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Sexiest Pure 18 Latina Ruby Rayes shows off her shaved pussy

Duration: 13:05
Added 16-12-2018 Lucy
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Hi, my name is Arijit Guho. I'm a 22 year old guy from Calcutta. This story is about my mom - Shikha. Shikha is a housewife. At 42 years old, she is somewhat wider on the curves, slightly fatter along her waist as expected from any bengali housewife of her age. She has a beautiful face though, she has fair skin with no marks on her face and very few marks on her body. She has protruding lips just like Angelina Jolie which accentuate her pretty face. Ours is a wealthy family. My father is a rich businessman who remains out of the city most of the time. He comes home only once or twice a month. My mother has a lovely figure - 36DD-28-40. Her boobs have not at all sagged. Despite her age, they are quite stiff and her nipples seem to poke from her blouse whenever she's at home and not wearing a bra. Her most alluring feature has to be her ass - the cheeks are plump as melons and lewdly sway like the tides whenever she moves. Her navel's quite deep and whenever she wears a saree, somehow or the other she ends up showing her navel, much to the delight of whoever's looking. I love my mother but I have never truly visioned having sex with her. But sometimes, I do dream about her engaged in steamy sex with my father's office colleagues, my father's business partners, my uncles etc. My mother has "mostly" been loyal to my father. However, she's quite innocent and easy to influence. She's also quite strict about monetary matters and would be willing to put up with anything to save a few bucks, as you will see in this story. As a result of these qualities, some dirty-minded people end up taking advantage of her innocence. There are several parts to this story, describing several incidents that happened between my mother and a couple of commoners - the milkman, the sabziwala (fruit-seller), my Dad's office clerk, the man-servant, the driver, my private tutor and my distant uncle. This was the introductory part. Let me know if you like them and also leave your comments about my mother (the dirtier the better). Also leave your suggestions. I will be posting updates soon. Here's an incident that happened this summer: Summers are quite harsh here in this city. People sweat gallons and yet they are forced to carry out their day-to-day duties. My mother decided to go to the market that day. While serving me breakfast, she was wearing a pink colored nighty which seemed rather tight on her luscious figure. She wears a nighty quite often when she's at home, and almost always without any bra or panties. This particularly nighty accentuates her curves beyond any other apparel. And the absence of a bra, causes her nipples to be constantly visible. Her nighty is such that as she walks towards u, u notice her succulent breasts swaying proudly with every step she takes and as she walks away, u notice her pantyless arse jiggle timidly as if they're teasing you, taunting you to grab it and bite it if you have the guts. After serving breakfast, she said to me, "Beta, ami ektu bajare jabo. Keu bell bajale take boshte bolish ebong bolish je mummy ektu bade firbe!" ("Son, I'm going to the market. If someone comes in my absence, tell them to sit and wait, since mom will be here shortly"). Then she went in her room to change. As soon as she came out, my jaw dropped. She was wearing a red color light chiffon sari and a beet-red blouse underneath. The fabric of the saree was so thin that the part of it draped around her upper body seemed to become see-through the moment she stepped into the sun. Plus, the blouse was so tight that her boobs seem to be trying to burst out of it. Although she had covered her ample bosom with the sari, her curves were perfectly conducive to her clothing. "Tumi eta pore jabe?" ("Are u going out wearing this?"), I asked her She looked down and twisted the folds of her saree and asked, "Keno, kharap ta ki a6e etate?" ("Why what's wrong with it?") Now, I must say something here. The market where my mother was headed to was located in a densely populated area. There, several hawkers - from sabziwalas to butchers to fishermen - sit on the ground side by side, against the walls of old broken buildings, selling their stuff. The hawkers aren't the nicest lot. They're a band of low-class merchants with pot-bellies and blackened teeth, yet with strong muscular arms. They wear dirty old shirts that have seen more days than their wearer and lungis that have small patches stitched all over them. Their mouths are foul but their minds are fouler. *Flashback* On a recent night I heard two of them speaking in their drunken state, "Sala, esob boro ghorer magigulon ke chode key ami jante chai! Doodhgulo dekhe6is ek ek tar?" ("Fuckers, I want to know who fucks these rich ladies! Have you seen their tits?") "Ha re Nayan. Sala oi doodh toh khali ekjon er kache chodon khey toiri hoyni. Bor ke chara nischoe baire kaur ka6e nijer bhodar agun nebhate jae era!" ("You're right, Nayan. Those boobs can't have been the result of just one man's fucking. Surely, they go to other men than their husbands to satisfy their urges.") "Salim, erom boro ghorer bibhahito magi ke ekbar hath e pai na re, sala gud chude manhole baniye debo khanki magir!" ("Salim, if i get a hold of one such rich married woman, I'll fuck that slutty whore's cunt dry!") "Ei toh sedin oi mohila ta eschilo fol kinte, shei Guho barir theke! " ("That day itself that woman from the Guho family came here to buy fruits.") My heart skipped a beat when I heard my mother's reference. "Sali randi, buke oto boro boro torbuj niye ghure berache, abar fol kisher jonno chai?" ("Fucking slut, when she has such melons hanging from her chest, what does she need fruits for?") I should've been angry with them for talking about my mother in such a manner. Surprisingly, I felt my dick begin to stir instead. "Na re, Nayan! Sala sedin magitar blouse er duto hook khola deklam. Doodhgulo moneho6ilo fete beriye asbe. Amar toh dekhei khara hoege6ilo. Pashe Shontu r Habib dekhi lungir opor hath bola6e. Onek koshte ami bara take shanto kore boshe chilam." (No wait, Nayan. That day I saw that slut's blouse had two hooks open. Her tits seemed eager to burst out of those confines. My dick came to life after seeing such a sight. Beside me, I noticed Shontu and Habib rubbing their cocks over their lungis. It was hard for me keep my dick in check"). I remember that day. Mother had sent all her clothes for washing and the only thing left for her to wear was an old blue chiffon sari and an old blouse