My Memoirs with My Mother

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

I remember it was lunchtime one day after school. My mother was 170cm tall, slim, with long hair and a decent appearance. Because I resemble my mother more, I inherited her height; I'm 180cm tall and also slim, and I don't gain weight easily.

My mother worked at a nearby electronics factory, I think she assembled some large parts. Since it was close to home, she would buy lunch to eat at noon. I had just finished my midterms, and when I saw my mother come home, she asked me how the exams went. I said I did well, and then I deliberately asked if I would get a prize if I improved. My mother asked how much allowance I wanted. I hesitated and said I didn't need the allowance; I wanted my mother to masturbate me, just once.

My mother was shocked. She asked me why I had such thoughts, and I blurted out that some mothers abroad help their sons masturbate. I was really driven by lust at the time, and my words were incoherent. My mother scolded me severely, telling me not to think such things, and then she went to work. Afterwards, I really regretted it; I shouldn't have blurted it out so quickly.

Later that evening, my mother was cooking in the kitchen. I stood at the kitchen door, staring intently at her buttocks. My mother is 170cm tall, and her beautiful buttocks, paired with her tight jeans, had already made my penis hard for a long time. I was so stupid at that moment that I went to my mother and asked her to come to the bathroom with me, since the bathroom was right next to the kitchen. I saw my mother keep asking her to come over, and in the end, she still came into the bathroom with me.

I even locked the door, the kind with a loudspeaker. My mother asked what was wrong, and I immediately pulled down my pants and underwear, revealing my penis. It was of normal length, but very thick.

My mother looked at my penis, the pink glans stretching the foreskin. I deliberately used my right hand to stroke it, and said to her, "I've been trying for so long, but I can't ejaculate. What should I do?" I know this is stupid, but I didn't think much about it at the time. Looking back now, it was incredibly idiotic.

My mother actually got anxious and said she didn't know what to do. I told her to use her hand to stroke it for me. In the end, my mother actually stretched out her right hand and used a normal grip, not the reverse grip like in porn movies where you kneel on the ground.

At that moment, I felt my scheme had succeeded. Unexpectedly, my mother stroked my penis a couple of times, and when some of the secretions from the tip got on her hand, she quickly rinsed it with the tap, telling me to rinse with cold water myself, and then left, leaving me slightly bewildered. But the feeling of my mother's touch at that moment, I think I'll never forget.

After that, for a while, no matter how hard I tried to get my mother to masturbate me, she refused, saying that if my father found out, she would be beaten to death. I was very naive then, thinking that masturbating me wouldn't hurt, that it was enough to give me a moment of pleasure. Later, as time passed, my mother stopped mentioning it.

After my mother held my hot penis, for a while... Whenever my mother comes to the kitchen, I pretend to go to the back to get a drink of water and casually ask if she needs any help. Once, when my mother was busy cooking, I really wanted to pinch her plump buttocks. My fingers were slightly spread, only a few centimeters away from her pert buttocks, but I stopped myself because I was afraid she would get angry.

Another time, I was watching TV with my mother in the afternoon. She already knew what I was thinking. When I stared at her, she spoke up, telling me not to have such thoughts and giving me a long lecture on self-respect. I just kept saying "okay, okay, I know." Then I deliberately asked her, "Do you think my...are you big?" She said they were quite big, and I got really excited. She even told me that you could tell how big it was by looking at the nose.

My family is a traditional one. My parents came from the countryside to Taipei to make a living. My mother had me very early, so I think she was hesitant to talk about sex, mostly due to the views of the older generation. Later, when I went to university, my feelings for my mother gradually faded, but incest still attracted me, especially mature women. However, in real life, older women are usually not that great. Those pornographic films are all high-quality, and it's hard to find them in the real world.

One weekend, I came back home. The washing machine was in the back. That night, I wanted to take a shower, so I went to the back to collect the laundry. I saw my mother washing clothes by the washing machine, wearing pajamas, a thin top and shorts like a housewife. My mother's breasts were about a C cup, her thighs and calves were well-proportioned, and her buttocks were a little fleshy but firm. She was 170 cm tall, and from the back, she looked quite alluring. Perhaps because my father had been making tea since childhood, my mother's skin was well-maintained, quite good compared to her sisters.

The back corridor was crowded, so I slipped past my mother from behind to grab a clothes hanger—the kind used to hold clothes up. My penis accidentally slid from left to right across my mother's fleshy buttocks, sending a jolt of pleasure through my glans and instantly making me hard. It made me think of a bunch of incestuous stories; I wonder if my mother noticed.

The washing machine was very loud, and I slid past again, this time deliberately stopping behind my mother's buttocks, but not too close. I pretended to be unable to find my clothes because it was too dark, and even asked my mother if one of them was mine.

At this moment, the washing machine was directly in front of my mother, and my clothes were directly above and in front of it. My mother asked me for a stick, supported herself on the washing machine lid with her left hand, slightly raised her toes, and leaned her upper body forward, while her right hand struggled to hook my clothes.

I looked directly at my mother's plump, peach-shaped buttocks, the way her buttocks naturally arched because of her body, and my penis was so hard it was about to burst. I put my penis against my mother's slender waist, and finally my mother simply pressed her lower abdomen against the washing machine lid, supporting herself up, using her hands and feet together, her right knee rising up, so that her left toes were slightly touching the floor, while her right knee and thigh straddled the washing machine. I stared at my mother's private parts rubbing against the edge of the washing machine lid, but unfortunately it only lasted for a few seconds.

My mother took the clothes down, saying that the clothes hanger was somehow caught on it. I quickly said, "Mom, be careful when you get down, it's dark, make sure your right foot is on the right spot." My mother said, "Don't worry," but as soon as she finished speaking, her right knee slipped on the edge of the washing machine lid. I quickly supported my mother's waist with both hands, and the firm feel of her hands gave me a thrill. I subtly helped my mother down slowly, and she joked that she had startled me.

I told Mom not to scare me. By then, she had regained her balance, but I deliberately thrust my penis forward so she couldn't move her buttocks and could only slowly slide down from above. My penis bulged out of her basketball shorts, and her genitals brushed against the head of my penis, gripping tightly between her buttocks. The whole process was very short, less than ten seconds.

Mom seemed to notice my penis, and suddenly we both fell silent, with only the sound of the washing machine motor. At that moment, my penis, protruding from my basketball shorts, was only a short distance from her buttocks. Mom said she would grab her clothes and go take a shower quickly, but I didn't want to miss this opportunity.

I deliberately pushed my penis forward. At this time, my penis was still in my pants, but it was pressed tightly against my mother's thin shorts and briefs through my underwear and basketball shorts. It felt really good at that moment. I never thought that after so many years, I would still have such a romantic encounter. It was because my dad seemed to be making tea in the living room, and my sister was still working outside and had not come home. How could I let go of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?

Seeing that my mother didn't react, I boldly wrapped my arms around her slender waist and plunged my penis deep into her buttocks. My mother just turned her head and looked at me in surprise, without saying a word. Her body began to sway from side to side, trying to break free from my intrusion, constantly trying to remove my hands from her waist. I decided to play along and simply placed my hands on the washing machine lid, with my mother's slender waist and fleshy buttocks between my arms.

In front of my mother was the washing machine, on either side were my arms, and behind was my penis. I deliberately squeezed my penis in a circular motion, teasing my mother's tender buttocks. Those soft, plump buttocks made my penis feel a tingling sensation even through my pants.

I simply rested my head on the back of my mother's neck. Because it was dark, with only a small nightlight on the washing machine, I peered through the light at my mother's collar. Beneath the loose collar, there were two white breasts with deep cleavage, which looked even more alluring against the backdrop of a bra of some unknown color.

I pressed my entire body against my mother's back, and her breasts began to sway from side to side as I moved, making my penis hard. I deliberately moved the head of my penis to my mother's genitals, directly below them, and rhythmically squeezed her genitals up and down.

I noticed my mother didn't even turn around to see me, letting me tease her body. However, as soon as my hands started kneading her breasts, she turned around and glared at me. I realized I had really upset her this time. My mother didn't show much emotion. Just then, my father called for her, and she only said, "Hurry up and take a shower." I quickly left.

In the bathroom, I masturbated twice, still hard. I thought about how I vaguely heard a soft groan when my mother's buttocks moved up and down with me. I was terrified that my mother would tell my father about what happened.

The next day, I made an excuse to rush back to my dorm. My mother, as usual, stood at the door, arranging for me to take something to eat. As I left, she gave me her usual advice, telling me to take good care of myself and that my sister was doing well at home, so I shouldn't worry.

Then she said something like, "I know you have a lot of energy, so you should control yourself to avoid hurting yourself." I actually laughed and said that I'm young and energetic and get hard easily, and that I could ejaculate three times a day without a problem. My mother didn't say anything, only that she should reduce the frequency of ejaculation before I come back next time, and that studying hard is more important. I felt there was a hidden meaning in her words, but I didn't say anything and left.

Chapter Two: Holding a Penis

After that time my penis pressed against my tender buttocks while the washing machine was running, I went back to my dorm and lay on my bed, completely unsure whether that meant my mother had tacitly approved or permitted it. Therefore, I decided to go home next Saturday, since my mother had Saturday off and would be home alone. However, I couldn't suppress my desire, so on Friday night I skipped my afternoon classes on my motorcycle and rushed home.

My mother was only slightly surprised that I was home so early this week. Actually, the atmosphere at home wasn't as warm as it should be between a parent and child; it was more like a polite, reciprocal exchange of courtesies.

I was really looking forward to my mother's washing machine time on Friday night, but when I waited until she went to the back hallway, I tiptoed in after her. My mother coldly said, "Weren't you satisfied last time?" Have you forgotten what I told you before? I was so scared my penis almost went limp. After a moment of stunned silence, I obediently went back to bed.

Around midnight, I got up to pee and saw my mother folding the clothes she'd taken down the night before in the living room. I went over to her and apologized. She didn't say anything, but her attitude softened a bit. After all, she's a traditional woman; incestuous sex is something they wouldn't even dare to think about.

She told me to control my sexual desires and not to do anything reckless. I just said lightly, "It's because you're so tempting, I couldn't help myself." She glanced at me sideways, sighed, and said, "You don't like the young girls outside, but you fall for your own mother. That's an Oedipus complex."

I had no rebuttal, after all, I admit I was a bit of a pervert. My mother said she had seen me masturbating in my room. She was going to get me some fruit, but when she saw me masturbating in front of the screen, she was staring at a video on the computer screen. She said she knew then that mature women were very attractive to me.

I asked my mother if she got excited when she saw me holding my penis. My mother didn't say anything and immediately went into my father's room to go to sleep. But I deliberately reached out and touched my mother's waist, and then pinched her right buttock. My mother flinched and said, "You're going to die! You even dare to hit me now!" I lowered my head and remained silent. Seeing this, my mother only advised me to go to bed early and not to harm my health at night. She then added that my father would be going to work the next day.

I went back to my room, thinking about how I could spend a tender day with my mother the next day. However, my mother's attitude was sometimes firm and sometimes soft, leaving me unsure whether it was possible or not.

My father left at 5:30 in the morning. I sneaked into my mother's room. My mother was wearing a light purple onesie nightgown on the bed, her snow-white thighs draped over her slender calves, exposed outside the small quilt. I looked at my mother sleeping on her side and thought about incestuous stories where they would take advantage of their mothers sleeping on their side to start groping and messing around, and finally even have sex. It was impossible in reality.

My mother sat up on the bed, her upper body upright, and asked me what I wanted to do. I said that I had been hard all night and the swelling hadn't gone down, and it was even harder this morning. I didn't know what to do. My mother looked at my underwear, which was bulging out like a tent. Right, I always wear underwear to bed.

My mother said that we were mother and son, and it was impossible for us to have a relationship. She also said that she wouldn't help me masturbate because if I did, everything else would follow. I secretly stared at my mother's red underwear. When my mother noticed that I was looking at her private parts, she quickly closed her legs and covered herself with the blanket.

When I saw that red panty, I remembered how I used to sneak into my mother's closet when no one was home, take her panties, and use them to masturbate. I didn't dare ejaculate on them because it was too obvious. I also used a light blue lace bra as a nipple play, holding my penis between my fingers while fantasizing and masturbating. After doing this once or twice, I felt empty and thought it was stupid, so I gave up on this pointless thing.

Looking at my mother's determined expression on the bed, her pink lips, I really wanted to put my penis in her mouth and make her swallow and spit it out. But I chose to leave the room. I held back all night, and the next morning I couldn't get anything out of it. I got a little aroused, so I went out to play ball to release my energy. But the image of my mother crawling on all fours with her buttocks sticking up has never left my mind.

In the past, when my mother cleaned the floor at home, she would wear a pair of athletic shorts. In some places, even after the mop had been used, the floor was still not clean. So my mother simply picked up a bucket of water, knelt on the ground like a doggy-style crawling machine, and her round, fleshy buttocks were squeezed out with the stretching of the athletic shorts. As my mother worked hard to clean the floor with her hands, her whole body swayed with the motion of scrubbing the floor.

I hid in the shadows and secretly watched, even unconsciously touching my own penis. My mother's buttocks swayed at a 45-degree angle upwards, making me itch with desire. I kept fantasizing about moving my penis in sync with her hips. Unfortunately, after scrubbing for nearly fifteen minutes, my mother got up to pack up and leave. At this moment, I deliberately walked over to my mother and asked if she needed any help. My mother shook her head and said no.

I glanced at her; she was covered in sweat from scrubbing the floor, and her white top was already soaked through, revealing glimpses of her cleavage. Unfortunately, my mother had no idea I harbored such wicked thoughts. She would just pat her bottom and say she was tired, then go take a shower. However, I've never spied on my mother while she showers, firstly because I never had the chance, and secondly because I don't have the habit of doing so.

When I was little and sick, I often vomited and had diarrhea, and my stomach would ache. My mother would rub my stomach with her palms, making me feel very comfortable. But that was when I was little; now that I'm older, I realize how enjoyable that was.

In winter, I'm prone to nasal allergies, constantly having a stuffy, runny nose, and headaches and dizziness. Once, I had just come home, and the next day I woke up feeling completely unwell. After vomiting everything up after dinner, I mustered my willpower to go see a doctor, took my medicine, and went straight to sleep.

After seeing me take my medicine, my mother came over, exchanged a few pleasantries, and then went about her business. I slept fitfully until 11 o'clock, but my head was throbbing unbearably. It was the kind of sensation where you're extremely tired, weary, and sleepy, wanting to sleep but your head hurts so much, like a drill bit is drilling into your right temple. I tossed and turned in bed in pain, having uttered almost everything I could. I

got up and induced vomiting again. After vomiting, I noticed my mother had gotten up. She probably heard me vomiting and asked if I felt any better. I said my head hurt. My mother asked if I wanted to have gua sha (scraping therapy), and I said yes. After the gua sha, I felt a bit hot. My shoulders and neck felt cool because the nurse was doing it, which cleared my mind a bit. I noticed my mother was wearing tight jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt that slightly exposed her chest. It turned out my mother had gone out to a wedding with the factory workers that evening and had just returned home.

I thought this attempt at playing the sympathy card might work, though I wasn't entirely sure what it would work out of me. My mother, seeing I was almost done, prepared to leave my room to shower and go to bed. I quickly called out, "Mom!" She turned to look at me and noticed she was still wearing light makeup. I hurriedly asked her to massage

my temples. She came over, and I shifted slightly. She sat on the edge of the bed and skillfully began massaging both sides of my temples. Her technique was quite good. After about five to ten minutes, while I was still enjoying the faint scent of her perfume, she prepared to leave.

I stared at my mother's C-cup breasts, looking down at her slightly perky bosom. As she massaged her body, her large breasts swayed gently, making my penis hard again, and one side of my penis twitched. I then told my mother that my stomach was a little upset.

My mother looked a little anxious, her flustered expression suggesting I had indigestion. I said I wanted my mother to rub my stomach like she used to when I was little, casually adding that the warmth of her palms would make my stomach feel better. My mother frowned, a slightly blushing expression on her face, and said, "That's not a good idea, you're not even that old anymore."

I pretended to be very uncomfortable, and my mother finally gave in. She ran her left hand along my firm chest muscles all the way to my six-pack abs. My mother was a little taken aback and said, "You have a good figure." I said with a bit of pride, "I went to the gym in college. Do you like it, Mom?" My mother smiled shyly and didn't answer. She started to stroke my belly with her left hand, massaging it clockwise. Sometimes, she would stop for a moment if her nail accidentally scratched my hair.

Just then, my mother's eyes met mine. The room light was on, and her face was flushed. I asked her why she was blushing, and she said it was because she had drunk some alcohol. The room was a bit hot. Fifteen minutes passed, and she said she was going to take a shower. Her expression returned to its original coldness. As she was about to remove her left hand from my stomach, I grabbed her left hand with my own. Seeing this, she probably knew what I was going to do.

I told her, "Just this once, please. I feel so uncomfortable. I want to relax." Her attitude seemed to soften a little. I deliberately lowered her left hand further, and her gentle fingers and palm rested on my underwear. She tried to pull her hand away.

I deliberately pressed my hand against my penis, using it to thrust against the center of my mother's palm a couple of times. My mother's face was already red, and now she was silently watching me hold her hand. Just like the last time I pressed my penis against her buttocks, that expression was one of tacit consent amidst struggle.

Without saying a word, I clamped my legs around my mother's hand, pressing my entire penis against her hand. I asked my mother if it was okay, but she didn't answer. I asked her if I could do it myself or if she wanted to help me. This time, my mother spoke. She said she didn't know what I was thinking, that a sick person could do such reckless things. My mother said she was going to turn off the light and told me to turn on the nightlight, then she went to get some toilet paper and took it to the bedside.

I felt incredibly good. From the past until now, I've longed for my mother to masturbate me. I even sat up, wrapped my arms around her waist, and uttered some cheesy words, calling her "Mommy" instead of "Mom." My mother said I wasn't allowed to touch her with my hands, so I asked if I could look. She said there weren't many reasons. I lay down and pulled down my underwear. My mother said that if I hadn't been sick this time, she would never have done this for me. I nodded and said thank you, Mommy.

My mother first stroked my chest and abs with both hands, deliberately scraping lightly between my thighs. Her palms inadvertently touched my glans, instantly igniting my lust to its peak. It was completely different from typical incest novels.

She didn't just grab my penis and yell things like, "What a big penis! Mommy loves your big penis!" Instead, my mother's silent teasing was very much to my liking. Finally, I couldn't resist and kept pleading with my eyes for her to hold my penis. Only then did my mother reluctantly begin.

I knew I couldn't rush things; I had to let things unfold naturally. My mother first used her left hand to grasp the lower edge of my glans, pushing back my foreskin, and then rhythmically stroking it up and down. This surprised me; my mother was so skilled. As she stroked my penis, she looked at my body, lost in thought.

As a mother, I imagine my mother must have struggled internally to agree to her son's request in the middle of the night, helping him release his pent-up desires. But given her personality, she wouldn't go back on her word.

As I watched her left hand manipulate my penis, her thumb and forefinger sometimes circling above the head, moving up and down, left and right, with a rhythm that fluctuated between fast and slow, I almost lost control. This intense desire had been building since I left my mother's room last Saturday morning.

During the act, I asked if she could moan softly, saying it might help me ejaculate faster. She hesitated for a moment, then ignored my request. After fifteen minutes, she noticed I hadn't ejaculated yet. I gave her a helpless look and said, "Now you know how hard your son is, don't you?"

After I finished speaking, my mother slapped my penis, seemingly annoyed that I hadn't ejaculated yet. She had been to my left, but then stepped to my right, gripping my penis with her right hand.

It had become slightly limp. I complained that my mother wasn't providing enough stimulation. She said, "Wasn't that enough when you thrust into me last time?" I smiled and said, "Because your ass is really beautiful, I can't help it."

After she switched to her right hand, I realized that her right hand was her trump card. The strength in her grip was even more pleasurable than masturbating myself. My mother lowered her body, her breasts pressed against my right chest, her face directly facing mine, while her fleshy buttocks were unfortunately hidden behind her.

My mother's expression was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Her eyes, framed by light makeup, held a hazy, teasing look, as if she were saying, "I'm going to make you cum!" Her lips were adorned with pink lip gloss, a far cry from the bold red lipsticks worn by other women.

Before, I couldn't see clearly from a distance, but now, with the nightlight, her breath on my face, I shifted slightly upwards, lewdly eyeing her. That's when I realized I was wrong; her breasts were actually D-cup, the deep V-shaped cleavage shimmering with each stroke.

