Oh no! I've fallen in love with my mother.

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Chapter One: I Fell in Love with My Mother

I lost my father at a young age, or rather, I never had one, because he cruelly abandoned my mother before I was born, when she was already pregnant with me. So, I never saw him again after I was born. When my mother later told me all this, I hated him from the bottom of my heart. Therefore, the word "father" didn't exist in my mind; I only had my mother.

My mother was a dancer named Chen Xue'er, and I took her surname, Chen Dong.

Since that heartless man abandoned my mother, she and I had always depended on each other. Perhaps because the hurt was too deep, my mother never dated again. Later, I learned that it was all for me; she was afraid I would be bullied, so she never considered starting a family again, devoting herself entirely to taking care of me.

I remember when I was little, my mother often couldn't take care of me because of performances, so she had to leave me with my grandmother. Later, my grandmother passed away, and to better care for me, my mother prematurely ended her dance career and became a teacher at an art school. If it weren't for me, my mother would probably have a place in the dance world, so from a young age, I have always been filled with respect and love for my mother.

Time flies like an arrow; eighteen years have passed in the blink of an eye. Now I'm an eighteen-year-old young man, and my mother is thirty-eight. Perhaps because my mother is a dancer, she still maintains a graceful figure, and her appearance is in no way inferior to any so-called beauty. When my classmates see my mother, they always scrutinize us with suspicious eyes, wondering if we're really mother and son. I'm always proud of my mother.

With the accelerating pace of the market economy, my mother, relying on her years of performance experience and profound theoretical knowledge, has become a dance choreographer, frequently choreographing for various galas. Our family's income has also improved significantly, so we bought a three-bedroom, two-living-room apartment.

On the day we moved into our new home, my mother looked at me and said, "Dong'er, I haven't let you down. Don't let me down either. Study hard and get into a prestigious university."

Seeing the expectation on my mother's face, I nodded firmly and said, "Mom, don't worry, I will definitely make you proud. I will be good to you for the rest of my life."

My mother was moved to tears and hugged me tightly, saying, "Good son, my good son."

I nestled close to my mother's chest, my arms wrapped around her waist. We hadn't had such an intimate embrace in many years. For some reason, this time in my mother's arms felt different from when I was a child. I felt her body was soft and gentle, and she had an intoxicating fragrance. My face was pressed against her soft chest, and I felt a strange urge, and my genitals were subtly changing. Perhaps my mother noticed my unusual behavior and gently pushed me away. I walked away shyly, but deep down I longed for another embrace.

From that day on, I noticed a subtle change in my feelings for my mother; I always wanted to be close to her. At first, I didn't understand. Later, I realized that my feelings for my mother were more than just maternal love; there was an unbreakable romantic love, a man's love for a woman, though I never dared to admit it.

My mother became increasingly alluring in my eyes, and I unconsciously began to notice her breasts, legs, and the most sacred parts of a woman's body. I always tried my best to control myself, knowing that such actions towards my mother were wrong. Until one day, while masturbating, my mother's beautiful image appeared in my mind. I knew I had fallen in love with my mother. Although my reason told me this was wrong, emotions are like that; the more you suppress them, the harder they are to control.

Chapter Two: The Uncontrollable Impulse

Lately, I've been avoiding my mother. When she saw me looking distracted, she thought I was sick and asked, "What's wrong, Dong'er? Have you been sick these past few days? Are you feeling unwell?"

I stammered, "No... I'm fine." Looking at my mother's concerned eyes, my heart almost melted, but thinking of my despicable thoughts, I felt sorry for my mother. Caught in this contradiction of respect and love, I truly didn't know where to begin with my words to my mother.

"Mom, don't worry, I'm just a little tired."

"Is it because you're studying too hard?"

"Maybe, oh, I'm going to rest."

I dodged my mother's questions and went straight to my room. Lying on the bed, I saw my mother's photo on the bedside table, and my uncontrollable lust was aroused again. Even though I was cursing myself inwardly, my hand unzipped my pants and began to stroke my already erect penis, and my mother's sexy body appeared before my eyes again. At that moment, only lust filled my mind; all ethics and morality were thrown to the back of my mind. After releasing myself, I cursed myself again for being a bastard.

In this cycle of suppression and counter-suppression, I found myself unable to control myself. I began to be interested in my mother's body. I knew I couldn't touch her directly, so I paid special attention to her underwear.

