Flowers in the mist

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

In my dream, I was climbing a mountain with my mother. In the dream, her beauty was even more striking than during the day. She gently brushed her hair aside, her eyes squinted like dewdrops, her lips curved like the moon, her expression ethereal. Every smile and frown was captivating, like tiny needles pricking my brain, a tingling, numbing sensation of love, making me drool in my dream.
My mother chuckled softly, pulling my soul into the incense-filled Qingling Temple. The same old abbot sat there, his small eyes glaring at me as he uttered that phrase: "The demon star roams the heavens, why frolic in the mortal realm…"
Suddenly, I felt a deep chill pierce my body from his seemingly nonsensical words, and I quickly pulled my mother out.
The scene that followed was me lying in bed with my mother. Her expression was the same as the one she had when we gazed at each other so lovingly that day—her eyes, gentle yet sparkling like shooting stars. Her alluring face drew me into a forest of lust. I quickly spread her legs (that's how dreams are; having sex with a beautiful woman, often without undressing), and thrust my throbbing penis into her vagina. My mother grabbed me, her face contorted in pain.
Just as I was enjoying the moment, my mother's face suddenly transformed into that of an old TV host, then abruptly turned black, a terrifying, ghostly face staring straight at me, banging on my head with a wooden stick. I screamed and woke up with a start. At that moment, someone was banging loudly on my door.
I was terrified! I pulled the covers over my head and asked in a trembling voice who it was. My younger cousin answered, sobbing, telling me to open the door quickly. I glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table; it was past two o'clock. What was going on? My sweet dream was ruined.
I opened the door, and my little cousin's soft body nestled into my arms. The faint scent of soap, combined with her youthful fragrance, stirred something within me. I touched her warm, fragrant shoulder, then gently pulled her face up. She squinted, tears glistening on her delicate, adorable face, as tender and alluring as a bamboo shoot after rain.
"What's wrong? Why are you crying? Are you homesick?"
She opened her beautiful eyes, her eyelashes incredibly long, and stammered, "Ah... Auntie, Auntie... she's grabbing at me like a ghost..."
What's wrong with Mom? Is she really sleepwalking from exhaustion? Or did the fortune teller's words stir up painful memories?
I quickly grabbed my little cousin, telling her I had to go check on her and that she could sleep in my room, but she couldn't touch anything in my drawer. (There were several copies of an underground weekly magazine I'd just bought, featuring many examples of real-life sexual encounters.) My little cousin nodded pitifully, tugging at her clothes. I glanced at her chest instinctively. She'd rushed into her clothes, so the buttons weren't fastened, revealing her entire figure. She'd also been wearing her mother's bra—a black embroidered bra. Her small, full breasts were almost bursting out; her skin had even become a little pale from staying at my house these past few days.
I asked her if the bra was my mother's. She immediately blushed, lowered her head, and unfastened the bra right in front of me. Two small, white rabbits immediately popped out. Firm and round, especially the tender pink nipples, which seemed about to ooze juice. I stared, mesmerized. Damn, my little cousin seems completely unguarded around me.
She looked up, her eyes fixed on me boldly, her face suddenly glowing with a seductive allure, all her previous shyness gone. She even swallowed a mouthful of saliva. I followed her gaze, which landed squarely on my erect crotch. Goodness, I was startled. These days, little girls' minds are getting more and more bizarre. I never expected my little cousin to be so sexually interested. Has she been influenced by her parents' long-term sexual activity? If Mom weren't busy, she could probably handle her. I made her bed, patted her head, and was about to leave the room when my little cousin suddenly said,
"Cousin, how did you know it was your mom's bra?"
I didn't answer her, just gave her a goodnight gesture, closed the door, and ran into Mom's room.
As expected, Mom was sleepwalking again. She sat on the pink bed like a statue. Her glossy, silky black hair cascaded down her shoulders. She wore a black sheer dress, and through the hazy fabric, you could see her porcelain-like breasts, full and prominently displayed, with several lines of black fabric creating distinct waves. A wide nightgown covered her smooth thighs.
The beautiful dishes were served, waiting for me to taste them. In this moment, I felt only immense bliss. I fantasized that my beautiful mother was wearing a black wedding dress, covering her fair and pink body, sleeping gently, waiting for me to ravage her.
I climbed onto the bed and pushed my mother hard. She fell back down, her eyes still half-open. A mist seemed to obscure her vision, preventing her from seeing my loving gaze. I touched her flawless face. My mother's beautiful face had a magic that made me lose my mind. Her expression was sickly pale, her eyelashes trembling slightly. Was she dreaming… of her painful past again?