with the top two hooks torn up. She had hesistated going to the market wearing that, but I insisted on her bringing a few apples as I had run short on them. I never realized, until today, that these low class merchants had such an eye. As I heard these filthy low class people going on about my sweet and innocent mother, I realized that I wanted to hear more. My dick had now grown to almost its full length and I felt butterflies fluttering violently in my stomach. "Ki bolis re haramjada! Ha ha ha! Tui, Shontu r Habib toh tahle sedin dupure bari giye toder bouke bhaloi chudechis asha kori, erom drishyo dekhe!" ("What are you saying, you bastard? Ha ha ha! That means you, Shontu and Habib must've fucked your wives like crazy upon getting home that afternoon!") I was surprised to hear them not only talk dirty about my mom, but their wives as well. The filthy animals! "Amader chotolok barir bouder modhe ki aar shei rosh ache! Boyesh er sathe sathe shob rosh beriye geche. Kintu ei boro ghorer boudira ekono tatka a6e! Ekdin khali sujog pete de!" ("Our low class wives don't have the same sex-drive that they once had! With age, their cunts have become dry. But these upper-class wives still look like fresh meat! Let me just get one chance with them!" They both laughed hysterically at the comment. As soon as their conversation ended, I felt my dick. It had grown to full size and as I held it in my hand, it was throbbing like crazy. I immediately unzipped my pants, took it out and stroked it hard. After a few seconds of stroking, cum oozed out like a river. *Flashback ends* After remembering that debacle, I said, "Mummy, amio jabo aaj tomar sthe bajare." ("Mom, I will go with you to the market today.") "Keno? Hothat ajke?" ("Why? All of sudden, today?") "Amar koyekta jinis dekhar a6e." ("I have a few things to see.") I smiled. My mom was a little reluctant to leave the house empty, but eventually i convinced her. As we headed out into the burning sun, she occasionally stopped to speak to some people of our neighborhood. However, after meeting a few of the men, I realized they were stealing glances at her body every now and then. Not only that, some of the other men on the streets were also staring at her. I couldn't understand the reason until I look at her myself. I moved two steps away from her while she was busy chatting with one of our neighbors. Again, I was dumbfounded. The part of her saree covering her upper treasures had become almost see-through. One could easily make out her fleshy curves and her deep lusty navel due to the thin fabric. Her beet-red blouse could be seen from a mile away. About two-three inches of her cleavage was also visible owing to the tightness of the blouse alongwith the bra she was wearing underneath. Thankfully, due to the folds in her saree, everything below the waistline seemed at least decent. I know for a fact that she is a loyal housewife and a devoted mother. It's just that sometimes she's too careless and naive. She believes the world is filled with good trustworthy people, but clearly it isn't. I glanced back at the man who was chatting with my mom. He was in his mid-fifties, with an ugly face and rugged features. He was still stealing glances of her cleavage, that old pervert. Suddenly he looked at me and as soon as our eyes met, he got somewhat scared. "Didi, aaj tahle baad dao. Pore ekdin tomar barite jabo khane!" ("Didi, let us part for now. I'll come to your house some other day.") "Nischoi. Jedin apnar somoe hoe." ("Of course. Whenever you have time.") After that, he walked away in the opposite direction, but not before stealing another look back at my mother's swinging ass. When we reached the market, it was a scene of total chaos. The market was full of people pushing and shoving each other to get to their choice vendor. I asked my mom to move ahead of me since I didn't know which vendor she wanted to go to. She agreed. As we entered the market, we too experienced the same pushing and shoving. I wasn't having much of a problem but my mom was much worse off. As she tried to push through the crowd, I saw many men - both young and old - heavily brushing against her. She put her hands across her breasts trying to prevent those savages from touching or groping her, but mostly it turned out in vain. I was feeling sorry for her, but at the same time the worm between my legs kept twitching. My mind wasn't ready to accept it yet, but I was perversely enjoying the way she was being treated. When my mother finally reached the vendor/sabziwala she was looking for, she was in a mess. Her hair had been completely disoriented, her pallu almost seemed to be almost slipping from her shoulders and one of her bra straps above her right shoulder was visible. Moreover, she was sweating quite heavily because of the humid heat. Thankfully she covered her bra-strap and adjusted her pallu before the sabziwala could notice. "Ki boudi. Ki lagbe bolun?" ("Hello, Bhabhi. What do you need?") , the sabziwala asked, while eyeing her from head to toe admiring the view of her see-through saree. There was still a major crowd behind her and so she had to hurry. "Ekta shosha, duto begun, 250gm tomato..." ("One cucumber, two brinjals,...") Suddenly the sabziwala interrupted. "Boudi, shosha kiser jnno lagbe. Dada ki baire jachen naki?" ("Why do you need cucumbers? Has your husband gone out?") He commented with an ugly smile which displayed his dirty yellow teeth. Some of the people behind her giggled at the comment and I too understood what the sabziwala meant. But my mom was too naive. "Mane? Shosha ki shudhu tomar Dada khae naki. Amr o khete bhalo lage." ("Meaning? Your Dada isn't the only one who likes eating cucumbers. I like eating them too.") My mother couldn't understand the significance of what she said and it drew another round of giggles from the men behind her. "Oh, khoma korben, Boudi. Acha bolun r kichu chai?" ("Oh, please forgive me, Bhabhi. Now, tell me, do you need anything esle.") My mom noticed an odd looking vegetable at the corner of the sabziwala's basket. It was shaped like a papaya but was somewhat different. "Ota ki?" ("What's that?"), she raised her left finger and asked him. "Konta?" ("Which one?") The shopkeeper looked around trying to spot what she was getting at. Then, without warning, she bent down from her waist and put her finger on the vegetable just near to his knees. As she did this, her pallu slipped from her shoulders and fell on the floor. Her blouse-covered boobs and plunging cleavage were now only inches away from the sabziwala's unpleasant face. "Ei je!...ei sabzi ta ke ki bole?" ("This one!...wat do u call this veggie?") The sabziwala couldn't answer. Her