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Chapter 1: Pehli Raat Ka Raaz
Date: Friday, 20 December 2024 – Saturday, 21 December 2024
Location: Sharma Family Bungalow, Lokhandwala Complex, Andheri West, Mumbai
The December evening in Mumbai was pleasantly cool. Arjun Sharma stepped out of the auto-rickshaw at around 7:40 PM, his college bag heavy on his shoulder. The festive lights of Lokhandwala were already up — small Christmas decorations twinkling on some balconies even though Christmas was still five days away.
He pushed open the iron gate of the spacious independent bungalow. The house smelled of Laxmi’s cooking the moment he entered.
“Arjun beta, aa gaye? Jaldi haath-muh dho aur dinner ke liye table pe baith jao,” Mom Vatsala’s warm voice floated from the dining area.
Mom Vatsala Sharma, 39, was the anchor of the family. Fair-skinned, curvaceous, and always dressed modestly at home, she wore a simple cream cotton saree with a red border that evening. Her long wavy black hair was tied in a neat bun with a few loose strands framing her face.
“Haan Mummy,” Arjun replied politely and headed straight to his room on the first floor to freshen up.
Downstairs, the house was alive with the usual Friday evening rhythm. Laxmi (45), the senior cook, was stirring sabzi in the open kitchen. Radha (32) was setting the dining table. Meena (28) was folding fresh napkins. In the background, Driver Raju had just parked the SUV after dropping Dad from office, while Ramu was watering the small lawn outside.
By 8:15 PM, everyone had gathered at the large wooden dining table.
Dad Ajay Sharma, 43, sat in his usual chair, still wearing his office shirt with sleeves rolled up. “Arjun, college kaise gaya aaj? Semester exams ki preparation shuru kar di na?”
“Haan Papa, theek chal rahi hai,” Arjun answered respectfully while taking his seat.
Dada Ji Ram Prakash Sharma, 68, occupied the head of the table like the undisputed head of the family. Strong-built even at his age, with short white hair and a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, he nodded approvingly. “Padhai pe pura dhyan rakho beta. Life mein kuch banna hai toh mehnat karni padegi.”
Dadi Sushma Sharma, 65, smiled gently and served homemade curd. Elder Sister Shweta (23) and Younger Sister Sakshi (20) were chatting about their college assignments and some upcoming Christmas plans with friends.
The conversation stayed light and completely normal throughout dinner.
“Christmas ke din Nana ke ghar Oshiwara jaane ka plan bana rahe hain,” Mom Vatsala said while passing the roti basket. “Chachi Vidhya aur Tushar bhi aa rahe hain. Sab milkar thoda time spend kar lenge.”
“Ji Mummy, theek hai,” Arjun replied, focused on his plate.
No one would have guessed that anything unusual ever happened inside these walls. The servants moved around quietly doing their work. Drivers chatted softly outside near the parked cars. The family talked about studies, food, traffic, and the upcoming holiday weekend like any other respectable joint family in Mumbai.
Dinner ended around 9:45 PM. Everyone helped clear the table. Laxmi and Radha washed the dishes while Meena wiped the counters. By 10:30 PM, the house gradually fell silent. Lights were switched off one by one. Arjun, Shweta, and Sakshi went to their rooms on the first floor. Dad and Mom retired to their bedroom. Dada Ji and Dadi went to their ground-floor bedroom.
Arjun tried to sleep, but the pressure of upcoming semester exams kept him tossing and turning. Around 2:15 AM, his throat felt parched. He got up quietly, wearing only his grey t-shirt and loose pajama bottoms, and headed downstairs for water.
The corridor on the ground floor was dimly lit by a single night bulb. As he passed Dada Ji’s bedroom door, he noticed a faint strip of light coming from underneath. The door was not fully closed — there was a two-inch gap.
Then he heard it.
A soft, feminine sigh. Followed by the rustling of clothes and low murmuring.
Arjun’s heart skipped a beat. He knew he should turn around and go back upstairs, but curiosity pulled him forward. He stopped right outside the door and peered through the narrow gap.
Inside Dada Ji’s bedroom, the table lamp was on, casting a warm yellow glow over the room.
Mom Vatsala was standing in the middle of the room, facing Dada Ji.
Dada Ji, still wearing his white kurta, slowly pulled the pallu of Mom’s cream saree off her shoulder. The pallu slid down smoothly, revealing the deep neckline of her tight red blouse. Mom’s heavy breasts rose and fell rapidly with her breathing.
Without a word, Dada Ji began unpinning the saree. One by one the pins came off. He tugged the fabric gently. The saree loosened and fell in a heap at Mom’s feet, leaving her standing in just her red blouse and matching petticoat. Her deep navel and soft, curvy waist were now fully exposed.
