Mom, your son wants to sleep with you.

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

As dawn broke through the sheer curtains, golden rays dappled the pink sheets in the gentle breeze. I
opened my sleepy eyes and gazed at my mother, still lost in a sweet dream beside me. Her gentle, beautiful face, her slightly
upturned lips, and her even, soft breath stirred my heart. I turned to her, tenderly brushed
the strands of hair that cascaded across her cheek, and kissed her full, luscious red lips with deep affection. A lingering sensation filled my heart, an
indescribable warmth and comfort.

Feeling the love on my lips, my mother woke up, opened her charming eyes, and looked at me with deep affection. She reached out her
fair and jade-like hand and placed it on my cheek, her face flushed with the blush unique to mature women. She was
incredibly charming, shy and beautiful.

I gently lifted my mother's chin: "Mom, you're awake. Did you sleep well?"

My mother nodded: "Yes, Mingming, with you here, I slept soundly. It's been so long since I
've been ."

I felt a surge of emotion mixed with sadness. Yes, I'm studying at a university in a city thousands of miles away. Although
I come back during long holidays, we still see each other less and less. My mother is all alone in her empty house. I can only imagine how lonely and pitiful she must be.
My mother has given me her life, so I should fulfill my responsibilities and obligations as a man, spending more time with her when I'm home,
giving her joy, tenderness, and even a little madness.

"Mom, I love you." I rolled over and pinned my mother beneath me, leaning down to kiss her red lips again.
My mother wrapped her arms around my shoulders, opened her red lips, and greedily sucked and frantically entwined with my tongue as it entered her mouth
.

I reached one hand to my mother's crotch, rubbing her sensitive clitoris through her black lace panties.
My other hand deftly moved to her back, unhooking her black lace bra. Her full, round
breasts bounced up and down like wild horses. I grabbed her right breast and rhythmically kneaded it. My tongue brushed against her upper lip
before quickly withdrawing, then moved to her left breast, sucking on her nipple with abandon. My
hand, rubbing her crotch, increased its speed and pressure.

"Mmm...mmm...ah...ha..." my mother moaned with pleasure.

Although I couldn't wait to make love with my mother as soon as I got home last night, we rolled around and were passionate until late at night, but
the long time we hadn't seen each other had made our desire rise to the extreme. When I heard my mother's seductive moans, I couldn't help but raise
my head and pull down my mother's panties with both hands. When my mother saw this, she cooperated by sitting up and pulling down my panties. My penis
was already proudly erect, and a drop of secretion seeped out of the urethral opening, making my penis even hotter and harder, like the finishing touch on a painting.

My mother stared intently, her eyes glazed over, her breathing rapid. At this moment, I had no heart to appreciate this lewd scene anymore.
I threw the lace panties onto the headboard, pressed my mother down, and she fell heavily onto the Simmons mattress, her body
rising and falling with the swaying mattress. Her long, beautiful black hair spread out on the sheets like a peacock's tail. I
excitedly rubbed my penis against my mother's vulva, doing warm-up exercises, moving up and down, left and right, grinding against
my mother's clitoris.

My mother cried out in a pleading voice, "No...no...I can't take it...come in...son...
come in ...ah...ah ah ha ah..."

"I'm coming, Mom, I love you, I want to fuck you..." No sooner said than done, my big cock
slammed into my mother's honey hole like a missile. My mother rolled her eyes, her head tilted back, one hand gripping my
arm, the other hand clutching the sheets, her legs stiffly kicking towards the foot of the bed. A

long, drawn-out cry of "Ahhhhhhh!" was released, releasing lust, satisfaction, shame, excitement, wantonness, and determination. It shook our souls, like a battle horn, encouraging me to launch a fierce attack. I didn't take it slow; instead, I thrust hard from the start, each time plunging straight into the heart of the flower, each time pulling the labia majora in and out, each time creating a collision of spirit and flesh. I was like a valiant knight, galloping excitedly through the honeyed jungle. My mother was panting heavily, moaning and groaning, "Give it to me, give it to me, Mingming, give it to me, hurry, hurry... Ah, so good, so good!" "Mom, is it good? Is it good?" "Yes, so good, so comfortable, Mingming is so good, you're making me unable to take it anymore, ahh..." I thrust hard while kneading my mother's breasts, which rippled , making my blood boil. Slowly, my mother's honey pot began to overflow with lustful fluids, which were drawn out by my penis, soaking a large area . The sound of the thrusting changed from a single "slap slap slap" to a symphony of "slap sizzle sizzle". After five or six minutes of penetration, my mother's whole body convulsed, her phoenix eyes widened, her face flushed, her red lips parted, and the veins on the back of her hands bulged slightly. Then came wave after wave of spasms. My mother shook her head desperately, her body swaying constantly, and I increased the speed of my thrusts. "Ah!!!! I'm coming, I'm going to die..." Mom's hands moved to my shoulders, her nails digging into my flesh. Mom had an orgasm, waves of heat from her vagina crashing against my glans like waves crashing on the shore. I couldn't hold back any longer , I didn't want to hold back anymore. I quickly pulled out my penis, and just as my glans was about to slip out of her vagina, I didn't give Mom a chance to feel the emptiness. I immediately slammed my hips down, and my penis plunged in all the way again. "Mom, I'm going to cum." "Cum, cum, cum all of it into me, my good son." My ejaculation was released, and countless drops of semen bombarded Mom's uterus like bullets. Mom bit her lower lip tightly, moaning and struggling weakly . We reached our climax at the same time, and I collapsed into my mother's arms. She immediately hugged me tightly, stroked me, and nibbled at me... My memories of being attached to my mother: I was born in my rural hometown and grew up in the city. My parents both worked hard in the countryside and experienced the hardships and suffering of the working people. They couldn't bear to let their precious child suffer the same hardships. Therefore, they loved me very much and tried their best to accommodate me in everything they could. I was treated like a precious treasure, pampered and protected, enjoying panda-level pampering . This fostered my willful and stubborn personality. Stubbornness, in a way, is akin to obsession—a relentless pursuit of the goal, a relentless effort that might explain my later obsessive and almost manic behavior. During my childhood, my family's financial situation wasn't good. My parents had only been working for a year or two, and we had many relatives and siblings who needed support. My parents were always kind and helpful; whenever a relative was in trouble, they would lend a hand, no matter what.

Everyone tries their best to help and support them. My grandparents are getting old and can do less farm work, so naturally,
the burden of supporting the family falls on my father.

In order to increase savings, my father often finds odd jobs after work, such as driving a motorcycle taxi,
selling flowers and plants at a stall, or doing delivery work. He often doesn't get home until late at night, and sometimes he's so late that he doesn't want to disturb my wife and
son, so he simply sleeps at a friend's house.

After my mother got off work, she would go straight back to the teachers' dormitory (both my parents were teachers, but not at the same school;
they lived in two different towns. During the day, my grandmother would take care of me after my parents went to work).
The first thing my mother did when she got back to the teachers' dormitory was to pick me up and kiss my forehead and cheeks, saying, "You missed Mommy, didn't you, my baby?"

At that time, I was just a young child who didn't understand anything. Every time my mother kissed me, I
would shyly squint my eyes and turn my head back to avoid her kisses. But I loved the feeling of being kissed by my mother; it was a child
's sense of closeness to their mother.

