Endless maternal love

page views:1 Publication date:2023-05-15

That night, when I was sleeping with my mom, to get back at her, I deliberately sat very close to her from behind, sometimes even pressing my penis against her buttocks. However, my mom didn't react at all that night. The next night, of course, I continued my actions. Now I'm quite impressed with myself; with my hands so limited at the time, I still had the mind to do this.
Speaking of my sister, we're not actually that close, but we're not exactly strangers either. There's a huge age gap between us, and we don't really have much to talk about. During her vacation, she'd either go shopping with her friends or hide in her room talking on the phone with her boyfriend. Having never been in a relationship, I couldn't understand how two people could have so much to say to each other. But throughout the summer, my sister really did contact her boyfriend almost every day.
However, there was a certain advantage to her making phone calls in her room: it allowed me, whose hands had recovered, to sneak into Mom's room before bedtime without my sister knowing. Although Mom didn't send me back to my own room, she was still more careful with my sister at home and almost never let me do anything out of line.
Out of mischief or some kind of revenge, I started to boldly tease Mom verbally in front of my sister. I remember one time the three of us were about to go out, and as I was putting on my shoes, my sister looked at my feet and said, "You're not very tall, but I didn't expect your feet to be so big." I didn't retort, but instead turned around and stared at Mom's chest, saying, "Mom's are 'big'!" But my sister, not understanding what I meant, looked at Mom's feet and said, "No way! They look about the same size as mine." I winked at Mom and said, "Hey, I'm sure Mom's are 'bigger' than yours."
Mom pretended nothing was wrong the whole time, but as soon as my sister left the house, she pinched me hard as she passed by and gave me a dirty look. Scenes like this played out repeatedly until my sister went back to her school dormitory.
After my sister went back home, life returned to normal. Even though I slept in the same bed with my mother at night, I still bothered her. Sometimes my mother would turn over and pretend to be serious, telling me not to mess around, but other times she seemed completely unconcerned and would still be chatting and laughing with me the next morning.
One day, I deliberately greeted my mother, who had just returned home, with a lover's hug, the kind I'd learned from movies. I wrapped my newly healed left arm and my right arm, whose cast had just been removed, around her body, pressing my chest against her ample bosom. Because my cast had just been removed, my mother didn't struggle much, and more importantly, she wasn't angry. She only said, "Don't hug me so tightly, I can't breathe."
From then on, aside from bothering me at bedtime, I started to subtly take advantage of my mother. During the remaining two years of junior high, sometimes when my mother was in a bad mood or a very good mood, she would kiss my forehead and let me kiss her cheek; I found that when she was sulking, kissing or hugging her would make her feel much better.
When I was in my first year of high school, my mom and I did a big clean-up together. Afterwards, she happily kissed me. As usual, I kissed her cheek in return, but instead, I kissed her lips. She trembled slightly, glared at me, and said, "You brat, how dare you take advantage of your mother!" Then she walked away. This time, she didn't seem really upset.
As I mentioned before, starting from junior high school, I always slept in my mom's bed to comfort her. This habit was only occasionally interrupted when my sister came home for winter or summer vacation, but it was a regular occurrence. Moreover, sometimes my mom would let me hold her while we slept, and when she was happy, she would even let me kiss her neck or tickle her. So I understand that my mom didn't actually find it unbearable or have any intention of sending me back to my own room.
As for my lewd harassment of my mother, I became increasingly bolder despite her ineffective warnings. I remember several nights, after my mother fell asleep, I would secretly place my hand on her breast, gently holding it, and sometimes I would place my hand on her lower abdomen. My mother only woke up once; she removed my hand from her breast, turned over, tapped my head, and went back to sleep.
A few days later, I tried the same trick again, but Mom didn't react at all. So I became bolder. In addition to touching Mom's body, I tried to rub my penis against her buttocks through my underwear while she was asleep. Sometimes, if I wasn't satisfied after touching her, I would secretly masturbate under the covers, smelling Mom's hair as I masturbated, and only rush to the toilet when I was about to ejaculate.
So later, when we went to sleep, I often liked to touch my mom's body, sometimes deliberately touching her breasts or genitals to see her reaction. Sometimes she would turn over and pinch me, sometimes she would scold me, and sometimes she would completely ignore me. The only exception was when she seriously told me that she was very tired and really wanted to sleep, only then would I obediently withdraw my "Lushan's claws." I found that as long as I behaved well in all aspects that day, my mom's tolerance for me was very high when we went to sleep.