On the spring mattress, our bodies rose and fell slightly. I reached down and pulled her collar down, her snow-white, pudding-like D-cup breasts gleaming. She didn't stop me, repeatedly saying, "If you don't ejaculate soon, I won't be able to stop."

Actually, I had been holding back. My mother's breasts were trembling slightly, which made my glans very itchy. I told my mother that I could go for it. My mother quickly put a piece of toilet paper over my glans and quickly stroked it up and down with her right hand. I made a soft, low sound when I was about to reach my climax.

I suddenly sat up, my right hand grabbing my mother's exposed buttocks as she sat on the bed. I wrapped my arms around her chest, and in the final seconds, she let out a soft moan in my ear. It was just a little, but it was enough to excite me. A gush of thick, white semen soaked the toilet paper. My mother took a few sheets to wipe herself clean, noticing my penis was still throbbing. She blushed and smiled.

Afterward, she tidied up. I wanted to hold her a little longer, but she turned and left. Seeing how late it was, I said, "Mommy, I love you." She turned and said, "Don't say that anymore, okay?" Then I heard the sound of the shower in the bathroom. Later, due to physical exhaustion and the weakness after ejaculation, I fell into a deep sleep.

When I woke up the next day, I found that my mother was already up. She asked if I was feeling better, but didn't mention the masturbation from the previous day at all, as if we had done something wrong and had a little secret that couldn't be told. It was very exciting, I thought, but I don't know what my mother was thinking.

That day, when I was about to go back to the dormitory, I asked my mother if my hand was still sore. My mother said expressionlessly, "I really underestimated you," and then told me to be careful on the way. I let my mother do that, and I fantasized about it several times.

Chapter Three: Legs Clamped Between Penis.

My mother was a traditional Taiwanese woman, the reserved type of housewife. She had a proud, even rebellious, personality. She rarely smiled, but when she did, it was beautiful, like Gwei Lun-mei, not like Cai 10 with her big mouth.

I loved it when my mother wore her hair up in a bun, probably influenced by the ancient custom of tying hair into a bun, exposing the neck, with a gold hairpin inserted, and a few strands hanging down from the bun. Every time I imagined it, it always made my penis hard.

Unfortunately, in reality, my mother rarely wore her hair up. She had medium-length, thick, black hair, and only tied it into a ponytail when cleaning or busy.

My mother's profile picture is exquisite, especially the inward curve of her waist, which immediately meets her jade-like buttocks with an outward curve, her shapely hips following the curve of her peach-like buttocks down to her private parts, along her snow-white thighs to her calves, a natural and alluring sight.

Like the curved shape of a Coca-Cola bottle, whether viewed from the front or the side, she possesses the natural curves of a woman's body. I used to imagine myself kneading and playing with her left breast from behind with my left hand, while my right hand caressed her private parts from the front, and finally, my penis enjoying the elasticity of her buttocks between her thighs. Just imagining it made me ejaculate every time. After all, I have a strength that is also a weakness: my imagination is too rich.

I remember when I first tried to have an incestuous relationship with my mother, she immediately refused and even threatened to tell my father if we did. Surprisingly, a few years later, although my mother still appears proud and rebellious on the surface, she seems to have started to show some femininity, the kind that's fashionable.

Perhaps because she couldn't focus on herself when we were young and had to take care of the family, now that we children are grown up and can take care of ourselves, my mother has started dressing up lately. However, she only wears light makeup when attending banquets or going out on errands; otherwise, she remains a typical housewife at home.

The pleasurable sensation of masturbation last time is unforgettable. Seriously, having a woman perform the act is definitely more pleasurable than masturbating yourself, but you need to know the technique. I feel very lucky; my mother's hands are very skillful, I don't know where she learned it.

Traditional Taiwanese women like my mother probably haven't had many men in their lives, but it doesn't matter. There's one advantage to incest between mother and son: my mother can't hide from me at home, giving me many opportunities. Thinking about this, I can't wait to go home and enjoy the pleasure of masturbation again.

Unfortunately, reality is always cruel. After that, whenever I went home, I would try every possible way to get my mother to help me masturbate again, but she would refuse no matter what, pretending not to understand and saying she had forgotten. Finally, when I kept asking her, she got a little annoyed, raised her eyebrows, and gave me a poker face, clearly telling me not to think nonsense. At this point, I thought of those incestuous articles, which all say that you can threaten your mother by saying she helped you, and then your mother will obey you.

I told her she was talking nonsense. In real life, my mother is proud, to put it bluntly, arrogant. She doesn't allow me to touch her, doesn't allow me to do anything indecent, and doesn't allow me to mention anything about us, mother and son.

My mother said that last time was just an accident. If she hadn't drunk some alcohol, she wouldn't have been so confused as to help me masturbate. I said, "Mom, but you seemed to enjoy it too." My mother said she had forgotten about it and that it was impossible. I really regretted not filming it. After all, I was so focused on my climax that I almost forgot about the pleasure.

I think about it. Normally, I'm a simple-minded person, but I tend to have all sorts of wild thoughts about my mother. The main reason is that incestuous connection that excites me. This time, I can only suffer in silence and try to forget about it.

When I was in college, I worked at a department store. There was a traditional-style store there that sold things like 7-Eleven, but much more, including freshly baked bread and milk. Almost all the department store employees, trying to save money, would eat there.

The employees were mostly mothers, the kind whose kids were just starting elementary or middle school. The oldest employee, the store manager, had a son who was only in his first year of high school. Some people might think that I could sleep with two or three mature women like in those erotic novels, but that's impossible. Just look and don't overthink it.

Inside, there was a store manager, two assistant store managers, one full-time employee, and four part-time workers. The part-time workers were out of the question: one was a tomboyish woman who didn't dress well, and another was a plump woman who worked part-time on weekends. The store manager and the two assistant store managers both looked very motherly—the kind of people who seemed very kind. Finally, there was the full-time employee, the youngest among them, who had a six-

year-old son. Her husband had apparently passed away, leaving her to raise her son alone. Some people said, "That's perfect, go for an older woman; older women have a lot of needs." I said, "Come on, that full-time employee has been dating a man more than ten years her senior, also from a single-parent family, for a long time. Sometimes that man would come to the store to drop by and get intimate with her." That left me. I approached it with a work-study mentality, not thinking too much, because my mind was still filled with the image of my mother.

One time, I was restocking drinks in the back. It was a busy weekend, so drinks sold out quickly. I often had to help out at the counter and run to the back warehouse to restock refrigerated drinks. When I was in the refrigerated area, I would sometimes peek out through the gaps in the drinks to see if there were any pretty girls or beauties in the store. I dare say that every man would peek like that. With the mindset of restocking drinks while secretly watching pretty girls, I actually saw something really good.

Once, I was in the refrigerator compartment. Usually, customers outside wouldn't notice someone inside, but suddenly I saw a pair of pink, plump breasts completely exposed outside the refrigerator door. A mother and child were buying drinks that day; her face was fixed on the drink, and her breasts were clearly visible through the gap under the beverage.

Because there were refrigerator lights inside, each costing a thousand, I looked closely and realized the mother was wearing a loose-fitting top, which explained the exposure. I estimated they were at least an E cup—truly huge breasts. Sorry, I'm a big-breast enthusiast.

The woman was bent over in front of the refrigerator, listening to her son say what he wanted to drink. I thought to myself, "Kid, take your time choosing, let me see more." Unfortunately, I only stayed for a minute before the lady grabbed a plastic bottle and some juice and went to the counter to pay.

I stared at her back, using every man's keen eye to scan her figure. Medium build, not tall, dressed like a wealthy woman. Her back view was nice; she wore makeup, so she seemed to take care of herself. As for her husband, well, let's not even talk about him. The atmosphere inside the store was harmonious, perhaps because the assistant shopkeeper was very humorous, the manager a bit scatterbrained, and the older woman was quite gossipy, while I was the one who teased her. Let me

first mention the older woman; before I came, I always thought she was a senior from university, only a few years older than me. It turns out she's five years older than me—I really couldn't tell. She wasn't wearing makeup, and her hair was tied in a ponytail for work. Company policy dictated that women with no breasts, maybe an A or B cup, were acceptable. However, her height was an advantage; she was about 172cm tall. I'd never seen her wear pants that showed her thighs or calves; they were always those tacky flared jeans or cotton pants.

Part-time workers could dress however they wanted, but full-time employees had to wear suits—dark blue suits. But this woman actually looked like my older sister. One thing that attracted me was her wide, slightly flared but very fleshy hips. Every time I saw her hips sway as she walked, it got me a little excited. And she didn't have a barrel waist; her slender waist and swaying hips, combined with her ponytail, made me have endless fantasies.

We each have half an hour for lunch, which we can eat in the warehouse. I often eat with other employees, usually two at a time, and I usually take a nap afterward. I remember once eating with an older woman—not the other chubby one.

Calling her "older woman" sounds too old, so let's call her "sister." The warehouse aisle isn't actually that small; it's the kind where two people have to squeeze through sideways. That time, as she was going to get through, her pink, tender buttocks accidentally bumped against my penis.

This gave me a wicked thought, and during lunch, I deliberately asked her some erotic questions. Because we part-time workers are among the younger group, and the staff in the store actually quite like to make dirty jokes, I chatted with her about it.

My sister's explanation was vague. She said she wouldn't go to nightclubs or hotels. Looking at her, I was surprised by her abilities. I didn't know if she was bluffing or telling the truth. She said her friend described her as someone who looks innocent but completely changes in bed. I pretended to be skeptical. My sister also said she knew which part of a man would feel good when massaged, which reminded me of the time my mother massaged me to masturbate, making my penis hard again.

I said I didn't believe her and wanted to make a bet. My sister said okay. I remembered the time my sister made a mistake at the counter. Luckily, I kept my composure, otherwise, we would have had a terrible customer complaint. Usually, everyone in the shop helps each other out; it's normal. At this point, I deliberately brought up that incident with my sister. My sister kept smiling and apologizing. I asked what the reward was, and she said something like, "I'll treat you to something to eat or a drink." I knew she was going to treat me to something from the restaurant; she was pulling that stunt.

My sister laughed uncontrollably and asked, "So what do you want?" I deliberately said I'd never had a girlfriend and wanted one. I leaned close to my sister's ear, and she jumped in surprise, trying to dodge me. I said, "What are you doing? You think I'm going to hit you?" I said, "I'm whispering so someone won't overhear." My sister said, "You're something else. There are only the two of us in the warehouse, and you're still acting like an idiot."

I deliberately sounded mysterious, and my sister seemed interested, leaning closer to listen. I glanced at her breasts, but couldn't see any cleavage; she was probably wearing a bra. I deliberately didn't speak, instead using my breath to tickle her ear.

She said, "Aren't you going to tell me?" I said, "I want you to kiss me." She was stunned. I told her I'd never been kissed by a girl before, which was a lie. She looked confused, completely frozen, and continued eating her noodles. I deliberately acted a little spiteful, eating while subtly teasing her, saying things like how I always help her. She looked hesitant. Finally, when it was time to eat, I deliberately left first.

Actually, I hadn't thought that much about it. It was fine if I didn't get a kiss. That night, I deliberately didn't talk to my sister. When it was time to close up shop and leave, I was busy restocking. The two full-time employees were at the counter settling accounts, leaving my sister and me on the night shift.

I went to the back warehouse to get a drink and found my sister behind me. She was looking at me, and I guessed she was overthinking things, so I asked her to let me pass. Since she was at the door, she said, "Why are you sulking?" I said, "No, I'm not." Then she said, "If you want to go out, just come over. If you don't get a kiss, you're responsible."

That felt great, but I deliberately didn't show any obvious pleasure. My sister told me to close the door. I leaned against the door to keep someone from coming in. My sister said it would only be once, and then she leaned in and kissed my cheek quickly

. Although she wasn't particularly pretty, I only wanted to pinch her buttocks. I deliberately acted like I do on TV, saying it was too fast and we should do it again, that this time we should take it slow. My sister's breathing was a little heavy. She glanced at me, then looked into my eyes and pressed her lips against my forehead. I deliberately waited until she got down so I could shock her. As she tried to pull away, I immediately grabbed her waist, spun her around, and pinned her against the door. My sister was startled.

Neither of us spoke, but she knew what I wanted from my eyes. I pressed my entire body against hers, using my knees to spread her legs, and forcefully kissed her lips, a French kiss. She was startled and tried to push me away, but with my skillful tongue, although her lips managed to escape my grasp several times, I held her head firmly, using my weight to pin her against the corner of the door and wall.

She didn't scream, only offered gentle resistance. I think she was stunned; she probably didn't expect me to be so bold. The passionate kiss lasted about five minutes. I left my sister's room, and a full-time employee knocked on the door. Startled, my sister and I quickly left. I pretended to be busy, and the manager told us to hurry up and pack up, as we were about to leave.

Before leaving, my sister didn't say anything. Taking advantage of a moment when the lights were dim, as I walked from the warehouse to the back door, I deliberately pinched my sister's buttocks with my palm. I used my ring and middle fingers, pressing against the outside of her jeans, while my index and little fingers pressed against the edge of her right buttock and the left. My thumb then squeezed her buttocks hard from top to bottom, including the pad of my thumb touching her vulva, like a lotus flower. I pinched for about ten seconds before letting go.

Seeing my boldness, my sister turned and glared at me. We deliberately walked slowly behind her. She said, "You're really daring, aren't you afraid I'll yell at you?" I replied, "Sister, you owe me. I've been waiting for your kiss all afternoon and into the evening. Of course I'm angry, but it's not really a lie.

" My sister didn't say anything, only asking if I liked her. I said it depended on the situation. Her half-smile made my heart flutter, but unfortunately, there were many surveillance cameras in the department store, so I didn't dare to touch her. When we reached the parking lot, I said goodbye to my sister, and she waved back.

I deliberately walked up to her and asked her to squat down next to her motorcycle because I didn't want others to see us doing something inappropriate. My sister looked puzzled until I brought my lips close to her soft lips, and then she knew what I was going to do. I forced a kiss before leaving. For a while afterward, my sister and I were the same in the store, nothing changed. I only started acting up when we were in the warehouse or when we were intimate.

Once, when we went to the back warehouse to get some goods, I pulled my sister into the shadows. The warehouse door closed, and there were other shop employees and customers laughing and joking outside. My sister said we couldn't stay too long, or they would find out we were slacking off.

I hugged my sister from the front, first holding her slender waist, then forcefully kissing her. My sister's body trembled. My hands slid restlessly down to her fleshy buttocks, rubbing her buttocks back and forth. My hard penis pressed against my sister's soft lower abdomen. She was wearing cotton pants today, and the feel of them was indescribably good.

My fingers kept unintentionally touching my sister's tender vulva. From passionate kisses to tongues on her ears and earlobes, my fingers traveled down her jade-like neck, kissing her under her chin and then around her. My sister's face was flushed, and her breathing was heavy. I pressed my sister down onto the beverage box next to us. My sister was in a seductive position, lying face down on the beverage box, her buttocks curving right in front of me. My mind was filled with images of how to defile my mother.

My sister turned her head and said, "Not now." I said I really wanted it, but my sister insisted and refused. I took out my penis, hard and erect, and pressed it directly against my sister's cotton pants. I said I could do it without penetration, but I had to let her ejaculate first.

My sister looked at my penis and seemed flustered. I laughed. Is this what you call experienced? I guessed my sister might still be a virgin. My sister said she didn't know what to do. I said it was best, you couldn't possibly not know. At this moment, my sister sat up, reached out and grasped my penis, gently stroking it. I thought to myself that this was completely different from my mother's, because stroking was very unskilled, so I won't say more.

I pulled down my sister's entire cotton pants, down to her pink Adidas sneakers. My sister panicked, saying she was shy, and kept pulling her front to cover her private parts. I used a bit of force, thinking that my sister might be very shy if she was facing me directly. I remembered that my mother used to have her back to me and let me press my penis against her buttocks. It seems that when women are violated, they are usually less resistant because they don't see how the man touches them, and they even fantasize about enjoying the caresses and teasing.

I turned my sister over again, and she lay on the drink box again. I took off my cotton pants along my buttocks at once. My sister became anxious at this time and even made a sob. She asked me not to take off her underwear. She said she didn't want it today.

I was next to you in a good voice, coaxing and lying, saying that I didn't want to penetrate you, saying that I just wanted to enjoy and play with your beautiful buttocks. I did the next best thing and gently pulled her cotton pants down her thighs. I asked my sister to relax, hold her waist up, and raise her buttocks. My sister said that it was very erotic and she was embarrassed to do it.

I begged and pleaded before my sister finally leaned back, placing her hands on the beverage crate. She relaxed and naturally lowered her hips, revealing her plump, firm buttocks. Her cotton pants were only halfway down her thighs, a sight so beautiful it made me want to masturbate.

I then asked her to bring her knees together, then spread her legs, thighs pressed together, with her calves standing on her toes. This position was inspired by the washing machine incident, pushing her cotton underwear wide open. My sister said it was humiliating and urged me to hurry.

I stood to the left of her beautiful buttocks, deliberately turning my body so my back was facing her head. I stretched out my palms and fingers, gently pinching and kneading her buttocks. As the panties rubbed against her, I played with the buttocks I had always dreamed of, imagining them as my mother's.

I pressed my penis against her buttocks again. Even through her panties, my sister could still feel the heat and swelling of my penis. My hands continued to caress her slender waist, her entire back being caressed. My sister kept moaning softly, her body limp against the beverage box. It seemed she rarely received such prolonged caresses from a man.

At this point, I kept rubbing my penis against my sister's panties. Even through the panties, my penis was still constantly teasing her private parts. Finally, I simply imitated what I did with my mother last time, rhythmically pressing the head of my penis against her tender opening. My sister couldn't help but grab my right hand. I really wanted to thrust right then and there because my sister's panties were already soaked. It seems that the buttocks are a sensitive area for many women.

I used my fingers to spread my sister's buttocks apart, pulling her panties together to form a thong. My sister said no, but I ignored her and kept pulling them upwards, while we were saying some very erotic things. Both the visual enjoyment and the verbal teasing made my sister extremely excited.

Looking at the hair on her anus and the pubic hair peeking out from under her panties, I was incredibly excited. I pressed my penis against her tender vulva—a technique I'd learned from watching those adult videos.

Although my sister was wearing panties, she was still very nervous. She said I couldn't penetrate her, so I suggested we rub against each other. She didn't say anything. I straightened my penis, pressing it against her vulva through her panties, and slowly began to thrust. As her panties became soaked with her juices, the pleasure in my penis reached an indescribable level. I asked my sister to press her thighs together so that my entire penis would be covered.

I clamped my sister's peach-like buttocks between my knees and began thrusting my hips back and forth. The sensation was almost indistinguishable from the pleasure of masturbating with my mother. With the rhythm and speed of the thrusting, the long foreplay, combined with the fantasy becoming reality, had already made me want to ejaculate. Now, this visual stimulation was taking me to the brink of ecstasy.

I watched my sister's ponytail sway incessantly, her elbows clenched into fists as she supported her upper body, her nipples rubbing against the beverage carton. I wanted to touch her breasts, but she wouldn't let me, neither undressing nor exposing them. I figured it didn't matter, they weren't my mother's pudding-like breasts. After about ten minutes of this thrusting, I felt the time was about right; I didn't want to go home late and get scolded.

I held onto my sister's slender waist and kept slapping my thighs against her bouncy buttocks, which swayed like balls. My penis was enveloped by her thighs, and the fluid from her vagina inside my panties made it even more slippery. Although it was just casual sex, my sister wasn't my girlfriend, yet she was willing to let me do this. Turns out I'm not bad looking. Otherwise, if I were a deadbeat, how could I possibly play with that woman's fleshy buttocks like this?

In the final sprint, ignoring my sister's attempts to stop me, I reached under her arms and kneaded her breasts. She kept moaning, the kind of moaning that was barely audible, so she could only whine softly through her nose. After I ejaculated, I lifted her up, still holding her breasts, and pulled her close to my chest, kissing her neck repeatedly from behind.

Her face was flushed like the sunset, and she turned to me, saying, "You should be satisfied now. I gave you so much more than just kissing." I nodded and pressed my lips to my sister's sweet lips. The entanglement of our tongues brought her complete satisfaction, both physically and mentally. That's how women are; you must cherish and satisfy their emotions. Never neglect them after ejaculation. Don't act like you're starving beforehand and then look completely unsatisfied afterward.

