Memories are like a dream.

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

Introduction
Everyone has various memories; happy memories are intoxicating, while painful memories are unforgettable
. However, this particular memory has haunted me for decades, troubling me day and night, a
feeling beyond words, only to be understood intuitively.
Ever since receiving the phone call from my mother back home, my heart has been filled with unease. Judging from her voice
, she seemed quite ill. My mother is almost seventy; could she really be passing away? After finishing
a few urgent official tasks, I hastily packed my things, and without saying goodbye to anyone, I set off.
The car bumped along the rugged mountain road, the bright headlights tearing through the darkness ahead, the engine
breathing lonely in the quiet valley, the familiar mountains on either side swaying and drifting past.
Sitting in the bumpy car, my thoughts drifted like autumn dandelions in the wind. The Sounds
of Lust in the Middle of the Night
Let's rewind to the early 1970s. Deep in the Taihang Mountains, there was a beautiful little village,
surrounded by green hills and nestled among lush trees. The people here lived
a simple, unpretentious life, working at sunrise and resting at sunset, generation after generation.
My family lived on the east side of the village, in two courtyards separated by a winding path.
My grandmother lived in the two small mud-brick houses in the front courtyard, while my family lived in the three mud-brick houses with brick facades in the back courtyard.
My house was nestled on the hillside to the north of the village, some distance away. The courtyard and surrounding area were shaded by trees, making it a very quiet place.
There were seven people in my family. My father worked in the county town, about a hundred kilometers away, and it took him five or six hours to cycle home
. My two older sisters did odd jobs with my father in the county town, and my two younger brothers lived with my grandmother year-round
. In reality, only my mother and I lived in the back courtyard. In the village at that time, both in terms of economic conditions and
living environment, my family was considered quite well-off.
The structure of rural houses is very simple. The door to my house is in the middle. To the left of the entrance are some farm tools and household
items. Behind the door is a row of chests and cabinets for storing clothes and grain.
To the right is a simple partition door covered with newspapers. Opposite the partition door is a long fire pit against the east wall, and to the south is a large earthen
kang (heated brick bed), where my mother and I slept. Usually, I slept with my head facing west on the inside, and my mother with her head facing east on the outside.
Although it was the height of summer in July, the mountain village nights were still cool and breezy. In those days with no entertainment
, the only thing I could do at night, at only eight years old, was sleep.
The nights in the mountain village were eerily quiet, except for the faint barking of dogs in the distance and the occasional
sound of rats gnawing on things from the corners. After a day of running around, I lay down on the kang and quickly fell asleep.
"Hmm—"
"Ah—"
"Ouch—"
"Pat, pat, pat pat…"
Suddenly, I was awakened by a strange noise. By the dim light of a small lamp hanging above the partition door
, I saw my mother lying naked on the kang (a heated brick bed), with a naked man between her legs. The man
was thrusting his hips forcefully, his belly slapping against my mother's body. With the rhythm of his thrusts, my mother made various
strange noises.
What were they doing? I suddenly remembered the phrase the children had used to curse. Yes, that's it, they must
be doing that. But who was doing it to my mother? I didn't dare to make a sound, just watching curiously. Suddenly, the man increased
the pace of his thrusts, and after a series of smoky sounds, the room returned to silence. After
wiping themselves off, the man lay back on the kang, panting, while my mother nestled in his arms along the edge of the kang,
her right hand gently rubbing his penis.
"Isn't it beautiful?" my mother asked.
"It's almost unbearably beautiful, this is the most beautiful time," the man replied between breaths.
I recognized the man's voice as soon as he spoke; he was a neighbor from our front yard named Fuze. He was
strong and sturdy, with regular features, and quite a good match for my mother.
"Every time you say it's the most beautiful time, but which one is the most beautiful?" my mother asked coquettishly.
"Hmm—, the first time, I guess," the man replied somewhat evasively.
"You still remember the first time? Then tell me, how many years has it been?" my mother asked.
"I'll never forget it, twenty years," the man said.
"Come on, you still can't forget it? Let me tell you, eighteen years," my mother said, slightly boastful. "
You remember so accurately?" the man asked, unconvinced.
"Of course! I married here when I was eighteen, and now I'm thirty-six. You do the math, how many years has it been?" my mother
continued with absolute certainty, "Not only do I remember the time clearly, but I even know how many times we've been intimate."
"You're bragging. Tell me, how many times?"
"Including tonight, it's been two thousand one hundred and eight times."
The man laughed. "That's about a hundred times a year. I can't remember exactly how many times,
but I know I've had the most with you."
"Including your wife?" The mother seemed unconvinced.
"Yes."
"Weren't those four or five children your doing?"
"Children are children, how many times can they be used? There are 365 days in a year, and you've used her for over a hundred days
. How many days can she use? I'm not made of iron." The man said aggrievedly.
"I've had the most with you too. My old man only comes home once a month or so, stays for a day or two, and then leaves. Even if
he comes twice a night, it's only about twenty times a year. I might as well say I'm your wife." As she spoke, the mother
rolled over the man and started rubbing his penis with her other hand.
"Anyway, I'll never forget the first time." The man returned to the beginning of the topic.
The mother leaned up and kissed the man. "I can't forget it either," she said. "That year, I had my wedding ceremony on the third
day of the twelfth lunar month. The old man stayed for a week before going to work. He left during the day, and you came at night."
"I thought you were going to kick me out, but you didn't scold me," the man said.
"Why would I scold you? It was just a wedding ceremony, and he couldn't even last ten or so strokes a day before he ejaculated. I was so anxious!"
"I was still a virgin back then."
"You were strong; that night you caught me and did it five times."
"I was young then, but not now, maybe twice at most."
"How many times tonight?" Mom seemed to be checking her head.
"Twice." The man seemed to answer without hesitation.
"You keep your word." Mom said sweetly.
"My darling, my sweet pussy, my good sister, when have I ever been coaxing you? After I've rested enough, I'll definitely
make you feel good again before dawn." The man patted Mom's buttocks.
"Brother—, darling brother—, my mushroom-head brother—, you're such a good brother." Mom
said flirtatiously.
I was a little confused. "Sweet pussy sister," "mushroom-head brother," I was completely baffled. Fortunately,
the following words gave me the answer.
"Brother, is your sister good?" "
Good." "What's
good about her?" "Everything's good
. Good-looking, good-natured, and a good baby."
"What's the best thing about her?"
"The best thing about her is her baby."
The man said that Mom was good-looking and good-natured, which was the truth. Mom was almost forty, but she didn't look old at all.
She was full-figured but not plump, with fair skin, delicate features, and regular facial features
. With her two long braids combed together and wearing the floral dress her father had bought from the city, she could rival any woman in her twenties in the village. Everyone in the village, young and old,
praised her for her eloquence, competence, and good manners. As for the "good baby," I initially thought she was referring to me, but later I
realized it wasn't like that at all.
"Isn't your wife's 'baby' good?" her mother asked.
"Her thing, it's black and big, hairless and dry, don't even mention it. How can it compare to yours? Yours has lots of hair,
lots of moisture, a tight opening, and it even makes a sound. Just hearing that sound of penetration is enough to make a man ecstatic," the man
said, not without praise.
"Yours is good too, thick and big, and lasts a long time. That big mushroom head is amazing! It goes in and out so intensely,
it makes me feel wonderful to the bone, even the tips of my hair feel amazing." Mom didn't hide anything. "Tell me,
who else has such a big mushroom head? We're a perfect match, like the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl, a match made in heaven.
A hundred times better than that 'Azure Dragon and White Tiger' stuff they talk about."
...
Listening to Mom and the man's incoherent conversation, I gradually became sleepy and fell asleep. When I woke up the next morning, the man
was gone, and Mom was cooking. There were still traces of two people sleeping on Mom's big pillow; I didn't know if
they did it a second time.
From then on, I often woke up in the middle of the night to peek at Mom and the man doing that. Mom slept with many men
; I knew five or six of them, and including those I didn't know, there were probably a dozen or twenty in total,
I couldn't say for sure. But the one she slept with the most was that mushroom-headed guy.
When I was in junior high school, one dark night, it was very late and no one had come. Just as I was getting ready for bed
, the door rang, and a man entered. He was a bachelor from the west end of the village. This guy was notorious in the village;
he was idle all day, lazy, and over thirty years old, still unmarried. Although we were from the same village, he
had never been to our house before. At least, I had never seen him. My
mother invited the bachelor to sit on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), and sat at the other end herself, asking, "You're a rare guest!
What brings you here?"
The bachelor grinned and said, "Sister-in-law, I've been wanting to visit you for a while, but I haven't had the time.
