Challenging the bottom line

My family consists of four people: my parents, my older sister who is almost six years younger than me, and my father, who is a seaman. His ships mainly sailed the European and American routes, so he spent a lot of time at sea, but also a lot of time at home when he was on vacation. I remember when I was little, my father would come home and stay for two or three months at a time; however, after I entered junior high school, the time he spent at home on vacation became less and less. At the time, I didn't pay any attention to it, until later I learned the reason.

Speaking of being a seaman, it's not a profession that everyone can do; unless you're a family member or haven't spent a lot of time at sea, it's hard to imagine the extreme loneliness and boredom that seamen experience on long ocean voyages. So, in those days, my father, like other single seamen on ships, liked to collect pornographic videos from Europe and America. However, while single seamen could only watch them at home after going ashore, my father liked to share them with my mother.

I remember when I was very young, as soon as he came home, he couldn't wait to grab my mother and watch his latest finds together, even when my sister and I came home from school, they would still watch them. At first, Mom was a little suspicious about my sister and me being there, so she would always send us back to our rooms to do our homework. But Dad would often say, "Kids won't understand, it's okay!"

Because of Dad's "openness" at the time, my sister and I, even though we were very young, would often peek out from our rooms to watch. Besides watching what was being shown, I would also secretly observe my sister's and the adults' expressions. Although my sister was much older than me, she was still just a little girl at the time, so she always had a half-understanding expression on her face when watching the scenes of fairies fighting.

I'm sure no one is interested in Dad's expression, but I remember Mom's expression and posture very clearly: she would usually hug a sofa pillow and recline on the sofa; when she got excited, Mom's eyes would narrow slightly and then widen again, and her eyes seemed to light up, and her lips would purse from time to time, or she would bite her lower lip.

Speaking of Mom, from an outsider's perspective, she's just an ordinary housewife. Aside from exchanging steamed buns and zongzi (sticky rice dumplings) with the neighbors, her social life consists mainly of playing cards and shopping with her fellow seafarer wives. Frankly, Mom isn't a beauty. Aside from her expressive eyes, her only other feature is a face that could barely be described as oval, paired with what I consider a delicate nose and lips that aren't quite sexy. For convenience, she almost always wears a headband or hair clip and

goes makeup-free. After getting married, she stopped making an effort to dress up, and she rarely gets noticed on the street. Although her appearance is ordinary, Mom has fair and rosy skin. Her father's salary from sailing was good, so she and her friends used skincare products like they were free. There's a saying, "fair skin covers three flaws," and Mom's delicate skin added a lot to her appearance; because of this, she looks about seven or eight years older than her actual age.
As for her figure, that's what Mom is most proud of. When I was a little kid, I wasn't interested in my mother's measurements. Even after I started to develop a sexual interest in her, all I knew was that she was 162 cm tall and weighed about 58 kg, but I still didn't dare to ask about her measurements. It wasn't until I became very "close" to my mom that I learned from her that she had a 36D bust.

According to my mom, she wasn't always this "well-endowed"; her full breasts were a gift from my grandmother, my sister, and me. Starting with a B cup, with my grandmother's help during her postpartum period, she went up a cup size after each child.
Until I was in junior high school, I didn't notice that my parents' relationship was gradually cooling down. I was even unaware that my father had changed his habit of spending his holidays at home watching porn and started going out every few days under various pretexts. I was only interested in playing basketball, reading comics, and playing video games all day long. It wasn't until one day when my sister warned me to pay attention to things at home, saying that my parents' relationship was strange, that I started to pay attention. But it was too late; my father had already been having an affair for two years.

Mom found out about Dad's affair in the first year, and they argued about it several times while we were in school. Mom couldn't believe that her father, who always obeyed his wife, would have the audacity to have an affair.
By the time we entered junior high, our marriage was a sham. Although they hadn't signed a divorce agreement, Dad stopped coming home after leaving the country and started living with the other woman.

My sister went to university in another city, and it was on that lonely night, just the two of us, that I first heard Mom sobbing from our parents' room. Before she left, she specifically told me to comfort and take care of Mom, but I was just a junior high student, completely at a loss.

I remember Mom hiding in her room crying again the next night. I was panicked and scared, not knowing what to do. I always thought I was grown up and mature, but facing the crisis of a broken family, I realized I was just a child. I went into Mom's room and joined her in crying, my mother already a sobbing mess.

From that night on, my mindset underwent a significant change. For the first time in my life, I experienced a crisis: when would my father officially sever ties with my mother? If they really divorced, who would support the family? Would my mother leave my sister and me? These anxieties drove me to study hard at school, naively hoping to quickly replace my father as the provider.

At the same time, I tried to help my mother, who was like a walking corpse every day, to get back on her feet. I no longer had the mood to read comics or play video games. Apart from occasionally playing sports, I started to study hard at school so that my mother wouldn't have to worry. I also comforted my mother from time to time, trying to talk to her about anything and everything to distract her from her pain.
Every night, whenever I heard my mother crying, I would go to her room, hug her, comfort her, and say, "Dad doesn't want you anymore, but I do. I will always love you and stay with you." I would do this until my mother fell asleep. I noticed that whenever I was in her room, her mood would improve, so I started sleeping next to her.

