"Mom, what are you doing?" Lalit's voice trembled as he stood frozen in the doorway of his childhood bedroom. His mother, Poonam, lay sprawled on his bed, her sari hiked up to reveal her shapely legs and the lacy edge of her panties. Her bra-clad breasts heaved with each breath, and her dark eyes smoldered with desire.
Poonam beckoned him closer with a crooked finger, her voice a husky purr. "Come here, beta. Mommy needs you."
Lalit hesitated, his mind reeling. This couldn't be happening. His own mother, the woman who had raised him, was propositioning him. It was wrong, taboo, yet his body betrayed him, his c**k already hardening in his jeans.
"Mom, we can't... It's not right," he stammered, even as his feet carried him closer to the bed.
Poonam sat up, her sari slipping off
