[Mom, your son wants to sleep with you] [Author: Taiqingxuan Zhongxian] [The End]

As dawn
broke through the sheer curtains, golden rays of sunlight danced on the pink sheets in the gentle breeze. I opened my sleepy eyes and gazed at my mother, still lost in a sweet dream beside me. Her gentle, beautiful face, the slight upturn of her lips, and her even, soft breathing stirred my heart. I turned to her, tenderly brushing away the strands of hair that cascaded down her cheek, and kissed her full, luscious lips with deep affection. A wave of warmth and contentment washed over me.
Sensing the love on my lips, my mother awoke, opening her captivating eyes to look at me with tender affection. She reached out her fair, jade-like hand and placed it on my cheek, a blush of mature womanhood spreading across her face. She was utterly alluring, shy, and enchanting.
I gently lifted my mother's chin: "Mom, you're awake. Did you sleep well?" My mother nodded: "Yes, Mingming, with you here, I slept soundly. It's been so long since we've been together." I felt a surge of emotion mixed with heartache. Yes, I'm studying at a university in a city thousands of miles away. Although I come back during long holidays, we rarely see each other. My mother is alone in her empty house; her loneliness and sorrow are unimaginable. My mother gave me this, and I should fulfill my responsibilities and obligations as a man, spending more time with her when I'm home, bringing her joy, intimacy, and passion.
"Mom, I love you." I rolled over and pinned my mother beneath me, leaning down to kiss her red lips again. My mother wrapped her arms around my shoulders, opened her lips, and greedily sucked on my tongue, passionately entwining with it.
I reached one hand to my mother's crotch, rubbing her sensitive clitoris through her black lace panties. My other hand deftly moved to her back, unhooking her black lace bra. Her full, round breasts bounced wildly. I grabbed her right breast and rhythmically kneaded it. My tongue brushed against her upper lip before quickly withdrawing, then moved to her left breast, sucking on her nipple with gusto. My hand, rubbing her crotch, increased its speed and pressure.
"Mmm...mmm...ah...ha..." my mother moaned with pleasure.
Although I couldn't wait to make love to my mother as soon as I got home last night, we rolled around and were passionate until late at night, but the long separation had heightened our desire to the extreme. I heard my mother's alluring moans, and I couldn't help but lift my head and pull down her panties. Seeing this, my mother cooperated by sitting up and pulling down my panties. My penis was already proudly erect, and a drop of pre-ejaculate seeped from the tip, making it even hotter and harder.
My mother stared at me, her eyes glazed over, her breathing rapid. At this moment, I had no heart to appreciate this erotic scene anymore. I threw the lace panties onto the bedside table, pressed my mother down, and she fell heavily onto the Simmons mattress, her body rising and falling with the swaying mattress. Her long, beautiful black hair spread out on the sheets like a peacock's tail. I excitedly rubbed my penis against my mother's vulva, warming up and down, left and right, grinding against her clitoris.
My mother cried out in a pleading voice, "No...no...I can't take it...come in...son...come in quickly...ah...ahhhhh..." "I'm coming, Mom, I love you, I want to fuck you..." In the blink of an eye, my huge cock slammed into my mother's honey hole like a missile. My mother rolled her eyes, her head tilted back, one hand gripping my
arm, the other clutching the sheets, her legs stiffly kicking towards the foot of the bed. "Ah ...
Mom gasped for breath, moaning and groaning, "Give it to me, give it to me, Mingming, give it to me now, hurry, hurry... Ah, so good, so good!" "Mom, is it good? Is it good?" "Yes, so good, so comfortable, Mingming is so amazing, you're making me unable to take it anymore, ahh..." I thrust hard while kneading Mom's breasts, which heaved with each tremor, making my blood boil.
Slowly, Mom's vagina began to overflow with lustful fluid, streams of it being drawn out by my penis, soaking a large area. The sounds of the thrusting changed from a single "slap slap slap" to a symphony of "slap sizzle sizzle."
