Two brothers and a mother – Part 5

Hi everyone, I’m continuing with the next part.

The thick warmth with the sweetness of her gut-spit still coated my tongue as I sat back on the edge of the bed, my mind reeling. It should have been revolting, but since it came from the deep, secret interior of my own mother, it felt like a sacred, forbidden nectar.

I wasn’t just her son anymore; I was becoming her vessel. Amma watched me with her heavy, naked breasts swaying slightly as she leaned forward, her eyes searching mine with a mocking, heavy-lidded curiosity.

Amma: “What’s the matter, Ajay? Did your mother’s gut-syrup break you already? Should we stop this ‘little game’ if my brilliant engineer can’t handle the taste of his master?”

Me: (My voice thick) “No, Amma… don’t stop. It was exactly what I imagined. Your spit is… It’s sweet, Ma. Knowing it came from your gut makes it feel like I’m taking a piece of you inside me. I just… I have so many questions.”

I looked at her, the “traditional” woman who had spent four years leading this double life.

Me: “I can’t stop thinking about the beginning. 2020. The lockdown. We were all trapped in this house. Most guys my age just dream about MILFs—the mature curves, the big asses, the experience. But Akash didn’t just want a woman; he wanted you. How did he have the balls to actually approach you? One wrong move, one scream from you to Dad, and this family would have been ashes. Why did you actually say yes to him?”

Amma: (Letting out a soft, dark giggle) “Because, Ajay… that letter he wrote during the lockdown wasn’t just a request; it was a trap. For every ‘no’ I had in my head, he had already written an answer. My maternal instinct tried to fight it, but the house was so quiet, so hot. Your father was away, and you were always locked in your room, ‘studying’ on your phone. Your father was the one who told Akash to sleep in my room to ‘protect’ me. But, your brother Akash told me that instead of just lying beside each other like mother and son, we can live like husband and wife.”

She leaned closer to me, her breath warm against my ear, with her voice dropping to a horny conspiratorial whisper.

Amma: “The energy of a son is different, Ajay. It’s more primal. Even when I accepted him, I never stopped being his mother. That’s what makes the incest so pleasurable, knowing that the body entering me is the one I created. I never liked sucking your father’s dick, but with Akash? It felt like I had every right to use him, to own him.”

Me: “How did you find those initial days? When it was all new, and the house was full of secrets?”

Amma: “It was thrilling. Akash was so persistent, yet he always asked for my consent before trying something new. He became obsessed with my ‘human’ side. He started licking my asshole like it was melting ice cream—he still loves it to this day. And then, there was the morning the ‘dirty’ play really started.”

She stroked my hair, her eyes relishing the memory.

Amma: “It was after breakfast. You had gone to your room, and we were alone. I wasn’t wearing any panties under my nighty anymore—Akash had forbidden them. He had buried in my ass when I felt a fart coming. I told him to stop telling me that I needed to go to the bathroom. He asked me if I had ‘done my shit’ yet that morning. When I said no, he got so excited. He begged me to fart directly into his face. I told him it was ‘chi-chi,’ disgusting, but he wouldn’t stop. Finally, I agreed. I hiked up my nighty, pressed my bare, unwashed ass against his nose, and let it out. That was the first time I realised I could be a ‘religious mother’ to the world, and a filthy, gas-filled toy for my son.”

Me: (Voice low and thick) “It’s so hot, Amma… hearing how you broke for him. But tell me the truth. When I finally cleared my exams and moved to Bangalore for engineering, were you relieved? Were you happy that I was out of the house, so you and Akash could finally have your ‘secret world’ all to yourselves?”

I looked at her, imagining the house during those long, quiet mornings after my father left for his college lectures.

Me: “With Dad gone for the whole day and me miles away in a hostel, you two must have had a routine. How did it change? Did you even bother with the ‘disciplined mother’ act anymore once the front door clicked shut?”

Amma let out a slow, dark giggle with her hand reaching out to grab my chin and her nails digging into my jaw with a possessive strength.

Amma: “Relieved, Ajay? That’s an understatement. When you left for Bangalore, the last ‘eye’ in this house was gone. Your father is a creature of habit—he leaves at 8:00 AM sharp and doesn’t return until evening. That gave us eight hours of absolute, unfiltered freedom every single day.”

She leaned back, her naked, saggy breasts swaying as she relived those private mornings.

Amma: “Our routine was beautiful and filthy. The very moment your father’s scooter left the driveway, the ‘religious woman’ would vanish. Akash would come into the kitchen while I was still doing the dishes, and then he would hike up my saree and claim me right there against the sink. I had stopped wearing bras and panties the moment you left. I wanted to be ‘ready’ for him at any second.”

