Vipin Uncle and Mom

This is a purely imaginary story, set in a Bengali household in India.

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My dad had divorced mom seven years ago. The alimony had been decent, not too big, just sufficient. Mom got the flat where we lived in, as part of her alimony, apart from some money which she had invested in a fixed deposit in a bank. The bank paid her a monthly interest on her deposit, which was her only steady income. She supplemented her somewhat meagre means by doing odd jobs here and there. The jobs were temporary. So when she was out of one, our situation used to be pretty tight.

Divorce had made her irritable. When she was married, she had a cushioned life. Dad was a senior executive in a reputed company and earned a handsome salary plus a lot of perks. Mom had nothing to care for. But after her divorce, she had to bear the burden of the family of two on her own. It was difficult indeed, in times of rising prices. She had the self esteem not to beg for help from anyone or accept any unsolicited assistance.

Both my parents had a healthy sex appetite. Dad fucked mom regularly when they were married. After divorce, he married his secretary Trisha, a young nymphet, who had a reputation for giving the most heavenly blow jobs.

Mom had gone without sex for seven years since her divorce. Not only had she not remarried, there had been no boy friends or one night stands in her life since divorce. Running the family had kept her occupied fully. She just could not find enough time for romantic escapades or sexual diversions. Forced sexual abstinence for a middle aged healthy woman with a healthy sex appetite, can induce an irritating trait in her behaviour. Mom rarely smiled and was prone to yelling at me at the slightest pretext. No wonder, I was pretty tired of her irritation and unreasonable fits of rage.

Moreover, deep in her mind there was a tinge of jealousy for Trisha, dad's second wife, who has a body to die for and an abundance of sexual charms. Mom did not show any apparent envy towards Trisha or any regret that dad had left her for a younger and sexier chick. In fact, she avoided any discussion regarding dad or Trisha, but I was sure that envy existed in her mind, which manifested in her fits of rage.

Although I was grateful to mom for having supported our family and my education with her meagre means by toiling day and night and denying herself a lot of worldly pleasures, I avoided her as much as possible. Spending the better part of the day outside, I usually returned for lunch in the afternoon and again late in the evenings. Her irritable nature annoyed me. I found more comfort outside, especially in the company of my girl friend Swapna, than I found at home. Swapna was my true love and gave me solace in my troubled times.

Things started to look up after I successfully passed out from university and got a well paid job almost immediately. Considering that I was just twenty-one years old and that was my first job, a five figure salary from the start could only be a dream come true. But the job was in a far off city. There was no way I could stay at home and work. I asked mom to move out with me, but she declined. She preferred to stay there, simply because she had been living in that quite, small town for a considerable period of time and liked the place immensely.

So I decided to move out to my place of posting and leave mom on her own, there. I would send her some money every month and also visit her as and when possible. With just herself to look after, she could also live comfortably with whatever income she had. My remittances would be an additional help.

We lived on the third floor of a five storey building. There were two flats in each floor of the building. The other flat on our floor belonged to Vipin Bhatia, who had purchased it from its earlier owner a year ago. He owned a small business dealing in chemicals and has an office in the main commercial area of the city. Vipin uncle was nearly the same age as mom, possibly older by a couple of years. He had a huge, hairy body.

Although much younger than him, Vipin uncle and I were quite friendly. The reason was that he invited me occasionally for drinks in his flat. Apart from food and drinks, there was another attraction in such get togethers. We viewed porn DVDs together, in his house. Of course, mom did not know about this. Any knowledge of such activities would have let loose a torrent of verbal abuses from her. Vipin uncle was a widower. His wife had died in a road accident four months after their marriage. He had not married since. But, he had an exceptionally voracious sex appetite and had sex frequently, with expensive call girls. But by his own confession, he was pretty tired of his peccadilloes and wanted a mature, homely woman to start a relationship of a permanent nature.

During our many meetings, Vipin uncle invariably inquired about mom. And every time he used to compliment mom, praising her looks. "Hey Sandip, how is Shobhaji? Say namaste (a respectful Indian salutation) to her on my behalf. Saw her going to the market without an umbrella the other day. It is too hot these days. She is such a nice looking lady. Without any protection from the sun's harsh rays, she would only spoil her looks." I had a strong suspicion that he had a crush for mom, which he tried to keep a secret.

