Mother under the rich family

page views:1 Publication date:2023-05-26

My mother from a wealthy family
was outside the bathroom door, constantly playing with my lower body, thinking about my mother's body bathing inside. The water vapor in the bathroom and the frankincense came out through the gap in the air vent under the door. Even though I squatted greedily on the ground, I couldn't see anything.

Listening to the sound of water flushing, the water flowed from the hair and face to the breasts, continued from the cleavage to the pubic hair, and then condensed into a stream of water at the flesh hole, spreading along the inner thighs.

My home is located in a high-end residential area in Tianmu. It is a twelve-story building, and my home is on the middle floor of the building. The whole house is full of European classical atmosphere, and there are works of art everywhere.

My father was a financial actuary who often traveled abroad to visit clients.

The second floor was my mother's and my room. Every time my mother finished showering, she would come out wrapped only in a towel, not fully covered, leaving her breasts partially exposed. Water droplets would drip onto her fleshy buttocks as she walked, and with the sway of her hips, I, hiding in the corner, would watch, my blood boiling.

Although the family seemed happy, my mother and father had long been estranged. It wasn't just their work relationship; more importantly, my father's family believed that my mother had only married into the family for money and to climb the social ladder.

Because of our family ties, my mother had long been accustomed to being alone. Occasionally, she would go to the bookstore to browse books or go shopping, or at home she would go to the music room to play her favorite piano. Although they were all simple pieces, her fingering was fluent and her playing was smooth. Sometimes I would stand by the large floor-to-ceiling window in the music room, looking at the small balcony in front of the window, where my mother had planted all kinds of flowers and plants. Through the afterglow of the setting sun, a golden ray of light shone on the flowers.

I watched that warm afterglow, and time gradually moved across the flowers until the entire sunset cast a shadow on the floor-to-ceiling window. Standing on the garden balcony, the light and shadow of the floor-to-ceiling window was like a gateway to heaven, with the aluminum frame on the glass of the floor-to-ceiling window.

It consisted of two large rectangular soundproof glass panes, with an aluminum frame inlaid on top—a decorative piece made of an unknown material, resembling a relief in a Roman cathedral. Under the sunlight, the reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows appeared even more beautiful.

I wondered if my mother also had a door in her heart, a door called loneliness, long since closed and locked with a strong steel lock.

My mother's fingers pressed the piano keys, the hammers pressed the strings, playing a low, melancholic moonlight sonata. The music reflected her state of mind—the feeling of being neglected by her father, the heartache of being scolded by her in-laws.

From the moment she married into the family, she had already lost the most brilliant golden years of her life.

I forgot my mother's face, her brows furrowed. Looking at everything in the music room, I couldn't help but feel a lump

in my throat. I turned to the balcony, gazing at the setting sun in the distance, and told myself that I would take my mother away from this home, away from this cold prison that had imprisoned her for almost twenty years. "Knock, knock, knock!" The sound rang out on my palm-wood door. It was my maid, Sasaya, reminding me to come downstairs for dinner.

Sasaya was an Indian woman, very young, a year or two younger than me.

Last year, when I was eighteen, I went on a family trip to visit the mosques in Jamaica, India, and then the Taj Mahal.

As my mother and I walked behind my father, who was chatting and laughing with my grandmother and some relatives, it was a completely different, cold world for my mother and me.

One family, two different feelings: I followed my mother to the Taj Mahal.

Tourists came and went nearby. My mother gazed thoughtfully at the jewels inlaid on the white marble pillars. I casually responded to the other family members' chatter. Perhaps because I was the eldest and only son, the other relatives were less averse to me.

I wondered if my mother's feelings at that moment were the same as mine. The tour guide explained that the Taj Mahal was built by Shah Jahan, the fifth ruler of the Mughal Empire, to commemorate his wife, Taj Mahal, who died in 1631. The Taj Mahal means "Remembering Mahal."

Legend has it that when the Mughals learned of Taj Mahal's death, his hair turned white overnight, and he wept bitterly, his face streaked with tears.

This starkly contrasted with my wife's longing and my father's indifference towards my mother, like heaven and hell, fire and frost.

That evening at the hotel, my father asked if I wanted to go shopping with my grandmother and the others, to try some local snacks. My mother, however, said she was tired and wanted to rest in her room. I guessed she didn't want to spend time with relatives; after all, all the conversations were just polite formalities.

I excused myself, saying I was still adjusting to the time difference, and apologized to my father. He whispered that I should keep an eye on my mother. I patted him on the back, smiled, and told him to hurry and go with my grandmother, otherwise he'd blame my mother again. My father's face fell; he sighed softly and left.

My mother lay exhausted on the bed. I asked her if she wanted to take a shower, and she nodded.

This hotel was a five-star establishment. This large suite was originally meant for my parents and me to sleep together, but it seemed my father would be bothered by my grandmother again tonight, so it would just be my mother and me.

The room was quite spacious, decorated in an Indian aristocratic style with a touch of Baroque Chinese influence. White, pink, and light blue curtains hung from the bed, the material resembling chiffon. To the right of the bed was a door with an image of an Indian elephant, leading to the bathroom.

Entering through the doorway, there was a small living room with an unidentified LCD TV. Opening the window led to the balcony, where the white facade of the Taj Mahal could be seen in the distance.

I took a deep breath and exhaled, thinking of my father's weakness. This reminded me of the cat's-eye ring on my mother's left ring finger, a ring I hadn't seen her wear in ages.

My father came from a wealthy family. Thanks to my grandfather's good connections with political parties for generations, and my grandfather being a senior member of a certain party, my father was strictly controlled by my grandmother from a young age. He was completely subservient to her, obeying her every word.

He lived like a robot, following the path laid out for him, studying his way up to the top finance department. My grandmother thought he would follow in my grandfather's footsteps and become a member of parliament.

But this time, my father made a decision that everyone opposed, a decision he was resolute in making, refusing to back down, even threatening suicide: he married my mother.

I heard that the two went to a notary office to get married, but since I was born, everyone has been evasive and even lied to me about the details.

So, little by little, as time went by and I grew up, I finally understood the story.

When my father was in college, he met my mother, who was three years younger than him, in graduate school. At that time, my mother was preparing for graduate school entrance exams, so my father would visit her at the library every day. The process was like a typical love story; the two fell deeply in love, almost to the point of madness.

My father also knew about my mother's family background. My mother came from a musical family, but unfortunately, her parents did not want their children to pursue music. So they only cultivated her musical interests, leaving her to learn the rest on her own. Although my mother's family was not wealthy, they were comfortably middle-class.

The father knew the marriage was ill-matched, but the two young and impetuous people were blinded by love and chose to marry without hesitation, believing it to be true love.

The grandmother was devastated by the news, unable to believe what she was seeing. In her overwhelming grief and anger, she even threatened to forbid the woman from ever setting foot in the house, blaming everything on the mother. It wasn't until the father left home and spent six months with the mother that the grandmother finally admitted the truth and asked him to bring the mother back. Little did she know, this would plunge the mother into an endless abyss of darkness.

When my mother first entered our family, although the relatives outwardly offered their blessings, they secretly gossiped constantly. Moreover, living in a luxury house in Taipei at the time, my mother was frequently subjected to my grandmother's sharp criticism, while my grandfather turned a blind eye. Although my father privately told my grandmother not to do this, it didn't change the situation; he could only hope my mother would be more understanding.

My father also firmly believed this was only temporary. It wasn't until my mother gave birth to me the following year that my grandmother and others greeted my mother with smiles and took meticulous care of me, their precious grandson.

However, this brief period of happiness faded as I grew up, and my mother and father gradually became estranged. Although I tried to mediate the family atmosphere, things remained the same.

It wasn't until my mother decided to move out of the mansion to Tianmu, using playing the piano as an excuse, that she persuaded my father to move out. I initially lived at home as well, but after being admitted to university the following year, I moved in with my mother.

My father often traveled abroad, and whenever he returned to Taiwan, he was constantly fussing over my grandmother, so he had less and less interaction with my mother and me.

Rumors circulated that my grandmother had recently found a respectable woman from a prestigious family for my father to marry as a concubine. Although it was just a rumor, based on experience, such rumors are often true.

As my thoughts were still lingering on my father's memories, my phone rang with the theme song of Han Yancui, a character from the Pili puppet show. I have a habit of watching puppet shows, so my phone ringtone is often Pili music.

I looked at my phone; it was a text message from a good friend from university. He's a natural talker, incredibly bold, wears frameless glasses, and has a refined face. Sometimes he's incredibly witty, and other times his words are always spot-on. He's someone I can confide in.

The text message said, "I suppose you're in India right now, enjoying the boundless spring scenery. If you're so capable, bring a hot Indian girl back for us to see. And remember, a night of passion is worth a thousand pieces of gold." I chuckled. This guy always manages to make me happy. He's one of the few who doesn't bring money with him.

At school, some people know I'm quite wealthy because I drive a Mercedes, which I usually hide very well. Who knows which classmate will see it one day, and from then on, I'm the center of attention in class.

I'm involved in all sorts of university parties and night outings. I know they only approach me because I'm rich, but I haven't said anything. Anyway, that's how I've lived my whole life. This kind of scenario often plays out on TV, but it actually happened to me in real life—it's quite ironic.

