u/Junior_Fox1

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This is something I've never told anyone, and I need to get it off my chest. I'm 28 now, and this started when I was 19.

My dad passed away when I was 16, leaving my mom (52) a widow. She never remarried, never really dated. She and my chachi have always been close—bonded by their shared loneliness, I guess. My chachi married my uncle when she was young, but he was always traveling for work and basically neglected her for years. She never had kids of her own.

When I was 19, my mom noticed I was struggling with dating and basically... offered my chachi to "teach me." I thought it was a joke at first. It wasn't.

The first time happened at our family home when my uncle was away on a business trip. My mom actually set it up—she left the house, told me my chachi was waiting in the guest room, and said "be respectful and learn something." I was shocked, nervous, but also 19 and hormonal. My chachi was 34 then, gorgeous, experienced, and honestly? She was lonely and wanted affection.

That first night was awkward but intense. She took the lead, taught me everything. After that, it became a regular thing. My mom knew—she'd coordinate schedules, make excuses for family gatherings, sometimes even cover for us if people got suspicious.

But about six months in, things shifted. My mom had been watching us, I realized later. She'd listen outside doors, ask my chachi for details. She was lonely too—years without my dad, without any intimacy. One night after my chachi left, my mom sat me down. She was crying, said she missed my dad, missed being touched. She asked if I could... help her too.

I was 20 by then. Confused, but also felt responsible for her happiness. She was my mom, she'd sacrificed everything for me, and she was beautiful for her age—52 but looked younger, took care of herself. That first time with her was different than with my chachi. More emotional, more desperate. She cried afterward, held me, said I was the only man she needed.

So for the past 8 years, I've been sleeping with both of them. My mom during the week at our house, my chachi on weekends or when my uncle travels. They know about each other—sometimes they even coordinate, compare notes, laugh about it. It's this weird secret triangle. My mom says I'm the only man who can satisfy her, that she doesn't want anyone else. My chachi says the same.

Two months ago, my chachi told me she's pregnant. She's 43, I know the risks, but she wants to keep it. Says she's always wanted a child and this is her last chance. My uncle thinks it's his—he was home for a weekend around the time we calculated conception, so the timing works.

My mom knows about the pregnancy. She's jealous, I can tell, but she's also excited in a weird way. Says she'll help raise the baby, that it'll be like having another child in the family

​

I

This is something I've never told anyone, and I need to get it off my chest. I'm 28 now, and this started when I was 19.

My dad passed away when I was 16, leaving my mom (52) a widow. She never remarried, never really dated. She and my chachi have always been close—bonded by their shared loneliness, I guess. My chachi married my uncle when she was young, but he was always traveling for work and basically neglected her for years. She never had kids of her own.

When I was 19, my mom noticed I was struggling with dating and basically... offered my chachi to "teach me." I thought it was a joke at first. It wasn't.

The first time happened at our family home when my uncle was away on a business trip. My mom actually set it up—she left the house, told me my chachi was waiting in the guest room, and said "be respectful and learn something." I was shocked, nervous, but also 19 and hormonal. My chachi was 34 then, gorgeous, experienced, and honestly? She was lonely and wanted affection.

That first night was awkward but intense. She took the lead, taught me everything. After that, it became a regular thing. My mom knew—she'd coordinate schedules, make excuses for family gatherings, sometimes even cover for us if people got suspicious.

But about six months in, things shifted. My mom had been watching us, I realized later. She'd listen outside doors, ask my chachi for details. She was lonely too—years without my dad, without any intimacy. One night after my chachi left, my mom sat me down. She was crying, said she missed my dad, missed being touched. She asked if I could... help her too.

I was 20 by then. Confused, but also felt responsible for her happiness. She was my mom, she'd sacrificed everything for me, and she was beautiful for her age—52 but looked younger, took care of herself. That first time with her was different than with my chachi. More emotional, more desperate. She cried afterward, held me, said I was the only man she needed.

So for the past 8 years, I've been sleeping with both of them. My mom during the week at our house, my chachi on weekends or when my uncle travels. They know about each other—sometimes they even coordinate, compare notes, laugh about it. It's this weird secret triangle. My mom says I'm the only man who can satisfy her, that she doesn't want anyone else. My chachi says the same.

Two months ago, my chachi told me she's pregnant. She's 43, I know the risks, but she wants to keep it. Says she's always wanted a child and this is her last chance. My uncle thinks it's his—he was home for a weekend around the time we calculated conception, so the timing works.

My mom knows about the pregnancy. She's jealous, I can tell, but she's also excited in a weird way. Says she'll help raise the baby, that it'll be like having another child in the family

​

Mom has always been the brains in our family. When Dad and my uncle died in the factory accident nine years ago, she didn't waste time crying in front of others. She sat me down—her nineteen-year-old son—with the property papers spread across her bed.

"My sister-in-law has no son," she said, her hand resting on my thigh. "If she dies childless, everything goes to our cousins in Jalandhar. But if you give her a male heir..." She didn't finish. Just opened her clothes and showed me what my duty was.

Mom made me hers first. Every night in her room, while the servants sleep downstairs. Rough, possessive—she calls me her true heir, her *beta*. Marks me with her nails, makes me swear I'm only hers. Then she arranged me with my aunt—my uncle's widow.

Presented me as a modern solution—young, healthy, our own blood. Aunt is thirty-two, desperate, her biological clock screaming. Mom told her I was a distant cousin's son, a donor who looks familiar because of family features. Aunt believed it. She was hungry for it—for me—within minutes of Mom leaving us alone.

But here's what Mom doesn't know: Aunt figured out I'm not just some donor boy. She thinks I'm her dead husband's spirit reborn or some madness. Now she fucks me like she's trying to keep me. Calls me her king, her son, spreads herself open in the family estate master bedroom where my uncle used to sleep. I've given her three sons—my sons—raised as my uncle's legacy. She wants a fourth now, begs for my seed when Mom sends me over.

I go from Mom's bed to Aunt's. Mom takes me in her ass—says it keeps her tight, keeps me from making her pregnant at her age. Aunt needs me in her pussy, legs wrapped tight, begging for my cum during her fertile days. Neither knows I service both. Neither knows I spend one hour with Mom screaming for her son, then drive ten minutes to Aunt's estate and do it again.

Mom thinks she's the mastermind, running the game. Aunt thinks she's seducing me away from Mom's arrangement.

I'm twenty-eight now. Nine years of being the seed for both women in this family. The property, the mills, the Delhi apartments—it's all consolidating. My sons will inherit everything. And I'm the father to all of it.

Let them scheme. I'm the one actually holding the inheritance.