How to understand your mother

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

It
was a typical Friday evening, and I went to my mother's house for the weekend as usual. However,
this turned out to be the most unusual weekend of my life. When I arrived, my mother told me she
had seen an article in the newspaper about Unitec, a company that was accepting summer job applications via email. For
students with computer experience, they would pay ten dollars an hour.
It sounded like the perfect way to spend the summer before starting college in the fall. So, I quickly
submitted my application, asking them to reply by email if I met the requirements to schedule an interview. My mother
and I ate the dinner she had made, and then I remembered to ask her if everything was alright, because she seemed very
upset.
I was nervous about the job application; I didn't know if I had all the details, so I went to the computer
to check my emails. When I opened the folder, I saw my emails and
an email my mother had sent. I checked my emails; everything seemed normal. I knew my mother always deleted everything,
because whenever I used her computer, it was always clean. But this email was
sent at three in the morning. When I checked the address, I found it was an erotic topic. Although I felt a little
guilty, I couldn't help but open it. It said:
Dear Em:
Thank you so much for sharing your story with your son. You let me know I'm not alone. I
have feelings for my son, and I've always had a hard time accepting it. I've always been a very sexually active person, and my
husband said my appetite was abnormal. He didn't complain for the first five years of our marriage, but when he
became interested in other women, he found my needs were excessive. We are no longer together.
Your article shows you are a sensitive woman. But I don't know if it's appropriate, or if you have
time, let me tell you about my situation, maybe I can get some advice from you. I think I can't
continue my fantasies, but I know I have no one to talk to about this. Whatever your answer is
, I will be very grateful. As long as it's your work, I will continue to read it.
Your honesty, Paula .
Reading this, it's hard to describe how I felt at that moment. At the same time, many things I had experienced
flashed through my mind. Before a certain thought disappeared, I had to read this email three more times. Seeing
the emails about my mother's sex life filled me with mixed emotions. One thing was undeniable:
the thought my mother had of me stirred something within me.
It was as exciting as what had happened in my own sex life. I was eighteen then,
still a virgin. I still blushed around girls and didn't know what to do. Like that time
with a girl I'd been pursuing for a while, we were lying in bed, and she said, "I want
you."
I didn't know what she meant, and I said, "I want you too." But I only kissed her and did nothing else
. You might think I was waiting for an invitation to penetrate. After a while, she broke off the relationship with me, telling others
it was because I was too inexperienced. Undoubtedly, that was true.
I was completely stunned by what I'd seen. I must have seen the words 'sexually active' and 'affectionate towards my son
' countless times. I spent the rest of that night imagining this unthinkable thing
. I couldn't sleep, constantly imagining making love to my mother. All my attention was focused on this
. I knew a son shouldn't ask his mother to do this, but I wanted her from the tip of my throbbing penis
to every part of her; I imagined penetrating her, I imagined a three-way
leap with my mother. I almost screamed, suffocating, because my orgasm was so intense.
I hoped my mother would write to that author again so I could see what she had to say. I
got up around eight the next morning, had coffee with my mother, and then went on the computer to see if Unitec had replied.
That was one reason; actually, I was more interested in em's reply.
I had to walk through my mother's bedroom to the small living room because the computer was there. As I walked past, I was
struck by her presence and her absence. She was there, dressed in a cobalt blue silk dress, sitting elegantly in
the chair left behind the night before. She was there, her body in the silk dress powdered, which I knew
was unnecessary. I know, I've never even actually touched her calves to thighs with my hands, nor
have I ever stroked the slender waist from her neck to the curve of her hips. She was there,
smelling lavender; you could smell it if you got close to her skin. But she wasn't in bed, and I could only imagine
what her honeypot looked like, her legs spread, waiting for her son to enter her. Ever since I saw that email
, that's been the image I can't shake from my mind. To be honest, I really don't want this.
On the computer, there are no emails in the inbox. But when I check the sent emails, there
's another one that Mom has sent. I guess Em replied to her sometime Saturday morning, and
Mom must have deleted it, but she didn't realize that the emails she sent were automatically saved for a day. Mom
wrote:
Dear Em:
Thank you so much for your reply. You warned in your reply that things could get hard to control because once you cross
the physical boundary, there's almost no turning back. For me, it seems like all the time is getting worse
. I've been with many men in my life, but the mere presence of my son ignites
a desire I've never felt before. I know the thrill of incest is part of it, but I'm deeply
attracted to him. His name is Paul. When he was born, my husband said, "We have to call him Paul because
he looks so much like you." Even though he's only been with me on weekends all these years, I still feel he
's a part of my life, and always will be. Yes, I do feel heartache for him. I might continue,
but I'm worried it will embarrass both of us. Thank you for listening.
I love you, Paula.
Everything on Saturday seemed to be fueling my emotions. I fantasized, I masturbated. I was caught in a cycle of anxiety
, deciding to do something, then giving up, then deciding to do something again. I left home in the afternoon
to play basketball with my friends. I even missed a sure basket. When I got home that night, I couldn't
help but steal glances at my mother's body. In my frantic mind, it seemed like Mom was telling me something
. Her top looked a little tight, her skirt a little short, her heels a little high.
Yes, I'd noticed before that she had beautiful breasts and a perky butt, but that hadn't aroused
any desire in me. Yes, I'd noticed before that her legs in stockings looked very long, but I'd
never thought of putting my hands between her thighs. No, of course I never thought the first
woman I might sleep with would be my mother. But my erotic brain told me to try, and
my hardness, which hadn't softened all day, gave its consent.
I ate my dinner absentmindedly, and after finishing, I asked her if she wanted to sit on the back porch.
It was a warm June evening, and we were sitting in the couple's seats. It should have been a pleasant time to enjoy a
fragrant breeze and a starry sky, but the actual weather was gloomy and quite damp. I
stretched my arm out behind the couple's seats, like a boy on a first date at the movies, bending his
arm and putting it on his girl's shoulder.
If I didn't believe what those emails had been saying, I certainly wouldn't have said anything. My
heart was pounding in my chest, and to find out if it was true, I said
the only thing I'd thought about all day. I said, "Mom, I've always had feelings for you." When she asked what those feelings were
, I started to stammer and became nervous. I didn't know what I could say.
But Mom said, "You can tell me, Paul. There's nothing we can't talk about."
I said, "I think you're beautiful." Oh, son, how did I get off topic?
She smiled and said, “Thank you, son.” In the ensuing silence, her eyes seemed to encourage, “
Try again.”
I said, “Mom, I get excited when I’m with you. I know I shouldn’t, because you’re
my mother, but I really do.”
I could hear her breathing as she said, “I know, sometimes we can’t help our feelings,
but you can tell me, and I won’t be angry.” I looked at her breasts, which were
pushing against her soft cotton bra.
I said, “Mom, I want to do something a boy shouldn’t do with his mother.” She seemed
to be discerning the true meaning of my words. Her breathing was becoming heavy, and
her nipples rose and fell with each breath.
She said, “Do you really feel that way about me, Paul?”
Before any reasonable thought could stop me, I impulsively leaned down and kissed her firm breasts.
I felt more shocked than my mother at my own actions. She looked at me for a moment and said, “Paul—
what are you doing?”
