Ananya went to her bathroom, fetched the small bottle of Jasmine oil—a heavy, distinctly Bengali scent that would forever be tied to this forbidden moment—and a thick towel. When she returned, Ark was standing awkwardly in the center of the room.
He had removed his pajamas, leaving him dressed only in his thin, gray cotton boxers. This was exactly the setup Ananya had mentally scripted.
His body was young, sleek, and muscled with the lean, active strength of his youth. But her eyes were riveted lower. The gray cotton of his boxers was pulled taut over the thick, impressive bulge beneath. Even at rest, his cock was enormous, its girth straining the fabric. It looked like a hard, aggressive club pressing outward.
“He’s beautiful. So hard already. He knows why he’s here, even if he can’t admit it. This thin cotton is perfect. So easy to see, so easy to touch. It’s my son’s bãrã (cock), and it’s mine now.”
Ananya’s voice was softer than a whisper, an instruction that sounded more like an invitation. “Lie on your stomach, my love. Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”
Ark swallowed hard, his neck muscles tensing. Without a word, he turned and lay face down on the bed, his head turned into the pillow in a gesture of shame and anticipated surrender. The sight of his firm, young ass in the tight cotton boxers made Ananya’s pussy clench painfully.
Ananya straddled his lower legs, sitting lightly on his ankles to keep him anchored. This posture placed her wet pussy just a few inches from the thick base of his erection.
She opened the bottle and poured a generous amount of warm, fragrant oil onto his broad, youthful back. The first touch of her oiled palms to his skin made Ark gasp, a sound muffled by the pillow.
She began the massage, slow and deliberate. She worked the strong muscles of his shoulders, then the lean contours of his spine. The strokes were strong—a mother’s touch—but they were also slow, sensual, and possessive.
Her hands began their intentional drift, moving lower, her palms slick with oil, gliding over his tight, youthful skin. She explored the curve of his waist, running her oiled thumbs along the indentations just above his firm ass. She paused there, pressing her thumbs into the curves of his lower back, the pressure making his body tense beneath her, a shiver running through him. Her hips hovered just centimeters from the thick base of his erection, the warmth of her body a promise.
“He’s shaking. He’s so hard he could tear the fabric. The whole world could see that massive cock right now. I am controlling him completely. My hands are driving him crazy, and I haven’t even touched it yet.”
Ananya lifted her hand, trailing a line of warm oil down the side of his hip. She let her fingers “slip” over the seam of his boxers, gliding down the inner thigh. The movement was calculated, slow-motion, designed to maximize the agonizing anticipation.
Then, her middle finger suddenly pressed hard against the massive, rock-hard head of his cock, still encased in the thin, stretched cotton. The feeling was unmistakable: solid, hot, and utterly unforgiving.
Ark’s reaction was immediate and raw. A strangled, deep, involuntary groan escaped his throat. He attempted to stifle it by grinding his face into the pillow, his body thrashing weakly. The pressure of her finger on the head of his bãrã sent a shockwave of forbidden desire and agonizing pain through him.
Ananya’s voice dropped to a sultry, dangerous whisper, her lips close to his ear, her breath warm on his neck.
“Did I hurt you, darling? Does that feel good?”
The mixture of the pain and her breath on his skin, combined with the pressure on his huge, straining cock, was too much.
Ark couldn’t take the pressure. With a sudden, desperate surge of strength, he twisted and flipped onto his back. His chest was heaving, his breathing shallow and rapid.
He didn’t need to look down. His powerful cock was fully erect, pushing the thin, gray cotton outwards like a hard, aggressive club. He covered his face with his arm in a final, futile gesture of shame.
Ananya leaned over him, her face flushed with a fierce, conquering lust and intoxicating power. She looked directly at the huge, straining bulge.
“Look at me, Ark. Don’t hide.” She gently but firmly removed his arm from his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Tell me what your body is telling me right now.”
Ark’s eyes were wide, tortured with internal conflict. His voice was muffled, thick with lust and confusion. “Ma… I can’t. This is wrong. This is dirty… But… when you touched it… I… I’ve never been so hard…”
Ananya didn’t wait for the rest of his words. She slid her oiled hand, slowly and deliberately, onto the bulging shaft of his erection, over the boxers. Her palm enveloped the thick girth, and she began to move her hand, stroking the massive cock through the thin cotton fabric. The sound of her wet, oiled palm slapping and grinding against the thin cotton was loud in the dim room.