Thankfully, this period of intense stress only lasted about six months. However, once I was sure Mom was getting better, I fell ill. Perhaps it was because I was finally relieved of the immense mental pressure, but I had a fever for almost four days and it took me nearly two weeks to fully recover. Luckily, our homeroom teacher knew a little about our family situation and tutored me; otherwise, that semester would probably have been over.

Although being sick was painful, the biggest gain during those two weeks was the bond between Mom and me. She began to rely on me as her emotional support. Mom told herself that she wouldn't let her life be ruined by Dad; she also wanted to stand up and start anew for my sake. It was this "revolutionary bond" that made Mom and me incredibly close.
The saying goes, "When people are well-fed and warm, they think of lust." After life finally settled into a routine, my curiosity about sex began to sprout. For some reason, my mother naturally became the object of my intense desire to explore. Strangely, I didn't feel any guilt at the time; I just didn't know how to tell her that I was curious about her body and wanted to explore it.

Of course, the school taught this kind of knowledge, but the teacher in charge simply had boys and girls attend classes separately, and then let the boys read the textbooks on their own, so this knowledge quickly became a dull and uninteresting lesson. I turned to observing my mother's figure in my daily life, and whenever I had the chance, I would stare at her breasts and buttocks, trying to guess their size and shape; sometimes I would accidentally touch them in daily life, which always excited me greatly.

During the summer before I entered the second year of junior high school, I thought that if my sister went home for vacation, I wouldn't be able to stay in my mother's room anymore, but every cloud has a silver lining. Once, while playing ball with a classmate, I jumped up to grab the ball and crashed to the ground headfirst. I tried to brace myself with my hands, but ended up fracturing my right hand and spraining my left wrist. As a result, the doctor declared that I would be unable to take care of myself for up to a month.

While my leg was in the hospital with a cast on, I inevitably got a scolding from my mother, which my sister thought was really exaggerated. After that, my mother started taking care of my daily life, and I continued to sleep in her room using the flimsy excuse that she needed to take care of me. However, I was really frightened by my mother's anger in the hospital. In order to please her, I used the fact that my hands were inconvenient to use as an excuse to act coquettishly towards her in many things, making her both angry and pitiful towards me.

Once, when my mother was helping me take a bath, my little brother got erect. I don't remember if I did it on purpose at the time. She acted very naturally and generously, just smiling and saying to me, "You've grown up." A few days later, while taking a bath again, I begged my mother to help me wash my genitals, and she didn't refuse. But I didn't expect that my mother would scrub it vigorously with the bath sponge, so instead of pleasure, I felt excruciating pain. From my mother's cunning expression, I knew that she did it completely on purpose.

That night, when I slept with my mother, to get back at her, I deliberately sat very close to her from behind, sometimes even pressing my penis against her buttocks. However, my mother didn't react at all that night; the next night, of course, I continued my actions. I'm quite impressed with myself now; with my hands so injured, I still had the mind to do that.

Speaking of my sister, we weren't particularly close, but we weren't exactly strangers either, because of our large age difference, we didn't have much to talk about. During her vacation, she was either out shopping with her friends or hiding in her room talking on the phone with her boyfriend. Having never been in a relationship, I couldn't understand how two people could have so much to say. But throughout the summer, my sister really did contact her boyfriend almost every day.

However, her talking on the phone in her room had a certain advantage: it allowed me, with my hands healed, to sneak into my mother's room before bedtime without my sister knowing. Although my mother didn't send me back to my own room, she was still more careful around my sister, almost never letting me do anything inappropriate.

Out of mischief or some kind of revenge, I started boldly teasing my mother with my mouth in front of my sister. I remember one time the three of us were about to go out. While I was putting on my shoes, my sister looked at my feet and said, "You're not very tall, but I didn't expect your feet to be so big." I didn't retort; instead, I turned around and stared at Mom's chest, saying, "Mom's are 'big'!" But my sister, not understanding what was going on, looked at Mom's feet and said, "No way! They look about the same size as mine." I winked at Mom and said, "Hey, I'm sure Mom's are 'bigger' than yours."

Mom pretended nothing was wrong the whole time, but as soon as my sister left, Mom pinched me hard as she passed by and gave me a glare. Scenes like this played out frequently until my sister went back to her school dormitory.

After my sister went back, her days returned to normal, and I continued to bother Mom even though we slept in the same bed at night. Sometimes Mom would turn over and pretend to be serious, telling me not to mess around, but other times she seemed completely unconcerned, and the next morning she would still be chatting and laughing with me.

One day, I deliberately greeted my mother with a lover's hug, the kind I'd learned from movies, as she returned home. I wrapped my still-healed left arm and my right arm, whose cast had just been removed, around her body, pressing my chest against her ample bosom. Because my cast had just been removed, she didn't struggle much, and more importantly, she wasn't angry. She only said, "Don't hug so tight, I can't breathe."

