[Summer Romance] (Romance Returns)

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

(Part One) A Romantic History of Mother and Son
At fourteen, I felt I was an ordinary person, except for being somewhat withdrawn.
I didn't participate in the school sports team, but that didn't stop me from enjoying exercise, especially long-distance running. Academically, I excelled
, winning a scholarship for outstanding student in my first semester of high school. As for extracurricular activities, I was passionate about
debating and was one of the two founders of the inter-school debate team.
Unless I had trouble with my studies, girls were generally uninterested in me, and my social life was practically
nonexistent. At my age, almost all boys were obsessed with chasing girls, but I found most
girls my age rather dull—fortunately, they saw me as a block of wood as well. Topics that interested them
were incredibly boring to me, and often I would only offer a nonsensical response long after they had finished talking. How
could I possibly have a good conversation with a girl whose interests didn't last long? It was less enjoyable than being alone
in the bathroom flipping through the old pornographic magazines my father had left behind before he left home.
My parents' relationship deteriorated a few years ago. My father only wanted my mother to be a good housewife,
while she wanted to return to school to finish her education. From the day she started continuing her adult education, my father began
constantly finding fault with her. In the last year of their marriage, his verbal abuse of my mother reached
a point that even I couldn't bear. Under his verbal attacks, my mother always kept a distance from him,
finding only some comfort in seeing me.
My father only paid attention to me when he used me as a weapon to hurt my mother. The most
vivid memory I have is of him forcibly trying to teach me basketball. Standing several meters away from the hoop, endlessly
aiming and then shooting—it seemed incredibly stupid to me. After testing my terrible shooting performance,
my father argued with my mother, accusing her of spoiling me into a coward. Although I was always among the top
students in my class, I think that causing trouble and being uneducated at school probably made him happier.
My father's verbal abuse, coupled with their growing disagreements,
shattered the foundation of my parents' life together, leading to their formal divorce agreement two years ago. The final spark was
the relationship between my mother and me.
My father's irrational behavior drew my mother and me closer, and this close, supportive relationship
clearly enraged him. During an argument, he suddenly noticed my mother and I desperately embracing and crying to resist his
attacks. He erupted outside the room, hurling
insults at us with words I didn't fully understand at the time. The next day, my mother went to see a lawyer.
After the divorce, my mother had to work two jobs and rely on a mortgage to support us both.
My father contributed sporadically to child support. During this time, peas and spaghetti became our staple
food.
I tried to make my mother's life easier outside of work; I became a good housekeeper and also
a competent cook. I could iron clothes without wrinkling the collar, which was quite difficult, but I
did it effortlessly. The first year, I was the head chef and cleaner for the whole house, while my mother
worked 16 hours a day from Monday to Friday, plus eight to ten hours on Saturdays, just to make ends meet
.
Sundays were our days together. We would spend the morning cleaning the house until my mother
was satisfied, and then we would go grocery shopping. After lunch, we would sometimes wander around, and sometimes
just stay home. On these days, we would talk freely and openly about
all sorts of topics related to our lives. Strangely, unlike talking to girls at school, I had absolutely
no trouble communicating with my mother.
My mother and I always had rich body language, hugging and kissing me tightly. Perhaps
after the tension in my parents' relationship, this gradually became an outlet for my mother's emotions and a habit that she retained.
She liked to turn around and give me a sudden hug. Sometimes I would sneak up behind her and suddenly hug
her belly tightly, laughing at her protests and attempts to break free of my arms. After I let go of her, she would
give me a kiss, and at that moment, I saw a spark of joy in her eyes.
On weekend evenings, we usually watched TV together, occasionally going out for burgers and a movie. On such
occasions, we shared the joy of devouring cheeseburgers. In fast-food restaurants, we would
tease each other about the wasabi on our faces, then wipe it clean with napkins. While watching a movie,
a simple handshake was enough for us to have a knowing conversation about the plot. If we spent the weekend at home
, I would gently pull my mother to sit on the sofa, letting her rest her head on my shoulder. Sometimes I would lie down and
rest my head on her lap, and she would stroke my hair while watching TV. We both enjoyed this affectionate interaction,
and this intimacy was devoid of any lust. As we enjoyed our physical contact,
I knew in my heart that I had essentially become my mother's prospective husband, except for one thing, of course.
My mother got a promotion at her first job and earned more money. She quit her other job
so she could spend more time at home with me. We had more opportunities to watch TV and read together.
At that time, I couldn't imagine this scene: my mother sitting formally at one end of the sofa, instead of
lazily walking towards me in her fluffy slippers and playfully hugging me.
Our relationship was very close, except for one time. It was last winter, and as usual, I hugged
my mother from behind, and my crotch inexplicably became aroused. She obviously noticed and mischievously nudged
my swollen lower body with her buttocks, then moved away from me. "Looks like Mom still has some charm, huh? Looks like
I'll have to wear a chastity belt when you're around from now on," she teased me about my extreme embarrassment. She continued, "Don't
feel guilty, darling, I think it's a compliment to Mom."
The same thing happened every time I hugged my mother from behind. She was no longer uneasy and began to accept
the behavior. I hugged her longer and longer, enjoying the tightness of my lower body against the soft crevice of my mother's buttocks.
It was a taboo feeling. My mother often joked about her chastity belt and had a habit of playfully
bumping me with her bottom before leaving my body.
One morning, after showering, I was only wearing long pajama pants, no shorts underneath. I went into the kitchen, walked
behind my mother, and gently hugged her. As usual, I suddenly got an erection. For some reason, my mother started to move her body
, and my penis slid between her legs, reaching the soft part of her thighs. My mother stiffened and then
pressed her thighs together, which aroused me intensely. But my mother immediately regained her self-control and moved away from me.
At this moment, I noticed that my mother was breathing heavily and her face was flushed.
"Pat, I think we should stop it before things go astray. You're too old to
hug your mother like that, okay?"
"I think you're right, Mom. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry."
"I know. Let's forget about it."
From that morning on, our relationship underwent a subtle change. My mother became distant and cautious with me,
and always kept a certain distance whenever I hugged her. Strangely, I found that not touching my mother's body excited me more
.
Around this time, school holidays began, and I finished my first year of high school with an annual scholarship. My mother
was proud of me and promised to take me on a summer vacation as a reward. The past few summers had been spent at home, and I
was practically going moldy from being cooped up at home; the idea of a vacation was wonderful, and the temptation was irresistible.
Uncle Ben and Aunt Pat were an old-fashioned couple, not usually very talkative. But on vacation in the mountains
, they were different. When I called Ben "Uncle," he told me I was old enough
to call them by their names. My experience with my father had made me somewhat
wary of adult men, but Ben's friendly and honest attitude quickly won me over. He could even joke about everyone and everything
.
Pat and Ben showed us the layout of the house as they led us to our bedrooms: three rooms,
two bedrooms on either side of the main living room. The middle room served as the kitchen, dining room, and living room.
Separate bathrooms were located outside the three rooms. These holiday cottages were far from the city, with basic amenities. A diesel
generator provided electricity, and water was pumped down from higher up in the mountain, providing sufficient pressure for the shower pipes.
The water heater, air conditioner, dryer, and stove were all powered by this generator at the back of the cottage. There was no
telephone or television; the only connection to the outside world was an old-fashioned portable FM radio. There were
two large fireplaces on either side of the main living room. It was a peaceful and undisturbed place for a vacation.
My mother and I shared a large double bed in one bedroom. I had never slept with anyone before
, and now I was going to share a bed with my mother. Deep down, I looked forward to this arrangement, and a couple of erotic
thoughts surfaced in my mind.
After putting our luggage down in the bedroom, Ben, Pat, and I went out to explore the surroundings. The cottage was
built into the mountainside, with tall deciduous trees surrounding the back door. In front of the cottage was a lake, where two canoes were moored on a simple dock
. Ben said this place was perfect for fishing and swimming. He also said he'd teach me how to catch fish and row a boat sometime.
I happily agreed; I'm open to any sport except basketball.
After walking around for a while, the sun began to set, and we returned to our lodgings. The women prepared dinner, and Ben and I
talked in the hallway about fishing rods, harpoons, and the art of fishing. I'd never seen Ben talk
so much.
I listened intently, and I realized that even though I was only 14, he treated me like an adult,
which made me happy.
After dinner, the adults talked about things that had happened in the family's past, and I felt increasingly tired.
Ben talked about the old stories with great enthusiasm. Back in my room, I fell asleep immediately.
When Mom came back, she quietly made the bed without turning on the light, not wanting to wake me. While she was taking off her clothes, she bumped into something
and woke me up: "Is that you, Mom?"
"Yes, I tried not to wake you, but I guess I didn't succeed!" Mom laughed.
Her laughter was slightly louder and longer than usual; she seemed to have had a few drinks.
"Are you alright, Mom?"
"I guess not. Your mom only had two more beers than usual. Did you warm up the bed?
It's so cold in here tonight!" With that, Mom crawled into bed and rested her cold legs on mine.
I deliberately spread her legs apart, and she, sensing my position, rested them on mine again. We
chuckled softly, playing a game of hide-and-seek. To warm up, Mom pressed her cold body against me.
I pulled her closer, warming her back with my chest. The old problem arose: my erect penis pressed against
Mom's buttocks again. Mom didn't move, and I quietly held her, enjoying the intimate contact.
A little while later, Mom said, "Turn over, I want to warm the other side." I did as she said, and when Mom felt
more comfortable, she said, "Looks like your mom has to wear a chastity belt even when she sleeps." Mom then laughed
.
"Mom, I didn't mean to."
"I understand, forget about it, let's go to sleep." She hugged me.
I could feel Mom's soft breasts pressing against my back, which almost kept me awake. A few minutes later,
the side of the bed where Mom was sleeping became warm, and she turned over, her breathing becoming even. I lay there for a while, savoring
the lingering softness on my back. A little while later, I fell asleep.
When I woke up, I heard Ben knocking on the door: "Time to get up and go fishing."
"We're up," Mom replied, then got up and dressed. I lay in bed, a
blanket covering my stomach, my morning erection not yet completely gone. Mom glanced at it and said, "I definitely have to wear a chastity belt."
Mom giggled and walked towards the bathroom.
After breakfast, Ben gave me my first ever fishing lesson. I cast my line between every tree I could reach
, and after much practice, I could basically cast the lure to the distance I wanted at will. Now at
least I don't have to fish only for "tree fish," which made me somewhat satisfied. Ben took me a quarter of an inch from my lodgings...
About a mile away, we started fishing for real. Ben caught quite a few mandarin fish, and I also caught two that had somehow
gotten away with being caught on my hook.
We ate the fish we caught at noon, and in the afternoon, Ben and I learned to paddle a canoe. I quickly learned the basics
, and when we turned back, Ben let me paddle back alone. Mom and Pat watched me
row from the dock, with Ben guiding me. As I rowed the canoe, I saw pride on Mom's face.
Seeing Mom so happy made me feel good too.
Ben suggested swimming, so we went back inside to change into our swimsuits. The water was deep, with only fine sand on the bottom, no tree stumps or
rocks to hurt our feet. We swam for a while, and then Ben started teaching me how to right the capsized canoe in the water
and how to get on from underwater. Ben was very satisfied with my progress and told me that I could now row far away by myself
, and he even offered Mom a ride. I rowed the canoe in front of Mom to show off my skills. Observing
my mother from the boat, wearing a wet swimsuit, she exuded a different kind of charm. She was a very beautiful woman.
That evening after dinner, we chatted in the corridor. My mother and I sat on the old-fashioned
wicker love chairs opposite Ben and Pat. The moonlight reflected off the lake, casting long, silvery rays. Crickets chirped around the cottage
.
Occasionally, bullfrogs by the lake made a "cluck-cluck-cluck" sound, like it was coming from a bass drum.
At home, I thought that traveling would make me miss my friends back home. The surrounding mountains, cottages, and lakes were so
new to me that I barely had time to think about them. The lively conversation between my aunt and uncle influenced me.
I enthusiastically joined their conversation. I asked more questions than I spoke, and I benefited greatly from their perspectives.
"Evelyn, haven't you thought about having a boyfriend again? You've been divorced for two years,"
Aunt Pat asked.
Mom thought for a moment and replied, "I only started having free time last month. Before that, I never had
time to think about these things."
"It seems you need to consider it. You're still young and charming," Pat said.
"Most of the men I've met are either married or have no interest in a divorced woman with a child
. I think I'm past the age for marriage."
"Ben can introduce you to someone!"
"Pat, I don't need a matchmaker. I've been doing very well these past few years. Paul and I are
very happy. He gives me enough comfort." Mom ended the conversation, which surprised me. To prove her
point, she hugged me tightly and pulled me closer.
For a long time, no one spoke, each drinking their beverages and trying to clear their minds. In the moonlight, I couldn't see Pat
's expression. But clearly, she was embarrassed by Mom's answer. Ben gulped down his iced drink, looking at the lake
.
Mom turned closer to me, as if afraid I would leave her. I felt very touched at that moment.
A few minutes later, Mom apologized to Pat: “I’m sorry, Pat, I was too harsh.
You know, my marriage to my ex-husband was a failure, and it took me a while
to accept another man. I’m not mentally ready for another man yet. I need to focus on taking care of Paul. I’ll think about it more in a few years.
Right now, Paul and I have just escaped hell and are enjoying a new life. I don’t want to risk bringing it back to hell.
That wouldn’t be fair to Paul.”
“You’re right, Everyn. I need to consider other people’s situations more,” Pat said.
“Paul is a great guy, but you also need to consider other needs,” Ben laughed
.
“If that includes men who want to control my life, I can live without those needs,”
Mom said, then laughed.
