First time having sex with mother

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

I'm a high school student.

I was originally very innocent; even in fifth grade, I didn't believe in sex.

It's all the internet's fault, and also my male nature, that led me to learn masturbation in sixth grade.

And then I became hopelessly addicted.

I'm smart, so I can always find pornographic resources online; in fact, some classmates even specifically ask me for them.

My favorite resources are undoubtedly incestuous ones, especially mother-son stories.

From then on, I started fantasizing about how wonderful it would be to pin my mother down and fuck her hard.

She's my masturbation object; even without any resources, just imagining her is enough to bring me to orgasm.

She's not very pretty. She has yellowish skin, is rather short, has short, thick fingers, and some extra fat around her waist. But that doesn't stop me from liking and fantasizing about her.

I often feel that I was ignorant as a child, never paying attention to my mother's naked body, never experiencing the beauty of her body while she slept, and even refusing to sleep with her.

Everyone harbors a demon within, and there are always things that can unlock the cage imprisoning that demon, releasing the potential source of harm to oneself and those around them.

But what if it brings joy? A sense of reckless pleasure? I don't know.

Anyway, one night, I decided to put my idea into practice.

That was when I was in high school. My dad was working away from home, leaving just my mom and me. It was the weekend, so we went back to our hometown, not far from my school.

I was a boarding student, and my mom rented a place near my school, taking care of my daily needs. My mom was a full-time mom, spending her days tending to my vegetables and watching over me.

But why didn't she keep an eye on my thoughts? Letting me become a demon.

I always planned meticulously before doing anything. I

even calculated when my mom might have her period. I remember one day she was angry and wanted to yell at me, saying she was on her period and in a bad mood.

But it wasn't around these days, so I chose to do it tonight.

Otherwise, it would be very unpleasant to be on the battlefield only to find myself about to suffer.

I also hid the key to my mother's room. If it was locked from the inside, I could use the key to open the door or climb in through the window, which was usually unlocked.

That night,

I lay in bed, calculating how long it would take for my mother to fall asleep. I don't know if I was even fully awake then. Anyway, the image of me stroking my mother's soft waist flashed through my mind, and I felt excited.

It was almost ten o'clock. I knew my mother should be asleep by now.

To prevent her from struggling too much and ruining my plan, I had prepared a belt—the one I used to tie up my military training uniform—never expecting to use it to tie up my mother.

My heart was pounding. Barefoot, I carefully made my way to my mother's door. Although I knew I didn't need to be so careful, I was still very nervous.

It wasn't far, but it felt like a huge distance.

Finally, I arrived, gently pressed the doorknob, and pushed the door open.

My mother, as expected, didn't put up with her honest son.

My mother's sleeping posture wasn't pretty, but it was enough to excite me.

My home is in the countryside, and there are almost no lights outside, but the faint moonlight shone in, allowing me to see my mother's state.

The weather was slightly cool. She was covered by a blanket, one hand inside the blanket on the outside of her thigh, the other outside, covering her lower abdomen.

Her small mouth was slightly open, her breathing even. Her body rose and fell with her breath. The blanket was thick, so I couldn't see the body beneath, the body that filled my imagination.

But she always only covered her stomach with the blanket, so her feet were exposed. Her feet weren't what you'd call beautiful feet, just small and chubby, making me want to touch them.

My mother's sandals were scattered around my bare feet, one here, one there, quite messy. Seeing this, I got a little excited, my heart was pounding.

She was sleeping in a nightgown, not completely covered, so I could see a little. It was my favorite, her purple nightgown that she had worn for a long time, very traditional, but the fabric looked so soft, and I had wanted to try it out for a long time.

Although I had an irresistible urge to touch it now, I restrained myself. After all, impulse is the devil.

My mother isn't a dead sleeper; what if I moved and she woke up?

Besides, I brought a binding belt anyway. Once I lock the door again, she can't escape, can she?

Thinking this, I gently took my mother's hands out from under the covers. They felt quite warm. After leaning against my mother's warm body for so long, they were still very soft, after all, my mother is slightly plump.

I put both hands together and carefully tied them together with the white belt, then pushed them up, onto my mother's head.

My mother hadn't woken up yet, her mouth was still slightly open, seemingly unaware. Her hands were placed on her head by her son, looking slightly wicked.

I was extremely excited now, nothing could stop me anymore, my preparations were thorough enough.

I couldn't wait to extend my devilish claws, to experience the feeling of drugging and raping my mother while she was fast asleep.

My hands are very long and slender, everyone who has seen them praises them. This long and slender hand was placed on my mother's face, almost completely covering her not-so-pretty face.

I lovingly stroked my mother's face, like a lover. When I touched my mother's forehead, my palm covered her nose and mouth, and I could feel the warmth of her breath. Part of my hand touched her neck; it was soft, and it wasn't a direct touch, so it wasn't very satisfying.

I originally wanted to put my other hand on top and cup her face in both hands. But then I thought it might wake her. I was also quite interested in her little feet.

So I shifted my focus and looked at her feet. These feet are very ticklish; when she was little, even a slight tickle would cause her a big reaction.

But now they were entirely my domain. I'm a patient person and wanted to enjoy a feast. So I simply touched her feet, which were resting at the foot of the bed, with both hands, from her tiny toes to her insteps to her heels. My palms completely enveloped them; they were smooth and slightly cool.

They even moved a little, seemingly dissatisfied with my brief caress. Don't worry, you'll get your fun soon. I smiled. Time to really begin tonight's program.

In movies, confessions often involve a classic gesture: cupping a girl's face in your hands and kissing her.

I rolled onto the bed, straddling my mother, but not fully seated. Then I leaned down and, with my long, slender hands—hands my mother had praised countless times—cuddled her face and gently kissed her slightly parted lips.

The touch of our lips gave me a soft, cotton-candy-like sensation, a faint sense of guilt for violating my mother's wishes, and an intense excitement.

I had never been in a relationship, only had some ambiguous, unrequited relationships with a few younger girls, so this could be considered my first kiss. However, after reading so many books on the subject, I roughly knew what to do.

I slipped my tongue into my mother's open mouth, inevitably touching her teeth, which were a little hard, making me even more excited.

