Mother's three men

Despite my precocious puberty, no one dared disobey me at home, but I never dared to disobey my gentle mother.

Almost every room in the house had photos of my mother dancing ballet, and my room had three on the wall—three I considered the most beautiful.

One showed my mother raising her left leg high above her head; I found it hard to imagine that my usually gentle and elegant mother possessed such flexibility. Another showed her being lifted high above her head by a young man, her legs in a 180-degree split. My mother blushed several times and wanted to change this photo, but I always cried and refused. The last photo was a standing resting picture of my mother during practice; she looked only 22 years old in the photo, her innocent eyes gazing out the window.

When I picked out this photo from my mother's many pictures, she was overjoyed, hugging me and kissing me several times, because it was also her favorite.

My mother was a ballet dancer in her youth, so she couldn't grow her toenails, and the flat-toed ballet shoes greatly limited the beauty of her feet. After retiring from the stage, my mother now wears her favorite high heels even at home. She believes this keeps her from being lazy, and her calf muscles are always taut. My mother's feet are undoubtedly first-rate. I've seen many photos of beautiful feet in pornographic magazines, but none can compare to my mother's.

My mother rarely wears stockings with her high heels, and even when she does, she never wears the kind with thick toes; she wants to fully display the beauty of her toenails.

My mother has a personal pedicurist, Blank, who is quite the ladies' man. Every time he trims my mother's toenails, he sweet-talks her until she blushes, and then kisses each of his works of art—my mother's toenails—at the end. But I really admire his skill. He trims my mother's toenails into long, oval shapes, with the big toenail slightly pointed inwards, making them even more alluring.

Painted with dark brown nail polish and wearing high-heeled sandals that expose the entire instep, my mother's feet appear noble and unapproachable, yet incredibly seductive.

My mother is 1.73 meters tall, wears size 42 shoes, and has long, slender toes, with her big toe slightly upturned. I often secretly use my mother's high heels to masturbate; just fantasizing about her beautiful feet is enough to make me ejaculate uncontrollably.

I secretly have a wish: to let my mother wear every pair of her high heels so I can play with them all. Of course, this is just a dream, and my mother's high heels come in countless styles. Without thick padding at the toes, stockings can't cover my mother's oval toenails, so she usually only wears a pair of stockings once before throwing them away. These stockings, like my mother's high heels, become excellent tools for my masturbation.

Although there are more than a dozen servants in the house, my hardworking mother still prefers to cook for the family herself. My father and I also love my mother's cooking the most.

I often secretly watch my parents making love through a hidden camera. Although the camera can only give a general view, it's still very exciting.

My father, who has tasted beauties from all over the world and tried countless ways of playing, finds it difficult for anything to arouse him. My mother's beautiful naked body can only make his penis twitch helplessly. But whenever my mother put on high heels and stood naked, or struck a ballet pose with her toes pointed and arms raised, my father's penis would immediately be erect.

At these times, my mother would always blush, climb into bed, and throw herself into my father's arms. My father would roughly press my mother down and quickly penetrate her. Once inside, he would display his seasoned prowess, fiercely manipulating my mother. My mother would moan occasionally to arouse his lust, and she herself would experience immense pleasure. My father would often thrust hundreds of times before ejaculating, by which time my mother's beautiful eyes would be glazed over, and her hair disheveled.

Although my father was lustful, he still loved my mother very much. I often heard him laugh and tell my mother that only she was my true home, and usually my mother's face would be flushed at this point. My

father's interest in a mistress usually wouldn't last more than six months, after which he would return to my mother's arms. Although my mother was very dissatisfied with my father, she was helpless.

Yuwen's appearance changed this situation. Yuwen was incredibly beautiful. She was even taller than my mother. If my mother was the gentle, noble type of beauty, then Yuwen was the cheerful, easygoing type. More importantly, Yuwen was also a ballet dancer, and the new White Swan of my mother's former ballet company. This was my mother's biggest source of inferiority. Because Yuwen was only 22 years old, she had already won many dance awards that my mother had always dreamed of but never received.

I had also secretly watched Yuwen and my father make love. In front of Yuwen, my father seemed like a young man; just one smile from Yuwen could make him erect. When Yuwen put on her ballet shoes and performed a nude ballet, my father would even kneel on the ground, begging for the goddess's favor.

For a while, I found that I watched Yuwen masturbate more often than I watched my mother masturbate.

I didn't know whether to be grateful to Yuwen or resent her. She had alienated my father from my mother; he hadn't entered my mother's bedroom for three or four months, but she had made my resentful mother come to play with me more often.

I was incredibly envious of my father. He had my mother, and now he had Yuwen; he was truly blessed. I wasn't as greedy as my father; my mother was enough.

Ever since I discovered that Yuwen had replaced my mother as the new object of my sexual fantasies, I developed a fear of her. At night, I could only escape the urge to spy on my father and Yuwen making love by sleeping in my mother's room.

At first, my mother refused to let me sleep in her room, but she couldn't resist my persistent pleas. While pleading, I felt a kind of pleasure, thinking: If you refuse me, don't blame me for fantasizing about other women.

My mother eventually agreed, which significantly escalated my voyeurism.

I could sleep with my mother's feet in my arms, and before going to sleep, I liked to lick her toes. After discovering this fetish, my mother tried to stop me several times, but I blocked her with my tearful weapon. Later, my mother gradually gave in, even washing off the brown nail polish on her toenails so that I could suck them more easily.

Over the course of several months, I lost count of how many times I masturbated to orgasm while sucking my mother's toes.

Perhaps due to excessive lust, my mother noticed my pale face and insisted I see a doctor. The doctor couldn't find anything wrong, only instructing my mother to give me more nutritious food. He probably never imagined a 10-year-old would masturbate so much!

After leaving the hospital, the sunlight felt wonderful. I jumped into my mother's arms, wanting her to hold me. My mother couldn't help but laugh heartily, saying that the doctor was ridiculous; our family always had several meals of delicacies. I hadn't seen my mother so happy in a long time. Nestled in her arms, I felt inexplicably happy too. My

mother had fallen in love with her little sweetheart—Prince George. She had repainted her toenails with dark brown nail polish and wouldn't let me suck on them. She often sneaked out at night to meet him while I was asleep.

The next day, seeing my mother's radiant face, as if she had been well-received the night before, I was consumed by jealousy. In desperation, I thought of my grandfather; everyone knew of his extraordinary abilities.

Unexpectedly, Grandpa already knew why I came. He led me into a dark room and we watched several videotapes together.

They were tapes of my mother and George's affair. My mother, who thought she was being discreet, had her every move recorded. Watching my mother dance with George in his house, the performance was, of course, the "White Swan and the Prince" scene, where the White Swan even kneels at the Prince's feet and sucks his penis. This wasn't part of the performance!

