Admiring Mom

Every protagonist in a first-person novel has a name. Please call me Ah-hao, or any name you like if you prefer, because it's not important to the story I'm about to tell you. This

is a story about my beautiful and sexy mother, a story of love and sacrifice.

I was born in the 1970s in a small town in southern China, a place of beautiful mountains and clear waters. According to the older generation, they migrated here from the Central Plains during the Southern Song Dynasty to escape the war.

Because the surrounding area is inhabited by ethnic minorities, after centuries of reproduction, although their main lifestyle is still Han Chinese, they have also adopted many customs of the indigenous people of the border regions. For example, newlyweds would go to a temple to worship a sturdy wooden stake painted in the shape of a tiger's head to pray for peace and children (I later learned from books that this was just a remnant of primitive phallic worship), and the husband would give his new wife a silver necklace, and so on...

My mother's name was Fang Min. She lost the joys of girlhood at a very young age, learning to become pregnant and give birth. When my mother was fifteen, my father seduced her at a bonfire party, taking her virginity, and thus I came into being. On their wedding night, my younger sister was born.

My father worked in the mines and was quite chauvinistic (as were the men in our hometown). After he rose to a minor foreman position, he developed a drinking problem, often drinking until he was unconscious, requiring my mother, me, and the rest of the family to help him to bed. However, he didn't beat or scold anyone in the family when he was drunk. Therefore, considering other factors, you could say he was actually quite good to my mother (at least compared to other families in town), and it was clear that my mother loved my father, or perhaps it was "a form of respect."

However, I often sensed that my mother seemed a little melancholic. Of course, at that time, I didn't quite understand what it was. Our family's circumstances were considered upper-middle class compared to other families. My mother never needed to work to help with household expenses.

Whenever I had the chance, I would help her with chores. My father was always working in the mines, which naturally brought my mother and me closer. She would often come to me for help when she had problems; and I, in turn, would often try to cheer her up.

It was clear that my mother liked having me around, as it alleviated some of the boredom of doing housework.

My father always left early and came home late, and nine times out of ten he would be disheveled and exhausted when he returned. I think romance had long since faded from their marriage. Most of the time, he was busy with work, meetings, or drinking. Under these circumstances, my mother was actually very lonely. However, I believe my father still loved my mother very much. They would sometimes joke around or tease each other, but the romance they had when they first got married was very rare... practically nonexistent.

After graduating from high school, I started working (few people went to university back then), and at the same time, I found a job driving a taxi, hoping to earn extra money to help support the family. But as you can imagine, this meant I didn't have much time to date or participate in the social activities that most young men enjoy.

My life wasn't anything special; sometimes it was good, sometimes it wasn't, just like any other ordinary person.

At night, after everyone else in the family had gone to bed, my mother and I would often sit together at the kitchen table chatting. I knew my mother loved having me with her… Over time, my mother and I became very close. She would even hug me and whisper that my presence was like the sunshine in her life.

I was a precocious child, knowing many things that should have been vague concepts at my age. When I turned sixteen, I began to see my mother with entirely new eyes. I realized she was indeed a woman, and a very beautiful one at that.

My mother's hair was black, thick, and very long. When she let her hair down, her long, flowing black hair cascaded down to her waist. She had a beautiful, slender figure typical of southern women, and her eyes were still bright and captivating.

We talked about almost everything. I told my mother about my favorite celebrities, and she told me about her life before she got married. She still longed for those carefree days, but she told me she didn't regret her marriage because it gave her the most important things in her life: her husband and children.

At that moment, I realized that my mother, with her traditional feminine virtues and beauty, was a woman who attracted me greatly. So I began to consciously seek her embrace and compliment her, saying she was still a very beautiful woman. These words usually made my mother blush, but she would still accept them with a smile.

Later, every day when I came home, I would bring her some flowers or desserts. On Sundays, my days off, I would also ask my mother to go to the movies with me.

In the theater, I would intentionally or unintentionally lean against my mother or hold her soft, delicate hand, and then, when she wasn't looking, quickly put my arm around her shoulder. At this time, my mother would naturally lean back and rest her head on my shoulder.

I knew that my mother looked forward to the days when I took her to the movies, because she always picked out the movies for us in advance.

After the movie, I liked to sit with my mother in a nearby park for a while. There, we could see the night view of the whole town and say some playful and affectionate things to each other.

One day, my mother said to me, "Son, shouldn't you be thinking about finding someone? You're almost seventeen."

Without considering the consequences, I blurted out, "Mom, I don't want to get married. I want to be with you forever."

Hearing her son's bold confession, my mother was clearly taken aback, turning to stare at me in disbelief. After a moment, her dazed gaze silently drifted into the distance.

"Mom, did I make you worry?"

My mother thought for a long time before slowly saying, "I think we should go back."

Seeing my mother's reaction, I began to curse the words I had just blurted out. But then I thought, since I can't pretend it never happened, spilled water can't be taken back, so why not take it a step further?

"Mom, I'm sorry if what I said offended you. But you know, your son isn't stupid, and he's more mature than his age. I love you very much, and I'd do anything for your happiness, Mom, please don't hate me."

Mom remained silent for a long time, then looked at me with sadness and said, "Son, it's my fault. I shouldn't have let this continue. It's all because I was too lonely, so I sought your company, which led you astray."

"Mom, I didn't want this to happen either. But since it happened, I'm still happy to have fallen in love with a woman like you."

"No! No way! You're my own son!" the mother retorted. "How can such a thing happen between a mother and son? Besides, I'm a married woman."

"Mom, I can't control anything else. I've already taken the risk. It's already happened, and I don't want to lie, and I don't want to take back my love for you. Mom, for your own sake, can't you at least consider my... request?"

The mother remained silent for a long while, and then two clear tears quietly slid down her alabaster face. Gazing at my weeping mother, I felt a pang of guilt. I pulled her to my chest and hugged her tightly. At that moment, she whispered, "Son, we should go home."

After this incident, the relationship between us cooled considerably. Despite my repeated pleas, she refused to go to the movies with me again, telling me I should go with a girl my age.