was buzy alternating between gawking at my mom's spilling cleavage and her sweaty armpit which had now formed a wet-patch over her blouse. When the sabziwala was lewdly staring at her, I felt my dick begin to rise. I knew it was shameful and I should warn my mom, but something inside wanted to let it continue. Suddenly, my mom noticed what the filthy man was looking at and immediately covered up her ample blouse-covered breasts with her pallu. Then she stood up straight. The sabziwala immediately realized his mistake and said, "Otare squash bole, Boudi! Ekhankar sabzi noe. Apni bari nie gie khe dekhte paren kemon." ("That's called squash, Bhabhi. It's not from here. You can take it home and taste it if you like.") My mother was extremely annoyed at the sabziwala for looking at her in such a manner. She angrily said, "Dorkar nei apnar squash er. Koto taka hoe6e bolun baki sabzir." ("I don't need your squash. Tell me how much I owe you for the rest of the vegetables.") The sabziwala then told her the amount, after which she paid him and we left. I quickly glanced between my legs to see my current state. The hardness was gone but the feelings inside the pits of my stomach raged on... Nothing eventful happened for a few days after the encounter with the sabziwala. In the meantime, our old maid-servant had fallen ill. After a few days of absence, his son showed up at our doorstep one day. My mother was at home wearing a brown colored nighty which hung loosely from her body. As usual, she was not wearing a bra underneath and because of that, her juicy tits jiggled heavily with even the slightest movement. The son of the servant rang the bell and even though I heard it, my mother opened the door before I could get there. "Hain, kemon..." ("Hi, how're..."). He halted his words since he couldn't help but gawk at the magnificent maiden standing in front of him. With his mouth wide open, he kept staring at my mother as though she was some sort of a queen. "Hain bolun, apni ke?" ("Yes, tell me who are you?") My mother asked. She was quite amused by this man's appearance. He was close to forty-years old and much shorter than her, almost upto the height of her breasts (which would later prove to be his biggest advantage). He looked much older than he actually was - nearly bald with only a couple of strands of silver hair on the sides of his head. He had a dark complexion and some of his beard was silver and some of it was black. He wore a dirty yellow buttoned shirt that was hanging loosely from his rather frail body, and below he was wearing some old trousers that had more patch-work than the original material. When my mother asked him who he was, he immediately stepped out of his trance and replied, "Oh, oh....ami Haria. Amar ma apnar ekane kaaj kore. Uni amake pathiechen." My mother was a bit suspicious of him, but she asked him to come in when she realized that I was home. As she climbed up the stairs, I saw the dirty old man staring at her ass and licking his lips. I could well imagine his situation. As my mother doesn't wear any panties in the house either, her plump hips were swaying in a wave-like motion as she steadily climbed the stairs of our house. At times, her nighty used to get stuck in her ass-crack in an alluring manner and as a reflex, she used to unstuck them from her ass with her hand. A high-class lady acting in such a careless manner caused Haria to scratch his crotch over his trousers. When my mother reached the living-room floor, she turned around and immediately Haria stopped his scratching. "Apni bosun." ("You may sit.") She pointed at the wooden chair beside the sofa. "Na na, Boudi. Ta ki kore hoi? Apni upore bosun, ami niche boschi." ("No no, Bhabi. How can that happen? You sit there, while I sit on the floor.") Saying that he sat down on the floor opposite to the chair. "Ja apnar iccha." ("As you wish.") My mother then attempted to sit on the sofa and as her big butt thumped on the soft cushion, for an instant her boobs jumped in all their glory. Seeing this, Haria gulped and openly started scratching his manhood above his trousers. My mother noticed that and immediately looked away. "Acha, toh mashi...mane apnar ma, kemon achen?" ("So, the maid...I mean, your mother, how is she?") She glanced back at his trousers again and realized that he had stopped scratching but his left hand was still there on the same exact spot. "Onar sorir khub ekta bhalo noe. Daktar bolteche osukh sharte aro kota din lege jabe. Tai ami bolchilum, je kotadin ma kam korte aite parbe na, sekotadin jodi ami onar jaegae kaam kori tahole ki apnar kono apotti ache?" ("She is not well. Doctor says it will take time for her to get better. So, I was saying, for some days if I could work for you on her behalf, will you have any problem with it?") He continued to steal glances at her tits while saying this and this made my mother somewhat uncomfortable. She was skeptical about this man although he seemed rather harmless. "Kintu apni onar somosto kaj kormo ekla korte parben?" ("But will you be able to do all her work?") "Obosshoi, Boudi. Tachara ekhon jodi apni ek-masher jnoo hoileo ekta alada kajer lok bhara koren tahole apnar ontoto pokhe teen-gun poisha khoisha jabe!" ("Of course, Bhabi. Otherwise if you hire another servant for just one month then you'll have to pay at least thrice as much as you're paying now!") My mother thought for a second and said, "Hmmm, eta thiki. Kin2 tumi ki ranna jano?" ("Hmmm, that's true. But do you know how to cook?") She was reconsidering now. Although she wasn't quite fond of him, she had no intention of spending more money than was required. "Hain. Emon ranna jani je khawar por apni nijer angul chatte thakben." ("Yes. I know cooking so well that you'll start licking your fingers once you taste my meals."), he said with a devious smile. "Acha, tahle kalker theke kaaj shuru korte paro." ("Fine, then from tomorrow, you can start working.") "Dhonnobad!" ("Thank you!") His face began to glow and he stood up along with my mother. His height was such that it was in the same level as my mom's boobs and he kept staring at them with such indecency, that my mother started glaring at him with angry eyes. "Acha, tahle ami choli. Kal asbo khane." ("Okay, so I'll take my leave. Be back tomorrow.") "Thika6e." ("Okay.") He then started climbing down the stairs but not before turning and giving one last lewd glance at her as he reached the door. My mother simply turned away, possibly regretting her decision. After Haria left, though, I saw my mother doing something I never thought I'd see. As she was going inside the kitchen, I saw her idly scratching her cunt area over her nighty and letting