Indian Yoni Puja with Mother Ch. 03

** This is a work of fiction. It contains absolutely no truth -- even the bits that sound plausible. Any references to Hindu culture, creed and religion are entirely fictitious, and I'd like to apologise in advance for my gross misrepresentation I've made. The characters in this story are not based on any real persons, nor is the story based on any real events. It's a story people, enjoy it for it is. **

** This story is about incest between an Indian mother and her son -- both of whom are adults. If you don't like this subject matter, move along. **

** Hindi is not my first language so please forgive my poor use of Hindi grammar and vocabulary. I've tried to have the characters speak in both Hindi and English to give them some authenticity while trying not to alienate English speaking readers. I'm not sure it works, perhaps you can be the judge**

** Finally, please take the time to leave comments on what you thought. I welcome all constructive criticisms. Praise works nicely too.**

I expected the rest of the day to be a repeat of the previous week with minimal conversation and interaction between me and mother. She had rushed away quickly after the yoni puja ritual so I presumed that she was maybe embarrassed about it.

I'd seen her at her most vulnerable and as beautiful a sight as it was to see her panting and gasping in sexual delirium, it was also a very personal and private act and one that a son doesn't usually get to experience with his mother. It's certainly not one that mother ever thought she'd undertake with me and her discomfort at the situation had been plane to see.

What had happened had happened. As with all things of this crazy nature, I couldn't see how things could go back to they were before. I can't un-see what I had seen and I can't undo what I had done. I had masturbated my mother. She'd been pleasured by her son. That truth would no doubt resonate with us for the next few days at least.

Things were slightly different; however, as I didn't receive the same cold shoulder treatment as I had before. Instead mother was actually quite amiable. Not quite chatty but definitely a bit more conversational. To be honest, I wasn't really capable of that much conversation myself. My mind was only thinking about one thing.

All I could think about was the yoni puja ritual and if we were to talk about anything, that should be it. However, that appeared to be the only topic she would not raise. Instead there were short banal exchanges about which one of my shirts needing washing, what groceries I'd need to buy from the bazaar, whether I was going to finally fix the satellite tv connection, etc.

The day passed quickly with mother following her usual routines of housework and meal preparation. We even sat together to watch some tv in the evening, as strange as it sounds. It's as if this morning hadn't happened and in a weird way I even began questioning in my mind whether it had or not.

I guessed that she found it easier to accept the ritual mentally if it meant it didn't change anything in her day to day life. As if it was something aside and apart from her normal duties and function.

That night I jacked off like never before. It was the 5th time that day I'd masturbated in fact. All I could do was imagine once again the sights and smells of my mother's beautiful juicy pussy. The way it quivered and pulsated as I'd pumped my fingers into her. The way she'd thrust her cunt up to meet my digital assault and the sudden gush of ejaculate that sprayed out as she climaxed. It had been a mind blowing experience and I fell asleep that night wondering whether it was the first of many yoni puja sessions or whether this would be the end of it.

********

I was woken the next morning by a soft knocking on my bedroom door.

"Betah, have you woken yet. It is already 8 o'clock."

I jumped up and out of bed as I realised I was going to be late for work. I picked up my mobile phone from the dresser to find that I hadn't remembered to set my morning alarm the previous night.

I quickly rushed to get cleaned up and get dressed for work. Mother called to me from the kitchen asking what I wanted for breakfast but I really didn't have the time to eat. Like all mothers she complained sweetly about how important breakfast was and for a moment I was sad to break her heart by not staying to eat. Unfortunately, the call-centre industry can be quite ruthless and any tardiness was an easy excuse to get rid of people. Not that excuses are all that necessary in a country with no employee rights.

I didn't get much time at work to think of anything other than getting those calls in. Call after call after call, each time listening to people explain how they weren't interested in getting a free mobile phone. I had the usual mix of attitudes from our foreign customers -- racist abuse was just part of the job for us. At first I had been quite upset by it but now it didn't bother me. I'd learned that a person abusing me on the phone was just extending my opportunity to sell to them. The only useless calls for me were the ones that ended quickly, didn't get picked up, or were handed to someone who clearly couldn't make a decision to buy, like a child. Anyone else, anyone who was able to give a name and address was fine by me -- it was a potential sale.

