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Disclaimer: All characters engaging in sexual acts in this story are above 18 years of age.
Note: This story is different from my previous stories. People who are looking for a quick release may not find it here. If you’re the kind that can’t get off without hard-core sex, this story may not be for you. This story is told in the form of a mother’s diary entries and does not contain explicit dialogue. These are her daily private reflections on the events of the day. If you like the idea, please continue reading.
25th July 2023
My Dear Aryan,
It has been a decade almost since I stopped writing a diary. When your father passed, my thoughts had become too dark and pessimistic that I could no longer bring myself to write them down for fear of them coming true.
Now, with what happened today, I’m forced to confront my thoughts in order to make some sense of them. I’ll lose my mind if I don’t get a grip on why I’m feeling this way about what’s been happening.
I know the best way to deal with this is to sit down and have a heart-to-heart talk with you. But I’m afraid if we talk, it may confirm my fear that what happened has impacted you in some irrevocable manner or that it has led to you losing respect for me.
I can’t talk to you about this now. Not till I have figured out how I really feel about this.
For the moment, I’ll just address my thought to you in these pages.
Let me start again then…
My Dear Aryan,
How innocently it started!
You were bored to your wits end, weren’t you? Having spent all day alone at home?
Well, I did tell you to join some martial arts or football coaching till the time your college admission process started. But you said you didn’t want to spend your mother’s money too much.
I wanted to correct you… that whatever’s mine is yours… that whatever I earned was so that I could ensure a good future for you.
But then I knew that you said that because of the goodness of your heart.
And I was tired too. After a full day of dealing with those pesky students of mine at school, I just wanted to go to my room and get out of my heavy saree and sweaty blouse.
But you just followed me up the stairs to my bedroom talking ceaselessly about what you had learned about your college from their alumni website. You were so relieved to be able to talk to me after an entire day by yourself… and you were so excited talking about college that I didn’t have the heart to close the door to your face.
And you just followed me inside and sat on the bed. I just thought I’d listen till you were done talking and then change into my maxi once you left the room. But you just kept on talking.
I sat in front of my dressing table and took off my hair clip. I let my hair loose and started brushing it as you went on and on about the facilities at your college.
I brushed my hair smooth for a few minutes and you were still talking. Believe me it’s not that I don’t enjoy listening to you. I just really wanted to take off the saree and blouse smelly with the day’s effort and change into a loose maxi and breathe easy.
I undid the safety pins… the ones I use to keep the saree from slipping, lest some horny boy at school stare at my hips.
I wiped the light make up I had put on in the morning just so I didn’t stand out as an ungroomed among all the other young female teachers. You were still talking about the college… its canteen I think.
I stood up and walked towards my wardrobe. I rummaged and picked out a maroon maxi. I made for the bathroom and opened the door thinking you’d stop talking at least till I was changed. You just continued.
I looked inside the bathroom… at the wet floor. I hesitated.
I was never one to change into or out of a saree inside the cold and wet bathroom. The unyielding garment would get wet unfailingly. I don’t know if you noticed my consternation. You probably didn’t.
Between the part of my brain paying attention to your raving and the part uncomfortable with the sweaty and uncomfortable saree and blouse and the part that felt discomfort at the thought of getting the saree wet… I probably made an unwise decision.
I closed the bathroom door, stepped back towards the wardrobe and took my pallu of my light blue saree down from my bosom. I unwrapped the saree from my hips and put it in the laundry basket. And then without skipping a beat, I unhooked my dark blue blouse at the front and peeled it off my sweaty shoulders and back. It too was thrown into the laundry basket.
I wasn’t thinking, I swear! It just didn’t occur to me that I was in full view of my teenage son standing in just my white underskirt and black bra, my back turned to you. When I imagine the scene now, it feels surreal.
I realized that I’d made a mistake only when your voice stopped abruptly. In the silence that ensued, I felt your eyes on the skin on my back and shoulders. My bare exposed skin felt cold and the skin under my bra felt hot.
Was it just my imagination?
Did you look away? kocaeli escort like the good son that I raised you to be. Is that why you stopped talking?