After five or six minutes, Mom's whole body convulsed, her phoenix eyes widened, her face flushed, her red lips parted, and the veins on the back of her hands bulged slightly. Then came wave after wave of spasms. Mom shook her head desperately, her body swaying constantly, and I increased my thrusting speed.
"Ah!!!! I'm coming, I'm going to die..." Mom's hands moved up to my shoulders, her nails digging into my flesh. Mom had an orgasm, waves of heat from her vagina crashing against my glans like waves crashing on the shore. I couldn't hold back any longer, I didn't want to hold back anymore. I quickly pulled out my penis, and just as the head was about to leave her vaginal opening, I didn't give Mom a chance to feel the emptiness. I immediately pressed my hips down hard, and my penis plunged in all the way back in.
"Mom, I'm going to cum."
"Cum, cum, cum all in me, my good son."
My ejaculation was released, and countless drops of semen bombarded Mom's uterus like cannonballs. Mom bit her lower lip tightly, moaning and struggling weakly. We reached orgasm at the same time, and I collapsed into Mom's arms. Mom immediately hugged me tightly, caressed me, and nibbled at me.
Chapter 1: Memories of My Mother's Past
I was born in my rural hometown and grew up in the city. My parents were both from rural backgrounds who had worked their way up, experiencing firsthand the hardships and struggles of working people. They couldn't bear to let their precious child suffer the same hardships, so they loved me dearly and tried their best to indulge me in everything they could.
I was treated like a precious treasure, panda-level pampered child. This fostered my willful and stubborn personality. Stubbornness, in a sense, is like persistence—the kind of relentless effort that doesn't give up until the goal is achieved. This might explain my later obsessive and almost insane behavior. During
my early childhood, our family's financial situation wasn't good. My parents had only been working for a year or two, and we had many relatives and siblings who needed support. My parents were kind-hearted people; whenever relatives were in trouble, they would find a way to help them. My grandparents were old and could do less farm work, so naturally, the burden of supporting the family fell on my father's shoulders.
To increase our savings, Dad often took odd jobs after work, like driving a motorcycle taxi, selling flowers and plants at a stall, or doing delivery work. He often didn't get home until late at night, and sometimes, if it was too late to disturb my wife and me, he would simply sleep at a friend's house.
Mom would go straight back to the teachers' dormitory after work (both my parents were teachers, but not at the same school; they were in two different towns. During the day, after my parents went to work, my grandmother would take care of me). The first thing Mom would do when she got back to the teachers' dormitory was to pick me up and kiss my forehead and cheeks, saying, "You missed Mom, didn't you, my baby?" At that time, I was just a young child who didn't understand anything. Every time Mom kissed me, I would shyly squint my eyes and turn my head back, but I loved the feeling of being kissed by Mom; it was a child's closeness to their mother.
During dinner, I sometimes fuss and want my mom to hold me, to sit me on her lap. I don't like sitting on hard wooden stools, and besides, it's difficult for me to reach for food because I'm not tall enough. I prefer sitting on my mom's warm, soft lap so she can feed me.
Mom often says I'm a four-year-old now and should learn to do things myself, but of course I won't let her. It would be a disservice to myself not to sit in such a comfortable spot. Sometimes Mom tries to coax me into being independent, but she always gives in to my tantrums and lets me sit on her lap.
And so, I enjoyed my mother's pampering like an emperor, snuggling into her arms every now and then, munching on my food while my hands mischievously groped her breasts. I had no impure thoughts; I was just playful and active, finding my mother's breasts fascinating. What could a four-year-old understand? So my mother let me touch them, only coaxing me to sit still and eat properly when I tickled me. My grandmother, eating nearby, watched her lively grandson, enjoying the warmth of family life. Her kind smile added to the scene's cozy atmosphere.
At night, I would rest my head on my mother's arm, listening to her tell stories. Then she would gently pat my back to lull me to sleep, and then take off her clothes to sleep with me.
