Springtime between Huiling and her son

When I was in fifth or sixth grade, my parents planned to move to a new house. However, my dad thought house prices would drop, so he wanted to postpone it. But according to my mom, he actually wanted to buy a new car.

Because they couldn't agree on what to do, my mom often came to my and my brother's room (we shared a room at the time) to complain about my dad going back on his word. In the end, my father still bought the car, but

my mom used her remaining savings, plus a down payment she scraped together from a rotating credit association (Taiwan's earliest P2P lending platform), to buy the house we ended up living in. But life became tighter afterward. Not only did my brother and I get less allowance, but my parents also argued more often. As one of the last students to take the junior high school entrance exam, I was forced to focus entirely on my studies from the second year of junior high. In addition to facing increased pressure, my mom's attention was almost entirely on me, which made me feel very uncomfortable.

"Did you take your vitamins?"

"Have you finished your homework?"

"Don't you have an exam tomorrow? Go to bed early, you hear me?"

These were the questions my mom most often said during junior high.

My mom always picked me up from school on her scooter in the morning and on the way home from tutoring before dinner. My brother complained that Mom was biased; but actually, he's been independent, opinionated, and outspoken since he was little. On the bright side, he's stubborn; on the other hand, he's headstrong. Whenever Mom scolds him, he argues back, and his obstinate personality gives my parents a lot of headaches.

It's not that Mom doesn't want to pick him up; he insists on lining up with his classmates to go to and from school together. In comparison, I admit I'm more greedy and cowardly. When my parents were strict with me as a child, I studied hard to avoid being beaten and for pocket money or new toys. I guess that's how I was gradually "tamed" over the years. Back

then, about half an hour after dinner, I would continue studying. Soon after, Mom would come in with some fruit; she would often sit in my room waiting for me to finish before clearing away the dishes. Every night when I was studying, I would occupy the entire room, while my younger brother would either be doing his homework at the dining table or watching TV in the living room with the volume turned down.

At first, of course, I found Mom annoying, thinking she was watching me all the time. One time, after cutting fruit, Mom sat on the edge of the bed. I wanted to ask her to leave so as not to disturb me, but she suddenly started to secretly shed tears. I thought my impatient look had hurt her, so I hurriedly asked her what was wrong, while also trying to explain that I wasn't bothering her.

Unexpectedly, Mom's tears flowed even more profusely, and then she began to confide her grievances, almost to herself. I don't remember the exact content, but it seemed to be related to loans and my father. After listening to her complaints, I realized that Mom had a tough life too. It wasn't enough for her to just stay at home, buy groceries, cook, go shopping in her spare time, and go to beauty salons.

After that, I would often ask Mom to cut fruit and then have her sit and wait for me to finish eating. Every time, Mom seemed very happy. Realizing this made me a little sad, and I asked myself, "Why does this make her happy?" My relationship with my mom slowly warmed up from then on, and I was less bothered by her sitting in my room with me while I studied (though she wouldn't sit there for very long anyway).

Not long after the start of the third year of junior high school, the infamous earthquake struck Taiwan. I was jolted awake by the earthquake and frantically woke up my younger brother, who slept in the upper bunk. He seemed quite annoyed by being woken up and mumbled something incoherently. I remember the shaking lasting for a long time before it stopped. Just as I was about to go back to sleep, the second, and strongest, tremor hit.

This time, not only was my brother terrified, but I also heard my mom scream from my parents' room. Then my dad yelled, "Hide under the bed!" After the shaking ended, our whole family rushed down to the street below our apartment building, where the streets were already filled with panicked people.

After about ten minutes, my dad started discussing with the other neighbors how serious the earthquake had been. My mom grabbed my arm and started trembling, I couldn't tell if it was from the cold or from fear.

I volunteered to go upstairs to get her some clothes (actually, I needed to pee and was feeling quite uncomfortable), but she grabbed me tightly and wouldn't let me go upstairs no matter what. A long, drawn-out time passed, and as the crowd gradually dispersed, my dad finally decided we could go home. The next morning, I got up early to watch the news and learned that the disaster in Nantou was severe.

For me, being a junior high school student only ended the day before the college entrance exam. I think I slept the entire afternoon after the exam. The next day, my mom bought a newspaper with the exam answers and asked me to do some calculations. That's when I finally felt nervous.

I calculated that I should be able to pass, but I told my mom I was only about 50% sure. I remember my mom saying with an expression that I couldn't tell if she was sad or disappointed, "Okay, we'll just have to wait until the results are released." On the day the results were released, I told my mom she would go see them; the mix of anticipation and fear of being disappointed made me lack the courage to face it.

That day, around noon, my mom suddenly rushed into the room, excitedly telling me, "You passed the exam! You passed!" I did pass, but the construction company's progress wasn't slack either; payment receipts kept arriving, and my parents' cold wars gradually increased. During that period, my mom was often down, but she pretended everything was fine in front of the children.

Even my oblivious younger brother could sense it, let alone me, who was even more sensitive. Because I was somewhat worried about my parents' relationship, during the summer vacation, if they were in a cold war again, I would try to act as a peacemaker. Occasionally, I would help my mom with some housework, but most importantly, I knew to take the initiative to talk to her.

At first, we didn't have much to talk about, but later I discovered that reminiscing was the best way to start a conversation. So, during meals, I would often ask about the past. Once, we talked about my dad's proposal to my mom. I always knew my dad wasn't very romantic, but it seemed like my mom was the truly unromantic one.

One time, on the way home from a date, my dad said, "Oh, so, you've been thinking about getting married, right?"

My mom replied, "Yes."

My dad said, "Oh... then... we..."

My mom said, "I asked around, the dowry is 160,000, the grand dowry is 500,000, and the grand dowry is refundable."

My dad said, "660,000? Okay, I'll go home and get the money..." My

father went home and got 660,000, and then they sent out wedding invitations... No candlelight, no big meal, no kneeling on one knee, not even a diamond ring. My parents had only been dating for about six months before getting married. Their idea was that since both sides had reached a consensus, they should settle down as soon as possible.

The most memorable thing that summer was going to karaoke with my mom. My mom actually loves to sing, but she's busy with the house and the kids, so she rarely has time to go. That time, she happened to have a coupon, so she planned to take my brother and me with her, but my brother absolutely refused to go (he just wanted to stay home and play video games).

I couldn't resist my mom's pitiful eyes and nagging, and since I had never been before, I agreed.

At first, it was a little awkward in the karaoke room. The mother and son weren't very good at operating the karaoke machine, and faced with a vast selection of songs, they didn't know where to begin. I was in school at the time and didn't know which singers were popular, only that Stefanie Sun was playing a lot of music.

After finally managing to pick a few of her songs, my mother claimed she couldn't sing them, so I reluctantly grabbed the microphone. My strange voice from puberty, combined with the inconsistent tempos, made my mother laugh from beginning to end. I genuinely thought I had fully expressed the sentimental lyrics…

Actually, the song set the mood, and my mother and I started teasing each other; I picked an old folk song I'd never heard before for my mother, and she picked an English song for me. We took turns singing random songs, and unexpectedly, we got really into it, singing love songs as a duet in the karaoke room.

The first song was fine, but the second one started to evoke a certain indescribable feeling. Towards the end, my mother and I even exchanged a few glances.

I thought junior high was hell, but I never imagined that high school would reveal even deeper hell. In junior high, I could still rank in the top five of my class, but in a prestigious high school, I bitterly realized I was just a chicken. My ranking plummeted to outside the top ten, and not only my parents but I was also very frustrated.

My cousin gave me a lot of helpful advice back then, and I'm especially grateful to her (though I hope she never sees this post); she did better than me in high school and got into her second-choice university. She told me from her own experience that in elite high schools, classmates are selected through exams, unlike the Gaussian distribution environment of elementary and junior high, so you have to learn to forget all your past achievements.

"You need to focus on comparing yourself to yourself first, and that's how you regain your confidence."

"Aim to improve by one or two points in each subject by the next monthly exam."

"Don't underestimate this kind of progress; the cumulative effect over the whole year is huge," she said.

That year, the house was finally built, which was probably the happiest thing, because the new home meant I could have my own room. After moving into the new house, my mom came to my room less often; mainly because after school, if I didn't need to go to tutoring classes, I would stay at school for evening self-study. I usually didn't get home until around 10 pm on weekdays; on weekends, I would go to school at 8 am and not get home until 5 or 6 pm.

