The son replaces the father in the marriage bed.. I was the only son of a wealthy family. My father was a business man and we lived in a six bedroom mansion with a pool and tennis court, in its own secluded grounds. Mother was my father’s second wife, his first died childless at an early age. I felt sorry for my mother, she hadn’t had much of a life, forced into an early marriage by her father. How that came about was one year my father’s company had a big celebration, and all his employees and their families were invited to a garden party at the mansion. Since my grandfather was an employee he took my grandmother and his daughter to the celebration where he introduce his wife and daughter to his employer. A week later he came home one night and announced that Maya, his daughter, was to be married to Pradeep Desai his employer.
This was a big step up for my grandfather, because the family was quite poor and he knew that his daughter would not experience the financial restraints that he and his wife suffered. My grandfather received a substantial sum of money, a dowry in reverse, for his daughter. My father paid for everything, purchasing the most expensive traditional Indian wedding costume possible for my mother. The whole event being the most grandest seen in the area. A year later I was born, the first and only child of Pradeep Desai, which made me something special in his eyes.
From what I remember as a child he treated my mother fairly well, I don’t think he was violent towards her, I can’t even remember him raising his voice. However apart from their wedding day he refused to allow my mother to wear his first wife’s jewelry. Also he made her look after the house, by doing all the housework and cook all our meals. Even with his extraordinary wealth, where he could have hired housekeepers and cooks, he kept my mother tied to the house. It was only later I realized he was afraid that if my mother had time on her hands she might find interests outside the estate, and have an affair and run off with a younger man.
As I grew up I was sent to all the best private schools where I would meet likeminded pupils, up until I was ten years old I thought all kids lived like me. I just thought it was normal, never realizing I was living a luxurious life. My views on life began to change when I was ten because at that point I was allowed to wander off the estate on my own to explore the outside world. I knew there was a river close by, but first I began to explore the roads close to the estate, and learn their names, which was when I realized that everyone didn’t have the same life as I had.
After a week of exploring the local roads I headed for the river, a ten to fifteen minute walk from our front gate. It was fascinating. Along the bank there was a five mile stretch consisting of a few shops, a restaurant, and jetties belonging to a sailing club with small yachts moored out in the river. Past the commercial area there are woods and bushes encroaching right up to the river’s edge, and during my exploration I found walks along the bank, as well as very secluded spots where lovers hang out in the evenings.
There was a down side, during one of my expeditions in the woods I ran into a group of boys, obviously from the poorer side of town, and without warning they attacked me beating me to the floor. When I got home all blooded, my mother asked me what happened and just said that I fell out of a tree. The next time I saw the boys I ran for my life, that time they didn’t catch me, but there were several times when they did catch me and got the best of me. I came to the conclusion that if I was going to take a beating, some of them should also feel what it’s like.
I was big and strong for my age, so the next time I bumped into them I didn’t run and gave them nearly as good as they gave me. This happened twice before realizing I was hitting the wrong kids, so next time I ran into them I pointed to their leader and said.
“You’re going down.”
Immediately I jumped on him, knocking him to the floor, and was pummeling his face, before the rest of his gang realized what had happened, and pulled me off. I took another beating but this time there was more blood on my hands than on my face. The paths in the woods were narrow so the next time we met they passed me by in single file. Not a word was spoken neither did we look at each other, things were looking up. The next time we bumped into each other, the same thing happened they passed me in single file, not saying a word, except for the last kid in the line. He stopped in front me and asked my name, I told him “Remi” he nodded and walked on.
Unbeknown to me the next time we met under these circumstance would be the last. As each kid passed me he said my name, Remi; Remi; Remi; Remi; Remi; Remi. Once the last kid had passed me I turned and shouted “Stop” They stopped and turned. “You all know my name but I don’t know yours.” Starting with the leader each stepped forward and said his name, then stood looking at me until the leader said.
“We’re going fishing do you want to come with us?” I nodded and fell in at the back of the line behind the smallest kid, and from that point we became friends. I wasn’t accepted as a gang member because of my situation, but over the years we spent a lot of time in each other’s company.
I was 17 when I became sexually attracted to my mother who was at that time 36. I would constantly watch her movements as she moved around the house, enjoying the jiggle of her breasts beneath her saree or the sway of her ass as she moved. Obviously at that age I did nothing about it because of the presence of my father who was at that time 67.
At 18 I left high school intending to go to college, but my father had other ideas, he wanted me to join him in his business. He said those four years in college would be wasted, because in that time he could teach me to run the company. He began to confide in me that his senior salesperson was defrauding the company, and my father wanted to dismiss him and take over his responsibilities, which meant he would be traveling quite a bit. To do that he needed someone to run the company, and who could he count on more than his own son. So I joined my father and began to learn the ropes and became head of the company in his absence. At first his travelling lasted a day or two which wasn’t too bad, then it became a week then two weeks.