Grandpa noticed my agitation, clapped his hands, the door opened briefly, then quickly closed again. A woman slid in, silently unzipped my taut pants, and began giving me oral sex. I caught a glimpse of the woman's face in the corner of the videotape's light—it was another of my dream girls—Yu Wen!

While watching my mother lying beneath George, sobbing with excitement, and enjoying Yu Wen's exquisite sexual service, I quickly ejaculated. Afterward, my mind cleared slightly, and my adoration for Grandpa reached a point of fear.

"Your father has good taste," Grandpa said calmly. "Your mother is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and she's also alluring and sexy." He paused, then continued, "I've wanted to have her on my back for a long time." Grandpa saw a glint of madness in my eyes and laughed, "I have at least hundreds of ways to make your mother willingly have sex with me, but I haven't done a single one yet, mainly because of you." "For me?" I was taken aback. "

She's your mother, and I won't have sex with her without your permission," Grandpa said.

I felt a little flattered. "

Grandpa is 66 years old this year, and his time for pleasure is running out, so you have to make a decision today." Then Grandpa said something I'll never forget: "Are you willing to share your mother with me?" At this moment, a close-up of my mother's face appeared on the screen, her face flushed with emotion as she cried, her passionate kisses raining down on George's ugly penis. Indeed, as Grandpa said, my mother was the best. Now, my heart was completely filled with love and hate for my mother; Yuwen was utterly insignificant.

Since she could moan and groan lewdly beneath a stinking prince, why couldn't it be me?

I made the first major decision of my life: I agreed to share my mother with my grandfather. It was strange; my grandfather didn't seem to care what my father thought. Perhaps in his heart, my mother was the most sacred being?

Then, incredibly, my grandfather, a mafia godfather, and I made a very detailed plan.

Judging from my mother's sexual tendencies, her willingness to kneel and writhe at the feet of a teenage, insignificant actor indicated a strong desire to be violated. Furthermore, every time she made love to George, she reached multiple orgasms after performing oral sex on him, demonstrating she was an extremely sexually potent woman. My grandfather analyzed meticulously, and I saw a glint of greed in his eyes.

Therefore, to truly win my mother's heart, I had to become a prince, a true prince surpassing George.

My grandfather concluded.

I was startled. Then he added, "From today onwards, you'll live in my house. I'll hire the best ballet teacher in America for you." I almost fainted. Didn't that mean being away from my mother for a long time?

"My child, you'll learn later that what you don't have is always the best," Grandpa sighed. "And in my plan, you and I will both possess your mother in a different guise, which will bring us lasting, fresh pleasure." I listened, stunned, my mind blank. I couldn't imagine what kind of guise I would use to make my mother weep at my feet—a ballet prince?

And from now on, you must maintain a high level of respect for your mother. She gave birth to you; that's the most important thing. No matter how wanton she may be under your lap, that's just one side of everyone's dual nature; her other side will always be the holy mother of Little John. After Grandpa finished speaking, his face seemed to radiate a sacred light. I nodded, half-understanding, leaving everything to the all-powerful Grandpa to arrange!

Grandpa was going to take me away for a year, and even my father couldn't stop him. Perhaps he knew Grandpa wanted to groom me as his successor, and therefore agreed. My mother, however, was unwilling; she held me and cried all night. A vengeful pleasure welled up inside me. I buried my head in her broad chest, inhaling her gentle fragrance, almost intoxicated. "

My sweetheart, Mommy will come to see you once a week, don't forget Mommy!" I thought viciously. "So, do you go to have sex with George every night?"

Seeing my silence, Mommy assumed I was as heartbroken as she was, and she hugged me, crying even harder.

Arriving at Grandpa's house, I was greeted by hellish life. I had to practice ballet basics for 10 hours every day.

Grandpa deliberately let me know that he watched my mother and George's live stream every night, but wouldn't let me see a glimpse. I was so exhausted that I didn't even have the will to resist. Usually, I would fall asleep as soon as I finished practicing, and then continue practicing the next day.

My mother came to see me every Sunday, but Grandpa only allowed me to see her for an hour, of course, without letting her know that I was practicing her old profession.

With George's care, my mother became more and more beautiful, her eyes radiating a kind of lust that made my heart itch unbearably. Every time my mother left, I practiced like a madman until I was completely exhausted.

Perhaps I inherited ballet genes from my mother; my ballet skills improved by leaps and bounds, even the best ballet teacher in the country praised me highly. However, he would never guess that the reason he was stimulating an eight-year-old to practice ballet so desperately was to rape his mother.

In just six months, I had become a little prince of ballet. My ballet teacher boasted to my grandfather that I was the best ballerina of my age in all of America. My grandfather was very satisfied and rewarded him with $100,000 on the spot. "

See, if you want to do something, there's nothing you can't do," my grandfather said with a smile, looking at me walking on tiptoe. "

Grandpa, I feel like a prince now." I did a split. "

Okay, now we can give your mother a surprise, my Arabian prince." And so I became an Arabian prince who could dance ballet.

The exquisite human skin mask didn't feel uncomfortable on my face at all. In the mirror, I had a handsome face like young Werther, and my alias was Werther. I knew that this was the face my mother would see.

Chapter Two: Dual Personality.

Grandpa, the master director, calmly orchestrated each scene. First, Mother received tickets to George's ballet competition, and I, of course, participated as well.

Because my physique was no different from a 15-year-old boy, I entered the 15-20 age group to compete against George.

I knew I had to win, because Grandpa assured me George wasn't a pawn in his game; he had simply instructed others not to disturb George, which allowed him to comfortably monopolize my mother for almost a year. If I lost, Grandpa and I'd wasted the past six months, and we'd have to start all over again.

I knew I would win, because I possessed an boundless love for my mother, a love George could never match.

With my fervent love for my mother, I portrayed a completely new prince, a performance that even Grandpa later found unbelievable, saying my performance on stage had made his blood boil. The judges unanimously gave me full marks.

George, who went on stage after me, was affected. Although I saw my mother looking at him expectantly, this wasn't the lewd ballet she and George performed at home.

George only came in fourth place, and I think he and I both realized the disastrous consequences of indulging in lust.

In the following days, a grand ballet performance was held, and my performance was still flawless. My mother attended every show, and as I accepted flowers from the audience, I saw the curiosity and anticipation in her eyes.

After his defeat, George was no longer like a prince, but a tyrant. My mother no longer had the passion she once had when dancing ballet with him, and naturally, she didn't cry with emotion when forced to perform oral sex.

Although my mother was promiscuous, she wasn't the kind of woman who couldn't let go of what she had. My grandfather told me that this was another of the qualities he admired about my mother—a gentle exterior masking a strong heart.

