A Mother's Account of Incest (Part 1)

I've been keeping these things bottled up inside for a long time, wanting to confide in someone, but I haven't been able to find a suitable person to talk to, so I'm feeling incredibly distressed.
The reason I say I haven't found a suitable person to confide in isn't because I don't have any close friends, but because what I want to say is too private, even too absurd and shocking, for me to be unable and afraid to tell my friends.
But keeping it all inside is too painful.
For a while, I thought I was going to go crazy! During my most desperate time, I stumbled upon the First Club website through a random channel. There, I saw many articles about incest between mothers and sons. I don't know how much of these articles are true, but I think that since so many people are writing these things, and so many people are browsing them, it at least shows that incest between mothers and sons does exist, and I'm not the only one doing it, nor is it as heinous as I previously imagined.
You've probably guessed what I'm going to talk about—that's right—I've committed incest with my own son! After revealing this secret, I felt much lighter and more at ease, as if a huge weight had been lifted from my heart.
Before I knew it, I was a middle-aged woman.
I was beautiful in my youth—I had a classic oval face, a tall figure, fair skin, and long legs.
Some people said I looked a bit like Joey Wong, and I thought so too, just not as alluring as her.
Now I'm almost forty, and my figure and looks are not what they used to be. Although my son often says I'm sexy, that's just him comforting me; it's not true.
I went to a vocational school, so my education level isn't too low.
I remember when I was in middle school, my Chinese teacher always liked me, praising my writing and often reading my essays aloud in class.
Now I want to write down my experiences and share them with everyone, partly as a way of venting, and partly to hear everyone's reactions.
Here is the story I want to tell.
Three years ago, before we bought a new house, the three of us were crammed into a small 30-square-meter apartment.
Because there's only one bedroom, our thirteen-year-old son still sleeps in the same bed as my husband and me.
Everyone who knows my husband knows how volatile his temper is.
He's usually alright and quite loyal to his friends, but if anyone angers him, he'll go berserk and beat them to a pulp. The neighbors all know his temper, so they avoid him.
My husband and I have been married for sixteen years. The main reason I agreed to marry him was because he worked for a large state-owned enterprise.
Who knew that less than two years into our marriage, the company went bankrupt, and we only received a meager minimum living allowance each month.
When the company was doing well, my husband's temper wasn't too bad, and he worked hard. But later, when the company went under and there wasn't much work to do, his temper worsened day by day, and he developed a drinking problem.
Every time he came home drunk, he would take it out on me and our son at the slightest provocation, so my son and I are both afraid of him.
My husband has a very strong sex drive; he wants to have sex with me about every two days. He doesn't seem to care if our son sees, often undressing me in front of him.
I say, "Don't do this, our son is watching."
He replies, "What's there to be afraid of! Our son isn't a stranger."
I say, "Aren't you afraid he'll learn bad habits?"
He says, "He's not young anymore; he should know how to play with women."
I don't dare disobey him, so I just let him do as he pleases.
With such a shameless father, the son is naturally no better.
Every time my husband and I have sex, he hides and secretly watches. No matter what I say, it's useless. After it happened so many times, I just stopped paying attention to him. But I always feel a little strange when
I'm with my husband. One time, after we finished having sex, just as I was about to fall asleep, I felt someone touching my genitals. Without even looking, I knew it was my son touching me.
Firstly, my husband always falls asleep like a log after sex and never touches me again; secondly, the hand that touched my genitals was so soft and small, it couldn't possibly be my husband's hand.
I was furious and wanted to kick him off the bed, but I was afraid of waking him, so I didn't dare make a sound and just pretended to be asleep.
If my husband found out, he definitely wouldn't forgive our son and might even beat me too.
Perhaps it was because of my indulgence, but later my son started touching my genitals frequently, and I could only pretend not to know, which was really a headache.
One day, my husband came home drunk and went straight to sleep.
I had only been asleep for a short while when my son reached over and started groping my genitals.
I pretended to be asleep as usual; it wasn't the first time he'd touched me like that, and I was used to it.
But unexpectedly, after he touched me for a while, my vagina became wet, and a gush of fluid came out.
