Holding my mother's hand, growing old together with her.

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

Every night when loneliness comes, I'm always by my side.
Every dusk when my heart beats, it's you, so infinitely gentle.
Every time I face you, I dare not look into your eyes.
Behind my gentle smile, how many tears and sorrows lie hidden.
No matter how time and space change, no matter how the world changes,
your love will always be in my heart. Do you understand
that I want to transcend this ordinary life, destined to wander temporarily?
I cannot stop the fervor in my heart, the persistence for the future.
Embracing you, oh my baby, do you see me crying
? Does loving you make me sad, break your heart?
Embracing you, oh my baby, but do you know I cannot retreat,
even if it makes me pale, haggard, and scarred?

—"Persistence" by Xu Wei.

A song, a sentence, an object can always plunge people into deep memories. Memories can always make people feel a trace of sweetness in the midst of pain. I lit that Zhongnanhai cigarette, looking at my mother sleeping soundly on the bed. Afraid of waking her, I quietly went to the study, turned on the computer, and on the screen was the only photo of my mother wearing a wedding dress. In the photo, my mother's eyes were filled with happiness. Her middle-aged, plump figure looked so beautiful and sexy in the wedding dress. Her chubby face and round face always made people say that she had a lucky face for her husband, but reality was not like that. In my memory, my father was always wearing a military uniform. Aside from the unfamiliar face in photographs, I can't recall any other memories of him, as if he had never existed in my life. In the northern winter, heavy snow always falls. I remember a stranger, also in military uniform, leading me to a car in front of my school. In the car, he was as silent as his dark, serious face, holding my small hand tightly, and uttering the only words I remember vividly: "Your dad was in a car accident." Hearing my mother's heart-wrenching cries at the alley entrance and seeing the armless snowman my friends and I built in front of our house are my memories of that cold day.

"Heaven rewards diligence," these were the words my father left behind, hanging in my mother's room. From our suburban bungalow to our three-bedroom apartment in the city, that calligraphy hung there for years. Since the night I became one with my mother, I've never seen that calligraphy again, nor have I seen any photographs or items related to my father. Perhaps my mother wanted to forget him, or perhaps she already had.

In Seattle, where I've lived for many years, the clock on the wall of my study, a timer my mother brought back from China, ticks towards midnight. Through the window, I can vaguely see the outline of the Olympic Park hillside, as mysterious as my mother's white body. My distant homeland is already in the midst of a busy day, while I enjoy the tranquility of midnight, my fingertips tapping on the keyboard, telling stories of secrets unknown to others.

Because of my family background, I have had a strong Oedipus complex since childhood. Apart from going to school, I would wait for my mother to get off work in her office. She worked in the political and legal department. Her salary was not high, but her job was relatively easy. Her monthly salary was just enough to support our special family of two. When my father was awarded the title of martyr, my mother bought me the most delicious ice cream I had ever eaten in my life on the day she received the money. The remaining money was coveted by my so-called aunts and uncles, who came to our house every day to ask me all sorts of questions. My mother understood what they meant and gave them all the money without keeping a single penny. She took me away from the place where I was born and raised and rented a house closer to my mother's workplace. She also changed my school. From then until now, those uncles and aunts who are related to me by blood have never cared about me once. They seem to have forgotten that they have a nephew like me. This made me understand my mother's hardships and grievances, and I also respect my mother's love for me even more.

Before I knew it, I was in junior high school, beginning to understand matters between men and women, experiencing the confusion of adolescence. I noticed my mother's full breasts and plump buttocks, and when she slept, I would smell her unique body odor in the blankets, discovering how beautiful and charming she was. One night, my mother and I were watching TV on the sofa. She lay on the sofa with her feet on my lap. I looked at her fair skin and her toes, which were like white bamboo shoots. I placed my hands on her feet, feeling the touch of her skin, and watched her full curves and the rise and fall of her breasts with her breath. I felt my first fantasies about my mother, and gradually, my penis became erect and pressed against her feet. My mother sensed my reaction, got up, and said, "Go to sleep early." She went back to her room. I saw her flushed face and the shyness in her eyes. That night, I had my first wet dream. In the morning, I recalled that the woman in my dream was not my mother, but a strange girl, not the type I liked. Everyone has unique fetishes, whether in real life or in matters of sex. For example, some people like drinking milk while others don't; some prefer thin people while others prefer fat ones. I, however, have an inexplicable foot fetish. Later, I often reflected on the reasons for this fetish, but I found it difficult to pinpoint the source. Perhaps it was that first impulse that night. No matter what I asked for, my mother would always fulfill it. She also indulged her inner desires in this forbidden pleasure. Because of our single-parent family background, my mother gave all her love to one person. After I became an adult, I will do my best to ensure she has a comfortable life.

My mother understood my deep attachment to her from a young age and sensed my extraordinary love for her. So, when she first caught me masturbating with her underwear in the bathroom, she didn't show anger or shock. A simple "Oh dear!" conveyed the awkwardness between mother and son, followed by shyness. There was no reproach, like in novels, or any indication that seeing her son masturbate led to intimacy. To this day, I don't know what my mother was thinking at that moment, but I was certainly nervous and uneasy. I was afraid she would think I had desecrated her love for me. In fact, she never thought that way. We loved each other deeply and wouldn't doubt each other's feelings over something. From youthful fantasies to adult incest, my mother poured all her love into me without reservation. By day, she was my mother, worrying and working hard for my meals and daily life; by night, she was my wife, and I made love to her. Each time, she would let me fall asleep with my head on her arm.

Holding my mother's hand, I will grow old with her!
Winter in Beijing, with its
swirling snowflakes, makes me unable to resist
thinking of you. The snow-covered
past makes me unable to resist
the snowy nights, a paradise for lonely souls.
Alone on the streets, I hide from the festive joys.
In a distant city, is there someone like me
standing by the window, imagining the other's world

? —Old Wolf, "Winter in Beijing"

Beijing, just like that song, is a place where some live and some die, some struggle and some leave. In this bustling and restless metropolis, how many partings and reunions, how much love and hate, have occurred. The bells of the Forbidden City's corner towers and the whistling of pigeons flitting through the treetops are the music of our earliest innocence. Looking back at today's prosperity and noise is a tribute to that childlike wonder. In the year 2000, Beijing began its march towards becoming a modern metropolis. Record stores, arcades, and skating rinks sprang up like mushrooms after rain. My memories of that time are tied to the most popular game, Counter-Strike. On a late winter afternoon, I forgot the ten yuan my mother had given me to play video games. I trudged through the thick snow, heading back to get the money. It was a small courtyard house near the alley entrance. Inside the gate, the four rooms on the left were the landlord's shop, a small supermarket rented out to others. The three rooms on the right were the small house where my mother and I lived. It wasn't big, but there was a stove inside, making it warm. Through the window, speckled with snowflakes, I saw my mother naked, lying face down on the bed facing me. A strange man was kneeling behind her, thrusting into her full buttocks. My mother's large breasts swayed up and down with each thrust. The sight shocked me so much that I couldn't distinguish between the stimulation of physical contact and the anger of seeing my mother's lewdness. My mother looked up, our eyes met, and she covered her mouth in surprise. I turned and fled that afternoon that wasn't mine. I knew it was sex, a man and woman having sex. I love my mother, and I saw her lewd side in front of another man. ...I wandered aimlessly through the streets, not knowing how long I walked. As darkness fell, I reached the train station. I wanted to escape this increasingly unfamiliar city. I didn't know where to go, and I was certain I couldn't escape. I had no money, so I sat alone in the smoky waiting hall, feeling suffocated. The clock on the wall had already struck eleven. I sat wearily in a corner, hugging my knees, filled with a deep-seated loathing for this world that had taken everything from me. "Son." I looked up and saw snowflakes on my mother's shoulders and her disheveled hair, her face filled with anxiety... That night, my mother held me tightly, holding this half-grown boy close to her chest, as if afraid I would run away. It was the first time I tasted my mother's fragrance, the first time I began to be captivated by her scent. My childhood memories are all frozen in that afternoon. Many years later, I still remember the indescribable look in my mother's eyes when she saw me being manipulated.