My tongue intertwined with my mother's, giving me an indescribable feeling. It was like licking ice cream. My mother brushed her teeth before bed, and it wasn't long before she fell asleep, so her saliva carried the scent of toothpaste.

I wasn't satisfied; I demanded more. My tongue frantically pushed in, intertwining and entwining with hers. This feeling of bodily fluids meeting my mother's, of our bodies intertwining, excited and greedy me.

This was a forbidden love, unethical and rejected by the world. Just think, a middle school student, taking advantage of his father's absence at work and his mother's deep sleep, tying her to the bed and wantonly violating her mouth—wouldn't that drive anyone mad?

Perhaps my actions were too rough; my mother's long eyelashes trembled, her breathing became rapid, and her warm breath on my face ignited a fire within me.

Right, my mother's eyes were large and beautiful. I inherited that trait. I stared at my mother's face, watching her large eyes slowly open, still carrying a hint of bewilderment from being awakened.

When she could finally see the scene before her clearly, and saw her most beloved son kissing her with undisguised lust in his eyes, she panicked. Her pupils dilated, she made whimpering noises, and her tongue moved erratically, trying to escape her son's intrusion.

Because my mother was still shaking her head and her movements were quite vigorous, I was afraid of hurting my tongue and spoiling the fun, so I had to stop kissing, pulling my tongue out, bringing with it a trace of saliva that I couldn't tell if it was mine or my mother's.

My mother seemed to understand the situation, but she didn't know my determination and was still struggling. I sat on her stomach, watching her bound hands move her fingers, her wrists desperately trying to break free.

I watched her face slowly turn red, tears welling up in her eyes, her nose flaring as she breathed deeply, her lips opening and closing, with shiny traces of saliva on the sides.

Her chest was also heaving violently, and sitting on her stomach, I could feel the movement of her abdomen, like sitting on a massage chair, moving up and down. And her legs were kicking, trying to push me away. As for her little feet, I guess every toe was moving, desperately trying to kick me off.

Humans are very good at using language to communicate; often, language can achieve many things. My mother also wanted to persuade me with words. Her eyes, almost brimming with tears, looked at me pitifully, and she said in a trembling voice, "Son, I am your mother... your mother." She emphasized the word "mother." She didn't know that it was precisely because of her identity as my mother that I took the final step.

I leaned down, breathed into my mother's ear, and whispered, wickedly, "Mom, I want you." Then, ignoring my mother's even more intense struggles, I pulled back her blanket, revealing her body in her pajamas.

I looked at my mother's upper body as if admiring a work of art. Amid my mother's struggles, my hands reached for her pale purple nightgown, first caressing her collarbone, smooth yet with a hint of bone. Then I reached down with both hands, inside her nightgown, and touched my mother's small breasts. She wasn't used to wearing a bra at night, and every time I came to see her at night, she would say, "Let me put on my clothes first." My mother's breasts weren't big; I could tell from the occasional glimpse of her underwear while it was drying, or from accidental exposure .

They were probably about the size of an orange. But I liked small breasts, and besides, it was this kind of mother that excited me more, wasn't it?

I still habitually covered my mother's breasts with my hands first, carefully feeling them. They felt softer than cotton, very elastic. As my mother struggled, her nipples would scrape against my hands; they were relatively hard, but they felt very comfortable.

My hands were under my mother's nightgown, and I began to play with her breasts wantonly. Sometimes I would rub them whole, sometimes I would pinch her nipples with my fingers, and sometimes I would make a circle with my fingers, rotating around my mother's small breasts.

Although her small breasts were disproportionate to my palms, and touching them didn't feel quite satisfying, being able to touch my mother's lovely, small breasts with my own hands was already very fulfilling.

My mother was already crying. She might have felt utterly hopeless, as if the person in front of her wasn't her son, but a demon.

She might have felt utterly powerless, unable to break free. Even if she managed to sit up, she would fall back down because I was sitting on her.

With my caresses, her cries became intermittent, as if she was responding. I felt her nipples gradually harden and stand erect, making them even more fun to touch.

Of course, I couldn't stop there, so my hand continued downwards, touching my mother's fleshy belly, which felt wonderful.

To feel it more closely, I gently pinched the soft flesh on her belly; it felt like jelly, or perhaps like fatty pork, soft and smooth.

My palm touched something foreign—my mother's tiny belly button. I wanted to possess everything about my mother, and I certainly wouldn't let such a place go to waste. I pressed my fingers against her belly button, while the rest of my hand caressed her soft belly.

My mother trembled, seemingly uncomfortable with my touch, her body twisting, and she softly cried out,

"Son, no…" This only fueled my arousal as I played with her belly button. The shouts only fueled my excitement.

After caressing her for a while, enjoying the feel of her upper body, I wasn't quite satisfied, but I couldn't go any further. So, reluctantly, my hand returned to its original path, once again experiencing the sensations of her stomach, breasts, collarbone, and neck.

My hand rested on her face, wiping away her tear tracks, watching her sob, her mouth slightly open, with glistening traces of saliva at the corners of her mouth. Like a child, she was even drooling. Seeing me stop, she thought I would let her go, and hope rekindled in her heart. She weakly cried out, "Son, no~" My mother rarely scolded me, so now she was only trying to persuade me, not hurling insults. Of course, even if she had scolded me, I wouldn't have been afraid. After all, I had already taken the final step. She thought her son would have pity and sympathy, and then let her go. But she didn't see the evil and excitement in my eyes. Suddenly,

I became interested and put my long index finger into my mother's mouth, gently stirring it inside. I felt the warmth of my mother's mouth, and the sticky texture of her saliva clinging to my fingers—a sensation different from using my tongue. My fingers were drier and more sensitive, making my sensations much clearer. The lower part of my fingers touched my mother's teeth, feeling their hardness. The contrast between softness and hardness was quite peculiar.

After playing with them for a while, I extended my middle finger again, pinching my mother's tongue between two fingers and gently kneading it. Putting my hand into my mother's mouth gave me a sense of wanton humiliation. After all, the mouth is for eating, speaking, and, in the case of lovers, for kissing—it's relatively noble, yet now it was subjugated in my hands.

My mother could feel the intense humiliation, so she struggled again. Her mouth emitted indistinct whimpers as I played with it. My other hand remained on my mother's face, tracing her features.

