. Fuck! I was in panty paradise!! If this was the only way for me to satisfy my lust and desires, I was okay with that, I told myself.

But the ease with which I could do this made me complacent.

++++++++

I recall vividly that it was the day college reopened. I was excited to get back and to meet friends and teachers I had not seen during the summer. As I sat in the cafeteria, chatting and exchanging stories of our summer with others, a realization flashed into my mind. I was sure why or how it happened at that particular moment. My eyes had wandered around the room and landed on the nice, tight jeans clad behind of a young girl. I clearly discerned the line of her panty outlined as she walked, her ass cheeks jiggling up and down seductively.

A sudden doubt entered my mind and made me go cold all over. I had taken amma's panties last night. It was a plain brown cotton, full back one with thick white borders. I clearly remember thinking it to be particularly sweet and sexy. But I did not recall placing it back in her basket! Did I, or did I not? The doubt plagued me the rest of the afternoon. I couldn't concentrate and I rushed back home and into my bedroom.

A chill went through me as I saw what was before me! Amma had the habit of occasionally cleaning my room and arranging my bed even after I had done it myself in the morning. Today was such a day. My bed was neatly made, with new clean sheets. But I was not sure if I had left her panties behind on the bed in the morning.

But one look at amma as she came to give me my coffee was enough to convince me that she had seen what I had done! Her face was flushed with embarrassment. She didn't look me in the eye, her eyes were downcast as she mumbled something and walked away. She gave some excuse about having a headache during dinner and I ate alone that evening. Fuck! I was caught!