I could see that she was suffering just as much as I was. As the days passed, she became increasingly withdrawn and taciturn. When my father noticed her change and asked why she wouldn't go to the movies with me, she simply shook her head and asked why he wouldn't take her.

Dad said, "You know I'm very busy. Sunday is my only day off, so it's better for you to rest at home."

Of course, he drank alcohol that day, just like usual. Then, Mom raised her voice, as if she said something to him, and finally slammed the door and left the room.

This Tuesday, no one else in the house (Dad, sister) was home, and I begged Mom again. Unexpectedly, she didn't say anything, just nodded. I was overjoyed and went up to hug my mother tightly. She didn't refuse and gently rested her head on my shoulder.
After kissing for a while, my tongue parted her sweet lips, breathing in her alluring feminine scent. I looked up, admiring the seductive scenery of my mother's private parts, and noticed a small pink opening—that was where my mother urinated. Ignoring the strong smell, I became completely captivated by every inch of my mother's body, gently licking her, then her entire inner wall, especially around her vagina.

When my tongue reached her most sensitive clitoris, my mother couldn't help but cry out. Then, I inserted a finger into her vagina and began to thrust in and out, while still continuously sucking and kissing her genitals.

The mature, middle-aged beauty's breathing became increasingly rapid. I continued to stimulate her clitoris, and my mother's genitals overflowed with fluid, soaking my finger in the slippery nectar.

Finally, with an uncontrollable, sharp scream, my mother arched her snow-white body and began to convulse. I seemed not to hear her, continuing to stimulate her, gleefully knowing that I had brought my mother to orgasm.

After a while, Mom, panting, rubbed her firm breasts against my chest. With a shy smile, she whispered, "Son, I've never been so happy in my life."

"Mom, you know what? You're so beautiful and sexy. Making love with you has been my long-held dream."

"Son, tell me the truth, do you really think Mom is beautiful?"

"Of course, more beautiful than any movie star."

With tears in her eyes, Mom gently embraced my neck and kissed my lips. At the same time, she shyly reached down, grasped my penis, and slowly stroked it, guiding my penis to the base of her thighs, rubbing it up and down against her wet vulva.

"Mom!" I whispered, "I love you."

As if silently expressing her agreement, my mother spread her thighs to both sides and placed my penis at her hole. I stared into the depths of her eyes, and my mother pushed me inside her.

"Well! Son..."

For a boy of this age, my penis is very big and thick, and my mother's vagina is like petals blooming for my son's hot meat shaft under my thrust.

Mom raised her lower body so that the entire length of my penis reached the depths of her vagina. Even after giving birth to two children, my mother's vagina is still very tight, and the inner wall muscles wrap around my penis like a vice.

I pulled out, then slid in again, and then pumped like crazy. Mom also rocked her hips and waist with the same passionate rhythm to meet the thrusting movement, and my penis was quickly soaked with love juice.

We, mother and son, worked together like a machine made for love. Every time I inserted it, my mother stood up straight to accommodate her, with her plump breasts swinging her sexy curves. Every time I felt the head of my glans press against her cervix, and my mother began to gasp more and more rapidly.

I went crazy like this for about fifteen minutes. My mother became stiff again. At the same time, she clasped my buttocks with her hands and inserted her fingers hard. The penis in her vagina was also tightly clamped by the warm and tender flesh. I felt a tightness in my lower body; for the first time in my life, I ejaculated my virgin semen back into my mother's body. One ejaculation after another, a considerable amount, and soon my penis felt the semen begin to flow back.

And so, my mother and I remained intertwined, enjoying the afterglow of our orgasms.

After a while, my penis hardened again inside my mother's vagina, and I gently thrust in and out. This time, because it was more gentle, we lasted much longer, finally reaching orgasm together again.

The long night, for us, mother and son, felt far too short. After our final moment of intimacy, Mom whispered shyly in my ear, "Son, you're so big! Your father and I have never experienced anything like this before. Ah! I've almost forgotten when I last felt this happy."

Mom's words filled me with a sense of pride as a man. My first time with Mom was more fulfilling for her than all her previous marriages with Dad.

"Mom, it's probably because I love you so much!"

"Xiaohao, my dear son, this is the best orgasm Mom has ever had." Mom confessed to me again, kissed me goodbye, and said, "My good son, Mom should go back now. I think neither of us wants anyone to have any doubts!"

Mom and I kissed for a while longer, said some sweet words, and she stood up and wiped herself clean.

"Mom, can you leave this underwear with me?" I asked softly.

Mom was silent for a moment, then asked me with a little unease, "As a memento of our first time?"

I nodded quickly.

"I promise you, but you have to keep it safe." So, Mom put on her clothes, left her underwear with me, and quietly left my room.

That night, my mother and I made love four times. Finally, I remember pressing my mother's underwear to my face before falling asleep. Even in my dream, all I could hear was my mother's sweet, almost weeping cries.

But when dawn broke the next day, everything from the previous night seemed to vanish like fog. When the family sat around the table for breakfast, my mother was unusually cold. She not only didn't speak to me but also avoided eye contact.

I felt like I was in an icebox, yet I still refused to give up. So, while my father and sister left for work and school respectively, I pretended to feel unwell and stayed in my room, playing with the white underwear stained with my mother's honey-like fluid, quietly waiting.

A short while later, the door opened, and my mother walked in as I had hoped. Seeing the underwear in my hand, her face immediately flushed red with embarrassment, and she said in a trembling voice, "Son, we can't repeat what we did last night."

Before I could defend myself, my mother gestured for me to be quiet. "Last night was indeed very enjoyable, and I will always remember everything we had, but I am, after all, a married woman. Son, we can't make the same mistake again."

"Mom," I protested loudly, pulling her into my arms. "I love you! You know you love me too. Give your son a chance!"

I tried to kiss her, but she turned away, broke free from my embrace, and shook her head. "No, son." Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered, "Just because you're my son."

"Mom!" I cried out as she was about to leave my room. "I won't stop loving you, and I'll continue to pursue you."

Tears streamed down her face, but she still left me. From that moment on, our relationship cooled. It was clear that her decision was painful for her, but her resolve remained unwavering.