I didn’t want to say anything, nor did I want to explain the email. She let me kiss her nipples, and I said,
“I don’t know, Mom…I want you.” I leaned down and kissed her neck. I grasped one of her breasts, which filled my hand,
and said, “They’re so perfect.”
She said, “Oh, Paul… baby…” She looked into my eyes and then pressed her lips to
mine. It didn’t last long, but it was more like a kiss that wasn’t a mother’s kiss. She was trying to hold
her breath. I realized what she was doing when she pulled her blouse out of her skirt. As she pulled the blouse
down to her neck and watched her breasts bounce up and down, I grew excited. She slipped her thumb into her
soft white bra and pulled it down below her breasts, exposing them completely to me. What
struck me first was how enormous her nipples were. They practically covered
the tops of her breasts like caps, reaching towards me through the support of her bra. My mother held one breast and offered it to me
, the smooth breast stretched out, a few tiny green veins highlighting her large nipple, making it appear
even more perfect. I put it in my mouth, and she closed her eyes and held my head. She said, “Yes,
baby, yes, just like that…” She stroked my hair, her voice growing softer and gentler
.
I took her other breast in my hand, feeling its velvety flesh, and I couldn’t help
but begin to suckle. The tip of her large nipple stood erect, and I even knew that meant Mom liked
everything I was doing. The tip of her nipple in my mouth felt like elastic rubber. The areola was smooth and swollen
, and my tongue felt that velvety sensation. I sucked hard, almost immediately feeling it
release sweet milk into my mouth again, and Mom moaned as I suckled.
I paused for a moment and said, “I love tasting you, Mom.” She smiled at me.
She said, “I love how you feel.” She unbuttoned my shirt and placed her hands on my chest,
her breathing becoming heavier as she did so. When she took off her top and unhooked her bra, her breasts
were only slightly sagging on her chest, but they were still perky, making them look more like
the breasts of a woman in her twenties than a woman in her thirties.
Now Mom was in charge. She pulled down my pants, then her skirt. She was still wearing her high
heels, stockings, and panties, and I pulled down my shorts. I looked between her legs and saw her mons pubis
, but her panties weren't very transparent, so I couldn't see her vulva clearly. I sat there waiting for
what she wanted me to do next. She wanted to kiss.
We kissed, and I caressed her breasts because she had let me. I
was reluctant to touch her vulva without her permission. It wasn't time to go too far. After all, our relationship
had gone from ordinary to very special in just a few hours. I said, "Let's kiss," but you...
I had to understand the true meaning of those two words to me. It was my mother's tongue in my mouth. Her lips
moved so thirstily over mine, we almost wanted to melt each other in our mouths.
The way my mother kissed me made me feel that it was a kiss full of sex, but also a kiss full of love.
My first feeling was that I seemed to have a lover. My mother's kiss gave me that hope. My erection
was still going strong, and it felt like a long time before I felt her hand stroking my
penis. She interrupted our kiss and said, "Do you really want me, baby?" It sounded more like
she was surprised than asking me a question.
I said, "Of course I want you, Mom. How could I not want a woman as beautiful as you?"
She said, "You certainly won't be bothered by the fact that I'm your mother?"
I said, "Does this look like a bother to me, Mom?" I pointed to my erection. My mother pulled down my belt
, revealing my entire penis.
She said, "No, baby... no, my beautiful, firm big baby." She pulled down my underwear
and held my penis in her hand. My penis was rock hard, pointing straight at me. She bent down
, her lips close to my thick glans, her fingers playing with my testicles. Her warm lips enveloped my
penis, and my mother's wet mouth and tongue began their work. I had been licked by several girls before, but
none of them had ever brought me to orgasm. It sounds unbelievable, but it had little
to do with those girls. It's not that it felt bad, but I just didn't lose control. It
was a different story in my mother's mouth. In fact, it was my mother sucking me, which certainly
had a lot to do with that, but how different it was when she did it. Her hands, her mouth, her lips, and her tongue all seemed
to be stimulating me simultaneously. If she hadn't stopped after a few minutes, I wouldn't have had any chance to maintain any form
of control.
She said, "Oh, it tastes so good. Your cock is so big and hard, isn't it? Baby, I want you
inside me. Mom will be better than anyone you've ever been with."
I said, "Mom..."
She looked at me, into my eyes, as if she could read my mind. She took a deep breath, put
her fingers to her lips, and her expression said it all. I said, “Mom, I want this
to be you, I want this more than anything. I want you to help me… tell me… I don’t know how to make you feel
comfortable.”
She paused for a moment, then smiled warmly and comfortingly at me, saying, “Don’t worry, child, it’s
all wonderful.” She put her legs on top of me, wrapping them around my waist, her hands holding my penis
. She prepared for me to enter her, saying, “No, we’ll do that later. For your first time, I
want you to possess me first.” She lay back, opening her legs. She said, “I’m so glad you want me to be your
first girl, I mean your first woman…” She laughed. “But you make me feel
like a girl again, a girl who is very proud to be the first girl a boy takes his virginity to. Come on,
my child, put it in.” She rubbed her pussy a few times, then said, “Oh, God, yes, put it
in my body. Paul, I’ve been waiting for you to put it in my body.”
I took my penis in my trembling hand and placed it at the entrance of her pussy. I pushed hard and opened that
soft window, entering my mother’s pussy. I thought I knew what it felt like, but when I actually
felt my penis slide into my mother’s body, I realized I knew nothing. Because it
has nothing to do with thinking, it encompasses all sensations. It was almost a dreamlike feeling, my swollen glans
pushed aside her folds and entered her vagina, the wet flesh wrapped around my penis, and with my mother’s
thrusting and massage, my whole penis throbbed, and I involuntarily plunged deep into her depths. As I
penetrated her, Mom kept saying, "Oh, Paul, yes, just like that, you're doing so well, son
, yes...yes...yes..."
I entered my mother's honey pot, penetrated her body, and pierced her soft flesh with my hardness
. She tightly enveloped me, massaging my penis. I didn't belong to myself; the feeling could only be
described as ecstatic. I have a lover, and this is my mother.
All I knew was to keep moving inside her, and I couldn't help but want to keep doing it. It felt
so good. But I didn't need much guidance in this area. I thrust downwards, she thrust upwards, and we
were both moving. There was no problem with any of it; this angle was fine, that angle was fine, whether it was fast
or slow, whether she pulled her legs back around my waist or spread them wide open. It all
felt so fucking good.
Mom knew what she was doing; there was no doubt about that. Every time I thrust downwards, she would thrust
her hips and coordinate her muscles, making me feel like it wasn't just me thrusting into her, but more like she was thrusting into me. She
guided me silently with her fingertips or her hands, and when I moved correctly, she
would tell me with a groan or a sigh of "mmm..." that my penis had touched her erogenous zones. For me, everything was good
. Penetrating my mother's honeypot made everything feel good. Just watching her legs spread wide was incredibly exciting, and for a boy who had never been with a woman, thrusting 　　his penis
into his mother's honeypot was, of course, exhilarating. Every time I penetrated her open flesh, I felt, "This is truly 　　unparalleled," always. 　　 We had reached this point of no return far earlier than I had anticipated, but I was proud that 　　I would persevere as long as I did it. As we moved simultaneously, my mother was softly saying things I 　　could barely hear. I heard her say things like "Yes, like that" a lot, and to some extent 　　, I thought she was muttering "Fuck me," or at least I hoped that was what she was saying. 　　 She started urging me to push harder, which almost exhausted me. I thrust as fast as I could.

