The kitchen reeked of an illicit make-out session. Mallika’s sweet juices still lingered on my tongue as I leaned against the counter, catching my breath. Her sundress was slightly askew, and she was blushing with satisfaction. I grabbed my phone and made a quick call to the nearest gym, booking us a session for later that afternoon.
“We’re doing this, OK?” I said, winking.
“Time to start that transformation,” Mallika said, smirking as she smoothed her dress.
“Then we need some gym clothes… and those thongs you’re so obsessed with. I don’t have any yet.” Her voice was teasing, but the way she bit her lip told me she was already imagining my reaction.
“Let’s go shopping then,” I replied. My cock twitched at the thought of her in a thong.
“Victoria’s Secret first, then gym clothes.”
I never liked Mumbai’s sun. It was blazing as we drove to the mall. At Victoria’s Secret, Mallika searched through the aisles, her voluptuous hips swaying, her full, pinkish face shining, drawing glances from passersby. She held up a black lace thong, barely a scrap of fabric, and raised an eyebrow.
“This slutty enough for you, boyfriend?” she whispered.
“Fuck, yes,” I growled softly, adjusting my jeans to hide my growing bulge.
“Get a red one too, something that screams ‘Mommy’s ready to be bad,’” I said. She laughed, grabbing a few more: crimson, pink, sheer nude. She tossed them into the basket. I found that Victoria’s Secret thongs were not sexy enough compared to what I had seen on online sites, so I told her not to buy many, as I would buy them for her.
Next, we hit a sportswear store for gym clothes. Mallika searched through racks, pulling out XL sports bras, leggings, and shorts. Her curvy 80-kg frame needed the extra room. I couldn’t resist.
“XL, huh? Gonna need a lot of sweat to fit into those minis you promised,” I teased, nudging her playfully.
She shot back, smirking. “Oh, please, Mr. Small-Size Nike boy.” She held up the tiny shorts and jacket I’d picked, perfect for my slim six-foot frame.
“What’s this, a kid’s section? You’re all height and no muscle, baby. Better bulk up if you wanna pin me down.” Her eyes danced with challenge, and I laughed, loving her quick wit.
Back home, we changed into our new outfits. Mallika wore a black sports bra that hugged her full 36D breasts. Her nipples were faintly visible through the stretchy fabric, and tight leggings that accentuated her thick thighs and round ass could immediately give anyone a hard-on. I whistled low.
“Damn, baby, you’re already killing it.” I wore my Nike shorts and tank.
At the gym, we stood before a full-length mirror, snapping photos of each other, our “before” shots for this transformational journey. Mallika’s curves looked a little sinful in her outfit. Even the lighting in the gym accentuated her voluptuous body.
The gym was full of energy: jacked guys lifting heavy, and women in tight sports bras and shorts that left little to the imagination. One brunette, her toned ass bouncing as she squatted, caught my eye, and my cock stirred in my shorts. Mallika noticed, nudging me with her elbow.
“What are you doing?”
Our trainer, a chiseled guy named Omar, greeted us with a confident grin, his eyes lingering on Mallika a bit too long for my liking. “You both have potential,” he said, handing us diet charts and protein shake recipes.
“Clean eating, high protein, and hard work. Ma’am, you’re already stunning, but we’ll focus on achieving your weight loss goal. Vihaan, let’s get some meat on those bones, OK?” He gazed at her for quite a long time, almost hungrily, which made my jaw tighten. Mallika noticed and laughed, looking at me, and I was embarrassed.
“Everything’s possible,” Omar continued.
“Might take six months, maybe a year, but you’ll get there.” He explained macros, meal prep, and the importance of shakes for daily protein intake. I nodded, stealing glances at Mallika’s cleavage. Her sports bra was soaked in sweat from all the cardio she had done, and a single drop slid into her cleavage. She caught me and smirked.
“Behave, baby, or Mommy’s gonna punish you later.”