George seemed to have forgotten the difference in their social standing. When one day my mother elegantly invited him out and told him it was all over, he threatened her, saying he had a videotape of their lovemaking and demanding a million dollars for ransom.

At that moment, my mother only regretted her past blindness, but she signed a check for one million dollars without hesitation. Watching George greedily clutch the enormous check, the mother walked out of the restaurant without looking back, refusing to peek at the man again.

Of course, greedy George didn't fare well; in fact, under his grandfather's close surveillance, he couldn't get any videotapes.

Back home, my mother cried like a little girl. The perfect image of the prince in her heart was shattered. I wonder if my face, Werther's, flashed through her mind at that moment?

A few days later, my mother didn't receive George's videotape and became uneasy. She went to George's house, only to find that he had disappeared. My mother left George's house with a question in her mind.

Then, my grandfather's second play began.

As an outstanding ballerina, I naturally belonged to the most famous Prince Ballet Company in the city, the ballet company my father owned. My mother could watch my performances from the theater's boxes anytime. Whenever my mother was there, I danced with great passion, until one day my mother arranged to meet me backstage.

What happened next was something my mother could never have imagined, and even I couldn't have imagined it. My grandfather, the great director, gave me another surprise.

I was in a grand Arabian palace, and I really became an Arabian prince.

My mother was then led to a room where, through the glass, she could see beauties from all over the world prostrating at my feet, kissing my shoes; while I knelt on the ground, kowtowing to the Arabian prince—actually, my grandfather.

After I chose a beautiful woman, the others stepped aside to stand beside my grandfather.

The woman's name was Shizuko, a Japanese woman around 25 years old. She was already sobbing with excitement when she helped me remove my robe, revealing my white penis.

I was only 10 years old; my pubic hair hadn't grown yet, but my penis was already 10 centimeters long when erect, the shaft and glans still a creamy color. I thought that alone would make my mother adore me.

While Shizuko was giving me oral sex, my grandfather also chose a beauty who sat on him, allowing him to enjoy pleasure without moving. Of course, their position was horizontal so my grandfather could turn his head to watch Shizuko perform oral sex on me.

This was a crucial part of my grandfather's plan.

After the performance, I went to my mother's room and handed her a note that read: "If you enter the palace, you must abide by this rule: there is no freedom during sexual intercourse. Here, the satisfaction of the princes' and nobles' sexual desires is paramount." I played the role of a taciturn boy, partly to avoid my mother recognizing my voice, and partly to reinforce her sense of awe towards me.

My mother, already lost and confused, naturally chose to enter the palace.

Later, an Arab steward told her all the rules: the women were free most of the time, but they couldn't have sex with others; they had to save their sexual desires for Saturdays, concentrating in the palace to become sex slaves. I think my mother must have felt a sense of relief upon hearing this news, because Sunday was the day she would visit me at my grandfather's house.

I had protested to my grandfather, asking if only one Saturday a week was too few?

That way, she wouldn't lose herself and could maintain a balance between reality and fantasy. My grandfather said, "I don't want to ruin a mother who loves you." I could only look forward to the next Saturday.

The next day was Sunday. When my mother came to see me, I noticed a kind of bewildered expectation in her eyes, and I realized my grandfather was right.

My grandfather made an exception and gave us the whole day. I pestered my mother to take me to Disneyland. The sunshine and family affection finally brought a loving and cheerful smile to my mother's face.

Saturday finally arrived.

Early in the morning, Mother drove to the palace, having dressed up beautifully, wearing her newly bought high heels.

Strictly speaking, these yellow shoes weren't sandals; wearing them, two toes were exposed on each foot, the insteps split in two, giving a rather provocative look.

But once at the palace, Mother realized all her efforts were in vain. She was stripped naked, given a thorough bath by special servants, and even had her intestines cleansed. During the day, she was only allowed fruit juice.

Looking in the mirror, Mother was anxious yet terrified of the approaching night. She asked the servants if they could give her some powder to cover a slight wrinkle around her eye, but the servants seemed deaf and dumb, ignoring her completely.

Finally, night fell. Mother saw her evening gown, a white swan ballet dress. Mother was speechless with surprise, but she still put it on. Her vagina was already wet, for this was her favorite and most familiar foreplay.

But Mother discovered there were no ballet shoes; instead, her newly bought, provocative shoes lay on the floor.

Her mother stood in the center of the hall in this strange attire. Only then did she realize how peculiar her clothing was. All the other beautiful women were naked, barefoot, and completely unclothed, but their faces were heavily made up. Only her mother wore no makeup. She immediately felt extremely uncomfortable. She would rather be naked like them than wear this ridiculous ballet costume. She wondered if she was overestimating herself. Every other woman here was young and stunningly beautiful. She thought to herself that she must be the only woman over 25 years old. Her

mother tried to stand behind the girls, but suddenly found herself surrounded by naked women. "

No need to hide, you are the princess tonight," the prince's voice was both majestic and benevolent.

Her mother's mind went blank; she could only obey the prince's orders.

"Princess, perform a Swan Lake with our prince! Let me see if you are the real Swan he speaks of." Hearing this, her mother almost fainted again. Although she had never given up ballet, it had become her pre-coital lewd play, utterly unfit for polite society, especially since she was dancing with the latest ballet prince.

This was Grandpa's psychological warfare, turning Mother from a once high-class lady into a sex slave, further exposing her weaknesses and humiliating her.

I embraced my swaying mother, and our first dance began.

This was something I had dreamed of, dancing with my mother. I was incredibly grateful to my grandfather; he had made me a true prince.

Mother's uncomfortable ballet shoes and slightly rusty technique clearly couldn't keep up with my light steps. When she saw the naked women whispering together beside her, she was on the verge of tears.

Suddenly, I lifted her up and tossed her into the air. Her next move was the aerial split in the photograph hanging in my room, the one that had captivated countless men when she did it, including my father.

Mother mustered her courage, because she believed that completing this split was no problem for her; she could even do more than 180 degrees.

With a sharp rip, just as my mother was completing the movement with great enthusiasm, she suddenly heard this terrible sound, followed by a chill down her lower body.

I caught her waist and set her down. She instinctively stood on her tiptoes, and suddenly realized everyone was staring at her genitals. Looking down, she saw that her snow-white ballet trousers had ripped open in the middle, becoming a veritable open-crotch panty, exposing her pubic hair, which seemed to mock her ugliness. My

noble mother had never experienced such humiliation. She collapsed into my arms, covered her face with her hands, and wept uncontrollably. Suddenly, silence fell. My mother moved her hands away and found that all the beautiful women had moved to the prince's side. No one looked at her with mocking eyes anymore; instead, they were filled with envy and jealousy.

Only the prince and she remained in the center of the hall. The prince had released his hand from hers and stood alone in the center of the hall, waiting for her service.