Then I told her, “Mommy, I’m coming… Oh, Mommy.” Actually, with
each word I uttered, I ejaculated inside my mother.
“Yes, child,” she said, “shoot it in, shoot it in.” My desire was released,
and I was a little surprised that I had just orgasmed inside my mother. A disturbing question lingered in my mind
—had I done it well enough? Would Mommy let me do it again? After my body
shuddered one last time, I realized from my mother’s voice that she was still in control; she hadn’t orgasmed yet.
After I orgasmed, she hugged me and said, “Yes, child, stay inside me, sweetheart.”
I kissed her neck and said, “That felt so good, Mommy, but you haven’t orgasmed yet, have you
?”
She said, “No, but that’s okay, I will.” I hoped this meant we would have
sex again soon. And we did. Five minutes later, I was inside her again. This time she did
orgasm before me. I don’t remember how many times I had sex with her that night, but we did it until 4 a.m.
All we could do was have sex. There was a time when I wanted to put my penis in her mouth, but I didn't want
to force her. I said all we could do was have sex, and that wasn't a complaint. We had doggy style
, with her sitting on top of me, riding me, her legs finding many positions to allow me to enter
her body from different angles, each position feeling different. That night, I learned more about
sex than I had in all these years, but what I hadn't learned was more important.
After our sex marathon, I must have had so much excitement in my body that
I woke up after only a few hours of sleep. I woke up in my mother's bed, thinking about everything we had done,
and my penis got hard again. I wanted to wake my mother up and have sex with her, but
she was very weak after being woken up so many times throughout the night, so I decided to let her continue to sleep deeply. It was
around 9 a.m., the best Sunday morning I'd ever felt, and I felt full of energy. I knew
those guys were probably starting our regular game at the park, so I went. When I got back,
there would be plenty of time for sex. I'd never played basketball so well.
After several hours of playing, we went to eat pizza, then went back for another game, followed by beer
. Then some guy mentioned there was a baseball game at the university, and afterwards some kind of dance for freshmen.
So I went to the game, went to the dance, danced, and kissed.
I know what you'll think. You're so stupid, aren't you? I didn't call my mom. After my
passionate night with my mom, I was quite confident in my sexual prowess, so I wanted to try out my newly discovered
techniques. These techniques actually worked. I'd never kissed a girl on a first date in my life , let alone what could even be called a date. I danced 　　twice
with this stranger
, and then we kissed passionately. She told me she wanted to see me again, something that had never
happened to me before. 　　When I finally got back to my mother's house, it was evening, and I was ready to kiss her again. But 　　I really should check her complexion, see if something went wrong, see what she'd taken. This 　　wasn't something new. In fact, one of the reasons the judge awarded custody of me to my father 　　was because she frequently took certain things. It could be cigarettes, pills, hard liquor, or 　　whatever else she got. This is also one of the reasons I don't know my mother well enough. When I was 　　a child, I only saw her once a week, sometimes less. At that age, I didn't understand why 　　sometimes my father wouldn't let me see her for months at a time. 　　 Now, she's not doing too badly, but she speaks so slowly that I know she's 　　changed her mind in some way. I said, "Hi, Mom, how are you?" 　　 She said, "Fine." She wasn't dressed, and I could see she wasn't wearing a bra under her robe. 　　My penis started to harden, and I went over and grabbed her breasts in my hands. When I tried to kiss her, she took 　　a step back and said, “You’re fucking messing with me.” 　　 I said, “What?” 　　 She said, “Look at Paul, this is all wrong.” 　　 I said, “Last night was a mistake? Mom, that was great, you said it was great.” 　　 “I know I said that… I know what I was thinking, but I’m an idiot, a fucking moron 　　.” Mom said “fuck” twice, more than she usually does in a year. 　　 I said, “What did I do wrong? Are you angry because I went out?” 　　 “No, Paul, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re a boy, and I don’t know what I’m thinking. I thought 　　it was just sex to me.” She hesitated for a moment, then said, “Okay, listen, 　　it’s not your fault, and I’ll try my best to explain things, but it’s really embarrassing. 　　This feeling about you and me has been on my mind, and I feel like this is what I want… oh, damn it… You see, 　　I’m not saying it’s bad. It’s good, you’re great, and I do want to have sex with you. But 　　sitting alone all day today, I realized I’m really looking for something beyond sex. I need 　　someone to give me what I’ve always wanted… something I couldn’t get from your father. It’s just 　　intimate talk about sex, but not everything. Oh, Christ, I’ve said so much, and 　　maybe you don’t know what I’m talking about.” 　　 “But, Mom,” I said, “I thought I was doing this for your own good.” 　　 “It’s not your fault, son,” she said. "It's my fault. I just can't take this anymore 　　. I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I can't do this. I'm too old for you, I need 　　someone older who can understand me. It may be too late for me, but too early for you..."

"What a twist of fate, my dear." She took a deep breath. "You're fine. I wasn't blaming
you before. You're doing very well for your age. Have fun, forget what happened... forgive
your foolish mother when she was drunk." A few tears rolled down her cheeks.
I said, "Oh, okay, Mom. I'm sorry, I should have called you, I should have come home sooner
... Don't be angry with me."
"I'm not angry with you, I'm angry with myself. Please, child, I made a mistake, a terrible
mistake... try to forgive me."
I said, "Mom, I won't forgive you for the best night of my life."
She forced a smile and said, "Oh, my dear... then treat it as a one-time
experience and learn something useful from it."
I said, "Mom..." and began to reach out my hands to her.
She shook her head and said, "No, child... maybe you should leave."
I felt terrible. She seemed deeply hurt; I had never seen her so vulnerable. I said
, "I want to stay here tonight." “
She said, ‘Paul, we won’t have sex.’
I said, ‘I’ll listen to you, Mom. Okay, I just want to be with you. Why don’t you get
dressed, let’s go to the restaurant for something to eat.’
She took a deep breath and said, ‘I… oh, okay, um, I’ll get dressed… no
problem.’
We sat in the restaurant talking for about two and a half hours. Mom said, ‘Thank you for being with me tonight
, Paul. It makes me feel better that you don’t hate me.’
I said, ‘How could I hate you? You’re my mom.’ She smiled slightly. I said, ‘I don’t know
if I should tell you this, but I went to that dance this afternoon, and I wasn’t like before
.’ She asked me how I was, and I told her how confident I was and how I saw things differently
.
She said, ‘I’m so glad, son. I don’t think we can erase what happened last night, but maybe it can
help us understand each other better. I think we can communicate with each other about anything from now on.’
I said, ‘Of course, Mom.’
She said, ‘What I want to tell you is that intimacy is about making things worthwhile.’” That's sharing,
um, sharing everything. Being with someone means, in a way, being connected to them all the time
, even when they're not around. I've rarely felt this way before, but I know this is
what I want.”
“That sounds great, Mom,” I said. “I think this is pretty much what we're talking about.”
“Yes, Paul, exactly. When you can confide in someone and trust them
to keep your secrets, yes, that's a huge part of intimacy.”