Dada Ji’s hands moved to the hooks of her blouse. He opened them slowly, deliberately. As the blouse fell open, Mom’s large, heavy breasts spilled out, barely contained by her black bra. Her nipples were already visibly hard, poking against the thin fabric.
He stepped closer, cupped both breasts from below, and squeezed them gently. Mom let out a soft sigh and closed her eyes for a moment.
“Sasur ji…” she whispered.
Dada Ji pulled her into a deep kiss. Their lips met slowly at first, then the kiss grew hungry. Tongues tangled wetly. Mom’s hands went around his neck as she pressed her body against him. Dada Ji’s hands roamed freely — squeezing her waist, caressing her back, then sliding down to grip her round hips over the petticoat.
After a long, passionate kiss, he turned her around so her back was against his chest. His hands slid inside the open blouse, pushing the bra cups up and freeing her breasts completely. He began kneading them, rolling her stiff nipples between his fingers. Mom moaned softly, her head falling back on his shoulder.
Dada Ji’s right hand moved lower. He untied the knot of her petticoat with one tug. The petticoat slid down her thick thighs and pooled at her ankles. Mom stepped out of it, now standing in only her black bra (pushed up) and matching black panties.
His fingers traced the waistband of her panties teasingly, then slowly pushed them down. The panties slid down her smooth legs, revealing her clean-shaven pussy. A thin trail of wetness was already glistening on her inner thighs.
Mom was now completely naked in front of her 68-year-old father-in-law.
Dada Ji quickly removed his own kurta and pajama. His thick, veiny lund sprang free, hard and leaking precum at the tip.
He turned Mom around again and gently pushed her onto the bed on her back. Climbing on top of her, he kissed her neck, then moved down to her breasts, sucking hard on one nipple while pinching the other. Mom arched her back, moaning louder.
“Vatsala… kitni garam ho gayi hai tu aaj,” he growled, his hand sliding between her legs. His thick fingers rubbed her wet clit in slow, teasing circles.
Mom gasped and spread her thighs wider. “Sasur ji… please… mat tadpao mujhe…”
Dada Ji positioned the thick head of his lund at her entrance. He rubbed it up and down her slippery slit a few times, coating himself with her juices, deliberately teasing her.
Then, with one powerful thrust, he buried his entire thick lund deep inside her chut in a single stroke.
“Aaaahhh… madarchod sasur ji!” Mom cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Itna mota… poora andar ghusa diya… faad di meri chut!”
Dada Ji started fucking her with long, deep, powerful strokes. The wet slapping sound of flesh against flesh filled the room.
“Le randi bahu… le apne sasur ka lund… teri chut aaj bhi bilkul tight aur geeli hai saali… har raat chodta hoon phir bhi nahi bharati!” he grunted, pounding her harder and faster.
Mom wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Haan… zor se pelo… meri randi chut ko faad do… Ajay upar so raha hai aur main yahan apne sasur se chudwa rahi hoon… aur zor se… meri chut mein apna garam maal bhar do aaj raat!”
Dada Ji increased his pace, slamming into her mercilessly. Mom’s heavy breasts bounced wildly with every thrust. Her moans turned completely shameless.
“Faad do… faad do meri chut ko madarchod sasur… main aa rahi hoon… nikaal do mera paani!”
With a deep, animalistic groan, Dada Ji buried himself to the hilt and exploded inside her. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded Mom’s chut as she came hard, her entire body shaking violently beneath him, toes curling in ecstasy.
They stayed locked together for almost a minute, breathing heavily, sweat glistening on their bodies. Thick white cum slowly leaked out from where Dada Ji’s lund was still buried deep inside her.
Arjun stood frozen outside the door, his legs trembling, his own lund painfully hard inside his pajamas. He had just watched his gentle, respectable mother get slowly stripped, passionately kissed, teased, and then brutally fucked by his own grandfather — begging for it like a complete randi the entire time.
The same Mom who had lovingly served him food and reminded him to study just a few hours earlier was now lying naked on Dada Ji’s bed, her chut overflowing with her sasur’s cum.
Arjun quietly backed away, heart hammering, and rushed to the bathroom. He locked the door, pulled down his pajama, and jerked off furiously, cumming within seconds while those filthy words kept ringing in his ears:
“Le madarchod sasur ji… faad do meri chut ko…”
When he finally returned to his room, sleep was impossible. The images kept replaying — Mom’s saree falling, her breasts spilling out, her legs wrapped around Dada Ji, her shameless moans.
He had discovered the first dark secret of his family.
And deep down, he already knew this was only the beginning.