Nothing can stop your yearning for freedom.
A life of boundless imagination, your heart unburdened.
Through dark years, you may have felt lost, but
in the moment you looked down, you discovered the path beneath your feet,
the world of freedom within your heart, so clear and lofty,
blooming with an everlasting beauty. Blue Lotus

– Xu Wei's "Blue Lotus"

A thin beam of light illuminated the living room. The door to my mother's bedroom wasn't closed tightly, leaving a three-centimeter gap. The bedroom was brightly lit. I was about to go to the bathroom, but the sight I saw through the crack made me stop in my tracks. My mother was wearing a black short-sleeved shirt, no pants or underwear, her back to the door, tidying the sheets. Because of her weight, she was kneeling on the bed, smoothing out the wrinkles. What shocked me most was her large, plump buttocks, incredibly white and tender under the light. I hadn't expected her pubic hair to be so abundant, even around her anus was covered in black hair. The tangled pubic hair between her legs obscured her private parts. In that brief moment, as my mother got up, I fled back to my room, lying on the bed, unable to calm down for a long time. Nervous? Excited? I didn't even feel my penis react. When I came to, I found it was rock hard. I touched the hardness between my legs. What I fantasized about wasn't sex or the mess between my mother's legs, but rather wanting to kiss and even lick my mother's anal hair surrounding her tightly closed anus, like a lotus flower that hadn't yet bloomed.

A new house, new furniture, a new TV, a new kitchen, a new wooden bed—this was my mother's birthday gift to me. My mother's workplace had allocated her an apartment. She kept it a secret from me until my birthday, when she took me into this simple two-bedroom apartment. Although the room wasn't big, only about 80 square meters, my mother had decorated it cleanly and warmly. My mother slept in the master bedroom, and I slept in the second bedroom. My room was sideways to my mother's room. Every summer afternoon when she took a nap, my mother would leave the door open. Lying in bed, I could see my mother's plump buttocks through both doors, round and big, like a ripe, long-stemmed pear.

The bathroom walls of our new home were tiled, shiny and white. In the cramped space, I would often come into contact with my mother's underwear. It was in this small bathroom that my fetish for feet began to sprout. The summer vacation was hot and humid, and I had nothing to do. The sweltering weather made me stay at home all day, watching TV with the fan on. The reason I could be so carefree was that I got into a good high school. Getting into this high school meant that I had one foot in the door of university. My mother also let me have my freedom and didn't care. It was late Saturday night, and the clock had already struck ten. I was waiting for my mother at home alone. She had gone on a picnic with her colleagues that day and left me at home to watch TV all day. When I heard the door lock click, I got up and went out to greet her. I saw that my mother's face was flushed and I could smell a slight smell of alcohol as I got closer. I took my mother's handbag, closed the door, and waited for her to change her shoes.

"Mom, you've been drinking?"

Mom looked at me while changing her shoes. "Yeah, I had some red wine."

I went back to the living room and continued watching TV. Mom went to the bathroom and came out a while later, saying, "I'm a little tired today. I'm going to sleep now. You watch for a bit and then go to sleep, don't stay up too late."

After watching TV for a while, I prepared to go to the bathroom and then go to sleep. In the bathroom, I saw for the first time Mom's underwear and socks, still warm from her body heat, after she had just taken them off. She probably hadn't washed them because she was tired today and had put them in a small basin. Feeling guilty, I picked them up quietly. They were still warm from Mom's body heat. I picked up a pair of thin black socks, which had a faint smell of feet. A pair of flesh-colored mid-waisted ordinary briefs immediately caught my attention. They were still warm from Mom's buttocks. Like a curious ghost, I unconsciously flipped them open, searching for the part that covered Mom's private parts. What made my heart race was the part that covered Mom's private parts. There was a wet patch on the dry spot. I brought it to my nose and smelled a lewd odor. My fingers touched it and it was a little sticky and slippery. I didn't know if it was Mom's urine that she hadn't wiped off properly or arousal fluid. Back in my room, my penis was as hard as an iron rod. I ejaculated twice that night, my mind filled with images of my mother's plump buttocks and her lotus-like anus.

The laughter over there reminded me of my flowers,
quietly blooming for me in every corner of my life.
I once thought I would always stay by her side,
but today we are gone, lost in the vast sea of people.
They must be old now. Where are they?
Luckily, I was there to accompany them in their blooming

—Pu Shu, "Those Flowers."

Autumn leaves fall on the hot road, no longer swaying in the wind, no longer exposed to the sun and wind, simply withering away in this lonely world. A pair of tender white hands pick up a sycamore leaf with two fingers and place it between the pages of a book, as if treasuring her beautiful youth. Swallows, always hopping and skipping swallows, swallows like little white rabbits.

"Zhang Yi, how do you do this problem? Explain it to me quickly." The exercise book was thrown onto my desk, rudely and without any reason.

I looked up at that youthful face, like a white cloud floating in the sky after a summer rain, pure and flawless. High school life had begun. Yanzi was in my class, the class beauty and class monitor, from a prominent family. Her short hair made her look capable and beautiful, youthful and sunny. At that time, I couldn't imagine that such an outstanding girl as Yanzi would fall in love with me, a silent and dull boy. But fate bound two people from different worlds together. At the age of budding romance, in the time of attraction between the sexes, we were each other's most cherished people besides our studies.

To this day, I still can't distinguish between Yanzi and my mother, or the difference between the two. The mixture of youthful vitality and mature maternal love often makes me feel dazed. Yanzi would always hand me two steamed buns or cakes in the mornings amidst the sound of students reading aloud. For three years, from the first year of high school to the third, we would leave school together after school. We never kissed or hugged during our time at school, but the affection between us grew stronger and stronger.

My quiet and introverted personality stands out starkly against my mother's and Yanzi's cheerful nature. I always felt they were a family. Yanzi has always been a tomboy, and even now she always projects a domineering queen image, while I, past and present, am just an ordinary working-class person. "

I am the oak tree by your window,
I am the book beside you when you first shed tears,
I am the candle you gazed upon on a spring night
, I am the elegant dress you wore in autumn.
I want you to open the window you hung in the summer,
I want you to hold my hand and stroll in the afternoon,
I want you to look at me, to gaze into your eyes
and silently tell me the sorrow of first love

"—Old Wolf, *Model Love Letter*.

"Why are you ignoring me?" Yanzi, still with her princess-like temper, stood before me pouting, questioning me.

"I'm not good enough for you." I truly dared not look Yanzi in the eye.

"I don't care, Zhang Yi, you're mine for life." She was as domineering as a child.

The news of Yanzi and me dating quickly reached the teacher's ears. The teacher visited my home, and while my mother served her tea and water, she scolded me for being playful and rebellious.

"It's the final exam, go tomorrow and do your best on the exam, and don't think about those other nonsense anymore." These were the only words my mother left me with after the teacher left. From the beginning of the semester until the results came out, my mother didn't scold me again, nor did she mention my early romance once more.

My memories of summer vacation weather are always of sweltering heat. I went upstairs, opened the door, and entered the house. My mother was sitting on the sofa watching TV. On the coffee table was the promise I had written to her after the teacher's home visit that night: "I like Yanzi. I won't neglect my studies. I'll study hard and get into a good university."

I handed my report card to my mother and sat down next to her, gulping down water. My mother, holding the report card, exclaimed, "Wow, first in the class! Not bad, not bad at all, son! You kept your promise to me. Invite Yanzi to my house that day, and I'll cook something delicious for you both."

They were always chattering away, and I always felt out of place among them. My mother seemed to have accepted my first love with Yanzi; the two of them were like best friends, always having endless things to talk about. I, on the other hand, could only watch the two women, or rather, the two women I deeply loved, my heart filled with complex emotions.

Will you remember tomorrow the diary you wrote
yesterday? Will you recall tomorrow the you who used to cry so easily? Your
teachers can't remember you, and

I can't even guess the answers. I only remembered you, my deskmate, when I happened to flip through photos. Back
then, the sky was always so blue, and the days always seemed to pass too slowly.
You once casually mentioned liking to be with me .
Who married the sentimental you?
Who comforted the tearful you? Who styled your long hair? Who made your wedding dress?

—Lao Lang, "My Deskmate" "

Five years later, you'll come to marry me!" These are the words Yanzi left in my notebook, without a date, without a signature, like a vow without certainty, destined to fade with time, like the dried handwriting and yellowed paper, gradually becoming memories.

July in Beijing is sweltering, offering no escape. The oppressive air doesn't carry the scent of parting. Three years of high school life, three years of friendship. Classmates hold brand-new notebooks, writing blessings and reluctance to part. Are they feigned? Or genuine blessings? Looking at Yanzi in that white dress, her fair legs and gradually developing breasts made me even more aroused in the afternoon. I pondered for a long time what words to use to express the feelings between us. I imagined her asking me to write a message in her notebook, but I was overthinking it. She never asked me to write anything. Years later, I learned that it was because she didn't want to see my blessings or farewells!