My mom Shobha Banerjee, forty-five years old at that time was nowhere near to any of those pin up models as Vipin uncle made her out to be. She was somewhat on the heavier side with big 28 DD breasts, wide hips and a big broad ass. Her voluptuous breasts sagged just a little under their weight. But they are not drooping. She was pleasantly plump, the type men love to squeeze and cuddle. Mom was short and stood at five feet and three inches. Her complexion was milk white. She had a pretty face with thin arched eyebrows, large eyes with a look of innocence in them and thick, luscious, pouting lips. Her hair was trimmed to shoulder level and dyed in a burgundy shade. She had pearl white teeth and a very sweet smile, though she smiled little and smirked more those days.

Inspite of her preoccupation about managing the just about adequate finances to run the family, she did care for her looks. Whenever she went out, there was never a hair out of place. In fact from the way she decked herself up, like carefully applying nail polish on the nails of her hands and feet or applying lipstick on her lips or sporting her hair in different styles, it was clear that she was extremely conscious of her looks. She was fashionable in her own way, but her fashion was not expensive. She picked up her cosmetics, clothes, jewellery and fashion accessories at bargain stores and thus did not have to spend a fortune for her looks.

Mom usually dressed in sarees (Indian dress for women comprising of nine yards of cloth to cover the lower part of the body from the waist to the feet, while also covering the breasts and going over the left shoulder) and occasionally in salwars (Indian pants, usually loose fitted and tied at the waist with a cord, usually worn by women). She preferred dresses that highlighted her abundant curves. Semi transparent chiffon sarees, either plain or sequined at the borders were her favourites. She tucked her saree an inch below the navel. It gave a great view of her plump, fleshy, milk white belly. On account of some fat having collected around her middle, there were two distinct folds on either side of her midriff. Her salwars were very tight around her legs and fat thighs. The contours of her hefty thighs and legs became very clear when she wore those tight salwars.

She mostly wore sleeveless blouses and kameezes (Indian loose shirts, also known as kurtas, full or half sleeved or sleeveless, usually ending above the knee) or kurtis (short kameezes) of matching colours to go with her sarees and salwars. Her sleeveless blouses were very short, tight and skimpy. The straps of the blouses that went around the shoulders were very thin. The fronts of her blouses and kameezes had a deep, plunging neckline. That gave an abundant view of her two white, fleshy milk pots and the deep cleavage. When she moved around, her breasts jumped like a pair of puppies trying to break free from their tight confines. The blouses had very thin strips on her back, just wide enough to conceal the straps of her bra. So, the whole of her back right down to her waist, from where her saree started was practically exposed.

Her tight, body hugging kameezes and kurtis which had low necks and backs also gave a splendid view of her cleavage and her back. When she walked, her mammoth mammaries bounced and the globes of her large perfectly round, fat ass swayed alluringly. The contours of her large ass became vividly clear when she wore her tight salwars. No wonder, men could not restrain themselves from ogling at her, whenever she went out and stared at her with undisguised lust in their eyes, as far as their sights would go.

Mom loved to wear ethnic, costume jewellery. Nothing expensive, yet chic. A gold chain, a gold ring, silver anklets and toe rings were the only traditional items of jewellery that she wore. Chains, necklaces and ear studs or ear rings of beads or metals were her favourites. On her right wrist, she wore a single thick bangle, the colour of which usually matched the colour of her saree or kameez, which she was wearing on a particular day. On her left wrist, she sported a leather strapped wrist watch. She wore fashionable high heel slippers and never forgot her faux designer sun glasses when she went out. Thus, mom had an impeccable taste and never appeared outlandish. She looked very sexy, without seemingly making any extra efforts to flaunt her sexiness.

A little extra money and the opportunity to splash some of it on things she loved, brought about a refreshing change in her face and behaviour. Her face lighted up. She smiled more often and her smirk vanished. She hummed a tune from some popular Hindi or Bengali movie song, pampered herself with her beauty enhancing cosmetics and was generally full of warmth and bonhomie. Such instances didn't come frequently though.

