My Amma's Blouse
Hi. My name is Jegan. Today is my birthday. I am turning 22. I know I should be happy but I’m not. I am nervous, shivering, sweating and walking away from home. I know my amma (mother) is waiting for me. She has cooked my favorite, especially for today. But I cannot go. I feel my legs become weak whenever I start walking towards home. I can’t because today I am going to do something I have never done before. Today I am going to ask my amma to have sex with me. I loved my amma since ever, but I didn’t realize when that love changed to lust. I started getting attracted to her beautiful body. I started craving to undress her, see her nude, touch her fair skin, kiss every inch of her voluptuous motherly body. It all started not a long ago when my father passed away. In order to bring money in the home, my mother decided to take up tailoring, specifically stitching of blouses, as a job. So as to learn it first she approached a ladies tailor named Raja. He was old 55+, black, bald guy. He agreed to teach her but he suggested my mother buy a sewing machine and he will come home to teach her. I didn’t like Raja at all, he was ugly. But my mother insisted on letting him come to teach, he was the only way my mother could earn some money. I wasn’t working either. We live in a small one-room house; kitchen, bedroom, toilet-bathroom all in one space. So when Raja started coming to teach I had to sit in the same room where the lessons were going on. He began with asking my mother for her measurements, using which they stitched a sample blouse. He taught her everything step by step from marking the cloth, to cutting the pieces and then stitching them together. At first, he was standing away at a distance, seeing what she was doing from behind. But slowly he moved closer. Soon he started touching her hands to correct her. I was watching all this. I didn’t like it. I was getting more and angrier. Every time that old fart would touch her arm or her shoulder, he would look at me and smile. All I wanted to do was to punch in his face. But I couldn’t. My mother wasn’t saying anything so neither could I. Once the blouse was ready he told her to try it out. “Fine. I’ll just come,” said my amma as she took the blouse and started walking to the bathroom. He stopped her, “Wear it in front of me,” he said. He wanted to see the fitting while she wore it so as to ensure that the stitch wasn’t loose or that it didn’t tear while wearing it. She hesitated, but he insisted. Amma then requested me to go out while she tried the blouse. I went out but then going around I peeped through the window. Amma used to wear saris all the time. So when she was told to try on the blouse, she had to take off the pallu and the blouse she was wearing. I watched her while she stripped out of her clothes and show off the white bra she was wearing underneath. At the moment her back was facing me so I didn’t see much. But the perverted expressions on the baldy’s face were enough to aggravate me even more. He was enjoying it. Days passed and his lessons continued. I watched while he taught my mother to stitch blouses. He told her to strip and try out the blouse every time a minor adjustment was made. She got used to it, so much that she wouldn’t even wait for me to leave. She would quickly take off her sari to try out the blouse. Soon I started staying in the room while she tried out the blouses. She would look at me before she took off her blouse, I would pretend to be lost in my phone. But, I saw. I saw everything. Slowly by slowly he started making tighter more low-cut blouses so that more of her chest was exposed. He even got her special push-up bras so that she could try on tighter smaller blouses. Raja used to tell my mother to wear the blouses she made for general use. She didn’t want to as they were revealing but then he insisted that he wanted to test the endurance of the blouses. She was reluctant, yet she wore blouses that showed off cleavage, everywhere throughout the day. I realized what he was doing. My mother was getting used to bare more of her chest. I was getting more and more annoyed with this old tailor and felt sad for my amma who simply obeyed. I was angry all the time. But, one day something changed. It was morning time when I was taking bath. My eyes fell on my amma’s white bra that was hanging on a string. Suddenly an image of her wearing just the bra came to my mind. I had seen it countless times by then whenever she tried on the blouses. Watching the bra, I got an erection. I was tempted as I took the bra in my hand. My dick was getting harder. I resisted at first but rubbing that soft bra on my dick felt so pleasurable. This became a routine. She started wondering, asking herself as in, why her bra stayed wet all the time. I would simply pretend not to hear what she said. The classes continued. Taking it to next level he started teaching her to make blouses that had hooks at the back. This way he didn’t have to stay at a distance just looking at her. He started touching her with the excuse of hooking and unhooking her blouse. Amma didn’t seem to mind so he went on. His hands would move from touching her back to gently squeezing her breasts with the excuse of straightening the kinks of the fabric. I was watching all this but I wasn’t angry anymore. Seeing Raja touch my amma made me fantasize him doing a lot more to her. One morning he came very early when I was still in bed. As they got ready for the class, Raja suddenly went close to her asking, “Jayah, why do you wear your sari so high?” Then without letting her speak he went ahead and started pulling her sari down to show more of her hip. So much so that I could see a slight hint of her butt crack. Raja was being very much physical with her that morning thinking that I was asleep, but I wasn’t.