I came back late from the back mountain today, and I just happened to pass by your house." "
Oh, you must be tired. Please rest. Let me pour you a bowl of water," my mother said politely.
"No, sister-in-law, I'll just sit for a while," the bachelor said sweetly.
"Then sit for a while," my mother said, no longer being polite, and went about her business on the edge of the kang. It seemed
Mom didn't like this man.
"Sister-in-law, you're such a neat and tidy person! Look at how organized your house is, everything is so orderly,
you won't find another like it in the whole village. Everyone in the village, young and old, praises you for being polite, hardworking, and a good person, and it's all true.
My brother is so lucky to have a wife like you." The bachelor was very good at talking.
Mom didn't respond to the bachelor's comment, but asked him, "Brother, how old are you this year?" "
Over thirty, I guess," the bachelor said vaguely.
Mom looked at the bachelor and said, "Thirty-five, right? At over thirty, not having a wife isn't a good
thing. You should hurry up and settle down, have a child every few years, to continue the family line. Besides, you'll have someone to take care of you when you're old
."
Mom's words were neither too harsh nor too gentle, but they hit the nail on the head. The bachelor gave a wry smile and said, "Sister-in-law, you're the one who loves me the most.
But I'm such a disappointment. Others have introduced me to several women, but I haven't liked any of them. I only like someone like you,
even if you're ten or eight years older, I don't care." The bachelor started to skirt around the issue.
His mother said, "You're all grown up now, don't be so picky. How many days does a person live in their lifetime? Decades
pass in the blink of an eye."
The bachelor said, "No matter what, I don't want anyone but someone like you, sister-in-law." As he spoke, he
moved closer to his mother, tugging at her sleeve.
His mother shook her off, saying, "Be serious. You're like a toad trying to eat swan meat."
"Sister-in-law, I truly love you," the bachelor said, tugging at his mother's sleeve again, and his mother
shook her off again.
Seeing that things weren't going well, the bachelor said coldly, "Sister-in-law, stop pretending.
Everyone knows about you and Fuze. Aren't you afraid I'll tell my brother?"
"Go ahead and tell him, let's see who believes you. It won't do you any good. You decide what to do,"
the mother retorted stubbornly, though her heart had softened.
Seeing the time was right, the bachelor grabbed the mother and tried to kiss her. The mother twisted
her arms, seemingly struggling. The bachelor pulled her hands behind her back, holding them tightly with his left hand, and reached into her clothes with his right
to grope her breasts. After a while, the bachelor dragged the mother to her feet and put his hand inside her pants
.
The mother gradually stopped resisting, letting the bachelor grope her everywhere.
A few minutes later, the mother began to moan. The bachelor released her hands, quickly turned off the light, and the mother scolded him.
She snorted and turned the light back on. Mother never turned off the light when she was doing it, saying it wasn't satisfying or
pleasurable in the dark.
The bachelor pressed Mother down onto the kang (heated brick bed), quickly stripped her clothes off, then stripped himself naked, spread Mother
's legs, and started having sex with her standing up.
The bachelor's movements were vigorous, Mother's cries were urgent, and after a while, the bachelor stopped moving.
The bachelor slowly pulled his penis out of Mother's vagina, wiped it haphazardly a few times, then made Mother lie down, spread
her legs, and looked at and touched her, seemingly very fond of her.
While admiring her, the bachelor kept saying flattering things, but Mother lay there ignoring him.
"Good sister-in-law, it's getting late, you should rest. I'll go now, I'll come see you another day," the bachelor said,
getting up.
"Go away, and don't ever come again," Mother said angrily.
The bachelor didn't know what to do, so he sat down beside Mother and continued to fondle her.
After a while, Mom bluntly said, "You're all beautiful now? You're leaving just because you're beautiful? Are you going to let me
sleep tonight?"
The bachelor, as if waking from a dream, bent down and kissed Mom's nipple, saying, "Good sister-in-law, I know you're not completely beautiful
yet. Wait a minute, I'll make you beautiful a second time."
Mom didn't say anything, quietly letting the bachelor caress her.
A meal's worth of time passed, and the bachelor's penis still wouldn't get hard. He tried several times but couldn't penetrate, complaining
, "Your vagina is too tight."
Mom grew impatient, gesturing for the bachelor to lie down, and took his penis in her mouth. The bachelor's penis quickly
became hard.
The bachelor sat up, hugged Mom tenderly, and said affectionately, "Dear sister-in-law, I'll never
forget you." Then he rolled over and pressed down on Mom, thrusting into her vigorously.
The bachelor's movements were still very vigorous, but this time it lasted a long time. Mom's moans grew louder and louder; this
time she must have been thoroughly enjoying herself.
After their lovemaking, Mom suddenly cried out, "Mom! The door's still open!"
The bachelor, upon hearing this, immediately dressed, kissed Mom, and left. Mom got up, closed the door, and turned off
the light, muttering to herself, "A bachelor is a bachelor, he's got the energy, but he's too hasty."
He came a few more times after that, but not often, and then he stopped coming altogether.
As the saying goes, walls have ears. Eventually, Dad heard about Mom sleeping with other men
. That night, I woke up to find out that Mom and Dad were arguing.
"Tell me, how many men?" Dad demanded fiercely.
"Just one," Mom insisted.
"Who is it?" Dad pressed.
"Don't you already know?" Mom countered.
"How many times?" Dad persisted.
"Just once," Mom relentlessly pressed.
"If you don't want to live, then let's go to the commune tomorrow and get a divorce. I can't stand this kind of anger," Dad said, his
words a mix of gentleness and firmness.
Hearing about the divorce, Mom cried, "Fine, let's get a divorce! Who cares about whom? How many times a year do you even come home? I've
been farming and harvesting all by myself, raising the young and the old alone. I've suffered so much since
marrying you. Other women have men to keep them company, but what's the difference between me and a widow? I'm sorry, but I'm a person too.
You haven't come for so long, I just can't take it anymore... I haven't been bad to you, I promise I'll never do
it again..."
Mom sobbed, and Dad fell silent.
Perhaps to express her remorse, or perhaps due to hormones, about half an hour later, Mom
turned to the side and placed her hand between Dad's legs. The blanket on Dad quickly billowed up.
Dad kicked off the blanket and climbed onto Mom's stomach. This time, neither of them spoke, but their voices suggested they were both satisfied
.
Despite the arguments and disagreements, life had to go on. Later, Dad still came home once a month or so, stayed for a
day, and left again. Mom continued to appease those men, and neither of them mentioned that matter again.
The Bright Plan
Time flies, and before I knew it, I was in high school. Unconsciously, my Adam's apple protruded
, and pubic hair grew; I was clearly a man. I was no longer satisfied with watching Mom
make love under the dim light; I craved a woman's body—even just to see it clearly. I didn't dare ask for too much.
The instinctive urge tormented me more and more intensely, and one day I finally came up with a plan. I secretly bought
a slightly larger light bulb and replaced it when Mom wasn't home. I took the smaller bulb to the hillside
and smashed it to pieces. That night, when Mom turned on the light, the room immediately brightened. Mom smiled and asked me, and I only said that
the bulb was broken and a classmate had given me a new one. Mom nodded and didn't say anything more. She would never have dreamed
that I had tampered with it, wanting to see her vagina more clearly.
Several days had passed since I changed the light bulb, but no man had come. I was somewhat disappointed, fearing that one day my mother would
replace it with a smaller bulb, and all my efforts would be in vain.
That night, as usual, I went to bed early on the kang (a heated brick bed), slowly falling asleep while anxiously waiting. Suddenly,
a familiar voice woke me from my sleep. Before I even opened my eyes, I sensed the presence of a bright light, and I couldn't
help but feel secretly pleased. I squinted towards where my mother was sleeping, but only saw her alone. It turned out that my mother was masturbating
.
My mother was lying on the kang, with a pillow under her buttocks, her legs spread apart, her left hand repeatedly inserting
and pulling out a carrot, and her right middle finger rapidly sliding above her vulva, making
a "plop" sound similar to that of a man having sex, and involuntarily moaning "hmm, ah" from her throat. Because my mother's hand was blocking her vulva,
I couldn't see clearly.
My mother masturbated very quickly, and soon she felt a tightness in her flesh, and the pleasure was over.
Seeing my mother masturbating with a carrot, I suddenly remembered that she had soaked a carrot in a small earthenware pot
by the fire that afternoon.
The next day, I found the carrot still soaking in the pot. I picked it up and looked at it;
the top of the carrot had been removed, and the front was rounded, somewhat resembling a man's penis. Later, the carrot disappeared; I don't know...
I wondered if Mom had used it for cooking.
Mom didn't masturbate often; I'd seen it a few times before.