Once, I saw her bra and panties in the bathroom, and a thought surged into my mind. I couldn't control myself, so I reached out with trembling hands, picked up the bra, and brought it to my nose. A refreshing fragrance almost made me faint, and the slightly sour smell of sweat on the bra made my penis swell instantly. I picked up the underwear again; it had a faint, slightly sour and pungent smell. I took a deep breath, my penis almost bursting through the pants. I passionately pressed the underwear against my mother's private parts to my lips, as if I were deeply kissing her genitals. An immense sense of satisfaction overwhelmed me, and I ejaculated profusely. I never imagined that my mother's scent alone would be enough to make me ejaculate.

"Dong'er, what are you doing in the bathroom? Is something wrong? Why did you stay in there for so long?"

I was even more embarrassed: "Nothing, my stomach was a little upset, but it's much better now."

"Did you eat something unclean outside?"

"Maybe!"

"You, you're so old and you're still eating snacks. Tell Mom what you want to eat, and I'll make it for you."

I really wanted to say, "I want to eat your genitals."

From then on, I often used my mother's underwear to masturbate, and sometimes I would even pick up used sanitary napkins from the trash can. Anything that was close to my mother's body had a great stimulating effect on me.

Once, I picked up my mother's socks that she had just taken off and smelled them; they had a similarly intoxicating fragrance. I never imagined my mother's feet smelled so good. My mother's underwear became an indispensable necessity in my life, while deep down I desperately longed for her body.

The increasingly intense desire and the sublimation of emotions made the ethical defenses I held in my heart increasingly fragile. Subtly, I began to regard my mother as a woman, and I gradually took on the role of the domineering man at home, always rushing to do the heavy lifting.

To win my mother's trust, I started learning to cook. Because my mother had been very busy with work lately, I would always cook at home and wait for her to come home, like a considerate husband. My mother's attitude towards me also changed somewhat.

That day, I came home from school and saw my mother there. I asked, "Mom, why are you home so early today? Have you eaten? I'll cook."

My mother smiled and said, "No need, we're eating out today."

I asked in confusion, "Why? Is there something good?"

My mother laughed and said, "Silly child, you even forgot your own birthday! That's a difficult day for your mother, you're so heartless!"

I suddenly remembered that May 2nd was my birthday, eighteen years ago today, when I came into this world from my mother's womb.

"Oh, it really is my birthday! You silly boy, you can forget your own birthday, but how can you forget your mother's difficult day?" I slapped my head and said, "Alright, let's go."

So we went to a Western restaurant, very elegant, and we chose a corner seat. The waiter asked, "What would you like to order, Miss/Sir?" We ordered a set meal and a bottle of red wine.

I whispered to my mother, "See, he called you 'Miss,' which means you're young and beautiful." My mother chuckled.

I had never drunk alcohol before, and my mother rarely did either. Neither of us knew our limits, and besides, the red wine tasted wonderful. Before we knew it, we had finished the whole bottle. At first, we didn't feel anything, but later we started to feel a little dizzy. Then we heard music, and my mother's face was flushed and very charming.

Hearing the music and seeing people dancing on the dance floor, I suddenly felt inspired. I walked up to my mother, extended my hand, and said, "Miss Chen, would you do me the honor of dancing for a song?"

Perhaps it was the alcohol, but after giving me a glare, my mother actually stood up and agreed. We danced gracefully to the melodious music. Influenced by my mother, I also became a pretty good dancer. In the dim light, I saw the dancers around me embracing face to face, clearly couples. I whispered in my mother's ear, "Mom, don't we look like a couple?"

My mother glanced at me sideways, then suddenly pinched me, whispering, "You little rascal, teasing your mother."

My mother's shy demeanor made me lose control. I pulled her into my arms. She struggled for a moment, but gradually gave up under my strong arms, softly pressing against me. My mother was wearing a tight-fitting top today, so I could clearly feel her breasts. They weren't large, but they were very full.

With each dance step, her breasts gently rubbed against my chest. Inhaling the fragrance emanating from her skin, I couldn't control my desire. The alcohol also emboldened me. In the intoxication of alcohol and tenderness, I unconsciously kissed my mother's earlobe. My mother's body trembled suddenly, and she broke free from my embrace. She glanced at me uneasily and said, "You're drunk. Let's go home."

On the way back, my mother didn't say anything, and I tried to keep the conversation light.

Perhaps it was from that day on that my mother seemed to realize that my feelings for her weren't just simple motherly love. In the days that followed, she was always strange towards me, hot and cold. I don't know if that kiss had offended her. Regardless, my love for her grew stronger every day, and I still often masturbated with her underwear, but one day my mother finally discovered it.

Chapter Three: A Confession of Love

It was a Sunday. My mother said she had to rehearse a performance and wouldn't be home that day. After my mother left, I couldn't suppress my lust and finally opened the bathroom door. My mother's pink underwear appeared before my eyes. I picked it up and took out my mother's sanitary pad from the trash can, putting it in my mouth and licking it frantically. While licking the sanitary pad, I stroked my erect penis with the underwear in my hand.