From then on, besides bothering her at bedtime, I started to subtly take advantage of her. During the remaining two years of junior high, sometimes when my mother was in a bad mood or a very good mood, she would kiss my forehead and let me kiss her cheek; I noticed that when she was sulking, a kiss or a hug would make her feel much better. In

my first year of high school, my mother and I did a big cleaning together, and afterwards, she happily kissed me. As usual, I would kiss her cheek in return, but instead I kissed my mother's lips. She trembled, glared at me, and said, "You brat, how dare you take advantage of your mother!" Then she walked away. This time, she didn't seem genuinely upset.

As mentioned before, since junior high, to comfort my mother, I've always slept in her bed. This habit was only occasionally interrupted when my sister came home for winter or summer vacation; otherwise, it was a regular occurrence. Moreover, sometimes my mother would let me hold her while sleeping, and when she was happy, she would even let me kiss her neck or tickle her. So I understood that my mother wasn't actually bothered by it, nor did she intend to send me back to my own room.

As for my lewd harassment of my mother, I became increasingly bolder under her ineffective warnings. I remember a few nights, after my mother fell asleep, I would secretly place my hand on her breast, gently holding it, and sometimes on her lower abdomen. My mother only woke up once; she removed my hand from her breast, turned over, tapped my head, and then went back to sleep.

A few days later, I tried the same trick again, but Mom didn't react at all. So I became bolder. Besides touching Mom's body, I tried to gently rub my penis against her buttocks through her underwear while she was asleep. Sometimes, if I wasn't satisfied after touching her, I would secretly masturbate under the covers, smelling Mom's hair as I masturbated, and only rushing to the toilet when I was about to ejaculate.

So later, when we slept, I often liked to touch Mom's body, sometimes deliberately touching her breasts or genitals to see her reaction. Sometimes she would turn over and pinch me, sometimes she would scold me, and sometimes she would completely ignore me. The only exception was when she seriously told me that she was very tired and really wanted to sleep, then I would obediently withdraw my hands. I found that as long as I behaved well in all aspects that day, Mom's tolerance for me was very high when we slept together.

Except for not letting me take off her underwear, Mom's other parts fell into my clutches over time. I gradually became bolder, eventually taking off my pajama bottoms and underwear under the covers before starting to harass my mother. It began with holding her breasts, then slowly progressed to unbuttoning her pajamas, and after a few weeks, I could reach inside her pajamas and directly touch her breasts, which weren't bra-clad.

Once touching her breasts no longer stimulated me, I tried touching her genitals. That night, just as my hand was about to slip inside her underwear, she pulled it out. Incidentally, the pajamas my mother bought were all very conservative styles; aside from checks or polka dots, they were all two-piece sets, usually with a collar and buttons on the top. She only started buying other styles after I suggested it.

One time, after I unbuttoned my mother's pajamas, I tried to take off her pajama bottoms. But when I pulled them down to her hips, she suddenly turned around, lifted the blanket, and glanced at my erect penis in the dim light of the nightlight. She said, "You've stripped yourself naked and now you want to strip your mother naked too? What are you doing?" I was a little flustered, my eyes fixed on my mother's half-exposed breasts. Hearing her say that, I felt incredibly excited.

Seeing that I didn't speak, my mother turned her back to me and lay back down on her side. I stealthily approached her and suddenly hugged her. My mother seemed startled, but quickly calmed down. I instinctively started rubbing my erect penis against my mother's buttocks, but unexpectedly, she turned over and lay face down on the bed. I thought she didn't want me to do it anymore.

But after playing "five against one" for a while, I got bored. I don't know where I got the courage, but seeing my mom still lying face down, I propped myself up, straddled her body, and leaned down to gently press against her back. Looking at her closed eyes and expressionless profile, I instinctively placed my erect penis between her buttocks and gently rubbed it. Even through her cotton pajama bottoms and underwear, I could still feel the warmth and softness of her buttocks.

I was incredibly excited yet cautious, unsure if my mom would suddenly get angry. Under this intense stimulation, I ejaculated, leaving us sticky. About half a minute later, my mom slightly sat up, and I tactfully climbed off her back. She grabbed a few tissues from the bedside table, wiped her back a few times, tossed me a few more, and then got up to go to the bathroom.

After ejaculating, I calmed down, experiencing a complex mix of feelings: a little satisfaction, a touch of shame, and some regret. My mom came out of the bathroom shortly after and told me to take a shower and then go to sleep.
The next morning, I kept stealing glances at Mom, and found her just like any other day, with no unusual expression on her face. In fact, I felt a little embarrassed when our eyes met. Later, I realized my shame stemmed from my infidelity being purely driven by lust. So, after that experience, when love and lust intertwined, or even when love outweighed lust, I no longer felt ashamed.

After that experience, Mom's repeated rejections made me realize that I could only have that kind of intimate interaction with her on weekend nights; at other times, I had to obediently go to sleep. However, in each subsequent intimate encounter, I could strip her down to just her underwear. Then she would willingly turn over, letting me lie naked on her back, rubbing my erect penis between her buttocks through her different colored cotton underwear until I ejaculated.
In this way, my mother allowed me to release the restlessness of puberty and the pressure of schoolwork through her body. To this day, I still admire my mom. She never used her body to threaten or pressure me about my studies. She always kept our interactions within the bounds of a close, playful mother-son relationship.