You'll be surprised to know that I hadn't even thought of my mother again the whole day till I was almost home that evening. As I approached our apartment, those images filled my mind again and I cursed myself for getting aroused right as I was about to enter the front door. I shifted uncomfortably to hide my erection as I came in and was glad to find my mother didn't happen to be passing at that point. I have no idea how I'd managed to conceal a raging hard-on from her for so long!

"Ma? Kahaan ho? Where are you? Koi khana milega kya? Will I get any food?" I was absolutely famished, having not had breakfast and also working through lunch to make up for my lateness that morning.

"Aarahan houn, betah. I'm coming." Mother emerged from the prayer room wearing one of her plain cotton sarees. "Kahatha na meiney? Dekhliya keysa lagta hai agar subha khana nehi khaya? See what happens when you don't have breakfast?"

She shook her head as she passed me, smiling in mock frustration at my poor eating habits. It was hard not love this woman's delightful mannerisms, even as my damn cock twitched right at that moment.

"Mein abhi khana banaata houn, I'll make something to eat." She called form the kitchen. "Baad mein..."

She paused for a few seconds making me wonder what was up.

"Khaney ki baad...yoni ki puja karogey?" She added innocently as if she was asking me something as innocuous as setting the table or tidying my room.

"Kya? What?" I asked, poking my head into the kitchen to check I'd heard her correctly.

My presence startled her as she looked over her shoulder at me, her face was suddenly blushing and she seemed a little nervous and unsure of herself. It was cute seeing her in discomfort. I felt a bit of a thrill watching her feel so uneasy as our mother-son relationship was momentarily turned on its head and she was seeking direction from me. She looked away in shyness and continued in an almost squeaking tone. "Yoni ka puja karma hein. Guru sahib ne kahan... We need to perform the yoni puja ritual. The Guru said that...."

She trailed off her sentence, her voice having become an inaudible squeak.

She nervously adjusted her pallu, then her hair, then her pallu again, clearly uncomfortable and embarrassed to have to ask me such a thing. She turned as if to busy herself with some pots and pans though not actually seeming to achieve anything in particular, no doubt waiting to see what I would say.

I didn't respond for the moment, choosing instead to let her feel uneasy for a bit. I had to admit I felt a bit of giddy thrill from the thought of this life long figure of maternal authority turn into this trembling little girl so easily.

"Abhi karloun? We can do the ritual now." I said, eventually giving her an answer. She turned around to find my eyes fixed on hers and she blushed even further, her face turning a delightful pink. She shied her face away again feeling self conscious.

"Lekhin thumne khana nehi khaya. But you havn't eaten yet." Her voice was unsteady and barely a whisper.

"Khana baad mein deydo. Aagey yoni ka puja karloun hum. I can eat later, Lets perform puja first." I said, plainly, enjoying the control she seemed to have inadvertently handed to me. I was the one telling her that we should perform the yoni puja ritual now and not the other way round. It was weird, last night I'd worried about ever getting the chance to doing it again and here was me telling my mother we're going to be doing it now. Strange how things turn out.

"Shayed, Yoni ka ashirvaad na payi tho lakta hay us Callcentre ko bachney ka aadat nehin hey, ma. How else will I survive the bloody call centre without any yoni blessings?" I added, smiling while trying to ease the tension a little. Slipping in a little cheeky joke was a bit risky. Mother still saw the yoni puja ritual as very much a religious act so joking about it had a good chance of offending her -- and ending any potential chance of a repeat of yesterday probably.

Mother chuckled nervously at first, and as her body seemed to relax, she joined me for a little playful giggle. I jokingly pinched her nose and went to poke her a few times, playfully pretending to tickle her as we had done many times in the past. We laughed together for a bit, both of us coming to ease and enjoying the mutual release of tension.

"Bus, bus betah." She pleaded as her cute girlish laughed slowed and ended in a wide smile across her warm and beautiful face. She told me to go and put my prayer clothes on with an intoxicating hint of excitement and adoration in her eyes.