Time flew by, and months of effort yielded no results. I almost gave up hope of repairing our relationship. My mother was busy finding me a partner, contacting everyone she could reach, asking if they knew any good girls. She even consulted random books to see if our horoscopes were compatible; if so, she would arrange for us to meet.

I felt incredibly pained because the only woman I loved, my mother, was cruelly pushing me away from her. In the end, I chose a girl because, in my eyes, she looked somewhat like my mother, and the engagement date was set.

Then, some strange things happened. My mother's attitude towards me changed; she became like a jealous woman, criticizing me even for the smallest mistakes I made.

I jokingly asked her, "Are you unwilling to give your son away to someone else?" My mother wouldn't admit it, but when I pointed out her recent changes and said it was her lover's jealousy, she fell silent, went into her room, and didn't come out all night.

The next day, when it was just the two of us at home, my mother said, "Son, let's go see a movie again on Sunday, okay?"

It was a little strange, but I was still very happy, thinking that my mother was probably trying to comfort me, and I nodded and said, "Mom, that's great."

I don't know how I got through the next few days, looking forward to Sunday every day. When the long-awaited day finally arrived, my mother dressed up carefully for our outing. I could hardly believe that the beautiful woman sitting next to me was my mother.

After watching the movie, we went back to our private spot. I hugged Mom again, and she didn't resist. We started kissing passionately.

My hands began to roam over her body, and from her tightly clenched legs, I could tell she was excited. We were intimate for about an hour before returning home. Just like last time, Dad and my sister were asleep.

"Wait for me in your room. I'm going to check on your dad," Mom said softly.

When she went into the room, I was already undressed and lying on the bed. Mom turned around, locked the door, and came to me. Mother and son began a long-awaited, passionate kiss.

I couldn't wait any longer. I quickly stripped my mother of her clothes, pinned her down, and kissed every inch of her delicate skin. I held her round buttocks in my arms and kissed her genitals passionately, bringing her to orgasm. Then, I climbed on top of her, letting her hold my rock-hard penis, and guided it to her entrance. With a thrust, it easily entered her already wet vagina.

I gripped my mother's round buttocks and fucked her hard. With each penetration, she would throw her head back and moan with abandon.

We rolled around on the bed, sometimes my mother on top, sometimes me on top. After a long while, I finally ejaculated inside my mother's warm vagina.

This time, Mom also reached her climax; I had never seen her with such a satisfied smile.

"Son, you're amazing."

"Mom, are you still going to pressure me into marriage?" I asked, a little uneasy.

"Ah, son, Mom loves you. As your wedding date gets closer, Mom can't take it anymore, I feel like I'm going crazy. I know I'm just jealous. Mom loves you more than anything in this world."

"Like a lover, right?" I asked excitedly.

"Yes, not just a mother's love for her son, but a love like a lover's. Mom can't let you leave my side again, not even for a second," Mom said softly.

"Do you love me more than you love Daddy?" I asked, embracing my mother again, kneading her round, firm breasts until they swelled, then kissing her swollen nipples.

In joy, my mother murmured, "Ah, son, I respect your father, my husband, but I don't love him. After being with you, I learned what love is. My dear son, I want to be your wife. I feel so happy in your arms."

Hearing these words from my beloved mother's lips, I was shocked.

"Mom, you made me the happiest man in the world. I don't want to share your love with anyone else, not even Dad. You are mine. I want to possess your body and soul. I want you to always lie in my arms like this. I want to be one with you like this forever."

Mom hugged my back tightly, rolled over, adjusted her position, and straddled my waist until my penis was completely buried in her love nest. Then she kissed me passionately, thrusting her plump white buttocks up and down.

"Son, this is wonderful, but our union must be a secret between us. Your dad and your sister can't know, otherwise we can't be together." "

Of course, I know."

Holding Mom's mature buttocks, I thrust hard, starting slowly and gradually increasing the speed. Suddenly, my mother's tongue intertwined with mine like a madwoman. Then, in the throes of orgasm, her whole body trembled violently, letting out a silent scream.

I knew she had reached her climax, so I quickly rolled over and pinned her beneath me, thrusting vigorously. Her beautiful, full body trembled with each stroke, her breasts and buttocks swaying wildly. As waves of pleasure coursed through her body, she finally cried out, and at the same time, my penis plunged into her womb, ejaculating a large amount of my semen inside, filling her womb, the place where she was meant to bear children, with the seed of our incestuous love.

After our passionate encounter, we embraced, my mother's genitals still connected to mine. She pushed me down onto the bed and began kissing my entire body. When she kissed between my legs, she took my penis into her mouth and began giving me oral sex. I finally couldn't hold back and ejaculated again. Without disgust, this time my mother smiled sweetly as she swallowed all of her son's semen.

The next day, my mother and I went to a jewelry store to order a silver wedding necklace. No one knew that I was going to marry my beloved mother. I also bought a wedding dress for my mother, and of course, I bought one for myself.

Another week passed, and Mom chose an auspicious day. Late at night, when no one knew, my mother and I secretly went to the town temple. Mom wore her bright red wedding dress with gold trim, looking absolutely stunning; I wore my new outfit too.

My bride shyly lowered her head before me. I took the necklace Dad had given her from her snow-white neck and then placed the one I had made for her on her head, marking that from this moment on, Mom was my wife.

After the ceremony, we prayed for our happiness before that strange wooden tiger. After a festive feast, we made love passionately there.

"Son, every time I'm with you, it feels like my first time. You've given me so much happiness, but tonight is our special first night. Tonight, I'm not only your mother, but also your wife."

"Mom, now that you're my wife, can I call you Amin from now on?"

My mother blushed slightly and nodded shyly. Then, I said to her, "Amin, tonight is a special day. Tonight is your first night, and I want you to give me a little baby."

My mother buried her head in my chest and said, "Son, in our customs, a woman's primary responsibility as a good wife is to bear a child for her husband. I'm happy to have children for you, and tonight your wife is pregnant!"

That night, my son and I made love repeatedly. Perhaps the wooden tiger truly had a miraculous effect; I ejaculated five times inside my mother's womb, hoping she would conceive my child soon. Finally, I dressed, held my naked mother in my arms, and took her to a nearby stream to wash.

