[A Woman Who Suffered Throughout Her Life][Full Text]

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A Woman's Life of Suffering

[Full Text]
Word Count: 10353 words

I am a woman whose life has been filled with suffering. I grew up in a mining area and have a son and a daughter. I am a traditional
Chinese woman. After marriage, I have never had any affairs with any other man besides my husband! I thought that
doing good housework at home was being a good wife and a good mother. I was always concerned about my children and husband. I thought that
cooking dinner and waiting for my husband to come home was fulfilling my responsibilities as a wife. But more than ten years ago, that night,
a night that changed this family's life... unfortunately... the past is hard to recall.

One rainy summer night, the clear night sky, a few sparse stars silently accompanied a cool moon; but tonight I
was not feeling well and left school early. After returning home, I inadvertently discovered that my mother's bedroom door was ajar, and
a faint, strange sound was coming from inside, like a dog drinking water.

I listened intently. All I could hear were faint, intermittent, heavy groans,
like someone seriously ill lying in bed moaning, followed by the dizzying creaking
and shaking of the large bed.

My father had been dead for many years, and a sense of shame welled up inside me. My mother was too restless; she had betrayed
my father! But curiosity led me slowly to the doorway, and I was instantly stunned!

Inside, two people, covered in sweat, were naked and engaged in sexual intercourse. To my utter disbelief,
the naked man… was him! My husband!

He was riding my mother, moving wildly! He was like a hungry tiger seizing a lamb;
the sounds of their union were loud and clear. My mother lay on her back, naked from the waist down, her upper body half-undone, revealing a large bra, but
only partially concealing her. My husband was on top of her, holding her tightly, his lower body thrusting relentlessly.

My mother writhed beneath him, only moaning dreamily.

My husband's hips moved faster and harder with each thrust, and we both trembled.
I trembled too. After dozens more thrusts, he suddenly
stopped , and the room fell silent.

Through the crack in the door, I saw my husband lying on top of my mother, panting. After a while, he got up and pulled out his
penis . It was wet, and their sweat and semen had soaked the sheets. A tantalizing
scene was laid bare before my eyes. For a long time, I didn't speak; my mind was
blank … Oh God! I was devastated!

Just the day before, in this house, in my room, I had let out the same passionate moans my mother had
just . And today, he had taken my mother's body—my own mother! His
mother-in-law!

I felt ashamed. I didn't know how they had come to this. He couldn't possibly have slept with my
mother ! He was despicable! I hated him so much! How could I face this? What should I do? ...

I walked alone into the street, the initial vibrant colors fading as I watched the lights go out and everyone go
to sleep. My heart grew cold.

I don't know why, but all I could see were the shadows of two bodies tossing and turning in bed. I knew
I couldn't do this! One was my mother, the other my husband. They couldn't do this. They had betrayed morality,
betrayed their family, done something they shouldn't have. I thought frantically, filled with fear. Though I felt nauseous,
what could I do? I couldn't get a divorce. Why? I didn't know! Because? Maybe because I still needed a
husband, a home like a home. My child still needed a father! Maybe I didn't want to spend my days alone, feeling like
an eternity.

When I returned home, exhausted, they were all in their rooms asleep. But as soon as I entered,
my husband hugged me tightly from behind, gently kissing my earlobe. He breathed softly into my ear.
I quickly turned away and pushed him off. I didn't know whether my feelings were hot or cold; I couldn't even tell. I could only
tell him I was tired, then pushed my husband away and lay down on the side of the bed.

I don't know how long I slept, or even if I fell asleep at all. I don't know when he crawled into my bed
. My husband began to gently stroke my slightly plump and firm buttocks.

At first, I felt extremely uncomfortable, but he held me tightly, rubbing his genitals
against my buttocks through his pants. I tried to speak, but somehow, I couldn't make a sound. My husband's
hot lips deepened the kiss, and when I tried to struggle again, his hands held me tighter and tighter…

Oh God! I couldn't resist this man. His lips were already burning against my neck
. I could only sigh. Perhaps I was still his wife, and he had the right to possess me
! So I gave up…

I decided to give up the struggle against my own body. As the saying goes, "The pleasures of love are fleeting, and one is reluctant to leave."