Although my sister is pretty, having enjoyed her good figure, I still had to show her the proper etiquette. After that, during my part-time job, I didn't harass her anymore. After all, I had promised, so I shouldn't act like a child constantly demanding more pleasure. At most, I would occasionally steal a few kisses when we were alone to satisfy my craving, or when we were in the freezer or at the counter, I would secretly nudge her with my penis a couple of times while customers were paying. My sister would only glance at me.

At most, after the customers left, I would approach her, and she would touch my penis with her delicate hand, a smile playing on her lips, without saying a word. We both already knew each other well. I won't go into the other exciting things that happened while working here, because recounting just one thrilling memory is really tiring for me.

Earlier, I mentioned the youngest single mother among the full-time employees, whom I called Sister XX. Because her name is only one character different from mine, with only the surname and the third character of the given name being different, they would say that she was Sister XX's younger brother. I'll refer to her as the single mother here. I had a pretty good relationship with the single mother, and people in the shop would often joke, "Single mother, your younger brother, that is, me," saying things like, "I did this and that again."

Later, I got used to it and wasn't surprised anymore. The single mother was the best-looking one in the store. She wore a white uniform with blue stripes and a light blue long skirt. No doubt, she was wearing sanitary pads underneath. She was really nice.

This memoir is about when I worked in college. I was very happy to work at this store and worked there for almost two years. Unfortunately, because of the pressure of my studies, I eventually gave up. I couldn't control my emotions, so I was sometimes very rude to people from all walks of life, but the mothers were very tolerant of me.

Looking back, I realize I really shouldn't have done that. It's a pity it's all in the past. Although they won't hold it against me, I still care, which has made me more tactful in my dealings with people, preventing me from hurting others with my temper. I'm truly grateful to the shop assistants for creating such a wonderful memory in my life. While it was pleasurable, that was only a small part. Most of the time, the atmosphere was fantastic.

Although this piece doesn't mention my mother—of course, you might think incest is like pornography, something you do every day until the end of time—don't be naive. That's unlikely in real life. But since my mother wouldn't let me touch her afterward, how could I possibly write about it later? Please wait a bit while I think through some of the little stories about my mother before I describe them in detail. After all, realism is my style, and I don't want that kind of fake and ridiculous incestuous stuff.

Chapter Four: Pinching Buttocks .

I lived in a dormitory in college, six people to a room. Sometimes it was really annoying, so I would go home to stay on weekends. For a while, I worked near the school, so I couldn't go home on weekends. After that time my mother helped me masturbate, although I couldn't forget it, there was nothing I could do.

Today is Saturday, no work. I was lying in my dorm this afternoon enjoying the air conditioning. In university dorms, every weekend there are some hotheads who like to bring girls back to have sex, thinking no one will notice. Wrong! There's a security camera above the main entrance, watching everyone who comes in. So even if the girls are dressed as boys, or even with multiple people covering them, I don't think it'll be very effective.

Suddenly, an idea struck me. I immediately picked up my phone and called home, calling my mother. The phone rang for a long time before she finally answered. I asked her if she could drive me home next week to pick up my things, because the semester is ending, and I can't leave my stuff in the dorm; I either have to move out early or have it mailed out that day.

I talked a mile a minute, emphasizing how my mother could pick me up to save on shipping costs. Besides, I'd been living here for two years, and she'd never visited the school. Finally, she agreed to drive and help me with my things, and I'd carry the rest back by bike after the exams.

I chose a Friday after my exams. Our group didn't have any exams scheduled that day, so my roommates all left after Thursday morning. I usually left too, but since my mother was coming on Friday, I waited a little longer.

That day, my mother slowly drove her white Mazda 3 into the school gate. I even went to the front gate to guide her. I opened the car door, got in, and exchanged a few pleasantries with her. I asked if the way was easy to find, explaining that I had to tell her about some of the schools.

While my mother was chatting idly with me, I secretly scrutinized her entire outfit. She still had that expressionless, icy face, but she was wearing a tight-fitting white Adidas tracksuit top and bottoms, a matching white ensemble, even her shoes were Adidas Platinum models, and she wore a dark blue Adidas track jacket. My mouth watered as I asked her what was going on today, why she was dressed in all sportswear.

She said she started going to yoga with her colleagues last month. She used to just wear casual loungewear, but seeing everyone buying professional sets, she recently bought a complete workout outfit through her colleague. Why Adidas? Because her colleague's husband happens to be a distributor; he has yoga classes in the morning, so after lunch he drives over and doesn't need to change.

Damn it, my mother actually went to a yoga class! I wonder if there are any men there, otherwise, with her alluring buttocks and long legs, sitting in that yoga pose with her legs spread, wouldn't every man be staring at her? I quickly asked, "Are there any men there?" My mother said, "Are you silly? It's a women-only yoga studio, there are no men, but there are women who touch and rub their hands during breaks. It's really embarrassing to watch."

Wow, this is the first time my mother has ever talked to me about pornography. It seems she neither rejected nor denied the previous abuse; on the contrary, she's become even more open about her sexual views. I glanced at the drawer in front of the car seat, and there was a magazine advertising AV actresses that I'd seen on the street. I asked my mother why she had it, and she said, with a slightly embarrassed expression, that she'd accidentally picked it up while buying magazines at the convenience store. I nodded. It would be a miracle if I believed that lie.

As we talked, we arrived at the dormitory. It was still exam week, so there were quite a few students. It was break time, and my mother and I went up to the third floor of the boys' dormitory. The administrator saw my mother and was completely lustful, but I couldn't show it. I could only tell her that my mother was helping me carry my things up. The administrator saw that although she was a woman, she was family and agreed.

My mother walked ahead of me. As we went up the stairs, her white tight-fitting sweatpants made her fleshy buttocks sway and twist in front of me, making me dizzy. Especially because of the white color, the shape of her beautiful buttocks was even more taut. My mother had her hair in a ponytail and pulled her jacket up to her neck, covering her pair of snow-white breasts, as if afraid that others would have impure thoughts.

On the way up, my mother chatted with me the whole time, complaining about how shabby the dorm was, and how old some parts looked. I replied that it was an old dorm, and for the small fee they charged me per semester, it included water, electricity, unlimited air conditioning, and the internet cafe so I could download as much stuff as I wanted—not bad at all. "Download as much stuff as I want?"

We had reached the door by then. The third-floor corridor was deserted; the class bell had just rung, and a bunch of people had probably gone to take their exams. My mother turned the doorknob and said the door was locked. I thought, "Of course, all my roommates are gone, and I guarantee no one will be back for the next couple of days." I clicked open the doorknob, answering my mother's question as I said I was just downloading some videos to watch.

The air conditioning in the room had been running all day. My mother remarked, "It's really cool," and took off her coat, placing it on her roommate's desk. As soon as I closed and locked the door, my mother's expression suddenly turned suspicious. She asked, her tone rising, carrying a hint of threat.

I blurted out, "The kind of movies boys watch." My mother said, "So you're already taking such a risk to your health at school, and you still think about all sorts of things when you get home." I quickly replied, "It's because I can't relieve my pent-up desires at home, so I watch movies at school to satisfy them."

My mother sat on the iron ladder next to me, her plump buttocks pressed against the ladder bars. Just seeing her made me hard again. My mother looked around, climbed up my iron ladder, and looked at my bed. There was a desk under the bed, and the wardrobe was uniformly placed in the corner, just like in college dorms. My mother got onto my bed, and I watched her crawl onto the bed from below.

I looked down at my mother's tender vulva being stretched by her tight pants, the shape of her buttocks like a peach. I really wanted to climb up and touch her, but I didn't have the guts. I just chatted with my mother from below, saying that I had to endure five days in the dormitory, and that it was a public place. I couldn't just hit her whenever I wanted to have sex. I really felt uncomfortable every time I came home, so I took advantage of her.

My mother placed her delicate feet on the iron ladder. Her white, tight-fitting leggings covered her calves, and her black stockings were almost as revealing. My mother looked at me and said, "Let's start moving." I began bustling about, while my mother just sat there watching me fumble around. When we were almost done, I went to my room to rest in the air conditioning.

I noticed a piece of paper next to my mother's feet and asked her to pick it up for me. It must have been accidentally dropped during the move. My mother is quite flexible; she could easily reach it with a bend, but the paper was like a suction cup. No matter how hard she tried, scratching with her fingernails or pinching with her fingers, she couldn't lift it. My eyes were fixed on my mother's breasts, constantly exposed in front of me. It was a pity she was wearing a tight-fitting top, otherwise I could have seen even more.

I decided to get closer and saw only a glimpse of her breasts and cleavage, along with a light blue patterned bra. Then, I actually reached up and pulled down her collar. Just then, my mother noticed my movement and immediately lifted her upper body. But I was holding on tightly, pulling and dragging it down.

The very elastic sportswear had a huge hole torn in the neckline, revealing my mother's breasts right in front of me—beautiful northern hemispheres, two round, snow-white breasts. The pressure from the bra brought the underarm fat to the front, creating a deep V-shaped cleavage that I was completely dumbfounded.

My mother's face was full of anger. I quickly let go of her hand, but it accidentally pulled her right breast upwards from under her bra. The tight-fitting clothes pulled her right breast upwards, causing the bra to shift and squeezing out her beautiful dark pink nipple.

I thought all those mature women had nipples like raisins, but my mother's nipples were a bit dark, just the right size, and her areolas were beautiful. There was even a milky scent in the air.

My mother quickly turned her back to me, angrily telling me to turn around. I had no choice but to obey her and turn my back to her. My mother seemed to simply lift her clothes up and adjust her bra and breasts. After we finished adjusting, my mother said she had to leave. I panicked. It was a rare moment of alone time. At home, my dad was sometimes unavailable, making it difficult to make a move. Now, in my dorm room, I had the home-field advantage. How could I let such a beauty as my mother slip away?

I lunged forward, blocking her path, and reached out my left hand from behind to knead her large breasts, while simultaneously grabbing her right hand to prevent her from opening the door. I asked her, "Did my breasts hurt you just now? I'm so sorry." Seeing this, my mother slapped my left hand away, turned around, and prepared to slap me, but stopped halfway. We stared at each other in silence for about three minutes.

My mother walked to my roommate's desk, crossed her legs, and said, "Do you really have to do this?" A sudden wave of guilt washed over me. My mother crossed her arms, cradling her beautiful breasts, and begged me to come closer.

She said she'd guessed what I wanted the moment I called, so she hadn't really wanted to come. But she was worried I wouldn't get them back, so she came anyway. Partly to see what I was up to at school, and partly to see what I was really up to. Turns out, she'd guessed right; I just wanted to have some fun.

I slumped down on the table opposite my mother, ashamed. I hadn't expected my plan to be so easily seen through. My mother wasn't wearing makeup today, but her big, watery eyes, glossy with lipstick, still looked stunning. She asked if I knew I'd made a mistake. I said I did, and I wouldn't keep watching porn at school.

My mother's attitude softened slightly, and her tone calmed down. "It's not that Mommy won't let you have fun, it's that I'm afraid you'll get too caught up in it and won't be able to break free, causing you to neglect your studies and only want to be intimate with Mommy every day. It really can't be like that." I listened, but I still caught the nuances. Before, my mother always referred to herself as "Mom," or at most "Mama." Today she actually called herself "Mommy." Did she condone the masturbation last time?

Finally, I went home with my mother. On the way, she still had the same expression. I sat in the front seat, thinking that all my plans for the day were ruined. Sigh. When the car pulled into the parking lot, the dim light made me start fantasizing again, and my penis got hard again. My mother parked the car, pulled the handbrake, and noticed that my penis was bulging again. I quickly covered it with my hand. My mother just asked how long it had been since I had indulged myself.

I had been holding back for six days so that I could have my mother masturbate me in the dormitory this afternoon. I told her the truth. My mother's expression suddenly became very strange, a half-smile. In the dimly lit parking lot, it was even harder to see clearly. My mother said, "You really can hold back." I immediately said, "I can hold back for Mommy for as long as it takes." My mother's body trembled when she heard this, and she fell silent.

I felt there was still a chance, so I started using my coquettish tactics again, saying I was really struggling to hold back, and I didn't want to hurt my health by masturbating every day. I said I could endure it for Mommy, and so on. My mother didn't say anything, but her expression was the same as before—confused and struggling. I moved closer to my mother's ear, pressing my chest against her shoulders, and finally just leaned against her.

My mother got annoyed and told me to go to the back seat. I immediately burst out laughing from pleasure. My mother asked me what was so funny, and I said I could finally enjoy my mother's hand again. My mother didn't say much, only that this time I had to ejaculate in half an hour. I said how could that be? My mother said it was possible.

Next, my mother stood beside me. I exposed my penis and asked her to masturbate for me. She shook her head and said, "This time, you do it yourself. I won't help you." Damn, that's not fair. My mother said, "You want excitement? Then I'll give you that."

She pulled up her tight-fitting clothes, revealing her white, voluptuous breasts. She began to show a seductive, wanton look in her eyes, her lips constantly parting as she breathed out. Her hands squeezed her breasts, sometimes hard, sometimes light, the pudding-like nipples deforming in her delicate fingers.

She squeezed her breasts with her arms, kneading them up and down, and swayed her body, making circles with her hands on her snow-white breasts, while moaning softly. Watching this made my mouth dry and my desire rise.

It turned out my mother's concession was just to tease me, to stimulate my sexual senses, so I could masturbate instead of relying on my imagination. My mother's lewd appearance resembled that of a prostitute, but you could still tell she was uncomfortable. After all, she was a housewife, kneading her breasts and swaying her body in the car, just to make her son aroused.

My mother's face was flushed red, and my hand moved faster and faster as I watched. Finally, she seemed embarrassed; after three minutes of teasing, she pulled down her clothes, her shy expression making me want to protect her.

Looking at her slender, white fingers, I imagined the last time she pressed herself against me and helped me masturbate. I masturbated faster and faster, but fifteen minutes passed and I still couldn't ejaculate. My mother looked puzzled and asked, "Still not working? So hard?" I replied, "It's taking too long, there's nothing I can do."

I had an idea. I simply pulled her close. My mother tried to push me away, but I couldn't take it anymore. Ever since I saw her today, I'd wanted to touch her. My mother got angry and drove off. I chased after her. She said, "Didn't we agree not to touch her?" I said, "Oh, that's true, but that was because you helped me. Now I can only watch. How can I masturbate?" My mother seemed a little remorseful, but seeing how confidently I was speaking, she didn't say anything more.

I asked my mother to go to the back of the car. I said it was dark there, which she liked, and she wouldn't be able to see what I was doing, so she would feel more at ease. My mother followed me to the back of the car. I looked around and saw there were no security cameras. I hugged my mother from behind and whispered to her, "Like last time with the washing machine, I played around for a bit, and then I ejaculated."

My mother said it wasn't appropriate; this wasn't like those incestuous relationships where she had to use her buttocks for arousal. I said I had no choice, since she was wearing such a tight outfit today, which kept me hard all day. My mother blushed and turned away. I wanted her to stick out her buttocks like on the other side, but she refused. My proud mother felt violated and said, "Do it or don't talk."

I pushed her forward slightly, and she grabbed the back of the car with both hands, saying, "Quick, if we get seen, you'll never see me again." I broke out in a cold sweat, terrified that incest would have such a terrible consequence. But with such a beautiful buttock before me, I didn't hesitate and pressed my penis against her fleshy buttocks again. The sensation was completely different from the last time I used the washing machine; the slippery tight pants against her plump , tender buttocks.

I kept shoving my penis into her cleft, rubbing it up and down against her. My mother probably didn't expect me to be so rough, and she quickly told me to stop. But driven by lust, I didn't care about anything else. I kept pressing the head of my penis against my mother's vulva, and the secretions from my glans had already soaked the dark white tight pants everywhere.

My mother thought it was even more outrageous than last time, and kept turning around to tell me to stop. How could I stop? I skillfully placed my right foot on the bumper, since it was someone else's car lock so I didn't care. I used my knee to press my penis and the weight of my body against the back of the car, pressing my mother tightly against the back seat.

My mother probably realized she couldn't struggle anymore, and her resistance began to weaken, turning into heavy breathing. I saw that it seemed to be enough, and I didn't want to be greedy for my mother's pudding-like breasts. I was afraid that my mother would really get angry again, and then I really wouldn't be able to play with those beautiful, delicate buttocks. My mother leaned against the car, her hands covered in dust, and said coldly, "Hurry up. Once I change my mind, you won't have to play anymore."

I quickly moved my hands from my mother's slender waist to her beautiful buttocks. Her peach-like tight pants accentuated her shape perfectly. I started to squeeze and pinch my mother's fleshy buttocks, sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right, and then I pinched her buttocks hard, the same kind of perky buttocks I had wanted to squeeze before. My mother let out a muffled groan. My hands wanted to move down to her tender vulva, but my mother turned around and grabbed my hands, saying that I was not allowed to touch there.

I had no choice but to place my penis between my mother's buttocks, squeezing her beautiful buttocks with both hands, and thrusting my burning hot penis in and out repeatedly. My mother's beautiful back against her ponytail made me go completely blank with pleasure again. My mother's moans grew louder and louder. I was afraid someone would find out, so I quickly covered my mother's fragrant lips with my hands and increased the intensity of my movements, starting to thrust wildly into my mother's bouncy, fleshy buttocks.

I put my body on my mother's back. I really love this position. I held my mother's shoulders with both hands and pulled her back forcefully. Because the body naturally arches, the buttocks will also stick out higher. You can try it if you don't believe me, but it's very tiring for girls.

My mother's buttocks formed a rounded shape. Her tight pants, due to the relentless thrusting and squeezing of my penis, were already sunken into the cleft of her buttocks. In addition, I secretly pulled up the tight pants, causing her tender vulva to rub against her vagina and underwear due to the pulling of the pants, which greatly increased her excitement. Otherwise, how could my mother have moaned?

After the final sprint, remembering how my sister helped me ejaculate in the warehouse, I thought my mother would not let me do this. So, in the last ten seconds or so before I ejaculated, I simply pulled my limp mother down and made her sit on the ground. Before my mother could react, I grabbed her nimble right hand, positioned my penis against her, and made her hold my hard penis.

My mother looked at me for a few seconds, then sighed and gave me one last quick stroke. Her fingers were smooth, without any lumps; she'd been going to beauty salons for treatments these past few years. As she stroked me quickly, I secretly brought my penis closer and closer to her face, even aiming the glans at her mouth, thinking how incredibly pleasurable it would be to shove it in her mouth and have her clothes blown off.

As I was thinking this, my mother, seeing the trembling of my glans and penis, knew I was about to ejaculate. At the moment of ejaculation, she suddenly swerved my penis to the right, spraying semen all over the car bumper. I took out a tissue to wipe it clean, and my mother used her fingers to squeeze out the last bit of semen.

Later, while moving things around the community, we ran into the building manager. My mother was incredibly embarrassed and quickly wrapped her coat around her waist, trying to hide the discharge from her buttocks. I made up a story that my mother was going to class and that I was driving her home.

We felt like we were almost caught doing something wrong—an indescribable thrill. But my mother went back to her usual sullen expression, as if nothing had happened. I think my mother is slowly getting used to my infidelity, but she still has her own principles. After all, incest has an inexplicable, irresistible attraction for both of us, like playing with fire—failure leads to self-destruction.

In the elevator, I put my hand on my mother's waist again. She didn't refuse, but she glared at me, which startled me, so I let go. The next day, I seized a small opportunity to chat with my mother alone. While my father went out to buy newspapers and cigarettes, I went behind her and gently touched her neck with the pad of my finger, not the tip, sliding down her beautiful back, and finally to her lovely, fleshy buttocks. I deliberately added pressure to her buttocks.

My mother looked at me and said, "If you dare to do it, don't be afraid of being seen." I stuck out my tongue, made a face, and stopped. I asked my mother how I behaved yesterday. My mother said, "Behave what? You kept poking me with your dick, and if I kept thrusting a penis into your ass, would you feel comfortable?" I think that makes sense. Yesterday was a bit too intense, and I did argue with that, but you made me hold it in from the dorm all the way to the car, and I only managed to come in the back seat, which made me feel really uncomfortable.

My mother gave me a helpless look and gesture, saying that yesterday I kept pressing against her anus, which made her very uncomfortable, but the finger caresses were alright. When I heard Haomian's praise, I was overjoyed, and I immediately said that my mother's right-hand hand caressing technique was truly exceptional.

