My Amma’s BlouseI know I should be happy but I’m not. I am nervous, shivering, sweating and walking away from home. I know my amma (mother) is waiting for me. She has cooked my favorite, especially for today.But I cannot go. I feel my legs become weak whenever I start walking towards home. I can’t because today I am going to do something I have never done before. Today I am going to ask my amma to have sex with me. I loved my amma since ever, but I didn’t realize when that love changed to lust.I started getting attracted to her beautiful body. I started craving to undress her, see her nude, touch her fair skin, kiss every inch of her voluptuous motherly body. It all started not a long ago when my father passed away. In order to bring money in the home, my mother decided to take up tailoring, specifically stitching of blouses, as a job.So as to learn it first she approached a ladies tailor named Raja. He was old 55+, black, bald guy. He agreed to teach her but he suggested my mother buy a sewing machine and he will come home to teach her. I didn’t like Raja at all, he was ugly. But my mother insisted on letting him come to teach, he was the only way my mother could earn some money.I wasn’t working either. We live in a small one-room house; kitchen, bedroom, toilet-bathroom all in one space. So when Raja started coming to teach I had to sit in the same room where the lessons were going on. He began with asking my mother for her measurements, using which they stitched a sample blouse.He taught her everything step by step from marking the cloth, to cutting the pieces and then stitching them together. At first, he was standing away at a distance, seeing what she was doing from behind. But slowly he moved closer. Soon he started touching her hands to correct her. I was watching all this.I didn’t like it. I was getting more and angrier. Every time that old fart would touch her arm or her shoulder, he would look at me and smile. All I wanted to do was to punch in his face. But I couldn’t. My mother wasn’t saying anything so neither could I. Once the blouse was ready he told her to try it out.“Fine. I’ll just come,” said my amma as she took the blouse and started walking to the bathroom. He stopped her, “Wear it in front of me,” he said. He wanted to see the fitting while she wore it so as to ensure that the stitch wasn’t loose or that it didn’t tear while wearing it. She hesitated, but he insisted. Amma then requested me to go out while she tried the blouse.I went out but then going around I peeped through the window. Amma used to wear saris all the time. So when she was told to try on the blouse, she had to take off the pallu and the blouse she was wearing. I watched her while she stripped out of her clothes and show off the white bra she was wearing underneath.At the moment her back was facing me so I didn’t see much. But the perverted expressions on the baldy’s face were enough to aggravate me even more. He was enjoying it. Days passed and his lessons continued. I watched while he taught my mother to stitch blouses. He told her to strip and try out the blouse every time a minor adjustment was made.She got used to it, so much that she wouldn’t even wait for me to leave. She would quickly take off her sari to try out the blouse. Soon I started staying in the room while she tried out the blouses. She would look at me before she took off her blouse, I would pretend to be lost in my phone.But, I saw. I saw everything. Slowly by slowly he started making tighter more low-cut blouses so that more of her chest was exposed. He even got her special push-up bras so that she could try on tighter smaller blouses. Raja used to tell my mother to wear the blouses she made for general use.She didn’t want to as they were revealing but then he insisted that he wanted to test the endurance of the blouses. She was reluctant, yet she wore blouses that showed off cleavage, everywhere throughout the day. I realized what he was doing. My mother was getting used to bare more of her chest.I was getting more and more annoyed with this old tailor and felt sad for my amma who simply obeyed. I was angry all the time. But, one day something changed. It was morning time when I was taking bath. My eyes fell on my amma’s white bra that was hanging on a string. Suddenly an image of her wearing just the bra came to my mind.I had seen it countless times by then whenever she tried on the blouses. Watching the bra, I got an erection. I was tempted as I took the bra in my hand. My dick was getting harder. I resisted at first canlı bahis but rubbing that soft bra on my dick felt so pleasurable. This became a routine. She started wondering, asking herself as in, why her bra stayed wet all the time.I would simply pretend not to hear what she said. The classes continued. Taking it to next level he started teaching her to make blouses that had hooks at the back. This way he didn’t have to stay at a distance just looking at her. He started touching her with the excuse of hooking and unhooking her blouse. Amma didn’t seem to mind so he went on.His hands would move from touching her back to gently squeezing her breasts with the excuse of straightening the kinks of the fabric. I was watching all this but I wasn’t angry anymore. Seeing Raja touch my amma made me fantasize him doing a lot more to her.One morning he came very early when I was still in bed. As they got ready for the class, Raja suddenly went close to her asking, “Jayah, why do you wear your sari so high?” Then without letting her speak he went ahead and started pulling her sari down to show more of her hip. So much so that I could see a slight hint of her butt crack.Raja was being very much physical with her that morning thinking that I was asleep, but I wasn’t. While the blanket was still over me, I feasted on the view as I slipped my hand inside my pants and started stroking my cock. As I saw him squeezing my amma’s ass, I masturbated in bed. This was going too far, I realized.As much as I enjoyed it, I had to talk to amma about this and so I did. Night time while