When I regained consciousness, my pants had been removed and were on the floor. My husband finally thrust his
already large penis into my vagina from behind.

What could I say? I could only let him do as he pleased! I lay on the bed with my eyes closed, my hands gripping
the sheets tightly. He left his penis inside my vagina and began to slowly thrust in and out.

I don't know why, but I found myself moving in sync with my husband's movements. What was even more infuriating was that my
initial aversion was gradually being aroused by his thrusts. I
slowly opened my eyes and looked at my husband still on top of me in the mirror, watching him slowly thrust
in and out, each thrust going all the way in. My husband thrust hard, and I cried out in response. My husband

, who was on top of me, moved faster and faster, his breathing becoming heavier and heavier. Finally, after
a shudder, he lay still on top of me. His hot semen spurted into my
vagina Finally, he rolled over wearily, slipped off my body, and lay paralyzed on
the bed, sleeping like a dead pig.

…After the night, both of our clothes were left on one side of the bed. I tried to sit up by supporting myself with my hands, but as soon as
I exerted , I felt a slight pain in my lower body, and a sticky substance flowed out from between my legs. I took out some toilet paper and carefully
covered the area where my husband and I had been intimate, wiping my wet genitals a few times.

Looking at the foul-smelling fluid from her husband's vagina from the previous night, and then at her husband beside her, she knew that
maintaining this kind of home required willpower and was not an easy task. She had clearly seen it, but she could only
pretend not to notice.

Tears streamed down her face… She would never forget that cold night…

One dark morning, in the same house, the door was tightly shut, the curtains were drawn, and not far away,
a young man lay naked on the bed, while a woman sat hunched over on the floor, her clothes disheveled
. The bed and the floor were a mess, littered with tissues.

A strong, fishy smell filled the air; everyone wanted to know what had happened in the house.

Yes. The man on the bed was none other than a stranger, and the woman on the floor was also someone else. What was their relationship?

And what was going on between them?… That's another story. The family's distorted state was difficult to talk about.

More than ten years had passed, and she was now in her forties. Six years ago, due to poor health, she retired early from the factory.
Then , my mother passed away, and my ex-husband abandoned me and our family, running off with another woman. At that time, my
children were still young; my son was in middle school, and my daughter was still breastfeeding. It was so pitiful. Raising them was incredibly
difficult.

My son was very sensible; he always thought of me when he had something good to eat. I couldn't afford to send him to university, so after graduating from vocational school
, he entered the workforce and, through his own efforts, found a good job in the telecommunications industry in another city,
supporting our precarious family.

He came home on his 19th birthday. His company had just given out a large bonus, and my son and I were very excited, both
drinking quite a bit. He lay on the bed beside me, talking to me. I assumed he was just drunk and didn't scold him.

Seeing my son grown up, I was overjoyed and even hugged him and kissed him a few times on the forehead. Who knew this would cause trouble
?

My son started acting inappropriately; his hand had somehow slipped inside my clothes and was reaching under me.

I realized something was wrong and glared at him. He pressed his body heavily against me, completely ignoring my
scolding.

I was terrified. I knew what was happening, but my body went weak and I was powerless to stop him. I just cried out in a panic, "What...
what are you doing ...no! I'm your mother! Stop it...please stop..." My pleas had no effect.
My son roughly pulled down my underwear.

I really struggled, but I had been living a life of celibacy for years, and with the alcohol clouding my judgment, my sense of shame wasn't strong enough,
and my resolve wasn't firm enough... When an unusual sensation entered my body, I realized I could still speak.

"No—," before I could even utter the word "want," my face was covered by the corner of the blanket. And just like that, I lost my virginity to
my own son.

The next day, when I sobered up and found myself on top of my own child, I was completely stunned.
I couldn't believe it was real. I burst into tears, "Waaah... Your father's been messing around outside,

what hope do I have left in this life... Waaah...? All I hoped for was for you to work hard and be successful! And you... did
something so shameless... What a waste of your education..." My son was also filled with remorse, kneeling down and begging for my forgiveness.

Although he'd been drinking, after what had happened, my son felt too ashamed to face me. He only
came home from work once a month to bring me living expenses.