My mother knelt before me, weeping. I couldn't tell if she was upset or excited. Her hands trembled, yet she skillfully pulled off my ballet trousers. She'd learned all this from George! This completely extinguished any pity I had felt for her, and instead stirred within me a ruthless humiliation.

When my mother saw the boy's white penis, her maternal instincts surged. It was so white, so helpless, without a trace of ugliness. The engorged glans seemed to want to tell her of its loneliness. My mother opened her mouth and took the trembling penis into her mouth.

In that instant, I almost melted. At that moment, I was a lonely boy, standing there, my penis and my mother's lips communicating silently. From then on, my mother became my sex slave, and I returned home to enjoy the doubled maternal love she gave me.

Of course, I had to keep my agreement with my grandfather. The method was simple: I deliberately didn't choose my mother at several sex parties, and at these times, my mother could only sit on my grandfather and watch other women suck my penis. This caused her immense heartache, but it gave my grandfather and me great pleasure.

My mother's renewed youth made my father infatuated with her again. My mother was very conflicted because the young prince didn't allow her to have sex with anyone else, including her husband. But my mother still couldn't resist my father's offensive and returned to his bed. Every night, I could hear my mother's joyful moans.

My mother believed she could keep her lovemaking with my father a secret from her prince. A sense of guilt arose during their encounters, which only fueled her excitement.

One day, during their intense, all-night sex climax, she suddenly saw my father bound behind a glass partition. The prince whispered in her ear: "You betrayed me. Therefore, you will forever be a sex slave to the Arabs." In despair, my mother reached an unprecedented peak.

She truly became a sex slave, kidnapped and taken to a ship, where she was gang-raped by several black slaves. Of course, in the end, it was only I who penetrated her.

Her new master put a clitoral ring on her, stimulating her clitoris until it became as thick as a little finger. The master said this would fetch a good price at the slave market.

The uncertain future drove her to promiscuity; I could bring her to orgasm with just a few flicks of my toes at her clitoris.

When my mother, blindfolded, straddled my penis, shaking her head and letting her long hair flutter, my heart was filled with love for her.

At the sex slave market, my mother was stripped naked and auctioned off. As planned, my appearance—Prince Witte's—caused her to burst into tears. I bid against an Arab sheikh named Black Dragon, who offered an astronomical ten million dollars. Lacking sufficient cash, I had no choice but to withdraw, and my mother fainted on the stage.

Even my grandfather hadn't anticipated this turn of events.

A hellish life of sex slavery awaited my mother; she grew increasingly haggard.

But one day, Black Dragon led her to a mirror. After pressing a button, the mirror turned into glass, and she saw Black Dragon's new captive—young Witte. My mother wept bitterly and had no choice but to submit to Black Dragon.

To save my mother, I, like her, became a sex slave in a real Arab palace, which gave her a sliver of hope in her life.

Black Dragon enjoyed playing perverse games. He made the blindfolded Witte search for my mother. Witte could often touch my mother's body perfectly, and at these moments, my mother would lose all strength and collapse into Witte's arms. Several times, watching Witte walk past her, my mother's heart broke. Having chosen the wrong partner, Werther could only watch as his mother was raped by the Black Dragon, while he himself was bound and gagged, his penis also violated by other women.

But at night, the Black Dragon monopolized his mother, forcing her to sleep with him.

Watching his mother maintain her balance and persevere in extreme adversity, I understood the greatness of a woman.

His mother urged me to escape, saying she would have no regrets even if it meant death. I asked her if she still remembered her son, Little John. She said she was doing this for Little John.

My mother and I stole two horses and escaped. The pursuers caught up, and my mother, not a skilled rider, lost control of her horse as she crossed a ditch, falling to the ground and breaking two ribs. She didn't know where the strength came from, but she screamed: "Run! Werther, don't worry about me!" The Black Dragon's poisonous whip tore off my mother's tattered clothes, but my whip wrapped around her body. With all her remaining strength, she leaped forward in a split. I saw the intense will to live and the fervent love for me in my mother's eyes. Dizzy and disoriented, I rushed to catch her. "

If we die, we die together," I said firmly, holding her tightly in my arms. She clung to me, refusing to let go.

Black Dragon's men surrounded us, but he stood there, clearly struggling with a painful decision. My mother's stunning movement flashed through his mind like lightning. He closed his eyes and spoke a few words, which he asked the translator to relay: "

A woman with such a vibrant and beautiful soul as Maria deserves freedom. God will never forgive me for killing such a soul. I will forever remember that scene. I am proud to have had such a woman." Suddenly, Black Dragon roared to the sky and vanished like the wind with his men.

The men Grandpa sent to meet us quickly found us. Because of my mother's severe injuries, she couldn't fly, so we had to return by boat.

Along the way, the photograph of little John and my love became the support for my mother to live. I aided her treatment with burning kisses and my semen, and miraculously, she recovered quickly.

Life returned to normal. When my mother returned home, she found that nothing had changed, except that her husband loved her even more. Her son had also grown strong and healthy. Holding little John, she felt as if she had been through a lifetime.

For several days, my mother did not let my father sleep in her room, but slept with me instead. We often woke up from nightmares. My mother thought that I had developed this problem during the year she was missing, and she felt increasingly guilty towards me.

On Saturday, my mother dressed very smartly and went to the palace. She was greeted by that open-crotch ballet dress and those sultry shoes. Young Werther was still so lonely, with a touch more vicissitude on his face.

After the two danced a song of prince and white swan, my mother still knelt on the ground, communicating silently with her tongue and the boy's penis. The boy's penis had gained a bit of masculine dignity, and in my mother's mouth, it seemed to be telling endless love. Mother silently shed tears, slowly opening herself to welcome the boy's entry.

During their union, the boy told her that she could now make love with her husband. Mother wept for the boy's newfound understanding and served him even more diligently.

Returning home, she tacitly allowed Father to sleep with her that very night. Watching their passionate lovemaking, she probably never imagined it was a gift from her son. Hearing Mother's joyful moans, I smiled and drifted off to sleep.

From then on, Mother had three men closest to her: me, young Werther, and my father.

But Mother could never fathom young Werther's thoughts, why he shared such hardships with her. Every Saturday, among the many beautiful women, he would occasionally choose others to break her heart, making her watch other women suck the boy's penis while she was raped by a prince, though this also gave her the pleasure of maternal instinct and sexual desire simultaneously filling her chest.

She didn't know this was an agreement between me and Grandpa.

Except for Saturdays, for the rest of the week, Maria was a dutiful wife and mother. She still loved cooking for the family, her smile still as bright as the sun. My mother grew more and more beautiful.

In her heart, her secret with young Werther was the most private thing.

