Mother's Turning Point

page views:1 Publication date:2023-06-07 08:13:03

This week, I scratched my mother's palms several times. She didn't refuse, but she always used her beautiful buttocks to rub against me, making my penis hard again and again. Whether I was standing behind her and squeezing her buttocks with my penis, or lying on the bed with my mother swaying her slender waist and beautiful buttocks behind me, the biggest breakthrough was that we could have light intercourse. I don't know if that's the right way to describe it. I
only remember reading in an article that someone said that a mother's thighs, along with her private parts, would clamp my penis, allowing me to twist my waist and thrust and rub hard from front to back. Last time on the washing machine, it was from the front, and I also tried from behind, but that's another story.
Next, I'll talk about a few moments of intimacy with my mother, a few breakthroughs. These include my mother being willing to suck my penis, and during our trysts, she letting me touch her body. The key point is probably my mother's mouth; she was willing to give me oral sex, but things didn't go as smoothly as they seemed. I remember I was originally supposed to have a week off, but because I could be intimate with my mother, I notified the school that I wouldn't be going back for a month.
Tonight, after a brief encounter with my mother on the washing machine, I ejaculated while rubbing against her thighs and vulva. Lying in bed, I looked at my still-erect penis and started masturbating, thinking of my mother's shy face, her delicious little mouth, and her muffled moans. It was enough to make me hard again.
I tiptoed up and pressed my ear against the door of my mother's bedroom to see if I could hear her masturbating. I guessed she hadn't experienced such stimulation in a long time, but I heard nothing. I could only fall asleep with an erection, not wanting to waste my semen on masturbation; I'd rather release it through my mother's body.
In the morning, my mother ate breakfast at the table. I sat next to her, eating the porridge and soy milk I'd bought. The table was a dark green marble round table, and even the stone chairs were small and round, incredibly heavy, requiring me to drag them. My father loved buying antiques; even the chairs in the house were carved from Chinese-style wood. I kept exchanging glances with my mother, but when she noticed me staring at her, her expression wasn't as proactive or enthusiastic as last night.
I said, "Mom, is this soy milk to nourish me?"
I immediately scratched my mother's arm. She frowned slightly and said, "Everyone's eating it. Do you want to nourish yourself now? I'll cook you sesame oil chicken tonight."
Her tone was a little cold; after all, the passionate incest had calmed her head considerably. I deliberately moved my head behind my mother's ear and said slowly, "After last night's release, it felt so good that I was hard all night, so this morning it was especially..."
I lifted myself up, showing my crotch to my mother, the high bulge representing my swollen penis. My mother didn't speak, but continued. Here we go again, always the same trick, playing hard to get, sometimes extinguishing the fire, sometimes igniting it, leaving me wanting to enjoy it but not knowing where to begin. Although I had imagined raping my mother thousands of times in my mind, it couldn't compare to the real feeling of my mother's fleshy buttocks squeezing my penis. I could only sit down indifferently and continue eating my breakfast.
I scratched myself again, unwilling to give up. Just then, my younger sister got up to eat breakfast and started chatting with my mother. Seeing that there was no chance, I decided to eat quickly and leave, gambling on whether my mother would come to my room later. My mother nudged me with her leg and touched my thigh under the table.
I chuckled to myself. Although my mother didn't seem to care, since I had asked, she decided to help me out. She gestured with her foot to let me know that she was willing to help me satisfy my desires. I sat down, secretly pleased. As soon as my younger sister finished eating and left, I would take my mother's hand and pull her into the room. I wanted to see if she would press her plump, peach-like buttocks against my legs or if her slender white fingers would hold my penis and move it up and down. After thinking about what to do next, my younger sister didn't seem to be leaving at all. I was so anxious that I kept scratching my mother's right hand under the table with my left hand, signaling to her that my lust was burning and that I would feel uncomfortable if it wasn't quenched soon.
My mother was wearing a low-cut, short-sleeved t-shirt, and I could see her high, firm breasts from the side. Her left breast swayed slightly with her movements, making me incredibly aroused. Especially her light blue bra, which stretched her breasts along the low-cut edge.
Meanwhile, I was already under the table, caressing my mother's right hand. It was so smooth and soft, her palm so tender. I kept touching it, trying to temporarily relieve my desire. Seeing my younger sister chatting, my mother didn't dare interrupt and let me touch her hands.
I wanted to, like in those incestuous stories, have my mother help me masturbate under the table. After one more stroke, I placed my mother's hand on my throbbing crotch. She gently caressed it a few times, then withdrew her hand and gave me a look that said, "Not here."