The days dragged on.

Later, while cleaning the room, I accidentally found one of my son's diary entries and realized that what happened that
night wasn't accidental. I... There is a great deal of responsibility.

The child wrote in their diary: "I started remembering things when I was very young. When Mom
wasn't home, Dad and Grandma were quite casual. Grandma often did housework in the summer wearing only a t-shirt and shorts.

One day, I discovered a secret in Mom's bedroom: I saw Dad riding on Grandma, and occasionally I
heard Grandma groaning in pain. I wasn't old enough to understand sex then, and I thought Dad was abusing
Grandma.

But I was too timid to tell Mom. Later, after hearing it so many times, I got used to it. Once, Dad
noticed me squatting by the door, but he didn't pay attention. However, he..." My grandmother gave me a piece of candy and asked what I had overheard. I
stupidly asked her if I was sick. She smiled but didn't say anything more.

They ignored the existence of the five-year-old boy, but this incident had a profound impact on me. Around fifth
grade , I developed a strong interest in sex, especially sex involving my mother. I would stay up very late every night
to eavesdrop on my parents making love and then masturbate. Often, when I woke up in the morning, I would see several wads of toilet paper lying on the floor of their room
—white wads of paper on a black background, particularly conspicuous. This is how I
became interested in their sex life.

Through eavesdropping… I learned that my parents' sex life wasn't harmonious. My father was sexually active
, and he particularly enjoyed it, while my mother didn't. From what I overheard them talking about sex, sometimes it was because my father was too
rough, and sometimes it was because he ejaculated too quickly.

My father likes to drink, and when he's drunk, he likes to touch my mother's genitals, even when I'm around.
Maybe he thinks I'm too young.

But my mother hates his hands. Once, while they were watching TV, I
peeked and saw my father put his hand inside my mother's underwear, fiddling with it. Suddenly, my mother pushed his hand away and said:
"Do you know how much it hurts?" Another time, Dad came home drunk one night, and I was
woken up by their arguing. "Come on, just once!" "No, not these days." "Why not?" "Tell me
why , you heartless bastard..." "Didn't it used to be okay?" "The past is the past, not now!

" Then I heard them pulling at each other, followed by Mom's sobbing. Finally, Mom said
angrily , "Here, here, okay, come on!" After a while, I heard Dad's hoarse
voice...

After

starting junior high, I heard it less often because I lived at school, but I still heard it
once on a Saturday. That day, I went to bed very late, and it was summer. Mom was sleeping next to me. We slept
in the living room because it was cooler there.

After I pretended to be asleep, I heard Dad call, "Ping, Ping!" Mom waited for a while, then got up and went into their
room . I got up next to her. Because it was dark, I could only see a little by the light.

Hearing Mom say, "Thinking about it again today?" Dad: "Yes!" "You didn't drink today. If you do this again
, I'll make sure you're comfortable." "Okay, I promise." "Wait a minute, see if our son is asleep." I
immediately lay down, and then Mom came out. I squinted and saw that her nightgown was tucked up to her waist,
and she wasn't wearing anything between her legs, just a dark patch. She glanced at me and went back inside.

"She's asleep. Be quiet, don't wake her." After I got up, I leaned against the door.

"Oh, stop touching me, come in. Don't rush, I'll lie down." Then I heard Dad grunt, and then
I heard them both panting.

Then Mom said, "Be gentle, I'm in my belly now..." "Okay, I'll be gentle!" "Now
it's okay, go in!" At this moment, I slowly peeked out and saw through the outside light that the blanket was very high,
rising and falling with Dad's panting.

Mom made "humph, humph!" sounds from time to time.

After about four minutes, Mom said, "...Yes...that's it...a little longer...he kisses
Dad ..." Dad said, "I'm almost there..." Mom: "A little longer..." But Dad immediately
started panting heavily, his movements became faster, and then he stopped and let out a sigh.

Dad didn't say anything, "Get up." With that sound, I heard Mom push Dad away, then I
heard the sound of taking toilet paper, and then I heard a "sizzling" sound. I thought Mom was probably wiping her
genitals. Then, with a "thud," I saw a white thing fall to the ground.