I can't remember exactly when I started talking to this friend, but I do remember having a great time chatting with him. He mostly told stories or gossiped, and we avoided talking about schoolwork whenever possible, so we got along quite well. This classmate was unpredictable, sometimes appearing and sometimes disappearing from class.

Anyway, I told my friend about my family story, not in every detail, but pretty much it.

But my friend, contrary to expectations, didn't give me that ambiguous smile. Instead, he patted my shoulder and said, "Life has its share of hardships, but once you get through it, the world will be brighter." I was surprised to find myself crying. The warm tears streamed down my cheeks and chin. My nose tingled, and as I thought about my life and everything at home, my shoulders relaxed. I felt so tired, so weary.

How I long for an ordinary little family. My father would come home after a long day, and I would greet him, "Hey, Dad, let's eat together later?" My mother would have already prepared the food and say softly, "Hurry up, hurry up, take off your clothes, eat first, then wash up, quick!" My father, with my mother holding his hand, would laugh and say, "It's not like I don't want to eat, I'm eating

now, why are you in such a hurry?" The three of us would sit at the table, eating the home-cooked dishes my mother had cooked, listening to my father talk about the trivialities of his work. I don't know how many times I've fantasized about this family scene. Unfortunately, now, the maid cooks, and only my mother and I are at the table. The cold knives, forks, and cutlery, though expensive and exquisite, feel cold and unreal. The table is silent. Even when I try to talk to my mother, she only responds half-heartedly, and eventually, I simply stop talking.

As I reached for my phone, wondering what text message to send back, my mother came out of the shower, wearing a loose, dark red, aristocratic-style yukata that covered her entire body. A belt around her waist held the yukata open, revealing her naked body.

I spoke briefly with her, telling my father I might stay with my grandmother. My mother's expression was indifferent; she focused on applying light makeup, poured herself a glass of red wine from the hotel room, and leaned against the window on the other side, gazing at the moonlight. She said to me, "Go take a shower..."

After I finished showering, my mother, slightly tipsy, was watching TV and dancing in front of the small living room. It must have been the program on TV that influenced her. Watching her graceful movements, the hem and sleeves of her bathrobe fluttering with her body, I laughed and said, "I didn't know you could dance, Mom!" My mother turned around and laughed, "You didn't know I could dance so much!" I let her dance to her heart's content until she was tired, and with the added effect of the alcohol, she was covered in a fragrant sweat. After another shower, she pulled me to bed.

Whether it was the alcohol or her good mood, my mother started chatting with me about all sorts of things, talking about her school days. I listened with great interest; it had been a long time since I had chatted with my mother like this.

My mother and I lay sideways on the bed, each with a pillow under our waists. I noticed her rosy complexion and slightly upturned lips. Her beautiful hair was swept back around her neck and draped over her left chest, revealing her collarbone beneath her yukata.

At that moment, we didn't seem like mother and son, but rather like two friends confiding in each other.

My mother yawned, said goodnight to me sleepily, and turned to sleep on her side with her back to me. I got out of bed, turned off the light, drew the curtains, and pulled back the bed curtains. I lay down on my mother's left side, also turning to sleep on my side.

I was awakened by a very soft, faint sound in the middle of the night. I blinked, still half-asleep, and listened intently. I realized it was sobbing. By then, I was eighty percent awake. It was coming from my mother…

I propped myself up on my left elbow and looked up. By the moonlight filtering through the curtains, I saw my mother's body trembling slightly. I reached out and gently shook her shoulder, asking, "Mom…!? What's wrong? Why are you crying?" My mother didn't answer, but simply covered her sobbing nose and said, "Nothing… I'm tired. You should go to sleep too." I didn't say anything more.

Because I knew my mother must have been so upset she cried. I wanted to tell her to lie down and pretend nothing was wrong, to let her calm down, and that she'd be fine in a while. For years, whenever my mother cried, I would comfort her. But later, looking at everything in this family, I started to feel numb.

But today, for some reason, the turmoil in my heart made me uneasy. I thought of my father, my grandmother, relatives, school, and my mother. Why did my mother have to bear all the pain alone? Why was I always so weak and cowardly? Before, I would only run away from all of this or choose to accept it all. Now, is this how my life, and my mother's later years, really going to be? I asked myself a huge question. A friend once said, "Live in the moment, and you'll be carefree."

And what about me? I moved behind my mother, nestled my head against her neck, and whispered, "Mom...do you want to leave here, leave this prison-like home?" My mother's shoulders trembled. "How can you...say such a thing? I'm fine, don't worry," I said. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pressing my body close to hers. I told her everything, including my deepest thoughts and what I wanted to do in the future.

My mother cried, not loudly, not wailing, just soft, continuous sobs. I comforted her and told her about my desire to take her away.

My mother turned to look at me, saying she was very sorry, apologizing profusely, which only made me more upset and upset.

I lifted my mother's face and said, "I will never let you suffer in the future. I hope you can live a happier life and not always have a deep frown and a sad face." My mother looked at me with red eyes. Her eyes were filled with unease, fatigue, and fear, but also with a touch of warmth. I felt a sweet warmth in my heart.

At that moment, I released all my pent-up emotions towards my mother. I kissed her cheek, and she closed her eyes, letting me kiss her neck and suck on her sugary lips. After a long kiss, she opened her eyes and half-pushed me away, saying, "No... this isn't right..." I sighed and said, "Mom... how does Father treat you, and how do other people treat you?" My mother frowned, sat up, and her yukata was half-undone, hanging half-hanging on her shoulders, revealing her cleavage.

I cupped my mother's oval face in my hands and said, "Mom, I don't want to, and I won't force you. But I want you to remember, I will definitely take you away, away from this disgusting place!" A large tear rolled down her cheek, and she looked at me intently, her lips slightly parted.

I lowered my hands, and my mother wrapped her arms around my neck, resting her head on my shoulder, her cheek pressed against mine. She said, "I want to leave, but I'm afraid you won't be able to." I reached up from under her arms and hugged her, saying, "Don't worry, there will always be a way."

I felt the warmth of her firm breasts against my chest. I rubbed my cheek against her rosy cheek, kissing her ears and neck. My mother released her hands and looked at me.

I placed my hand on my mother's forehead and used my fingers to brush aside her bangs along her hairline.

I looked into her eyes, those large, alluring eyes. I kissed her lips, my tongue licking her soft mouth. Our tongues intertwined, and my mother closed her eyes, going from passively letting me suckle her lips to actively kissing me with her tongue.

Saliva clung to the lips of both mother and son. After a passionate kiss, the mother, blushing, looked at me panting and said, "Go to sleep... we have to get up early tomorrow, otherwise your grandma will blame you again." She then lay down with her back to me. Seeing my mother like this, I snuggled into the quilt she was wearing and began to caress and knead her fleshy buttocks, which were covered by her silk bathrobe. The silk was very smooth. My mother pretended nothing was wrong and continued to sleep. I rested my chin on my mother's neck, breathed on her ear, and began to lick the back of her ear and burrow my tongue inside. I opened my mouth wide, and her entire ear was inside. I licked her inside her mouth with my tongue, which made my mother let out a soft moan.

My hands continued to knead her buttocks. Through her yukata, I kept scraping against her cleft. I pushed her right buttock forward with my palm, making her plump, peach-like buttocks even more prominent. My fingers kept squeezing her clitoris. Even through the yukata, her beautiful buttocks swayed, as if she didn't know what to do about my intrusion.

I slid my hand down her buttocks to the inside of her thighs, and then directly into her private parts. My mother hurriedly tried to stop me with her hands, even turning her head to look at me anxiously.

Seeing that I couldn't touch her, I decided to be ruthless and pulled the hem of her bathrobe back, then threw the entire quilt behind me. A pair of fair, shapely legs, completely exposed, with black socks on her feet, were laid bare before me. I grabbed my mother's fleshy buttocks with both hands, pinching her crotch with each hand, and pulled and stretched them, until her panties sank into her anus and covered her vulva. The pubic hair and the mons pubis bulging from the pulling of her panties made my mouth dry, and I immediately started sucking on her fleshy buttocks.

My mother, however, clenched her fists and didn't say a word.

After I had savored her pert buttocks, I turned my mother's face and, while still sucking, pulled down her yukata from top to bottom. From the side, her breasts looked quite ample. I felt it wasn't easy to tease her breasts with her lying on her side, so I simply lifted her up again, making her sit with her back to me.

I stretched out my legs, crossing them around her slender waist, and kneaded her soft breasts from behind. My mother tilted her head back, leaning against my shoulder, and said, "Tonight's events will be my secret, okay?" Her breasts, in my hands, deformed with my squeezing. I cupped the base of her breasts with my thumb and forefinger, moving upwards. When I reached the nipple, I squeezed and pulled, pulling the nipple and breast forward. With a soft moan, I licked her fair, smooth back and said, "Mom... I will... I will definitely take you away." My mother lowered her head and said, "Don't say anymore..." I turned my mother's body to her side again, and my fingers skillfully slipped from her panties into her honey pot. Her fleshy hole was already wet and dripping with lustful fluids. My mother arched her beautiful back, rested her head on the pillow, and trembled under the digging of my fingers, letting out a mournful sound.

I quickened my pace, inserting two fingers into her vagina. As my wrist sped up and my fingers bent against the vaginal walls, a soft, shy moan escaped her lips. Instantly, her buttocks trembled violently, and a gush of vaginal fluid flowed from her vagina. The afterglow of her orgasm made her body tremble, and the only sound in the air was her deep breathing. My rock-hard penis was already erect.

