Unusually for me I needed to go to the toilet in the middle of the night. I felt slightly annoyed at having forgotten to go before I went to sleep. I’m a creature of habit and routine and this was out of the ordinary.
As I opened my bedroom door and looked towards the bathroom in the gloom I saw my mother walking away from the toilet to her bedroom. I was surprised when I saw that her nightie had bunched up and was tucked into her white panties. I realised that she must have been in a rush in going to the toilet and then back to bed. I could clearly see my mother’s long brown legs and the outline of her bottom. It was the first time I had ever seen my mother in just her panties and I couldn’t get the picture out of my mind all night and for the next few days.
They say every boy fantasises about his own mother but I didn’t. I didn’t think about girls at all. My parents were born in India but I was born in UK. I was brought up to think of relationships outside of marriage as shameful. Marriage was something that your parents arrange for you when you finish your studies. Sex was never talked about only alluded to as something necessary for children.
My parents were loving but strict. They thought that the only way to success was through education so anything that distracted from studies – girls, cars, booze etc – was bad and should be avoided. They would, however, buy anything I wanted to show their love and always gushed when they found out I had done well in an exam. It was drummed into me from an early age – studies then marriage then kids then retirement. Forget about girlfriends and anything else.
My parents had an arranged marriage in their mid-20’s so at the time of this story they were in their 40’s. My mother was tall for an Indian girl, at 5’6”, and had long legs. From old photos I knew she had been slim when younger but age and having a child meant that she had filled out to a UK size 12-14. She had light-medium brown skin and straight black hair that went to the middle of her back. Her stomach was relatively flat and her breasts were a nice handful. She wasn’t skinny but she wasn’t fat either. She had good skin and a lovely smile. Try and imagine a slightly taller Rani Mukerji.
I was middle class and went to an all-boys College. Yes, my friends joked about being with girls but in reality none of us had girlfriends; we were all far too geeky. I was a virgin but I wasn’t embarrassed about it. As I said, sex wasn’t something I thought about. The moment of seeing my mother’s panties was the most female nudity I had ever seen in real life and it happened when I was 18. From then on everything changed and I couldn’t help but think of my mother in a different light. I couldn’t help but think about sex.
At first I felt disgusted and perverted thinking of my mother in a sexual way but over the days and weeks I became more accustomed to it. Every other moment, I found myself thinking of her legs, bottom and breasts. I imagined what she would look like fully naked.
To my shame, I found myself masturbating thinking of my mother. On one occasion, I was naked in my bed masturbating thinking of my mother slowly stripping in front of me. I imagined her asking me to fuck her hard. I imagined myself screwing her doggystyle. I ejaculated under the sheets just as I heard my door open.
“Beta [son] do you need an extra blanket?” my mother asked.
“No, I’m fine Mum,” I said weakly.
My mother left the room but I noticed an odd expression on her face and couldn’t help wondering if she had seen the tent my hard cock had made in my duvet. I was thankful she had not come in a few minutes earlier and seen me stroking. My mother washed my sheets and underwear but she never made any mention of semen stains. She must have noticed but sex was so taboo maybe she was too embarrassed to say anything?
This may sound sick but I even fantasised about my mother catching me masturbating. I often thought about the tie she nearly came in on me stroking and got excited imagining she came in earlier. I wished I had the courage to show my mother my penis.
Over the following days and weeks I found myself trying to get closer to my mother and touch her at every opportunity. She was normally covered up at home – in a long dressing robe, long western trousers/blouse or a sari – so I never saw much of her body but just being in her presence, smelling her perfume and touching her made me excited.
As I was her son, my mother tolerated my touches and just thought I was being affectionate and playful. She noticed that my behaviour had changed and she did comment that I was going through a naughty phase but she laughed it off and didn’t take much notice of me.
On occasion, when for example I tried to hug her for a bit too long, she would tell me off for getting in her way. Though I thought sexually about dominating my Mother (her being on her knees etc) she was still much older than me and I was scared about upsetting her or her telling my Dad I was being naughty. This would normally make me back off and lie low for a few days before I would resume my antics of trying to be affectionate.
Then one day things changed.
It was a Saturday evening and my father was abroad with work and not flying back until the Sunday. It was like any other Saturday in that I had spent most of the day studying. It was a warm day so I decided to have a shower before dinner. Our shower is a bathtub with a shower attachment rather than a walk in unit.
It was whilst I was in the shower that my thoughts again drifted to my mother. I couldn’t help thinking about her firm breasts and her big ass and found myself begin to get hard as I soaped myself.
I don’t mean to brag but, for an Indian, I have always thought that I have a big penis. It is a good 7-7.5 inches when fully erect and quite thick. When I have seen my college friends in the changing rooms they have been much smaller than me. I always thought it was a shame that I didn’t know any girls to try my tool on!