out some gentle moans. She must've thought no one was looking. But alas, she was wrong! That evening, on the day Haria came, my mom decided to go to the tailor for stitching some blouses. My cousin's wedding was coming up soon and she wanted to look perfect as would any female at such a grand occasion. "Mummy, ami jabo tomar sthe?" ("Mom, can I come with you?"), I asked her. "Keno? Tor ki kaj okhane?" ("Why? What will you do there?") "Emni. Ghore boshei ba ki korbo? Sobe porikha shesh holo. Ek2 ghure berai noe." ("No reason. Besides, what will I do sitting here? My exams just ended. I want to go out more now.") I looked at her with my puppy-dog eyes, which always seem to work. And it did! My mom smiled and rubbed my hair. "Acha beta, chol tahle." (Okay son, let's go then.") I was extremely excited. Not because I would get to go out, but because now I would be able to see what actually goes on in our local tailor shop. I had heard from one of my friends that the old man posing as the tailor was a real pervert. In the pretext of taking measurements, he used to grope young girls' tits and asses. I wanted to see that for myself. My mom was wearing the same red color light chiffon sari made of thin fabric. But since it was night-time, there was little risk of it becoming see-through. Underneath she wore the same tight beet-red blouse which showed off her ample cleavage quite attractively. The tailor shop that she was going to was of a mixed gender type - meaning both men and women were allowed to go there and stitch clothes. The shop had a separate room inside which acted as a trial room and as a measurement room (for ladies). When we entered the shop, it was relatively empty. Only two young girls were there and it seemed that they were leaving as well since they had been talking about payment with the tailor (Kakababu), who was noting things down on his bill-pad. Kakababu was an old man - nearly sixty years old - with a frail body. He had thick glasses on and was essentially bald-headed. I began to doubt whether the stories I had heard of him were actually true. My mother went and stood beside the girls and said to the tailor, "Kakababu, bhalo achen to?" ("Kakababu, how are you?") The old man looked up and smiled. Probably the first guy I met looking at her face instead of her luscious tits. "Eta amr chele." ("This is my son!") He said, pointing at me. He smiled at me and I returned the smile with one of my own. "Koyekta blouse r petticoat bananor chilo. Rimli ki bhetore?" ("I need you to make some blouses and petticoats? Is Rimli inside?") By inside, she meant the trial room/measurement room. "Na, o aaj aseni. Or sorir kharap." ("No, she's not here today. She's ill.") My mom suddenly seemed concerned. "Tahle maap ke nebe? Apni?" ("Then who's going to take measurements? You?") At that moment, a huge guy - nearly six feet tall - with bulging muscles stepped out from inside the trial room with a young girl. The girl looked about nineteen years old and seemed to be friends with the other two girls who were talking to Kakababu. When she came out, she looked like a mess. Here hair was in shambles, a side of her salwar had slipped from her should which she immediately adjusted and her pallu was missing. The huge man was another story. Despite his heavy build, he had a hideous face. His jaws were not set properly, he hadn't shaved for weeks and beard seemed to poke like needles from his chin, you could literally smell the horrible scent of gutkha from his mouth. He was wearing a dirty tank top and a lungi, he had a great deal of hair on his chest and back, and he smelled like a dirty pig. My mom had to cover her nose as she was standing right next to him. As soon as he stepped out of the trial room, I could see his hungry eyes measuring my mother from head to toe. She was facing him sideways so she couldn't see as his eyes traced every inch of her body - from her beautiful spotless face to her melon-like tight breasts to her fleshy bare midriff and her luscious sari-covered arse. When Kakababu settled their bills, the girls started leaving the shop but not before glancing back at the huge beast with a wink and a seductive smile. "Hain, to ki bolchilen jeno?" ("Yes, so what were you saying?") The tailor asked her again as she uncovered her mouth to reply. "Bolchilam je Rimli nei jokhon tahle amar maap ke nebe?" ("I was saying if Rimli's not there then who'll be taking my measurements?") "Keno, ei je Haripada nebe. O aji esche amader gram theke. Amar bhaipo hoe." ("Why, Haripada, of course. He just came from our village. He's my nephew.") My mother was stunned. She glanced back at this brute of a man and caught him leering at her with a disgusting smile. "Dhut! Ki bolchen eta? Amar blouse, petticoat er maap o ki kore nebe? Apnar nite ki osubidha?" ("What! How can you say such a thing? How can he take my measurements? Why can't you take them?") My mother seemed absolutely repulsed by this strange idea. A huge grown man, that too so ugly and uneducated, taking her measurements was something beyond acceptance. She actually felt it was a better idea that Kakababu tried it. "Keno? Ki osubidha? Ei je apnar samne jei meyeta berolo tar maap o ei Haripadai niyeche. Apnar chintar kono karon nei. Asole or baba oke amar k6e khub asha kore pathie6e kaj sekhanor jnoo. Jodi apnar khub apotti thake tahle apni porer soptahe aste paren. Totodine asha korchi Rimli'r jor shere jabe." ("Why? What is the problem? The young girl that left before you was also measured by Haripada. So, you don't have to worry. The thing is, his father sent him to me so that he could learn the trade. However, if you have any problem, then you can always come back next week. I'm sure Rimli will be free of her ailment by then.") My mother was trapped. The wedding was only two weeks away and the old man usually takes over a week to stitch even the basest of clothes. She had to make a choice. I was standing at the side listening to all of this when she looked towards me as if to ask something. But before she could say anything, I said, "Mummy, ek shopta onek deri hoe jabe. Tar theke bhalo ekuni banie jhamela mitiye dao. Adha-ek ghontar toh byapar." ("Mummy, one week will be too late. It's better you get it over with now. It's only a matter of half-to-one hour.") Both Kakababu and Haripada smiled at my suggestion. My mother then looked at them and said, "Thikache. Cholun trial room e." ("Fine. Let's get inside the trial room. But on one condition. My son will also be there.") With that, the three of them entered the trial room. When my mom, Kakababu and Haripada went inside. And as soon as they went in, I noticed a narrow crack near the edge of the