Aside from not letting me take off her underwear, everything else about Mom fell into my clutches over time. I gradually became bolder, taking off my own pajama bottoms and underwear under the covers before starting to harass Mom. It started with holding her breasts, and slowly I was able to unbutton her pajamas. A few weeks later, I could reach inside her pajamas and directly touch Mom's breasts without a bra.
After touching her breasts no longer stimulated me, I tried touching my mother's genitals. That night, just as my hand was about to slip inside her underwear, she pulled my hand out of her pajama bottoms. Incidentally, the pajamas my mother bought were all very conservative styles; aside from plaid or polka dots, they were all two-piece sets, usually with a collar and buttons on the top. She only started buying other styles after I suggested it.
Once, after I unbuttoned my mother's pajamas, I tried to take off her pajama bottoms. But when I pulled them down to her buttocks, she suddenly turned around, lifted the blanket, and glanced at my erect penis in the dim light of the nightlight. She said to me, "You've taken your own clothes off and now you want to take your mother's clothes off too? What are you trying to do?" I was a little flustered, my eyes fixed on my mother's half-exposed breasts. Hearing her say that, I felt extremely excited.
Seeing that I didn't speak, Mom turned her back to me and lay back down on her side. I sneaked closer to her and suddenly hugged her. Mom seemed startled, but quickly calmed down. I just instinctively started rubbing my erect penis against Mom's buttocks, but unexpectedly, Mom turned over and lay face down on the bed. I thought Mom didn't want me to do it anymore.
But after playing "five against one" for a while, I got bored. I don't know where I got the courage, but looking at my mother who was still lying face down, I propped myself up, straddled her body with my knees, and leaned down to gently press against her back. I looked at my mother's tightly closed eyes and her expressionless profile. Without any instruction, I instinctively placed my erect penis between my mother's buttocks and gently rubbed it. Even through her cotton pajama pants and underwear, I could still feel the warmth and softness of her buttocks.
I was incredibly excited yet cautious, unsure if Mom would suddenly get angry. Under this intense stimulation, I ejaculated, leaving Mom and me sticky. About half a minute later, Mom slightly propped herself up, and I tactfully got off her back. She grabbed a few tissues from the bedside table, wiped her back a few times, then tossed a few more to me before getting up and going to the bathroom.
After I finished and calmed down, I felt a mix of emotions: a little satisfaction, a touch of shame, and some regret. My mom came out of the bathroom shortly after and told me to go wash up and go to sleep.
The next morning, I kept stealing glances at my mother and found that she was just like any other day, with no unusual expression on her face. In fact, I felt a little embarrassed when our eyes met. Later, I realized that my shame stemmed from my infidelity, which was purely driven by lust. So, after love and lust intertwined, or even when love outweighed lust, I no longer felt ashamed.
After that experience, Mom's repeated rejections made me realize that I could only have that kind of intimate interaction with her on weekend nights; at other times, I could only obediently sleep. However, in every intimate moment that followed, I could strip her down to just her underwear. Then she would turn over and let me lie naked on her back, rubbing my erect penis between her buttocks through her cotton underwear of different colors until I ejaculated.
And so, my mother let me release the restlessness of adolescence and the pressure of schoolwork through her body. To this day, I still admire my mother because she never used her body to threaten or urge me to do my homework. She always kept this behavior between us within the scope of an intimate little game between mother and son.
Except for one final exam where I ranked in the top five of my class—you know, even though I was in a top class, I was actually just average, and barely making it into the top fifteen was already my mental limit—my mom knew this. So when I came home and bragged about it, she was very happy. When she asked me why I had improved so much, I blurted out that it was all for her.
She was so touched that she hugged and kissed me. The hug and kiss were full of maternal love, but as a middle school student, my mind was only on my books and my horns. So when she tried to let go, I hugged her back and asked what reward she wanted. She broke free from my ill-intentioned embrace, tapped me on the head, and said, "I'm giving you a sty, you pervert!"
Later that weekend evening, during our intimate time together, I had just taken off my mother's pajama bottoms and was about to mount her when she suddenly rolled over and lay on her back on the bed. She glanced at me, then closed her eyes again. Once again, I experienced the power of women; they can convey their intentions to their men with just a glance.
From that look in her eyes, I knew that Mom had given me permission to "confront" her directly. I carefully lay down on top of her, my penis touching her lower abdomen for the first time. I placed my hands on her shoulders and involuntarily kissed her lips. Mom didn't flinch or dodge, just letting me kiss her like that.
