A Mother's Confession by Wenjun

Decameron (Second Session) Sancan Night: A Mother's Confession
"A Mother's Confession" by Wenjun
A Mother's Confession (1)
The Confessor, I am Wenjun, yes, the
middle-aged woman with long hair and a voluptuous figure who passed you by that street corner yesterday, with a faint scent of perfume wafting from her.
Of course, if you were a man, yes, I mean a living, breathing man, then… I'm
sure you must have glanced at me a few times.
No mistake, I am that kind of woman. I know those men… hehe, want me! Even though we've been doing this for over a year, whenever he pounces on me with his intense masculine scent and thrusts his aroused body into my waist, I still feel a sense of dizziness...
Perhaps I just enjoy this feeling of being suddenly possessed. After , whenever he gives me that look that's both commanding and pleading, I always obediently sit or lie down in any spot in the house facing him, in any position he likes, spreading my legs and letting him take the pleasure and release he desires. Even though we always deliberately kept quiet while doing this, trying to forget our identities, it was like a magic spell that never failed. Whenever he lost his composure and cried out something like, "Mom...I'm going to cum..." , a surge of illicit excitement would rush to my head, making me instantly transform into a thousand tiny fragments, then melt into a hot, writhing mass of flesh, reaching the heights of ecstasy . My face would flush red, and I would tighten my vagina, letting every drop of his lubrication seep into the deepest part of my body without reservation... The societal concerns about pregnancy, in those moments of complete absorption, were merely a means to enhance the pleasure of our intercourse. If I hadn't had my tubal ligation done I... Oh, how should I put it... For someone like me, already addicted to the opium of "incest," the mere thought of "being pregnant with his child" was enough to stir up a burning desire, not to mention ... Sigh! I admit, this whole wonderful thing (well, I prefer to say it this way...) happened entirely under my control ! Yes, ever since I had the thought of "wanting to have him," every single moment of my mind has revolved around this nemesis of mine ... *Sigh*, now he's trying to use his head on my butt again... Ugh, it's so deep, I hope it doesn't rupture my uterus . Looking back, seducing a young man like him, who had just developed a strong curiosity about sex, into bed wasn't the hardest thing. The hard part was convincing yourself to do it . At least in my view, once confidence arises, and you're willing to become a sex demon, your primal inner self will quietly emerge and dominate everything that follows… I've always believed that unless someone is extremely unattractive, any woman with even a little bit of beauty, as long as she's willing to boldly offer her body, will immediately and clearly convey the "I want" message she's emanating—that's their duty. This… of course, includes young men like my son. ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ ☆ "Sigh, I'm so pathetic. Every time he puts my legs on his shoulders like that, I just go limp and helplessly let him do whatever he wants to me. Everyone knows that we women are at a huge disadvantage in this position..." ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ If you really want to find out why this happened, it's simple. It's really just about the word "loneliness." Do you know what that kind of life —is like? As you know, in this male-dominated world, there's a long-standing, unwarranted moral expectation placed on women like me who lost their husbands early. Every time, while those loyal and devoted brothers perfunctorily bury his designated grave, they also, with an expectant gaze, seal away all the emotions and desires of the weeping woman beside them. In my "high society," women's feelings are deliberately ignored. The "hints" I receive constantly tell me that no matter what methods he uses, once a man is fortunate enough to enter this social class, no matter how obscure he is in life, after he leaves this world, he still deserves a woman's eternal remembrance and unwavering fidelity. In my opinion, in most cases, this is just a moral view fermented from a man's "the fox mourns the rabbit's death" mentality It's true that many sentimental women are willing to remain widows for their deceased husbands, but if their deceased husbands are truly unforgettable, and the living woman is forced to feign a " if we cannot live together, we will die together" kind of virtuous woman, then it's inevitable that the performance will sometimes be distorted and awkward. It sounds easy, but actually, this "realization" only came to me five years after my husband's death. Before that... Oh , I dare not lie to you, I was a good wife and mother praised by everyone! I don't know whether to say it's a pity... or hateful, but this woman, praised by everyone back then , suddenly changed after her son entered junior high school. Let me think... Yes, back then, the one on top of me seemed to have been pumped up, growing taller inch by inch, and unconsciously exuding the confidence and nonchalance that only men possess.

And just after he finally grew a full head taller than me, I realized I had developed a completely different
feeling .
How should I put it? You know, it was that... warm, soft feeling.
Looking back, at first, my feelings for him were just like a typical mother's surprise and delight at her child
suddenly an adult.