Usually, many men would come to see Mom, so it was rare for her to go six or seven days without a single man.
Four or five more lonely days passed, and still no man came. Mom's mood plummeted,
and her temper began to worsen. Mom was a woman with a strong sex drive; life without a man was unimaginable for her
.
On Saturday afternoon, I finished my homework early, conserving my energy, hoping for a miracle that night. It
was already late. Mom washed her genitals and feet with a basin of water, preparing for bed.
Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I vaguely heard a knock at the door. Mom immediately ran over and whispered,
"Who is it?"
"It's me," came a man's voice.
Mom let the man in and bolted the door. I squinted and saw it was Mushroom Head.
Mushroom Head walked to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) to sit down when his mother suddenly grabbed his shoulders, trembling as she said,
"My dear brother, my Mushroom Head brother, I've missed you so much!" As she spoke, she
kissed Mushroom Head, then reached into his crotch.
She was practically obsessed with men; before he could even take his pants off, she knelt down and took his penis into her
mouth, sucking and licking it, making sounds like she was licking an ice cream cone. Her hands tightly gripped
his scrotum. Mushroom Head touched his mother's face, sometimes tilting his head back and closing his eyes, sometimes looking down at her.
He then stood up, pulled his mother down onto the kang, stripped off his clothes, squatted down, and buried his head
between her legs. I couldn't see his face from inside, but judging from his movements and sounds, it seemed like he was slowly
licking her.
Mom struggled desperately, whispering, "Brother. Quick. Do me." Before she finished speaking, her juices sprayed
all over Mushroom Head's face. He dodged, and the spray went straight to the wall behind him, like urination. But urination
doesn't have that much force.
Mushroom Head seemed to have no intention of doing anything. He lifted Mom's legs, freeing himself from the bed, and lay down on it.
I squinted and saw a large patch of black pubic hair on Mushroom Head's stomach, extending all the way above his navel. His thick
penis throbbed incessantly, like a rabbit holding a small umbrella. His large scrotum was tightly clenched
, looking large enough to hold two eggs.
Mom climbed off the bed and pounced on Mushroom Head, catching his throbbing penis in her mouth. At this moment,
Mom was kneeling between Mushroom Head's legs, her buttocks right in front of my face. The opportunity I had longed for had finally arrived.
I opened my hungry eyes wide, carefully searching every corner.
The dark brown area around Mom's vagina was swollen and bulging, like a steaming hot bun,
or two inflated balls squeezed together. A slit in her vagina seemed to open and close, revealing her pink vulva.
Two small labia minora peeked out from the slit, tender, firm, and plump, like newly sprouted bean sprouts
. A little higher, her round anus resembled a blooming chrysanthemum, its radiating wrinkles like unfolding
petals. Mom was overflowing with vaginal fluid, her thick pubic hair glistening. Glistening drops
of vaginal fluid, like pearls, glistened on her labia minora and the tips of her pubic hair, growing larger and longer, dripping onto the bed. Mom
's vagina and anus contracted repeatedly, each contraction squeezing out more vaginal fluid,
flowing slowly down her thighs. Her round little anus opened and closed, like magic. A beauty
mark the size of a mung bean was set on her left mons pubis, like icing on the cake. Mom kept wiggling her hips, a faint
scent of vagina wafting from her opening.
Just as I was getting into it, Mom suddenly lunged forward and squatted on top of Mushroom Head, one hand holding his penis, Mushroom
Head pressing against her vulva, making a slight adjustment, and then forcefully sat down. With a "plop," her penis and penis were
swallowed into her vagina. Mom and Mushroom Head simultaneously let out a long sigh.
Mom sat on Mushroom Head, tilting her head back and forth, swaying back and forth and side to side. Mushroom Head
would occasionally thrust hard from below, making Mom moan intermittently.
After a while, Mushroom Head pushed Mom down onto the bed, crawled between her legs, and, supporting himself on the bed with his arms
, began to have sex with her properly. Mushroom Head's movements were steady and rhythmic. When entering, he would first press the tip against
the vaginal opening, gently push it in halfway, then forcefully thrust it all the way in. When withdrawing, he would first
lift the tip to the vaginal opening, pause briefly, then forcefully pull it out completely. With each thrust, the vaginal opening
made "plop" and "thump" sounds, quite crisp and loud. Mushroom Head's special movements seemed
designed to amplify the sounds.
Watching Mom and Mushroom Head's intense pleasure, listening to Mom's moans and the sounds of her vagina, I felt my blood boil, my lust
uncontrollable. I involuntarily reached for my penis, which was as hard as a drill, and waves of pleasure quickly
spread from my center throughout my body. When
Mushroom Head reached his peak, he would exchange lewd words with Mom after each thrust, and for a time, the sounds of vaginal bleeding, moans, groans, and
lewd whispers rose and fell, incessantly.
"Isn't it beautiful?"
"Absolutely beautiful."
"Where is it beautiful?"
"My baby is beautiful."
"What's your name, baby?"
"My name is 'pussy.'
" "What kind of pussy?"
"A loud pussy."
Every time Mom said "loud pussy," Mushroom Head would suddenly climb onto Mom's stomach and fuck her wildly. Finally, the two of them
would hug each other tightly, their bodies convulsing violently as they reached the peak of pleasure.
All my muscles were tense to the extreme, and I shuddered, ejaculating a thick stream of semen onto the blanket.
So beautiful! If one person is this beautiful, how beautiful must Mom and Mushroom Head be! I thought to myself as I
secretly wiped myself with my underwear and placed it on my stomach. This was my first time experiencing sexual pleasure. With this experience,
I would often watch Mom and other men having sex and secretly enjoy it myself.
Mushroom Head climbed off Mom's stomach, pulled down Mom's long underwear to wipe himself, wiped Mom again, and then...
Mom said some incoherent things, and after resting for a while, she got up and left.
After I ejaculated, my whole body was as limp as a puddle of mud; I didn't even have the strength to open my eyes, and my mind was completely
blank. Although Mom was still naked, I had no interest in looking anymore.
In my dazed state, I vaguely heard a soft knocking on the door. My experience of secretly watching Mom for over ten years had made me
unusually sensitive to sounds.
Mom heard it too, and walked naked to the door, asking softly, "Who is it?"
"It's me." It was another man.
Mom let the man in; it turned out to be the village secretary.
Mom knew what the secretary had come for. She lay naked, exposing her vulva, and teased the secretary's crotch with one foot
. The secretary quickly stripped naked and lay down, one hand already on Mom's vulva.
Suddenly, the secretary sat up, parted her vulva with both hands, and began to examine it carefully.
"Who did you do it with?" The secretary clearly already had an answer.
"I was just thinking about men and getting all wet. Who did you do it with?" Mom said.
"That's not vaginal fluid," the Party Secretary said confidently.
"If it's not vaginal fluid, then what is it? You're so suspicious. If you want to do it, do it; if you don't, forget it. I'm too lazy to serve you anyway,"
Mom said petulantly.
The Party Secretary leaned forward, reluctant to leave. It seemed he
wasn't going to mind what was inside her vagina. The Party Secretary used to be fond of kissing vaginas, but tonight he definitely wouldn't.
Mom didn't say anything, letting the Party Secretary lie on his back on the kang (heated brick bed), and she started kissing his penis like a mushroom head
.
Mom's buttocks were once again pressed against my face. I stared at Mom's vulva, and saw a clump of white, sticky stuff
stuck to the side; it was clearly not vaginal fluid.
The Party Secretary's penis grew hard. The Party Secretary pulled Mom's arm, and she lay down. The Party Secretary turned to his left
, put Mom's right leg over himself, exposing her vagina, then stretched his own right leg between Mom's legs,
aimed his penis at her vulva, and inserted it upwards, then began rubbing it in and out. The village secretary, while rubbing against her,
slid his right middle finger, dipped in her vaginal fluid, around her vulva.
He was over sixty, the oldest of the men, and his stamina was clearly failing. My mother
, to my surprise, continued moaning and groaning.
The secretary rubbed for quite some time, then quickened his pace, thrusting a dozen times before stopping, clearly having ejaculated.
He stood up, dressed, and left, tossing out a parting remark: "Tell me who you'll sleep with next time. I don't
want to produce semen from kissing a vulva."
My mother saw him off, bolted the door, and muttered, "Giving you a good time, old man, is already a favor. You're still being picky.
This 'loud vulva' isn't just for you." Then she flopped onto the bed, turned off the light, and went to sleep.
The next morning, I lifted the covers and saw the sheets stained and scattered with pubic
hairs of unknown origin.