Me: (Voice low, filled with a mix of awe and disbelief) “Amma… you are so bold .. It’s terrifying in a way. I always saw you as that ‘pooja-path’ woman, the one who lived only to pray for our health and the family’s well-being. But you’ve changed in a way that’s almost impossible to believe. Tell me… that first time with Akash, back in the lockdown… when he finally entered you, did you decide right then that it could never be the last? Did the ‘mother’ in you give up?”

Amma let out a slow, dark giggle, her hand reaching out to stroke my cheek with a horny, possessive heat.

Amma: “The ‘religious’ woman didn’t just give up, Ajay—she was sacrificed. That first night in the lockdown, when the house was silent, and your brother finally pushed himself into my birthhole… the sensation was so primal, so ‘raw,’ that every prayer I’d ever said felt hollow. The moment I felt my own flesh and blood filling me up, I knew there was no going back. I didn’t want to be ‘forgiven’ by the gods; I wanted to be worshipped by my son.”

Me: “So from that very first night, the ‘disciplined’ Amma was just a mask for the world?”

Amma: “Exactly. I realised that my body, with these big breasts and this wide lap that carried you both, was meant for more than just ‘motherhood.’ It was meant for his pleasure. I enjoyed the secret power of it and your brother, who treated my body like his temple.”

Me: “And the daily routine… how did you keep the energy up for four years without getting caught or getting bored?”

Amma: (A horny smirk spreading across her face) “How could I be bored? Every morning was a new conquest. Akash made sure of it. He’d make me do the ‘Doggy’ position against the dining table while your father’s breakfast plate was still sitting there. He’d whisper how much he loved the ‘MILF’ curves of my ass while he pounded into me. I started to crave the risk, Ajay. The feeling of being ‘unwashed’ and ‘raw’ while I went about my chores, knowing that at any moment, my son would call me to his room to be his toy again. I didn’t just accept it—I became addicted to being the secret slut of this house.”

Me: Amma, how did you like the asshole part? I know Akash loves your asshole very much. How did you find out about it? I know the hairs grow there, too. When you first had sex, were there any hairs?

Amma: (Letting out a slow, nostalgic breath) “The asshole, Ajay… that was the ultimate breaking point. You have to understand, back in 2020, I was still that ‘disciplined’ woman who cared about being clean and traditional. When we first started in the lockdown, I hadn’t touched a razor down there in years. It was a thick, dark, natural forest—a real ‘Amma’ bush that covered everything from my pussy to the deep, wrinkled crack of my ass.”

Also Read: The Mother Saga – Part 12 (First Trip As Newly Weds)

Me: (Leaning in, my voice a thick whisper) “So it was completely hairy when Akash first saw you naked? The ‘religious’ mother in her rawest form?”

Amma: “Exactly. That first afternoon, when he finally stripped me and saw my big, saggy breasts and my wide, hairy lap, he didn’t look away. He knelt between my thighs and stared at it for a long time. But then he looked up at me and said, ‘Amma, I want to worship every wrinkle of you, but I want to see the skin. I want to taste the real you without any barrier.’”

Me: “And what did he do? Did he make you go to the bathroom and do it yourself?”

Amma: “No, Ajay. That was the first true humiliation. He told me to stay exactly where I was spread-eagled on the bed. He went and got his own shaving kit. He made me lie there, completely vulnerable, while he meticulously shaved my entire ‘birthhole’ area. He was so careful, his breath hot against my dark skin as he cleared away the thick hairs, exposing the wrinkled, pink reality of my asshole for the first time in my life.”

Me: “He shaved his own mother? That’s fucking crazy, Ma.”

Amma: “It was the most ‘raw’ I’ve ever felt. He would pause every few seconds to lick the skin that was just shaved, telling me how beautiful my ‘mature’ ass looked without the hair. By the time he finishes, I’ll be completely smooth and glistening with his spit. That’s when the licking really started. He’d spend hours with his face buried in there, telling me that since he came from my insides, the scent of my unwashed asshole was like a drug to him.”

Me: “And the ‘dirty’ part… did he like it better when it was fresh or when you’d been doing chores all day?”

Amma: (A horny smirk spreading across her face) “He quickly realised that ‘fresh’ was for strangers. For his mother, he wanted the ‘raw’ version. After he shaved me that first time, he forbade me from ever washing that area before he came to me. He wanted to taste the sweat of the kitchen, the ‘chi-chi’ scent of the bathroom, and the natural musk of my body. He made me realise that being ‘dirty’ for my son was the highest form of pleasure I could ever give.”