What should I do? My heart was in turmoil. Knowing my mother's history made it difficult for me to do it. If she knew that her beloved son was on top of her, thrusting and raping her like those two lecherous men, what would she think?
Regardless, I must first help my mother remove that black veil. In the ancient, primitive times, mothers and children didn't need anything to cover their bodies. To know my mother's heart, perhaps we should cuddle naked together. The light veil fluttered down from the bed like a breeze, instantly releasing a subtle fragrance. My mother's body was exposed naked under the bright light.
My thoughts, like a traveler, wandered with my eyes over my mother's beautiful body.
Her towering breasts, made of white porcelain jade, swayed gently with her breath. The pure white peaks, accentuated by the shadows, appeared round and plump, arrogantly displaying their weight and softness; the protruding pink nipples, hiding sweet juice, nurturing the growth of life; her flat abdomen, smooth and jade-like, allowed me to penetrate without hindrance into the fragrant meadow, the lush meadow, rising with the steaming crater.
I smelled the pungent, blood-red flesh, slowly opening the crater. Oily, light pink flesh walls stretched out, the bottom unseen, only the black shadow waiting to be filled.
The glistening, wet flesh, a kaleidoscope of colors—black, brown, red, white, and yellow—wrapped in concentric circles of pubic wrinkles.
My lust erupted symbolically from my mother's vagina, frantically consuming the last vestiges of my conscience. Only the icy pressure of Siberia could extinguish this burning desire.
Since my mother was a beautiful fairy, displaying her delicate, irresistibly alluring body, I was no longer a god. I only knew that I was now a lustful demon, and I wanted to scorch my mother's pristine vulva with my raging lust.
Chang'e, though beautiful, resided in the moon palace. When would mortals ever see a goddess? Even if they did, they could never surpass my mother's exquisite beauty. Therefore, making love with my mother was more beautiful than the lovemaking of immortals. What more could a man ask for?
Do not fear the defilement of your mother; simply return, simply return to the home before I was born.
My mother's beauty, surpassing even that of a celestial being, had corrupted her, and even dragged me, her son, down with her.
I caressed my mother's body with a complaining tone, my hands circling her soft breasts, squeezing and grasping them tightly. The milk inside swelled, heavy like water bags; when I pinched one, it swelled up the other. My fingers slid up and down her vulva until her labia were warm and my fingers were soaked. Only then did my mother's face react, glowing red like an orange light, her little nose wrinkling slightly.
I tried inserting two fingers into her vulva. My mother's eyes suddenly opened slightly, her brows furrowed, her rosy lips trembled slightly, and she sat up, her little hands flailing wildly… I jumped to the door, staring for a moment before recovering my terrified soul. My heart was still pounding like a stone. What was happening? Did my mother feel the intrusion of my fingers in her dream and want to resist?
Like last time, calling her name to bring her back to silence? A thought quickly flashed through my mind: No!
Last time was like drugging and raping; this time, let my mother dance with abandon, let her taste the live, fresh flesh of my mother.
I quickly took off my clothes, my slightly trembling penis erect, and sat down behind my mother. I grabbed her buttocks tightly, lifted her up, and helped her sit on my lap. Her body was so heavy that my thick, hard, erect penis was pressed down by my mother's smooth, warm buttocks and couldn't move.
My glans was pressed tightly against my mother's vaginal opening, so hot, wet, and tender. The tip of my penis rubbed against her soft skin, and even without penetration, the pleasure sent shivers down my spine. My thighs and testicles were slightly flattened by my mother's weight. I pressed my entire body against her back, feeling her soft, smooth skin.
The warmth of her vaginal openings exuded a sweet fragrance. I inhaled as I gently nibbled and bit her pink neck, leaving red marks on her snow-white skin. My hands grasped her soft breasts from behind, kneading them vigorously, feeling their heavy, smooth texture. They were warm and soft, and I wanted to swallow them whole, squeezing them firmly. The tender white flesh seemed to bulge as if it were about to burst with oil.
My mother's vagina seemed to sense a giant snake writhing beneath her, contracting uneasily and shedding a few tears. The moistened snake also felt the tingling heat and burning sensation of her flesh, signaling an attack.
I turned my mother around, and she gripped my back tightly with both hands. "It hurts! You'll feel it later!" If I didn't know about my mother's illness, she would be no different from someone who is awake in reality. The only difference would be her cloudy eyes, her open mouth, and her wet chin.