Despite my precocious puberty, no one dared disobey me at home, but I never dared disobey a word my gentle mother said.

Almost every room in the house had photos of my mother dancing ballet; my room had three on the wall, which I considered the three most beautiful.

One photo shows my mother with her left leg raised high above her head; I find it hard to believe that my usually gentle and elegant mother possesses such flexibility. Another photo shows her being lifted high above her head by a young man, her legs in a 180-degree split. My mother blushed several times and wanted to change this photo, but I always cried and refused. The last photo is a standing rest photo of my mother during her practice; she looks only 22 years old in the photo, her innocent eyes gazing out the window.

When I picked out this photo from my mother's many pictures, she was very happy, hugged me, and kissed me several times, because it was also her favorite.

My mother was a ballet dancer in her youth, so she couldn't grow toenails, and the flat-toed ballet shoes greatly limited the beauty of her feet. After retiring from the stage, my mother now wears her favorite high heels even at home, believing that this keeps her from being lazy, and her calf muscles are always taut. My mother's beautiful feet are undoubtedly first-rate; I've seen many photos of beautiful feet in pornographic magazines, but none can compare to my mother's.

My mother rarely wore stockings with high heels, and even when she did, she never wore the kind with thick toes; she wanted to fully display the beauty of her toenails.

My mother had a personal pedicurist, Blanc, who was quite the ladies' man. Every time he did a detailed manicure of my mother's toenails, he would sweet-talk her until she blushed, and then kiss each of his artistic creations—my mother's toenails—at the end. I really admired his skill; he shaped my mother's toenails into long, oval shapes, with the big toe slightly pointed inwards, making them even more alluring.

Painted with dark brown nail polish and wearing high-heeled sandals that exposed her entire instep, my mother's feet looked noble and unapproachable, yet incredibly seductive.

My mother was 1.73 meters tall, wore size 42 shoes, and had five long, slender toes, with her big toe slightly upturned. I often secretly took my mother's high heels to masturbate; just fantasizing about her beautiful feet was enough to make me ejaculate uncontrollably.

I secretly harbored a wish: to let my mother wear every single pair of her high heels so I could play with them all. Of course, this was just a dream, and besides, my mother's high heels came in countless styles. Without thick padding at the toes, stockings couldn't cover my mother's oval toenails, so she usually only wore a pair of stockings once before throwing them away. These stockings, like my mother's high heels, became excellent tools for my masturbation.

Although there were over a dozen servants in the house, my hardworking mother still preferred to cook for the family herself. My father and I also loved my mother's cooking the most.

I often secretly watched my parents making love through a hidden camera. Although the camera could only give a general view, it was still incredibly exciting.

My father, who had tasted beauties from all over the world and tried countless ways of playing, found it difficult to get an erection from anything. My mother's beautiful naked body could only make his penis twitch helplessly. But as soon as my mother put on her high heels, stood there naked, or struck a ballet pose with her toes pointed and hands raised, my father's penis would immediately stand at attention.

At this time, my mother would always blush and climb into bed, throwing herself into my father's arms. My father would roughly pin her down and quickly penetrate her. Once inside, he would display his seasoned prowess, fiercely manipulating her. My mother would moan occasionally, arousing his lust, and she herself would experience immense pleasure. He would often thrust hundreds of times before ejaculating, by which time my mother's beautiful eyes would be glazed over, and her hair disheveled.

Although my father was lustful, he still loved my mother deeply. I often heard him laugh and tell her that only she was his true home, and usually, my mother's face would be flushed at this.

My father's interest in a mistress usually wouldn't last more than six months before he would return to my mother's arms. Although my mother was very dissatisfied with my father, she was helpless.

Yuwen's appearance changed this situation. Yuwen was incredibly beautiful; she was even taller than my mother. If my mother was a gentle and noble beauty, then Yuwen was a cheerful and easygoing type. More importantly, Yuwen was also a ballet dancer, and the new White Swan of my mother's former ballet company. This was where my mother felt most inferior. Yuwen, at only 22, had already won many dance awards that my mother had always dreamed of but never received.

I had also secretly watched Yuwen and my father make love. In front of Yuwen, my father seemed like a young man; a single smile from her could make him erect. When Yuwen put on her ballet shoes and performed a nude ballet, my father would even kneel on the ground, begging for the goddess's favor.

For a while, I found that I watched Yuwen masturbate more often than I watched my mother masturbate.

I didn't know whether to be grateful to Yuwen or resent her. She had alienated my father from my mother; he hadn't entered my mother's bedroom for three or four months, but she had made my resentful mother come to play with me more often.

I envied my father immensely; he had my mother, and now he had Yuwen—he was truly blessed. I wasn't as greedy as my father; I had my mother, and that was enough.

Ever since I discovered that Yuwen had replaced my mother as the new object of my sexual fantasies, I've developed a fear of her. At night, I could only escape the urge to spy on my father and Yuwen making love by sleeping in my mother's room.

At first, my mother refused to let me sleep in her room, but she eventually gave in to my persistent pleas. While pleading, I felt a strange pleasure, thinking: "If you refuse me, don't blame me for fantasizing about other women."

My mother finally agreed, which escalated my voyeuristic behavior.

I could now sleep with my arms around my mother's feet, and before bed, I liked to lick her toes. When my mother discovered this fetish, she tried to stop me several times, but my tearful "weapon" blocked her way. Later, my mother gradually relented, even washing off the brown nail polish from her toenails so I could suck them more easily.

Over the course of several months, I lost count of how many times I masturbated to orgasm while sucking my mother's toes.

Perhaps due to excessive lust, my mother noticed my pale face and insisted I see a doctor. The doctor couldn't find anything wrong, only instructing my mother to give me more nutritious food. He probably never imagined a 10-year-old would masturbate so much!

After leaving the hospital, the sunlight felt wonderful. I jumped into my mother's arms, wanting her to hold me. My mother couldn't help but laugh heartily, saying that the doctor was ridiculous; our family always had several meals of delicacies. I hadn't seen my mother so happy in a long time. Nestled in her arms, I felt inexplicably happy too. My

mother had fallen in love with her little sweetheart—Prince George. She had repainted her toenails with dark brown nail polish and wouldn't let me suck on them. She often sneaked out at night to meet him while I was asleep.

The next day, seeing my mother's radiant face, as if she had been well-received the night before, I was consumed by jealousy. In desperation, I thought of my grandfather; everyone knew of his extraordinary abilities.

Unexpectedly, Grandpa already knew why I came. He led me into a dark room and we watched several videotapes together.

They were tapes of my mother and George's affair. My mother, who thought she was being discreet, had her every move recorded. Watching my mother dance with George in his house, the performance was, of course, the "White Swan and the Prince" scene, where the White Swan even kneels at the Prince's feet and sucks his penis. This wasn't part of the performance!