I found that the distance between my mother and me seemed to have narrowed a bit. Some conversations started to feel more like friendly chats. Although I still respected her most of the time, her pride and traditional Chinese reservedness drove me crazy. Whether it was her inner repressed lust and coldness or her outwardly beautiful buttocks and breasts, I was even more infatuated with her.

I knew that after this time of playing with her buttocks and my mother's half-hearted teasing, she would probably go against her conscience and not let me touch her for a while. So I deliberately didn't bother her. Anyway, I'd let things take their course. Incest can't be rushed. It's best not to force it. It's best if both parties want it. But I just can't see through my mother's heart.

Finally, I had to go back to school for a project during the summer vacation. Before leaving, I asked my mother for a kiss. She just lightly flicked my forehead with her index finger and said, "Keep dreaming." She told me to hurry up and find a girlfriend so I wouldn't be too attached to her body.

After that, whenever I walked down the street and saw someone wearing tight sportswear, I would always think of my mother's curves. The tight clothes perfectly accentuated her good figure. And this time, the rear-entry act was the most memorable. Whenever I saw girls running on the playground, I would think of my mother's soft buttocks and couldn't help but think of her.

Chapter 5 Kissing Sweet Lips

My incestuous behavior with my mother was not as easy as everyone thought, like those incestuous plots. Your mother would serve you with her mouth from the start of the day. While she was cooking, you would thrust your penis into her apron-clad buttocks from behind, your hands reaching inside to knead her large breasts, and your mother would coquettishly beg you not to rush. At night, after your father fell asleep, your mother would pretend to go to the bathroom, but actually go to your room to be intimate with you, thrusting into your tender vagina all night long. After finishing, your mother would hurriedly go back to her room to sleep.

This is impossible! Real life is cruel. Most middle-aged women in Taiwan are old and ugly, their figures out of shape, their faces weathered by time, and they don't wear makeup. Go to the market yourself sometime, and I guarantee your desire to have an incestuous relationship with your mother will immediately vanish.

Women of my generation are generally more fashion-conscious. My mother's generation lived in the countryside, and to reach our age, it's remarkable that she's maintained such a stunning figure. If it weren't for her exceptional genes inherited from her grandparents from a young age, coupled with her meticulous skincare routine since her school days, she wouldn't have been able to maintain such a captivating figure.

With the abundance of beauty and skincare products she's used to, she's even more focused on skincare, though not in an overtly obvious way. She doesn't constantly go on shopping sprees for cosmetics, visit beauty salons, or go shopping with stylish mature women. No, my mother is still a simple housewife. Occasionally, she goes shopping with other women from the neighborhood, always very discreetly. When she goes out, she's always well-covered, wearing clothes that are often considered "auntie-like."

However, ever since I started really harassing my mother... My mother became more fashionable, but she stopped wearing low-cut tops that showed her cleavage, probably because she was afraid I'd get impulsive again.

My feelings for my mother at this stage were quite complicated. Let me explain a little, so no one doesn't misunderstand what I'm talking about. It was right at the beginning, the time my mother held my penis in the bathroom. For a while, I really wanted to sleep with her, but in the end, she held me back with her rationality.

After I went to university, although I occasionally saw incestuous porn, I would still download and watch it, imagining my mother's body, but that was rare. Until the most recent accident, when the washing machine's penis pressed against my butt, that truly broke through my psychological barrier. I couldn't help it; before, I relied on imagination. That time, with my mother's real-life performance, seeing that plump, peach-like buttocks swaying in front of me, it was impossible not to get an erection.

Ultimately, I controlled my impulses, unlike before when I foolishly asked my mother to stroke my penis. Instead, I boldly used my penis to scratch my mother's buttocks. I initially thought, "I don't care if I get beaten or scolded; I'm determined to experience my mother's round buttocks this time," with a "nine out of ten chance" mentality.

In the end, to my surprise, my mother didn't tell anyone. However, my mother's attitude towards me is usually very cold; she only acts like a mother in front of family. This is understandable; it would be a lie to say she wasn't bothered by her son sexually harassing her.

Later, I repeatedly violated my mother. After masturbating while sick, I became even bolder, which led to the incident where I had sex with her in the back of the car. However, for a long time, I didn't focus all my attention on her; that would only cause me unbearable pain.

So, I slept with many girls in college, including some mature women. I knew I couldn't push my mother too far. I was obsessed with my mother's body; it gave me a satisfaction that I couldn't get from having sex with ordinary people. At first, I only wanted my mother to help me release my pent-up desire, but now I want my mother as a complete woman. However, despite my desires, I still don't dare to be too blatant.

Now, my mother probably thinks I just want to release my pent-up desire, so she can still tolerate my behavior. But incest between mother and son is a strange thing; it's particularly exciting, and the feeling of being afraid of being discovered is wonderful.

In the past, shopping channels on TV would sometimes sell breast enhancement products for women. Seeing all those pairs of D-cup breasts on TV always got my penis itching. Once, I saw a product called "Boss Goddess." It was just a plastic shell, slightly shaped like the three leaves of a clover, with four soft, round circles on the back. Underneath the plastic shell, there was a wire and a controller. It wasn't big, just enough to cover about the size of my areola.

Why do I know so much about it? Because I just saw this product on TV a few days ago, and today, while idly rummaging through my mother's underwear, I found this breast enhancement device. The thought of my mother's breasts pressed against this "boob goddess" was unbearable. I even licked the "boob goddess" to see if I could taste its milky flavor, but the truth was always cruel.

I longed to see my mother using this "boob goddess," the vibrator constantly pulsating with heat, combined with what was supposedly infrared radiation, making my mother's snow-white breasts ripple and sway. The milk fat on her cleavage jiggled incessantly. I love the natural jiggling of body flesh in two places: one is the breasts when the body shakes violently, and the other is the plump, perky buttocks, the ripples caused by finger manipulation or back thrusts.

Thinking about it now, maybe I used to think my mother's breasts were C-cups, but over the years she's had breast enhancements, and with the help of the magic bra to lift her underarm fat, her already ample bust size has become even more alluring, with a beautiful cleavage that's sure to catch a man's eye. So there's a reason why women love to take care of themselves; it's a blessing for everyone.

I'm sorry, but I only want to possess this heavenly gift for myself. My mother's body is only for my enjoyment. However, by letting you have some fun through this article, I'd consider it a gift to those who want to commit incest after reading so many incestuous stories over the years.

Once, when I went back to my hometown for Chinese New Year, I was surrounded by a bunch of relatives. I wouldn't presume to say I'm beautiful, but my mother was definitely a beauty. My father's side had many relatives, but what was interesting about my mother's side was that she had five sisters plus her eldest brother, who was her uncle. But don't get the wrong idea that I could have sex with my aunt like some incestuous couple. I know some people might actually get pleasure with their aunts, but I could never, because my aunt is definitely not my type.

As for the five sisters, my mother was the third oldest. It's definitely genetic; each of the five has their own unique features. My mother's most striking feature is her height—170cm with long, fair legs and healthy, beautiful calves without any excess fat. The others weren't bad either, but they all shared a common feature: a beautiful, shapely bottom. My mother, however, took good care of it; the others were either old and faded or had gained weight in middle age. Perhaps it was because my mother had been drinking tea with my father since they were children; she'd been drinking tea her whole life, and it really worked.

Having an itchy penis during the Lunar New Year is a real pain. My mother was busy, so you couldn't bother her. But I endured it from New Year's Eve to the third day of the Lunar New Year because my father had sold the car this year, so the whole family traveled to the countryside by public transport, and naturally, the same applied to going home.

We sat in presidential suites, one seat per person. At that moment, I really hated the old two-seater public transport seats; otherwise, I could enjoy my mother's fragrance up close. Now, my mother was directly in front of me, my younger sister was to my left, and my father was in front of my sister. There was a staircase right in front of my mother's stall, leading to the toilet. While I was looking for a spot, I noticed her new jeans—the main reason my penis had been throbbing for several days—because of them.

They looked like a Levi's collection, though I'm not familiar with them, sorry. They were slim-fit, low-rise, straight-leg jeans, a beautiful blue that I can't quite describe. They accentuated my mother's entire lower body curves. There's a saying that goes, "I don't know whether the jeans created her bouncy, fleshy buttocks, or her bouncy, fleshy buttocks created the jeans."

The narrow-legged calf area has a unique feature: it has a wrinkled texture, which looks quite trendy. It's not the kind of straight-leg bird's-eye pants that middle-aged women wear; it's the kind of pants that you can't help but take a second look when you see a girl wearing them on the street. Slender and long beautiful legs, perfectly proportioned thighs, and a slightly fleshy and perky butt—three golden combinations, a feast for the eyes. It's a pity that my mother never wears shoes that expose her toes, otherwise, it would drive people even crazier.

Fortunately, I had seen it from home. Her feet looked perfectly smooth, without any calluses, and her nails were beautifully manicured. My mother truly knows how to take care of her body, both inside and out. However, she prefers natural methods and dislikes surgery. She doesn't like liposuction or weight loss, preferring to run on the treadmill or take yoga classes at home, which she considers healthier.

As I helped her put her luggage on the top shelf, the curves of her jeans lifted her fleshy buttocks. I subtly nudged her with my penis a couple of times. Her buttocks twitched, and she turned to look at me. Without a word, she knew what I wanted to do.

My mother didn't move, which made me anxious. I pretended to talk to her from behind, but actually pleaded with her in a low voice, afraid that anyone nearby would hear. My mother, her back to me, whispered as she looked out the window, "You're really bold. Your father and sister are here, and you dare treat me like this? And you expect me to help you vent?" I quickly begged for forgiveness, saying it wasn't intentional, but just like always, I was really suffering.

I asked my mother to pretend, feigning a headache, motion sickness, and nausea. I told my father I needed to go to the bathroom to throw up, and he said if I really felt unwell and couldn't vomit, I should stay down there a little longer, and if I still couldn't, I should come back up. I nodded, turning to look at my mother. She had no expression, just a cold stare.

I went downstairs and waited and waited, but my mother didn't come back. My hard penis throbbed incessantly in my pants. Had I made a mistake? This couldn't go on, so I deliberately tried something. I quietly called out to my mother from outside the door, asking her to bring me some toilet paper. My mother was reluctant, but she had no choice.

My father urged her to take it down, reminding her to be careful going down the stairs and to check on her son. I saw my mother take off her down jacket, revealing a turtleneck and a light purple sweater. Even in winter clothes, her ample breasts were still visible. I stared at her black flat shoes, her eyes glaring at me with a sharp look.

My mother handed me the toilet paper, and I grabbed her arm, pulling her close to my chest. Unlike before, when she would turn her back to me, her fleshy buttocks pressed against my penis. This time, she was facing me directly.

My right hand held my mother's slender waist, and I could feel the fleshy texture of her pert buttocks beneath her delicate waist. My left hand ran along her hair, stroking her smooth, fragrant back, while I looked at her. Her nose was very close to mine, almost touching. I could feel her breath and the faint floral perfume scent mixed with the shampoo in her hair. The two scents combined made my penis, pressed against her lower abdomen, even harder. My

mother looked at me without saying a word. My left hand continued to move downwards, reaching into her jeans pocket. I used four fingers, excluding my thumb, because my hand was too big to fit completely inside.

With four fingers pressed against my mother's beautiful buttocks in my pocket, I kept bending my fingers and teasing her fleshy buttocks while simultaneously twisting my penis. I kissed my mother's tender pink lips, startling her and turning her head to the side. I had long wanted to suckle her soft, fragrant lips hard, but it was only a fleeting touch.

Then I pulled my hand out of my pocket, and with the middle three fingers of my palm, I slid them along the cleft of her round, upturned buttocks, directly pressing the pads of my three fingers against her tender vulva. With the stiff shape of her jeans, I dug and pulled hard, and my mother immediately let out a muffled groan. I immediately increased my strength, and with my right hand on the right half of her fleshy buttocks, I used five fingers to press against her buttocks, my palm suspended in the air, relying solely on my fingertips, to continuously grab, scratch, tap, press, and squeeze.

My left hand was also on my mother's private parts, using my favorite lotus-finger opening and closing motion to pinch and squeeze the flesh around her tender vulva, causing her to lightly punch my chest with both fists. Her beautiful, bouncy buttocks were already twisting and turning, and her slender waist was swaying back and forth, trying to break free from my stimulating teasing.

Perhaps at the toilet door, my mother sobbed and whispered, "Are you trying to embarrass me, to let everyone see us?" I said, "Father is up there. He only needs to stick his head out to see what you're doing." My mother said, "Are you crazy?" I said, "Who told you not to come down? I'm just deliberately trying to make trouble for you at the door."

My mother said she was scared of me and told me to hurry up and go to the bathroom. I let her in first so she wouldn't run away. As soon as I went in, I locked the door and pretended to vomit, deliberately making it louder. My mother looked bewildered. I had forced her into this situation, and while she was angry, she couldn't do anything about it.

My mother said coldly, "Are you so obsessed with sex that you don't even care about your life?" I said that my mother's new jeans were so attractive that I had been hard all New Year's Eve, and I still couldn't get my way. It was very uncomfortable. My mother said, "Can't you just wait until we go home? We're in the car now, and your father is in there. What about my pride?"

I told her no one would know, and my mother sighed, but her attitude and expression were still impatient. She said this time it couldn't be like last time, because last time she got semen all over her pants and smelled fishy. She even said she wouldn't let my penis rub against her new jeans.

I thought jeans were rough and wouldn't feel comfortable rubbing against them. I was just happy that my mother was willing to help me ejaculate with her hands. I leaned close to my mother's ear and said, "If you don't hurry, Dad will get off." I kept pressing my penis against my mother's hands. My mother was threatened and persuaded by me, and she pouted. This expression was so cute. I had never seen my mother pout in my life. If that pout was her way of swallowing and spitting out my penis, it would be a good time for her.

After pouting, my mother said, "If you threaten me like that again, I'll definitely tell your father." I quickly whined and kept nagging my mother until she slowly extended her right hand. Through my jeans, she stroked my penis. This time, I didn't unbutton my pants; I asked her to do it for me. She unbuttoned my jeans in three quick movements. She even pulled them down to show how much she had been humiliated. My penis was already bulging out of my underwear.

My underwear was the kind with an opening in the front. My mother's soft right hand rubbed up and down along the outside of my underwear

. My face got closer and closer to my mother's face. The expression on my mother's face, which was starting to turn red from lovingly stroking my penis, coupled with the way she had just pouted, made my penis stiffen again. My mother felt my hand stiffen and glanced at me. I whispered in my mother's ear, "Please, come closer and rub it." Seeing me like this, my mother's proud face was slightly flushed. She reached into my underwear and kept playing with it. Finally, she simply pulled down my underwear, and my entire penis stood erect in front of my mother's eyes.

I wanted my mother to kneel down and masturbate me, but she refused. Because we were in the bathroom, I didn't dare bother her for too long, so I told her we could go faster. She said she would try her best, so all the previous teasing and playing with my glans was skipped. She simply placed her clean, slender fingers on her warm, smooth palm, grasped the base of my penis, leaving only a section of the glans exposed, and rhythmically stroked it up and down using only her thumb to scrape the foreskin at the base of the glans.

This made my penis tremble. Actually, halfway through this masturbation, I decided that whether I ejaculated or not wasn't the point. The point was that I had just pressed my lips against my mother's, which made me decide that I must find an opportunity to passionately kiss her later.

Just as I felt I was about to ejaculate, I reminded my mother in her ear, and she quickened her pace. If I were to force a kiss on her from the front at this moment, she would definitely dodge, and in a worst-case scenario, she wouldn't even continue masturbating. So I decided to have my mother turn around and stand to my left, while my penis emerged from behind her right hand. Because the toilet was small and cramped, my mother's center of gravity shifted slightly onto me as she turned, making her appear a bit shaky and unsteady.

My right hand continued to stroke her penis faster. I thought about the image of my mother pouting and the teasing feel of her hand touching my buttocks. Combined with her stroking of my penis, I shuddered and ejaculated a little on the wall. I immediately covered my glans with my mother's hand and continued to ejaculate in her palm. When my mother turned her head to look at me,

I immediately opened my mouth and sucked on my mother's watery pink lips. My left hand immediately held my mother's head in place. Because my mother couldn't move her body and her head was pressed down by my hand, she could only close her eyes and let me forcefully kiss and suck her fragrant lips. I kept trying to pry open her teeth with my tongue, but my mother just wouldn't allow it. I could only lick my mother's entire fragrant lips until they were covered in saliva before I was satisfied and released my mother.

I had forcibly kissed my mother's lips, and I thought she would be angry. But instead, she quickly washed the semen off her hands, looked in the mirror to fix her makeup, and smeared the lip gloss I had licked all over her lips with her fingers. She then wiped the saliva off her face with a damp towel and asked me to wipe the semen off my glans. Finally, she asked me to check if there was anything else on her genitals. I said there was nothing there, and she slowly went upstairs, saying she would talk about it when we got home.

On the way, she chatted and laughed with her family, completely unconcerned about what had just happened. This thrill of cheating on my family made me feel incredibly good, even though I knew it was wrong. Whenever my glans itched, lust always won over reason.

I kept thinking that as long as I didn't go too far, my mother should be able to accept it. But when I got home, while my father and younger sister weren't around, my mother scolded and berated me for the entire afternoon, making me kneel in the study. My mother said I didn't respect her, that she promised not to hit me, but now she was pinching my buttocks and kissing me. She asked if next time she would rub my breasts and force me to give her oral sex.

I realized I had really messed up this time. My mother was so angry that tears streamed down her face like pearls. She said I was going too far. In the end, I punished myself by kneeling all night without sleeping. The next day, my mother came to my room and saw me like this. Although she was still cold and sarcastic, she was a little softer. She said softly that there are many ways to satisfy sexual desire, and that I had a strong Oedipus complex and shouldn't always rely on my mother to relieve my urges.

I didn't want to say anything. My mother sat quietly by my bedside and eventually left, but added, "If you do this again, see if I'll still talk to you." Hearing this, I felt a glimmer of hope and was secretly pleased.

After that, although we never said it explicitly, sometimes when I couldn't resist touching her, I would directly tell my mother. If she agreed, I could touch her; if not, I would have to take care of it myself—it was all up to her.

I felt this was another kind of incest. I was grateful that my mother tacitly approved and was willing to help me ejaculate. The reality is nothing like those incestuous scenarios. It's not about actually penetrating the mother, sucking her breasts, or kneading her vulva with your fingers. First, the mother must be on all fours for penetration. Her vulva contracts repeatedly, the warm, sticky vagina squeezing the burning hot penis inward.

During penetration, the flesh of her buttocks moves with her hips, repeatedly thrusting deep into her uterus. The mother moans with a face full of shame and sorrow, her snow-white fingers gripping the pillow tightly. Her snow-white breasts sway and bounce violently with each back-and-forth movement, her erect nipples rubbing against the sheets. Finally, the son rolls over and passionately kisses his mother's fragrant lips.

Their tongues entwined intensely, making continuous sucking sounds. The son kissed his way from her neck to her vulva. When the stimulation of her clitoris brought her to orgasm, her thighs lifted up. Not only were her feet tense from the excitement of the orgasm, but the warm sensation of her vaginal fluid flowing to her anus made her completely limp on the bed.

At this moment, the son's penis pressed against the tender vulva, and with a "plop," he thrust in again. The mother's chest heaved, her breathing rapid, her forehead drenched in fragrant sweat. Even with the air conditioning on, her whole body was burning hot, almost melting. The son pressed his mother's legs together to increase the tightness of her vagina, and

held her smooth thighs with both hands, constantly and rapidly swaying his hips, making his penis work like a piston. The mother cooperated by slightly lowering her buttocks and slightly raising her waist, allowing his penis to naturally rise and making it easier to thrust in and out. The mother's hazy eyes, her expression of wanting to live or die, from muffled moans to the nasal cries of rapid thrusting, made me even more reluctant to hurt my mother.

In the final sprint, I supported my mother's slender waist, her legs shamefully spread open. Even in the last few minutes of vigorous thrusting, her legs wrapped around my waist. I let out a muffled roar, and streams of hot, thick, white semen shot into her. I held my mother's body, giving her gentle, light kisses, flirting and tenderly cuddling.

Anticipating each sexual pleasure, defying societal norms and morals, even knowing it was wrong, incest between mother and son still happened so naturally. A netizen once said that incest between mother and son is very natural, and I completely agree.

