[Sequel to "The Edge": A Love Letter to My Son] [Author: ssrdd2008]

Foreword.

Before we begin, let me share my views on incest. Incest refers to sexual relations between blood relatives within a family, and it has always been a social taboo. The reasons for its prohibition mainly stem from physiological and genetic factors as well as social and moral considerations. Incestuous relationships can be categorized into father-daughter, siblings, and mother-son relationships. The first two generally involve a degree of coercion, while the latter often stems from maternal overindulgence. Since this article focuses on mother-son incest, I will concentrate on analyzing its causes.

The primary cause of mother-son incest lies in family upheavals: divorce, the son living with the mother, the loss of the father, or long-term marital discord. Ultimately, it stems from the loss of paternal authority, leaving the son without a powerful figure to suppress him. Secondly, as is well known, boys are very close to their mothers from a young age. Upon entering puberty, due to the loss of paternal authority, the mother, as the son's closest female relative, easily becomes the object of his sexual fantasies, sexual explorations, and sexual contact. Thirdly, the mother's overindulgence and tolerance of her son, along with objective factors leading to her own sexual repression, contribute to the complex relationship between mother and son. These three factors lead from initial intimacy to mild sexual contact and ultimately to incest. Since incest between mothers and sons is mostly a voluntary act, it easily leads to an "ostrich mentality" after it occurs, such as "we love each other," "we're not harming society," etc. After actually engaging in sexual activity and breaking through psychological taboos, they become even more obsessed with the relationship. Therefore, the relationship after incest changes from a simple mother-son relationship to a mother-son romantic relationship, with stronger possessiveness and psychological interdependence than in ordinary romantic relationships. This has a significant impact on the subsequent normal lives of both parties.

I often see people vehemently condemning this phenomenon like moral guardians, but I think it's unnecessary.

Psychologically speaking, every man has a certain "Oedipus complex," but social and objective conditions limit its further development. We don't encourage it, but we shouldn't discriminate against it either. Everything has its own rationale, especially taboos; someone will always break them.

Having said all that, I don't know if you're tired of reading, so let's get to the main point.

I've read everyone's replies these past few days. Some friends hoped I could finish it from the son's perspective. Since I wasn't too busy this week, I tried to continue. Some friends commented that the eroticism wasn't strong enough. My honest thought is that although this is a story about incest, incest isn't understood or accepted by most people in real life. Therefore, I used a more subtle approach in some sexual descriptions, mainly to maintain consistency with the overall tone and theme. In this story, incest is just the surface; what lies beneath is love—whether maternal love or romantic love. Perhaps you can view it as a love story, only this one involves love between a mother and son. I truly poured my heart into telling this story. I

never thought I'd have the courage to write this, but I accidentally saw your post online, "The Edge." Reading those words, my thoughts raced uncontrollably. Memories enveloped me like a thick fog, making it impossible to stop thinking of you, not even for a second. Son, you are my only true love for the rest of my life.

Today is the Beginning of Winter, and the weather has suddenly turned much colder. I really wanted to call and remind you to wear more clothes, but I was afraid of disturbing your life. My fingers hovered over the dial button, but in the end, I put down my hand. You will eventually have to start a new life. Independence is necessary for growth. Loving you means letting go, but I realized this too late.

I brewed a cup of tea, watching the steam rise like dancing girls, and my thoughts drifted like the clouds to the distant past. Son, this is a love letter I wrote to you.

I can say that I had a happy first thirty years. Of course, all the days with you were happy. I will never forget December 31, 1998, the day your father suddenly received a call saying he had to go out on a mission. I never imagined that this separation would be forever. When we arrived at the funeral home, my dear husband, your beloved father, who had just been having dinner with us, laughing and talking, was now a cold corpse. At that moment, I was overwhelmed with grief, and even felt that life had no meaning, and I only wanted to follow him in death. It was you who tugged at my clothes, hugged my legs, and cried, "I want my dad, I want my dad..." You also called for your mom between sobs. In that instant, I understood that I still had a responsibility, the responsibility of a mother, which was to raise you to adulthood. From then on, my world existed only for you.

On the day of your funeral, you almost cried from anger. I held you and secretly vowed, son, I will protect you well in this life. I will try my best not to let you suffer any injustice. For a long time after your father passed away, you didn't recover and remained depressed. I kept encouraging you, telling you that life goes on, and there was more joy waiting for you in the days to come. You slowly emerged from the shadows and became the smart and lively son you used to be. As long as I could hear your happy laughter, even the hardest life could be endured by your mother.

Soon you graduated from elementary school. One day, while bathing with you, your mother noticed that the first fuzz had started to grow on your penis. I knew my son had finally grown up. So I started asking you to sleep in your own room and stopped bathing with you. Do you remember? At first, you weren't used to it. Often in the middle of the night, you'd crawl into my bed and cuddle with me. I wanted to hold you too, but each time I steeled myself and carried you back to your little bed. I'd stay with you until you were warm before leaving.

Days flowed by like water, slowly passing us by. You grew taller, your voice deepened, and you became more and more like your father. Once, while washing the sheets, Mom noticed stains on them. She thought, "My son is finally going to be an adult."