During dinner, I sometimes whine and want my mom to hold me, so she can hold me and let me sit on her lap. I don't
like sitting on hard wooden stools, and besides, it's difficult for me to pick up food and eat
because

I'm not tall enough. I prefer sitting on my mom's warm, soft laps, letting her pick up food for me and feed me. My mom often says that I'm a four-year-old and should learn to do things myself, but of course I won't let her. It would be unfair to myself not to sit in
such a comfortable spot. Sometimes my mom tries to coax me into being independent,
but she always gives in to my tantrums and lets me sit on her lap.

And so, I enjoyed being served by my mother like an emperor, snuggling into her
arms from time to time, munching on my food while my hands mischievously groped her breasts. I had no
wicked ; I was just playful and active, finding my mother's breasts very interesting. What could a four-year-old understand
? So my mother let me touch them, only coaxing me to sit still and eat
properly My grandmother was also eating nearby, watching her energetic grandson,
enjoying the joy of family life. Her kind smile added a lot of warmth to the scene.

At night, I would snuggle against my mother's arm, listening to her tell stories. Then she would
gently pat my back to lull me to sleep, and then she would take off her clothes and sleep with me.

It's important to note that I don't like sleeping alone, nor do I like anyone else taking my mother's place. I
only want to sleep with my mother. Until I was in seventh grade, I would always pester her to sleep with me. However,
after fifth grade, as I grew older, I mostly slept in my own room. But whenever I had the chance,
like getting a good grade on a test or an excellent grade on homework, this was the reward I would ask for.

Hehe, I feel embarrassed now when I think about it. I don't know if it's just me who is so
immature. One thing I need to be clear about is that I didn't have any improper thoughts. I was just too dependent on my mother and too
clingy!

When I slept with my mother, before falling asleep, I would often playfully tease her breasts.
My mother knew that I was just playing around and didn't interfere. I would fall asleep while playing. I found
that this helped me fall into a sweet dream earlier than listening to stories.

I think I stopped playing with my mother's breasts when I was in third grade. It wasn't because I was embarrassed about the relationship between men and women,
but because I felt it wasn't fun anymore. At that time, I hadn't developed yet, so of course I didn't know
what breasts meant to men and women. If I had understood the relationship between men and women at that time, I definitely wouldn't have stopped.
But that's just a hypothetical.

Time flies. After finishing elementary school, I was assigned to the best public junior high school in the county due to my excellent grades.
If life had continued on this predetermined path, I would have smoothly completed junior
high, gone to high school, then university, and finally found a job. My story with my mother would have remained a mystery, since
the playful fights and affectionate moments with my mother during my childhood are experiences that most people have to some extent. When I was in the first year of junior high,
thanks to my parents' hard work and frugality, our family's situation improved significantly.

When I was in fourth grade, my father passed the civil service exam and entered the workforce. Because of his smooth interpersonal skills, efficient
work , and righteous character, he was highly praised by his superiors and colleagues. Now he has become
the head of a department in a certain bureau. Our family has become wealthier, and we have moved from our original suburban area to
a .

Since my father has become a minor leader in a powerful department, his social engagements and business trips have increased, and consequently,
he spends less time at home. However, this doesn't make a big difference to me because my father and I have had
very little communication. This has always been the case since I was little. My father is often busy outside, and when he comes home, he probably just spends some time with my mother
before going to rest. He rarely takes the initiative to care about my life and thoughts.

Since my grandmother passed away, it's usually just my mother and me at home. My mother has always treated me like a treasure and
cares about . Of course, she talks about things like my life, studies, and health. That's how Chinese parents are; they easily
neglect their children's puberty education and don't understand their thoughts and feelings in time. They think that as long as they provide their children with comfortable
physical conditions and environment, that's enough. So my mother didn't notice the changes in me after I entered puberty.

Entering puberty, I inevitably developed feelings for the opposite sex. I would talk to my friends about the girls at school and discuss
things about relationships that I still didn't fully understand. But I had a preference: I wasn't very interested in those cute
, innocent-looking girls, except for the very pretty ones. I preferred the mature, sophisticated type, the kind of women who had a mature charm. So,
I would unconsciously fantasize about the young female teachers I knew.

Back then, skinny jeans were all the rage. Whenever I saw the alluring lines of their bodies outlined by those skinny jeans, I would
feel excited, especially that triangle area, which aroused my endless fantasies. Later, I found myself starting to desire female teachers
in their thirties and forties, even more than the younger ones. Their slightly protruding
bellies and the rounded, plump buttocks that had become more rounded after childbirth made my adolescent desires even stronger.

Sometimes when I was sleeping, I would dream of myself entwined with a voluptuous woman. The woman's face
was so blurry. Perhaps that moment never came. The woman in my dream was just a manifestation of my own daydreams
and desires.

My mother is also a full-figured woman. She's 1.65 meters tall with a perfectly proportioned figure.
Although she's gained some weight, it hasn't diminished her beauty in the slightest; instead, it has added to her mature and alluring charm. She wears a long, flowing hairstyle...
Her long, flowing black hair, bright eyes and white teeth, almond-shaped face with rosy cheeks, round nose and red lips,
and a few wrinkles etched on her face with the vicissitudes of time—all these descriptions held a unique charm for me at the time. I
had no particular feelings for my mother then; it was just the pure, familial love between mother and child. I simply knew that my mother was my mother,
nothing more.

Then, something happened that became a turning point, inadvertently planting
the seed of a mother complex within me. This story starts with my penis, haha. My foreskin was a bit too long, which caught my parents' attention
when . A doctor friend also suggested to my dad that I should have surgery to remove the excess foreskin.
So, during the summer before I started junior high, my parents took me to the hospital for circumcision. I won't go
into the details, but I was afraid that this kind of surgery required a high degree of responsibility, otherwise it could affect me for life!

After the surgery, I staggered out of the operating room, and with my parents' help, I limped towards the stroller,
groaning softly. My dad patted me and said, "Man, this little pain is nothing,
you'll be fine soon."

My mom watched my gait, glancing at my crotch every now and then, giggling. Seeing this, I
had to force myself to stay focused, stubbornly breaking free from my parents' arms, and swaying forward. I heard my mom anxiously
call out, "Mingming, be careful, don't hurt yourself..." My mom stopped talking, because that thing
was difficult to say and didn't know how to say, especially in public.

Perhaps it was the uniquely feminine voice of my mother,
combined with the image of a penis flashing through my mind as I continued her unfinished words, that caused a sudden surge of pleasure. Though it lasted only a fraction of a second, an
indescribable ecstasy swept through my entire body. My recently operated genitals began to ache, perhaps divine punishment for the shameful pleasure I
had experienced .

During the few days I rested at home, the uncomfortable swelling and pain accompanying erections prevented me from
indulging in any erotic fantasies while sleeping. On the day the stitches were to be removed, Dad happened to be away on a business trip, so Mom had to
carry me to the car by herself and take me to the hospital. After leaving the hospital, my penis, with the stitches removed, remained in a semi-
erect state, neither getting bigger nor smaller.