I had to wait until my younger sister finished eating and chatting before she swayed her round buttocks back into her room. I was already numb from being stared at, wanting to ejaculate but unable to. My mother rested her chin on my left shoulder and breathed on me, saying, "Is it hard to hold back?" She
even had the mood to joke. I scratched my hand and tried to bring my mouth to hers. She initially blocked me, saying, "Your sister's home. What if she finds out?"
I stole a kiss on her sweet lips. The faint fragrance of her lips aroused me even more. I told my mother, "This won't do. Then I'll have to wait until tonight. It's so hard to hold back."
I gave her a pitiful look.
My mother thought for a moment, then lifted her buttocks, which were clad in loose shorts, and walked towards her room. I waited outside for a while. My mother changed into a short skirt and pushed me into my room. I sat on a chair, and my mother turned around and pressed her tender buttocks against my penis, her legs spread wide and straddling my thighs, just like in an adult film where she's holding an actress and having sex from behind.
My mother and I didn't penetrate each other; we just rubbed against each other's underwear. I first placed my penis in my mother's buttocks, letting her twist her waist. Perhaps because my mother's legs were spread wide, her buttocks gripped my penis even tighter. As the foreskin covered the glans, it was exposed up and down in my mother's plump, snow-white buttocks, only to be squeezed back in. The up and down movements were slow at first, a slow rubbing, a gripping, and then slowly coming down.
My mother gripped the chair beneath her vulva with both hands. I whispered in her ear, "Mom... could you roll up your panties, put them all inside, and then cover them up with your panties, and then twist and squeeze my penis, and..."
I couldn't see my mother's face from behind, only her long, wavy hair swaying up and down. My mother said in a soft voice, "And what else?"
My thighs and waist kept thrusting against my mother, and the up-and-down movements of the two of us on the chair became more and more intense. I said, "Could I pinch the inside of your thighs with both hands, so it's easier for me to exert force when I speed up?"
My mother's muffled moans began to fill the room. With a soft "Mmm" from my mother, I pinched her thighs with both hands, my fingers caressing her private parts, my fingertips scraping the tender flesh next to her vulva, causing her to involuntarily let out a soft moan, which made me even harder.
My penis had already been squeezed in from beside my mother's panties. The left side of her panties was completely exposed, and with each thrust of my thigh, her buttocks rippled and swayed. I thought to myself, if I were to slide my penis down her buttocks, it would lead right to her honeypot, and right under my penis was my mother's panties.
I thought of scenes from adult films, on a train, a pervert squeezing his penis into a female student's rear, his penis pressing against her vulva, thrusting back and forth, even shoving his penis into her panties, his penis above her vagina, his panties below, the panties slick with her vaginal fluids, the glans constantly pushing the front of the panties forward, the entire penis rubbing against her vulva.
The female student was gushing with lustful fluids. I thought how wonderful it would be if I could do that to my mother. I started to imagine thrusting my penis in and out of my mother's panties, feeling the smooth, sticky fluid, and the sensation of my glans rubbing against the panties. Maybe my mother would even rub my glans with her palms, covering it with her palms through the panties, until after I ejaculated, the entire pair of panties would be covered in my semen.
I placed my hands on my mother's slender waist. She turned to me and said, "Aren't you done yet...? My thighs and back are sore from all that you did to me last night."
I immediately snapped out of my fantasy. My mother was already willing to indulge my desires; how could I push my luck? Besides, I was strong and healthy, and my mother hadn't been treated like this in a long time; her body was still adjusting to my strong sexual desire. How could I possibly fantasize about penetrating her, ignoring her wishes, and raping her? As the saying goes, "Too much of a good thing can ruin everything." I couldn't let my lust cloud my judgment and make this delicate woman... My mother left me, unwilling to satisfy my sexual desires any longer. Seeing that my glans had rubbed against my underwear for a while, I cupped her front from behind with my right hand and grabbed the left side of the chair with my left. With a twist, I made her lean over the desk. Her tired body and the incestuous teasing between mother and son—she had been having an affair with her son in his room after breakfast that morning. Even though it was just her son's one-sided indulgence, it was still better than before, when she was forced by her son to hold his penis, had her mouth sucked wildly, and was constantly harassed. He would pinch her buttocks, caress her, pinch her breasts, and touch her legs. When was that ever her own choice? So her psychological resistance was greater than her physical sexual stimulation, and she was willing to help her son release his pent-up desires. The way she twisted her hips on the hospital bed—actually, when I went to the toilet to wash those smelly black trousers, my underwear was already soaked. Luckily, I didn't wet the sheets.
That time, I never expected to feel aroused again. I thought it would just be an itch in my private parts. I didn't expect that the teasing and caressing would fill me with an incestuous pleasure. I even convinced myself that as long as there was no penetration, it wasn't incest. Wasn't this just like those incest novels? I was just helping my son relieve his desires, and besides, I had already agreed. Did I really just want to help my son ejaculate? I didn't know. My vagina was itchy, and I was lonely and couldn't bear it.