Back home, sweaty and energized, we collapsed onto the couch, our gym bags tossed aside. I stretched, my tank top clinging to my skin, and asked casually, “When’s Dad back?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Mallika replied, sipping water. She looked relaxed, but there was a spark in her eyes, like she knew where this was going.
I leaned closer, my hand resting on her thigh, feeling the heat through her leggings. “Sleep in my room tonight,” I said as a request.
Her eyes widened, but a shy smile escaped her lips, betraying her excitement.
“Hm… you sure?” she asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant, but her body leaned into mine, her breast brushing my arm.
“Yes,” I murmured.
“I want you in my bed, all night. No interruptions.” Her breath hitched, and she nodded. We were ready to cross another line in our twisted tale.
***
As the evening sun dipped, Mallika and I sat down for dinner in the dining room. She had thrown together a simple meal: grilled chicken, salad, and rice, nothing fancy, as we both were now health-conscious. However, the air between us felt thick as we mainly ate in silence.
“This chicken’s pretty juicy,” I said casually, glancing at her across the table, trying to keep things light. She nodded; she seemed distant.
“Yeah, the seasoning’s nice,” she replied softly.
Her voice was steady, but her mind clearly was elsewhere. I kind of had a feeling what she was wrestling with: the step from forbidden touches to full-on fucking her stepson. Her cheeks moved slightly, and she avoided my gaze, taking small bites as if savoring each one could delay the inevitable. Me? I was turned on with excitement. My cock was already half-hard under the table, just thinking about burying myself in her voluptuous body, claiming her pussy in my bed. It made my pulse race. The thought of her moans, her breast in my mouth, was enough to make me cum for days. But I played it cool.
After we cleared the plates, I leaned back in my chair and watched her rinse a glass at the sink.
“So, you’re coming to my room tonight, right?” I asked, my tone casual but laced with heat. She paused, water running over her hands, then nodded without turning around.
“Yeah,” she said quietly, almost to herself. That was all I needed.
I headed upstairs to my room, my heart pounding with anticipation. I pulled out a drawer, took a fresh condom packet and a bottle of lube, better safe than sorry, especially with how wild things might get. I stripped the bed and threw on clean linens; they faintly smelled of lavender from the wash. The room was ready, intimate, like a stage set for our sin. My cock throbbed at the thought, fully erect now as I imagined peeling off her clothes, tasting her again, feeling her tight pussy around my cock.
***
Meanwhile, in her room, Mallika stood before her mirror. This is insane, she thought. Her reflection stared back at her: a 35-year-old woman, half-Russian, half-Indian, with soft curves that spoke of comfort rather than the sleek hourglass she now aspired to. Her marriage to Vihaan’s dad was already a compromise; it was born out of loneliness and security, not passion. And now this? Sleeping with her stepson, a 21-year-old whose youthful energy was thrilling and equally terrifying.
He’s my husband’s child, her mind screamed; her guilt twisted inside her like a knife.
What if we get caught? What if this ruins everything?
Yet, beneath the shame of skin, a sinister desire cooked itself; it was raw, aching, a need she had suppressed for too long, even in her previous marriage. She knew that Vihaan’s touch ignited something primal in her, something hidden, a fire her aging husband couldn’t ignite, even with Viagra.
She knew backing down now meant retreating to her empty bed, to unfulfilled nights, a night she was scared of. But going through with it… that meant embracing the whore inside, the woman who craved her stepson’s thick nine-inch cock, who got wet at the thought of being called Mommy while he fucked her senseless. Her heartbeat raced; a mix of fear and arousal flushed her skin as she slipped into the black thong we’d bought earlier, the lace barely covering her pussy, riding up between her full, naked ass cheeks. She wore the matching lacy bra; her heavy breasts filled the bra cups, giving her deep cleavage. Finally, she draped a silk nightgown over it all like a lover’s touch. She also applied a touch of makeup for this occasion: red lipstick and a swipe of mascara. Watching her transformation in the mirror.
Am I really doing this? The itch between her legs said yes; however, her conscience whispered no.