This was my first time touching my mother's face as a man, bringing me a forbidden pleasure. There were still water stains on my mother's face—tears and saliva.

I couldn't hold back any longer and continued to verbally provoke my mother: "Mom, your little mouth is so horny. I'm going to play with your genitals." This was my warning; I wanted to tell her myself how I felt and what I was going to do to her. My mother had still held onto hope, thinking I might not do anything more outrageous, but now that hope was shattered. Her eyes widened, gradually losing their light, and she muttered, "Beast..." She finally dared to call me that. But it was so weak and powerless. I didn't argue. Of course, I was a beast for doing such a thing! I took my hand out of my mother's mouth and wiped her saliva from her face.

Looking at my mother's face, streaked with tears and saliva, no longer the dignified woman she once was, I felt a humiliating pleasure. This was the mother I wanted to see.

My mother was still sitting on me, her hands above her head, too weak to struggle. Her face was a mess, covered in my marks. The blanket was half-lifted, revealing her upper body, which I had already wantonly played with. Her nightgown was still covering her, though it was a bit wrinkled.

I moved away, completely pulling the blanket off her body and scattering it aside, revealing my mother's body, which I had longed for, hidden by the nightgown. This body was clearly too weak to struggle, allowing its closest relative to play with it.

My hand slid down through the nightgown, revealing quite a bit of what was in between. But this time, I decided to start with my mother's feet. I still wanted to sit on her body, otherwise, if she suddenly sat up while I was playing with her, wouldn't that spoil my fun?

To make it easier to play with her, I was sitting backwards, the only downside being that I couldn't see my mother's expression.

But every cloud has a silver lining. I looked at my mother's lower body; the light purple nightgown only covered half of it, leaving her calves and cute little feet exposed. Perhaps because of the earlier struggle, her nightgown was disheveled, partly folded under her calves, not straightened.

My words had prepared her; her lower body skin was taut and trembling slightly. My hand first touched her thigh through the nightgown. My mother doesn't exercise often, so her thighs felt very soft.

Because she was slightly plump, reaching out to grab them gave me a solid, pleasurable sensation.

Just when my mother thought I was going to attack her legs and lowered her guard on her feet, I suddenly leaned down, my eyes extremely close to her feet. Her feet lay quietly on the bed, without nail polish, plump and looking very docile.

I reached out and grasped her feet. I could feel her feet suddenly tense, her toes wriggling restlessly. Behind me, I heard a sound that was either a groan or a cry. I couldn't see her face, but I could sense it was flushed red.

I first cupped my mother's feet in my palms, massaging her toes with my fingers, occasionally focusing on a particular toe or slipping my fingers between her toes. Her little feet were cool, smooth, and plump to the touch, feeling very comfortable. They had just finished a bath and carried a faint scent of shower gel.

Since my left palm held the instep of her foot and my right palm the sole, I had two different sensations. My left hand felt more delicate, while my right felt rougher. My left palm rubbed up and down the instep, gently feeling her skin, while my fingers playfully scratched her sensitive sole. My right hand did the opposite, gently stroking the instep.

My mother was clearly uncomfortable; her voice was broken, constantly pleading, "No…" seemingly trying to suppress the tickling sensation on her soles, afraid of laughing out loud. She also seemed to have a strange strength in her body, continuing to struggle. Sitting on her stomach, I felt her body rise and fall again.

Her little feet were moving too. Watching my mother's trembling toes, a sudden surge of masochistic urge rose within me. I increased the pressure in my hands, kneading my mother's little feet forcefully. However, this shouldn't cause her pain; rather, it would feel like a massage, making her comfortable.

I continued until my mother's feet had been thoroughly played with, and her toes were too weak to move anymore, before I stopped and prepared to move on to another area. But I seemed to have overlooked my mother's heels. I squeezed them and found that they didn't feel good; they were hard.

Continuing upwards, I touched my mother's ankles and insteps. I gently circled my fingers around the protruding bones on my mother's ankles; they were quite hard. I temporarily left that area alone and slid my hands down to my mother's calves.

My mother's calves were quite plump, probably because she didn't exercise often. They looked very appealing to me.

I first spread my palms out and stroked my mother's calves from bottom to top. Then I made a circle with my palm, encircling my mother's calf, from top to bottom, so that every part of my hand could fully feel her calf.

My focus, of course, was on her calves. First, I pinched them; they were soft and felt wonderful.

Then I placed the back of my hand on them, feeling the slightly coolness of her calves. My fingers even touched the slightly disheveled parts of her nightgown. Finally, I quite interestedly teased her calves with my fingers, feeling them bounce on my fingertips. I even poked them; the flesh indented, feeling really elastic.

I also used a massage technique I learned as a child to care for her calves. My fingers straightened, gently and almost imperceptibly brushing across her calves; I could vaguely feel her calves, and she could vaguely feel my fingers.

My hand paused at the junction of her calf and thigh—the knee. I still placed my hand on it, carefully feeling it. Then my fingers probed into the back of her knee, gently teasing the soft, delicate flesh inside.

By this time, Mom had cried herself to sleep, and her cries began to subside, like a kitten scratching at my heart. My hand, in a gentle, almost caressing motion, tried to reach her thigh. But her nightgown blocked my way. I was furious. I moved my body upwards to her chest, and with a sudden jerk, pulled her nightgown up to her stomach, revealing her yellowish thighs and white panties.

The moonlight wasn't bright, and I couldn't see her vulva clearly, only a dark, slightly swollen mass. Mom was clearly panicked. This was her truly sensitive, inviolable part of her body, now exposed to my assault. Her cries grew louder, continuing her futile pleas. I

saw the flesh of her thighs tremble, and my hands involuntarily reached out to caress them. They were so soft, and because they had been hidden under the nightgown and blankets, they were also warm. As I stroked them, I could feel their smoothness.

I couldn't resist. With each touch, Mom's thighs continued to twitch, giving me an even more vivid sensation.

My fingers slipped inside my mother's inner thighs, wanting to carefully feel this sensitive area. The flesh on her inner thighs was even smoother and felt more comfortable. My right hand, covered in my mother's saliva, was dry, but it was clearly not as sensitive as my left.

As I touched my mother's inner thighs, my palms also wanted to feel her texture more clearly, so I contracted and kneaded. Because my mother's thighs were quite plump, my palms couldn't fully grasp them, giving me a feeling of fullness, but not complete control.