The day I received my acceptance letter, Yanzi found me. For the first time, we walked hand in hand openly along Xidan Street. We talked about the past and the future. She stood in front of me, in front of the crowds passing by, and hugged me, kissing me passionately. At that moment, the noise around us was irrelevant; it was as if the whole world consisted only of the two of us. When she let go of me, I saw her eyes were streaked with tears: "My family wants me to study abroad." For the first time, I kissed away her tears. First love is indeed bittersweet; it ended before I even had a chance to fully experience it. I stood there, stunned, unsure whether to try to hold her back or offer my blessings. "Zhang Yi, I'll come find you in five years. We'll get married. This is my first kiss. Remember me, don't forget me," Yanzi said with a smile, but her eyes glistened with tears—tears of reluctance to let go of her entire youth. "Zhang Yi, I'm leaving in a couple of days. Will you take me home?" I'd never taken Yanzi home before. I admit I'm not very proactive in relationships. We walked hand in hand down Fuyou Street until after 9 PM. Yanzi said we'd arrived. Behind her was a government compound. Her parents were both government officials in important positions. Yanzi stood in front of me: "Give me another kiss." We hugged tightly. Yanzi's lips were so sweet. Her tears fell onto my lips, and I tasted their bitterness.

I got home at 11 PM. My mother had bought a lot of food and drinks and was sitting on the sofa waiting for me. When she saw me, she stood up happily and took my acceptance letter: "Oh, my son is amazing! Fudan University! You've really made your mother proud!" She looked at the letter again and again, her expression of delight was incredibly endearing.

I sat on the sofa, looking at the snacks, drinks, and beer my mother had bought. "Mom," I said, "Yanzi is going abroad in a couple of days."

My mother patted my hair and sat down beside me. "Oh, really? That's good. These days, wealthy families send their children abroad to study. It's alright, son, he'll come back after graduating from university."

My mother knew about my relationship with Yanzi. Perhaps because I was quite sensible and did well in my studies, she never mentioned it. Sometimes she would ask me to invite Yanzi over to our house so she could cook something delicious for her. Yanzi loved my mother's fried noodles with soybean paste. The two of them would chatter endlessly. Later, my mother told me that she knew... Knowing about my relationship with Yanzi, it wasn't that she didn't want to interfere. She knew the special love I had for her and wanted to correct my views on love, so she never stopped me from dating Yanzi. She often asked me to invite Yanzi over to create opportunities for us. But sometimes, seeing the love in our eyes, she felt uncomfortable, a tightness in her chest. My mother thought it was just sadness that her son would be with another woman, but that wasn't it. Sometimes, she also felt a pang of jealousy, thinking I was her man.

"You're amazing, son! You got accepted into such a good school! Mom is so proud of you! You know, my colleagues' children took the college entrance exam this year, and you got the highest score and were accepted into the best school. You're amazing, son!" My mother happily pinched my cheeks and kissed my forehead.

Mom opened a can of beer and handed it to me: "Son, you're going to college soon, and you're an adult now. You can drink now. Have a drink with Mom, I'm so happy today."

"Mom, you've worked so hard all these years, taking care of me and serving me. After I graduate, I'll find a good job and take good care of you."

"Silly son, it's only right that I take care of you. You're my son."

Ever since that afternoon when I stumbled upon Mom's private affairs, she has never contacted anyone. She was afraid of hurting and hurting me again. We depended on each other for survival. From the beginning of high school, Mom knew about the despicable things I did to her. Mom tried hard to correct my views on relationships, but she knew her efforts were in vain. Gradually, she acquiesced to my behavior. Many years later, she told me that she had gradually come to enjoy those things that couldn't be brought to light, and that she had found pleasure in them many nights.

While drinking beer with my mom, we talked about our upcoming university life. Seeing her slightly flushed cheeks and the incredibly alluring way she lay on the sofa drinking beer, I picked up her calves and placed them on my lap, gently massaging her plump legs, deliberately touching her sexy feet.

"Mom, your feet are so sexy," I couldn't help but exclaim.

Hearing me, Mom raised her right foot to within twenty centimeters of my face: "Mom's feet are really beautiful, silly son, what's so beautiful about feet?" Looking at Mom's feet, so close I could even smell the shower gel she'd used, I couldn't help but kiss the area around her feet.

"What are you doing? Aren't they dirty?" Mom pulled her foot away.

"I couldn't resist, Mom. Besides, Mom's feet aren't dirty, I like them."

Mom sighed meaningfully and said, "Alright, go wash up quickly, Mom's sleepy, go to sleep."

I got up and went to the bathroom. I saw a pair of Mom's black short stockings on the sink. I picked them up like a treasure and examined them closely. The toes of the stockings were slightly discolored. I gently picked them up and smelled them. There was a faint leather smell mixed with the smell of Mom's feet. Because I had just kissed Mom's feet, plus the smell of the stockings, my penis became even harder. I turned around and found that Mom had already gone back to her room. I sat in the living room for five minutes to make sure Mom was asleep. I went back to the bathroom, took the stockings, and went back to my room like a thief. I lay on the bed and started masturbating, using Mom's stockings to masturbate my penis. Finally, I ejaculated inside Mom's stockings. After I finished, I took the stockings to the bathroom, but I didn't know what to do with them. Just leaving them there was definitely not an option, so I had to wash them and hang them on the clothes hanger.

The next day, Mom asked me, "Why did you wash my socks?"

"I'll take better care of you, Mom," was my answer. Later, Mom told me that she had deliberately left them for me that night. Looking back, it was true. Mom usually puts them in the foot bath, and even if she doesn't wash them, she never puts them in such a conspicuous place next to the sink. When Mom heard me return to my room, she went to the bathroom and saw that I had taken the socks. She said she didn't know whether to be happy or sad at the time—happy that I still loved her, and sad that she still couldn't change my distorted feelings. Mom went to bed very late that night because it was the first time she had indirectly had sexual contact with me. Whether she was happy or panicked, that night, alone in bed, she felt a wetness she had never experienced before.

I walked past you alone, with nothing to say to you.
I dared not look up at you. Oh... your face.
You asked me where I was going. I pointed towards the sea.
Your surprise seemed to praise me. Oh...
you led me into your flower garden. I couldn't escape the intoxicating fragrance of the flowers.
I unconsciously forgot... oh... direction.
You said I was the strongest in the world. I said you were the kindest in the world
. You unknowingly became like the flowers. Oh...
you wanted me to stay here. You wanted me to be like them.
I looked at you, touched you, and said, oh... I can't do this.
I want to go back to the old place. I want to walk on the old road.
Only then did I realize I couldn't live without you. Oh...girl

—Cui Jian's "Girl in the Flower Shop"

The weather has deepened into winter, and the Shanghai Railway Station platform is bustling with people. It's the end of the year, and the annual Spring Festival travel rush has arrived. Men, women, young and old are all looking forward to embarking on their journey home as soon as possible. Tickets are checked, the station is entered, and the train is boarded. At 10 pm, the train arrives at Beijing Station on time. Looking at the familiar city, longing gradually takes root in my heart. When I get home, I see the prepared food wrapped in plastic wrap on the table. I sit on the sofa watching TV, and my family is very happy to see me. They express their concern and longing for me with warm words. It was past 1 a.m. when we finished dinner, and Mom had already gone to her room to sleep. When I went to the bathroom to wash up, I saw Mom's unwashed underwear and socks in the foot basin. A desire that hadn't been there for a semester made me unconsciously pick them up. A pair of off-white cotton socks and ordinary lace panties. Before I even brought the socks to my nose, I smelled a strong, pungent foot odor. When I brought them to my nose, the intense smell rushed straight to my brain. I inhaled deeply, savoring the scent that ignited my lust. When I picked up the underwear, I saw a wet stain where Mom's labia had been. There was a slight yellowing around the anus, and I picked it up and smelled the scent I had been longing for, like I was taking a drug. The lewd smell of a mature woman stimulated my whole body. I took it to my room, lay on my bed, and forgot my nervous heartbeat. I sucked on my mother's panties, my penis covered by her smelly cotton socks. The stimulation made me ejaculate quickly. That night, I masturbated twice in a short period of time. The dirty smell of my mother's socks and panties was like a treasure to me. I couldn't resist it, I couldn't control my brain.

