The most romantic incest

page views:1 Publication date:2022-09-28

In my childhood memories, my father and mother were the perfect couple. My mother was almost ten years younger than my father. My father was a tall, handsome man with his own career, the kind of person who could support a family. My mother was young and beautiful, and she had her own place in the world at work. Her colleagues all said she was a very strong woman. In reality, at home, Mom was always gentle and virtuous, and often acted coquettishly in front of Dad (I secretly witnessed this). The most beautiful scene in my memory was when the sun was setting, and Dad and Mom were taking me for a walk on the street. The man's broad shoulders, the woman's charming curves, and our lovely child, bathed in golden sunlight, attracted envious glances from passersby. Until one day, all of this ended. That day, suddenly, the devastating news came: Dad had a heart attack, collapsed, and never woke up again. Who could have imagined that such a strong person would leave so easily? I was only eight years old that year, and I didn't quite understand the meaning of death. I only knew how to cry because I would never see Dad again. Unexpectedly, Mom didn't collapse. She remained calm in front of relatives and friends, and after the funeral, she went back to work without taking a break. Time passed quickly, and ten years went by in the blink of an eye. I have grown into an eighteen-year-old boy, inheriting my father's broad shoulders and handsome face. My mother is already forty years old. Perhaps due to her constant work and busy schedule, although a few fine wrinkles have crept onto her still beautiful face, her figure remains slender and graceful, completely lacking the fat and signs of aging typical of her age. Looking back on these past ten years, my mother and I have truly relied on each other for survival; outsiders simply cannot comprehend the hardships we've endured. After my father passed away, he left behind a considerable sum in the bank, enough for our household expenses. However, my strong-willed mother continues to work tirelessly, supporting the family with her frail shoulders. She refused well-meaning friends' advice to remarry, saying that we, mother and son, do not need anyone's financial assistance and can support ourselves. She has her own career and can take good care of me; she doesn't want me to suffer any hardship, fearing I wouldn't be able to accept another father. And indeed, that's exactly right. I simply cannot accept another man in the family. In my heart, this family means only my mother, my deceased father, and myself; there is no room for anyone else. As I've grown older, I've realized how selfish I've been. A family needs both men and women to support it. It's unfair to let my mother bear all the burdens and take care of me, who wasn't very obedient, all by herself. Especially as I've begun to understand the dynamics between men and women, I cherish my mother even more. For the past ten years, how many lonely nights has she endured alone? My mother works outside the home; she's very capable, no less so than men, and has rejected many suitors. But I know that late at night, I've seen her sitting alone by the window, gazing out for a long time. She's lonely; she needs comfort, she needs a broad shoulder to lean on. She endures her loneliness entirely for me, her beloved son. Every time I think of this, a surge of tenderness wells up inside me. I know I love my mother, not just as a mother, but also as a woman. Gradually, my desire grows stronger. I want to hold my mother in my arms, to offer her strong support with my arms. I want to be the man of this family, to make the woman in this family no longer lonely. From then on, the atmosphere at home subtly changed. I began to proactively share the housework, taking on all the tasks that men are supposed to do. I wanted my mother to feel my strength, my presence, not just as her son, but also as the only man in the family. I would accompany her shopping, encouraging her to buy new clothes and trendy cosmetics. I knew what she liked and often advised her to buy what she liked and not to be stingy. I would carry all the bags for her, and my mother, like a little girl, would be overjoyed to have bought something she liked, unconsciously taking my arm. When crossing the street, I would gently hold my mother's hand and pull her to avoid oncoming traffic. Later, I went a step further, putting my arm around my mother's slender waist, saying "Be careful, be careful," and secretly glancing at her, her face slightly flushed, but she didn't object. My mother would also indulge me, accompanying me to a movie or a trip to the countryside. What I enjoyed most was teasing my mother, a little flirtatious but not excessive. In the movie theater, people always looked at us like we were a couple, and I was happy to let them. I couldn't help it; my mother was so beautiful, she looked like a young married woman, while I looked like a handsome husband. I would tell the waiter, "Please get my girlfriend a glass of juice," and watch my mother's face turn red, her shy expression making her want to deny it—it was so adorable. After the waiter walked away, my mother would suddenly reach out and pinch me hard, scolding me for joking with her, but her eyes were full of laughter. Though I felt the pain, my heart was filled with sweetness. I watched the distance between my mother and me shrink little by little, but I knew I couldn't rush it; I had to take it slowly. My mother was a very strong-willed woman; she wouldn't immediately give up everything and completely reveal her vulnerable side to me. Actually, my mother had already begun to rely on me. She would tell me about her work and listen to my opinions. When she was in a bad mood, she would confide in me and ask me