My mom and dad

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Chapter 1 My Mother and Me (Part 1)
My father was rugged in appearance and meticulous in his work. He was a hardworking laborer, accustomed to
working under the scorching sun for long periods, with dark skin and well-developed muscles. He was tall and thin, and took everything he did
seriously . He was also strict, but not without his endearing qualities.
My mother was the complete opposite of my father. She was petite, gentle, with brown hair and brown eyes,
and a very traditional housewife. We children inherited her good qualities, also having brown hair
and brown eyes. My mother was witty but somewhat casual, completely different from my father's straightforward personality.
Their sex life was always harmonious. In the first three years of their marriage, my mother gave birth to three children.
If my father hadn't left for a period of time, I would certainly have more siblings than I do now.
My earliest memory of my mother begins with an innocent family game from my childhood.
I was born lively and active. Even when I was two years old and still babbling, I could already walk around everywhere and
was curious about everything I encountered.
One day, although it was still broad daylight, my parents hid in their room. I wanted to play
with , so I pushed open my parents' bedroom door (none of the rooms in my house are locked) and went in. I saw
my mother lying on the bed, her pajamas slipping off her shoulders, revealing two swollen lumps on her chest.
That day, my father taught me a new word—breast. But until I was ten,
the only thing I associated with that word was fried chicken. My mother's breasts were the most beautiful in the world, large, firm,
and perky, without sagging. The nipples were cherry red, surrounded by areolas the size of silver coins.
At that moment, my father was suckling on my mother's breasts. He let me climb onto the bed, and I curiously touched and gently
patted them, discovering that my mother enjoyed it. My father and I kept in sync; he would first lower his head and suckle on my mother's
breasts for a while, then leave, and I would touch and pat them, while my mother moaned happily. Later, I mischievously
slapped my mother's snow-white breasts hard, and although it hurt her, they both laughed and seemed very
happy .
There was only one thing that puzzled me: Dad never let me suckle Mom's full breasts like he did, even though
I remembered doing so a year earlier. I stubbornly climbed next to Mom, wanting to suckle her
other breast, but the game was over; Dad kicked me off the bed, and they continued their amusing game.
Unwilling to accept defeat, for the next twenty years I tried every possible way to get close to Mom's
breasts, just like any other attempt in life. My efforts had their successes and
failures .
In fact, my next success came a year later.
That's when Dad started drinking heavily and his temper became terrible. He would explode at any moment, not just
at us, but at everyone in the world, especially the local police. It was
a family tradition; his four older brothers were all like that. The five of them would often go to the pub together, drink heavily, and then
get into fights. If they couldn't find anyone else, they would fight until the bartender called the police.
Ultimately, Dad paid the price, serving two years in prison for assault while drunk, leaving
Mom and us children to struggle.
We soon discovered that Mom hated sleeping alone, so my two sisters and I took turns sleeping with her.
Don't get me wrong, there's absolutely nothing sexual in this. Mom wasn't perverted; she just loved the warm, comfortable feeling
of holding someone, whether it was a man, a woman, a boy, or a girl
. She just didn't want to sleep alone.
I didn't mind at all. Kids, like kittens and puppies, who wouldn't want to lie comfortably in their mother's
warm embrace, listening to her hum lullabies to lull them to sleep? But on the other hand, because Mom
liked to wear see-through nightgowns, I could see her beautiful, full breasts quite clearly. Of course, I
was too young to talk about sex at that age; it was just my natural love—a child's
deep .
However, when it was my sisters' turn to sleep with Mom, I was neglected for several weeks. Mom said she
was tired of waking up every time because I was sucking on her breasts. Usually, Mom's pajamas covered her
completely , but occasionally I would find a way to pull them open, exposing her bare breasts, and then
suckle them vigorously, just like Dad did.
When I didn't sleep with Mom, I usually slept with my other sister, who hadn't had her turn yet. But to me
, there was nothing special; they were both younger than me, their breasts not yet developed. In my mind, they were just
two little ones. The only difference between us was that they squatted to use the toilet, and they didn't have
to fix their hair as often as I did.
A few times, none of the three of us had to sleep with Mom; she would bring a few men home, staying for a night or
a week, who knows. After all, Mom was still young and healthy; she always said that if Dad didn't know, he would
n't have been hurt. That was just her way of having fun; those guys were just automatic
toys , destined to leave once Mom's desires were satisfied.
When I was five, Dad was released from prison, and that's when our family's life truly began to change.
My father seemed like a different person. He became religious, more cautious, and even found a good
job . Our family's life gradually improved.
I continued to sleep with my two younger sisters until I was ten. We each slept in our own beds, but
I felt a sense of loss after we separated.
I had outgrown my childhood of disliking girls and entered puberty with rapidly escalating sexual urges. To make matters
worse , I inherited my parents' strong sexual desires.
With my father's return, my longing for my mother's breasts remained only a memory, with my father continuing to
fulfill his obligations. My father liked to read a magazine called "Men's Magazine," which he hid under his pillow, but I
found it. Whenever they weren't in the room, I would sneak in to admire the women in the magazine; it was my earliest
sexual awakening publication.
Of course, magazines like Playboy and Penthouse today would probably
disdain . The pictures were black and white, and the girls in the pictures always
covered their nipples with their hands, arms, or something like a fence. In my memory, there seemed to be two pointed bumps on a woman's breast, as if they were special...
The door was designed to fill a man's mouth. And what are the women's legs always together in the pictures? What are they trying to
hide ?
When I was nine, a cousin showed me the secret. On the way back from hunting rabbits, he
talked at length about the mysteries of the female body and why men like to stare at women. I learned two new words—
vagina and intercourse. He told me that women don't have a penis between their legs, but there's a
slit and men can put their penis into this slit; that's called "intercourse." He also told me that when a man
and a woman are thirty, they can have a baby through intercourse.
Then I proudly taught this to the neighborhood kids, acting like a nine-year-old sex guru.
As a result , my sister and the older sister of my best friend across the street were moved and wanted to have so-called "
intercourse" with me. I liked the older sister across the street the most; she was twelve and her breasts were already developing.
Later, all the kids in our neighborhood came to play this game. Of all the girls, only my younger sister wouldn't let me
touch her vulva. I felt this was unfair because the girls I played with also had brothers, and they could
play with their vulvas and small breasts. Why couldn't I touch my sister?
I said we were just playing because my cousin hadn't described in detail how men "had sex" when they pulled down a woman's
underwear ; we just treated it as a game.
A group of us boys would chase after girls, grab one, pull down her underwear, spread her thighs,
and pry open her hairless labia to see the little hole we all wanted to enter, though all the holes were small. My cousin
hadn't mentioned the hymen or that a woman's vagina could stretch, so we were content with rubbing our penises back and forth on
her labia , considering it "sexual intercourse," and the girls obviously enjoyed it. Whenever
this happened, I felt smug, thinking I was doing something grown-up.