The conversation continued, but the tension from before had dissipated, and we started talking about the day’s events.
While they chatted, I carefully considered their words. Mom put her arm around my shoulder, like
a ray of sunlight in the darkness. I instinctively thought that when Ben and the others said "other needs," they meant Mom still
had sexual needs. I felt Mom's soft body against me, and involuntarily, an emotion welled up inside me.
My attention focused on the physical contact with Mom, and before I even knew what was happening, my
desire was rekindled. My tactile nerves were several times more sensitive than usual, and my attention was focused on Mom
's thighs pressed against my shoulders and her breasts resting on my shoulder. My heart was pounding, and I was so nervous I could barely breathe.
I had to get away from Mom immediately, or I would go crazy. I quickly made an excuse to escape back to my bedroom.
I lay on the bed, all sorts of crazy thoughts swirling in my head. I had fallen in love with my mother. Mom
worked hard so we could have a good life, and she even sacrificed the opportunity to remarry for me, yet I was fantasizing about her body
.
What was wrong with me? Was I mentally unstable? Or was this just a phase every boy goes through during puberty?
Or were these sinful thoughts just a passing fad, and would everything heal itself?
One thing was certain: my mother became the sole object of my sexual fantasies. The idea of a mother-son relationship
swirled endlessly in my mind. Despite my best efforts to suppress these thoughts, they would
n't leave. In a daze, I fell asleep. In my sleep, I began to have sexual dreams about my mother.
I woke up again as she went back to her bedroom and got into bed. The night chill had pierced her, and she
asked me to warm her up, just like the night before. I reached out and hugged her tightly to my chest. I became erect again. This
time, my mother said nothing and didn't move until I had warmed her up. When she turned over,
I turned too, letting her warm her chest. My mother rested her head on my shoulder, embracing me for
warmth. After a while, I noticed my mother's shoulders were trembling, and her tears were dripping onto my clothes.
"Mom, what's wrong?"
She stopped crying and said, "I was just thinking about the days I spent with your father. Tonight's conversation
reminded me of the pain we went through. Now, even though it's just the two of us, I feel very happy.
What about you?"
“Me too, I don’t miss Dad at all. All I remember him for is yelling at you
.”
“Do you want someone else to be your father?”
“Oh, no! I’m happy as long as we’re together. Do you want another husband
?”
“I don’t want one now. I can love you, and besides, you can fill my emotional void. Come on, give your mother a kiss. It’s
been so long since we kissed goodnight.”
I went over and kissed Mom’s cheek, and she kissed me back with warm, soft lips. After a few breathless seconds of passionate kissing, we
separated. Mom and I fell asleep in each other’s arms.
The next day, I woke up very early to go to the bathroom. I ran to bed and crawled under the covers, hugging Mom’s
back for warmth. She leaned in, and we looked like two spoons stacked together.
“Are you cold?” she asked.
“My butt almost froze off!”
“I need to get up for a bit too. When I come back, you’ll warm me up, right?”
“That would be my pleasure!” I replied.
Mom jumped off the bed, and a moment later she returned, and we resumed our positions with the two ladles. "You're alright,
you didn't have to squat down, my butt almost froze," Mom said.
"Come warm up." I hugged her tightly, and I became aroused again.
"Oh my god, I forgot to wear my chastity belt again," Mom giggled mischievously.
"It has feelings for its own mother too."
"Ah, I know, maybe it wants to warm my cold butt," Mom said, hugging me tighter.
I focused all my attention on my penis pressing against Mom's buttocks. Strangely, her reaction
was different from before we came here. Since we arrived, she hadn't acted like a mother, and I had
n't acted like a son. The caution we showed in the kitchen a month ago had vanished, and now Mom seemed
to want us to be closer.
I shifted my buttocks, trying to lie more comfortably. At that moment, my penis slid across Mom's buttocks, pressing against her
vulva between her legs. Through her pajamas and underpants, I could feel the sensation emanating from there—soft and
warm. I couldn't resist thrusting deeper. While I was doing this, Mom remained motionless.
I had never reached such an orgasm before. Then Mom shifted slightly, the gentle friction sending me to an instant
climax. I held her tightly, pressing my groin against her buttocks. Waves of orgasm
washed over me, and I ejaculated, my semen spraying onto my shorts and soaking Mom's underwear and underpants.
When it was all over, I didn't know what to say. Afraid of upsetting Mom, I dared not move
. Finally, I pulled away, saying, "Oh God, I'm sorry, Mom, I just couldn't hold back
, it just happened."
Mom remained silent for a long time. With each passing second, my embarrassment and fear grew.
What had I done? How could I do this to my own mother?
Mom turned around and kissed me, saying, "Paul, don't feel guilty. I was teasing you just now, and
these consequences were unavoidable. I'm the one who should apologize in this room. Okay, come and kiss Mom, let's
keep this as our little secret, okay?" I kissed Mom: "I love you!"
"I love you too!" I said, tears welling up in my eyes.
Just then, Ben knocked on the door, telling us to come out for breakfast. We hugged, got dressed, and got out of bed. Before she left
the bedroom, she turned to me and said, "Paul, yesterday I said I didn't need a husband, but I was lying."
Behind
a screen in the corner of the room was a hidden old-fashioned washbasin. On it sat a large water jug, a
soap dish, and a basin, with several towels draped beside it. I got out of bed, took off my shorts, and went to
the washbasin to clean up the mess so I could change into clean clothes.
My mother's towel was carelessly left on the marble countertop; she had forgotten to hang it up. I picked it up and hung it
on the railing. My mother always forgets to tidy up. She would just toss her towel aside after using it. She was usually very
disciplined, except for this one thing.
The towel emitted a faint scent of soap and some other aromas, and I couldn't help but bring it close to my nose.
Through the fragrance of soap, I sniffed carefully; the scent seemed familiar, like a faint smell of seaweed, and
a flutter ran through me. I knew that faint seaweed scent was my mother's scent, and primal
desires were awakened again, my lower body swelling rapidly... I couldn't help but fantasize that she was calling to me… Suddenly, I
felt this was a desecration of my mother. I quickly put the towel away, washed up, and got dressed.
I picked out the clothes I had worn yesterday, intending to put them and my dirty shorts in the laundry basket. When I opened
the basket, I saw my mother's underwear lying on top of the dirty clothes, the crotch still wet—it
was from my semen. The underwear smelled the same as the towel. I picked it up, and the air was immediately filled with that
smell—my mother's smell! The smell overwhelmed all my senses.
I examined the underwear in my hands; clearly, the wet part was much larger than the spots of my semen.
She was excited too! I was her son! Because of me, because I was in bed with her… she
was excited too, just like me. I remembered what she had said, and I suddenly realized they seemed to have another
meaning. Was my mother testing me? I so desperately hoped so!
"Breakfast is on the table." Ben's greeting interrupted my thoughts. I quickly put my mother's underwear
back in the laundry basket and hurried to the living room, deciding to think about it more later.
After greeting everyone good morning, I sat down to eat breakfast. The conversation at the table was casual, ranging from distant relatives
to current trends. Across the table, I carefully observed my mother. She seemed
no different from any other mother, something I wouldn't have done before, but today, now, I was
observing and appreciating her from a completely new perspective.
Through her loose t-shirt, I noticed the curve of her chest, her beautiful, bright eyes, and her vibrant
, charming face. Occasionally, her gaze would meet mine, and she would give me a smile that warmed my heart.
My mind was racing. But I was no longer her obedient son; I had become her suitor, a
devoted suitor captivated by everything about her. In the past hour, I had become Oedipus
…
Ben's words interrupted my thoughts: “I have to go into town soon to take care of the business, and Pat
also needs to buy some things. Are you coming with us or staying here by yourself for a few days?” Ben
asked.
“I just left the city, and I like it here. Pat, what do you say?” Mother asked.
“Let’s stay here; I’m going to explore the lake,” I replied.
“Then let’s stay here,” Mother said.
“There’s a small, lush meadow on the other side of the lake, the perfect spot for a picnic. There’s also a beautiful
waterfall nearby, offering the best view of the lake,” the kind-hearted Pat added. “Evelyn
, if you like, I can prepare lunch for you, and you can go with Paul.”
“Paul, what do you think? Would you like your mother to come with you on this expedition?” my mother asked.
“An expedition needs a beautiful woman to accompany it, so the hero can rescue her,” I joked.
“Evelyn, you’ve given birth to a brave little knight. I bet it won’t be long before he charms every
girl,” Pat laughed. “What a pity, my youth is over.”
“Paul, are you trying to seduce my wife?” Ben said with a smirk.
“I’m just going on an adventure on the lake,” I replied hastily. I lacked the humor to handle such adult topics.
“It’s just for your own good. Don’t let girls get to you and make you fall in love.”
Pat and Mom started clearing the table, while Ben took me outside to teach me how to use the generator.
He explained each step, showing me how to start and stop it. I had to
run it for an hour every morning and evening so the refrigerator and air conditioner would cool, and so we could have electricity when we needed to use appliances.
Ben explained that when the generator wasn’t working, the cabin’s auxiliary lights would be powered by the battery. Remember to
charge the generator, or it would be dark at night. After a brief explanation of the gas stove and water heater, Ben
was pleased to see that I could take care of everything.
When we returned to the hall, the table was cleared, with two glasses of cold snacks prepared for us.
A bag wrapped in a waterproof sheet, a blanket, and a picnic blanket
were provided for Mom and me for our lunch picnic. Finally, there were binoculars in the waterproof bag. Ben helped me load everything
into the canoe and secured it so that it wouldn't be lost if the boat capsized. We boarded the canoe, and
as it left the shore, Pat and Ben waved goodbye.
The two of us and our luggage were too heavy for the canoe. Mom knelt at the bow, paddling, while
I struggled to steer it. At first, we were quite clumsy, but soon we found our rhythm
and paddled in coordination, finally managing to move the canoe straight.
Once I could handle the canoe skillfully, I easily steered it towards the center of the lake, admiring
the scenery. The beautiful landscape on the shore was like a series of postcards. In the distance, towering mountains stretched endlessly,
their peaks capped with snow. The lakeshore was lined with lush trees, interspersed with occasional bare rocks
.
The sky was a deep, clear blue, and a breeze carried fluffy white clouds.
"Are you alright, Mom?" I asked her with concern, worried she might be bored.
"I'm fine, I'm enjoying the scenery. It's beautiful here, isn't it?"
"It's just too quiet," I replied.
We paddled silently across the lake, and I watched my mother's back from behind, once again stunned by her beauty
. I savored everything before me with a new perspective, details I had never noticed before
.
Petite yet full of energy, I could see
the contraction of her muscles through her t-shirt with each stroke of the paddle. Her short, dark brown hair blushed slightly in the sunlight, and her tight
jeans accentuated her slender waist.
Thinking back to what happened in bed this morning, I wondered what she was thinking. I thought she was encouraging
me; she probably would allow me to do something even more outrageous. She and my father have been divorced for at least two years,
and I'm certain she hasn't had any sexual contact in those two years. That's probably why she… Poor mother, she
gave up the joys of life for me. I thought I knew how much she loved me, but
now I understand maternal love from a completely new perspective. I know I'm beyond help; I love her.
Uncle Ben's words awakened long-buried feelings in my mother's heart, and also stirred up
memories of her marriage. But I think it was daytime, in bright light, and she couldn't possibly be completely honest with me
.
Afterwards, she was in bed, nestled beside me, embracing me like a lover. When I said goodnight, there was a
lingering, passionate kiss and eager lips, not just a light kiss on the cheek as usual. And this
morning she kissed me several times, her kisses like those of a lover in the throes of passion. What was she thinking? I thought I saw
tears of disappointment in her eyes, because I hadn't acted like a lover? Numb, I didn't notice her
hints this morning.
What should I do? I thought frantically. There's only one answer: I'll do whatever my mother wants me
to do.
Last night she said she wouldn't let a cannibalistic monster into our lives. But she's a normal, healthy
woman; her body still needs the comfort of love… If she wants me to be her lover? Fine.
Who else could it hurt? No one but ourselves could be hurt, and what could we possibly be hurt about?
I really want to have my mother completely, I crave her, and after much contemplation, I've come to this conclusion.
Isn't our little game of tightly embracing tinged with lust? Like the chastity belt joke my mother played.
I will obey her will and do whatever she asks me to do.
“Paul, look, there’s a waterfall on the left. Do you see it?”
My mother’s words interrupted my reverie. I looked in the direction she pointed, and saw a small waterfall
cascading down a low cliff and disappearing into the jungle behind it.
“I see it, let’s go there,” I replied.
We drove straight towards the waterfall and moored on the gravelly bank beside it, where the waterfall formed a stream that flowed
into a lake. My mother kept stretching her legs, while I dragged the canoe out of the water. Relaxing our cramped leg
muscles delayed us for a short while, and then we began to explore the upper reaches of the waterfall.
My mother’s mood was cheerful and changeable. Usually, she was very serious for our sake, as if she had forgotten
everything. But now, she was as lively as a mischievous girl. We laughed heartily,
teasing each other without restraint, and surveying everything around the waterfall.
I saw another side of my mother that I rarely showed. I suddenly realized that psychologically she
was more like a little girl than I had imagined. In her arguments with Dad, she was a resilient, headstrong woman, a shrewd and calculating career
woman, yet to me, she was a loving mother. Now she was relaxed, open her heart—she was an angel!
I love my mother! I felt this intensely again.
We explored everything around us, spending the entire day enjoying the beauty of nature.
We were the only intruders in this wilderness, as if we had been purified and elevated, as if we had merged into nature.
We wandered freely, the Adam and Eve complex rising in our hearts. The colorful wildflowers,
the delicate pine cones, the squirrels leaping in the trees—all of this filled us with wonder.