The days of my first year of high school were the same every week. Besides studying, the only free time was to play ball with my classmates. But the teachers also encouraged us to play ball, because they said that this would give us the energy to study harder, damn it! The summer before my second year of high school was no different from usual; there was summer tutoring at school from Monday to Friday, and self-study on Saturday and Sunday.

One rare family dinner, I asked Dad if we could play PS2 that night, taking advantage of the relaxed atmosphere.

"Oh, Mom, what do you think?" Dad looked at Mom.

Hearing his question, I inwardly sighed, "This is hopeless!"

"No way! Don't you think your nearsightedness is bad enough? Mom would rather you play ball." Sure enough!

"How can this be?! Why can my brother go out with his friends all day long? Can't I do anything but study?" I complained.

"I didn't!?! I went to the library with my friends, okay?" my brother quickly defended himself.

"Bullshit!

" "Alright! What's all the arguing about while we eat?" Mom nipped the argument in the bud. Dad gave me a wry smile and lowered his head to eat.

Seeing the tense atmosphere at the table, Mom softened her expression and said, "Do you want to come with Mom to sing karaoke?" "I have a coupon!"

"Mom's on shift this week," Dad reminded me without hesitation.

"I know, I'm not asking you." Mom said, then looked at my brother and me, her face full of anticipation. "How did it go?"

"Well... I already made plans with my classmates..." my brother quickly declined.

"Going out to play again? Why don't you study harder..." Mom started nagging my brother.

After finally finishing her nagging, she looked at me and, seeing the noncommittal expression on my face, was clearly disappointed.

After dinner, Dad found an opportunity to ask my brother and me to seriously consider going to karaoke with Mom. He said we should cherish the time we have at home; and that we should be more sensible and filial. Although I was a little reluctant at the time, I'm glad I listened to my father afterwards; that night, when Mom brought fruit to my room, I asked her if she would take me to karaoke.

"Come on, aren't you going to summer tutoring?" Mom laughed.

"On Thursday, there's PE and other classes in the afternoon, so it doesn't matter if I don't go."

"Besides, since Mom's willing to embarrass herself, I shouldn't hold back either."

"Hey~ I sing much better than you, okay?" Mom protested with a laugh.

"How about Saturday?"

"Are there any discounts on weekends?" I asked doubtfully.

"Yeah..." Mom thought for a moment, "Are you sure it's okay if I don't go to those classes?"

"Some people in my class haven't even come to summer tutoring yet."

"Hmm... I'll think about it."

"Oh, it'll be fine. Please, Mom, I even study on weekends..."

"In that case... um... okay... then I'll pick you up on Thursday noon?"

"Really? It's a deal?"

That noon, Mom actually came to pick me up in Dad's car. After getting in the car, I asked, "Why are you driving Dad's car?"

"His car got scratched before, but the mechanic notified me this morning that it's fixed, so I went to the mechanic and drove it back." "

Oh."

"What do you want to eat for lunch?"

"Hmm... how about xxx?" I suggested a noodle shop that Mom and I both love.

"What about my brother?"

"He went to the swimming pool with his friends."

"That's too much fun..." I whispered.

"Okay, hang in there for two more years, I heard you get to play around in college for four years! If Mom hadn't gotten married so early, I really wanted to go to college..." Mom started to ramble on, reminiscing about her youth.

"..."

"What's wrong...?" Mom talked for a long time, but I didn't react.

"..."

"Actually, Mom has seen all your hard work, and Mom feels sorry for you, you know?"

I'm sorry to say, but at that time I was fantasizing about a certain female teacher who had just arrived at school. According to our class's usual assumptions, we guessed she was probably in her early thirties, but she looked like she was only in her twenties. Besides her delicate face, she possessed an intellectual, mature, and confident beauty; for a while, she was the object of my fantasies.

"Brother, are you listening?" Mom asked worriedly.

I snapped out of my reverie and said somewhat flusteredly, "Yes...yes..." Turning my head, my eyes inadvertently glanced at Mom's thighs. Mom was wearing casual shorts, and perhaps because she was sitting, about three-quarters of her thighs were exposed. Although I quickly looked away, I couldn't help but steal glances several times along the way.

I must say, besides her full and graceful curves, Mom's legs were incredibly white and smooth, so white that you could faintly see the bluish veins beneath her skin.

Mom drove me home and made me change out of my uniform before we went to eat. After lunch, at the karaoke bar, with my deliberate efforts, the atmosphere in the private room quickly became cheerful; every time it was Mom's turn to sing, I would dance along and tease her, making her sing and laugh, barely managing to sing a few complete lines.

I got a little carried away with the pranks, and on a whim, while Mom was in the dressing room, I ordered a love song. I tried to justify it to myself, saying I was just teasing her, but I couldn't resist and ordered a few more duet love songs. When Mom came back, I started singing, remembering how incredibly nervous I was, staring intently at the screen, afraid to look at her.

She was unusually quiet sitting next to me, and even after I finished, she didn't say a word; the atmosphere was awkwardly tense. Finally, the duet love song I ordered started. Unexpectedly, Mom picked up the microphone and started singing first, and then I mustered my courage and joined in. I could tell we were both a little off-key.

I unconsciously moved closer to Mom, and to my surprise, she moved closer to me too. When the song ended, Mom and I were still sitting very close, but neither of us spoke. When the next song started, I secretly glanced at Mom, and she secretly glanced at me. I sang first, and when it was her turn, she didn't hesitate to start singing as well. After that song ended, whether out of teasing or some inexplicable impulse, I turned around and hugged her.

When I hugged her, I felt Mom flinch, her delicate body stiffening as she tried to pull away. I, having successfully gotten my hands on her, was momentarily stunned, because I hadn't expected to actually hug her. I thought I'd definitely be pushed away and given a good scolding, but Mom didn't resist. Surprised and delighted, I uncontrollably kissed her face. Mom tried to dodge, but where could she dodge when hugged like that? I gently kissed her cheeks and neck, my hands involuntarily starting to roam over her body.

After a while, Mom suddenly pushed me away and stood up. I looked at her, somewhat confused and even embarrassed. Mom avoided my gaze and said she was going to the restroom. Of course, I couldn't continue singing afterwards. Honestly, I don't remember how I left the karaoke bar or how I got home. I only remember sitting in the assistant's seat, filled with embarrassment and frustration.

Finally home, I hurriedly took out my keys, opened the door, took off my sneakers, and was about to go to my room when I heard the door close behind me. I couldn't help but turn around and saw Mom bending down to take off her high heels; because Mom had her hair up, my gaze could peek slightly into Mom's neckline.

I couldn't help but try to visualize my mother's chest. I still remember that black lace top and beige casual shorts. My mother always knew how to dress herself; as far back as I can remember, she never seemed sloppy in public, always managing to look both simple and stylish.

At that moment, my mother's figure exuded femininity and a certain allure. Halfway off her high heels, she looked up and saw me watching her, then hurriedly looked down again. After taking off her shoes and putting them in the shoe cabinet, she stood up and, seeing me still watching her, her expression became somewhat unnatural. As

she tried to walk past me, I don't know where I got the courage, but I suddenly hugged her again. This time, my mother didn't seem frightened, and just like in the private room, she didn't resist. I boldly tried to kiss her again, but she dodged, preventing me from kissing her lips. However, I kissed her cheeks, ears, and forehead.

Gradually, I started kissing my way down from my mother's cheek. My mother, her breath uneven, said, "Brother, wait a minute...can you stop?"

I slowly stopped.

"Could you let go of me first?" my mother said softly.

Not only did I not let go, but I also looked at my mother. Our eyes met briefly, then looked away; but I still remember the dazed look in her eyes. Seeing her head lowered, not daring to look at me, I mustered my courage and kissed my mother's shoulder.

"Wait a minute..."

Ignoring my mother's soft pleas, I continued kissing her fragrant shoulder.

"Do you know...do you know what you're doing?"

