I married my mother [Full text]

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

My mother's name is Mary. In December 1970, when she was sixteen, she discovered she was two months pregnant. So she went to her boyfriend's school. He had been wanting to have sex with her, and after three months of dating, she finally gave in. Their first and only sexual encounter resulted in my birth. I was born in July 1971. When I was born, my father had abandoned my mother and said I wasn't his child. That was, of course, wrong. My mother lost her virginity to that man, my father, and never had another relationship until our love began.

Embarrassingly, my mother was already pregnant, so my grandparents moved from Chicago to a quiet town in southern Illinois, Aiton. I was born and raised in Aiton until I was seventeen. My mother and I lived with my grandparents until my mother decided to move back to Chicago. She was thirty-five years old and raised me alone, giving me the very best of everything. She went to St. Louis to attend medical school, and my grandparents stayed home to care for me. After that, she obtained her pharmacist license and opened a pharmacy in our small town so that I could have a better life. She worked tirelessly, day and night, all for me. And she never complained.

She was gentle. She never yelled at me or hit me. From a very young age, she taught me with reason and practical examples. She treated me as an independent individual, not like most parents, and she always encouraged my interests. I was more interested in science. Today, I am an astronomer, all thanks to my mother. We moved back to Chicago so I could go to the University of Chicago. By then, we were financially secure. No longer poor, but we still lived frugally. We never indulged in luxury. But at that time, we didn't have any illusions about each other. My mother was a very...

My mother never dated anyone while raising me. Now, when I ask her why she didn't date or meet people, she says she devoted all her time to me. Dating or anything else would have distracted her and prevented her from focusing on raising me. I don't have a father, so of course I can't lose my mother. She believed parents should spend more time with their children, and she truly did. She sacrificed countless personal joys for me. I was too young then to appreciate it. But because of her sacrifices, I love her more than anyone else in the world, even my own children.

Our love was a kind of dedication; she dedicated herself to me, and then I dedicated myself to her. Our relationship became very close and beautiful. We could never be apart. Our hearts were forever together. I fell in love with my mother and accepted her as my wife. We had three children. I am now twenty-nine years old, have only had sex with one woman, and will love only her, Mary, my mother, until the day I die.

I have loved my mother since I can remember. She always seemed so beautiful and outstanding to me. My friend's mother never attracted me. My mother's hair was beautiful, a shimmering strawberry color, even reddish. It was slightly wavy. She always wore it loose over her shoulders, never tied it back. Her hair framed her face, making her emerald eyes stand out even more. Her lips weren't too full, nor too thin. She was five feet seven inches tall. She always looked like a young girl, even after having four children. Her breasts were a beautiful 36C, and now at forty-six, she looked only thirty-five. Her face was still wrinkle-free, and she had no gray hair. Her skin was smooth, as creamy as milk, a memory that remains vivid in my mind. She was the most beautiful and sexiest woman in the world. Her clothes always had a unique style.

Can you imagine how much I loved Mary? When I was seven, I told her I wanted to marry her and take care of her for the rest of my life. Although it was just childish talk, I've always kept it in my heart. Some time later, while children my age were already dating, I was just at home with my mother.

My First Orgasm

When I was twelve, I had my first orgasm. I woke up early one morning to find my pants wet. At first, I thought I had wet the bed. But I noticed the wet spot was sticky and didn't smell like urine. I was a little scared, so I called my mother. She rushed over as soon as she heard my frightened voice.

"I think I'm sick," I cried.

She looked very worried. "What's wrong?"

"I wet the bed, I think. But I don't know what it is." "Let me see," she said.

She pulled back the sheets. There was no wetness on the bed. "Let's take a look." She gently pulled back my pajama bottoms and underwear. Soon, a smile appeared on her face. "It's okay, baby," she said softly.

"What is it?" Seeing my mother's smile lessened my fear considerably.

"You had a wet dream," she said.

"A wet dream?" I was a little confused.

“Come on, take off your soiled clothes. I’ll explain it to you after school tonight. Don’t worry, it’s nothing to be alarmed about. It just means you’re a grown-up now.” She smiled and kissed my cheek.

She knew how to make me feel comfortable. I loved my mother completely.

That night, my mother briefly explained sex to me. She told me about erections, vaginas, and semen. She also said that sex is a way for men and women to express love, and that babies are born through this act.

“Sex isn’t just about intercourse,” she explained.

“For example?” I asked curiously.

“You’ll know when you’re older. But if you still have any questions about sex, you must come to me first. Your friends will only confuse and mislead you.” “Mom? Can I ask you one more question?”

“Go ahead, sweetheart.”

“You said intercourse is the ultimate act of love between a man and a woman.”

“Yes, darling, that’s right.”