I need to clarify that I don't like sleeping alone, nor do I like anyone else taking my mother's role. I only like sleeping with my mother. Until I was in the first year of junior high school, I would always pester my mother to sleep with me. However, after the fifth grade of elementary school, as I gradually grew older, I mostly slept in my own room. But whenever I had the chance, such as when I did well on a test or did excellent homework, this was the reward I asked for.
Haha, looking back now, I feel embarrassed. I don't know if it's just me who's so immature. One thing needs to be clear: I didn't have any ulterior motives. I was just too dependent on my mother and too clingy!
When I slept with my mother, before falling asleep, I would often playfully tease her breasts. My mother knew I was just playing around and didn't interfere. I would fall asleep while playing, and I found that this helped me drift off to sleep earlier than listening to stories.
Around third grade, I stopped playing with my mother's breasts. It wasn't out of embarrassment between boys and girls, but simply because I found it uninteresting. Since I hadn't developed yet, I didn't understand what breasts meant to boys and girls. If I had understood romantic feelings at that time, given the circumstances, I certainly wouldn't have stopped. But that's just hypothetical.
Time passed, and after finishing elementary school, my excellent grades led me to the best public junior high school in the county. If life had continued on this predetermined path, I would have smoothly completed junior high, gone to high school, then university, and found a job. My story with my mother would have been irrelevant, since childhood playful interactions and intimacy with one's mother are experiences most people have to some extent. When I entered junior high, thanks to my parents' hard work and frugal living, our family's financial situation improved significantly.
My father entered the civil service through a recruitment exam when I was in fourth grade. Because of his smooth interpersonal skills, efficient work ethic, and loyal character, he earned the praise of his superiors and colleagues, and now he's the head of a section in a certain bureau. We've become wealthier, moved from the suburbs to a garden community in the center of the county.
Since becoming a minor leader in a powerful department, my father's social engagements and business trips have increased, meaning he spends less time at home. However, this hasn't made much difference to me, as I've never communicated much with him. He's always been busy outside, and when he comes home, he probably just spends time with my mother before resting, rarely showing any interest in my life or thoughts.
Since my grandmother passed away, it's usually just my mother and me at home. My mother has always treated me like a treasure, caring deeply about me, of course, about things like my life, studies, and health. Chinese parents are like that; they easily neglect their children's adolescent education, failing to understand their thoughts and feelings, thinking that providing comfortable material conditions and environment is enough. Therefore, my mother hasn't noticed the changes in me after I entered puberty.
Entering puberty, I inevitably developed feelings for the opposite sex. I would talk to my friends about girls at school, discussing things we only vaguely understood about romance. However, I had a particular preference: I wasn't very interested in young, cute girls, except for very pretty ones. I preferred mature women, those with a sophisticated allure. So, I would unconsciously fantasize about the young female teachers I knew.
Back then, tight pants were fashionable, and seeing their alluring figures accentuated by them would excite me, especially their pubic area, which sparked endless fantasies. Later, I found myself yearning for female teachers in their thirties and forties, even more so than for younger ones. Their slightly protruding bellies and the rounded hips that came with childbirth intensified my adolescent desires.
Sometimes, I would dream of being intimate with a voluptuous woman. Her face was so blurry; perhaps without that moment, the woman in my dream was simply a manifestation of my daytime and nighttime fantasies.
My mother was also a voluptuous woman. She was 1.65 meters tall with a perfectly proportioned figure. Although she was a little plump, it didn't diminish her beauty in the slightest; instead, it added to her mature and alluring charm. She had long, flowing black hair, bright eyes and white teeth, an almond-shaped face with rosy cheeks, a round nose, and red lips. A few wrinkles on her face etched the marks of time, giving her a unique allure. These descriptions didn't resonate with me at the time. I didn't have any romantic feelings for my mother then; it was just the pure, maternal love of family. I simply knew that my mother was my mother, nothing more.
Later, something happened that became a turning point, inadvertently planting the seed of a mother complex in my heart. This story starts with my penis, haha. My foreskin was a bit too long, which caught my parents' attention when I was little. Some doctor friends also suggested to my dad that I should have surgery to remove the foreskin. So, during the summer before I started junior high school, my parents took me to the hospital for a circumcision. I won't go into the details, but I was afraid that this kind of surgery had to be done with the utmost care, otherwise it could affect me for the rest of my life!