So we shared a chocolate cake and many things we'd never told each other before. I
learned about her relationship with my father from a different perspective than I'd ever seen before, and I told her about my fears about girls
and the life I wanted. On the way home, she took my arm and said, “Thank you for telling me this
, Paul. I never thought I'd feel better than ever.” "Whatever she took, it
's gradually weakening now, and she can see things clearly again. Back home, we went to bed, of course,
in separate beds.
In the morning, I checked the computer, and there was bad news on both fronts: there was no
contact between EM and Mom; and Unitech said they had too many applicants to process and couldn't schedule interviews
. I told Mom about it, and after thinking for a while, she said, 'I don't know if this will help, but maybe you could
post an ad for computer repair.' Mom lives in a newly developed area with hundreds of apartments in three buildings
.
I said, 'I don't know, but I think I can solve most common problems that cause malfunctions.'
She said, 'You should try.'
I told her I was willing to try, and then said, 'Mom, I want to tell you something.
After our conversation last night, I felt I did something wrong; I peeked at your emails.'
She said, 'What do you mean?'
I said, 'When I was on the computer, I saw emails you sent to that novelist in your sent items folder
, and I read two of them.'" "I'm sorry, Mom, I shouldn't have done that, but after seeing
the first one, I... I'm sorry."
She covered her mouth with her hand for a moment, then said, "Oh, now I understand... well, I think
things have come to light now. I'm so glad you told me, Paul, and I'm so glad you want us
to be honest with each other from now on... that's good."
I said, "Do you forgive me, Mom?"
She said, "Of course, we're not the same as when things happened, are we?"
I said, "Yes, Mom, we're different. I think we're better now."
She smiled and said, "I feel the same way." "
Mom's advice really worked. Within days,
I started getting a lot of calls from the phone number I left on the flyers. I told people I wasn't a professional, but my rates were very low
. I only had to tell a few people to seek help from others, and most of the time it was
something like 'forgot to plug it in,' some even telling me to get a disk cleanup done every week
. I was making more money than I expected at Unitec, and I was going to my mom's building
three or four times a week. I'd usually drop by, we'd have coffee or lunch, or just chat
.
I found my mom to be a very easy person to get along with. You don't have to spend 'precious
time' on someone to get to know them; you just need a little time or a period of time
. A few months later, I saw another difference. I said, 'Mom, it's all my imagination...'"
"Or have you reduced your medication?"
she said with a smile. "You noticed, huh? Yes, it wasn't something I planned. I just
don't seem to need to take as much medication as before to get by. I'm feeling better and better." Then, she
thought for a moment and added, "No, I shouldn't say I haven't done anything. I think since you came…
I didn't want to disappoint you. I feel better, and I'm so glad it's really working."
I said, "Really, Mom, thank you for telling me." I stood up and said, "I have to go to work now
, goodbye." I gave her an exaggerated kiss on both cheeks, and she hugged me back. I said, "Oh, I have
an idea, how about we go on vacation together next week?"
She laughed and said, "Are you out of your mind? I can barely afford a vacation, and this is
the first job I've actually been able to stick with in a while."
I said, "No, I mean a different kind of vacation. I'll spend a week with you, and we'll do things together
. Anyway, I'm in and out of these buildings almost every day."
She said, "That sounds interesting." "Okay, I'll try and think of something to do. You can do the same,
okay?"
I said, "Yes, madam." "And then I left.
It was a wonderful week. I remember never spending more than
a day or two with her before. We had a lot of fun. We went to the movies, the zoo, and the beach. But there was nothing
special about it; it was the feeling of being together. I think we always had
so much to talk about, and it was an amazing feeling to be able to say whatever we wanted, to feel like the other person was always open to you, attentively listening
and understanding.
I did hide something. No, not intentionally, because I felt she knew how I felt.
So if I said I hadn't thought about my mother sexually, I would be lying.
That night we were together isn't something I'm going to forget. It was my first time, it was very surprising, and it was
with my mother. So, yes, when I looked at her body, I wanted her, but it's gone beyond
that now. I enjoy being with her, I enjoy talking to her. No, it's gone beyond 'like,' it's a 'need. 　　 ' As autumn approached, one day she said, 'I've been thinking about something: 　　why don't you stay here before you go back to school? It's closer, and you can still make more money in the surrounding buildings.
'" "What do you 　　think?" 　　 I said, "Mom, I do, thank you. I miss you so much when I can't see you." 　　 I could see she was touched. She said, "Really? Child, I miss you too." 　　 I gave her a hug, then a tight embrace. She stayed in my arms, and I gently kissed 　　her lips. Mom's lips were soft. She opened them, and our tongues touched for a moment, then Mom 　　stopped, her head tilting back. She said, "Paul, what happened?" 　　 I said, "We're in love." 　　 She said, "You can't fall in love with a thirty-seven-year-old woman... especially since she's your mother." 　　 I said, "If you can fall in love with your nineteen-year-old son, I can. Can you, Mom?" 　　 She said, "It's too late to ask me this now, and I think I already am. Do you really love 　　me? Paul, is it about sex?" 　　 I said, "Yes, Mom. It's about sex, but it's more than just sex. Of course, I want you; 　　you drive me crazy when I'm this close to your body." But if you say we can't have sex 　　, I still want to be with you, talk to you, spend time with you, because, yes, I really 　　love you, Mom.” 　　 “Oh, Paul, for the past few months I've been asking myself: can I really feel 　　this love between us, or am I just deceiving myself again?” 　　 I said, “It's true, Mom. I knew what you meant the moment this love started 　　. I want everything about you, Mom. Do you want me?” 　　 She said, “Yes, Paul, I do. As long as you promise me you'll be there for me, that this love 　　will last, and that we won't give up.” 　　 “I promise, Mom.” I guess you could say these were our wedding vows, that night that marked 　　the beginning of our honeymoon, that Saturday night when I had sex with Mom for the first time. But this 　　one was better because of love. 　　 After a long, passionate kiss, Mom said, “Let's go to bed, son.” "We 　　went to her bedroom, and I suppressed my instinct to enter her honey pot as quickly as possible, slowly undressing her. I really 　　hoped it would last longer. Since my first time having sex with my mother, I've had sexual relationships with several girls, and 　　my stamina is pretty good, but I wasn't sure if I could last as long as my mother. 　　 My mother, however, had other ideas. She said, 'I've been thinking about this for days. I want you 　　to do it in my mouth.' She pulled down my underwear, and as I stepped out, her hand grasped my penis, 　　saying, 'Yes, this is what I remember, thick, big, hard... oh...' She knelt before me 　　, opening her mouth to receive me. She leaned towards me, and I leaned towards her. 　　 My mother's mouth adjusted to my penis, her lips and tongue began to lick and suck, and I cried out in pleasure:" 　　“Oh…” I stroked her hair, closed my eyes, and felt her hands kneading 　　my testicles and penis as she sucked. Incidentally, when she did this, I knew she wouldn't 　　stop after a minute or two like the first time; she seemed intent on sucking until the very end. She knew I was about to come, she knew 　　where I would ejaculate—in her mouth. I knew that too. 　　 Her fingers gripped my penis, stroking it evenly up and down along its length, while her other warm 　　hand kneaded my testicles. How long could I possibly endure while my mother, with whom I was having an affair, was doing this 　　—definitely not much. I could feel her love for me; she was licking and sucking the head of my penis forcefully.

