Redemption or Depravity? Author: At This Moment, Chaotic

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

Author: At This Moment of Chaos
Word Count: 4431

Everyone says that maternal love is selfless and boundless. The gentlest love is maternal love. But I yearn for maternal love, yet I cannot receive
it. I envy others' maternal love, and thus hate it.

A family tragedy during junior high school led to my parents' divorce. Among relatives and
friends they disdained to be with her and she was despised. In her despair of being separated from her family, she left home and
disappeared without a trace.

I was young then and missed my mother dearly. Especially after my stepmother came along, my longing intensified. This longing, however,
turned into rage and resentment over time. I hated my mother for abandoning me. As I grew older, I heard
the gossip . My mother was caught having an affair, which led to the divorce. Relatives and friends
disliked her. She became destitute and had no one to turn to, which is why she had no choice but to leave. I stopped missing her and began to despise my mother,
hating the shame she brought me.

After high school started, my mother came back to see me. But by then, I was blinded by hatred
. She bought me a cell phone, even though cell phones were still a rare commodity in high school, and owning
one was incredibly cool. She stood at my door, dressed very fashionably—
what we'd call sexy now, though I didn't understand back then.

I threw the phone away, yelled at her, and told her to get lost. I stood upstairs watching her downstairs,
clutching and wiping away tears with the other, frozen in place for a long time. This caught
the attention of the neighbors, and for a long time, my mother was the talk of the town.

I overheard them saying that my mother was actually a prostitute. I knew what a prostitute was,
of course seeing their gossipy eyes made me feel like I was being pricked by needles, and I felt even more contempt and hatred for my mother. Every time my mother
came back to see me, I ruthlessly turned her away. I started to miss her; after all, she was my mother. But my
pride prevented me from being shamed by the fact that I had such a mother.

I got into university and started struggling to make a living. In my father's newly formed family, a
younger brother , and I felt superfluous. I relied entirely on loans and part-time jobs. University life was tough. With my family
neglecting me, I became even more lonely and my personality became eccentric. But then, my mother appeared. I don't
know how she found out about my university.

I was called to the registrar's office by a teacher and met my mother. I didn't want to see her, but I was afraid others would notice.
I silently walked with her on the campus paths. Her caring words softened my lonely and indifferent heart. She took
me out for the most lavish dinner I'd ever had since starting university. Normally, I was frugal, eating only 3-yuan
boxed lunches . At that moment, I couldn't hold back anymore. When my father abandoned me for his family during my most difficult time, and my relatives
avoided me for fear I'd ask them for money, my mother, despised and scorned by everyone, came to
my side at this crucial moment, comforting and supporting me.

In the park, I hugged my mother and cried for a long time. We went back to her hotel and talked a lot. This
opened my heart, and I accepted my mother. I still felt uncomfortable discussing her affairs.

The next day, my mother accompanied me to buy new clothes and a cell phone. She stayed with me for a few more days, and when she left, she gave
me a card with six thousand yuan on it, telling me not to work so hard to earn tuition and to focus on my studies.
After that , my mother transferred money to the card every month, and when tuition was due, she would transfer several thousand yuan more
for me to pay. My life began to improve, and my grades became excellent.

I started contacting my mother by phone, and many times late at night I heard lewd moans and sounds of penetration coming from the phone.

This was the consequence of my mother forgetting to hang up. I could imagine that when my mother answered my call, she
might be being touched or kissed by a man, or even being slowly
penetrated by someone, because I heard heavy breathing that didn't belong to my mother. I began to feel heartache, but I was powerless
to change anything.

When my mother visited me for the second time, I accompanied her back to the hotel, and I couldn't help but ask her if she was
prostituting herself. She vehemently denied it. When I mentioned the voice on the phone, she lowered her head in shame. Finally, she told
me that she had no skills and it would be difficult to find work elsewhere, but this job paid well, so she continued.