After the surgery, I staggered out of the operating room and, with my parents' help, limped towards the cart, groaning softly. My dad patted me and said, "A real man doesn't need to worry about this pain; it'll be over soon." My mom, watching my gait, kept glancing at my crotch and giggling. I saw this and had to force myself to stay focused. I stubbornly broke free from my parents' arms and swayed forward. I heard my mom anxiously call out, "Mingming, be careful, don't hurt yourself..." My mom stopped talking because that thing was hard to talk about, and she didn't know how to say it, especially in public.
Perhaps it was the combination of my mother's uniquely feminine voice and the image of "penis" flashing through my mind, a continuation of her unfinished words, that caused me to feel a sudden surge of pleasure. Though it lasted only a fraction of a second, an indescribable ecstasy coursed through my entire body. My genitals, still recovering from surgery, began to ache; perhaps this was divine punishment for the shameful pleasure I had experienced.
During the few days I spent recovering at home, the uncomfortable, throbbing pain accompanying erections prevented me from having any erotic dreams while sleeping. On the day the stitches were to be removed, my father happened to be away on a business trip, so my mother had to help me into the car and take me to the hospital alone. After leaving the hospital, my penis, now with the stitches removed, remained in a semi-erect state, neither growing larger nor smaller.
This bothered me greatly; my thighs would rub against my glans as I walked. Since the glans had only recently emerged from the foreskin and was still very tender, every rub caused itching and pain. My mother quickly came to catch me, and I, with a sudden surge of childlike innocence, pretended to be dying and collapsed into her arms. Mom quickly put her hands on my shoulders, "Mingming, are you alright? Don't scare Mom. How are you? Ah, Mingming?" The moment Mom caught me, her body fragrance intoxicated me, especially since I was leaning forward on her shoulder. Through the collar of her business shirt, I could see her breasts tightly wrapped in a black lace bra. The contrast between her fair skin and the black lace was incredibly striking.
My penis, stimulated by this, suddenly became erect, pushing against the crotch of my loose sweatpants like a mountain rising from the ground. "Mom is a woman!" This thought flashed through my mind, and my wildly pounding heart made me not dare to linger. I hurriedly straightened up, shook off Mom's hands, and ran nervously to the car.
My mother was initially stunned by my sudden, strange act of walking away with my arms swinging. When she saw me running, she was genuinely startled and rushed over to ask what was wrong. I didn't dare look up, but I knew she must be very anxious. I pretended to be impatient and said, "Nothing, hurry up!" Then I jumped into the back seat.
My mother was still confused, but she quickly got into the driver's seat, started the car, and drove home. After what had just happened, I felt much calmer, but my mother's snow-white breasts and black lace bra were forever etched in my memory.
When we got home, I insisted on holding onto the handrail to climb the stairs myself, refusing to let my mother help me. Perhaps I felt shy and embarrassed, and I was also worried that too much contact would make me feel guilty and disgusted. I continued to rest at home, trying to abstain from all desires. I was afraid that my penis, which was constantly getting hard, would become deformed, so I tried hard not to think about those female teachers.
Three days passed, and I felt my penis had almost recovered. Walking wasn't as strenuous anymore. I was surprised to find that my penis was much larger than before the surgery, probably because the foreskin wasn't restricting it anymore. I pinched my glans with great interest, feeling a sense of self-satisfaction.
One morning, I lingered in bed, stroking my penis after a nocturnal emission, reluctantly savoring the feeling. Images of female allure began to surface in my mind again. Just as I was about to drift back into my dream,
"Mingming, Mingming, get up and have breakfast!" my mother called.
I reluctantly called out, "I'll sleep a little longer."
"Mingming, come and eat soon, breakfast will get cold!"