I thought it might be because I hadn't been fucked by my husband for a few days, and my sexual desire hadn't been released. It's embarrassing to admit, but my vaginal fluid sprayed directly onto my son's hand, startling him so much that he didn't move for a moment.
After confirming I wasn't awake, he continued touching me. Perhaps because my vagina was lubricated by the fluid, it became very slippery, and this time he actually inserted his fingers inside me, mimicking how my husband usually does during sex, using his fingers as a penis to poke and prod me. It was very uncomfortable, but I couldn't get angry, so I just moved my buttocks closer to him, because that position felt more comfortable.
I was torn, unsure whether I should speak up and stop him, when my son suddenly withdrew his hand from my vagina. I thought: maybe he'd had enough? At that moment, I felt a little regretful, feeling an emptiness and discomfort in my vagina.
My conflicted feelings weren't surprising, because when a woman's sexual desire is aroused, there's always an instinctive reaction, an irresistible urge to reach an orgasm.
Just as I was caught in this internal conflict, my son behind me made another move! This time, he pressed his body against mine.
I was startled by his actions! I realized my son had pulled down his underwear, and his hard, erect penis was pressed directly against my vulva.
My heart pounded wildly. I knew what he was about to do, and I knew what that meant.
No, I had to stop him! But what should I do? My husband was sleeping right next to me, and he'd had too much to drink. If I woke him up, my son and I would be in serious trouble! My son's penis was small and gentle, carefully
exploring between my legs. He was clearly wary of his father, not daring to make a sound.
Perhaps my son lacked sexual experience; his penis grazed past my vulva several times.
I thought: I can't let him continue like this, or he'll eventually break into my secret place! I wanted to stop him, but I didn't.
In that moment of hesitation (actually, it was only a few seconds), my son's penis found the opening he was looking for, "swoosh!"
He thrust his penis—the very penis I gave birth to—into the vagina that had given birth to him (or rather, "slid in
," as my vagina was already very wet, and it didn't seem to take him much effort).
Even though only a small portion was inside, my sensitive vaginal walls could feel his penis.
Oh! What a terrible thing to do! My son's penis had actually entered his own mother's vagina! It was too late to say anything now! His penis was already inside; what was the point of stopping him? Incest between mother and son was a fact! I was both shocked and terrified! Shocked that my son would be so bold and shameless, daring to fuck even his own mother; terrified that my son and I had actually committed incest, and if my husband found out, our fate would be terrible.
My mind went blank; I didn't know what to do.
I thought and thought but couldn't make up my mind. Instead, my vaginal fluids increased as my son fucked me more and more, so I finally decided to pretend to be asleep.
Thankfully, my husband was completely drunk, sleeping soundly beside me like a dead pig, even snoring.
Although I knew that incest between mother and son was a taboo act despised by society, and in the past it would have been punishable by drowning in a pig cage, my son's penis was already inside me. So what's done is done, and there was no use being afraid. I simply stopped thinking about it and subconsciously told myself: I'm asleep! I'm asleep!! And so, I didn't resist my son's first violation at all. Instead, I let his penis thrust in and out of my vagina, my buttocks raised.
Sigh, it's truly shameful! I knew that having sex with my son was an immoral and shameful act, yet I felt a guilty pleasure.
However, I was slightly disappointed that my son didn't last long before ejaculating, and all of it went inside my vagina.
After ejaculating, his penis remained inside me until it slowly softened and slipped out.
I remained in the same position, my buttocks pressed tightly against my son's lower body. Although his now-soft penis had slipped out of my vagina, the glans was still trapped between my buttocks.
We slept in this intimate, pressed-together position until I estimated he was asleep, before I dared to get up to go to the bathroom to wash myself.
When I caught the milky-white semen flowing from my vagina, my feelings were incredibly complex. I thought: This is my own son's semen! I can't believe I've been penetrated by my own son! My son is not yet fourteen, still a minor; it wouldn't be surprising if he did something outrageous. What's surprising is that I, as his mother, didn't stop him in time! I sighed softly, washed my vagina inside and out, then took a towel back to the bedroom to carefully wipe my son's penis clean, helped him put his underwear back on, and then went back to sleep.
That night, I had many wild thoughts and tossed and turned, unable to sleep well.