This bothered me a lot; my thighs would rub against my glans as I walked. Since my glans had only recently emerged from the foreskin and
was still very tender, it would itch and hurt with every rub. Mom quickly came over to catch me, and I, in a childlike mood, pretended to be dying
and collapsed into her arms. My mother quickly put her hands on my shoulders. "Mingming, are you alright? Don't scare
Mom How are you? Ah, Mingming?"

The moment my mother caught me, the fragrance emanating from her body intoxicated me. Especially since I
was leaning forward on her shoulder, I could see
my breasts tightly wrapped in a black lace bra through the neckline of her business shirt. The visual contrast between her fair skin and the black lace was incredibly
striking.

My penis, stimulated by this, suddenly became erect, pressing against the crotch of my loose sweatpants, like a mountain
rising abruptly from . "Mom is a woman!" This thought flashed through my mind, and my wildly pounding heart
made me dare not linger. I hurriedly straightened up, shook off my mother's hand, and ran nervously to the
car.

My mother was initially stunned by my strange behavior of suddenly shaking off her hand and walking forward. When she saw me
running , she was really frightened and hurriedly caught up to ask me what was wrong. I didn't dare to look up, but I knew my mother
must be very anxious. I pretended to be impatient and said, "Nothing, hurry up!" Then I jumped into
the back seat .

My mother was still completely bewildered, but she quickly got into the driver's seat, started the car, and drove home.
After what had just happened, I felt much calmer, but the image of my mother's snow-white breasts and black lace bra
was forever etched in my memory.

Back home, I insisted on holding onto the handrail to climb the stairs myself, unwilling to let my mother help me. Perhaps I
felt shy and embarrassed; I was also worried that too much contact at this moment would make me feel guilty and disgusted
. I continued to rest at home, trying to abstain from sexual activity. I was afraid that my penis, which was
constantly would become deformed, so I tried my best not to think about those female teachers.

Three days passed, and I felt my penis had almost fully recovered. Walking wasn't as strenuous anymore.
I was surprised to find that my penis was much larger than before the surgery, probably because the foreskin wasn't restricting it anymore.
I enthusiastically pinched my glans, indulging in self-satisfaction.

One morning, I lingered in bed, stroking my penis after the nocturnal emission, reluctantly savoring
the feeling. Temptations from the opposite sex began to surface in my mind again. Just as I was about to drift into my dream,

"Mingming, Mingming, get up and have breakfast!" my mother called.

I reluctantly called out, "I'll sleep a little longer."

"Mingming, if you don't come and eat soon, breakfast will get cold!"

As puberty intensified, my personality became more rebellious, and I yelled, "Aren't you annoying? I want to sleep a little longer. I
don't have to go to class, so what's all the noise about?"

My mother didn't say anything after hearing this. I think she probably had a helpless expression at the time, haha. Just as I
was still immersed in the pleasure of rubbing my penis and fantasizing, my mother brought a bowl of soy milk and quickly came to my room.
Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal, but I was masturbating, so of course my heart started racing. I hurriedly pulled up
my pajama pants, sat up trying to remain calm, and didn't dare to look at my mother, thinking that she had discovered my embarrassing secret.

"Drink it while it's hot, it'll cool down later," Mom said, seemingly oblivious to my masturbation, as she
held the bowl of soy milk to my lips.

I quickly took it and gulped it down to hide my earlier panic.

"Drink slowly, baby, don't choke," Mom said gently and lovingly. Hearing this, I instinctively
tried to stop, but I lost my rhythm, and soy milk choked me, entering my throat and nostrils. Just as I
was about to spit it out, the bowl slipped from my grasp. Recognizing what was happening, Mom and I both
reached out to catch it, but our interference caused us to miss, and the bowl crashed to the floor, spilling soy milk everywhere.

Unfortunately, the rim of the bowl hit my crotch, and the warm soy milk soaked my thigh. I felt a sharp
pain and quickly covered my penis with my hand, my face contorted in pain. My mother saw this and hurriedly squatted down to ask me
, "How are you, Mingming? Are you alright? Does it hurt?"

I didn't answer, but I was in pain, though honestly not to the point of wincing in agony. A playful thought crossed my mind
, and I continued to feign pain, wanting to see how my loving mother would react.

"It hurts so much, Mom..."

My mother was genuinely worried this time, pulling down my pants to check my injury. I guess
she probably realized something as my pants fell below my knees, but as a mother, she wouldn't think
too much. I was startled by this sudden action, especially since my large penis was still semi-
erect !

I turned my head away shyly, but out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that my mother's face had also turned red. After a pause of two or three seconds,
the awkward atmosphere was broken by my mother. She lifted my penis with one hand and took out
a tissue from her pocket with the other to wipe it clean, removing the soy milk residue left on my inner thighs.

The cool temperature of my mother's well-maintained, fair and smooth hands contrasted with the heat of my penis
, creating a wave of pleasure. My penis uncontrollably swelled up in the circle of my mother's fingers, the glans staring at her
with wide-open . My mother was also embarrassed by my reaction, and her ears turned red with embarrassment.

Since I started school, my mother hadn't touched my genitals. I never expected that upon our reunion, her son's penis
would become erect because of me, "provoking" me. In the brief moment my mother was stunned, I
secretly sized her up. She was wearing a green tank top and tight jeans, which
perfectly showcased her full figure, smooth skin, rounded, fleshy shoulders, and
center-parted bangs that reached her eyelashes, making my breath quicken!

My penis continued to swell, swelling to its maximum. My mother instinctively withdrew her hand from my penis, turned around
, and said breathlessly, "Ming...Ming, it should...it should...be alright. Get up and go wash up." She
quickly picked up the bowl from the floor and walked away, leaving me sitting on the edge of the bed, inhaling the lingering
fragrance .

At that moment, my mother was still my mother, and I was still me, but I later realized that from that moment on
, I had fallen in love with my mother. My mother was the voluptuous woman I admired.

That year I was 15 years old, during the summer before starting junior high school, and my mother was 37.

In the days that followed, my mother became my sole object of fantasy. Every time I had a wet dream, I would dream of her snow-white
breasts and a black lace bra. Every time I masturbated, I would fantasize about my mother's fragrant shoulders and delicate hands. This
forbidden pleasure made me deeply addicted and unable to extricate myself. At the same time, I was also burdened with mental pressure, and I would even condemn myself for my
lewdness and depravity. But reason is usually no match for desire, and besides, I was still a teenage boy in my
adolescence . How could I have the self-control

of an adult? Of course, I would not do anything out of line; it was just a thought in my mind. In daily life, I treated my mother the same as
before , and she did not care about that matter. This thing, which seemed very significant to me
, was not enough to leave a deep impression on her.

After I entered the second year of junior high school, my father was promoted to deputy director of a bureau. With his higher position and greater power came more social obligations, and
many more people came to curry favor with him, including some young women who fawned over him. My father frequently accompanied leaders or accepted
invitations to go out for karaoke and drinking, frequenting hotels and various restaurants, often getting completely drunk. When he returned home, he wouldn't
say a word to my mother and me, but would just collapse into bed. My parents' sex life noticeably decreased.

My mother and I tried to persuade my father to drink less and go out less, but he wouldn't listen. He continued his extravagant lifestyle,
indulging in a life of debauchery. Although he didn't break any laws or regulations, his lifestyle began to become corrupt (this is something I learned later).

