My mother's E-cup breasts in the mirror, which I rubbed. (Author: senlongmm)

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I was rubbing my mother's E-cup breasts in the mirror.

Author: senlongmm
Words: 4,000
Published: 2010/9/15 on: Ellie Discussion Forum

I stood in my mother's room, while she sat in front of her dressing table. A mirror in front of her
reflected her slightly flushed face, as if she'd been drinking. My mother had promised to wear a very low-cut silk t-shirt. Just
like those bra commercials on TV, each breast, accentuated by the bra, created a deep cleavage.

And in the mirror, my mother's breasts, beneath the low neckline, revealed part of the top of her bra—a violet E-
cup bra with beautiful patterns and a smooth, supple feel. I don't know
how many times , and now it was on my mother's chest.

Beneath the low-cut top, where a sliver of bra was visible, were two high, firm breasts, white with a rosy tint, tender and elastic.
Supported by the bra and the low neckline, their breasts were lifted upwards, the bra's push-up effect causing
the two nipples to slightly touch, like glossy, elastic pudding.

My mother shifted slightly, her hands clenched into small fists, resting nervously on her thighs. She wore a very short,
tight skirt with a checkered pattern along the hem, but it was only half-length, revealing her fair thighs and her panties
barely visible. She kept tugging at the skirt, trying to cover her private parts, constantly worrying about my gaze, looking at me shyly, hesitant
to speak, her appearance incredibly cute.

At 163 cm tall, she possessed a pair of beautiful, large breasts, a truly voluptuous figure; wherever she went, her breasts
attracted attention. The swaying of her breasts as she walked, the countless times she was groped—someone once hugged her from
behind kept kneading her breasts, scaring her so much that she never dared to take the bus again

—and I, her son, became her personal chauffeur. With her beautiful breasts pressed against my
back , every time I rode my bike, I imagined those breasts being squeezed and deformed against my back, making me hard the whole way. Sometimes
, when she got tired, she would simply hug me, her soft breasts pressed against me, the vibrations of the motorcycle making me
dizzy .

When I went on university social events, even when I picked up pretty girls, they would cling tightly to the motorcycle's rear spoiler. Compared to that, my mother
's enormous breasts gradually became the object of my fantasies. I was in the bathroom with my mother's
underwear With my right hand, I put the underwear on my penis and kept stroking it up and down, while my left hand was against her bra, inhaling the milky scent and
licking her nipples. I fantasized that my mother was in the bathroom, and I was kneading her breasts from behind, pulling them up and
down . The faucet was still running, and I
continued to suckle her nipples.

I pressed my mother against the wall, her fingers spread wide, unable to cover her completely with one hand. As she pressed against the wall, her E-cup breasts
squeezed out from between my fingers, and my penis was pressing against her vagina, leaving her only to whine as I released my desire. We were
both covered in bath gel. I touched my mother's body, and whether it was her naturally smooth skin or the bath
gel, her pear-shaped breasts seemed to deform in my palm. I teased her areolas with the head of my penis, and with this stimulation,
her vaginal fluids flowed continuously.

Instead of scratching my nipples, the foam on her hands gripped my penis,
rhythmically stroking it with the slippery foam, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, while her eyes remained fixed on me from below, her gaze full of provocation and
embarrassment.

I lowered my mother's breasts, gazing at her from above, and used the showerhead to rinse the foam off her body.
Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, I pulled her from behind to my chest, lifting her right leg and placing it over the sink . My
mother looked at her genitals in the mirror; her vulva, pubic hair, was clearly visible. She wanted to lower
herself in shame, but I wouldn't let her, forcibly holding her leg up.

I aimed the showerhead at her vulva, the warm water washing over her, making her feel both warm and
itchy. I increased the water flow and temperature, the pubic hair constantly changing direction with the water jets, and the rising
temperature made her vulva even more burning. My mother's left hand gripped mine tightly, as if
telling me to stop torturing her.

I stopped the water, rolled over, and picked up my mother. I positioned her against the door, where
a towel hung, to prevent her body from touching the cold wall. I raised her right thigh, while her right calf hooked
around the bend of my elbow, swinging back and forth.