The next morning, my son looked at me strangely. I guessed he was wondering why I wasn't angry with him.
As a mother, of course I had my pride. It wasn't that I didn't want to be angry, but I didn't know how to tell him.
This time, his mistake was different from before. Was I supposed to tell him, "You brat, why did you fuck your mother's cunt last night?" Since
things had come to this, I could only pretend I knew nothing.
Although I knew it was just an ostrich mentality (burying my head in the sand to escape reality when faced with a threat), my son and I both knew the truth, but as long as we didn't say it, it wouldn't feel too awkward.
As the saying goes, "Everything is difficult at the beginning."
After that first time, the second, the third… seemed to follow naturally.
From then on, every time my husband finished with me, as soon as he started snoring, my son would carefully insert his penis from behind, as if the two of them were playing a sexual relay game with me in bed.
At first, I was a little embarrassed and gave him some hints, not wanting to let him do this; but he completely ignored my warnings.
For example, once when he was poking me with his penis, I deliberately rolled over slightly, the meaning being clear: "Stop it, Mom's still awake!" But guess what he did? He completely ignored me! He just pulled my lower body towards him, making my buttocks face his penis again.
I was worried that making too much noise would wake his father, so I only offered a token resistance before he penetrated me.
Every time this kind of contest with my son ended without exception with my vagina being conquered by his penis, it became numb after a while, so I simply stopped resisting and even enjoyed it, only pretending to be asleep on the surface.
During that period, aside from the incestuous sex at night, my son and I maintained a normal mother-son relationship during the day. When he was naughty or disobedient, I still disciplined him as usual. However, sometimes when I was scolding him, I would suddenly think of the fact that he had fucked me at night, and I would feel a little guilty, afraid that he would retort, "I've fucked your cunt, what right do you have to lecture me?"
Fortunately, my son never talked back to me like that, and in my opinion, since he had fucked me, he seemed to have become more obedient than before, and his studies had also improved a lot.
Looking back now, my son was mostly quite well-behaved and willing to share housework with me, but he would occasionally be a little unruly, especially when his father went out to play cards. Knowing that his father wouldn't be back for a while, he would become very unruly.
For example, when I was doing housework, he would suddenly come over and touch my buttocks, and no matter how much I scolded him, he would just ignore me.
Seeing that he didn't do anything too outrageous, I let him touch me.
At first, he only touched me through my pants. Later, seeing that I didn't say anything, he put his hand inside my crotch and touched my buttocks against my skin.
I'd gotten used to him touching me for a long time, so I let him.
But then he went too far and tried to pull down my pants.
I refused and slapped his hand hard. He probably felt some pain and pulled his hand back.
But after a few days, he forgot the pain and tried to pull down my pants again. This went on and on until I gave in again, letting him pull my pants down to my ankles. I
did housework while he touched my buttocks. That wasn't enough; he then went on to touch my vulva.
I often felt itchy inside my vagina from his touch, and my vagina was wet. But no matter what, I wouldn't let him penetrate me, because that was my bottom line. I could pretend not to know at night when I was sleeping, but it was hard to explain if he penetrated me in broad daylight.
Once, I was taking a shower in the bathroom when my son suddenly pushed the door open and said he needed to pee.
He pulled out his semi-erect penis right in front of me. I saw that he hadn't urinated for a long time, and was just playing with his penis until it was big and hard. I said, "You little rascal, what are you doing?"
My son looked at me with ill intent and said, "Mom, what should I do if I can't pee?"
I said, "If you can't pee, then don't pee!"
My son grinned and said, "Mom, I feel so uncomfortable if I can't pee."
Of course I knew what he wanted to do, so I ignored him. He simply took off his underwear, his erection exposed, and started to grope me.
To be honest, I was a little tempted at that moment; my vagina was already soaking wet. But the sin of incest between mother and son was something I couldn't bear. So I resisted desperately. Seeing my determination, my son had no choice but to give up his idea of raping me, saying, "Mom, can you let me touch you?"
Seeing his pitiful look, my heart softened, and I gave in to him.
That's how I compromised with him another step. From then on, every time I showered, he would come in and touch me, saying he was going to help me dry off, but actually he would grope me all over, from my breasts to my buttocks, from my labia majora and minora to my clitoris and vagina.