Thinking back, I remember when she was resting on the rocks during the day while hiking, her face was incredibly beautiful, pinkish-white with two rosy blushes, her large eyes as black as well water, sparkling with life. Strands of hair, blown by the breeze, draped over her plump, pretty lips. At that time, my heart and soul were captivated by the vibrant red and white of her lips, combined with her almost transparent white teeth, creating a stunning contrast. But I was unable to reciprocate. Now, she is right before my eyes, at my beck and call.
No sooner said than done, I moved closer to my mother's face, savoring her fragrant breath. Slowly, I gently touched her lips to the tip of her mouth; sweet and cool. My lips covered hers again, my tongue tracing her oral cavity before leaving her lips—sweet, smooth, and soft, still cool. I tried this four times before her lips finally warmed up.
Finally, I opened my eyes, looked into my mother's beautiful eyes, and sealed her beautiful lips with mine, my senses fully engaged.
My mouth breathed warm air into her mouth, my nose discerned the scents in every inch of her mouth, my tongue tasted the flavor and stickiness of her tongue, my ears listened to the smacking sounds, my throat swallowed the sweet, fragrant saliva, and my eyes scanned my mother's beautiful face up close, telling my brain: Yes, the one I'm kissing is the beautiful mother I've been longing for day and night, and I'm repaying all the debts of desire she owes me.
As her jade-white thighs parted, her beautiful vulva aligned with the giant snake. Slowly, the giant snake gently kissed the flesh of her vulva, the hardest point touching the soft, slippery flesh, instantly creating an electric spark, bringing me a tingling, warm, and numbing sensation.
I lifted my mother's buttocks, allowing my enormous glans to press down from below, blocking her oily vulva. The soft, tender flesh, glued together, was gradually torn apart by the giant snake. I pressed down on my mother's snow-white buttocks, and with her weight, her buttocks slid smoothly onto my thighs. Warm, lustful fluids moistened my penis from top to bottom, along with the squeezing of the vaginal walls.
None of this mattered, because my senses were all focused on my engulfed penis. The layers of slippery flesh gently bit my penis, so itchy, so itchy! I needed to relieve the itch, so I grabbed my mother's buttocks from behind with both hands, lifted them up, and began to thrust violently.
My mother's only reaction was to raise her hands, scratching and groping wildly, her eyes growing increasingly dim.
Every inch of my mother's fair, delicate flesh trembled, so much so that her pearly teeth pierced my tongue. I didn't pull away from her mouth; blood mingled with our saliva, flowing into each other's bodies, blood thicker than water.
The wet friction of flesh against flesh filled and emptied, the intense, pleasurable sensation swelling within me. My mother's warm body had become one with mine; I returned to her beautiful, warm body, the weight of her life supported by my thrust.
Time passed second by second. Before me were her beautiful eyes, her small, full nose, the sweet opening of her mouth filled by me, her firm breasts slapping wantonly against my chest, her vagina being torn and closed by my hard penis. These beautiful, vibrant colors became the passing scenes of our journey together in paradise, all of this will become eternal in my memory.
For millennia, the deepest recesses of human morality—incest between mother and son—have been scorned once more. I cast aside everything else in the world. Each time my penis penetrates my mother's fiery, tender vagina, my guilt deepens. The more guilty I feel, the more aroused I become; the more guilty I feel, the more I crave the most erotic scenes; the more guilty I feel, the more pleasure I feel, because I am in a state of unrestrained freedom, even in the universe. How I love the utter freedom of sex! My mother's body is being abused, and so is my heart, but I am being abused in a free and joyful way!
The sizzling sound of flesh grinding, the opening and closing of the labia, the glistening penis forcing its way through the tender flesh and penetrating the vagina—all moral frameworks are shattered.
I was almost frantic, and my mother's little hands lost their way because my hips were moving too fast. My mother was quickly captured by my reality in her dream. Her hair was disheveled and fell over her face, her beautiful face was disheveled, her cheeks were flushed and glistening with fine beads of fluid, and my ferocious face was reflected in her big eyes. Her fragrant tongue in her little mouth moved a few times in resistance, and the sticky saliva became thicker and more fragrant. Her snow-white thighs trembled and wrapped around my back. It seemed that she liked this position in her dream, and my hard work made her very satisfied and she ejaculated vaginal fluid.