I couldn't resist sucking on her cherry-red toenails,
licking every single one, inside and out, down to the soles, making her laugh from the ticklish sensation. Meanwhile, she used her delicate hands to rub my penis,
pinching the foreskin under my glans with her index finger and thumb, repeatedly pushing it up to cover the glans
, making my penis tremble and
almost her tongue. I pressed my lips against hers, sucking hard on her fragrant lips, my tongue swirling and
swirling, sweeping over all her pearly teeth.

My left hand wasn't idle either. I used my index and middle fingers to spread open her labia and explore her honeypot. Watching
my mother's rapid breathing, I
held my penis in my left hand and thrust upwards, all the way in at once. My mother's vagina hadn't experienced such a large penis in a long time, and she immediately winced in pain. She wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered in my ear, "Your dad's still
taking a nap, he'll be up soon." I didn't care. My mother was now mine in the bathroom, and I
wanted to savor this beautiful woman. I braved the thrill of being discovered. The door slammed shut. I held my mother's beautiful back,
afraid she would fall. My mother's left leg was already on tiptoe, pushed higher with each thrust, until she
was almost unsteady. If it weren't for her son holding her, she would have already collapsed, unable to hold him.

The scent of my mother's cheeks and shower gel filled the air. As my penis was swallowed and released by her vagina, the stimulation made me thrust faster.
The noise from the door grew louder and louder. My mother said worriedly, "Your dad will hear, be gentle, um..." Before she finished
speaking, I squeezed my legs together, grabbed my mother's buttocks with my left hand, and pushed her thigh against the wall with my right hand, filling her vagina
completely with my penis. When I thrust hard and ejaculated, my mother first let out a soft moan of pain.
After I ejaculated, she continued to thrust forcefully a few more times. My mother's muscles tensed, and she bit down with her neat pearly teeth.
She leaned against my shoulder, and because of my mother's taut body, her vagina was even tighter than usual, gripping my
penis tightly as it continued to swell inside her, stretching her vaginal opening wider until it softened. Only then did I
reluctantly pull out. I could

see the fluids flowing from her vagina—a mixture of cloudy, milky-white semen and clear, glistening vaginal fluid—
running down her thighs. My mother looked exhausted, as if she hadn't done such vigorous activity before. She slumped against me,
panting heavily. I washed her body again, and she hurriedly told me to leave, lest my father wake up looking for
her and find her having sex with his woman—that would be infuriating. When I came to my senses, my mother's panties
were already soaked with semen. I smeared the semen all over her bra and panties before putting them back, to see
her reaction.

My mother noticed something was off about her underwear these past few days and, after some probing, asked my father, who denied it. Only then did I realize it was me
who had given her the ghost. A few days earlier, after I had indulged in sex in the bathroom again, my mother, seeing my guilty expression, waited until
late at night to come to my room, gently call my name, and shake me awake. My erect penis, which
had stretched my underwear open in the middle of the night, was so hard that I deliberately opened the blanket, letting my mother cover my penis. My mother sat on the edge of my bed, unaware of
what teenagers like us were doing.

She chatted with me, asking about sexual activities. Although she appeared calm on the surface, she
seemed quite nervous. Looking at her in her thin nightgown, revealing her large breasts through her bra and silk thong, and her yawning face,
I found myself pressing her down on the bed and relentlessly sucking on her neck. My mother seemed to know I was going to do this;
she didn't resist, but she didn't condone it either. Only after I had pulled her nightgown up to her waist did she hurriedly tell me to stop.
I know this is incest, and my mother knows her large breasts are very provocative to her son, but it's incest, and we can't
cross that line. No matter how the release is, it's incest.

My mother held me to her chest, and I cried. I had suppressed my emotions for so long, only releasing them through imagination. My mother also
wept, telling me to remember I was her mother, that we could be friends, but we couldn't cross that line. I
promised my mother I wouldn't masturbate to her underwear anymore. When she left, I asked if she could kiss me. She
shyly kissed my cheek, but I asked for her lips. This time, she gave me a light, perfunctory
kiss . Unexpectedly, I grabbed her body, pulled her into my arms, and kissed her deeply, again and again, with my tongue
. My mother sobbed, and only then did I stop and let her go back to her room to rest.