Tell me, is it me you're waiting for?
Tell me, don't miss
your sparkling eyes again, as if some words can never be spoken.
Tell me quickly, don't be afraid, even if you're not sure. Tell me
, you've lost too much.
Tell me, you're also afraid of loneliness.
I know you can't escape the pain of past failures and setbacks.
Tell me quickly, don't always be at a loss.
Thinking of your dark nights, thinking of your face,
repeatedly unable to sleep alone.
Tell me, you've thought of me a thousand times
. Tell me, everything will come true.

— Zhou Huajian, "Sleepless Nights"

In Xujiahui, Shanghai, in the small alleyways, the joys and sorrows of various families unfold. I rented a room here, a one-bedroom apartment on the third floor with a small bathroom, enough for me to live alone. Most importantly, it's close to the company, only a fifteen-minute walk away. Having just graduated from university, I got a job at a private company that makes electronic products. The head office is in Shanghai, but the factory is in Kunshan, Jiangsu. I live a nine-to-five life.

One evening, I received a call from my mother, saying she wanted to come and see me. Having just graduated from university and living alone in a different city, she was worried, and I readily agreed. The next day, I tidied up the house and waited for my mother's arrival.

"Wow, the room is quite clean." Mom carefully examined my little nest.

"Yeah, your son is quite diligent."

Mom rolled her eyes at me: "Diligent my ass, he's as lazy as a pig at home."

"At home, it's mainly Mom who's diligent, I don't get to clean the house." I said obsequiously.

Mom rolled her eyes at me again and started a round of three questions.

At night, Mom slept in the bedroom, and I slept on the sofa. Perhaps because I hadn't seen Mom for a long time, desire gradually took over my mind again. My penis was incredibly hard. Thinking about seeing Mom's voluptuous figure and her large, plump buttocks earlier that day, my lower body felt a burning, throbbing pain. I got up to go to the bathroom to calm down. I turned on the light and saw Mom's shoes on the shoe rack by the door. I picked up the pair of flat sneakers without thinking. They were clean inside, but when I touched them with my fingers, they felt slightly damp, probably due to Shanghai's humid climate. I sniffed them; there was no foot odor, just a faint, mature woman's scent that filled my mind. My penis throbbed even more. I took the shoes to the bathroom, took off my shorts, and began to masturbate. In my mind's eye, I imagined Mom's clean, sexy feet, enjoying the smell inside her shoes. I licked the inside of the shoes, fantasizing about licking Mom's feet. In my frenzied fantasies, streams of semen sprayed onto the wall.

Even now, I'm still the same. The loneliness of the night easily brings sadness.
I dare not think too much because I'm alone.

The moonlight stretches my shadow as I wander aimlessly through the cold streets.
I have no news of you because I'm thinking of you.
Love me, don't leave. If you say you don't love me, I
don't want to hear it. If you really say it,
give me a little more tenderness.

—Zhang Zhenyue, "Love Me, Don't Leave"

On Sunday morning, I took my mother to the station. She was going back home. Seeing that my work was going well, she seemed relieved. Before boarding the train, she hugged me and then turned and got on. Back in Xujiahui from the train station, it was another boring day. With nothing to do, I went to an internet cafe. By the time I got back to my apartment, it was already 11 pm. I called my mother; she had already arrived home. Looking at her neatly folded blankets and clean sheets, I pulled back the covers and smelled her scent. I was about to go to the bathroom and masturbate while smelling her scent when my mother gave me an even bigger surprise: a pair of ordinary flesh-colored boxer briefs hanging under the sink. I picked it up and saw a large puddle of my mother's vaginal fluid in the middle of her panties. I'm not exaggerating; it was quite a lot. I touched it with my finger; it was sticky and slippery. I regretted not coming sooner; I could still smell my mother's warmth and the scent of her buttocks. But now, all I felt was the overwhelming smell of her cunt, making my blood boil. I lay alone in my room, completely naked, my penis hard and throbbing like a corncob. I dipped my finger in the slippery fluid and tasted it. I licked the area around my mother's cunt with my tongue. I ejaculated again and again. The indulgence and loneliness of being alone led me to ejaculate three times that night, the last time on my mother's panties. I fantasized wildly about my beloved mother, imagining us making love naked. That night, I dreamed of my mother's anus, like a lotus flower.

When you look at me, I wonder if you've already guessed what I'm about to say
, or if I'm still unsure, or if I haven't met your requirements.
Am I overthinking things, or are you also avoiding me?
If you really choose me, I'll muster the courage to accept it.
Unconsciously, my gaze begins to flicker.
The first time I said I love you, my breath caught in my throat and my heart trembled.
The first time I held your hands, I lost my way and didn't know where to go.
That was the reason we fell in love, that was the reason we stayed together.

—Guang Liang, "The First Time"

My mother and I are in a small living room. On the dining table are my mother's favorite dishes, wine bottles and glasses are overturned, my mother sits on the sofa with her head tilted back, and I sit cross-legged on the floor, staring at my beloved pair of white and tender feet. In a daze, my mother is no longer my mother, but my wife.

My mother's face was flushed, whether from talking about relationships or from drinking, and she kicked me lightly. "I know what you're thinking, but I'm your mother."

"I know you're my mother, I know what I'm doing is wrong, that's why I'm going to America."

My mother sat up and touched my hair. "Son, you can't do this. You just found a good job and settled down."

I reached down and held my mother's feet. "But my heart can't settle down."

"I know your love for me, I can feel it. You've always been obedient, good at studying, sensible, got into a good university, found a good job. I understand everything you've done behind my back, I know everything. I've spoiled you and haven't taught you how to handle relationships properly. Since you've decided, just go. Come home when you're tired, Mom will be waiting for you."

The lights outside the window twinkled, and my mother's room still had that familiar scent. In the dark room at midnight, I hugged my mother from behind by the window, looking at the tranquility of the city after its hustle and bustle, both of us reeking of alcohol.

Mom released my arms from her embrace: "Go to sleep."

Mom lay on the bed, uncovered, her curvaceous figure so sexy and beautiful in the moonlight, her eyes fixed on me: "Go out and close the door."

I didn't move, looking at my mature and alluring mother on the bed. This was my mother, my wife, the person I loved most. I took Mom's hand, leaned down and kissed her forehead. Mom didn't refuse. I kissed her cheek. Mom didn't refuse. I kissed her neck. Mom didn't refuse. I kissed her lips. Mom didn't refuse. I unbuttoned Mom's nightgown and buried my face between her full breasts. Mom raised her arms and hugged me tightly. We stripped each other of our clothes. My mother guided my hard penis to her soft, moist entrance. I slowly inserted it; it was so wet and warm. My mother looked at me with hazy, drunken eyes: "Was it good?" I didn't answer, but held her neck tightly, thrusting my love into her vagina again and again. When I finished, I got up and helped my mother put on her pajamas. My mother closed her eyes tightly: "Go back to sleep." I saw tears streaming down my mother's face. Was it happiness? Was it repentance?

The next morning, Mom came in with a new suit and brand-new shoes she'd bought for me. Usually, she'd knock before entering, but this time she didn't; she just pushed the door open. She placed the clothes and shoes on the bed: "If you want to go to America, then go. A boy should go out and explore. I've never taken you anywhere in my life. Now that you're grown up, you should change your worldview. Get up and get dressed; I'll make breakfast." Mom turned back at the door, head bowed, seemingly to avoid any awkwardness: "Um... if you miss me, come back. I'll be waiting for you at home."

I saw a blush creep onto Mom's face. Without hesitation, I got out of bed, still wearing only my shorts, and hugged Mom at the door. Mom let out a soft "Oh dear," and pulled her onto the bed; she sat on my lap. I kissed my mother, my hands caressing her full, luscious buttocks that I had longed for. Because of my morning erection, my penis pressed against her vulva. My mother, in turn, wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me. I rolled over and pinned her to the bed, unbuttoning her familiar nightgown. Perhaps out of shyness or embarrassment, she told me to cover myself with the blanket. I couldn't see her body clearly, but the burning desire of my morning erection quickly led me into her. She was just as wet and slippery, just as warm and wet. For the first time, I brought her to the peak of sexual pleasure. She tilted her head back and hugged me tightly, suppressing her moans. I ejaculated deeply into her vagina, feeling its warmth. My gradually softening penis slid out, and my mother playfully scolded, "That's outrageous!"