Grandpa noticed my agitation, clapped his hands, the door opened briefly, then quickly closed again. A woman slid in, silently unzipped my taut pants, and began giving me oral sex. I caught a glimpse of the woman's face in the corner of the videotape's light—it was another of my dream girls—Yu Wen!

While watching my mother lying beneath George, sobbing with excitement, and enjoying Yu Wen's exquisite sexual service, I quickly ejaculated. Afterward, my mind cleared slightly, and my adoration for Grandpa reached a point of fear.

"Your father has good taste," Grandpa said calmly. "Your mother is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and she's also alluring and sexy." He paused, then continued, "I've wanted to have her on my back for a long time." Grandpa saw a glint of madness in my eyes and laughed, "I have at least hundreds of ways to make your mother willingly have sex with me, but I haven't done a single one yet, mainly because of you." "For me?" I was taken aback. "

She's your mother, and I won't have sex with her without your permission," Grandpa said.

I felt a little flattered. "

Grandpa is 66 years old this year, and his time for pleasure is running out, so you have to make a decision today." Then Grandpa said something I'll never forget: "Are you willing to share your mother with me?" At this moment, a close-up of my mother's face appeared on the screen, her face flushed with emotion as she cried, her passionate kisses raining down on George's ugly penis. Indeed, as Grandpa said, my mother was the best. Now, my heart was completely filled with love and hate for my mother; Yuwen was utterly insignificant.

Since she could moan and groan lewdly beneath a stinking prince, why couldn't it be me?

I made the first major decision of my life: I agreed to share my mother with my grandfather. It was strange; my grandfather didn't seem to care what my father thought. Perhaps in his heart, my mother was the most sacred being?

Then, incredibly, my grandfather, a mafia godfather, and I made a very detailed plan.

Judging from my mother's sexual tendencies, her willingness to kneel and writhe at the feet of a teenage, insignificant actor indicated a strong desire to be violated. Furthermore, every time she made love to George, she reached multiple orgasms after performing oral sex on him, demonstrating she was an extremely sexually potent woman. My grandfather analyzed meticulously, and I saw a glint of greed in his eyes.

Therefore, to truly win my mother's heart, I had to become a prince, a true prince surpassing George.

My grandfather concluded.

I was startled. Then he added, "From today onwards, you'll live in my house. I'll hire the best ballet teacher in America for you." I almost fainted. Didn't that mean being away from my mother for a long time?

"My child, you'll learn later that what you don't have is always the best," Grandpa sighed. "And in my plan, you and I will both possess your mother in a different guise, which will bring us lasting, fresh pleasure." I listened, stunned, my mind blank. I couldn't imagine what kind of guise I would use to make my mother weep at my feet—a ballet prince?

And from now on, you must maintain a high level of respect for your mother. She gave birth to you; that's the most important thing. No matter how wanton she may be under your lap, that's just one side of everyone's dual nature; her other side will always be the holy mother of Little John. After Grandpa finished speaking, his face seemed to radiate a sacred light. I nodded, half-understanding, leaving everything to the all-powerful Grandpa to arrange!

Grandpa was going to take me away for a year, and even my father couldn't stop him. Perhaps he knew Grandpa wanted to groom me as his successor, and therefore agreed. My mother, however, was unwilling; she held me and cried all night. A vengeful pleasure welled up inside me. I buried my head in her broad chest, inhaling her gentle fragrance, almost intoxicated. "

My sweetheart, Mommy will come to see you once a week, don't forget Mommy!" I thought viciously. "So, do you go to have sex with George every night?"

Seeing my silence, Mommy assumed I was as heartbroken as she was, and she hugged me, crying even harder.

Arriving at Grandpa's house, I was greeted by hellish life. I had to practice ballet basics for 10 hours every day.

Grandpa deliberately let me know that he watched my mother and George's live stream every night, but wouldn't let me see a glimpse. I was so exhausted that I didn't even have the will to resist. Usually, I would fall asleep as soon as I finished practicing, and then continue practicing the next day.

My mother came to see me every Sunday, but Grandpa only allowed me to see her for an hour, of course, without letting her know that I was practicing her old profession.

With George's care, my mother became more and more beautiful, her eyes radiating a kind of lust that made my heart itch unbearably. Every time my mother left, I practiced like a madman until I was completely exhausted.

Perhaps I inherited ballet genes from my mother; my ballet skills improved by leaps and bounds, even the best ballet teacher in the country praised me highly. However, he would never guess that the reason he was stimulating an eight-year-old to practice ballet so desperately was to rape his mother.

In just six months, I had become a little prince of ballet. My ballet teacher boasted to my grandfather that I was the best ballerina of my age in all of America. My grandfather was very satisfied and rewarded him with $100,000 on the spot. "

See, if you want to do something, there's nothing you can't do," my grandfather said with a smile, looking at me walking on tiptoe. "

Grandpa, I feel like a prince now." I did a split. "

Okay, now we can give your mother a surprise, my Arabian prince." And so I became an Arabian prince who could dance ballet.

The exquisite human skin mask didn't feel uncomfortable on my face at all. In the mirror, I had a handsome face like young Werther, and my alias was Werther. I knew that this was the face my mother would see.

Chapter Two: Dual Personality.

Grandpa, the master director, calmly orchestrated each scene. First, Mother received tickets to George's ballet competition, and I, of course, participated as well.

Because my physique was no different from a 15-year-old boy, I entered the 15-20 age group to compete against George.

I knew I had to win, because Grandpa assured me George wasn't a pawn in his game; he had simply instructed others not to disturb George, which allowed him to comfortably monopolize my mother for almost a year. If I lost, Grandpa and I'd wasted the past six months, and we'd have to start all over again.

I knew I would win, because I possessed an boundless love for my mother, a love George could never match.

With my fervent love for my mother, I portrayed a completely new prince, a performance that even Grandpa later found unbelievable, saying my performance on stage had made his blood boil. The judges unanimously gave me full marks.

George, who went on stage after me, was affected. Although I saw my mother looking at him expectantly, this wasn't the lewd ballet she and George performed at home.

George only came in fourth place, and I think he and I both realized the disastrous consequences of indulging in lust.

In the following days, a grand ballet performance was held, and my performance was still flawless. My mother attended every show, and as I accepted flowers from the audience, I saw the curiosity and anticipation in her eyes.

After his defeat, George was no longer like a prince, but a tyrant. My mother no longer had the passion she once had when dancing ballet with him, and naturally, she didn't cry with emotion when forced to perform oral sex.

Although my mother was promiscuous, she wasn't the kind of woman who couldn't let go of what she had. My grandfather told me that this was another of the qualities he admired about my mother—a gentle exterior masking a strong heart.