door. It was enough for me to take a peek at what was happening inside. The trial room was a small dimly lit room which had a narrow mirror opposite to the door. Space was cramped and they had to stand only a few inches away from one another. I could see the discomfort in my mom's eyes. That big brute Haripada was standing just behind her and he was so close that she could undoubtedly feel his hot breath touching her backside. I could see him lightly touching and smelling her hair like a beast. She was starting to sweat now because of the natural heat as well as the heat emanating from the two males standing with her. Kakababu was writing something down in his notepad when he realized that there was a stool in the room right next to where he was standing. He decided to sit down. His eyes were now at the same level as my mom's crotch. After a while, my mom said to the tailor, "Tahle shuru kora jak?" ("So, shall we start?") "Hain hain, nischoe. Boudi, apni tahle blouse r petticoat khali banate eschen toh?" ("Yes yes, of course. So, Bhabi, you've come here to stitch only blouses and petticoats right?"), My mom hesitated a bit and then said, "Hain." ("Yes") "Thikache. Prothome blouse er die shuru kora jak. Tah apnar size koto?" ("Alright. Let's start with your blouse first. What's you size?") My mom was startled to hear that question. "Apnar kache toh amar size shob lekha ache." ("You already have my stats written down with you.") "Arey ki mushkil! Ami seigulo harie fele6i bolei toh apnake abar maap dite bollam. Noile toh ami oigulo dekhei kapor banie nitam." ("What the heck! The whole reason why I asked to take your measurements again was because I have lost all previous records. Otherwise, I could have just made your clothes with those records.") My mother understood the reason but she was feeling very shy revealing her private things in front of a low class stranger like Haripada. "Th...Thirty...Thirty six." She said with a lot of discomfort. I could see the brute Haripada grinning silently when he heard her say that. "Thirty six ki?" ("Thirty six what?"), Kakababu questioned again. Mom knew she had to say her cup size, but somehow she forgot. The atmosphere in the room was beginning to dull her senses somewhat. "Thirty six Double-D", she replied with a stuttering voice. "Bah besh bhalo." ("Well that's great.") Kakababu said with a cheeky smile and wrote that down on his notepad, while his protege/nephew continued his silent chuckling at this married woman's predicament. My mother was standing beside the long narrow mirror that was barely able to accommodate her own voluptuous figure. Therefore, she could not see what was going on behind her. "Acha tahle boudi ebar sari ta khule felun." ("Okay then, now take off your sari.") Kakababu said this in such calm manner that it took my mom by surprise. She raised her voice a little and said, "Ki? Sari keno...?" ("What? Why sari...?") "Arey sari na khulle somostho maap nebo ki bhabe? Apni janen toh sob. Khali mukhe apnar maap bolle hobe naki? Tahle apnake ei trial room e nie anar mane ta ki hoe? Amader confirm korte hoe sobkichu." ("If you don't take off your sari then how will we take measurements. You know everything. How can I simply take your word for it? Then, what is the use of bringing you into this trial room? We have to confirm everything.") My mom was sweating profusely now. She looked back at Haripada who still seemed to be leering at her from behind. The hungry look in his eyes gave her chills up and down her spine as she gulped despite an empty throat. Even I was feeling a little scared for her now, although that didn't stop me from scratching my dick from above my jeans. She had no choice now. Slowly she removed her pallu exposing the tight blouse that enclosed the milk tanks underneath. Haripada was taller than her, so he started gazing at the narrow valley that had formed between her two succulent boobs. I could see him almost foaming from his gaping mouth as my mom took out the folds of her saree from her waistline. Even the aged Kakababu was staring with awe at her luscious body through his thick glasses. As one by one the folds came off, her petticoat became visible. It was sea-green in color and the small white thread keeping it together seemed like it was teasing the old man to untwist it, as he was blankly staring at it. Soon, her saree was completely off and she dropped it on the ground, and then folded her hands across her precious mammaries as she shook her head in shame. Although I had seen my mother wearing a petticoat and blouse several times inside our house, I never imagined that one day I would see her like this in front of these two perverted hungry males. It made my dick throb in a way I've never felt before. When my mother looked down for an instant, she saw the tailor staring at her deep navel from that sitting position. She said, "Isshh, ei bhabe keno dekchen? Amar lojja lagche." ("Isssh, why are you watching me like this? I'm feeling shy.") Kakababu was in a trance. "Apnar toh jobab nei boudi. Eto bochor badeo apni nijer gotor ja maintain korechen, je keu dekhle pagol hoejabe." ("I have no words to describe you, Bhabi. Depsite your age, the way you've maintained your figure can make any man crazy.") My mom slightly giggled at the compliment. I could see that for the first time since stepping into that room, she was feeling a bit comfortable. "Acha tahle cholun, egono jak." ("Okay then, let's continue.") The tailor finally snapped out of his trance and said. "Haripada, tape tomar kache toh?" ("Haripada, is the tape with you?") He raised his right hand which had the tape, to assure the tailor. "Thikache. Maap nite shuru koro. Boudi hath ta ekdom shoja kore tulun." ("Okay. Start taking the measurements. Bhabi, pull your hands up horizontally and set them straight.") She had no way of objecting now. She slowly raised her hand until they were at the same level as her chest and stood there. Suddenly, she heard a heavy voice behind her. "Onar monehoy gorom lagche. Bogol er jaegar blouse toh puro bhije geche." ("I think she's feeling hot. The portion of the blouse covering her armpit is totally wet.") It was Haripada. My mom felt thoroughly degraded when the low class brute said that out loud in front of Kakababu. But then he did something that was even more degrading. Without warning, he touched the wet spot near mom's left armpit with his rough hands causing her to shudder and shift to the right. "Ah! Ketukutu lagche!" ("Ah! It's tickling."), she said. Then, he sniffed his hand and smiled like it had a sweet aroma. I was surprised to hear my mom react so casually. Normally if someone tried to do that to her, she would give