Except for one time when I ranked in the top five of my class in a final exam. Keep in mind, although I was in a top-tier class, I was actually just average; barely making it into the top fifteen was my mental limit. Mom knew this, so when I came home and boasted about it, she was very happy. When she asked me why I had improved so much, I blurted out that it was all for her.

She was so touched that she hugged and kissed me. That hug and kiss were full of maternal love, but as a middle school student, my mind was filled with nothing but textbooks and lust. So when she tried to let go, I hugged her back and asked what reward she had. After she broke free from my ill-intentioned embrace, she tapped my head and said, "I'm giving you a sty, you pervert!"

Later that weekend evening, during our intimate time together, I had just taken off Mom's pajama bottoms and was about to mount her when she suddenly rolled over and lay on her back on the bed. She glanced at me, then closed her eyes again. I experienced once again how powerful women are; they can tell their men what they want with just one look.
From that look, I knew Mom permitted me to "confront" her directly. I carefully lay on top of her, my penis touching Mom's lower abdomen for the first time. My hands rested on Mom's shoulders, and I involuntarily kissed Mom's lips. Mom didn't flinch or avoid it, letting me kiss her like that.

Almost at the same time, I slowly began to thrust. To be honest, the pleasure from Mom's lower abdomen wasn't as great as from her buttocks; after all, the "enveloping" feeling from her buttocks was more intense. But what almost made me ejaculate was Mom's hands lightly resting on my waist, which gave me the illusion that I was really making love with her.

That night, I ejaculated three times on my mother's lower abdomen and pubic bone. The third time, I finally managed to overcome the intense psychological pleasure, slowly enjoying her lower abdomen while admiring her alluring figure beneath me, aroused by passion.

Not long after, when I couldn't resist kissing her again, her lips parted slightly, and a wet, smooth tongue came over. Almost instinctively, I opened my mouth and met her tongue with mine. I hadn't expected the pleasure of our French kiss to be so intense that I ejaculated after only a few thrusts. Exhausted afterward

, I rolled off my mother and lay on my back on the bed. My mother got up and looked at me. Seeing a satisfied yet tired smile on my face, she took some wet wipes from the bedside table, cleaned me up a bit, and then told me to go take a shower.

My mother said that the first time she was intimate with her son face-to-face had a huge psychological impact on her. Although I didn't penetrate her, the face-to-face position felt almost the same as real sex in her mind. With each thrust, she experienced the excitement of breaking traditional taboos and the sweetness of lovemaking, but also tasted a hint of regret from pure maternal love; though her eyes were closed, she could feel my burning gaze.

And so, Mom endured me while savoring the complex emotions within her. It was these turbulent feelings that led her to unusually send me to the bathroom first, while she began to "comfort herself" after hearing the sound of the shower water. The rapid and intense orgasm startled her, but she told herself it was just because she had suppressed it for too long, temporarily denying the lust that transcended familial affection.

Although we had a new way with Mom, she didn't always let me be intimate face-to-face like that, and each time she only allowed me to ejaculate once. She said it was mainly because the hardness pressing against her lower abdomen wasn't comfortable, and since that day was my first time with her, she wanted me to be fully satisfied.

The third time, she knew I would last longer, but she didn't want me to last that long, so she used French kissing, but unexpectedly, I couldn't help but ejaculate after only a few seconds. (Yinseyinse4567q.com) Whenever we reminisced about it afterward, she would still tease me.

Although, strictly speaking, I didn't actually have sex with Mom, our secret little game went beyond the typical intimacy between a mother and son. However, no matter how good her mood was, or how outstanding my performance was, Mom never let me take off her underwear. No matter how much I begged, Mom always gently but firmly refused my further requests.

Perhaps it was because I really couldn't bring myself to force her or say anything that would hurt her. After all, the image of Mom crying loudly in my arms at that time still haunted me. Besides, at that time, I was at most a perverted lecher, and Mom was just a research subject I dragged into because of my curiosity about "sex." I never thought of forcing her, let alone raping her.

I swore I would never hurt her again, so I stopped testing Mom and accepted what she could give me at that time—that was her bottom line.

However, besides Mom "helping" me, I also successfully "helped" Mom. That time was my birthday (yoseyose4567q.com), and Mom was very cooperative. After I ejaculated twice on her back and once in front, this unfilial son of mine realized that day was also "Mother's Day of Suffering" (yoseyose4567q.com), so I decided to make Mom feel as good as me that night.
Just as Mom was about to get up to go to the bathroom, I hugged her and pulled her back onto the bed. She smiled and asked me if I wasn't satisfied yet. I didn't answer her, but just kissed her gently. Mom seemed to feel my love, and her squinted eyes occasionally radiated tenderness.

After our lips parted, I whispered in her ear thanking her for everything she had done for me. At that moment, it seemed like there were ripples in Mom's eyes. I moved her onto me and made her lean over me, asking her to grant me a request, and this request wouldn't involve taking off her underwear.