And so, every night my mother would wait for my father to come home, help him wash up, and get him to
bed . Often, she would wait until one or two in the morning. If my father didn't come home, my mother couldn't sleep, perhaps
because she craved intimacy. I disapproved of my father's behavior; it was completely irresponsible. He left his wife at home
alone he went out to have fun. But I was the younger generation, and I had neither the right nor the courage to stand up and criticize him.

Later, my father simply stopped coming home. This worried my mother terribly. When she asked him where he had gone the previous night,
he would only say he had gone to a friend's house. When she asked his friend, the answer was the same. If my mother pressed him further, he would reek of
alcohol and yell impatiently (I only realized later that this might have been because he felt guilty).

Sometimes, when Mom pressed him too hard, Dad, under the influence of alcohol, would even raise his hand to slap her. Mom
wouldn't dare ask anymore, but the resentment would always linger.

During my second year of junior high, it was mostly just Mom and me at home. We ate breakfast, lunch, dinner, and late-night snacks
together . To alleviate her loneliness, Mom would come over to chat with me, telling me about
trivial things. Occasionally, she would reveal her grievances and complain about Dad's gradual indifference.

I mostly listened at that time, unable to interject. When my mother got sad, I only offered a few words
of comfort. I wasn't really ready to get involved in adult matters. However, during that year, my
feelings for my mother developed significantly. I began to feel the responsibility of a man to protect a woman, and I vowed to
study so that I could give my mother greater happiness in the future.

Thanks to my intelligence and effective methods, I easily completed my junior high school studies and
was admitted to the county's top high school with excellent grades. My parents were naturally very happy and bought me a computer as a reward.
With the computer, I discovered a new world. I could find many erotic novels and
movies online to satisfy my adolescent desires.

I remember it vividly. The first pornographic film I ever watched was "Jin Ping Mei," recommended to me by a classmate. It was
the first time I'd ever seen a woman's naked body, the first time I'd ever seen a complete sex scene, and the first time I'd ever heard
a woman . All of this novelty and excitement was irresistible.

After gradually becoming familiar with the pornographic environment online, I learned to search for my favorite topics online.
So I downloaded a bunch of incest movies and read a lot of incest novels, mostly about mothers and sons, brothers and sisters-in-law, and the like
. Every time I got excited at a certain part, I would masturbate in front of the computer screen.

At first, my desires were contained within these images and videos. Gradually, I became dissatisfied with facing these empty things.
Desire drove me to focus on my mother. I really wanted another "soy milk incident," I really wanted my mother's
delicate hands to caress my penis again, I really wanted to be closer to my mother. To be honest, I
didn't intend to have sex with my mother yet. At that age, at that

level of psychological development, my fantasies about my mother could only remain at the level of her breasts, black lace lingerie, delicate hands, and fragrant shoulders.
In concrete terms, like her long, beautiful hair.

Once, my mother called me from her room, "Mingming, could you help me put the clothes
in the washing machine? I'm cleaning."

I agreed and went to the laundry room in the master bedroom. Seeing the pile of clothes on the washbasin—so many! I
could only pick them up one by one and put them in the washing machine. Suddenly, I stared at the washbasin like I'd discovered treasure.
Oh my god, my mother's black lace bra and black lace panties!!!

I grabbed it and sniffed it intensely. It was my mother's scent—a mixture of her milky fragrance and
the secretions , making my blood boil. My penis quickly became erect, and I could feel its
hardness and swelling. My mouth went dry, and my hands trembled with excitement.

I couldn't resist taking off my own underwear, rubbing my bra against my face while simultaneously pulling my mother's
underwear over my penis and masturbating. The desires of puberty, like a flood that had been building up inside me for so long, suddenly found
a way to burst forth, and I raged uncontrollably. I even went so far as to bite my mother's bra with my teeth,
as if wanted to swallow it whole.

Because the atmosphere was too stimulating, I quickly ejaculated, and a large amount of white semen sprayed onto my mother's
underwear . I breathed a long sigh of relief, feeling extremely satisfied. After regaining my senses, I quickly remembered my
task in the laundry room. I hurriedly poured the remaining clothes into the washing machine, closed the lid, turned around and ran, without
paying attention to the situation outside.

Just as I stepped out of the laundry room, my mother came over. I didn't have time to stop and
bumped into her. Startled by the sudden collision, she slipped and lost her balance,
falling backward. Luckily, I reacted quickly and rushed forward to grab her waist, trying to stop her from falling. At that time, I
was still small and not much taller than my mother. I was pulled forward by her and fell with her. We
both fell to the ground.

My lips landed squarely on my mother's cheek, and my body pressed heavily against hers. Coincidentally,
because she stumbled as she fell, her legs were now spread apart, and my swollen
penis was pressed hard against her genitals. My arms were around her waist, and both our heads
were turned to the same side. There was a built-in wardrobe on that side, with a large full-length mirror in the middle.
Our positions were reflected in the mirror, making it look as if I was pinning my mother down and about to rape her.

Looking in the mirror, I realized that my mother was wearing loose pajamas. She also noticed that her
son was on top of her in a manly position. Both my mother and I blushed with embarrassment. I didn't get up,
but continued to press down on my mother like that, my penis still pressed between her buttocks. I could feel
the temptation emanating from my mother's genitals, and it was an indescribable pleasure.

After a brief moment, it was Mom who first broke free from the erotic atmosphere, shoving me aside and standing
up. She scolded me sternly, "How could you be so careless? Can't you walk properly? Why are you running like that?
Luckily you didn't hurt yourself. What if you had?"

I was speechless for a moment, still reeling from what had just happened. I just stood there, scratching
the back of my head . Seeing this, Mom said, "Alright, be careful next time. Don't be so playful. How old are you? Still running like that
? Get up. Have you put the clothes in the washing machine?"...

I will never forget that scene. It was the first time I had a woman pinned beneath me, and that
woman was my own mother. It was my first... The first time I kissed a woman's cheek, the first time my penis pressed against a woman's genitals,
and this woman was also my mother. This scene made me realize the proportion of my mother's body beneath me,
and it also made the image of the voluptuous woman I had always fantasized about in my dreams even clearer, infinitely close to my own mother...

Once Pandora's box was opened, it could not be closed again. My lust for my mother deepened, and I became more addicted to incestuous pornography on
the internet . I would also occasionally find opportunities to sneak into my parents' master bedroom when no one was home,
steal my mother's bra and panties, and use them to masturbate, just like the first time. If I found a black lace
bra and black lace panties, I would be even more excited.

However, my reason told me that although I had done something that violated social norms, I should be mindful of the impact and
control myself appropriately. So each time, I resisted the urge to ejaculate on my mother's panties and bra at the last moment, and chose to spray
towards my mother's Simmons bed. I enjoyed the pleasure of releasing my lust, reluctantly wiping away
the pubic hair that had been rubbed off, putting the underwear back in its place, carefully wiping the semen off the floor, and leaving
only after .

Of course, that's a naive idea. Everyone knows that during masturbation, the penis secretes some
vaginal fluid and semen, which can leave stains and odors on cotton underwear. I thought that as time
went on and it happened more often, my mother would probably notice. Maybe she didn't know how to bring it up or
how to talk to me about it, so she never mentioned it and acted
naturally .