But, as the room began to fill with his masculine scent, the dormant
female instincts within me were finally awakened, stirring subtly until they became
uncontrollable . As my desires grew more unrestrained, and my body was permeated by his scent, I began to interpret his every smile and gesture in different
ways, according to my own preferences . I always felt that his intentional yet unintentional closeness and aloofness deliberately concealed a series of pink codes that would make any woman blush; intermittently irritating, yet clearly unsettling. As the masculine aura he exuded grew stronger, the moments when my mind was swayed became more and more frequent. My infatuation with him finally succumbed, transforming from "protecting me" to "loving me"; and then from "loving me" to "cherishing me"... As if possessed by an evil spirit, I unknowingly transformed into a lioness in heat, starting to scheming against the little lion king who was always around me... ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ Hehe , I guess... at this moment, you're already eager to ask me: "Why would you have such... 'evil' thoughts about your I'll have to answer you properly. First of all, the "perfectly fine" you mentioned isn't the kind of "settling down" you imagine. Of course, if you think a woman is "perfectly fine" as long as she has enough to eat and wear, then I must unfortunately tell you that with the possessions my late husband left me, not just one " perfectly fine ," but a hundred, wouldn't be enough. But, like other women, besides basic needs, I also need love—a profound emotional connection and a deep, physical union; I can't do without it for even a moment. Therefore, I'll have to return this phrase "perfectly fine" to you, and let some high-ranking monk or nun enjoy it. As for why you poured your romantic love into your son, frankly, in your presence, I have no answer to that. It's all so strange that those thousands of lively little devils only popped up one by one when "he" gazed at me with those shy eyes. Of course, by then, you... were gone again. Heh, afraid you'd be too honest to ask further, I'll just confess to you myself. Actually, that dreadful "loneliness" didn't initially torment this weak woman . Facing an empty bed, if you called it "cool," I initially thought it was "peaceful"! Unfortunately, all this outward leisure and tranquility was so easily disturbed; a single thought , a few twisted arguments, and it all crumbled! I know you've read a lot of books, but I don't know if your teacher ever taught you the saying, "A thousand scratches are not as good as a gentle brush." This is a living, breathing, and gentle ironclad rule. If you carefully understand it and apply it properly, even a seven-foot-high chastity archway made of bluestone can be turned into a pile of mud by your few soft words. You're still asking me how I know this ? Heh... to be honest, I'm not wrong. Right now, what you see of me is just a perfectly normal "pile" of... ☆ ... Hehe, don't rush, don't rush, I'm fine, but... you have continue , right ? ☆ ... Going forward would only lead to a disastrous abyss; retreating would only result in endless wandering. Just as I was desperately trying to come up with a way to escape unscathed, hey, hey, hey, something actually happened! Last year, around this time of year, after I came back from shopping, went into the bathroom, removed my makeup, and was about to take a shower when, guess what, I discovered… my pink underwear, which I had carelessly tossed onto the pile of clothes, had been washed again and was neatly hung on the towel rack. Tilting my head to examine the neatly hung pair of underwear, I, who should have been completely puzzled, immediately had an answer. This answer made my face flush red with excitement, my heart pounding. I almost cried out … It turned out that while the lioness was secretly in love with her cub, the proud young lion was also scheming against his lioness. And… just today, that lustful cub had begun to sniff and explore the lioness's genitals . Oh… just thinking about this, my entire rationality collapsed… my restless hands immediately slid to my breasts and genitals, responding to their cries for release, giving them immediate caresses and comfort. "Oh, my child, when you do this to your mother, do you know what kind of impact it will have on her? You certainly didn't think that she might not be able to withstand such intense excitement, silently fainting in this small space."

In my mind, now a raging torrent of emotions, scenes of forbidden incestuous acts played out brazenly
.
I felt the surroundings turn into a blurry, dark red, and I heard
gasps
As the stark tiles of the bathroom, like beasts, lunged at me, maliciously surrounding me,
I, limp on the floor, instinctively clutched my thin panties tightly to my chest.
I refused to let go, for it was a pink mark between mother and son—a mark that
could be tragic, but also radiant.
All I know is that now that it's in my arms, there's no reason to let it go...
The sexual horns my son blew only brought me a brief moment of panic. Unable to distinguish whether it was the guidance of emotion or
the seduction of desire, I quickly cast aside the fragility of morality that held me back, transforming into a
mother beast eager to bite and devour.
Before my soul could surrender, my body had already launched its attack.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
 "This young man, did he eat some kind of magic pill today? He's been thrusting into me so hard my skin is almost peeling off, and he still won't
ejaculate..."
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
 When I entered the living room, he was on the sofa, his arm as a pillow, intently watching the TV screen. The male
host was making suggestive jokes about the female special guest. With my deliberate arrangement, I
subtly exposed several parts of my body that would make a man nervous. Of course, I didn't want him to notice that
I was actually quite hot under my bathrobe.
Just as I pulled out my still-soaked underwear from behind and displayed it to him, he quickly grabbed the
remote control and turned off the TV. Then, he buried his head weakly in his chest, too afraid to move.
His series of unintentional actions finally confirmed to me what had happened in this house not long ago
.
Staring intently at this "wrongdoing" "child" before me, my newly awakened lust surged.
I knew that the next few words would affect the rest of our lives.
I can scold him like a mother who was taught to be "that way" by others, and continue to study the old chapters of
being a good wife and mother ; or I can lead him to
a new page without any restrictions, like a mother who submits to herself, and paint the whole world with pink.
Which choice did I make
? Heh, you probably wouldn't even guess, right?
Suppressing the urge to directly confess "I do," I casually asked, "
Tell me honestly, what... what happened?"
His strict upbringing made him afraid to hide anything from me, but because the mistake
he'd made was unprecedented, explaining it was difficult and fragmented...
"It... I... accidentally got it dirty... I was afraid... afraid... so I washed it
..."
From his hesitant tone and the suggestive word "dirty," I
became even more certain of my earlier assumption.
The "evidence" I held in my hand had been tainted with something not easily discussed.