I pressed the head of my penis against her vulva, preparing to thrust into the very bottom of her honeypot, when my mother's hand pressed against my abdomen. Her eyes told me, not here.

My face immediately fell, and I looked exhausted. I kissed my mother on the lips and said, "Mom, as long as you feel comfortable... go to sleep." My mother blushed and said, "I... let me help you..." I saw my mother sitting up, holding my penis in both hands, stroking it up and down. I lay down, resting my head on a soft feather pillow, enjoying my mother's masturbation techniques.

As my mother's smooth palms and slender fingers grasped my hard, burning penis, I closed my eyes to relax and enjoy this aphrodisiac pleasure.

As expected, women who have had sexual experience understand the art of sex, especially a wealthy young lady like my mother, who rarely leaves her home and has long been estranged from her father, having forgotten about intimacy. Now, with a man's penis before her, after the climax, she takes advantage of her widowhood-induced lust, grasping her son's penis and rubbing it up and down incessantly, until my penis, aroused by masturbation, swells even more, the glans stretching the foreskin completely. I gently press the back of my mother's head with my left hand, signaling her to give me oral sex. My mother gives me a seductive look, then shyly takes my glans into her mouth.

At this moment, I turn my mother's buttocks to my left, and she kneels to my left, her mouth still adjusting to my penis, while my left hand continues to tease and rub her vulva from behind.

My mother's tongue circled the glans, her hand gripping the base; her lips sucked on my penis, the sucking sounds delightful. I straightened my legs, and with a surge of energy from my scrotum, I felt myself about to ejaculate. Just then, my left hand forcefully thrust deep into my penis. My mother tilted her head back and groaned, then stopped her mouth, easing the urge to ejaculate. My thighs relaxed,

and I exhaled. I felt more vaginal fluid flowing from her, my entire left palm wet. My mother continued sucking on my penis. This time was different; she knew I was close to ejaculating. If I hadn't suddenly squeezed my body while stimulating her vagina, causing her to pause, I would have ejaculated long ago.

My mother opened her mouth and began to blow, lick, suck, and hold my penis vigorously. I couldn't hold back for more than five minutes. I stretched out my left ring and middle fingers and scratched incessantly inside my mother's vagina, while my thumb first circled around her anus.

Suddenly, I gently inserted my thumb into her anus and thrust my two thumbs into her uterine wall, causing my mother's whole body to tense up. Her vaginal fluids flowed out again, and the moment of orgasm made my mother's lips suck even tighter on my penis, her cheeks concave. From the base to the glans, my penis went up and down. When it went down, my glans was already numb to the point of climax, and I shot out a thick, fishy-smelling, mixed white semen from my urethra. I saw my mother swallow, swallowing all the semen that represented my years of love and affection for her.

My mother gently pushed against the glans with her fingers, and the penis, still trembling slightly from ejaculation, cleaned itself up with toilet paper before we showered together.

There wasn't much interaction; perhaps we understood each other through glances alone.

In the bathroom, the steam from the hot water obscured my mother's face, but her shy expression and alluring eyes revealed a captivating charm.

That evening, after we dressed, we lay down together. I thought about how, before we had helped each other, my mother had worn a silk bathrobe without a bra, only pink thongs. Now, our relationship was different. I gently took my mother's right hand and held it tightly.

At this moment, a phrase comes to mind: "In the dead of night, when no one is whispering, silence speaks louder than words." I recklessly kissed my mother again, and after a passionate kiss, I finally turned over and went to sleep, waiting for the trip to end.

Now, I'm in a nine-seater SUV, driving back to the mansion from Songshan Airport. Originally, we were going to go to the mansion with everyone first to prepare for Grandma's 68th birthday celebration, but after telling my father, I decided to go first to give Grandma face and wait a while before driving my mother and me back to Tianmu.

Although on the surface, my mother and I are still the same as usual, sometimes the way she looks at me is a little off. Even if it's just for a moment, I can still sense it.

To put it nicely, it's supposed to seat nine people, but in reality, only the driver and the two rows behind it are barely livable. My mother and I were in the very last row, which was basically a luggage area with a chair crammed in for easy assembly and disassembly. The space in front and behind was very short; my legs are long and there was nowhere to put them, so I had to spread them apart. The air conditioning wasn't very effective at blowing on us from the back. Seeing my mother's tired face, I sat down with her in the very back without saying a word. To the right of the driver and uncle was my eldest aunt, in the second row were my grandma, father, and my aunt's son, and in the third row were two other aunts. My mother and I were in the very back.

My mother was wearing a simple yet elegant suit today. On the bus, she had a ladylike reserve, so she kept her legs close together, leaning towards me, and her body slightly tilted towards me.

My eyes met my mother's, and the memory of the previous night made me feel awkward. I quickly looked out the window.

As the car moved, the highway streetlights outside gradually formed a line.

It was already nighttime, and the deep orange glow of the streetlights created a fiery dragon. In the distance, the city was ablaze with traffic, a string of red taillights. I wondered, what should I do now? I watched my mother doze off, but she was woken by my subtle gesture of taking her left hand. I deliberately scratched my palm with my finger. My mother's oval face smiled slightly at me in the headlights. Everyone in front of us, except for my uncle who was still driving, was fast asleep.

I whispered to my uncle, "How much longer?" My uncle turned his neck and said, "Look at how congested the traffic is after all this time." At this point, I started teasing my mother, using my two index fingers and thumb as feet, crawling all over her arms, and finally just touching her legs.

But all of this was done from below. When my mother saw me gently touching her thighs, she didn't stop me. I moved closer to my mother and pulled her hand onto my thigh. My mother looked at me with a suspicious smile. I playfully made a shushing gesture and gently lifted my mother's long skirt. My mother hurriedly tried to stop me, a little frightened. I leaned close to my mother's ear and said, "It's just a caress, nothing serious." My mother blushed slightly and told me to keep quiet.

I slipped my hand under my mother's skirt and pulled it up to her waist, revealing a pair of black lace panties. I caressed her fair thighs, my fingers intentionally or unintentionally rubbing the inside of her thighs lightly. When I touched her private parts, I lightly scratched her vulva with my fingers. Even through the panties, it still made my mother show a shy expression.

I simply placed my mother's hand on my penis and pressed it down with my own hand to rub my penis. Only then did my mother take the initiative to caress me. Under the thick jeans, I was uncomfortably hard. I unzipped the zipper, slipped my panties to one side, and my semi-erect penis came out.

My mother pretended to be asleep with her head down, but her eyes kept glancing at me. She stroked my penis up and down with her left hand, and when it got hard, she started to speed up the stroking, making it even harder and bigger. As the traffic jam gradually cleared up, the car started to pick up speed and we entered a mountainous area. I felt uncomfortable from the erection and wanted my mother to give me a blowjob, but she said she was afraid someone would see. In the end, she complied with my request, lowered her head, and secretly licked my penis. However, my mother's fearful nature, coupled with the vibrations and bumps in the car, meant that her oral skills were not as good as usual, which only made me more excited.

We finally arrived at a luxury mansion in Taipei. I quickly put on my pants, while my mother tidied herself up. The car became noisy as we arrived. After everyone got out, my mother and I filed into the house. Of course, there were plenty of formalities and platitudes. There were not only family members but also other political and business figures who wished my grandmother a happy birthday in advance. My mother accompanied my father to greet the guests, while I stayed in the main hall, holding a glass of Hiroshima iced tea. This was a bar set up in the corner of the hall. Crystal chandeliers hung in the hall, and servants began to push food carts, filling the dining table with exquisite dishes.

My grandmother loves grandeur, and I never understood her thinking. Even though she was clearly tired from getting off the plane, she would pretend everything was fine and chat with these political and business elites. To me, much of what I heard was just flattery. I grew up in this kind of environment. I saw my mother look up from the lobby and give me a look, signaling me to come down.

On either side of the lobby were intricately carved granite staircases leading to a walkway where you could see everyone below. I liked being there; it made me feel safe.

I descended the steps, my hand resting on the Roman-style stone carvings at the top. I politely greeted passersby with glances and nods. Every time I appeared, I had to endure people's stares, listen to their whispers, and hear the girls' playful banter—I was used to it by now.

My father asked me to greet a member of parliament. I had to maintain a smile; every gesture I made represented the family. It turned out the member's daughter was about my age, currently studying abroad, and returning to Taiwan today.

I greeted the beautiful girl. She wore an elegant dark blue dress, her hair styled in an updo, with long, beautiful legs and white high heels—she clearly wasn't an ordinary person.

I knew what they all wanted me to do next, so I just went through the motions and asked the girl if she wanted to walk with me. Which of these elders wouldn't want me to do that? It was all about one thing: saving face—a disgustingly hypocritical act.

I held the girl's hand like a gentleman; she was wearing gloves matching her dress. We strolled through the back garden.

The back garden was oval, with a fountain in the center filled with koi, and streetlights like those found on British streets. I made small talk with the girl, trying to get information out of her. I did this to see if she was like me, the same kind of person.

I roughly divided her into two types: one like me, who found this kind of gathering disgusting; the other, this girl had come specifically to see the boys, hoping to marry into wealth.