This was confirmed shortly after I started high school. My mother moved her bras, panties, and other sensitive feminine
hygiene products to a different location, and this change really made me behave for a while.

As dawn

broke through the sheer curtains, golden rays dappled the pink sheets in the gentle breeze. I
opened my sleepy eyes and gazed at my mother, still lost in a sweet dream beside me. Her gentle, beautiful face, her slightly
upturned lips, and her even, soft breath stirred my heart. I turned to her, tenderly brushed
the strands of hair that cascaded across her cheek, and kissed her full, luscious red lips with deep affection. A lingering sensation filled my heart, an
indescribable warmth and comfort.

Feeling the love on my lips, my mother woke up, opened her charming eyes, and looked at me with deep affection. She reached out her
fair and jade-like hand and placed it on my cheek, her face flushed with the blush unique to mature women. She was
incredibly charming, shy and beautiful.

I gently lifted my mother's chin: "Mom, you're awake. Did you sleep well?"

My mother nodded: "Yes, Mingming, with you here, I slept soundly. It's been so long since we
've been together ."

A wave of emotion washed over me, mixed with a pang of sadness. Yes, I'm studying at a university in a city thousands of miles away. Although
I come home for every long holiday, we're still separated most of the time. My mother is alone in her empty house; her loneliness and isolation are unimaginable.
She gave me her life, and I should fulfill my responsibilities and obligations as a man, spending more time with her when I'm home, giving her...
Happiness, tenderness, madness.

"Mom, I love you." I rolled over and pinned my mother beneath me, leaning down to kiss her red lips again.
My mother wrapped her arms around my shoulders, opened her red lips, and greedily sucked and entwined with my tongue as it entered her mouth
.

I reached one hand to my mother's crotch, rubbing her sensitive clitoris through her black lace panties.
My other hand deftly moved to her back, unhooking her black lace bra. Her full, round
breasts bounced up and down like wild horses. I grabbed her right breast and rhythmically kneaded it. My tongue brushed against her upper lip
before quickly withdrawing, then moved to her left breast, sucking on her nipple with abandon. My
hand, rubbing her crotch, increased its speed and pressure.

"Mmm...mmm...ah...ha..." my mother moaned with pleasure.

Although I couldn't wait to make love with my mother as soon as I got home last night, we rolled around and were passionate until late at night, but
the long time we hadn't seen each other had made our desire rise to the extreme. When I heard my mother's seductive moans, I couldn't help but raise
my head and pull down my mother's panties with both hands. When my mother saw this, she cooperated by sitting up and pulling down my panties. My penis
was already proudly erect, and a drop of secretion seeped out of the urethral opening, making my penis even hotter and harder, like the finishing touch on a painting.

My mother stared intently, her eyes glazed over, her breathing rapid. At this moment, I had no heart to appreciate this lewd scene anymore.
I threw the lace panties onto the headboard, pressed my mother down, and she fell heavily onto the Simmons mattress, her body
rising and falling with the swaying mattress. Her long, beautiful black hair spread out on the sheets like a peacock's tail. I
excitedly rubbed my penis against my mother's vulva, doing warm-up exercises, moving up and down, left and right, grinding against
my mother's clitoris.

My mother cried out in a pleading voice, "No...no...I can't take it...come in...son...
come in ...ah...ah ah ha ah..."

"I'm coming, Mom, I love you, I want to fuck you..." No sooner said than done, my big cock
slammed into my mother's honey hole like a missile. My mother rolled her eyes, her head tilted back, one hand gripping my
arm, the other hand clutching the sheets, her legs stiffly kicking towards the foot of the bed. A

long, drawn-out cry of "Ahhhhhhh!" was released, releasing lust, satisfaction, shame, excitement, wantonness, and determination. It shook our souls, like a battle horn, encouraging me to launch a fierce attack. I didn't take it slow; instead, I thrust hard from the start, each time plunging straight into the heart of the flower, each time pulling the labia majora in and out, each time creating a collision of spirit and flesh. I was like a valiant knight, galloping excitedly through the honeyed jungle. My mother was panting heavily, moaning and groaning, "Give it to me, give it to me, Mingming, give it to me, hurry, hurry... Ah, so good, so good!" "Mom, is it good? Is it good?" "Yes, so good, so comfortable, Mingming is so good, you're making me unable to take it anymore, ahh..." I thrust hard while kneading my mother's breasts, which rippled , making my blood boil. Slowly, my mother's honey pot began to overflow with lustful fluids, which were drawn out by my penis, soaking a large area . The sound of the thrusting changed from a single "slap slap slap" to a symphony of "slap sizzle sizzle". After five or six minutes of penetration, my mother's whole body convulsed, her phoenix eyes widened, her face flushed, her red lips parted, and the veins on the back of her hands bulged slightly. Then came wave after wave of spasms. My mother shook her head desperately, her body swaying constantly, and I increased the speed of my thrusts. "Ah!!!! I'm coming, I'm going to die..." Mom's hands moved to my shoulders, her nails digging into my flesh. Mom had an orgasm, waves of heat from her vagina crashing against my glans like waves crashing on the shore. I couldn't hold back any longer , I didn't want to hold back anymore. I quickly pulled out my penis, and just as my glans was about to slip out of her vagina, I didn't give Mom a chance to feel the emptiness. I immediately slammed my hips down, and my penis plunged in all the way again. "Mom, I'm going to cum." "Cum, cum, cum all of it into me, my good son." My ejaculation was released, and countless drops of semen bombarded Mom's uterus like bullets. Mom bit her lower lip tightly, moaning and struggling weakly . We reached our climax at the same time, and I collapsed into my mother's arms. She immediately hugged me tightly, stroked me, and nibbled at me... My memories of being attached to my mother: I was born in my rural hometown and grew up in the city. My parents both worked hard in the countryside and experienced the hardships and suffering of the working people. They couldn't bear to let their precious child suffer the same hardships. Therefore, they loved me very much and tried their best to accommodate me in everything they could. I was treated like a precious treasure, cherished and pampered, enjoying panda-level treatment . This shaped my willful and stubborn personality. Stubbornness, in a way, is the same as persistence —the kind of relentless effort that doesn't give up until the goal is achieved. This might explain my later obsessive and almost insane behavior. In my childhood, my family's financial situation wasn't good. My parents had only been working for a year or two, and we had many relatives and siblings who needed support. My parents were kind-hearted people; whenever relatives were in trouble, they would find a way to help them, no matter what. My grandparents were old and did less farm work, so naturally, the burden of supporting the family fell on my father. In order to increase his savings, Dad often took odd jobs after work, such as driving a motorcycle taxi, selling flowers and plants at a stall , or doing delivery work. He often didn't get home until late at night, and sometimes he would sleep at a friend's house because he was afraid of disturbing his wife and son. After my mother got off work, she would go straight back to the teachers' dormitory (both my parents were teachers, but not at the same school; they lived in two different towns. During the day, my grandmother would take care of me after my parents went to work). The first thing my mother did when she got back to the teachers' dormitory was to pick me up and kiss my forehead and cheeks, saying, "You missed Mommy, didn't you, my baby?" At that time, I was just a young child who didn't understand anything. Every time my mother kissed me, I would shyly squint my eyes and turn my head back to avoid her kisses. But I loved the feeling of being kissed by my mother; it was a child 's sense of closeness to their mother. During dinner, I would fuss and want my mom to hold me so she could hold me and let me sit on her lap. I don't like sitting on hard wooden stools, and besides, it's harder for me to pick up food and eat on a wooden stool because I'm not tall enough. I like sitting on my mom's warm and soft laps so she can pick up food for me and feed me.

