Mamma’s Cute Little Son Pt. 01 by Chootkaanashaa

Mamma’s Cute Little Son Pt. 01 by Chootkaanashaa

Discover the steamy adult sex story of Mamma's adorable little son in Part 01. Get ready for a wild and thrilling read that will leave you begging for more.<br/> All the characters in this story are above the age of eighteen and figments of author’s imagination. Peace. Slow burn.

The monsoon.

After the brutal summer of 2024 made way for the monsoon, Komal heaved a sigh of relief. Finally the skies had opened up and it was pouring down as heavily as it could to quench the thirst of the parched earth. God was indeed kind enough. The sweet music of raindrops striking against her bedroom windows. It always brought alive the old memories.

Komal – a patient coordinator at coastal city’s world famous Get Well Soon Hospital – looked up at her late husband Vikram’s framed photograph and smiled a naughty smile. The garland hanging around the photo frame. Vikram’s radiant smile. His wide eyes shining brightly. They inspired Komal and kept her going.

Vikram was a young pilot who died of a malignant brain tumour at 26 two decades ago. Barely eleven months after their marriage.

When the tragedy befell, Komal — a young widow of twenty two – was seven months pregnant. Devastated as she was, she wanted to end her life following her husband’s untimely demise.

However, she pulled herself together and made a firm decision to start her life all over again following the birth of a baby boy whom she named Rocky.

Soon after giving birth to Rocky, Komal packed her belongings in bags and overnight relocated to a nondescript coastal city in the southern part of India with her toddler in tow. Far from the maddening crowd where nobody knew them.

They were away from the prying eyes of their pesky relatives eager to make matches for the young widow Komal who was yet to come to terms with the cards that her life had dealt her unexpectedly.

She put up a brave face, looked at her life with renewed vigour and determination and made a fresh beginning as a patient coordinator at this famous hospital that provided her with a two-bedroom-one-kitchen accommodation in the Nurses’ Quarters adjoining the hospital.

Years rolled by.

Komal was now a 42-year-old widow in a great shape. She sacrificed her youth for her only son Rocky — a precious gift from her husband with whom she had been in love ever since.

Had she wanted, she could have found herself a suitable man and married him. After all, she was young. She was beautiful. She was talented. She was educated. She was intelligent. But she chose to fight it out and raise her son on her own.

What a courageous woman Komal was!

Rocky grew up to be the star opening batsman of his college cricket team called Royal Eleven. He was a handsome young boy. At 20, he had the world at his feet.

He knew what his single mom had sacrificed for him. He worshipped her. He always ensured to keep her not only in good humour but also took care of her and obeyed her instructions to the dot.

Rocky loved to play cricket. He was the captain of his college cricket team. He was on the verge of getting selected for his state’s cricket team. One day he dreamt of representing his country on the cricket field.

Needless to say that Komal was proud of her son who loved her with all his heart and soul.

**

Komal was aware that her son was now a grown up boy. He was a famous cricketer to boot. Girls were impressed. They wanted to befriend him.

Rocky could talk to any girl he wanted with effortless ease. Komal had seen her son’s confidence and polite manners with women around him. She was glad that her son respected women and left a lasting impression on them.

However, she was always curious to find out whether Rocky had a girlfriend. Was he still a virgin? Komal had never discussed sex with Rocky. She wanted him to take an initiative and ask her questions related to sex. She was aware that these days young children learnt about sex online. She trusted Rocky and took great care to not intrude upon his privacy.

They both lived under the same roof but had separate bedrooms. The house in the Nurses’ Quarter had only one attached bathroom.

The mother-son duo led disciplined lives. Rocky knew his working mother’s shift timings. And, he followed an unwritten rule of the household. His mother was the breadwinner of the family. She deserved to get ready first in the morning. After Komal was ready and left home for work, it was Rocky’s turn to get ready and leave for college.

Komal had trained Rocky from a young age to do all the household chores. Rocky was an expert at doing the dishes and cleaning the house.

After Komal purchased a washing machine, she taught Rocky to put all the dirty clothes into the washing machine along with washing powder and turn it on without altering the pre-programmed settings. After the washing machine had completed its task, it was Rocky’s responsibility to take out the clothes and spread them across the clothesline.

Rocky – being an obedient son that he was – loved to do these tasks. He was ever ready to please his doting mother. Every time Komal smiled at Rocky with pride, he felt as though he had hit a bouncer off a fast bowler for a six with loud cheers emanating from the stands.