I especially loved smelling or licking girls' vulvas; I loved the smell. My cousin hadn't
told me this, and I guess it was just my nature. When I licked girls' vulvas, they always
did something strange, but it never made me stop.
However, this didn't last long. Six months later, we moved, and my early "sexual life"
ended in a sense.
Our family seemed unable to stay anywhere for long, which meant I didn't have enough time to convince the neighbor girls to
take off their underwear for me, which frustrated me. Worse still, Dad stopped buying teen magazines.
As time went on, I reached the age of nocturnal emission, and I was surprised to find that my penis was getting bigger and
harder. I learned more words, such as penis, vagina, and anus. I often fought with my younger siblings and
, like other older boys, enjoyed bullying younger boys. I learned a lot from these fights , but Dad always sided with my siblings, so I could only rely on Mom. 　　Later, our family finally settled in California, and Dad and Mom bought a small house. Due to age and taboos, the boys and girls lived separately. I lived with my two younger brothers, my two younger sisters had smaller rooms, and Dad and Mom had the largest bedroom with a big bed. 　　At this point, I need to clarify something: in the seven years after my father's release from prison, their love remained so deep, sometimes terrifying to me, but it also taught me that joy can be eternal when you find someone you truly love . My father was lucky to have found my mother, and I'm happy for them. 　　Of course, I still have a fascination with my mother's breasts, but only in a literal sense. 　　My mother's love for my father was as deep as his love for my mother, but with one difference: my mother was somewhat flirtatious, and I became her primary victim. My mother liked to start wearing pajamas at dusk; she also liked wearing transparent, revealing, low-cut clothes. When she sat down to read the newspaper or watch TV, her pajamas would fall to her chest, and I could even see her erect nipples. I would often go over and look down at her protruding breasts and cherry-red nipples—it was my childhood dream. I desperately wanted to reach out and touch them , but that was my father's prerogative, not mine. 　　When I was fifteen, the situation worsened. My mother often walked around the room at night in her pajamas , sometimes even less than she wore in bed. Several times, I would run into her on my way to the bathroom or to get a drink of water. She wore a very narrow, short slip (of course, sheer), barely covering her armpits, just enough to hug her firm, full breasts, extending down to just below the crotch of her thighs, barely concealing her slightly protruding vulva. But as she moved, the slip would sway, and I could clearly see the ripples of her large breasts and the dark, curly pubic hair between her legs. 　　I began to wonder if my mother had any interest in me "that way." Of course, by then I already knew the meaning of "incest," and I knew it was against common sense and condemned by society, but I didn't care. I started trying seduce my mother, but she seemed to find my efforts merely amusing. 　　When I turned sixteen, my father lost his job, and our family's financial situation suddenly became dire. When the situation worsened and became unsustainable, my father had to consider going out to work. 　　Later, he found a construction job on the West Coast, which guaranteed him a salary for at least a year. To keep our family afloat, Dad accepted the job, meaning he had to leave home for a considerable period. 　　Before leaving, he held my hand and said, "Now I'm the head of this family. I should take responsibility for taking care of Mom and my siblings because I'm all grown up now." 　　It was just a father's parting words to his son, nothing particularly significant. He often said the same thing to me before, because I was the eldest son. 　　I agreed, reassuring Dad, but my attention shifted to Mom. 　　Why did Mom look at me with such a strange expression when Dad gave me his usual instructions? 　　A week after Dad left, Mom became even more alluring. 　　Every night when I went to the bathroom, I encountered many "strange sights." Mom was still wearing a tight short skirt, only shorter now, barely covering her nipples, exposing most of her snow-white chest muscles and revealing a deep cleavage, often making my eyes bulge. Almost every time I get up in the middle of the night, I run into my mother dressed , as if she's deliberately waiting for me. I want to know what her real purpose is in doing this.

On the first Sunday after Dad left, Mom and I sat in the living room, feeling incredibly bored.
Mom seemed restless, and she said she wanted to teach me a game of two-player solitaire. She was wearing an old, sheer, light
brown nightgown, and as she bent over to shuffle the cards, I could see her firm, red nipples through the neckline. Every
time our hands accidentally touched a card, Mom's body trembled as if electrocuted, her breasts
quivering alluringly.
We could feel a tense, restless atmosphere in the room.
Mom was sweating profusely, despite the cold room and her scantily clad body. My body temperature
rose rapidly, influenced by the atmosphere. My genitals, unable to resist the urge, swelled
larger than ever before, but the tight jeans pressed painfully against my glans.
I started thinking of other new games, searching for one that Mom could join in, but just the two of us. My mother

exuded an alluring, mature woman's fragrance, a scent that could arouse a man's desire.
This stirred lewd and obscene thoughts within me, and my longing for her body suddenly became stronger than ever.
I think my mother was probably feeling the same way I was, but because there were other children around,
she didn't dare to make a move. In the living room, my sister Rose was watching us play card games with great interest. Under
such focused gazes, how could I possibly have the chance to slip my hand inside my mother's pajamas? Remembering
how often she and I argued and fought, I wanted nothing more than to kick her out of the room.
But on the other hand, I felt a sense of unease.
I was only sixteen, while my mother was a mature woman of thirty-two, older than me and my own
mother. Could it be that I was just being delusional, misunderstanding her intentions? Perhaps she was simply
concerned , driven by natural maternal love?
After all, she was my mother; how could a son touch his father's woman? The textbooks clearly
state that incest is wrong, bad, and has serious consequences; there should
be no doubt about that.
Thinking about this made me feel deflated.
These terrible and chaotic thoughts strongly troubled me. I stood up and told my mother I wasn't
feeling well and wanted to go back to my room to sleep.
"Okay, baby. We'll come see you again tomorrow morning. Get some rest tonight," my mother said lovingly,
kissing me goodbye. But this time she didn't kiss my face; instead, she kissed my lips. I swear, her tongue
touched my lips.
This unexpected stimulation made me ejaculate twice before I finally fell asleep, exhausted.