That night after the washing machine, I masturbated in the room for several hours. I deliberately stuffed my mouth and nose into the pillow, afraid that someone would hear. I dared not admit that I had crossed the line of incest. I was still struggling. After each time I satisfied my son's desires, why could my son always make me orgasm? Was it because of his hot penis, even if it was just friction, even if it was just imagining my son standing there naked, with his strong and muscular body, 183 cm tall, and that thick and hard penis pointing to the sky?
After pulling my penis out of my mother's panties, I lifted her legs, making her kneel on my thighs with her knees bent. My upper body was spread out in a doggy-style position in front of the desk, and I supported her fleshy buttocks as I slowly moved down. If it were an ordinary person, their hamstrings would have started to hurt from this position, but my mother was extremely flexible, like a Japanese kneeling position, except her thighs were spread apart, not like a frog's legs spread wide.
To be honest, I found that when my mother's legs were pressed against my thighs, her shapely calves were pressing against her snow-white thighs. Each leg had its own advantages, and if my thighs were spread apart, my mother's legs would be pulled open along with them. It was a case of opening when they were closed and closing when they were open, but I only spread them open in a normal way.
I scratched my mother's hand. She had been leaning over the table, but seeing me like this, she straightened up, resting her head against my chest. She turned her head to look at me, her eyes alluring, her almond-shaped eyes half-open. Her face was half shy, half enjoying herself, yet she dared not show it too much, perhaps afraid her son would discover she was also experiencing pleasure. Her honeyed lips asked, "What's wrong?"
Her voice was so soft and tingling, unlike anything I'd heard before. Could this be the true sound of my mother enjoying sex?
I thought of my young mother. Whenever my father came home from military service, I heard he would always force himself on me, regardless of time or place. My mother, a traditional Taiwanese woman, knew her husband's strong libido and his military service, so she could only let him release his desires. Her legs would go weak from the pleasure, unable to stand, still lying on the bed, letting her husband caress and tease her, her private parts drying and wetting again and again. He
would then, like a wild beast, brutally ravage his wife, teaching her everything about sex for the rest of her life, how to truly please a man, how to make him go crazy for her. I had heard before that my father was attracted to my mother's beautiful face, especially her expressions. Although she was usually aloof and rarely smiled, during intimate moments in the bedroom, she knew how to put on a charming look that made you want her but not want to be too rough. It was this that made my father so passionate in his youth.
After my sister and I were born, my mother began to act like a mother, packaging herself as a loving mother and gradually not showing her sexual desires in public. As she began to be perfunctory with her husband, my father also began to relieve his lust outside.
I would often hear rumors that my father had an apartment in the East District, a place where he would take women back for sex. However, my mother never asked about it or took it to heart. Instead, she devoted herself to taking care of my sister and me, ensuring that I had everything I needed from childhood, living a life no different from that of ordinary people.
After hearing that seductive voice, I couldn't help but hug her tightly, resting my head on my mother's fair neck. With an apologetic tone, I said, "Mom... I used to be naughty and bully you. Now I know you're willing, and I promise you, I will love you for the rest of my life..."
My mother suddenly chuckled and said, "When did you become so sweet-talking? Aren't you going to finish? If you don't finish, you're really bullying your mother. Heh..."
I pressed my penis against my mother's vulva, and through her panties, I could feel the bulge of her mons pubis. I imitated last night's shallow intercourse, but yesterday it was from the front, today from the back.
I brought my legs together, and my mother's thighs clamped together as well. The tender flesh of her inner thighs and the area around her vulva, along with the slight bulge of her clitoris, and my iron-like penis, the glans slowly rising diagonally upwards. I scratched my palm to indicate this, and then gently pinched half of her buttocks with my right hand.
My mother glanced at me, said nothing, and then spread her arms wide, palms down, supporting herself on the desk. Her beautiful back curved like a crescent moon, and her buttocks naturally protruded. I slid down a little, coordinating with the fleshy walls of her thighs, my left hand on her waist, my right hand pinching her buttocks, and began to thrust vigorously up and down. It was a completely different experience from the shallow intercourse the night before.
My mother's moans filled the air, but they were very soft, probably because she was worried about my younger sister studying in the next room. At this moment, I quickened the thrusting of my hips. After all, the pleasure of ejaculation depends on a man's own feeling; women don't have telepathy. They can only rely on experience to know that you're about to ejaculate, but they don't know when you will actually ejaculate.