Indeed, while I was away from home, he did "
that . However, he never expected that his passionate spray would not only soil his mother's
underpants but also erode all her defenses
... Although the whole matter was already obvious, I, with other plans in mind, firstly to confirm my doubts and secondly to
satisfy my sudden urge to tease my prey, after he stammered for a while with his ears burning, I pretended to
be stern and questioned him: "Speak clearly, what are you afraid of? Are you afraid I'll scold you... or are you afraid I
'll... get pregnant?"
This fabricated consequence of "pregnancy" indeed frightened him immediately. Seeing
him lose his composure, he ignored my reprimand and asked me in a panic: "Really?
Just ... make you pregnant? Then... then..."
Seeing his helpless appearance, I felt both amused and excited.
The funny thing is, I never imagined that the man I practically raised would have almost zero knowledge about sex. What
excites me is... if things really go as I wish, then... besides becoming
his first woman, I will also be his... first lover
. My heart was softened by those embarrassing thoughts
, and I couldn't muster the energy to scold this clueless little man. So, I couldn't help but burst
out : "Hehe, do you think I'm a frog, that I'll get pregnant just from touching a little bit of that... stuff?"
Hearing this, his expression immediately relaxed a bit. Even so, knowing my personality well
, he adopted a look of sincere remorse, ready to take a good scolding. So, he would never have expected
that the words that would come out of my mouth were:
"No, no matter what a man does to me now...to me...whatever he does, I...
will not get pregnant..."
These words, which should never have come from me, his mother, had just left his simple mind reeling, leaving him
speechless for a long time.
You know, seeing his flushed face, his bewildered...timid appearance, I... sigh! How can I put it? I was just a tiny bit away from confessing
my feelings to him and... oh...how embarrassing! Unfortunately, back then I wasn't as "open-minded" as I am now, so the kind of thing that happened— " skirt and pants flying everywhere, mistaking the sofa for a bed"—didn't happen. Looking back now, I realize how incredibly timid I was. Even though every cell in my body was burning with desire, I was still held back by those long-held allure of "ethics and morality, " needlessly wasting several exciting encounters. How pathetic! Even so, judging from the way he looked at me then, I can still be certain that my words, "I won't get pregnant," were meaningless.

The thought still pounded in his mind.
Even more striking, the guilt that had previously filled him with unease had vanished without a trace.
This was understandable; for a near-criminal incestuous man like him, what could be more precious
than a mother who couldn't conceive
? There couldn't be any doubt about it, because at that moment I could clearly feel his fiery eyes
, radiating a raw sexual intent, relentlessly tearing away all my feminine
protection, penetrating between my legs, and wantonly stimulating the vulnerable thing encased in my underwear…
Oh, as a willing victim, I felt both terrified and excited by his silent plunder
!
Although, as I expected, my infertility had successfully unleashed his ambition, I still found it somewhat difficult to confront my son, who was displaying his male genitalia,
for . No parenting guide can
tell you what to do in this situation.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ ☆ "
Here it comes, here it comes, my baby, you finally came... Mommy's with you, let Mommy be with you...
Hmm... Ah... Today yours... yours... is especially hot..."
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
We stood silently facing each other in the living room for over ten minutes. Although we
could both clearly sense the forbidden messages being exchanged passionately, we maintained
a delicate standoff. What stood between us, besides our mother-son relationship, was the age gap.
He, with no experience with men and women, could never have imagined that at this crucial moment, if he had simply mustered the courage to approach and
push me, I would have simply fallen backward, fulfilling our shared desire
. Unfortunately, the chaos I had been waiting for never happened. To be honest, besides disappointment, I was also
a little angry. The situation before him was so obvious, yet he just stood there like a
wooden statue . This immediately diminished my initial "enthusiasm," replacing it with a
desire to tease him.
"Yes, besides verbal teasing... can't I use some other methods to 'encourage,
encourage' him?" I asked myself like a skilled playwright.
The answer came quickly; it was, in fact, the only method my hormone-fueled brain
could .
I knew this method was a bit... absurd, but I was certain it would work!
Without hesitation for even half a second, I turned around like a complete stranger to him, back to him,
bent down, parted the hem of my robe, and slowly unfastened the black silk underpants beneath me.
When I stepped out of the panty and turned back, holding that small wad of fabric in front of his eyes, he quickly lowered his head.
I knew he must have assumed my actions had some serious meaning, so you can
imagine his shock when I said the following
: "Listen carefully, this is the only one I'm giving you. You can play with it however you like.
But you're not allowed to touch the others. Mommy doesn't want to wear pants that have been stained with your…that…"
I spoke casually, but I knew perfectly well what I was doing—I was blatantly seducing
my son, using the most extreme methods.
I was surprised that I could utter such a shocking sentence so fluently and smoothly,
as if I were simply recounting an ordinary household matter.
This…you say that when a woman is swept away by the waves of desire, restraint becomes her last thought
.
I remember it very clearly. Upon hearing those words, he was completely disoriented, frozen in shock for a full
half-minute .
Who could blame him? Tonight, the discipline he received was so "strict."
Standing so close, I could almost hear his erratic heartbeat, but I couldn't predict his
reaction.
For a fleeting moment, I guiltily wondered if I had committed some terrible mistake .
Thank God, despite the shock, my energetic son wasn't
defeated by the challenge his mother had presented him.
He first gave me an awkward smile, silently admitting that this small piece of cloth was a priceless treasure to him;
guided by it, a young life could easily be reduced to ashes.
