Mom and Son's cuddle lead to a sexual relationship. A Saga of Generational Incest In India by an Indian Author: Marriage between close relatives is encouraged in many parts of India as a common practice to preserve cultural values and familial wealth from generation to generation. Read how each generation looks for sexual pleasure within the immediate family.
“Think about it, our love, our life, our secret relationship, out of this world. It will be only us here. In this room, our bodies, our urges to satisfy ourselves. No one outside will control it. Not even outsiders. We can go out and sneak into places and make love. We can rent rooms and enjoy our lives. No one will be there to judge us. I will pour our life, no one dictating it. Our love, ours. We will have each other every night, on this couch, open my bed, and our bodies, exploring, wanting more and more, I am giving you whatever you want from me, more and more,” I said.
“Stop it,” she ordered.
“Then, every morning I will wake up next to your naked body. And we’ll make love again, then you’ll cook me breakfast, while I hold you from the back. We can take showers together to save water,” I told her and she laughed.
“We can watch movies after movies on weekends lying on the couch like this, naked. We know we don’t watch those movies, we switch it on every night and we talk,” I said.
As I talked to her, her breathing increased, and I felt her heartbeat. I held on to her close tightly, hugging her, cuddling her. I engrossed my head into her collar and began kissing it. Caressing her fingers, she caressed my face. She turned around and looked at me deeply. Again this look was not a look you give to your son. It was of wanting, of love, of desire, of letting go.
She got up, and I held her arm. She turned around and looked at me sheepishly. I laughed. She got up and walked to the corner of the room, and I followed. She stopped, I hugged her. I smiled, but she didn’t. She looked at her face in the mirror and mine. I caressed her lips and nibbled her ears again. She turned around and hit me; she slapped me. I held her hand, then I kissed it. She smiled and laughed; I pulled her hand and pulled her body to me, and we hugged. Her satin nightie kept tugging to my boner. We were more aroused than anything. We breathed hard.
“You talk stupid,” she said and patted my hair.
“You also talk stupid,” I said.