I watched my mother in the bright light for over a month, about twenty times. I knew every blade of grass and
every nook and cranny of her body like the back of my hand. Later, my mother said the light bulb was too big and used too much electricity, so she had a man I didn't know buy
a small light bulb and replace it. I was too embarrassed to change it to a bigger one, so I could only watch her in the dark from then on. Fortunately,
the full image of "Xiangxiang's pussy" was deeply imprinted in my mind, and I could review it anytime.
Unexpected surprise
After getting into university, I reluctantly said goodbye to my mother.
I lived in university for three years, and even when I came home for holidays, my mother wouldn't let me sleep on the same kang (
heated brick bed) with her anymore. Would I ever see my mother, so unrestrained and unconventional, again? I was afraid I would never have the chance, I thought dejectedly.
Three years of university life finally came to an end, and I was assigned to work in a government office in the county town. My future life
was finally settled.
While I was in college, my father brought my mother to live in the county town. By then, my two older sisters were already married, and my
two younger brothers were in high school and college, respectively, both boarding at school. So, it was just my parents and
me living at home.
We lived in a small two-room house in the county town. The first room was the living room, and the second room had two
bedrooms of similar size, one in front of the other, on the east side. Opposite the living room door was a small kitchen. My parents lived in the front bedroom, and I lived in the back
bedroom.
I hadn't seen my mother make love for several years, and now that she was back, I really wanted to see it again. The desire to relive those memories grew
stronger day by day, and the longer it went on, the stronger the urge became. I started racking my brains and trying various methods.
Against the east wall of the living room was a large iron fire used for heating in winter. The fire's chimney shot directly into the front bedroom
, then up and into my bedroom. Even so, because the fire burned very brightly in winter, I didn't feel cold at all while naked in the bedroom
. After the chimney was removed in the summer, a large
, round hole was left in the wall separating the two bedrooms. I first moved a table to the front, then placed a chair on it, and stood on the chair to
look through the hole into the front bedroom. Unfortunately, apart from half a window in the front room and a glass
frame hanging on the wall next to the window, I couldn't see anything. I repeatedly adjusted the angle of the frame, hoping to see my mother's bed through it, but at most I
could only see a strip of the bedside. Even so, I still moved the table and chair to look through the hole whenever there was any movement. Most of the
time, I could only see my father's two legs straining; by the time I saw four legs, the struggle was usually over.
Summer quickly passed, and the hole came in handy in winter, so I had to continue looking for other
solutions. After careful observation, I discovered that the door to my mother's bedroom was warped; the latch was useless,
and when the door was closed, the lower half always had a gap more than a finger's width. I tried looking through the gap and
could basically see most of the bed. This was like a godsend to me. Later, whenever there was any noise from the front house, I
would tiptoe to the door to peek, but due to the limited viewing angle and distance, even the most intense scenes
couldn't compare to the awe-inspiring sight before my eyes. As time went on, the more I watched, the more suffocated I felt; I always felt that listening was more
satisfying. Alas, what could I do? I just endured it day after day.
The following summer, the temple fair in the county town was exceptionally lively. Operas were performed day and night on the stage in the south of the town, a
popular place for people to cool off. My father was a devoted opera fan, often sitting in the audience all day long. That evening…
Just after dinner, Dad said, "Let's go see a play." Mom said, "Okay." They left one after the other.
I didn't want to see the play, so I wandered aimlessly around the streets for a long time before returning home. I wanted to pour myself a glass of water,
grab a book, and lie in bed to while away the night; I liked spending my free time like that.
Just as I went to the living room to get the thermos, I heard a very uncomfortable groan coming from Mom's bedroom. Mom—
wasn't she supposed to be at the play? Why is she home? Mom must be sick and came home alone. Mom doesn't
really like going to the play; she often left Dad alone when she came home before. Thinking this, I put down the thermos and
went to Mom's bedroom.
I pushed open the door and was immediately stunned by what I saw. Dad and Mom were naked, having sex. I saw
Mom lying on her back on the bed, legs spread wide, feet pointing upwards, toes almost touching the insteps. Her hands
were clenched into claws, grasping and releasing in the air. Her mouth was open, eyes closed, and all her muscles were taut like drum skin
. Dad was straddling Mom's legs, his hands gripping her shoulders, his legs kicking hard against the sheets. His body was convulsing
and trembling, his penis inside her throbbing and thrusting deeper and deeper. Clearly, Mom and Dad were
enjoying the pleasure of an orgasm.
I suddenly realized that the groan I had heard wasn't from pain, but from pleasure.
How could the groans from pain and pleasure be so similar?
Mom and Dad's bedroom was simply furnished. To the right of the entrance was a window, behind which sat an old box on a stool
. To the left was a long table with some books and a lamp, which was now shining brightly
. Directly opposite the door was a double bed. The room wasn't big; the double bed was less than a meter from the door
, and just a step inside brought you to the bedside. I was standing almost right next to the bed, right
where Dad could stretch his legs, and I could easily reach out and touch his buttocks.
My mind seemed to have gone haywire; I stood there, frozen, my legs rooted to the ground. No one
noticed my presence. This was understandable; at that moment, one's consciousness is completely detached from the body
.
Instinctively, I stared between Mom's legs; I couldn't see her genitals at all, and even her anus was
hidden by Dad's bulging scrotum.
The climax slowly subsided, and Mom gradually went limp, her arms stretching out on the bed, her legs draped over Dad
's buttocks, letting out a powerful moan as she began to descend from heaven. Dad's body stopped trembling
, and he slowly moved between Mom's legs, as if the afterglow still lingered on that spot.
Mom's breathing calmed, and she opened her hazy eyes. When she saw me, her face immediately turned as red as a carrot.
Mom nudged Dad's shoulder, but he ignored her and continued thrusting. Mom got impatient and
whispered in Dad's ear, "Child."
Upon hearing this, Dad immediately knelt on the bed, his penis pulling out with
a "pop" sound from Mom's vulva.
Oh my god! I shuddered. Through Dad's legs, Mom's vulva was completely exposed before me
. Mom was fuller than before, her plump breasts even more ample, her pubic hair wet and clinging to her skin. Her
stretched vulva hadn't closed yet, her labia minora like upright cat ears, a pearl the size of a red bean
glistening beneath, the pink vulva barely visible, like a fairy's slightly parted red lips, or
a peach blossom in early spring. The pink flesh around the vulva formed a ring, with a pool of shimmering water in the center, inspiring endless
fantasies.
Father, startled, knelt on the bed, his penis quickly becoming soft and long, dangling between his legs.
A mixture of vaginal fluid and semen dripped from the glans, a few strands of Mother's pubic hair clinging to his walnut-like scrotum.
Faced with Mother's alluring beauty, my penis thrust forward recklessly, my thoughts
racing like a wild horse. Was this the place that gave me birth and nurtured me? Did I
come into this world amidst their unbridled pleasure? Did they have me for pleasure, or did they have
pleasure because of me? No, I came into this world entirely by my own strength. Ever since Father
ejaculated inside Mother, if I hadn't swum fast, would I be here today? Even if I weren't squeezed out of my mother's vagina
and wiped to death on paper, I would be drowned by my mother's vaginal fluids before reaching the end... Look at my hundreds of millions
of brothers and sisters, aren't they all victims of their beautiful suffering!
...
I was staring greedily at my mother's vulva, when suddenly, my mother's vulva moved, and a stream of milky white semen
surged up, slowly wriggling at the edge of the vulva, just like a plump white silkworm. The vulva gently held the silkworm's tail,
full of charm and love, the silkworm wanting to go in and out, crystal clear, tender and lingering, seemingly very fond of that warm
and slippery place. What a beautiful picture of red lips, peach blossoms, and silkworms!
My mother was ashamed and wanted to put her legs around my father's head and put them together, but she only touched my father's
shoulders twice. With the movement of her legs, my mother's vulva showed one wonderful sight after another. First, the vulva opened, and
the pool of water in the vulva dropped, and the silkworm twitched and trembled. Then, her vulva closed with a "pop," and
the air and vaginal fluid that her father had penetrated were expelled. The silkworm inside her vulva instantly transformed into a white snake, slithering
down her cleft to her buttocks. Her vulva opened and closed twice, like a fairy speaking, the sounds rising and falling
like a harmonious orchestral melody, the vaginal fluids gushing and ceasing like the ebb and flow of the tide.
Her mother, unable to close her legs, was instead seen performing, and in anger, she grabbed a pillowcase and covered her face, kicking her legs and lying stiffly
on the bed, making annoying "hmm" sounds.
Her mother's annoyance immediately snapped her father out of his daze. He looked around for something to cover her, but the blankets
and clothes were piled on the box behind the door. In desperation, her father had a flash of inspiration; he cupped one hand and
firmly placed it over her vulva.