Thankfully, this girl is the former type. We often talk about ourselves, especially about our parents and families, which is quite enjoyable.

This is also why I went to private school—I wanted to live a different life.

The girl was very humorous, but unfortunately it was getting late, and I had to see her off quickly. So I went back to the hall, and my father said that the girl's parents had already left and that I should take her home. I thought I was leaving anyway, so I pulled the girl and her grandmother to say goodbye. Then I exchanged a glance with my mother, and the three of us got into the car and hurriedly left this castle full of lies and falsehoods.

When we arrived at the girl's house, I made a goodbye gesture and then headed towards Tianmu. After the long journey and the bombardment of a lavish banquet, I no longer cared about my appearance and collapsed into the back seat, falling into a deep sleep.

As I drove closer to the garage, Sasaya, who had already received my call, was waiting for me at the door. I swept my mother up in my arms and carried her directly to her bedroom. The maid, carrying the luggage, followed behind, asking what I wanted to do. I told the maid to settle my mother in before coming to find me.

In my mother's room, I saw a photo of myself, my parents, my grandparents, and me. My grandfather was a political figure at the time, so it was rare for him to go out with me. This photo was the only one that made me happy,

because everyone in it was smiling naturally and happily.

I went outside, up to the music room, and then to the garden balcony. Whenever I was lost in thought, I would come here to look at the scenery.

I remember that time was in fourth grade of elementary school. At that time, my father was a financial analyst in Taiwan, and my mother was already a daughter-in-law.

That day, I think I was the one nagging, saying I wanted to go to the beach. I complained that everyone was being unreasonable, even though my parents, grandpa, and grandma had all promised to come with me. I sulked for three whole days because of this. In the end, my grandma couldn't bear it and asked my grandpa to spare a day. Plus, I kept going to my grandpa's study and begging him, so he finally agreed.

The photo shows me at the beach, with the ocean in the background. My grandma is hugging me, and my grandpa is standing to my left. He's surprisingly not being serious; he's pressed his face against mine and made a funny face. My grandma laughed, and my father behind me is making an exaggerated smile, which makes my mother cover her mouth and laugh. The person who took the photo even said that our family has a very good relationship.

But times have changed. Everything has changed. I don't recognize my grandmother anymore, nor my father. I haven't seen my grandfather smile in a long time, and my mother only smiles faintly when she's with guests, but that's just a fake smile.

The next morning, I woke up around noon. My back ached all over, and I got out of bed wearily, opened the window, and breathed in the air from the twelfth floor.

Then I went downstairs and ate the meal the maid was supposed to prepare for me, but my mother said she would cook it. Sasaya and I exchanged unbelievable glances. How long had it been since my mother had cooked? I jokingly said, "Mom, you haven't cooked in so long, are you sure you can manage?" My mother put egg noodles and some vegetables into the pot, then sliced some pork belly, added some chopped scallions and an egg. It was done in less than ten minutes. I told the maid to go ahead and get busy. Only then did my mother sit down beside me, watching me eat.

I saw love in my mother's eyes, a look I hadn't seen in a long time. The noodles were piping hot, but they were really delicious, even better than those in high-end restaurants. No delicacy could compare to one of my mother's dishes. Suddenly, my heart ached, and tears welled up again. I quickly pretended to be okay and finished the noodles in a few bites.

I asked my mother if she wanted me to play the piano later. My mother followed me into the music room. I didn't know the brand of the piano, but I'd heard it was from abroad, costing over six million yuan. Apparently, it was made by a famous family of piano makers. The sound quality, condition, wood, and lacquer all spoke of its exceptional nature. Now, it's impossible to buy one.

My mother's fingers were still playing Moonlight Sonata. I'd heard her play it in the living room since I was little. Sadly, during a university general education class, when the teacher showed "The Pianist on the Sea," it sounded familiar, as if I'd heard it somewhere before.

As the piece drew to a close, I wrapped my arms around my mother's neck, kissed her face, and then gently stroked her breasts from back to front.

My mother was wearing a white dress. Judging by the dress, I knew it was another masterpiece. The dress featured special stitching around the bust area, which lifted her breasts high and created a deep cleavage. Two gold rings fastened at the waist, accentuating her curves. The skirt was a classic Western style, with abundant lace trim along the innermost layer, while the back was open, revealing her shoulders and beautiful back.

As I played with her breasts, my mother stood up and locked the music room door.

I looked at my mother, sitting on the piano bench, the keys behind her back.

My mother shyly straddled my legs, twisting her hips under her skirt to stimulate my penis. I simply pulled down the top of my shirt, and two pairs of high, snow-white breasts popped out, drooping slightly, with nipples that were jujube red. I greedily sucked on my mother's breasts, while my mother twisted her hips, enjoying the stimulation I gave her.

I pulled up my mother's skirt, unzipped her pants, revealing my penis. I probed her vagina with my fingers; it was already soaking wet. I pressed the head of my penis against her labia. My mother frowned. I kissed her, then supported her buttocks with both hands. My mother sat down, and my penis entered her vagina. My mother let out a shy moan. Her face was flushed, her eyes were half-open, and her lips were tightly closed. She was still adjusting to the size of my penis inside her vagina. I thrust my penis forward, stretching her vagina even wider. My mother's body went limp, and she leaned against my shoulder. Using my touch, I reached under her skirt through her cleft, pulled her panties into a thong, and tucked them into her cleft. I then pulled the panties around her vagina back to avoid obstructing my thrusting.

I started moving my hips, making my mother grind against me. I began thrusting my hips violently up and down, and my mother twisted her buttocks, her breasts swaying back and forth. My penis was almost fully inserted into her vagina. I made my mother straddle me, twisting left and right, squeezing back and forth. Her vaginal walls gripped my penis tightly. My mother's lewd appearance at this moment was that of biting her slender finger, her nose emitting muffled sounds, and her entire thighs covered in vaginal fluid.

I supported her waist with one hand and pulled up until my penis was almost out, then forcefully thrust it into her vagina. Her buttocks slammed against her thighs with a slap, and my mother let out a lewd moan.

I made my mother wrap her arms around my neck, and I lifted her legs up as I stood up. My mother looked like she was afraid of falling. I swung her upper body, thrusting into her with great force, making her groan and sob, but she held on tightly to me with pleasure.

I carried my mother to the piano, and made her carry me with her back to me, holding onto the piano lid, sticking her buttocks up, and spreading her legs. I licked her beautiful back from behind, and in the process, I unzipped the back of her dress, making her take off her clothes and pull her panties down to her ankles. My mother was only wearing beige high heels. I pressed down on my mother's waist, making her stick her buttocks up even higher. My mother had no choice but to stand on her tiptoes, exposing her entire anus to me.

I first squatted down and licked her vulva and anus from bottom to top. Then I gently inserted my penis into her mons pubis, held her hips with both hands, and began to thrust at the base. The sound of my thighs slapping together made my mother moan and cry out. I didn't care if anyone could hear me. I kept twisting my lower body rapidly, pinching her breasts that were hanging in mid-air with both hands. Faster, faster, faster. Her entire vulva was full of vaginal fluid, which flowed down her thighs and into her high heels.

With a powerful thrust, I stopped inside my mother's womb, lifted her right leg with one hand, turned it 180 degrees, and placed her on the piano lid with both hands supporting her fleshy buttocks. Holding her hands, my mother's legs were spread wide like a frog's. This was the last time I thrust, my penis rubbing against her sticky, wet vagina. I felt it was very tight, very gripping. Not only was it wet, but her erection made her even more wet. My glans tingled and went numb. I pulled out and thrust a few times.

Semen fell from mid-air, covering my mother's body—her lower abdomen, chest, face, and even the piano lid. The white semen on the black piano created a stark contrast. I lay on top of my mother, kissing her fragrant lips. Recalling her wanton moans and shy expression during our passionate encounter, I made a decision: my mother was the one I would protect.

In an apartment in Kaohsiung, a mother and son were entwined on the sofa early in the morning. The mother was wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt and hot pants, which I had never seen her wear before. Her eyes were alluring, and she was full of affection for me. During our time in Kaohsiung, my mother and I were like newlyweds, making love every day. We did it on the bed in the bedroom, straddled each other on the toilet, and even performed oral sex under the kitchen sink. Today, we made love on the sofa. My mother started wearing sexy lingerie and cosplaying, completely shedding her former image as a wealthy lady.

I was only more restrained when we were out, but once on the back of a bus, my mother gave me oral sex. Another time, we had sex in the park and got bitten by mosquitoes. My mother changed; she became cheerful and lively. I dropped out of school and started online shopping from home, and my mother helped me. This made me cling to my mother every day, enjoying sweet love all the time.

Everything from the past is long gone, and I don't dwell on those memories. As long as my mother is by my side, I am content.

********

This is a story from a friend of mine; aside from the incestuous aspect, everything else is his story.

You'd never guess that a wealthy young man like him could have so many troubles. I know it's like a TV drama, but he didn't tell me the ending, so I wrote a happy ending for him. Because shortly after I heard his story, he seemed to vanish into thin air; I couldn't find him anywhere. The school only said his whole family went abroad.

Is that possible? I asked myself. Although I only knew him for a short time, his pain and expression at that time stirred ripples in my heart. But things have changed, and everyone has their own path. I can only wish him well and hope he can live the life he wants. I apologize

for the fact that this story focuses more on plot development and less on sex; please forgive me.