Then, I tried to swallow it down her throat, watching my penis slide in and out between her lips. When she took my
penis out of her mouth and licked it, I could see how full and swollen the glans was
; it almost turned purple from being licked between her lips, like a stretched balloon. In fact
, my entire penis was painfully hard.
Her cheek rubbed along the glans, and then I felt my penis incredibly penetrate
deep into her throat. She looked up at me lovingly, but her licking became even more intense. A moment later,
I reached the point of explosion. I couldn't help but cry out, "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy...
" I didn't need to tell her I had orgasmed. As I ejaculated my first spurt, my hands
unconsciously grabbed her hair, my whole body stiffened, and with each continuous ejaculation
, I kept calling out, "Oh...oh...oh..." I didn't just ejaculate, I ejaculated
into her mouth. I couldn't imagine how much my mother could swallow, as if it would never stop ejaculating
. She sucked on the long, thick penis, giving her everything I had stored up. The release
and pleasure of each ejaculation sent shivers down my spine. When my semen was completely drained, I felt a profound
sense of accomplishment, a deep love for the woman who made me feel this way.
We went to bed, and I pulled her into my arms. I had never known such a satisfying
moment. I knew she loved me, I knew I loved her, and I knew that the lovely body I held would bring
me years of pleasure, and I wanted to make her happy too. I told her how much I loved her, kissing her belly and mons pubis in my own way
. I loved her trimmed vulva, the smooth labia topped with a neat tuft of pubic
hair. When I licked her shaved vulva, smelling her juices for the first time, it was exactly
the scent I loved.
My mother's vulva was the first vulva I had ever licked, and from her moans, I knew I would continue
. She guided me to lick and suck here and there, but I knew perfectly well that the swollen little bud was her sensitive spot.
Her clitoris peeked out from her folds, and her body began to writhe under my licking. Under the licking
of my tongue, Mom seemed unable to lie still on the bed. Soon, Mom climaxed, screaming,
"Paul…!" As she continued to thrust upwards, I found it difficult to keep my mouth
on her vulva.
When she calmed down a little, I licked and sucked vigorously, and her body began to spasm again, as if she
had climaxed once more. Her whole body stiffened, and then she trembled as if electrocuted
. Every time I kissed her clitoris, her buttocks almost immediately thrust upwards. My kisses gradually
moved upwards, all the way to her nipples, which were very sensitive, and she let out a long, thin scream.
I held her for a while and asked if she had orgasmed once or twice. She said, "Oh my God, I have no
idea. I just know I can't get that feeling very frequently."
I said, "So, am I doing well, Mom?"
She smiled, "Ah, yes, you're doing well, child."
After letting her rest for a few minutes, I prepared to continue. Her scent filled my mind, and I wanted to penetrate
her. I sat up and caressed her breasts, then I kneaded her vulva. She was ready just like me
.
The first time I penetrated my mother's vulva, I felt nothing could feel better. I was wrong
. I don't know if it was because I loved her so much now, or because I thought I would never have her again
, or for any other reason. I was sure this time was better, and now she was waiting for me. As I lay on
top of her, she smiled at me, her hands wrapped around her knees, her legs pulled back and spread, saying with her actions that she wanted to give herself to me. For me, I thought nothing could be 　　more sensual than a mother opening her legs
to her son .
Her eyes spoke volumes; she offered not only her body, but also
her heart.
I guided my penis to her glistening entrance, thrusting it into her honeyed depths until I was completely
buried in her wet flesh. She let out a long moan, which I felt penetrated. I remained
inside her, my penis fully inserted. I said, "This is where I want to be, Mom."
She said, "Yes, baby, this is where Mom wants you to be, just like this, deep inside me.
" Her hands left her thighs and rested on my buttocks, helping me penetrate deeper. I felt her
high heels on my back, her buttocks spinning and thrusting as fast as they could, moans
escaping her lips. She said, “Oh, I miss you inside me. Even on days when I thought it was impossible
, I still miss the feeling of your cock filling me that night.” She rotated her hips again,
thrusting upwards a few more times, and said, “Yes, I miss you, baby, fuck me, fuck me.”
I began to thrust slowly and deliberately, savoring every inch of my cock rubbing against her honey pot. As I
pulled out, I pulled out the iceberg, all the way until my cock was right inside the folds of her labia
. As I pushed back in, I pushed all the way to her bottom, hearing her moan as she told
me she was completely filled. And so, I thrust my cock in again and again,
penetrating her soft flesh with my hardness. Soon we found our rhythm, entering
the beat of lovers’ physical movements together.
I put one of her legs on my shoulder, and I could tell Mom liked this angle. She said, "
Oh, yes, just like that, ah, ah, ah... I love you so much, Paul... It feels so good, baby.
" I felt her love, and I felt my love for her made our sex even better. My
hips moved up and down, faster and faster, my mother's words perfectly matching the rhythm of my thrusts. I
played with one of her breasts, the breast constantly changing shape between my fingers. I wanted to lower my head and suckle from my...
Her large nipples peeked out from between her fists, but I knew my mouth couldn't reach them from the angle I was thrusting into her,
so I kneaded them between my fingers to amplify her response.
She said, "Paul, you're making me lose it," because her breathing became more rapid and shallower. This
was exactly the effect I wanted her to achieve. I felt incredibly strong on top of her, and each powerful thrust made
me want her to climax faster.
I said, "Yes, Mom, come on, climax on your son's hard cock, it's hard for you
, Mom."
She said, "Yes, climax on my man's big cock. You're my man now, Paul, aren't you?
Tell me, tell me, tell me."
I heard the urgency in her voice, and I said, "Yes, Mom, I'm your man, I'll love you
, fuck your man..."