The onset of puberty had made me more rebellious, and I yelled, "Aren't you annoying? I want to sleep a little longer, I don't have class, what's all the noise about!" My mother didn't say anything after hearing this; I think she probably had a helpless expression on her face. Heh, just as I was continuing to indulge in the pleasure of rubbing my penis and fantasizing, my mother brought a bowl of soy milk quickly into my room. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but since I was masturbating, my heart started racing. I hurriedly pulled up my pajama pants, tried to sit up calmly, and didn't dare look at my mother, thinking she had discovered my embarrassing act.
"Drink it while it's hot, it'll get cold later," my mother said, seemingly unaware of my masturbation, and held the bowl of soy milk to my lips.
I quickly took it and gulped it down to hide my earlier panic.
"Drink slowly, baby, don't choke," Mom said gently and lovingly. Hearing her say that, I instinctively stopped, trying to slow down, but I lost my rhythm, and soy milk choked me, entering my throat and nostrils. Just as I was about to spit it out, the bowl lost its balance and slipped from my hands. Mom and I both reached out to catch it at the same time, but the interference caused us to miss, and the bowl crashed to the ground, spilling soy milk everywhere.
Unfortunately, the rim of the bowl hit my crotch, and the warm soy milk soaked my thigh. I felt a sharp pain and quickly covered my penis with my hand, making a pained expression. Mom saw this and hurriedly squatted down, asking, "How are you, Mingming? Are you okay? Does it hurt?" I didn't answer. I was in pain, but honestly, it shouldn't be enough to make me wince. I had a mischievous thought and continued to pretend to be in a lot of pain, wanting to see how my loving mother would react.
"Ouch, Mom..."
Mom was really worried now. She pulled down my pants to check my injury. I guess she probably realized something when my pants were down to my knees. But as a mother, she wouldn't think too much about it. I was startled by her sudden action, especially since my large penis was still semi-erect!
I turned my head away embarrassedly, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Mom's face was also red. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Mom broke the silence. She lifted my penis with one hand and took out a tissue to wipe it, cleaning the remaining soy milk from my inner thigh.
The cool temperature of Mom's well-maintained, fair and smooth hands contrasted with the heat of my penis, creating a wave of pleasure. My penis uncontrollably swelled up in Mom's fingers, the glans staring at her with wide eyes. Mom was also embarrassed by my reaction, her ears turning red.
Since I started school, my mother hadn't touched my genitals. I never imagined that upon our reunion, her son's penis would become erect, seemingly "provoking" me. In the brief moment my mother was stunned, I secretly observed her. She was wearing a green tank top and tight jeans, which perfectly showcased her voluptuous figure, her smooth skin, her rounded shoulders, and her center-parted bangs that reached her eyelashes. My breath quickened!
My penis continued to swell, reaching its peak. My mother instinctively withdrew her hand from my penis, turned around, and said breathlessly, "Ming...Ming, it should...it should be...okay. Get up and wash up." She quickly picked up the bowl from the floor and walked away, leaving me sitting on the edge of the bed, inhaling her lingering fragrance.
At that moment, my mother was still my mother, and I was still myself. But I later realized that from that moment on, I had fallen in love with my mother. My mother was the voluptuous woman I admired.
That year I was 19, during the summer before starting university, and my mother was 39. In the days that
followed
, my mother became my sole object of fantasy. Every time I had a wet dream, I would dream of her snow-white breasts and a black lace bra. Every time I masturbated, I would fantasize about my mother's fragrant shoulders and delicate hands. This forbidden pleasure captivated me, leaving me unable to extricate myself. At the same time, I carried a heavy mental burden, even condemning myself for my lewdness and depravity. But reason is usually no match for desire, especially since I was just a teenager; I didn't have the self-control of an adult.
Of course, I couldn't do anything inappropriate; it was just a thought in my mind. In daily life, I treated my mother the same as before, and she didn't seem to care about that incident. What seemed so significant to me wasn't enough to leave a deep impression on her.