But a money crunch had just the opposite effect. She became depressed and irritable. I tried to avoid her presence at these times, as she screamed at me at the slightest pretext. Sometimes in such situations, she locked herself in her bedroom and drank some booze to calm her jarring nerves. Mom had never tasted alcohol when she was married. Her travails must have made her familiar to the stuff. When she locked herself up in her bedroom, I had some respite from her unreasonable rage. Having got a decent job, I was relieved that our financial crunch and hopefully, mom's depressions were finally over.

One of mom's admirers was, as I have already mentioned, our neighbour, Vipin Bhatia and he never failed to compliment mom's looks. He tried to strike a conversation with mom at every available opportunity, offering any assistance that she might require. Mom was always polite to him. But as she had to handle the household chores all by herself, she could not give him a lot of time. Besides, occupied as she is with the serious thought of having to run our family of two on a shoe string budget, she could hardly accommodate any romantic thought. Also, her self esteem prevented her from accepting any assistance from Vipin uncle, which he was ever ready to offer.

Vipin uncle occasionally visited our flat and mom served him tea and snacks and talked to him as she worked. Mom usually wore sleeveless, chiffon nighties at home. When her back was turned towards him, Vipin uncle stared at her gorgeous ass with unabashed lust. When in the morning, mom hung the washed clothes on ropes in our rear balcony; he took a peek through his window, trying to catch a glimpse of the exposed portions of mom's boobs from the side, as she raises her arms to hang the clothes on the rope. After a couple of days, I understood how mad Vipin uncle was for mom.

One night, after both mom and I had gone to sleep in our respective bedrooms, the phone in the drawing room started to ring. I was awakened by the sound, but tired as I was, I did not feel like walking to the drawing room to pick up the receiver. A little later, mom came out of her bedroom, lighted the drawing room light and walked towards the phone. Suddenly, I became curious as to who could be calling at the middle of the night. I waited for mom to pick up the receiver. I had an extension of the phone in my bedroom. Sometimes, I chatted with my girl friend Swapna on that phone, after mom had gone to sleep and the house was quiet. I gently picked up the receiver in my room.

"Hello," mom mumbled sleepily.

"Hello, Shobhaji?" an unfamiliar male voice asked.

"Yes. Who are you?" mom answered.

"It doesn't matter as to who I am. You and I know each other very well. I love you very much Shobhaji. Could we meet somewhere and talk? Just give me half an hour on any day convenient to you," there was earnestness in his voice.

"I am not interested," mom slammed the phone down, turned off the drawing room light and began to walk towards her bedroom.

Suddenly, my attention was drawn towards Vipin uncle's bedroom window. Our bedroom windows faced each other and there was a distance of around ten feet between them. His window was open and the curtains drawn aside. A dim, blue light was on. Vipin uncle was standing completely naked and dialing some number on his phone. Our phone rang again. I had no doubt in my mind that it was Vipin uncle, who was making the call. Mom had just reached her bedroom. She returned again to take the call. I picked up the receiver of my extension at the same time.

"Hello Shobhaji. Why did you disconnect the phone?" it was the same male voice. Vipin uncle had covered the mouthpiece with a handkerchief in order to muffle and guise his voice. He was fondling his huge erect cock as he spoke. His bedroom window being very close to mine, I could distinctly hear every word he was saying, even without putting my ear to the receiver.

"Hello, whoever you are. Why are you disturbing a decent woman in the middle of the night? I told you I am not interested. Please leave me in peace," she slammed the phone down again. It started to ring again in an instant. Vipin uncle was persistent. Mom disconnected the phone's cord and left for her bedroom.

Surprisingly, it was not anger for Vipin uncle, but erotic thoughts that entered my mind. I began to fantasise about mom being fucked by Vipin uncle and began to masturbate. In less than a minute I shot a deluge of sperms on my bed sheet. I began to reason with myself that mom had been deprived of sex for a long time and Vipin uncle was fairly obsessed with her. It would be a good idea to unite them so that they could enjoy each other sexually.

The next morning I woke up somewhat late. While I was brushing my teeth, I saw Vipin uncle come out of our building and walk towards his car. "Good morning, Vipin uncle," I exclaimed aloud from our balcony. "Good morning, Sandip," he returned my greeting. "Come to my flat at seven in the evening. A farewell party for you. It is going to be special," he said as he sat in his car. "OK, I will come," I replied.