The next morning, I asked my mother to wear a low-cut top and a very short, tight skirt for me, but she refused. I said, "Wear it
for me, and I'll never bother you again." My mother couldn't resist my persuasion, so she chose a super
low-cut, revealing t-shirt that she only dared to wear when she was younger—so low that her bra was showing. She bought it once and never dared to wear it out.
She also chose a super short, tight skirt, a ridiculous outfit from her student days. Now, sitting in front of her vanity, with some
light makeup , she softly called out, "Come closer and look." Her son stared, his eyes wide, like
the look he gets when strangers stalk him on the bus.

I stood in front of the vanity, staring for a full ten minutes. I had this thought in my mind: even
just , just once, to truly possess my mother's body. I thrust into her honeyed cave, slapped her voluptuous buttocks, passionately kissed her fragrant lips, gently licked her beautiful back,
played with her jade feet, pinched her nipples, listened to my mother
's real moans in my ear, listened to the slapping sounds of her thighs and buttocks, and released my accumulated semen deep into her womb, making my
mother my own, kneeling at my feet to suck my penis. When we went out, I could openly fondle her, and when I came home, I could
enjoy her body.

Outsiders could only watch, but I could actually do it. Thinking of this, my cold sweat soaked my shirt.
My mother looked at me standing behind her in the mirror and said, "Is that enough... Have you seen enough... Son, it's not that I don't love you,
it's just... Ah..." Before she could finish speaking, I kneaded her breasts with both hands. Through the mirror, my fingers
squeezed low-cut top and bra, her two snow-white breasts in the northern hemisphere, making my mother cry out in pain. I simply picked my mother up
and threw her onto the spring bed. Terrified, she tried to escape, but I was already preparing to tear
everything off her. She cried out, "Stop! I'm going to tell your dad! He'll be back tonight, and you're dead
!" Her voice was filled with sobs. I licked her earring and said, "Father's back tonight, so we
have a whole day to enjoy ourselves. Ever since I tasted your lips yesterday, I've already felt it all."

The only sounds in the room were the tearing of clothes, the wetness of my thrusting into her vagina, my mother's
hoarse cries as she hit my chest, and the ticking of the DV timer on the bedside table. I started
imagining how to play with her, violating her large breasts. First, I'd do a breastjob; the feeling of being squeezed between E-cup breasts
must be amazing. Then I'd place my penis between her breasts, and she'd squeeze them with both hands, rubbing them incessantly. As for
my father, I didn't need to worry about him. A smile crept across my face, the contrast to my mother's red, tear-filled eyes. I pulled her into my
room, continuing to savor the incestuous pleasure until each ejaculation.

When the door closed, my back was covered in scratches from my mother's fingernails, and my shoulders bore the marks of her teeth.

****************************************************************************************
After finishing, several hours passed. I woke up at eight in the morning, feeling unwell and not wanting to eat breakfast, and continued masturbating until almost
noon. Just then, inspiration struck, and after a ten-minute break, I started describing breasts again. As for the
way the mother wore her top in the story, it's real, but it's something you only see in lingerie commercials on TV. A low-cut top that exposes the breasts is already quite provocative
, but then there are those two small, round bra pads showing too. What man could resist that temptation? I started thinking about how my mother
used to wear those super low-cut, revealing outfits at home, walking with a bouncy, swaying gait. It made my penis
itch . Luckily, my mother didn't dare wear them outside, otherwise, I'd be furious to be seen with free "ice cream" (a euphemism for masturbation).

I hope you all enjoy it. From 8 PM to 2:30 PM, after finishing the story of memoir II and the single mother,
and then this story about breasts, I think I'm tired. Thank you for watching, bye-bye.
**********

...
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? ?? ?? ? Not bad
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? ?? ?? ?? ? It seems unfinished? I suggest the author add some details about seducing the mother later. It feels like the mother is very cooperative from the start, and the article lacks buildup, giving it a somewhat anticlimactic feel! I think it's because it wasn't finished. The writing style is very average, like a diary entry. It would be better if there was more erotic content. The action descriptions are quite detailed, giving the reader a sense of immersion. Adding more erotic details would make the story even richer.

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My mother's E-cup breasts in the mirror, which I rubbed. (Author: senlongmm)

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