My mother's lover

My father was an honest driver with irregular hours. When he got home, he rarely talked to my mother or me, and usually just collapsed into bed. My mother complained about this and often cried secretly.
I felt like a child without a father, receiving my mother's constant care. At that time, I resented my father a little. In my memory, there were no trips, no family outings to the park, and no family meals at restaurants.
This continued until I went to university in another city, out of sight, out of mind.
Without me by her side, my mother became even more lonely. She would call me once a week to check on me. Later, I joined the student council, and besides studying, I had many other things to do, so I had less time to chat with my mother.
One summer when I came home, I noticed that my mother's wrinkles had increased significantly, and there were some gray hairs at her temples. As her daughter, I didn't know what to do.
Although my father was rather taciturn, as I matured, I came to understand his hard work and the difficulty of earning money. On my mother's birthday, I took a day off to go home,
hoping to surprise
her. But the moment I opened the door, I saw something I never wanted to see: my mother and an older man I'd never met before, naked in my living room. The flowers I'd prepared for her birthday fell to the ground with a thud, shocking my mother and leaving me speechless. It felt like a resounding slap in the face, stinging me deeply. I slammed the door and ran out, tears streaming down my face, vaguely hearing my mother calling my name. When I was tired of running and crying, I stopped. My mother was practically begging me to kneel down in the street.
She said, "Daughter, you're still young, you don't understand those things between men and women. Perhaps one day you'll understand the pain I've endured all these years."
From then on, home became an ATM for me. It wasn't until after I graduated from university and got married that I gradually understood my mother's pain and suffering. My husband is a carbon copy of my father. It's not that he's uninterested in sex, but years of driving keep him constantly in a high-energy state, and driving for seven or eight hours a day causes premature ejaculation, leading him to gradually lose confidence in my body. I understand my mother's embarrassment about
saving two families , but I don't agree with her approach. Because of this, I started seeking medical help everywhere, spending a lot of money, but my husband's problem remained unresolved. In desperation, I ordered online a product to prolong a man's sexual performance. After my husband and I tried it and it worked, I quickly ordered several bottles for my mother as well. Unexpectedly, my mother became infatuated with her lover. Once, when I went back to my parents' house to stay, while shopping at the supermarket, that man happened to come in. Seeing me alone at home, he started groping me. I pushed him away, but he became violent and forced himself on me. Thinking of my unfortunate father who had been cuckolded for years, I don't know where I got the strength, but I pushed the pervert away, slapped him twice, and ordered him to get out of my house. When my mother returned from the supermarket, I bluntly told her what had happened a few hours earlier and threatened that if she continued to have fantasies about the pervert, I would expose their secret to the neighbors. In the end, Mom saved face and didn't continue playing with fire. She used the delay spray I had strongly recommended on her with Dad. On Mom's fiftieth birthday, I saw Dad's long-lost smile and witnessed the peace and harmony in our family. That was a secret between Mom and me that we couldn't tell each other. I didn't hate Mom for her infidelity; after all, she hadn't had a hard life these past years. I also didn't hate Dad for the coldness he showed me during my childhood, because as a man, he had lost his self-respect for over twenty years. Those who are steadfast and resolute often make mistakes in their loneliest moments, only to feel remorse in their moments of clarity. Clothes conceal the true nature of humanity; those who have fallen should not forget the way home. When my children can call me Grandpa and Grandma, my parents truly enjoy their golden years. Behind that steadfast devotion and sincere smile lies a story of hardship. Sometimes, hearing my husband's praise brings tears to my eyes, and I feel that all my sacrifices have been worthwhile. Perhaps a woman's greatest wish is to see her husband's career flourish, her children be healthy, and even after she becomes a haggard housewife, she will still have the person she has held hands with for a lifetime by her side.

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My mother's lover

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