********

I was outside the door of the bathroom, constantly playing with my lower body, thinking about my mother's body bathing in it. The water vapor in the bathroom and the frankincense came out through the gap in the air vent under the door. Even though I squatted greedily on the ground, I couldn't see anything.

Listening to the sound of water flushing, the water flowed from the hair and face to the breasts, continued from the cleavage to the pubic hair, and then condensed into a stream of water at the flesh hole, spreading along the inner thighs.

My home is located in a high-end residential area in Tianmu. It is a twelve-story building, and my home is on the middle floor of the building. The whole house is full of European classical atmosphere, and there are works of art everywhere.

My father was a financial actuary who often traveled abroad to visit clients.

The second floor was my mother's and my room. Every time my mother finished showering, she would come out wrapped only in a towel, not fully covered, leaving her breasts partially exposed. Water droplets would drip onto her fleshy buttocks as she walked, and with the sway of her hips, I, hiding in the corner, would watch, my blood boiling.

Although the family seemed happy, my mother and father had long been estranged. It wasn't just their work relationship; more importantly, my father's family believed that my mother had only married into the family for money and to climb the social ladder.

Because of our family ties, my mother had long been accustomed to being alone. Occasionally, she would go to the bookstore to browse books or go shopping, or at home she would go to the music room to play her favorite piano. Although they were all simple pieces, her fingering was fluent and her playing was smooth. Sometimes I would stand by the large floor-to-ceiling window in the music room, looking at the small balcony in front of the window, where my mother had planted all kinds of flowers and plants. Through the afterglow of the setting sun, a golden ray of light shone on the flowers.

I watched that warm afterglow, and time gradually moved across the flowers until the entire sunset cast a shadow on the floor-to-ceiling window. Standing on the garden balcony, the light and shadow of the floor-to-ceiling window was like a gateway to heaven, with the aluminum frame on the glass of the floor-to-ceiling window.

It consisted of two large rectangular soundproof glass panes, with an aluminum frame inlaid on top—a decorative piece made of an unknown material, resembling a relief in a Roman cathedral. Under the sunlight, the reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows appeared even more beautiful.

I wondered if my mother also had a door in her heart, a door called loneliness, long since closed and locked with a strong steel lock.

My mother's fingers pressed the piano keys, the hammers pressed the strings, playing a low, melancholic moonlight sonata. The music reflected her state of mind—the feeling of being neglected by her father, the heartache of being scolded by her in-laws.

From the moment she married into the family, she had already lost the most brilliant golden years of her life.

I forgot my mother's face, her brows furrowed. Looking at everything in the music room, I couldn't help but feel a lump

in my throat. I turned to the balcony, gazing at the setting sun in the distance, and told myself that I would take my mother away from this home, away from this cold prison that had imprisoned her for almost twenty years. "Knock, knock, knock!" The sound rang out on my palm-wood door. It was my maid, Sasaya, reminding me to come downstairs for dinner.

Sasaya was an Indian woman, very young, a year or two younger than me.

Last year, when I was eighteen, I went on a family trip to visit the mosques in Jamaica, India, and then the Taj Mahal.

As my mother and I walked behind my father, who was chatting and laughing with my grandmother and some relatives, it was a completely different, cold world for my mother and me.

One family, two different feelings: I followed my mother to the Taj Mahal.

Tourists came and went nearby. My mother gazed thoughtfully at the jewels inlaid on the white marble pillars. I casually responded to the other family members' chatter. Perhaps because I was the eldest and only son, the other relatives were less averse to me.

I wondered if my mother's feelings at that moment were the same as mine. The tour guide explained that the Taj Mahal was built by Shah Jahan, the fifth ruler of the Mughal Empire, to commemorate his wife, Taj Mahal, who died in 1631. The Taj Mahal means "Remembering Mahal."

Legend has it that when the Mughals learned of Taj Mahal's death, his hair turned white overnight, and he wept bitterly, his face streaked with tears.

This starkly contrasted with my wife's longing and my father's indifference towards my mother, like heaven and hell, fire and frost.

That evening at the hotel, my father asked if I wanted to go shopping with my grandmother and the others, to try some local snacks. My mother, however, said she was tired and wanted to rest in her room. I guessed she didn't want to spend time with relatives; after all, all the conversations were just polite formalities.

I excused myself, saying I was still adjusting to the time difference, and apologized to my father. He whispered that I should keep an eye on my mother. I patted him on the back, smiled, and told him to hurry and go with my grandmother, otherwise he'd blame my mother again. My father's face fell; he sighed softly and left.

My mother lay exhausted on the bed. I asked her if she wanted to take a shower, and she nodded.

This hotel was a five-star establishment. This large suite was originally meant for my parents and me to sleep together, but it seemed my father would be bothered by my grandmother again tonight, so it would just be my mother and me.

The room was quite spacious, decorated in an Indian aristocratic style with a touch of Baroque Chinese influence. White, pink, and light blue curtains hung from the bed, the material resembling chiffon. To the right of the bed was a door with an image of an Indian elephant, leading to the bathroom.

Entering through the doorway, there was a small living room with an unidentified LCD TV. Opening the window led to the balcony, where the white facade of the Taj Mahal could be seen in the distance.

I took a deep breath and exhaled, thinking of my father's weakness. This reminded me of the cat's-eye ring on my mother's left ring finger, a ring I hadn't seen her wear in ages.

My father came from a wealthy family. Thanks to my grandfather's good connections with political parties for generations, and my grandfather being a senior member of a certain party, my father was strictly controlled by my grandmother from a young age. He was completely subservient to her, obeying her every word.

He lived like a robot, following the path laid out for him, studying his way up to the top finance department. My grandmother thought he would follow in my grandfather's footsteps and become a member of parliament.

But this time, my father made a decision that everyone opposed, a decision he was resolute in making, refusing to back down, even threatening suicide: he married my mother.

I heard that the two went to a notary office to get married, but since I was born, everyone has been evasive and even lied to me about the details.

So, little by little, as time went by and I grew up, I finally understood the story.

When my father was in college, he met my mother, who was three years younger than him, in graduate school. At that time, my mother was preparing for graduate school entrance exams, so my father would visit her at the library every day. The process was like a typical love story; the two fell deeply in love, almost to the point of madness.

My father also knew about my mother's family background. My mother came from a musical family, but unfortunately, her parents did not want their children to pursue music. So they only cultivated her musical interests, leaving her to learn the rest on her own. Although my mother's family was not wealthy, they were comfortably middle-class.

The father knew the marriage was ill-matched, but the two young and impetuous people were blinded by love and chose to marry without hesitation, believing it to be true love.

The grandmother was devastated by the news, unable to believe what she was seeing. In her overwhelming grief and anger, she even threatened to forbid the woman from ever setting foot in the house, blaming everything on the mother. It wasn't until the father left home and spent six months with the mother that the grandmother finally admitted the truth and asked him to bring the mother back. Little did she know, this would plunge the mother into an endless abyss of darkness.

When my mother first entered our family, although the relatives outwardly offered their blessings, they secretly gossiped constantly. Moreover, living in a luxury house in Taipei at the time, my mother was frequently subjected to my grandmother's sharp criticism, while my grandfather turned a blind eye. Although my father privately told my grandmother not to do this, it didn't change the situation; he could only hope my mother would be more understanding.

My father also firmly believed this was only temporary. It wasn't until my mother gave birth to me the following year that my grandmother and others greeted my mother with smiles and took meticulous care of me, their precious grandson.

However, this brief period of happiness faded as I grew up, and my mother and father gradually became estranged. Although I tried to mediate the family atmosphere, things remained the same.

It wasn't until my mother decided to move out of the mansion to Tianmu, using playing the piano as an excuse, that she persuaded my father to move out. I initially lived at home as well, but after being admitted to university the following year, I moved in with my mother.

My father often traveled abroad, and whenever he returned to Taiwan, he was constantly fussing over my grandmother, so he had less and less interaction with my mother and me.

Rumors circulated that my grandmother had recently found a respectable woman from a prestigious family for my father to marry as a concubine. Although it was just a rumor, based on experience, such rumors are often true.

As my thoughts were still lingering on my father's memories, my phone rang with the theme song of Han Yancui, a character from the Pili puppet show. I have a habit of watching puppet shows, so my phone ringtone is often Pili music.

I looked at my phone; it was a text message from a good friend from university. He's a natural talker, incredibly bold, wears frameless glasses, and has a refined face. Sometimes he's incredibly witty, and other times his words are always spot-on. He's someone I can confide in.

The text message said, "I suppose you're in India right now, enjoying the boundless spring scenery. If you're so capable, bring a hot Indian girl back for us to see. And remember, a night of passion is worth a thousand pieces of gold." I chuckled. This guy always manages to make me happy. He's one of the few who doesn't bring money with him.

At school, some people know I'm quite wealthy because I drive a Mercedes, which I usually hide very well. Who knows which classmate will see it one day, and from then on, I'm the center of attention in class.

I'm involved in all sorts of university parties and night outings. I know they only approach me because I'm rich, but I haven't said anything. Anyway, that's how I've lived my whole life. This kind of scenario often plays out on TV, but it actually happened to me in real life—it's quite ironic.

