The incident of forcing the mother to perform oral sex

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Reposted from: Ellie's Discussion Forum

My mother and I don't get along. From my childhood, I always felt she was very dissatisfied with my father's job,
so she left us when I was very young. I honestly have almost no memory of
my until I succeeded in getting into a good university. My father, on the other hand, struggled in the steel industry in his youth, but in recent years
he has made a lot of money, and he always seems very happy. I asked my father 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, as factory colleagues, celebrated together. Many of
the senior workers my father worked for at the steel factory 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 told everyone to eat as much as they could, not to 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, many women had tried to get close to Dad, but they were all
shady . 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 would
n'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 held in me for decades, from being bullied by my peers since childhood.
Learning to joke about being an unwanted child completely damaged my self-esteem during my childhood, which has led to my current extreme optimism. I think
besides my personality, this incident is also one of the reasons.

I told my mother, "First, I'll drop you off at the car, 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 return you." My mother's attitude softened a bit, and she sighed and acted pitiful
. I wasn't going to fall for that. I drove to a secluded spot by the sea, where the moonlight made it
easy to see.

I said to 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 the image of her pink lips engulfing my penis. My mother shuddered, unable to believe my words. As
a woman, I can perform oral sex on a man, but it feels wrong when the man is my own son, especially
now that I'm being threatened. I raised an eyebrow at my mother and asked if she didn't want to. She coldly replied, "
You'll regret this.

" I displayed my penis, half-erect and half-soft. My mother glanced at it but didn't say anything. Her
slender, white fingers grasped my shaft. I wanted her to suck it, but
while she stroked it, she wouldn't lower her neck. In anger, I forcefully pressed her head
down onto my penis. Her honey-sweet lips enveloped it, and as I thrust upwards, her warm tongue
sucked on it until it was completely covered in saliva and hard. My mother broke
free, glaring at me with shame, resentment, and unspeakable bitterness in her eyes. She was being
forced to suck her son's penis for money.

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 . 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 . 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 , 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 directly into her mouth.
I quickly pulled out, my penis still erect, and a thick stream of 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 make me feel this way, 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, "Feeling good? Can you give me the check back now?"

My eyes scanned my mother's body, her figure about 165 cm tall, her breasts about a B cup, but they looked
very perky, I didn't know if it was because of the bra or if they were naturally perky. Those black over-the-knee stockings, upon closer inspection, I
realized they weren't ordinary knee stockings, they looked like suspenders. I grabbed my mother's delicate arm, turned her body around, and pressed her
against the hood of the car. My mother looked terrified and said, "Don't go too far." Ignoring her, I
lifted up my mother's tight skirt. Sure enough, it was overalls. My mother was really daring with her clothes. Her buttocks weren't exactly perky,
and were even a bit sagging 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 tender vulva with my right. I

whispered in her ear, "You slut, you're so wet when you give me oral sex." I probed inside
her was very slippery and easy to go in. After a few thrusts, my mother had an orgasm. It seemed that
this kind of violent threat made her even more pleasured. I suddenly came to my senses. Why did I have to
get myself into this state for a slut? I lifted my mother up, calmed her down, and took her to her car. I talked
for almost the entire night until daytime, saying everything I wanted to say.

My mother didn't say much. She said her mistakes were far greater than mine. A manager's position isn't
easy to hold; sometimes having sex with the boss's customers is normal. However, she said she'd come to her senses and
would start a new life after this was over, never bothering 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 her forced oral sex. I
sighed. Many things are like that; life is always full of regrets. Why not live happily ever after?

Whenever my penis itches, I follow the address my mother gave me after leaving the company to find those warm
lips to relieve my itch.

This article is a short piece, but it still took me two and a half hours to type. It's not in "Oedipus
Memoirs," it's an extra chapter.

Some people said my previous articles were too dense and painful to read. I will improve that, so I'll break them into
paragraphs of about three or four lines to make them easier to read. However, long articles are my style because I
like write special things, incorporating eroticism. Picking new stories and writing styles has always been my hobby.
I've posted three articles on ELLE now. Except for "Oedipus Memoirs," which is because there's a sequel, so I'll either update that
article . I'm more worried about "Oedipus Memoirs" now. I can't write anymore. Given my word count, forget it.
I'll leave it for the Oedipus complex story there. The plot and story I come up with form very quickly, even forming in my mind,
along with the characters' tones. This is largely due to my love of reading new knowledge. My biggest frustration right now is that my
typing speed can't keep up with the speed of my thought process, which is making me quite angry. Typing this article for so long
has left my shoulders stiff, my neck sore, and my right wrist very stiff. Oh well. Just venting...

Thank you everyone for reading my article.

It's not bad, but just oral sex wasn't enough! By the way, I have a question: why is it that even though I spend a lot of time on the forum every day, my online time in my personal information is still 0 hours?
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Not bad, not bad! Hope the author posts more good articles, not bad, looking forward to the author's long articles.
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The author's articles are well written, do you have any long articles?? Looking forward to the author's long masterpieces. Not bad, not bad, it's a good article. The details of oral sex are well written, quite detailed. Personally, I think you should have described the appearance of the mother, this mature woman type, more before, so that everyone has more room for imagination. It's written okay, but it's a bit too short. Author, keep trying. It's strange that some people actually call this a good article, saying, "
It's all very weak at the beginning and weak at the end. What's so good about it?"

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