While my mother was tidying up, I secretly slipped her unwashed underwear and a pair of flesh-colored stockings into her suitcase.

The morning air in Beijing was sparse and the streets were filled with the honking of cars. I told my mother not to see me off, but at the door, she hugged and kissed me, like lovers about to part, her eyes full of reluctance.

The plane slowly began to climb, and I used my broken English to tell a fellow international student about my destination and future plans. Gradually, drowsiness came over me, and I fell into a deep sleep.

Arriving in unfamiliar Seattle, after settling in, I found a job as a technician at an internet company, which meant endless business trips all over the world to provide technical services to clients. My rented apartment was a small two-bedroom unit in the suburbs, but close to the company. Initially, I wasn't used to the lifestyle and the new company, and I was overwhelmed with work every day. My communication with my mother was limited to simple greetings. Every call or text was filled with her worried concern. But Chinese people tend to only share good news, so to avoid worrying her, I pretended everything was fine. In reality, she knew the hardships I faced traveling alone in a foreign land. Because of the time difference, she often slept late, and to allow her to rest, I pretended to be busy and quickly ended the call.

As night fell, the unfamiliar country and city always had a similar tranquility. I usually lit a cigarette before bed to calm myself, and my thoughts drifted with the smoke. I thought of my mother's damp body, her soft, white feet, and her unique scent. I picked up my phone and typed a text: "Mom, I miss you."

Clicking send, this was the first time I'd ever said I missed someone. Perhaps it was because of my special feelings for my mother; I'd never talked about missing, longing, or loving her since I could remember. Looking through old text messages, mostly about trivial things in life, I suddenly realized I loved my mother, but I hadn't given her loving care, hadn't expressed it in words or writing. Maybe it was because I was in a foreign country, free from the awkwardness of meeting her, that I felt my biggest burden lifted. I wanted to increase our emotional connection, to show her more concern and care. Before she could reply, I sent another message: "Mom, do you miss me?"

Perhaps she was busy, as she didn't reply immediately as usual. I opened my suitcase and saw the underwear and stockings I'd secretly hidden. I opened the plastic bag, took them out, and examined them carefully. A pair of ordinary flesh-colored short stockings, and ordinary black briefs. The stockings didn't have a particular smell. Opening the briefs, I saw the package... My mother's vaginal area was a little whitish, dry from the passage of time. Like an addict, I frantically inhaled the scent, licking the marks she had left on her underwear. My penis grew even thicker, and I put her short stockings over it, wanting her to feel my mad love for her. "Mom, I took your underwear and stockings," "Mom, I'm masturbating with your underwear and stockings," "Mom, I smelled your underwear and licked the semen on it. Mom, your underwear smells so pungent." "Mom, I came, I came on your underwear." "I've soiled your underwear, Mom, it's unusable next time." I sent out a series of frantic text messages, sending obscene words to my mother's number like a madman. The first taste of sex made me unable to control myself from masturbating, trying to experience the pleasure of ejaculation. For me, who had just lost my virginity, the warmth my mother gave me for the first time was unforgettable.

When you're on the other side of the mountains,
I'm on a lonely road with no end in sight.
I often feel your breath behind my ear,
but I can never feel your breath on my heart.
Oh... longing is a disease .
Oh... longing is a disease,
a disease
—Zhang Zhenyue, "Longing is a Disease."

This is the first Spring Festival I've spent alone away from home since I was a child. The streets of Seattle are filled with a strong Chinese atmosphere. KFC has New Year pictures and couplets pasted on the door, and Chinese knots hanging inside. Whenever the staff sees an Asian face, they always greet me with a "hello" in Chinese. In the evening, I went into KFC, sat by the window, and turned on my computer to watch the Spring Festival Gala. Back home, it was the morning of the first day of the Lunar New Year. My mother sent me a text message on QQ: "Happy New Year, son."

Looking at my mother's text message, my longing only intensified. I missed my mother's New Year's Eve dinner, and I missed the braised pork she made every year!

Me: Mom, Happy New Year!

Mom: What are you doing, son? Did you have a good New Year?

Me: The New Year is not good at all without Mom.

Mom: Then why didn't you come back when I told you to?

Me: I'll come back when I'm done with things here. Mom, I miss you.

Mom: Hmm, Mom misses you too, son.

Me: Mom, I'll be back in a week.

Mom: Okay, son, Mom will wait for you.

Perhaps it was because of the impulse at the time, or perhaps it was because of that taboo secret, but since my mother and I had a sexual relationship, we felt less intimate than before. Normal greetings after moving out didn't involve much emotional conversation.

For you, I used half a year's savings
to travel across the ocean to see you.
For this reunion, I even practiced
my breathing repeatedly before we met. I've never been able to express even a fraction of my feelings. Because of this regret , I thought about it again and again at night and could n't sleep. —Li Zongsheng, "Traveling Across the Ocean to See You" "Driver, where to?" "To Xidan first." The taxi drove along the airport expressway towards the city I longed for day and night. In just one year, I could feel the rapid development of Beijing. There were many more high-rise buildings around, but I had no mind to appreciate them. I hoped to see the woman I thought about day and night as soon as possible. I bought a bouquet of lilies in Xidan. By the time I got home, it was already past 7 p.m. Stepping out of the elevator, I saw the door wide open. My mother was waiting for me. I went inside and saw her sitting alone at the dining table, staring blankly at the food. "Mom." Hearing my voice, she snapped out of her reverie, stood up, and walked over to me. "You silly child, you're finally back! I've been waiting for ages!" She gently patted my arm, gazing at me intently, as if looking at a beloved child. "Put your shoes on first." I changed my shoes and stood up, seeing tears streaming down my mother's face. "Mom, don't cry. I'm back now." I wiped away her tears with my fingers. She looked into my eyes and hugged me tightly. I took off my backpack and hugged her back, whispering in her ear, "Mom..." "I missed you." Mom didn't speak, just sobbed softly in my arms. I held her cheeks in my hands, looking at her tear-streaked face, feeling her breath on my skin. She slowly closed her eyes, like a young girl seeking a kiss. I gently kissed her lips, and when our lips met, she hugged me even tighter. We stood in front of the shoe cabinet, her arms around my waist, my hands on her cheeks. She didn't respond, letting me kiss her lips, cheeks, nose, ears, and neck passionately. "Let's eat first," Mom said, pushing me away, her face flushed. Looking at the delicious food on the table, I began to wolf it down. Mom smiled at me. After we were full, we sat on the sofa. I told Mom about life in America, gesturing animatedly as I described everything I'd seen and heard. Mom listened quietly, her chin in her hands, her eyes and brows captivating. I couldn't resist kissing her cheek. A blush crept onto her face: "Go wash up, son."

After Mom finished speaking, she got up and went back to her bedroom. I quickly took a shower and opened Mom's door. I saw her lying on her side with her back to me, playing on her phone. As I closed the door, Mom said, "Turn off the light." I turned off the light and excitedly went to Mom's bedside, lying down behind her. I put my hand on Mom's full waist and said, "Mom, I missed you so much." Mom didn't say anything. She put down her phone, turned around, and hugged me tightly, her body pressed against mine. I felt her body trembling slightly. I was about to ask what was wrong when, before I could speak, Mom raised her head, closed her eyes, and her soft lips covered mine. As I gently bit her lip... My mother hugged me even tighter, returning my kiss. When my hand touched her ample buttocks, she let out a wanton sound. We kissed like we were feasting on a delicious meal, my tongue exploring her lips, teeth, and mouth. She offered her own smooth tongue, glistening with sweet saliva, tentatively placing it in my mouth. Our tongues intertwined. I slipped my right leg between hers, and she began to sway her lower body slowly, as if riding on my leg. Suddenly, she sat up and leaned over me, gesturing for me to sit up. Our lips never parted. My mother sat in my lap, and she reached up to lift my clothes. I released her, and she removed my shirt. In the darkness, only our heavy, passionate breaths filled the air. She wrapped one arm around my neck and kissed me passionately. Her plump hand touched my chest, her fingertips kneading my muscles. My trembling hand found the sash of her nightgown, and with a gentle pull, the purple nightgown fell from her shoulders. She released her hands from my chest, took my hand, and placed it on her full, round breasts. My hands could only cover half of her breasts. Her breasts were so smooth and soft, the two nipples, the size of purple grapes, stood erect in my palms. My mother wrapped her arms around my neck, arching her back to make it easier for me to knead her breasts. I gently placed her on the bed, knelt beside her, and lowered my head to kiss her breasts. My lips found the dark brown nipple, and I took it into my mouth, sucking on it like when I was a baby. My mother ran her fingers through my hair, holding my head. Her breathing became more and more rapid. I kissed... After kissing her left nipple, I noticed my saliva was still on her right. When I slipped my hand inside her panties and started exploring downwards, she parted her legs. My hand slid between her hairy thighs and felt a wetness, as if she had lost control of her bladder. I was surprised by how much her vaginal fluid she produced. When my fingers touched her labia, I could clearly feel her buttocks trembling. Just as I was about to further explore her vulva, she grabbed my wrist: "Don't touch me, come up."