I didn't know how to answer, only holding the woman in my arms tighter. "You...you...really want to do this?" My heart pounded, and I looked at her as she nodded. "Some...some things, once they happen...can never be undone...have you thought

about that ?" My mother looked at the floor and finished speaking, then fell silent. The mother and son remained frozen in the entryway. Then, rather than hearing, I sensed a sigh from the mother; she said softly and laboredly, "Go take a shower..." Hearing those barely audible words, my heart nearly leaped out of my chest. I immediately released my arms, turned, and rushed to the bathroom; turning on the showerhead, I began undressing as I rinsed. The excitement was indescribable; I could only scream in my mind, "My first time! So exciting, so exciting, so exciting!!!" While showering, I was filled with excitement; though I briefly considered her identity, reason had long been consumed by lust. At that moment, for me, consumed by lust, the issue of mother and son was irrelevant. I emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, unsure where to go. I tried my parents' bedroom door, finding it locked, so I went back to my room. I casually threw on a t-shirt and basketball shorts. Sitting on the bed, I felt incredibly hot. After turning on the air conditioning, I considered whether to close the door. While I was still hesitating, Mom appeared in the doorway; she wore a plain white t-shirt and mini shorts. Dressed casually, she stood there, seemingly not intending to come in. "Mom wants you to think this through… some things have changed, and even if you regret it, you can't go back…" Mom asked me again. I admit, I didn't understand the meaning behind her words at the time, but I subconsciously nodded to show I understood. Mom gestured for me to lower the blinds behind me, and although there was privacy film, I complied. As soon as Mom closed the door, I picked her up; I pressed her heavily onto the bed while kissing her haphazardly. In my eagerness, I soon tried to take off Mom's shorts, but she held my hands down, preventing me. Inexperienced and without thinking much, since my attempt was thwarted, my hands quickly moved to caress Mom's upper body. Of course, my mouth wasn't idle either. I kissed my mother's cheek and neck wildly; as I kissed, I pulled her t-shirt up to her chest. Even though the room was a bit dim, the dark brown lace bra and my mother's snow-white upper body still complemented each other. I didn't bother to undo it, and instead lowered my head to kiss her breasts passionately, my hands roaming all over her body. After I had my fill of touching, I reached under her bra and began to knead her breasts. Her breasts were so soft, and her nipples were shaped like small grapes. I couldn't help but push the bra up, exposing her breasts to the air; one hand gently kneaded her left breast, and then I opened my mouth to take the other one in. My mother's breathing gradually became heavy, and her nasal breathing seemed to be a signal reminding me to try to take off her pants again. This time, she didn't resist. After removing her pants and underwear together, what came into view were my mother's smooth, white thighs and her lush triangle area. I quickly stripped naked, but while I was undressing, Mom sat up, grabbed my pants, and magically produced a small square package, handing it to me and softly asking, "Do you know how to use this?" I nodded and took it from her, hesitating slightly as I held the condom. I looked at Mom, who had already lay back down, then at the condom in my hand, then back at her, and cautiously asked, "Can...can I not wear it?" Aside from the slight rise and fall of her chest, Mom lay there quietly. I thought she hadn't heard me, so I asked again weakly, but she still didn't react. I decided to put the condom aside and try it out first. When I first approached her, I was incredibly excited, my heart pounding in my chest, and my mouth parched. As if afraid she would run away, I cautiously approached her. As I drew closer, Mom's eyes were tightly closed; she seemed quite nervous too. As my knees moved closer to my mother's legs, she cooperated by spreading her legs apart. My gaze naturally shifted to the area between her legs, where her pubic hair was quite thick. It was my first time kneeling between a woman's legs, and I was kneeling a little too far away. I leaned down and realized the distance was wrong, so I awkwardly moved closer. As I guided my penis towards her crotch with one hand, her pubic hair tickled me. On my first attempt, the angle was too high, and it slipped. I instinctively explored the soft, moist area between her legs with my hand, discovering the "entrance" was lower than I had estimated. I lowered the angle slightly and pushed forward again. This time, the glans indeed sank into a warm, slippery place. My hips pressed forward without hesitation until I felt a slight resistance. I pulled back slightly and tried again. This time, almost the entire length except for the base was inside. My male instincts compelled me to go all the way in. Just as I was about to pull out slightly, my mother's hips cleverly adjusted the angle, and our pubic bones pressed against each other. My first time experiencing complete penetration was, to put it simply, incredibly, incredibly amazing! "What is this insane pleasure of being tightly enveloped by layers of tender flesh?!" I screamed internally. Even more incredible was the indescribable warmth within my mother's body; it wasn't just my penis, but a feeling of being warmly enveloped even my soul. In every sense, I had returned to my mother's embrace. I couldn't help but ride her, though my hips and waist were still somewhat uncoordinated; the frequency and movements of my thrusts were very clumsy, but that didn't diminish the mind-blowing pleasure my mother was giving me. No one could have imagined that year, that summer, that scorching afternoon; somewhere in northern Taiwan, a mother and son crossed an absolute taboo between blood relatives. They tasted pleasure and flavor from each other that they should never have tasted. That woman was my brother's mother, whom he both respected and feared, and my father's legal wife. Before that day, he had always been her only man, and only he could enjoy her soft, white body in bed. But that afternoon, the woman was held tightly in the arms of a thin young man; she was pinned to the bed, letting the young man brutally rape her. I buried my face next to my mother's cheek, my rapid breaths filled with the sweet scent of her hair. Pressed to the bed, she could only receive her son's strength and lust, thrusting again and again. Without any change in position, I simply instinctively held onto my mother's shoulders, experiencing the pleasure that intensified with each thrust.

The room was filled with our rapid, panting breaths. After a few final, forceful strokes of my mother's tender vagina, I suddenly thrust in with a fierce intensity. My engorged penis pressed tightly against the very depths of her mature vaginal cavity, and I began to ejaculate violently and rapidly.

Sixteen years' worth of virgin semen gushed forth in large spurts, quickly filling the deepest recesses of her body. The pleasure of ejaculating into a mature woman without a condom left my mind blank.

After a long, absent-minded experience, I realized I was lying beside my mother. Hearing my own breathing gradually subside, a flood of emotions overwhelmed me; guilt, shame, and remorse lashed out at me.

"What have I done to her?!" I screamed at myself.

My mind was in turmoil when the woman beside me suddenly moved. I saw Mom get up from the bed, pull some tissues from the desk, and then, with her back to me, begin to clean herself.

That image of Mom's back is still deeply etched in my mind today.

Her bra was hanging precariously on her shoulders, almost slipping off; her head was lowered, one leg slightly bent, as she carefully wiped her genitals with the tissues. That action of hers made my penis hard again.

I carried Mom back to bed from behind. She seemed a little surprised when I first held her. Only after I pushed her down again did she close her eyes, bite her lower lip, and obediently let me enter her once more.

The room once more echoed with the panting of mother and son.

Even now, Mom never moans; she breathes heavily when excited and gasps during orgasm. She always expresses the pleasure she enjoys in bed with breaths caught in her throat and suppressed in her nose.

Mother and son made love a second time. I still didn't know gentleness, only how to thrust wildly and relentlessly, indulging my lust on my mother's body. Her thin waist and hips arched between her legs, and with each withdrawal, I could feel the wonderful scraping of my penis against her flesh.

But I couldn't bear to withdraw too much, so I eagerly thrust my hips back in, inserting my penis all the way back until our pubic bones met. I breathed heavily, my nostrils filled with my mother's rich, sweet scent of sweat; I was enjoying my mother's ripe body in every way, feeling the exquisite pleasure she brought me.

Without warning, my penis thrust wildly into my mother's tender vagina again, a tingling, numb sensation spreading from my waist down my buttocks. My scrotum, feeling that tingling, numb sensation, began to contract violently again and again. My mother gasped, receiving my hot semen once more.

The pleasure of ejaculation almost made me convulse, and I was also surprised that there was still so much to ejaculate? Finally, the throbbing inside Mom gradually subsided, and I slowly collapsed onto her, feeling the violent rise and fall of her chest and her heartbeat.

Time flowed by blurring between mother and son. After a while, Mom said in a muffled voice, "Can you get off me?"

I obeyed and turned over onto the bed, feeling my entire testicles shriveled and light.

When Mom got up and stepped over me, I felt a few drops of something fall onto my stomach, but I was too lazy to care. Mom got out of bed, picked up her clothes, quickly put them on, and left without saying a word.

I was left alone in the room, feeling the condemnation of my conscience.

This incident, which happened before I entered my second year of high school, filled me with guilt and made me feel extremely ashamed; I didn't dare face anyone in my family, and I guessed Mom probably did too? For those few weeks, I didn't dare look at Mom or talk to her; it seemed like Mom and I were avoiding each other.

Anyway, I always rode my bicycle to school early in the morning and didn't get home until around 10:30 at night, so we didn't really have many chances to see each other.

