The incident of forcing the mother to perform oral sex

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My mother and I didn't get along. From my childhood, I remember her being very dissatisfied with my father's job, so she left us when I was very young. I honestly have almost no memory of my mother from my childhood, until I did well enough to get into a good university. My father, on the other hand, had struggled in the steel industry in his youth, but in recent years he's made a lot of money, and he always seems very happy. I asked him why he didn't remarry, and he didn't say anything, only that he only loved my mother in his life. Ah, the older generation is always so devoted; that's certainly true. Then this Christmas, my father and I celebrated together as factory colleagues. Many of the senior workers my father worked for came from families with limited financial resources, so every holiday, my father would ask me, his clever and handsome son, for advice. I remember the Mid-Autumn Festival two years ago, I got two dragon boats for the older folks, one for younger people and one for middle-aged people. The two groups competed head-to-head on a small lake. At least ten groups signed up. The top prize was 50,000 NTD, which was a lot for each team. The winning team consisted of the factory's most senior master craftsmen. Actually, before the competition, a bunch of people from the factory had come to me asking me to put all the people with financial difficulties in one group, promising to try and avoid being too obvious about throwing the game. Wow, there was even a pre-arranged deal! This really shows how much favoritism exists in the company – that's the authentic Taiwanese way. When my dad presented the prize money that day, I cried more than anyone else in the audience because even he didn't know about it. Sigh. For this Christmas feast, Dad specially hired a chef to prepare over fifty large roast chickens, wild-caught from the mountains. They were roasted right there at the factory that day. He said to eat as much as you could, don't worry, since company employees and their families and friends were all welcome. Besides the roast chicken, there were also vegetarian dishes and unlimited drinks. Dad often tells me that one should be grateful and repay kindness, and never give up too early just because things don't seem promising. I could tell there was a hidden meaning in his words; he was probably referring to Mom, since she had given up on Dad too much, which was wrong of her. That evening, I went in first, and Dad arrived a little later. I found someone standing at the door—a beautifully dressed woman. Looking at her office lady attire, I realized she was a manager at a well-known airline. This was strange. Since I was born, countless women had tried to get close to Dad, but they were all shady characters, and Dad had always turned them away. I'd never seen a flight attendant, of such high caliber, trying to woo him. Could she be looking for me? "Oh dear, although I'm a bit of a womanizer, I'm not really interested in mature women." I asked, "Ah..." It was so rude to blurt out "Auntie," but I, known as the "Queen of Sweet Talk," quickly changed the subject, "Beautiful lady, are you looking for someone? What are you doing at my door?" The beautiful manager smiled slightly, looking at me with a "you're quite humorous" expression, and said, "You're a really sweet talker, unlike your father. I think you're just like me." Damn, even though I'm not the smartest, I can still tell. With my comprehension skills, I immediately analyzed it. First, my father is taciturn, with a friendly, money-making face, definitely different from me. But how could outsiders know I'm so different from my father? They know I'm sweet-talking, because I said it myself. Who knew my father wasn't talkative? I guess this beautiful woman's mother just stumbled upon it by chance. And what about the third sentence? Like her? How so? Sweet-talking? Putting all the clues together, knowing my father's personality and that I resemble her, it makes me think of something. Could this be my mother? My mother, whom I've barely seen since I was born? This is such a bombshell! Just thinking about it makes me tremble. I decided to lie and trick this woman of unknown identity, lest my father see her and suffer a heart attack. And wouldn't that just mean I'd have to spend the rest of my life with this woman of unknown origin? No way! I said, "Sister, my father is in the back parking lot. How about I take you to him?" The woman looked at me suspiciously and said, "Really? Don't lie to me!" I said, "Pretty sister, you're going to see your husband, so listen to me, it won't hurt." The woman nodded and said, "Let's go." I thought I'd take her there first, try to get some information out of her before letting her meet my father. Unfortunately, my father just happened to come out of the elevator, and that's how we bumped