Around three in the morning, I woke up needing to pee and had to go to the toilet. I reluctantly got up , a little afraid to go to the toilet because I was almost certain my mother would be waiting for me
in the hallway as usual . 　　But I was wrong; my mother wasn't waiting in the hallway. It seems I was being paranoid. Thinking about it, it was three o'clock; even if my mother was interested, she wouldn't stay up until then. 　　Oh, that's great; I haven't been able to go to the toilet so easily in a long time. 　　On my way back to my room, I passed my mother's bedroom, where she usually slept in her enviable large bed. 　　The door was open, everything seemed normal. I stopped because I heard strange . 　　What was wrong with Mom? I thought she must be doing something strange again, but maybe she was sick? Perhaps I should call the doctor. 　　The room was dark, but I could clearly see Mom standing in front of the dressing table, facing the mirror left hand was on the dressing table, her right hand was obscured by the table, so I couldn't see exactly what she was doing, but I could tell that her right hand was moving back and forth near her groin, as if pushing something inside her. The clattering sounds were from the dressing table, and the moans were from Mom; she let out pleasurable moans as her right hand moved. 　　I stared blankly at the mirror, and in the mirror, I saw Mom's full breasts trembling with her masturbation. 　　Oh, what a sensual and stimulating scene, but before I could appreciate it, I was captivated . 　　My mother's eyes were open, but not at her bouncing breasts or her groin ; they were fixed on me, clearly watching my reaction. 　　Dim moonlight streamed in through the window, and I think I saw the urgent pleading and need in her eyes. 　　Suddenly, I felt extreme fear and confusion. I ran back to my bedroom as if my life depended on it and drifted off . 　　The next morning, when I woke up, I found my mother standing by my bed (this time wearing a well-fitting bathrobe), touching my forehead. 　　"You're a little hot. Looks like you have a high fever. I think you'd better not go to school today." 　　Actually, I was fine and didn't have a fever, but what sixteen-year-old boy could possibly enjoy going to school? If my mother allowed me to skip school, who would be foolish enough to insist on going? 　　After making breakfast for my younger siblings, she sent them all off to school as usual. 　　Ten minutes later, my younger siblings had all gone out, and my mother came in. "You're not sick, get up. Go take a shower I have something to tell you," she commanded, but her tone was gentle. 　　I slipped into the bathroom, adjusted the water temperature to a comfortable level, and began my morning routine of masturbating. Just as I was getting into it, the bathroom door suddenly opened, and my mother was standing in the doorway. Chapter One: My Mother and Me (Part Two) 　　"I told you to take a shower, not to play with your thing. Do you want me to stand here and watch you shower?" she said angrily. 　　"No, no, no! Mom, please, please close the door!" I pleaded. 　　After being disturbed by my mother, I lost interest, and my penis quickly shrank. 　　I hurriedly finished my shower and was drying myself with a towel when the door opened again, and my mother came in. 　　"Hi, baby, let Mom help you," my mother said, wiping my body . 　　“I don’t want to interrupt your good time, baby,” she said. “But we need to talk about last night, I think it’ll be good for both of us, if you didn’t ejaculate just now, of course.”

After drying myself off, Mom took my hand and led me to her bedroom. We sat together on the bed; she was still wearing
the bathrobe she'd been wearing earlier.
"Now, let's talk about what happened in the bathroom.
How I've never seen a boy ejaculate as frequently as you."
"Oh, Mom! I don't ejaculate as much as you say!"
She grinned, revealing her teeth. "Be honest, don't try to fool your mother. Think about who does your laundry
. Your shorts are always soaked with dried semen, your sheets are always stained, not to mention
you use every pair of your sister's and mine as rags. Your brothers are only seven and eight years old, it couldn't be
them , so who else could it be but you? Tell me, how many times?"
I looked down at the floor, hesitatingly saying, "Usually five times, sometimes seven."
Mom's eyes lit up, and she murmured, "Great."
She lifted my head, making me look at her.
“Last night I saw you staring at me. Do you know what I was doing?”
“No, Mom. At first I thought you were catching something, but you looked like you were enjoying yourself.
Mom , I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have peeked.”
“You weren’t peeking, child. I made you look. I needed you to look so we could talk.
I really wished you would come into the room last night, but it’s good this way. Now we have things to talk about, and we can
see what the other is doing and with whom. I was masturbating, what you call masturbation.”
“Does Mom do that too?”
“Of course, honey.” She said, “People do that when they can’t satisfy their sexual needs. Okay
, now let’s go to bed.”
She had me lie down in the middle of the bed, then went to the window, drew back the curtains, and let the morning sunlight into
the bedroom .
Then she took a strip of black cloth from the closet, went behind me, and suddenly
blindfolded , tying a knot in it.
“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll untie it for you soon. I just wanted to surprise you.” I was
pondering what my mother meant when I heard something slip down, like a snake. Then the bed moved;
my mother had gotten into bed and lay down next to me on the pillow.
“Okay, I’ll untie the blindfold, but don’t peek, okay? Keep your eyes closed.” She said,
“Swear you won’t peek.”
“Okay, Mom, I swear.”
My mother untied the blindfold, letting it fall around my neck. I kept my promise and kept
my eyes tightly shut. I smelled my mother’s faint fragrance again, the same delicate, musky
scent . My lower body began to harden. My mother must have seen it; I wanted to know her reaction.
“Okay, child, open your eyes.”
God, my mother is so beautiful!
The “hissing” sound was just the sound of her bathrobe slipping off.
My mother’s body, now before me, was like God’s most perfect masterpiece, naked and dazzlingly beautiful. Naturally,
my gaze first fell upon my mother's breasts, which I had always longed to climb since childhood.
Since I was three, I had never had the chance to see them without obstruction. Now they were
openly displayed before me, still so white, firm, and full, the nipples as
red as I remembered, now erect and aroused.
My eyes quickly swept over my mother's vulva, not daring to linger. I knew I had to,
because I knew my mother might have come up with a new way to tease this novice, and soon I would be sent back
to my room to masturbate to these memories.
My mother's pubic hair was jet black and shiny, looking somewhat damp, the thick pubic hair covering the entire mound, obscuring
the slit I had seen with my girlfriend in the same grade.
Suddenly, my mother's pelvis thrust forward, her body arching back, revealing the slit of her vulva. My mother
spread her labia with her hands, and I could see a large, granular object at the top of the cleft. Was this
the so-called "clitoris" I'd read about in a wedding manual I'd stolen from my mother's girlfriend? Below it was a deep,
unfathomable hole that seemed capable of swallowing my penis effortlessly.
The thought of the pleasure of my penis being swallowed by my mother's mysterious hole made me tremble involuntarily. My penis
became vigorous, fully erect, and clear fluid flowed from the tip.
At the same time, my mother pulled a long, white plastic dildo from under the pillow. She told me
it could relax her muscles, and then she inserted it into her vagina and began to thrust forcefully.
"That's what I did last night," she said. "I wanted a real penis inside me, but all I had was this
cold plastic toy. I could only use it to comfort myself. How I wished someone could completely save me!
But last night my cowardly son didn't have the courage to do it. Now I don't need it anymore. I want you, son,
come on!"
Somehow, I misunderstood my mother's meaning because she was still rubbing her
vulva with that plastic thing.
"Are you still going to use this to satisfy yourself?" I asked stupidly.