having food, I suggested her to get rid of Raja. She had learned enough that she could stitch blouses all by herself. “I don’t like how he touches you, Amma,” I said. She was quiet, thinking.Then she spoke. “I don’t like it either but I can’t do that. Raja is the best ladies tailor in the locality. He is the one giving me jobs and paying me. I cannot run this tailoring business all by myself. But I will talk to him about keeping some distance. Go to sleep.” she said giving a faint reassuring smile.Next morning I came from outside when the tailoring was going on. As I walked in, Raja gave me an angry look. I realized that she had the talk with him. He was pissed as he turned away and started looking at what she was doing. As time passed, amma would take off her blouse, tried out the sample blouse and then took it off, put back her blouse and the started working on it.This happened a few times. Soon she got annoyed and so she continued to stitch wearing just her bra. Amma didn’t care if she wasn’t dressed and Raja and I were looking. She continued her work. Once done she wore the blouse and showed it to Raja.“Wonderful!” he said out loud. Raja was very impressed by my mother for the blouse she made. “I am proud of you Jayah,” he complimented. “This is the best blouse you have made till now. Show it to Jegan,” he said.I was shocked to hear what he said. Raja actually encouraged my mother to come close to me to show off the blouse she made while she was wearing it. A parrot green blouse which coincidentally matched the dark green sari she wore that day. It was a low-cut sleeveless blouse that fit tight around her bust, showed off a huge cleavage.Amma was so embarrassed that she looked away while she showed off her body to me. I was aroused and so quickly I crossed my legs. “It’s good,” I said and ran out pretending to get a call. As I stood outside at the door, I heard them talking. “Do I really have to show myself to my son?” she asked.“You have to,” he insisted. “Since you are making proper blouses now, I need a third person’s opinion to see if the product is good or not.” he said, “Or would you prefer some other man to be here. Maybe my…”“No. Jegan can stay,” she didn’t let him complete the sentence.This was very awkward. “Although I have seen amma just in her bra countless times it was as if I wasn’t looking. But this, if she has to show her body to me every day, our relationship won’t be the same.” I argued with myself.Meanwhile, they talked inside and after a few minutes Raja stepped out. He smiled looking at me. Bring me close he whispered in my ear, “I know how you look at your mother, dirty boy. It’s in the best interest for both of us that I come to tutor your mother.” Then he patted on my back and walked away.The same routine continued. Amma used to stitch blouses, tried them out and then showed them to me. Daytime, nighttime, even when Raja was not around. She was very casual to let me help her put on the blouse, bahis siteleri take it off or touch all around her to see if the fitting was proper.This was very arousing and frustrating at the same time as often I had to rush to the bathroom to hide my erection. She didn’t realize it but our relationship was changing. From mom-son, we were becoming man and woman. Raja had become confident and was making attempts to have sex with her.Fortunately, it hasn’t happened till today and I don’t want that to happen ever. I don’t want that old man to satisfy my amma’s sexual urges. I will do it myself. So today I have decided to have sex with amma. I want to be the man who satisfies her sexually as long as she needs it. I need to go, now.The warm breath that you feel on your skin, the soft contact and squeezing of the lips, the tickly hide-n-seek played by the tongues inside the mouth, the saliva exchange. It’s the best sensation I’ve ever felt, better than sex because it lasts as long as you want.As long as you have a partner willing to lend her lips. In my case, my partner is my amma (mother). My father died and left behind a very young beautiful widow. Although my amma has overcome the financial problem by starting tailoring job, there is something still missing from her life.A life partner that she deserves, someone who would love her emotionally, physically, sexually while she is in her best years of life. As a son, I was there to emotionally support her, but sexually? Till a couple of months ago, I wouldn’t even think of doing such things to her.But the situation has changed. She is no longer just a mother to me. I have had to myself take up the responsibility to satisfy her fully and so I did. There was no exchange of words. Just warm kisses as I gently pressed my face against her’s. My hands were shaking as I lowered them to undress her.But she firmly guided my hands so I could remove her sari, unhook her blouse and take the underwear off, all while still kissing. As I stripped her entirely out of her clothes, she did the same for me. Unbuttoning my shirt, pulling down my pants.Within a couple of minutes, we both were completely naked and wrapped in each other’s arms. For a moment I just wanted to sit at a distance and admire her beautiful body making her turn around and show herself to me. I have seen her in underwear before but never fully nude.But that was not the right moment, the feeling of her warm body on me was extremely pleasuring for me to do anything else. Her Double D breasts pressing against my chest, our birthing organs rubbing against each other and our lips in contact all this time. It was overloading my senses.That voluptuous body I was feeling all over. Those huge breasts that persistently teased me with their cleavage. Those perky nipples that got hard after I squeezed with my thumbs. Running my hands down her slightly big belly and grabbing her bum. Massaging those butt cheeks, squeezing them together and pulling them apart to reveal the hole in between.Rubbing my dick over the slits of her vagina as I stared deep into her innocent eyes. I knew that any moment we were going to engage into something