**

Secret Diary

There was a secret safe tucked away inside Rocky’s room. Komal alone had the key to that safe in which she preserved all the important documents.

Owing to persistent back pain, Komal was on leave today. She wanted to check a bank certificate pertaining to the date of maturity of the fixed deposit kept inside the safe in Rocky’s name.

He was away in college on a typical rainy morning that this coastal city was famous for. The city would assume a hue of green every time it rained.

In the upmarket neighbourhood, people loved to watch the heavenly downpour from the safety of the balconies of their posh flats with hot coffee mugs in hands.

Komal let herself in to Rocky’s room and was pleasantly surprised at a well made bed with everything neatly arranged. Rocky was a careful son who never gave his mother an opportunity to complain as far as tidiness in his room was concerned.

Komal gingerly sat on his son’s bed and opened that secret safe. She rummaged through the documents and made a mental note of the date of maturity mentioned on the FD certificate from the bank. Satisfied, she locked up the safe and pushed it back into the wall when her eyes caught a red diary tucked underneath Rocky’s pillow.

The curiosity got better of Komal and soon she found herself turning the pages of her son’s secret diary written in a lucid prose.

The handwriting was crisp and perfectly legible. She knew that her son was famous for stroke making on the cricket field. But she had never realised that his writing strokes were as beautiful as his prowess with the cricket bat.

**

I have been struggling with my conscience a lot of late. A turmoil within. A look of calm and serenity outside. What an actor I must be! It is an Oscar worthy performance.

Why is it happening? At first, I denied. I refused to acknowledge. No, it cannot be so. It feels so utterly wrong. That too at so many levels.

Then it was Shreya who hit the nail on the head. I know you are wondering who is Shreya.

Well, let me introduce Shreya.

She is my junior in the college. She is from Assam. She is a drop dead gorgeous babe. Lovely legs. Shapely thighs. Round buttocks. Flat tummy. And, big bosoms. Too big for someone who just turned nineteen. Her eyes. Her innocent smile. No wonder she has stolen my heart.

She is in our coastal city for her Bachelor of Business Management Course. She is in the second year. I am in the third year. We met at a New Year Party to usher in 2024 and hit it off instantly.

To be honest, I had seen her before many times in the stands amongst cricket crazy spectators. But I spoke to her for the first time at the party.

You know what. Shreya is a big cricket fan. She follows the game with unmatched passion. Every time my team plays, she is there in the stands cheering for us.

We have recently started seeing each other after staying in touch for over five months. Yes, it was she who asked me out. I merely went with the flow. And, as they say, “The rest is history”.

We decided to meet at Diesel Café for dinner on a rain soaked Saturday evening. I told my mom that I was hanging out with my cricket team for a strategy meet and would be back home after dinner.

Shreya turned up wearing a cream chiffon gown. Her radiant smile. Her sparkling eyes. Her hairstyle. Her style of talking and laughing. Oh my God! They distinctively reminded me of someone whom I have known since my childhood.

I was dumbfounded. She was the first girl with whom I had agreed to go out on a date. And, a part of me knew why I had agreed.

As if on a cue, she asked, “Why are you looking so lost? Am I reminding you of your ex?”

The music. The dimly lit restaurant. The hubbub. The clanking of cutlery. The bow-tied waiters. The order trays laden with delicious food items. It was as though the time had come to a standstill. Was I dreaming?

“I do not have an ex, darling. You are my first girlfriend.”

“Smart pick up line. But I am not impressed. Better luck next time, you opening batsman.”

I made no reply. I quietly continued to eat fried rice and veg curry. She kept smiling at me while shovelling French Fries into her sexy mouth.

**

Komal wiped beads of sweat across her forehead with the hem of her dress. She knew that her son was a bright student who scored straight A’s in every exam. But little did she know that he kept a secret diary and wrote such beautiful prose.

The last entry in the diary was made barely twelve hours ago. Before going to bed, her son wrote down everything in a page turner of a diary. She pursed her lips and fought with her conscience. A voice inside her head whispered, “Komal, this is wrong. Stop it.”

Ignoring the voice, she turned the page and a postcard slipped down. It landed facedown into her lap. Komal picked it up and turned it around slowly with her heart beating against her ribcage. The moment she saw the face on the postcard, the lightning accompanied by thunder struck.

Komal’s blood froze in her veins. The face staring back at her from the postcard was eerily similar to her face from two decades ago when she was in her early twenties.