She arched her back, and I thrust into her, continuing to explore her honey pot. She said, "Yes... oh,
God... love me, fuck me, oh oh oh oh oh..." Under my continued thrusting, she climaxed, and
she cried out loudly. Her orgasm was long, her voice was very loud, and the fact that I brought her to orgasm
was especially satisfying for me. As her body fell back onto the bed, it trembled
a few times as if in spasm. She said, "Oh, oh, oh... God... what is this... I've never felt so ... comfortable. 　　 "
Her arms wrapped around my neck, and she pulled my head down to kiss me. 　　 When her orgasm ended, I withdrew from her body. As I kissed her, 　　my still-hard penis returned to her warm, moist place. She said, "Mmm..." I 　　continued thrusting while kissing her, and I could feel her smile. I continued to slowly pump, each time all the way in 　　. She said, “Your needs have always been so strong, darling. And they’re still so strong for me now, are 　　n’t they? Child, when you’re inside me, I can feel it, and you’ll help me clean up, so I’ll be 　　good to you too, will you, child? That’s what I want, I want to be good to you.” 　　 I said, “Yes, Mom, I will. We’ll do it together, just you and me.” I 　　increased the force of my thrusts, penetrating her deeply, and she responded passionately. I grabbed her legs and 　　pushed them back, looking at her smooth, delicate buttocks as I penetrated her. I placed one of her 　　legs on my shoulder, stroking the firm muscles of her buttocks. I placed my fingers on the pink folds and 　　gently rubbed them a few times. She made encouraging sounds, so I inserted my fingers. 　　 She opened her eyes and said, “Take me there, Paul, I want you.” She said, “Yes,” almost 　　to herself. Then she said, “I’ve never let anyone do it to me before, but I want 　　you.” I was surprised; I had never even considered anal sex. I was getting used to my mother's ideas about any sexual position. 　　 I said, "Mom, this might hurt you." 　　 She said, "I'm always afraid of this, but I know it will be very comfortable with you. I want to, child... 　　if you want." 　　 I looked at her round buttocks and that tempting little hole and said, "Yes, I want to, Mom." She 　　took some saliva from her mouth and smeared it on her little anus. Actually, she didn't need to 　　do that, because when I took my penis out of her vagina, it was already soaked with my mother's vaginal fluid 　　. I placed the head of my penis on the rose-colored ring. 　　 I pushed it in as gently as possible, and my mother took a deep breath and said, "Oh." 　　 I asked, "Is it okay, Mom?" 　　 She said, "Yes, child, I'm fine." 　　 The anal ring squeezed the part of my penis below the crown that was now inside her body. Her anus 　　was tight and hot, and it felt really good as I pushed in. As I began to thrust, 　　it felt like a hot, throbbing fist gripping my penis and massaging it up and down, more pleasurable than I had anticipated, and even beyond 　　my mother's expectations. She said, "Oh, Paul, my God, your baby is so big, yes, son, yes... 　　don't stop, don't stop." 　　 I was so glad my mother was feeling good because I felt amazing too, and all I wanted to do was keep going 　　. I increased the speed of my thrusts a little to see how she could handle it, and she kept saying "yes," so 　　my thrusts became stronger and faster until I was fully inside her 　　. I couldn't believe I had gone from having absolutely no experience with any woman to this point, my 　　penis buried deep inside my mother's ass. She moaned, each thrust pressing my testicles 　　firmly against her round, lovely buttocks. 　　 With each thrust, I understood that what my mother gave me went far beyond sex itself. I told her, 　　"I love you, Mom. I've never felt so close to anyone, you are in me, and I am in you." 　　 She knew I wasn't just talking about where my penis was. She said, “Yes, child, this is what 　　I’ve always wanted, and I’m so happy to be connected with you. Yes, lover, yes, you’re in my heart. 　　” I continued to quicken the rhythm of my thrusts, maintaining the 　　pace despite the heat and friction from her tight opening. She said, “Yes, darling, just like that. Oh, lover, I didn’t know it could feel this 　　good. Don’t stop, don’t stop.” 　　 I caressed one of her breasts with one hand, then the other. My hand moved down over her abdomen 　　to her vagina, stimulating her clitoris with my thumb. To my surprise, she began to 　　climax a few seconds later. She screamed, “Ahhh…”, her body swaying from side to side, having to grab my 　　back for support. 　　 I was close to my own climax, to the point of having to ejaculate, and my semen began to shoot into her body. I said, “Mommy, yes, oh, fuck, yes…” Her tight anal ring squeezed 　　all the semen from 　　my penis . 　　 As I thrust rapidly in and out of her now fully lubricated hole, I could see my penis and her…

Pearls of semen glistened on the folds of her skin. She kept calling out to me, “Paul, Paul, oh, yes, child,
oh… oh… oh…” It felt as if I were filling her body with the love flowing through me. I
knew this meant my mother was giving herself completely in this way, and for me, it was the most
beautiful act of love we had ever shared.
After we both climaxed, her tight grip kept me inside her. Mom sighed
, stretched out her arms and held me tightly, and I lay relaxed on top of her. She gave me a
long, tender kiss of contentment, and I said, “Mom, I will love you forever.”
She smiled and said, “I know.”
It sounded like the end of a story, but in real life, life goes on,
and things happen. We lived happily for a long time, yes, many years. It was
a new chapter in our lives. I went to school and got a part-time job, and Mom
worked too. We struggled financially, but we made it through. We lived together like lovers, and whenever
we closed our front door, we were husband and wife. It sounds strange, but
it's the most natural thing in the world for us . We love each other, and that's what we've always done.
We're more careful in public because it's foolish to cause trouble. We don't care that few people would
understand.
We became friends with a couple we met online, Jim and Santi. They were older than us,
but not by much. They were also a mother and son, and had been living together for seven years. They lived
not far from us, and we spent a lot of time getting closer to each other.
At that time, I was twenty-three, and my mother was almost forty. I had an idea in my head, initially
because all my attention was focused on her nipples. I liked sucking on them, and she liked me sucking on them too
. I sucked on them so often that one day she told me that her breasts
were sore several hours after we made love. When I apologized, she said, “Oh no, child, I like this feeling. It’s like
when you’re inside me for a long time, sometimes it hurts.” She laughed and added,
“It’s like the day after you’ve done it to me, I can still feel you, I still miss you.”
This thought came about six months after we started having sex, when I began tasting
the sweet milk from my mother’s large nipples. My mother said it might not be, but when we did some research, we discovered that a woman
can produce milk even when she’s not pregnant, and frequent stimulation can achieve this effect. After that,
the sweet milk flowing from her nipples gave me a lot of ideas. I imagined she was pregnant with my child, and then whenever I
penetrated her without a condom and ejaculated inside her, I had a strong desire to get her pregnant.
Of course, I knew she was on birth control pills, but I started imagining what it would actually be like.
Jim and Santi perhaps added fuel to the fire by telling us that they had actually been trying to have a child but
couldn’t conceive, which led to an argument between us. When I first voiced my opinion on this, she said
, "You're joking, aren't you?" When I told her I wasn't, she became worried. She said, "
Let's think about this carefully. I'm not a young person anymore."
I said, "Mom, you're young, strong, and very beautiful." I kissed her while
my hands played with her breasts. I said, "I can imagine your breasts and nipples swelling with milk
, and your belly carrying our baby."
She said, "Oh, dear, believe me. If I were younger, I would long to be with your baby
, I would be proud, that's what I think, dear. But I don't think I can handle all of this at this stage of my life
. It's too hard, believe me. Listen to me, dear, there's nothing
wrong with just us. Haven't you always known how much I love you? Haven't I shown you?"
I said, "Yes, Mom."
She asked, "What did you want in bed that I didn't give you?"
I said, "No, Mom." Indeed. Many times, whenever I had a strong
urge, she would look up magazines or books; when a bulge appeared in my shorts,
I was already in her mouth before I even realized it. I said, “Okay, forget about it.”
“Then let’s not ruin something good,” she said. “This might be a little ridiculous. We’re both
working, I can’t do this. So listen to me, let it all go. Why are you suddenly calling me ‘Mom
’?” I’ve almost always called her Paula since we started living together as lovers.
I said, “Maybe it’s because you’re going to make a decision, and it seems like I’m your child again. Maybe it’s because you
don’t want my child, maybe you’re ashamed of me, what we’ve done, and who we are.”
I was just making things up, but it made Mom’s face turn ashen. She said, “How could you do this?
” She almost roared. “How could you say that to me? You know how I feel,
you see how I feel every single day. When did I ever give you a reason to doubt me? This is terrible…
Oh my God…” In an instant, she went from anger to heartbreak, tears streaming down her face. She
said, “Everything I did was out of love for you… I’ve never felt ashamed… never…”
I felt terrible. I went over and hugged her. I said, “You’re right, Mom,
it’s a terrible thing to say that. I know you’re not ashamed. It’s just that it keeps going on in my head
, and it’s not like you’ve ever told me, but it’s still not right. Will you forgive me, my love?” I kissed
her tearful eyes.