"I'm going to sleep outside!" Hearing this, I quickly ran back to the mat and lay down. Then
my mother came out. I squinted and saw that she was wearing a skirt, one hand holding a tissue to her genitals.
She sat down next to me, then sighed deeply and lay down. I secretly looked at her body and saw that she
hadn't pulled her skirt down; instead, her lower body was naked. The area that used to have a patch of dark pubic hair was now covered by a wad
of tissue ... Soon after, I had a younger sister, but my parents separated... At this point, I
couldn't hold back , and tears streamed down my face. Oh God, this is fate.

During the time I was separated from my son, life gradually returned to normal, but we were both under immense psychological pressure.

His departure made the house feel even colder and quieter. Life was truly difficult for my daughter and me. The neighbors
started gossiping, saying I was a withdrawn oddball, and many idle people often mocked me.

I could only silently endure it all

. But misfortune soon struck again. That day, I was alone at home. Old Zhang from downstairs came to collect
the water and electricity bills , and I went into the inner room to get the money. Unexpectedly, this guy had evil intentions. He quietly closed the door
and grabbed me tightly from behind... By the time I realized my situation and tried to resist, my hands were already firmly held in place by his claws
, and his other hand was ruthlessly tearing at my lower body... He pulled out a switchblade, and I trembled in fear
. He took the opportunity to push me down onto the sofa... His hands deftly unbuttoned my clothes... I heard
heavy ... My breasts bounced out... …My first instinct was to turn to the side, but I was no
match for . Several attempts to muster his strength were in vain; a thin body and two powerful legs held me firmly,
causing my bones to ache unbearably.

Oh no! My underwear was ripped open! My second instinct was to bite. I opened my mouth several times, but without a target; that
broad, powerful jaw kept my head firmly planted. At the same time,
it spewed foul-smelling smoke from that barrel-like mouth. Oh no! Oh no! It's all over! I suddenly broke free from my right… I gripped
the source my might, exhausted… As he got off me, he threatened me viciously, saying that if
I dared to call the police, he would have his son bring people to kill my entire family—his son was a notorious thug in our community.

I was terrified and angry, crying until my voice was hoarse, only able to bite my sleeve hard…

Old Zhang left, and I curled up in the bathtub, desperately scrubbing myself, but no matter how much I washed, I felt I couldn't
wash away the filth. I felt like a person abandoned by society, that even such a person could insult me! But
my son wasn't around, a lonely woman with a six or seven-year-old girl, I could only swallow my anger and
cry alone. After a serious illness, I couldn't bear this life anymore, so I went to his company to find him, but I didn't dare tell
him about what happened, because I was afraid he would look down on me.

My son had already bought a two-bedroom apartment near his company, and my daughter and I went with him,
far away that heartbreaking mining area. In the unfamiliar new city, I learned that he had worked hard for the past two years… He
made a lot of money through stock trading. He said I had suffered so much for him and deserved to enjoy life, adding that
we would move to a bigger house when we were richer. I finally settled in, but having grown accustomed to a frugal life, I found it difficult to
adjust to the new home at first. However, my son's return to my side, just
like before, offered some comfort.

But what troubled me was that we seemed to have become a burden to him. To save money, I had my daughter
board at school. But my son's biggest problem was his personal life; he hadn't found a serious girlfriend. He suffered
setbacks , with city girls demanding high financial status and even looking down on him
because he was the son of a miner. He gradually became disheartened about settling down and getting married.

For a while, he was very emotionally unstable. His work and life pressures seemed overwhelming.
He often stayed out all night, or came home drunk and reeking of alcohol.

One afternoon after his nap, instead of going to work as usual, he came to my room and said he wanted to "sleep" with me. Upon hearing
these words, out of the last shred of "self-respect" a mother, or rather a woman, retains, I slapped my son
, but immediately regretted it. My thoughts became chaotic. I could understand my son's distress: in the mining area, someone
his age would have married and had children, yet he was still single. His father, at that age, was like a wolf in sheep's clothing,
wanting nothing more than to devour me.