Or were you taking in the unexpected sight of your mother in just a bra and underskirt? Did the sight of your half undressed mother freeze your tongue? Did it make you see me as not just your mother but a flesh and blood woman? Did it confuse you to hold these two seemingly irreconcilable thoughts about me?
I don’t know… and I’m concerned.
There are more such questions that I’ve been wrestling with… some of them I’m quite ashamed to admit.
If indeed in that moment you saw me as a woman… did you see an attractive woman?
Oh God! How these thoughts vex me!
I know my shabby underskirt was not the stuff of young boys’ fantasies. Nor was my bra like the barely there skimpy type that women wear these days.
But still… you saw a desirable woman, didn’t you?
Gosh, I don’t know why I want to believe that you thought of me that way in that moment.
It was only a few seconds before I put on my maxi, but I feel like you wished that it was prolonged… that you wanted a few more moments to appreciate the sight of me.
When I turned around after wearing the maxi, for a fraction of a second I thought I saw a hint of disappointment in your face. But then you resumed where you’d left off praising your college… as if nothing had happened. And then you followed me down to the kitchen where I made tea for us.
You seemed to have moved on but I kept thinking back… trying to picture everything about what happened.
I kept replaying the incident trying to recollect every small detail, trying to glean meaning from it… but none was forthcoming.
26th July, 2023
My Dear Aryan,
It was like déjà vu wasn’t it? The way the evening unfolded today.
You couldn’t wait for me to get home from school. You just can’t handle being alone. I hope you find some good friends when you start college. I think some days you may talk their ears off.
There you were at the door, eager to talk to me the moment I got home.
I headed upstairs and I didn’t need to look back. Your sweet voice filled my ears as you followed me, talking about this and that.
At the door to my bedroom, I sensed a slight hesitation in your footsteps. As if you were half expecting me to close the door for privacy while I changed.
My poor baby!
Were you conflicted about yesterday? Did you feel bad that you unwittingly invaded on your mother’s privacy?
Or were you just waiting for some indication of permission to enter?
If only I could read your mind.
I was feeling conflicted too you know. I wondered what I could do that you’d take to mean that you have my permission or otherwise. What did I want to happen?
You were right behind me. There wasn’t any time to ponder.
So I found myself opening the door and leaving it all the way open as I walked in. Was I giving you permission to enter? I do not know for sure. I’m not sure if I even want to answer that question honestly.
But that was all you needed wasn’t it? I feel like anything other than shutting you out, you would’ve interpreted as permission to enter.
I never once looked back to confirm because your footsteps and your voice didn’t stop. I never knew that someone’s footsteps behind you could increase your heart rate this way… not out of fear, but expectation.
I heard the bedsheet ruffle as you sat on the bed. Like a robot I followed what I did yesterday… brushing my hair, wiping my makeup, taking out the safety pins.
You kept talking all through this… but why did it feel a little forced?
You always talk in a stream… like the words come effortlessly to you. But today, why did it feel artificial? Like you were manufacturing conversation just to avoid even a second of silence.
I don’t remember what you were talking about and I don’t think you do either. You were just filling the interval with empty conversation as you waited for what you thought were going to happen. Am I right?
Only when I walked to the wardrobe and picked out a maxi did your words slow down. And when I took the pallu of my red saree off my bosom and unwrapped it off my hips with my back turned to you, you went quiet. As if you needed your entire brain to be involved in the moment.
That confirmed what I suspected. You did indeed watch me yesterday. You watched me take off my saree and blouse and you took in every inch of exposed skin of my back. You did see me as a woman and not just your mother. And the fact that you came back today to watch meant that you saw an attractive woman in me. It didn’t matter if my bra was a bit prudish and unglamorous. I still looked attractive, didn’t I son?
I could almost hear your raspy breath as I unhooked my black blouse at the front. My body felt alternative waves of warmth and cold and my stomach tingled as I peeled it off my shoulders and back.
Did I hear a soft gasp as kocasinan escort I dropped the blouse in the laundry basket? Was it because of the red bra I was wearing?