My mom often says that I'm a four-year-old and should learn to do things myself. Of course, I won't let her. It would be a disservice to myself not to sit in
such comfortable spot. Sometimes my mom will try to coax me to be independent,
but she always gives in to my tantrums and lets me sit on her lap.

And so, I enjoyed being served by my mother like an emperor, snuggling into her
arms from time to time, munching on my food while my hands mischievously groped her breasts. I had no
wicked ; I was just playful and active, finding my mother's breasts very interesting. What could a four-year-old understand
? So my mother let me touch them, only coaxing me to sit still and eat
properly My grandmother was also eating nearby, watching her energetic grandson,
enjoying the joy of family life. Her kind smile added a lot of warmth to the scene.

At night, I would snuggle against my mother's arm, listening to her tell stories. Then she would
gently pat my back to lull me to sleep, and then she would take off her clothes and sleep with me.

It's important to note that I don't like sleeping alone, nor do I like anyone else taking my mother's place. I
only want to sleep with my mother. Until I was in seventh grade, I would always pester her to sleep with me. However,
after fifth grade, as I grew older, I mostly slept in my own room. But whenever I had the chance,
like getting a good grade on a test or an excellent grade on homework, this was the reward I would ask for.

Hehe, I feel embarrassed now when I think about it. I don't know if it's just me who is so
immature. One thing I need to be clear about is that I didn't have any improper thoughts. I was just too dependent on my mother and too
clingy!

When I slept with my mother, before falling asleep, I would often playfully tease her breasts.
My mother knew that I was just playing around and didn't interfere. I would fall asleep while playing. I found
that this helped me fall into a sweet dream earlier than listening to stories.

I think I stopped playing with my mother's breasts when I was in third grade. It wasn't because I was embarrassed about the relationship between men and women,
but because I felt it wasn't fun anymore. At that time, I hadn't developed yet, so of course I didn't know
what breasts meant to men and women. If I had understood the relationship between men and women at that time, I definitely wouldn't have stopped.
But that's just a hypothetical.

Time flies. After finishing elementary school, I was assigned to the best public junior high school in the county due to my excellent grades.
If life had continued on this predetermined path, I would have smoothly completed junior
high, gone to high school, then university, and finally found a job. My story with my mother would have remained a mystery, since
the playful fights and affectionate moments with my mother during my childhood are experiences that most people have to some extent. When I was in the first year of junior high,
thanks to my parents' hard work and frugality, our family's situation improved significantly.

When I was in fourth grade, my father passed the civil service exam and entered the workforce. Because of his smooth interpersonal skills, efficient
work , and righteous character, he was highly praised by his superiors and colleagues. Now he has become
the head of a department in a certain bureau. Our family has become wealthier, and we have moved from our original suburban area to
a .

Since my father has become a minor leader in a powerful department, his social engagements and business trips have increased, and consequently,
he spends less time at home. However, this doesn't make a big difference to me because my father and I have had
very little communication. This has always been the case since I was little. My father is often busy outside, and when he comes home, he probably just spends some time with my mother
before going to rest. He rarely takes the initiative to care about my life and thoughts.

Since my grandmother passed away, it's usually just my mother and me at home. My mother has always treated me like a treasure and
cares about . Of course, she talks about things like my life, studies, and health. That's how Chinese parents are; they easily
neglect their children's puberty education and don't understand their thoughts and feelings in time. They think that as long as they provide their children with comfortable
physical conditions and environment, that's enough. So my mother didn't notice the changes in me after I entered puberty.

Entering puberty, I inevitably developed feelings for the opposite sex. I would talk to my friends about the girls at school and discuss
things about relationships that I still didn't fully understand. But I had a preference: I wasn't very interested in those cute
, innocent-looking girls, except for the very pretty ones. I preferred the mature, sophisticated type, the kind of women who had a mature charm. So,
I would unconsciously fantasize about the young female teachers I knew.

Back then, skinny jeans were all the rage. Whenever I saw the alluring lines of their bodies outlined by those skinny jeans, I would
feel excited, especially that triangle area, which aroused my endless fantasies. Later, I found myself starting to desire female teachers
in their thirties and forties, even more than the younger ones. Their slightly protruding
bellies and the rounded, plump buttocks that had become more rounded after childbirth made my adolescent desires even stronger.

Sometimes when I was sleeping, I would dream of myself entwined with a voluptuous woman. The woman's face
was so blurry. Perhaps that moment never came. The woman in my dream was just a manifestation of my own daydreams
and desires.

My mother was also a plump woman. She was 1.65 meters tall with a perfect golden ratio figure.
Although she had gained some weight, it did not diminish her beauty in the slightest. Instead, it added to her mature and alluring charm. She had long,
beautiful black hair, bright eyes and white teeth, an almond-shaped face with peach-like cheeks, a round nose and red lips. A few wrinkles on her face etched
the vicissitudes of time, giving her a unique charm. These descriptions left no impression on me at that time. I
didn't have any romantic feelings for my mother then. It was just the pure mother-son affection of family. I only knew that my mother was my mother,
nothing more.

Then something happened that became a key turning point, because it inadvertently planted
the seed of a mother complex in my heart. This story starts with my penis, haha. My foreskin was a bit too long, which my parents noticed
when A doctor friend even suggested to my dad that I have surgery to remove the excess foreskin.
So, during the summer before I started junior high, my parents took me to the hospital for a circumcision. I won't go
into the details, but I was terrified that this kind of surgery required absolute responsibility, otherwise it could affect me for life!

After the surgery, I staggered out of the operating room, and with my parents' help, I limped towards the stroller,
groaning softly. My dad patted me and said, "Man, this little pain is nothing,
you'll be fine soon."

My mom watched my gait, glancing occasionally at my crotch, and giggled. I saw it all.
Forced to muster my strength, I stubbornly broke free from my parents' arms and swayed forward. I heard my mother anxiously
call out, "Mingming, be careful, don't hurt yourself..." She stopped talking, because that
was a sensitive topic, one she didn't know how to express, especially in public.

Perhaps it was the combination of my mother's uniquely feminine voice and the image of
"penis" flashing through my mind as I finished her sentence, but I felt a sudden surge of pleasure. Though it lasted only a fraction of a second, an
indescribable pleasure coursed through my body. My recently operated genitals began to ache; perhaps it was divine punishment for the shameful pleasure I
had experienced .

During the few days I rested at home, the uncomfortable swelling and pain after erections
prevented me from having any erotic dreams while sleeping. On the day the stitches were to be removed, my father happened to be away on a business trip, so my mother had to
carry me to the hospital by herself. After leaving the hospital, my penis, with the stitches removed, remained in a semi-
erect state, neither getting bigger nor smaller.