Anyway, we'd already made a mistake once, and I was already quite old, no longer
a truly innocent woman… I wavered, unsure what to do. But the thought of doing this in broad daylight at home…

a wave of nausea and shame washed over me, and I covered my face, sobbing. My son, somewhat
frightened , said a few soft words and quietly left. When I left the room, I found my son gone, and the living room floor littered with cigarette butts…
My heart was filled with a bittersweet mix of emotions. I could almost see my son arguing with those unreasonable girls, feeling frustrated and
driven to madness, or I could almost see him contracting AIDS after visiting prostitutes…

My son didn't return until after dark. I had prepared dinner and was waiting for him. He seemed relieved to find that I wasn't angry anymore
. During dinner, my son timidly apologized, but I didn't say anything. After a while, I mustered my courage and said, "Tonight
… tonight… you can come over to sleep…" My voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. My son hesitated, looking at my
expressionless face. I ate slowly, occasionally making eye contact with him before immediately looking down again. I was
originally a typical Chinese woman, traditional, dutiful, and cautious. In my youth
, I would blush at my husband's affectionate behavior, but after experiencing certain things, both my son and I had become somewhat numb. I didn't want to think about it anymore; I just
let it be.

That night, I made the bed, slowly took off my clothes, and lay down to wait for him. I tried not to think about what was about to happen, searching
my mind for random thoughts, hoping time would pass. After showering, my son opened the door and
carefully slipped into my bed… I closed my eyes, my body rising and falling beneath him,
taking calm myself. From his clumsy yet greedy kisses, I knew he had never had
any intimate contact with a girl before. I suddenly felt sorry for my son. I was already a mother at his age.

In the darkness, I kept asking myself: Is this real? Is it really my son touching me? Is he really
kissing my face? I recalled the adorable little guy from before, and now… My face
was so hot … Just as I was lost in thought, my son fumbled to unbutton my pajamas,
lifted my bra, and gently kneaded the breasts that had once nourished him, biting them lightly, his tongue licking back and forth…

This almost made me die of embarrassment. Reason told me I should stop my son at all costs, and I
truly didn't want to have sex with him; his caresses couldn't possibly arouse me. But
my love for him left me in turmoil, unable to bring myself to do it.

When our eyes met, his gaze shattered my last line of defense. At the
moment of making my decision, I found myself calm, silently letting him enter me. His burning body, our tight embrace,
his clumsy yet passionate kisses—they felt both strange and familiar. Sometimes his impulsiveness caused
me pain, but I endured it, as if I were back in the painful yet blissful moment of becoming a mother for the first time. I couldn't help but
hold him tightly. The terrible thing was, after a feeling of utter betrayal of my husband, both body and soul, a faint, vengeful pleasure rose
within me .

After it was all over, my son and I silently put on our clothes. My son was filled with shame and guilt. He
glanced at me, and I was sure my face was flushed too, my body trembling slightly. Then, with my eyes half-open, I sighed softly
and said calmly, "Let's just forget about it. Mom doesn't blame you, really doesn't. Let's just pretend
nothing happened. Okay, go to sleep, or you won't be able to get up tomorrow!" My son
breathed a satisfied sigh of relief and soon fell into a deep sleep, but I didn't sleep a wink all night. When I woke up in the morning, I couldn't believe it
was real; it felt like a dream.

...After this incident, things got increasingly out of control. Every few weeks, especially at night, he
sometimes couldn't resist quietly pushing open my bedroom door...

I always had these thoughts and obstacles in my mind. I knew that guilt and conflicting emotions also plagued my son;
he felt sorry for me but couldn't control himself. What was wrong with us?

A year later, we finally adapted to this kind of life, and our relationship became normalized. Every day when he came home, I would
open the door for him, put his things away, and help him take off his clothes. We often slept together at night, and we even had sex once or twice a week.

One Sunday, he took me shopping, saying he wanted to buy me something. When we arrived at the jewelry store,
I initially refused to go in, but he persuaded me and the shop assistant invited me in.

He wanted to buy me a ring and asked if I liked it. I was a little uneasy and said, "You decide." When I
was about to pay, I bargained with the shop assistant and actually saved a few hundred yuan.

