She had become their cool mummy.
And none of them — including her — knew exactly where this new openness was going to lead.
Sunday morning in the small Saket Vihar flat felt different. The usual rush of school and coaching was absent. Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains in the hall. Divyansh and Ajay were getting ready to go out for groceries and mutton. Santi had told them the previous night that she wanted to cook something special for lunch — mutton curry — and the boys had happily volunteered to go to the market.
Himanshu, however, said he was feeling a bit lazy and wanted to stay back and study a little. No one suspected anything.
By 9:30 am, Divyansh and Ajay left the flat, locking the door behind them. They said they might take time because the Sunday market would be crowded and they had to buy other things too.
Inside the flat, only Himanshu and Santi remained.
Santi decided to take a long, relaxing bath. She had been feeling a strange mix of emotions since last night’s long talk. She had opened up more than she ever had with anyone. She went into the bathroom, removed her nighty, and stood under the shower. The water was warm. She lathered her body slowly — first her arms, then her full breasts, her flat stomach, and finally between her legs. Water droplets ran down her smooth skin, over her dark nipples, and down to her neatly trimmed pubic area. She looked at herself in the small mirror above the sink. At 39, her body was still attractive — firm breasts, soft curves at the hips, and a face that still turned heads.
What she didn’t know was that Himanshu had been waiting for exactly this moment.
The moment the bathroom door closed, he quietly moved. There was a small crack near the bottom hinge of the bathroom door — big enough for a clear view if someone crouched properly. Yesterday’s events had already made him restless. Seeing her in the loose nighty, helping him and Divyansh so intimately, and then becoming the “cool mummy” had kept him awake half the night. Now, with the other two gone, he couldn’t control himself.
He dropped his lowers and underwear completely, took out his phone, switched to video mode, and positioned himself at the crack.
What he saw made his cock instantly hard.
Santi was standing under the shower, completely naked. Water was cascading over her body. She was soaping her breasts — lifting them, rubbing in circles, her dark nipples hardening under her own touch. She bent slightly to soap her legs and thighs, giving him a clear view of her pussy from behind. She turned around, facing the door unknowingly, and continued soaping her stomach and between her legs. Her fingers moved over her clit for a few seconds longer than necessary — perhaps unconsciously. Himanshu recorded everything in full detail — her wet naked body, the way her breasts moved, the water running down her smooth skin, the close-up view of her pussy as she washed it.
He stroked his cock slowly while recording, trying not to make any sound.
After almost fifteen minutes, Santi finished bathing. She turned off the shower, squeezed the water from her hair, and wrapped a small white towel around her body. The towel was just big enough to cover her breasts and reach mid-thigh. Water was still dripping from her hair and running down her legs.
