My Story with My Mom (14)

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-03 08:12:38

Word Count: 5252
Hello everyone, long time no see! Have you all forgotten me? Did you all think this story was going to be abandoned? Haha, of course not! I kept my word; I said this story wouldn't be abandoned, and I definitely won't. During this time, I successfully graduated from university and started working, joining the ranks of the working dog. I'm in front of the computer all day at the company, and when I get home, I simply don't have the time or energy to write. Therefore, updates to this story have been intermittent, resulting in a slower and slower update speed. I hope you can all understand. Okay, back to the main topic, let's begin the update. After so many years of reading mother-son stories and exchanging ideas with fellow mother-obsessed readers, I've found that people often overlook one issue in their strategies for winning over mothers: the mood swings that mothers going through menopause may experience. Although these mood swings vary from person to person, and can be significant, they are indeed an important factor. Most mother-son stories portray a harmonious and seemingly frictionless relationship between mothers and sons, giving the illusion that mothers are always completely submissive to their sons. This leads many readers to believe that any unsatisfied mother can be easily won over. However, if we think about it carefully, is the relationship with our mothers in real life truly as smooth sailing and peaceful as in novels, without any friction? Friction between teenage sons and menopausal mothers is inevitable, and how to deal with and utilize this friction is a key to winning over a mother. Based on my personal experience, I believe that dealing with this friction requires patience and the art of playing hard to get. Frankly, I have many disagreements with my mother in daily life, but most of the time I give in. The reason is simple and straightforward: I want to have sex with my mother, so I must be as compliant as possible. But just like with women, blind compliance doesn't yield good results; too much tolerance can stifle initiative. This is where the art of playing hard to get comes in. As mentioned earlier, whenever I argue with my mom, my desire for her diminishes considerably, but this desire inevitably resurfaces afterward. After several such experiences, I've realized that arguments are actually opportunities; lukewarm water won't boil over. Okay, this might sound a bit like motivational rhetoric, but it's true. When disagreements arise with your mom, you don't have to always give in. It's okay to argue back a bit; a limited argument is acceptable, but avoid losing your temper and going too far. So what does "playing hard to get" mean? It means learning to apologize proactively. The reason I suggested arguing with your mom is to create opportunities to apologize and appease her. Menopausal women are often competitive; when their energy is high, they can be stubborn and determined to win. Apologizing after an argument and softening your stance in front of her, allowing her to "win," is very beneficial for her. To win over your mom, sometimes you have to be willing to swallow your pride and accept defeat. Temporarily endure, then resist, and then apologize again – repeat this process multiple times. This creates ups and downs in your relationship with your mother, leading to compromises and making your strategy more engaging. When you're really angry, try to imagine your mother's alluring, mature body, and the day you can enjoy intimacy together. What can't you endure then? Of course, all of this depends on your desire to win over your mother. A weaker person will drift further away in arguments, while a stronger person can use arguments to grow closer. As mentioned earlier, mothers often become insecure about their appearance as they enter middle age, but they still crave attention from men, especially young men. Therefore, they need compliments from men to stimulate their appreciation of beauty, maintain their feminine charm, and fuel their desire for men. Compliments from fathers are unlikely, and praise from sons is more likely to be interpreted as a sign of maternal affection, so it's not very effective. The best compliments to boost her confidence and stimulate her appreciation of beauty should come from men outside the family. I previously mentioned a method to test your mother's attitude and personality: using a fake WeChat or QQ account to pretend to be a stranger of the opposite sex and add her to your contacts to see if you could chat tentatively, gather some information, and maybe even offer a few compliments. Unfortunately, my mother is quite conservative when it comes to online chatting, and I couldn't get her to accept my friend request even after several attempts. Therefore, I don't have any successful experiences to share. You can refer to those who have successfully tried this method. After the fake account method failed, I gave up on the idea of using fake accounts. But one day, I had a sudden inspiration: WeChat doesn't necessarily require adding friends to communicate; exchanging information can also lead to interaction. So, I came up with a "perverted" method. First, I want to emphasize that this method still requires your mother to have a good personality, or at least be somewhat introverted; otherwise, it might escalate into a serious problem. The specific details of this method are as follows: I first used a secondary WeChat account to add my mom on WeChat and sent her a verification message (it would be even better if everyone had managed to add her). I pretended to be a resident living in the same building as my mom, and set my age to be around the same as mine. This makes it easy for my mom to perceive the age difference and associate it with me. The content of the message was the infatuated type, roughly saying things like "I'm captivated by you every day" and "You're so beautiful and elegant." Once the verification message is sent, there are two possibilities: 1. My mom will ask how I added her. My approach and suggestion is to ignore it or make up some excuses, because the main purpose of this method is not to communicate, but to make my mom feel the attention from a strange person of the opposite sex. 2. My mom will block me directly, then there's no solution...