Afraid she wouldn't agree, before she could even speak, I slipped one hand inside her panties from behind, tracing the pink cleft of her buttocks and occupying half of her genitals. I was surprised to hear a soft "chirp" from her, realizing she hadn't offered any resistance from the start.

I told her she didn't need to do anything, just enjoy herself. I felt her nod slightly, and I excitedly hugged her tightly. Then I adjusted my position, leaning against the headboard, and had her turn so she sat between my legs, leaning against me. I examined her profile from behind; her eyes were closed, and aside from a hint of shyness, she seemed quite calm.

I had her bend her legs, gently stroking her abdomen with my left hand while my right hand slowly caressed the inside of her thighs. After a while, my right hand slowly slipped inside her panties. The first thing I felt was my mother's thick pubic hair, each strand long and soft to the touch.

I didn't rush to conquer her genitals; instead, I gently stroked the area close to her labia with my fingertips until I felt her slightly open her thighs. Only then did I cover her genitals with my entire palm. The first sensation was warmth and tenderness. With gentle pressure, I discovered that her labia were moist. I tried to visualize the shape of her genitals in my mind.

Although there was a lot of hair, I could still feel that Mom's labia majora were quite thick. After touching her a few times, I noticed a spot that made her tremble; I guessed that was her clitoris. So, I used my palm and then my fingers, slowly and gradually increasing the speed, to rub, knead, squeeze, and press her genitals.

Mom's legs, which were initially slightly open, opened a little wider with the pleasure, but then slowly closed again, almost as if trying to clamp my hand. At the same time, Mom's body was also twisting slightly. I don't know how long this went on, but suddenly her legs clamped my hand. For a moment, Mom seemed to stop moving, and then her lower abdomen and legs began to contract irregularly.

It wasn't exactly contraction, but I knew Mom was trembling with spasms, the frequency gradually decreasing over time. I held her like that until she lifted herself off me, turned around, and gave me a deep, long kiss. Although it wasn't the first time Mom had kissed me first, that kiss was purely that of lovers.
Later, we each took a shower in her bathroom. After coming out, I lay down next to my mother, and she turned over and hugged me until we fell asleep. After that, occasionally, besides me helping her with my hand, I also let her help me ejaculate with her hand; if her period happened to fall on a weekend during our "mother-son time," I would ask her to help me with her hand. Because a year of experience had taught me that my mother didn't really like me "moving" on her during her period.

This kind of intimate contact between my mother and me accompanied me through the heavy workload from junior high to high school, allowing me to release psychological pressure on countless weekends; at the same time, my love for her as a woman deepened.

Finally, I faced the most important exam of my life. To concentrate, I moved back to my own room to sleep alone; otherwise, with such a tempting woman beside me, I absolutely couldn't concentrate. My mother knew this, so when I made the request, she wasn't disappointed at all.

During those five months, besides the usual care and greetings, I noticed that her daily attire (yoseyose4567q.com) had become deliberately conservative, consisting of either casual pants or jeans. This wasn't to say that Mom was trying to seduce me; she was just trying to prevent me from having those thoughts. However, she was overthinking it. Under the pressure of busy studying and immense mental stress, I simply had no interest in sex.

After the exams, I felt a huge weight lifted off my shoulders and immediately made plans to go out and celebrate with my classmates. After all, during those months, we were each other's only true comrades-in-arms. Naturally, after the exams, I had to fulfill all the grand ambitions I had made during my arduous studies, such as playing video games non-stop for three days and three nights.

Besides catching up on all the comics, video games, and sports information I had neglected because of the exams, I spent my days either playing ball with my classmates or going shopping together. Perhaps I had already gotten used to weekends without "intimate mother-son time," so for those weeks I was almost always out, or at home with a few classmates, diligently working on game strategies. Every day I would go like this until I was completely exhausted, so after showering I would always go back to my room and fall asleep immediately, neglecting my mother without realizing it.

Two or three weeks later, my mother finally couldn't take it anymore and asked me if I was free to go out to dinner with an old lady this weekend. At first, I stupidly asked who it was, but seeing that I didn't seem to be faking it, she glared at me and said, "Besides your old hag, who else could it be?"

Only then did I realize, and I said to my mother apologetically, "Mom, I've neglected you a bit these past few weeks, I'm sorry!"

"You little rascal, you only just realized? How are you going to make it up to me?"

I stammered for a while before remembering that a classmate had taken me to a German restaurant that was quite good, so I suggested that I take her there to try it this weekend, and my mother readily agreed. That weekend, Mom dressed up specially. Since I can remember, I'd never seen Mom look so beautiful: a thin-shouldered dress paired with a chiffon cardigan made her look even younger. Her light makeup and newly permed waves complemented her outfit perfectly. Even though she was over forty, that look made her look like a newlywed.

I stared at her, a little dumbfounded. When Mom saw my dazed expression, she gave me a very satisfied look and said, "How about it? You won't get laughed at by your classmates when you go out, will you?"

"Mom, you look so beautiful... I never thought you could fit into a dress... Ah!" Suddenly, I felt a tap on the head.

"You mean Mom's usually not in good shape?"

I quickly clarified, "No, I just... I just said I've never seen you dressed like this before, I never thought you could be so beautiful..." Mom covered her mouth, laughing so happily and proudly.