During that time, people kept introducing me to men, but I always refused. First, I couldn't forget how good your father was; second, I always wanted to wait until you were older—a stepfather could never compare to a father. Mom is a woman. In those lonely nights, Mom longed for a broad chest to lean on, for a pair of warm hands to caress her. But Mom would always bite the sheets, using her hands to release her desires, then weeping alone in the emptiness after the climax.

When you were in the second year of junior high, Mom finally gave in to Aunt's persuasion and started dating that man. She even brought him home once, but seeing your reaction, seeing the dissatisfaction hidden behind your politeness, Mom hesitated. We never had sex, even though he really wanted to. Once, we were even naked in bed, but in that instant, I felt like I saw your father silently watching me from the ceiling, and I felt like I saw your disdainful gaze. I pushed him away, put on my clothes, and ran away. That night, when I was crying in the bathroom, you asked if he had bullied me. Actually, no, it was just that I couldn't let go of you and your dad. Perhaps you can understand this feeling now.

A few days later, haha, you gathered some kids and beat him up outside Mom's workplace. To be honest, Mom was very angry, not because he was beaten, but because I was afraid you would get corrupted by fighting with bad kids. From that day on, Mom also came to terms with it. That's it, this is how life is. Raising you well is Mom's mission for the rest of her life. Everything else is insignificant.

Soon you graduated from junior high school and got into the best high school in the city, ranking third. When I found out your score, I was overjoyed. I remember that night, I cooked a meal and bought a bottle of red wine. I cried that day, holding your father's portrait and telling him over and over again that you were obedient, that you were a good

son, and that I hadn't let him down. Although I was crying, it was tears of joy. You are my pride. Finally, you carried me to bed. You quietly held my waist, and I leaned against you; it felt so warm. Son, you are my support in life.

That day, when you were helping me collect the laundry, I didn't realize your intentions at first. But then you cupped my breasts in your hand, and I saw the tent under your shorts. I understood everything. You've reached puberty and are starting to be curious about sex, which is normal, but the object of your curiosity shouldn't be your mother. For the next few days, I thought and thought about how to talk to you about this, but as a single mother, I really didn't know how to handle this issue.

A few days later, when it rained, you went to pick up Mom. Whether intentionally or not, your elbow kept rubbing against my breasts. When we got home, Mom noticed the tent under your shorts again. Sigh, I really need to talk to you. So I asked you to come help pick vegetables, but you stared intently at Mom's breasts. It was my fault for being so careless; I only remembered to change out of my wet clothes but forgot to put on a bra. I coughed a few times before you realized what I meant, but seeing your embarrassed expression, I didn't know what to say.

After you finished your homework, I called you over. I talked to you about the information I'd read a few days ago about adolescent sexual psychology.

I hoped you would prioritize your studies.

But you told Mom about things happening to people your age. It's true that people your age are very curious about sex, but frequent masturbation isn't good for your health. Although Mom knows you've been masturbating since middle school, I still asked if you'd started masturbating again. You hesitated for a moment, then slowly said you'd done it a few days ago.

Was it the day you collected the laundry? You nodded. Oh no, you must be masturbating with me in mind. What should I do? Just as I was thinking this, you suddenly put your hand on my leg. That startled me. I had to grab your hand and take it away, telling you not to masturbate, it's bad for your health, and we can talk about these things later. Actually, my heart was already in turmoil.

Then you told me that a college student committed suicide because of his girlfriend's abortion, and that some students in your grade had started going to prostitutes. Hearing this made me even more terrified. Fortunately, you got sleepy after a while, so I could only tell you not to do anything foolish, and to tell me first if anything happened, so I could help you.

Those few nights, I couldn't sleep. Your father left so early, what if something happened to you? How could I live with that? After a while, you went on summer vacation. Fortunately, your grades were always good, second in the whole grade at the end of the semester. When you came back that day, you suddenly hugged me tightly and said you missed me so much. I was stunned, thinking that something had happened to you outside. But you said, "Mom, I...I don't want to masturbate, but...but it's so uncomfortable to get hard..." That put my mind at ease.

Those few days, I thought about it. My son's sexual needs are very strong; maybe all boys his age are similar. If I forcibly suppress them, I'm afraid he might do something wrong outside. What if he can't hold it in and goes to a prostitute, gets some kind of sexually transmitted disease, or something else? His whole life would be ruined. If all else fails, I, as his mother, will sacrifice myself and help him release his sexual urges with my hand. As long as there's no actual intercourse, it's not a big problem. So I squeezed and pinched your penis a few times through your pants.

That night, while we were watching TV in bed, you came over and said you wanted to hug me. Do you think I don't know what you're thinking? Seeing the tent in your pants, I almost laughed. So I patted your penis, but you suddenly became a little wild and grabbed my breasts and started kneading them. I really didn't know whether to be angry or laugh. It seems that men and women really don't need to be taught how to release their desires. I couldn't let this go without helping you release your pent-up desires today.

