The son and mother took the bus home.

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The bus was still bumping along, but I was almost home.
After getting off, I slowly walked home, carrying my shopping bags. I felt a nagging
unease, as if something was missing, because I hadn't taken Xiaoli's advice and bought that box of condoms. Suddenly, I glanced to the side and saw a small pharmacy in front of me.
Standing at the entrance, I hesitated for a moment, then steeled myself and walked in with my head down.
The pharmacy was small, and only two sales clerks in white coats were chatting inside. Seeing me enter, one of the
middle-aged male sales clerks greeted me warmly: "Welcome! What would you like to buy?"
Seeing that it was a male sales clerk greeting me, my face flushed slightly. When I reached the family planning counter, I lowered my head even
further, hoping my long hair falling across my forehead would cover my face as much as possible. After searching carefully, I found
the Durex Passion Pack condoms that Xiaoli had mentioned. Pointing through the glass counter, I said in a low voice, "This!
One box, please!"
The male sales clerk looked at me, smiled, took out the box I pointed to, checked the label, and said, "35." Then he
started issuing the receipt.
I handed him the money, and he went to another female cashier, handed her the money and receipt, and said loudly,
"Durex, 35, print the receipt." Hearing the word "Durex," my heart pounded wildly.
I didn't put the box of condoms in my shopping bag. Instead, I quietly slipped it into my handbag.
I don't know why I risked the embarrassment of buying this in a pharmacy! My husband and I haven't
used such products for over 10 years, like most women who have given birth. To prevent unwanted
pregnancy, I've always used an intrauterine device (IUD). This way, I can fully enjoy the stimulation of intimacy with my husband
without worrying about getting pregnant again and having to endure the pain of abortion. I never imagined that such a small condom could 　　bring such unique pleasure
to us, who were used to sex, just as Xiaoli described . What exactly was this first-love-like sexual pleasure she was talking about? 　　I was eager to experience it. But my husband happened to be away on a business trip, which was really disappointing. Even 　　so, I decided to buy it anyway. Maybe playing with one before bed would 　　have a stimulating effect? 　　Arriving at my building, I checked the time; it was only a little before 4 pm. Usually at this time, I'd be 　　busy at the bank, sweating profusely. I wondered what my son was doing home alone so early. 　　Thinking this, I went upstairs. I took out my key, gently opened the door, and quietly closed 　　it. I thought my son might still be napping; his hand was injured and he needed rest. I 　　didn't want to disturb him, so I tried to walk as quietly as possible. 　　Entering the living room, I placed my handbag and shopping bags on the coffee table and wiped my sweat. I was getting ready to go back to my room 　　. 　　First, I wanted to change out of the uniform skirt, stockings, and high heels I'd worn all day, then put on a lighter dress, take 　　a shower, and start making dinner. I'd only taken two steps towards my bedroom when I suddenly heard a series of intermittent 　　, low moans coming from my son's tightly closed room. 　　"Ah... um... ouch! Ah..." 　　My son's moans startled me. Had something happened to his fractured arm? 　　Filled with anxiety and love for my son, I didn't have time to think. I turned and rushed to his door 　　, forcefully pushing open the door he never locked, anxiously shouting, "Yang Yang! What's wrong? Your hand 　　still hurts..." 　　I only got halfway through my question before I was utterly stunned by what I saw! My 　　son was half-lying on his desk, an open 16mo comic book. A large 　　close-up of the comic showed a voluptuous middle-aged woman with her legs in an M-shape, her exaggeratedly wet female genitalia 　　displayed before my son's eyes. 　　My son looked even more repulsive at that moment: his pants were pulled down to his knees, and his 　　little penis, which had been teasing me almost to the point of ecstasy on the bus, was now gleaming red and erect, 　　weakly held by his right hand, which was protruding from his arm's cast. His lower body was thrusting back and forth like a lustful monkey, seemingly 　　lost in pleasure. Clearly, the brat's groans weren't due to the pain of his fracture. No 　　wonder his groans seemed to conceal countless pleasures; 　　I simply hadn't considered that possibility because he was young and home alone. 　　Just then, because I pushed the door open with too much force, my son, who had been immersed in the pleasure of masturbation, was suddenly startled 　　awake! 　　He glanced to the side and saw me staring at him with my mouth agape in astonishment. The expression of ecstasy on his face immediately turned to surprise 　　, and then gradually to fear. 　　My son and I stared at each other, speechless. It felt like time itself had stopped; our 　　expressions froze, both of us bearing the same look of surprise and utter humiliation 　　. 　　It was all my fault! 　　As a mother, I knew my son was entering puberty. I should 　　have been mentally prepared for him to masturbate. 　　We ourselves had secretly masturbated when we were young, so why 　　didn't our parents ever catch us? Looking back, perhaps it wasn't because we were so good at hiding it, quite 　　the opposite, but rather because of our parents' careful planning. Even if they caught us, they would hide it as if they knew nothing. 　　My husband and I had occasionally discussed this late at night, and 　　he had even said he would pretend not to know if our son did this. But why was I so reckless today? My 　　son's moans sounded so suggestive, and I just barged into his room! Is it simply because Yang 　　Yang has always seemed so well-behaved and gentle that I, as his mother, have overlooked 　　the fact that he's also a boy with normal physiological needs, and have only focused on his injured arm? 　　Maybe...maybe... 　　there might be another possibility, but I hope that possibility is just my wild guess. Even 　　guessing feels evil. 　　But no matter what I think, watching my beloved son masturbate, I still can't help but...

I was a little annoyed. Who could associate masturbation with such a sunny and handsome young man? Just thinking about it was sinful
, especially since his hand was just broken! He was completely oblivious; what if something happened to him? How could I
explain it to my husband! Thinking about this made me even angrier.
My son's genitals were still in his injured right hand, gradually
shrinking due to the sudden loss of passion.
This was the first time I had seen my son's penis since he started elementary school. I was glaring
at him angrily when I inadvertently glanced at his penis. Although it looked vigorous when
erect, it was clearly still developing; he had very little pubic hair and a thick foreskin, making him appear
to be developing later than his peers, quite different from what I had imagined.
My son suddenly realized my gaze was off and realized he was still maintaining that ridiculous and lewd
posture. His face flushed red. I hurriedly stood up, released my penis, and turned around to bend down and
laboriously pull up my pants with my left hand, awkwardly saying, "Mom...why are you back so early?"
At that moment, my emotions were incredibly complex—anger, shame, pity, and love all surged within me, making it impossible to answer
my son's question.
We remained silent for a while. Although I had a thousand words to say to my son who had done wrong, I
couldn't say anything. Perhaps my husband was right; I should just pretend I knew nothing. My son was timid to begin with, and
he must be even more nervous than I was right now. Forget it, let's just pretend I didn't see anything. Saying nothing might be the best comfort for him
. However, knowing that my son had developed a masturbation habit, I should be more careful when entering and leaving his room
to avoid further awkwardness between us.
Thinking of this, I simply lowered my blushing face, silently turned to leave, and whispered, "Remember to
lock the door next time."
I hoped my reminder would have some effect on my son, who was going through a turbulent adolescence.

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The son and mother took the bus home.

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