Chapter 1

I remember it was lunchtime after school. My mother was 170cm tall, slim, with long hair and a decent appearance. Because I resemble my mother, I inherited her height; I'm 180cm tall and also slim, and I don't gain weight easily.

My mother worked at a nearby electronics factory, I think she assembled some large parts. Since it was close to home, she would buy lunch to eat at noon. My midterms had just ended, and when I saw my mother come home, she asked how the exams went. I said they were good. Then I deliberately asked if I would get a prize if I improved. My mother asked how much allowance I wanted. I hesitated and said I didn't need the allowance; I wanted my mother to masturbate me, just once.

My mother was shocked. She asked me why I had such thoughts, and I blurted out that some mothers abroad help their sons masturbate. I was really driven by lust at the time, and my words were incoherent. My mother scolded me severely, telling me not to think such things, and then she went to work. Afterwards, I really regretted it; I shouldn't have blurted it out so quickly.

Later that evening, my mother was cooking in the kitchen. I stood at the kitchen door, staring intently at her buttocks. My mother is 170cm tall, and her beautiful buttocks, paired with her tight jeans, had already made my penis hard for a long time. I was so stupid at that moment that I went to my mother and asked her to come to the bathroom with me, since the bathroom was right next to the kitchen. I saw my mother keep asking her to come over, and in the end, she still came into the bathroom with me.

I even locked the door, the kind with a loudspeaker. My mother asked what was wrong, and I immediately pulled down my pants and underwear, revealing my penis. It was of normal length, but very thick.

My mother looked at my penis, the pink glans stretching the foreskin. I deliberately used my right hand to stroke it, and said to her, "I've been trying for so long, but I can't ejaculate. What should I do?" I know this is stupid, but I didn't think much about it at the time. Looking back now, it was incredibly idiotic.

My mother actually got anxious and said she didn't know what to do. I told her to use her hand to stroke it for me. In the end, my mother actually stretched out her right hand and used a normal grip, not the reverse grip like in porn movies where you kneel on the ground.

At that moment, I felt my scheme had succeeded. Unexpectedly, my mother stroked my penis a couple of times, and when some of the secretions from the tip got on her hand, she quickly rinsed it with the tap, telling me to rinse with cold water myself, and then left, leaving me slightly bewildered. But the feeling of my mother's touch at that moment, I think I'll never forget.

After that, for a while, no matter how hard I tried to get my mother to masturbate me, she refused, saying that if my father found out, she would be beaten to death. I was very naive then, thinking that masturbating me wouldn't hurt, that it was enough to give me a moment of pleasure. Later, as time passed, my mother stopped mentioning it.

After my mother held my hot penis, for a while... Whenever my mother comes to the kitchen, I pretend to go to the back to get a drink of water and casually ask if she needs any help. Once, when my mother was busy cooking, I really wanted to pinch her plump buttocks. My fingers were slightly spread, only a few centimeters away from her pert buttocks, but I stopped myself because I was afraid she would get angry.

Another time, I was watching TV with my mother in the afternoon. She already knew what I was thinking. When I stared at her, she spoke up, telling me not to have such thoughts and giving me a long lecture on self-respect. I just kept saying "okay, okay, I know." Then I deliberately asked her, "Do you think my...are you big?" She said they were quite big, and I got really excited. She even told me that you could tell how big it was by looking at the nose.

My family is a traditional one. My parents came from the countryside to Taipei to make a living. My mother gave birth to me very early, so I think she was hesitant to talk about sex, mostly due to the views of the previous generation. Later, when I went to university, my feelings for my mother gradually disappeared. However, incest is still very attractive to me, especially mature women. But in real life, older women are usually not that great. Pornographic films are all high-quality, and it's hard to find them in the real world.

Later, when I came back for a holiday, the washing machine was in the back. That night, I wanted to take a shower, so I went to the back to collect the laundry. I saw my mother washing clothes by the washing machine, wearing pajamas, a thin top and shorts like a housewife's. My mother's breasts were about a C cup, her thighs and calves were well-proportioned, and her hips were a little fleshy but perky. She was 170 cm tall, and from the back, she looked quite alluring. Perhaps because my father had been making tea since he was a child, my mother's skin was also well-maintained, which was quite good compared to his sisters.

The back hallway was crowded. I squeezed past my mother from behind to grab a clothes hanger, because I needed to hold the clothes up. Accidentally, my penis slid from left to right across my mother's fleshy buttocks. My glans tingled and went numb, and I instantly got hard, which made me think of a bunch of incestuous stories. I wonder if my mother noticed.

The washing machine was very loud. I slid past again, this time deliberately stopping behind my mother's buttocks, but not too close. I pretended to be unable to find my clothes because it was too dark, and even asked my mother if that one was mine.

At this moment, the washing machine was directly in front of my mother, and my clothes were directly above and in front of it. My mother asked me for a stick, supported herself on the washing machine lid with her left hand, slightly raised her toes, and leaned her upper body forward, while her right hand struggled to hook my clothes.

I looked directly at my mother's plump, peach-shaped buttocks, the way her buttocks naturally arched because of her body, and my penis was so hard it was about to burst. I put my penis against my mother's slender waist, and finally my mother simply pressed her lower abdomen against the washing machine lid, supporting herself up, using her hands and feet together, her right knee rising up, so that her left toes were slightly touching the floor, while her right knee and thigh straddled the washing machine. I stared at my mother's private parts rubbing against the edge of the washing machine lid, but unfortunately it only lasted for a few seconds.

My mother took the clothes down, saying that the clothes hanger was somehow caught on it. I quickly said, "Mom, be careful when you get down, it's dark, make sure your right foot is on the right spot." My mother said, "Don't worry," but as soon as she finished speaking, her right knee slipped on the edge of the washing machine lid. I quickly supported my mother's waist with both hands, and the firm feel of her hands gave me a thrill. I subtly helped my mother down slowly, and she joked that she had startled me.

I told Mom not to scare me. By then, she had regained her balance, but I deliberately thrust my penis forward so she couldn't move her buttocks and could only slowly slide down from above. My penis bulged out of her basketball shorts, and her genitals brushed against the head of my penis, gripping tightly between her buttocks. The whole process was very short, less than ten seconds.

Mom seemed to notice my penis, and suddenly we both fell silent, with only the sound of the washing machine motor. At that moment, my penis, protruding from my basketball shorts, was only a short distance from her buttocks. Mom said she would grab her clothes and go take a shower quickly, but I didn't want to miss this opportunity.

I deliberately pushed my penis forward. At this time, my penis was still in my pants, but it was pressed tightly against my mother's thin shorts and briefs through my underwear and basketball shorts. It felt really good at that moment. I never thought that after so many years, I would still have such a romantic encounter. It was because my dad seemed to be making tea in the living room, and my sister was still working outside and had not come home. How could I let go of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?

Seeing that my mother didn't react, I boldly wrapped my arms around her slender waist and plunged my penis deep into her buttocks. My mother just turned her head and looked at me in surprise, without saying a word. Her body began to sway from side to side, trying to break free from my intrusion, constantly trying to remove my hands from her waist. I decided to play along and simply placed my hands on the washing machine lid, with my mother's slender waist and fleshy buttocks between my arms.

In front of my mother was the washing machine, on either side were my arms, and behind was my penis. I deliberately squeezed my penis in a circular motion, teasing my mother's tender buttocks. Those soft, plump buttocks made my penis feel a tingling sensation even through my pants.

I simply rested my head on the back of my mother's neck. Because it was dark, with only a small nightlight on the washing machine, I peered through the light at my mother's collar. Beneath the loose collar, there were two white breasts with deep cleavage, which looked even more alluring against the backdrop of a bra of some unknown color.

I pressed my entire body against my mother's back, and her breasts began to sway from side to side as I moved, making my penis hard. I deliberately moved the head of my penis to my mother's genitals, directly below them, and rhythmically squeezed her genitals up and down.

I noticed my mother didn't even turn around to see me, letting me tease her body. However, as soon as my hands started kneading her breasts, she turned around and glared at me. I realized I had really upset her this time. My mother didn't show much emotion. Just then, my father called for her, and she only said, "Hurry up and take a shower." I quickly left.

In the bathroom, I masturbated twice, still hard. I thought about how I vaguely heard a soft groan when my mother's buttocks moved up and down with me. I was terrified that my mother would tell my father about what happened.

The next day, I made an excuse to rush back to my dorm. My mother, as usual, stood at the door, arranging for me to take something to eat. As I left, she gave me her usual advice, telling me to take good care of myself and that my sister was doing well at home, so I shouldn't worry.

Then she said something like, "I know you have a lot of energy, so you should control yourself to avoid hurting yourself." I actually laughed and said that I'm young and energetic and get hard easily, and that I could ejaculate three times a day without a problem. My mother didn't say anything, only that she should reduce the frequency of ejaculation before I come back next time, and that studying hard is more important. I felt there was a hidden meaning in her words, but I didn't say anything and left.

Chapter Two: Holding a Penis

After that time my penis pressed against my tender buttocks while the washing machine was running, I went back to my dorm and lay on my bed, completely unsure whether that meant my mother had tacitly approved or permitted it. Therefore, I decided to go home next Saturday, since my mother had Saturday off and would be home alone. However, I couldn't suppress my desire, so on Friday night I skipped my afternoon classes on my motorcycle and rushed home.

My mother was only slightly surprised that I was home so early this week. Actually, the atmosphere at home wasn't as warm as it should be between a parent and child; it was more like a polite, reciprocal exchange of courtesies.

I was really looking forward to my mother's washing machine time on Friday night, but when I waited until she went to the back hallway, I tiptoed in after her. My mother coldly said, "Weren't you satisfied last time?" Have you forgotten what I told you before? I was so scared my penis almost went limp. After a moment of stunned silence, I obediently went back to bed.

Around midnight, I got up to pee and saw my mother folding the clothes she'd taken down the night before in the living room. I went over to her and apologized. She didn't say anything, but her attitude softened a bit. After all, she's a traditional woman; incestuous sex is something they wouldn't even dare to think about.

She told me to control my sexual desires and not to do anything reckless. I just said lightly, "It's because you're so tempting, I couldn't help myself." She glanced at me sideways, sighed, and said, "You don't like the young girls outside, but you fall for your own mother. That's an Oedipus complex."

I had no rebuttal, after all, I admit I was a bit of a pervert. My mother said she had seen me masturbating in my room. She was going to get me some fruit, but when she saw me masturbating in front of the screen, she was staring at a video on the computer screen. She said she knew then that mature women were very attractive to me.

I asked my mother if she got excited when she saw me holding my penis. My mother didn't say anything and immediately went into my father's room to go to sleep. But I deliberately reached out and touched my mother's waist, and then pinched her right buttock. My mother flinched and said, "You're going to die! You even dare to hit me now!" I lowered my head and remained silent. Seeing this, my mother only advised me to go to bed early and not to harm my health at night. She then added that my father would be going to work the next day.

I went back to my room, thinking about how I could spend a tender day with my mother the next day. However, my mother's attitude was sometimes firm and sometimes soft, leaving me unsure whether it was possible or not.

My father left at 5:30 in the morning. I sneaked into my mother's room. My mother was wearing a light purple onesie nightgown on the bed, her snow-white thighs draped over her slender calves, exposed outside the small quilt. I looked at my mother sleeping on her side and thought about incestuous stories where they would take advantage of their mothers sleeping on their side to start groping and messing around, and finally even have sex. It was impossible in reality.

My mother sat up on the bed, her upper body upright, and asked me what I wanted to do. I said that I had been hard all night and the swelling hadn't gone down, and it was even harder this morning. I didn't know what to do. My mother looked at my underwear, which was bulging out like a tent. Right, I always wear underwear to bed.

My mother said that we were mother and son, and it was impossible for us to have a relationship. She also said that she wouldn't help me masturbate because if I did, everything else would follow. I secretly stared at my mother's red underwear. When my mother noticed that I was looking at her private parts, she quickly closed her legs and covered herself with the blanket.

When I saw that red panty, I remembered how I used to sneak into my mother's closet when no one was home, take her panties, and use them to masturbate. I didn't dare ejaculate on them because it was too obvious. I also used a light blue lace bra as a nipple play, holding my penis between my fingers while fantasizing and masturbating. After doing this once or twice, I felt empty and thought it was stupid, so I gave up on this pointless thing.

Looking at my mother's determined expression on the bed, her pink lips, I really wanted to put my penis in her mouth and make her swallow and spit it out. But I chose to leave the room. I held back all night, and the next morning I couldn't get anything out of it. I got a little aroused, so I went out to play ball to release my energy. But the image of my mother crawling on all fours with her buttocks sticking up has never left my mind.

In the past, when my mother cleaned the floor at home, she would wear a pair of athletic shorts. In some places, even after the mop had been used, the floor was still not clean. So my mother simply picked up a bucket of water, knelt on the ground like a doggy-style crawling machine, and her round, fleshy buttocks were squeezed out with the stretching of the athletic shorts. As my mother worked hard to clean the floor with her hands, her whole body swayed with the motion of scrubbing the floor.

I hid in the shadows and secretly watched, even unconsciously touching my own penis. My mother's buttocks swayed at a 45-degree angle upwards, making me itch with desire. I kept fantasizing about moving my penis in sync with her hips. Unfortunately, after scrubbing for nearly fifteen minutes, my mother got up to pack up and leave. At this moment, I deliberately walked over to my mother and asked if she needed any help. My mother shook her head and said no.

I glanced at her; she was covered in sweat from scrubbing the floor, and her white top was already soaked through, revealing glimpses of her cleavage. Unfortunately, my mother had no idea I harbored such wicked thoughts. She would just pat her bottom and say she was tired, then go take a shower. However, I've never spied on my mother while she showers, firstly because I never had the chance, and secondly because I don't have the habit of doing so.

When I was little and sick, I often vomited and had diarrhea, and my stomach would ache. My mother would rub my stomach with her palms, making me feel very comfortable. But that was when I was little; now that I'm older, I realize how enjoyable that was.

In winter, I'm prone to nasal allergies, constantly having a stuffy, runny nose, and headaches and dizziness. Once, I had just come home, and the next day I woke up feeling completely unwell. After vomiting everything up after dinner, I mustered my willpower to go see a doctor, took my medicine, and went straight to sleep.

After seeing me take my medicine, my mother came over, exchanged a few pleasantries, and then went about her business. I slept fitfully until 11 o'clock, but my head was throbbing unbearably. It was the kind of sensation where you're extremely tired, weary, and sleepy, wanting to sleep but your head hurts so much, like a drill bit is drilling into your right temple. I tossed and turned in bed in pain, having uttered almost everything I could. I

got up and induced vomiting again. After vomiting, I noticed my mother had gotten up. She probably heard me vomiting and asked if I felt any better. I said my head hurt. My mother asked if I wanted to have gua sha (scraping therapy), and I said yes. After the gua sha, I felt a bit hot. My shoulders and neck felt cool because the nurse was doing it, which cleared my mind a bit. I noticed my mother was wearing tight jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt that slightly exposed her chest. It turned out my mother had gone out to a wedding with the factory workers that evening and had just returned home.

I thought this attempt at playing the victim might work, though I wasn't entirely sure what it would be like. My mother, seeing I was almost done, prepared to leave my room to shower and go to bed. I quickly called out, "Mom!" She turned to look at me and noticed she was still wearing light makeup. I hurriedly asked her to massage my temples.

She came over, and I shifted my position. She sat on the edge of the bed and skillfully began massaging both sides of my face. Her technique was quite good. After about five to ten minutes, while I was still enjoying the faint scent of her perfume, she prepared to leave.

I stared at her C-cup breasts, looking down at them from below. Her body swayed slightly as she massaged them, causing her large breasts to sway as well. The sight made my penis hard again, and one side of it twitched. I told my mother that my stomach was a little upset.

She looked a bit anxious, her flustered expression suggesting I had an upset stomach. I said I wanted her to rub my stomach like she used to when I was little, and then casually joked that the warmth of her palms would make my stomach feel better. My mother frowned, a slight blush creeping across her face, and said, "That's not a good idea, you're not young anymore."

I pretended to be very uncomfortable, and finally, she gave in, sliding her left hand along my firm chest muscles all the way to my six-pack abs. She seemed a little bewildered and said, "You have a great physique." I replied with a touch of pride, "I went to the gym in college. Do you like it?" My mother smiled shyly, without answering. Her left hand began to stroke my lower abdomen, massaging it clockwise. Sometimes, her nails would accidentally scratch my pubic hair, and she would pause.

Suddenly, her eyes met mine. The room light was on, and her face was flushed. I asked her why she was blushing, and she said it was because she had drunk some alcohol. The room was a little warm. After 15 minutes, she said she was going to take a shower, and her expression returned to its usual coldness. As her left hand prepared to leave my stomach, I grabbed her left hand with my own. Seeing this, she probably knew what I wanted.

I told her, "Just this once, please. I feel so uncomfortable; I need to relax." My mother's attitude seemed to soften a bit. I deliberately lowered her left hand, her gentle fingers and palm resting on my underwear. She tried to pull her hand away.

I deliberately pressed my hand against my penis, using it to thrust a couple of times into the center of her palm. Her face, already flushed, now stared silently at me holding her hand. Just like the last time I pressed my penis against her buttocks, that expression was one of tacit consent amidst struggle. Without

a word, I clamped my legs around her hand, pressing my entire penis against it. I asked my mother if it was okay, but she didn't answer. I asked her if I could do it myself or if she wanted to help me. Then she spoke, saying I didn't know what I was thinking, that a sick person could do such things. She said she was going to turn off the light and told me to turn on the nightlight, then she grabbed some toilet paper and brought it to the bedside.

I felt really good. From the past until now, I've longed for my mother to help me masturbate. I even sat up, hugged my mother's waist, and said some very mushy things, calling her "Mommy" instead of "Mom." My mother said I wasn't allowed to touch her with my hands. I asked if I could look, but she said there weren't many reasons. I lay down and pulled down my underwear. My mother said that if I hadn't been sick this time, I would never have helped you with this. I nodded and said thank you, Mommy.

My mother first caressed my chest and abs with both hands, deliberately stroking between my thighs. Her palms inadvertently touched my glans, instantly igniting my lust to its peak—completely different from typical incest novels. She

didn't just grab my penis and shout things like, "What a big penis! Mommy loves your big penis!" This silent teasing from my mother was exactly what I wanted. Finally, I couldn't resist and kept pleading with my mother through my eyes, begging her to hold my penis. Only then did my mother reluctantly begin.

I knew I couldn't rush things; I had to let things unfold naturally. My mother first grasped the lower edge of my glans with her left hand, pushed my foreskin up, and then rhythmically stroked it up and down. I was surprised by her skill; she was so adept at it. As she stroked my penis, she looked at my body, lost in thought.

As a mother, she had actually agreed to her son's request in the middle of the night, helping him release his pent-up desires. I think my mother must have been struggling internally, but given her personality, she wouldn't go back on her promise.

As I watched my mother's left hand manipulate my penis, her thumb and forefinger sometimes circling above the head, moving up and down, left and right, with a rhythm that fluctuated in speed, I almost lost control. This intense desire had been building since I left my mother's room last Saturday morning.

During this time, I asked my mother if she could moan softly, saying it might help me ejaculate faster. She hesitated for a moment, then ignored my request. After fifteen minutes, my mother noticed I hadn't ejaculated yet. I gave her a helpless look and said, "Now you know how hard your son is, don't you?"

After I finished speaking, my mother slapped my penis, seemingly annoyed that I hadn't ejaculated yet. She had been to my left, but then stepped to my right, gripping my penis with her right hand.

It had become slightly limp. I complained that my mother wasn't providing enough stimulation. She said, "Wasn't that enough when you thrust into me last time?" I smiled and said, "Because your ass is really beautiful, I can't help it."

After she switched to her right hand, I realized that her right hand was her trump card. The strength in her grip was even more pleasurable than masturbating myself. My mother lowered her body, her breasts pressed against my right chest, her face directly facing mine, while her fleshy buttocks were unfortunately hidden behind her.

My mother's expression was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Her eyes, framed by light makeup, held a hazy, teasing look, as if she were saying, "I'm going to make you cum!" Her lips were adorned with pink lip gloss, a far cry from the bold red lipsticks worn by other women.

Before, I couldn't see clearly from a distance, but now, with the nightlight, her breath on my face, I shifted slightly upwards, lewdly eyeing her. That's when I realized I was wrong; her breasts were actually D-cup, the deep V-shaped cleavage shimmering with each stroke.