George seemed to have forgotten the difference in their social standing. When one day my mother elegantly invited him out and told him it was all over, he threatened her, saying he had a videotape of their lovemaking and demanding a million dollars for ransom.

At that moment, my mother only regretted her past blindness, but she signed a check for one million dollars without hesitation. Watching George greedily clutch the enormous check, the mother walked out of the restaurant without looking back, refusing to peek at the man again.

Of course, greedy George didn't fare well; in fact, under his grandfather's close surveillance, he couldn't get any videotapes.

Back home, my mother cried like a little girl. The perfect image of the prince in her heart was shattered. I wonder if my face, Werther's, flashed through her mind at that moment?

A few days later, my mother didn't receive George's videotape and became uneasy. She went to George's house, only to find that he had disappeared. My mother left George's house with a question in her mind.

Then, my grandfather's second play began.

As an outstanding ballerina, I naturally belonged to the most famous Prince Ballet Company in the city, the ballet company my father owned. My mother could watch my performances from the theater's boxes anytime. Whenever my mother was there, I danced with great passion, until one day my mother arranged to meet me backstage.

What happened next was something my mother could never have imagined, and even I couldn't have imagined it. My grandfather, the great director, gave me another surprise.

I was in a grand Arabian palace, and I really became an Arabian prince.

My mother was then led to a room where, through the glass, she could see beauties from all over the world prostrating at my feet, kissing my shoes; while I knelt on the ground, kowtowing to the Arabian prince—actually, my grandfather.

After I chose a beautiful woman, the others stepped aside to stand beside my grandfather.

The woman's name was Shizuko, a Japanese woman around 25 years old. She was already sobbing with excitement when she helped me remove my robe, revealing my white penis.

I was only 10 years old; my pubic hair hadn't grown yet, but my penis was already 10 centimeters long when erect, the shaft and glans still a creamy color. I thought that alone would make my mother adore me.

While Shizuko was giving me oral sex, my grandfather also chose a beauty who sat on him, allowing him to enjoy pleasure without moving. Of course, their position was horizontal so my grandfather could turn his head to watch Shizuko perform oral sex on me.

This was a crucial part of my grandfather's plan.

After the performance, I went to my mother's room and handed her a note that read: "If you enter the palace, you must abide by this rule: there is no freedom during sexual intercourse. Here, the satisfaction of the princes' and nobles' sexual desires is paramount." I played the role of a taciturn boy, partly to avoid my mother recognizing my voice, and partly to reinforce her sense of awe towards me.

My mother, already lost and confused, naturally chose to enter the palace.

Later, an Arab steward told her all the rules: the women were free most of the time, but they couldn't have sex with others; they had to save their sexual desires for Saturdays, concentrating in the palace to become sex slaves. I think my mother must have felt a sense of relief upon hearing this news, because Sunday was the day she would visit me at my grandfather's house.

I had protested to my grandfather, asking if only one Saturday a week was too few?

That way, she wouldn't lose herself and could maintain a balance between reality and fantasy. My grandfather said, "I don't want to ruin a mother who loves you." I could only look forward to the next Saturday.

The next day was Sunday. When my mother came to see me, I noticed a kind of bewildered expectation in her eyes, and I realized my grandfather was right.

My grandfather made an exception and gave us the whole day. I pestered my mother to take me to Disneyland. The sunshine and family affection finally brought a loving and cheerful smile to my mother's face.

Saturday finally arrived.

Early in the morning, Mother drove to the palace, having dressed up beautifully, wearing her newly bought high heels.

Strictly speaking, these yellow shoes weren't sandals; wearing them, two toes were exposed on each foot, the insteps split in two, giving a rather provocative look.

But once at the palace, Mother realized all her efforts were in vain. She was stripped naked, given a thorough bath by special servants, and even had her intestines cleansed. During the day, she was only allowed fruit juice.

Looking in the mirror, Mother was anxious yet terrified of the approaching night. She asked the servants if they could give her some powder to cover a slight wrinkle around her eye, but the servants seemed deaf and dumb, ignoring her completely.

Finally, night fell. Mother saw her evening gown, a white swan ballet dress. Mother was speechless with surprise, but she still put it on. Her vagina was already wet, for this was her favorite and most familiar foreplay.

But Mother discovered there were no ballet shoes; instead, her newly bought, provocative shoes lay on the floor.

Her mother stood in the center of the hall in this strange attire. Only then did she realize how peculiar her clothing was. All the other beautiful women were naked, barefoot, and completely unclothed, but their faces were heavily made up. Only her mother wore no makeup. She immediately felt extremely uncomfortable. She would rather be naked like them than wear this ridiculous ballet costume. She wondered if she was overestimating herself. Every other woman here was young and stunningly beautiful. She thought to herself that she must be the only woman over 25 years old. Her

mother tried to stand behind the girls, but suddenly found herself surrounded by naked women. "

No need to hide, you are the princess tonight," the prince's voice was both majestic and benevolent.

Her mother's mind went blank; she could only obey the prince's orders.

"Princess, perform a Swan Lake with our prince! Let me see if you are the real Swan he speaks of." Hearing this, her mother almost fainted again. Although she had never given up ballet, it had become her pre-coital lewd play, utterly unfit for polite society, especially since she was dancing with the latest ballet prince.

This was Grandpa's psychological warfare, turning Mother from a once high-class lady into a sex slave, further exposing her weaknesses and humiliating her.

I embraced my swaying mother, and our first dance began.

This was something I had dreamed of, dancing with my mother. I was incredibly grateful to my grandfather; he had made me a true prince.

Mother's uncomfortable ballet shoes and slightly rusty technique clearly couldn't keep up with my light steps. When she saw the naked women whispering together beside her, she was on the verge of tears.

Suddenly, I lifted her up and tossed her into the air. Her next move was the aerial split in the photograph hanging in my room, the one that had captivated countless men when she did it, including my father.

Mother mustered her courage, because she believed that completing this split was no problem for her; she could even do more than 180 degrees.

With a sharp rip, just as my mother was completing the movement with great enthusiasm, she suddenly heard this terrible sound, followed by a chill down her lower body.

I caught her waist and set her down. She instinctively stood on her tiptoes, and suddenly realized everyone was staring at her genitals. Looking down, she saw that her snow-white ballet trousers had ripped open in the middle, becoming a veritable open-crotch panty, exposing her pubic hair, which seemed to mock her ugliness. My

noble mother had never experienced such humiliation. She collapsed into my arms, covered her face with her hands, and wept uncontrollably. Suddenly, silence fell. My mother moved her hands away and found that all the beautiful women had moved to the prince's side. No one looked at her with mocking eyes anymore; instead, they were filled with envy and jealousy.