After I entered the second year of junior high school, my father was promoted to deputy director of a bureau. With his higher position and greater power came more social obligations, and many more people came to curry favor with him, including numerous young women who fawned over him. My father frequently accompanied his superiors or accepted invitations from businessmen to go out for karaoke and drinking, frequenting hotels and various restaurants, often getting completely drunk. When he returned home, he wouldn't say a word to my mother and me, but would just collapse into bed. My parents' sex life noticeably decreased.
My mother and I tried to persuade my father to drink less and go out less, but he wouldn't listen. He continued his extravagant lifestyle, indulging in a life of debauchery. Although he didn't break any laws or regulations, his lifestyle began to become corrupt (this is what I learned later).
So, every night, Mom would wait for Dad to come home, help him wash up, and get him to bed. Often, she'd wait until one or two in the morning. If Dad didn't come home, Mom couldn't sleep, perhaps because she craved intimacy. I couldn't stand Dad's behavior; it was completely irresponsible of him to leave his wife at home alone while he went out having fun. But I was the younger generation, and I didn't have the right or the courage to criticize him.
Later, Dad simply stopped coming home. This worried Mom terribly. She'd ask him where he'd been the night before, and he'd only say he'd gone to a friend's house. When she asked his friend, the answer was the same. If Mom pressed him further, he'd reek of alcohol and yell impatiently (I only realized later that this was probably because he felt guilty).
Sometimes, when Mom pressed him too hard, under the influence of alcohol, Dad would even raise his hand to slap her. Mom stopped asking, but the resentment would always linger.
During my second year of junior high school, it was mostly just my mom and me at home. We ate breakfast, lunch, dinner, and late-night snacks together almost every day. To relieve her loneliness, my mom would come over and chat with me, telling me about trivial things. Occasionally, she would also express her grievances and complain about my dad's gradual indifference.
I mostly listened at that time, unable to interject. When my mother spoke of her sad moments, I would only offer a few words of comfort. I certainly didn't have the mindset to get involved in adult matters. However, during that year, my feelings for my mother developed significantly. I began to understand the idea of a man protecting a woman, and I vowed to study hard so that I could give my mother greater happiness in the future.
Thanks to my intelligence and effective methods, I easily completed my junior high school studies and was admitted to the county's top high school with good grades. My parents were naturally overjoyed and bought me a computer as a reward. With the computer, I discovered a new world. Online, I could find many erotic novels and movies to satisfy my adolescent desires.
I vividly remember that the first erotic film I watched was "Jin Ping Mei," introduced to me by a classmate. It was the first time I saw a woman's naked body, the first time I saw a complete sex scene, and the first time I heard a real woman's moans. All this novelty and excitement made me unable to stop.
After gradually becoming familiar with the pornographic environment of the internet, I learned to search for my favorite themes online. So I downloaded a lot of incest movies and browsed incest novels, mostly about mothers and sons, brothers and sisters-in-law, and the like. Every time I saw something exciting, I would masturbate in front of the computer screen.
At first, my desires were controlled by these images, but slowly I was no longer satisfied with facing the abstract. Desire drove me to start focusing on my mother. I really hoped for another "soy milk incident," I really hoped that my mother's delicate hands could caress my penis again, I really hoped that my mother and I could be closer. To be honest, I didn't want to have sex with my mother yet. At that age, at that level of psychological development, my fantasies about my mother could only stay on concrete things like breasts, black lace lingerie, delicate hands, fragrant shoulders, long flowing hair, and so on.
One time, Mom called me from her room, "Mingming, could you help me put the clothes in the washing machine? Mom's cleaning." I agreed and went to the laundry room in the master bedroom. I saw a huge pile of clothes on the laundry tub. There were so many that I had to pick them up one by one and put them in the washing machine. Suddenly, I stared at the laundry tub like I'd discovered a treasure. Oh my god, Mom's black lace bra and black lace panties!!!
I grabbed them and sniffed them hard. It was Mom's scent, a mixture of her milky fragrance and the secretions from her vagina, making my blood boil. My penis quickly became erect, and I could feel its hardness and swelling. My mouth went dry, and my hands trembled with excitement.