On the spring mattress, our bodies rose and fell slightly. I reached down and pulled her collar down, her snow-white, pudding-like D-cup breasts gleaming. She didn't stop me, repeatedly saying, "If you don't ejaculate soon, I won't be able to stop."

Actually, I had been holding back. My mother's breasts were trembling slightly, which made my glans very itchy. I told my mother that I could go for it. My mother quickly put a piece of toilet paper over my glans and quickly stroked it up and down with her right hand. I made a soft, low sound when I was about to reach my climax.

I suddenly sat up, my right hand grabbing my mother's exposed buttocks as she sat on the bed. I wrapped my arms around her chest, and in the final seconds, she let out a soft moan in my ear. It was just a little, but it was enough to excite me. A gush of thick, white semen soaked the toilet paper. My mother took a few sheets to wipe herself clean, noticing my penis was still throbbing. She blushed and smiled.

Afterward, she tidied up. I wanted to hold her a little longer, but she turned and left. Seeing how late it was, I said, "Mommy, I love you." She turned and said, "Don't say that anymore, okay?" Then I heard the sound of the shower in the bathroom. Later, due to physical exhaustion and the weakness after ejaculation, I fell into a deep sleep.

When I woke up the next day, I found that my mother was already up. She asked if I was feeling better, but didn't mention the masturbation from the previous day at all, as if we had done something wrong and had a little secret that couldn't be told. It was very exciting, I thought, but I don't know what my mother was thinking.

That day, when I was about to go back to the dormitory, I asked my mother if my hand was still sore. My mother said expressionlessly, "I really underestimated you," and then told me to be careful on the way. I let my mother do that, and I fantasized about it several times.

Chapter Three: Legs Clamped Between Penis.

My mother was a traditional Taiwanese woman, the reserved type of housewife. She had a proud, even rebellious, personality. She rarely smiled, but when she did, it was beautiful, like Gwei Lun-mei, not like Cai 10 with her big mouth.

I loved it when my mother wore her hair up in a bun, probably influenced by the ancient custom of tying hair into a bun, exposing the neck, with a gold hairpin inserted, and a few strands hanging down from the bun. Every time I imagined it, it always made my penis hard.

Unfortunately, in reality, my mother rarely wore her hair up. She had medium-length, thick, black hair, and only tied it into a ponytail when cleaning or busy.

My mother's profile picture is exquisite, especially the inward curve of her waist, which immediately meets her jade-like buttocks with an outward curve, her shapely hips following the curve of her peach-like buttocks down to her private parts, along her snow-white thighs to her calves, a natural and alluring sight.

Like the curved shape of a Coca-Cola bottle, whether viewed from the front or the side, she possesses the natural curves of a woman's body. I used to imagine myself kneading and playing with her left breast from behind with my left hand, while my right hand caressed her private parts from the front, and finally, my penis enjoying the elasticity of her buttocks between her thighs. Just imagining it made me ejaculate every time. After all, I have a strength that is also a weakness: my imagination is too rich.

I remember when I first tried to have an incestuous relationship with my mother, she immediately refused and even threatened to tell my father if we did. Surprisingly, a few years later, although my mother still appears proud and rebellious on the surface, she seems to have started to show some femininity, the kind that's fashionable.

Perhaps because she couldn't focus on herself when we were young and had to take care of the family, now that we children are grown up and can take care of ourselves, my mother has started dressing up lately. However, she only wears light makeup when attending banquets or going out on errands; otherwise, she remains a typical housewife at home.

The pleasurable sensation of masturbation last time is unforgettable. Seriously, having a woman perform the act is definitely more pleasurable than masturbating yourself, but you need to know the technique. I feel very lucky; my mother's hands are very skillful, I don't know where she learned it.

Traditional Taiwanese women like my mother probably haven't had many men in their lives, but it doesn't matter. There's one advantage to incest between mother and son: my mother can't hide from me at home, giving me many opportunities. Thinking about this, I can't wait to go home and enjoy the pleasure of masturbation again.

Unfortunately, reality is always cruel. After that, whenever I went home, I would try every possible way to get my mother to help me masturbate again, but she would refuse no matter what, pretending not to understand and saying she had forgotten. Finally, when I kept asking her, she got a little annoyed, raised her eyebrows, and gave me a poker face, clearly telling me not to think nonsense. At this point, I thought of those incestuous articles, which all say that you can threaten your mother by saying she helped you, and then your mother will obey you.

I told her she was talking nonsense. In real life, my mother is proud, to put it bluntly, arrogant. She doesn't allow me to touch her, doesn't allow me to do anything indecent, and doesn't allow me to mention anything about us, mother and son.

My mother said that last time was just an accident. If she hadn't drunk some alcohol, she wouldn't have been so confused as to help me masturbate. I said, "Mom, but you seemed to enjoy it too." My mother said she had forgotten about it and that it was impossible. I really regretted not filming it. After all, I was so focused on my climax that I almost forgot about the pleasure.

I think about it. Normally, I'm a simple-minded person, but I tend to have all sorts of wild thoughts about my mother. The main reason is that incestuous connection that excites me. This time, I can only suffer in silence and try to forget about it.

When I was in college, I worked at a department store. There was a traditional-style store there that sold things like 7-Eleven, but much more, including freshly baked bread and milk. Almost all the department store employees, trying to save money, would eat there.

The employees were mostly mothers, the kind whose kids were just starting elementary or middle school. The oldest employee, the store manager, had a son who was only in his first year of high school. Some people might think that I could sleep with two or three mature women like in those erotic novels, but that's impossible. Just look and don't overthink it.

Inside, there was a store manager, two assistant store managers, one full-time employee, and four part-time employees. The part-time employees were out of the question. There was a masculine-looking older sister who didn't know how to dress, and a chubby older sister who worked part-time on weekends. The store manager and the two assistant store managers both looked like mothers, the kind of people who seemed very kind. Finally, there was one full-time employee, who was also the youngest among the full-time employees. She had a sixth son, and it seemed that her husband had passed away, leaving her to raise her son alone.

Some people said, "That's perfect, go for mature women, they're in high demand." I said, "Come on, my boss has been dating a man more than ten years older than her, also from a single-parent family, for a long time. Sometimes that man even comes to the shop to drop by and get intimate with my boss." Now I'm the only one left. I'm just looking for a job and don't think too much about it, because my mind is still filled with the image of my mother.

One time, I was restocking drinks in the back. It was a busy weekend, so drinks sold out quickly. I often had to help out at the counter and run to the back warehouse to restock refrigerated drinks. When I was in the refrigerated area, I would sometimes peek out through the gaps in the drinks to see if there were any pretty girls or beauties in the store. I dare say that every man would peek like that. With the mindset of restocking drinks while secretly watching pretty girls, I actually saw something really good.

Once, I was in the refrigerator compartment. Usually, customers outside wouldn't notice someone inside, but suddenly I saw a pair of pink, plump breasts completely exposed outside the refrigerator door. A mother and child were buying drinks that day; her face was fixed on the drink, and her breasts were clearly visible through the gap under the beverage.

Because there were refrigerator lights inside, each costing a thousand, I looked closely and realized the mother was wearing a loose-fitting top, which explained the exposure. I estimated they were at least an E cup—truly huge breasts. Sorry, I'm a big-breast enthusiast.

The woman was bent over in front of the refrigerator, listening to her son say what he wanted to drink. I thought to myself, "Kid, take your time choosing, let me see more." Unfortunately, I only stayed for a minute before the lady grabbed a plastic bottle and some juice and went to the counter to pay.

I stared at her back, using every man's keen eye to scan her figure. Medium build, not tall, dressed like a wealthy woman. Her back view was nice; she wore makeup, so she seemed to take care of herself. As for her husband, well, let's not even talk about him. The atmosphere inside the store was harmonious, perhaps because the assistant shopkeeper was very humorous, the manager a bit scatterbrained, and the older woman was quite gossipy, while I was the one who teased her. Let me

first mention the older woman; before I came, I always thought she was a senior from university, only a few years older than me. It turns out she's five years older than me—I really couldn't tell. She wasn't wearing makeup, and her hair was tied in a ponytail for work. Company policy dictated that women with no breasts, maybe an A or B cup, were acceptable. However, her height was an advantage; she was about 172cm tall. I'd never seen her wear pants that showed her thighs or calves; they were always those tacky flared jeans or cotton pants.

Part-time workers could dress however they wanted, but full-time employees had to wear suits—dark blue suits. But this woman actually looked like my older sister. One thing that attracted me was her wide, slightly flared but very fleshy hips. Every time I saw her hips sway as she walked, it got me a little excited. And she didn't have a barrel waist; her slender waist and swaying hips, combined with her ponytail, made me have endless fantasies.

We each have half an hour for lunch, which we can eat in the warehouse. I often eat with other employees, usually two at a time, and I usually take a nap afterward. I remember once eating with an older woman—not the other chubby one.

Calling her "older woman" sounds too old, so let's call her "sister." The warehouse aisle isn't actually that small; it's the kind where two people have to squeeze through sideways. That time, as she was going to get through, her pink, tender buttocks accidentally bumped against my penis.

This gave me a wicked thought, and during lunch, I deliberately asked her some erotic questions. Because we part-time workers are among the younger group, and the staff in the store actually quite like to make dirty jokes, I chatted with her about it.

My sister's explanation was vague. She said she wouldn't go to nightclubs or hotels. Looking at her, I was surprised by her abilities. I didn't know if she was bluffing or telling the truth. She said her friend described her as someone who looks innocent but completely changes in bed. I pretended to be skeptical. My sister also said she knew which part of a man would feel good when massaged, which reminded me of the time my mother massaged me to masturbate, making my penis hard again.

I said I didn't believe her and wanted to make a bet. My sister said okay. I remembered the time my sister made a mistake at the counter. Luckily, I kept my composure, otherwise, we would have had a terrible customer complaint. Usually, everyone in the shop helps each other out; it's normal. At this point, I deliberately brought up that incident with my sister. My sister kept smiling and apologizing. I asked what the reward was, and she said something like, "I'll treat you to something to eat or a drink." I already knew she was going to treat me to something from the restaurant; she was pulling that stunt.

My sister laughed uncontrollably and asked, "So what do you want?" I deliberately said I'd never had a girlfriend and wanted one. I leaned close to my sister's ear, and she jumped, trying to dodge me. I said, "What are you doing? You think I'm going to hit you?" I said I was whispering so someone wouldn't overhear. My sister said, "You're something else. There are only the two of us in the warehouse, and you're still acting like an idiot."

I deliberately sounded mysterious, and my sister seemed interested, so she leaned closer. At that moment, I looked at my sister's breasts, but I couldn't see any cleavage; maybe she was wearing a bra. I deliberately didn't say anything in her ear, just letting my breath tickle it.

My sister said, "Aren't you going to tell me?" I said, "I want my sister to kiss me." My sister was dumbfounded. I told her I'd never been kissed by a girl before, which was a lie. She looked confused and just stood there, continuing to eat her noodles. I deliberately acted a little sulky, eating while subtly teasing her, saying things like how I always help her. She looked embarrassed. Finally, when it was time to eat, I deliberately left first.

Actually, I didn't think much of it. I didn't get a kiss, so it was fine. That night, I deliberately didn't talk to my sister. When it was time to close up and leave the shop, I was busy restocking. The two full-time employees were at the counter settling accounts, leaving my sister and me to take turns on the night shift.

I went to the back warehouse to get a drink and found my sister behind me. She was looking at me, and I guessed she was having an affair, so I asked her to let me pass since she was at the door. My sister said, "Why are you sulking?" I said, "No, nothing." Then

she said, "If you want to go out, just come over. If you don't get a kiss, you're responsible." This was great, but I deliberately didn't show any obvious pleasure. My sister told me to close the door. I leaned against the door to keep someone from coming in, and then my sister said it was just this once, and she leaned in and kissed my cheek quickly. Although she wasn't very pretty, I just wanted to pinch her butt. I deliberately acted like I do on TV, saying it was too fast and I should do it again, and that this time I should take it slow.

My sister's breathing was a little heavy. She glanced at me, then pressed her lips against my forehead, her eyes meeting mine. I deliberately waited until she got down, intending to shock her. As she tried to pull away, I immediately grabbed her waist, spun her around, and pinned her against the door. She was startled.

Neither of us spoke, but she knew what I was about to do from my eyes. I pressed my entire body against hers, using my knees to spread her legs, and forcefully kissed her lips, a French kiss. Startled, she tried to push me away, but with my skillful tongue, although her lips managed to escape several times, I held her head firmly, using my weight to pin her against the corner of the door and wall.

My sister didn't scream, only gave me gentle pushes. I think she was stunned; she probably didn't expect me to be so bold. We kissed passionately for about five minutes. I left my sister, and then a full-time employee knocked on the door. Startled, my sister and I quickly left. I pretended to be busy, and the manager said, "Hurry up and pack up; we need to leave."

Before leaving, my sister didn't say anything. Taking advantage of the dim lighting, as I walked from the warehouse to the back door, I deliberately pinched my sister's buttocks with my palm. I used my ring and middle fingers, pressing against the outside of her jeans, while my index and little fingers pressed against the edge of her right buttock and the left side. My thumb squeezed her buttocks hard from top to bottom, including the pad of my finger touching her vulva, like a lotus flower. I pinched for about 10 seconds before letting go.

Seeing my boldness, my sister turned and glared at me. We deliberately walked slowly behind her. She said, "You're really daring, aren't you afraid I'll yell at you?" I replied, "Sister, you owe me. I've been waiting for your kiss all afternoon and into the evening. Of course I'm angry, but it's not really a lie."

My sister didn't say anything, only asked if I liked her. I said it depended on the situation. Her half-smile made my heart flutter, but unfortunately, there were many surveillance cameras in the department store, so I didn't dare to touch her. When we reached the parking lot, I said goodbye to my sister, and she waved back.

I deliberately walked up to my sister and made her squat down next to the motorcycle because I didn't want anyone to see us doing something inappropriate. My sister looked confused until I brought my lips close to hers, and then she realized what I was going to do. I forced a kiss before leaving. For a while afterward, my sister acted the same way I did at the store, nothing changed. I only did things inappropriately in the warehouse or when we were intimate.

Once, when we went to the back warehouse to get some goods, I pulled my sister into a dark corner. The warehouse door closed, and there were other shop employees and customers laughing and joking outside. My sister said we couldn't stay too long, or they would find out we were slacking off.

I embraced my sister from the front, first supporting her slender waist, then forcefully kissing her. Her body trembled slightly. My restless hands slid down to her fleshy buttocks, rubbing them incessantly. My erect penis pressed against her soft lower abdomen. She was wearing cotton pants today, and the feel of them was indescribably wonderful.

My fingers kept inadvertently touching her tender vulva. From passionate kisses to tongues on her ears and earlobes, my tongue traveled down her jade-like neck, kissing her under her chin and then around her. My sister's face was flushed, and her breathing became rapid. I pressed her down onto the beverage box next to us. She looked like a seductive pornographic pose, lying face down on the beverage box, the curves of her buttocks right in front of me. My mind was filled with images of how to rape my mother.

My sister turned to me and said, "Not now." I said I really wanted it, but she insisted and refused. I pulled out my penis, hard as a rock, and pressed it against her pants. I said I didn't need to thrust, but I had to let her ejaculate first.

My sister looked at my penis and seemed flustered. I laughed. "Is this what you call experienced?" I guessed she might still be a virgin. My sister said she didn't know what to do. I said, "That's for the best. You can't possibly not know." At this moment, my sister sat up, reached out and grasped my penis, gently stroking it. I thought to myself, "Completely different from my mother." Because her stroking was so unskilled, I won't go into details.

I pulled my sister's cotton pants down to her pink Adidas sneakers. She panicked, saying she was shy and kept pulling at her private parts. I used a bit of force, thinking that she might be too shy if I pulled them down to her front. I remembered how my mother used to let me put my penis against her buttocks when she was being violated. It seems that when women don't see how a man touches them, they are less resistant and even fantasize about enjoying the caresses and teasing.

I flipped my sister over again, and she lay face down on the beverage box. I took advantage of the situation and pulled her cotton pants down along her buttocks again. This time, my sister panicked and started sobbing, begging me not to take off her underwear. She said she didn't want to today.

I was next to you in a good voice, coaxing and lying, saying that I didn't want to penetrate you, saying that I just wanted to enjoy and play with your beautiful buttocks. I did the next best thing and gently pulled her cotton pants down her thighs. I asked my sister to relax, hold her waist up, and raise her buttocks. My sister said that it was very erotic and she was embarrassed to do it.

I begged you so much that my sister leaned back, put her hands on the drink box, and relaxed her waist naturally, pushing out her plump and elastic buttocks. She put on the cotton pants and only pulled them halfway down her thighs. This beautiful scene made me unable to help myself.

I then asked my sister to bring her knees together, then spread her legs so that her thighs were pressed tightly together, and stand on her calves with her toes pointed upwards. This posture was inspired by the washing machine last time, and it completely stretched her cotton underwear open. My sister said it was humiliating and told me to hurry up.

I stood to the left of her beautiful buttocks, deliberately turning my body so that my back was facing my sister's head. I stretched out my palms and gently pinched and kneaded her buttocks, and with the rubbing of her underwear, I began to play with the buttocks I had always dreamed of, imagining them as my mother's.

I first squeezed my penis against her buttocks again. Even though my sister's buttocks were covered by her underwear, she could still feel the heat and swelling of my penis. My hands kept caressing her slender waist, and her entire back was caressed by me. My sister kept moaning softly and was completely limp on the beverage box. It seems that she rarely gets caressed by a man for so long.

At this point, I kept rubbing my penis against my sister's panties. Even through the panties, my penis was still constantly teasing her private parts. Finally, I simply imitated what I did with my mother last time, rhythmically pressing the head of my penis against her tender opening. My sister couldn't help but grab my right hand. I really wanted to thrust right then and there because my sister's panties were already soaked. It seems that the buttocks are a sensitive area for many women.

I used my fingers to spread my sister's buttocks apart, pulling her panties together to form a thong. My sister said no, but I ignored her and kept pulling them upwards, while we were saying some very erotic things. Both the visual enjoyment and the verbal teasing made my sister extremely excited.

Looking at the hair on her anus and the pubic hair peeking out from under her panties, I was incredibly excited. I pressed my penis against her tender vulva—a technique I'd learned from watching those adult videos.

Although my sister was wearing panties, she was still very nervous. She said I couldn't penetrate her, so I suggested we rub against each other. She didn't say anything. I straightened my penis, pressing it against her vulva through her panties, and slowly began to thrust. As her panties became soaked with her juices, the pleasure in my penis reached an indescribable level. I asked my sister to press her thighs together so that my entire penis would be covered.

I clamped my sister's peach-like buttocks between my knees and began thrusting my hips back and forth. The sensation was almost indistinguishable from the pleasure of masturbating with my mother. With the rhythm and speed of the thrusting, the long foreplay, combined with the fantasy becoming reality, had already made me want to ejaculate. Now, this visual stimulation was taking me to the brink of ecstasy.

I watched my sister's ponytail sway incessantly, her elbows clenched into fists as she supported her upper body, her nipples rubbing against the beverage carton. I wanted to touch her breasts, but she wouldn't let me, neither undressing nor exposing them. I figured it didn't matter, they weren't my mother's pudding-like breasts. After about ten minutes of this thrusting, I felt the time was about right; I didn't want to go home late and get scolded.

I held onto my sister's slender waist and kept slapping my thighs against her bouncy buttocks, which swayed like balls. My penis was enveloped by her thighs, and the fluid from her vagina inside my panties made it even more slippery. Although it was just casual sex, my sister wasn't my girlfriend, yet she was willing to let me do this. Turns out I'm not bad looking. Otherwise, if I were a deadbeat, how could I possibly play with that woman's fleshy buttocks like this?

In the final sprint, ignoring my sister's attempts to stop me, I reached under her arms and kneaded her breasts. She kept moaning, the kind of moaning that was barely audible, so she could only whine softly through her nose. After I ejaculated, I lifted her up, still holding her breasts, and pulled her close to my chest, kissing her neck repeatedly from behind.

Her face was flushed like the sunset, and she turned to me, saying, "You should be satisfied now. I gave you so much more than just kissing." I nodded and pressed my lips to my sister's sweet lips. The entanglement of our tongues brought her complete satisfaction, both physically and mentally. That's how women are; you must cherish and satisfy their emotions. Never neglect them after ejaculation. Don't act like you're starving beforehand and then look completely unsatisfied afterward.