Knowing my erogenous zone was on the glans, my mother cupped her palms into small bowls and placed them below her flat stomach. As my glans moved up and down, her wrists swayed, the flesh of her palms rubbing against my glans—it was like a second layer of sexual stimulation. The fleshy walls of her thighs, the pressure of her palms, and her soft moans made me unable to hold back any longer. My right hand touched her fleshy buttocks, the ripples of her hips; my left hand touched her slender waist, her hips swaying.
Even without seeing my mother's expression, her beautiful back, her flowing hair, and her fleshy buttocks—the three in one—created a visual impact that made me clench my buttocks, spread my mother's legs apart, and press the glans against her vulva, ejaculating thick semen through her panties.
My mother seemed to know that her private parts were covered in the pungent smell of semen. Although there was only a layer of cotton underwear between them, her whole body trembled as she reached the point of actual intercourse. Her body went limp, and she closed her legs, lifting her buttocks slightly. I had already pulled her short skirt up to the bottom of her breasts, and the vaginal fluid seeping from her vulva soaked her underwear and flowed down her thighs.
My mother took some toilet paper to clean herself up, while my penis was covered in semen and my mother's vaginal fluid. I told my mother to go to the bathroom in her bedroom to take a shower, while I looked at my thighs, which were covered in fluid and looked even more translucent under the lamp.
I remember when my mother lifted her buttocks at the end, her fleshy buttocks trembled, probably from the vaginal fluid caused by her orgasm. My mother's delicate face was flushed and she was panting as she cleaned herself up. She pinched my leg and said, "Let me rest properly all day today. Don't scratch your palms anymore, okay?"
At that moment, I scratched my mother's slender hand again and said, "Then can I hug my mother for a while and kiss her?"
My mother pouted, glancing sideways with a coquettish look, her face a mixture of shyness and sweetness. I took her consent, wrapped my arms around her waist, sat her on the table, lifted her left leg, straddling my lap, my left hand supporting her lower back, my right hand cupping the left side of her plump, round buttocks. With one left hand on my chest and the other lifting her lower body, I positioned her facing me.
My semi-erect penis pressed against her semen-stained panties, while her right buttock rested on my right thigh. Her left leg barely supported her weight. I moved my left hand from her left side to her right, opening my palm, and pulled her entire body into my embrace. My mother's eyes
were languid, her face delicate and alluring. I didn't care whether she wanted it or not; I lifted her chin, and after a glance, I opened my mouth and began to suckle wildly. Her soft, red lips, her sweet saliva, mingled with the fragrant sweat on her body.
I gently caressed my mother's snow-white, pert buttocks with my right hand, but after only a few light circles, my mother pulled me up with her left hand, placing my hand on her waist, preventing me from touching her any further. Meanwhile, under the constant squeezing of my tongue, my mother's teeth finally parted, and she awkwardly extended her tongue.
My mother hadn't French kissed in many years; her tongue skills had long since become rusty. She hadn't originally intended to let her son break her teeth, but the last time at the hospital, when her son teased her, gently stroking her fragrant lips with his fingers, she was already aroused. However, she still allowed her son to suck, bite, pull, and squeeze her lips, which were coated with pink honey-like lip gloss, under his various kisses.
This time, she finally opened her mouth, and her two tongues intertwined like water dragons and serpents. Led by her son, they sometimes circled and coiled together, sometimes their tongues pressed against each other. Especially her son's violent sucking made her mind go blank. Her low-cut breasts rose and fell with her chest, squeezing her son's pectoral muscles. At this moment, the tenderness after their affair allowed the mother to once again experience the pleasure of incestuous climax.
As I sucked, her eyes were closed, and she kept making "ooh... um..."
sounds. Then she opened her eyes, tilted her head back, and gently pushed my chest with her small fist. My lips were still holding her lower lip. With this series of movements, I pulled her lower lips slightly.
Seeing my mother break free from my struggle, I let go of her and let her go. She only whispered in my ear, "If you don't go take a shower, it'll be noon soon."
I took the opportunity to lick her ear again, and she nudged my chest with her elbow, saying, "You told me the rules yourself, how could you forget them again? Are you going to do the same thing as before?"
I hurriedly said, "Mom, I'm sorry..."
My voice trailed off, barely audible to myself. My mother then swayed and left my room. Looking at the wrinkles in her short skirt, thinking about that brief moment of indulgence, I sighed and went to another bathroom to shower and wash the sticky residue from my legs.
After lunch, my mother cooked a meal for my younger sister and me. Then she slept all afternoon. I dragged my younger sister to Starbucks with me—actually, I deliberately wanted to treat her—to go to Ximending, and we bought some books at Eslite Bookstore, trying to make her have a good time.
When I got home that evening, I deliberately stopped thinking about fantasizing about my mother. Before, it was because I couldn't have her that I kept thinking about raping her. But now that she was willing to help me release my pent-up desires, why should I keep thinking about those erotic images that made me keep getting hard?