Then, like a ravenous beast, he began to stare intently at his prey in my hand—
the pair of underwear still warm from my body.
From his growing heavy breathing, I knew that my previous worries about him were unnecessary; my
son believed not in reason, but in his hormones.
As time slowly passed, the silence in the living room began to torment us.
On my side, I gradually felt his gaze, sharp as a knife, fiery as flames;
the little thing in my hand had already been torn to shreds by his lustful thoughts. On his side, the excitement on his face was gradually
driving away his hesitation; the barely suppressed impulse made his hands tremble uncontrollably.
Finally, just as I was somewhat at a loss, and tried to pull the little pair of underwear away from his sight, he
swiftly grabbed it and held it tightly in his hand!
Although all of this was within my expectations, his swift and fierce search still genuinely startled me
.
Holding my breath, I looked at her with vulnerable eyes. The carefree me of the past had
vanished without a trace; only a timid, submissive woman remained in the living room.
I silently reminded myself that no matter what happened next, I must not make a sound. Tonight,
what happened in this house was only for "me" and "him" to know.
"Thank you..."
You probably won't believe it, but these two short words were
the only !
Although I could clearly sense his tension in his tone,
I almost burst out laughing at the fact that this young man, who had attempted to overturn the established order, had managed to maintain his composure at this crucial moment...
Unfortunately, my reaction had absolutely no effect on him. After uttering those two considerate words,
"Thank you," he turned and dashed towards his room like an arrow, slamming
the door shut behind him.
Although I didn't even need to imagine what he was doing in his room, you know,
not this. So, without realizing it, my ear
was pressed against his door…
"Oh…oh…hum…hum…" Sounds of pleasure, faint and indistinct, drifted through
the thick doorway, whispering his comfort to me.
The thought of my underwear, which I had just taken off, now tightly wrapped around his penis, rubbing back and forth, made it almost impossible for
me to stand upright.
Over a decade ago, to care for his delicate little bottom, I chose the most expensive diapers for him. Today,
to care for his full scrotum, I've prepared the freshest underwear for him.
As the cold air seeped through the hem of my robe and assaulted my empty genitals, I wondered if I, as a mother, had
gone a little too far in my "greatness"... Fortunately, my mind isn't the most developed part of me, and that fleeting moment of
self- reproach was quickly driven away by the profound truths of life I had just grasped.
For a moment, I absolutely loved this feeling of being in control. From this day forward, in this little pink kingdom
, I would manage both the Executive Yuan and the Legislative Yuan. I would inevitably be the president of this room—oh,
even higher, the vice president…
“Kid, take care of yourself! Don’t ruin your health! Mom is counting on you to take care of me for the rest of my life!”
This was the only sentence I dared to silently murmur as I left
…
You ask me what I did all night
? Well, if I told you that I actually spent the whole night clutching that book, "Son of Taiwan," trying to understand it,
would you believe me
? Well, the only thing I remember is that my room door was open all night.
Suddenly, he
grabbed my shoulders from behind and whispered in a coquettish tone behind my ear, "It smells so good,
Mom! What did you cook today? I've smelled the aroma since I walked in..."
I knew he wasn't really praising the food I was cooking... I knew my cooking skills
all too well—it wouldn't kill anyone.
What made him unable to resist leaning closer was definitely the scent of my perfume. Because, standing behind me
, after saying that double entendre, he boldly and "secretly" used his swollen member to
gently stroke around my buttocks… On
a whim, I retorted, not to be outdone, "How about it, still working?" "Working?
What works?"
"Don't play dumb, it's that thing I gave you the other day… you know!"
"Oh, that… thing, I, I…"
"Hehe! Did you break it with your clumsy hands? Now… you've got your eye on this
one on me."
"No… no, I…"
Hearing his humbly denial, I deliberately leaned back against him, twisted my body, and
rubbed my spine against his bulge. Then, I said meaningfully, "Good
thing Touching around with that thing like that will make us women get our pants dirty..."
"Take it off! If you really dare to do it, what you take off is yours...
" "If it's really that useful, you should take one off too, and let Mom try it on ." ☆
... If I keep playing with him like this, I'm afraid I won't be able to get out of bed tomorrow... An accidental touch of skin, a smile, hot pants—a certain unspoken understanding had formed. The walls of our relationship were already riddled with holes; just one careless bump would cause them all to collapse. Let him know I'm wearing underwear stained with his semen. Carefully choosing underwear, like a newlywed bride. The loose white nightgown only revealed my smooth, soft neck and arms, inadvertently letting him know that I had tubal ligation. "Mom, I want to marry a clean and elegant wife like you someday..." "Hehe, it's rare for you to be so supportive. If you really can't find the kind of girl you're looking for, then... Mom will fill in and let you be her wife, okay?" Following this blatant teasing, I leaned closer, wrapped my arms around his left arm, and adopted a girlish, coquettish posture, intentionally or unintentionally rubbing my firm breasts against his elbow through my robe... Heh, just as I predicted, under my wave of pink attacks, his... you know... showed a noticeable change. Although he was shy and tried his best to appear nonchalant, I knew that if I added a few more words from him at this crucial moment, I guaranteed he wouldn't be able to sit still... The screen was showing a discovery program, pointing at his swollen area, and said, "You naughty boy, what are you thinking about that's made this thorn grow..." His face flushed, he couldn't answer... "How come it's still there after all this time?" She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Come on, go to sleep. A nap will make 'it'... go away. " "Really? Just a nap and 'it'... will go away?" "Well... that depends on whether you sleep alone or with someone." "Mom, you... I..." Looking up and meeting his fiery red eyes, I timidly lowered my head and struggled : "The house is so small. Do you really need me to ask to know where Mom sleeps?"