I can't remember exactly when I started talking to this friend, but I do remember having a great time chatting with him. He mostly told stories or gossiped, and we avoided talking about schoolwork whenever possible, so we got along quite well. This classmate was unpredictable, sometimes appearing and sometimes disappearing from class.

Anyway, I told my friend about my family story, not in every detail, but pretty much it.

But my friend, contrary to expectations, didn't give me that ambiguous smile. Instead, he patted my shoulder and said, "Life has its share of hardships, but once you get through it, the world will be brighter." I was surprised to find myself crying. The warm tears streamed down my cheeks and chin. My nose tingled, and as I thought about my life and everything at home, my shoulders relaxed. I felt so tired, so weary.

How I long for an ordinary little family. My father would come home after a long day, and I would greet him, "Hey, Dad, let's eat together later?" My mother would have already prepared the food and say softly, "Hurry up, hurry up, take off your clothes, eat first, then wash up, quick!" My father, with my mother holding his hand, would laugh and say, "It's not like I don't want to eat, I'm eating

now, why are you in such a hurry?" The three of us would sit at the table, eating the home-cooked dishes my mother had cooked, listening to my father talk about the trivialities of his work. I don't know how many times I've fantasized about this family scene. Unfortunately, now, the maid cooks, and only my mother and I are at the table. The cold knives, forks, and cutlery, though expensive and exquisite, feel cold and unreal. The table is silent. Even when I try to talk to my mother, she only responds half-heartedly, and eventually, I simply stop talking.

As I reached for my phone, wondering what text message to send back, my mother came out of the shower, wearing a loose, dark red, aristocratic-style yukata that covered her entire body. A belt around her waist held the yukata open, revealing her naked body.

I spoke briefly with her, telling my father I might stay with my grandmother. My mother's expression was indifferent; she focused on applying light makeup, poured herself a glass of red wine from the hotel room, and leaned against the window on the other side, gazing at the moonlight. She said to me, "Go take a shower..."

After I finished showering, my mother, slightly tipsy, was watching TV and dancing in front of the small living room. It must have been the program on TV that influenced her. Watching her graceful movements, the hem and sleeves of her bathrobe fluttering with her body, I laughed and said, "I didn't know you could dance, Mom!" My mother turned around and laughed, "You didn't know I could dance so much!" I let her dance to her heart's content until she was tired, and with the added effect of the alcohol, she was covered in a fragrant sweat. After another shower, she pulled me to bed.

Whether it was the alcohol or her good mood, my mother started chatting with me about all sorts of things, talking about her school days. I listened with great interest; it had been a long time since I had chatted with my mother like this.

My mother and I lay sideways on the bed, each with a pillow under our waists. I noticed her rosy complexion and slightly upturned lips. Her beautiful hair was swept back around her neck and draped over her left chest, revealing her collarbone beneath her yukata.

At that moment, we didn't seem like mother and son, but rather like two friends confiding in each other.

My mother yawned, said goodnight to me sleepily, and turned to sleep on her side with her back to me. I got out of bed, turned off the light, drew the curtains, and pulled back the bed curtains. I lay down on my mother's left side, also turning to sleep on my side.

I was awakened by a very soft, faint sound in the middle of the night. I blinked, still half-asleep, and listened intently. I realized it was sobbing. By then, I was eighty percent awake. It was coming from my mother…

I propped myself up on my left elbow and looked up. By the moonlight filtering through the curtains, I saw my mother's body trembling slightly. I reached out and gently shook her shoulder, asking, "Mom…!? What's wrong? Why are you crying?" My mother didn't answer, but simply covered her sobbing nose and said, "Nothing… I'm tired. You should go to sleep too." I didn't say anything more.

Because I knew my mother must have been so upset she cried. I wanted to tell her to lie down and pretend nothing was wrong, to let her calm down, and that she'd be fine in a while. For years, whenever my mother cried, I would comfort her. But later, looking at everything in this family, I started to feel numb.

But today, for some reason, the turmoil in my heart made me uneasy. I thought of my father, my grandmother, relatives, school, and my mother. Why did my mother have to bear all the pain alone? Why was I always so weak and cowardly? Before, I would only run away from all of this or choose to accept it all. Now, is this how my life, and my mother's later years, really going to be? I asked myself a huge question. A friend once said, "Live in the moment, and you'll be carefree."

And what about me? I moved behind my mother, nestled my head against her neck, and whispered, "Mom...do you want to leave here, leave this prison-like home?" My mother's shoulders trembled. "How can you...say such a thing? I'm fine, don't worry," I said. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pressing my body close to hers. I told her everything, including my deepest thoughts and what I wanted to do in the future.

My mother cried, not loudly, not wailing, just soft, continuous sobs. I comforted her and told her about my desire to take her away.

My mother turned to look at me, saying she was very sorry, apologizing profusely, which only made me more upset and upset.

I lifted my mother's face and said, "I will never let you suffer in the future. I hope you can live a happier life and not always have a deep frown and a sad face." My mother looked at me with red eyes. Her eyes were filled with unease, fatigue, and fear, but also with a touch of warmth. I felt a sweet warmth in my heart.

At that moment, I released all my pent-up emotions towards my mother. I kissed her cheek, and she closed her eyes, letting me kiss her neck and suck on her sugary lips. After a long kiss, she opened her eyes and half-pushed me away, saying, "No... this isn't right..." I sighed and said, "Mom... how does Father treat you, and how do other people treat you?" My mother frowned, sat up, and her yukata was half-undone, hanging half-hanging on her shoulders, revealing her cleavage.

I cupped my mother's oval face in my hands and said, "Mom, I don't want to, and I won't force you. But I want you to remember, I will definitely take you away, away from this disgusting place!" A large tear rolled down her cheek, and she looked at me intently, her lips slightly parted.

I lowered my hands, and my mother wrapped her arms around my neck, resting her head on my shoulder, her cheek pressed against mine. She said, "I want to leave, but I'm afraid you won't be able to." I reached up from under her arms and hugged her, saying, "Don't worry, there will always be a way."

I felt the warmth of her firm breasts against my chest. I rubbed my cheek against her rosy cheek, kissing her ears and neck. My mother released her hands and looked at me.

I placed my hand on my mother's forehead and used my fingers to brush aside her bangs along her hairline.

I looked into her eyes, those large, alluring eyes. I kissed her lips, my tongue licking her soft mouth. Our tongues intertwined, and my mother closed her eyes, going from passively letting me suckle her lips to actively kissing me with her tongue.

Saliva clung to the lips of both mother and son. After a passionate kiss, the mother, blushing, looked at me panting and said, "Go to sleep... we have to get up early tomorrow, otherwise your grandma will blame you again." She then lay down with her back to me. Seeing my mother like this, I snuggled into the quilt she was wearing and began to caress and knead her fleshy buttocks, which were covered by her silk bathrobe. The silk was very smooth. My mother pretended nothing was wrong and continued to sleep. I rested my chin on my mother's neck, breathed on her ear, and began to lick the back of her ear and burrow my tongue inside. I opened my mouth wide, and her entire ear was inside. I licked her inside her mouth with my tongue, which made my mother let out a soft moan.

My hands continued to knead her buttocks. Through her yukata, I kept scraping against her cleft. I pushed her right buttock forward with my palm, making her plump, peach-like buttocks even more prominent. My fingers kept squeezing her clitoris. Even through the yukata, her beautiful buttocks swayed, as if she didn't know what to do about my intrusion.

I slid my hand down her buttocks to the inside of her thighs, and then directly into her private parts. My mother hurriedly tried to stop me with her hands, even turning her head to look at me anxiously.

Seeing that I couldn't touch her, I decided to be ruthless and pulled the hem of her bathrobe back, then threw the entire quilt behind me. A pair of fair, shapely legs, completely exposed, with black socks on her feet, were laid bare before me. I grabbed my mother's fleshy buttocks with both hands, pinching her crotch with each hand, and pulled and stretched them, until her panties sank into her anus and covered her vulva. The pubic hair and the mons pubis bulging from the pulling of her panties made my mouth dry, and I immediately started sucking on her fleshy buttocks.

My mother, however, clenched her fists and didn't say a word.

After I had savored her pert buttocks, I turned my mother's face and, while still sucking, pulled down her yukata from top to bottom. From the side, her breasts looked quite ample. I felt it wasn't easy to tease her breasts with her lying on her side, so I simply lifted her up again, making her sit with her back to me.

I stretched out my legs, crossing them around her slender waist, and kneaded her soft breasts from behind. My mother tilted her head back, leaning against my shoulder, and said, "Tonight's events will be my secret, okay?" Her breasts, in my hands, deformed with my squeezing. I cupped the base of her breasts with my thumb and forefinger, moving upwards. When I reached the nipple, I squeezed and pulled, pulling the nipple and breast forward. With a soft moan, I licked her fair, smooth back and said, "Mom... I will... I will definitely take you away." My mother lowered her head and said, "Don't say anymore..." I turned my mother's body to her side again, and my fingers skillfully slipped from her panties into her honey pot. Her fleshy hole was already wet and dripping with lustful fluids. My mother arched her beautiful back, rested her head on the pillow, and trembled under the digging of my fingers, letting out a mournful sound.

I quickened my pace, inserting two fingers into her vagina. As my wrist sped up and my fingers bent against the vaginal walls, a soft, shy moan escaped her lips. Instantly, her buttocks trembled violently, and a gush of vaginal fluid flowed from her vagina. The afterglow of her orgasm made her body tremble, and the only sound in the air was her deep breathing. My rock-hard penis was already erect.