I asked a little timidly. “You said I’m a man now. And…you know I love you.” “Yes, darling, I know,” she said. “What are you trying to say?” “Then…can we…make love? Occasionally?” The look on my mother’s face told me I’d said the wrong thing. I quickly lowered my head. “Sweetheart, sex is something that happens when two people love each other and become husband and wife. It’s not between a mother and son. I love you too. I love you very much. More than anyone else in my life. But you are my son. We can’t have sex.” “But, Mom,” I argued. “I love you. I don’t understand. You are so beautiful. You are so good to me. I can’t imagine loving anyone else as much as I love you. I don’t understand why such love can’t be expressed sexually.” She said clearly, “It’s just that.” (Later I learned that she couldn’t explain why a mother and son couldn’t have sex, aside from legal issues. She herself didn’t seem very satisfied.) My mother’s honesty about sex was wonderful. She respected me and knew I was smart. She knew that avoiding a child’s questions was useless. From that day on, my curiosity about sex was sparked. Soon, my mother became my outlet. I often fantasized about her while masturbating. She was the only woman I ever desired.

(Beginning)

When I was seventeen, we moved from a small town in southern Illinois to near Lake Michigan, a famous area around Chicago. We rented a small house on the north side. My mother had found a job as a family medicine assistant at a large regional hospital. I was nearing the end of my high school years at a prestigious prep school. My mother and I became closer when we were alone together. Nobody in the city knew us. We ate dinner at home every night, sharing our worlds.

I was quite mature by then. I was on the school swimming team, six feet tall, and weighed slightly over 160 pounds. I had a well-proportioned and muscular build. My mother said I was handsome. I didn't really feel that way myself. Girls my age weren't interested in me. I hadn't had much dating experience until the disaster struck. The girls I dated always seemed to have many flaws, mostly because I thought they couldn't compare to my mother, whether in beauty or intelligence.

One evening, about two months after moving to the city, we were at home, still busy unpacking and putting our luggage away. My mother was wearing a sleeveless short-sleeved shirt. She was tanned a deep brown in the summer, and looked incredibly beautiful. As usual, my attention was still solely on her, not on the work in my hands. She said she always noticed me watching her. I looked at her with a confused gaze of love, passion, and primal lust. I myself had never realized how unusual my desire was. I hoped that in my lifetime, we would have the chance to be lovers. Mary now says she also noticed how strong and handsome I was back then. She felt it herself. She hadn't been with a man in a long time. Now she tells me that at the time she thought she had never met a man as handsome as me. Her lust was as intense as any other woman's. She was thirty-five then.

That evening I watched her put some glassware in the kitchen. I wasn't paying much attention to the luggage; I just kept watching her. Her arms and hands were as supple as liquid. The sway of her hips as she bent forward or tiptoed to put things on the high shelves was as beautiful as a dancer's. She was slightly sweaty. It was warm springtime. She would smile at me while she worked, and I would smile back at her. It felt like we were lovers, moving into our first home together. She would always ask for my opinion on decorating, and I would answer her like a husband, trying to fulfill her every wish.

She reached for a newly bought glass in the high cupboard. I looked at her outstretched hand and her backside. Suddenly, my reverie was broken by the sound of glass falling to the floor. I saw shards of glass scattered everywhere and immediately ran to help my mother clean it up. We both reached for the same shard of glass, and I took the opportunity to grab her hand tightly. I looked at my mother with a questioning gaze, but my eyes were fixed on her chest. I could see her cleavage through her sleeveless top. Her bra stretched her breasts tightly. It was a simple white cotton bra, but it was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. My hand was still gripping hers, and I noticed she was looking at me. To my embarrassment, I finally looked her in the eye. She wasn't looking at me with anger or shame. She wasn't shy either. She looked at me with a gentle gaze, the kind of gaze a woman feels safe with the only man in the house who can take care of her, no matter how much distress or anger she experiences.

I stood up and took her hand. We gazed at each other for what felt like eternity. Finally, I brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. She smiled. That meant she was alright. That she loved me not because I was her son, but because she saw me as a man, as a lover. That told me she felt the same way I did. In that brief moment, I knew we would be together forever.

I leaned forward slowly and kissed her. Her arms were around me. There was no shame or guilt.

Her lips parted slightly, and our tongues intertwined. We kissed deeply and passionately. I pulled her away from the shards of glass and placed her on the counter. I moved closer, and we kissed passionately, like the kiss of two lovers reunited after a long separation in a fairy tale. Breathing grew heavy, and in our kisses, we told each other how deeply we loved one another. My mother moaned, gripping my body tightly. I responded in kind. We kissed for hours. We both knew what to do next, but we stayed in the kitchen, letting our desires find release there. My penis was already hard and erect. She pressed her hips against mine, rubbing them against my hard penis. After a few minutes of this, I almost ejaculated in my pants.

Finally, I forced us apart. "I love you, Mom." These were the first words we spoke to each other after the glass shattered.

She smiled, gazing deeply into my eyes. "I love you too, John, son." I carried her to her bedroom and laid her on her bed. I sat beside her, slowly caressing her through her clothes, starting with her breasts. I gently kneaded her breasts with my hands. Through her bra and shirt, I could feel her nipples hardening. Her breathing was steady, but loud. As I caressed her breasts, she looked at me. I tried to proceed slowly, but she quickly took off her shirt. She sat up and unhooked her bra. Her breasts fell out naturally; it was the first time I had seen my mother's breasts since I was weaned years ago. She helped me take off my clothes, her hands caressing my chest. I unbuttoned her shorts and took off her shorts and cotton underwear. When I took off her underwear, I saw her alluring vulva. I smelled her scent. That scent stimulated me. Finally, my mother was completely naked, clutching my belt. She told me to lie down too. She spread my legs and stood naked between my knees. Her beautiful breasts swayed, her nipples hard and erect. She unbuckled my belt and slowly pulled down my pants. She reached in with her slender hands and began to rub my throbbing penis. My hips thrust forward again and again with her rubbing. Finally, she stripped me naked.