"No, child, I don't want to do it alone. I think it'll be more fun if we do it together."
This time I didn't misunderstand and stammered, "Mom, you mean we...
we ...together...uh...together...that...uh...together using it?"
"No, baby, we're not going to use 'it'. We're going to make love together! I'll suck your penis, and you
'll lick my hole. You'll suck Mommy's breasts, dry Mommy's breasts, and I'll suck every last drop of your semen
so you can't get up again today."
She turned me around and gently kissed my mouth with her wet lips.
“Don’t hate your mother, child,” she said, and for the first time, I saw tears welling up in my mother’s eyes. “I’m not
old yet. I have a strong sex drive just like you, but no one can truly satisfy me. I can’t
just find any man; your father would find out, and I don’t want to hurt him. Your father asked you
to take care of me before he passed away. I don’t think he meant it, but now I really need you to.”
“Oh, Mom, I’ve never hated you. You don’t know how much I’ve missed you, but you didn’t know…”
"What should I do? I've never really done this with a woman before."
"I guess so. You don't even know how to kiss."
"Teach me, Mom."
Mom leaned closer to me, and her lips met mine again. I felt her tongue lightly glide across my lips
, then tease my teeth, trying to push in.
"Open your lips a little wider, baby," Mom said.
I felt Mom's soft, warm tongue slide into my mouth, intertwining fiercely with mine. I
instinctively resisted Mom's advance, but her tongue suddenly hooked back into her mouth,
drawing my tongue into hers.
What an erotic experience! Our tongues entwined passionately, each trying
to suckle the other's saliva.
At the same time, Mom guided my hand to her high breasts, squeezing and kneading her nipples. I
felt my penis harden like never before.
Mom turned to me and said, "You want to suck them, don't you? You remember what you were like when you were little, right?
You used to sleep with me back then." “
I remember, Mom, you chased me off the bed because I kept sucking on your nipple.”
“I chased you away because I loved it so much. When you were a baby, your father didn’t
approve of me breastfeeding, saying it would ruin the shape of my breasts, but he suckled on my breasts every day, didn’t he? But
I would secretly breastfeed you whenever I had the chance, you remember? You were a natural suckler, and I
almost came every time.”
Mom’s hand gently stroked my hard, throbbing penis, her slender fingers lightly tapping my
glans, spreading the clear lubricant that had flowed from it with excitement all over my glans and the entire shaft. It felt so good, so
good that I couldn’t stop gasping for breath.
“Now I’ll teach you how to use your mouth, watch carefully.” "She said.
Suddenly, Mom lowered her head, opened her mouth, and took my penis in. The warm feeling enveloped my entire body, and I,
who had never experienced oral sex before, couldn't help but groan. Mom was deliberately trying to embarrass me; her head rose and fell,
her lips tightly sucking on my penis, sucking hard, her tongue circling the shaft, wriggling back and forth, her teeth gently
biting the base of my penis, the squeezing sending a radiant sensation through me.
I had read in some novels about men ejaculating in women's mouths to please them, and I
didn't want my first time to be wasted so easily, but I could no longer control my senses.
I felt... " I felt like an old car, about to break down at any moment.
Mom didn't seem to realize I'd ejaculate so quickly, so her tongue pressed against my glans
, gently teasing it with the tip. A tingling, numbing sensation shot straight to my brain.
Before I could even process what was happening, a jolt ran down my back, and a thick stream of semen suddenly gushed out
, blocked by Mom's tongue, splashing everywhere and filling her mouth. Then, I collapsed onto
the bed of relief, the intense pleasure still lingering in my mind.
Mom licked my semen clean and then swallowed it in large gulps.
"God, this tasted so good, I loved it. But next time I suck your cock, don't
ejaculate so quickly, at least last a little longer so Mom can have some fun, otherwise Mom will get angry."
Mom licked her lips, a little unsatisfied.
"Now, let Mom give my good son a reward. Come here, let Mom breastfeed you." "
As soon as she finished speaking, I instinctively darted to my mother's side. My long-standing fascination with
her breasts led to this erratic behavior.
My mother sat up; her breasts were snow-white and full, slightly sagging, yet undeniably exuding
the alluring charm of a mature woman.
I reached out and cupped her breasts, raising them to my mouth so that I could easily touch the two firm, rosy
nipples.
Only now did I understand
what it meant . My mother's breasts were surprisingly substantial, and this size, this color, and the erect nipples
seemed to proclaim that they belonged to a mature, perfect woman, not to those so-called teenage girls pretending to be large
or naive young girls who had dried them out." These are breasts, unlike flat ones. These are real breasts, displaying
the charm of a truly mature woman.
Only when I suckled them with ecstasy did I truly feel like an adult.
My mother moaned, stroking my hair.
The image of her using her tongue to arouse me was still vivid in my mind. I licked her right breast, taking the erect
nipple into my mouth, my tongue gently circling the areola. From the sensitive tip of my tongue, I could feel
my mother 's body trembling slightly, and a warm liquid seeping from her nipple. I gently bit
the base of her nipple with my teeth, licking the milk that flowed from her—faint, sweet, with an indescribable familiarity.
I focused intently on my mother's right breast, and her moans grew more rapid. Finally, she couldn't help but ask,
"Is my left side bad?"
"No, Mom. I just want to make you happier. If you like, I'll switch right
away ."
I switched sides, repeating my efforts on my left breast. "
Oh, baby, you're doing so well! Your father can't compare. I wish
I could have breastfed you every day when you were little, I wish I could have breastfed you while your father was in prison. I'm so stupid, I
missed so many good times. Oh, suckle Mommy's milk, baby, suckle Mommy's milk hard!"
I remembered the scene of my mother suckling my penis earlier, making me ejaculate embarrassingly, and I was determined to make her
suffer .
I gently bit my mother's nipple, pulling it hard from side to side, while simultaneously kneading
her full breasts vigorously like dough.
My mother gasped and moaned, "Harder... oh... oh... harder... child...
harder..."
After a few minutes of this diligent and rubbing of my mother's breasts, she couldn't take it anymore. She pulled my
head away and pressed it against her vulva, saying, "I didn't expect you to be so eloquent, child. Now, use your
little slutty mouth to fuck Mommy's cunt!"
My mother, somewhat flustered, guided my face to her vulva
several , emanating a warm, sweet fragrance—a hundred times more intense than any other stimulation.
"Lick Mommy there, child," she said, afraid I wouldn't understand. "Use your tongue to lick Mommy's
pussy . If it goes well, we'll both be very happy. Don't be shy. You know this is where you were born.
Your father ejaculated inside, and then you came out from here. You're just going back to your old place for a visit. Hurry
up and lick, stick your tongue in, lick the honey inside clean. Don't worry about ethics or morality, let
them go to hell."