I closed my fingers and, along my mother's thighs and the bed, inserted my palms into the crevice, feeling this skin I had never felt before. The weight of her thighs pressed against my hands, creating a sense of pressure, and because they weren't exposed to outside air, they were very hot. And then there was the smoothness of her skin.

I extended only two fingers from each hand, sliding them along her thighs to the groin. I paused briefly at the groin, gently stroking and teasing. Then I reached my mother's mound, covered by her underwear. Again, I placed my entire palm on it, feeling the texture.

Knowing I was violating her taboo, Mom's pleas grew louder, repeatedly saying no. At that moment, I wanted to see her expression, so I turned my head. I saw an extremely beautiful expression. Mom's lips were slightly parted, uttering pleading words and moans, her large eyes watery, her cheeks flushed. Seeing me turn back, she stared at me, saying in a breathless voice, "Son, Mom begs you." I could feel the anxiety in her words; she ridiculously thought there was still a chance to salvage the situation. It seemed I had to show her my determination through action. I placed my palm on Mom's mound, massaging it. Mom's pubic area was very hairy, and pressing it gave me the illusion of the hair rubbing against each other, which wasn't very comfortable, and there was a slight dampness. Was Mom aroused? Eager to find out

, I used my right index and middle fingers to massage Mom's labia, while the rest of my fingers felt her pubic bone. My left hand slipped inside Mom's panties, like entering a dark forest, full of black, curly pubic hair. I was playing with my mother's pubic hair, which I found very sexy.

As I rubbed with my right hand, I could clearly feel my mother's labia were wet. It was very wet; I could clearly feel her vaginal fluid even through the fabric. My left hand continued its exploration in the pubic area, touching her vulva, which was covered in pubic hair and looked like a small steamed bun. I couldn't help but knead it a few times.

My mother's cries subsided, her moans grew louder, and her voice became intermittent, sounding very conflicted. I was patient; with my teasing, my mother would eventually become aroused. Because of the position, my actions were greatly limited by her underwear.

I reached my left hand to the waistband of her underwear, and with my right hand, I lifted her limp legs. With a pull of my left hand, I pulled her underwear down to her thighs. Finding it in the way, I pulled the underwear all the way down, from her knees, to her calves, and then to her feet, finally leaving only the white underwear hanging by her right foot. This looked very sexy and made it easier for me to spread her thighs.

Now nothing could restrict my enjoyment of my mother's genitals. I grabbed my mother's ankles with both hands and abruptly spread her thighs apart. There was only a negligible obstruction. I peered in, intently observing my mother's private parts by the moonlight. I saw

her dark pubic hair scattered haphazardly, obscuring her mons pubis. There was also a faint distribution of pubic hair where her mons pubis met her stomach. Because I was pressing her buttocks and lower body underneath, I couldn't see her labia very clearly.

But that was the part that interested me the most. I leaned in even closer and finally saw a slit that was black with a hint of red. Its outside was black, and the inside must have been a tender red. Stimulated by me, my mother's labia parted slightly, and I could see a faint sheen of moisture—her vaginal fluid.

I couldn't resist. I reached out my right hand and gently stroked my mother's labia, feeling the seeping moisture, as mysterious as a ditch hidden in the grass, making me want to explore it. My left hand reached down to my mother's bare left buttock, caressing and feeling its fullness, but my attention was clearly focused on my right hand.

I used my index finger and thumb to part her labia; with a soft "plop," they opened. I saw the bright red color inside, and the vaginal fluid flowing out with my movements. It seemed Dad hadn't really explored Mom much; no wonder she was moaning so lewdly.

My fingers couldn't part her labia completely, but it didn't matter; this position wasn't ideal for observation anyway. I wanted to feel her vagina more. I first extended my right index finger, inserting it into her vagina through her labia.

I could hear a distinct wet sound as it went in. I felt my hand enveloped in softness and warmth, and her vaginal fluid. It was a very comfortable feeling. Because it was only one finger, it didn't take up much space, lacking a tight feel, feeling somewhat loose.

However, this was enough to excite me. My finger moved in and out of my mother's vagina, experiencing its warmth. Behind me, my mother was already letting out soft, lewd moans, like a bitch. With each thrust, the wetness of her vagina made a wet, slick sound, a very lascivious feeling.

I later inserted my middle finger, two fingers inside her vagina; it felt more full, and the wetness during thrusting was louder. I had already trimmed my fingernails to avoid stimulating her.

I gently teased her vagina with my fingers; it was incredibly soft and warm. Because the pressure was so gentle, it didn't give me enough satisfaction. I wanted to treat my mother gently.

I tried to probe deeper into her vagina, but even with the base of my fingers touching her soft labia, I couldn't reach the bottom. I still had two fingers slightly spread inside her vagina, feeling the texture of her vaginal walls—soft, warm, slippery, and elastic—and the pleasure of a son invading his mother's private parts, bringing me to the peak of pleasure.

I pulled out my hand, sticky with her vaginal fluid. I explored below her labia, touching her small anus. Unfortunately, I wasn't interested in that area for the time being, so I just pressed it with my finger, which was still wet with my mother's vaginal fluid. It was a bit harder than her vagina, and the folds were more pronounced. When I touched my mother's anus, I heard her voice rise a notch: "Son, don't..." My mother's buttocks were pressed down, so I couldn't see them. But I didn't want to let it go. My right hand first wiped away the vaginal fluid from my mother's right buttock, then reached down and touched my mother's warm, full, and soft buttocks. They felt really good.

I held my mother's buttocks in both hands, rubbing and squeezing them. I even lifted and lowered them, feeling the elasticity of my mother's buttocks. Every part of my mother's body fascinated me. Hearing my mother moan like a cat in heat, I knew the time was almost right. I turned over, facing my dear mother.

Her face was full of daze, tormented by my caresses for a long time. Her small mouth was slightly open, emitting soft breaths and low moans. Because her hands were tied, she couldn't wipe the saliva from her lips. When I turned around, I saw my mother stick out her bright red tongue and lick away the saliva dripping from her lips.