I don't remember what the food was like that night, only that my mind was filled with Mom's every smile and gesture. From that night on, Mom became the embodiment of a virtuous and loving mother and a beautiful and alluring woman in my eyes.

In the following weeks, my love for her grew stronger with each passing day, and I finally made an important decision. To prepare for this decision, I secretly contacted her girlfriends to plan a birthday surprise for her. On Mom's birthday, she thought it would just be a simple celebration between mother and son, but she never expected to find all her friends, along with her sister and her boyfriend, at the restaurant.

That night, Mom was very touched and happy. Under the constant encouragement of those dreadful aunties, Mom drank quite a bit of red wine. These women can be quite intimidating when they drink, but thankfully, the mothers decided to split the wine, otherwise, according to my original plan to drink it all, I would definitely be stuck washing dishes at the restaurant.

During the dinner, the aunties kept mentioning how envious they were of Mom for having such a considerate son. After a few drinks, they became even more unrestrained, saying that with such a son, it was no wonder Mom didn't need to find a lover. I didn't dare utter a sound the entire time; they meant no harm, but I took it to heart.

Afterwards, my sister and her boyfriend went to see a movie, and Mom drove me home. On the way, I suggested going to the mountains for the night view, and Mom readily agreed. It was a bit chilly on the mountain, but since Mom and I had both had a few drinks, we didn't feel cold. I wasn't drunk, just a little flushed; by the lights on the observation deck, I could tell Mom was only slightly tipsy, but I can't forget the radiant beauty she exuded under the influence of the alcohol.

She was like a blooming flower, radiating the charm and confidence of a fully mature woman. At that moment, I realized I had truly fallen in love with her. I'd had similar feelings before, even in close relationships, but this time I felt a deep certainty and security in my love for her. I was increasingly convinced that my next steps would be the right thing to do.

After confirming that no one was around, I suddenly hugged Mom from behind, and she let out a soft gasp. As I had done countless times before, I kept breathing in her fragrance through my nose, and she giggled but made no attempt to push me away.

I took another breath and said, "Mom, I love you..." I felt Mom seemed touched, and then she pulled a soft hand from my arms and stroked my cheek, saying, "Yes, Mom loves you too."
I continued, "It's not that kind of familial love! I truly love you and want to have you for a lifetime." After hearing this, Mom gently pulled away from my embrace, turned around, and looked at me with a very gentle gaze. I couldn't detect a trace of surprise on her face.

Then I took out a small box I had prepared from my pocket, knelt down on one knee, and said with exceptional sincerity, word by word, "X Meijuan, I love you! Will you marry me?" Looking back, it was indeed a cliché, but at that moment I noticed my mother's eyes were filled with tears, and before I could ask any further questions, she pulled me up and into my arms. I hugged her, my heart filled with doubt, wondering if she had agreed or not.

After a long while, I heard my mother say softly, "Then what about our mother-son relationship?"

Hearing this made me even happier than when I later received my university acceptance letter. I hugged my mother tighter and after a long pause, I replied, "Of course I'm still here! But you're also my woman."

"Oh... then you're in trouble, because it's only natural for a son to listen to his mother; it's also only natural for a husband to listen to his wife... um..." I kissed her before she could finish. It was the first time in years that I had kissed my mother without any sexual desire.

When I got home, I found that my sister wasn't back yet, so I told my mother to take a shower. Sitting in the living room, I carefully recalled everything that had happened over the years, and suddenly it all felt like a dream. Especially thinking about the many nights of intimacy between my mother and me, which went beyond the norm. But what should I do next? Should I cross the final line of this relationship? Or should I continue to maintain this semi-Platonic relationship? I didn't even know if I should go and sleep next to my mother tonight. Even while showering, I was still troubled by the future.

Unexpectedly, as soon as I stepped out of the bathroom, Mom called me into her room, saying she was tired from walking and wanted me to give her a massage. I readily agreed. Inside, the dim light was still on; Mom was lying face down on the bed, wearing the same style of pajamas as always. Although she had only agreed to "marry" her son a few hours earlier, there was no sign of anything amiss on her face. She seemed to be waiting for me naturally, just like every weekend when we had our intimate time together.

While massaging her, I naturally used seven parts caressing and three parts massage. After a while, I began gently kissing Mom's back. Soon, Mom turned over, and I naturally reached out to remove all my clothes, and with Mom's cooperation, removed her pajamas and bra, exposing her full, slightly sagging breasts to the air once more.

I started with her forehead, slowly kissing her eyes and nose, ravaging her lips for a while before moving on to her cheeks, neck, collarbone, and finally her soft breasts. After taking one of Mom's breasts with my mouth, I pulled her pajama bottoms down to her buttocks. However, we had developed a tacit understanding over the past few days, so I knew she would take off the rest herself.

Once again, Mom let me straddle her, and through her underwear, she felt my desire for her through her pubic bone. From the expression on Mom's face, I knew she enjoyed the whole process, including my continuous kisses on her cheeks and shoulders, and the heavy breathing I could hear in her ear from time to time. She lay there beneath me until I ejaculated, making both of our bellies sticky.