“Tell me you want me to fuck you, Ark,” she commanded, her voice fierce and low. “Tell me you want your mother’s wet cunt.”
Ark’s eyes, wide and completely consumed by lust, stared back at her. He didn’t say “No.” He gripped her oiled wrist that was stroking his massive cock through the boxers, a silent, desperate surrender. The only sound was the wet slapping of her palm on the cotton and his tortured, frantic breathing.
The silence that followed Ananya’s command was not empty; it was thick with the primal pressure of Ark’s erection straining the thin cotton. His eyes, fixed on hers, were no longer the eyes of her son, but of a man overwhelmed by forbidden lust.
Ananya’s oiled hand continued its slow, powerful stroking motion over the length of his massive cock, the wet, slapping sound of her palm against the fabric confirming their sin.
Ark could barely breathe. His whole body was trembling, a mix of excruciating anticipation and paralyzing shame. The shame was the last wall, and her touch was demolishing it.
“I… I saw you, Ma,” Ark whispered, his voice a low, raw sound that broke with shame and lust. His eyes darted momentarily to her full, heaving chest. “The other day. In the kitchen. Without your bra… Your tits (My) are so big… I haven’t been able to think straight since. I want to feel that body against me. I want to fuck you, Ananya. I need to be inside your wet pussy (gud).”
His words, explicit and honest, were the ultimate triumph for Ananya. A fierce, dark joy flared in her eyes.
“Yes, Ark. That’s what I want,” Ananya confirmed, her voice blazing with fierce desire. She released his cock for a moment only to trail her fingers lower, tracing the hot, slick line of his inner thigh. “I haven’t been truly fucked since your father left. I saw your cock with Swati. It’s magnificent. It’s too big to ignore. That hard pole is meant for my body. I need you to stretch me. You are the only one who can give me what I need.”
The verbal consent was a switch flipped. All pretense of a massage was over. The urge that consumed them was animal, urgent, and explosive.
With a simultaneous, desperate action, they ripped away the remaining barriers.
Ark’s hands shot up and tore at the thin silk sari and blouse covering Ananya’s torso. The sheer fabric tore with a sharp, dramatic ‘RIIIP’ (Sound Sensory Focus). The sari crumpled to the floor, leaving Ananya’s large, heavy breasts—already hard with excitement—fully exposed.
Ananya, her eyes locked on his, swiftly pulled the drawstrings of his boxers, tearing the fabric aside in her urgency. His massive, thick, dark cock sprang free, throbbing and slick with the residual oil from her hand. It was larger and darker than she’d even remembered from the glimpse in Part 1—heavy and aggressively hard.
She gasped, her chest heaving. “God, Ark! It’s glorious. All mine. Come here!”
She grabbed his powerful head with both hands and pulled him down in a consuming rush.
Their lips met not in a kiss of love, but a deep, consuming, desperate suckle of hungry mouths. Their tongues clashed, an immediate, aggressive affirmation of their choice. Ananya tasted the mint and desperation on his breath, and Ark bit her lower lip, asserting his new role as her dominant partner in this sinful act.
Their naked bodies crashed together, chest to chest. The heavy, round softness of Ananya’s tits smashed against the hard, muscled plane of Ark’s chest. The wet, swollen fabric of their loins—her exposed pussy and the thick base of his shaft—met for the first time, grinding together. Ananya groaned into his mouth, a deep, satisfied sound.
“This is my mother. I’m kissing my mother. And she tastes like the most sinful, perfect thing I’ve ever imagined. She is so soft, so full. I need to be inside her now. I need to fuck this darkness out of her.”
Ananya broke the kiss, her face flushed with fierce lust. She grabbed his hard cock with a firm, practiced grip and guided them clumsily toward the center of the bed. She threw herself onto her back, her legs already splayed wide in total, urgent surrender.
Her pussy lips were already slick, swollen, and glistening with hot desire, ready to receive her son’s enormous endowment.
She pulled his head down again, her breath coming in ragged, panting gasps.
“Don’t wait. Don’t waste another second, Ark. Put it in. Now! Fill your mother’s cunt!”
Ark, driven by a primal, irresistible force, positioned his thick, pulsating cock right over the slippery, open mouth of her pussy. He looked down at his mother—now his lover—and she looked up at him with an expression of pure, animal need. He placed his strong hands on her wide, giving hips, ready to drive his manhood into her forbidden flesh.