This truly aroused me. I lost my patience, my eyes burning with desire. Under my mother's wide-eyed gaze, I suddenly leaned down and gently kissed her lips. My tongue also quickly and aggressively penetrated, intersecting with hers, sucking on her sweet saliva.

My hands moved from my mother's hair to her face, then to her breasts, kneading her small breasts through her thin nightgown. Because I was sucking on my mother's saliva so intensely, she had difficulty breathing, making muffled sounds. Her hot breath hit my face, her eyes were slightly closed, and tears streamed from the corners of her eyes.

Only when I felt I couldn't breathe did I let my mouth leave my mother's. Our lips parted with a soft "pop," and I saw the fine strands of saliva, a mixture of mine and my mother's, thinning as we separated until they broke.

My mother gasped for breath, her face flushed; even from a distance, I could feel the heat of her cheeks. She felt my lips leave hers, her eyes widening, giving me a look that seemed both mournful and reproachful. She could no longer make a sound; her occasional gasps were hoarse, fueling my excitement.

My face pressed against hers, feeling the heat of her skin. I licked her ear and whispered, "Mom, the real show is about to begin." My mother was too weak to say anything more, only letting out a soft, kitten-like meow: "Son..." I straightened up. My mother's current posture was incredibly wanton. Her nightgown clung haphazardly to her body, and because she wasn't wearing a bra, I could see the two small, protruding nipples I had kneaded. I pulled her nightgown down to her stomach, revealing her glistening vulva and smooth thighs and calves. Her small feet, still strong, swayed gently. Her white panties, stained with her vaginal fluid, clung to her right foot.

The air was filled with the peculiar scent of her vaginal fluid, a scent that aroused my desire. I pulled her nightgown up as high as I could, until it was almost to her chest. Her plump, slightly protruding belly was revealed, along with her small navel. Her small breasts were also visible at the base, and the nightgown wouldn't go any higher.

I reached out tenderly and untied her hands, which had been bound by the belt from the beginning. She was too weak to struggle anyway. I carefully lowered her hands, holding them in my hands. Looking at the two deep red marks on her wrists from struggling, I touched them. I brought her small hands close to my head, blew on the marks, and then licked them with my tongue.

"Does it hurt, Mom?" I asked with concern. Tears welled up in my eyes instantly. She sniffled and obediently hummed in agreement. "I'll make you happy," I promised her. My mother is very gentle with me. She seems to have a bad temper, but she basically can't do anything about me. She also has very little self-control; if she likes something delicious, she'll keep eating even if her stomach hurts. That's why I dared to force myself on her, because I was very confident.

I continued my journey, using my fingers to untie the straps of my mother's nightgown, which hung over her shoulders, while my other fingers massaged her shoulders, which ached from holding them up for so long. Of course, I mainly wanted to feel her shoulders with my hands.

I pulled her nightgown down from her shoulders to her breasts, joining the lower half of her nightgown, and then moved the almost-complete nightgown over her soft belly. My mother's breasts, which I had longed for, were finally revealed.

They were really small, but very cute. As my mother lay flat, they leaned slightly to the sides. Her nipples were red, and overall not very large, they looked adorable against her red areolas. They looked very elastic, like jelly, full of allure.

I couldn't help but swallow. I was weaned very early when I was little, and basically grew up on formula. My mother seemed rather impatient with feeding me. Now the chance for revenge had come, I thought.

My left hand kneaded my mother's left breast, my fingers gently teasing her nipple. My mouth, close to hers, occupied her right breast, greedily sucking, making "tsk tsk" sounds. Her breast was so small I felt I could swallow it whole. I opened my mouth wide, my lips touching her breast, savoring its beauty. My tongue teased her nipple, moving up and down, left and right.

My mother let out a soft moan of pleasure: "Mmm..." This encouraged me greatly. I kneaded her breast more forcefully with my left hand, then released her breast from my mouth, my tongue circling the base of her nipple, gently licking it. My right hand slid down her smooth arm, finding her small hand. I inserted my slender fingers into her plump fingers, holding them tightly.

"Ah..." My mother cried out even more passionately, her voice melodious and beautiful. I held her nipple in my lips, gently biting it, feeling her voice rise sharply with each bite. My left hand followed the soft skin of my mother, grasping her hand and pushing it upwards until our hands were tightly intertwined at her shoulders. My tongue teased her skillfully and quickly. "Mmm...mmm..." My mother's moans quickened with my rhythm.

After licking the center of her breasts and her left breast, I stopped and straightened up. I saw that her breasts were covered in traces of my saliva. They rose and fell slightly with her breathing, and her hard nipples trembled. I released her hand and gently squeezed her fingers. I felt my penis, already painfully hard, pressing against her bare belly.

Looking at my mother, she was panting heavily, her eyes filled with desire. I could no longer suppress my lust. I quickly got up and took off my clothes. Then I spread my legs, lay on top of my mother, pressed tightly against her, and we were naked together.

Although the weather was slightly cool, our skin was burning hot when we touched. I could feel my mother's body pressing against my every inch of skin. Her small breasts, glistening with my saliva, pressed against my chest, a very comfortable sensation. I could feel her rolled-up nightgown against my stomach. My erect penis, about fifteen centimeters long, pressed against her mons pubis, feeling the bulging mound covered in pubic hair throbbing rhythmically, its tip oozing sticky fluid, eager to seduce.

The moment I leaned down, my mother felt my weight and gasped. She seemed to realize every part of her body was in contact with her son, her breathing quickening. I knew my eyes must be bloodshot; after taking off her clothes, my rationality had diminished considerably.

I spread my legs apart, feeling the elasticity of her legs and their slight trembling; she was still nervous. To ease her tension, I pressed my lips to hers, licking them before slipping my tongue into her mouth for a French kiss.

My hands lifted her legs to a comfortable position. My mother's hands gripped my arms as if to stop me, but eventually let go, hanging limply at her sides. I grasped my penis, moistened it with her vaginal fluid, and thrust it inside.

I felt an unprecedented pleasure; my penis was tightly enveloped by my mother's vagina, warm and soft, as if her vagina had been made for me. Because of my prolonged teasing, my mother's vagina was full of sticky vaginal fluid, and my penis felt like a fish in water inside.

I could feel the peristalsis of my mother's vaginal walls, like countless soft little hands caressing my penis.