Without my mother's warmth, my uncontrollable desires finally took over. I immediately backed out
, closing the door behind me, and rushed back to my own room.
My desire was burning, and I was unwilling to give up. I tiptoed to my parents' bedroom door and peeked through the crack.
Look. Dad has dried himself off and is lying on the bed, his penis draped diagonally over his pubic hair. Mom is standing on the floor, holding something in her hand,
vigorously wiping the sheets, her two large breasts hanging in front of her chest, bouncing rhythmically with the wiping motion.
While wiping, Mom complained, "I told you the child was here, but I don't know what's wrong with you, you're
like a living dead."
Dad said, "Is it my fault? I don't have eyes on my back. Since you saw it, why didn't you find something to cover
your vulva? Instead, you covered your face. Hasn't the child seen your face before?" Dad continued, "If you didn't want to cover it,
fine, but you were making a racket and leaking, letting the child see it all."
Mom said, "I didn't do it on purpose. I'm a loud vulva, you know that." Mom threw
the thing in her hand on the ground and said regretfully, "The child saw everything, how am I supposed to face him now?"
Dad dragged Mom to the bed, patted her back and comforted her, "Alright, alright, don't be angry.
Didn't the child come from your vulva? What's the big deal about seeing? Let it be. You're going to get married soon, do
n't you understand? You'll get used to it." After saying that, he pulled off the towel Mom threw at him and covered himself up.
Back in bed, I couldn't fall asleep for a long time. The scene from earlier kept replaying in my mind like a movie. Instinctively, I
placed my hand on my penis. As the saying goes, "Even heroes can't resist the charms of a beautiful woman," and knowing I wouldn't be able to
resist tonight, I simply indulged myself. Only after experiencing pleasure twice did I finally calm down and reluctantly close
my eyes.
The next day, when I saw my mother, I deliberately glared at her, and her face immediately turned red to her neck. For the next
few days, whenever she saw me, she would quickly turn her face away.
Living in the county town was different from living in the village; my mother lost many sexual partners, which
was undoubtedly a huge loss for her. At night, I often heard my mother complain, "You only do it once a week at most,
I'm so tired I can't even eat properly, all that milk and eggs you drank wasted." But despite the complaints, my father seemed to have reached
his limit, always having a six- or seven-day interval between each encounter. Therefore, my mother always called my father a "weekly egg,"
and later, my father's nickname became "weekly egg."
As the saying goes, "A living person won't let themselves die from holding their pee," and of course, my mother wouldn't let her "egg" die from holding it in. Every month or so,
my mother would find an excuse to stay in the village for three to five days. But things weren't like before; I thought she wouldn't
be as promiscuous as she used to be.
Testing My Mother's
Sexual Prowess Three years passed in the blink of an eye. That year, the chill of early spring had just faded, and the sweltering heat of summer hadn't yet arrived.
The lush green grass grew vigorously, and the poplar trees were filled with fluffy seeds. It was in this season that
I celebrated my wedding. I finally said goodbye to my single life and had my own territory.
My wife had a dormitory at her workplace, and not long after we got married, we moved in there.
I thought that with a wife and my own territory, I wouldn't be tormented by sexual hunger anymore. But things didn't go as planned.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't achieve the same intoxicated, almost frenzied effect as my mother. As time
went on, the scene of my mother making love kept replaying in my mind. Before, I could find ways to sneak a peek,
temporarily relieving my hunger and anxiety. But now I didn't even have that chance. It felt like a
huge quagmire was settling in my heart, keeping me awake day and night. I was in my early twenties, strong and healthy, at
the peak of my sexual potential. How could I endure such a huge sexual desire? Instinct and reason
clashed violently deep within me.
One day, I went to my mother's house. She was leaning back on the sofa watching TV. Her thin summer underwear accentuated
her alluring figure and high breasts. I felt as if a naked mother was beckoning to me. My
hands reached for her chest several times, only to awkwardly land on my head each time. I reached for her thighs several more times
, only to awkwardly rest them on the back of the sofa. My mother smiled and asked me what was wrong. I stammered, unable to find the words I was trying to
say.
A year later, my wife gave birth to a healthy, chubby daughter, and my mother-in-law came to live with us to help with her postpartum care. My mother-in-law
was very capable; she did everything from mopping and dusting to cooking and laundry, and I benefited quite a bit from her help. But the more idle I was, the stronger my lust became,
leaving me constantly distracted and unsure of what to do.
That noon, as soon as I entered the house, my mother-in-law said, "Your mother wants to see you. She says she's feeling a little unwell and wants you
to come after you've eaten so she can get an injection. She's already bought the medicine." I hummed and hawed in agreement, went to get my bowl and eat,
and then went straight to my mother's house.
The medicine my mother had bought was on the table, and the syringe had already been boiled. I prepared the medicine, and my mother was already lying on
the bed in the inner room, half her buttocks exposed, waiting. My mother's skin was very white and delicate, and her buttocks were quite muscular
, but not flabby. My eyes were fixed on the barely visible cleft of her buttocks. Instead of getting the injection immediately, I inexplicably
grabbed my mother's pants with my right hand and pulled them down. The pants fell to the ground, and her underwear was pulled down to
her thighs. I quickly bent down to pull the pants up, my eyes taking the opportunity to glance down at her buttocks. My mother's large breasts were flattened
between her legs, completely covering her vulva. I could see a deep, long slit
, with some pubic hair growing on her flat breasts.
When I pulled the pants up, my mother didn't tuck them in in time, and they fell to the ground again. My mother said,
"Let's get the injection first." I was startled and got the injection. I deliberately pushed the medicine in slowly, tilting
my head to look down at her buttocks as I did so.
After the injection, I inexplicably touched my mother's buttocks. My mother smiled and said, "Am I
fat enough?" I don't know what I said, my face flushed, and I quickly left.
After my daughter's one-month celebration, my mother-in-law took her daughter-in-law to live with her parents. I was left alone with no one to look after me, so I went to
my mother's house for meals every day.
One noon, when my father hadn't returned for lunch, I asked, "Where's Dad?" "
He went to Beijing for training; he'll be gone for two weeks," my mother replied, bringing out the food.
I didn't say anything more, just ate my meal. After finishing, I sat on the sofa by the door watching TV. My mother tidied up and
went to the inner room for a nap.
"I think I ate something that upset my stomach," my mother said, as if talking to me.
I went into the inner room and saw my mother lying on the bed covered with a towel. I said, "I'll go buy you some medicine."
My mother said, "No need, just massage my belly."
As she spoke, she moved over a bit, letting me sit on the edge of the bed. I knew how to
massage a belly; my mother often massaged my belly when I was little and my stomach hurt. I sat down and reached my left hand
under the towel. I realized that my mother wasn't wearing anything; her underwear and vest were just lying on the table by the bed
.
I placed my hand on my mother's belly button and massaged it firmly, just like she did when she massaged my belly.
"Not here, a little lower, below the belly button." I did as my mother said and moved my hand
below her belly button. As I massaged her belly, I felt my mother's pubic hair gently brushing against the side of my palm. I deliberately made my hand movements
bigger, keeping my eyes on my toes.
Suddenly, my mother grabbed my hand that was massaging her belly and pushed it down onto her thick pubic hair, then
giggled.
I felt a burning sensation on my face and dared not lift my head. My mother's hand was pressed tightly; I tried to pull
away, but couldn't bear to.
I secretly glanced at my mother; her face was flushed, and her eyes were looking at me lustfully.
My mother stopped laughing and said softly, "Your wife has been pregnant for over a month, are you missing women?"
I didn't speak, but reached up to wipe the sweat from my face.
My mother hesitated for a moment, then said shyly, "I want to too." After saying that, she spread her legs and suddenly pressed my
hand to her vulva; a large, bulging mound immediately filled my palm.
I trembled slightly, my blood felt like it was boiling, and my heart was pounding so hard I could almost hear it.
My mother reached out her left hand, unzipped my pants, pulled out my penis, and rubbed and twisted it. My penis quickly
became large and swollen. I could no longer restrain myself. My mother gently rubbed my left hand, which was being held down,
around my vulva, and a gush of vaginal fluid immediately squeezed out, staining my fingers. My mother released my hand, letting me rub around her vulva
again and again. In a short while, my vulva and hand looked like they were covered in soap bubbles.
"Take it off," my mother said, unbuckling my belt.
My animalistic nature was awakened, and the flood of intense desire finally breached the dam of reason. I
rubbed my left hand haphazardly against my mother's pubic hair a few times, quickly stripped naked, jumped onto the bed, pulled in my pants, and with a "plop,"
my penis pierced deep into my mother's vulva. My mother was caught off guard, let out an "Ah," and gave me a reproachful look.