I couldn't resist taking off my own underwear, rubbing my bra against my face while simultaneously pulling my mother's panties over my penis and masturbating violently. The pent-up desires of puberty, like a flood, had been building up inside me for so long, and suddenly found a way to burst forth. I raged uncontrollably, even going so far as to bite at my mother's bra with my teeth, as if trying to swallow it whole.
The atmosphere was so intense that I quickly ejaculated, a large gush of white semen spraying onto my mother's panties. I let out a long sigh, feeling immense satisfaction. Regaining my senses, I quickly remembered my task in the laundry room. I hurriedly dumped the remaining clothes into the washing machine, closed the lid, and ran off, oblivious to what was happening outside.
Just as I stepped out of the laundry room, my mother came over. I couldn't stop in time and bumped into her. Startled by the sudden collision, she slipped and lost her balance, falling backward. Luckily, I reacted quickly and grabbed her waist to stop her from falling. I was still small and not much taller than her, so I was pulled forward by her and we both fell to the ground.
My lips landed on her cheek, and my body pressed heavily on top of her. Coincidentally, because she stumbled as she fell, her legs were spread apart, and my swollen penis was pressed hard against her genitals. My arms were around her waist, and our heads were turned to the same side. There was a built-in wardrobe on that side, with a large full-length mirror in the middle. Our posture was reflected in the mirror, making it look as if I was pinning her down and trying to rape her.
Looking in the mirror, I realized my mother was wearing loose pajamas. She also noticed her son on top of her in a manly position. Both of us blushed. I didn't get up, but continued to press down on her, my penis still pressed against her buttocks. I could feel the allure emanating from her genitals; it was indescribably pleasurable.
After a short while, my mother was the first to break free from the erotic atmosphere. She pushed me away, stood up, and scolded me sternly, "How could you be so careless? Can't you walk properly? Why are you running like that? Luckily you didn't hurt yourself. What if you had?" I was speechless for a moment. I hadn't recovered from what I'd just witnessed, so I just stood there, scratching the back of my head. Seeing this, my mother said, "Alright, be careful next time. Don't be so playful. How old are you?
Getting up, did you put the clothes in the washing machine?"...
I will never forget this scene. It was the first time I had a woman on top of me, and that woman was my own mother. It was the first time... The first time I kissed a woman's cheek, the first time my penis pressed against a woman's genitals, and this woman was also my mother. This scene made me realize the proportion of my mother's body beneath me, and it also made the image of the voluptuous woman I had always fantasized about in my dreams clearer, infinitely close to my own mother... Once Pandora's box was opened, it could not be closed again. My lust for my mother deepened, and I became more addicted to incestuous pornography on the internet. I would also occasionally find opportunities to sneak into my parents' master bedroom when no one was home, steal my mother's bra and panties, and use them to masturbate, just like the first time. If I found a black lace bra and black lace panties, I would be even more excited.
However, my reason told me that although I had transgressed social norms, I should be mindful of the consequences and control myself appropriately. So, each time, I resisted the urge to ejaculate on my mother's underwear and bra at the last moment, choosing instead to spray towards her Simmons bed. I enjoyed the pleasure of releasing my lust, reluctantly wiping away the rubbed-off pubic hair, putting the underwear back in its place, carefully wiping the semen off the floor, and only leaving after confirming there were no traces of the crime.
Of course, this was a naive idea. Everyone knows that when masturbating, the penis secretes some vaginal fluid and semen, which seeps into cotton underwear and leaves stains and a smell. I thought that as time went on and the frequency increased, my mother would notice. Perhaps she didn't know how to bring up the topic or how to communicate with me, so she never mentioned it and remained natural in front of me.
This was confirmed shortly after I started university. My mother's bras, underwear, and some other sensitive women's items were moved to a different location, a change that kept me behaving myself for a while. (
Word count: 20607
) [The End]

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[Mom, your son wants to sleep with you] [Author: Taiqingxuan Zhongxian] [The End]

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