The truth is, after I "harassed" my mom a few times using this method, she asked me how to disable other people from adding her on QQ or WeChat through my phone. I would first turn those functions off, and then secretly turn them back on a few days later. When my mom pressed me about why it happened again, I would make an excuse, saying, "The phone system sometimes bugs, that's just how it is, there's nothing I can do about it." My mom helplessly accepted this situation. As long as your mom hasn't blocked you, you can harass her from time to time, but remember not to do it too frequently and keep a certain interval. One Monday, I didn't go to school and saw my mom wearing a blue dress to work, which was actually a fairly ordinary style. I sent her a verification message using my secondary WeChat account, roughly saying, "I ran into a charming lady again this morning, her perfect body under the blue dress was mesmerizing." To see if my mom had seen this message, I secretly checked her phone when she got home that night and looked at the new friend verification history. Sure enough, the message was there, and she had already read it. I felt a surge of joy. After some time, when I saw my mom wearing that dress again, I deliberately complimented her on how pretty it was, hoping to make her think of the "WeChat harassment." While this method might not produce obvious changes in her, it will undoubtedly touch her heart, even if it makes her feel embarrassed or frightened (the important thing is to control the words and the intervals; it can be harassing, but not perverted). This method can be used multiple times for better results. Actually, I also considered anonymously buying my mom underwear on Taobao or putting it in her mailbox, but thinking about it carefully, that would be too much. Besides, during that period, I felt my mom was becoming wary of her surroundings, looking around when she went out, as if she was suspicious of someone. Therefore, I was afraid of escalating the situation and didn't pursue this further. In short, the prerequisites for implementing this harassment-type method are: 1. Your mom won't report you to the police for perverted harassment. 2. Your mom hasn't blocked you. This is a bit messy, but I hope everyone can understand it. Those interested can try it out. By my sophomore year of college, my relationship with my mom had become quite uneventful, lacking any of the exciting new developments that people might expect. However, by uneventful, I don't mean I've stagnated or become complacent in my attempts to win her over, especially in terms of physical intimacy. It's just that I was running out of ideas and life was mundane, so I couldn't think of any new or in-depth strategies. My daily attempts to grope her—like messing with her underwear and bras, casually putting mother-son AVs on my iPad to entice her to watch, and rubbing, touching, and hugging her waist—never stopped. It had reached the point where I would inevitably grope her whenever we were in the same room, and she didn't seem to resist much. This unspoken, ambiguous physical interaction between us became a part of our daily routine, so I won't go into detail here. Time passed from summer to autumn, then from autumn to winter, and before I knew it, it was New Year's Day. Well, nothing particularly special happened that New Year's Day… Then, after final exams, winter break began, and then came the Spring Festival. As usual, our family went back to our hometown for the Spring Festival, but this year was a little different. Because there were more people celebrating with us this year, and we arrived later, we were supposed to stay at home, but there weren't enough rooms. So, we had to stay at a hotel across the street, with my parents and me each in a room. On New Year's Eve, as is customary, we showered early. My dad finished showering early in the afternoon and was chatting and drinking tea with relatives at home. He urged us to shower quickly, saying the room key was in his bag and we should go get it ourselves. I was suspicious and took both his room key and my own, just in case. So, after dinner, my mom and I rushed back to the hotel to shower. Once at the hotel, I followed behind my mom, watching her beautiful figure, and influenced by the hotel environment, my desires rose. I started thinking of mischievous ideas and secretly began to plan. After going into my mom's room with me, I made an excuse to linger a while until she was about to take a shower. She urged me to hurry up and shower too, as we were going home soon. I said okay, then pretended to go to the bathroom first. But actually, I used my usual trick: I hid my phone in a corner of the bathroom to secretly record her showering. Once that was done, I left, ran back to my room, grabbed my change of clothes, and waited outside my mom's room for about five minutes. I figured she was already undressed and ready to use the water, so I quietly used my dad's card to open the door, gently closed it, and crawled forward on the floor. When I reached the corner between the bathroom and bedroom, I looked up and, sure enough, my mom thought I was taking a shower. The curtain separating the bathroom and bedroom wasn't drawn, and through the thin layer of steam, I could see her snow-white, alluring body. After so long, I could finally see her like that again; even just the ordinary act of showering felt incredibly provocative to me. This forbidden pleasure made my blood boil. I quietly stood up, opened my mother's luggage, took out a pair of her underwear, and put them on my hot, hard penis. While admiring my mother bathing inside, I fantasized about scenarios with her—her buttocks, her beautiful breasts, her mature and alluring body, her infinitely alluring motherly flesh. At this moment, she was leaning against the wall, glancing sideways at the boundless spring scenery, her left hand slowly stroking herself. At this moment, I wasn't seeking the pleasure of rapid ejaculation, but rather a spiritual and sensual union under the forbidden and stimulating atmosphere. If my mother knew that her son's burning gaze was watching her outside the door, and that he was masturbating with her underwear, and that there was a mobile phone camera that her son had already set up inside, would she still be able to bathe so comfortably? After a while, seeing that