When we got home, he put his arm around me and sat me on the sofa, took out the ring, and I even felt shy. Another thing
I found hard to talk about was that my posture had unconsciously changed. In the past, like many middle-aged women, I would sit with
my thighs slightly crossed, my body straight, and my hands at my sides. But today, I would lower my head slightly, keep my legs together,
and fold my hands over my knees.

This body language wasn't deliberate; it reflected my inner world. I had completely come to
rely on my son, and I was no longer the mother who would scold him at the slightest provocation.

Especially when he took my hand and slipped the ring onto my fingers, roughened by years of hard work, words
couldn't describe the expression on my face.

My heart was pounding!

I haven't explained the meaning of that ring then, or even to this day, but we both understood. At least
we both thought of it that way: it was like an "engagement ring" for us, mother and son.

Afterwards, we slept together. It was the most enjoyable and smooth intercourse we'd ever had.

He gently pulled me up, and I stood up lightly, feeling like a young girl. We walked close together towards the bedroom, exchanging knowing
smiles.

At the door, I paused, closed the door, and then followed him to the bed, embracing and kissing.

He unbuttoned my jacket, remaining silent for a long time. He clearly noticed I had changed into the new underwear he'd bought me—
before, I'd made my own underwear from old fabric. He probably understood my feelings as a mother. The underwear
wasn't particularly sexy; what was sexy was a mother's heart: son, I belong to you now.

I smiled shyly, and we kissed again. Underwear fluttered down like leaves in the wind, while he remained
impeccably dressed in his suit. When I saw my impeccably dressed son in the mirror, holding me, his naked mother, in his arms,
I felt an unprecedented surge of excitement and stimulation.

I closed my eyes, savoring his caresses and kisses.

After letting him touch me for a while, I straightened up, glancing at my son with a touch of embarrassment. I gently loosened his
tie and removed his shirt. As I took off his pants, I felt a little shy, so I simply hugged him again,
pressing my breasts against his chest.

He put one leg on the bed, draped one of my thighs over his, wrapped his arms around my waist, and kissed me.

I opened my eyes and whispered, "You've dirtied the bed." He smiled, not caring at all.

After all, it wasn't him washing the sheets, but his mother, so I felt more sorry for him than he did.

I took my legs off, knelt down to untie his shoelaces, took off his shoes, then stood up and put my arms around his waist.

This was probably the effect of that three-thousand-yuan ring, right? I thought to myself with a touch of self-deprecation: Actually, I'm
no different from a prostitute now, except the first time is more expensive, and I don't have to pay anymore. Of course,
this thought was just a subconscious nerve stimulation, nothing more.

In the following year, our sexual needs gradually increased, but I couldn't be so
free in the mining area then, and this new lifestyle filled that void. We were mother and son, so even if we had a lot of time alone
together, no one would suspect anything…

After taking off his shoes, I led him hand in hand to the bed. We didn't say anything then, but instead undressed
each other and knelt facing each other. I refused his kisses, but welcomed his hands. He rubbed his belt
a few times, looked at me, and I understood what he meant, so I loosened his underwear belt. We were naked immediately
. I remember one detail: we carefully arranged our clothes on the stool beside the bed, instead of
throwing underwear all over the floor like in Hong Kong movies.

At that moment, I felt too embarrassed to move, so I knelt there, looking down at the bed. He then hugged me, and my hand
stroked his body under his arm.

He lay down, reaching out to pull me onto him, but this time I didn't immediately understand.
I lay on my side next to him, so he turned over, and I turned back to lie on my back. As he pressed down, I spread
my legs , everything perfectly coordinated.

This time, my son entered my vagina easily.

This was the first time my son and I had made love in bright light. I kept my eyes tightly closed, afraid to look at him, my thighs
wrapped around his waist, my arms tightly around his neck. He penetrated gently, and I occasionally opened my mouth to silently exhale.

After all, he was my child, and our reproductive organs were very compatible. When he thrust harder,
my body would involuntarily tremble.

I took a deep breath, and he gently patted me, signaling me to relax.

When my son ejaculated, my whole body tensed, clinging tightly to him until a minute after he finished, only then relaxing.

At dinner, we were very close. We didn't say much, just smiled at each other from time to time. I haven't smiled as much
in as I have today.