You thought I was a black-and-white-bra-only kind of woman did you? I can’t fault you for it. You’ve probably only seen the black and white bras among the clothes I put out to dry. I do have fancy undergarments too you know. I just don’t wear them very often. I guess I had started choosing them for their mere utility rather than elegance. I had no reason to prioritize elegance or glamour. I’m a widow.
But then why did I choose the red bra today? Did my brain unconsciously conclude that after yesterday’s incident I now had a reason to choose elegant undergarments? That there was someone to appreciate my choice of outfits?
God! It makes me shiver to even consider that the answer might be yes.
But what about you my son? The bright red bra surprised you didn’t it?
The curiosity was too much for me.
I figured if I moved a little to my left and turned to my right just enough, I may be able to catch your reflection in the mirror on my dressing table. I just really wanted to see the expression on your face.
But it occurred to me that if I turned my body to the right like that, I’d be showing you more of my body. You’d probably get to see a bit of my armpit and some flesh of my right breast at the side of the bra cup. You probably already knew that your mother is big-chested, but if I turned sideways you’d see just how big my chest is. You’d see more of my hips too even though I wore my underskirt above my navel.
But what if you got nervous and turned you face away? Then I won’t have seen your face.
Did I want to risk letting you see more of your mother’s half undressed body just for the chance of seeing what effect it was having on you?
Oh God! Why did turning just 45 degrees to the side have to be such an important decision with such great ramifications?
But my body had made the decision already. I turned as slowly as I could so as not to spook you. And I’m glad that the risk was rewarded.
You should’ve seen the odd look on your face that I saw through its reflection in the mirror. I can only imagine what was going through your mind to produce the strange expression on your face. Was it a mixture of excitement and curiosity and a bit of shame? Did the flood of all these emotions confuse you?
But was it more excitement than shame? Well… I didn’t have to wait to get the answer.
In the reflection, I saw that your hand was placed firmly at your groin. Surely it can’t have been anything other than an erection.
The thought almost gave me a shock! I don’t know why I hadn’t considered the possibility. The sight of a half undressed woman was bound to have that effect on a healthy young boy like you.
But why did you have your hand down there? Were you trying to push it down and willing it to go away? Oh my poor boy!
But how was I to feel about this!
An erection!
An erection for your mother… Oh God! Am I a terrible person to have let it come to this?
Why did I undress again today in front of you? Why did I want to explore this further, whatever this is? 24 hours has not given any answers, only more questions.
In the middle of the precarious situation, I had forgotten that the small slit at the top of my black underskirt, where its string was tied, was on my right. I turned my back to you immediately. I checked running my right hand over the slit and my fingers came into contact with the soft fabric of my bright red matching panty.
Oh God! I had unknowingly given you a tiny glimpse of what I had on underneath my underskirt… my pretty red panty.
I don’t even remember that last time I wore matching underwear. Probably when your dad was still with us.
And I had worn it today. Why?
When I was sliding the smooth red garment up my legs and thighs in the morning, was there some small part of me that expected it to be seen?
Surely not! It was an accident! I just didn’t realize that the slit was on my right side.
But that’s where I always tie the strings of my underskirt, on my right hip.
This is all so perplexing!
I quickly put on my maxi… and you resumed talking like an old malfunctioning television brought back to life by someone smacking it on its side.
And then normal life resumed.
It was almost like what happened yesterday and today had happened outside of space and time, and had no bearing on the reality of our relationship and our life.
And what about tomorrow? I don’t know. I’m just too damn nervous to think even 24 hours ahead.
I fear that imagining things to unfold a certain way might manifest it… like inviting destiny.
27th July, 2023
My Dear Aryan,
I’m writing this in a free period at school. That’s how eager I was to just put pen to paper and record what happened in the morning.
My last two entries were written in the solitude kolej escort and quietness of night in the privacy of my bedroom. Now I’m writing amidst the cacophony of a classroom which I was asked to supervise in the absence of their Math teacher. Except a few studious kids reading their textbooks, the rest of them are chattering away. And I doubt that a couple of girls in the front benches are curious about what I’m writing.