Although I verbally cursed him for being a scoundrel, I secretly enjoyed being caressed like that. Women all have a desire to be needed, and I was no exception. So every time I showered, I would deliberately choose a time when my husband wasn't home, so that it would be convenient for my son to come in and touch me.
No matter what, I wouldn't allow him to violate me in broad daylight. Our interactions were limited to touching. After several failed attempts, he gave up on the idea of openly committing adultery during the day and continued to be content with the situation of touching openly during the day and having sex secretly at night.
Actually, I wasn't at peace during that time; I was constantly in a state of contradiction: on the one hand, I allowed my son to sexually assault me, and on the other hand, I had to maintain the image of a normal mother in front of him.
During that period, my son and I remained peaceful during the day, but at night, after my husband fell asleep, my son would come and have sex with me.
It was dark at night, and neither of us could see each other, so I let him penetrate me.
My son became more and more skilled. For the first two months, I often worried about not being able to reach orgasm, but later I could reach orgasm every time. Sometimes, when my husband was out playing mahjong, my son could have sex with me several times in a row, ejaculating his semen all over my vagina.
But my son is a clever little devil. He knows what time his dad usually comes home, and he always leaves me about ten minutes to clean up afterward. I don't care about being shy. Every time after we're done, before he falls asleep, I go to the toilet naked to clean up the semen in my vagina, and then I use a wet towel to clean his penis.
Every time I wipe his penis, my son looks at me with a smile, looking like he's really enjoying it. But neither of us says a word, as if nothing has happened between us as long as we don't talk.
I keep switching between these two completely different roles in front of my own son: a strict mother and a harlot.
But since we've already had a physical relationship, sometimes when I'm being harsh with him, I inevitably seem a little weak-willed, and even appear fierce on the outside but cowardly on the inside.
I remember once my son did poorly on a midterm exam. I questioned him about why he did so badly, asking if he hadn't studied properly. He nonchalantly replied, "Mom, I was just a little careless during the exam. I'll definitely do well on the final exam."
I hated his nonchalant attitude and suspected he might not take my words seriously because he'd slept with me. At that moment, I don't know what came over me, but I suddenly flew into a rage and slapped him across the face, leaving a clear five-finger mark on half his cheek. My
son seemed stunned, forgetting to cry. I was also shocked by my own actions and speechless for a moment.
My husband was the first to react. He snorted
and cursed, "You bitch, even if he deserves a beating, it's not your place to hit him."
Then he kicked our son hard in the butt.
That afternoon, after my husband went to work, I regretted hitting my son too hard and wanted to apologize, but I couldn't bring myself to say it, and I was sweating profusely with anxiety.
I decided to take a shower first, and I had just taken off my clothes when my son came in with a grin, the five finger marks on his face still fresh! I glared at him and said, "Can't you see your mother is taking a shower? What are you doing here?"
My son shamelessly said, "Mom, I just wanted to make amends and help you wash up!"
I felt sorry for the slap he had just received, so I went along with it and said, "Good thing you know what's good for you! If you get a grade like this again, I'll castrate you!"
My son quickly stripped naked, and when he heard me say that, he smiled obsequiously and handed me his penis, saying, "Mom, this was purely an accident. If it happens again, you can just cut it off."
I was amused by him and burst out
laughing, and my regret vanished instantly.
What happened next is probably obvious to everyone. I quickly transformed from a strict mother into a wanton woman. My son, under the guise of bathing me, groped my entire body, and then brazenly inserted his right index and middle fingers into my vagina, making me gush with vaginal fluid until I ejaculated. Seeing
me like that, my son thought he could take advantage of my vulnerability and tried to thrust his rock-hard member into me, but I kicked him away.
He had no choice but to masturbate to relieve himself.
Thanks to my son's magnanimity, that incident passed smoothly, and our relationship wasn't affected at all.
Although I didn't say anything, I was actually quite grateful for his actions.
My son and I played this cat-and-mouse game of cat and mouse, and although we couldn't fully indulge ourselves because of our mother-son relationship, it was still incredibly enjoyable.
However, one night, a small accident occurred.
(To be continued)

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A Mother's Account of Incest (Part 1)

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