But once a boy has tasted the sweetness of love, how can the phrase "insatiable desire" even begin to describe him? It was probably before the second monthly exam. Although my mom and I still barely interacted, I couldn't help but start thinking about her again.

I tried to focus on my studies and sports, I tried to blame myself, and I even tried to fantasize about other women. But the more I avoided it, the deeper my longing for my mom became.

One night, after taking a shower at home, I heard my mom sounding like she was in the kitchen. I finally couldn't control myself and "sneaked" over there. I found my mom hanging clothes on the balcony behind the kitchen. She turned around and saw me, clearly startled, but pretended to be nonchalant and continued hanging the clothes.

I stood behind her, unsure how to begin, but driven by intense desire, I couldn't help but weakly ask, "Mom...?"

Mom paused her work, but didn't turn around. After a moment, she asked, "How is it?"

I decided to approach her, but seemingly sensing my movement, she turned around and said urgently in a low voice, "Wait! Don't come any closer! Everyone else in the house is here..."

"Mom..." I looked at her pleadingly.

"We'll talk about it in a few days, okay?" Mom said quietly, looking at the clothes in her hands.

At that moment, I couldn't quite understand the meaning behind her words; I felt rejected, but her tone didn't quite convey it. Though I was hesitant, Mom stood there firmly, and I didn't know how to confirm it.

"It's late, go to sleep," Mom urged.

Seeing her resolute attitude, I didn't dare to persist and left dejectedly. Back in my room, thinking about Mom, I masturbated intensely before finally falling asleep with mixed feelings. In the following days, I continued to focus on my studies and basketball, trying to put my mother's situation out of my mind.

One evening, after taking a shower, I opened the bathroom door and saw my mother standing in the doorway.

"I have something to tell you," she whispered before heading straight to my room. I

must say, I was filled with excitement and anticipation.

As usual, I sat at my desk, and my mother sat on the edge of the bed. After I was seated, she began, "Do you remember when we were in junior high school? Back then, I was really pushing you and your brother with your studies, wasn't I?"

"But only you listened and worked hard... I was so proud of you..." "Actually, I know you work very hard, so I always hoped I could do something for you." My mother's eyes were full of memories.

"And you also remember that earthquake, right?" she asked softly. "That time you noticed I was cold and offered to go upstairs to get me some clothes. I was so touched, you know?"

I lowered my head in shame, because the real reason wasn't just that.

"That time, Mom was really scared... and realized that being safe and sound is a blessing." "So I've become increasingly conflicted, wondering if I should continue to keep a close eye on your studies, hoping you'll achieve great success in society? Or... or should I let you enjoy your childhood happily..." Mom's eyes showed struggle.

"After you went to high school, you went to school very early every day and came home very late. Mom only saw you a few times a day..." "One day I suddenly realized that if you, brother, left home to go to university, Mom would see you even less. Not to mention in the future, when you join the army, work, get married..." Mom choked up as she spoke.

Hearing Mom pour out her heart, I held her hand, moved.

"Remember the first time we went to karaoke? We had so much fun, didn't we?" "So later Mom took you there too, simply wanting to have more shared memories with you..." Mom looked at me, her face full of love. "But I really didn't expect things to turn out this way..."

Mom's subsequent confession was fragmented, saying whatever came to mind. Therefore, the description that follows has been edited and incorporates many of the later conversations between mother and son.

When I hugged her in the private room, she was actually stunned and didn't know how to react. After finally coming to her senses, she inwardly scolded herself for going too far with the joke, but also felt that something was "strange" and abrupt.

After thinking it over, she realized that she didn't feel the slightest bit of anger at my transgression and intrusion! She should have felt angry, but instead, she was filled with pity. At that moment, she only thought that I might not know what I was doing; or perhaps I was under too much pressure, which was why I lost my composure like that?

When I tried to kiss her, she instinctively turned her head away, without feeling humiliated.

A sudden surge of intense curiosity welled up within her; she wanted to know just how far I would go. She also wanted to know how much she would indulge me. What would it take to make her feel it was excessive and angry? But the next second, Mom realized they were "outside," and realizing that, she instinctively pushed me away and hurriedly fled the private room.

She said that on her way home, she was also flustered and confused, not knowing what was wrong with her. When she took off her shoes in the entryway, she felt my gaze slipping inside her collar, but that only intensified her curiosity from the private room.

And so, she was embraced and kissed by me again, and then the tension returned.

"This time we're not outside," she strangely reminded herself, and then the question of "not being able to go back" surfaced in her mind; Mom said that it wasn't so much a question for me as it was for herself.

The struggle between reason and curiosity ultimately ended with curiosity winning. Afterwards, Mom said she felt a strange change; she felt like half of her body no longer belonged to her. Furthermore, her consciousness became somewhat detached; a part of her seemed to be observing herself from a third-person perspective. This is why she was able or dared to tell me to take a shower, and then involuntarily went to shower herself.

When I was on the bed, Mom said that apart from some strange feelings, everything else was fine.

My kisses and caresses didn't disgust her; her body naturally warmed up and became moist. Actually, until the "last moment," deep down, Mom still "didn't believe"; she didn't believe I dared, and even less did she believe she would give in.

But I really did thrust my hips, and she really did let me into her.

When she truly felt me inside her, besides being shocked, she said she kept asking herself, "Is this real?" "How could this be?!"

After recalling the incident, Mom stared blankly ahead, her eyes seeming to pierce through the wall. I sat there, speechless for a long time.

Finally regaining my senses, I stammered, "Then... what about us in the future...?"

Mom's gaze sharpened again, and she sighed softly, "Sigh... yes... in the future..."

Mom suddenly sat up straight, her face serious, and said, "These past few weeks... Mom has thought it over. If you want a future, then you have to agree to every condition I mention!"

Mom recited the "Five Rules of Our New Life" as if reciting a textbook, rules that I would later be forced to remember:

"Your grades can only improve, not fall behind, based on your monthly exam scores."

"You absolutely cannot tell anyone about what's going on between us; you must know how to avoid it at home and not let anyone suspect anything."

"And then, if I say no, then no; you can't pester me."

"Also, you're not allowed to peek at pornographic books or videos."

"Finally... you have to be obedient!" Mom glared at me. "If I tell you to wear it, then wear it obediently, or don't even think about it! Understand?"

For each condition Mom mentioned, I nodded frantically several times. After thinking about the last one and understanding it, I nodded vigorously again.

Mom spoke earnestly, urging me again, "Mom really wants you to be okay... Promise me you'll continue to study hard, just like before, okay?"

"Okay," I replied obediently.

"Sigh, I hope Mom hasn't ruined you..."

"Then these next few days, can I..." I asked somewhat lewdly.

"Forgot already?" Mom interrupted me, her face hardening. "Bring your monthly exam report card home first!"

"Oh, right!" I almost stood up straight.

Before leaving my room, Mom gave me her third instruction: "Remember what Mom said!"

"Okay."

In the days that followed, every time I received my monthly exam report card, I would stick it on the kitchen refrigerator door. Mom would look at it and put it away, which meant she "knew," and then it was up to Mom to "arrange the time." And so, I, an ordinary high school student, began to have a "morally inappropriate" relationship with my mother.

But by using "morally inappropriate," I mean I felt guilty about it. Even now, a faint sense of guilt lingers, whether towards my father or even my brother.

My mother probably feels guilty towards my father too, but I never dare to ask. Whenever we're alone, no matter what we're doing, we have an unspoken agreement: we try not to mention Dad. Even later, when Mom and I were quite talkative, we still avoided discussing him.

Dad works in Taiwan's tech industry; the grueling hours and immense pressure usually leave him wanting nothing more than to collapse on the sofa after work. But he wasn't a bad father. If he had energy when he got home, and my brother or I were home, he would check on us and encourage us to study hard.

Whenever my brother or I wanted to buy something, we would exchange it for our exam scores or class rankings, and Dad would usually readily agree. So Mom complained about Dad more than once, saying that at home she always played the bad cop while she played the good cop.

Considering my relationship with Mom, I think that year was a kind of "adjustment period." Every time I stepped off my mother's coattails, I felt a deep sense of guilt, feeling so sorry for her and the rest of my family. I would often vow to myself, "This is the last time. Tomorrow I will study hard, be filial to my parents, love my younger brother, respect my teachers, cultivate myself, manage my family well, and help others." But within two weeks, the motivation and goals for studying would automatically transform back into my mother's body.