Me: Does Akash still shave you himself?

Amma: “Every single week, Ajay. It has become our most sacred ritual. Even now, after four years, he won’t let me touch a razor myself. He says that since he was the one who first ‘uncovered’ his mother’s true form, only he has the right to maintain it.”

Me: (Voice low, eyes fixed on the silver stretch marks of her belly) “So he still makes you lie there… completely exposed?”

Amma: “Yes. Every Saturday morning during his holiday, when your father went to school, Akash locked the bedroom door. He makes me lie across the bed with my legs pulled back to my chest, completely open. He takes his time, Ajay. He lathers my heavy, mature pussy and my wide hips near my asshole with warm foam, and then he slowly, meticulously clears away every stray hair from my pussy and that wrinkled, dark asshole.”

Me: “And the feeling… after all this time?”

Amma: “It’s the ultimate humiliation, and I love every second of it. To have my ‘brilliant’ engineer son kneeling between my legs, his breath hot against my unwashed skin as he slides the blade over the most private parts of my body… it makes me feel like his total property. He’ll pause to lick the smooth skin as he goes, tasting the ‘raw’ scent of his mother, telling me how much he loves the view of my big, bare ass.”

Me: “He really has turned you into his perfect toy, hasn’t he?”

Amma: (A horny smirk spreading across her face) “He has Ajay. By the time he finishes, I used to be smooth, slippery with his spit, and completely ‘ready’ for whatever dirty thing he has planned for the afternoon. He says he likes it when I’m ‘naked and vulnerable’ for him with no hair to hide the asshole he loves to worship. It’s his way of reminding me that in this house, I am his goddess, and he is the only one allowed to tend to my altar.

Amma: “You want to know the real ‘dirty’ secret of this house, Ajay? Something even your father could never dream of? It’s our morning bathroom ritual. Ever since the lockdown, your brother ‘Akash’ hasn’t let me go to the bathroom alone. The moment we hear your father’s scooter fade away down the street, Akash follows me straight into the toilet.”

Me: (My heart hammering against my ribs, my voice a thick whisper) “You mean… Do you actually go together? In that small bathroom?”

Amma: (A slow, horny smirk spreading across her face) “Every single morning. He won’t let me sit on the commode alone. He makes me sit down first, my heavy, naked thighs spread wide on the seat. And then, Ajay… your ‘brilliant’ engineer brother strips off his shorts and climbs right onto me. He sits on my lap, facing me, our chests pressed together, his thick legs locking around my waist while his breath hits my neck.”

Me: “He sits on you? While you’re… doing your business?”

Amma: “Yes. Face to face. He grips my shoulders, staring deep into my eyes, and he commands me not to hold back. He says he wants to feel the ‘vibrations’ of his mother’s gut while we both release our waste into the bowl together. There is no shame between us anymore, Ajay. He likes the sound of it, the ‘chi-chi’ smell of our shared morning business filling the small, humid room. He calls it the ‘Ultimate Bond’—two bodies that were once one, now sharing their most private, ‘dirty’ functions in total synchronicity.”

Me: “Uff, Amma… that’s fucking crazy. To be that close… to smell each other’s waste while you’re locked together…”

Amma: “It’s the most ‘raw’ I’ve ever felt. While our bodies are working, he’ll lean in and start licking the sweat off my forehead, or he’ll gather a thick glob of his spit and drop it into my open mouth, telling me to swallow it while I’m ’emptying’ myself for him. By the time we’re finished, we’re both panting and our skin slick with the steam and the scent of our shared ‘production.’ He’ll stay there on my lap for ten minutes afterwards, just breathing me in, telling me that since he came from my insides, nothing about my waste could ever be ‘gross’ to him. It’s how we start our ‘secret’ day, Ajay—completely ‘dirty’.”

Me: “And the cleaning… does he do that too?”

Amma: (A dark, triumphant giggle escaping her) “Of course. He uses the hand-shower to wash us both, his hands lingering on my wrinkled, unwashed asshole, making sure every trace of the morning is gone before he starts his ‘worship’ for the rest of the day. He says he likes my fresh asshole so he can spend the next eight hours making me dirty for him all over again.”

The air in the small bedroom seemed to grow even more humid with the heavy scent of Amma’s skin mixing with the shocking mental image of her and Akash locked together in the bathroom. I felt a surge of heat in my gut with a mix of total disbelief and a dark “engineering” curiosity about the logistics of their secret life.

