My cheating mother

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

In my heart, I harbor a strong Oedipus complex, but I've never shown it to outsiders or even to myself.

For the past 20 years, from the time I learned of my mother's infidelity until now, I've lived a good life as a dutiful child, never revealing her affair to the public. I consider it a disgrace, so I've never intended to tell anyone. Although I feel it's unfair to my father, for the sake of family harmony, I feel it's necessary to deliberately conceal it.

My mother, a rural woman, isn't tall, her skin isn't very fair, and her figure isn't particularly good; she's just an ordinary woman, the kind you could easily find thousands of on the street. Before discovering her affair, I never even imagined that another man would approach her, except for my father.

Although I was just a child not yet ten years old, probably in third grade, at that age, I still had some understanding of matters between men and women. At that time, my father was away working in another place, and my sister and I slept next to her. Normally, my sister and I shared a room, and my mother shared a room with my father. But when my father wasn't around, my sister and I preferred to sleep with our mother because her bed had a Simmons mattress, while ours was just a hard wooden plank bed, which was really uncomfortable. Until one night, I vaguely remembered to pee and realized my mother wasn't beside me. I found it strange; where had she gone in the middle of the night? I wouldn't call myself stupid, and given the increasing prevalence of television in the early 1990s, I had some understanding of extramarital affairs. That night, in that fleeting moment, a suspicion arose within me. My five-year-old sister was fast asleep. I got up to go to the bathroom. It was late autumn, and the moon was eerily bright. I opened the door—and to clarify, back then there were no apartments, just rows of rooms on each floor—and the bathroom was the last room on each floor. My sister and I used to sleep in the room next to each other. When I opened the door, I saw the light was on in the next room, so I assumed my mother was there and didn't think much of it. Still half asleep, I went to the bathroom in the last room. When I came back, the light in the next room was off. Curious, I pressed my ear to the window and listened. To my surprise, I heard my mother groaning.

Don't be alarmed; although it was the first time I'd heard that sound, I never imagined my mother was unwell. Along with the groans, I also heard a "slap slap slap" sound. I think you know what that sound is by now, but at that time, I had no idea. Still half asleep, I went back to sleep.

The next day, I innocently asked my mother, "Mom, where did you go last night? I got up to pee in the middle of the night and didn't see you." My mother was a little flustered, but she still had a way of dealing with children, and she made up an excuse to get away with it. I even forgot what clever trick she used to fool me. But my young heart still had a lot of feelings.

Our family ran a grocery store near the cement factory. There were always many workers, men and women, young and old. To me, at eight years old, they were all adults, and I didn't quite understand what they were saying. One day, a male worker even took off my shorts in front of my mother. My mother even said, "You're crazy. If you want to take your clothes off, why don't you take your own?" I was just confused as to why my mother didn't stand up for me. At that time, there were many little girls around, and I felt that having my pants taken off was a very embarrassing thing, but the adults were laughing and joking.

My mother was also laughing and joking with them, completely ignoring my young self-esteem.

My father came back from working out of town, and my mother also sent my sister and me to the next room. I found it strange that my mother would kick my sister and me out when my father came home. In the middle of the night, I secretly got up, wanting to understand why my mother chased me away when my father returned. I sneaked to my mother's room, which was on the first floor of a five-story building. I went to my mother's window, and although it was dark and crickets were chirping incessantly, I mustered my courage and lay in ambush. The light in my mother's room was still on, but I couldn't hear my parents talking, only the sound of the bed shaking. Curious, I pulled back the curtains. The window wasn't closed, and I saw a scene I can never forget: my father, naked, was on top of my mother, who was also naked, making a "thump-thump" sound as he moved up and down. That "thump-thump" sound seemed familiar, and my mother's moans reminded me of what had happened. Could it be that the sounds I heard that night were my parents doing the same thing? Although I was only eight years old, I understood what my parents were doing. The man who once pulled down my pants, and who also acted as if my mother were watching, pulled a pubic hair from his crotch and told us kids what it was like to have sex: inserting a finger of the right hand into the hole formed by the left hand. But my father didn't come home that night. Was my mother with another man?

The answer is yes. Dear readers, I believe you all knew more or less about your parents' sex life when you were young. After learning about my parents' sex life that night, I expressed my dissatisfaction with my mother's infidelity. My father went out again, and my mother tried every means to get my sister and me to sleep with her. But I refused my mother, saying it would be too hot for three people to sleep together, so my mother sent my sister back to sleep with me. In the middle of the night, I still heard my mother open the door and heard a man's voice. I tried a different strategy to get to know my mother, and I agreed to sleep with her again, but my mother then pulled my sister to sleep with her. In the middle of the night, my mother secretly got up and locked the room. I, pretending to be asleep, couldn't go out to see who the adulterer was.

I desperately wanted to tell my parents about their affair, but for some reason, a voice inside me kept telling me not to, that if I did, there would be no happy family. Even now, I don't understand why I, as a child, had such mature thoughts.

One day, I made a chance discovery and found out who the adulterer was. That noon, everyone went for their afternoon nap. Although we ran a small grocery store, my mother still had the habit of taking a nap. My sister and I ran off to play that day, but I wondered if my mother would visit her lover while she napped. I knew a man who had a key to my room, so I had a pretty good idea it was him. The window was still open, the curtains still drawn. I pressed my face against the window and heard my mother's muffled moans. It was indeed him. He was on top of my mother, wantonly rubbing against her genitals. His buttocks were covered in dark hair, but at that moment, I thought my father's buttocks were much nicer, hairless. The man, probably tired, rolled over and lay on the bed, saying, "You do it, I'm tired." My mother, however, said with incredible gentleness, "You're done after just a little while? Did your wife drain you dry?" I never imagined my mother was such a lewd person. She rolled over and sat on top of the man, wiggling her hips.

These scenes are something I could only write after watching countless Japanese adult films; at that time, I just thought it was mechanical movement. Under the window on the first floor, I not only witnessed my mother's sexual activity but also other couples making love. Because it was a small basin, it was very hot without opening the windows, and air conditioning wasn't common then.

After finding out who her lover was, I always felt that my mother and that man were flirting, which made me very depressed. Perhaps it was this experience that gave me a strong Oedipus complex, especially after puberty began in middle school. I always wanted to target my mother, which led to a series of stories. I'll tell you more about it later if I have time.

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My cheating mother

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