I pressed the head of my penis against her vulva, preparing to thrust into the very bottom of her honeypot, when my mother's hand pressed against my abdomen. Her eyes told me, not here.

My face immediately fell, and I looked exhausted. I kissed my mother on the lips and said, "Mom, as long as you feel comfortable... go to sleep." My mother blushed and said, "I... let me help you..." I saw my mother sitting up, holding my penis in both hands, stroking it up and down. I lay down, resting my head on a soft feather pillow, enjoying my mother's masturbation techniques.

As my mother's smooth palms and slender fingers grasped my hard, burning penis, I closed my eyes to relax and enjoy this aphrodisiac pleasure.

As expected, women who have had sexual experience understand the art of sex, especially a wealthy young lady like my mother, who rarely leaves her home and has long been estranged from her father, having forgotten about intimacy. Now, with a man's penis before her, after the climax, she takes advantage of her widowhood-induced lust, grasping her son's penis and rubbing it up and down incessantly, until my penis, aroused by masturbation, swells even more, the glans stretching the foreskin completely. I gently press the back of my mother's head with my left hand, signaling her to give me oral sex. My mother gives me a seductive look, then shyly takes my glans into her mouth.

At this moment, I turn my mother's buttocks to my left, and she kneels to my left, her mouth still adjusting to my penis, while my left hand continues to tease and rub her vulva from behind.

My mother's tongue circled the glans, her hand gripping the base; her lips sucked on my penis, the sucking sounds delightful. I straightened my legs, and with a surge of energy from my scrotum, I felt myself about to ejaculate. Just then, my left hand forcefully thrust deep into my penis. My mother tilted her head back and groaned, then stopped her mouth, easing the urge to ejaculate. My thighs relaxed,

and I exhaled. I felt more vaginal fluid flowing from her, my entire left palm wet. My mother continued sucking on my penis. This time was different; she knew I was close to ejaculating. If I hadn't suddenly squeezed my body while stimulating her vagina, causing her to pause, I would have ejaculated long ago.

My mother opened her mouth and began to blow, lick, suck, and hold my penis vigorously. I couldn't hold back for more than five minutes. I stretched out my left ring and middle fingers and scratched incessantly inside my mother's vagina, while my thumb first circled around her anus.

Suddenly, I gently inserted my thumb into her anus and thrust my two thumbs into her uterine wall, causing my mother's whole body to tense up. Her vaginal fluids flowed out again, and the moment of orgasm made my mother's lips suck even tighter on my penis, her cheeks concave. From the base to the glans, my penis went up and down. When it went down, my glans was already numb to the point of climax, and I shot out a thick, fishy-smelling, mixed white semen from my urethra. I saw my mother swallow, swallowing all the semen that represented my years of love and affection for her.

My mother gently pushed against the glans with her fingers, and the penis, still trembling slightly from ejaculation, cleaned itself up with toilet paper before we showered together.

There wasn't much interaction; perhaps we understood each other through glances alone.

In the bathroom, the steam from the hot water obscured my mother's face, but her shy expression and alluring eyes revealed a captivating charm.

That evening, after we dressed, we lay down together. I thought about how, before we had helped each other, my mother had worn a silk bathrobe without a bra, only pink thongs. Now, our relationship was different. I gently took my mother's right hand and held it tightly.

At this moment, a phrase comes to mind: "In the dead of night, when no one is whispering, silence speaks louder than words." I recklessly kissed my mother again, and after a passionate kiss, I finally turned over and went to sleep, waiting for the trip to end.

Now, I'm in a nine-seater SUV, driving back to the mansion from Songshan Airport. Originally, we were going to go to the mansion with everyone first to prepare for Grandma's 68th birthday celebration, but after telling my father, I decided to go first to give Grandma face and wait a while before driving my mother and me back to Tianmu.

Although on the surface, my mother and I are still the same as usual, sometimes the way she looks at me is a little off. Even if it's just for a moment, I can still sense it.

To put it nicely, it's supposed to seat nine people, but in reality, only the driver and the two rows behind it are barely livable. My mother and I were in the very last row, which was basically a luggage area with a chair crammed in for easy assembly and disassembly. The space in front and behind was very short; my legs are long and there was nowhere to put them, so I had to spread them apart. The air conditioning wasn't very effective at blowing on us from the back. Seeing my mother's tired face, I sat down with her in the very back without saying a word. To the right of the driver and uncle was my eldest aunt, in the second row were my grandma, father, and my aunt's son, and in the third row were two other aunts. My mother and I were in the very back.

My mother was wearing a simple yet elegant suit today. On the bus, she had a ladylike reserve, so she kept her legs close together, leaning towards me, and her body slightly tilted towards me.

My eyes met my mother's, and the memory of the previous night made me feel awkward. I quickly looked out the window.

As the car moved, the highway streetlights outside gradually formed a line.

It was already nighttime, and the deep orange glow of the streetlights created a fiery dragon. In the distance, the city was ablaze with traffic, a string of red taillights. I wondered, what should I do now? I watched my mother doze off, but she was woken by my subtle gesture of taking her left hand. I deliberately scratched my palm with my finger. My mother's oval face smiled slightly at me in the headlights. Everyone in front of us, except for my uncle who was still driving, was fast asleep.

I whispered to my uncle, "How much longer?" My uncle turned his neck and said, "Look at how congested the traffic is after all this time." At this point, I started teasing my mother, using my two index fingers and thumb as feet, crawling all over her arms, and finally just touching her legs.

But all of this was done from below. When my mother saw me gently touching her thighs, she didn't stop me. I moved closer to my mother and pulled her hand onto my thigh. My mother looked at me with a suspicious smile. I playfully made a shushing gesture and gently lifted my mother's long skirt. My mother hurriedly tried to stop me, a little frightened. I leaned close to my mother's ear and said, "It's just a caress, nothing serious." My mother blushed slightly and told me to keep quiet.

I slipped my hand under my mother's skirt and pulled it up to her waist, revealing a pair of black lace panties. I caressed her fair thighs, my fingers intentionally or unintentionally rubbing the inside of her thighs lightly. When I touched her private parts, I lightly scratched her vulva with my fingers. Even through the panties, it still made my mother show a shy expression.

I simply placed my mother's hand on my penis and pressed it down with my own hand to rub my penis. Only then did my mother take the initiative to caress me. Under the thick jeans, I was uncomfortably hard. I unzipped the zipper, slipped my panties to one side, and my semi-erect penis came out.

My mother pretended to be asleep with her head down, but her eyes kept glancing at me. She stroked my penis up and down with her left hand, and when it got hard, she started to speed up the stroking, making it even harder and bigger. As the traffic jam gradually cleared up, the car started to pick up speed and we entered a mountainous area. I felt uncomfortable from the erection and wanted my mother to give me a blowjob, but she said she was afraid someone would see. In the end, she complied with my request, lowered her head, and secretly licked my penis. However, my mother's fearful nature, coupled with the vibrations and bumps in the car, meant that her oral skills were not as good as usual, which only made me more excited.

We finally arrived at a luxury mansion in Taipei. I quickly put on my pants, while my mother tidied herself up. The car became noisy as we arrived. After everyone got out, my mother and I filed into the house. Of course, there were plenty of formalities and platitudes. There were not only family members but also other political and business figures who wished my grandmother a happy birthday in advance. My mother accompanied my father to greet the guests, while I stayed in the main hall, holding a glass of Hiroshima iced tea. This was a bar set up in the corner of the hall. Crystal chandeliers hung in the hall, and servants began to push food carts, filling the dining table with exquisite dishes.

My grandmother loves grandeur, and I never understood her thinking. Even though she was clearly tired from getting off the plane, she would pretend everything was fine and chat with these political and business elites. To me, much of what I heard was just flattery. I grew up in this kind of environment. I saw my mother look up from the lobby and give me a look, signaling me to come down.

On either side of the lobby were intricately carved granite staircases leading to a walkway where you could see everyone below. I liked being there; it made me feel safe.

I descended the steps, my hand resting on the Roman-style stone carvings at the top. I politely greeted passersby with glances and nods. Every time I appeared, I had to endure people's stares, listen to their whispers, and hear the girls' playful banter—I was used to it by now.

My father asked me to greet a member of parliament. I had to maintain a smile; every gesture I made represented the family. It turned out the member's daughter was about my age, currently studying abroad, and returning to Taiwan today.

I greeted the beautiful girl. She wore an elegant dark blue dress, her hair styled in an updo, with long, beautiful legs and white high heels—she clearly wasn't an ordinary person.

I knew what they all wanted me to do next, so I just went through the motions and asked the girl if she wanted to walk with me. Which of these elders wouldn't want me to do that? It was all about one thing: saving face—a disgustingly hypocritical act.

I held the girl's hand like a gentleman; she was wearing gloves matching her dress. We strolled through the back garden.

The back garden was oval, with a fountain in the center filled with koi, and streetlights like those found on British streets. I made small talk with the girl, trying to get information out of her. I did this to see if she was like me, the same kind of person.

I roughly divided her into two types: one like me, who found this kind of gathering disgusting; the other, this girl had come specifically to see the boys, hoping to marry into wealth.

Thankfully, this girl is the former type. We often talk about ourselves, especially about our parents and families, which is quite enjoyable.