I laid her on the bed and began kissing her again, our bodies finally naked. I kissed her slowly, from her lips, neck, chest, to her breasts. My mouth moved to her firm nipples and sucked. My tongue teased her nipples back and forth. My hands also reached for her empty breasts, gently kneading them. She moaned and writhed beneath me, and I knew I had aroused her desire.

"Oh, God, sweetheart, this feels so good," she whispered. The temperature between us rose.

I kissed her again. "I love you, Mom," I said again. She knew what I meant, "I want to fuck you." "Okay, sweetheart," she responded. I climbed on top of her, aiming my penis at the entrance of her vagina.

Slowly, I pushed forward. She was already wet. My glans slid in easily; her vagina was tight and warm. My mother gasped. After I inserted my glans, I paused for a moment, kissed her a few more times, and caressed her beautiful breasts. I slowly thrust into my mother with my penis. As I fucked her with a slow, steady rhythm, her hips would come up to meet mine. During our first time having sex, our eyes never parted. I could feel every inch of the tender flesh inside her vagina. Her vaginal flesh was wet and tightly enveloped my penis. I could feel that I was about to ejaculate. My mother was too. She sobbed, her breathing becoming faster and faster, and she gripped my buttocks with one hand so that each thrust could penetrate deeper into her vagina.

"I'm about to climax, Mother," I gasped.

"Come on, baby," she said, almost ecstatically. As soon as she said that, I ejaculated wave after wave of semen into my mother's body.

My mother climaxed and groaned loudly. I could feel her vaginal flesh tightly enveloping my penis during her climax. I couldn't pull it out, but I didn't intend to. I filled my mother's womb with my sperm.

My orgasm lasted for several minutes, while my mother's orgasm lasted even longer. When my penis stopped throbbing, I collapsed limply onto my mother, my penis still inside her vagina.

We gasped for breath for several minutes. Finally, our breathing calmed and returned to normal. My penis softened and slid out of my mother's body. We kissed for a long time. We knew we would be lovers for the rest of our lives. After a while, I took my mother's hand and led her to the bathroom. I helped her put on a bathrobe and began to wash us both.

After the bath water got warm, I asked my mother if she regretted it.

"No, my dear son. I love you more than anything. I've never felt so right in my life.

You made love to me. You treated me with tenderness and respect. You fulfilled all my desires. Nothing is more special than this. I will love you forever." "I will love you forever too, Mother."

We went into the bathroom, and I finally had a chance to look at my mother's body properly. She was so radiant and sexy. I washed her hair, and then she washed mine. Her hands lovingly and gently massaged my hair. We soaped each other, and I caressed her breasts again. After we kissed, she washed my penis. I got hard again. She laughed as she played with my penis, then knelt down. I could foresee that our sex life would be anything but boring, and would involve many new experiences.

She gripped my penis with one hand and stroked my testicles with the other. Slowly, she took the head of my penis into her mouth, teasing it with her tongue. Her hand held my penis, and she slowly began to give me oral sex. This was the first time someone had given me oral sex (and I guess it was the first time my mother had put a penis in her mouth), and I didn't know if her technique was good. All I knew was that watching my mother's lips sucking on my penis, stroking it back and forth, was the most exciting thing I could imagine. She herself seemed to enjoy sucking on my penis, making "mmm" moaning sounds.

I quickly ejaculated a large amount of semen into my mother's mouth. She eagerly swallowed my semen, though most of it spilled from her mouth and dripped onto her breasts.

After I ejaculated, my mother continued to suck on my penis until it softened. As my penis slid out of her mouth, she smiled at me and stood up. We kissed passionately, and I tasted my own semen in my mother's mouth.

"I've always wanted to try this," she said, her tone playful and wanton.

"I've been fantasizing about it for so long. I can't believe it's actually happening," I replied. We both knew this was just the beginning of a new relationship between us. 　　Sex

would be a part of our lives for a long time. 　　After showering, we fell asleep quickly, naked and full of love. We had sex several more times after that night. Two months later, my mother found out she was pregnant with our first child. Our first child was born almost nine months after our first sexual encounter. We named him John Marion, after both of us. He is now ten years old. Two months before the baby's birth, we married in a small chapel in Las Vegas. We later had twins, both girls. Marian is now six. Jane Alexandra is four. Both girls look very much like their mother/grandmother. Our boy looks like his father/brother. We haven't told them our true relationship yet. I believe that one day, when they are older, we will tell them. 　　[Full text] 　　Byte count: 12960

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/196400.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=196400&aspx=1

Last access time:

Previous Page : 3 boys having sex with his wife [Full text]

Next Page : The Complete Story of the Dragon's Conquest and Romantic Adventures