My mother's vulva was tight, warmly enveloping my penis. I had no time to savor it; more than a decade of longing, countless
days and nights of impulsive fantasies, all turned into a frenzy at this moment. I lay on my mother
's fleshy belly, my arms tightly wrapped around hers, my buttocks moving like an electrified machine…
“Wait a minute.” My mother suddenly pressed her hands against my buttocks.
Confused, I thought I had hurt her. I stopped my frantic thrusting, my penis still
moving slowly and involuntarily. Suddenly, I felt my mother's vagina tighten, a strange, intense pleasure washing over me in waves, quickly
spreading throughout my body. My penis involuntarily thrust deeper, and the semen I had been holding back for over two months gushed out.
Like a defeated warrior, I turned my head away in embarrassment. After a while, seeing no reaction from my mother, I
pulled my penis out and prepared to get dressed.
“Lie down.” My mother pulled my arm, and I had no choice but to lie down on the bed.
My mother knelt on the bed, bent down, and took my slightly limp penis into her mouth. Her plump lips held
it tightly, sometimes tightly, sometimes loosely, sometimes high, sometimes low, while her tongue skillfully circled around it. My penis
felt like it was inside a cleverly manipulated vagina.
With my mother's efforts, my penis quickly responded, and the fire of desire was rekindled.
I reached out and nudged my mother's thigh, and she understood, turning her buttocks toward my face while still kissing my penis
.
I rubbed my hands around my mother's buttocks, then parted her vulva and looked inside. Her pink vulva seemed swollen and
distended, like a little fairy pouting. A pool of semen, resembling jelly, was stuck
to her lips, which were pursing as if the jelly was being eaten. Suddenly, the jelly broke off and dripped onto my neck
.
I was amused by the fairy, and without thinking, I rushed over and kissed her tightly.
The fairy drooled, dripping onto my face and into my mouth. Her intelligent vagina
skillfully teased my penis, waves of pleasure rapidly building until, without warning, the second "ammunition"
angrily shot into my mother's mouth.
I pulled away from her vagina, dejectedly glancing at her mouth. My semen dripped from the corner of her lips as she continued
to suck my penis. Feeling
incredibly guilty, I lifted my buttocks, trying to pull my penis out of her mouth. My mother pressed down on my legs,
gently rubbing my scrotum with one hand and gently pinching my penis with the other, stroking it upwards while
sucking hard. After dozens of attempts, my penis miraculously stood up again. Mom's
mouth tightened, her head lifted, and with a "thud," my hard penis immediately sprang out of her mouth, standing at attention,
giving her a proper salute.
I didn't dare slack off, flipping over and pinning Mom down. Having experienced release twice before, this time I wasn't impatient, and I
seriously started doing it, imitating the mushroom head.
Mom's vagina was tight and slippery; after a few thrusts, I couldn't help but moan.
"Oh my god! It feels so good!"
"Oh my god! What a wonderful vagina!"
I was completely focused, giving it my all, and Mom was giving it her all, full of confidence. The room was filled with our
lewd whispers.
"Mom—" I called out affectionately.
"Yes—" Mom answered even more affectionately. "Isn't it wonderful?" "So wonderful." " 　　 Where is
it wonderful?"
"My darling is wonderful. " 　　 " 　　 What does my darling call you?" 　　 "My darling calls me a vagina." 　　 "What does your darling call you a vagina?"

"Scream loudly, you cunt."
My mother's lewd words excited me to the extreme. I climbed onto her stomach and fucked her wildly, relentlessly
ejaculating the last drop of semen into her vagina.
After a moment of tension, my mother began to relax, her face showing obvious enjoyment.
I was panting heavily, almost exhausted, covered in sweat.
"Tired, aren't you?" my mother said, half-heartedly, half-jokingly.
I didn't say anything, just grabbed a pillowcase and wiped my sweat. I glanced intentionally at the area between my mother's legs—black pubic hair
, white semen, and vaginal fluid everywhere, a complete mess.
Seeing me finish wiping my sweat, my mother reached out and took the towel, stuffing it between her legs.
I really didn't know what to say, so I simply said nothing, pulled up my pants, threw on my clothes, and fled
home.
For the next ten days, I didn't go home for meals.
Men always need women. After ten days of this, my patience gradually reached its limit. That evening
, I hastily ate dinner, feeling uneasy, and before I knew it, I was on my way to my mother's house.
The moon was round and bright, the poplar trees along the road rustled, and people
were playing in small groups under the streetlights, some playing chess, others cards. I walked in the shade under the trees, afraid that people
would see through my thoughts.
When I got home, my mother had already eaten dinner and was washing the dishes in the kitchen. Seeing me, she came out and said,
"Have you eaten?"
I hummed in response.
"Why haven't you come over for dinner these days?" my mother asked casually.
"I came because I had something to do." Seeing that my mother acted as if nothing had happened, I relaxed and sat down
on the sofa.
"You didn't even say you weren't coming, making me eat the same old food every day. You should come home for dinner from now on; eating out isn't good."
After saying that, my mother went back to washing the dishes, and I turned on the TV.
After cleaning the kitchen, Mom took a basin in, and from the sound of her washing something, she came out with
a basin of water and placed it at my feet, saying softly, "Don't leave tonight, okay?" Then she closed the door behind her.
I quickly washed my feet, and Mom handed me a towel, her eyes gleaming with lust. I grabbed the towel
, dried myself, and then picked Mom up and carried her to the inner room.
Having learned from our first experience, Mom and I worked together very well that night. Especially that morning,
it lasted a full hour; Mom said it was the longest she had ever been beautiful in her life.
For the next few days, I stayed with Mom.
As the saying goes, "Everything is difficult at the beginning." From then on, Mom and I quickly became inseparable
best friends, like a couple in the throes of first love, missing each other terribly if we didn't see each other for a day.
For a while, Dad wasn't going to the countryside or on business trips, and every time I went to see Mom, I arrived happy but
left disappointed.
That day, I took a sick leave from work and went straight to my mother's house after breakfast. My mother was in the kitchen, doing her
hair in front of the mirror.
She was wearing a short-sleeved top, open at the waist, and loose elastic-waisted pants. I stood behind her,
looking at her large, full breasts in the mirror—a mature woman's beauty. Her disheveled hair
also gave her a rather alluring and sexy look. I couldn't resist hugging her from behind, kneading her full breasts, and
kissing her neck as I said, "Mom, I've missed you so much! Let me look pretty!"
My mother stopped combing her hair, turned around, and kissed me, saying, "Look pretty, how?"
I said, "It won't stop you from combing your hair. You stand still, I'll do a little self-pleasure from behind. Let's keep it simple
."
My mother said, "Whatever you say, you look pretty."
I didn't expect my mother to agree so readily; perhaps she had missed me terribly. I pulled my mother's pants
down to her thighs, first teasing her until she was wet, then I took out my penis and tried to insert it into her vagina from behind. But after inserting it
for a while, although I got a lot of wetness, I couldn't even reach the entrance.
My mother reached behind her and touched my penis, saying, "Forget it, your little penis is too short. Unless I
bend over and stick my butt out, it won't go in."
I said unconvinced, "I don't believe it. How
can I get in my wife?" My mother said, "Are people all the same?"
I said, "They're not people."
My mother said, "Vaginas aren't all the same either. There are many kinds of vaginas in the world. How many have you seen?"
This was an interesting topic. I leaned against the fire, pretending to listen attentively, and said, "Then tell me,
how many kinds of vaginas are there in the world?"
My mother put down her comb, pulled up her pants, and leaned against the fire next to me. She slapped my face with one hand and said:
"Let me tell you, there's a lot. There are different sizes, varying heights, black and white, tight and loose, deep and shallow, dry and sparse. There are fragrant vaginas,
smelly vaginas, dead vaginas, living vaginas, succulent vaginas, stupid vaginas… even an emperor wouldn't have seen them all."
Mom finished speaking and looked at me. Seeing I didn't quite understand, she explained further: "Size refers to the size of the vagina, and 'variable height
' refers to the amount of hair. 'Up and down' refers to the location of the vulva. Mine is higher up, visible when someone stands up
—that's a rare find. Some are lower down, right next to the anus."
Before Mom finished, I asked, "Where are white vaginas?"
Mom said, "Silly boy, black and white refers to the depth of color, not that there are white vaginas. If there were white vaginas, what would be
there to be afraid of?"
I then… I asked, "Then size and tightness are different?"
Mom looked at me and said, "How can they be the same? Size refers to the shape, tightness refers to
the strength with which it grips the penis. Some vaginas look like they're baring their teeth, but they grip the penis very tightly. Some vaginas are small and delicate,
but they're not very strong."
