"How do I reconcile this?" she asked. "Being in love with my own son?"I just sat there, swimming in the depths of her admission. "I don't think you ca...," I answered finally. "No more than I can reconcile being in love with you, mum." But it's so wrong, Mark." I know that, mum."A car passed by outside and I swear I heard every tread on the road. The rfridge in the kitchen kicked on, and roared deafeningly. The wall clock counted the seconds off tick-tick-tick, loud enough to shake the wall. We. Her name was Madhu and she was a housewife. Madhu was average looking with long hair, around 5.4” tall. She had a medium figure with shapely boobs and a nice ass. She usually wore salwar kameez and sometimes denims etc. In the lift I got to know more. She was a post graduate and seemed intelligent. She was a soft spoken lady. As she walked out of the lift, I observed her walk, which kind of aroused me. Though, I never thought anything beyond talking.Time went by and I used to bump into Madhu. More

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