I cried as I listened, sitting on the edge of the bed and hugging my mother, sobbing. My mother comforted me, saying that she
would
work for a few more years to support me through university and even buy me a house, then she would quit. I was very emotional, and I told her that after I started working, I would make sure my mother had a normal life and take good care of her. After years of working away from home, hearing her son's heartfelt words, my mother
also cried tears of joy. She hugged me tightly, unwilling to let go. That night of heartfelt confession brought our relationship
back to that of our childhood. We both felt the intensity of family love. My mother didn't want to leave me, just as I didn't want to leave
her.

My mother had stayed with me for a long time this time, over two weeks. On our last night at the hotel,
we walked the streets until late. Back at the hotel, lying in bed, I couldn't help but ask my mother how those men made love. At first, my mother hesitated, saying only, "That's how it is, you'll know
when you get married ."
Finally, after I kept pressing her, she started to open up, perhaps feeling she had just gained her son's approval and
didn't want spoil my fun. She began to slowly and meticulously tell me about her life as a prostitute, how the men kissed her,
how they fucked her. Listening, my penis became as hard as iron under the covers.

Finally, I begged my mother to let me see her body. Unable to resist my pleas, she lifted her
bra and let me see her breasts. I couldn't help but touch them with my hands and even suck on her nipples. She
didn't refuse, but just kept whispering, "Okay, okay, son, you're making Mommy so itchy, go to sleep
."

Seeing my mother pull down her clothes to cover her breasts, I was distracted. Lying in bed, unable to sleep, my mind
was filled with my mother's large, swaying breasts. I couldn't help but put my hand inside my mother's bra and gently caress
her breasts. My mother didn't refuse. Perhaps having worked in this industry for so long, she understood men's needs, especially
her own son's, and how strong his sexual desires were. Having painstakingly repaired their mother-son relationship, and having never
given anything to her son before, giving him her breasts seemed alright, right?

She felt the longing and desire in my hands. My mother asked me, "Ah Shou, are you hard down there?" I
said, embarrassed, "Yes."

"How can you sleep like this? You have class tomorrow. How about Mom helps you masturbate
? You'll be done after you cum, that's how men are," my mother whispered in my ear. I immediately agreed, but
I was still embarrassed to show my penis to my mother. I had never done this before.

I lay on the bed, lifted the covers, but hesitated to take off my underwear. My mother knelt beside me understandingly
, helped me take off my underwear, and grasped my hard, hot penis, starting to slide it up and down. I was
excited, but also very nervous. I couldn't ejaculate for a long time.

Finally, I don't know if it was my mother's professional habit or something, but seeing that I couldn't ejaculate, she stuck out her
tongue , masturbating me while licking my glans, and finally took my entire penis into
her mouth and stroked it. That wet, warm, tingling feeling quickly made me ejaculate. A large amount of semen shot into my mother's mouth,
which was wrapped around my penis. Watching my mother swallow my semen... A strange feeling welled up inside me; so this was what sex was.

After much pleading, my mother stayed another day. That night, she allowed me to kiss her
lips and breasts, but absolutely forbade me to touch her genitals, and I didn't force her. I knew it was taboo.

Finally, during oral sex, I ejaculated again.

Reluctantly saying goodbye, I threw myself into my studies. Four years of university flew
by , during which I earned numerous scholarships. My mother visited me many times, satisfying my
desire for her body. I explored her upper body repeatedly, and she, in turn, satisfied my sexual desires with her upper body
(through oral sex and breast play). After much pleading, she finally allowed me to look at her genitals and
touch her thick pubic hair and dark vulva. Ultimately, it stopped at tasting her genitals; I didn't cross
that final line and penetrate her. This left me with a lingering regret and a deep longing.

I graduated and found a stable, high-paying job. With my mother's support, I made a down payment
on a nice apartment, and with my monthly payments, I still had plenty of money left over. After working for a year, I
could finally afford to renovate. Three months after the renovations were complete, I eagerly moved into my
new home. I was overjoyed and excitedly contacted my mother to come see it.

She was also very happy for me and came to visit me in the city where I worked a week later. I took
a few days off to spend time with her. I showed her around the city and let her try all the local delicacies.

My mother was very pleased and touched; having a son was truly wonderful.

That night, while we were watching TV at home, my mother told me she was leaving and would come back to see me in a while.

