[Memoirs of a Mother's Love] (Bonus Chapter) Author: senlongmm

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

Author: senlongmm
Word Count: 3411
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Extra Chapter (Girlfriend's Mother)
This time, the story is set in the "Mother-Oedipus Memoir," after the mother and father divorced.
Many things happened during that period, and my girlfriend's mother was indeed the result of my lewdness. I've said before that I've slept with many
mature women, but it always ended up hurting them. When I wrote about my mother-oedipus relationship back then, I deliberately omitted many stories
. Now, I'm writing it down only to make amends and to help myself face all of this.
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When a person does the wrong thing at the right time, is that a real mistake or the right thing to do? Love and
desire, the good and evil of human nature are separated by a single thought. What is right, and what is wrong? Many things, caught in the cycle of sin and evil,
repeat themselves over and over. Looking back on my past experiences, I've always felt bound by my past self. Perhaps,
only by letting go can I truly let go.
From a young age, I had a strong attachment to my mother; my longing for her stemmed partly from affection and partly from sexual desire. However,
in reality, my mother only helped me masturbate once when I was young. After that, no matter how much I
tried, there was never an opportunity for incest. Perhaps this is the reality of life. The incestuous relationships between mothers and sons in novels
are almost impossible in reality. Perhaps they exist, but I wouldn't be one of them.
As I grew older, my mother's appearance began to show signs of aging, and after I got a girlfriend, my
lust for her lessened. Unfortunately, people are always prone to self-destruction. In the mundane routine of life, I felt bored and dull.
My girlfriend was perfect—slender, tall, and innocent. When I was having sex with her, I gradually developed the thought that no matter what I did, it would
always be the same.
Tonight, after a passionate encounter in my girlfriend's room, I stood shirtless, wearing only my underwear, on the back balcony gazing at the distant
night view. The image I've always projected to my girlfriend is that of a refined, tall, and quiet person—strange, yet
very real. Actually, I think I'm rather reserved and introverted. I'm aloof to everyone, but once you get to know
someone, I'll at most nod and smile. Only with those I truly trust will I open my heart.
I've been working for many years, and the pressure on my shoulders has actually decreased. Often at work, I think about the past—my
days with my mother, school life, my workplace. Many times, I wish I could go back to that period. Although
it was bittersweet, it was still a part of life. Now, I'm alone, with only a girlfriend for company and hypocritical colleagues.
I don't know if it's my fault; perhaps it is, perhaps it isn't.
I'd long since stopped answering calls from old friends. Every time I went online, I'd check Skype to see if my
old friends were still around. But after that incident, my heart was numb. People are like that; once they get used to
isolating themselves, they feel the world is just like that—more sorrow than understanding. Perhaps during this
time, I was a terrible boyfriend.
I walked in my girlfriend's living room. My own home was shattered. I wanted to go back, but I couldn't. I used to dream of
this place, of everything I shared with my mother, but it was all just a mirage. The air was thick with sadness, making it hard to breathe.
Why? I was so tired. Negative thoughts surrounded me. As I wandered aimlessly,
I unknowingly reached the door of another room—my girlfriend's mother's bedroom.
The door wasn't closed. I listened to the sounds inside—the splashing of water. Suddenly, it occurred to me: was Auntie taking
a shower? At this hour? I wanted to turn and leave, but my suspicious nature led me to make unusually
vivid associations. That night, while being intimate with my girlfriend, I kept feeling a certain gaze fixed on me, however faint it was,
I still noticed it.
Speaking of which, ever since the first time I met my girlfriend's mother, I felt she was incredibly gentle and refined, with
an elegant demeanor and gestures, completely different from my mother's cold and aloof air. The aunt gave me a
very approachable feeling. The key feature was a small black mole at the corner of her left eye, which made her even more alluring when she smiled—
to put it mildly, she was stunning; to put it bluntly, she was lewd.
I have to admit, after meeting the aunt, the main reason I ejaculated that night while having sex with my girlfriend from behind
was because of the aunt's appearance. My sexual fantasies have always been mostly about my mother, but tonight,
it was the aunt. The aunt didn't have my mother's figure—full breasts, a beautiful bottom—but she had slender hands
and pretty legs.
Yes, my aunt is a little younger than my mother, perhaps because my girlfriend is younger than me. My aunt
is a mature woman, slightly naive, with a playful spirit. She doesn't have my mother's typical "
good girl" personality, nor does she have the lewd, seductive smile of my younger aunt. Instead,
she maintains a youthful mindset even after knowing her age, making her a modern woman.
Undeniably, lately, I've transferred all my mother's attention to my aunt. And since my girlfriend comes from a single-
parent family, does that mean my aunt has also been alone for many years, and that her pent-up desires,
after her daughter's boyfriend came to visit, have gradually turned into sexual fantasies about him? She's always
been thinking about her husband while stimulating herself; now, the body of a young boy might be even more likely to ignite her desires.
Indeed, whenever I visit my girlfriend's house, my aunt always wears light makeup and dresses appropriately, presenting her