Although my sister is pretty, having enjoyed her good figure, I still had to show her the proper etiquette. After that, during my part-time job, I didn't harass her anymore. After all, I had promised, so I shouldn't act like a child constantly demanding more pleasure. At most, I would occasionally steal a few kisses when we were alone to satisfy my craving, or when we were in the freezer or at the counter, I would secretly nudge her with my penis a couple of times while customers were paying. My sister would only glance at me.

At most, after the customers left, I would approach her, and she would touch my penis with her delicate hand, smiling without saying a word. We already knew each other well, and I won't go into the other exciting things that happened while working together, because talking about one exciting memory is really tiring for me.

Earlier, I mentioned the youngest single mother among the full-time employees. I call her Sister XX because her name is only one character different from mine—the surname is different, but the third character of the given name is different. So, they say she's Sister XX's younger brother. I'll refer to her as the single mother here. I get along quite well with her. People in the shop often joke, "Single mother, your younger brother is me," and say things like, "I've done this and that."

Eventually, I got used to it and wasn't surprised anymore. She's the best-looking one in the shop. That white and blue striped top and light blue long skirt—no doubt, she's wearing sanitary pads underneath. She's really quite nice.

This memoir is about my time working part-time during college. I was very happy to work at this store for almost two years. Unfortunately, due to academic pressure, I eventually gave up and lost control of my emotions, sometimes being very rude to people. The mothers there were very tolerant of me.

Looking back, I realize I really shouldn't have done that. It's all in the past now, and although they don't seem to care, I still do. This has made me more tactful in my interactions with others, preventing me from hurting people with my temper. I'm truly grateful to the employees at that store for creating such wonderful memories in my life. While it might have been enjoyable, that was only a small part of it. Most of the time, the atmosphere and atmosphere were truly fantastic.

Although this story doesn't describe my mother—of course, you might think incest is like pornography, where you do it every day until the end of time—don't be silly. That's unlikely in real life. But since my mother wouldn't let me touch her afterward, how could I possibly write about the rest? Please wait a bit longer, let me think through some of my stories with my mother more clearly before describing them in detail. After all, realism is my principle; I don't want that kind of fake, pretentious incest.

Chapter Four: Squeezing Buttocks.

I lived in a dormitory in college, six people to a room. Sometimes it was really annoying, so I would go home to stay on weekends. For a while, I worked near the school, so I couldn't go home on weekends. After the time my mother helped me masturbate, although I couldn't forget it, there was nothing I could do.

Today is Saturday, no work. I was lying in my dorm this afternoon enjoying the air conditioning. In university dorms, every weekend there are some hotheads who like to bring girls back to have sex, thinking no one will notice. Wrong! There's a security camera above the main entrance, watching everyone who comes in. So even if the girls are dressed as boys, or even with multiple people covering them, I don't think it'll be very effective.

Suddenly, an idea struck me. I immediately picked up my phone and called home, calling my mother. The phone rang for a long time before she finally answered. I asked her if she could drive me home next week to pick up my things, because the semester is ending, and I can't leave my stuff in the dorm; I either have to move out early or have it mailed out that day.

I talked a mile a minute, emphasizing how my mother could pick me up to save on shipping costs. Besides, I'd been living here for two years, and she'd never visited the school. Finally, she agreed to drive and help me with my things, and I'd carry the rest back by bike after the exams.

I chose a Friday after my exams. Our group didn't have any exams scheduled that day, so my roommates all left after Thursday morning. I usually left too, but since my mother was coming on Friday, I waited a little longer.

That day, my mother slowly drove her white Mazda 3 into the school gate. I even went to the front gate to guide her. I opened the car door, got in, and exchanged a few pleasantries with her. I asked if the way was easy to find, explaining that I had to tell her about some of the schools.

While my mother was chatting idly with me, I secretly scrutinized her entire outfit. She still had that expressionless, icy face, but she was wearing a tight-fitting white Adidas tracksuit top and bottoms, a matching white ensemble, even her shoes were Adidas Platinum models, and she wore a dark blue Adidas track jacket. My mouth watered as I asked her what was going on today, why she was dressed in all sportswear.

She said she started going to yoga with her colleagues last month. She used to just wear casual loungewear, but seeing everyone buying professional sets, she recently bought a complete workout outfit through her colleague. Why Adidas? Because her colleague's husband happens to be a distributor; he has yoga classes in the morning, so after lunch he drives over and doesn't need to change.

Damn it, my mother actually went to a yoga class! I wonder if there are any men there, otherwise, with her alluring buttocks and long legs, sitting in that yoga pose with her legs spread, wouldn't every man be staring at her? I quickly asked, "Are there any men there?" My mother said, "Are you silly? It's a women-only yoga studio, there are no men, but there are women who touch and rub their hands during breaks. It's really embarrassing to watch."

Wow, this is the first time my mother has ever talked to me about pornography. It seems she neither rejected nor denied the previous abuse; on the contrary, she's become even more open about her sexual views. I glanced at the drawer in front of the car seat, and there was a magazine advertising AV actresses that I'd seen on the street. I asked my mother why she had it, and she said, with a slightly embarrassed expression, that she'd accidentally picked it up while buying magazines at the convenience store. I nodded. It would be a miracle if I believed that lie.

As we talked, we arrived at the dormitory. It was still exam week, so there were quite a few students. It was break time, and my mother and I went up to the third floor of the boys' dormitory. The administrator saw my mother and was completely lustful, but I couldn't show it. I could only tell her that my mother was helping me carry my things up. The administrator saw that although she was a woman, she was family and agreed.

My mother walked ahead of me. As we went up the stairs, her white tight-fitting sweatpants made her fleshy buttocks sway and twist in front of me, making me dizzy. Especially because of the white color, the shape of her beautiful buttocks was even more taut. My mother had her hair in a ponytail and pulled her jacket up to her neck, covering her pair of snow-white breasts, as if afraid that others would have impure thoughts.

On the way up, my mother chatted with me the whole time, complaining about how shabby the dorm was, and how old some parts looked. I replied that it was an old dorm, and for the small fee they charged me per semester, it included water, electricity, unlimited air conditioning, and the internet cafe so I could download as much stuff as I wanted—not bad at all. "Download as much stuff as I want?"

We had reached the door by then. The third-floor corridor was deserted; the class bell had just rung, and a bunch of people had probably gone to take their exams. My mother turned the doorknob and said the door was locked. I thought, "Of course, all my roommates are gone, and I guarantee no one will be back for the next couple of days." I clicked open the doorknob, answering my mother's question as I said I was just downloading some videos to watch.

The air conditioning in the room had been running all day. My mother remarked, "It's really cool," and took off her coat, placing it on her roommate's desk. As soon as I closed and locked the door, my mother's expression suddenly turned suspicious. She asked, her tone rising, carrying a hint of threat.

I blurted out, "The kind of movies boys watch." My mother said, "So you're already taking such a risk to your health at school, and you still think about all sorts of things when you get home." I quickly replied, "It's because I can't relieve my pent-up desires at home, so I watch movies at school to satisfy them."

My mother sat on the iron ladder next to me, her plump buttocks pressed against the ladder bars. Just seeing her made me hard again. My mother looked around, climbed up my iron ladder, and looked at my bed. There was a desk under the bed, and the wardrobe was uniformly placed in the corner, just like in college dorms. My mother got onto my bed, and I watched her crawl onto the bed from below.

I looked down at my mother's tender vulva being stretched by her tight pants, the shape of her buttocks like a peach. I really wanted to climb up and touch her, but I didn't have the guts. I just chatted with my mother from below, saying that I had to endure five days in the dormitory, and that it was a public place. I couldn't just hit her whenever I wanted to have sex. I really felt uncomfortable every time I came home, so I took advantage of her.

My mother placed her delicate feet on the iron ladder. Her white, tight-fitting leggings covered her calves, and her black stockings were almost as revealing. My mother looked at me and said, "Let's start moving." I began bustling about, while my mother just sat there watching me fumble around. When we were almost done, I went to my room to rest in the air conditioning.

I noticed a piece of paper next to my mother's feet and asked her to pick it up for me. It must have been accidentally dropped during the move. My mother is quite flexible; she could easily reach it with a bend, but the paper was like a suction cup. No matter how hard she tried, scratching with her fingernails or pinching with her fingers, she couldn't lift it. My eyes were fixed on my mother's breasts, constantly exposed in front of me. It was a pity she was wearing a tight-fitting top, otherwise I could have seen even more.

I decided to get closer and saw only a glimpse of her breasts and cleavage, along with a light blue patterned bra. Then, I actually reached up and pulled down her collar. Just then, my mother noticed my movement and immediately lifted her upper body. But I was holding on tightly, pulling and dragging it down.

The very elastic sportswear had a huge hole torn in the neckline, revealing my mother's breasts right in front of me—beautiful northern hemispheres, two round, snow-white breasts. The pressure from the bra brought the underarm fat to the front, creating a deep V-shaped cleavage that I was completely dumbfounded.

My mother's face was full of anger. I quickly let go of her hand, but it accidentally pulled her right breast upwards from under her bra. The tight-fitting clothes pulled her right breast upwards, causing the bra to shift and squeezing out her beautiful dark pink nipple.

I thought all those mature women had nipples like raisins, but my mother's nipples were a bit dark, just the right size, and her areolas were beautiful. There was even a milky scent in the air.

My mother quickly turned her back to me, angrily telling me to turn around. I had no choice but to obey her and turn my back to her. My mother seemed to simply lift her clothes up and adjust her bra and breasts. After we finished adjusting, my mother said she had to leave. I panicked. It was a rare moment of alone time. At home, my dad was sometimes unavailable, making it difficult to make a move. Now, in my dorm room, I had the home-field advantage. How could I let such a beauty as my mother slip away?

I lunged forward, blocking her path, and reached out my left hand from behind to knead her large breasts, while simultaneously grabbing her right hand to prevent her from opening the door. I asked her, "Did my breasts hurt you just now? I'm so sorry." Seeing this, my mother slapped my left hand away, turned around, and prepared to slap me, but stopped halfway. We stared at each other in silence for about three minutes.

My mother walked to my roommate's desk, crossed her legs, and said, "Do you really have to do this?" A sudden wave of guilt washed over me. My mother crossed her arms, cradling her beautiful breasts, and begged me to come closer.

She said she'd guessed what I wanted the moment I called, so she hadn't really wanted to come. But she was worried I wouldn't get them back, so she came anyway. Partly to see what I was up to at school, and partly to see what I was really up to. Turns out, she'd guessed right; I just wanted to have some fun.

I slumped down on the table opposite my mother, ashamed. I hadn't expected my plan to be so easily seen through. My mother wasn't wearing makeup today, but her big, watery eyes, glossy with lipstick, still looked stunning. She asked if I knew I'd made a mistake. I said I did, and I wouldn't keep watching porn at school.

My mother's attitude softened slightly, and her tone calmed down. "It's not that Mommy won't let you have fun, it's that I'm afraid you'll get too caught up in it and won't be able to break free, causing you to neglect your studies and only want to be intimate with Mommy every day. It really can't be like that." I listened, but I still caught the nuances. Before, my mother always referred to herself as "Mom," or at most "Mama." Today she actually called herself "Mommy." Did she condone the masturbation last time?

Finally, I went home with my mother. On the way, she still had the same expression. I sat in the front seat, thinking that all my plans for the day were ruined. Sigh. When the car pulled into the parking lot, the dim light made me start fantasizing again, and my penis got hard again. My mother parked the car, pulled the handbrake, and noticed that my penis was bulging again. I quickly covered it with my hand. My mother just asked how long it had been since I had indulged myself.

I had been holding back for six days so that I could have my mother masturbate me in the dormitory this afternoon. I told her the truth. My mother's expression suddenly became very strange, a half-smile. In the dimly lit parking lot, it was even harder to see clearly. My mother said, "You really can hold back." I immediately said, "I can hold back for Mommy for as long as it takes." My mother's body trembled when she heard this, and she fell silent.

I felt there was still a chance, so I started using my coquettish tactics again, saying I was really struggling to hold back, and I didn't want to hurt my health by masturbating every day. I said I could endure it for Mommy, and so on. My mother didn't say anything, but her expression was the same as before—confused and struggling. I moved closer to my mother's ear, pressing my chest against her shoulders, and finally just leaned against her.

My mother got annoyed and told me to go to the back seat. I immediately burst out laughing from pleasure. My mother asked me what was so funny, and I said I could finally enjoy my mother's hand again. My mother didn't say much, only that this time I had to ejaculate in half an hour. I said how could that be? My mother said it was possible.

Next, my mother stood beside me. I exposed my penis, wanting her to masturbate for me. She shook her head and said, "This time, you do it yourself. I won't help you." Damn, that's not fair! My mother said, "You want stimulation? Then I'll give you stimulation."

She pulled up her tight-fitting clothes, revealing her white, voluptuous breasts. She began to show a seductive, wanton look in her eyes, her lips constantly parting as she exhaled. Her hands squeezed her breasts, sometimes heavily, sometimes lightly, deforming her pudding-like nipples in her delicate fingers.

She squeezed them into papaya-like shapes with her arms, rubbing her breasts up and down, and constantly swaying her body, making circles with her hands on her snow-white, beautiful breasts, emitting moans. Watching this made my mouth dry and my lust rise.

It turned out that my mother's concession was just to tease me, to stimulate my sexual senses, so I could masturbate on my own instead of relying on my imagination. My mother's lustful appearance resembled that of a prostitute, but you could still tell she was awkward. After all, she was a housewife, yet she was kneading her breasts and swaying her body in the car, just to make her son climax.

Seeing my mother's flushed face made my hand move faster and faster. Finally, my mother must have felt shy; after three minutes of teasing, she pulled down her clothes, her bashful expression making me want to protect her.

Looking at her slender, white fingers, I imagined the last time she pressed herself against me and helped me masturbate. I masturbated faster and faster, but fifteen minutes passed and I still couldn't ejaculate. My mother asked, puzzled, "Still not working?" "So hard?" I said, "There's no way to delay any longer."

I thought of a plan, and I just hugged her. My mother pushed me away, but I couldn't take it anymore. Ever since I saw my mother today, I've wanted to touch her. My mother got angry and drove off. I chased after her. My mother said, "Didn't we agree not to lay a hand on each other?" I said, "Oh, that's true, but you helped me with that. Now I can only watch. How can I do it myself?" My mother seemed a little regretful. Seeing how confident I was,

she didn't say anything more. I asked my mother to go to the back of the car. I said it was dark there, which she liked. She wouldn't be able to see what I was doing, and she would feel more at ease. My mother followed me to the back of the car. I checked that there were no security cameras nearby, then hugged her from behind and whispered, "Like with the washing machine last time, I'll play around with you until I'm done, then I'll ejaculate."

My mother said it wasn't right; this wasn't like those incestuous relationships where I relied on her buttocks for arousal. I said, "I have no choice. You're wearing such a tight outfit today; it'll keep me hard all day." My mother blushed and turned away. I wanted her to stick out her buttocks like on the other side, but she refused. My proud mother felt violated and said, "Do you want it? Otherwise, let's not talk."

I pushed her forward slightly, and she grabbed the back of the car with both hands, saying, "Quick, if we get seen, you'll never see me again." I broke out in a cold sweat, terrified that incest would have such a terrible consequence. But with such a beautiful buttock before me, I didn't hesitate and pressed my penis against her fleshy buttocks again. The sensation was completely different from the last time I used the washing machine; the slippery tight pants against her plump , tender buttocks.

I kept shoving my penis into her cleft, rubbing it up and down against her. My mother probably didn't expect me to be so rough, and she quickly told me to stop. But driven by lust, I didn't care about anything else. I kept pressing the head of my penis against my mother's vulva, and the secretions from my glans had already soaked the dark white tight pants everywhere.

My mother thought it was even more outrageous than last time and kept turning around to tell me to stop. How could I possibly stop? I skillfully placed my right foot on the bumper, since it was someone else's car lock so I didn't care. I used my knee to press my penis and body weight tightly against the back of the car, pressing my mother's entire body against the back seat.

My mother probably realized she couldn't struggle anymore, and her resistance began to weaken, turning into heavy breathing. I thought it seemed to be working, so I stopped coveting my mother's pudding-like breasts, afraid that she would really get angry again, and then I really wouldn't be able to play with those beautiful, delicate buttocks. My mother leaned against the car, her hands covered in dust, and said coldly, "Hurry up, wait until I change my mind, then you won't have to play with them anymore."

I quickly moved my hands from my mother's slender waist to her beautiful buttocks. Her peach-like tight pants accentuated her shape perfectly. I started to squeeze and pinch my mother's fleshy buttocks, sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right, and then I pinched her buttocks hard, the same kind of perky buttocks I had wanted to squeeze before. My mother let out a muffled groan. My hands wanted to move down to her tender vulva, but my mother turned around and grabbed my hands, saying that I was not allowed to touch there.

I had no choice but to place my penis between my mother's buttocks, squeezing her beautiful buttocks with both hands, and thrusting my burning hot penis in and out repeatedly. My mother's beautiful back against her ponytail made me go completely blank with pleasure again. My mother's moans grew louder and louder. I was afraid someone would find out, so I quickly covered my mother's fragrant lips with my hands and increased the intensity of my movements, starting to thrust wildly into my mother's bouncy, fleshy buttocks.

I put my body on my mother's back. I really love this position. I held my mother's shoulders with both hands and pulled her back forcefully. Because the body naturally arches, the buttocks will also stick out higher. You can try it if you don't believe me, but it's very tiring for girls.

My mother's buttocks formed a rounded shape. Her tight pants, due to the relentless thrusting and squeezing of my penis, were already sunken into the cleft of her buttocks. In addition, I secretly pulled up the tight pants, causing her tender vulva to rub against her vagina and underwear due to the pulling of the pants, which greatly increased her excitement. Otherwise, how could my mother have moaned?

After the final sprint, remembering how my sister helped me ejaculate in the warehouse, I thought my mother would not let me do this. So, in the last ten seconds or so before I ejaculated, I simply pulled my limp mother down and made her sit on the ground. Before my mother could react, I grabbed her nimble right hand, positioned my penis against her, and made her hold my hard penis.

My mother looked at me for a few seconds, then sighed and gave me one last quick stroke. Her fingers were smooth, without any lumps; she'd been going to beauty salons for treatments these past few years. As she stroked me quickly, I secretly brought my penis closer and closer to her face, even aiming the glans at her mouth, thinking how incredibly pleasurable it would be to shove it in her mouth and have her clothes blown off.

As I was thinking this, my mother, seeing the trembling of my glans and penis, knew I was about to ejaculate. At the moment of ejaculation, she suddenly swerved my penis to the right, spraying semen all over the car bumper. I took out a tissue to wipe it clean, and my mother used her fingers to squeeze out the last bit of semen.

Later, while moving things around the community, we ran into the building manager. My mother was incredibly embarrassed and quickly wrapped her coat around her waist, trying to hide the discharge from her buttocks. I made up a story that my mother was going to class and that I was driving her home.

We felt like we were almost caught doing something wrong—an indescribable thrill. But my mother went back to her usual sullen expression, as if nothing had happened. I think my mother is slowly getting used to my infidelity, but she still has her own principles. After all, incest has an inexplicable, irresistible attraction for both of us, like playing with fire—failure leads to self-destruction.

In the elevator, I put my hand on my mother's waist again. She didn't refuse, but she glared at me, which startled me, so I let go. The next day, I seized a small opportunity to chat with my mother alone. While my father went out to buy newspapers and cigarettes, I went behind her and gently touched her neck with the pad of my finger, not the tip, sliding down her beautiful back, and finally to her lovely, fleshy buttocks. I deliberately added pressure to her buttocks.

My mother looked at me and said, "If you dare to do it, don't be afraid of being seen." I stuck out my tongue, made a face, and stopped. I asked my mother how I behaved yesterday. My mother said, "Behave what? You kept poking me with your dick, and if I kept thrusting a penis into your ass, would you feel comfortable?" I think that makes sense. Yesterday was a bit too intense, and I did argue with that, but you made me hold it in from the dorm all the way to the car, and I only managed to come in the back seat, which made me feel really uncomfortable.

My mother gave me a helpless look and gesture, saying that yesterday I kept pressing against her anus, which made her very uncomfortable, but the finger caresses were alright. When I heard Haomian's praise, I was overjoyed, and I immediately said that my mother's right-hand hand caressing technique was truly exceptional.