As I went deeper, more of my penis was enveloped by her vagina, and the pleasure intensified. When I was fully inside, the pleasure reached its peak; the tip of my penis itched, as if I was about to ejaculate, but thankfully my stamina was good.

My scrotum pressed against my mother's hairy pubic area, feeling soft, and there was an itchy sensation from the pubic hair scraping against my scrotum.

My mother felt her son's penetration, and her body suddenly tensed, her hips thrusting towards me. Her little mouth, which was kissing me, was also restless, her tongue tightly wrapped around mine. She made soft humming sounds, her eyes wide and watery, seemingly very excited.

I felt my mother's hands moving erratically; I grabbed them with my free hands, interlocking my fingers and placing them on her head. My mouth continued kissing her. Then I continued my actions below, my penis thrusting in and out of her vagina.

My penis moved in and out rapidly, quickly feeling the softness of her vagina. With each thrust, I could feel the undulating walls of her vagina enveloping my penis, making me lose myself. Pressing my usually dignified mother down and fucking her hard only heightened my excitement.

My mother cooperated with me, humming softly with her small nose as I thrust, sounding like the most beautiful celestial music to my ears. Her legs gradually hooked up, resting on my waist, her little feet hitting my body with each thrust.

The air was filled with my mother's moans, the "plop" of my penis thrusting in and out of her vagina, and the "slap" of my scrotum hitting her labia. I could smell the scent of intercourse in the air, strange yet intoxicating.

In the dead of night, son and mother lay naked before each other on their wedding bed, their bodies intertwined. I changed my thrusting technique. Each time, I penetrated to the deepest point in my mother's body, then withdrew to the entrance of her vagina.

This intensified my pleasure, each time a feeling of loss and reunion. It also made my mother even more excited; her legs wrapped closer around my waist, her lips drooling profusely. I could feel her panties swaying with the movement of her small feet, hitting my buttocks.

I didn't stop, employing some techniques again: nine shallow thrusts followed by one deep one. The shallow thrusts brought a fleeting pleasure, allowing the tip of my penis to feel the softness of my mother's vagina more frequently. The deeper thrusts, on the other hand, allowed me to fully experience my mother's tenderness. The two combined, intensifying the sensation considerably.

My mother felt it deeply too. I deliberately released her lips, lifted my head, and wanted to see her reaction.

Her long, black, shoulder-length hair was disheveled, shifting position with my thrusts, some strands clinging to her face, mixed with sweat.

Her cheeks were flushed, the kind of flush that comes from lust. She breathed heavily through her nose, her small mouth making moaning sounds in rhythm with my thrusts: "Mmm…son…no…slower…it feels so good…mmm…" Her voice was hoarse from all the moaning, and it held a different kind of allure in my eyes.

I had pressed my mother's hands to her shoulders, and I released them. They first hung down, then involuntarily rested on my back, gripping them slightly. I saw my mother's breasts, wet with my saliva, swaying up and down with my thrusts, full of elasticity, very attractive to my eye.

Then there was my mother's slightly trembling belly, fleshy. My thrusts had caused my mother's nightgown to rise to her waist, making her even more alluring. Now look at the scene of my mother and me having sex. My thick, dark penis is going in and out of my mother's vagina. I can see the soft, red vaginal wall membrane that my penis is pulled out of, as well as my mother's bright red labia opening and closing, and the scene of my scrotum colliding with my mother's vulva.

My mother's supple waist swayed gently, clearly responding to me. Fine beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, and with each thrust, her breathing quickened, her hips arching upwards. Her eyes, filled with a gentle, watery light, gradually became hazy, and her cries grew more intense: "Ah...son...faster...Mommy...I'm going to come..." She was approaching her climax. Naturally, I wanted to fulfill her wish. I grasped her knees, pushing her legs up to my waist, and increased the speed of my thrusts. I saw her plump little feet swaying in front of me, her toes slowly straightening under the stimulation. I couldn't resist; I opened my mouth and took her foot in, licking her toes with my tongue.

"Ah...mmm...mmm...son...son~" My mother became even more excited, and with her final cries for me, her body convulsed violently, her hips thrusting against my body, her toes in my mouth twitching and scraping against the walls of my mouth. My penis, inserted into my mother's vagina, felt a surge of heat, a warm rush against my shaft.

It spurted out from her vagina, flowing from her labia, onto my scrotum and the bed, emitting a faint fishy smell, leaving traces of our intercourse on my parents' bed. "Mmm..." my mother groaned softly, her body going limp, collapsing weakly onto the bed, her legs draped over my waist dangling down, clearly exhausted from her orgasm.

Her hands gripped my back tightly, causing me a slight pain. Looking at my mother, her nose glistening with sweat, her eyes closed, savoring the pleasure her son was giving her, I felt a surge of accomplishment. I whispered in her ear, "Mom, is it good?" Hearing my question, my mother opened her eyes, giving me a triumphant, self-satisfied look, and gave a shy, obedient "Mmm." I grinned wickedly and said, "But I haven't had enough yet." With that, I thrust my still-erect penis against my mother's labia.

"Ah..." My mother's brow furrowed, a flicker of panic in her eyes. She covered her mouth with her hand, clearly bewildered by my prolonged pace. I didn't explain, only asking, "Want to continue?" I took her small hand, wanting to observe her expression.

She opened her mouth, shaking her head frantically, her black hair disheveled on the bed, saying, "No more..." I stared into her eyes until she guiltily avoided my gaze, then said, "It's not up to you." With that, I pulled her body up. "Son~" she looked at me pitifully, her body limp, seemingly resisting yet welcoming.

I ignored her whining; I hadn't had my fun yet. I hugged her waist and flipped her over. She knelt on the bed, still wet with her own fluids, her arms weakly supporting her upper body, her full buttocks facing me.

It was the doggy style I'd been longing for. Mom was truly exhausted. Her arms only held her up for a moment before she groaned, "Son, Mom can't hold on anymore..." Mom always loved to act spoiled with me; I treated her like my older sister. With that, she lowered her arms, her upper body drooping onto the bed, her head resting on the pillow. From behind, I could see her soft

, black hair. Because her back was to me, I could see her soft calves, her fleshy thighs, and the white panties hanging at her feet. Mom's buttocks were perfectly proportioned and fully exposed before me. I saw her slightly parted labia, glistening with vaginal fluid, and her dark, wrinkled anus.