In front of me, my mother leaned back, and I wrapped my hands around her pink neck to prevent her from falling. When I pulled my penis back with the silicone vaginal muscles, she trembled, and her little hands gripped my back tightly. I thought she was going to bleed! I couldn't believe it. Her buttocks trembled violently, and her vagina contracted and squeezed out vaginal fluid. My glans felt like it was being bitten by a thousand insects, soaking in the hot vaginal flesh. I could only feel a blurry, itchy sensation inside.
Mom, satisfied, stopped moving. Her areolas swelled, and her thighs, initially tense, now opened wide without any resistance. Her body was limp, as if her bones had crumbled, her flesh trembling from the impact of my penis. My tongue filled her soft, round mouth, saliva dripping down her chin. It seemed Mom was very satisfied in her dream; now it was my turn to satisfy her.
Gently laying her down, I first grabbed her feet, placing them on my shoulders, and pressed myself against her until her knees touched her shoulders. This caused her plump, white thighs to squeeze her tender vulva tightly, her full, fleshy opening pitifully facing my penis, her open labia like slippery tofu waiting for a hard rod to pound it open!
My buttocks tightened, and I thrust in with the force of a motor, the soft Simmons mattress swaying weakly with each thrust. My mother breathed my air, her beautiful face contorted in pain, her satisfied expression suppressed by furrowed brows. Her mouth was open, as if trying to expel the foreign object tormenting her.
I squeezed her swaying breasts, spread my legs wide, and pressed down on her bouncing buttocks, digging deeper and deeper into her tender opening, letting her smooth clitoris gently kiss my glans, until my penis was too thick to contain my boundless semen.
Mom, I love you. You always radiate beauty, charm, and a full, voluptuous figure. Your gentle, nurturing care will now be repaid to you with my sperm.
Mom, don't worry about me, don't be sad. Tonight, your son returns to your warm embrace, feeling the body that was once connected to yours by blood. This is not just simple sex, but shattering the millennia-old, insurmountable barrier between mother and child.
I pressed my face against her fair, delicate face, feeling her breath and every inch of her smooth skin. My penis throbbed, dancing joyfully inside my mother's vagina. Suddenly, it was blocked by the hot, fleshy walls. The sensitive glans, bursting with stimulation, bit into my mother's clitoris, breaking through all obstacles and recklessly ejaculating into her uterus.
I am the sperm from my mother's uterus more than ten years ago. Today, I not only came home, but also brought so many brothers and sisters to visit. I wonder if Mom is happy.
My glans trembled and nodded, spurting out the last spurt of sperm. I continued to enjoy the tight, sliding vaginal opening that my mother's uterus was receiving. I looked up and saw the large mirror in front of the bed reflecting the image of mother and son naked and stuck together. My mother's hair was disheveled, her beautiful face was haggard, and a trace of tears streamed from the corner of her eye, but she closed her plump, blood-red lips with satisfaction, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned.
Her breasts, still under my control, danced plumply. Her glossy black pubic hair was sticky with her vaginal fluids, and her thick, reddish-brown labia held onto my penis tightly. I slowly withdrew, the glans reluctantly releasing a trace of semen, stretching out from my mother's vagina and severing the connection.
In short, my mother was now radiant and full, her delicate, pitiful figure spreading her snow-white thighs, creating a most beautiful, mature, and alluring spring scene. The glistening vaginal fluids soaked her curly pubic hair and milk-smeared tender vagina, pulling at my penis like a hidden thread, causing it to tremble and raise its head a few times in fear.
I didn't continue to thrust into her again, but simply pressed my face against hers, licking wherever I felt comfortable. The hike had been exhausting, and I was feeling weary too. Although my mother was alluring, it would be a waste not to have some more. Unfortunately, it was almost dawn, so I got up, tidied myself, and was about to lie down when I suddenly felt something was missing. I glanced at my mother again; her full, round breasts, covered by a black veil, were swaying gently. My eyes lit up, but I quickly succumbed to sleepiness and drifted off.
When I woke up in the morning, my mother wasn't by the bed. It was strange; why hadn't she woken me? I stretched and went to the balcony to enjoy the sunlight, only to see my mother still standing there in her pajamas, deep in thought. Her pajamas fluttered in the breeze, revealing the curves of her full breasts in the golden morning light. Her snow-white, rounded thighs were dazzlingly illuminated. My mother should be in the kitchen now; why was she here?
My heart skipped a beat, fearing my mother might discover some clue about my dream of raping her. After all, women are very sensitive about that area, even though I had handled things very carefully.
[The End]

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Flowers in the mist

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