Conflict between ethics and desire

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

I am also a so-called incestuous person. I am 49 years old, female. My husband contracted hepatitis in 2011, which later developed into cirrhosis and he passed away 8 years ago. At that time, my son was 16 years old. Our family was relatively well-off, and we had no problem with housing. At first, my son was probably afraid that I would be lonely, so he would chat with me at night. Later, I got sick and had a fever. He took care of me every night and slept in the same bed with me. After I recovered, I would send him back to his own room, but sometimes he wouldn't leave. He would even playfully say that he wanted to nurse. I refused, but he would still stay. I was afraid of affecting his school, so I would let him touch me perfunctorily or let him suckle a few times symbolically before quickly sending him back to his room to sleep. When he came back, sometimes he would come to my room in the middle of the night wanting to nurse, saying that he couldn't sleep without it. I didn't want to argue with him, so I would let him nurse a little and then send him back. But as time went on, he became a little more demanding. He would nurse on the left side and touch the right side, and the more he nursed, the more abnormal it became. I also felt that something was wrong. I firmly refused and subtly taught him not to have such thoughts, to focus on his studies, and not to worry his father in the afterlife. He behaved himself for a while. Then,
during summer vacation, his behavior changed again. He often left the bathroom door open while showering and would use excuses to have me bring him things to the bathroom. I got angry and scolded him for being inconsiderate. He would then come out naked and fetch the things himself. Afterwards, he would try to comfort me, kissing my cheek. Sometimes he would deliberately hug me; in my thin summer pajamas, I could feel his little one pushing against me when he hugged me tightly, especially when he hugged me from behind. Although I was also somewhat aroused by his advances, I managed to control myself. I was genuinely angry, so I scolded him and also taught him not to think about things he didn't need. But it was probably too late. The more I scolded him, even hitting him, the less effective it was. The more I scolded him, the more playfully he would hug me, and I couldn't push him away. At night, it was even worse. He would become unruly and persistent, nursing endlessly, sometimes even climbing on top of me to nurse, touching me as he did so. This touching and nursing was completely different from how he did when I was a child, making me incredibly aroused.
Perhaps it was because I wasn't firm enough in my stance. Several times, after nursing, he would continue touching me until very late, falling asleep next to me. Although I knew he had ulterior motives, I was wary, wearing only my upper body exposed, allowing him to nurse and touch me. At the time, I thought he probably just wanted to have contact with a man, and wouldn't force me. However, one night, after he nursed for a long time, I was almost drowsy when he suddenly produced a pair of scissors and cut my underwear at its narrowest point. I immediately got up and tried to hit him, but it was no use. He held me tightly, kissing my face and earlobes, his mouth completely covering my lips, making it difficult to breathe. He pressed down on me and immediately penetrated me. I instantly lost the ability to resist, numb from his clumsy movements. At that moment, I felt no passion, only anger. If I could have reached that pair of scissors, I would have killed him.
A few minutes later, he came down, and I wept bitterly. He was terrified. He knelt before the bed, begging for mercy, crying, "Mom, I love you, I love you so much. At first, I felt sorry for you, and I thought about having you find a man. You're only in your early forties, you have a long life ahead of you. But later, whenever I saw you in your pajamas or pretty clothes, your figure, your body, especially those big breasts I touched and sucked on when I was little, and your round, big buttocks, I had all sorts of fantasies. Almost every night I wanted to hold you tightly while I slept. I really couldn't sleep without touching and sucking on your breasts. I kept imagining what my future was like. I peeked at you showering, and I imagined us almost every moment—it was my dream. But I was afraid of hurting you and Dad, so I restrained myself. You must have felt me consciously thrusting against you when I hugged you from behind. Tonight, I couldn't hold back anymore." Now that I've done it, I know I was wrong. Even killing me wouldn't be too much for you. You're my good mother; whatever you do to me wouldn't be excessive, I wouldn't have a single complaint. But I must tell you, I truly love you now, not just a son's love for his mother, but a man's sincere love for a woman. You can't imagine how much I love you. I want you; I will never love another woman in this life.
I painfully got out of bed and hugged him tightly. He hugged me even tighter, still kissing me constantly, and gently lifted me up and placed me on the bed. He lay down beside me and hugged me again, kissing my face and earlobes incessantly. Then, what he had ejaculated inside me flowed out. I went downstairs to wash, and he followed me to the bathroom. Seeing my naked lower body, he must have been unable to resist again. After I finished washing, he carried me back to bed. We hugged each other very tightly. I said, "You're grown up now, you have sexual desires, that's normal. If it really doesn't work out, you young people are very open now, you can find someone. Why would I have designs on my mother?" He said, "It's not like that. I only love you. Your thoughts aren't unreasonable, they might even be feasible." But I truly only love you. I already said it, I can never love another girl in this life. I know it's wrong, it's incest. But I can't help myself, I can't stop thinking about you, stop loving you. If you don't want this, I only have one way out: if you don't kill me, I'll kill myself.