"There,"
she said, "in a room, just you and me. If you really want to do something... then do it! Mom... will
let you."
She suckled on my neck, panting, "Mom, you're so beautiful... I... I want... I really
want..." Unfortunately, the moral compass that lingered in my heart hadn't even had time to unleash its feeble, outdated rhetoric. My audacious spine, unable to resist the temptation of sin, eagerly cast its vote for its master, softly arching me back on the long-awaited spring bed. The vigilance that should have jumped in to stop this impending farce, to make everything clear, was maliciously absent at that crucial moment. By then, I was already panting slightly, burying all my will and clarity within my burning vulva. Under its allure, I believed that this blind pursuit of desire had an irrefutable rationale; all I lacked was a compelling reason to justify it . In short , I had made up my mind, fully prepared to make love to my son to my heart's content . === ... My gaze unconsciously drifted over his hair and ears, landing on the crystal shards of the lamp base behind him, to conceal my anxiety... or perhaps... guilt! Having come this far, I seemed to have no reason to refuse his body. So, when he hurriedly pulled down my underwear, casting a pleading look at me, I could only shyly turn my head away, slowly yielding to him, spreading my legs ... At that moment, I felt like a baby girl still in swaddling clothes, innocently exposing my most private parts to those grown men, completely unable to stop them from having those ugly, terrifying fantasies. Facing the vulva that had brought him into this world, he froze as if struck on the back of the head . Although I couldn't see his expression, from his disordered breathing, I assumed he still had the hesitation that everyone has about doing this with his own mother. But after experiencing that fiery impact, I realized that what stopped him wasn't moral restraint, but the unique experience of a virgin facing this procreation for the first time ... After a considerable period of hesitation, he finally succumbed to his lust, clumsily crawling between . He propped himself up with one hand and held his stiff, unresponsive member with the other, nervously and curiously searching for the fleshy crevice at the base of my thighs. When he finally found the right spot and steadily aligned his glans with the entrance to my vagina, I could clearly hear the rapid beating of his heart from his chest. This made me turn my head back, which I had initially turned away from, because I wanted to know what kind of expression and reaction my only son, the man currently on top of me, would have when he first tasted the pleasure of a woman. Especially since the woman who brought him into this world was the one who brought him all this pleasure. I thought it would be difficult for any man to handle. I even wondered if his overwhelming emotions might cause him to… As his penis sank deeper and deeper into my vagina, overwhelmed by guilt, I felt only a chill, and my skin became soaked with sweat. You won't believe it, but the moment his glans slid in completely, my limbs shrank back in fear, like a specimen being stretched open, as if I were being subjected to some inhuman torture. In my daze, the pain of giving birth to him returned vividly. But this time, I couldn't push it out with my own strength, unless… he was willing! Time, as if startled by everything in the room, almost stopped. His penis, which should have been of a certain size, seemed to penetrate me, wave after wave, relentlessly . Just when I thought I had completely taken over his body, another fierce thrust would suddenly appear, forcefully pushing back my weak resistance, completely disregarding the fact that I could no longer have any room to accommodate it. Eager to explore the full potential a woman could offer a man, he inevitably harbored the assumption that "the unknown depths hold unknown benefits." Therefore, until our bodies, so tightly and deeply intertwined, produced a dull thud, he never considered the possibility that I could not accommodate his engorgement, let alone leave even a tiny bit of my flesh outside. Truly, a young man's desire for love cannot be ignored or neglected. The thrusting and withdrawing followed immediately after he had secured my body. I was surprised and secretly delighted… He didn't ejaculate immediately after penetration, as I had expected . Like a novice learning to row, he first carefully and gently pulled his member out halfway , took a breath, and then cautiously pushed it back in place, letting the reddened glans stretch and swell pleasurably inside my vagina a few times. Clearly, he must have secretly rehearsed this a thousand times; no wonder he could enjoy his mother so methodically and unhurriedly. Soon, after several gentle withdrawals and insertions, having memorized my body temperature and become familiar with my surroundings, he began to grow bolder, increasing not only the frequency of his movements but also the arc of his thrusts. The previously eerily quiet room began to creak with the sounds of the spring mattress… “Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak…” Each squeak represented a deeper penetration, the increasingly louder the squeaks indicating that each penetration was longer and deeper. My lower body, unable to cope with such intense and frequent thrusts, sank deeply into the mattress;

Every chance to emerge from the mat was missed because of his next thrust…
Although completely lost in the waves of the bed, my stubbornness compelled me to forcefully open my eyes for a
quick .
From his smug expression, I realized that as long as it brought him the pleasure of his penis
tightening and rubbing, and the visual delight, a man wouldn't really care whether the woman he was doing
this was another woman, or… his mother.
To this day, I still can't explain why, at that moment when I finally achieved my goal after such careful planning,
two streams of hot tears silently appeared on my cheeks. I don't know if he was too busy savoring
the sweetness of the sexual potion to ponder this sudden emotional outburst; or if he, who is usually good at imagining things, had already
cleverly found the answer for me. He didn't say a word.
