Friend’s mom asks me to look inside her saree
Couple
Submit Report I had the most remarkable experience a few months ago in Tumkur, Karnataka, when a 45-year-old woman asked me to look inside her saree and help her. Let me back up a little bit. I was traveling from the US to Bangalore in March of this year when I struck up a conversation with Manju, a 20-year-old student sitting next to me on the final leg of my trip, the domestic flight between Delhi and Bangalore. We ended up showing our family pictures to each other, and I couldn’t help noticing that his mom was voluptuous. Big boobs jutting out from the sides of the saree. Soon our flight landed in Bangalore, and to my dismay, I discovered my luggage was missing — it had been misplaced at Frankfurt. I was told they would arrive later at my address in Bangalore. Unsure of what to do, I was looking around when Manju, the student, came by after having picked up his luggage. Upon learning about my situation, he asked me to wait a minute. He called up his mom, talked for a minute, and said, “Sir — you don’t have to worry about anything. You won’t be getting your luggage for another day or two. Why not stay with my family in Tumkur? Tomorrow is Sunday anyway!” Reluctantly agreeing, I hired a prepaid taxi and boarded it with Manju, headed for Tumkur, a suburb of Bangalore. We got there around 9 PM. I didn’t have any luggage other than my laptop bag, and Manju had a suitcase. We entered his house. The ground floor was brightly lit. A hall, a big kitchen, a bedroom, and the nice aroma of freshly cooked food filled the house. A woman in her mid-forties rushed out from the kitchen. “Please excuse the mess, Sir,” she said, wiping the perspiration from her face. “Please put your things down and get refreshed. I’m cooking dinner for you both!” “My mother, Prema,” said Manju. “Namaste Ma’am,” I said. “But please listen,” I added. “I will not impose like this on you at this time of the evening! Obviously you were not expecting a guest!” “No, no,” said Prema. “My son’s friend is our honored guest. Manju, please show him the bathroom! My husband is out of town, but you’re very welcome to stay with us!” She then rushed back into the kitchen. As I unpacked my laptop bag, I couldn’t help noticing Prema closely. She was even better in person than how she looked in the picture. I could see her large boobs protruding from the sides of her saree, and her ass swayed as she walked. We ate and it was time to retire for the night. Since I didn’t have any spare clothes, Prema asked Manju to get me a dhoti and a shirt, but I was much taller than him and his shirts didn’t fit. “I can sleep in the dhoti and my vest,” I said. They had a guest room upstairs, but it only had a toilet, not a full bath. So Prema insisted that I sleep downstairs, in the spare bedroom, while she slept in the hall. She had a sprain, she said, and couldn’t take the stairs up to the main bedroom. I declined, and insisted that Prema sleep in her own bed, while I lie down on a mattress in the hall. After I’d bathed, I was just wearing a towel and was in the process of sneaking to my laptop bag at the end of the hall (where I had a spare vest) when Prema came out of the kitchen and stood there, transfixed. I have a flat stomach and decent biceps and abs. I noticed her eyes quickly went down and checked out my abdomen and then lower body. “Oh, excuse me,” I said. She smiled and said nothing. After doing the kitchen work, I noticed she had adjusted her saree. Her pallu was now a little lower. The top of her blouse was clearly visible, and her cleavage. She sat next to me on the sofa. “Is Manju asleep?” I asked. “Yes… he was very tired,” she replied. A pause. “How long have you lived in the US?” she asked. “15 years,” I replied. “I may look young, but I’m 45!” “You’re so fit!” “Thank you, Ma’am! I work out regularly!” “Your wife is lucky! By the way, Manju said you were North Indian. But your complexion is South Indian!” I smiled. “Not only do I look South Indian, I also happen to like South Indian food and the women, Ma’am!” I said. “Really?” “Yes,” I said. “I like their warmth, their affectionate nature, and mostly, Ma’am, I hope you won’t mind me saying so, but what I have noticed is, underneath their orthodox manners and clothes and culture, there is a sexual fire burning!” “Why would I mind,” she said, laughing and hitting me on my arm. “You’re a naughty man.” “Perhaps you’re right, Ma’am. I have a few female friends who frankly share their physical fantasies with me,” I said. She didn’t respond, but smiled and got up and left. I couldn’t sleep due to the jet lag. Around 2:30 AM, I felt a hand gently touch my thigh. I was startled, but didn’t move. I heard the rustle of a saree. It was Prema! What was she doing next to me in the dark? She moved her hand softly over to where my dhoti was tied, and opened it. Now I was nude (I don’t have underwear on at night)! She caressed my upper thigh, and then moved her fingers to my dick. She rubbed it for a few seconds, and then I felt the most wonderful sensation in the world – a warm mouth swallowing my cock! Prema settled down on the floor next to the mattress, and proceeded to suck my dick. My cock responded quickly and within a minute, was throbbing. She continued to suck it until, after three minutes or so, I exploded in her mouth. She silently ate it up, cleaned up my dick with her tongue, and stood up, adjusting her saree. Her bangles were loud. “Er… Mr. Avi,” she said, hesitatingly. “Are you comfortable? I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need a sheet or blanket!” “Oh no… I’m fine,” I said, appearing sleepy. The next day Prema and I carried on like nothing happened the previous night. We ate breakfast together and Manju left to meet with his friends.