Diligent study → unrestrained pursuit → regret and renewed effort → diligent study—this was the recurring cycle of my second year of high school.

When I was in fifth or sixth grade, my parents planned to move to a new house, but my father thought house prices would drop, so he wanted to postpone it. However, according to my mother, he actually wanted to buy a new car.

Because they couldn't agree on the price, my mother would often come to my and my brother's room (which we shared at the time) to complain about my father going back on his word. In the end, my father still bought the car, but my mother used her remaining savings, plus a down payment from a rotating credit association (Taiwan's earliest form of peer-to-peer lending), to buy the house we later lived in.

Life became increasingly tight. Not only did my brother's and my allowance decrease, but my parents also frequently argued. As one of the last students to take the junior high school entrance exam, I was forced to focus entirely on my studies from the second year of junior high. Besides facing increased pressure, my mother's attention was almost entirely on me, which made me feel very uncomfortable.

"Have you taken your vitamins?"

"Have you finished your homework?"

"Don't you have an exam tomorrow? Go to bed early, you hear me?"

These were the questions my mother most often asked during junior high.

My mother would pick me up from school on her motorcycle in the morning and on my way home from cram school before dinner. My brother complained that my mother was biased; but actually, he was independent, opinionated, and outspoken from a young age. On the bright side, he was stubborn; on the other hand, he was headstrong. Whenever my mother scolded him, he would talk back, and his stubborn personality caused my parents a lot of headaches.

It wasn't that my mother didn't want to pick him up; he insisted on lining up with his classmates to go to and from school together. In comparison, I admit I'm more greedy and afraid of death. When I was little, my parents were strict, and I studied hard to avoid being beaten, and also for pocket money or new toys. I guess that's how I was gradually "tamed" over the years. Back

then, about half an hour after dinner, I would continue reading. Soon after, my mother would come in with some fruit. She would often sit in my room waiting for me to finish eating before clearing away the dishes. Every night when I was reading, I would occupy the whole room, while my younger brother would either be doing his homework at the dining table or watching TV in the living room with the volume turned down.

At first, of course, I found my mom annoying, thinking she was watching me all the time. One time, after cutting fruit, she sat on the edge of the bed. I wanted to ask her to leave so as not to bother me, but she suddenly started secretly crying. I thought my impatient look had hurt her, so I quickly asked her what was wrong, hurriedly explaining that I wasn't bothering her.

Unexpectedly, her tears flowed even more profusely. Later, she began to confide in herself, revealing her grievances. I don't remember the exact details, but it seemed to be related to loans and my father. After listening to her complaints, I realized that my mom had a tough life too. It wasn't enough for her to simply stay home, buy groceries, cook, go shopping, and get beauty treatments.

After that, I would often ask my mom to cut fruit and have her sit and wait for me to finish. She always seemed very happy. Realizing this made me a little sad, and I asked myself, "Why does this make her happy?" My relationship with my mom slowly warmed up from then on, and I stopped finding it so annoying to have her sit in my room with me while I studied (though she wouldn't sit for very long anyway).

Not long after the start of the third year of junior high school, the infamous earthquake struck Taiwan. I was jolted awake by the tremors and frantically woke my younger brother, who slept in the upper bunk. He seemed annoyed and mumbled something incoherently. I remember the shaking lasting a long time before stopping. Just as I was about to go back to sleep, the second, and strongest, tremor hit.

This time, not only was my brother terrified, but I also heard my mother scream from my parents' room. Then my father yelled, "Hide under the bed!" After the shaking ended, our whole family rushed down to the street below our apartment building, where panicked people were already gathered.

After about ten minutes, my father started discussing with the neighbors how serious the earthquake had been. My mother gripped my arm, trembling slightly, whether from the cold or fear, I couldn't tell.

I volunteered to go upstairs to get her some clothes (actually, I needed to pee and was feeling quite uncomfortable), but she held on tightly, refusing to let me go upstairs. After a long while, as the crowds gradually dispersed, my dad finally decided we could go home. The next morning, I woke up early to check the news and learned how devastating the disaster was in Nantou.

For me, being a junior high student meant the end of the college entrance exam the day before. I think I slept the entire afternoon after the exam. The next day, my mom bought a newspaper with the exam answers and asked me to do some calculations. That's when I finally felt nervous.

I calculated that I should pass, but I told my mom I was only about 50% sure. I remember my mom saying with an expression that was hard to tell if she was sad or disappointed, "Okay, we'll just have to wait for the results." On the day the results were released, I told my mom she would go see them; the mix of anticipation and fear of being disappointed made me hesitant to face the results.

Around noon that day, my mom suddenly rushed into the room, excitedly telling me, "You passed! You passed!" I did pass, but the construction company's progress wasn't slack either; payment receipts kept arriving, and my parents' cold wars gradually increased. During that period, my mom was often depressed, but she always pretended everything was fine in front of her children.

Even my oblivious younger brother sensed it, let alone someone as perceptive as me? Because I was somewhat worried about my parents' relationship, during summer vacation, if they were in a cold war again, I would try to act as a peacemaker. Occasionally, I would help my mom with some housework, but most importantly, I knew to take the initiative to chat with her.

At first, we didn't have many topics to talk about, but later I discovered that reminiscing was the best way to start a conversation. So, during meals, I would often ask about the past. Once, we talked about my dad proposing to my mom. I've always known my dad isn't very romantic, but it seems the truly unromantic person is my mom.

One time, on the way home from a date, my dad said, "Oh, so, you've been thinking about getting married, right?"

My mom replied, "Yes."

My dad said, "Oh... then... we..."

My mom said, "I asked around, the dowry is 160,000, the grand dowry is 500,000, and the grand dowry is refundable."

My dad said, "660,000? Okay, I'll go home and get the money..." My

father went home and got 660,000, and then they sent out wedding invitations... No candlelight, no big meal, no kneeling on one knee, not even a diamond ring. My parents had only been dating for about six months before getting married. Their idea was that since both sides had reached a consensus, they should settle down as soon as possible.

The most memorable thing that summer was going to karaoke with my mom. My mom actually loves to sing, but she's busy with the house and the kids, so she rarely has time to go. That time, she happened to have a coupon, so she planned to take my brother and me with her, but my brother absolutely refused to go (he just wanted to stay home and play video games).

I couldn't resist my mom's pitiful eyes and nagging, and since I had never been before, I agreed.

At first, it was a little awkward in the karaoke room. The mother and son weren't very good at operating the karaoke machine, and faced with a vast selection of songs, they didn't know where to begin. I was in school at the time and didn't know which singers were popular, only that Stefanie Sun was playing a lot of music.

After finally managing to pick a few of her songs, my mother claimed she couldn't sing them, so I reluctantly grabbed the microphone. My strange voice from puberty, combined with the inconsistent tempos, made my mother laugh from beginning to end. I genuinely thought I had fully expressed the sentimental lyrics…

Actually, the song set the mood, and my mother and I started teasing each other; I picked an old folk song I'd never heard before for my mother, and she picked an English song for me. We took turns singing random songs, and unexpectedly, we got really into it, singing love songs as a duet in the karaoke room.

The first song was fine, but the second one started to evoke a certain indescribable feeling. Towards the end, my mother and I even exchanged a few glances.

I thought junior high was hell, but I never imagined that high school would reveal even deeper hell. In junior high, I could still rank in the top five of my class, but in a prestigious high school, I bitterly realized I was just a chicken. My ranking plummeted to outside the top ten, and not only my parents but I was also very frustrated.

My cousin gave me a lot of helpful advice back then, and I'm especially grateful to her (though I hope she never sees this post); she did even better than me in high school and got into her second-choice university. She told me from her own experience that in elite high schools, classmates are selected through exams, unlike the Gaussian distribution environment of elementary and junior high, so you have to learn to forget your past achievements.

"You have to focus on comparing yourself to yourself first, and regain your confidence that way."

"Aim to improve by one or two points in each subject by the next monthly exam."

"Don't underestimate this kind of progress; the cumulative effect over the whole year is huge," she said.

That year, the house was finally built, which was probably the happiest thing, because a new home meant I could finally have my own room. After moving into the new house, Mom came to my room less often; mainly because after school, if I didn't need to go to tutoring classes, I would stay at school for evening self-study. I usually got home around 10 pm on weekdays; on weekends, I was at school from 8 am to 5 or 6 pm.