him a tight slap! I guess she was a little scared by this man's physique and thus, she decided not to act violently. After that debacle, Kakababu scolded him and ordered him to do his job sincerely. Haripada then came to her side to measure her sleeves. He was now standing directly beside my mother, opposite to the mirror. He was taller than her and as he looked down at her blouse-covered boobs, she started breathing heavily. Her heaving boobs started moving up and down lewdly with every breath. The top of my mother's boobs were getting slightly more visible to him over her blouse. I could only see his backside, but when I glanced back at the mirror, I was shocked. A huge tent had formed on his lungi and it looked like a snake is desperately trying to poke its head through it. My mom looked down for a second and her eyes became wide. Then she immediately looked up again and gulped. I doubt she had ever seen such a big dick on anyone. Meanwhile Haripada, started to check the sleeves of her blouse. As his cold rough hands grazed my mother's smooth bare arms, I saw her shudder and bite her lips. This continued for sometime as he slowly rubbed his fingers on her right arm while touching the cloth. Then, he did the same for her other arm. As he was doing this, he was constantly mumbling numbers to Kakababu. Her measurements perhaps. Then he went to her backside again. As soon as he stood behind her, I heard a slight moan come out from my mother's mouth and for some reason she shifted towards the front. I, of course knew what the reason was. Haripada's monstrous dick must have touched or poked her petticoat covered melons. When Kakababu heard her moan, he looked up as well. "Ki holo boudi?", ("What happened Bhabhi?") he asked in a calm and gentle manner. "K...Ki...Kichu na." ("N...No...Nothing happened."), she could barely speak. Her protruding lips were shivering like the winter yet she was sweating profusely. Beads of perspiration began to form on top halves of her breasts and looked extremely sexy as they flow down and disappeared in the valley between her two mountains. "Thakache tahle Haripada, ebar pither maap ta nie ne." (Fine, then Haripada take her backside measurements now.") Haripada then came closer to her and I could see my mom shifting uncomfortably as his stiff dick poked at her enticing globes again. He then brought his mouth closer to her ear and said something in her ear which I think was, "Kichukhoner jnoo sidha khara thakun madam." ("Stand straight for a few moments, madam.") His mouth was so close to her ear that it almost looked like he was licking it with his brownish tongue. I had hardly ever seen m mother in such a compromising state. But more was there to come. While measuring her back, he decided not to use the tape. He started stretching the back of my mother's blouse to see how loose or tight it was there. This was the standard procedure, so I think my mother knew this was coming and therefore, she didn't protest. However, I did notice her biting her lips and closing her eyes, either in fear or excitement. I could note from Haripada's facial expressions that he was quite impressed by looking at her spotless, chikna peeth from such close proximity! While Haripada was taking these measurement with his left hand, I saw his other hand slowly making its way towards his monstrous babymaker. Then as it reached its destination, he audaciously started stroking it over his lungi. I was sure his rock-hard penis was poking at my mother's precious globes, but as he started stroking it I felt a tinge in my stomach. I took my dick out of my pants in the store itself - no longer caring about the potential arrival of a customer - and I began to stroke it too. Haripada then, at the pretext of taking measurements, started rubbing my mother's smooth back with his fingers. I could clearly see her whole body shivering now and her facial expressions changing from fear to ecstasy. I knew she was also enjoying the touch and feel of a man's rough hands on her matured body. As she was sweating also and with her arms extended, the outline of her bra was more evident from the front also. Kakababu was constantly stealing glances at her heaving breasts from his position. Just then I noticed Haripada pulling the back of my mother's blouse from her back towards himself as much as possible to check the gap thus created. I thought it must have been a process to check the fitting, but immediately I noted that this brute was actually peeping inside my mom's blouse-back and was sneaking a glance at her bra strap and bra hook on her sweaty back! My mother involuntarily moved and shifted a bit in order to remain still and relaxed, and that's when I saw that Haripada was intently watching her ass move! From such an angle and closeness this brute must be able to monitor the round globes of my mom's ass moving inside my thin petticoat. I think she realized it as well as I noted her face turning red instantly. Suddenly, Kakababu commented, "Kire haramjada, maap gulo ki tor baap bolbe amay? Etokhon dhore boudi'r forsha peeth er dike cheye achis keno? Jodli peeth er maap ta bol!" ("Hey bastard, are you waiting for your daddy to tell you the measurements? Why are you staring at her smooth backside for so long? Tell me her back measurements as quick as you can.") The comment was so direct and vulgar that my mother quickly straightened herself and her expression again changed from ecstasy to shame. She was probably feeling guilty for actually enjoying what was happening to her in this situation. "Arey bolchi toh! Eto chaap nicho keno? Nao, lekho..." ("Wait, I'll tell you! Why are you getting so anxious? Now write...") Haripada retorted and then, gave the tailor the numbers which he wrote down. "Hoye geche. Ebar samne eshe, boudir buker maap ta ne!" ("It's done. Now come in front and take her chest measurements.") Haripada hardly wanted to refuse. I thought he would come and stand in front of my mom. But instead, he said, "Dekhi, ghure daran." ("Let's see, turn around.") Before my mother could obey or say anything in return, he grasped her fleshy midriff with his rough manly hands and flung her around like a common whore. She let out a loan groan, "Ah! Ki hocche ta ki?! Kakababu dekhun na ini ki korchen! Kothae hath dichen!" ("Ah! What the hell are you doing?! Kakababu see what he's doing! Where he's touching!") Kakababu didn't answer. He was busy staring at her fat globes which were now just inches away from his face. I saw Haripada looking into her eyes. Those eyes were filled with lust and hunger. "Khoma korben, madam. Ami apnari subidhar jonno tara-huro korchi." ("Forgive me, madam. I'm hurrying only because of