into each other. What happened next is something I don't want to go into details about. To put it simply, I'm currently in a terrible predicament and don't want to waste time. The reason my mom left me is because my dad's job wasn't the life she wanted, so she became a flight attendant, worked her way up to supervisor, and now sits in an office, no longer needing to fly around. However, recently she's facing a major financial crisis. My mom, along with the board of directors, borrowed money from all sides and managed to scrape together most of the funds, but it's still a little short. Remembering my dad's booming career over the past few years, she decided to swallow her pride and ask him for a loan. My dad will definitely lend the money, but I'm incredibly reluctant. That woman chose to leave my dad when he was in trouble, and now that she's in trouble herself, she's asking my dad for marital favors. It makes me feel terrible. In the end, my dad wrote a check for my mom and asked me to drive her home. Actually, when my dad asked if I wanted it, I didn't want it at first, but the more I thought about it, the angrier I got, so I decided to drive my mom home. My dad thought I wanted to talk to her more, to get closer to her. Little did he know, that wasn't the case at all. I secretly hatched a plan, ready to put it into action later. I kept smiling and behaving myself in the car, swallowing all my anger. Years of resentment had made me somewhat irrational. I subtly probed my mother about the check, asking how much Dad had lent her. She said five million. My smile froze. Dad, aren't you just blatantly giving me money? I said I didn't believe her, and demanded to see the check. My mother, unable to resist my nagging, produced the check. I drove to a secluded corner, an industrial area where no one would pass by except stray dogs. Unless I had the worst luck in eight lifetimes and got caught by the police for doing something wrong, I wouldn't have anything to say. My mother saw me stop and asked what was wrong. I said I'd keep the check for now. Dad agreed, but I disagreed, and my mother got angry. She said this wasn't a joke. I threatened, "Or I'll leave you out of the car now. It'll be at least half an hour's walk to the city center, and there are many abandoned factories around here, and of course, plenty of stray dogs." My mother's face turned ashen, and she coldly said, "You dare threaten me?" I said, "Why wouldn't I dare?" and poured out all the pent-up frustration I'd accumulated over the decades. Being laughed at by classmates as an unwanted child from childhood severely damaged my self-esteem, which is why I'm so optimistic now. I think besides my personality, this incident is part of the reason. I told my mother, "First, I'll get you off the bus, and you can try to find my dad yourself. But by the time you find him, I'll have already flown to New York with him to see Guo Hongzhi. Second, you listen to me now, and maybe if I'm in a good mood, I'll give you back." My mother's attitude softened a bit, and she started to act pitiful, sighing and groaning. But I wasn't buying it. I drove to a secluded spot by the sea, where the moonlight made it easy to see. I told my mother, "It seems you've chosen option two, so you'd better listen to what I'm about to say, understand?" My mother said "yes," but her expression and tone revealed her impatience. I looked at her; heavily made-up, with a lewd expression. As a former flight attendant, she must have been driven to madness by countless foreigners while flying around. Looking at her delicate hands and silk-stockinged legs, it seemed her flight attendant's good maintenance had kept her in shape, even past forty. What I really admired were her lips—those plump, glossy lips, full and moist, making me swallow hard. No wonder I have good facial proportions; I inherited my mother's face and skin. My mother seemed uncomfortable being stared at; women are always sensitive to this feeling of being watched. I told her, "Give me oral sex. If you do a good job, I'll consider it." My mind was already filled with the image of her pink lips engulfing my penis. My mother shuddered, unable to believe my words. As a woman, I'm okay with giving oral sex to men, but it feels really wrong when the man is my own son, especially now that I'm being threatened. My anger has reached its peak. I raised an eyebrow at my mother and said I didn't want to."What do you mean by 'online Japanese, Korean, and American products in Zone 1 and Zone 2'?" My mother said coldly, "You'll regret this." I displayed my penis, half-soft and half-hard. My mother looked at it but didn't say anything. Her fair, slender fingers grasped my penis. I meant for my mother to suck my cock, but while she played with it, she wouldn't lower her neck. In anger, I pressed my mother's head down hard on my penis. My mother's honey-sweet lips took my penis in her mouth. As I thrust my hips upwards, her