I cried with emotion, telling her to stop being a prostitute, that she was getting too old, and to stay with me;
I could support her. My mother cried too, saying she was content as long as I was doing well, and that she would go back to earning money for me to find
a wife in the future. I couldn't persuade her to stay. I lay in bed all night, unable to sleep.

The next morning, I heard my mother's footsteps in the living room. I rushed out, wearing only my underwear and no clothes
. I knew she was leaving, afraid I would try to stop her, so I wanted to leave quietly. I rushed to her,
knelt on the floor, and held her tightly, begging her to stay. Listening to her various excuses and attempts to comfort me,
I buried my face in her skirt, pulled down her underwear, and tightly sucked on her labia
, my tongue churning deep inside her vagina.

I pushed her down onto the floor, spreading her legs and holding onto her labia tightly, refusing to let go.

I frantically licked her genitals. Finally, I pressed down on her, thrusting my penis inside her.
Her struggles slowly softened under my violent thrusting.

I picked her up, carried her to my bedroom, and undressed her. I kissed her passionately on the bed,
frantically fucking her vagina. She could only pant and moan as she received the intense
impact I gave her. She gripped the sheets tightly, enduring my roughness. Her breasts trembled incessantly, and her tightly closed eyes
slowly opened, revealing a loving gaze, so tenderly fixed on me, causing my thrusts to slide slowly and gently
back and forth across her genitals.

I began to embrace her on my side, slowly thrusting into her vagina, caressing her breasts while
passionately kissing her. The passion slowly cooled, and my semen had already entered her vagina. But I couldn't bear
to pull my penis out. Holding my mother close, I said tenderly, "Mom, promise me. I'll take care of you. I don't need a wife,
you're my wife, I love you, Mom!"

My mother said, moved, "Silly child, how can I be your wife? It's not that I don't want to be with you
. It's just that I have bad taste. If I'm with you, our relatives and friends will laugh at you, and you'll feel
ashamed in front of them."

"No, it's not like that. Mom, your body is mine, and it will always belong to me. I don't want you
to remarry , and I don't want you to go back to prostitution. I can't bear other men entering your vagina and playing with your breasts.
I can't bear strangers thrusting into your mouth and ejaculating inside you. I don't care about other people's
opinions. Besides, it's only right to be filial to one's parents. If you don't tell me and I don't tell anyone about our sex life, who will know? And if
you live with me, our relatives and friends will know, which proves that you've reformed. Isn't that good?"

In the end, my mother agreed to live with me after my persuasion. A week later, she got rid of all the troubles there
and lived with me completely. That night, after making love with my mother, she warned me
not to think only about her body and that I should date someone when it was time. She could only satisfy my sexual desires; in the future, I would have to rely on a wife
to have children and build a family. I promised her that.

But my mother was like my first woman, and my infatuation with her was something I couldn't shake off in a short time. My mother noticed
this . So she did her best to please me, letting me vent
my endless desires on her body.

Sometimes I would lie on the floor, and my mother would come over, squat in front of me, lift her skirt, pull down one side of her
panties, and bring her labia to my mouth so I could lick her genitals and drink her vaginal fluids.
Then she would squat down and let me touch and kiss her clean anus. Sometimes, she would lie on the sofa, spread her
legs, and raise her buttocks so I could lick her vagina and anus. Or she would lie on the edge of the bed, or on the balcony at night,
raising her buttocks so I could penetrate her vagina and anus.

My mother stopped going out and quietly stayed home doing chores. Relatives and friends began
to marvel at her positive change and my filial piety. They started to accept her, and
she would sit with them during holidays. Everyone accepted her, and she was deeply moved and happy.

But who could know that every night, in the kitchen, living room, and bathroom, her mouth was constantly
licking a black fungus, her fingers incessantly fiddling with her wet vagina and contracting
anus. Her breasts, distorted from the rubbing, were accompanied by the sounds of their bodies colliding. Lewd breaths rose and fell.

This was my mother's permanent secret, hidden and lewd. Lust surged, semen erupted.
Was it depravity or salvation? I couldn't tell.

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