Mom's waist slenderly formed a bridge, through which I could see her smooth back and slender neck. Mom's small breasts drooped as she lay down, giving the impression that I wanted to hold and caress them.

I moved closer to Mom, my hands stroking her back, feeling the smoothness of her skin. "Mmm..." Mom murmured softly. A smile suddenly appeared on my face. I placed one hand on my mother's parted labia and rubbed it up and down.

A soft "tsk tsk" sound filled the air as I felt her sticky, wet fluids, the softness of her labia, and the warmth of my penis as I occasionally penetrated her vagina. "Son...don't...it hurts..." My mother stopped pretending and called out softly. After

playing with her for a while, I held her soft waist with both hands, aimed my penis at her labia, and thrust it in forcefully. "Ah..." My mother cried out, her body trembling. I wanted to satisfy my needs, so I thrust rapidly, my penis moving in and out of her vagina.

"Slap slap slap..." As my thrusting rhythm quickened, the sounds of thrusting in the air became more frequent. My hands rested on my mother's soft waist, my heart pounding with excitement. This was a scene I had fantasized about countless times. I pinched the flesh of my mother's waist gently with my fingers together. The flesh on my mother's waist was soft, and it peeked out between my fingers.

"Mmm...mmm..." My continuous thrusting made my mother moan incessantly. The rear-entry position brought me a completely different feeling. I felt my penis penetrate deeper into my mother's vagina, becoming more tightly connected with her.

Seeing my mother's buttocks held in my hands, kneeling before me like a puppy, filled me with excitement.

With each thrust, my mother's soft buttocks slapped against my groin, giving me a pleasurable sensation. My hand traced down my mother's waist to her mons pubis, playfully stroking her pubic hair, feeling her mons pubis. I even faintly touched the area where we were joined, covered in my mother's sticky, vaginal fluid.

I said to my mother, "Mom, you're so wet." My mother seemed ashamed and didn't respond, but instead hummed, "Mmm...son..." I held my mother's thighs, my hands feeling the softness of her thighs. I continued thrusting, the in-and-out motion of my penis bringing me countless pleasures. My

mother's purple nightgown was wrapped around her waist. I lifted the nightgown, bringing my mother's buttocks towards me, then pushed them apart, like riding a horse. And my mother was my little horse. My penis thrust in and out of my mother's vagina, each thrust feeling the pulsation of her vagina. My mother seemed excited by this position, her hands grabbing haphazardly at the pillow.

My gaze fell on my mother's buttocks, I grabbed them with both hands and thrust my penis in forcefully. "Ah..." My mother felt my unprecedented depth and cried out loudly. With each thrust, my hands slapped my mother's buttocks. Sometimes I gently stroked her buttocks, sometimes I circled her buttocks with my fingers.

"Slap slap slap..." The air was filled with the sound of my slapping my mother's buttocks and my mother's moans, which sounded like they were in pain: "Mmm..." The small room was filled with a lewd atmosphere. I looked at my mother, she was still lying on the bed, her hair disheveled, her expression unreadable. I could only see her flushed cheeks and her slightly parted mouth.

My legs were pressed tightly against my mother's legs, my hands kneading her buttocks hard, the sensation rich. I continued to thrust, and because of my fierce thrusting, my mother's breasts swayed rapidly, making me want to squeeze them. "Hmm..." Seeing my mother's voice gradually deepen, I stretched out my finger and touched her anus. Before she could react, I squeezed a small section of my finger inside.

"Ah...no..." My mother cried out in surprise as she felt something enter her anus. I just wanted to stimulate her. Besides, when I put my hand inside her anus, I felt a lot of resistance. The folds of her anus seemed even rougher, and I didn't feel any comfort for the time being.

I held my mother's waist and lifted her up, holding her right wrist with one hand and placing the other on her small left breast, feeling its elasticity. I leaned over, and my mother turned her head in response. Our lips met, exchanging saliva.

Then my movements suddenly quickened, thrusting into my mother extremely fast, and I was about to ejaculate. My mother made "hmm" sounds through her nose, her body trembling violently. I looked at my mother's hair, damp with sweat and clinging to her face, and felt her body pressed against mine. My penis, thrusting in and out of her vagina, could no longer hold back the throbbing of ejaculation.

During one particularly intense moment, I released my essence, giving it all to my mother.

"Mmm~" My mother murmured, her body stiffening yet softening. Her tongue darted wildly around mine. I felt my pleasure reach its peak, and in the unreserved intercourse with my mother, I gave her my offspring.

"Thump..." Mom's body fell onto the soft bed. My body, weakened by the climax, followed her down, pressing against her supine back. My penis was still ejaculating inside her vagina, trembling, enjoying the warmth of the mingling with her vaginal fluids, a very slippery feel.

"Ah..." Mom let out a soft moan; my weight on her was making her uncomfortable. I propped myself up, my penis sliding out of her vagina, feeling my semen mix with her vaginal fluids as it flowed out with a "pop." The erotic scent in the air grew stronger.

I turned Mom over to observe her expression. Her eyes were half-closed, clearly still immersed in the pleasure of my penetration. Her small mouth was open, emitting soft moans, showing unsatisfied desire. Her ears were red all the way to her earlobes. Sweat covered her forehead, nose, and neck. I reached out and touched it; it was sticky.

I gently tucked my mother's sweat-dampened black hair behind her ear. Her breasts drooped limply to the sides, still bearing traces of my saliva and the red marks of my fingers. Her lower abdomen heaved violently, clearly unable to withstand such activity in bed.

The purple nightgown around her waist, now even more disheveled after my use, was wrapped tightly around her waist. Her genitals were a mess, her pubic hair damp with moisture, her red labia parted, a mixture of my semen and her vaginal fluid slowly flowing onto the bed where my parents usually slept. Seeing this, I became a little excited again, my penis hardening slightly.

My mother's legs parted limply, completely exposed to her son. Her small feet still bore the marks of my sucking, plump and pressed against my feet, her underwear still hanging beside them. I reached out and stroked the soft flesh of her belly, asking, "Mom, do you want more?" My mother didn't answer, only letting out soft breathing sounds. I pinched my mother's breasts with my hands, kneading them in various ways. I wasn't expecting an answer from her right now; after all, I could do it again. "Mmm..." As I kneaded, my mother became aroused, her eyes watery and sparkling, seemingly hinting at something.