I pulled my hand away and pulled down her panties. She lifted her buttocks to make it easier for me to remove them. As I took off my mother's underwear, holding it in my hand to place it by the bedside, I could feel that it was already soaking wet. I put the underwear aside, took off my own, and lay on top of my mother, my penis already painfully hard. My mother reached behind me, hugging me tightly, breathing heavily in my ear. I guided my penis with one hand, touching my mother's soft breasts, and slowly pushed forward. A wet, hot sensation enveloped my glans. When it was fully inside, my mother comfortably whispered in my ear, "Ah! Son..."

My mother's vagina felt like a well, warm and moist. Her vaginal opening tightly gripped my penis, and I almost collapsed. I inserted it and quietly felt it for several seconds. My mother licked my ear: "Why aren't you moving?"

"I couldn't hold back anymore." After I finished speaking, my mother chuckled in my ear. I slowly thrust my penis in and out of my mother's vagina. My mother's vagina seemed to have magic, tightly sucking my penis. Gradually, with my thrusting, the point where my mother and I were joined made a gurgling sound. Intense pleasure permeated my entire body. All my attention was focused on my penis. I thrust more and more vigorously and faster in my mother's vagina. I ejaculated all my desire into my mother's body. At the same time as I ejaculated, my mother also reached the peak of sexual pleasure. Her lower body began to tremble and twist, and her arms tightly hugged me.

I lay on top of my mother, feeling the warmth after our passion. My mother stroked my head and said, "Get up and wipe yourself."

I got up and turned on the light. I saw my mother's arm covering her eyes, her graceful body like a cloud. I took some tissues and wiped the moisture off my limp penis. As I was about to hand the tissues to my mother, she raised her arm, her face flushed, and said, "Help me wipe this."

I parted my mother's legs and saw a thick clump of pubic hair growing wetly in her private area. To this day, I have never seen any woman, either in real life or online, with such thick pubic hair as my mother. The pubic hair between her legs surrounded her vulva, like a spring in a large forest. I carefully wiped her. A small patch of the sheet under her buttocks was wet—it was her love fluid. Looking at the lewd scene before me, I felt my mouth go dry. I looked up and saw my mother staring at my once-erect penis. Before she could speak, I jumped off the bed, turned off the light, and lay on top of her. Because I had already ejaculated once, I felt my mother's buttocks tremble twice.

When embracing loved ones, I wish time could stop.
Now, I feel like a fleeting passerby to my hometown.
In the many years I've spent far away, I often think of you. This
moment, every street of yours, your unique radiance, your prosperity.
In the many years I've spent far away, I always think of everything you gave me,
every bit of love you gave me, happiness and pain that helped me grow

—Xu Wei, "Home."

Alone on the 7th floor of the hotel, looking out the window at the brightly lit streets of Singapore, I miss my mother's warm harbor. My mother wanted to live with me for a long time, so she went back to Beijing to resign and apply for a US green card. We've been separated for over two months. I'm on a business trip to Singapore. Everywhere I look, there are beautiful girls dressed simply, but I miss my mother even more. Just as I was lost in thought, my phone rang, pulling me back to reality. I opened it and saw a photo my mother had sent me. Her chubby face was flushed, like she'd been drinking, and she was biting her lower lip—utterly alluring.

I texted her on QQ: "Mom, have you been drinking? Your face is so flushed."

Me: ???

About half an hour later, my mother replied: "Just got home. I went to process my resignation today and had dinner with colleagues and drank a little. What are you doing, son?"

Me: "I was looking at Mom's photo. You're so sexy and charming, Mom. I miss you so much. "

Mom: "Silly son, Mom misses you too. I'm so old, what's so sexy about me?"

Me: "Mom, you're sexy and beautiful no matter your age. I'll only love you for the rest of my life.

" Mom: "Son, Mom's figure isn't good either. My legs are so thick, and I'm so fat. I don't know what you're thinking. There are so many young girls you don't pursue."

Me: I don't know, I just love Mom. I've only ever loved Mom since I was little. I know I'm psychologically abnormal, but I can't control myself. I know it's wrong. I've tried liking younger girls, but I always think of Mom. I'm sorry, Mom, I've tainted your love for me.

Mom: It's no use saying all this now, son. Mom misses you. Come back to Beijing to see me after you finish work. Son, you are my only family in this world, and the person I love most. But if one day you want a real marriage, I hope you won't let me ruin your life. Mom only hopes you can be happy.

Me: Mom, I won't like anyone else. I only love you. You raised me from childhood to adulthood all by yourself. Now I'll repay you with my filial piety. I'll make Mom happy for the rest of my life. Mom

: You silly child, talking nonsense again. Come back and give Mom a good hug, okay?

Me: Okay, when you get your green card, I'll hold you every night while I sleep. Mom, I'll take you with me on business trips, let you travel the world, and I'll give you a good life.

Mom: Okay, wherever you go, Mom will go with you, hehe, silly child, I want to tell you a secret.

Me: What secret, Mom?

Mom: Actually, I've known for a long time that your love for me is unusual. I felt it when you were in your second year of high school. I allowed you to date Yanzi partly because you've always been a good student, so I didn't have to worry about you much. Partly, I wanted you to change your feelings and hope you could like young girls normally. But to be honest, I also felt uneasy seeing my son being affectionate with another woman. I felt a little awkward.

Me: I'm sorry, Mom. I went too far. I didn't treat you like my mother, and I disrespected you.

Mom: It's okay, son. Mom is very happy now. You don't need to feel guilty. There are many things in the world where right and wrong are indistinguishable.

Me: Mom, every time I do those things to you, I feel unforgivable. I can't calm my filthy heart. I feel so sorry for you. I feel guilty!

Mom: Son, to be honest, you don't need to feel guilty. There are some things I've indulged you in.

Me: Mom, tell me the truth, when you first came to Shanghai, did you leave your underwear and stockings in the bathroom specifically for me?

Mom: You brat, how did you know?

Me: I thought Mom couldn't be that careless. The thing is, I left them there unwashed. I thought Mom left them specifically for me, haha.

Mom: I was afraid you'd do something naughty because you were holding it in, haha .

Me: The first night you came, I was so uncomfortable I couldn't sleep, so I got up to go to the bathroom and saw your shoes. I smelled your shoes and then masturbated in the bathroom.

Mom: How disgusting! Smelling my shoes! How dirty! You silly son, you stink to death!

Me: It's not dirty. I love all the smells on Mom. I don't know when I started to develop an interest in those things about Mom. I know my mind is twisted. I'm sorry, Mom. I don't want to do those things, but every time it's like an addiction. I can't control my brain and body. Every time I see Mom's feet, it's like seeing a delicious meal. I can't help but want to lick them, to eat them. I often masturbate again and again, smelling the pungent smell of Mom's socks and the urine smell on her underwear, even if there's poop on her underwear. I don't care because it's all yours, the secretions of the person I love most. I'm sorry, Mom. Some of my words might be a bit rough, but I just want to be honest with you about everything. Since these things have happened between us, I just hope that Mom can be happy and satisfied, both in life and in sex. As long as Mom is happy, I'm willing to give everything.

Mom: It's okay, I understand all your actions, silly son. Mom knows how you feel about me. Actually, ever since you went to university, I've always kept my personal belongings in the bathroom during holidays, intentionally leaving them for you. It was my fault for spoiling you too much. Now that everything has happened, don't worry too much. Being happy is the most important thing. My life used to be very stressful; there were things I couldn't tell you or communicate with you, which led to me not handling our relationship well. Son, none of that matters anymore. The past is the past. Mom wants to start over with you.