She said, “Oh, darling, of course I forgive you. You know how proud I am of you, how
proud we are of each other, don’t you? I’m not saying we can’t talk about this. But when you say I still
see you as my son… you’ll always be my son, right?” She looked at me with a hurt expression.
I said, “Of course, I will always be your son.” She kissed me, then…
She often caressed my penis in ways she used when she was dissatisfied. Usually, she would make me feel better through intercourse, and usually
it really worked, because how could I not feel good after ejaculating in my mother's mouth or vagina
? She made my penis hard and told me how proud she was of being the woman I wanted. Her
fingers gripped my penis as she whispered in my ear, "I'm so proud of
everything you do to me with this…you make my orgasms so intense, you know?"
I said, "I know, Paula, I'm proud that you're my lover, my mother, and
my wife, right, baby?"
She said, "Yes, I've always been your wife. Maybe now we can think about me carrying your baby,
think about how it might be a sweet fantasy for both of us when you're inside me?"
I said, "Yes, Paula…Paula, my sweet wife."
We started making love. As I thrust inside her, she said, "One day you'll
ejaculate inside me and get me pregnant, Mommy will be carrying your baby, and I'll be so proud that you wanted me.
" Mommy's orgasm came quickly and intensely, and then she hugged me tightly.
Then
disaster
struck suddenly, engulfing us all. On their way back from the supermarket, Mom and Santi were hit by a
damn drunk driver who ran a red light and crashed violently into the side of their car. I hope he
spends the rest of his life in jail. Santi died instantly. This beautiful and lovely
woman I had just met hours before was gone forever.
Mom was in critical condition and unconscious. They said that even though the safety bag was inflated, somehow
her head still hit the window at an angle. She was sitting opposite the point of impact and only suffered minor injuries
. The trauma caused her brain to swell, and she looked horribly injured.
I stayed in the hospital day and night. Jim came to see me two days later, and we waited, mostly
saying nothing except "we're trying our best." Damn, my life had hit rock bottom. Jim
cried and grabbed Mom's hand, as if hoping that if she were alive, his mother would be alive too. The next
day he said his mother had pinched his hand. I ran to call the doctor, but the nurse said it was just a reflex and
quite common. We had to keep waiting.
Jem was upset, and so was I. My only hope was that the doctor would say she could
be out of danger at any time. Because of the head injury, they couldn't determine how her condition might develop.
On the fifth day, Mom finally woke up. It was both a relief and terrible. She was confused and couldn't remember anything
. She hardly spoke and slept most of the time. This wasn't some movie where the protagonist wakes up
and everyone celebrates being back on track. The next day, when the doctor
examined her, she pointed at me as if trying to remember something, then asked, "Is this my husband?"
The doctor said, "No, Mrs. Miller. This is your son. He's been here taking care
of you since the accident."
She said, "Oh." She looked at me with a distant gaze and said, "There was an accident." You could
tell from her monotonous tone that she knew nothing. Over the next two days, it was clear her personality
had changed; she was completely devoid of passion, which I hoped was temporary. Mom had always been a passionate person,
whether we were talking about a movie, arguing, or making love. Now, nothing seemed to stimulate her
. She was very calm, appearing docile, and speaking in a monotonous voice that I hated hearing.
In the following days, the doctors said there was nothing more they could do, and that because she had begun to remember some
details of the past, hopefully her recovery would be faster. They also stated that the longer it took, the
less likely a full recovery would be.
When the swelling subsided, I took her home. Although she could walk freely, she spent a lot of time
lying in bed. She was now in a strange state of mixed ability and inability. If I told her what to do,
she could do it well. If left to do it herself, she could barely begin anything. I left her a
list of things to do, and Jim and a neighbor would occasionally come over to check on things, since we only had one income again
and I had to go to work.
A week passed with little progress. When I returned home one evening, I found her
frantically applying lotion to the same arm in bed. I said, “Let me help you, Mom.”
She lay on her side, and I applied it to her legs and arms. Her pajamas were loose, so I reached inside and applied
the lotion to her back, making a soothing sound.
The sensation of her soft skin touching my body suddenly opened the floodgates of memories in my mind. Her abdomen
wasn't fully supinated, so I slowly stroked the outer edge of her breasts that I could reach. I touched her again,
then stopped, thinking carefully, because I didn't know what would happen next. She didn't jump up
or scream, and I started kneading her back again. She said, “Paul, why did you
do this? I'm your mother.”
I wanted to tell her how much I loved her and wanted her, but I said instead, “I'm sorry, it was an accident
.”
She said, “Oh, it's okay.” The consequences of the touch finally became apparent the next day. Before I went to work
, I brought her breakfast. She said, “Paul, I had a lot of strange dreams last night, but I don’t remember the details
. Paul, would you tell me some of the truth?”
I said, “Of course, Mom.”
She said, “Did you touch me like you did yesterday…while I was asleep?”
I was startled. I said, “Mom! I would never do that.”
She handled the whole thing calmly, always asking me questions, seemingly more than just curiosity
. I think she remembered my hand on her body, and I was glad about that. She said, “Paul
, were we close before?”
Although I knew telling her the truth might anger her, she asked me so calmly that I could only answer,
"Yes."
She gave a soft "humph" and asked, "We've been intimate more than once, haven't we?"
I said, "Yes.
" She said, "Many times?" I said
, "Many...many times."
She said, "Did I seduce you, or did you seduce me?"
I said, "We were attracted to each other."
She said, "Do you think that's why I thought you were my husband after the accident
?"
I couldn't take these questions anymore. I rested my head on her breast and just said, "Oh, Mom
..."
She stroked my hair and said, "I think it's certain...it's strange...my son is my
lover." Her voice sounded distant. "But I can almost understand it. You're handsome, gentle
, and loving. You know Paul, it seems right to me, but I don't remember anything. Isn't
that nice? Paul, do we love each other?"
I said, "Perfect, Mom. Even when we argue, it's perfect."
She said, "Do you want to touch me? Paul...you can, if you want."
I was stunned. She invited me to touch her, but she wasn't the Paula I knew. I succumbed to temptation,
hoping we could both wake up from this terrible dream. I pulled down the collar of her nightgown, grasped one of her
breasts, pushed the flesh against her swollen nipple, and put it in my mouth, as I had done many times before. I
sucked hard on the nipple, and Mom said, “Oh, that feels so good, Paul.” It wasn’t Paula speaking
; it was my mother. I couldn’t go on.
I pulled the nightgown back up over her breasts and said, “I have to go to work now, Mom. I’ll
see you soon, okay?”
She said, “Okay,” as if nothing had happened. I knew I would never
forgive myself if I slept with her; it would feel like I was taking advantage of my mother, who had become a stranger, and it would
feel like I was deceiving her.
As more and more time passed, I grew increasingly worried until I came home from work one day and felt a sense of relief
. My mother said, “Oh, Paul, I’m so glad you’re home.” This wouldn’t normally sound
unusual, but it boosted my confidence because she smiled, and there was
a renewed sense of life and excitement in her voice since the accident. She said, “I remember some things. We went to the lake and rented a
small boat with oars, we ate ice cream on the lawn, and it dripped on my white clothes, didn’t it?”