I rushed with a spring in my step to my bedroom to get dressed. My head was buzzing with sexy images of my mother while my cock throbbed and ached within the confines of my pants. In moments I was dressed and hurrying to the prayer room to find my already seated mother in the lotus position and rocking back and forth in silent prayer to Ganesha.

I sat down quietly and joined her in prayer, clutching my hands together and holding them up to Ganesha to think him for the glorious ritual I was about to perform once again. I tiny part of me felt like a right shit, but a much more louder part of my body throbbed with an urgency, reminding me of just how many years I'd lusted after this wonderful woman and why it was my duty to myself to subvert the holy nature of this sacred ceremony in order to satisfy my perverted needs to see and play with her cunt. It was a matter of personal development, sanity and simple motherfucking dickishness.

As I turned to face my mother I found her beaming with pride having rarely seen so much enthusiasm from me in performing any kind of religious ritual. Strangely it didn't seem to occur to her that her son was excited because he was a pervert, not because he cared one iota about the ritual. Of course, I felt a little guilty to be deceiving her, but in the grand scheme of things, wasn't it better this way? Surely it was better that she felt happy with the arrangement, this way we both get what we need. I get pussy, she gets a ritual-happy son. Everybody wins.

Just like the previous day, mother brought the stool to the centre of the room, lifted up the skirts of her saree and positioned herself on it. She shifted around a few times to find the position she felt most comfortable, before eventually settling down and splaying her thighs open to present her glorious pussy to me once more.

She was a lot more comfortable today and even smiled warmly as she once again explained the importance of the ritual and the meaning of each of the actions. It was a surreal experience listening to her talking about how I must massage the external and the internal of the yoni, how the secretions of the yoni bless the coconut milk with the strength of the earth mother, Kaali.

It was surprising how the thought of performing some kind of sacred ritual made the whole thing palatable for her. Flashing her gorgeous lady gash would have been a completely abhorrent thing for her to even consider doing. Yet right now, she practically beamed at me and showed no embarrassment at all in parading her sex like this.

She spoke with polite patience and diligence, describing in detail the religious significance of a yoni, its properties and its symbolism. I'm not sure I was listening. It's hard to listen when you have your fantasies coming true in front you. I was too fixated on the hot pussy presented to me, barely able to conceal my delight as she herself drew my attention to it periodically just in case I wasn't listening. As if I was going to look anywhere else??

I inspected her sex with hungry eyes. Her cunt was a beautiful pink and brown, darker towards the centre and more rosy around the outside where it blended into the pearly white of her soft skin. Large and fleshy outer lips, framed thicker heavy set and curly inner lips. They looked like they were pouting like some delicate flower waiting to be kissed. They wobbled ever so slightly as she shifted her weight around the stool, quivering in anticipation. I imagined them parting and sliding down my invading cock, settling over the base of my shaft to place a silky soft wet kiss there while forming an airtight seal around my manhood to keep me safe and snug in her velvety cunt. Her folds were already glistening with moisture while her sensual feminine fragrance filled the air to tantalise my senses and tickle my nostrils, seducing me with her natural womanly smell.

I looked up at her and blinked a couple of times as I realised she'd just asked me something and was waiting a response.

"Uhm... Kya bola aapney?" I replied dumbly.

She smiled patiently, even rolled her eyes in mock frustration at her inattentive son. She even appeared to be quite pleased that I was so captivated by her yoni, spreading her thighs a little wider and pushing her ass a little further forward off the stool, seeming to bring it just a little closer to me. I smiled quietly as her delightfully thick pussy folds jiggled a little more as she did so.

"Arey nasamja, Silly boy..." She said playfully, her smile wide and beaming. "...Meiney kahaan ke usko mera neechy raaklo, jayso woh nariyel ka dud usmey padey. Place the bowl under me to catch the blessed coconut milk." She said as she nudged her chin towards the ceramic bowl.

I did as I was told and shuffled up closer to her, sitting in-between her wide open thighs and slipping the bowl underneath her ass. I leaned in closer, closer than necessary to perform the ritual but my mother didn't seem to mind. In fact she actually shuffled her ass even further forward and made more of overt gesture of presenting her cunt up to me. I inhaled deeply at her cunt, letting the musky odour titillate my senses. My mother looked at me curiously but said nothing.