Me: Yes, Mom, I will love you well!
You always say that I only want to contact you when I'm lonely
, but the love we talk about isn't enough. You come and go so easily,
how could you not understand me? How could you not know that
a woman's heart is fragile?
Loneliness isn't something I can't bear, it's just that I think about you too much every day.
Actually, I don't want to leave. Actually, I want to stay
and be with you through every spring, summer, autumn, and winter.
You have to believe me, it won't be long before
I want you and me to spend our lives together.

— Emil Chau, "Actually, I Don't Want to Leave"

The plane slowly landed at Seattle Airport. As I walked out of the waiting hall, I was greeted by Thompson, the driver from the US headquarters. I got in the car and chatted with him for a few minutes before going to the company to report. By the time I finished and got home, it was already 6 a.m. I washed up and lay in bed when I received a message from my mother.

Mom: Son, you should have arrived by now. The time difference makes it difficult to contact you. Son, I missed you as soon as you left, I missed your warm embrace. Since you left, I've been all alone at home, feeling so bored. But it's okay, I'll be back with you soon. I'll cook you something delicious, your favorite braised pork. You probably won't like the food there, right? I'll take good care of you. Son, actually, all I want to tell you is that I love you so much, more than a mother-son love. You understand, right? I know this is something that can't be discussed openly, but I'm so happy to have you. Son, I want to tell you something private. Before we had this kind of relationship, for so many years I never thought about that kind of thing, I felt like I was frigid. But now, I don't know what's wrong with me, like a little mouse that's tasted sweetness. I even want you to hold me and torment me every day. Son, I just want to escape that boring life of the past and spend the rest of my life with you, wildly. Do you know that, son? Every time I find out you've used my underwear or socks to masturbate, I get incredibly wet. That thrilling feeling between mother and son is irresistible. Whenever I think about you using my dirty underwear and smelly socks to masturbate, inhaling the scent, and letting your madness, disregarding all ethics, make me let you do as you please. Silly son, I know you've always secretly taken my underwear to masturbate like a thief. Many times I've seen your semen on my socks. I don't know what force compels me to touch that pool of white liquid with my fingers; that uniquely masculine scent makes me writhe on my lonely bed. Every time I think about these things, I feel a wetness I've never felt before. Son, I miss you, I miss everything about you. Please love your mother well, okay? I love you, my son.

Reading what my mother wrote to me, besides being moved, I understand her good intentions even more. Raising me alone for so many years, women also have needs. We just naively think it's promiscuous; it's just an inequality between men and women. Having needs is normal; nothing in life can be truly equal.

on a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair.
warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air.
up ahead in the distance, i saw a shimmering light.
my head grew heavy and my sight grew dim.
i had to stop for the night.
there she stood in the doorway,
i heard the mission bell.
and i was thinking to myself, "this could be heaven or this could be hell".
then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way.
there were voices down the corridor,
i thought i heard them say...
welcome to the hotel california
Such a lovely place, such a lovely face.

— Eagles, "Hotel California"

Mom: Son, have you arrived yet? You must be tired from all your business trips. I want to talk to you about the questions you asked me that night in Los Angeles. I just didn't know how to answer them in front of you, you silly boy, asking those questions to my face! I really couldn't say them. I've been thinking about it these past few days. I know you did it all for my sake, for my feelings. Actually, we can't escape the word "sex" between us. You always think of me, both in daily life and in our sex life. I thought about it, and maybe I wouldn't think so much about these things if we talked about them on WeChat. Son, just ask me whatever you want. I'll tell you everything I know.

Me: I've arrived, Mom. I arrived this afternoon. Mom, are you asleep?

Mom: Not yet.

Me: Thank you, Mom. Actually, I was just afraid you wouldn't like some of it, and I didn't want to force you to do it.

Mom: Yeah, it's okay, son. I've seen so much with you, I'm already very content.

Me: Mom, actually, I feel like I'm a little psychologically disturbed. Some things are really hard to say. I'm afraid you'll think I'm vulgar and disgusting.

Mom: Don't think like that, son. Tell me what's on your mind. Do you think we still have any secrets? Right, son? There's nothing to hide. Just say what you want to say.

Me: Actually, I don't know why I had this thought. I really, really want to kiss your butthole. Mom, don't be angry. It was my fault. I won't think like that again. I'm sorry, Mom.

Mom: I'm not angry. I told you, just ask me whatever you want.

Me: Thank you, Mom. I've thought about this a lot since then. I remember when I first arrived at Ronghua, one night I saw you making the bed with your bare bottom through the crack in the door. I saw you sticking your butt out, and I saw your butthole, like a lotus flower.

Mom: Maybe so. You know, son, I often think about our relationship. We just tasted the forbidden pleasure and couldn't stop. As for your question, Mom promises you, I'll let you experience it next time, hehe.

Me: Thank you, Mom. I love you so much, Mom.

Mom: I agreed because I love you too, and you've made me experience the happiness of being a woman. When you're inside me again and again, you've given me pleasure I've never felt before. Every time you ejaculate inside me, I feel so good I'm almost going crazy.

Me: From now on, I'll make you feel more and more comfortable, happier and happier. I'll make you fall asleep every day in the afterglow of an orgasm.

Mom: You brat, what else do you want to ask?

Me: I really like Mom's feet, I want to kiss them every day. They're so sexy every time I see them, Mom. Actually, I really like the smell of your private parts; every time I smell them, I get incredibly hard.

Mom: Next time I'll let you smell them to your heart's content, haha.

Me: I want to lick Mom's unwashed feet and private parts clean, to enjoy your warm body. I

miss Mom so much right now. Mom: I miss you too, son. Right now, I really want you inside me. Son, I think you can say some dirty or vulgar things about sex, I won't blame you. Actually, I want to say those things too.

Me: I was just worried Mom wouldn't like it. Since that's the case, I won't have so many concerns anymore. Thank you, Mom, for indulging me. I love you, Mom.

Mom: It's alright, son. We're already like this, why worry so much?

Me: Thank you, Mom. I will treat you gently for the rest of

my life. Sometimes when I go on business trips or Mom returns to China, we chat on WeChat to share our longing for each other or about everyday life. I always thought Mom was quite artistic, liking folk songs, reading, and flower arranging. She seemed so refined and gentle. Although she's experienced the mundane realities of life, and her figure has gradually become more like that of a middle-aged woman, I know she's always harbored a wild dream of love. Since we started this relationship that transcends mother and son, Mom has shown her more lewd side. In bed, she'll spout all sorts of lewd words. I don't know if it's to cater to my tastes or if she wants to release the sexual desires she's suppressed for years. Her tastes have become increasingly extreme. Thankfully, she's my mother, the purest woman in my heart. If it were any other woman, I would have rejected her long ago.

After my mother and I got together, our relationship deepened. She would often show me her artistic and sensual side. She liked to write me love letters in my email when I was away on business trips; sometimes short, sometimes long, sometimes innocent, sometimes erotic. Perhaps because we had relied on each other since childhood, my mother tended to be assertive in both life and sex. In terms of sex, she was more proactive than me; she would make love to me whenever she wanted. Later, I understood why she would get jealous when I was with Yanzi; her assertive personality meant she didn't want to share what belonged to her.

So much joy lingers in your tent.
The music of first love stirred me like an avalanche.
Why did I, a young boy, not know the pain?
Looking back, time has flown by like the wind.
My baggage, carried away from home, grows ever heavier.
The rolling dust of the world cannot conceal your smile.
Your gaze, embracing me day and night, graces
the vast snow-covered plateau. Where can I find your trace
? The beautiful highland red
, the butter tea brewed again and again, still as rich as ever. The
beautiful highland red,
the barley wine brewed again and again, intoxicates me in sleeplessness .