At seven in the evening, I went to Vipin uncle's flat. He had already arranged two plates of warm tandoori roti (an Indian bread made in clay ovens or tandoors) and steaming chicken curry. There was some salad in another plate. As I sat down on the sofa, Vipin uncle poured Scotch whiskey in two glasses. "Let us start," he said. "Thank you Vipin uncle," I said. We clicked our glasses and said "Cheers".

A little later, Vipin uncle inserted a DVD in the DVD player. "Today, we will watch a Bengali (relating to the state of West Bengal in India or to the country of Bangladesh) porn movie. Bengali women are the hottest women in India. I had sex with a Bengali housewife two years ago. The experience was unforgettable. The DVD rental guy told me that this DVD has a middle aged, horny Bengali mom and her teenage daughter being fucked by two burly Pathans (an ethnic tribe from Afghanistan)," he said.

We watched the movie silently as we ate and drank. Vipin uncle refilled our glasses from time to time. It was really a hot movie. The Pathan hunks fucked the shit out of the horny Bengali mom and her slutty daughter. When the movie ended, Vipin uncle excused himself for a while to go to the toilet. When after five minutes he failed to return, I silently went up to the toilet to check if anything was amiss. The door of the toilet was shut from inside and a muffled noise was coming from there.

I peered through the keyhole to check the source of the noise. What I saw left me dazed. Vipin uncle was standing completely naked. He was madly jacking away his erect black cock which was eleven inches long and five inches in girth. The bulbous tip of his monster cock was dripping with juices. His eyes were closed in ecstasy and he was mumbling, "Shobha, I love you. I love you my darling. I want to fuck your pussy and your ass." Suddenly his facial muscles started to twitch and thick, white cum ejaculated from the tip of his cock in a huge arc to fall on the wall in front of him.

Taking a while to compose himself and put on his shorts, he came out of the bathroom. I had already returned to the drawing room sofa by then. "Sorry, I was a little late," Vipin uncle grinned sheepishly. "Not at all. It has only been ten minutes," I replied. We had already finished our food. A little whiskey was still left in the bottle. Vipin uncle poured all of it equally in our glasses. We lit up cigarettes as we sipped from our glasses. The whiskey had made us a little inebriated and we started discussing various topics, including sexual ones, very freely.

"I am leaving for my job day after tomorrow. I will take the evening bus tomorrow," I said.

"Yes, unfortunately for me, I will miss a good pal," Vipin uncle replied with a smile.

"Mom will be all alone from tomorrow," I said pensively.

"Are you leaving her for me?" he asked with a wicked grin on his face.

I laughed aloud, "Yes, as our neighbour, you will have to look after her."

"That I will do even without your reminding me about it," this time he was serious. I was sure that he would utilise my absence to make his advances on mom.

"Sandip, I feel really sorry for your mom. Shobhaji is such a good looking woman. And if you don't mind me saying, she is very sexy too. At her age she should have lots of sex. But alas! Your father divorced such a fine woman. I don't understand what quality he found in that slut Trisha, which did not exist in your mom. Shobhaji has not remarried; neither does she have a boy friend. I understand her reasons for going it alone. She has been extremely dutiful and committed towards the upkeep and well being of her family. But it must be very painful for her to lead a life of abstinence. After you leave, she will be alone even more. No one to talk to her at home," Vipin uncle said slowly and thoughtfully.

"Yes, it will be a problem indeed," I agreed. "Your companionship will be most welcome to her in this situation. Lack of friends, especially male ones, have made her somewhat depressed and irritating in nature. I am sure that you can pull her up from this state of mind."

"Oh yes, I will give her as much company as possible. Shobhaji is a Bengali woman and from my own experience I can tell you that Bengali women are the hottest women in India. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for her at her age to lead a life, devoid of sex or a male companion. A round of good sex can make a man or woman cheerful. Shobhaji needs a lot of sex to cure her of her depression," he remarked thoughtfully.

I could agree no less. But deep down in my heart I knew that while she had indeed abstained herself from the company of men since her divorce, she was not really devoid of sex. I vividly remembered what had happened one night. Mom had already gone to bed. The door of her bed room was shut, but not locked from inside. I had shut the door of my room and was talking to my girl friend Swapna on the phone. After talking for some time, I put the phone down and prepared to go to bed. Suddenly the noise of a faint moan reached my ears.