you.") He said with a dirty smirk. My mom didn't say anything else and shook her head. And then she saw it! The huge rod poking against this brute's lungi, mere inches away from her covered pussy. She involuntarily opened her mouth in awe at his huge member and immediately closed it when she heard him chuckle. "Hath ta lomba kore mathar upor tule din. Maap nite subidhe hobe." ("Put your hands straight above your head. It'll be easier to take measurements then."), he said. My mom did as told. As she lifted her hands, her firm boobs exposed more over her blouse due to stretching and more of her cleavage was on display for this brute. I could see from the mirror that my mother was looking quite tempting now since a few inches of her creamy-white cleavage became visible in an extremely lucrative manner over the top of her blouse, especially as she was wearing a tight bra inside. Her cheeks were turning red as the dirty brute, Haripada, got his face closer to her boobs for inspecting the blouse fitting. This time I could almost hear him breathing heavily and as his warm breaths touched the naked portions of my mother's chest, she began shivering. Then he pulled her blouse a little in the front of her U-shaped neck area to see how loose it was from the front. As he did this, his fingers grazed against her bare neck as well as the top half of her breast and she let out a soft moan. "Ki holo, madam? Amar hath er chowa bhalo lagche na?" ("What happened madam? Don't you like my touch?") He said with a sinister smile. "N...Na...serom na." ("N...No...not really."), she replied with a nervous smile. I could see how uncomfortable she was feeling with her hands raised above her head, the sweat creating wet patches in her armpit area and exposing the outline of her bra over her tight blouse, and this low class brute of a man touching and groping her at every opportunity. The tailor Kakababu, on the other hand, had now started stroking his dick over his trousers, since my mom's back was turned. Sometimes he used to bring his nose closer to her and sniff her petticoat covered ass. For a frail old man, he sure seemed quite excited seeing a mature woman in such a compromised state. Haripada again started checking the U-neck of my mother's blouse and time and again, was touching her top boob flesh. He again stretched her blouse neck and this time he pulled it so much that surely he could see the position of her white bra strap inside her blouse traveling from her shoulder onto her mature pointed breasts. Then, he mumbled some numbers to Kakababu who noted it down. Then the brute once again took the measuring tape. He then got his face very near to her tits and I could see that she was feeling extremely shy as she kept looking at the ceiling. Her heavy breathing only made things worse as I noted Haripada keenly watching that sexy movement and licking his lips like a hungry hound. He then embraced the tape around her breast and his hands were now exactly in front her boobs and I doubted that she would be able to even protect herself if he simply gripped and squeezed her breasts, if his urges got the better of him. Her position was so compromised at that time! The tape was encircling my mother's boobs under her lifted hands. As Haripada tightened and loosened the tape over my blouse covered tits so as to stretch properly, his rough fingers brushed her firm boob flesh copiously. The brute then adjusted his hands again and this time his hands were positioned exactly in front of my mom's nipples. He then looked at her face and smiled wryly. I think all this touching and grazing had stiffened my mom's nipples. And this brute had figured out her nipple impressions through her blouse and bra. Although my mother is a wealthy married housewife, even she has carnal urges. The hardening of her nipples and her stifled moans proved that she was indeed getting aroused by this man-beast. Haripada then tightened the tape and this caused my mom to let out another moan, "Uhhhhhh...Beshi tight hoe geche." ("Uhhhh....It's too tight.") "O bhul hoegeche." ("Oh, my mistake.") He loosened the string. As he did, his fingers created a rhythmic movement over her blouse-covered breasts. He had now started openly touching and gently pressing her boobs. "Eta thik ache?" ("Is this alright?"), he asked. "N...Na. Arektu tight koro." ("N...No. Make it a little bit tighter.") My mom had her eyes closed now and she looked like she was thoroughly enjoying this man's lewd touches. Haripada tightened the tape further on my mom's boobs and stepped closer to her in order to execute it properly. As he did, his lungi-covered erect lund poked at her petticoat covered thighs and out of natural womanly shyness, she took a step back. She then looked down momentarily and seemed shocked to note that his dick had probably grown to full size and was now poking out of his lungi in an extremely indecent fashion! As he continuously pressed his fingers on her firm spongy breast flesh in the pretext of tightening the measuring tape, I noticed from the mirror that he was also trying to push his thumb onto her blouse-covered boob surface trying to trace her nipples! By now, Kakababu was openly stroking and massaging his lund over his trousers while gawking at her luscious globes. "Ahh...beshi tight hoegelo abar." ("Ahh...it's become too tight again.") my mother suddenly moaned. His dick was still poking against her thigh but mu mother didn't object. Haripada moved his hands a little up and down altering the tape making sure he was pushing aplenty against her tit flesh causing them to bounce and rebound inside her blouse cover! Then he moved his fingers side to side to rub and feel her taut breasts. My mom seemed to be enjoying it quite a lot since I was often hearing her moaning softly from his raw touches. Then, he said, "Madam, apni nijei dekhan apnar blouse kotota tight chai." ("Madam, you show me how tight you want your blouse to be.") He said this with a dastardly grin and my rich respected high-class mother smiled like an obedient slut as she lowered her hands and caught his hands and shamelessly started adjusting them to get the right tightness! Realizing the opportunity, that sick brute was also pressing his fingers more deliberately onto my mother's firm boobs while staring at her deep cleavage, which was now even more visible over the top of her blouse. When she stopped her hand movement, Haripada realized what she meant. He read the tape measurement and narrated Kakababu some numbers which obviously my mom seemed least interested in. "Darun! Ebar apnar petticoat er maap ta nawa jak." ("Great! Now, we shall take your petticoat measurement.") My mom turned around