I seemed to understand and nodded, saying, "I know about depth and wetness. Depth refers to the depth of the vagina, and wetness refers
to how much fluid there is. But what about 'dead, alive, succulent, and stupid'?"
Mom said, "A vagina that can't be beautiful is a dead vagina, and a beautiful vagina is a alive vagina. A dead vagina can't enjoy pleasure and doesn't
want a man. If you end up with a dead vagina as a wife, that's really bad luck. A succulent vagina is not only beautiful, but also incredibly beautiful."
"You're just a silly slut, all you can do is look pretty, but you're not truly beautiful."
After saying that, Mom glanced at me and teased, "Hey, your wife isn't a deadbeat, is she?" "
No, she's just not as good as yours," I said sheepishly.
Seeing that she had dampened my spirits, Mom quickly comforted me, "That's good. Don't compare yourself to me. Mine is quite
rare. Men say 'top, tight, deep, sparse, fragrant, lively, and succulent,' and if you have half of those,
you're considered a top-tier woman. I have almost all of them. You're very lucky to have been able to be with me for life."
I said, "Yeah. I think so too."
Mom further comforted me, saying, "Yours is practically a top-tier woman among men. No wonder I gave birth to you
." After saying that, Mom reached out and touched my still-exposed penis.
I suddenly became interested again and asked, "Men have 'famous penises' too?"
Mom said, "Of course! As long as a man's penis is 'thick, big, long, and lasts a long time,' it can be considered a 'famous penis.' Don't you
have all of those? You're just missing the 'penis king.'"
I asked, "What's a 'penis king'?"
Mom said, "A 'penis king' means that not only is the penis a 'famous penis,' the head of the penis is also very big, like a small mushroom
. Just having a mushroom isn't enough; it's not 'thick, big, and long-lasting,' so it can't be considered a 'penis king.'" As Mom spoke ,
she made a circle with her thumb and forefinger and gestured over the head of my penis.
I suddenly remembered the mushroom head I had sex with Mom; that must be the 'penis king,' so I deliberately asked Mom
, "Is the 'penis king' beautiful?"
Mom said, "Of course the 'penis king' is beautiful, especially when that mushroom head goes in and out; it makes you feel beautiful
to the bone, even the last strand of hair feels beautiful." Mom got more and more excited as she spoke.
"You know?" I asked, glancing at Mom.
Mom realized she'd let something slip and smiled, saying, "I was just thinking of saying it."
I smiled too and didn't continue. After a pause, I deliberately changed the subject and asked, "
Do you know how many kinds of men there are?"
Mom said, slightly showing off, "Men come in all shapes and sizes, from short to long, thick to thin, pointed to flat or round, big to small, straight to crooked, dead to alive, clever to stupid...
there are so many." Before I could ask, Mom continued, "A man's size refers to the head of his penis. A dead penis
is one that can't get erect, and a stupid penis is one that doesn't grow long. Some penises ejaculate after only a few thrusts inside, and
some can't even stand the sight of a vagina, they ejaculate before even entering, those are all stupid penises."
Mom's words reminded me of something, and I asked, "The first time we were intimate, you made
me ejaculate in no time, how did you do that?"
Mom said, "I used a live vagina."
"A live vagina?" I looked at Mom, puzzled.
Seeing my confusion, Mom explained, "A 'living vagina' is a vagina that moves, not the 'living vagina' or 'dead vagina' you mentioned earlier
. A living vagina can tighten and loosen anywhere from the opening to the bottom, and can move freely."
"Is a living vagina something you're born with, or something you develop?" I asked curiously.
"It's both. Such vaginas are rare; men call them 'famous instruments,'
maybe one in ten thousand. After a man has experienced the pleasure of a living vagina, he doesn't feel tired and can quickly experience it again," Mom said.
"That time it was also wonderful in your mouth, and you made me cum a second time in no time, so is that a 'living mouth'?"
I teased Mom.
Mom laughed heartily, pointing at my mouth as she laughed, "Mouths can talk, they can eat,
they're alive, how can there be a dead mouth? That's called a 'mouth vagina.'"
Hearing this ridiculous name, I couldn't help but laugh too. While laughing, I asked, "What is oral sex?"
Mom said, "Oral sex is using your mouth to imitate the movements of a vagina to stimulate a penis. Oral sex is all about practice. A well-practiced
oral sex is almost like a live vagina, and it's beautiful. However, practicing oral sex requires skill; you have to be able to
feel the sensations of a man's penis, otherwise you won't be able to master it."
I moved closer to Mom's face, put my hand inside her pants, and touched it, saying, "I still think a live vagina is better."
Mom said, "That's right, a useless man can't even last a minute inside before he ejaculates."
I felt like Mom was teasing me, so I cupped Mom's face in my hands, stared at her, and asked seriously:
"How long can Mushroom Head last?"
Mom was taken aback, then quickly feigned ignorance, saying, "What are you talking about?"
Seeing Mom pretending to be confused, I suddenly hardened my heart and said, "Mom, I've been watching you for over ten years, do you think
I don't know?"
Mom was half-convinced, and pushed me away, saying, "What do you know? I only know that you saw me that time your father and I were
together, otherwise I wouldn't have let you be so smug."
Seeing that Mom didn't believe me, I simply stated bluntly, "Do you remember the light bulb I changed? I
changed it because I couldn't see you clearly. And that carrot..." I continued, "I also know you
've slept with many men, Mushroom Head, Old Bachelor, Village Secretary..." I counted on my fingers and named five or six men in a row
.
This time Mom believed me, covered her face with both hands, and said in shame and indignation, "Mom, Mom—, what a
disappointment, you saw everything, I don't want to live anymore." She stomped her feet as she spoke.
I deliberately didn't say anything, watching Mom smile triumphantly.
Mom gradually calmed down and said, feigning composure, "So what if they looked? It's not like they're strangers. Besides, you
were asleep, weren't you?"
Seeing Mom acting like she was unfazed, I continued to tease her, "Aren't you afraid
I'll tell Dad?"
Mom panicked and grabbed my hand, saying, "No, no, no, my dear, this isn't a joke."
I seized the opportunity to blackmail her, "If you want me to stay silent, you have to promise me one thing."
Mom readily agreed, "Go ahead."
I leaned close to Mom's ear and whispered, "Let me have a nice, lively time."
Mom agreed, "Okay, I'll find a chance to let you have a good time."
"No, not now," I pressed on.
Mom said, "Not now, your dad's here. If he sees us, it won't be a joke."
I said, "Dad's at work, he won't be back until later this morning." I then pretended to play hard to get and said,
"Maybe I should tell Dad."
Mom thought for a moment, then went outside to peek in, closed the door, and gave me a knowing look. I understood and
quickly followed her into the inner room.
As she took off her pants, Mom said, "You have to kiss my pussy first, otherwise it won't be a good pussy."
I said, "You haven't washed."
Mom said, "You didn't wash last time either, so how could you kiss it? Besides, I have a fragrant pussy, not a smelly one."
I said, "Last time I didn't kiss it and it still felt good, didn't it?"
Mom said, "That's because we played around for a long time, and my pussy was already aroused. Today is different, I can't waste time, so the kiss
will come quickly."
I didn't say anything more, squatted between Mom's legs, and sniffed. Sure enough, there was only a faint fishy smell,
very much like the aroma of some kind of bread.
I licked it with my tongue for a while, then sucked the entire vulva into my mouth, probing and
swirling my tongue around the opening. Mom quickly began to moan. I parted her vulva and looked inside, seeing that the opening was very tight, and a
large amount of vaginal fluid was flowing out. I felt it was about time, so I rolled onto the bed and inserted my penis into her vagina.
As usual, Mom placed her hands on my buttocks, then lifted her buttocks slightly, contracted her lower abdomen, and began
to thrust. I felt a soft, bulging, fleshy ring of skin tightly gripping the base of my penis,
rolling in wave after wave until it reached the glans and suddenly slipped away. A moment later, the ring would
press against the glans again, slip, and the ring would be back on my penis, rolling in wave after wave to the base.
It felt like being thrust in and out of a vagina, but much more pleasurable. Mom went faster and faster, the pleasure
spreading exponentially. In less than a minute, I shuddered and surrendered.
Mom smiled and asked, "Isn't it beautiful?"
I said, "It's gorgeous! From now on, let me enjoy this beautiful pussy forever."
Mom said, "That's easy! You might be ecstatic, but I'll be exhausted."
I didn't dare linger and quickly got out of bed and dressed. As Mom was about to get out of bed, I suddenly grabbed her leg
and said, "The other day when you and Dad were doing it, your pussy was so noisy and wet, it was really interesting. Let me see it again."