I might as well let things take their course and take it one step at a time. That night, I watched the news. The actress Ge Weiru, who is 45 years old, still has a 32D bust. You really can't tell from her appearance, although she looks quite different from my mother. But that's another story. But those breasts, under the cleavage created by her bra, are comparable to my mother's. But without a bra, they would definitely sag, not to mention she's 45.
Although my mother has never actually seen someone completely naked, I've seen her at home without a bra. At her early forties, you can't tell if her breasts are sagging under her clothes, but the swaying of her breasts going up and down the stairs will be right in front of you.
I was chatting online with a senior from university. This guy specializes in hooking up with virgins, a club-goer, with a range of 18 to 45, and he even has a home-field advantage. What's a home-field advantage? It means he has his own apartment, which he rents specifically for hooking up. Because it's rented, he's not afraid of being caught. As soon as he saw me online, he messaged me privately: "After surviving a close call, good fortune is sure to follow. I recently hooked up with another mature woman, super hot, she screams super loud every time we have sex!"
I typed back: "You look so stupid, with that sly face, you only seduce married women and deflower virgins, and you even manage to get a mature woman! I bet next time you're done hooking up, dozens of your buddies will suddenly appear behind you, saying you slept with a big shot's woman, beat you up first, then force you to sign a promissory note for 300,000, and prepare to become a gigolo at a male escort club to pay off the debt, okay?" "Be a spoiled brat, or you'll end up getting analed. If you're still alive by then, don't bother telling me those eight words. Just swallow them and save them for later."
My screen was filled with profanities. That's how it is in college; everyone talks like that. Even our department head said, "Reading is better than just studying. Use your brain, and you'll remember it."
But my reading was all nonsense, hence the rambling.
The senior realized that spouting nonsense was just self-defeating, so he sent a photo. I looked at it; the middle-aged woman was quite attractive. It was taken in a room, a side view. She had beautiful feet in high heels and sexy stockings, with two black straps fastening the stockings to her underwear, her buttocks completely encased—very alluring.
A message popped up in the chat: "Damn, you've got to say ten things for every one I say. This mature woman is someone I met online. She works in insurance and is a traditional housewife. Although she has regular sex with her husband, you know how it is with age, she's really horny."
Then the senior student started bragging about his sexual skills and showed various lewd photos of the woman.
I thought about it. With the internet so developed, it's not just young people who are sexually open; I never imagined even married women would cheat on their husbands. I thought about my own mother. Could she have slept with other men before, or perhaps, behind my back, a man my age, pinning me down on a hotel bed, thrusting repeatedly, her moans rising and falling?
I couldn't bear to think any further. How could I let other strange men enjoy my mother's body, the mother I'd been infatuated with for years? But then I thought maybe I was overthinking it. Besides taking care of us in her younger years, my mother also studied various music, culture, and classical history; she probably didn't have time for affairs. But it was all just my wild guesses. I decided I should slowly, little by little, take advantage of her.
I decided to start with indulging in lust, which would allow me to caress my mother. Otherwise, with my hands free, I longed to pinch, touch, and knead her full, fleshy buttocks, but I couldn't. Her high, firm breasts, swaying before my eyes, filling my face with their milky fragrance, were also out of the question. Her snow-white thighs, slender calves, and jade-like feet were still out of the question.
Only her fair, slender fingers, soft palms, and smooth backs of hands remained—I could touch and scratch them, perhaps even just rub them, kiss her moist pink lips, suck on her warm tongue, smell her fragrant, sweaty neck, and lick her sensitive earlobes.
I told myself to go slowly, not hastily. My luck finally turned around. My mother was still resisting incestuous feelings. Right now, she was only willing to help me indulge in lust. Her cold personality, arrogant attitude towards outsiders, her own rationality and moral compass, and the fact that she wouldn't easily give her whole body to her only son meant that even when I aroused her to orgasm and she was dripping with lust, enjoying the pleasure of our illicit affair, it was all confined to the home.
I secretly opened my mother's bedroom door, intending to wake her up so she wouldn't have trouble sleeping at night. Unexpectedly, the door wasn't closed or locked, and it opened by itself with a light push. After playing with my younger sister in the afternoon, my sister went to the library, and when I came back, my mother was still asleep, so I came to the door of her bedroom.
Aside from masturbating with my underwear before, I only dared to sneak into my mother's room when she wasn't there. Now that I'm in, I wonder if she'll be unhappy to see me. But who cares? I have a reason, it's not just for my penis again.
I slowly walked in and saw my mother lying on her side on the bed with her back to me. The bed was a standard two-person spring mattress, covered with a pale yellow sheet and a bamboo mat for cooling off. My mother was wearing a semi-transparent nightgown, a light purple onesie with rose embroidery in some places. The embroidered parts were dark purple, while the light purple parts were semi-transparent. The whole thing was made of thin gauze, soft, light, loose, and comfortable to sleep in.