At the riverbank, I found a secluded spot, laid my mother down, and unfolded her bright red phoenix-patterned dress. The moonlight was beautiful that night; my mother's skin was very white, even shimmering with a soft, pearly sheen under the moonlight, clearly visible. Although my mother and I had been intimate many times, this was the first time I had truly appreciated the beauty of my mother… this woman who had become my wife.

My mother shyly closed her eyes, letting me help her up. Her breasts weren't large or perky, but rather gracefully curved across her chest. I felt incredibly lucky to have such a woman as my mother.

I lifted her into the water and let her stand, scooping water to wash her lower body. Afterward, I let her wash herself while I swam around her for a while. Gradually, looking at her beautiful figure, I became excited again and quietly swam behind her. The water was just enough to reach the middle of my mother's thighs. I grabbed her slender waist, and my mother gasped in surprise. Then, realizing it was me, she calmed down and let me caress her two snow-white buttocks.

I played for a while, then cupped her round, fleshy mounds with both hands and pulled them apart. My mother grabbed my hands, trying to stop me, but I grabbed her hands and placed them on her pert buttocks, kneading them with all four palms.

After a while, I released her hands, letting her pull her buttocks apart herself, admiring my mother's back door. Her back door was tightly closed, like a chrysanthemum bud. I reached out to touch it, and my mother tensed up. I poked it a few times, but her little chrysanthemum remained tightly closed.

I stood up and had my mother straddle my waist, walking into deeper water until the water submerged my mother's pink buttocks. I held my mother's forearm, making her lean back, and my penis slid in. I started thrusting again. Because of the buoyancy of the water, this position brought my mother to orgasm. By the time we got home, it was already four in the morning.

From then on, whenever we could find an opportunity, we would be together. My mother always initiated it; she was currently at the peak of her sexual desire and always had a strong urge. Every time I took off her underwear, her genitals were already soaking wet. My mother told me that just thinking about me made her very wet; no one had ever excited her like this.

Sometimes, we were like madmen; as soon as the desire arose, we would immediately find a place to have sex.

One time, when everyone else was still home, I saw my mother go into the bathroom and quietly followed her. She hadn't locked the door, and when I opened it, she was urinating when she saw me. Ignoring her protests, I picked her up, not even bothering to dry her with toilet paper, and pressed her against the edge of the tub, her round, white buttocks raised high, and had sex with her from behind.

"Son, someone might come in," my mother whispered, but I ignored her and continued until we both reached orgasm.

As I left, I pulled up my mother's underwear, preventing her from wiping herself. Although our affair went undiscovered, for the rest of the day, seeing my mother constantly pressing her lower abdomen and frowning in embarrassment aroused me, knowing that my semen was flowing from her vagina and soaking her underwear.

One night, I woke up very aroused and desperately wanted my mother, so I quietly went into the master bedroom. My mother was lying next to my father, the thin blanket covering her slipping off her body, revealing her extremely sexy figure. I gently shook my mother awake, signaling her to be quiet, and whispered that I wanted her, then went back to my room.

Two minutes later, my mother came in, and I lifted her up and placed her on the bed, then began to undress us.
"Son, Mom knows she's your wife, and I should be there for you when you need me. But

Mom protested like this. I kissed her, stripped her naked, and started giving her oral sex. Soon, Mom was wet. I climbed on top of her, penetrated her, and started having sex with her.

Later, as she left me, she told me, 'Son, from now on, whenever you want me, you can do it like tonight...'" "Come to my room and shake me awake, I'll come to you."

I was excited, but the next night, my mother, with a smile on her face, came into my room with her bedding and said, "I told your father that he gets drunk every night, and I can't stand the smell, so I'm sleeping in your room. Your father agreed, so from now on, I'm yours every night."

I grabbed her and showered her with countless kisses. Mom, from now on, we can be like a real couple.

For the next two years, my mother and I were very careful, taking advantage of every safe opportunity to indulge in our incestuous lovemaking. Sometimes, we would simply spend two days away from home, in a cave or a dense forest, making love like wild beasts.

My father never suspected our frequent trips, simply believing I was a dutiful son. In fact, I think he must have been quite happy; with his nagging wife and son gone, he could drink himself into oblivion.

Two years later, my sister got pregnant by a man from another province and married him. I, on the other hand, had a great opportunity to go to Shanghai to learn business. If I did well, I might even be able to go abroad someday.

Being so far from home, I once sadly thought my relationship with my mother would end there. However, the bond between mother and son was deep. My mother, who had never left our hometown in the southwest, actually learned to take the train and travel thousands of miles to Shanghai to see me and help take care of my life.

Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, but when news spread from our hometown that my father had died of alcohol poisoning and was found dead, his head smashed against a tiger statue, my mother and I felt lost and bewildered. However, this also meant we were now free of all ties.

My mother officially moved in with me, and we lived together like newlyweds, inseparable. I was also very happy. Having been exposed to the vibrant atmosphere of the big city, she became bolder in our sexuality, readily accepting my passionate kisses, caresses, and even my rough, unrestrained style of lifting her skirt and grabbing her buttocks for sex. We had sex at least twice a day.

Three weeks into our cohabitation, my mother shyly told me that her period hadn't come. Then came the anxious wait. When she told me again that she was indeed pregnant, we were both overjoyed.

In the remaining days, watching my mother move around with my child inside her, her face radiating the happiness unique to pregnant women, especially now that she was carrying her own son, I felt incredibly proud.

Nine months later, we had a lovely eldest daughter. This was our new family member; our previous family seemed like a distant, separate world to us.

With our first success, my mother's face beamed with joy, and she hoped to have more children for me. After my eldest son was born, my company sent me abroad. With the money I had saved over the years, I applied for foreign citizenship, allowing my family to settle abroad.

Severing all ties with the past, my mother and I became a real couple, and no one doubted our identities. While I was at work during the day, my mother stayed home to care for our two bright and adorable children; and every night, when they fell asleep in their crib, it was our happy time together.

My mother remained as gentle, sensitive, and understanding as ever. Whenever I took off her underwear, her snow-white buttocks were already stained with a large patch of honey-like fluid, awaiting her beloved son's pampering.

After showering and drying each other, we would return to our bedroom, again and again, composing those endless, tender words of love.