This is also why I went to private school—I wanted to live a different life.

The girl was very humorous, but unfortunately it was getting late, and I had to see her off quickly. So I went back to the hall, and my father said that the girl's parents had already left and that I should take her home. I thought I was leaving anyway, so I pulled the girl and her grandmother to say goodbye. Then I exchanged a glance with my mother, and the three of us got into the car and hurriedly left this castle full of lies and falsehoods.

When we arrived at the girl's house, I made a goodbye gesture and then headed towards Tianmu. After the long journey and the bombardment of a lavish banquet, I no longer cared about my appearance and collapsed into the back seat, falling into a deep sleep.

As I drove closer to the garage, Sasaya, who had already received my call, was waiting for me at the door. I swept my mother up in my arms and carried her directly to her bedroom. The maid, carrying the luggage, followed behind, asking what I wanted to do. I told the maid to settle my mother in before coming to find me.

In my mother's room, I saw a photo of myself, my parents, my grandparents, and me. My grandfather was a political figure at the time, so it was rare for him to go out with me. This photo was the only one that made me happy,

because everyone in it was smiling naturally and happily.

I went outside, up to the music room, and then to the garden balcony. Whenever I was lost in thought, I would come here to look at the scenery.

I remember that time was in fourth grade of elementary school. At that time, my father was a financial analyst in Taiwan, and my mother was already a daughter-in-law.

That day, I think I was the one nagging, saying I wanted to go to the beach. I complained that everyone was being unreasonable, even though my parents, grandpa, and grandma had all promised to come with me. I sulked for three whole days because of this. In the end, my grandma couldn't bear it and asked my grandpa to spare a day. Plus, I kept going to my grandpa's study and begging him, so he finally agreed.

The photo shows me at the beach, with the ocean in the background. My grandma is hugging me, and my grandpa is standing to my left. He's surprisingly not being serious; he's pressed his face against mine and made a funny face. My grandma laughed, and my father behind me is making an exaggerated smile, which makes my mother cover her mouth and laugh. The person who took the photo even said that our family has a very good relationship.

But times have changed. Everything has changed. I don't recognize my grandmother anymore, nor my father. I haven't seen my grandfather smile in a long time, and my mother only smiles faintly when she's with guests, but that's just a fake smile.

The next morning, I woke up around noon. My back ached all over, and I got out of bed wearily, opened the window, and breathed in the air from the twelfth floor.

Then I went downstairs and ate the meal the maid was supposed to prepare for me, but my mother said she would cook it. Sasaya and I exchanged unbelievable glances. How long had it been since my mother had cooked? I jokingly said, "Mom, you haven't cooked in so long, are you sure you can manage?" My mother put egg noodles and some vegetables into the pot, then sliced some pork belly, added some chopped scallions and an egg. It was done in less than ten minutes. I told the maid to go ahead and get busy. Only then did my mother sit down beside me, watching me eat.

I saw love in my mother's eyes, a look I hadn't seen in a long time. The noodles were piping hot, but they were really delicious, even better than those in high-end restaurants. No delicacy could compare to one of my mother's dishes. Suddenly, my heart ached, and tears welled up again. I quickly pretended to be okay and finished the noodles in a few bites.

I asked my mother if she wanted me to play the piano later. My mother followed me into the music room. I didn't know the brand of the piano, but I'd heard it was from abroad, costing over six million yuan. Apparently, it was made by a famous family of piano makers. The sound quality, condition, wood, and lacquer all spoke of its exceptional nature. Now, it's impossible to buy one.

My mother's fingers were still playing Moonlight Sonata. I'd heard her play it in the living room since I was little. Sadly, during a university general education class, when the teacher showed "The Pianist on the Sea," it sounded familiar, as if I'd heard it somewhere before.

As the piece drew to a close, I wrapped my arms around my mother's neck, kissed her face, and then gently stroked her breasts from back to front.

My mother was wearing a white dress. Judging by the dress, I knew it was another masterpiece. The dress featured special stitching around the bust area, which lifted her breasts high and created a deep cleavage. Two gold rings fastened at the waist, accentuating her curves. The skirt was a classic Western style, with abundant lace trim along the innermost layer, while the back was open, revealing her shoulders and beautiful back.

As I played with her breasts, my mother stood up and locked the music room door.

I looked at my mother, sitting on the piano bench, the keys behind her back.

My mother shyly straddled my legs, twisting her hips under her skirt to stimulate my penis. I simply pulled down the top of my shirt, and two pairs of high, snow-white breasts popped out, drooping slightly, with nipples that were jujube red. I greedily sucked on my mother's breasts, while my mother twisted her hips, enjoying the stimulation I gave her.

I pulled up my mother's skirt, unzipped her pants, revealing my penis. I probed her vagina with my fingers; it was already soaking wet. I pressed the head of my penis against her labia. My mother frowned. I kissed her, then supported her buttocks with both hands. My mother sat down, and my penis entered her vagina. My mother let out a shy moan. Her face was flushed, her eyes were half-open, and her lips were tightly closed. She was still adjusting to the size of my penis inside her vagina. I thrust my penis forward, stretching her vagina even wider. My mother's body went limp, and she leaned against my shoulder. Using my touch, I reached under her skirt through her cleft, pulled her panties into a thong, and tucked them into her cleft. I then pulled the panties around her vagina back to avoid obstructing my thrusting.

I started moving my hips, making my mother grind against me. I began thrusting my hips violently up and down, and my mother twisted her buttocks, her breasts swaying back and forth. My penis was almost fully inserted into her vagina. I made my mother straddle me, twisting left and right, squeezing back and forth. Her vaginal walls gripped my penis tightly. My mother's lewd appearance at this moment was that of biting her slender finger, her nose emitting muffled sounds, and her entire thighs covered in vaginal fluid.

I supported her waist with one hand and pulled up until my penis was almost out, then forcefully thrust it into her vagina. Her buttocks slammed against her thighs with a slap, and my mother let out a lewd moan.

I made my mother wrap her arms around my neck, and I lifted her legs up as I stood up. My mother looked like she was afraid of falling. I swung her upper body, thrusting into her with great force, making her groan and sob, but she held on tightly to me with pleasure.

I carried my mother to the piano, and made her carry me with her back to me, holding onto the piano lid, sticking her buttocks up, and spreading her legs. I licked her beautiful back from behind, and in the process, I unzipped the back of her dress, making her take off her clothes and pull her panties down to her ankles. My mother was only wearing beige high heels. I pressed down on my mother's waist, making her stick her buttocks up even higher. My mother had no choice but to stand on her tiptoes, exposing her entire anus to me.

I first squatted down and licked her vulva and anus from bottom to top. Then I gently inserted my penis into her mons pubis, held her hips with both hands, and began to thrust at the base. The sound of my thighs slapping together made my mother moan and cry out. I didn't care if anyone could hear me. I kept twisting my lower body rapidly, pinching her breasts that were hanging in mid-air with both hands. Faster, faster, faster. Her entire vulva was full of vaginal fluid, which flowed down her thighs and into her high heels.

With a powerful thrust, I stopped inside my mother's womb, lifted her right leg with one hand, turned it 180 degrees, and placed her on the piano lid with both hands supporting her fleshy buttocks. Holding her hands, my mother's legs were spread wide like a frog's. This was the last time I thrust, my penis rubbing against her sticky, wet vagina. I felt it was very tight, very gripping. Not only was it wet, but her erection made her even more wet. My glans tingled and went numb. I pulled out and thrust a few times.

Semen fell from mid-air, covering my mother's body—her lower abdomen, chest, face, and even the piano lid. The white semen on the black piano created a stark contrast. I lay on top of my mother, kissing her fragrant lips. Recalling her wanton moans and shy expression during our passionate encounter, I made a decision: my mother was the one I would protect.

In an apartment in Kaohsiung, a mother and son were entwined on the sofa early in the morning. The mother was wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt and hot pants, which I had never seen her wear before. Her eyes were alluring, and she was full of affection for me. During our time in Kaohsiung, my mother and I were like newlyweds, making love every day. We did it on the bed in the bedroom, straddled each other on the toilet, and even performed oral sex under the kitchen sink. Today, we made love on the sofa. My mother started wearing sexy lingerie and cosplaying, completely shedding her former image as a wealthy lady.

I was only more restrained when we were out, but once on the back of a bus, my mother gave me oral sex. Another time, we had sex in the park and got bitten by mosquitoes. My mother changed; she became cheerful and lively. I dropped out of school and started online shopping from home, and my mother helped me. This made me cling to my mother every day, enjoying sweet love all the time.

Everything from the past is long gone, and I don't dwell on those memories. As long as my mother is by my side, I am content.

********

This is a story from a friend of mine; aside from the incestuous aspect, everything else is his story.

You'd never guess that a wealthy young man like him could have so many troubles. I know it's like a TV drama, but he didn't tell me the ending, so I wrote a happy ending for him. Because shortly after I heard his story, he seemed to vanish into thin air; I couldn't find him anywhere. The school only said his whole family went abroad.

Is that possible? I asked myself. Although I only knew him for a short time, his pain and expression at that time stirred ripples in my heart. But things have changed, and everyone has their own path. I can only wish him well and hope he can live the life he wants. I apologize

for the fact that this story focuses more on plot development and less on sex; please forgive me.

********

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