I ran the palms of my hands along her inner thighs, bringing them together at her apex, holding them either side of her sex as if to frame it. I repeated this a few times, my motions emphasising to her how open and accessible she had made herself to me. I looked up at her, catching a confused expression cross her face, curious about the giddy thrill she felt from suddenly feeling a little vulnerable.

And so I began the ritual once again. Washing her first with the coconut milk, massaging it into her skin, paying keen attention to soaking her engorged labia and running my fingers up and down along her crevices. Her cunt responded immediately as I felt warm slick juices coat my fingertips as they played over her entrance. I brought my fingers up to my lips and ran my tongue over them, sucking each saline finger into my mouth and sucking off the slimy juices.

She was watching me still, trembling a little now at the sight of her son, sat poised so eagerly at her most delicate and private place. She felt goose pimples appear down her arms and legs, as she tried hard to mentally focus on the sacred symbolism of the ritual. Even as she did so, her stare looked distant and her eyes slightly glazed, giving her expression an enchanting lusty quality.

Yesterday, the mere fact of having me perform the yoni puja for her had troubled and terrified her so much, that she'd coped by staring at the ceiling, embarrassed to look at me while she was so lewdly exposed. Today, she felt an unexpected thrill at seeing me there, the realisation of which aroused and frightened her in equal measure.

I massaged her slick juices all over her pussy as she mewed and gasped quietly, trying to focus hard on reminding herself that being pleasured was an important part of the ritual and it was ok to allow it to happen. Her pussy lips made smacking and squelching sounds as they slid over, under and against each other as my fingers continued to massage them.

Placing a finger either side of her pussy I spread her lips apart and eyed the pink flesh of her inner cunt, now exposed after having been concealed away behind the protective coat of her curly inner labia. They parted like a sensual veil, opening up to reveal their precious and most private possession. They reminded me of a trembling virgin bride, disrobed slowly and earnestly by her groom, pledging herself and surrendering her innocence up to him. I thought about how much I wanted it to be just like that between mother and me. She offering herself to me, pledging herself, drawing me into her precious place and promising that it was now mine. For eternity.

Her entrance was surprisingly small with a stream of slick pussy juice pouring out and down into the crevice of her ass. The smooth bud of her clitoris peeked out shyly from under its heavy hood, hoping tentatively to receiving love and stimulation as it throbbing with a long forgotten hunger and urgency.

I zeroed in on that sensitive nub and made quick strokes from side to side over the top of the curly hood. I pressed firmly as the fleshy curls of skin buckled and folder over each other and made cute clicking and smacking sounds under my fingers. The sudden stimulation at that sensitive bud made her gasp and moan, her brow furrowing as she watched me intently through lust filled eyes. My fingers played quickly across her slick fleshy hood, occasionally sliding down to her opening to reapply more cunt grease to my fingers tips.

Soon I was rubbing her clit furiously, switching between firm circular motions to quick side to side swipes until she stiffened and groaned as her first orgasm washed over her trembling body. A gush of clear fluid ejected from her cunt, spraying against my fingers to splish-splash all over her crotch and thighs and drain down the crevice of her ass and into the waiting bowl of coconut milk underneath.

Before she could settle from that peak, my fingers returned again to that engorged nub of sensitive flesh and with a couple of quick swipes she erupted again. Even as her legs trembled I continued to work her clit, bringing her to climax twice more before she had to pull my hand away.

"Bas, bas behta. No more." She panted, her clit too sensitive to touch now.

I watched as her cunt twitched from residual spasms, her heavy folds quivering and her entrance seeming to pulse, undulating in tiny motions. I placed my palm flat against her sex and massaged it slowly, soothing it with gentle rhythmic motions as her orgasmic shocks subsided and she was beginning to beath calmly once again.

She smiled at me with a vulnerability I'd not seen in a long time, giddy from her orgasm yet uneasy with how readily her body was yielding itself. Her cheeks were rosy and her face flushed. It conveyed a warmth and gratitude, as if pleased that her puja partner was so masterful at performing the ritual and so attentive of the yoni, understanding its needs and drawing out its climaxes so expertly.