to comfort her. She increasingly enjoyed playing the role of the woman in the family, not just a mother. She would often say with a smile, "You're the man of this house; you're in charge!" I watched my mother change, watched her beautiful curves flow before my eyes, and occasionally glimpses of her breasts, slender waist, or alluring inner thighs. All I could do was desperately hold back, trying to prevent my erection from exploding. One late summer day, the sky was overcast, cool but heavy, because it was the anniversary of my father's death. Every year on this day, I would stay by my mother's side, a way of comforting each other. That evening, I went into my mother's room and found her gazing at the night sky again. I went over and sat beside her, putting an arm around her shoulder. "Mom, are you thinking about Dad?" My mother didn't answer, turning her head, and I saw tears in her eyes. My heart ached, and I hugged her tightly. She didn't resist, but pressed her head even closer to my chest. "Mom, please don't be sad, you still have me, I will always be with you." "Silly son, if it weren't for you, how could I have endured all these years?" I lowered my head, looking at the woman in my arms. That was a face I knew all too well, so beautiful—curved eyebrows, large eyes, a delicate nose, and red lips that made my blood boil. The fine wrinkles left by time added to her mature beauty, making her even more alluring, and now, with tears in her eyes, she was even more captivating. I hugged my mother, my body warming up, but she didn't notice, thinking I was just comforting her, and didn't push me away. My mother looked up at me, her eyes filled with tenderness. I gazed into those eyes, a surge of emotion welling up within me. "Mom, you've worked so hard all these years, supporting this family and me all by yourself. I know how much you've suffered, how much loneliness you've endured. Mom, I want you to know that I truly love you, and I will always be with you." I spoke with deep emotion, looking at my mother with profound affection, and she was also moved, tears welling in her eyes again. "Mom loves you too, son. Everything Mom does is for you. As long as you're happy, I don't care how much hardship I suffer. Because I'm your mother." "No, Mom. I love you not only because you're my mother, but also because you're the most beautiful woman." The body in my arms trembled, and Mom opened her eyes wide to look at me. "What are you saying!" "Mom, look at me carefully. Don't I look a lot like Dad? I know you've looked at me before, and you thought I didn't notice, but your eyes told me your feelings. Don't you want me to comfort you like Dad did?" Mom's face flushed red. She tried to break free from my embrace, but I held her tightly. "Look into my eyes, Mom! Don't lie to me, and don't lie to yourself. You need me, you're so beautiful, only Dad and I are worthy of you. Mom, I love you, and I know you love me too. Didn't you say I'm the man of this house, and you're the woman? We shouldn't just be mother and son." I paused, then whispered in my mother's ear, "We should also be lovers." "But..." I didn't let my mother finish, but instead silenced her with my lips. I kissed her forcefully, sucking on her lips, using my tongue to pry open her clenched teeth, my arms tightly holding her. Slowly, my mother's body warmed up, softening in my arms, her breathing becoming more and more rapid. Finally, my mother opened...She opened her mouth, letting me kiss her deeply. Time seemed to stand still; this long kiss melted away our embrace. Our lips finally parted, both of us panting, my mother's face flushed like a girl's first kiss. We gazed at each other for a long time, then my mother murmured, "You really look like your father." I couldn't resist kissing her again, but she chuckled and pulled away, whispering in my ear like a breath, "Silly boy, you don't need to hold me so tightly, do you think I'd run away?" This gentle reproach struck me like thunder, because I knew that from this moment on, my mother was mine! We kissed deeply again, our tongues entwined, and my hands began to roam over my mother's body. My left hand gently caressed her back, following the curve of her spine to her waist, then slowly moving down to her hips. My right hand slid from her armpit to her chest, stopping when I felt a rise, gently circling the edge of her breasts. My mother finally couldn't help but laugh, pressing her body even closer to me, her arms encircling my neck. My mother gently bit my ear and said, "You naughty boy, you're quite experienced! How did you learn that? Confess now!" My heart fluttered, and I hurriedly protested, "No! I've really never touched a girl before. I only read about it in books. I really haven't..." My mouth was covered by my mother's again; she showed her belief through her actions. I tentatively tried to unbutton my mother's clothes. She didn't object, but instead tossed her hair back, seemingly to make it easier for me. I noticed that my mother's hairstyle was that of a typical working woman, which further aroused my desire. Finally, I unbuttoned my mother's blouse, revealing a white bra. I almost stopped breathing. A pair of full breasts stood proudly before me, though bound by the bra. I buried my head between her breasts, breathing in the scent of a mature woman, my hands kneading her bare waist. I clumsily tried to unhook the bra, but couldn't get the hang of it. My mother didn't help me; instead, she giggled like a little girl. I felt a little embarrassed and decided to teach my mother a lesson. I pinned my mother against the wall, yanked hard with my hands, snapping the not-so-thick strap of her bra, then bit down on it and tossed it aside. Now, the most alluring breasts in the world were before me. A forty-year-old woman's breasts, full and round, unlike the thinness