Like a tender lover, he stopped thrusting, lowered his waist, and leaned towards me.
After gazing deeply into my eyes, he gently lowered his head to kiss my eyelids, the tip of my nose, and finally, his lips lingered on my slightly
trembling lips.
And just like that, my tears earned him his first kiss.
Having never kissed before, although he tried his best to appear experienced, he still revealed many
flaws. So when his tongue frantically tried to pry open my lips, I could only part my lips to allow
him.
It wasn't until his tongue and mine made their first contact in my mouth that I suddenly remembered that he
was in all my life, the only man besides my husband to have held me so tightly.
Thinking that my first affair was with my own son, I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. Who would have thought that
I, who always hated trouble, would secretly take the easy way out in such a crucial matter… using my
closest son to fill the void left by his father.
The kiss, from light to heavy, was like the thing he had inserted into my body. His tongue
chased after mine in my mouth, and through the distorted taste buds, we exchanged intense, lewd thoughts.
Through this forbidden kiss, the two people on the bed finally achieved the most intimate union a man and woman could ever have.
Without any inhibitions, we let our budding passion grow unchecked, until the only two
breaths in the space could no longer distinguish which was their master.
This sudden, dizzying tenderness brought my previously stiff limbs back to life, and my
body temperature and heart rate began to rise uncontrollably.
The same reaction happened to him; I could clearly feel that the flesh that had been
roughly was now growing thicker and hotter.
I hated myself, because while he, my son, was filling the void in my body, I had
also made him so vulnerable that he had breached the dam of my emotions, making me his pink captive…
“Look at me, look at me!” I urged resolutely, stubbornly demanding that he open his eyes, which had been closed
involuntarily .
I knew that doing this was an incredibly difficult thing for a man. But I didn't care; I had to make him
clearly understand that the woman into whom he was about to ejaculate a large amount of sperm was indeed his beloved
mother.
And the reason he was able to do this was entirely due to my immeasurable maternal love for him.
I watched the whole thing unfold with an
air of detachment, as if he were assaulting another woman unrelated to me. When I finally drowned in the vortex of incest he had created, I glanced sideways and told myself:
"Accepting my own son's semen...it's not hard at all..." ===
... "You, you bad woman, you even slept with your own son." After her son came in, they had a new relationship. His eyes were confident and gentle. He first exchanged , then hugged her from behind. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gently bumped her buttocks against his groin. "Do you regret it?" "Yes! " "Me too... " "Really...really." "I regret it. I should have...been with you the first time you gave me your underwear." "Hehe, at most...we'll finish it off tonight..." "Sleep later." "No, sleep earlier..." "Sleep earlier, then..." "Hehe, I'll eat breakfast before sleeping..." "Wow, such a horny mom..." "So, I can only give it to...your obedient son..." She reached under my legs and lifted me onto the bed. As he tried to move again, she turned around and hugged him from behind: "Help! There's a son here trying to use this on his mother..." "Come home early after school, Mom has prepared something delicious for you..." "What... delicious... food?" "How about I feed you... meat... broth... soup? " We lay together in the specially made porcelain tub. He played with my hair, while I gently stroked his broad chest, savoring this new bond between us. Regarding what had happened not long ago, I felt less guilty and more hopeful … Thinking about how cold I had been to him just now, I felt incredibly guilty. So, after the water in the tub had thoroughly warmed my skin and my heart , I lowered my head and gently suckled his nipple…

As he gripped my back tightly, overcome by pleasure, I
fueled his urge by moving my hand to his already aroused area. This time, I craved a boundless, unbridled ecstasy.
=== ... I secretly used my willpower to writhe the walls of my flesh below, continuously channeling droplets of pleasure into the flesh he had inserted into my body, causing his body to tremble laboriously as if connected to a power source of ecstasy. At that moment, I made up my mind that after that night , I would not only conquer his young body , but also possess his vibrant soul... ＝ ... On the contrary, if you are so compassionate, and my story has secretly melted the budding belief in your heart, then I want you to slowly come closer and quietly tell me... You... have never even thought about the kind of love between a mother and son. ********** ... The only thing bothering me is—should I talk to him face-to-face and settle "that matter"? Although he's blatantly taken my bait, it's clear that I'm the one who has to get close enough to unhook him and lead him into the room! While I can foresee that it will bring me another round of control and pleasure, I'm still a little apprehensive about the foreseeable chaos. After all, it's always us women who play the victim in these kinds of situations, isn't it? I'm not naively convinced that the identity of "mother" can truly provide me with any protection. In fact, from last night's series of moans, I can confirm that my true identity might just be another reason for . I brushed my tangled hair aside, lazily got out of bed, went into the small bathroom, and began my daily grooming routine. Looking in the mirror, thinking of him who might appear at any moment, my grooming process was much slower than usual. Frowning, I gave myself a urging look; you absolutely have to come up with the "reasoning" to say to him as quickly as possible. What kind of reasoning, I, as his mother, should properly teach him at this critical juncture, I don't know, because that's not important. I only know that everything I can think of must simultaneously maintain his moral fragmentation and… his complete interest. Oh, the hardship of creating such twisted logic is not easily understood unless you experience it firsthand. Unfortunately, the burgeoning spring thoughts that had been brewing all night had completely wiped out my already lacking quick wit; no