Ananya barely registered the sight of his body—a blur of shadow and strength—only the massive, pulsing head of his bãrã (cock) hovering inches above her gud (pussy). It was dark, thick, and swollen from the foreplay, a heavy, unforgiving cudgel that made her stomach clench with a terrifying mix of anticipation and primal fear. It was larger than any man she’d known, a weapon of overwhelming, youthful power.
Ark gripped her hips with both hands, the slick jasmine oil on their skin making his touch slide slightly, demanding focus. His fingers were strong, possessive, digging into the soft flesh of her round hips. He positioned the blunt, swollen tip of his son’s cock against her mother’s wet slit.
He did not rush. He pressed slowly, deliberately, a torment of delayed gratification.
Ananya felt the massive circumference of him forcing her soft, slick pussy lips to part, one by one. Her body instinctively tensed against the intrusion, her internal muscles—lazy from her husband’s atrophy and years of neglect—pulling taut. The sensation was instantly raw, intense, and profoundly painful, a stretching that felt agonizing yet thrillingly dangerous.
“Ah… Ark…” Ananya gasped, a strangled sound of protest and surrender.
He pushed a fraction deeper, the thickest part of his head—the corona—wedging itself past the outer barrier. The friction of his dark, coarse skin against her clit (kliț) was immediate and sharp, a shockwave of sensation shooting up her spine.
“Tight, Ma,” Ark whispered, his voice low and thick, a sound of pure, conquering male power. His eyes, dark and heavy with lust, stared down at her face, demanding acknowledgment. “You’re so tight for me.”
Ananya bit her lip hard enough to taste copper, focusing on the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of the blood pounding between her legs, desperately trying to relax the muscles that resisted him.
He eased in another inch, the pressure on her internal walls becoming immense, making her eyes water. He was filling a space that had been empty for too long, replacing a weak memory with a thunderous, throbbing reality.
With a sudden, determined thrust, Ark drove the first three inches of his cock home.
Ananya cried out, a muffled, primal sound that was half pain, half ecstasy. Her pelvis bucked upwards instinctively, trying to meet the size of him, trying to reduce the distance and the agony of the stretch. Her mother’s cunt felt violently, dangerously stretched, the skin taut, accommodating the alien, unforgiving girth.
Ark paused, his cock completely buried to the base—the forbidden joining complete. The full length and girth of the young man’s power was now sealed inside her. He rested his heavy weight on her, his chest crushing her already erect nipples, their combined sweat making their torsos adhere with a wet, sensual grip. Ananya wrapped her arms around his back, her hands running over the slick, hard muscles of his shoulders, clinging to the source of her violation.
The air in the room seemed to vibrate with the profound finality of their sin.
He began to move—slowly, sensually, a deep, rhythmic grind.
Each slow withdrawal and re-entry was a sensation of total, profound fullness. He wasn’t pulling out completely, only easing back far enough to let the thick, pulsing head rub excruciatingly against her G-spot (G-point) before driving back in to the hilt. The wet smack of his oiled hips against her thighs became the only sound besides their ragged breathing, an insistent, rhythmic applause for their incestuous act.
Ananya felt the pleasure begin to radiate outwards from her core, up through her chest. Her heavy breasts, compressed against his, began to feel electrically charged.
Ark leaned down, his rough cheek stubble scraping against her jawline as he pressed a deep, open-mouthed kiss on her neck. His hand immediately dropped from her hip, traveled up her stomach, and clamped down on one of her mother’s tits (My), squeezing the heavy, yielding flesh and twisting the dark nipple with a surprising, sharp pleasure. The simultaneous penetration and nipple stimulation was dizzying.
Ark pulled back his head just enough for his breath to feather across her ear.
“Does it stretch you, Mom?” he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly command. “Does your cunt feel my size? Tell me how much your son’s cock fills you up.”
Ananya’s head began to twist violently on the pillow, her composure shattered. “Oh, God, yes… Ark… it’s too much… so much,” she choked out, her voice barely a thread. She clawed at his shoulders, her nails digging crescent moons into the slick, youthful skin. “The stretch… I need it, dãrling (darling)… more, more…”
The sheer size of his bãrã was stretching her deeper than she had ever been stretched before. She could feel the base of his cock pushing against her cervix with every deep thrust, a constant, satisfying pressure.