This bothered me a lot; my thighs would rub against my glans while walking. Since the glans had only recently emerged from the foreskin and was still very tender,
it itched and hurt every time it rubbed against me. My mother quickly came over to catch me, and I, with a sudden surge of childishness, pretended to be dying
and collapsed into her arms. My mother quickly put her hands on my shoulders. "Mingming, are you alright? Don't scare
Mom How are you? Ah, Mingming?"

The moment my mother caught me, the fragrance emanating from her body intoxicated me. Especially since I
was leaning forward on her shoulder, I could see
my breasts tightly wrapped in a black lace bra through the neckline of her business shirt. The visual contrast between her fair skin and the black lace was incredibly
striking.

My penis, stimulated by this, suddenly became erect, pressing against the crotch of my loose sweatpants, like a mountain
rising abruptly from . "Mom is a woman!" This thought flashed through my mind, and my wildly pounding heart
made me dare not linger. I hurriedly straightened up, shook off my mother's hand, and ran nervously to the
car.

My mother was initially stunned by my strange behavior of suddenly shaking off her hand and walking forward. When she saw me
running , she was really frightened and hurriedly caught up to ask me what was wrong. I didn't dare to look up, but I knew my mother
must be very anxious. I pretended to be impatient and said, "Nothing, hurry up!" Then I jumped into
the back seat .

My mother was still completely bewildered, but she quickly got into the driver's seat, started the car, and drove home.
After what had just happened, I felt much calmer, but the image of my mother's snow-white breasts and black lace bra
was forever etched in my memory.

Back home, I insisted on holding onto the handrail to climb the stairs myself, unwilling to let my mother help me. Perhaps I
felt shy and embarrassed; I was also worried that too much contact at this moment would make me feel guilty and disgusted
. I continued to rest at home, trying to abstain from sexual activity. I was afraid that my penis, which was
constantly would become deformed, so I tried my best not to think about those female teachers.

Three days passed, and I felt my penis had almost fully recovered. Walking wasn't as strenuous anymore.
I was surprised to find that my penis was much larger than before the surgery, probably because the foreskin wasn't restricting it anymore.
I enthusiastically pinched my glans, indulging in self-satisfaction.

One morning, I lingered in bed, stroking my penis after the nocturnal emission, reluctantly savoring
the feeling. Temptations from the opposite sex began to surface in my mind again. Just as I was about to drift into my dream,

"Mingming, Mingming, get up and have breakfast!" my mother called.

I reluctantly called out, "I'll sleep a little longer."

"Mingming, if you don't come and eat soon, breakfast will get cold!"

As puberty intensified, my personality became more rebellious, and I yelled, "Aren't you annoying? I want to sleep a little longer. I
don't have to go to class, so what's all the noise about?"

My mother didn't say anything after hearing this. I think she probably had a helpless expression at the time, haha. Just as I
was still immersed in the pleasure of rubbing my penis and fantasizing, my mother brought a bowl of soy milk and quickly came to my room.
Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal, but I was masturbating, so of course my heart started racing. I hurriedly pulled up
my pajama pants, sat up trying to remain calm, and didn't dare to look at my mother, thinking that she had discovered my embarrassing secret.

"Drink it while it's hot, it'll cool down later," Mom said, seemingly oblivious to my masturbation, as she
held the bowl of soy milk to my lips.

I quickly took it and gulped it down to hide my earlier panic.

"Drink slowly, baby, don't choke," Mom said gently and lovingly. Hearing this, I instinctively
tried to stop, but I lost my rhythm, and soy milk choked me, entering my throat and nostrils. Just as I
was about to spit it out, the bowl slipped from my grasp. Recognizing what was happening, Mom and I both
reached out to catch it, but our interference caused us to miss, and the bowl crashed to the floor, spilling soy milk everywhere.

Unfortunately, the edge of the bowl hit my crotch, and the warm soy milk soaked my thigh. I felt a sharp
pain and quickly covered my penis with my hand, making a painful expression on my face. My mother saw it and hurriedly squatted down to ask me
, "How are you, Mingming? Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

I didn't answer, but I was in pain. To be honest, it shouldn't hurt so much that I was frowning. I had a mischievous thought
and continued to pretend to be in a lot of pain, wanting to see how my loving mother would react.

"Ouch, Mom..."

Mom was really worried now. She pulled down my pants to check my injury. I guess
she realized something when my pants came down to my knees. But as a mother, she didn't think
too much. I was startled by her sudden action, especially since my big penis was still semi-
erect !

I turned my head away in embarrassment. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Mom's face was also red. After a few seconds of silence, Mom broke
the awkward atmosphere. She held my penis with one hand and took out a tissue
to wipe it and clean the soy milk residue on my inner thigh.

The cool warmth of my mother's well-maintained, smooth, white hands contrasted sharply with the heat of my penis
, creating a wave of pleasure. My penis uncontrollably swelled within her fingers, the glans staring at her with a fierce,
wide-open My mother, seeing my reaction, was embarrassed, her ears turning red.

Since I started school, my mother hadn't touched my genitals; she never expected to be reunited with her son's penis like this.
It would get an erection because of itself, "provoking" itself. In the short moment when my mother was stunned, I
secretly looked at her. My mother was wearing a green tank top and tight jeans, which
perfectly displayed her full figure, smooth skin, round and fleshy shoulders, and
middle-parted bangs that reached her eyelashes, making my breathing quicken!

My penis continued to swell, swelling to its maximum. My mother instinctively withdrew her hand from my penis, turned around
, and said breathlessly, "Ming...Ming, it should...it should...be alright. Get up and go wash up." She
quickly picked up the bowl from the floor and walked away, leaving me sitting on the edge of the bed, inhaling the lingering
fragrance .

At that moment, my mother was still my mother, and I was still me, but I later realized that from that moment on
, I had fallen in love with my mother. My mother was the voluptuous woman I admired.

That year I was 15 years old, during the summer before starting junior high school, and my mother was 37.

In the days that followed, my mother became my sole object of fantasy. Every time I had a wet dream, I would dream of her snow-white
breasts and a black lace bra. Every time I masturbated, I would fantasize about my mother's fragrant shoulders and delicate hands. This
forbidden pleasure made me deeply addicted and unable to extricate myself. At the same time, I was also burdened with mental pressure, and I would even condemn myself for my
lewdness and depravity. But reason is usually no match for desire, and besides, I was still a teenage boy in my
adolescence . How could I have the self-control

of an adult? Of course, I would not do anything out of line; it was just a thought in my mind. In daily life, I treated my mother the same as
before , and she did not care about that matter. This thing, which seemed very significant to me
, was not enough to leave a deep impression on her.

After I entered the second year of junior high school, my father was promoted to deputy director of a bureau. With his higher position and greater power came more social obligations, and
many more people came to curry favor with him, including some young women who fawned over him. My father frequently accompanied leaders or accepted
invitations to go out for karaoke and drinking, frequenting hotels and various restaurants, often getting completely drunk. When he returned home, he wouldn't
say a word to my mother and me, but would just collapse into bed. My parents' sex life noticeably decreased.

My mother and I tried to persuade my father to drink less and go out less, but he wouldn't listen. He continued his extravagant lifestyle,
indulging in a life of debauchery. Although he didn't break any laws or regulations, his lifestyle began to become corrupt (this is something I learned later).