With my mother's words, I confidently licked my mother's entire vulva. My tongue
plunged deep into her vagina, scraping against the walls, drawing out the flowing fluid and swallowing
it. You see, I only did this when I was eating ice cream or seeing a particularly beautiful woman.
I carefully observed my mother's reactions. As my tongue moved inside her vagina, she would breathe heavily
, her body tremble, and the secretion of fluid from her vaginal walls would intensify.
I noticed that when I licked a small protrusion inside her vagina, her reaction would suddenly intensify, so
I focused on that protrusion.
My mother moaned, "Oh...yes...child...you little rascal...oh...so clever...
knowing to lick Mommy's little clitoris...it's making Mommy so itchy...oh...oh oh...so good...oh...God
...Mommy's going to cum...oh..."
I kept licking my mother's vulva, my tongue deeply inserted into her vagina.
I savored the taste of my mother's vagina—a
mixture of incredible, sticky, moist, warm, slightly spicy, and slightly salty flavors.
I felt a strange excitement, because this had always been Daddy's favorite forbidden zone,
the place where my siblings and I were born, and I knew it was also where my penis would soon enter.
My mother's breathing became more rapid, her vaginal walls contracted violently, tightly gripping my tongue, as if trying to
twist it off and shove it as deep as possible.
My mother's vaginal fluids flowed continuously, dripping onto my face, covering my face and the base of my thighs, then
soaking the sheets.
"Oh...baby...my dearest son..." my mother cried out, "Suck harder...good
son ...lick my pussy harder...oh...oh...Mommy's going to come...good son...you've
made Mommy come...oh...so good...I can't take it anymore...oh...oh...oh oh...it's coming...
I can't...I'm coming...I'm coming..."
I withdrew my tongue and looked up at my mother.
Her body was convulsing, her expression one of great pain, her hands gripping my shoulders tightly, her fingers digging deep into my
muscles.
After a while, my mother calmed down, smiled at me, and then said the words that moved me the most.

Chapter One: Mother and Me (Part Three)
"Thank you, child, my love. That was so beautiful. You brought me to orgasm too.
Now , it's time for my precious son to experience adult pleasure. Come on, child, fuck your mother!"
I climbed on top of my mother, face to face, my erect penis touching her pubic hair,
intensely stimulating my glans.
"Mom, I know our behavior is wrong. Let's not call each other by our real names,
like , okay?"
"No!" My mother was unexpectedly agitated.
Soon she spoke to me gently, "Child, do you know what incest is?"
"Of course, Mom," I said, "It's incest when members of the same family commit adultery and have sex with each other, like
what we're doing now, right, Mom?"
"That's right, son, absolutely right. Do you know that incest is the most lewd and depraved thing? In real society,
it's absolutely forbidden, it's a mistake, a crime, even against nature. Do you know all that?"
I laughed, "Of course, Mom. But isn't it more fun this way?"
Mom laughed too, "Mom is glad you think so too. I don't want to lose this wonderfully lewd
feeling. I also want you to keep reminding me that we are mother and son, that we are committing incest.
When we make love later, I'll call you son, and you have to call me Mommy, not Mother or Mom, just Mommy. Children all
call their mothers... " Call me Mommy, I want to remember that I am having sex with my most adorable son. "
I looked lovingly into my mother's beautiful brown eyes and said, "I love you, Mommy.
The mother replied happily: "I love you too, son." I'm glad you haven't
done it . Mommy wants to be the first woman for her baby boy. Mommy wants to teach her good son how to have sex with women.
She reached down, grabbed my cock, and said happily: "Oh, it's so hard. This belongs to
Mommy . Thank you, son." "
She guided my glans to align with her vaginal opening, then wrapped her hands around my buttocks and pushed me forward.
Since my mother's vaginal opening was already wet, my cock entered her body smoothly.
My mother shouted happily: "Oh, welcome back, my good son. "
My mother taught me to move my butt back and forth, so that my cock can fully enter and become
one .
I felt my mother's warm flesh walls tightly wrapping my cock, and there seemed to be a
suction force , sucking the cock deep into the vagina. The walls of the meat squirmed regularly. It is indeed an experienced and well-trained vagina
!"
I was captivated by this unimaginable pleasure. What kind of feeling was this?
It wasn't at all the kind I'd read about in books—"tight enough to break your genitals."
You see, my mother had given birth to five children, and my father never let her go every night.
It was a warm and comfortable feeling, like wearing a perfectly fitting glove, neither too
tight nor too loose, perfectly against my penis, feeling incredibly good.
My mother's vagina was hot and wet; this was the first woman's vagina I'd ever penetrated.
Remembering what my mother had just said, I relaxed my body, letting the lewd, incestuous feeling control my
actions , talking to her as I penetrated her.
"Do you like it, Mommy? It's your own son fucking Mommy's cunt."
"Want to continue, Mommy?"
"Oh, this feeling is so lewd, so obscene, is
n't it, Mommy?" "Does it feel good for Mommy and your precious son to fuck together?"
"..."
I lowered my head and bit my mother's nipple, pulling it hard from side to side, my tongue licking the center of her nipple, giving
her an excruciating pleasure.
My mother's hand stroked my hair: "Oh...oh...yes...son is fucking Mommy...oh...
obscene son and Mommy...oh...good son...harder...keep fucking Mommy...fuck
Mommy hard to death..."
I stole a glance at my mother; her eyes were tightly closed, her face flushed, her breathing heavy, and fine sweat beaded on her forehead,
she looked very intoxicated.
"Your son's penis is big, isn't it, Mommy? Do you like your son's penis?"
Mom murmured unconsciously, "Oh...oh...yes...oh...yes...so big...so
big...so hard...oh...my darling son has a big penis...oh...oh oh...it feels
so good to Mommy...faster...harder...oh..."
I knew Mommy's reaction to me biting her nipple, so I did another experiment.
I reached down to Mommy's vulva, teasing her labia, forcefully
twisting and pulling them up and down, back and forth, left and right, while my penis moved in and out faster. With each in and out, Mommy's vaginal muscles rolled in and out, bringing out a lot of vaginal
fluid. The scene was extremely lewd.
"Oh...oh!" Mom screamed, "No...no...oh...oh oh...please spare Mommy
...oh...it's so beautiful...oh oh...I can't take it anymore...son...Mommy can't take it anymore...faster...faster
...Mommy's coming...faster...faster...oh...oh oh...oh oh oh...Mommy's
going to cum...ah..."
Although Mommy had already come once from my licking, her juices were now flowing out in large quantities, running down my penis
onto my lower abdomen, thighs, and hands, completely soaking the sheets.
With each powerful collision of our bodies, her juices were splashed everywhere, covering my entire body.
Mommy's vaginal walls tightened more and more, gripping my penis tightly, making each thrust incredibly difficult.