My first year of high school was a weekly routine; besides studying, my only free time was playing ball with classmates. But the teachers encouraged us to play ball, saying it would give us energy to study harder—what the hell! The summer before my second year was pretty much the same as usual; there was summer tutoring from Monday to Friday, and self-study on Saturdays and Sundays.

One rare family dinner, in a relaxed atmosphere, I asked Dad if I could play PS2 that night.

"Oh, Mom, what do you think?" Dad looked at Mom.

Hearing Dad ask that, I sighed inwardly, "This is hopeless!"

"No way! You think your nearsightedness isn't bad enough? Mom would rather you play ball." Sure enough!

"How can this be?! Why can my brother go out with his friends all day long? Can't I do anything but study?" I complained.

"I didn't!?! I went to the library with my friends, okay?" my brother quickly defended himself.

"Bullshit!"

"Alright! What's all the arguing about while we eat?" Mom nipped the argument in the bud. Dad gave me a wry smile and lowered his head to eat.

Seeing the tense atmosphere at the table, Mom softened her expression and said, "Do you want to come with Mom to sing karaoke?" "I have a coupon!"

"Mom, I'm on duty this week," my dad reminded me without hesitation.

"I know, I'm not asking you," Mom said, then looked at my brother and me, her face full of anticipation, and asked, "How's it going?"

"Well... I've already made plans with my classmates..." my brother quickly declined.

"Going out to play again? Why don't you study harder..." my mom started nagging my brother.

After finally finishing her nagging, she looked at me and, seeing the noncommittal expression on my face, was clearly disappointed.

After dinner, Dad found an opportunity to ask my brother and me to seriously consider going to karaoke with Mom. He said we should cherish the time we have at home; and that we should be more sensible and filial. Although I was a little reluctant at the time, I'm glad I listened to my father afterwards; that night, when Mom brought fruit to my room, I asked her if she would like to take me to karaoke.

"Come on, aren't you going to summer tutoring?" Mom laughed.

"On Thursday, there's PE and other classes in the afternoon, so it doesn't matter if I don't go."

"Besides, since Mom's willing to embarrass herself, I shouldn't hold back either."

"Hey~ I sing much better than you, okay?" Mom protested with a laugh.

"How about Saturday?"

"Are there any discounts on weekends?" I asked doubtfully.

"Yeah..." Mom thought for a moment, "Are you sure it's okay if I don't go to those classes?"

"Some people in my class haven't even come to summer tutoring yet."

"Hmm... I'll think about it."

"Oh, it'll be fine. Please, Mom, I even study on weekends..."

"In that case... um... okay... then I'll pick you up on Thursday noon?"

"Really? It's a deal?"

That noon, Mom actually came to pick me up in Dad's car. After getting in the car, I asked, "Why are you driving Dad's car?"

"His car got scratched before, but the mechanic notified me this morning that it's fixed, so I went to the mechanic and drove it back." "

Oh."

"What do you want to eat for lunch?"

"Hmm... how about xxx?" I suggested a noodle shop that Mom and I both love.

"What about my brother?"

"He went to the swimming pool with his friends."

"That's too much fun..." I whispered.

"Okay, hang in there for two more years, I heard you get to play around in college for four years! If Mom hadn't gotten married so early, I really wanted to go to college..." Mom started to ramble on, reminiscing about her youth.

"..."

"What's wrong...?" Mom talked for a long time, but I didn't react.

"..."

"Actually, Mom has seen all your hard work, and Mom feels sorry for you, you know?"

I'm sorry to say, but at that time I was fantasizing about a certain female teacher who had just arrived at school. According to our class's usual assumptions, we guessed she was probably in her early thirties, but she looked like she was only in her twenties. Besides her delicate face, she possessed an intellectual, mature, and confident beauty; for a while, she was the object of my fantasies.

"Brother, are you listening?" Mom asked worriedly.

I snapped out of my reverie and said somewhat flusteredly, "Yes...yes..." Turning my head, my eyes inadvertently glanced at Mom's thighs. Mom was wearing casual shorts, and perhaps because she was sitting, about three-quarters of her thighs were exposed. Although I quickly looked away, I couldn't help but steal glances several times along the way.

I must say, besides her full and graceful curves, Mom's legs were incredibly white and smooth, so white that you could faintly see the bluish veins beneath her skin.

Mom drove me home and made me change out of my uniform before we went to eat. After lunch, at the karaoke bar, with my deliberate efforts, the atmosphere in the private room quickly became cheerful; every time it was Mom's turn to sing, I would dance along and tease her, making her sing and laugh, barely managing to sing a few complete lines.

I got a little carried away with the pranks, and on a whim, while Mom was in the dressing room, I ordered a love song. I tried to justify it to myself, saying I was just teasing her, but I couldn't resist and ordered a few more duet love songs. When Mom came back, I started singing, remembering how incredibly nervous I was, staring intently at the screen, afraid to look at her.

She was unusually quiet sitting next to me, and even after I finished, she didn't say a word; the atmosphere was awkwardly tense. Finally, the duet love song I ordered started. Unexpectedly, Mom picked up the microphone and started singing first, and then I mustered my courage and joined in. I could tell we were both a little off-key.

I unconsciously moved closer to Mom, and to my surprise, she moved closer to me too. When the song ended, Mom and I were still sitting very close, but neither of us spoke. When the next song started, I secretly glanced at Mom, and she secretly glanced at me. I sang first, and when it was her turn, she didn't hesitate to start singing as well. After that song ended, whether out of teasing or some inexplicable impulse, I turned around and hugged her.

When I hugged her, I felt Mom flinch, her delicate body stiffening as she tried to pull away. I, having successfully gotten my hands on her, was momentarily stunned, because I hadn't expected to actually hug her. I thought I'd definitely be pushed away and given a good scolding, but Mom didn't resist. Surprised and delighted, I uncontrollably kissed her face. Mom tried to dodge, but where could she dodge when hugged like that? I gently kissed her cheeks and neck, my hands involuntarily starting to roam over her body.

After a while, Mom suddenly pushed me away and stood up. I looked at her, somewhat confused and even embarrassed. Mom avoided my gaze and said she was going to the restroom. Of course, I couldn't continue singing afterwards. Honestly, I don't remember how I left the karaoke bar or how I got home. I only remember sitting in the assistant's seat, filled with embarrassment and frustration.

Finally home, I hurriedly took out my keys, opened the door, took off my sneakers, and was about to go to my room when I heard the door close behind me. I couldn't help but turn around and see Mom bending down to take off her high heels. Because her hair was up, my gaze could peek slightly into her neckline.

I couldn't help but imagine the shape of her breasts. I still remember that black lace top and beige casual shorts. Mom really knew how to dress herself. As far as I can remember, she never seemed sloppy in public; her outfits were always simple yet stylish.

At that moment, Mom's figure was full of femininity and a certain allure. Halfway off her heels, Mom looked up and saw me watching her, then hurriedly looked down again. After taking off her shoes and putting them in the shoe cabinet, she stood up and, seeing me still watching her, her expression became a little unnatural.

As she tried to walk past me, I don't know where I got the courage, but I hugged her again. This time, Mom didn't seem scared, and just like in the private room, she didn't resist. I mustered my courage and tried to kiss her again, but Mom dodged, preventing me from kissing her lips. But besides that, I kissed her cheeks, ears, and forehead.

Gradually, I started kissing her down her cheeks. She gasped, "Brother, wait a minute...can you stop?"

I slowly stopped.

"Can you let go of me first?" she said softly.

I didn't let go, and I looked at her. Our eyes met briefly, but I still remember the dazed look in her eyes. Seeing her head down, not daring to look at me, I mustered my courage and kissed her shoulder.

"Wait a minute..."

Ignoring her soft pleas, I continued kissing her shoulder.

"Do you know...do you know what you're doing?"

I didn't know how to answer, and just held the woman in my arms tighter.

"You...you...really want to do this?"

My heart pounded, and I looked at her as she nodded.

"Some...some things happen...and can never be undone...have you thought about that?" She looked at the floor and fell silent.

The mother and son remained frozen in the entryway. Then, rather than hearing, I sensed a sigh from the mother; she said softly and laboredly, "Go take a shower..."

Hearing those barely audible words, my heart nearly leaped out of my chest. I immediately released my arms, turned, and rushed to the bathroom; turning on the showerhead, I began undressing as I rinsed. The excitement was indescribable; I could only scream in my mind, "My first time! So exciting, so exciting, so exciting!!!"