I held my breath and crouched down to approach the bed, secretly peeking at my mother from behind. I saw that her hair was loose, falling on her cheeks and the pillow, giving her a decadent beauty and making her look even wilder. Her body rose and fell with her breathing, and two silk-like straps on the shoulders of her nightgown were wrapped around her fragrant shoulders.
I looked at the rose embroidery covering her breast. My mother wasn't wearing a bra. I wanted to get to her front and lewdly look at those pinkish-white breasts, but I was afraid of being discovered, so I refrained. Unfortunately, the deep purple color prevented me from seeing the base of her breasts or her nipples. I could only imagine the soft, yielding breasts beneath her nightgown , relying on memories of harassing her in the past—forcefully kneading the base of her breasts, pinching them, and pressing her nipples with my fingers.
I shifted my gaze to my mother's beautiful back, my eyes gradually moving downwards to my favorite pert buttocks. Under the semi-transparent nightgown, my mother wore a black thong, which instantly aroused my lust. I wanted to ask my mother to wear that thong, so that her bouncy, swaying buttocks could directly press against my penis.
Thinking of this, I swallowed hard, continuing to look at her milky-white thighs, the tender flesh of her genitals and sides, which had already made me ejaculate countless times. Those strong, slender legs... I imagined my mother wearing those alluring, semi-transparent black stockings above her knees, her soles digging into my penis, the stockings stimulating my skin, her toes rubbing my glans. And then there was her sitting high up, that queenly, submissive look—it was like a role-playing scene from an incest novel.
I really wanted to climb onto the bed, like in those porn movies, lie behind my mother, lift her right leg, bury my head behind her neck, inhale her alluring scent, pull open her thong, and thrust my erect penis directly in from below, pumping in and out of her. Mother and son would sway back and forth on the bed, while my mother pretended not to notice, letting me thrust again and again, making her honeypot drip with lust, her jade neck slick with saliva.
Unfortunately, after being brought back to reality, I could only pat my penis, retreat to the doorway, and make a little noise to wake my sleeping mother. Knowing she was fast asleep, she didn't scold me for entering her room. I went back to my own room and browsed the internet.
Around 11 PM, I got a little hungry and thought about driving to Shilin Night Market to buy some oyster omelets. Actually, I'd wanted some for a while, but today I was really craving them. I asked my mother and younger sister if they wanted some, but my sister, who was on a diet, said no, and my mother said she wasn't used to eating late-night snacks because it was bad for her health.
I had no choice but to grab my car keys and walk over to my mother, asking her to come with me. I said, "You know how difficult it is to park over there, so I need you to come with me, Mom. I
'll get out and buy the things. Can you come with me?" My mother already knew I wanted to be alone with her again, so she simply changed her clothes, putting on a pink sleeveless t-shirt, skinny low-waisted jeans, and high heels. She said she wouldn't get out of the car and would drive there. I said okay, but then she added, "You can't touch me in the car, okay?"
I nodded and said, "For driving safety."
Only then did my mother smile and say, "Let's go. "
It's rare to see my mother dressed so young, with long false eyelashes and heavy makeup. If it were taken from a 45-degree angle from above, like those anonymous selfies, I might not even recognize her as an older mother.
Thinking back, my mother had already driven to the vicinity of the night market. The road was packed with cars, and after finally finding an empty spot, she said it would take too long to park. I hurriedly ran to buy something I liked to eat. I don't eat Shihlin Chicken Cutlet; the queue is too long. By the time I got to the front of the line, my mother would have already gone home to sleep.
I bought my favorite oyster omelet and soup, and quickly got back in the car. My mother said, "Why so fast?"
I replied, "I didn't want you to wait too long, Mom, and besides, I was thinking of you too."
My mother smiled wryly, and then drove back to our community parking lot. Looking at the parking lot, I remembered the time I had forced my mother to park there.
I scratched my mother's small hand in the car, but she said reluctantly, "It's crowded in here, what if someone passes by? Can we do it when we get home?"
I was already burning with desire, so I pleaded, "Mom...it's so itchy, just here, you can use your hand."
My mother turned her head to one side, turning her upper body towards me, and I took out my penis. Although it wasn't very hard, it was already half-erect. My mother's slender hand grasped my penis and gently stroked it up and down. I brushed aside my mother's long, wavy hair so I could see her face more clearly.
Her shy expression made me even more itchy. My mother's right hand twisted up and down, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes squeezing the glans with her fingertips, sometimes holding the whole thing in her palm. First, she stroked it with a regular grip, then she interlaced it with a reverse grip, and then slipped the glans out between her hands and fingers, making my penis tremble.