I found that the distance between my mother and me seemed to have narrowed a bit. Some conversations started to feel more like friendly chats. Although I still respected her most of the time, her pride and traditional Chinese reservedness drove me crazy. Whether it was her inner repressed lust and coldness or her outwardly beautiful buttocks and breasts, I was even more infatuated with her.

I knew that after this time of playing with her buttocks and my mother's half-hearted teasing, she would probably go against her conscience and not let me touch her for a while. So I deliberately didn't bother her. Anyway, I'd let things take their course. Incest can't be rushed. It's best not to force it. It's best if both parties want it. But I just can't see through my mother's heart.

Finally, I had to go back to school for a project during the summer vacation. Before leaving, I asked my mother for a kiss. She just lightly flicked my forehead with her index finger and said, "Keep dreaming." She told me to hurry up and find a girlfriend so I wouldn't be too attached to her body.

After that, whenever I walked down the street and saw someone wearing tight sportswear, I would always think of my mother's curves. The tight clothes perfectly accentuated her good figure. And this time, the rear-entry act was the most memorable. Whenever I saw girls running on the playground, I would think of my mother's soft buttocks and couldn't help but think of her.

Chapter 5 Kissing Sweet Lips

My incestuous behavior with my mother was not as easy as everyone thought, like those incestuous plots. Your mother would serve you with her mouth from the start of the day. While she was cooking, you would thrust your penis into her apron-clad buttocks from behind, your hands reaching inside to knead her large breasts, and your mother would coquettishly beg you not to rush. At night, after your father fell asleep, your mother would pretend to go to the bathroom, but actually go to your room to be intimate with you, thrusting into your tender vagina all night long. After finishing, your mother would hurriedly go back to her room to sleep.

This is impossible! Real life is cruel. Most middle-aged women in Taiwan are old and ugly, their figures out of shape, their faces weathered by time, and they don't wear makeup. Go to the market yourself sometime, and I guarantee your desire to have an incestuous relationship with your mother will immediately vanish.

Women of my generation are generally more fashion-conscious. My mother's generation lived in the countryside, and to reach our age, it's remarkable that she's maintained such a stunning figure. If it weren't for her exceptional genes inherited from her grandparents from a young age, coupled with her meticulous skincare routine since her school days, she wouldn't have been able to maintain such a captivating figure.

With the abundance of beauty and skincare products she's used to, she's even more focused on skincare, though not in an overtly obvious way. She doesn't constantly go on shopping sprees for cosmetics, visit beauty salons, or go shopping with stylish mature women. No, my mother is still a simple housewife. Occasionally, she goes shopping with other women from the neighborhood, always very discreetly. When she goes out, she's always well-covered, wearing clothes that are often considered "auntie-like."

However, ever since I started really harassing my mother... My mother became more fashionable, but she stopped wearing low-cut tops that showed her cleavage, probably because she was afraid I'd get impulsive again.

My feelings for my mother at this stage were quite complicated. Let me explain a little, so no one doesn't misunderstand what I'm talking about. It was right at the beginning, the time my mother held my penis in the bathroom. For a while, I really wanted to sleep with her, but in the end, she held me back with her rationality.

After I went to university, although I occasionally saw incestuous porn, I would still download and watch it, imagining my mother's body, but that was rare. Until the most recent accident, when the washing machine's penis pressed against my butt, that truly broke through my psychological barrier. I couldn't help it; before, I relied solely on imagination. But that time, with my mother's real-life display, seeing that plump, peach-like buttocks swaying in front of me, it was impossible not to get an erection.

Ultimately, I controlled my erection, unlike before when I foolishly asked my mother to stroke my penis. Instead, I boldly used my penis to scratch my mother's buttocks. Originally, I thought, "I don't care if I get beaten or scolded; I'm determined to experience my mother's round buttocks this time," with a "nine out of ten chance" mentality.

To my surprise, my mother didn't tell anyone. However, she was usually very cold towards me, only acting like a mother in front of family. This was understandable; it would be a lie to say she wasn't bothered by her son sexually harassing her.

Later, I repeatedly violated my mother. My subsequent illness and masturbation emboldened me, leading to the half-hearted act of having sex with her in the back of the car. However, for a long time, I didn't focus entirely on her; that would only cause me unbearable pain.

So, I slept with many girls in college, including some older women. I knew I couldn't push my mother too far. I was obsessed with her body; it provided a satisfaction I couldn't get from sex with ordinary people. At first, I only wanted her to help me ejaculate, but now I wanted her as a complete woman. However, despite these desires, I didn't dare to be too blatant.

Now my mother probably thinks I just wanted to release my pent-up desires, so she can still tolerate my behavior. But incest between mother and son is a strange and exciting thing, and the fear of being discovered is wonderful.

In the past, shopping channels on TV sometimes sold breast enhancement products for women. Seeing those pairs of D-cup breasts on TV always made my penis itch. Once I saw a product called "Boss Goddess," which was just a plastic shell, slightly shaped like the three-leaf clover, with four round soft pieces on the back. Under the plastic shell, there was a wire and a controller. It wasn't big, just enough to cover the entire areola.

Why do I know so much about this? Because I saw this product on TV just a few days ago, and today, while idly rummaging through my mother's underwear, I found this breast enhancement device. The thought of my mother's breasts pressed against this "Boob Goddess" is unbearable. I even licked the "Boob Goddess" to see if I could taste its milky flavor, but the truth is always cruel.

I really want to see my mother using this "Boob Goddess," the vibrator constantly pulsating with heat, combined with what it claims to be infrared radiation, making my mother's snow-white breasts ripple and sway, the milk fat on her cleavage constantly shaking. I love the natural shaking of body flesh in two places: one is the breasts when the body shakes violently, and the other is the plump, perky buttocks, the ripples caused by finger manipulation or back thrusts.

Thinking about it now, maybe I used to think my mother's breasts were C-cups, but over the years she's had breast enhancements, and with the help of the magic bra to lift her underarm fat, her already ample bust size has become even more alluring, with a beautiful cleavage that's sure to catch a man's eye. So there's a reason why women love to take care of themselves; it's a blessing for everyone.

I'm sorry, but I only want to possess this heavenly gift for myself. My mother's body is only for my enjoyment. However, by letting you have some fun through this article, I'd consider it a gift to those who want to commit incest after reading so many incestuous stories over the years.

Once, when I went back to my hometown for Chinese New Year, I was surrounded by a bunch of relatives. I wouldn't presume to say I'm beautiful, but my mother was definitely a beauty. My father's side had many relatives, but what was interesting about my mother's side was that she had five sisters plus her eldest brother, who was her uncle. But don't get the wrong idea that I could have sex with my aunt like some incestuous couple. I know some people might actually get pleasure with their aunts, but I could never, because my aunt is definitely not my type.

As for the five sisters, my mother was the third oldest. It's definitely genetic; each of the five has their own unique features. My mother's most striking feature is her height—170cm with long, fair legs and healthy, beautiful calves without any excess fat. The others weren't bad either, but they all shared a common feature: a beautiful, shapely bottom. My mother, however, took good care of it; the others were either old and faded or had gained weight in middle age. Perhaps it was because my mother had been drinking tea with my father since they were children; she'd been drinking tea her whole life, and it really worked.

Having an itchy penis during the Lunar New Year is a real pain. My mother was busy, so you couldn't bother her. But I endured it from New Year's Eve to the third day of the Lunar New Year because my father had sold the car this year, so the whole family traveled to the countryside by public transport, and naturally, the same applied to going home.

We sat in presidential suites, one seat per person. At that moment, I really hated the old two-seater public transport seats; otherwise, I could enjoy my mother's fragrance up close. Now, my mother was directly in front of me, my younger sister was to my left, and my father was in front of my sister. There was a staircase right in front of my mother's stall, leading to the toilet. While I was looking for a spot, I noticed her new jeans—the main reason my penis had been throbbing for several days—because of them.

They looked like a Levi's collection, though I'm not familiar with them, sorry. They were slim-fit, low-rise, straight-leg jeans, a beautiful blue that I can't quite describe. They accentuated my mother's entire lower body curves. There's a saying that goes, "I don't know whether the jeans created her bouncy, fleshy buttocks, or her bouncy, fleshy buttocks created the jeans."

The narrow-legged style of her calves has a unique feature: a wrinkled texture. It looks quite trendy, not the typical straight-leg trousers worn by middle-aged women, but the kind that makes you want to take a second look when you see a girl wearing it on the street. Slender, long legs, perfectly proportioned thighs, and a slightly fleshy, perky bottom—a golden combination, a feast for the eyes. It's a pity my mother never wears shoes that expose her feet, otherwise, it would be even more captivating.

Fortunately, I've seen it at home; her feet don't look calloused at all, and her nails are beautifully manicured. My mother clearly knows how to take care of her body, both inside and out. However, my mother values naturalness and dislikes surgery. She doesn't like liposuction or weight loss; she prefers to run on the treadmill at home and take yoga classes, which she considers healthier.

As I helped my mother put her luggage on the upper seat, the curves of her jeans lifted her fleshy buttocks. Without making a sound, I subtly nudged my penis against her twice. Her buttocks twitched, and she turned to look at me. Without a word, I knew what I wanted.

My mother didn't move, which made me anxious. I pretended to talk to her from behind, but actually pleaded with her in a low voice, afraid that anyone nearby would hear. My mother looked up at the window, her back to me, and whispered, "You're really bold. Your father and sister are here, and you dare treat me like this? And you want me to help you release your pent-up desire?" I quickly begged for forgiveness, saying it wasn't intentional, but just like before, it was really hard to hold back.

I asked my mother to pretend. I feigned a headache, motion sickness, and nausea, telling my father I needed to go to the bathroom to throw up. My father said if I really felt unwell but couldn't vomit, I should stay down there a little longer, and if I

still couldn't, I should come back up. I nodded, glancing at my mother. She had no expression, just a cold look at me. I waited and waited, but my mother didn't come back. My hard penis throbbed incessantly in my pants. Had I made a mistake? This couldn't go on, so I deliberately tried something. I quietly called out to my mother from outside the door, asking her to bring me some toilet paper. My mother, though reluctant, had no choice.

My father urged her to take it down, reminding her to be careful going down the stairs and to check on her son. I watched as my mother took off her down jacket, revealing a turtleneck sweater and a light purple sweater. Even in winter clothes, her ample breasts were still clearly visible. I stared at her black flat-toed shoes, her eyes blazing with malice.

She handed me a tissue, and I grabbed her arm, pulling her close to my chest. Unlike before, when she always had her back to me, her buttocks pressed against my penis, this time she was facing me directly.

My right hand held my mother's slender waist firmly, and I could feel the fleshy texture of her pert buttocks beneath her delicate waist. My left hand traced her hair, stroking her smooth, fragrant back, while I looked at her. Her nose was very close to mine, almost touching. I could feel her breath, the faint floral perfume scent mixed with the shampoo in her hair. The combination made my penis, pressed against her lower abdomen, grow harder and harder.

My mother looked at me without saying a word. My left hand continued its downward groping, reaching into her jeans pocket. I used four fingers, excluding my thumb, because my hand was too big to fit completely inside. My

four fingers pressed against my mother's beautiful buttocks in the pocket, and I kept bending my fingers, teasing her fleshy buttocks, while simultaneously twisting my penis. I kissed my mother's soft, pink lips. She was startled and turned her head away. I had long wanted to suckle my mother's soft, fragrant lips hard, but it was just a fleeting kiss.

At this moment, I pulled my hand out of my pocket, and with the middle three fingers of my palm, I slid them along the cleft of my mother's round, upturned buttocks. I pressed the pads of those three fingers directly against her tender vulva, and with the stiff shape of her jeans, I dug and pulled hard. My mother immediately let out a muffled groan. I immediately increased my strength, and with my right hand, I used five fingers to press against the fleshy part of her buttocks on the right side of her jeans, my palm suspended in the air, relying solely on my fingertips to continuously grab, scratch, tap, press, and squeeze.

My left hand was also on my mother's private parts, using my favorite lotus-finger opening and closing technique to pinch and squeeze the flesh of her buttocks around her tender vulva. This made my mother slightly punch my chest with her fists, and her beautiful, bouncy buttocks were already twisting and turning, and her slender waist was swaying back and forth, trying to break free from my stimulation and teasing.

Perhaps at the bathroom door, my mother sobbed and whispered, "Are you trying to embarrass me, to let everyone see?" I said, "Dad's upstairs. He just needs to stick his head out to see what you're doing." My mother said, "Are you crazy?" I said, "Who told you not to come down? I'm just deliberately trying to make trouble for you here at the door."

My mother said, "I'm scared of you now," and told me to hurry up and go into the bathroom. I let my mother go in first so she wouldn't run away. As soon as I went in, I immediately locked the door, pretended to vomit, and deliberately vomited loudly. My mother's face showed a bewildered expression. I had forced her into this situation, and while she was angry, she couldn't do anything about it.

My mother said coldly, "Are you so obsessed with sex that you don't even care about your life?" I said, "Mom's new jeans are so alluring. I've been hard all New Year's, and I still can't get relief. It's so uncomfortable." My mother said, "Couldn't you just go home? We're in the car now, and your father is up there. How can you do this and make me lose face?"

I said no one would know. My mother sighed, but her attitude and expression were still impatient. She said this time it couldn't be like last time, because last time I got my whole pants covered in semen and she smelled fishy. She even said she wouldn't let my penis rub against her new jeans.

I thought jeans were rough and wouldn't feel comfortable rubbing against them. I was just happy that my mother was willing to help me ejaculate with her hand. I leaned close to my mother's ear and said, "If you don't hurry, your father will get off." I kept pressing my penis against my mother's hands. Threatened and persuaded by me, she pouted – an incredibly cute expression. I'd never seen my mother pout like that before. If that pout was meant to swallow and spit out my penis, it would feel amazing for a while.

After pouting, my mother said, "If you threaten me like that again, I'll definitely tell your father." I quickly begged and pleaded with her, and she slowly extended her right hand. Her right hand, through my jeans, caressed my penis. This time, I didn't unbutton my pants; I made her unbutton them for me. She unbuttoned my jeans in three quick movements. I even pulled down my pants to show I'd just been humiliated; my penis was already bulging out of my underwear.

My underwear was the kind with an opening in the front. My mother's soft right hand rubbed up and down along the outside of my underwear. My face drew closer and closer to hers. Her blushing expression from stroking my penis, combined with her earlier pout, made my penis hard again.

My mother felt my hand move and glanced at me. I whispered in her ear, "Please, come closer and rub it." Seeing this, my mother's proud face flushed slightly. She reached into my underwear and began to play with it, finally pulling it down completely, my penis erect in front of her.

I wanted my mother to kneel down and masturbate me, but she refused. Because we were in the bathroom, I didn't dare bother her for too long, so I told her we could go faster. She said she would try her best, so all the previous teasing and playing with my glans was skipped. She simply placed her clean, slender fingers on her warm, smooth palm, grasped the base of my penis, leaving only a section of the glans exposed, and rhythmically stroked it up and down using only her thumb to scrape the foreskin at the base of the glans.

This made my penis tremble. Actually, halfway through this masturbation, I decided that whether I ejaculated or not wasn't the point. The point was that I had just pressed my lips against my mother's, which made me decide that I must find an opportunity to passionately kiss her later.

Just as I felt I was about to ejaculate, I reminded my mother in her ear, and she quickened her pace. If I were to force a kiss on her from the front at this moment, she would definitely dodge, and in a worst-case scenario, she wouldn't even continue masturbating. So I decided to have my mother turn around and stand to my left, while my penis emerged from behind her right hand. Because the toilet was small and cramped, my mother's center of gravity shifted slightly onto me as she turned, making her appear a bit shaky and unsteady.

My right hand continued to stroke her penis faster. I thought about the image of my mother pouting and the teasing feel of her hand touching my buttocks. Combined with her stroking of my penis, I shuddered and ejaculated a little on the wall. I immediately covered my glans with my mother's hand and continued to ejaculate in her palm. When my mother turned her head to look at me,

I immediately opened my mouth and sucked on my mother's watery pink lips. My left hand immediately held my mother's head in place. Because my mother couldn't move her body and her head was pressed down by my hand, she could only close her eyes and let me forcefully kiss and suck her fragrant lips. I kept trying to pry open her teeth with my tongue, but my mother just wouldn't allow it. I could only lick my mother's entire fragrant lips until they were covered in saliva before I was satisfied and released my mother.

I had forcibly kissed my mother's lips, and I thought she would be angry. But instead, she quickly washed the semen off her hands, looked in the mirror to fix her makeup, and smeared the lip gloss I had licked all over her lips with her fingers. She then wiped the saliva off her face with a damp towel and asked me to wipe the semen off my glans. Finally, she asked me to check if there was anything else on her genitals. I said there was nothing there, and she slowly went upstairs, saying she would talk about it when we got home.

On the way, she chatted and laughed with her family, completely unconcerned about what had just happened. This thrill of cheating on my family made me feel incredibly good, even though I knew it was wrong. Whenever my glans itched, lust always won over reason.

I kept thinking that as long as I didn't go too far, my mother should be able to accept it. But when I got home, while my father and younger sister weren't around, my mother scolded and berated me for the entire afternoon, making me kneel in the study. My mother said I didn't respect her, that she promised not to hit me, but now she was pinching my buttocks and kissing me. She asked if next time she would rub my breasts and force me to give her oral sex.

I realized I had really messed up this time. My mother was so angry that tears streamed down her face like pearls. She said I was going too far. In the end, I punished myself by kneeling all night without sleeping. The next day, my mother came to my room and saw me like this. Although she was still cold and sarcastic, she was a little softer. She said softly that there are many ways to satisfy sexual desire, and that I had a strong Oedipus complex and shouldn't always rely on my mother to relieve my urges.

I didn't want to say anything. My mother sat quietly by my bedside and eventually left, but added, "If you do this again, see if I'll still talk to you." Hearing this, I felt a glimmer of hope and was secretly pleased.

After that, although we never said it explicitly, sometimes when I couldn't resist touching her, I would directly tell my mother. If she agreed, I could touch her; if not, I would have to take care of it myself—it was all up to her.

I felt this was another kind of incest. I was grateful that my mother tacitly approved and was willing to help me ejaculate. The reality is nothing like those incestuous scenarios. It's not about actually penetrating the mother, sucking her breasts, or kneading her vulva with your fingers. First, the mother must be on all fours for penetration. Her vulva contracts repeatedly, the warm, sticky vagina squeezing the burning hot penis inward.

During penetration, the flesh of her buttocks moves with her hips, repeatedly thrusting deep into her uterus. The mother moans with a face full of shame and sorrow, her snow-white fingers gripping the pillow tightly. Her snow-white breasts sway and bounce violently with each back-and-forth movement, her erect nipples rubbing against the sheets. Finally, the son rolls over and passionately kisses his mother's fragrant lips.

Their tongues entwined passionately, making continuous sucking sounds. The son kissed his way from her neck to her vulva. The stimulation of her clitoris brought her to orgasm, causing her to lift her thighs. Not only were her feet tense from the excitement of the climax, but the warm sensation of her vaginal fluid flowing to her anus made her completely limp on the bed.

Then, the son's penis pressed against her tender vulva, and with a "plop," he thrust in again. The mother's chest heaved, her breathing rapid, her forehead drenched in sweat. Even with the air conditioning on, her whole body felt hot and almost melting. The son pressed his mother's legs together, increasing the tightness of her vagina.

I held my mother's smooth thighs with both hands and kept moving my waist faster, making my penis work like a piston. My mother cooperated by slightly lowering her buttocks and raising her waist slightly, making my penis naturally stick up and easier to thrust in and out. My mother's hazy eyes looked like she was going through a life-or-death struggle. From her muffled moans to the nasal cries of rapid thrusting, I was even more reluctant to hurt my mother.

In the final sprint, I supported my mother's slender waist, her legs shamefully spread open. Even in the last few minutes of vigorous thrusting, her legs wrapped around my waist. I let out a muffled roar, and streams of hot, thick, white semen shot into her. I held my mother's body, giving her gentle, light kisses, flirting and tenderly cuddling.

Anticipating each sexual pleasure, defying societal norms and morals, even knowing it was wrong, incest between mother and son still happened so naturally. A netizen once said that incest between mother and son is very natural, and I completely agree.

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My Memoirs with My Mother

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