my mother seemed to have finished bathing, I should have prepared to leave to avoid being discovered, but at that moment, whether it was due to excessive excitement or some other reason, I suddenly thought that I might as well stay and touch my mother face to face to see her reaction. My penis was still erect, seemingly still wanting more from my mom's underwear, so instead of putting it back, I tucked it into my crotch, making it fully and tightly pressed against my penis. Then I turned around, pretending to rummage through my mom's bag for my charger, adjusted my breathing, and waited quietly for her to finish showering. Soon, my mom came out dressed. As soon as she opened the door and saw me with my back to her, she screamed in fright. I pretended to be startled and turned to look at her. Even though she was dressed, she instinctively clutched her chest, her face filled with panic as she asked me how I was in the room and how I got in. I told her I was looking for my charger and had come in with my dad's other room card, and I also took the opportunity to give my mom a stern lecture, scolding her for not locking the door while showering—it was so dangerous! Luckily, it was her son who came in this time, and I wasn't a bad person. My mom seemed to calm down a little and realized her oversight, but she still anxiously asked if I had just come in. I answered yes, and at that moment, my mother's anxiety about being seen naked eased slightly. She nagged me a bit, telling me not to do that again, and scolded me for not showering yet. I picked up the clothes in my hands and said, "Since I'm already here, why don't I shower here?" and went into the bathroom. Inside the door, I quickly retrieved my phone, opened the video I had secretly recorded, took off my pants, and started admiring my mother's alluring body while stroking my penis against her panties. At that moment, my mother outside the door was probably trying to calm her flustered emotions, but she probably didn't expect that her son had lied, and that he was hiding one of her panties under his crotch, and that he was currently playing with that panty in the bathroom. As mentioned in previous chapters, my mother has adopted a "minimalist" approach to her panties. Now, she doesn't throw away her panties when she goes on long trips but washes them. But at that moment, I was caught up in the excitement, watching my mother's mature and alluring body in the video, my heart pounding. I didn't care about anything else, fantasizing about being intimate with her in the bathroom. Suddenly, a thick stream of semen shot onto the crotch of my mother's underwear, covering it completely. When I calmed down a bit, I felt a little regretful, but it was too late; I could only think of a solution. I washed my mother's underwear clean, and after showering, I secretly took it back to my room to dry. When I came back that evening, I used a hairdryer to blow-dry it thoroughly, and the next day I secretly put it back in my mother's luggage bag. And so, this pair of underwear became the first pair of underwear I had ejaculated on and that my mother would continue to wear. Thinking about this at the time, I felt a little smug. Two days later, the New Year's rituals were almost over, the relatives gradually left, and we prepared to go home. My father went downstairs first to get the car and tidy the trunk. My mother and I packed our luggage at the hotel, and at that moment, another idea surged into my mind. I mustered up the courage to try and provoke my mother one more time. So I pretended to be serious and called out to my mom. She looked up at me and asked what was wrong. I bowed and said apologetically. My mom was a little confused and asked why I was apologizing. I said in a very remorseful tone, "Actually, I saw you taking a shower when I came in that day. I was afraid of being scolded and ruining your New Year's mood, so I didn't dare to tell the truth. But I still feel uneasy, so I apologize." My mom was a little taken aback, but two days had passed, and she had been somewhat prepared for the incident, so it didn't seem to cause her much of a stir. Plus, I had apologized first, and my dad was waiting downstairs, so she didn't say anything. She just told me that it was good that I knew I was wrong and to be more careful next time. I pressed her to make sure she wasn't angry. She forced a smile and said, "It's okay, she's my child after all. It's also my fault for not locking the door, but you'll be more careful next time." I sighed with relief. Seeing my relaxed and mischievous expression, my mom calmed down a bit and urged me to..."Hurry up and pack your luggage!" I pressed on, grinning, "Mom, you look so good! You looked beautiful the other day!" Mom, both embarrassed and annoyed, said, "You still dare to talk! Hurry up and pack, your dad's waiting!" I immediately played the innocent card, pretending to have done something wrong as I turned to pack, secretly delighted. On the way home, Mom's expression was a bit complicated. She probably wasn't experiencing a major upheaval, but she seemed rather calm. That was the end of that Spring Festival incident. After returning home, there was still a while before school and work, so it was time for my usual trip. This time, the destination was Xiamen. Dad, as usual, wasn't going, claiming he was on duty, but he just stayed home. I thought I could have a trip with Mom, but unexpectedly, she invited Grandpa and Grandma, saying she was taking them out for a stroll and that I had to take good care of them too. My enthusiasm was immediately dampened. Before we left that day, my mom went to the door to greet my grandparents, while I checked their luggage. Upon opening my mom's suitcase, another wicked thought popped into my head. She had four pairs of identical black bras in her luggage. I figured this might be another opportunity to subtly hint at something, and besides, an all-black trip would be a bit monotonous. So I kept only one black bra and replaced the others with patterned ones. Such an obvious change would surely be noticed by my mom when we arrived in Xiamen, and I wondered what kind of reaction she would have. And so, our Xiamen trip began with this little scheme.
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My Story with My Mom (14)

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