and nodded in approval. "Thikache. Tahle petticoat ta khule darie jan!" ("Fine. Then take off your petticoat and stand!") My mother was stunned. Her excitement was gone and now, she looked incredibly pale. "Kakababu, petticoat keno khulte hobe? Rimli toh sobsomoy er upor diyei maap nito." ("Kakababu, why do I have to take off my petticoat? Rimli always used to take measurements from over it.") My mother argued with the old man. "Ei jonno e toh apnar kapor gulo thik moton toiri hoto na. R apnar i ba lojjar ki ache. Apni amake bohu bochor dhore chenen. Apnar swami o amae chene. Apni amr meyer soman." ("That's why your clothes never got properly stitched. And besides, why do you feel so shy around me. I've known you for many years. I've know your husband. You're like a daughter to me.") I could sense that the tailor's cunning words were having a calming effect on her. She was beginning to feel embarrassed about doubting his intentions. "R Haripada toh ekhane kebol kaj sikhte esche." ("And Haripada is only here to learn the craft.") The old man then lightly held my mother's hand and said, "Tomar kono chinta nei, beti." ("You have nothing to worry about, my child.") His words were so reassuring that my sweet innocent mother agreed. The old man then released her hand and laid back to watch as she untied her petticoat inches away from his gaping face. When it was done, she closed her eyes and put two thumbs on either side of the petticoat and with one tug she took it off. All there of us couldn't stop gawking. Never before had I seen my mother in such a compromising state. Her fair shapely legs were now in full view of everyone in the room. Her creamy rotund thighs looked like tree trunks made of flesh and fat. The only thing hiding her juicy cunt now was her thin lacy panties. From the mirror, i could see her ass looking like two huge globes held together by a thin strip of fabric. Haripada looked like he was almost drooling while gaping at my mom's shapely ass and her milky white thighs. Kakababu, on the other hand, was staring directly at my mom's panty-covered pussy. Suddenly he did something that was shocking to both my mom and me. He outstretched his right hand and directly place it on her pussy! My mom involuntarily took a few steps back and as she did, one of her cheeks unintentionally poked back at Haripada's hard cock. Again, she took a step forward and almost shrieked, "Ki..." But before she could complete her sentence, Kakababu asked, "Beti, tomar panty ato bheja keno?" ("Child, why is your panty so wet?") That question bowled her over. She was speechless and was fumbling for words. There was no doubt now that all the squeezing and milking of her womanly jugs had aroused her. She could no longer escape the truth. Haripada, on the other hand, was grinning softly. My mother was unable to conjure an answer and so the brute decided to speak on her behalf. And what he said shocked me and my mom both. "Apni esob jene ki korben, Kakababu? Apnar esob janar boyesh chole geche." ("What would you do if you knew? Your too old to understand.") He then winked at my mom who returned it with a nervous smile. My mom's reactions to this brute's comment was also quite confusing for me. I always knew her as a loyal wife and now that notion seemed sort of doubtful. "Ha ta toh botei, Babu. Tahle maap nawa shuru kora jak." ("Yes, that is true, Babu. Now, let's start taking those measurements.") My mother was now practically naked from her waist down and waiting for the brute's lewd handiwork. Haripada bated his time and bent down with the tape in his hand. Then he grasped her fleshy thighs and spread them apart. Her thighs were moist with sweat and as he grabbed them with his rough hands, I saw her jolt in pleasure. His face was almost touching her ass and every time his hot breath bounced off her cheeks, I saw her shiver in ecstasy. At that moment her feminine shame was overtaken by sensuousness and she bit her lips. Haripada wound the tape around one of her thighs, just above the knee and conveyed the measurement to Kakababu, who wrote it down. Then he proceeded to measure the other thigh. This time he bent further causing his face to be just an inch away from her left ass-cheek and then he did something vile. He stuck out his tongue and intentionally licked the beads of sweat forming on her smooth butt-cheeks. I thought my mother would simply turn around and slap this brute. But instead she closed her eyes and let out a soft moan, as though she was enjoying it. After receiving such encouragement from a hot mature woman, the brute couldn't control himself and started licking her other cheek as well with increased fervor. My mom let out quite a few moans, "Ahhhh....Uhhhh...Isshhhh..." and I noticed Kakababu getting frustated. Suddenly, he yelled, "Kire haramjada, maap ta bolbi naki shudhu madam ke chat-tei thakbi?" ("You bastard, are you going to tell me her measurements or are you gonna continue licking her.") This was a direct and insulting comment and as soon as my mom heard it, she leaped out of her elated state and with her left hand pushed Haripada off her plump cheeks. She was now thoroughly ashamed and wanted this to end as soon as possible. Haripada was furious. "Arey ki hoeche bolun toh, Kakababu? Kaj tao thik moton korte deben na naki? Dekhun madam apnar kotha sune ghabre gechen." ("What the hell happened, Kakababu? You're not gonna let me work peacefully, are you? See, you've scared Madam with your words.") My mom was a mess now. She was almost at the point of sobbing. She quickly started gathering her things. "Arey, kothae jachen?" ("Hey, where are you going?") Kakababu almost jumped out of his seat. "Amar kothata sune kharap laglo apnar. Ami toh khali amar bhaipor sthe moja korchilam." ("You felt bad about what I said. I was just messing with my nephew here.") "Na, ajker jno thak, Kakababu. Abar pore eshe petticoat er maap diye jabo. Dhonnobad" ("No, this is it for today, Kakababu. I'll come by later for petticoat measurements. Thanks.") She wore her petticoat and her sari and proceeded to exit the trial room. I thought Haripada was probably going to jump her. But he did no such thing. As she held the door handle, I quickly zipped my pants (again with no relief). While she was coming out, the tailor continuously insisted her on staying but their pleas feel on deaf ears. She came out, took my hand and then walked out. As soon as she reached home, she went into the bathroom and bolted it from the inside. I could hear the shower running. She was probably washing off the heat and urges that were developing on her mature body with each passing day.

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