matter how my mind raced, the words that kept popping out were still those three: "I can." Clearly , such a direct answer would either captivate him on the spot or destroy him on the spot, and I wasn't willing to take that risk. My persistent mental fog started to make me sulk. Unable to reflect on my own actions, I even began to blame all this stagnation on some cruel twist of fate. That's certainly possible; otherwise, why would all my mental deficiencies be filled by desire ? "Actually, if he had just barged in like that, I wouldn't have needed to prepare any lines. What I presented him was simply convenience—a ready-made room, just the right amount of darkness, my mother who had just taken a shower, and a freshly made bed." "I'm afraid that before I can even speak, he'll take advantage of me..." "I might as well play dumb and let him do as he pleases... He can either... speak first, or... just come on. I just need to follow along and enjoy the show." Yes, that was my final conclusion at the time, nothing to admire, right? Finally out of the bathroom, I sat casually at my vanity and started applying makeup. I was still wearing my comfortable bathrobe, and humming "Double Pillow." The originally ordinary melody, coming from me in this state of arousal, was inevitably slow and disjointed, full of unspoken meaning. The slightly louder volume revealed my intention: I had to let the other person in the room know that his dear mother had woken up and... was inviting him closer. At that moment, all I wanted was for him to appear at my door. However, the longer the wait dragged on, the more incoherent my melody became. Just as I finally finished drawing my face, the frustration of waiting made me almost want to punch him on the spot. Before my frustration could turn into anger, a familiar school bell rang from outside. It was then that I suddenly remembered: today is Friday, and my precious son, despite being tired last night , still has to go to school. On the one hand, it meant I had to be a good mother all day; on the other hand, I finally had ample time to prepare his after-school materials for tonight—of course, something related to "being a person . " But what I really wanted to do right now was something that required absolutely no brainpower. Right? You know, with such a good...

During this break, how could I not conduct a "loving exploration" of his room
? It was necessary. Because, although no evidence was needed, I was certain that what made him groan last night
wasn't a stomachache. But, if I were lucky enough to obtain confirmation of his "crime" last night, then
whatever I did to him afterward would simply be an exercise of "disciplinary power," right?
Oh, my diligence deserves a reward!
Stepping out of the room, I immediately confirmed he was gone, because his keychain, which he usually kept on the TV, was
missing. His absence calmed my heart—oh no, I misspoke, it didn't calm me down. Because
I was about to do something exciting.
As if having a secret affair, I tiptoed to his door. Carefully, I even
cleared my throat twice, like an old scholar. Honestly, if he had actually popped out to greet me then, I really wouldn't
know what to say to him!
Half a second later, I realized I'd been overly cautious. My son, clearly anticipating my grand
arrival , hadn't even properly closed the door.
He deliberately presented the entire crime scene to his mother, completely intact, almost as if he'd put up a "
Welcome to Visit" sign.
Yes, from the pungent smell of male semen that hit me as soon as I entered the room, I immediately knew that besides readily
admitting all his crimes, he was eager to be arrested.
Absurd traces were everywhere in the room; I can only describe it as "utterly filthy." Here and there
, clumps of tissues stained with bodily fluids surrounded a pile of blankets. And most of the sheet was
hanging loosely on the carpet. Everything indicated that last night, he hadn't intended to save
any of energy.
In this small, lewd room, filled with the stench of filth and depravity, my brain felt
oxygen-deprived . Half-closing my eyes, I couldn't help but picture a hellish sexual punishment for him: imprisoned for his caution
, the only male in the prison, lacking female receptacle, he could only continuously spray and wipe himself in the air, spray
and wipe again… until his organs finally refused to function.
Although such intense release of desire was something I hadn't anticipated when I handed him the underwear,
I felt no alarm at the result. On the contrary, I was quite satisfied with my
gain.
My son, through this deliberately created room setting, had responded positively to my sexual instructions
and agreed to unconditionally participate in all the crimes to come, and I was his chosen victim.
This is without a doubt, because the little strip of cloth I gave him is now lying neatly
on his desk. Only a blind person wouldn't see it, because it's in the most conspicuous place in the room.
How should I describe "it"? I'm referring to that "treasure" I gave him just yesterday. Did
I just say "only a blind person wouldn't see it"? Oh, sorry, I misunderstood.
I should say "even a blind person would notice its presence," because, clinging to that precious pair of pants,
besides the wet, sticky feel, there's also a strong, pungent smell.
At this moment, it's less like a pair of "pants" and more like a piece of "cloth." That's right, it's not just
a piece of cloth, but also a densely written "letter," a letter filled with "I want,
I want..." written with a young person's life. And coincidentally, the anonymous recipient is me.
Receiving this "letter," written stroke by stroke with a penis,
shattered . As I slumped dazedly into my chair at the desk, the seal of lust within me crumbled.
A photograph on the desk, which happened to catch my eye, ignited a fire of passion in the room.
It was a solo photo, taken recently in my front yard. I was the one who took it; he was only
wearing a vest and shorts, a shy smile on his face.
What I'm about to say is something I don't believe, because a woman like that only exists
in erotic novels, and I am a living, breathing woman.
Staring intently at the photo tucked under the desk, I began, like a stripper lost in a performance, to expose every inch of my skin to him in what I
considered the most sensual pose.
First, there's my snow-white neck. "It's so pink and tender, you just want to take a bite, right?" I teased the man in the photo in
my mind .