Ark answered her pleas by plunging deeper, holding the full depth for a suspended moment before slowly withdrawing. The sight of his thick shaft emerging slightly, slick with her hot, maternal juices, drove her wild. She was completely his, completely consumed.
Ark lifted his head again, resting his weight on his elbows. He looked down, watching his own reflection in his mother’s wide, desperate eyes—the image of a powerful man fucking his mother.
The sight of his own thick, dark cock sliding in and out of her mother’s cunt—her slick, glistening gud—was the most intoxicating, forbidden view he had ever witnessed. The fleshy entrance of her pussy was red, swollen, and beautifully distorted by his size, clinging to him like a desperate, hungry mouth.
He increased the tempo, transitioning from a slow grind to a mid-speed, deliberate pounding.
With every powerful thump of his hips, her heavy breasts bounced and jiggled. The nipples, already swollen and dark, whipped with the movement. The sight drove him wild; he had only imagined this moment since he first saw her without a bra, and the reality was a thousand times more potent. He leaned down and began to suckle on her tits, alternating between a gentle kiss and a rough, consuming tug on the nipple, his mouth wet and hot.
Ananya was meeting his rhythm now, her round ass lifting off the bed and slamming back down with a controlled, desperate hunger. He gripped her hips fiercely, sliding his hands further down, using the slick oil to force her pelvis up, demanding she take the full depth of his bãrã with every single thrust.
The smell of his musky sweat mixing with her heavy jasmine perfume and the thick, salty scent of their combined cunt-juices made him dizzy. The rhythmic slap-smack of his balls hitting her perineum became his internal soundtrack, a drumbeat of possession.
“Look at me, Ma!” he commanded, his voice a guttural, strained sound, his face twisted with the effort of holding back his own climax. “Look at your son fucking you! You feel me all the way, don’t you? I’m stretching your pussy for a reason!”
“Don’t talk… just fuck… please, fuck me hard…” she moaned, her head twisting, unable to maintain eye contact as the intensity became unbearable.
He grabbed her thigh, pulling her leg up and back, exposing her wide-open, glistening pussy completely, allowing him a full, unobstructed view of his thick cock destroying her. He began to spank her ass with his free hand, the sound sharp and wet, the sting adding a layer of controlled pain to the pleasure.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, old woman? To feel my cock inside your mother’s cunt? This is what that fat body was asking for!” he grunted, slamming deep with a rough, dominating rhythm.
The combined pressure, the tight squeeze of her internal muscles, and the raw power of the forbidden act became too much. Ark felt the sudden, agonizing surge of an impending climax building deep in his gut, demanding release.
He pulled back just a few inches, slowing the pace to an unbearable, teasing grind. He kept his cock buried up to the sensitive, thick head, but only teased the swollen entrance of her cunt with slow, agonizing rotations.
Ananya’s blissful expression twisted into one of frantic desperation. She felt the sudden, terrifying withdrawal of that full pressure, the lack of depth driving her mad.
“No! Don’t stop!” she screamed, her voice hoarse and raw, her head twisting violently on the pillow. “Fuck me! HARDER! Don’t you dare stop! I want your cum!” Her legs wrapped around his waist, desperate to trap his cock inside, her heels digging into his lower back.
He obeyed. He had no choice. Her scream of need, her complete, utter surrender, was the fuel he needed.
Ark began thrusting with the furious, piston-like rhythm of a jackhammer. His entire body weight drove his son’s cock to its absolute limit, slamming deep into his mother’s body. The bed frame began to groan and squeak violently, protesting the force of their coupling. His thrusts were so fast and aggressive that the wet slapping of their hips became one continuous, thick smack-smack-smack sound.
Ananya bucked and screamed his name—”A-A-A-R-R-K!”—as her orgasm hit first, a series of violent, body-shaking spasms that squeezed his shaft with an iron grip. Her internal muscles contracted around him, tighter and tighter, driving him over the edge.
Her contraction was the final trigger. With a guttural roar—a sound of male release and ultimate, triumphant sin—Ark slammed into her cunt one last, titanic time. He felt the heat of his hot, pulsing cum emptying deep into her womb, a massive, explosive release of his seed into his mother’s body.
He collapsed onto her chest, his cock still throbbing, buried deep inside. Their breath came in tortured, shuddering gasps. The jasmine oil, sweat, and spent musk mixed in the air, a holy incense to their new, forbidden reality.