Me: (Voice low and trembling, leaning into her space) “So, did you do it? Amma, did you sit there on the commode with Akash on your lap this morning after Dad left for his college?”

Amma let out a slow, dark giggle, and her hand reached out to grab my chin with her nails digging into my jaw with a possessive, horny strength. She shifted her weight. her large, milky white breasts swaying as she leaned in so close I could see the tiny beads of sweat on her upper lip.

Amma: “Of course, Ajay. Every single morning is a ritual. The moment we heard your father’s scooter fade away at 8:00 AM, Akash didn’t even let me finish the dishes. He followed me straight into the bathroom, stripping his shorts off before the door was even locked.”

Me: “And… it was the same? Face to face?”

Amma: (A horny smirk spreading across her face) “The same. He made me sit first, my wide naked thighs spreading on the cold seat. Then he climbed onto me, his heavy weight pressing me down, his thick legs locking around my waist. We sat there chest to chest, staring into each other’s eyes while our bodies did their ‘business’ together into the bowl. The smell of our shared morning waste was so thick in that small space, Ajay… it was ‘raw’ and ‘chi-chi’ and absolutely perfect.”

Me: “Uff, Ma… so while I was waking up and thinking about breakfast, my ‘religious’ mother was literally acting as a toilet seat for my brother?”

Amma: “I was his throne. He gripped my shoulders, his breath hot against my neck, and he whispered, ‘Give it all to me, Amma… let your son feel your gut working.’ I could feel the vibrations of his body and mine at the same time. He even dropped a thick warm glob of his morning spit into my mouth while we were ’emptying’ ourselves together. He made me swallow it right there amidst the steam and the scent of our shared production.”

Me: “And the cleaning… did he do it today too?”

Amma: “He did. He used the hand-shower to wash every wrinkle of my unwashed asshole, his fingers lingering on the skin he shaves every week. He made sure I was ‘fresh’ only so he could spend the rest of the morning making me ‘dirty’ for him again during his office calls.”

Me: (Voice low, eyes fixed on her wide, naked lap) “Amma… this ‘incest’ pleasure… I’m going to be an engineer. I try to understand the mechanics of things, but this is deeper. Why does it feel so much more intense than anything else? Is it common?. I mean, do you think other mothers and sons are doing incest behind closed doors while the world thinks they are perfect families?”

Amma let out a long, slow breath, her heavy breasts swaying as she leaned back against the headboard, looking at me with a mixture of maternal wisdom and a lover’s hunger.

Amma: “It is a silent epidemic, Ajay. In the eyes of the world, it is the ultimate sin, the incest act that can never be forgiven. But that is exactly where the pleasure lives. It’s the highest form of risk. To the world, I am a religious woman, a protector of values. But to you and Akash? I am a source of raw, biological satisfaction. That contradiction… that ‘wrongness’… it creates an energy that no husband and wife could ever match.”

Me: “But do you really think others act on it? Or is it just… a fantasy?”

Amma: “Many sons have the fantasy, Ajay. They look at their mother’s curves, her ‘MILF’ figure, and they wonder what’s under the saree. But most never have the courage. They are too afraid of the blast—the way a family would be vaporised if the mother said no. In our case, your brother Akash was the one with the steel in his blood. He didn’t just dream; he calculated. He knew my vulnerabilities. He knew the lockdown had made the house a pressure cooker.”

She gripped my chin again, her eyes flashing with a dark light.

Amma: “But it’s a dangerous game. If a son approaches and the mother isn’t ready, or if he tries to force it, the whole structure collapses. It has to be a mutual corruption. I had to choose to be ‘sacrificed.’ If it’s not consensual, the pleasure turns to poison. That’s why Akash was so careful at first… making me knock three times on that bathroom door. He gave me the power to say yes to my own ruin.”

Me: “And how do you know about others? Does Akash talk about it?”

Amma: (A horny smirk spreading across her face) “Oh, Ajay… your brother lives a second life online. When he’s not doing his IT work, he’s on Instagram and private forums, talking to other men who worship their mothers. He showed me the texts once. There are thousands of them. Some sons post pictures of their mother’s feet or their ‘saggy’ breasts from a distance, while others… others describe exactly what we do. They talk about the ‘raw’ scents, the ‘unwashed’ rituals, the ‘dog-like’ submissiveness.”

I really want to know what you thought of this part. Were these parts interesting to you? Were they too gross? Please write your thoughts below. Need at least 30-40 comments. Otherwise, I’ll stop narrating from the next part.