A year later, our passion had waned somewhat, but we were still harmonious. My biggest worry was contraception; he
refused to wear condoms, so I had to continue taking the pill. Later, he got a girlfriend, and I wouldn't let him touch me.

Now, I'm gratified that my daughter got into a university outside the province. My son also got married. I've reverted to
being a mother, not even letting my son kiss me, afraid of being seen. Once, my wife was in the bathroom, and he secretly said to me,
"Don't wear underwear." I glared at him and asked, "Why?" My son seemed annoyed. Another time during a meal,
my daughter-in-law went to the kitchen, and he secretly touched my thigh. I was so startled I almost dropped my bowl.
I scolded him in a low voice, "Are you crazy?"

Sometimes, my son would sneak out to see me while he was at work, and I would reluctantly agree, but it was always
a rush , and he couldn't fully enjoy himself. Occasionally, when my daughter-in-law was away on business or there was a company event, I would half-heartedly
satisfy my son.

After all, I'm almost fifty years old. I have many wrinkles on my face, a lot of gray hair, and my breasts
are starting to sag. I also have a lot of fat on my lower abdomen, always looking like I'm three months pregnant. Although I'm considered well-maintained
compared , I'm far inferior to my youthful and beautiful daughter-in-law. But for some reason,
my son is still very infatuated with me. Perhaps it's because he likes excitement; the shortcomings his mother has due to old age have become advantages in his
eyes . He doesn't mind me at all; on the contrary, he's somewhat proud—he's having sex with his own mother!

Also, every time we have sex, I use the traditional method. Because of our incestuous relationship, I feel
deeply frustrated and am very sensitive to his attitude towards me. I especially dislike it when he makes me lie on the bed and then
penetrates me from behind like a dog. My son wants me to imitate the actresses in adult films, but I tell him I shouldn't imitate those kinds of shameless women.
At that moment I feel very inferior; even the most shameless women wouldn't stoop to sleeping with their own son. Of course, this is something I absolutely cannot say
aloud.

I originally thought that our sexual relationship would decline over time like that of a normal couple, eventually ceasing altogether, but
that's not the case. I think it's because I can't fully satisfy him.

In the past year, I've had sex with my son far more often than with his wife, and it happens more often in the kitchen than
in the bed, usually right after he gets off work. Because my daughter-in-law sells vegetables,
she usually gets home half an hour later than my son, and we take advantage of this opportunity. At this time, I'm usually in the kitchen cutting meat or washing rice, and my son goes
straight to the kitchen as soon as he walks in.

When I need him, he reaches out, and I put down what I'm doing, turn around, hug him,
and then we kiss and caress each other in the kitchen. I prefer him touching me; I rarely initiate it. While
touching my son, he would reach under my skirt and pull down my underwear, pressing me against the kitchen wall…

In conclusion: Over the years, although I've experienced some intimacy, I've never
completely . After each sexual encounter, endless regret always awaits me. Especially now that I have
a grandson, the pressure is even greater; I even dream of my ancestors cursing me. But I still want to say that after experiencing so much
pain, I now have my own opinions. Because of these opinions, worldly matters don't have such a
significant impact on my son and me.

Theoretically, it's incest, but in reality, I take precautions to prevent pregnancy, so there's no social harm caused by disrupting blood
ties . From a certain perspective, it's purely about satisfying physiological needs, like eating and sleeping.
It doesn't affect my daughter-in-law, nor does it disrespect my ex-husband. If my son were to solicit prostitutes or I were to make mistakes outside
, it would pose a social threat and I might contract a sexually transmitted disease. Actually, my son and I aren't abnormal.
He was misbehaved regarding sex from a young age, and later, with his father gone, he was young and impetuous, and I was a widow for many years,
so… Thinking about it now, I have a new understanding of my mother's situation back then. If anyone's to blame, it's his heartless
father's shameful deeds and this cruel reality of society.

But we both know that if things continue like this, it will harm our new family. Now, we've both made up our minds…
We are determined to end this relationship and start a new life. Although it will take some time, my son and I will do
it.

(The End)

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[A Woman Who Suffered Throughout Her Life][Full Text]

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