We were dazzled, unconsciously captivated. Mom wasn't wearing makeup today; I noticed her
full, pink lips and couldn't resist kissing them. Her breasts bounced under her oversized t-shirt, and I wanted
to touch them. Beneath the soft curve of her lower abdomen were her legs, tightly encased in jeans, drawing my
attention further. There, the incredible things I craved hid.
I imagined this woman's private side; she was my mother on one hand, my unknown world on the other,
and yet another side—I wasn't sure yet—that she might become my lover. If only she could understand even a little of
the newfound love I felt for her, the flower of love would bloom between us.
Once, I noticed she was looking at me with a strange gaze. I saw her
quickly look away when she realized I had noticed her staring, her face flushed with embarrassment. What was she thinking?
I think I know, but I haven't yet found a way to let her know that I'm thinking the same thing. We are two
isolated islands separated by worldly conventions, and I have no experience in building a bridge across the abyss that separates us. I understand my mother—mature, intelligent
, and utterly rule-abiding—so close, yet I dare not reach out.
The sun is setting, hanging low on the horizon; it's time to go home. When I said it was time to go back to the cabin,
I could see the lingering reluctance on my mother's face. We busied ourselves loading our luggage into the canoe, and in these
final moments, an unspoken melancholy welled up between us.
Paddled across the lake, we found our inactive muscles stiff and aching. We complained and
joked about the monotony of our daily lives and our lack of exercise. The sun sank behind the mountains, a cool breeze brought a refreshing
breeze, and as we gradually warmed up from paddling, we paddled harder, and the canoe moved faster. It was getting
dark, and there was still some time before the moon rose; we didn't want to stay on this dark lake.
After a strenuous effort, we finally reached the shore in the twilight. I helped my mother carry our things back to the cabin,
and then went outside to start the generator. When I returned to the cabin, my mother was taking a shower, so I sat down on the porch.
The moon had already risen, and the mountains were bathed in its silvery light. After Mom finished washing up, I washed up, while Mom
busied herself setting out the cold appetizers for dinner.
We ate and chatted about random things. I sensed the unspoken messages emanating from her that only we
could understand. After dinner, I helped Mom clear the dishes.
Once we had tidied up the dining room and the cabin, we sat down on the love chair in front of the porch, enjoying the moonlight on the lake and the surrounding mountains.
After a moment of silence, Mom broke the silence: “Paul, what a wonderful day, thank you. 　　 Since
the day I was able to face life independently, I have never felt so completely relaxed and enjoying myself. 　　 ” “I had a great time too. I’ve never seen you like this…you’re such an optimist.” 　　 “It’s all because of you,” she replied, wrapping an arm around me for a short hug. 　　I shifted to find a more comfortable position. Our position was a little awkward, my arms 　　wrapped around Mom and she nestled close to me, resting her head on my shoulder. 　　 As if afraid to break this warm atmosphere, we sat silently, gazing at the tranquil lake before us. 　　I could feel the dampness of my mother's hair after her shower, making my cheeks tingle. I was content; I 　　had my mother, my warm and gentle mother, right beside me. What more could one ask for in life? I 　　gently embraced her with overflowing love, deeply feeling her affection. 　　 Time seemed to stand still; our future depended on this crucial moment. We 　　took a small step onto an unfamiliar path. What lay ahead? I almost held my breath, afraid that the slightest movement would shatter 　　the delicate peace. 　　 She looked up at me, just as I gazed at the lake. I could feel her gaze, knowing she was scrutinizing 　　everything about me. In the dim moonlight, I lowered my head, looking down at her. The moonlight was hazy, her oval face indistinct 　　; I could only make out her eyes and her lips. Her eyes drew me closer like a magnet 　　, until our lips met. Overwhelmed by intense emotions, I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her 　　close to my chest, and planted a deep, passionate kiss on her lips. She hesitated for only a second before 　　responding to my kiss with the fiery fervor of a burning fire. Time ticked by... all our pent-up emotions were released in that 　　one kiss.

We kissed passionately on the porch, and moments later, we lay naked on the bed… We rolled
around, unconsciously shifting from one spot to another. We embraced, entwined tightly, our lips
locked in an endless kiss, melting into passion.
A torrent of desire engulfed me, hot and intense. I began to move, on an unfamiliar
path I had never walked before, aimlessly.
Her genitals, hot and soft, pressed tightly against my throbbing erection, stimulating me beyond reason. I began
to thrust, and her body immediately responded. We breathed heavily, like two mad locomotives
, our tongues locked in a passionate duel. My hands slid down her back, then
down to caress and knead her firm buttocks, our bodies pressed together. I couldn't control myself, completely intoxicated
by a blissful, intoxicating frenzy.
I buried my face deep in her breasts, kissing her nipples, venting my desire.
I was so inexperienced in all of this. Overwhelming passion made me roll over on her breasts, and she guided
my erection into her most intimate lips. In a brief, chaotic rush, I entered her. Her flesh was tender
and warm, making me forget everything, lost in a powerful orgasm… In that instant, I seemed to know
what eternity meant, again and again, seemingly without end.
This was my first time, and it was so quick. I lingered on that moment of overwhelming sensation, unwilling
to leave the woman who had made me feel this way. But all I could do was lie on top of her, deeply penetrating her body, marveling at
her heat.
After a while, I was still lying on top of her, my penis still tightly inside her.
I floated in the blissful emptiness after sexual satisfaction, as if I had entered heaven.
“What have we done!” She struggled in my arms, trying to push me away.
“Oh God, Paul, stop! What are we doing? We can’t do this, stop!”
She struggled beneath me, repeating the same words over and over.
My warm, hazy world vanished instantly, replaced by fear and shock. My back stiffened, filled with
astonishment and confusion. How could she have gone from a devoted lover to this?
“What did I do wrong, Mom?” I asked.
“What? We only committed incest, what a mistake! How could I let things get so
out of control?”
I felt incredibly embarrassed by her sudden change, utterly speechless. My first
thought after the initial shock was, “Mom, I thought you wanted this.”
There was a long silence before she answered my question. When she finally spoke again, her voice
was restrained, each word carefully chosen, as if every phrase had been carefully considered.
“Paal, just now, our passion overcame our reason. You and I played a dangerous
game. I stopped it to bring you back to reality, because this was your first time and mine wasn't. You can
lose your temper, but I shouldn't. I don't want you to regret what you did today.
Think it over carefully, and tomorrow night we'll continue doing the same thing we did today, and I won't
stop again, because I hope so too, even though it shouldn't be. I'm your mother, and I shouldn't let
myself indulge in our emotional games.”
Mom paused for a moment to consider, and I noticed her careful choice of words. The wonderful
experience that had just happened intoxicated me, and I didn't want to lose it. In a moment of panic, I interrupted her contemplation and asked, “Mom, you
said you also liked what we were just doing, so why are you doing it again now?”
“Is that even a question? Because what we did was wrong.”
I remembered a debate at school last semester, where we argued about the right and wrong of some social ethics.
If some people believe a certain behavior is right while others think it is wrong, is it right or wrong?
The outcome of the argument depends on individual beliefs; others believe the opposite. It's not a simple
matter of right and wrong. I now have a personal, real-life
application of the core of that argument.
"Why is it wrong? We both want it and enjoy it."
"Didn't you learn in church that incest is morally wrong?" "
Mom, I know a boy and a girl can't dance because their religion forbids it, considering
it immoral and evil. You and I both enjoy dancing, and our religion doesn't forbid
it.
Didn't you always teach me not to parrot others?"
"Paul, are you trying to prove incest is justified?"
"Mom, who is Cain's wife?"
"Who knows?" she said, laughing after a moment of silence. "No
one can give a logical answer to the context of the Bible."
"Why do I love you? I don't have a logical answer, but that's just how I am, and I don't
deny it." I hugged my mother tightly; she fell into thought, without objecting.
“Mom, my love for you is as deep as it was yesterday or a week ago. The only change is that I
love you now, I love everything about you.”
She responded tenderly as I kissed her, which gave me hope that she was beginning to accept our
new relationship.
“Paul, I love you so much, but there are two voices screaming in my head, warning
me. One voice says it's wrong, it shouldn't be happening. It gives no reason, just reminds me it
's wrong. The other voice tells me my love for you is beautiful. It points out how much you love me and how much I
want you. I agree with the second voice, but my reason is holding me back. I need to think about it carefully.”
“You mentioned my past teachings of you. Back then, I really thought it was all wrong, but I
never thought about it carefully. Now I have to think about it carefully, which is difficult, especially after we've made love.”
"Then... Paul, should you be my lover, or should you remain my son?"
What would she do? I was bewildered, unsure what to do. I had to argue with my mother, hoping
she would agree with me.
"I think you should know that if you want us to be just mother and son like before, then I can only
agree. I will obey all your decisions, and I will do so for the rest of my life. But you're making me
make my own decisions, which you might not like, so that you can correct me if I'm wrong.
I don't see the point of this choice."
"Can I be your lover? I don't know. Until tonight, I had no experience in that area, and
I can't answer that part of your question. I think the only honest thing I can say is that I want to learn to be
your lover."
"Paul, kiss me goodnight, let's sleep. Maybe by tomorrow morning, everything
will be alright."
"Mom, in the morning I'll still be like this, what new answers can I find besides what you want to do?"
“I don’t know, but maybe I’ll find the answer by morning. One of those voices might fall silent when I wake up
. Kiss me now, goodnight, let’s sleep.” After
kissing my mother goodnight, I lay down and thought for a little while. I was fairly certain everything would be
better. My mother might say “no” to end it all, or she might say “yes
” now and later. If she could face reality, she would accept our new situation… I finally fell asleep, thinking about my
first love.
I woke up before dawn, the pre-dawn grayness enveloping our bedroom. My mother was still asleep, and I was
careful not to wake her. I gently shifted in bed and fell asleep again.
When I woke up again, the sun was already up, and golden sunlight streamed through the window. To my surprise,
my mother had been quietly watching me while I slept. I opened my mouth to say something, but she smiled and put a finger
to her lips, telling me to be quiet, then she extended… She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me. Her kiss was gentle and
passionate. At first, I was hesitant, but then I instinctively responded, holding her tightly and returning her kiss. A smile appeared
on her face, and sparks flew in her eyes.
We lay facing each other on the bed, she trying to press her body against mine. I then embraced her tightly and gave her a
long kiss. Desire overcame me, and like last night, I reached the peak of orgasm in seconds.
I lay contentedly on top of her, quietly, my still-throbbing erection buried inside her. She gave me a
passionate kiss, tightly embracing everything about me.
"Do you still love me?" she asked.
"I love you, Mom."
"I love you too... Can you come down and let me be on top? You're too heavy." "She said with a smile.
I reluctantly climbed off her and lay down beside her. She sat up, pulled her knees together, and
half-squatted on me with her legs straddling her. I saw her genitals, and it was a close-
up of them, wet with my semen. This was the first time I had ever seen such a shocking sight. The pubic hair on her pubic bone formed an
almost perfect triangle, covering her entire vulva. Peeking between the labia, I could see the pink
flesh, glistening wetly. Her clitoris surprised me immensely. It was at the top of the labia,
about the size of my little finger, standing erect outside the labia, looking like a pink..." A small, dark penis.
I had seen pictures of naked women before, and I had studied an anatomy book, but I don't think I had ever seen
such a large clitoris.
My mother wriggled on top of me, and when she found her right position, she grasped my still wet and
smooth penis. I remembered that floating feeling from before, and I began to get excited. With each heartbeat,
my penis began to tremble. She slowly lowered her body, enveloping my throbbing erection. The depths of her genitals
were incredibly hot. I rotated my hips to penetrate deeper, finally finding a position
where I could touch the very bottom of her vagina. The head of my penis could feel the violent contractions of her vagina
, the impact was so wonderful.
Mom pulled my hand to her breast, and as I rubbed her breast, her body began to move back and forth,
our pelvises rubbing together. With each movement of her body, I could feel her genitals
rubbing against the head of my penis, this wonderful sensation gradually traveling up to my groin.
She moved faster and faster, and I became more and more excited. After the previous release, I could now control
myself a little, and I slowed down my increasingly intense excitement. As she moved even more violently, she secreted
more fluid, so much so that with each movement of her body… Every movement produced a splashing
sound, echoing in the room.
As she worked, I enjoyed the constant, gentle contractions of her vagina
… My mother's face was tense, as if she were drunk. Her movements were so fast; I couldn't hold back for long.
Suddenly, I felt my semen spurt out, shooting deep into her body. Her wet, hot vagina
gripped my glans tightly. With each ejaculation, her vagina contracted in response, until she
suddenly experienced a powerful spasm. My ejaculating penis felt as if it were being grabbed by a strong hand. My mother
screamed, "Oh… yes…!" and collapsed onto my chest.
She showered my face with kisses, saying, "Oh my God, so good! Paul, so
wonderful!" Then came more kisses.
Finally, she calmed down, her head resting on the pillow beside me. We lay there, embracing each other,
just lying there, and I didn't want to move anymore. I had just experienced an incredibly intense sexual arousal, the most intense I'd ever felt in my life,
and I could still feel my mother's body twitching and trembling slightly. I also had a small surprise:
just now, I had finally completed a full sexual encounter with her. We just
lay there quietly, not moving and not wanting to move. My penis, limp from the intense intercourse,
was exposed to the air.
Mom laughed: “It’s gotten what it wanted, and now it probably doesn’t want to do anything anymore.
Can it still do anything?”
“It’s too weak to protest, nor dare it wage war,” I replied.
Mom laughed and climbed off me to lie down beside me. Words were superfluous; after last night’s discussion,
I knew which voice had won, and the result was everything we had just done. We
kissed again and again; I couldn’t get enough of kissing her. I didn’t want to be apart from her, not even an inch.