Every protagonist in a first-person novel has a name. Please call me Ah-hao, or any name you like if you prefer, because it's not important to the story I'm about to tell you. This

is a story about my beautiful and sexy mother, a story of love and sacrifice.

I was born in the 1970s in a small town in southern China, a place of beautiful mountains and clear waters. According to the older generation, they migrated here from the Central Plains during the Southern Song Dynasty to escape the war.

Because the surrounding area is inhabited by ethnic minorities, after centuries of reproduction, although their main lifestyle is still Han Chinese, they have also adopted many customs of the indigenous people of the border regions. For example, newlyweds would go to a temple to worship a sturdy wooden stake painted in the shape of a tiger's head to pray for peace and children (I later learned from books that this was just a remnant of primitive phallic worship), and the husband would give his new wife a silver necklace, and so on...

My mother's name was Fang Min. She lost the joys of girlhood at a very young age, learning to become pregnant and give birth. When my mother was fifteen, my father seduced her at a bonfire party, taking her virginity, and thus I came into being. On their wedding night, my sister was also born.

My father worked in the mines and was quite chauvinistic (as were the men in our hometown). After he rose to a minor foreman position, he developed a drinking problem, often drinking until he was completely unconscious, requiring my mother, me, and the rest of the family to help him to bed. However, he never beat or scolded anyone in the family when he was drunk. Therefore, considering other factors, you could say he was actually quite good to my mother (at least compared to other families in town), and it was clear that my mother loved my father, or perhaps it was "a form of respect."

Nevertheless, I often sensed that my mother seemed a little melancholic. Of course, at that time, I didn't quite understand what it was. Our family's circumstances were considered upper-middle class compared to other families. My mother never needed to work to help with household expenses.

Whenever I had the chance, I would help her with chores. My father was always working in the mines, which naturally brought my mother and me closer. She would often come to me for help when she had problems; and I, in turn, would often try to cheer her up.

It was clear that my mother liked having me around, as it alleviated some of the boredom of doing housework.

My father always left early and came home late, and nine times out of ten he would be disheveled and exhausted when he returned. I think romance had long since faded from their marriage. Most of the time, he was busy with work, meetings, or drinking. Under these circumstances, my mother was actually very lonely. However, I believe my father still loved my mother very much. They would sometimes joke around or tease each other, but the romance they had when they first got married was very rare... practically nonexistent.

After graduating from high school, I started working (few people went to university back then), and at the same time, I found a job driving a taxi, hoping to earn extra money to help support the family. But as you can imagine, this meant I didn't have much time to date or participate in the social activities that most young men enjoy.

My life wasn't anything special; sometimes it was good, sometimes it wasn't, just like any other ordinary person.

At night, after everyone else in the family had gone to bed, my mother and I would often sit together at the kitchen table chatting. I knew my mother loved having me with her… Over time, my mother and I became very close. She would even hug me and whisper that my presence was like the sunshine in her life.

I was a precocious child, knowing many things that should have been vague concepts at my age. When I turned sixteen, I began to see my mother with entirely new eyes. I realized she was indeed a woman, and a very beautiful one at that.

My mother's hair was black, thick, and very long. When she let her hair down, her long, flowing black hair cascaded down to her waist. She had a beautiful, slender figure typical of southern women, and her eyes were still bright and captivating.

We talked about almost everything. I told my mother about my favorite celebrities, and she told me about her life before she got married. She still longed for those carefree days, but she told me she didn't regret her marriage because it gave her the most important things in her life: her husband and children.

At that moment, I realized that my mother, with her traditional feminine virtues and beauty, was a woman who attracted me greatly. So I began to consciously seek her embrace and compliment her, saying she was still a very beautiful woman. These words usually made my mother blush, but she would still accept them with a smile.

Later, every day when I came home, I would bring her some flowers or desserts. On Sundays, my days off, I would also ask my mother to go to the movies with me.

In the theater, I would intentionally or unintentionally lean against my mother or hold her soft, delicate hand, and then, when she wasn't looking, quickly put my arm around her shoulder. At this time, my mother would naturally lean back and rest her head on my shoulder.

I knew that my mother looked forward to the days when I took her to the movies, because she always picked out the movies for us in advance.

After the movie, I liked to sit with my mother in a nearby park for a while. There, we could see the night view of the whole town and say some playful and affectionate things to each other.

One day, my mother said to me, "Son, shouldn't you be thinking about finding someone? You're almost seventeen."

Without considering the consequences, I blurted out, "Mom, I don't want to get married. I want to be with you forever."

Hearing her son's bold confession, my mother was clearly taken aback, turning to stare at me in disbelief. After a moment, her dazed gaze silently drifted into the distance.

"Mom, did I make you worry?"

My mother thought for a long time before slowly saying, "I think we should go back."

Seeing my mother's reaction, I began to curse the words I had just blurted out. But then I thought, since I can't pretend it never happened, spilled water can't be taken back, so why not take it a step further?

"Mom, I'm sorry if what I said offended you. But you know, your son isn't stupid, and he's more mature than his age. I love you very much, and I'd do anything for your happiness, Mom, please don't hate me."

Mom remained silent for a long time, then looked at me with sadness and said, "Son, it's my fault. I shouldn't have let this continue. It's all because I was too lonely, so I sought your company, which led you astray."

"Mom, I didn't want this to happen either. But since it happened, I'm still happy to have fallen in love with a woman like you."

"No! No way! You're my own son!" the mother retorted. "How can such a thing happen between a mother and son? Besides, I'm a married woman."

"Mom, I can't control anything else. I've already taken the risk. It's already happened, and I don't want to lie, and I don't want to take back my love for you. Mom, for your own sake, can't you at least consider my... request?"

The mother remained silent for a long while, and then two clear tears quietly slid down her alabaster face. Gazing at my weeping mother, I felt a pang of guilt. I pulled her to my chest and hugged her tightly. At that moment, she whispered, "Son, we should go home."

After this incident, the relationship between us cooled considerably. Despite my repeated pleas, she refused to go to the movies with me again, telling me I should go with a girl my age.