***
I grew impatient with waiting; my hard-on twitched in my boxers as I left my room. Fuck it, I thought, heading down the hall to hers. The door was half-open, and there she was, frozen in front of the mirror. Her silk gown was open slightly, revealing the black lace underneath. For fuck’s sake, she looked stunning, vulnerable.
“Hey, everything okay?” I asked, stepping inside, my voice gentle.
She turned, her hands trembling as she clutched the gown closed.
“Vihaan… we can still back down,” she said, her voice cracking with the weight of her inner conflict. Tears welled in her eyes, not from sadness but from the storm brewing inside; her guilt clashed with her lust. Societal taboos were warring against her body’s betrayal, pulling her in different directions.
“This is wrong. You’re my stepson, for God’s sake. Your dad… if he knew… we’re family. I shouldn’t want this, but God, I do. It’s tearing me apart.”
I quickly grabbed her, my hands on her shoulders, and hugged her, softly caressing her head.
“If I’m not running from my feelings, why are you?” I repeated her own words from earlier; my voice was firm but caring.
“You told me to stop compromising, Mallika. Remember? I want this, I want you. We both want this. Let’s not hide from it now.”
Her psychological dam broke, and the logic pierced through her doubts. Her breath hitched, and she leaned in. Our lips met in a passionate kiss that started soft but ignited like wildfire. I pulled her close, my tongue slipping into her mouth, tasting her lipstick. She moaned into me, her hands grabbing my shirt, her voluptuous body pressing against my hard cock. The kiss deepened, sloppy, our tongues tangling as I pushed her toward her bed, ready to devour her.
The air in her room thickened with our breaths; her silk gown slipped open under my hands as I pushed Mallika back onto the bed, her bed, the one she shared with my dad. But in that moment, it didn’t matter; all I could think about was claiming her. I threw my lips onto hers, kissing her hard, my tongue exploring her mouth with an urgent hunger. She responded instantly, her hands pulling me closer like a tigress.
“Mmm, baby,” she moaned into the kiss, her voice sultry. We were exploring each other’s mouths with our tongues, wet and sloppy, tasting each other.
“Fuck, Mallika, you taste so good,” I growled into her mouth.
“I’m gonna make you scream my name tonight.” She moaned, her voice thick with lust.
“Oh, baby, you’re making Mommy’s pussy so wet already.” But then her eyes snapped open, and she pushed against my chest, breaking the kiss.
“Wait… baby, this is your father’s room,” she panted. She had a mix of lust and guilt.
“We can’t… not here. Take me to your room, baby. Make me yours.” I chuckled, wicked and low, as I helped her up, our fingers intertwining.
“You’re right, Mommy. My bed, where I want to spread you open.” We laughed together.
The tension between us eased into excitement as we stumbled out of the room, her hand in mine, and down the hall. But halfway there, I couldn’t resist. I slammed her against the wall, my mouth latching onto her neck, sucking hard on the soft, salty skin. She gasped, tilting her head as her hands pulled my hair.
“Oh fuck, Vihaan… suck me harder, baby,” she moaned, her body, her breasts, pressing into me.
“God, I want to eat every inch of you.”
In our rush, my foot kicked a nearby vase, and the crash echoed in the hall. We both froze for a second, then burst into laughter. “Clumsy boy,” she teased.
However, I was not stopping. I yanked open her gown, exposing the black lacy bra that cupped her heavy breasts. I buried my face, kissing the fullness of one breast, then sucked hard on the exposed flesh, leaving a faint pink mark.
“These tits are fucking perfect,” I said, sucking another mark onto her breast.
“I’m gonna cum all over them, Mommy.”
“Stop it, you naughty boy,” she giggled, patting my shoulder playfully, but her voice craved more.
“Not here, take me to your room, or I’ll make you lick my pussy right in this hallway.” She said it with determination and grabbed my hand, dragging me toward my bedroom, her hips swaying like on a catwalk. I knew that the thong was hiding between her thick ass cheeks. I so wanted to tear them apart.