He held me, and since my hands couldn't cover his mouth, I used my mouth to cover his. He took the opportunity to kiss me fiercely, sucking my tongue until it hurt, but it felt so good. I said, "How could I raise such a wretched child? What am I going to do?" He kept holding me tighter, licking away the tears on my face. He said, "Anyway, I've made up my mind, I will never get married or have children in this life. You can't have me, but you won't kill me, so I…" My thoughts might be absurd, but that's how I imagined it. You will always be my good mother and the woman I love most. "I came out of you (he touched my genitals, though I had changed into new underwear), and now I'm going back in a little. What's wrong with that? When I came out, it caused you a lot of pain, but now that I'm going back in a little, it will make you happy and comfortable. Why can't that be?"
I laughed through my tears and said, "You even have a theory now!" He said, "I read online that women in their forties are at their most virile, and you can't live without a man, but I don't want other men with you." He started kissing my face, ears, neck, breasts, and down my thighs (without taking off my underwear), then my calves and every toe, and then he turned over and kissed my back and buttocks... Maybe it was because I had been deprived for a long time, but he made me feel weak all over. He said, "Mom, I want to see where I came out one last time, is that okay?" I didn't say anything. He took off my underwear and pajamas, and we were both naked. Seeing his young and strong body and his erect penis, I closed my eyes.
He spread my legs, looked closely, and then kissed me fiercely, sucking hard. I was already aroused, and his kisses stirred my desire; my juices flowed freely. He licked and sucked, and I could hear the squeaking sounds of his sucking. I sat up and hugged him tightly, kissing his lips, eyes, and chest, gripping his hard penis in my hand. I could feel it moving, and I couldn't help but lick it with my tongue, hold it in my mouth, and suckle. He hugged me, then fell down on top of me, climbing onto my body and penetrating my vagina. I responded to my son's movements; I wanted to scream. I held his strong male body tightly, letting him enter, exit, thrust, and pump, feeling the sheets beneath me become wet. He climbed down again to suckle the fluid, then, while thrusting, he sucked on my breasts, kissing my eyes and lips. I couldn't imagine how my 17-year-old son could be so strong, so powerful. This was probably the most pleasurable intercourse of my life. He went at it for over 40 minutes, until we were both exhausted and drenched in sweat.
And so we began our new life. To outsiders, we were a normal, close mother and son, but at home we were a loving couple. Even at the height of our passion, he still called me "Mom," and I called him by his nickname. He was very strong, thanks in part to my excellent care of him. So, almost every night he would leave us completely exhausted before we could sleep. However, this didn't affect his studies at all; in fact, he progressed even faster. He was only average in his first year of high school, but after we reconciled, without any worries, his studies improved dramatically. By the end of his second year, he was first in his grade and got into a top university in Beijing. However, we both faced difficulties while he was studying there. After graduation, at my repeated urging, he started dating someone, and thankfully, they got married last year. Their sex life is normal. Of course, I didn't believe my son's words; I only felt relieved after confirming it with my daughter-in-law. To be honest, I didn't want him to leave me, but I am, after all, his mother, and I can't help but think about his future. But this kid is truly devoted to me; he still wants to sleep with me whenever he gets the chance, saying that his wife isn't as satisfying as me. I believe that's a lie, but I'm still happy.
This is how it happened. I've taken up a lot of the doctors' time, and my writing is rather verbose. But I want you to understand, through the process of how it happened, whether this is truly an unacceptable catastrophe. Here's my thinking: Although he still thinks of me now—we've been together for so many sweet years, he can't forget it all at once—as I age, my body changes, and my sexual ability declines, he will gradually reduce his sexual dependence on me and return to their normal marital life. This way, I can regain my position as his mother. Looking at the whole process, it hasn't harmed either of us; on the contrary, it has enriched our past and future lives, at least a hundred times better than me finding him a stepfather. Therefore, from a broad societal perspective, I believe this is an intolerable and shameful act, but in our situation, there haven't been any negative consequences. At least I don't regret it now. Do you think my thinking is reasonable? Of course, I don't approve of this happening to other mothers and children. If it has already happened and they can't extricate themselves, then they need to find a solution. Perhaps every family has its own way of dealing with it.
[The End]

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