I kissed her nipples, caressed her soft breasts, and she pulled my hand to her genitals. I
slipped a finger inside, exploring the deepest part of her vagina and the bumps along the way. The inner walls of her vagina were so soft
and slippery—this was the source of my excitement. Mom took my hand and guided my finger to touch her
clitoris, demonstrating how to massage it gently. When she was satisfied with my learning and
I could apply it skillfully, she gently grasped my penis and began to stimulate it. We
worked together, absorbed and loving, for a long, long time.
She lay down beside me, curled her legs and swayed them. I put my knees between her legs, lay on
top of her, and she began to guide me inside. After two or three repetitions, I was fully inside her.
As I was about to thrust, she said, "Don't move for now, wait a little while. I like the feeling of you being completely inside me."
I kissed her and obediently lay on top of her. Her vagina enveloped me with its heat; the feeling was wonderful
. Sometimes I could feel her vagina contracting slightly, and my penis would involuntarily throb in response.
I lay on top of her for the longest time I could endure, or rather, enjoy, but soon I couldn't resist
and began to thrust.
My mother kissed me, murmuring, "That's it, slower, slower," and began to
respond. I thrust excitedly, each time more powerful and with greater amplitude, until I was almost
about to climax. We slowly climbed to our peak, entwined together, trying to reach climax together. We began to thrust,
faster and faster…
In just a moment, as I thrust in, I came! She began to spasm, and I pressed tightly against her wildly
writhing body, my penis deeply inserted into her vagina, trying to hold it in. Her vaginal walls contracted incessantly
, causing her entire body to convulse. Her spasms gradually subsided, and I felt
an intense heat deep within her body, filled with semen. With intermittent vaginal contractions, semen was squeezed out, dripping down my scrotum
.
Finally, it was all over. We reached our climax together, and in the afterglow of our satisfied afterglow, we embraced
, motionless. Semen, vaginal fluid, and sweat mixed together, making us both sticky, slowly dripping onto the sheets
. I felt a ticklish sensation.
“Paul, this is the first time I’ve had two orgasms in a row, right after each other, and the last one almost
made me faint.”
I kissed my mother and hugged her tighter, but I didn’t know what to say. I knew so
little about sex.
“Mom, I wish I had more words to tell you how much I loved you just now.”
“No need for sweet words, what you did was enough.”
We enjoyed this wonderful time, kissing every now and then. Then my mother said, “Paul, my legs need to
rest, I need to take a shower, can you let me get up?”
I climbed off her and lay down beside her. She continued, “If you start the generator, I’ll make
a pot of coffee, so we can have a hot cup of coffee after our shower. Want to take a shower with your old mother?”
“Can I wash your whole body?” I asked.
“Then you have to let me wash you too,” she replied.
“It’s a deal.”
I climbed off the bed and struggled to put on my coat. Starting the generator only took a minute, and
when I returned to the room, my mother had just started making coffee. I followed her into the bathroom, and she went to adjust the shower water temperature.
After Mom adjusted the water, I felt it was a bit hot. I wanted to jump out, but she held me tightly, preventing me
from running away.
"Mom, the water's too hot."
"I like hot water; it relaxes me. You'll get used to it."
She was right; after a minute or two, I felt comfortable. She handed me soap and a towel, saying, "
Scrub me hard; I feel all sticky."
I scrubbed her back, all the way down to her heels. She turned around, and I started scrubbing
her front, but somehow I found myself scrubbing her breasts. She laughed and told me to wash other areas.
When I reached the part between her legs, I carefully washed every spot. I parted her labia and slid a
finger inside to explore. Her clitoris lay between her labia; compared to what I'd seen that morning, it was now softer
and smaller, looking more like a tiny penis. I continued scrubbing, all the way down to her
feet.
It was my turn. Mom meticulously washed my entire body, but she kept avoiding my lower abdomen.
Finally, she started washing there, gently and patiently scrubbing. I felt a surge of excitement
, and of course, I got an erection, but she still teased me for a while.
"All done, let's go out quickly. I need some coffee before we start all the work."
Afterward, we sat on the porch, looking at the lake outside, drinking our post-breakfast coffee. I could guess
what Mom wanted to talk about, but she seemed reluctant to begin. I knew from past experience that
she wouldn't fully express her thoughts until she started herself. She seemed very happy with our new relationship, and I wanted
her to stay that way. I had revealed what real sex was, and I didn't want my new partner to be
dissatisfied. Most boys my age just look at magazines and masturbate, but 　　the satisfaction of experiencing real sex
with a mature woman is something that pictures can't replace. 　　 A new and terrifying thought gripped me: I had become a model son, obsessed with her, like...

If I did something she disapproved of, this would be the ultimate punishment… I seemed to hear a voice from afar
, and I focused intently on it, drifting into my own little world.
“Paul, I can tell what you’re thinking,” Mom said.
“I was thinking about how happy I was just now.”
“Are you truly happy about all of this?”
“Yes, Mom. I won’t hide my feelings, never.”
“Paul, how long have you had these thoughts about me?”
“I believe it was when you first talked about needing a chastity belt.”
“You mean a few months ago, when I was desperately wanting you, and you were
suffering from the same thing?” I couldn’t believe my ears. Mom wanted me, and neither of us knew the other’s desire.
“I believe that, Mom.”
Mom started to laugh, and she came over and sat on my lap. After a tight hug and a kiss, she said, “I’ve
wanted to tell you all this for a long time, but I was afraid it was just a dream. These days I’ve sensed that
your troubles are the same as mine; we’re suffering for the same thing. I’m waiting for you to take a definite step
, to make sure I haven’t misjudged you.”
My mother fell silent at this point, but her words caught my attention: “You mean, as long as I make
some slightly probing advances…”
“I think so, yes. Do you want me to finish what I’ve been longing to say, or should we stop
here?”
“No need. I only have one question: what happened last night?”
“Yesterday morning, you had your little accident, and that moment changed our relationship.
Last night, when you kissed me like that, it escalated. I believe you didn’t do it premeditatedly, but the problem is
everything that happened afterward… After everything happened, my morality kicked in, and I even threw a little tantrum
.
This morning, my reason is sound. I love you, Paul, and we’ll be together wherever we go.
I can’t prove that what we’re doing is right; I simply have blind love and a desire I can’t refuse.”
“
I said nothing to my mother’s final statement; I didn’t think she expected that. I pulled her close,
gave her a light kiss, and then held her tightly in my arms. My mother wriggled on my knees, her head
pressed against my neck. There was no erotic implication; I felt as if I were holding a child she longed to
protect. I had many roles to play: a son, a confessional priest, a lover, and a
protector.
We would face many complex problems and more pitfalls, but I was willing to take it all. After
all the hardships we had gone through since her divorce, this should be easier.
My mother tilted her head back and gave me a long, loving kiss. When we were finally at peace
, she said, ‘Paul, we have more to talk about. Shall I get
us a fresh pot of coffee before we begin?’
‘Great, thank you. What else must we talk about?’
‘Us, our new relationship, and how we’re keeping secrets.’ She got up and walked away.
I walked around the cabin and turned off the generator. ” When I returned, my mother was sitting at the small table on the porch
, having already poured two cups of coffee. I sat down in a chair near her and sipped my fresh coffee.
She stirred her coffee, looking thoughtful. After a while, she asked, "Paul, have you
realistically considered our future?"
I knew I wouldn't have any good ideas for her at that moment.
“No, Mom, I haven’t thought about anything other than us.”
“Just as I suspected. I’m thinking about what might happen later, but the priority right now is secrecy.
We’ll definitely succeed because no one will suspect a mother having an affair with her son.
Ben and Pat trusted us completely, putting us together in the double bed without a second thought, but if we’re
too intimate in public, we might arouse suspicion.”
“In private, that is, in our own house, we can do whatever we want, including
all the silly things lovers do. But if we’re found out, I could be considered
a criminal and go to jail. That’s the key, you agree or disagree. Do you understand why we have to
keep this absolutely secret?”
“Don’t worry, Mom, I won’t tell anyone anything.”
“When your friends talk about sex, you have to be very careful about everything you say. If you reveal
that you know a lot, it might arouse their suspicion. They might secretly try to find out which girl you
got this information from, or they might think you're bragging. These are all troublesome unless you can keep
a tight rein on your classmates. Can you do that?”
“That’s easy. I just need to shut my mouth and listen to their stories.”
“Are you sure you can do that? Don’t you think you could brag about what you’ve done before?”
“I don’t want to get their attention.”
“That’s right. Do you want to ask me anything?”
“No, Mom, why ask so many questions?”
“Paul, I could ask a thousand questions and find the answers to them all. But the hardest thing is,
what will happen when you grow up, meet the person you want, the one you want to marry? All we can do
is kiss goodbye and you go on your honeymoon? How can I bear to see you leave and
live with another woman?
How can I tell my daughter-in-law that Paul likes to fry his eggs on both sides, and that after making love with you he likes
to lie on top of them and soak his wick?”
Mom started giggling like a little girl, and I tried to imagine
the scene she described about frying eggs on both sides. We both completely forgot about the unpleasant topic, immersed in joyful laughter. Our
laughter never stopped, one wave after another; we hadn't seen each other smile like that in a long time.
Talking about these things that might happen in the future bored me. There was a lake full of fish just
a few steps away. On my first morning here, Ben and I had happily fished, and I planned to
show my mother what I had learned.
"Mom, would you like to go fishing with me for a while?"
"But I don't have a fishing rod."
"Mom, you can sunbathe. I'll go get the fishing gear, and we'll go to the place Ben took me to on the lake
."
"Lead the way," she replied.
Half an hour later, Mom had found a comfortable spot under the shade of a tree. She sat down
and watched me, while I began casting my line into a pond where there was a good chance of fish. On the third cast, I was rewarded
. After a series of careful movements, a fish was caught, and I held it high for Mom to see.
She was overjoyed and hugged me tightly. I busied myself along the bank but only caught a few small fish.
After several attempts, I packed up my fishing gear and plopped down on the ground next to Mom to rest.
Mom teased me happily, "Looks like I've picked a good partner who can support me."
"Just wait, you'll see me catch a big fish with a harpoon," I said with a laugh.
"Don't think about that, there's a supermarket less than a mile from here."
I looked up at the mountains, thinking about fishing, when I noticed dark clouds stirring, already covering
the mountains to the northwest.
"Mom, we'd better go back to the cabin, it looks like it's going to rain."
"We have to get there before the storm hits."
We went back to the cabin, I packed up my fishing gear, and started preparing lunch with the fish I'd just caught. The storm was still
far away, but I could already smell the rain; the air was heavy, and a storm was coming. I turned on the radio and listened
to a local channel broadcasting the midday news; the weather forecast predicted a heavy downpour that afternoon.
We ate lunch on the porch, watching the dark clouds roll across the sky. Soon the sun was obscured, and the lake was
shrouded in gloom. Huge raindrops began to fall, pounding against the long wooden planks of the roof with a deafening roar. Soon
, the raindrops turned into a downpour, lightning flashed across the sky, and thunder echoed through the mountains. We admired this natural
spectacle until the wind, carrying raindrops, swept into the porch and forced us inside.
Just as we were about to close the door, a thunderclap startled us, and Mom
leaped into my arms. I could feel her trembling; I held her tightly until
she calmed down. She looked up at me, and I gently kissed her. We stood quietly in the middle of the room,
forgetting the storm outside.
"I have a suggestion," Mom said.
"What?"
"Since you can't teach me how to fish outside, why can't I teach you how to exercise indoors?"
"You've made the best suggestion, Mom."
She led me to the bedroom, and soon we were naked on the bed. As I tried to rush things,
she pushed me away and said, “Remember, I said I’d teach you how to exercise indoors. What I want you to do isn’t difficult,
just slow down. Let me teach you how; we can have plenty of time to practice. There are many ways to make love;
just follow my instructions and do it naturally. Sometimes you might feel a little strange, but
you’ll find it very interesting as you try. Okay?”
“Okay, Mom.” I agreed with everything she said in this regard, and at this moment, I just wanted
to get to the most important thing as quickly as possible.
She pushed me down onto the bed, climbed on top of me, and kissed my nipples. Oh! I discovered
how sensitive I was down there. She wriggled and turned her body until we were face to face, head to toe opposite, her
breasts hanging above my face. I began to mimic her kissing my nipples, her breasts pressing against my face
, almost suffocating me with their softness. She moved her kisses across my stomach, swirling
her tongue around my belly button, and I kissed hers too. She shuddered, giggling. She
grasped
my scrotum in her hand, gently kneading it like soft dough, and my blood
pressure surged to a new high. She began to caress my scrotum with her lips, the area expanding, and I was astonished
—she was about to kiss my penis. Would Mom kiss there? Was she expecting me to do
the same to her? I had heard many stories about oral sex on campus before, but I almost couldn't believe it was
something normal people did. My own mother was performing oral sex! I couldn't believe it.
Yet, to my surprise, my penis could already feel the warmth of her lips! The feeling was so wonderful
that I forgot my surprise, forgot my previous thought that it wasn't something normal people did; I just
wanted more.
Soon I began to reciprocate. As my mother took my penis and put it in her mouth, licking the head with her tongue
, her vagina was just an inch above my face. Was she expecting me
to do the same to her? I could clearly smell her femininity, and I began to understand. I mustered my courage and
parted her labia with my fingers, kissing the tip of her clitoris. Her reaction surprised and delighted me; her
hips pressed down on my face, almost suffocating me, while simultaneously stimulating my throbbing penis even more forcefully.
I then stimulated her clitoris with my tongue, and her completely filled mouth began to emit whimpering moans.