My mother rested her face on my right shoulder, and I leaned my head towards her mouth, touching the back of her hand. Her half-open eyes, with their long false eyelashes, were like those of a middle-aged, seductive woman—a captivating gaze that could steal your soul just by looking into them, especially with my genitals being rubbed up and down in her hands.
I gently kissed the tip of her nose, then slowly lowered my lips, using my own to gently pinch her upper and lower lips together, before giving her a deep kiss. We began our passionate embrace, my tongue swirling in her mouth, my lips sucking her honey-like saliva. My intense kiss caused her to unconsciously stop what she was doing.
I released my mother's lips and watched as her oval face flushed red again. I kissed her ear and whispered, "Mom... could you give me oral sex?"
My mother looked at me, her expression one of struggle and reluctance. She said, "Can't I use my hands?"
I told her that my younger sister was waiting for us upstairs, and I was worried it would take too long. I suggested that if she wanted to, it would be quicker.
My mother puffed out her chest, swept her hair back, and used a hair clip to secure it in a ponytail. She said she was afraid of getting her hair dirty. I gently stroked her hair and pressed her head down towards my genitals. Her cherry-red lips, soft and fragrant, finally agreed to suck my penis. I felt an overwhelming surge of pleasure. Before, I was satisfied with just masturbation, but now she was using her cherry-red lips to relieve my lust.
My mother first blew a thin, cool breeze around my penis, up my scrotum, shaft, and glans, making it tremble. She looked at me with mischievous eyes. Seeing that she wasn't taking it yet, I said, "Mom... hurry up..."
Only then did she put my penis in her mouth, but surprisingly, it didn't touch her tongue or mouth. It was like sticking a finger into a plastic bottle—it didn't touch anything. My
mother kept exhaling warm breath into her mouth. Seeing my brow furrowed, she closed her lips and sucked tightly on the glans and base of my penis. The wet, slippery walls of her mouth, the soft surface covered with tiny particles on her tongue—even without any large up-and-down movements, made me spread my legs, tilt my head back, and exhale deeply.
Although my mother was performing oral sex on me sideways in the car, and despite the space constraints and time pressure, her first time giving me oral sex wasn't too careless, unlike some traditional bar girls.
After bringing her out of the hotel, I'd have her give the customer a blowjob in the car. It was always the standard procedure from porn movies: just sucking and sucking, and her hand constantly stroking. Some professional ones would even watch you,
while others would just blowjob until you ejaculated, then spit a mouthful of semen onto a tissue and throw it out the car window, waiting to take the customer to the hotel, collect the money, and be done with it. My mother not only gave me blowjobs, but she also said she would adjust the level of stimulation based on my expression. If I split my penis in half, she would use her mouth and hands, first sucking and then licking, then rubbing and stroking; sometimes she would lick my scrotum, and sometimes she would focus on the sensitive spots of the glans. I couldn't go into all the details, so I'll just give a general description.
I watched my mother sucking, the sound almost like the slurping of noodles on TV. She twisted her head, licking around the glans with her nimble tongue, then moving up to the surface of the glans. Her tongue tip touched the urethral opening, then she curled her tongue into an "O" shape, enveloping the glans and the base of my penis, moving it down and then back up, before suddenly opening her mouth wide and sucking, rapidly moving it up and down inside her mouth.
My glans was pressed against the left side of my mother's mouth, making her rosy left cheek bulge. It made me incredibly aroused, and I kept stroking her neck, letting out
sighs of "Ugh... Ugh..."
When my mother saw I was almost there, she straightened her head and began to suck and swallow vigorously, almost taking the whole thing into her mouth. Unfortunately, I didn't dare press her head down too hard, or it would go deep into her throat. Just then, headlights shone in our direction, and my mother and I both stopped simultaneously.
I cursed inwardly, "Damn, it's almost out..."
My mother looked up and saw that it was someone passing by. I looked at her face and said, "Mom... almost there, just a little longer."
My mother shook her head slightly and said, "It's on the other side. Wait for them to get off the bus and pass by, then they'll see..."
I kept placing my hands on the back of my mother's head and gently pressing down. I said, "Mom... so hurry up... they won't notice..."
My mother looked at me and then gave a coquettish "Hmph..."
She put my penis in her mouth again. This time, she didn't use any fancy tricks. Maybe she was worried about being seen, so she just sucked on it mechanically. But the speed, the lubrication of her saliva, the sucking sound, and the teasing I had been giving her for fifteen minutes earlier, made me unable to hold back anymore. The feeling of my glans being itchy and unable to scratch it, but finally someone came to scratch it for you, was incredibly satisfying.
