My mom and I

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

It's just my mom and me in our family. After divorcing my dad, she never remarried. Six months ago, I mustered up the courage to ask her why. She said she'd rather remain single for the rest of her life than enter into a loveless marriage. I took the opportunity to confess to her, "I agree with you. I love you, and I want to be your lover." My mom was visibly shaken by my words. But she quickly calmed down and told me she didn't want to blame me, but that we were mother and son, not lovers, and that I would definitely find my true love in the future. I told her on the spot that I was her true love.
This has always been my genuine feeling.
On Sunday, I drove with my mom all day, and we had a wonderful time. It was clear that my mom was starting to relax around me. When I held and stroked her hand, she no longer resisted.
We drove for over two hours on the winding country road. The sky was sometimes cloudy, sometimes sunny, and the woods, pastures, and cornfields flashed by on either side of the road. We were always excited and happy together. Whether speaking or silent, my mother and I were always communicating.
The leaves were still green, but a hint of yellow was already showing. Small herds of cows and horses grazed with their heads down. Bundles of hay, some wrapped in white plastic sheets, could be seen everywhere. The corn was already taller than a person and had ears of corn. The open fields were breathtaking.
My mother and I tried to avoid discussing our mother-son relationship in our usual conversations, but we both knew that every action and word we shared was strengthening our bond. For us, breaking through the barriers between mother and son wasn't a question of whether, but when. We stopped by a vineyard and a winery, had lunch at a McDonald's by the roadside, and then visited one of the most prestigious state universities in our area.
The new semester was about to begin. Groups of eighteen- and nineteen-year-old freshmen were touring the campus. There were also individual male and female students carrying plastic bags filled with heavy books—clearly textbooks for the new semester. My mother said she enjoys strolling around university campuses, watching the vibrant energy of young people. I, on the other hand, kept pointing out the beautiful, voluptuous girls around me. I never hid my fondness for women, especially voluptuous ones, from my mother.
It's now considered autumn. The weather was very cool in the morning, but by the afternoon it had gotten hot and quite humid. The girls on the university campus, all wearing various short tops, fully displayed their shapely curves—they were incredibly beautiful.
As I kept praising the girls passing by, my mother said, "Yes, you'll be going to university in two years. There are so many pretty girls there; you can like as many as you want." I said, "Mom, don't try to control me from being too flirtatious or capable. Mom knows I only like you." My mother said, "Compared to them, Mom is already old. Isn't that right?" I stopped, took my mother's hands, looked directly into her eyes, and said, "Mom can't say I'm old, I can only say I'm more mature. Maturity has its own charming appeal." My mother pulled away from my hands, smiled, and said, "Pshaw, you're not that old, but you're quite good at flattering people. Mom doesn't need your flattery." But I could clearly feel that my words touched my mother. She didn't say much after that, just lost in thought. I pretended not to notice my mother's mood, and whenever I saw a pretty, voluptuous girl, I would take my mother's hand and show her.
I said, "How comfortable it would be to hold such a voluptuous girl in my arms." My mother only gave me a faint smile, her hand still in my grasp. Although my mother is 37 years old this year, her small hands are still very soft and tender. Just holding her hand, or even just looking at her small hands, can make me aroused.
At dusk, we drove back. My mother's directions lacked the enthusiasm and rigor she had shown on the way there. I said, "Mom is probably a little too tired, you don't need to give directions. I'll find the way myself, don't worry." My mother readily agreed, relieving herself of the responsibility of giving directions, and leaned her head back in the seat, lost in thought.
We hadn't even driven halfway when it was completely dark. But the drive home was exceptionally smooth, taking only an hour and a half. When we got home, my mother prepared a simple dinner, and I quickly took a shower. By the time I finished showering, my mother had already put the food on the table.
We both ate absentmindedly. I cleared the table, and my mother went to the bathroom to shower.
While washing the dishes, I heard the sound of running water from my mother's shower, and I could no longer suppress my desire to have sex with my mother. Hearing Mom turn off the tap, I pushed open the bathroom door, opened the glass door of the bathtub, and said to Mom, "Mom, let me dry you." Mom smiled shyly at me, "Go away." But I snatched the towel from her hand, and she resisted for a few moments before letting go. I dried Mom's hair, chest, and back. Mom's breasts have always been firm and full. In addition, Mom's upper body is slightly plump, and the fat on her back and lower abdomen gives her a kind of hazy, full beauty, no less than a well-defined beauty.
Mom's pubic hair is quite thick. The dark, curly pubic hair densely covers her vulva. When I was about to start drying Mom's lower body, Mom snatched the towel from my hand.
I watched quietly as Mom finished drying her buttocks, vulva, thighs, and calves. Then, I said to Mom, "I want Mom." Mom wanted to put on underwear and a bra, but I stopped her.
"Mom, don't wear them," I said. I took Mom's hand and led her out of the bathroom and into my bedroom.
As if in a daze, my mother followed my lead and stood in front of the large mirror in my bathroom.
We stared at her naked reflection. She looked at me, watching me caress her breasts, her abdomen, her vulva. We were facing each other in the mirror and beyond.

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