Mom couldn't resist me, so she said, "Okay, you watch, I won't do it a second time."
Mom lay on the bed, and I squatted in front of her pussy. I saw her vulva deflate, and with a "plop," a
gushe of air was sucked into her pussy, and then her vulva closed tightly. I was watching intently when suddenly her vulva opened
wide, and with another "plop," a gushe of air was sprayed out, and her juices sprayed all over my face. Mom saw that I had fallen for her
trick and laughed triumphantly.
After Mom laughed, she urged, "Hurry up and pack, don't let your dad see you."
I quickly grabbed a towel to wipe my face, then wiped Mom's private parts. As I was leaving, Mom called after me, saying, "Your dad's going to a meeting in the provincial capital tomorrow." Hearing this, I 　　nodded
happily . 　　 ... 　　 As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. After ten years of happiness with Mom, our joyful days suddenly 　　ended. That year, Dad fell ill, and his illness lasted for three years. After Dad died, Mom never came 　　to live in the county town again. 　　 Later, Mom and I stopped talking about the past; it's been seven or eight years now. I don't know 　　how Mom has managed all these years. Perhaps she's gotten old. 　　 Now, Mom is almost seventy. Mom has indeed grown old. 　　 Revisiting the past... 　　 The car turned a corner, climbed a slope, and drove along the road from west to east through the village to our home. 　　 Dad had renovated the house years ago, but the layout remained largely unchanged. A sofa had appeared on the left side of the entrance 　　, and some furniture had been replaced in the front. The partition door in the east room was still there. The hearth in the inner room was gone, and the earthen bed had been replaced with 　　a double bed. Only the small windows of the house retained some traces of the past. 　　 The gate to the courtyard was ajar, and the light was on in the inner room. 　　 My mother was lying on the bed under the covers, watching TV. When she saw me come in, she seemed very happy and said, "You've finally come! It's been so long and steep; I really regret 　　calling you." 　　 Seeing that my mother didn't seem sick, I asked her curiously, "What's wrong?" 　　 My mother patted the bed with her hand, gesturing for me to sit on it, and took my hand, saying, "Actually, it's nothing, I just 　　feel really uneasy." Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke. 　　 I asked with concern, "Should we see a doctor tomorrow?" 　　 "No need," my mother shook her head and said, "Close the gate to the courtyard." 　　 My heart skipped a beat. Was my mother about to make her final arrangements? I quickly closed the gate and sat back down 　　on the bed. I looked closely at my mother. Her hair was mostly white, with only a few strands of black remaining, and her face was covered in wrinkles. Only her eyebrows, lips, and 　　facial features still faintly revealed her former charm. 　　 "Sigh—," my mother sighed, looking at me and saying, "I can only tell you this. Actually, I'm 　　not sick. I just want to…" 　　 I understood everything at once and didn't speak. 　　 "Your father has been dead for five years," my mother paused and said, "You know, I was used to being a womanizer when I was young 　　. How could I have endured this loneliness? All those men I had were either dead or paralyzed, none of them were any good. 　　If I were to find another companion, I was afraid of what people would say. That's fine, but even if I did find one, I'd be quite old. 　　Who can guarantee he'd still be able to handle it? Even if he's able now, he might not be able to handle it later." 　　 I didn't know what to say and just echoed, "Yes, yes." 　　 My mother pulled my right hand under the covers and placed it on her stomach. My mother wasn't wearing anything. 　　 My mother said slowly, "After thinking it over, I realize I can only rely on you. I'm getting old, and I'm afraid I'll make 　　 things difficult for you." I said, "Don't say that. I'm almost fifty too, and I know what it's like to be alone. Over the years, I thought you 　　were too old and couldn't take it anymore. I've been so careless." As I spoke, I began to caress my mother's body. 　　 My mother was much plumper than when she was younger; her bulging belly had a ring of excess fat, and her breasts lay flat on 　　her chest like sacks, no longer feeling as full as before, only her nipples were still slightly protruding. I caressed and kneaded my mother's belly and breasts 　　for a while, then moved to her inner thighs, intentionally avoiding touching her sensitive areas.

My mother's breathing grew increasingly rapid, and she said intermittently, "Quick, kiss me, kiss my pussy. Don't worry,
I've washed it." As she spoke, she reached out and pulled out my penis.
I didn't kiss it, nor did I touch it; I continued to calmly caress other parts of my body. My mother couldn't take it anymore
and grabbed my hand, pressing it forcefully against her pussy.
I felt it was about time, so I lifted the blanket and, as before, positioned my mother with her head inward and feet outward, squatting in
front of her pussy.
I hadn't seen my mother's secret place for seven or eight years, and even though I was mentally prepared, I still felt
the changes were too great. A small portion of my mother's pubic hair had turned white, the large mound in the middle was a very dark color,
almost black in some places, the vulva was no longer swollen, the vulva was open, and the two thick labia minora looked especially dark;
only the vulva opening could still see a little pink flesh, and that red bean-sized pearl was still as full as ever, shining brightly.
My mother's vaginal fluids had already flowed down her buttocks onto the sheets. I tried to smell and lick her vulva; the faint,
bread-like scent was still the same as before.
My mother moaned, urging me on. I understood
the feelings of a woman who hadn't been with a man for many years, but I still sucked and licked until she ejaculated. Only then did I stand
up and slowly begin to thrust. My mother was getting old, so I didn't dare to use too much force.
My mother's vaginal fluids were still plentiful. Although her vagina wasn't as tight as before, the sound of my penis going in and out
was still very effective, and the feeling was still just as stimulating and comfortable—much better than my wife's. Truly a
masterpiece, I thought to myself as I thrust.
My mother, finding my lukewarm movements unsatisfying, cried out impatiently, "Faster, harder, fuck me,
I want it...it feels so good!"
Hearing my mother's unrestrained passion, just like in her youth, I was overcome with lust. I wrapped my arms around her two
thick legs, pulled her onto the bed, climbed onto her stomach, and began to fuck her with all my might, making her entire body
jiggle violently.
Suddenly, my mother gripped my arms tightly, her buttocks jerked, her vagina tightened, her eyes rolled back, and she stopped breathing
. Stimulated by her intense orgasm, I ejaculated profusely and collapsed limply onto her stomach.
As Mom gradually woke up, her first words were, "I almost died of pleasure."
I said, "You're amazing, still able to be this beautiful. When I'm your age, I probably won't be able to be this beautiful anymore."
Mom said, "These things are the more beautiful you are, the more you want to be beautiful, the more beautiful you are, the more beautiful you can be. I think as long as I don't die, I can be beautiful."
I said, "You truly deserve to be called 'the world's number one pussy.'"
Mom laughed when she heard that and said, "How can I put it? Don't underestimate me just because I'm old. 'Standing up, I suck the wind; sitting down,
I suck the dust,' I'm probably no less beautiful than some young wives." Mom smiled shyly again and nudged me, saying,
"Get up, your penis is all limp."
I pulled my limp penis out of her vagina, wiped it, and prepared to get dressed. Mom tugged at my arm and said,
"Never mind, it's late. Let's get up early tomorrow."
I thought about it and lay down in Mom's arms to sleep.
The next morning, while I was still asleep, Mom made my penis hard again. I knew what Mom meant,
so I had no choice but to perk up and have another round of pleasure with Mom.
Mom got up early to make me breakfast. After breakfast, it was time for me to leave. Mom saw me off, got into
the car, and said, "Take me to the west end of the village, I'll see you off."
After starting the car, I drove slowly, gradually making my way through the village.
Just as we were about to leave the village, Mom said to me, "Be careful on the road. It rained a little last night, I'm worried the roads will be slippery.
It's still early, don't be late for work."
I said, "I didn't hear a thing about the rain last night."
Mom smiled and said, "You're exhausted, sleeping like a log." Mom turned to look at me,
and said affectionately, "You must come visit me often. I'm getting old, so it doesn't have to be frequent, once or twice a month is enough."
I looked at Mom's expectant eyes and nodded. Suddenly, a strong sense of responsibility
welled up inside me.
After Mom got out of the car, I honked the horn as a farewell. Then I stepped on the gas, and the car
sped down the hill.
The car had driven quite a distance, but I could still see my mother's figure standing there in the rearview mirror.
The sun was out, shining through the rear window and warming my back. The mountains on both sides were lush
and verdant, appearing exceptionally bright in the sunlight. The sky ahead was crystal clear, with a rainbow arching across the horizon, and
wispy white clouds drifting like veils. I gazed at the rainbow with utter relaxation, as if
I wanted to drive the car onto it.
[The End
]

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