I quickly pulled my mother's head up. The tissue I'd prepared in my right hand was immediately placed over my glans, letting the semen soak it. The tip of my glans was instantly wet and sticky. My mother then helped me cover it with her hand. I lay back and said, "Mom… your mouth is too… good."
My mother threw the tissue in the car's trash bag, checked if there was anything else inside the car that hadn't been disposed of, grabbed a bottle of water, rinsed her mouth, and went outside to spit out all the foul-smelling semen and grime from her glans.
Then, I hugged my mother, gave her my usual kiss, and hurried upstairs. The late-night snack I'd bought was already cold. My mother returned to her indifferent expression. That evening, I saw her in the living room, reading articles on Vaionb, wearing frameless, thin black-rimmed glasses, her long hair pinned up with a large clip, a loose t-shirt, and shorts. Under the yellow light of the living room, she was intently using the computer.
I leaned against the curtain by the living room door, watching this scene. This beautiful woman, my mother, was finally slowly crossing the line of incest, even if very slowly. Perhaps even she was unconsciously sinking deeper and deeper. In the quiet Taipei night, a great mother who had helped her son go to university, from being harassed by her son with a mother-loving tendency, to now not resisting, but not easily giving in, was
indulging her son's lust. The mother probably didn't even know that she was actually enjoying the process. This incestuous affair between mother and son, this sexual intercourse between mother and son, is said to have originated in early rural China, where people had never left the mountains in their lives. As the son grew up, he used his mother as an object of sexual gratification, and the mother tacitly approved of her son's behavior.
Thinking about the future, I realized I should treat my mother even better. I see her as both my loving mother and my lover. Of course, I'll still have a girlfriend at school, otherwise I'll be suffocating. Every time I come home for vacation, I'll scratch my mother's little hands and let her satisfy my desires once again. The rest of the story is relatively simple.
After returning to school, I worked a regular part-time job. My sister was getting on in years, so she quit her part-time job. But I felt okay about it because my sister had always let me "train" her, but I never penetrated her. On one hand, I was afraid she would take it too seriously, so I never messed around. As for
having sex with Sister Dan, it was only after my mother had sexual intercourse with me during the New Year that I really penetrated her. After that, I returned to school life. Because I had reconciled with my mother, I only went to Sister Dan's apartment occasionally when I was particularly itchy, or when Sister Dan contacted me first, to relieve the itch in that mature woman's vagina.
My memories after that are long, but they're mostly about how my mother and I had our trysts and where we were intimate. I don't remember much of it. After oral sex, as time went on, my mother started letting me freely caress her body during the act. Eventually, I didn't even need the rule about using my hands; as long as we exchanged glances, we would instinctively tease each other. I think this kind of tacit understanding between lovers couldn't be achieved without a long period of dating. Another vivid memory is the first time my mother let me penetrate her, which happened at a hot spring hotel. The details are a bit long, so I won't go into them.
Afterwards, I want to tell everyone that incest between mother and son doesn't happen to everyone. Many factors are needed to generate such incestuous thoughts. There's a difference between an Oedipus complex and incest. If my mother hadn't given birth to me early, hadn't known how to take care of herself, and hadn't had family factors, plus my own Oedipus complex, I don't think this would have happened so naturally.
In Taiwan's open society, just look around on the street, and those middle-aged women—I'd be half-softened just looking at them. I wouldn't even dare to kiss them, let alone sleep with them. My case is just a minority. My mother has certainly been taken advantage of a lot outside. There's a saying, "There are no ugly women, only lazy women." My mother is just better at taking care of herself, which is why she has such a figure.
Finally, I want to tell everyone that this "mother complex" series ends here, because the following memories are all about my sexual encounters with my mother. There's nothing to ponder. I don't want to talk about what happened after that. Incest between mother and son is a private matter, and I think it's reasonable for me to have some privacy. As for my college girlfriend, she wasn't one of those TV personalities like the "Five Beauties of NTU," "Yao Yao," "College Student Gone," or "Man Man," or even just a runway model, but she was at least a beauty in our department. We dated smoothly for two years until the year I started harassing my mother. I had long since lost touch with her. This incident has bothered me. Although we're still friends, she still thinks I cheated on her.
Although I couldn't find any evidence—of course I couldn't find any…because it was my mom…but she still left me. Not long after I returned to the shop, I quit my job because I had to prepare for my thesis, departmental certifications, TOEIC, and coursework. All of this felt like a thousand-pound dragon gate, suffocating me. I could only go home and spend time with my mother during holidays. Finally, after the first semester of my fourth year, the leisurely time of the fourth semester arrived. I had at least nine classes a week, which was amazing. After all the hardship, the reward was sweet. I'm so glad I didn't fail before; it was worth it. Also, it was right to take as many electives as possible to earn credits.

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