—Rongzhong Erjia, "Highland Red"

The Potala Palace, sacred and solemn, where Tibetan grandmothers prostrate themselves in worship, repeating the prayers endlessly. My mother, too, kneels devoutly before the temple, proclaiming our unforgivable sins. Lhasa, beautiful scenery, fresh air. After several days of continuous long-distance travel, sightseeing, and exploring the night market in Lhasa, my mother and I were a bit tired. Around 10 p.m., we returned to the hotel. My mother had just taken a shower and lay down next to me. Her hair was still a little wet, and she was wearing purple pajamas. Because of the long drive, she seemed a little exhausted, and her eyelids were drooping. My mother noticed my fatigue and said, "You must be tired, son. Go to sleep early!" She then kissed my lips and hugged me. I rested my head on her arm, my face pressed against her large breasts, and fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, the sound of running water in the bathroom woke me from my sleep. I got up and went to the bathroom. The door was open, and when I opened it, I saw my mother naked, showering her voluptuous body. I quietly gazed at the familiar yet irresistibly alluring white flesh. My mother turned around and saw me leaning against the doorframe watching her. "What are you looking at, you idiot?" she said. I silently walked to my mother's side and hugged her soft body. My mother reached out and grasped my erect penis, looking up at me. "So hard, you want it?" I looked at my mother's face, flushed from the heat of the water, and the water droplet on her lips under the shower. I gently lowered my head, and my lips touched my mother's soft, fragrant lips. My mother also gently embraced my head, slightly opening her lips to welcome my tongue into her sweet mouth. My mother's pretty face flushed, her large chest heaving, and she extended her fragrant tongue, letting my tongue intertwine with hers, greedily drawing her love saliva into my mouth.

My hands gradually climbed up to my mother's breasts, and we kissed, making soft, smacking sounds. My hands kneaded her large breasts, soft yet firm, and my fingers played with her already erect nipples.

My mother, panting softly, cupped my head in her hands and looked at me tenderly: "Son, do you want it? Do you want Mommy? Mommy is so wet!"

I released her large breasts, panting, and reached behind her to knead her plump buttocks. "Mom, I want you. I want to fuck your cunt, I want to lick your asshole." I turned her around, and ah! A tempting, voluptuous buttock came into view. Her two high, fleshy buttocks resembled two mountain peaks, and the deep cleft was like a captivating valley. I went crazy, I was infatuated.

My eyes burned with lust as I stared at her buttocks, pressing my face tightly against them.

My mother knew what I was about to do and gently pushed my head away. "Let me wash first, son?"

"No need, Mom. I don't mind if you're dirty. You're the purest and most beautiful in my eyes." I hugged my mother tightly, burying my face in the crevice and muttering.

Hearing this, my mother gently arched her buttocks back. I parted my two plump buttocks, and a lewd, pungent odor filled the air. I breathed in that smell deeply, my lips touching the brown folds around the anus, the anal hairs near the anus tickling my lips.

The moment my lips touched her anus, Mom moaned and leaned against the wall, "Son, is Mom's anus really that beautiful?"

"Beautiful, it's concave in the middle, with folds all around, and anal hair all around, just like that blue lotus in my dreams."

Mom chuckled, "Mom's lotus will only bloom for you in this life!"

I lightly touched the center of Mom's anus with my tongue again and again, "Mom, can I put my tongue inside?"

Mom's buttocks trembled slightly, and she let out a soft moan. I tried to explore her anus with my tongue, filled with that pungent smell. My tongue moved back and forth, and Mom's buttocks trembled even more violently. To make it easier for me to lick her anus, Mom bent over and held onto the toilet seat, her buttocks raised high, and her body swayed back and forth with the thrusting of my tongue. While I was licking Mom's anus, I was also playing with Mom's pussy with my fingers. Under the double stimulation, Mom quickly reached her peak, and her juices flowed down her wrist onto my arm. Mom's trembling buttocks during her orgasm were like waves in a stream!

My mother gestured for me to sit on the toilet. With her back to me, she guided my penis to her soft opening and slowly sat down. The tender flesh inside her vagina tightly enveloped my penis. My mother then swayed her big buttocks up and down dramatically until she used her wet, slick pussy to squeeze the semen from my penis deep into her vagina.

A bit like you, a bit like me. A bright smile, yet also a vulnerability.
Embracing you, embracing me, like the moat in our hearts.
I have so many stories to tell you, stories of joy and hardship.
Beijing, it changes our lives, never tiring,
joy and sorrow alike. The world is endless,
don't keep compromising. Time will vanish.

— Hao Yun, "Beijing, Beijing"

Seattle in the depths of winter, a silver-clad landscape. Everyone on the street wears thick down jackets and warm boots. The morning sun shines on the window of a steamed bun shop run by a couple from Northeast China. It's rare to taste the flavors of home. Every morning when the sun peeks out, I cross four streets to reach this shop, just for a bite of delicious food. I'm preparing to go back to Beijing for the Spring Festival this year. My mother

has been back for over half a month. The company just gave us a holiday a couple of days ago, so I'm resting at home for a few days. I'm also preparing to embark on my journey back to China.

Since my mother returned to China, my sleep schedule has become completely reversed. After breakfast, I go home, lie in bed, and think of my mother's warm body. Perhaps because it's been so long since we've done it, my lower body is restless between my legs.

Me: Mom, are you asleep?

Mom: No, I just took a shower and went to bed.

Me: Mom, I miss you.

Mom: Yeah, I miss you too, son. Come back when you're done with your work.

Me: Mom, I miss your little feet.

Mom: You brat, all you think about are your feet, not your mom!

Me: I do, I miss Mom's breasts, Mom's butt and anus, Mom's wet, horny pussy.

Mom: Come back if you miss me. Ever since all this happened with you, I feel like I'm getting more and more horny, my desires are getting stronger and stronger. Do you think I'm horny? Actually, I wasn't like this before. You little pervert, you've made me feel like a sexually frustrated woman.

Me: Mom, I enjoy the taboos outside of ethics and morality with you. I like and appreciate the contrast between your artistic side in life and your wantonness in bed. I love you, Mom. I don't think you're horny, you just love me too much.

Mom: Yes, I love you too much. Whether it's in life or in sex, as you said, you always surprise me and give me passion. I can't resist the masculine aura you exude.

Me: Because you've had such a repressed and difficult past, I want you to become the happiest woman in the future. Maybe sometimes what I do isn't entirely acceptable to you, and I know you accept it perhaps to please me.

Mom: No, I didn't do anything I forced myself to do just to please you.

Me: For example, when I lick your anus, play with your underwear and socks, or smell your feet, I'm afraid you can't accept those kinds of tastes.

Mom: No, actually you're overthinking it. I also enjoy your unusual passions. When you lick my dirty anus, your little tongue touching or inserting itself little by little, I tremble with excitement. Every time I suck on the vaginal fluid like a little puppy, the stimulation makes me forget the disgust and perversion. I also want to thank you, son, you made me truly a woman.

Me: Mom, it's my honor that you can truly feel joy. Mom, your tolerance and surprises make me have no regrets about being with you in this life. Whenever I work hard on you, the lewd words you whisper in my ear bring me to a peak I've never experienced before. Whenever I see you gushing out streams of fluid from your cunt during your orgasm, I feel happy for you. I can understand Mom's joy.

Mom: Yes, I don't know why I always love to say those wild and lewd things in front of you without restraint. I never said them before, but ever since you said you liked to hear those things, I don't know if it's to increase my sexual interest or to stimulate my excitement, I can't control myself. Gradually, I experience orgasms I've never experienced before in a frenzy.

Me: I like hearing Mom say those things. Maybe it's because I want to enjoy the contrast between your life and sex. When you say those things, I can feel my penis getting hard and thick.

Mom: I can also feel your enjoyment in my indulgence, son. I especially like the process of your penis gradually getting bigger in my hands. It feels like Mom is a magician, slowly turning your limpness into hardness.

Me: Mom, I miss you. I want to bury my face deep in your butt crack, my tongue gliding over your wrinkled anus. Mom, I miss your stinky feet, like tasting that corn sausage from KFC, it fascinates me, it captivates me. Mom, I miss your wet, hot vagina, the scent of a mature woman's cunt is my delicacy. I want to lose myself and grow between your legs. Mom, I miss the warmth of your mouth enveloping my penis. Mom, I miss you, I love you.

Mom: Son, you always manage to ignite my desire. I miss you too. You know, when you forcefully fuck me, the sweat dripping from your forehead onto my lips, I feel a sense of conquest. Every time I ride on your head, you lick my labia, and I sway my body, I feel like a queen, enjoying my happiness.

Me: Mom, my greatest achievement is that you feel happy. I only want you to have a happy and sexually fulfilling life in your later years. Right now, I want to put my hard penis into your wet, slippery vagina, I want to feel your warmth.

Mom: Yes, son, I miss the heat of your cock too. I miss the way your hard, hot cock makes my vaginal fluids boil, making me scream for you in orgasm.

Me: I want to hear your dirty words, your lewd talk, in my ear. I want to see you being so wanton and wanton beneath me.

Mom: When you come back, I'll be wanton and wanton for you, son. Let me be happy.

(To be continued...)

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