Only the prince and she remained in the center of the hall. The prince had released his hand from hers and stood alone in the center of the hall, waiting for her service.

My mother knelt before me, weeping. I couldn't tell if she was upset or excited. Her hands trembled, yet she skillfully pulled off my ballet trousers. She'd learned all this from George! This completely extinguished any pity I had felt for her, and instead stirred within me a ruthless humiliation.

When my mother saw the boy's white penis, her maternal instincts surged. It was so white, so helpless, without a trace of ugliness. The engorged glans seemed to want to tell her of its loneliness. My mother opened her mouth and took the trembling penis into her mouth.

In that instant, I almost melted. At that moment, I was a lonely boy, standing there, my penis and my mother's lips communicating silently. From then on, my mother became my sex slave, and I returned home to enjoy the doubled maternal love she gave me.

Of course, I had to keep my agreement with my grandfather. The method was simple: I deliberately didn't choose my mother at several sex parties, and at these times, my mother could only sit on my grandfather and watch other women suck my penis. This caused her immense heartache, but it gave my grandfather and me great pleasure.

My mother's renewed youth made my father infatuated with her again. My mother was very conflicted because the young prince didn't allow her to have sex with anyone else, including her husband. But my mother still couldn't resist my father's offensive and returned to his bed. Every night, I could hear my mother's joyful moans.

My mother believed she could keep her lovemaking with my father a secret from her prince. A sense of guilt arose during their encounters, which only fueled her excitement.

One day, during their intense, all-night sex climax, she suddenly saw my father bound behind a glass partition. The prince whispered in her ear: "You betrayed me. Therefore, you will forever be a sex slave to the Arabs." In despair, my mother reached an unprecedented peak.

She truly became a sex slave, kidnapped and taken to a ship, where she was gang-raped by several black slaves. Of course, in the end, it was only I who penetrated her.

Her new master put a clitoral ring on her, stimulating her clitoris until it became as thick as a little finger. The master said this would fetch a good price at the slave market.

The uncertain future drove her to promiscuity; I could bring her to orgasm with just a few flicks of my toes at her clitoris.

When my mother, blindfolded, straddled my penis, shaking her head and letting her long hair flutter, my heart was filled with love for her.

At the sex slave market, my mother was stripped naked and auctioned off. As planned, my appearance—Prince Witte's—caused her to burst into tears. I bid against an Arab sheikh named Black Dragon, who offered an astronomical ten million dollars. Lacking sufficient cash, I had no choice but to withdraw, and my mother fainted on the stage.

Even my grandfather hadn't anticipated this turn of events.

A hellish life of sex slavery awaited my mother; she grew increasingly haggard.

But one day, Black Dragon led her to a mirror. After pressing a button, the mirror turned into glass, and she saw Black Dragon's new captive—young Witte. My mother wept bitterly and had no choice but to submit to Black Dragon.

To save my mother, I, like her, became a sex slave in a real Arab palace, which gave her a sliver of hope in her life.

Black Dragon enjoyed playing perverse games. He made the blindfolded Witte search for my mother. Witte could often touch my mother's body perfectly, and at these moments, my mother would lose all strength and collapse into Witte's arms. Several times, watching Witte walk past her, my mother's heart broke. Having chosen the wrong partner, Werther could only watch as his mother was raped by the Black Dragon, while he himself was bound and gagged, his penis also violated by other women.

But at night, the Black Dragon monopolized his mother, forcing her to sleep with him.

Watching his mother maintain her balance and persevere in extreme adversity, I understood the greatness of a woman.

His mother urged me to escape, saying she would have no regrets even if it meant death. I asked her if she still remembered her son, Little John. She said she was doing this for Little John.

My mother and I stole two horses and escaped. The pursuers caught up, and my mother, not a skilled rider, lost control of her horse as she crossed a ditch, falling to the ground and breaking two ribs. She didn't know where the strength came from, but she screamed: "Run! Werther, don't worry about me!" The Black Dragon's poisonous whip tore off my mother's tattered clothes, but my whip wrapped around her body. With all her remaining strength, she leaped forward in a split. I saw the intense will to live and the fervent love for me in my mother's eyes. Dizzy and disoriented, I rushed to catch her. "

If we die, we die together," I said firmly, holding her tightly in my arms. She clung to me, refusing to let go.

Black Dragon's men surrounded us, but he stood there, clearly struggling with a painful decision. My mother's stunning movement flashed through his mind like lightning. He closed his eyes and spoke a few words, which he asked the translator to relay: "

A woman with such a vibrant and beautiful soul as Maria deserves freedom. God will never forgive me for killing such a soul. I will forever remember that scene. I am proud to have had such a woman." Suddenly, Black Dragon roared to the sky and vanished like the wind with his men.

The men Grandpa sent to meet us quickly found us. Because of my mother's severe injuries, she couldn't fly, so we had to return by boat.

Along the way, the photograph of little John and my love became the support for my mother to live. I aided her treatment with burning kisses and my semen, and miraculously, she recovered quickly.

Life returned to normal. When my mother returned home, she found that nothing had changed, except that her husband loved her even more. Her son had also grown strong and healthy. Holding little John, she felt as if she had been through a lifetime.

For several days, my mother did not let my father sleep in her room, but slept with me instead. We often woke up from nightmares. My mother thought that I had developed this problem during the year she was missing, and she felt increasingly guilty towards me.

On Saturday, my mother dressed very smartly and went to the palace. She was greeted by that open-crotch ballet dress and those sultry shoes. Young Werther was still so lonely, with a touch more vicissitude on his face.

After the two danced a song of prince and white swan, my mother still knelt on the ground, communicating silently with her tongue and the boy's penis. The boy's penis had gained a bit of masculine dignity, and in my mother's mouth, it seemed to be telling endless love. Mother silently shed tears, slowly opening herself to welcome the boy's entry.

During their union, the boy told her that she could now make love with her husband. Mother wept for the boy's newfound understanding and served him even more diligently.

Returning home, she tacitly allowed Father to sleep with her that very night. Watching their passionate lovemaking, she probably never imagined it was a gift from her son. Hearing Mother's joyful moans, I smiled and drifted off to sleep.

From then on, Mother had three men closest to her: me, young Werther, and my father.

But Mother could never fathom young Werther's thoughts, why he shared such hardships with her. Every Saturday, among the many beautiful women, he would occasionally choose others to break her heart, making her watch other women suck the boy's penis while she was raped by a prince, though this also gave her the pleasure of maternal instinct and sexual desire simultaneously filling her chest.

She didn't know this was an agreement between me and Grandpa.

Except for Saturdays, for the rest of the week, Maria was a dutiful wife and mother. She still loved cooking for her family, and her smile remained as bright as the sun. Her mother grew more and more beautiful.

In her heart, her secret with young Werther was the most private thing.

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