Just as I was lost in my own world, completely absorbed in the moment, the door suddenly opened, and my mother appeared before me (because I assumed she wouldn't come back, I hadn't closed the bathroom door). She was stunned by what she saw, and after a long pause, she said, "You...you...what are you doing?"

I was also stunned, unsure what to say, and stammered, "Why are you back?"

"I forgot my documents at home, you...you should put them down quickly."

Only then did I realize I was still holding my mother's sanitary napkin and underwear, so I quickly put them away, exposing my penis to her. My mother turned away sensitively, and I felt her breathing quicken; perhaps she was angry with me.

I was bracing myself for a severe punishment, but unexpectedly, she only said, "I came back to get something. I might be back a little late today." Then she hurriedly left again.

My mind was in turmoil, and I spent the day in a state of anxiety and unease.

My mother didn't come home until after 10 p.m. I didn't sleep. I just sat on the sofa, staring blankly, as if waiting for the end of the world. I decided that I would endure whatever punishment my mother gave me. However, when my mother saw me, instead of scolding me harshly, she said kindly, "Dong'er, I want to talk to you."

She sat beside me, stroking my head, and said, "Dong'er, I know you're at an age where you're interested in girls, which is normal. But...but you shouldn't...this is wrong. Tell Mom what you're thinking, maybe I can help you."

Looking at her kind face, the impulse that had been suppressed for so long finally made me speak my mind: "Mom, I know it's wrong, but I can't control myself. Mom, I love you, the kind of love between a man and a woman. I tried to suppress it before, but I found it was futile; my love for you only deepened."

My mother was also moved by my words and said softly, "Silly child, you're still young, you don't understand what love is. You just don't understand your own feelings right now. Maybe I've spoiled you too much, and you've developed a dependence on me. That's not love. You'll understand when you find a girl you like."

"I will never love another girl," I said firmly.

My mother shook her head helplessly, sighed, and said, "It's getting late, go to sleep!"

The next morning, I saw my mother carrying a bag. She said to me, "These past few days I've been rushing to rehearse for a new program, so I'm staying at the school for convenience. You need to take good care of yourself while you're home alone. Call me if anything happens." But as she left, tears streamed down my face. I knew she was deliberately avoiding me.

Chapter Four: Family and Love

My mother hadn't come home for over ten days, and I felt like I'd lost my soul. I really wished my mother would hit me a few times but not leave me; it was too torturous.

One day, I suddenly received a call from my mother's school, asking me to come immediately. I rushed to my mother's school. My mother was sick, very sick. It turned out she had twisted her ankle a few days ago while demonstrating for the students, and had caught a cold and fever.

Seeing my mother's haggard and sickly appearance, my heart felt like it was being stabbed with needles. I truly wished I were the one who was sick. My mother was semi-conscious due to a high fever of 39 degrees Celsius. I carried her to the doctor. After her injection, the doctor told me to rest at home for a few more days and to take good care of her.

Back home, I carried her to her bedroom. In my arms, she was like a wounded little bird, nestled against my chest, still calling my name in her delirium. I gently placed her on the bed, softly stroking her forehead, and she soon fell asleep.

That evening, she woke up; her fever had mostly subsided, but she looked very weak from exhaustion.

When she opened her eyes and saw me, she asked blankly, "Where am I?"

"Mom, we're at home."

"Did you bring me back?"

I nodded, placed a bowl of porridge in front of her, and said softly, "Mom, eat something! Here, I'll feed you." I helped her sit up.

Due to extreme weakness, she couldn't get up to eat, so I sat beside her, letting her lean against my chest. I fed her spoonful by spoonful until she finished the whole bowl. At that moment, my mother gently turned her head and looked at me affectionately, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.

"Mom, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

My mother shook her head and said, "No, I'm happy." She then nestled gently against my chest, and I hugged her back. At that moment, neither of us spoke, silently enjoying each other's warmth. Holding my soft, fragrant mother, I felt no desire whatsoever. Perhaps this is true love!

Under my careful care, my mother's illness has slowly improved. These past few days, she seems to have gotten used to me feeding her. Although she can now eat on her own, she still likes to lean against my chest and let me feed her.

That day, my mother tried to get out of bed to walk around, but she almost fell as soon as her foot touched the ground; her foot injury hadn't healed yet. Seeing the pain on her face, I asked, "Do you want me to massage it for you?"