I said, “Yes, Mom, that’s right. That’s wonderful!” The doctor had said it might
recover little by little. I went over and kissed her as usual, but worried it might upset her, so I kissed
both her cheeks. She kissed my lips, but only for a moment. She gave me a warm smile
. She shook her head and said, “You certainly didn’t tell me we were lovers so you could put your hands in my
shorts?”
I said, “Mom!”
She laughed, “I was just kidding.” I was relieved; it was the first time she’d joked. She said
, “I know we’re close, I can feel it. I’m sorry, Paul.”
I said, “There’s nothing to be sorry about, I’m so glad you’re getting better and better.”
She said, “Kiss me.” This time, it was a lover’s kiss, and it lasted a long time. She said, “Hmm, that’s good
.”
The next night, she thought about more things we had done, many things that happened in the world,
but none of them related to our lovemaking. So to my surprise, as I was getting ready for bed, she called me
to her bedroom and said, “Paul, it doesn’t matter whether I remember or not, I want you to touch me like you did the other night
.” Hearing the tone in her voice, my reluctance vanished.
I began to suckle her nipple, and this time I suckled for a long time. I remembered her telling me that
a mother’s breasts are made for her children. As I touched and suckled her breasts, I believed they
were made for me. When I tasted some of the sweet milk, I kept it on my tongue and transferred it
to my mother’s mouth. After she tasted it, she looked at me in surprise. I said, “That’s nice, isn’t it, Mom? That
’s because I’ve done it so many times…we used to love it.”
She laughed and said, “We’ll do it again, darling.” It was so nice to hear that
term of endearment from her; I missed it. I lifted her nightgown and kissed down her stomach to above her panties to see
her reaction. She was breathing heavily and clearly didn’t want me to stop. I pulled her panties down and
licked her in the way she liked. She closed her eyes, giving in to the pleasurable sensation.
My tongue licked back and forth on her clitoris, and she made some sounds I used to know. She gradually became aroused
, and her vaginal fluids flowed continuously. She grabbed my hair, sometimes tugging at it, something
she had never done before, something new and exciting for her. As I opened my mouth to lick and suck her entire clitoris
, occasionally teasing it with my tongue, Mom’s orgasm began. Being able to hear and see her
trembling and writhing during her orgasm filled me with an indescribable sense of accomplishment. She cried out, "Oh
...oh...ah...oh..." After her climax, she sighed and said, "That was really...
pleasant, darling...you know me so well, don't you? You know how to make me feel good...but
I don't remember what you like, Paul."
I said, "That's okay, you'll remember."
In a world or a movie where anything is possible, her climax might have opened the floodgates of memory, and
everything could have returned to normal, but I was glad that after her climax, she wanted
me and spoke to me tenderly. She said, "I feel so comfortable with you, Paul, I feel
so close to you, you make me feel safe." I didn't know if she wanted me to stay the night, so I kissed her.
She stood up to leave. She cried out "No!" and pulled me back, saying, "Stay
, I love you, stay."
I hugged her and said, "I'll always be with you, my love. I'm here, there's nothing to worry about
." She quietly fell asleep in my arms. Even though she had been a little angry, I was glad to see that more of
her emotions were at play.
This would be crucial. Over the next five days, she began to think more about things related to her feelings
, until she said, "When I called you my husband in the hospital, it was because you were my husband
and I was your wife, right?"
When I heard this, I wasn't ashamed to say that I was moved to tears. I hugged her and said, "Yes
, Paula, you are my wife, yes, it's you."
She placed her hand on my penis, which was exactly what I wanted her to do. She said, "Then come on
, be my husband."
We stood by the bed and kissed for a long time, me savoring her mouth and tongue. It was
the same as before, but also different. Our hands explored each other's bodies, undressing each other. My mother
's skin seemed particularly sensitive; my fingertips brushed against her breasts and nipples, causing her body to tremble slightly
. I wanted her honey pot. My hand cupped her honey pot and began to caress it, one finger
sliding along the folds of her labia until they parted beneath my fingers. My fingers slipped into the wetness, then
placed the moist nectar between our still-kissing lips. My mother licked it clean, and I told her, "This is your
love for me."
She said, "Yes, darling." It wasn't an ordinary word for her, and I loved
the sound of her voice and her rapid breathing. My hands reached behind her, grasping the two hemispheres of her buttocks,
firm, round, and soft. She kissed my neck, then my nipples. She knelt down and
held my penis in her hand. She said, "Your penis is so thick and hard because of me." My mother was always fascinated
and proud of my body's response to her desire; whenever I caressed or saw her naked body, I quickly
longed to penetrate her.
She took my swollen glans into her mouth and began to suck, this time for longer than usual. I
couldn't hold back any longer, and I thrust my hips forward, pushing my penis deeper into her mouth. She held this
position as I moved in and out of her mouth. I tried to control myself and not go in too deep to prevent her from suffocating
. She made soft, moaning sounds as she licked and sucked, and feeling the warm wetness between her mouth and tongue,
I easily reached orgasm. Although I was satisfied after ejaculating in her mouth as before, I still
wanted to ejaculate inside her vagina in the way we used to.
I pulled her to the bed, and she lay down, opening her legs. My penis actually
found its target on its own, and her vagina opened up to me, accepting my arrival. My first penetration made her let out
a mesmerizing moan. Each time I pushed into her wet passage, I was able to go deeper, and Mom
responded with an encouraging "yes." She clung to my arms, her legs pulling back, and said, "I want it, Paul, I want you."
I said, "I'll always want you, Paula, like this, like this, like this."
Mom said, "Yes, child, yes."
As I thrust deeper into her, I said, "This is mine, Mom."
She said, "Yes, child, I can feel it, you belong to me, to my honey pot, fuck me, fuck
me, oh..."
She kept moaning, and I thrust as hard as I could into her depths. Her seductive voice was full of encouragement:
"Yes, darling, harder, like this."
I felt a part of her again; I had found my Paula, found my mother
. Each thrust confirmed that we had rediscovered a part of our shared experience, deep within each other
. As her back arched upwards, I could feel her orgasm approaching. After a few more thrusts
, a sharp, high-pitched "Ahhh..." pierced the room; Mom's orgasm had finally arrived. I quickened
the pace of my thrusts because I wanted to reach orgasm with her. If it were before, there were often
no problems when we made love, but at this moment, I wanted to be in sync with her, both physically and emotionally. My rapid
, forceful thrusts finally brought us both to climax simultaneously.
I called her name, "Paula… Mom…," and began releasing my love juices into her
honeypot.
She felt me ejaculating inside her and said, "Yes, my love, shoot it into my body, shoot it
in, fill me up…"
With my seemingly endless ejaculation, I think I truly filled her up. As I felt
the last shudders of Mom's orgasm, my penis slowly withdrew, and I saw my penis and the
labia of her honeypot shimmering with a pearly sheen.
Mom smiled relaxedly and said, "Oh, darling, it's so good to be back."
I said, "Don't leave again."
She said to me, "I won't, child, and you shouldn't stop loving me like this."
I kissed her and said, "Never." 　　 (
The End
)

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