Almost at the same time, I slowly began to thrust. To be honest, the pleasure I got from Mom's lower abdomen wasn't as great as from her buttocks, since the "enveloping" feeling from her buttocks was stronger. But what almost made me ejaculate was Mom's hands lightly resting on my waist, which gave me the illusion that I was really having sex with her.
That night I ejaculated three times on my mother's lower abdomen and pubic bone. The third time, I finally managed to overcome the intense pleasure and slowly enjoyed my mother's lower abdomen while admiring her alluring figure beneath me, aroused by passion.
Not long after, when I couldn't help but kiss my mother again, I didn't expect that her lips would slightly part and a wet, smooth tongue would come over. Almost instinctively, I immediately opened my mouth and met her tongue with mine. However, I didn't expect that the pleasure of French kissing my mother would be so intense that I ejaculated in just a few moments.
I was extremely tired after ejaculating, so I rolled off my mother and lay on my back on the bed. My mother got up and looked at me. Seeing a satisfied yet tired smile on my face, she took a few wet wipes from the bedside table, cleaned me up a bit, and then told me to go take a shower.
Mom said that the first time she was face-to-face intimate with her son had a great psychological impact on her. Although I didn't penetrate her, the face-to-face position was not much different from real sex in her mind. With my thrusting, she experienced the excitement of breaking traditional taboos and the sweetness of love between a man and a woman, but she also tasted a trace of regret from pure maternal love; although her eyes were closed, she could feel my burning gaze.
And so, Mom endured my presence while savoring the complex emotions within her. It was these turbulent feelings that led her to deviate from her usual practice and send me to the bathroom first, while she began to "comfort herself" after hearing the sound of the shower water. The rapid and intense orgasm startled even herself, but she lied to herself, saying that she had simply been suppressing her feelings for too long, temporarily denying the lust that transcended familial affection.
Although we had found new ways to be intimate, Mom didn't always let me be face-to-face with her like that, and she only allowed me to ejaculate once each time. She said it was mainly because it wasn't comfortable to have a hard erection pressing against her lower abdomen. Since that day was the first time we were together, she wanted me to have a proper satisfaction.
By the third time, she knew I would last longer, but she didn't want me to take that long, so she used her French kiss technique. However, she didn't expect that I would ejaculate within seconds. Later, whenever we reminisced about it, she would still tease me about it.
Although, in a narrow sense, I didn't actually have sexual relations with my mother, our secret little games went beyond the scope of intimacy between most mothers and sons. However, no matter how good her mood was, or how outstanding I was, my mother never let me take off her underwear. No matter how much I begged, my mother always gently but firmly refused my further requests.
Perhaps it's because I really couldn't bring myself to force her or say anything that would hurt her! After all, the memory of Mom crying loudly in my arms back then still haunts me. Besides, at the time I was just a perverted little pervert, and Mom was just a research subject that I dragged into my "sex" curiosity. I never thought of forcing her, let alone raping her.
I swore I would never hurt her again, so I stopped testing her and accepted what she could give me at that time, which was her bottom line.
However, besides my mom "helping" me, I also successfully "helped" her. That time was my birthday, and my mom was very cooperative. After I ejaculated twice on her back and once in front, this unfilial child realized that day was also "Mother's Day of Suffering," so I decided to make my mom feel as good as me that night.
Just as Mom was about to get up to go to the bathroom, I hugged her and pulled her back onto the bed. She smiled and asked me if I wasn't satisfied yet. I didn't answer her, but just kissed her gently. Mom seemed to feel my love, and her squinted eyes occasionally radiated tenderness.
After our lips parted, I whispered in her ear thanking her for everything she had done for me. At that moment, it seemed as if tears were welling up in her eyes. I lifted her onto me, letting her lean against me, and begged her to grant me one request—a request that wouldn't involve taking off her underwear.
Afraid she wouldn't agree, before she could even speak, I slipped one hand inside her panties from behind, tracing the pink cleft of her buttocks and occupying half of her genitals. I just didn't expect to hear a soft "chirp" from her, and only then did I realize that she hadn't offered any resistance at all from the beginning.
I further told her that she didn't need to do anything, just enjoy herself. I felt her nod slightly, and I excitedly hugged her tightly. Then I adjusted my position, first leaning against the headboard, and then had Mom turn over so she sat between my legs, leaning against my chest. I examined Mom's profile from behind; her eyes were closed, and apart from a hint of shyness, she seemed quite calm.

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Endless maternal love

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