After the first time, I rolled off and lay on my side next to Mom, took some wet wipes from the bedside table, and cleaned ourselves up. I remember that Mom was particularly aroused that time; when I was on top of her, I could feel her heart beating fast, and her face was flushed.

I lay beside her, wanting to give her a special service, a memory that would be unforgettable for her. After thinking hard for a moment, I made a bold decision. I bent down and hugged Mom, and with her understanding, I let her lie on top of me. After she was in a comfortable position, Mom looked at me curiously, wondering what I was up to.

I kissed her first, then whispered in her ear, "Mom..."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you, you made me feel so good just now!"

"Hmm."

"Today is a very special day, so... I want to give you a memory you'll never forget, okay?"

Mom didn't say a word, just kissed my neck.

I swallowed hard and then whispered in her ear, "I want... I want to kiss your feet."

Mom just whispered very softly, "You have to ask me that..."

I helped Mom lie down, picked up her two pink and tender feet and slowly kissed them, then took each toe into my mouth and licked every crevice between them. After kissing every inch of her body tenderly, I slowly moved my lips up her instep, down to her ankle, and then inch by inch up her calf.

Her legs were beautiful, perfectly proportioned, with firm thighs and slender calves. Her calves showed no sharp muscle definition, only smooth, rounded lines. What fascinated me even more was that, because they had been covered by clothing for so long, her legs were incredibly white and smooth, making me swallow hard at first glance.

But these legs weren't my ultimate goal for the night. I stood up, straddling her body with my knees, and leaned down, whispering in her ear, "Mom… I… I want to see your lower body, okay?" I looked at her with expectant eyes. She paused, gave me a deep look, and then closed her eyes again.

I knew she had given her permission. I excitedly kissed her, then continued kissing her lower leg, moving upwards little by little, until I reached her knee and then moved inwards. As I penetrated deeper, Mom slightly parted her knees, allowing me to kiss her all the way down to the base of her thighs.

While kissing from left to right, I gently pulled down Mom's light green panties with vibrant floral patterns and lace trim. Mom slightly lifted her hips, allowing me to easily remove them. Before my eyes was a thick patch of dark, lush pubic hair, so smooth and supple. I carefully bent Mom's legs from behind her thighs, then gently pried them open from her knees. Excitedly, I lowered my head to examine Mom's most private area.

Besides the abundant pubic hair, Mom's labia majora were indeed very thick, with two soft labia minora hanging softly inside the labia majora, protecting Mom's delicate clitoris. Compared to her fair thighs, Mom's vulva appeared darker, closer to light brown or light coffee color. Although not as fair as her thighs, it certainly looked like a plump, pinkish vulva.

But just looking wasn't enough; I had to taste it myself to truly appreciate Mom's beautiful body. I couldn't resist any longer and lowered my head to kiss my mother's genitals, just like I always did. I tried different angles to savor her full, fleshy lips. As soon as I kissed her, her lower abdomen contracted slightly, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught her pressing her hands to her mouth to stifle her breath.

My first time giving my mother oral sex was completely haphazard; I was only focused on letting my lips and tongue fully savor the plump, tender vulva in front of me. Besides her clitoris, labia, and vaginal opening being ravaged, even her perineum wasn't spared my attack. Gradually, my mouth got tired, but my mother didn't seem to be reaching orgasm, except for being in a high-energy state. Luckily, I had a flash of inspiration and quickly changed tactics. While using my lips and tongue to launch a fierce attack on her clitoris, I also used my palms to squeeze and press her entire vulva. Through

repeated experience, I learned that the deep part of her vagina wasn't the most sensitive spot; the vaginal opening and the inner labia minora were the key to her orgasm. This two-pronged attack finally overwhelmed Mom, and she reached her climax in less than two minutes. In the throes of orgasm, Mom's body curled up, convulsing frequently. Judging from the fine beads of sweat on her nose and the flush on her cheeks and chest, she had a truly intense orgasm.

I proudly surveyed my masterpiece, filled with a sense of accomplishment. What could be more fulfilling for a man than making a woman feel like she was in heaven, besides his work performance?

Just as I was considering what else to do next, I heard the sound of a key turning in the living room. I jumped up, looked up, and realized it was almost eleven o'clock. I quickly pulled a thin blanket over Mom and then hurriedly put on my clothes and pants. I discovered that with a little effort, a man's dressing speed can rival his undressing speed.

I deliberately raised my voice and said to Mom, "Then it's decided!" Then I casually left Mom's room.

"What did you and Mom decide?" my sister asked casually after I came out of Mom's room.

"No, I'm taking Mom to the movies this weekend!" I replied casually.

"So you can't get any girls outside, so you go after your mom?" my sister teased.

"Go ahead and hit on her! It's just fulfilling my filial duty. Unlike someone else... daughters really are a handful! Sigh... ah!" Before I could finish my sigh, my sister gave me a slap.

"You brat, how dare you talk to your sister?" My sister said, turning and walking into her room without looking back.