of a young girl's. And my mother's breasts weren't sagging like those of other women her age; they were my favorite hemispherical shape, protruding forward. I grasped one nipple in each hand, gently kneading them, and looked up at my mother with a provocative gaze. My mother's eyes were hazy, as if veiled by mist, and she let out a low, trembling moan, her hands lightly stroking my hair. Then I took one breast into my mouth, sucking, gently biting the nipple with my teeth; the familiar feeling from childhood intoxicated me. I kissed my mother's breasts, then downwards, kissing her lovely navel, and further down, gradually reaching the forbidden zone of life. My hands began to unbutton my mother's skirt from the side, button after button. My mother panicked and grabbed my hands. I looked at her with resolute eyes, awaiting her answer. My mother was breathing heavily, her breasts heaving, making my erection feel like it was about to burst through my pants. She pulled me up, gently cupping my face in her hands: "Son, I'm old, and do you know what we're doing? Society doesn't allow it. Are you really willing to take this risk?" "Mom, I don't care. I only know I truly love you. You're not old at all; you're the most beautiful woman in my heart. Your maturity is exactly what I want. I know it's incest, but this family only has you and me, a man and a woman, and everything should happen." Taking off my shirt, I hugged my mother again and kissed her. Our lips met, my mother's exposed breasts pressed against my chest, and my erection pressed against her lower body. We had never been so close. When I felt her nipples harden and press against me, I didn't give her a chance to object and unbuttoned her skirt. The short skirt she wore to work slid down her long legs, landing beside her black high heels, and I saw her white panties. That was my favorite color. My mother's fair skin and elegant demeanor were perfectly suited to pure white, giving her a dignified yet alluring look. My face pressed against my mother's smooth thighs, her skin glowing, her muscles supple. I couldn't resist kissing and licking them, while my hands caressed her rounded calves, which looked even more alluring thanks to her high heels. My mother crossed her arms over her chest, enjoying my caresses. My hands slipped inside her panties from behind, kneading her full buttocks, my thumbs sliding forward towards the inside of her thighs. My mother began to tremble; she grabbed my hands as if to stop me, then released them, seemingly as if shyly covering her face. I picked my mother up, carried her to the bed, placed her on it, and stood between her legs. I pulled down my pants, finally releasing my long-suppressed erection. Slowly, I pulled down my mother's white panties, revealing her dark pubic hair and trembling pink vulva, already glistening with fluid. My mother's eyes were tightly closed, her hair disheveled, and she bit her lip, panting. I couldn't hold back any longer. I straightened my penis and thrust it into her vagina. My mother seemed to be in a little pain, and she hugged me tightly, letting out a soft moan. At that moment, I felt like I was in heaven. Perhaps my mother hadn't done it in a long time; her vagina was very tight, the walls completely enveloping my penis. That warm, fulfilling feeling was incomparable to masturbation. I didn't care about gentleness; I started thrusting rapidly, making my mother moan uncontrollably beneath me. When my mouth was on my mother's full breasts, when my hands were squeezing my mother's plump buttocks, when I heard my usually dignified and capable mother moaning beneath me, I knew I couldn't hold on much longer. My frequency increased, and my mother's breasts trembled with each impact. She tried to keep her mouth shut, but she still moaned. I hugged my mother tightly, and a stream of heat shot into the depths of her vagina, the place where I was conceived. I suddenly wondered, could there be a new life this time? I lay on top of my mother, my head resting on her breast, panting, my penis slowly softening inside her. "Mom, are you alright?" My mother opened her eyes, looking at me with a resolute gaze, as if she had regained her usual composure. "Son, now that we've made love, Mom loves you. From now on, Mom is your woman, and you will be Mom's only man." "Mom…" I couldn't help but embrace my mother again, giving her a sweet kiss. I held my mother with one arm, while the other caressed her flat stomach. My mother leaned obediently on my shoulder, her soft breath tickling my neck. "Mom, I'm sorry." "Sorry for what?" "I was too impulsive just now, I wasn't considerate enough, I know you weren't satisfied. But…" "But what?" I rolled over, answering my mother with my now-erect penis. This time I slowed down, thrusting in and out while caressing my mother's entire body. Perhaps because I had just ejaculated, this time it lasted longer. I kept changing the frequency, making my mother's moans grow louder and louder. She held me tightly, murmuring my name in my ear. In the final moment, I resolutely thrust deeper and deeper, until my mother's fingers dug hard into my back, until her vagina contracted in waves, until she leaned weakly into my arms. My mother's eyes were already blurred, still immersed in immense pleasure. I looked at the beautiful woman in my arms, her office worker hairstyle was now disheveled, her dignified expression replaced by pleasure, and the curves that were usually faintly visible under her suit were now completely naked. This was my mother, that strong, capable, and still charming woman, now obediently in my arms, letting me kiss and caress every part of her body, every private part. I must be in heaven right now!

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The most romantic incest

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