Curious, I probed deep inside her genitals with my tongue; the inside was wet and smooth. Soon, she wriggled
her hips so that her clitoris covered my mouth. I sucked on it, licking it repeatedly,
occasionally massaging it gently with my tongue. She went wild, violently rotating her hips, forcing me
to hold her buttocks tightly.
I forgot everything, wanting only to bury my face and tongue deeper and deeper, to penetrate her burning
genitals even more deeply, exchanging my pleasure for the pleasure my mother gave me. Just then, I felt myself reach the summit,
a feeling like flying with the wind.
At the peak of my orgasm, my penis plunged deep into her mouth, and I was about to explode
! Ejaculation, ejaculation…
I don't know when it ended. Why did I have so many misconceptions about oral sex before?
How wonderful it was! I really wanted to tell her how much I enjoyed those last few minutes, but I thought, there's
no need to say anything, no need to say anything. My mother had already collapsed limply against me, her consciousness seemingly drifting away
.
After a short rest, my mother kissed my limp penis with her hot, wet lips, then turned and
lay down beside me. She held me tightly, kissing me deeply and for a long time, and I kissed her greedily in return.
In the warm atmosphere, we bathed in the afterglow of lovemaking, embracing each other contentedly, listening to the wind
whipping the rain, its gentle tapping against the wooden cabin window.
We lay on the bed, our comfortable and safe love nest, lovers returning home early.
We held each other tightly, feeling the warmth, kissing and caressing each other incessantly. I
explored all her secrets with my fingers and lips . In this moment of contentment, I caressed her beside me, my
beloved, still deeply fascinated by her. But it didn't matter; we would satisfy each other's desires. We
caressed each other incessantly, savoring every moment.
The afternoon passed, and we continued our passionate whispers, occasionally punctuated by intense caresses
. We were like on a honeymoon, pushing my sexual limits. I clumsily
learned, but my mother, with her loving patience, taught me what she liked and what she wanted me to do. One
lesson was about penetration, something different from what I'd heard in school—most of it was
wrong.
Lovemaking and foreplay required rhythm, slow, gentle, and always considering your partner's needs
… I learned so much, practicing as I went.
The whole day was like a chaotic collage, a clear, transparent photograph permeated with lustful thoughts.
I had a passionate dream about my mother, but I never imagined it would actually come true. Was I daydreaming?
No, it wasn't. I was lying in bed, completely naked, caressing my mother, and we
were both lost in this wonderful passion. No day in my life could compare to this!
Forbidden fruits are always sweet.
Pat and Ben returned the next day, just in time for lunch. When they saw their car
pull up, Mom said, "Go to hell, our honeymoon is over. We have to be
a mother and son again."
"Mom, whenever we want, we can go canoeing, or take a
walk in the woods," I replied, and Mom gave me a sweet smile and a wink—just one wink.
While Mom and Pat prepared lunch, I helped Ben unload the cargo from the car, and then we
sat together for lunch, chatting about their trip to town and the storm. After that, Ben and
I began inspecting the damage to the cabin from the storm.
Over the next few days, Mom and I considered leaving once, but Pat and Ben
had so many plans for us that we had to admit we couldn't possibly go about our private business. In the bedroom
, we worried we were being too vigorous and that they might overhear us outside, as
Mom made a lot of noise during her orgasms.
On Saturday evening, everyone drove in Ben's car to a restaurant, the nearby social hub.
It was an ordinary place, offering only a few simple dishes, but each prepared in large quantities. After dinner,
everyone stepped back against the wall to make room in the center of the table, and a small local band began playing dance music.
The music was upbeat, a lively country tune that brought waves of excitement. The band wasn't bad; it lured you onto
the dance floor. After a few dances with Mom, Ben and I switched partners; I danced with Pat while
Mom danced with Ben. Ben and Pat were happy; they didn't ask for much from life, just
enough to drink and laugh. Mom only drank beer because she was going to drive us home.
We had a great time, except when a stranger asked Mom to dance. I sat at the table watching
them, listening to the music with envy and trepidation. It was a new experience for me; I had never felt
this way before. Was this how men sought lovers and courted their wives?
Mom laughed as the stranger spoke, and I felt my courage slowly draining away.
It felt like an eternity before the music finally ended. As they returned to the table, I heard the stranger
say, "Would you like to sit at my table?"
Mom replied, "No, I want to stay here with my son, and I don't want to leave my friends."
"Then may I sit at your table?"
"I'm sorry, I'm having a family gathering. Thank you for inviting me to dance."
He mumbled a thank you and walked away. Mom quickly hugged me, then sat down—the hug
was strong—and my world returned to normal. I wanted to reach out and hug my mother or hold her hand,
but there were too many people, and I couldn't do that. But I longed to be close to her to confirm my feelings. She must have sensed my
need for security from her; she casually shifted her chair until our knees touched
, giving me a knowing smile. I felt reassured.
I glanced around easily; there were quite a few children my age with their parents.
My mother noticed a lovely girl sitting at a couple's table next to us. She shifted her
knees, which were pressed against mine, and whispered to me to ask the girl to dance.
"Mom, I'd rather dance with you,"
she said, her knees still. "Others will think it's strange if you only dance with me."
"What if she says no?"
"Pat, I bet she'll accept your invitation."
"Mom, I don't know what to say. I've never asked a girl to dance before," I said confidently.
“You can exploit a grown woman, yet you’re foolish enough not to ask a teenage girl to dance? I find that hard
to believe,” Mom said with a laugh.
I was shocked and sat silently for a while. Before this, Mom had never talked to me about this kind of
thing. We talked about almost everything, but never this topic. But she was right about one thing: I had
slept with a grown woman; asking a girl to dance couldn’t be any worse.
As the music started, I mustered my courage and went to the girl’s table to ask her to dance. Before accepting my
invitation, she glanced quickly at her mother, who gave an almost imperceptible nod
.
The moment I led her onto the dance floor, I asked myself, as if I were expecting her to awkwardly refuse me. Why
?
The band was playing a slow piece, giving me a chance to introduce myself.
“Hi, I’m Paul, thank you for dancing with me.”
“I’m Marcie, thank you for inviting me. Are you here on vacation?”
“No, my mom and I are visiting our relatives for a week.”
“Ben is your uncle?”
“Yes, do you know him?”
“We have a cabin on the other side of the lake, and we visit each other occasionally.”
“But I haven’t seen any other cabins by the lake.”
“That cabin only has four walls and is very secluded.”
At the end of the dance, I escorted Marcie back to her table and thanked her for accepting my invitation.
She introduced me to her parents, telling them that Ben was my uncle. After a few polite exchanges, I
made an excuse to return to my table.
As I sat down, my mom said, “See? There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“No, Mom, I think I was just afraid she would reject me and embarrass me.”
“Dance with her one more time before we leave; maybe she’ll think you like her.”
Before we left, I danced a few songs with my mom, but twice as many or even more with Marcie
. Marcie's family left with us at the same time, and after a brief exchange of pleasantries, Ben and Pat
invited them to visit sometime. Marcie invited me to lunch the following day. My mother winked and nodded at me
, and I accepted the invitation.
That night, we lay lovingly in bed, talking about Marcie and other girls.
My mother said that I needed to date a girl my age, and that she also needed to go out with men at appropriate times
; we had to do this to dispel the suspicions of our friends and acquaintances. I knew this was the wise thing to do,
but I didn't like the idea of Mom going out with another man.
I held her tightly and told her my thoughts, and she laughed and said, "If I go out with another man,
I'll give you even crazier, more passionate love when I get home."
One thing led to another, and we started making love quietly, and then I lay in her arms thinking about
it all. In the quiet night, I felt jealous when my mother danced with that stranger, but why?
I wasn't jealous when she danced with Ben. Was she jealous when I danced with Marcie?
Was I jealous because I didn't trust her? Was I afraid she would open herself up to someone else?
Only she could answer this question, but could I ask it?
"Mom, do you love me?"
"Of course I love you, you're my son."
"That's not what I meant. I was very jealous when you danced with that person tonight."
"Ah, now I know what you're asking. The answer to your real question is that you're growing up.
I wonder if it would upset you if I told you some things about my private life with your father?"
"I don't think so," I said, while wondering why my father's affairs would affect my emotions.
"When your father and I first got married, I thought we would enjoy sex. I was a teenager then,
and I really thought so. For a long time, I fantasized that we would explore all the possibilities.
But not long after, I discovered that your father wasn't the way I imagined sexually. I wanted to enjoy oral sex with him , and he got unhappy when I tried. He liked to have sex with me the way he wanted, 　　and he would get angry
if I asked him to do the same thing he wanted me to do." 　　 “I don’t know how much you know about women’s sex, but my genitals are a little different. 　　 I have a very large clitoris, like a small penis, which your father thinks is ugly, saying he feels like he 　　’s kissing a man’s genitals. He only makes love to me in the dark because he thinks my genitals are too ugly 　　. But it’s also very short, so his sex doesn’t satisfy me, but it arouses my desire. If I want to relieve it, 　　I can only choose to masturbate. Your father found out when I was masturbating in a lewd way, and he was very angry, calling me 　　a homosexual, a bitch… From then on, he never made love to me again.” 　　 Mom breathed heavily and fell silent. I didn’t know any of this before, but now I know, and I 　　know how deep the hurt she had suffered was. When boys make fun of others, mocking 　　the length of their penises is the most vicious insult he can endure. I wanted to reassure Mom that I didn’t have the same prejudice as my father. 　　 “Mom, I understand what you’re saying. I’ve seen some pictures in my biology book, and I agree with you. 　　You’re just a little bigger than other women. Dad can’t appreciate that feature, but I can.” 　　 Mom hugged me tightly and continued her story: “Thank you, Paul. I need you to think that way, 　　but I have more to tell you. After our divorce, I thought other people wouldn’t be like him, but 　　I felt disgusted when I genuinely interacted with them. For some reason, I believe they would think I’m ugly like your father did 　　. I can almost hear your father’s voice telling me I’m deformed, that I’m androgynous 　　. Even now, I feel uncomfortable thinking about the man I danced with tonight.” 　　 “You’re the exception. I think it’s because you’re everything to me. You always stood by me when your father and I argued 　　. After my divorce, you were the only person I loved and the only man who ever touched me. I feel so grateful for your embrace.”

Hugs and kisses always fill me with endless love. Later, when I discovered we had that kind of feeling, I encouraged
you, encouraged my darling to be rebellious, and responded to you with the same passion. Everything is
better now than I imagined. Now, here we are lovers, right or wrong.”
“Now you understand why you don’t need to be jealous of me, right? No matter what! I
will take good care of your eggs, no matter what, and you can ask for them anytime!” she said with a smile.
I remembered our conversations from the previous mornings, and I smiled too. In our new relationship, eggs had become
our secret joke. I hugged her tightly, feeling a new tenderness in her body.
She shared some of her private secrets with me, letting me know her thoughts. All of this required a great
deal of trust from her, and if she trusted me so much, how could I not trust her?
“Now I know more, Mom. I don’t know how to tell you
how lucky I am to have you as my mother, but I know your fried eggs are definitely the best.”
“What do you know?” "That's only because I'm the only woman who's ever made you an egg."
She chuckled.
The next day, I took a boat to meet Marci and spent the whole afternoon there. After lunch, we
went for a canoe ride and had some fun. She was a playful girl, and our conversation was easy.
Before I left, she gave me her address and asked me to write to her after school started.
The following day, Marci visited Ben and Pat's house, which gave Marci and me more
time together. I discovered she loved running around in the wild, and I found myself actually liking her. Oh no, she
lived on the other side of the state! I made a friend my own age.
Wednesday Ben and Pat had to go into town, so Mom and I decided to go home early too.
Wednesday morning, we squeezed into Ben's car and began our journey home, changing cars along the way. During the long
drive, we discussed how to face the unknown.
We concluded that we had to be very careful not to be discovered if we wanted to stay together.
Our family life has always been very secretive; we rarely have guests. Dad has moved to another
state and hasn't bothered us for over a year, so he wouldn't be a problem. We can completely
relax at home, without worrying about friends or neighbors intruding when we're being affectionate. In public, we simply played our respective
roles; who would suspect that a mother and son were playing out a love game?
We quickly adapted to the rhythm of our new life. At first,
I felt a little awkward about sleeping in my mother's room, but I soon accepted it—just consider her room as our room
. Another major change was that the tension and anxiety at the beginning of our relationship completely
disappeared.
We lived comfortably together, relying on each other like in the summer, with my mother working and me doing the housework.
When my mother wasn't working, we would almost always... We stayed together, cut off from the outside world. I had only
a few friends, all living on the other side of the city, and I had very little contact with them throughout the summer. My mother,
since her divorce, had focused on work and hadn't had time to make friends either. So, aside from work and studies, our
lives were like an isolated island just the two of us; we relied on each other for company.
We felt we didn't need to interact with more people or do more things.
On weekends, my mother would bring work home, burying herself in piles of files and complex diagrams. While she pondered,
I would help her. Math was my strong suit at school, and I... I could calculate the answers she needed.
I taught myself a small part of her work so I could skillfully help her extract the key points. Mom was preparing
a proposal for a new department, and if adopted, she might have a chance to be promoted to manager. For both of our
lives, her promotion meant a better future, so I spent almost all my spare time
helping her complete her proposal.
Before long, she started bringing work home every night, making me feel more lonely, and we could only be together when we were working together. We got along well at work, and I was able to delve into 　　the details of
her proposal.
Soon I began to offer my suggestions, and we argued at length, analyzing which points should be adopted
. During this time, an outsider overheard our discussion once; I think he would have thought we were arguing
.