If anyone read what I’ve written in the last two days, they’d be scandalized!
And when I think of what happened in the morning, my skin is hot and I feel mortified. I didn’t think I could be so bold… so keen that less than 12 hours after you’d seen me in my red bra and caught a glimpse of my red matching panty, I wanted you to see more.
When I got ready in the morning and came down, you were sitting on the sofa watching cricket highlights. Usually I’m only focussed on the day’s classes and tasks as I’m about to leave out the door.
But today I wished to have your attention. It must’ve been obvious right? Never before have I asked you how I look… but today I did.
And what did you do? Just stared at me like I’d asked you some impossibly difficult question from theoretical physics or something.
“You look beautiful Mom.” That was all I needed to hear. Was it too difficult to just say that? You just looked at me with a dumb expression.
That’s what made me conscious about my outfit. When I wore it, I thought the cream coloured saree and brown blouse looked good on me… cute even.
But when you said nothing, it made me doubt. Did you not like that colour on me? Was it not as good as the red saree from yesterday or the blue saree from the day before?
Whatever it was, I couldn’t believe myself when a second later I asked your help to pick a better outfit. But I rationalized it thinking it there is nothing abnormal in a loving son helping his mother to pick a saree.
Back in my bedroom, I was glad that you chose the light green saree. Green’s my favourite colour you know. That’s why I have so many sarees in different shades of green. And the light green saree you picked is one of my most treasured possessions.
But once the choice was made, I was in a quandary. Propriety required that you leave before I changed my clothes. But we didn’t care about that the last two days.
I’m amazed that I didn’t say the simple words, “Can you leave so I can change?”
And you… like Pavlov’s dogs you went and sat on my bed as I removed the safety pins from the cream coloured saree. There was also the thing that I was facing you rather than turned away.
I thought of turning my back to you. But I felt that if I did that, it would be admitting that it’s not okay for you to see my front when I’m half undressed, but okay for you to see my back. It seemed silly to be making such pointless distinction. I think my mind wants to remain in the comfortable illusion that nothing that I’m doing is wrong.
So I stayed facing you as I removed my cream coloured saree, folded it and kept it back in the wardrobe.
Did I hear a quick intake of breath? Was it because of my navel? I bet it was.
You probably expected me to wear my underskirt above my belly button like the last two days.
It’s amazing how keen one can be on one’s appearance when there is someone to appreciate. Now that I’ve tasted appreciation… your appreciation… I yearn for more. That’s why I wore the underskirt below my belly button.
Is it attractive?
I mean I concede that my belly is not as flat or tight as it used to be a few years ago. I’ve put on a few kilos and it shows in the slight swell under the belly button. But it is by no means unattractive right?
And when I turned earlier to put the saree in the wardrobe, you probably caught peep of my matching grey panty through the slit in the underskirt on my right hip where I tied it.
You got some time to enjoy the glimpse of my panty through that tiny slit… because I was faced with the dilemma that the brown blouse I had on wouldn’t go with the light green saree you’d picked out for me. The light green matching blouse was staring at me from the wardrobe.
Removing my saree while facing you was one thing… but removing my blouse while facing you was a whole different level. All the more so because the grey bra that I was wearing underneath was quite a bit less modest than the red bra you saw me in yesterday.
Even undoing the top two hooks of the blouse would give you a view of the deep cleavage of your bosomy mother.
‘Bosomy’… that’s an interesting word isn’t it? Have you ever thought of me that way son? As a bosomy woman?
You probably didn’t all these years… but you have since the last two days, haven’t you?
How could you not? Especially after yesterday when I turned sideways while you were watching me in the red bra and underskirt. Did it change the way you thought of me once it dawned on you that your mother is a busty woman?
On top of the deep cleavage caused by the grey bra squeezing in my bosom, if I undid the remaining hooks of the brown blouse and took it off, you’d get to see my breasts spilling out at the sides… and if the underband of the bra moves when I lift my arms to take off the blouse… you’d get to see my breasts spilling out from under too… Oh God!
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