best side to me, without any casual attire. But actually, I prefer my aunt's casual style—
simple, elegant, and closer to her real self. Unfortunately, I've never had the chance to see it.
As I lingered at the door, I pondered the reason my aunt was taking a bath. Could it be like those pornographic scenes? Spying
on her daughter and boyfriend having sex, then going back to her room to masturbate, and after reaching orgasm, going to the toilet
to clean up? Sometimes I really admire my own imagination; even I'm scared of myself. I gently
pushed the door open, and everything in the room came into view.
The sheets on the bed weren't soaked with any vaginal fluid, and there was no toilet paper in the trash can. Had I guessed wrong? My
heart was pounding, my penis hard against my underwear, like a thief trying to catch my aunt masturbating.
Unfortunately, I didn't even see the vibrator. Finally, I looked at the bathroom in my aunt's room. The sound of water running was constant
, and steam was faintly visible under the door.
I tiptoed closer to the bathroom door, listening intently, but unfortunately, there was nothing
. Sigh, I really have no resistance to mature women. I pulled open the drawer and saw my aunt's underwear. It was incredibly
sexy. I hadn't expected my aunt's breasts to be around a C cup. She probably always covered them up so I couldn't tell at all.
The style of the underwear was rather simple. After rubbing my penis, I grabbed the underwear and smelled it intensely.
The scent of the underwear, imagining my aunt's fleshy buttocks pressed against it, and the pungent smell of her genitals made me grab my penis
and start thrusting up and down.
The scent of the mature woman almost made me ejaculate. After the water stopped flowing in the bathroom, I hurriedly tidied up and went
outside. As I left, I heard a soft moan. In the quiet of the night, this small, brief
moan was exceptionally clear. If I hadn't been in the room, I wouldn't have heard it at all. I felt my
chest heaving.
Although I had guessed wrong that my aunt wasn't masturbating in bed, it turned out she was in the bathroom. I tried to
calm myself down and, mustering my courage, went to the bathroom, which was close to the room, and pressed my ear against the door.
The sound coming from the door was my aunt's low moaning. It started softly, and you could easily imagine the scene accompanying it
.
I imagine my aunt completely naked, covered in shower gel, her right middle finger rubbing her
clitoris and vulva against her vulva, her left thumb pinching her nipple, eyes closed, head tilted back, tongue licking
her lips, right foot raised, stepping on the edge of the bathtub, her mind filled with her daughter's moans.
How long has it been since her daughter's boyfriend came to our house and they secretly made love every night? When did she also secretly
get excited listening to their sounds?
A long "Mmm~" sound... Why is that child so sexually potent? Two rounds in one night?
Doesn't she get tired? Her lower body... she longs for her daughter's boyfriend to penetrate her, but this thought can only be kept hidden in her heart...
After all, isn't that incest? But it doesn't matter, masturbating in the toilet... it doesn't matter, right? Thinking of herself as a slut...
so embarrassing, yet also exciting.
One finger wasn't enough for me anymore; my genitals hadn't been this sensitive in years. My daughter's boyfriend,
why do your eyes always look so sad? Let me comfort you. The sounds of your breaths when you were intimate with my daughter
were intoxicating. When you first took my daughter's virginity, she told me with tears in her eyes, and I comforted her
because I knew she did it willingly.
Looking at the morning after you took her virginity, her head and knees were red and swollen. My woman's intuition
told me it was a rear-entry position. You seem very experienced. Coming from behind, because of the angle, can reduce
the pain for a first-time girl. But once her vagina got used to your penis, you
thrust in and out roughly and forcefully. Looking at my daughter's swollen buttocks, I can imagine your thighs must have been swollen too.
However, these are just my own speculations. Two fingers were constantly digging and probing inside my vagina. If that
hand were yours, how wonderful that would be. Like a pervert on a train, silently violating me. Just imagining you
teasing my pussy through my underwear makes me so excited and wet. My whole right hand is covered in your lustful fluids
.
After imagining my aunt masturbating in the toilet, my penis got so hard. Unfortunately, my aunt's moans
only lasted a dozen or so times before falling silent, as if she was enduring something. I walked
out with my hard penis. That night, I dug my girlfriend up and fucked her hard again, but this time it was different. While
fucking my girlfriend's pussy, I was thinking about my aunt's pussy.
The next morning, my aunt, looking radiant, prepared breakfast for me. My girlfriend, exhausted from my efforts, couldn't even
get out of bed. In the kitchen, I was looking for jam. My aunt and
I were back-to-back when our butts accidentally brushed against each other. I turned my head, and she turned too. I glanced awkwardly to the side, while she gave a shy smile and
continued frying eggs.
I gently moved closer to her, inhaling her fragrant hair. She knew I was attracted to her,
but neither of us said anything. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking on my part; who could have imagined it? I was struggling. To her, she was my girlfriend
's mother; to me, she was a middle-aged woman… a beautiful woman. The incestuous feeling was stirred up again
. For years, I couldn't let go of the moral obligation to have an affair with my mother, but this time, I couldn't resist the allure of my aunt
.

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