I discovered something: regarding my arguments, my mother was employing a devilish strategy. She defended her arguments
while carefully plagiarizing mine. She was using my weapons to equip herself.
My debate coach provided me with some books, and throughout the summer, I made full use of my spare
time while helping my mother with her work to study diligently. Debating with my mother further refined my skills. When school started... I believe
that after the training she gave me this summer, I can form a debate team.
Mom's project was finished before August, and her relentless pace began to ease. We
struggled so hard with her project that she invited me to help tackle the inevitable, difficult problems—
those rascals! We worked late Friday night and were still exhausted when we got to bed,
falling asleep almost immediately.
I woke up early the next morning to find Mom still softly snoring. I lay quietly, tiptoed
out of bed, and went to the bathroom. Then I went to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. As I waited for the coffee pot to gurgle
, I reflected on the past few weeks.
When we first returned from the cabin, we made love frequently—passionately, unrestrainedly. But after Mom started planning
her project, there was almost nothing between us, except sleeping together. In my occasional moments of quiet, I missed
her love. Who am I? I am her son, but our relationship has changed. I am her lover,
but her work has interfered with our intimacy. I am a collaborator on this newly completed project;
I enjoyed working with her, but what about afterwards? I long for the love we shared. I think… if…
I won't force Mom to work today. But I might distract her, and I don't want to go against her wishes or act on my own
. I don't want her to think I'm a demanding, overbearing son; I want her to love me because she wants
me too.
I tiptoed to the bedroom and peeked in. Mom was still sleeping. I went back to the kitchen,
made a European-style breakfast plate with coffee and bagels, and then took it back to the bedroom, placing it on the bedside table. Mom started
to stir slightly, as if she was about to wake up.
I sat on the edge of the bed, leaned down, and gently kissed her. She opened her eyes, smiled, and kissed me back.
"Would you like a cup of coffee, Mom?"
she asked, looking at the breakfast plate. "Why?"
"I just wanted to give you a little surprise."
"Having breakfast in bed is more than just a little surprise; it's worth more than roses."
She said, pulling me to sit next to her.
"What are you trying to imply?"
"Just because I love you."
Mom laughed loudly, and the laughter lasted for a long time, as if I had told her
the funniest joke in the world. I was confused and at a loss.
“I understand, you mean I don’t love you anymore. I’m sorry, Paul, I’ve neglected you.
You’ve worked yourself to death these past few weeks. Give your old mother a kiss, let me go to the bathroom, and
we’ll do something to make it up to you when I get back.”
Before she rushed off to the bathroom, a passionate hug and a fiery kiss were my reward.
She returned shortly after, saying, “The coffee can wait.”
After a brief moment, we were lying side-by-side on the bed, our desires satisfied,
leisurely sipping coffee and sharing a sweet bagel. Mom was like a ray of light, as
excited as that day on the lake, and my anxieties became nothing more than a blurry memory. Mom’s emotions were palpable
to me, and soon we were caressing and playing again, our room a mess, clothes scattered
everywhere.
Mom took a bite of the bagel, some crumbs landing on her exposed breasts. Amidst laughter, I said
, "Mommy, you spilled breadcrumbs." At the same time, I bent down and licked the breadcrumbs clean from her breasts with my tongue.
She laughed at my actions and smeared some more sugar on her belly, saying, "Don't miss a single bit,
there's still sugar on my belly."
As I licked the sugar off her belly, she smeared even more on her nipples,
which I obediently ate clean, and her nipples gradually hardened. Her breasts were shiny and smooth from my actions, but before that,
she took a bagel and smeared a large dollop of sticky sugar on her labia.
"I'm going to smear all this sticky stuff all over my body, can you help me clean it off?" she asked with a silly grin, like
a little girl.
"You keep smearing, I'll be your bib," I said, lying between her legs and licking.
I became very excited, and so did my mother.
She was so excited that her clitoris was erect, protruding from her labia, pink and incredibly
vibrant. I grasped it, took it into my mouth, about half an inch long, and gently sucked and licked it with the tip of my tongue.
Soon, she began to writhe with pleasure. She grabbed my hair with both hands, forcing my face closer and closer to
her genitals; the roots of my hair were almost numb, but she grew increasingly excited, her hands gripping harder. Finally, she
let out a loud groan, collapsing limply onto the bed, her hands that had been tearing at my hair now turning into gentle
caresses.
I climbed on top of my mother, pulling her into my arms, kissing her face repeatedly, while simultaneously thrusting
and rubbing my penis between her legs. She skillfully dodged my teasing, and I thrust haphazardly everywhere
, except for my most important sexual target. And so, we began a gentle
writhing on the bed, mimicking rape, our writhing and entangled movements accompanied by moans and giggles echoing in our room.
My mother pushed me down, straddling me with her legs spread wide. "I want to eat char siu pork," she said.
She took a golden bagel from the tray and hollowed it out in the middle. At first, I wanted to ask her
what she was doing, but before I could speak, she stuffed the hollowed-out pieces into my mouth. Then she moved between my legs
, slipped the bagel onto my fully engorged penis, and licked the sugar stuck to the outside. My penis throbbed with
excitement, and I almost fainted.
She nibbled at the bagel little by little, circling it, until it became like a thin ring
. Then she leaned back and put the piece of bread she had just bitten into into my mouth, before turning back to
work on my penis until it was completely clean. Finally, she straddled me
, slowly lowering her body, my penis supporting her slowly descending buttocks.
We were both so excited by our foreplay that we were about to reach
the peak of our climax. Finally, Mom lay limply on top of me, our skin pressed together, immersed in the afterglow of our orgasm
.
After we had sex, I always liked to stay close to my mother, maintaining the position of my penis immersed in her genitals
. If I wasn't completely satisfied, this position would allow my penis to remain fully erect, and I could
make love to her again. If I couldn't, I would go soft in her hot, smooth confinement, and eventually
shrink away with the contractions of her vaginal lubrication until I finally disappeared into the air. That was usually the signal of the end
, just like now, it was over.
"Someone's satisfied," Mom said. "I feel all sticky, let's take a shower and
get dressed."
Afterwards, we sat in the kitchen enjoying a fresh pot of coffee, chatting casually, but Mom began to interject
: "Paul, I'm sorry, I neglected your needs for so long. From now on,
I will satisfy you more whenever you want. In my heart, I will try harder to make our new relationship even better."
"That's right, Mom. I have another small suggestion, when we have sexual desires, we should touch each other. "
Or give a hint, and the other person will understand. I believe you, I like you, but I'm not
quite used to our new relationship yet.
"Is it because our sex life bothers you? You want to explore my heart because of your
sexual desire for your mother?"
"No, no. I don't feel bad about our new relationship. But sometimes I can't believe it. I
try to tell myself it's really happening, but it always feels like a dream."
"I understand how you feel, Paul. When I wake up in the morning and see us lying naked in bed,
sometimes I'm shocked, really, even if it's just for a short time, until I realize you're Oedipus and I
'm Jocasta, and it takes me a while to remember what we're doing. There have also been a couple of times when I felt
guilty for a moment. Sometimes I feel like I'm being too selfish, taking advantage of your innocence. A
boy your age should be out chasing young girls, not having sex with his mother."
"Mom! Stop talking!" “I said, ‘I love you, and I know you love me too.
Compared to other mothers and sons, we simply have one more kind of love.’
‘Paul, I don’t mean to upset you, but I’m forcing myself to point this out. It seems our new relationship
has crossed the line. ‘Motherfucker’ is a bad word, and
we have to face it honestly. I’m worried we’ll encounter terrible problems in the future. If we lovers turn against each other,
you can’t just go back to your duty or leave me, because I can’t tolerate either of those. I am your mother,
and you and I must live together until you turn eighteen. What are you planning to do? Move back to your room
and completely forget our secrets?’
‘I don’t think we’ll ever turn against each other. We can’t let it happen, but if it does,
we have to handle it well, Mom.’
‘There’s another thing we have to face, and then we won’t discuss what’s right or wrong or
any other ideas. ’” I'm twenty years older than you. When you reach that age, you'll likely meet
someone your own age and want to marry them. Then I'll have to face it alone. I want you to be happy, but
when that moment actually comes, I can't bear to see you leave. It's too hard. But then we have to let each other
go our own way.”
“Besides you, Mom, I don't think I'll like anyone else.”
“We'll see. Let's change the subject, shall we? But you should think carefully about everything we've said.”
“If you insist.”
“Don't be so listless. I was just about to say I wanted you to drill holes in me again this afternoon.
I have to come up with my plan by Monday, and I think more warm-up will improve my speed. What do you want to do tonight?”
“How about hamburgers and a movie? I've been thinking about it since we started getting busy.”
“Too loud. It's almost lunchtime, and I'm too lazy to cook. Why don't we go
downtown for lunch and then go shopping at the department store?” "
During lunch, I thought about Mom's plan, and we discussed it in detail. The frustration
I felt this morning was completely forgotten. I felt happy that I didn't lose my temper or say anything harsh, which
I would have felt bad about. I truly enjoyed helping Mom, including being affectionate with her.
I made a bet on the outcome of the plan: if she refines it according to my suggestions, she will definitely get a promotion
. Today I learned an important lesson: try saying something sweet before you lose your temper.
Mom was like a happy child when we went grocery shopping." She jumped and laughed, and I, too, was swept up in her joy.
Our happiness was so obvious that many people smiled at us. But
would they be surprised if they knew the serious plans I had for my mother's health when we got home?
I stayed home all Monday, waiting for my mother to come home, waiting for her to tell me the results of her plan.
I didn't ask when she came in, because the answer was written all over her face. She tried hard to maintain a cool expression
, but her eyes sparkled, and a barely suppressed smile played on her lips.
She came into the house, hugged me tightly, and said, "I did it! I explained my
plan to the local manager, and we're going to the Parliament building on Thursday. I'm going to submit my plan to the governing committee."
I patted her back and hugged her tightly, congratulating her. She shocked me again, saying we
had to go to the Parliament building together.
"Both of us?" I asked.
"Yes, I told them I had to take you with me, and they agreed. I
'm going to submit my plan on Friday morning, and then we'll spend the weekend there, and they'll pay for it." We'll fly back Sunday night
so I won't be late on Monday.
We spent the rest of the night quickly refining the plan. We need to go shopping for clothes and
other necessities tomorrow afternoon, so we need to hurry. Mom needs some time to pack. We have two days
to enjoy life and relax during the preparations.
Mom was so excited when we went to bed that she couldn't sleep. She wanted me to stay up all night talking to her, and
the only way I could calm her down was by kissing her. One thing led to another, and she became an
insatiable lover. Making love exhausted her excitement, and we fell asleep. Our room was a mess, but
we didn't care. Let's use this as our bedding; we fell asleep cuddling each other.
Thursday morning was my first time flying. I was excited and a little worried,
but it felt like riding a bus—safe and smooth sailing. We arrived at our destination before lunch, where a young
man was waiting for us at the airport. He accompanied us to our hotel.
After having lunch with some guests, we checked into the conference preparation office. My mother and I were introduced to many
people, and I had to take notes.
When we were introduced to the CEO, he said, "This is the young man who helped you and came with you,
right? Why don't you bring him to the conference tomorrow so he can learn more about the real business
?"
A few minutes before we returned to the hotel, he asked Mom a few questions about her work and other subjects
.
We ate dinner early and went back to our room to play the devil's game again, just like last time.
Afterwards, we lay in bed, my arms around her. Mom was a little nervous and panicked; she was sure she would
make a mistake. I tried to dispel her doubts with words, but it didn't work; she couldn't sleep. One thing always
relaxed her, and I began to "rape" her. At first, she resisted, but after a while, she
entangled with me passionately and intensely.
Poor Mom, just a kiss on her clitoris would bring her to orgasm. One of my favorite pastimes was to lie
my head between her legs and explore her genitals with my tongue. Her huge clitoris fascinated me, and I
held it in my mouth like a lollipop. It had almost become a totem for me, and Mom liked my
attention to it every moment. After Dad insulted her, she thought she was ugly and deformed, but now she had
completely changed. She joked about her rare gift of having such a large clitoris, and humorously
remarked that if I continued to play with it like that, it would grow bigger and bigger, just like my penis.
Like all teenagers, I loved my mother, but I loved her more like a woman.
One thing I could never understand was why my father didn't love this gentle and beautiful woman! I always
asked this question, and my mother would tell me more about my father little by little, but it never seemed the
same.
Perhaps she would tell me more tonight, and maybe she would be more lucid tomorrow.
"Mom, what went wrong between you and Father?"
"Many things. Let me think about what went wrong, do you want to hear it?"
"Yes, I want to hear it. I know you are a gentle and loving person, and I don't know why
Father can't love you the way he loves me."
Before she began, my mother kissed me again: "Thank you for the compliment. I love you so passionately, every
moment. You have shown me that selfless love really exists, and I will repay you with even more love."
"Your father and I were too young when we got married. I thought he was like an adventurer, someone who liked to wander around,
but we only truly got to know each other after we got married. I wanted to step out of the family and integrate into society, while he
wanted a quiet and easy life, which caused some minor disagreements. I had just graduated from high school when we got married, and
I was already two months pregnant. After you were born, I had to go back to school to finish my studies, while your father only wanted to
be a housewife. At first, I tried to help him with his career, but he got angry. I realized that he only
cared about his work and didn't want me to interfere with him, not even in the slightest. He didn't want a career; he just wanted a
job to satisfy his needs and pay him a salary. I was frustrated, and so was he. I once thought that helping him with his
career would allow him to develop better, but he didn't want to climb that ladder."