"You're a nurse now, can't you be a little gentler?" I complained to her retreating figure.
That night was a close call, but to keep the lie, I had to take Mom out to the movies on the weekend. Before leaving, I once again admired Mom's elegant and youthful attire: a light-colored knitted top with embroidered soft gauze paired with dark capri pants, making Mom look like a woman in her early thirties.

After the movie, I took her to the night market. Because Mom was wearing black open-toe high heels, her lovely toes looked even whiter and more delicate. I suddenly remembered the night I kissed Mom's toes, and my little brother couldn't help but feel a little restless. Later, while shopping, I took every opportunity to stare at Mom's calves and toes. It

was already past nine o'clock when we got home, and Mom went straight to her room; since my sister had already gone back to work at the hospital, I took a shower, knocked on Mom's door, and went in. The first thing I saw upon entering the room was Mom, who had already showered, leaning against the bed flipping through a magazine. I climbed onto the bed and embraced her, habitually bringing my head close to her neck to inhale her fragrance.

Mom laughed and asked, "Why have you been staring at my feet like a pervert all day?"
"Heh... I don't know, I just think Mom's feet are very beautiful and alluring."

After saying that, I moved to Mom's feet, picked up her delicate feet, and, just like the previous week, began to rub and suck on her soft, white feet again. Mom couldn't resist the tickling sensation and kept giggling.

After I finished kissing her legs, I glanced at Mom, and she, as expected, relaxed her beautiful legs. With Mom's cooperation, I once again enjoyed a delicious abalone feast. The second time I gave Mom oral sex, I was more advanced; Mom's orgasm came faster than the first time. I noticed that whenever Mom climaxed, she would involuntarily curl up, one hand protecting her genitals, the other clutching the pillow as she panted.

Afterwards, I lay on my side next to Mom, propping my head up with my hand, quietly admiring the alluring sight of her recovering from her orgasm. As the orgasm gradually subsided, Mom returned to her supine position, her pair of fair and beautiful legs slowly straightening, though not as close as usual, her alluring legs slightly parted.

Seeing that Mom had almost recovered, I gestured for her to lie face down on the bed. Suddenly, Mom reached out and pulled me onto her, then began to kiss me sweetly, gently turning me over beneath her as she kissed me, her legs straddling my waist, our tongues inevitably intertwining.

By this time, my penis was incredibly hard, eagerly awaiting its thrust. I rolled over, trying to press Mom onto the bed, but she still refused to cooperate. I pretended to tickle Mom, and although she giggled, her eyes were filled with desire as she looked at me.

I leaned down and whispered a blatant yet playful warning in her ear to Mom that if she didn't behave, I would rape her and defile her virginity (porn site 4567q.c0m)! To my surprise, Mom closed her eyes and turned her face away after hearing that. I was stunned for a moment; that was Mom's tacit approval! My heart was pounding rapidly.
I swallowed hard, a mental battle raging within me: "This isn't just any woman lying beneath me, she's my own mother! Can I really go in? Do I really want to? Once I'm in, there's no turning back..."

"But isn't this mature mother body the perfect companion for my first sexual experience? Is there any experience more exhilarating than freely and unrestrainedly riding on my beloved mother's body?"

"But are Mommy and I really ready for mother-son sex? How will we face each other after we have a physical relationship?"

"How many sons in the world are lucky enough to meet a mother like this? Am I really going to give up this chance to taste my mother's body?"

"Never mind, even if Mommy regrets it later, I still want to taste this incomparably beautiful woman, enjoy her ripe body, and give my beautiful mother a good fight."

In a flash, having overcome my ultimate psychological barrier, I kept my upper body position unchanged, brought my thighs together, placed my knees between my mother's legs, and then slowly spread them apart. As expected, Mom slowly opened her legs to cooperate with me. I arched my back, supporting my engorged penis with one hand. My previous experience of fingering Mom came in handy.

With practiced ease, I positioned the head of my penis against the entrance of her vagina. The warmth emanating from her lower body sent a shiver down my spine; I almost became a milkman (silently reaching the door, dropping it, and leaving). After trying to regulate my breathing, I looked at Mom's face as I slowly pushed my penis into her vagina.

Mom's alluring face showed a slight surprise at the moment the head of my penis entered, but then a look of joy appeared on her face. The way she bit her lip seemed to be anticipating something. As I was slowly taken in, Mom's delicate brows furrowed slightly; once fully inside, both Mom and I seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

I lay down and hugged my mother tightly, inwardly screaming, "Oh, oh, oh!" I'd used my fingers to explore my mother's genitals before, but what was this pleasure coming from my penis? My mother's body could be so delicate!

Aside from the intoxicating pleasure emanating from my mother's body, my mind was blank. Fortunately, my buttocks took over, and instinctively I began to slowly thrust, though each thrust was a struggle, teetering on the edge of ejaculation. At first, my movements were clumsy, but my mother's secretions were so abundant that I unconsciously lost control of my speed.

The orgasm came so quickly that I suddenly hugged my mother with all my might, my lower abdomen pressed tightly between her legs; from her buttocks to my testicles, wave after wave of contractions accompanied by unparalleled pleasure, I used all my strength to ejaculate deep into my mother's vagina.

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