“That night. The payal. The red zero-watt. Papa on his back. Our mummy naked on him, jumping, riding hard. His one hand on her ass. The other grabbing her boobs. I stood there with the glass and I didn’t only watch.” He swallowed. “I wanted to break the door. I wanted to walk in behind her, put my cock in her ass while she was still bouncing on Papa. She wouldn’t even have to stop riding him. I’d spit, I’d push in, I’d hold those same hips from the back and I’d fuck our mummy’s gaand while Papa was still in her cunt. Every time she jumped she’d take both of us. That’s what I wanted. That’s what I came to in the dark after I left the passage.”
Puja’s fist tightened until he hissed.
“Our mummy stuffed between Papa and you.”
“Yes. Our mummy. Her ass opening for me in that red light. Payal still going. Tits in Papa’s hand. My dick in her ass. I wanted to ruin the marriage bed and still eat breakfast.”
She smeared his precum down the shaft and did not let him finish.
“Hold it. You’re not allowed to spend on our mummy’s name yet.”
Raja’s words came out wrecked, Sonam’s hand twisting just under the head.
“Our mummy. Kalpana. I’d catch her after the bath. Towel too small. I’d take the towel. I’d put her hands on the dressing table and I’d slap that housewife ass until it was red. I’d finger her from behind and ask her about dinner like a bastard. Then I’d shove my cock in her while she’s looking at herself in the mirror. Those big breasts hanging. I’d grab them. I’d suck the marks her bra leaves. I’d call her Mummy while I’m in her to the balls and I’d hate how hard that makes me. I’d pull out and wipe my cock on her petticoat and leave it on the floor.”
Sonam spat on her palm and used it, filthy, shining.
“Our mummy. Say you want her with me in the house.”
“I want our mummy. I want to fuck her in the afternoon when the cooker is still on. I want her to come on my cock and then go put salt in the sabzi with her legs shaking. I want you to hear the bed and know it’s me and still call me Bhaiya in the kitchen.”
Akriti had Vivek so tight his hips kept lifting.
“Our mummy. Anjali. Talk.”
“I’d go in while she’s ‘only washing her face.’ Sari down. Blouse open. That mole on her left breast. I’d put my mouth on the mole first so she knows I looked. I’d get on my knees on the wet tiles and I’d open her legs and I’d lick her until she has to hold the tap. Then I’d stand up and fuck her against the tiles. Our bathroom. Our mummy. My cock. I’d make her say don’t stop. I’d make her say it like she said finish quickly. I’d come on her stomach, rub it in, tie the blouse, and send her to sleep early with my mess under the cloth.”
Akriti laughed, low.
“You want to send our mummy to bed like a client.”
“I want to fuck our mummy till she forgets she’s tired. I want her ass slapping my stomach. I want the neighbours to hear the bed and think it’s Papa. If I don’t, some Arvind will. Some friend of Papa’s will. I’m saying it with your hand on me.”
The three sisters stroked them in the same rhythm, a cruel little engine. Each pair locked: Puja working Sanjay on Aparna; Sonam working Raja on Kalpana; Akriti working Vivek on Anjali.