“He needs love too, but when he encounters problems with love, he's at a loss, not knowing what
a perfect woman is. He's always been on the same old path; he knows women have orgasms, but he was shocked when he made me orgasm
, thinking a good woman shouldn't do that. He thinks I'm a slutty bitch. I've already talked about our
sex life; I don't want to go into details anymore, enough has been said. You're more of a lover than your father,
even better than him; you're my best life partner.”
“I think we've said enough about that; let's get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long
day.”
The next morning, we ate breakfast in our room, discussing everything that would happen that day.
Breakfast was plentiful: pancakes, eggs, and sausages. Mom told me how to do it, changing her tone
to emphasize and get my attention.
“Paul, I don’t have enough energy. You need to listen carefully to everything the people around you say.
Remember as much as you can, keep your list safe. If they adopt my proposal, we can move here
, and if I work here, I can work from home. So I want to know what everyone I know
is thinking.”
“I thought you’d only take over this department after you went back. When are we moving?”
“Yesterday I overheard someone saying that if the company adopts my proposal, I’ll get
a brand new office that just finished. Two secretaries were chatting in the women’s restroom, and I happened to be there. I stayed until they left.
See? You know what to do?”
“If we move, I can go to a top-tier high school, right? They have the best debate team in the state.”
“I thought you’d be unhappy about moving, but you’ve already picked out a school.
Don’t be disappointed if I can’t get this done.” Mom said, kissing me on the cheek, then got up from
the table to get dressed.
“I won’t be disappointed. You’ll amaze them this morning. Luckily, I was on the debate team last year, and
one of the things I had to learn was to remember what the opponent said at the beginning so I could use it later.
I’ll record everything I hear like a tape recorder.”
Mom’s proposal was like a time bomb. She calmly articulated her points as if it were just
her and me discussing the family budget at home. After presenting her proposal, she summarized the issues, giving concise
but to the point answers. Then the audience began asking questions—questions that were incredibly stupid and absurd, things I
would never have dreamed of. Everyone was watching her, and when she finished, I heard a chorus of praise.
In the afternoon, we received news that Mom had been promoted to a new department as a manager, and we would be moving within two weeks.
We were about to face a huge change, the thought swirling in my mind. We had to sell our current house,
move with all our belongings, and find a new place to live. Every minute was filled with calculations, and finally we decided to shorten our
journey and go home immediately.
Mom went to make a phone call, and I started packing. She had a party to attend that evening, but she would
successfully avoid those annoying people, so she booked our plane tickets for 10 p.m.
She personally called her former boss to inform him of the news. They discussed it for a while, and from my mother's
tone, I deduced that he thought the promotion was deserved. She asked for
the phone number of a former classmate who was now a real estate agent, then called him and arranged to meet earlier the next day.
Saturday would be very busy.
On Sunday morning, I woke up before my mother to prepare breakfast for both of us.
My mother woke up as I put the breakfast plate on the bedside table and said, "It's not roses, is it?"
"My allowance can't afford roses, but you can be flexible and have breakfast in bed."
I already realized that I was doing something that might become a routine. On Saturday or Sunday
mornings, we would have breakfast in bed, followed by the long-awaited lovemaking, which we would leisurely enjoy
.
Then we would shower together, having long conversations while showering, our topics without the taboos of adults or children
, simply talking about our feelings, or about our different feelings. We
avoided sensitive or difficult questions because mornings like these are so precious, and we didn't want
either of us to be unhappy; we just wanted to share the secret of most of our joy.
This morning, as we sat in the kitchen, Mom started talking about our trip, something she felt
she should do.
"Paul, thank you so much, you've been a huge help. I was so nervous on Thursday, I was
worried about the meeting on Friday. You used the perfect 'medicine' to calm me down, and
didn't you look especially silly?" she laughed.
"Mom, please note, boys always get hard easily," I joked back.
"I don't know, really, but I'll consider your method in tomorrow morning's proposal. When you asked me
about your father, you reminded me of so many things about him. I had to deal with a self-important
big man, and I could only live according to his expectations. I didn't like that;
I'm fine without them. Thank you for all of this."
"I think you succeeded there. It's good that you broke up with him and escaped the shackles of those pointless questions."
"Besides most of the people who were paying attention to me, I seemed to have one enemy there. He seemed quite unhappy
when he asked me a question, but he smiled after I answered. I'll have to be more careful around him from now on."
"When you were talking, I noticed most of the men were staring at you. It's nothing. It made me a little
jealous, but at the same time, I felt even more proud."
"Paul, you don't need to worry about me; I'm thinking about you every moment."
(Part Two
Returns ) Original work 　　 : 　　 jimfix
Translation 　　 : 　　Laotu
===
... thisstorymaybef 　　ref 　　ｅｌｒｄｄｅｔｅｅｅｅｅｅｉｉｅｎｎｎｅｅｅｔｔａｅｅｅｅ　　 theauthormaybecontactedatjimfix 　　@ earthlink. ｎｅｔｔｔａｏｇｍｒｅｅｌｅｅｅｅ．　　netcom. com(jimfix). A 　　 summer 　　 romance revisited not 　　 : 　　 This story is a follow-on of "a summer romance" 　　 and purification, 　　a measure of my imagination. Note: 　　This story is a continuation of "Summer Romance," 　　purely my own fiction and imagination. 　　 === ... 　　 If anyone wants to experience pure torture, let me tell you, buying and selling a house and moving 　　are both! My poor mother had to adapt to a new job, set up a new department, and deal with 　　all the tedious details of moving that required an adult's attention, while I stayed in our old house, 　　overseeing the packing and shipping. When decisions needed to be made, I considered how my mother would handle it, and I 　　dealt with everything I could according to that principle. Sometimes I would consult with my mother, but usually I would do what 　　I thought she would do or what I thought was reasonable first. She signed and marked the labels to 　　prevent forgery, and sometimes anything could happen. 　　 The real estate agent found a buyer for our old house, and after all the formalities were completed, I went 　　to the state capital to meet my mother. When I arrived, she was staying in a rented hotel suite, looking for a suitable house 　　. 　　 We had a small problem: we couldn't pay the full amount for the house upfront; we had to wait until we received 　　the money from the sale of our old house. 　　 If you can ignore some small things, like opening the refrigerator in the middle of the night, then hotel life isn't so 　　bad. 　　 Mom's company paid the bills, but even the best hotel couldn't replace home; a double suite wasn't 　　home. 　　 Mom had been looking for a new house, but she'd been too unlucky. The Saturday after I arrived, a...

The agent took us around the city center to see several houses; they were all nice, but none satisfied us.
During lunch, the agent said she had two more, even better houses to show us before dark, and we agreed
. Exhausted, we got into her car and began what seemed like a aimless search. The first house didn't seem
right for us, and the agent asked us to be patient and look at her final offering.
She drove onto a side street, a long road leading to a residential area. Continuing on, we came
upon a beautiful ranch-style house that immediately captivated us. We went inside; it was completely
empty, without any furniture, looking like a refuge, but with four intact rooms and a large backyard
. An old oak tree shaded the entire yard, and it was surrounded by a high wall, providing considerable privacy.
Next to the rooms was a large, country-style kitchen with an attached dining area, where the rooms and kitchen were connected.
The master bedroom had a private bathroom and a huge bathtub. When Mom looked at the bathroom, she winked
mischievously at me, a knowing smile spreading across her face.
Images of us in the bathtub flashed through my mind… Thankfully, this agent wasn't a psychic.
Naturally, we moved into our new home two weeks before school started. These days
, after work, Mom would design the layout and direct the furniture placement; I, in turn, diligently followed
her instructions, overseeing the unpacking and arrangement of all the small items. We completed most of the work smoothly in the first week
, and in the week before school started, I began tidying the yard and shrubs.
But there was still a problem: Mom and I didn't have much time together, and I was facing
my state high school entrance exams. Mom came home late Friday night, and I wanted her to sleep in as much as possible the next morning
. I also had an idea: I wanted to surprise her when she opened her eyes.
I got up early and went to the nearby florist to buy a bouquet of roses. When I got home, I quietly
placed the vase with the roses on her bedside table, then left, waiting for her to wake up. While I waited
, I made coffee and placed it with her breakfast plate.
I leisurely sipped my coffee, passing the time, warmly and pleasantly enjoying the
cozy atmosphere of the quiet morning, while resisting the burning lust deep within me. Nothing much
had happened in the past month; I was simply busy with work, except for a few minutes of fleeting flirtation in the gaps between my busy schedules. During those
times, my mother would squeeze in time to reward me with the kind of lovemaking that couples do, revitalizing my spirits
and giving me renewed energy. She had a rich imagination when it came to sex, while I lacked experience, so I
eagerly learned everything she wanted to try.
I'll be fifteen in a few weeks, but I still have some worries about our new relationship. There's something
I'm learning: small touches between two people, like having breakfast in bed on the weekend, can evoke my mother
's romantic side. When she's in a romantic mood, she becomes the woman I most desire.
I was hoping that this extra bouquet of roses this morning would
create unforgettable memories for our first free weekend in our home.
Suddenly, a pair of arms appeared behind me from nowhere, and a passionate embrace engulfed me. I
was stunned. While I was daydreaming, my mother crept closer to me. Now I was being
attacked by a woman in the throes of passion… the power of roses!
My mother noticed the breakfast plate on the table and asked, "What did I do to win roses and
breakfast in bed?"
"They were won by what you're about to do," I replied, adding a knowing smile.
"Ugh! My back's going to be working hard all day again, isn't it?"
"No, sometimes you can reach your peak."
Mom looked at me, moved to face me, sat on my knees with her legs apart, pulled my
t-shirt out of my jeans, and slowly reached down, gently caressing my barely-there foreskin
. Her warm hand parted my foreskin, and I could see my penis quickly become engorged and erect. A
lingering, morning kiss followed, bringing a warm, dizzying sensation that spread rapidly throughout my body. We shared
my coffee cup, our noses occasionally entwining, accompanied by caresses and kisses.
No rush, we had nothing else to do all day but make love. In the past
, I had already learned patience from her. I was a novice in matters of the sexes, and she was
teaching me how to satisfy her. In her acceptance of my exploration, I hoped she would feel pleasure. During this
time, my mother has been open about all aspects of her womanhood, but as time goes by, she is constantly adapting to our
new relationship; and I, emotionally and physically, am gradually becoming more attuned to her needs, striving
to meet them, and repaying her tolerance doubly in the process of her positive responses.
"I can tell what you're thinking at a glance," my mother said, a sentence that brought me back to reality.
“I was just thinking about how much we’ve changed this summer.”
“What do you think about these changes?”
“I like it. I’ve found someone else to love. I’m learning to give so much more
love than I ever imagined.”
“I think we’re both learning something new in this respect, in so many ways, compared to before.
Would you like to have breakfast with me in bed?”
“As long as I can clean up the crumbs.”
We both laughed, remembering the last time I served her breakfast. She replied, “Would you like me to
have a special fried egg?”
“Not too hard-boiled, I like mine soft-boiled.”
I followed her to our bedroom with the breakfast tray, and moments later, we were lying naked side-
by-side. I reached out and put my arm around her and tried to make love, but she giggled and resisted. We
began our game of rape and counter-rape. Mom was healthy, healthy enough to win over us.
In the wrestling match, I struggled with her for a long time, trying every means to awaken her desire, but she still
didn't intend to give up. Laughter permeated this game of fake rape.
I figured out a simple way to end her resistance: I slammed my back onto the bed, pretending
to be exhausted... This morning was no exception. She got up, straddled me with her legs apart, and
slowly lowered herself onto my erect penis, allowing it to slowly penetrate while she swayed her hips
until she completely embraced it.
Neither of us had any particular restraint, because this was our first time making love today. Mom
started bouncing up and down at a slow rock and roll rhythm, but soon lost control, like a
crazed female knight hunting a fox. In the following time, I could not only hear her frenzied screams, but also feel
the subconscious contractions deep within her body. Then I lost control. My orgasm
overwhelmed me suddenly, and my semen instantly drowned out the spasms deep within my mother's body… Finally, my mother's swaying body
succumbed to gravity, collapsing onto me, panting, greedily
covering my face with wet kisses.
"God, I crave all this, Paul."
"Me too," I replied.
There is a special kind of intimacy,
the warmth shared by a man and a woman after making love. Though it is only a moment, it is the most important moment. No external intrusion can dilute
this love and spiritual connection; no touching, no caressing, no words are needed. We have suffered so much
hurt, and when all desires are finally fulfilled, we crave that moment of warmth.
Now is that moment, the moment when the love between two people is deepened, broadened, or destroyed.
In this moment, unspoken messages are just as important as spoken words, and sometimes, spoken
words are misunderstood.
My mother sat up, still straddling me, and took a crescent-shaped
loaf of bread from the plate. She tore off a piece and began to feed me. She placed a pillow behind my head so I could sit more comfortably,
then poured herself a cup of coffee. She sipped a little as she fed me, then sipped again… We
shared this delicious flirtation, occasionally punctuated by the sweet bread roll and the bitter coffee. Suddenly, my thoughts
became jumbled, and an ancient phrase echoed in my ears:
"We are so fortunate to taste this sweet fruit, though we must still sip the
despair of the dark world, but our love for each other grows ever deeper."
A surge of emotion I had never experienced before swept through my body, and tears involuntarily streamed
down my face. I had never understood why some people cry when they are truly happy—no, until this moment.
Mother, ah, perhaps she is no longer just a mother. I love everything about this woman, her virtues and her
flaws. I curse customs, I curse taboos, and I curse everything or anyone that tries to separate us.
My mother noticed my tears and asked, "Is something wrong, Paul?" Her voice was full of
concern.
"Nothing's wrong, everything is perfectly normal. I'm just so happy that I can't help
but cry. I love you so much, I don't even know how to express it."