My mother nodded, and I helped her onto the bed, gently lifting her right foot. My breath quickened; my mother's feet were so beautiful. Although I'd seen them before, I'd never really paid much attention, but now they were so close. My mother's feet were small yet exquisite, white as jade, without a single blemish. Her long toes were neatly arranged, her arches were smooth, her ankles were supple, and the pale blue veins on her instep added to her beauty. I held my mother's jade-like feet, completely mesmerized. My mother's foot moved slightly, and I snapped out of my daze.

Seeing that my mother's face was slightly flushed, I gently began to massage her foot. It was more like a caress than a massage, and my mother seemed quite ecstatic, slowly closing her eyes. I really wanted to kiss my mother's jade-like feet, but the lesson I'd learned last time prevented me from making any rash moves.

My mother had finally recovered, and our relationship had been restored, even better than before. Because of my meticulous care for my mother during her illness, we became accustomed to close physical contact. Although her foot had long since healed, I still massaged it for her every day, deriving pleasure from the touch of her fair and delicate feet.

I noticed a subtle change in my mother's attitude towards me since her recovery; she was no longer as stern as before, sometimes acting like a loving mother, and sometimes like a young girl. I was deeply captivated by my mother's gentleness and beauty.

My mother never mentioned the past again, yet our relationship grew increasingly intimate. I would intentionally or unintentionally get close to her body. Sometimes, when I came home from school and saw her cooking in the kitchen, I would suddenly hug her from behind and ask what she was having for dinner. She would always lightly slap me and laugh it off. In the evenings, when we watched TV, we would sit side-by-side on the sofa, and she would place her feet on my lap, and I would always massage them for her without saying a word. I loved the feeling of gently caressing her slender, delicate feet, and my mother seemed to enjoy it too.

My mother used to always wear pajamas before bed, but now she wears them at home. Of course, she's still conservative, wearing traditional floral print clothes, which adds a touch of pure and virtuous beauty. She has long hair, which she likes to wear in a bun at the back of her head, revealing her slender, snow-white neck, which makes my imagination run wild.

Whenever I can't suppress my rising desire, I resort to my old ways, using my mother's underwear to relieve myself. Strangely, my mother changes her underwear almost every day, and keeps it in a very obvious place, without any intention of hiding it from me. I boldly guess that she might have saved it for me on purpose, so I became even bolder, ejaculating on it every time I ejaculated. However, my mother didn't say anything; I think she probably noticed what I did.

As our relationship grew closer, the dream buried deep in my heart gradually became clearer, and the desire became more and more urgent, even though I knew how absurd this dream was. Perhaps feeling my mother's indulgence, I grew increasingly bold. Sometimes at home, I would walk around in only my underwear. Because of my mother's sex appeal, my penis was always erect. Sometimes when my mother saw this, she would blush and turn away, scolding, "Aren't you ashamed?" I would reply cryptically, "It's all because of you." My mother would always walk away helplessly after hearing this. I didn't know what my mother's feelings for me were like. Until one day.

It was a day in September, and it was raining heavily. It was late, and my mother hadn't come home yet. I was a little worried, so I took an umbrella and went to pick her up from school. School had already let out, and it was pitch black except for the rehearsal room, which was still lit. So I went over and opened the door. My eyes immediately blazed with fury. I saw two men undressing my mother. Her mouth was gagged, her hair was disheveled, and she was struggling desperately.

I went crazy and started punching one of them. A fight broke out. I had never fought before, but today I was berserk and fighting wildly. Seeing my reckless ferocity, the two men pulled out knives. Now, even if it were a knife, or a gun, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. I can't tolerate anyone bullying my beloved mother. I don't know how I was hit; I just felt a sharp pain in my abdomen and then I knew nothing more.

When I woke up, I saw my mother looking at me with tears streaming down her face. In her tearful eyes, I clearly saw loving concern. I asked anxiously, "Mom, are you alright? What about those two guys? Did they do anything to you?"

"Don't worry! I'm fine. You chased them away. You're so brave."

Although I had been stabbed, luckily, it hadn't hit any vital organs. During my time in the hospital, my mother stayed by my side day and night, taking meticulous care of me. One day, while peeling an apple

, my mother asked me, "Dong'er, how could you be so brave and ruthless that day?" Without hesitation, I said, "Because I love you. I can't let the person I love get hurt." Hearing my words, my mother shed tears again and said affectionately, "Mom loves you too, just like you love me."

I couldn't believe it. Was it true? I knew what my mother meant: she loved me too, the love a woman has for a man. Overwhelmed by the sudden happiness, I instinctively reached out and took my mother's warm little hand. For a moment, we were speechless; for those of kindred spirits, words were superfluous.

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