I could see that she was suffering just as much as I was. As the days passed, she became increasingly withdrawn and taciturn. When my father noticed her change and asked why she wouldn't go to the movies with me, she simply shook her head and asked why he wouldn't take her.

Dad said, "You know I'm very busy. Sunday is my only day off, so it's better for you to rest at home."

Of course, he drank alcohol that day, just like usual. Then, Mom raised her voice, as if she said something to him, and finally slammed the door and left the room.

This Tuesday, no one else in the house (Dad, sister) was home, and I begged Mom again. Unexpectedly, she didn't say anything, just nodded. I was overjoyed and went up to hug my mother tightly. She didn't refuse and gently rested her head on my shoulder.
After kissing for a while, my tongue parted her sweet lips, breathing in her alluring feminine scent. I looked up, admiring the seductive scenery of my mother's private parts, and noticed a small pink opening—that was where my mother urinated. Ignoring the strong smell, I became completely captivated by every part of my mother's body, gently licking and then her entire inner wall, especially around her vagina.

When my tongue moved to her most sensitive clitoris, my mother couldn't help but cry out. Then, I inserted a finger into her vagina and began to thrust in and out, while still continuously sucking and kissing her genitals.

The mature, beautiful middle-aged woman's breathing became more and more rapid. I kept stimulating her clitoris, and my mother's genitals overflowed with fluid, soaking my finger in the slippery nectar.

Finally, a sharp, uncontrollable scream escaped her lips, and her snow-white body arched as she began to convulse. I pretended not to hear, continuing to stimulate her, delighted to know that I had brought her to orgasm.

After a while, Mom, panting, rubbed her firm breasts against my chest. With a shy smile, she whispered, "Son, I've never been so happy in my life."

"Mom, you know what? You're so beautiful and sexy. Making love with you has been my long-held dream."

"Son, tell me the truth, do you really think Mom is beautiful?"

"Of course, more beautiful than any movie star."

With tears in her eyes, Mom gently embraced my neck and kissed my lips. At the same time, she shyly reached down, grasped my penis, and slowly stroked it, guiding my penis to the base of her thighs, rubbing it up and down against her wet vulva.

"Mom!" I whispered, "I love you."

As if silently expressing her agreement, my mother spread her thighs to both sides and placed my penis at her hole. I stared into the depths of her eyes, and my mother pushed me inside her.

"Well! Son..."

For a boy of this age, my penis is very big and thick, and my mother's vagina is like petals blooming for my son's hot meat shaft under my thrust.

Mom raised her lower body so that the entire length of my penis reached the depths of her vagina. Even after giving birth to two children, my mother's vagina is still very tight, and the inner wall muscles wrap around my penis like a vice.

I pulled out, then slid in again, and then pumped like crazy. Mom also rocked her hips and waist with the same passionate rhythm to meet the thrusting movement, and my penis was quickly soaked with love juice.

We, mother and son, worked together like a machine made for love. Every time I inserted it, my mother stood up straight to accommodate her, with her plump breasts swinging her sexy curves. Every time I felt the head of my glans press against her cervix, and my mother began to gasp more and more rapidly.

I went crazy like this for about fifteen minutes. My mother became stiff again. At the same time, she clasped my buttocks with her hands and inserted her fingers hard. The penis in her vagina was also tightly clamped by the warm and tender flesh. I felt a tightness in my lower body; for the first time in my life, I ejaculated my virgin semen back into my mother's body. One ejaculation after another, a considerable amount, and soon my penis felt the semen begin to flow back.

And so, my mother and I remained intertwined, enjoying the afterglow of our orgasms.

After a while, my penis hardened again inside my mother's vagina, and I gently thrust in and out. This time, because it was more gentle, we lasted much longer, finally reaching orgasm together again.

The long night, for us, mother and son, felt far too short. After our final moment of intimacy, Mom whispered shyly in my ear, "Son, you're so big! Your father and I have never experienced anything like this before. Ah! I've almost forgotten when I last felt this happy."

Mom's words filled me with a sense of pride as a man. My first time with Mom was more fulfilling for her than all her previous marriages with Dad.

"Mom, it's probably because I love you so much!"

"Xiaohao, my dear son, this is the best orgasm Mom has ever had." Mom confessed to me again, kissed me goodbye, and said, "My good son, Mom should go back now. I think neither of us wants anyone to have any doubts!"

Mom and I kissed for a while longer, said some sweet words, and she stood up and wiped herself clean.

"Mom, can you leave this underwear with me?" I asked softly.

Mom was silent for a moment, then asked me with a little unease, "As a memento of our first time?"

I nodded quickly.

"I promise you, but you have to keep it safe." So, Mom put on her clothes, left her underwear with me, and quietly left my room.

That night, my mother and I made love four times. Finally, I remember pressing my mother's underwear to my face before falling asleep. Even in my dream, all I could hear was my mother's sweet, almost weeping cries.

But when dawn broke the next day, everything from the previous night seemed to vanish like fog. When the family sat around the table for breakfast, my mother was unusually cold. She not only didn't speak to me but also avoided eye contact.

I felt like I was in an icebox, yet I still refused to give up. So, while my father and sister left for work and school respectively, I pretended to feel unwell and stayed in my room, playing with the white underwear stained with my mother's honey-like fluid, quietly waiting.

A short while later, the door opened, and my mother walked in as I had hoped. Seeing the underwear in my hand, her face immediately flushed red with embarrassment, and she said in a trembling voice, "Son, we can't repeat what we did last night."

Before I could defend myself, my mother gestured for me to be quiet. "Last night was indeed very enjoyable, and I will always remember everything we had, but I am, after all, a married woman. Son, we can't make the same mistake again."

"Mom," I protested loudly, pulling her into my arms. "I love you! You know you love me too. Give your son a chance!"

I tried to kiss her, but she turned away, broke free from my embrace, and shook her head. "No, son." Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered, "Just because you're my son."

"Mom!" I cried out as she was about to leave my room. "I won't stop loving you, and I'll continue to pursue you."

Tears streamed down her face, but she still left me. From that moment on, our relationship cooled. It was clear that her decision was painful for her, but her resolve remained unwavering.