And so, every night my mother would wait for my father to come home, help him wash up, and get him to
bed . Often, she would wait until one or two in the morning. If my father didn't come home, my mother couldn't sleep, perhaps
because she craved intimacy. I disapproved of my father's behavior; it was completely irresponsible. He left his wife at home
alone while he went out to have fun. But I was the younger generation, and I had neither the right nor the courage to stand up and criticize him.

Later, my father simply stopped coming home. This worried my mother terribly. When she asked him where he had gone the previous night,
he would only say he had gone to a friend's house. When she asked his friend, the answer was the same. If my mother pressed him further, he would reek of
alcohol and yell impatiently (I only realized later that this might have been because he felt guilty).

Sometimes, when Mom pressed him too hard, Dad, under the influence of alcohol, would even raise his hand to slap her. Mom
wouldn't dare ask anymore, but the resentment would always linger.

During my second year of junior high, it was mostly just Mom and me at home. We ate breakfast, lunch, dinner, and late-night snacks
together . To alleviate her loneliness, Mom would come over to chat with me, telling me about
trivial things. Occasionally, she would reveal her grievances and complain about Dad's gradual indifference.

I mostly listened at that time, unable to interject. When my mother got sad, I only offered a few words
of comfort. I wasn't really ready to get involved in adult matters. However, during that year, my
feelings for my mother developed significantly. I began to feel the responsibility of a man to protect a woman, and I vowed to
study so that I could give my mother greater happiness in the future.

Thanks to my intelligence and effective methods, I easily completed my junior high school studies and
was admitted to the county's top high school with excellent grades. My parents were naturally very happy and bought me a computer as a reward.
With the computer, I discovered a new world. I could find many erotic novels and
movies online to satisfy my adolescent desires.

I remember it vividly. The first pornographic film I ever watched was "Jin Ping Mei," recommended to me by a classmate. It was
the first time I'd ever seen a woman's naked body, the first time I'd ever seen a complete sex scene, and the first time I'd ever heard
a woman . All of this novelty and excitement was irresistible.

After gradually becoming familiar with the pornographic environment online, I learned to search for my favorite topics online.
So I downloaded a bunch of incest movies and read a lot of incest novels, mostly about mothers and sons, brothers and sisters-in-law, and the like
. Every time I got excited at a certain part, I would masturbate in front of the computer screen.

At first, my desires were contained within these images and videos. Gradually, I became dissatisfied with facing the abstract.
Desire drove me to focus on my mother. I really wanted the soy milk incident to happen again. I really wanted my mother's
delicate hands to caress my penis again. I really wanted to be closer to my mother. To be honest, I
didn't have any intention of having sex with my mother. At that age and at that

level of psychological development, my fantasies about my mother could only be limited to concrete things like her breasts, black lace lingerie, delicate hands, fragrant shoulders, and
long, beautiful hair.

One time, my mom called me from her room, "Mingming, could you help me put the clothes
in the washing machine? I'm cleaning."

I agreed and went to the laundry room in the master bedroom. I saw so many clothes piled up on the laundry tub that I
had to pick them up one by one and put them in the washing machine. Suddenly, I stared at the laundry tub like I'd discovered a treasure.
Oh my god, Mom's black lace bra and black lace panties!!!

I grabbed it and sniffed it intensely. It was my mother's scent—a mixture of her milky fragrance and
the secretions , making my blood boil. My penis quickly became erect, and I could feel its
hardness and swelling. My mouth went dry, and my hands trembled with excitement.

I couldn't resist taking off my own underwear, rubbing my bra against my face while simultaneously pulling my mother's
underwear over my penis and masturbating. The desires of puberty, like a flood that had been building up inside me for so long, suddenly found
a way to burst forth, and I raged uncontrollably. I even went so far as to bite my mother's bra with my teeth,
as if wanted to swallow it whole.

The atmosphere was so stimulating that I quickly ejaculated, a large gush of white semen spraying into my mother's vagina.
I let out a long sigh of relief, feeling immensely satisfied. Once I regained my senses, I quickly remembered my
task in the laundry room. I hurriedly dumped the remaining clothes into the washing machine, closed the lid, and ran off without
paying attention to what was happening outside.

Just as I stepped out of the laundry room, my mother came over. I didn't have time to stop and
bumped into her. Startled by the sudden collision, she slipped and lost her balance,
falling backward. Luckily, I reacted quickly and rushed forward to grab her waist, trying to stop her from falling. At that time, I
was still small and not much taller than my mother. I was pulled forward by her and fell with her. We
both fell to the ground.

My lips landed squarely on my mother's cheek, and my body pressed heavily against hers. Coincidentally,
because she stumbled as she fell, her legs were now spread apart, and my swollen
penis was pressed hard against her genitals. My arms were around her waist, and both our heads
were turned to the same side. There was a built-in wardrobe on that side, with a large full-length mirror in the middle.
Our positions were reflected in the mirror, making it look as if I was pinning my mother down and about to rape her.

Looking in the mirror, I realized that my mother was wearing loose pajamas. She also noticed that her
son was on top of her in a manly position. Both my mother and I blushed with embarrassment. I didn't get up,
but continued to press down on my mother like that, my penis still pressed between her buttocks. I could feel
the temptation emanating from my mother's genitals, and it was an indescribable pleasure.

After a brief moment, it was Mom who first broke free from the erotic atmosphere, shoving me aside and standing
up. She scolded me sternly, "How could you be so careless? Can't you walk properly? Why are you running like that?
Luckily you didn't hurt yourself. What if you had?"

I was speechless for a moment, still reeling from what had just happened. I just stood there, scratching
the back of my head . Seeing this, Mom said, "Alright, be careful next time. Don't be so playful. How old are you? Still running like that
? Get up. Have you put the clothes in the washing machine?"...

I will never forget that scene. It was the first time I had a woman pinned beneath me, and that
woman was my own mother. It was my first... The first time I kissed a woman's cheek, the first time my penis pressed against a woman's genitals,
and this woman was also my mother. This scene made me realize the proportion of my mother's body beneath me,
and it also made the image of the voluptuous woman I had always fantasized about in my dreams even clearer, infinitely close to my own mother...

Once Pandora's box was opened, it could not be closed again. My lust for my mother deepened, and I became more addicted to incestuous pornography on
the internet . I would also occasionally find opportunities to sneak into my parents' master bedroom when no one was home,
steal my mother's bra and panties, and use them to masturbate, just like the first time. If I found a black lace
bra and black lace panties, I would be even more excited.

However, my reason told me that although I had done something that violated social norms, I should be mindful of the impact and
control myself appropriately. So each time, I resisted the urge to ejaculate on my mother's panties and bra at the last moment, and chose to spray
towards my mother's Simmons bed. I enjoyed the pleasure of releasing my lust, reluctantly wiping away
the pubic hair that had been rubbed off, putting the underwear back in its place, carefully wiping the semen off the floor, and leaving
only after .

Of course, that's a naive idea. Everyone knows that during masturbation, the penis secretes some
vaginal fluid and semen, which can leave stains and odors on cotton underwear. I thought that as time
went on and it happened more often, my mother would probably notice. Maybe she didn't know how to bring it up or
how to talk to me about it, so she never mentioned it and acted
naturally .

This was confirmed shortly after I started high school. My mother moved her bras, panties, and other sensitive feminine
hygiene products to a different location, and this change really made me behave for a while.

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