After a moment, I realized I had misspoke. My mother's face contorted, expressionless, but her
eyes filled with tears. She put the cup back on the tray, her movements convulsing like a robot, then threw herself into my arms
, hugging me so tightly I could hardly breathe. She buried her face in the pillow beside my neck and
sobbed… After a long while, she slowly regained her composure, lifted her head, and gave me a salty kiss.
“Paul, sometimes I worried that what happened between us was just physical attraction, because of my
loneliness, and for you, because of the turbulent desires of youth. What you just said dispelled my doubts
.”
Afterwards, we sat under the oak tree outside, enjoying the freedom of our private backyard. Our old house has a
small lawn without a fence. There are no houses behind it either; the lawn ends at a dense thicket of trees and bushes
, marking our boundary with the neighbors. A narrow gap in the bushes leads to a hidden path that
winds its way to our back door—traces probably made by previous owners taking shortcuts for morning exercise
or walking their dogs; now only a helicopter can disturb our privacy.
Mom seemed to suddenly remember something and said, “Paul, we need to get some lawn furniture and a
hammock to put here. Don’t you think so?”
We already had a pair of lounge chairs outside, so we could look out at the sky in the yard. “Yes, that’s great, we
can put it in the shade.”
“I like our privacy here. In our old house, everyone could tell which
brand of soda you were drinking. Would you like to go to the store and buy some things to make the yard more comfortable, and have a hamburger for
lunch?”
“Can we afford it after all the moving expenses?” I asked.
“Have you ever made love in a hammock?”
“No.” Mom’s answer was completely unrelated, which made me feel very mysterious.
“Neither have I, but I want to try.”
Images of the two of us in the hammock flashed through my mind… We had just made love, but my
imagination was giving me a high level of excitement, and my shorts were involuntarily pushed up high, making me feel
a little embarrassed. While Mom noticed my embarrassment, I adjusted my position to make myself a little more comfortable.
"Thinking of a hammock?" she asked with a laugh, and to my utter astonishment, she then stood up, pulled down her
shorts, let her underwear slide down to around her ankles, and stepped out from between them. "I always fantasize
about making love outdoors, want to try?" she said, lying down on the grass.
Without any coercion, I immediately pulled off my shorts and jumped beside her. She pulled my back, pushed me away, and pressed herself against
me, sitting up straight and saying, "These grasses are making my target itchy, you're on the bottom!"
Our lovemaking was short and intense. At the end, we lay together in the shade,
kissing occasionally. A moment later, we returned to reality. Mom said, "We have to put
a lock on the front door, otherwise what will we do when the gas worker comes to read the meter?"
"I reckon we'll give him a whole day's worth of blessings," I joked.
"Then he'll have a story to brag about to his colleagues, won't he?"
"Mom, you're incredible, you always find weird places to make love."
"You're absolutely right, and I have an even more incredible partner, I reckon the man is
younger than half my age. Want to take a shower with me before we go shopping?"
After lunch, we went to the store to buy lawn furniture. It was too late to buy furniture this time of year; most
stores only had a small selection on display. After visiting several stores, we chose a lock for the front door at a large hardware
store. To our surprise, the store also had a large outdoor furniture
display.
We chose a table with chairs, a lightweight sofa, and a double hammock. Mom decided
to have them deliver on Monday morning.
Back home, I immediately locked both doors, now certain no uninvited guests would break in
and disturb us. The rest of the day, we treated
ourselves to dinner at a nice restaurant and a movie.
Sunday morning, Mom woke me up early, already dressed in her workout clothes. “Get up and get dressed quickly,
we have to stay in shape,” she said.
“Do we really have to?” I complained, barely able to open my eyes.
“We haven’t had a proper run since we moved. I feel like I’ve gained weight, and sitting at my desk all day
won’t do me any good. Lie in bed, or I’ll go for a run before it gets too hot if you want
.”
“Give me a minute, I’ll be right there,” I replied.
“I’m waiting for you in the kitchen. Want a cup of coffee first?”
I struggled out of bed, busied myself in the bathroom, and in less than a minute, I was sitting
in the kitchen enjoying Mom’s instant coffee. She went on and on about gaining weight and
how she'd gotten back in shape over the past few weeks, and in the right places, I occasionally chimed in with agreement to keep her
flow.
We did some stretching in the backyard and then emerged from the tree-lined path.
About half a mile down the path was a bridge, and Mom suggested it be our first long run –
run to the bridge and back. Getting to the bridge was easy; the return trip was difficult. By the last quarter mile, we
were both panting heavily. Stumbling into the backyard, we were drenched in sweat, panting like
steam locomotives.
Mom ran over and filled the large bathtub with hot water, and after a shower to wash off the sweat, we slid in and
soaked. We realized two things: our bodies really disappointed us, and we'd never have to try making love underwater again
.
After breakfast, we sat in the backyard and worked out, passing the exhausting morning. My mother was
discussing the new lawn furniture she'd bought and how she planned to place it. I'd long since learned to agree with her; whether to put
chairs or a table there was an argument I could never win.
Soon the conversation slowed, and we each sat lost in our own thoughts. The dent in the lawn
was where we'd made love yesterday; the grass there was still bent over, looking like a large
spot from afar. I stared at it, thinking about what my mother's words about the gas meter reader. I imagined
the astonished face of a stranger watching; if he saw this scene—a teenager and a woman in her thirties
rolling and embracing on the lawn… a smile involuntarily welled up inside me, and I started laughing out loud.
My mother, looking at me as if I'd lost my temper, asked, "Want to share this joke?"
When I finally regained some composure, I replied, "I just noticed the
grass we trampled yesterday, and then I remembered what you said about the meter reader. I was imagining
what his face would look like if he actually found us."
My mother let out a short, sharp laugh before speaking: "Funny, isn't it?"
"I wanted to try the hammock; that's what prompted me yesterday."
"It'll be here tomorrow, maybe we should baptize it tomorrow night, Paul."
"How did you come up with the idea of making love in a hammock, Mother?"
"Something happened when I was a teenager. Want to hear it?"
"I'm all ears."
"One hot night, I couldn't sleep in the house, so I decided to
try the lounge chair in the backyard, where it was cooler. I was just about to drift off when I was startled awake by whispers in the neighbor's yard. I listened
for a while and realized it was my neighbor's girlfriend and her boyfriend. The conversation was very interesting, and my curiosity was
fully satisfied. I not only wanted to listen but also wanted to see, so I quietly got up and tiptoed
to the top of the low hedge at the edge of the yard, where I could clearly see two people in the hammock. I couldn't see
their details, but from their posture, I knew they were embracing and kissing affectionately."
"The voyeurism and eavesdropping excited me immensely, and then it got even more so that I had to
masturbate. The moment I put my fingers in, I saw them climb out of the hammock, strip naked, and then
climb back in to have sex. In the darkness, I squatted there, my fingers moving in and out, fantasizing that I was the
girl in the hammock. Just as I was about to climax, a light flashed in the back porch, and the girl's father came
out and grabbed them. As he yelled at them, I reached an unbelievable, unparalleled climax
."
"Later, when I masturbated, I would imagine this backyard scene to enhance my arousal. I guess every
teenager uses something to stimulate their excitement. Don't you do that too?"
My mother's question surprised me, and I felt my face flush with embarrassment. She looked at me with an ambiguous
smile, as if she knew a secret. As my mother continued, my mind went blank
, and I didn't know what to say.
"I know you masturbate. I'm telling you about it, and we're like two curious children. I'm going to
dig into your innermost thoughts. Are you willing to let me see?" Her question was accompanied by a series of laughs.
Talking about this topic with my mother was difficult, even if she liked to pry, but I still
answered honestly: "I have an old magazine of Dad's, and I usually read it in the bathroom."
"Have you ever fantasized about me?"
After the previous confession, the next thing was easy, and I could only tell the truth: "Yes, I
have. When you're a little careless after showering, I've seen it... and then I desperately try to recall
the naked body I've seen before."
"Haven't you thought about being honest with your mother?"
"Unlikely, but all of this surprises me."
“I know about your little show in the bathroom. One day I heard you there, but I didn’t know
if I should say anything. As I was thinking, I suddenly realized how excited I was, so much so that
I had to masturbate to relieve it. Another day, while cleaning your room, I found your magazine
, and I flipped through it page by page, imagining you sitting in the bathroom looking at the same thing. I lay tenderly
on your bed, intoxicated by the scent of your pillow. Later, whenever I had the chance, I would lie
on your bed and masturbate, letting my imagination run wild. See? Isn’t your mother
a really bad woman?”
“What you’re saying reminds me of Uncle Bourne’s cabin, that morning when I had
my accident on your underwear. When I was changing my clothes, I found your underwear in the laundry basket. When I checked them,
I found that you were almost as excited as I was. And the smell of your underwear excited me especially.”
My mother smiled gently at my confession, then fell silent, seemingly lost in thought. Finally, she asked,
"Have you ever regretted starting this?"
"No, I only regret that we didn't discover each other sooner. Think about how much time we wasted
."
"Paul, it may have been easy for you, but not for me. I had to forget
some things I had accepted before. Before we actually took that decisive step, I already anticipated that we
would fall in love like teenagers. Anyway, I hope we're both happy; only God
knows how much unhappiness we have."
"Mom, I know I'm happy. I feel so content when you're beside me when I wake up, and
even more so when you lie beside me tenderly and lovingly at the end of the day. I don't know how to
express it accurately, but if we were still separated, our desires would cause problems between us
. One thing is certain: I've grown so much this summer."
“You’ve really grown up. This move, from the very beginning until now, without your help, I don’t know if I
could have managed it; it would have been a completely different story. It’s been a huge, tedious job, and as your
mother, you make me so proud. I think we’ve both grown up a bit, and I’m starting to appreciate you, to appreciate how you
’ve become such an amazing man.”
We were interrupted by the phone ringing, and Mom got up to answer it. A few minutes later she returned: “I have to go to
the office to finish a report. I was planning to finish it on Wednesday, but the meeting has been moved to tomorrow.
Would you like to come with me to help, or would you like to stay here?”
“If I can help you, I’ll go with you,” I replied.
“You’ll definitely be of help; lots of numbers are clicking away!”
Mom called to her secretary, Debbie, with whom we had arranged to meet on the way to the office.
The three of us spent the rest of the day and part of the evening working on the final
result of Mom’s report. By the time Debbie finished typing and making the final copies, it was almost nine o’clock.
“Is everyone as hungry as I am?” Mom asked.
“Our sandwiches for lunch were digested by six o’clock,” I replied.
“How about you?” Mom asked Debbie.
“I could eat a whole cow.”
“Do you know any good places to go at this time, Debbie?” Mom asked.
“Chinese, Mexican, or American?”
“You choose, anything is fine,” Mom replied.
Debbie took us to a very nice Mexican restaurant, and the head waiter led us to a quiet table
where we could talk comfortably. The food was delicious, and Debbie kept
the atmosphere lively between meals. We were all starving, and we didn’t start talking much until the end of the meal. When the table was cleared,
Mom ordered some fresh drinks, and we all felt relaxed.
“Debbie, thank you for your help over the years. I’m sorry to bother you again on Sunday.”
“It’s nothing, I don’t have anything urgent to do anyway.”
“Thank you for your help anyway.”
“I knew you would contact me this weekend.”
“Why?” Mom asked.
“Can you keep this a secret?” Debbie asked.
“If that’s what you want me to do.”
“Remember John? The guy who criticized you when you submitted your original proposal.
His secretary and I are good friends; we usually go to breakfast together every Sunday morning. This morning
she told me that John knew the schedule had changed on Friday and assumed he had informed you. She asked
if I had finished the report yesterday, and I told her no, then we quickly parted ways. John waited
until today to tell you, hoping you wouldn’t have time. He calls you ‘that country woman’ behind your back.” I
My friends and I were both angry about it. All the secretaries want to see you do even better; you're
the first woman in the company to reach such a high position, and if you do well, you're opening doors for us too. "
I knew he was hostile towards me, but I never expected him to be so blatant. Thank you for bringing us
here for this delicious meal; Paul should also thank you for your help, without you we'd still be
busy in the office."
"Absolutely right, Mom."
Debbie looked at me for a moment before speaking: "Paul, I'm amazed by you, reporting
all the work you've done. You're quite intelligent and very beautiful."
I felt my face flush to my ears. "Thank you." "I even stammered a little.
We went straight home after parting ways with Debbie and collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. I slept like a log until
the next morning when I heard my mother bustling around in the bedroom. I quickly got up and made coffee while she went about her
preparations. Before she left, we hurriedly shared a cup of coffee, and I kissed her goodbye
and wished her good luck.
After my mother went to work, I decided to go for a morning run. It was a beautiful morning, a cool breeze was blowing, and I emerged from
the tree-lined path. I tentatively ran across the bridge, and as I turned back,
a man ran towards me, waved a friendly wave, and we continued our respective morning exercises.
It was my last day before school started, and if I wanted to continue running, I had to get up early. I also had to
wake my mother early if she wanted to run with me. This could present a problem
..." Many times, when I woke her early, she was usually aroused. Almost no
child my age faces this kind of dilemma.
I ran, thinking about those mornings. Mom slept in just a short nightgown, no underwear or bra
, and I slept completely naked. When I woke her, we would usually hug and
kiss tightly; I could even feel the urgency of my morning erection, penetrating her thick pubic hair between her legs, excitement
enveloping me. Things usually progressed to passionate thrusting and playful dodges, starting as imitations of rape and counter-
rape, until the final, frenzied lovemaking. Perhaps I should reconsider how to wake her;
I believe my actions contributed partly to her tenderness when she woke.
I ran to the back door, and standing outside, I was sweating and panting to my limit. Another long
day was ahead before Mom came 　　 home
…

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