We burst into my room, and the door slammed shut behind us. The moment it clicked, Mallika launched herself at me like a woman possessed, her lips attacking my neck, sucking and biting with an intensity that made my cock throb in my shorts.
“God, I want you so fucking bad, baby,” she murmured against my skin, her tongue tracing my earlobe lecherously.
“I’m gonna suck every part of you, my naughty boy.” She moved to my face, licking my cheeks, my jaw, then claimed my lips, sucking them like a devil, and pushed her tongue deep into my sloppy mouth.
I growled, pushing her back against the wall, and tore her gown until it pooled at her feet. She stood there, a sexy goddess in her black lacy bra, nipples poking through, and a black thong, a thin strip disappearing into her juicy ass.
“Holy fuck, Mommy, you look like a fucking slut,” I whispered. I cupped her huge breasts, pressing them softly at first, feeling their weight in my palms.
“These tits were made for my hands, weren’t they?”
“Yes, touch me more, baby,” she begged, her blue eyes demanding need.
“Make Mommy’s pussy drip for you.” Our lips crashed together again, tongues colliding in a magical dance, saliva dripping as we devoured each other’s mouths like hungry kittens.
Mallika shoved me against the opposite wall, her hands ripping off my t-shirt to expose my lean chest.
“Your turn, baby. I wanna see that big cock again,” she purred, her fingers hooking into my shorts and briefs and sliding them down in one swift motion. My nine-inch cock was now free from its cage, hard and throbbing, the tip decorated with my precum. She stared at it with wide-eyed admiration and hunger.
“Fuck, baby… It’s even more beautiful now,” she said, running her fingers along its length, tracing the veins, then gripping it tightly. She stroked slowly.
“It’s so fucking thick… baby. Hm… it’s gonna tear Mommy’s pussy.” She looked at me, her eyes screaming mercy.
I groaned as she tightened her grip. “Ah…” So I squeezed her breast harder, pinching her nipple through the lace.
“Keep stroking, Mommy. Milk that cock.” Then she pushed her tongue back into my mouth, our kiss turning almost into a tongue-fucking exercise. She squeezed my cock harder, collecting a bead of precum from the tip and holding it up for me to see with a wicked smile.
“Look at this, baby, your cock’s crying for me,” she said seductively, licking it off her finger, her tongue moving around her finger like it was my cock.
“Mmm, you taste so good. Mommy wants to taste all of you, baby.”
“Do it, Mommy. Swallow me.” Without another word, she squatted down, her knees spreading wide, giving me a perfect view of her large, juicy ass with the black thong’s whale tail peeking out, the lace stretched between her ass cheeks. She was drunk on lust; she looked at my cock like it was her lover.
“Oh, you big, beautiful thing,” she said to my cock, as if it were alive.
“Mommy wants you so bad, baby. Hm… I’m gonna worship you tonight.” And she kissed the tip softly. Then she leaned in, her tongue flicking out, licking from my balls to the tip of my cock in long, slow strokes, savoring every inch. At the head, she played with her tongue, circling the sensitive slit, teasing out more precum.
“Ah… fuck, Mommy, that’s hot,” I grunted, my hands holding her hair as my hips bucked.
She looked up at me, her blue eyes locking onto mine with a wicked smile.
“Watch me, baby. Watch Mommy devour your fucking cock.” With that, she opened her mouth wide, taking me in inch by inch until she hit her limit, about five inches, her lips now stretched around my girth. Her mouth was hot, wet, and tight. She sucked with a rhythm that made my knees weak. Her hands kept stroking the base she couldn’t reach, and her tongue kept dancing beneath my cock as she left saliva dripping down my shaft.
“Mmm, you taste so fucking good,” she whispered to my cock.
“Mommy’s gonna suck you dry, baby.”
Mallika’s lips were stretched tightly around my nine-inch cock, her mouth hot as an oven as she sucked me like a desperate whore,...