While showering, I was filled with excitement; though I briefly considered her identity, reason had long been consumed by lust. At that moment, for me, consumed by lust, the issue of mother and son was irrelevant. I

emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, unsure where to go. I tried my parents' bedroom door, finding it locked, so I went back to my room.

I casually threw on a t-shirt and basketball shorts. Sitting on the bed, I felt incredibly hot. After turning on the air conditioning, I considered whether to close the door. While I was still hesitating, Mom appeared in the doorway; she wore a plain white t-shirt and mini shorts.

Dressed casually, she stood there, seemingly not intending to come in.

"Mom wants you to think this through… some things have changed, and even if you regret it, you can't go back…" Mom asked me again.

I admit, I didn't understand the meaning behind her words at the time, but I subconsciously nodded to show I understood.

Mom gestured for me to lower the blinds behind me, and although there was privacy film, I complied. As soon as Mom closed the door, I picked her up; I pressed her heavily onto the bed while kissing her haphazardly.

In my eagerness, I soon tried to take off Mom's shorts, but she held my hands down, preventing me. Inexperienced and without thinking much, since my attempt was thwarted, my hands quickly moved to caress Mom's upper body.

Of course, my mouth wasn't idle either. I kissed my mother's cheek and neck wildly; as I kissed, I pulled her t-shirt up to her chest. Even though the room was a bit dim, the dark brown lace bra and my mother's snow-white upper body still complemented each other. I didn't bother to undo it, and instead lowered my head to kiss her breasts passionately, my hands roaming all over her body.

After I had my fill of touching, I reached under her bra and began to knead her breasts. Her breasts were so soft, and her nipples were shaped like small grapes. I couldn't help but push the bra up, exposing her breasts to the air; one hand gently kneaded her left breast, and then I opened my mouth to take the other one in.

My mother's breathing gradually became heavy, and her nasal breathing seemed to be a signal reminding me to try to take off her pants again. This time, she didn't resist. After removing her pants and underwear together, what came into view were my mother's smooth, white thighs and her lush triangle area.

I quickly stripped naked, but while I was undressing, Mom sat up, grabbed my pants, and magically produced a small square package, handing it to me and softly asking, "Do you know how to use this?"

I nodded and took it from her, hesitating slightly as I held the condom. I looked at Mom, who had already lay back down, then at the condom in my hand, then back at her, and cautiously asked, "Can...can I not wear it?"

Aside from the slight rise and fall of her chest, Mom lay there quietly. I thought she hadn't heard me, so I asked again weakly, but she still didn't react. I decided to put the condom aside and try it out first.

When I first approached her, I was incredibly excited, my heart pounding in my chest, and my mouth parched. As if afraid she would run away, I cautiously approached her. As I drew closer, Mom's eyes were tightly closed; she seemed quite nervous too.

As my knees moved closer to my mother's legs, she cooperated by spreading her legs apart. My gaze naturally shifted to the area between her legs, where her pubic hair was quite thick. It was

my first time kneeling between a woman's legs, and I was kneeling a little too far away. I leaned down and realized the distance was wrong, so I awkwardly moved closer. As I guided my penis towards her crotch with one hand, her pubic hair tickled me. On my first attempt, the angle was too high, and it slipped. I instinctively explored the soft, moist area between her legs with my hand, discovering the "entrance" was lower than I had estimated.

I lowered the angle slightly and pushed forward again. This time, the glans indeed sank into a warm, slippery place. My hips pressed forward without hesitation until I felt a slight resistance. I pulled back slightly and tried again. This time, almost the entire length except for the base was inside. My male instincts compelled me to go all the way in.

Just as I was about to pull out slightly, my mother's hips cleverly adjusted the angle, and our pubic bones pressed against each other.

My first time experiencing complete penetration was, to put it simply, incredibly, incredibly amazing! "What is this insane pleasure of being tightly enveloped by layers of tender flesh?!" I screamed internally. Even more incredible was the indescribable warmth within my mother's body; it wasn't just my penis, but a feeling of being warmly enveloped even my soul. In every sense, I had returned to my mother's embrace. I

couldn't help but ride her, though my hips and waist were still somewhat uncoordinated; the frequency and movements of my thrusts were very clumsy, but that didn't diminish the mind-blowing pleasure my mother was giving me.

No one could have imagined that year, that summer, that scorching afternoon; somewhere in northern Taiwan, a mother and son crossed an absolute taboo between blood relatives. They tasted pleasure and flavor from each other that they should never have tasted.

That woman was my brother's mother, whom he both respected and feared, and my father's legal wife. Before that day, he had always been her only man, and only he could enjoy her soft, white body in bed. But that afternoon, the woman was held tightly in the arms of a thin young man; she was pressed down on the bed, letting the young man brutally rape her.

I buried my face next to my mother's cheek, my rapid breathing filled with the sweet scent of her hair. Pressed down on the bed, she could only receive her son's strength and lust, thrusting again and again. Without any change in position, I just instinctively held my mother's shoulders tightly, experiencing the more vigorous I was, the stronger the pleasure became.

The room was filled with our rapid breathing. After a few more rough strokes of my mother's tender vagina, I suddenly thrust hard with all my might. My violently swollen penis pressed tightly against the innermost part of my mother's mature vaginal cavity, and I began to ejaculate fiercely and rapidly.

Sixteen years' worth of virgin semen burst out in large gushes, quickly filling the deep dome of my mother's body with thick semen. The pleasure of unprotected sex with a mature woman left my mind blank.

After a long, absent-minded daze, I realized I was lying next to my mother. Hearing my own breathing gradually subside, a flood of emotions surged through me; guilt, shame, and remorse lashed out at me.

"What did I do to her?!" I screamed at myself.

While my mind was in turmoil, the woman beside me suddenly moved; I saw my mother get up, take some tissues from the desk, and then, with her back to me, begin to clean herself.

That image of my mother's back is still deeply etched in my mind today.

Her bra hung precariously on her shoulders; her head was lowered, one leg slightly bent, as she carefully wiped her genitals with the tissues. That action of hers made my penis swell again.

I carried Mom back to bed from behind. She seemed a little surprised when I first held her. Only after I pressed her down beneath me did she close her eyes, bite her lower lip, and obediently let me enter her again.

The room echoed once more with the panting of mother and son.

Even now, Mom never moans; she breathes heavily when excited and gasps during orgasm. She always expresses her pleasure in bed with breaths caught in her throat and suppressed in her nose.

Mother and son made love again, but I still didn't know gentleness, only how to thrust wildly and relentlessly, indulging my lust on Mom's body. My thin waist and hips arched between Mom's legs, and with each withdrawal, I could feel the wonderful scraping of my penis against her flesh.

However, I couldn't bear to withdraw too much, so I eagerly thrust my hips back in, inserting my penis all the way back until our pubic bones met. I gasped for breath, my nostrils filled with my mother's rich, sweet scent of sweat; I was fully enjoying the ripeness of her body, experiencing the exquisite pleasure she brought me.

Without warning, my penis began to thrust violently into my mother's tender vagina again, a tingling, numb sensation spreading from my lower back down my buttocks. My scrotum, feeling that tingling, numb sensation, began to contract forcefully again and again, and my mother, panting softly, received my hot, scalding essence once more.

The pleasure of ejaculation almost made me convulse, and I was also surprised that there was still so much to ejaculate. Finally, the throbbing inside my mother gradually subsided, and I slowly collapsed onto her, feeling the violent rise and fall of her chest and the pounding of her heart.

Time flowed by indistinctly between mother and son. After a while, Mom said in a muffled voice, "Can you get down?"

I obeyed and turned over to lie on the bed, feeling my entire testicles shriveled and light.

When Mom got up and stepped over me, I felt a few drops of something fall onto my stomach, but I was too lazy to care. Mom got out of bed, picked up her clothes, quickly put them on, and left without saying a word.

I was left alone in the room, feeling the condemnation of my conscience in solitude.

This incident, which happened before I entered my second year of high school, filled me with guilt and made me feel extremely ashamed; I didn't dare face anyone in my family, and I guessed Mom probably did too. For those few weeks, I didn't dare look at Mom or talk to her at all; it seemed like we were avoiding each other.

But anyway, I always rode my bicycle to school early in the morning and didn't get home until around 10:30 at night, so we didn't have many opportunities to see each other.

But a boy who has tasted the sweetness of sex is beyond the description of "insatiable desire"? It was probably before the second monthly exam. Although I still barely interact with my mom, I can't help but start thinking about her again.