At the same time, Mommy kept moaning wantonly, assaulting my consciousness. Her throbbing buttocks
swayed , as if trying to rip my penis off at the root. This feeling was so much
better than when Mommy sucked me out with her mouth, and that time it was just my orgasm alone, this time I was going to cum with Mommy!
My consciousness blurred, all my senses focused on the point where my mother and I were joined, feeling
the rhythmic throbbing, my body trembling, as if something was constantly radiating
out , making me feel completely comfortable.
This radiating sensation lasted for a long time; I couldn't remember ever ejaculating so
much in my life.
I separated from my mother, lying wearily beside her, my consciousness not yet fully returning to my body, everything around me
feeling so distant, so blurry.
In my blur, I seemed to hear her say, "Oh, my son is so good, he ejaculated inside me,
if only we could have a child."
I suddenly snapped back to reality. Damn it! I suddenly remembered my cousin telling me that sex between men and women could lead to childbirth
, and I had not only slept with my mother, but also ejaculated inside her.
I panicked instantly. I wasn't the father, and even if I wanted to, my brothers and sisters would never
allow it . How could I explain this to my father? Letting my mother have a child was my father's responsibility.
"Oh God, Mom. What if you get pregnant? What should we do next? How long will it take for my baby
to come out? What should I do?"
I was indeed a little anxious. After all, I was just a child, and when faced with something I couldn't control, I could only listen to my mother
.
Mom laughed: "You know this will make you pregnant? I thought you wanted Mom to give you a son
! Isn't this good? It would be fun to have a son who calls you 'brother.' Besides, I also want to give my precious
son a big, healthy boy."
I was so anxious that I was about to cry.
Seeing how anxious I was, Mom teased me for a while before saying: "Baby, don't worry, it's not that
easy to get pregnant. Mom's safe period is still a week away. Even during the unsafe period, if Mom wanted to
get pregnant every time we did it, I would be exhausted. Look at how long it took your father and me to have five children!"
Oh, I see. I felt relieved.
My mother continued to reassure me, allaying my concerns: "Listen, child. I am your mother. Even if I
were promiscuous, I would never hurt my own son. I just want you to make love with me, and
I hope you like it. Don't worry about getting pregnant; that's my problem, you don't need to worry about it."
She then gave me a long, slow, gentle, and deep kiss.
"Okay, now, I want you to try something new. You only licked my vulva before,
let Come on, child, lick me again."
I licked my mother incessantly, and she licked my penis. Every time before and after having sex with her, I would
diligently lick her vulva until she was satisfied.
I truly enjoyed it; that day, the number "69" became my lucky number.
When my mother clamped my penis between her full, soft breasts, I felt like I was in heaven. This
was the most amazing experience I had ever had since I was two years old. I realized that breasts could not only be used for breastfeeding but also
fulfill some of the functions of a vagina. It truly opened my eyes.
It seems today truly is the happiest day of my life.
We entwined ourselves several times until we were both exhausted and could no longer
continue it was impossible; looking at the time, the other children would be coming home from school soon.
Their return was indeed a problem. Although I could make love with my mother until my father came home,
if my younger sister and brother found out, it would be a huge problem.
My mother and I discussed it and decided that from now on, we would only make love twice a day: once in the afternoon before the others
came home from school, and once at night when everyone else was asleep. But sometimes we couldn't hold back and would sneak away.
We'd satisfy our cravings at the warehouse first, then drive to the cedar forest outside the city and stop to have sex in the back seat.
Two months after Dad left, our happiest time arrived, an opportunity created by Mom. Since
it was summer vacation, Mom arranged for the other kids to either visit relatives or go camping. Of course, I was "
forced " to stay and watch the house with Mom. This gave us a whole week to ourselves, and I
felt like a married man, enjoying the sweetness of life with my beloved wife.
I openly slept on Mom's big bed, and we'd make love non-stop whenever we wanted. To please
me, Mom didn't wear a single piece of clothing for a whole week. Even after we finished, when Mom's breasts were
so sore from my sucking and biting, I still got immense satisfaction from looking at Mom's naked body. Especially the sight of her snow-white,
full breasts covered in my saliva and bite marks, and my semen flowing from her plump vulva,
excited me the most.
Indeed, watching my semen slowly flow from my mother's vagina was
incredibly satisfying. However, as our sex life became more frequent, one thing constantly troubled
me, increasing my mental stress: could my mother become pregnant because of our relationship?
I decided to have a serious talk with her about it; after all, even a child
my .
After one particularly passionate night of sex with my mother, I brought up this troubling question.
"This is truly the greatest moment of my life, Mom," I said. "I hope it lasts a long
time . I can't imagine what I'll do when I can no longer have sex with you."
"Oh, me too, baby. I wish we could stay like this forever. Maybe we can find a
way to continue without anyone finding out."
I kissed my mother deeply and said, "That would be crazy, Mom! But if you
were pregnant, it would be difficult, even though we've been very careful."
"What are you talking about? Do you want to use a condom?" Mom smiled and lowered her voice. "Oh,
but this is indeed a troublesome matter. I almost completely forgot about it until you mentioned it. But it's too late; my
safe period ended three days ago. Oh well, it's already like this, there's no escaping it. I think we won't have to worry for the next three
weeks , until nine months from now."
Then she laughed again. "Don't worry, child. The chance of a woman getting pregnant is extremely slim. I
don't believe you'll be so lucky. If you do, you'll be a father."
To be honest, for the next ten days, I was constantly on edge, trying my best to avoid ejaculating directly
into Mom's vagina. I felt that Mom had the same reaction as me.
Sigh, marriage and childbirth are normal human desires, but incest involving mother and son is so troubling.
On the eleventh day, Mom said, "Okay, child, let's rest for a while. Today is my period
."
I could hear the helplessness and longing in Mom's heart.
For the next month, we were both exhausted by this matter, and our schedules were often messed up.
Sometimes Mom would say, "Today is a safe period," then immediately change her mind, saying, "Oh, I forgot what day it is. Worrying
won't help."
Goodness, Mom's driving me crazy! It seems even she doesn't understand her own safe period.
While we were enjoying our summer "honeymoon," we received a call from Dad—he was
coming home! His boss had granted him leave, and he could come home this weekend.
During this last week, Mom and I completely forgot about the anxiety of the past month.
Pregnancy , childbirth—we threw all that to the back of our minds and just kept making love day and night.
I became bolder than ever, not only ejaculating all over Mom's body but also preferring to ejaculate deep into
her uterus, regardless of safe periods.
"Mom, we've done everything in these past three months, but there's still one thing we haven't done."
"What are you talking about, child? Do you really want a baby?" Mom looked very eager and
excited .