Time flew by, and months of effort yielded no results. I almost gave up hope of repairing our relationship. My mother was busy finding me a partner, contacting everyone she could reach, asking if they knew any good girls. She even consulted random books to see if our horoscopes were compatible; if so, she would arrange for us to meet.

I felt incredibly pained because the only woman I loved, my mother, was cruelly pushing me away from her. In the end, I chose a girl because, in my eyes, she looked somewhat like my mother, and the engagement date was set.

Then, some strange things happened. My mother's attitude towards me changed; she became like a jealous woman, criticizing me even for the smallest mistakes I made.

I jokingly asked her, "Are you unwilling to give your son away to someone else?" My mother wouldn't admit it, but when I pointed out her recent changes and said it was her lover's jealousy, she fell silent, went into her room, and didn't come out all night.

The next day, when it was just the two of us at home, my mother said, "Son, let's go see a movie again on Sunday, okay?"

It was a little strange, but I was still very happy, thinking that my mother was probably trying to comfort me, and I nodded and said, "Mom, that's great."

I don't know how I got through the next few days, looking forward to Sunday every day. When the long-awaited day finally arrived, my mother dressed up carefully for our outing. I could hardly believe that the beautiful woman sitting next to me was my mother.

After watching the movie, we went back to our private spot. I hugged Mom again, and she didn't resist. We started kissing passionately.

My hands began to roam over her body, and from her tightly clenched legs, I could tell she was excited. We were intimate for about an hour before returning home. Just like last time, Dad and my sister were asleep.

"Wait for me in your room. I'm going to check on your dad," Mom said softly.

When she went into the room, I was already undressed and lying on the bed. Mom turned around, locked the door, and came to me. Mother and son began a long-awaited, passionate kiss.

I couldn't wait any longer. I quickly stripped my mother of her clothes, pinned her down, and kissed every inch of her delicate skin. I held her round buttocks in my arms and kissed her genitals passionately, bringing her to orgasm. Then, I climbed on top of her, letting her hold my rock-hard penis, and guided it to her entrance. With a thrust, it easily entered her already wet vagina.

I gripped my mother's round buttocks and fucked her hard. With each penetration, she would throw her head back and moan with abandon.

We rolled around on the bed, sometimes my mother on top, sometimes me on top. After a long while, I finally ejaculated inside my mother's warm vagina.

This time, Mom also reached her climax; I had never seen her with such a satisfied smile.

"Son, you're amazing."

"Mom, are you still going to pressure me into marriage?" I asked, a little uneasy.

"Ah, son, Mom loves you. As your wedding date gets closer, Mom can't take it anymore, I feel like I'm going crazy. I know I'm just jealous. Mom loves you more than anything in this world."

"Like a lover, right?" I asked excitedly.

"Yes, not just a mother's love for her son, but a love like a lover's. Mom can't let you leave my side again, not even for a second," Mom said softly.

"Do you love me more than you love Daddy?" I asked, embracing my mother again, kneading her round, firm breasts until they swelled, then kissing her swollen nipples.

In joy, my mother murmured, "Ah, son, I respect your father, my husband, but I don't love him. After being with you, I learned what love is. My dear son, I want to be your wife. I feel so happy in your arms."

Hearing these words from my beloved mother's lips, I was shocked.

"Mom, you made me the happiest man in the world. I don't want to share your love with anyone else, not even Dad. You are mine. I want to possess your body and soul. I want you to always lie in my arms like this. I want to be one with you like this forever."

Mom hugged my back tightly, rolled over, adjusted her position, and straddled my waist until my penis was completely buried in her love nest. Then she kissed me passionately, thrusting her plump white buttocks up and down.

"Son, this is wonderful, but our union must be a secret between us. Your dad and your sister can't know, otherwise we can't be together." "

Of course, I know."

Holding Mom's mature buttocks, I thrust hard, starting slowly and gradually increasing the speed. Suddenly, my mother's tongue intertwined with mine like a madwoman. Then, in the throes of orgasm, her whole body trembled violently, letting out a silent scream.

I knew she had reached her climax, so I quickly rolled over and pinned her beneath me, thrusting vigorously. Her beautiful, full body trembled with each stroke, her breasts and buttocks swaying wildly. As waves of pleasure coursed through her body, she finally cried out, and at the same time, my penis plunged into her womb, ejaculating a large amount of my semen inside, filling her womb, the place where she was meant to bear children, with the seed of our incestuous love.

After our passionate encounter, we embraced, my mother's genitals still connected to mine. She pushed me down onto the bed and began kissing my entire body. When she kissed between my legs, she took my penis into her mouth and began giving me oral sex. I finally couldn't hold back and ejaculated again. Without disgust, this time my mother smiled sweetly as she swallowed all of her son's semen.

The next day, my mother and I went to a jewelry store to order a silver wedding necklace. No one knew that I was going to marry my beloved mother. I also bought a wedding dress for my mother, and of course, I bought one for myself.

Another week passed, and Mom chose an auspicious day. Late at night, when no one knew, my mother and I secretly went to the town temple. Mom wore her bright red wedding dress with gold trim, looking absolutely stunning; I wore my new outfit too.

My bride shyly lowered her head before me. I took the necklace Dad had given her from her snow-white neck and then placed the one I had made for her on her head, marking that from this moment on, Mom was my wife.

After the ceremony, we prayed for our happiness before that strange wooden tiger. After a festive feast, we made love passionately there.

"Son, every time I'm with you, it feels like my first time. You've given me so much happiness, but tonight is our special first night. Tonight, I'm not only your mother, but also your wife."

"Mom, now that you're my wife, can I call you Amin from now on?"

My mother blushed slightly and nodded shyly. Then, I said to her, "Amin, tonight is a special day. Tonight is your first night, and I want you to give me a little baby."

My mother buried her head in my chest and said, "Son, in our customs, a woman's primary responsibility as a good wife is to bear a child for her husband. I'm happy to have children for you, and tonight your wife is pregnant!"

That night, my son and I made love repeatedly. Perhaps the wooden tiger truly had a miraculous effect; I ejaculated five times inside my mother's womb, hoping she would conceive my child soon. Finally, I dressed, held my naked mother in my arms, and took her to a nearby stream to wash.