I've tried focusing on my studies and exercise, I've tried blaming myself, and I've even tried fantasizing about other women. But the more I try to avoid it, the deeper my longing for my mom becomes.

One evening, after taking a shower at home, I heard my mom sounding like she was in the kitchen. I finally couldn't control myself and "sneaked" over there. I found my mom hanging clothes on the balcony behind the kitchen. She turned around and saw me, clearly startled, but pretended to be nonchalant and continued hanging the clothes.

I stood behind her, unsure how to start a conversation, but driven by intense desire, I couldn't help but weakly ask, "Mom...?"

My mom stopped what she was doing, but didn't turn around. After a moment, she asked, "How are you?"

I decided to approach my mom, but as if sensing my movement, she turned around and said urgently in a low voice, "Wait! Don't come any closer! Everyone else in the house is here..."

"Mom..." I looked at her with a pleading expression.

"We'll talk about it in a few days, okay? Listen to me, okay?" Mom whispered, looking at the clothes in her hands.

I couldn't quite understand the meaning behind her words; I felt rejected, but her tone didn't quite seem like it. Though I was hesitant, Mom stood there firmly, and I didn't know how to confirm it.

"It's late, go to sleep," Mom urged.

Seeing her resolute attitude, I didn't dare to pester her any longer and left dejectedly. Back in my room, thinking about Mom, I masturbated hard before finally falling asleep with mixed feelings. In the following days, I continued to focus on my studies and basketball, trying to put Mom out of my mind.

One night, after showering, I opened the bathroom door and saw Mom standing there.

"I have something to tell you," Mom whispered before heading straight to my room.

I must say, I felt excited and expectant at that moment.

As usual, I sat at my desk, and Mom sat on the edge of the bed. Once I was seated, she began, "Do you remember when we were in junior high? Back then, Mom was really pushing you and your brother with your studies, wasn't she?"

"But only you listened and worked hard… I was so proud of you…" "Actually, Mom knows you work very hard, so Mom always hopes to do something for you." Mom's eyes were filled with memories.

"And you remember that earthquake, right?" Mom asked softly. "That time you noticed I was cold and offered to go get me some clothes. Mom was so touched, you know?"

I lowered my head in shame, because the real reason wasn't just that.

"That time, Mom was really scared… and realized that being safe and sound is a blessing." "So I've become increasingly conflicted. Should I continue to keep a close eye on your studies, hoping you'll achieve success in society? Or… or should I let you enjoy your childhood happily…" A struggle was evident in Mom's eyes.

"After you went to high school, you went to school so early every day and came home so late. I only saw you a few times a day..." "One day I suddenly realized that if you left home to go to university, I would see you even less. Not to mention when you join the army, work, get married..." Mom choked up as she spoke.

Hearing Mom pour out her heart, I held her hand, moved.

"Remember the first time we went to karaoke? We had so much fun, didn't we?" "So later I took you there too, simply because I wanted to have more shared memories with you..." Mom looked at me, her face full of love. "But I really didn't expect things to turn out this way..."

Mom's subsequent confessions were fragmented, just saying whatever came to mind. So the descriptions after that have been edited and include many of her later heart-to-heart talks with me.

When I hugged her in the karaoke room, she was actually stunned and didn't know how to react. After finally coming to her senses, she cursed herself for going too far with the joke, but also felt that something was "weird" and abrupt.

After much thought, I realized she felt absolutely no anger at my intrusion or violation! She should have been angry, but instead, she felt pity. At that moment, she thought I might not know what I was doing; or perhaps I was under too much pressure and that's why I lost my composure.

When I tried to kiss her, she instinctively turned her head away, without feeling humiliated.

A sudden surge of intense curiosity welled up within her. She wanted to know just how far I would go. She also wanted to know how much she would tolerate me. What would it take for her to consider it excessive and get angry? But the next second, Mom realized they were "outside," and realizing that, she instinctively pushed me away and hurriedly fled the private room.

She said that on her way home, she was also flustered and confused, not knowing what was wrong with her. When she took off her shoes in the entryway, she felt my gaze slipping inside her collar, but that only reignited her intense curiosity from the private room.

And so, I held her again, kissed her again, and then we were locked in a tense standoff once more.

"This time we're not outside," she strangely reminded herself, and then the question of "not being able to go back" surfaced in her mind; Mom said that rather than asking me, she was actually asking herself.

Reason and "curiosity" clashed, and ultimately curiosity won. After that, Mom said she felt a strange change; she felt as if half of her body was no longer her own. Furthermore, her consciousness became somewhat detached; a part of her seemed to be observing herself from a third-person perspective. This is why she was able or dared to tell me to take a shower, and then involuntarily went to shower herself.

When I pressed her down on the bed, Mom said that apart from some strange feelings, everything else was fine.

My kisses and caresses didn't disgust her; her body naturally warmed up and became moist. In fact, until the "last moment," deep down, Mom still "didn't believe"; she didn't believe that I dared, and even more so, that she herself would indulge me at the last moment.

But I really straightened my back, and she really did let me into her like that.

When she truly felt me inside her, besides being shocked, she said she kept asking herself, "Is this real?" "How could this be?!"

After recalling the incident, Mom stared blankly ahead, her eyes seeming to pierce through the wall. I sat there, speechless for a long time.

Finally regaining my senses, I stammered, "Then... what about us in the future...?"

Mom's gaze sharpened again, and she sighed softly, "Sigh... yes... in the future..."

Mom suddenly sat up straight, her face serious, and said, "These past few weeks... Mom has thought it over. If you want a future, then you have to agree to every condition I mention!"

Mom recited the "Five Rules of Our New Life" as if reciting a textbook, rules that I would later be forced to remember:

"Your grades can only improve, not fall behind, based on your monthly exam scores."

"You absolutely cannot tell anyone about what's going on between us; you must know how to avoid it at home and not let anyone suspect anything."

"And then, if I say no, then no; you can't pester me."

"Also, you're not allowed to peek at pornographic books or videos."

"Finally... you have to be obedient!" Mom glared at me. "If I tell you to wear it, then wear it obediently, or don't even think about it! Understand?"

For each condition Mom mentioned, I nodded frantically several times. After thinking about the last one and understanding it, I nodded vigorously again.

Mom spoke earnestly, urging me again, "Mom really wants you to be okay... Promise me you'll continue to study hard, just like before, okay?"

"Okay," I replied obediently.

"Sigh, I hope Mom hasn't ruined you..."

"Then these next few days, can I..." I asked somewhat lewdly.

"Forgot already?" Mom interrupted me, her face hardening. "Bring your monthly exam report card home first!"

"Oh, right!" I almost stood up straight.

Before leaving my room, Mom gave me her third instruction: "Remember what Mom said!"

"Okay."

In the days that followed, every time I received my monthly exam report card, I would stick it on the kitchen refrigerator door. Mom would look at it and put it away, which meant she "knew," and then it was up to Mom to "arrange the time." And so, I, an ordinary high school student, began to have a "morally inappropriate" relationship with my mother.

But by using "morally inappropriate," I mean I felt guilty about it. Even now, a faint sense of guilt lingers, whether towards my father or even my brother.

My mother probably feels guilty towards my father too, but I never dare to ask. Whenever we're alone, no matter what we're doing, we have an unspoken agreement: we try not to mention Dad. Even later, when Mom and I were quite talkative, we still avoided discussing him.

Dad works in Taiwan's tech industry; the grueling hours and immense pressure usually leave him wanting nothing more than to collapse on the sofa after work. But he wasn't a bad father. If he had energy when he got home, and my brother or I were home, he would check on us and encourage us to study hard.

Whenever my brother or I wanted to buy something, we would exchange it for our exam scores or class rankings, and Dad would usually readily agree. So Mom complained about Dad more than once, saying that at home she always played the bad cop while she played the good cop.

Considering my relationship with Mom, I think that year was a kind of "adjustment period." Every time I stepped off my mother's body, I felt a deep sense of guilt, feeling so sorry for her and for the rest of my family. I would often vow to myself, "This is the last time. Tomorrow I will study hard, be filial to my parents, love my younger brother, respect my teachers, cultivate myself, manage my family well, and help others." But within two weeks, my motivation and goals for studying would automatically transform back into my mother's body.

Diligent study → unrestrained pursuit → regret and renewed determination → diligent study—this was the recurring cycle of my second year of high school.

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Springtime between Huiling and her son

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