“No, Mom, it’s not like that. I mean, if you
have a baby within six to nine months after Dad leaves, people will suspect something.”
My fingers slid over her buttocks, stopping at her anus, and I said, “I mean, I’ve been with
your vagina, breasts, and mouth, but this is the only place I haven’t been with. Mom, let me do it.”
“Oh…oh! Child,” Mom exclaimed in surprise, “No one has ever done this to me before, not even your
father .”
“Great!” I said happily, “You’ve taken my virginity, so at least I have the right to explore
another virgin territory, Mom, and besides, Mom wants to do it too, right?”
The next day, after the other children went to school, I swaggered into Mom’s bedroom. Mom took out a
soft tube to make it easier for me to enter her anus. I put the tube on my erect penis, inserted the other end into Mom’s
anus, knelt down, aligned the head of my penis with Mom’s anus, and pushed forward forcefully.
Mom’s body was tense, and her anus contracted tightly, making it difficult for my penis to move an inch.
I knew from a book that if Mom was happy, her anal sphincter would relax, making penetration much
easier . But I didn't want that; I wanted to force my way in, and Mom seemed to want that too.
"Oh, Mom, I'm going in. I'm going to force it in, whether you like it or not! If
you don't, I'll be even happier! Let your son deflower Mom's ass, you filthy bitch, you slut, watch
me fuck you to death."
This was the first time in my life I'd spoken to Mom so rudely, but she seemed quite
ecstatic .
"Oh...yes...good...son...good son...put it into Mommy's asshole...Mommy wants
you to put it in...oh...oh...fuck Mommy's asshole hard...oh...fuck...fuck hard...
fuck hard...fuck until Mommy can't sit up anymore...oh...it hurts so much...Mommy likes it so much...
the more it hurts Mommy, the better..."
My penis was deeply inserted into Mommy's anus. Mommy's anus was contracted very tightly, the sphincter muscles were like
pliers, as if they wanted to clamp my penis off, but it made me feel a strange pleasure when my penis went in and out.
My mother seemed to be in great pain, yet she desperately pressed her buttocks towards me, giving me a sadistic pleasure.
Soon, her thighs began to tremble violently, making my penis numb, and a surge of heat gushed
out, hitting deep inside her anus.
My mother's body convulsed violently, her legs shuddered, and hot fluid flowed down her thighs.
That day, I fucked my mother's anus twice, finally
stopping .
On the last night before my father returned, I went to my mother's room to spend our last night together.
My mother wasn't asleep, waiting for me, but she looked very melancholy: "Now you and your father have
something in common, child."
When I thought about the meaning behind those words, my heart almost stopped.
"It's over between us."
Suddenly, I felt that I had nothing left to cherish in this family. Although my mother's tone implied
a desire to rekindle our past, my father was coming back tomorrow, and my mother would be returning to his arms.
I couldn't face this reality.
Believe it or not, I'm so glad Dad's coming home, even if it means I'll lose Mom. I
love my dad so much; he's been my idol since I was little, and I've tried my best to imitate everything he does, including
making love with Mom. I respect him and don't want to hurt him, and I think Mom feels the same way.
Later, I made up my mind to leave home one day. I knew I couldn't build a
family with Mom independently because she's my mother, and I wanted a wife to spend my life with and have a legitimate
child . I knew very well that Mom wasn't that kind of woman.
Oh, Mom, my dearest Mom, she can only be my eternal, unattainable dream.

Chapter Two: The Thorny Rose (Part One)
When I look back on everything that happened, I'm so grateful to my mom. She brought me into
this world, she raised me to adulthood; and she gave me the most important gift of my life
—even more important than the three crazy months Mom and I spent together—that was when my
sister Rose was born a year after I was born.
Rose and I seemed to be natural enemies; from the moment she was born, she liked to go against me. Many of my
relatives say that I often bullied Rose when she was little, and that my behavior was despicable. But I
don't quite believe it ; I think it's just typical sibling rivalry. Which family with several children
doesn't bicker and argue? Ours was no different, just a little different.
What I mean is, we argued about almost everything, even fought, and
we wouldn't admit it even about things we both liked. But Rose had a secret weapon: crying. Almost every time she
lost an argument with me, she would burst into tears. Although I hated her so much I gritted my teeth, and sometimes even wanted to kill her,
I couldn't bear to see her cry. As soon as her eyes reddened, I had to slip away before the tears came, lest I
soften and comfort her.
Of course, she also had her moments of laughter, which were when we stopped arguing, especially as we grew into
our teens and stopped attacking each other so much. She also seemed like a different person, becoming very shy and
melancholic , but overly so, with a perpetually sorrowful face, which made me very uncomfortable.
However, if you get to know her well and encourage her, she'll reward you with a smile.
I have no doubt that my sister's smile can charm everyone.
Her smile is like the rising sun, like a child's innocence, like a sweet first kiss, giving off a
radiant feeling. Anyone who has seen it once would rather die than miss it again.
Unfortunately, although I often bullied her when I was little, as I grew up I had to
work hard every day to win my sister's smile, and I had other ulterior motives.
I don't know when I fell in love with my sister, but it was definitely very early, probably from
the age when I started having erotic dreams and masturbating.
I masturbated frequently when I was young, but the object of my masturbation was not my mother, but my sister
Rose.
Looking back now, it's not surprising. Although I liked and respected my mother, my
interest in her was largely due to my admiration for my father, and later it was my mother who actively seduced me. I think the reason I
was able to resolutely sever ties with my mother in the end was because subconsciously I believed that the person I truly loved was not my
mother .
I often dream of my sister naked, offering her pure body to me, willingly
sucking my penis…
One day, I was about to leave my room when my sister came in. I was thirteen, and she was twelve
. We bumped into each other at the doorway, and naturally, we reached out to steady each other.
I pulled too hard, pulling my sister into my arms, her small, firm breasts pressing against my
chest. Our stomachs slammed together, face to face, breaths mingling. My penis
inexplicably hardened, pressing against my sister's vulva through her clothes. My sister's face flushed red, and she broke free from my
embrace, running away as if her life depended on it.
I think this was perhaps the initial spark between us.
I stood there, stunned and dazed, completely oblivious to my sister's departure. I longed to relive
that intoxicating feeling.
That night, I reached orgasm for the first time through masturbation.
I lay in bed, vigorously rubbing my penis, recalling
the feeling . I longed to know how she felt then; how
alluring it would be if we played this sexual game together.
Sometimes, when my parents went shopping or to church for mass, they would leave us at home, and I would always take full advantage of
these opportunities to spy on my sister's actions.
At that time, a sexual game was popular among the children at our school: find an opportunity to walk home with a girl,
then ask her, "Can you feel it?" When she answered no, you would take the opportunity to grope her
body, saying, "Can you feel it now?"