At the riverbank, I found a secluded spot, laid my mother down, and unfolded her bright red phoenix-patterned dress. The moonlight was beautiful that night; my mother's skin was very white, even shimmering with a soft, pearly sheen under the moonlight, clearly visible. Although my mother and I had been intimate many times, this was the first time I had truly appreciated the beauty of my mother… this woman who had become my wife.

My mother shyly closed her eyes, letting me help her up. Her breasts weren't large or perky, but rather gracefully curved across her chest. I felt incredibly lucky to have such a woman as my mother.

I lifted her into the water and let her stand, scooping water to wash her lower body. Afterward, I let her wash herself while I swam around her for a while. Gradually, looking at her beautiful figure, I became excited again and quietly swam behind her. The water just reached the middle of my mother's thighs. I grabbed her slender waist, and she gasped in surprise. Realizing it was me, she quieted down, letting me caress her two snow-white buttocks. After

a while, I cupped her rounded mounds with both hands and pulled them apart. My mother grabbed my hands, trying to stop me, but I grabbed her hands and placed them on her pert buttocks, kneading them with all four palms.

After a while, I released her hands, letting her pull her buttocks apart herself, admiring my mother's back door. Her back door was tightly closed, like a chrysanthemum bud. I reached out to touch it, and my mother tensed up. I poked it a few times, but the little chrysanthemum remained tightly closed.

I stood up and had my mother straddle my waist as we walked into deeper water, until the water submerged her pink buttocks. I held her forearms, making her lean back, and my penis slid in, and I began to thrust. Because of the buoyancy of the water, this position brought my mother to orgasm. By the time we got home, it was already four in the morning.

From then on, whenever we could find an opportunity, we would be together. My mother always initiated it; she was currently at the peak of her sexual desire and always had a strong urge. Every time I took off her underwear, her genitals were already soaking wet. My mother told me that just thinking about me made her wet; no one had ever excited her like that.

Sometimes, we were like madmen; as soon as the desire arose, we would immediately find a place to have sex.

Once, when everyone else was still at home, I saw my mother go into the bathroom and quietly followed her. My mother hadn't locked the door, and when I opened it, she was urinating when she saw me. I ignored her protests, picked her up, and without even wiping her with toilet paper, pressed her against the edge of the bathtub, her snow-white, round buttocks raised high, and had sex with her from behind.

"Son, someone might come in," Mom whispered, but I ignored her and continued until we both reached orgasm.

As I left, I pulled up Mom's panties to prevent her from wiping herself. Although our affair went undetected, for the rest of the day, seeing Mom constantly pressing her lower abdomen and frowning in embarrassment aroused me, knowing my semen was flowing from her vagina and soaking her panties.

One night, I woke up very aroused and desperately wanted Mom, so I quietly went into the master bedroom. Mom was lying next to Dad, the thin blanket slipping off her body, revealing her incredibly sexy figure. I gently shook my mother awake, signaling her to be quiet, and whispered that I wanted her, then went back to my room.

Two minutes later, my mother came in. I lifted her up and placed her on the bed, then began to undress us.
"Son, Mom knows she's your wife, and I should be there for you when you need me, but

Mom is protesting like this." But I kissed her, stripped her naked, and started giving her oral sex. Soon, Mom was wet, and I climbed on top of her, penetrated her, and started having sex with her.

Later, as she left me, she told me, "Son, from now on, whenever you want me, you can do it like tonight..." "Come to my room and shake me awake, I'll come to you."

I was excited, but the next night, my mother, with a smile on her face, came into my room with her bedding and said, "I told your father that he gets drunk every night, and I can't stand the smell, so I'm sleeping in your room. Your father agreed, so from now on, I'm yours every night."

I grabbed her and showered her with countless kisses. Mom, from now on, we can be like a real couple.

For the next two years, my mother and I were very careful, taking advantage of every safe opportunity to indulge in our incestuous lovemaking. Sometimes, we would simply spend two days away from home, in a cave or a dense forest, making love like wild beasts.

My father never suspected our frequent trips, simply believing I was a dutiful son. In fact, I think he must have been quite happy; with his nagging wife and son gone, he could drink himself into oblivion.

Two years later, my sister got pregnant by a man from another province and married him. I, on the other hand, had a great opportunity to go to Shanghai to learn business. If I did well, I might even be able to go abroad someday.

Being so far from home, I once sadly thought my relationship with my mother would end there. However, the bond between mother and son was deep. My mother, who had never left our hometown in the southwest, actually learned to take the train and travel thousands of miles to Shanghai to see me and help take care of my life.

Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, but when news spread from our hometown that my father had died of alcohol poisoning and was found dead, his head smashed against a tiger statue, my mother and I felt lost and bewildered. However, this also meant we were now free of all ties.

My mother officially moved in with me, and we lived together like newlyweds, inseparable. I was also very happy. Having been exposed to the vibrant atmosphere of the big city, she became bolder in our sexuality, readily accepting my passionate kisses, caresses, and even my rough, unrestrained style of lifting her skirt and grabbing her buttocks for sex. We had sex at least twice a day.

Three weeks into our cohabitation, my mother shyly told me that her period hadn't come. Then came the anxious wait. When she told me again that she was indeed pregnant, we were both overjoyed.

In the remaining days, watching my mother move around with my child inside her, her face radiating the happiness unique to pregnant women, especially now that she was carrying her own son, I felt incredibly proud.

Nine months later, we had a lovely eldest daughter. This was our new family member; our previous family seemed like a distant, separate world to us.

With our first success, my mother's face beamed with joy, and she hoped to have more children for me. After my eldest son was born, my company sent me abroad. With the money I had saved over the years, I applied for foreign citizenship, allowing my family to settle abroad.

Severing all ties with the past, my mother and I became a real couple, and no one doubted our identities. While I was at work during the day, my mother stayed home to care for our two bright and adorable children; and every night, when they fell asleep in their crib, it was our happy time together.

My mother remained as gentle, sensitive, and understanding as ever. Whenever I took off her underwear, her snow-white buttocks were already stained with a large patch of honey-like fluid, awaiting her beloved son's pampering.

After showering and drying each other, we would return to our bedroom, again and again, composing those endless, tender words of love.

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