Seeing her like this, my penis hardened again, and I said to her, "Mom, let's do it again. You want it too, don't you?" My mother's face flushed red, and she covered her face with her hands, softly replying, "Mmm..." Sure enough, there's no such thing as a field that's been over-plowed, only an ox that's been exhausted.

I reached out and grabbed my mother's legs, dragging her to the edge of the bed. My mother secretly exerted force, cooperating with me.

She just kept her hands covering her face. I dragged half of my mother's buttocks to the edge of the bed, then got off barefoot.

I first removed my mother's hands from her face, then grabbed her ankles, placing her legs around my waist. Looking at my mother's open labia, still wet with my semen, I couldn't hold back any longer and thrust my penis into her vagina.

"Mmm...son..." my mother moaned, gripping the sheets tightly with both hands, looking at me shyly.

I said, "Mom, I won't let you down." Then, touching my mother's thighs, I began to thrust.

I could see myself thrusting into my mother, and her slightly bulging belly due to the position. I could also see her breasts swaying with each thrust. I found it amusing and gently pinched the flesh on her belly. I also touched her small breasts, and even cupped my hands around them, feeling their pulsation.

My mother's legs were wrapped around my waist, and I could feel the elasticity of her legs. Her little feet slapped against my buttocks, quite adorable. "Plop, plop..." With the lubrication of semen and vaginal fluid, my penis felt even more slippery in my mother's vagina, making thrusting much smoother.

Not satisfied with this, I stopped thrusting. My mother let out a soft moan and called out, "Son...hurry up..." I closed my mother's plump thighs, then lifted her up, continuing to thrust my penis into her vagina.

This position fueled my desire for control; I could hold my mother's legs in my arms, making it easier to play with them.

My mother's small feet swayed in front of me; I stuck out my tongue and licked the soles of her feet, the scent of shower gel exciting me.

My mother sensed my movements; her sensitive little feet twitched slightly, then a hint of a smile appeared on her face, and her moans grew louder. I took my mother's toes entirely into my mouth, carefully feeling her plump feet.

My other hand reached out and grabbed one foot, playing with it. "Slap slap slap..." The thrusting continued, bringing out a lot of vaginal fluid. I could feel sweat seeping from my mother's legs, dripping onto my body.

This position demanded too much of my stamina. A moment later, I lowered my mother's legs, placing them sideways on the bed. Touching her buttocks, I continued thrusting.

My mother was also lying on her side, allowing me a clear view of her profile. Her ears were a deep, almost bleeding red, her face flushed beneath her disheveled hair, large beads of sweat glistening on her back, and her small breasts drooping slightly, trembling with my movements.

I slapped her buttocks, which bounced my hand away. "Mmm...mmm..." Stimulated by me, her moans intensified, and her vagina tightened, making my penis feel even more sensitive. Looking at my mother's obediently curled thighs, her little feet smeared with my saliva, and her eye-catching white panties, I felt an overwhelming surge of excitement.

Who could have their mother, in the early hours of the morning, in the bed in the room she usually slept in with her husband, positioned like this, allowing her son to thrust into her?

"Ah...ah..." Mom began to moan loudly as I fucked her, continuing to cry out, "Son...faster...Mommy's going to come..." It turned out Mom was about to climax again. I felt my strength was almost gone, so I decided not to hold back any longer and wanted to reach climax with Mom.

I leaned down, one hand touching Mom's back, the other kneading her breasts, increasing the intensity of my thrusts. Mom's small feet arched, her toes wriggling restlessly, and saliva kept dripping from her rosy mouth, pleading with her son to bring her pleasure: "Son...faster...Mommy loves you..." I used all my strength, pushing the speed of my thrusts to the maximum, gritting my teeth and saying, "I love you too, Mommy." I saw all of Mom's soft flesh trembling, her buttocks bouncing with each thrust. Finally, Mom's body tensed, her hands gripping the sheets loosened, and vaginal fluid gushed out.

And I, leaning against Mom, my penis fully inserted into her vagina, also ejaculated. Two streams of heat collided, bringing us endless pleasure. Mom's eyes rolled back, and then she embraced me passionately with her bare arms. Her lips curled slightly, seeking her son's caresses.

Naturally, I would fulfill Mom's wish. I stroked Mom with both hands, kissed her, and exchanged saliva with her. "Mmm..." Mom hummed softly, saliva dripping from her lips. She was breathing heavily through her nose, probably exhausted.

My penis remained inside Mom's vagina, continuing to feel the gushing heat and the pleasure of my semen being ejaculated inside her. Several minutes later, I withdrew my penis, leaving a trail of our bodily fluids in Mom's labia.

The smell of our union filled the air to its fullest, and the sheets beneath Mom were covered in sticky, wet stains. These were the marks left from our first sexual encounter. "Ah..." Mom let out a pleasurable moan, then gently opened her thighs.

I understood what my mother meant, so I lay down on top of her, pulled the blanket over us, and hugged her soft body, our bodies pressed tightly together, feeling each other's warmth and breath. My mother's legs, which had been spread apart, closed tightly around me, as if she didn't want to be separated.

My limp penis could feel my mother's private parts, covered in a sticky mess of fluid. My chest was pressed against my mother's soft little breasts, and my feet were pressed against her cute little feet, which I had touched countless times.

I reached out and pulled my mother into my arms. She placed one hand on my chest, gently stroking it, and the other on my head. My face was very close to hers; I could feel her breath. I touched her lips to her slightly drooling mouth, feeling the warmth of her lips.

Her large eyes were half-closed, gazing at me with deep affection. Her breath became even, brushing against my face. I asked, "Mom, will you come again?" Without hesitation, she gave a long, resounding "Mmm," then clamped her legs tightly around mine, softly calling out, "Son." I stroked her already sweaty hair and hugged her even tighter. Feeling the sweat dripping from her body, listening to her sweet breathing, smelling the air, and thinking about our previous encounters, I couldn't help but think that there was still a long way to go; I wanted to explore every corner with my mother and try all sorts of games.

Dawn was breaking. In the room, my naked mother and son embraced each other, fast asleep.

【over】

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