unexpected, something forbidden; the sweet taboo. All I had to do was ask,“Amma I want to have sex with you. Will you…?”This was easy, perhaps too easy. I know it was my birthday and that amma would do anything for me. But asking this from her would be perhaps too much. As I shared my fantasy with my best friend Arjun, the expressions on his face scared me.What if my amma felt the same? Or worse. What if she beats me as a punishment? What if she throws me out of the house? Or what if she locks herself in the house? What if she leaves me never to be seen again?The reward was high but so were the risks and the conflict to choose which over which was tremendous. As I walked towards home I was still confused whether to ask her or not. And my friend Arjun, he was not helping. He was trying to explain to me how i****t is wrong although he couldn’t convince me why it is wrong.While we walked towards home, Arjun kept talking while I continued to think. “Aree Jegan, how are you? How is Jayah?” asked a skinny thin mustache man. He was a raggedly dressed middle-aged vegetable seller standing at the roadside who called me as I walked.“Ta..ra..n.” I grunted his name in a low tone as I felt like punching his disfigured teeth in and dropping him on the ground. “Tharki (pervert) saala,” I told Arjun as we continued to walk without responding to Taran’s question. Ever since bahis şirketleri that fucking tailor suggested my mother wear those low cut blouses, her huge exposed cleavage was attracting many sexual predators.This Taran was one of them. I didn’t realize this at first. He was selling us vegetables at a lower rate as a condolence after my father passed away. At times he was kind enough to deliver the vegetables at home in the evening. But slowly a pattern emerged.Taran was a hardworking man and would personally handpick the vegetables to any customer that arrive. But it happened quite a few times that whenever my mother came to him, he would be suddenly busy on his phone. Just so he could see my amma bend over to pick the veggies while he ogled her chest.He even reduced the height of the table so that she would have to bend further down. The times when he delivered the vegetables home, would always coincide with when Raja the ugly tailor was home. The other day I was pretty sure that I saw someone peeping through the window while my amma was in her underwear trying on the new blouse.“What an asshole!” Arjun cursed as we continued to walk. “Why didn’t you catch him?” he asked. But I had no words that would convince him. Thankfully before he demanded the answer, Arjun saw someone and went to help. It was an old man who fell on the road.“Dada Broju,” I grunted, yet again. While Arjun got him settled on a bench roadside, I didn’t buy his bluff. He was the other pervert, a level higher than Taran I must say. “Don’t believe that old fart,” I said to Arjun as we took our final steps towards home.“I’ve seen him fall countless times whenever amma was around just so he could feel her breasts when she picked him up.” Arjun was shocked to hear this but I have learned it by then, ‘Old man doesn’t mean good man.’“There was this one time…” I continued, “… he planned it such that he fell on her chest with his face wedged in her cleavage. Then grabbing her tits with his hands he tried to shove his face deeper while pretending to do the opposite.”Arjun was speechless as we walked towards the doorstep. I was about to ring the bell when I heard voices from inside. We went around and peeped through an open window. It was that haraami Raja with another one of his lessons. My mother was in her white bra-panty while he stood behind her.While she was wearing the blouse, he was rubbing his erection on her butt. Amma pretended to not notice. “This has to stop, why do you put up with these perverts?” he asked me again as we hid under the window to avoid suspicion. He asked but I couldn’t reply as I can’t tell Arjun one little secret of mine.The fact that I once dreamed my mother having sex with all three at the same time while the entire neighborhood watched from outside the windows. The worst part was that I was sitting on the bed but I didn’t stop them. Although I don’t want this to happen in reality, I liked fantasizing my amma having sex with different men in the neighborhood.I was sitting on the bed with a boner in my pants. I was stroking it hard as I saw amma being violated through all three of her holes. They had kept amma on a table completely nude. Broju the old man who very much shorter than amma had his head rested on her chest using her right boob as a pillow while he played with her left tit.His dick was shoved deep in her pussy at the same time. Meanwhile, Raju, the bald tailor had her legs spread apart and pounding her asshole. And the third, Taran, the vegetable guy drilling inside her mouth as he rested his ass on her face. Meanwhile, my amma whose head was laid back was looking at me upside down as tears came out of her eyes and rolled down up her forehead.All the perverted crowd meanwhile threw money from the window cheering my amma’s name, begging to let them in. I could see the pain in her eyes but my hand continued to milk my cock desperately waiting for my turn to cum. It was bad and yet it felt so good.Although I cursed the perverts of the locality, I had started to enjoy seeing amma being teased. So how could I stop them from doing the same? “Tell me.” Arjun insisted as I snapped out of this fantasy. We were still hiding under the window.It took me a while to plan the sentence that was on my mind since I started walking back home with my best friend Arjun. I took my time, thought about it and then I finally spoke.“Amma is still young and she has sexual urges,” I paused.I took a deep breath as there was no turning back after what I will say, “There is only one way to keep her away from these perverts. If I can’t have sex with her, it has to be you.” I was waiting for Arjun to react, but he didn’t. I hope he heard me clearly but he was frozen, motionless, as if dead that very instant.To be continued.