It took my sister a long time to understand this game, and I seized the few opportunities I had to feast on her
body, especially intentionally kneading her breasts. It seems I was too deeply influenced by my mother, to the point that I had a strong attraction to women.
I was particularly interested in her breasts.
I desperately wanted her to know how I felt about her, but I couldn't directly tell her I loved her and
wanted to spend my life with her.
However, that was the furthest I could go at the moment. I didn't want to simply
declare that I'd done it after having sex with my sister; I saw us as lovers, husband and wife, even parents.
I had dreamed of our wonderful first time, even planning every step: in the afterglow of the sunset
, we would come to the beach together, and I would slowly take off her clothes. First her shoes, then her trousers,
then her top, then her bra, and finally her panties. By then, the sun had set, and the western sky
was filled with blood-red sunset clouds. She stood between me and the sea, turned sideways towards the beautiful sunset; I could only see her
beautiful silhouette. Her full, beautifully shaped breasts outlined perfect curves in the afterglow of the sunset. Then she
lowered herself and sat down, looking expectant, her hairy pubic area faintly visible. I couldn't help but
walk over, gently lay her down, and then…
unfortunately, my sister didn't seem to like this "Can you feel it?" game. Every time I asked her,
"Can you feel it?" she would let me "feel" a few times, then suddenly break free and run away.
During that time, Dad doted on her the most.
I was never jealous of Mom and Dad's marriage, but I couldn't help feeling anxious about Dad's favoritism. I even
suspected that Dad and my sister were having an affair. Of course, all of this happened before my mother and I had
any secret relationship.
Because of my experience with Mom, I became even more eager to take further action with my sister. If she refused,
I would be completely finished. She might submit to Dad, which would definitely destroy our family,
because Dad was an upright and traditional man. I could even imagine Dad's furious face, Mom's
desperate defense of me, and me watching and waiting, and then our family would fall apart.
In middle school, besides learning some knowledge and building my confidence, I also had many opportunities
to meet . At school, I wasn't a playboy or a bookworm, so I
dated quite a few girls, but it was mostly just hanging out, watching movies, holding hands, and maybe a kiss on the cheek.
Sometimes, though, the chance to slip my hand inside a girl's shirt or shorts was quite exciting.
However, after my relationship with my mother, I grew tired of these superficial interactions. I was confident that if I
touched a girl again, I could make her take off her underwear. But I didn't try those things again.
After graduating high school, I went to university and settled into a dormitory, my first time living away
from home.
I missed home a little, but I found university life very suitable. For me, it was
a place of both intellectual enrichment and intellectual liberation.
In late autumn, the pastor from my hometown came with bad news: my family had been in an accident,
a car accident . But he didn't tell me the details. Although I was preparing for final exams at the time, as soon as I received
the news, I immediately drove home. While refueling on the road, I called the police, but they
were evasive and only told me to come back quickly.
I had a premonition that misfortune had finally befallen my family.
When I arrived at the hospital, I only found my sister Rose crying hysterically on one side. The pastor was
there too, and I learned the details from him.
Our family was on our way home from Mass in the caravan my father had just bought when we were
hit by a car. Neither my parents were wearing seatbelts and died instantly. My other
sister was wearing a seatbelt, but unfortunately, the car hit her from the opposite direction, and she too perished
. My two brothers were seriously injured and lost a lot of blood.
Fortunately, Rose wasn't with them.
The pastor said my mother was very upset that day. When asked why, she only said she had argued with Rose and didn't
know what would happen next.
At dawn, my two brothers also died.
I took my sister back to our empty house, but she was completely disoriented, as if she didn't exist.
She wouldn't eat , speak, or respond to anyone.
I took meticulous care of her, fearing she might commit suicide.
The funeral was held three days after the accident. My sister attended, but her dull, lifeless eyes and
expressionless face contrasted sharply with her neat black clothes.
After burying our loved one's remains, we silently accepted the condolences and well wishes of acquaintances. I could barely go
on, but my sister seemed expressionless, as if she didn't exist.
I took her home and then lay down, exhausted, and fell asleep.
About an hour later, I woke up, needing to use the restroom. Passing my sister's room, I suddenly smelled
a strange odor. I quickly knocked on her door, but there was no response. In desperation, I started banging on the door.
After the door was flung open, I stumbled into the room and immediately smelled the pungent odor of gas and heard the hissing of the stove. Thank
God, my sister was sleeping on the bed near the door. I quickly carried her to the living room, laid her flat on the sofa, then ran
back to turn off the gas and the stove, opened the windows wide, and returned to my sister's side.
Her complexion was much better, and her breathing was somewhat normal, though very weak.
I shook her hand hard, repeatedly saying, "Wake up, little sister, wake up... Oh, don't scare
me like this, little sister, don't leave me, wake up, little sister, I love you, don't leave me, wake up."
She groaned, "Let me be alone for a while, I want to die, I should die, you won't love me, I'm
so scared, let me die!"
"No, little sister. Don't leave me alone, I've lost so much, maybe even
more, just like you. Don't scare your brother anymore, I don't want to lose you, my sister."
She opened her eyes and cried for the first time, "You don't know, I killed them, it's my fault!"
"What did you say? Brother knew you wouldn't do this."
She shook her head and said, "If it weren't for me, they wouldn't be on the road, they wouldn't have had this accident."
I tried my best to comfort her, "Okay, so what exactly did you do?"
"Dad called me and said Mom had told him about our argument, and they're on their way back."
I also heard Mom and Dad arguing on the phone. I think they must have had the accident because they were arguing on the road
.”
“Okay,” I said, “You and Mom argued, and Dad tried to make amends, and then the accident happened,
but it’s not your fault. Okay, tell your brother, why did you and Mom argue?”
“Because of you!” "She buried her head deep into the cushion as she spoke.
I was taken aback. What did this have to do with me?
I pressed her for details, and finally, I understood what had happened. It all started when my sister found Mom
's diary.
Our family likes to reminisce about the past, and we often want to look through old things. That time,
my sister was doing her homework on family, so she went to the attic to find some materials and accidentally found
Mom's diary. Although she knew it was wrong, she still secretly read it.
The worst part was that Mom's diary started when Dad went to work on the West Coast, which was
the day Mom and I had our first time that summer.
Although the diary recorded sweet things, for my sister, it was undoubtedly the beginning of a nightmare.
"I remember the diary recorded everything that happened after Dad left in detail," she said. "
Mom was depressed for the first week, but she quickly cheered up. She wrote in her diary that she was very happy that night because she
realized you had grown up." She suddenly smiled.
Oh, that's a good sign; it was the first time she had smiled in days.
"Do you remember that night?" "That night she taught you how to play cards." she asked me.
"Of course I remember," I said.
"Ever since then, I've suspected something..."

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