Next, there are my full breasts. "Tonight, I... I'll feed you with them again, okay?" I
still couldn't let go of the man in the photo.
Then, there's my flat stomach. "This is where you've been..." I finally loved this
teasing...
Finally, um, that place... "You know, this is what you want most, and it's what I want
to show you most. It's already..." Heh, I really don't know if he in real life can resist this kind of
... temptation. If it were me, I definitely couldn't!
The burning desire that surged from my heart could not be quelled by mere words. Still hot and bothered
, I impulsively picked up the well-worn underwear on the table and began smearing it haphazardly all over my body.
In an instant, the semen generated by my imagination began to overflow all over my body...
First, it was my face. "Such a strong smell. You must have just walked in and already ejaculated on it,
right? " Teasing him like this is not easy to stop.
Next was my throat, "Shooting out such a thick stuff must have exhausted you, right?"
Oh, someone save this poor, naughty woman...
Next was my cleavage, "Is it just my imagination? It's burning hot..." I just couldn't allow
it to be cold...
Finally, um, still... that place, "Phew, only naughty children would want to
shoot this stuff into their mother's place. Oh, darling, you can't, you absolutely can't do that...
before ..." Sigh, I couldn't help but plead...
It turns out that the "diaper" I gave him, once it reached my private parts, refused to leave, because
it was so desperately needed.
Biting my lower lip, I used the remaining liquid and ointment from the cloth to smear my genitals. After my erect clitoris and
engorged labia had received their due blessing, I hesitated about the sin I was about to commit…
My other hand, unable to respond to the conflicting demands of my body and reason, gripped the air tightly.
My breath was stealthily stolen by the lustful spirits lurking all around.
The devil truly gave me no chance to regret it, because at this crucial moment, my fingers
landed squarely on his crotch…
After this moment, in the photo, his smile remained, but in the photo, my composure vanished!
I began to move my fingers towards his genitals, first gently and slowly drawing circles. As the
condensation blurred his shorts, the hand remaining on his vulva continued its
ravages.
With the ever-increasing craving for pleasure, my fingers abandoned the gentle circles, focusing force and concentrating on
roughly rubbing his still-flat genitals back and forth. You know
very well what I want
… When time, unable to bear witnessing all this, suddenly snapped, my eager hand, finally unable to resist
its fervent invitation, hastily wrapped my two restless index and middle fingers in cloth, using them as a nameless
flesh spear, and thrust it into my vulva. I never expected to be so cruel to myself…
With the moral decay brought on by this fall, I seemed to suddenly go mad, lowering my head and sticking out my tongue, licking it
… My tongue was so greedy that it
could only be easily pierced through the coldness of the glass…
=== ...
Or,
I'll go back and only pick out the important ones, and talk about them again.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Wenjun: "Hello, Su Mama, hello, Su Jiejie, Su Gege is disgusting, Su Didi is happy... Old
Grandpa is inevitably a bit scatterbrained."
Convenor: ""
Wenjun: "This is my first time participating in 'The Decameron.' To those
brothers who have already started probing my email, I want to say: 'Are you sure your casual remarks will earn
me my careful consideration?'
" Eagle Demon: "I've said it before, we should have given these female writers some special
allowances to boost popularity..."
Organizer: "Don't overthink it. I don't think she'll appreciate it."
Eagle Demon: "Sigh, at least give me a little encouragement. Why are you
so quick to pour cold water on me?
" Organizer: "If you have to blame someone, blame your bad name..."
Eagle Demon: "Bad name? No way! I've never heard anyone complain about my name."
Organizer: "Didn't you understand? Let me ask you, if—I mean, if—you really
could marry a woman like her, what would you call her?"
Eagle Demon: "Well... either... darling, or... whoever you love, it's up to me, you
don't have to worry about it..."
Convenor: "Heh... then how do you think others will address her?"
Eagle Demon: "After marrying, she'll take her husband's surname, so naturally she'll be called 'Eagle-Wen-jun'..."
Convenor: "That's right! Do you think she'd like such a donkey-like name as 'English-Jun'
?"
Eagle Demon: "Alright, I admit I'm sorry for giving her such an unsuitable name. But, allow
me to change the subject and ask you a small question..."
Convenor: "Ask away, my wisdom is never stingy..."
Eagle Demon: "What do you think would be good
names like 'Ten Scholars,' 'Ancient Scholars,' or 'Cheap Scholars'?"
Convenor: "Go away, it wasn't me who mentioned the allowance..."
Eagle Demon: "Hmm, now that you mention it, I think the name 'Lost' is
a huge loss..."
Convenor: "Hmm, right, it's the same character, but the name 'Wet' has more
advantages, doesn't it?"
Bao Yuxuan: "Hey, you two seem to be having a great time chatting here. What are you talking about?
" Organizer: "..."
Yingmo: "..."
Organizer: "We were just about to introduce you to Yingmo's cousin..."
Bao Yuxuan: "Really? How old is she? And what's her figure like?
" Organizer: "From Beijing, eighteen years old, measurements...you'll be shocked!"
Bao Yuxuan: "My goodness, I told you today is a good day to go out! So...
what should we call her?"
Organizer: "Wang Qian."
Eagle Demon: "I admire you..."
Eagle Demon: "Thank you for your excellent article, Wenjun. Now, welcome to the thirty-fourth night of the Decameron."

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A Mother's Confession by Wenjun

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