I slept with my girlfriend's mother

That night, I slept with my girlfriend's mother at her house

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

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

I was born in the 1970s in a small town in southern China, a picturesque place. According to the older generation, my family migrated here from the Central Plains during the Southern Song Dynasty to escape war.

Because the surrounding area is inhabited by ethnic minorities, after centuries of development, although our main lifestyle remains Han Chinese, we've also adopted many customs from the original inhabitants of the border regions. For example, newlyweds would go to a temple to worship a thick wooden stake painted in the shape of a tiger's head to pray for peace and children (I later learned from books that this was just a remnant of primitive genital worship), and the husband would give his new wife a silver necklace, and so on…

My mother's name is Fang Min. She lost her youthful joys at a young age, becoming pregnant and giving birth. My father seduced my mother at a bonfire party when she was fifteen, taking her virginity, and that's how I came to be. On their wedding night, my younger sister was born. My

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

However, I often sensed that my mother seemed a little melancholy. Of course, at that time, I didn't quite understand why. Our family's circumstances were considered upper-middle class compared to other families; my mother never had to work to support the family.

Whenever I had the chance, I would help my mother with chores. Dad was always working in the mine, which naturally brought Mom and me closer. She often came to me for help; and I, in turn, often tried to cheer her up.

It was clear Mom enjoyed having me around; it eased some of the boredom of housework.

Dad always left early and came home late, almost always drunk. I felt romance had long since vanished from their marriage. Most of the time, he was either busy working, in meetings, or drinking. Under these circumstances, Mom was actually quite lonely. However, I believe Dad still loved Mom very much. They would sometimes joke around or tease each other, but the romance they had when they first got married was very rare… practically nonexistent.

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

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

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

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

My mother's hair was very black, thick, and long. When she let it down, a long, flowing black cascaded down to her waist. She had a good figure, a slender, southern-style figure, and her eyes were still bright and expressive.

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

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

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

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

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

After watching a movie, I like to sit with my mom in a small park nearby. There, we can enjoy the entire town's night view and exchange playful, affectionate words.

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

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

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

"Mom, did I make you worry?"

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

Seeing my mother's attitude, I began to curse the words I had just blurted out. But then I thought, well, it can't be ignored anyway; spilled water can't be taken back. So why not take it a step further?

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

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

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

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

"Mom, I can't worry about that anymore. I've already taken the risk. It's already happened, and I don't want to lie, and I don't want to take back my love for you. Mom, for your own sake, can't you carefully consider my… request?"

My mother remained silent for a long while, then two clear tears silently slid down her jade-like face. Gazing at my weeping mother, I felt deeply guilty and pulled her to my side.

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I slept with my girlfriend's mother

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