warm tongue sucked on my penis until it was completely covered in saliva and hardened. My mother broke free from my pressure and glared at me fiercely. Her eyes were filled with shame, resentment, and unspeakable bitterness. For money, she was being forced by her son to suck his penis. I went outside and pulled my mother out. She knelt on the ground, and I once again brought my penis to her face. This time, my penis was even harder and thicker. The resistance in her eyes only made me more unhappy. I used my left hand to hold her head in place, rubbing my penis against her lips and slapping her pink lips and cheeks with my penis. The more she did this, the more she kept her mouth shut, which made me even more unhappy. I took out the check and threatened to tear it up. This made the woman anxious; tears welled up in her eyes, her nose twitched and turned red, and she looked like she was about to cry. Unfortunately, it didn't work on me. I said, "Do you want me to give you a good blowjob, or should I use force?" My mother looked at my face and the check, and could only silently make a circle with her index finger, holding it at the base of my penis, and began her unwilling oral sex. This woman was truly exquisite. Her nimble tongue sent waves of tingling pleasure through my glans, licking it incessantly in circles. She would frequently form an "O" shape with her lips, enveloping the tip of my penis with effortless ease. Her right hand, in particular, was constantly stroking the base of my penis, eliciting low moans from me. Then, my mother began to take my entire penis into her mouth, her head moving rhythmically, her "O" shape shifting several degrees to the right and left, changing the stimulation position. My penis was constantly pressed against her tongue, producing a pleasant sucking sound, like eating ramen. She seemed to be draining me of all my energy, as if she had forgotten the taboo of incest, and I was thoroughly enjoying her oral sex. Finally, as my mother made her final thrust, I pressed her head down, still deciding between oral sex and penetration, when she cupped my scrotum in one hand, bringing my stimulation to its peak, and I ejaculated all of my semen into her mouth. I quickly pulled out, my penis still erect, and another stream of thick semen shot directly onto my mother's face. I've never had a woman make me ejaculate so intensely in my life, just oral sex alone could give me this much pleasure, so what about penetration? Thinking of this, my penis erected again. My mother stood up, wiped the semen from her face with a tissue, and spat all the thick semen from her mouth onto the ground, saying, "Did you enjoy that? Can you give me the check back now?" My eyes scanned my mother's body with a venomous gaze. She was about 165 cm tall, with a B cup, but her breasts looked very perky. I couldn't tell if it was because of her bra or if they were naturally perky. I noticed her black over-the-knee stockings; they weren't ordinary knee-high stockings, but rather suspenders. I grabbed my mother's delicate arm, turned her around, and pressed her against the hood of the car. My mother looked terrified and said, "Don't go too far." I ignored her and lifted up her tight skirt. Sure enough, it was suspenders. My mother was really daring with her clothes. Her buttocks weren't exactly perky, and were even a bit saggy and wide, but under the tight skirt, they looked even more plump and full. I pinched her fleshy buttocks hard. My mother still tried to struggle, but I held her neck with my left hand and touched her vulva with my right. I whispered in her ear, "You slut, you're so wet when you're giving me oral sex." I probed her tender vagina with my fingers; it was so slippery and easy to enter. After only a few thrusts, she climaxed. It seemed this violent threat was giving her even more pleasure. I suddenly snapped out of it. Why did I have to put myself through this for a slut? I lifted her up, calmed her down, and took her to her car. I talked for almost the entire night until daybreak, saying everything I wanted to say. My mother didn't say much. She said her mistakes were far greater than mine. This manager's position wasn't easy to hold; sometimes having sex with the boss and customers was normal. But she said she had come to terms with it. After this was over, she would start a new life and never bother my father and me again. I took my mother and the check back to her place. Driving home, I felt a strange sense of guilt about forcing her to perform oral sex. I sighed. That's how many things are; life is always full of regrets. Why not live happily ever after? Whenever my penis gets itchy, I follow the address my mother gave me after leaving the company to find those warm lips and relieve the itch in my penis.

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The incident of forcing the mother to perform oral sex

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