Opportunities began to present themselves when I was 20 years old. My father announced that he was going on a four week business trip and that I would be in charge of the business, with the help of a couple of trusted associates. He left for the airport on the Monday morning giving me a few days to come up with a plan. I considered asking mother to have dinner with me Saturday evening and thought about the restaurant by the river. Afterwards I planned to take her for a stroll along the river bank where the lighting is very poor.
With just the two of us alone in the house, Tuesday morning when I came downstairs, mother was in the kitchen cooking breakfast. I walked up to her put both my arms around her waist and kissed her on the neck.
“That was nice darling what was that for?”
“Just to remind you that I still love you.”
“You’re so sweet.”
Thursday evening on my way to bed I said goodnight and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.
“Your father wouldn’t approve if he saw you do that.”
“I know mom that’s why I don’t do it, but he’s not here. If you object to me kissing you goodnight then I’ll stop it.” She looked at me and never said a word. I turned to leave but then turned back. “Since dad’s not here and he usually takes you out,” which of course was hardly ever, “If I book a table at a restaurant would you like to have dinner with me Saturday evening?” I waited nervously holding my breath waiting for her answer.
“Yes darling that would be very nice.”
Saturday evening I waited nervously at the bottom stairs, hardly recognizing her as she made her way down the stairs. She was a vision dressed in a light green silk dress showing a little cleavage and the dress just long enough to cover her knees. Her hair was longer than I ever imagined and swept across her head to cascade down across her right shoulder to fall across her breast. Never had I seen my mother dressed in the western style, she always dressed in traditional dress. She took the hand I offered to assist her down the last step.
“Mom you look fantastic, you are so beautiful.”
“Thank you darling, you look very hansom too.”
She took my arm when I offered it and we strolled out to my sports car. I opened the car door and watched as she eased herself into the low seat. Her dress rode up above her knees making it impossible for me to take my eyes off her. Transferring my gaze to the little cleavage visible, I could just make out the swell of the top of her breasts. I stood transfixed at this vision until she interrupted my thoughts.
“Remi what are you staring at?”
“Err nothing, I was just thinking that you have never ridden in this car with me before. In fact I don’t think that the two of us have ever been in any car by ourselves without someone being present.” She just looked at me and smiled.
Since it was a warm night I had top down. As we drove along the road the breeze whipped her hair about so it looked like it was lashing her breast. I could see the other breast bouncing around as we sped across the roads uneven surface, and with the hem of her dress pulled up above her knees I could hardly keep my eyes on the road. When we arrived at the restaurant I helped her out of the car, and enjoyed the view as she exposed a little amount of leg, which she didn’t seem too concerned about. Again she took my arm, letting go only when we reached the restaurant door, which I opened, before placing my hand in the small of her back, to usher her through. She stood close to me, our arms touching, as I spoke with the receptionist who confirm my booking and summonsed a waiter to show us to our table.
My feelings for this woman as she sat in front of me looking so beautiful in the subdued lighting was increasing by the second. Several times she looked up from the menu and smiled at me, a smile that could easily be interpreted as sensual. The waiter returned and we selected various courses from the menu.
“Would you like a glass of wine or perhaps a soft drink?”
“A glass of wine would be very nice, thank you.”
I knew my mother’s preference for wines, since it was the same as mine. “Two glasses of white medium to dry house wine if you have it.” The waiter nodded and left. There was very little talking while we ate although I did ask her why I hadn’t seen her wear a dress before.
“Your father likes me to wear only our traditional dress.”
By the time we had finished our meal the small dance floor, which I didn’t know about when I booked the table, was crowded. It was an opportunity to good to miss, officially allowing me to press my body against my mother’s, hoping she would find the touching of our bodies acceptable. I stood up, held out my hand.
“Would you like to dance?”
She looked at me, I thought she was about to decline my offer, instead she took my hand, stood up and said. “I would love to.” She never withdrew her hand from mine as we made our way to the dance floor. It all started off respectably, with me holding her in the traditional ballroom style, and a respectable gap between us. But with all the bumping and jostling our bodies were soon forced together. The way we held each other also needed to change, my mother wrapped her arms around my waist with mine wrapped around her shoulders. We were close, very close, and for the first time I felt my mother’s breasts being squashed against my chest. My arousal was obvious, I’m sure she must have felt me pressing up against her, but neither did she say anything or pull away.