I turned off the TV and turned to you. You looked so handsome in the moonlight, almost as handsome as your father was in his youth, maybe even more so. For a moment, I was a little overwhelmed, as if many years ago your father and I had just finished making love and were now lying in bed, gazing at each other in peace. "Sleep, stop it," I was still struggling.

But you gently stroked my breast, and I couldn't help but pull your head to my breast. Son, son, do you know how much your mother loves you? Time seemed to stand still, as if I had returned to when you were little, when you were nursing and stroking my breast with your little hands. But in the blink of an eye, you are already xx years old. It wasn't until I felt your hard penis pressing against my inner thigh that I woke up. A sense of guilt suddenly welled up inside me. No matter what, I am your mother.

I pushed you away and told you to go to the bathroom to get a towel. The summer night was so hot and humid, and I was a little damp. I stood up and walked to the window, looking at the bright moonlight after the rain, and suddenly my mood turned sour. I took the towel you handed me and dried myself off, startled by the cold water. I told myself it was wrong, after all, I'm your mother. I dried you off too, and told you to go back to your room and sleep.

But then you hugged me, pressing your erect penis against me, wanting to sleep with me. My heart wavered again. "Aren't you ashamed?" You hugged me and shook me. "No, I wasn't ashamed. I used to nurse when I slept with you, what's there to be ashamed of? Today, I want to nurse again..." As you spoke, you buried your head in my chest and rubbed your mouth against my breast, making me feel itchy. Oh well, maybe this was my fate.

I patted the back of your head: "So embarrassing, go, rub the towel and hang it up..." Then Mom lay down on the bed. You came over, gently hugged me, and whispered in my ear, "Mommy, Mommy, I want to nurse..." I told you to stop, but your hand touched my breast, gently pinching my nipple. That long-lost tingling sensation shot through my body like an electric current, and I felt a gush of fluid welling up below. I could feel your hard penis gently bumping against my buttocks. I was filled with fear yet also a little longing.

After a while, I felt you roll over, lying flat, quickly stroking your penis. Even the bed started shaking. I rolled over to look at you, grabbing your hand, trying to stop you. But you asked me what to do. What could I do, my son? Did I really have to take that step? I sighed, "Sigh, Mom doesn't know what to do either. Why don't you take a cold shower and go back to your own bed?" I was trying my best to prevent this from happening.

You obediently left, and I felt a little relieved, thinking you were asleep. But the sounds coming from your room meant you weren't asleep at all; you were frantically masturbating. After a while, I heard your footsteps coming towards me. I sat up and looked at you. You said anxiously, "Mom, I can't take it anymore! I... I've been trying for so long and I can't ejaculate! It's so frustrating!" Tonight, I really couldn't escape it. I sighed inwardly and had no choice but to let you get into bed. I held your hand. Hehe, to be honest, your penis is bigger than your dad's; one hand was barely enough to hold it. I moved it gently. You closed your eyes and seemed to be enjoying it. After a long time, you still didn't seem to be ejaculating. My hand was getting a little sore.

You stopped moving. I thought you were asleep, so I took my hand away, but you immediately sat up. What should I do?

I asked myself. Sigh, this can't go on forever, I'll have to help you orally.

I got up and went to the bathroom to get a towel. "Did you always do this?" Mom asked. You said no, usually it takes about ten minutes. Mom gently wiped your penis clean, put the towel under your buttocks, and sat on you, using both hands to stroke you.

To be honest, in seven years, apart from that man, this was the first time I'd ever touched an adult man's body. Your huge penis was hard and erect. With my eyes closed, I looked at you, and for a moment, I felt as if you had become your father. You squeezed your legs together, and your body started to twist a little, even in that you were just like your father.

I couldn't help but think of the first time I gave your father oral sex. He begged me for a long time, and I kept refusing, but finally that day I couldn't resist him. After showering, as soon as we got to bed, he licked my entire body with his tongue, from my nipples down, across the pubic hair, to the clitoris. Sometimes a light touch, sometimes a tight grip and pull, instantly sending me to the clouds. After I caught my breath, he gently pressed my head towards his penis.

Mom tentatively licked your dad's glans with her tongue, and your dad suddenly sat up, which startled me.

I quickly asked him what was wrong, and your dad laughed and said, "My wife is having such a great time." Then he pressed my head towards his penis again. This time I knew what to do. I first cleaned the glans with my tongue a few times, then took it all in. Your dad actually groaned and reached over to press my head down again. Even if he didn't do it, I knew. Thinking back to when we made love, your dad's penis went in and out of me. Now, even though it was a different mouth, the principle was the same. Maybe because it was the first time, my teeth kept hitting your dad's glans when my mouth was down. Your dad ejaculated violently between groans of pleasure and gasps of pain, pressing my head down firmly until he finished. To be honest, semen doesn't taste very good. The first time, I really wanted to vomit, but your dad immediately came over, hugged me, and kissed me, which touched me somewhat.

Actually, son, you're lucky. The technique your mother trained you with your dad made you ejaculate in less than a minute. Like your dad, you pushed your penis forward forcefully when you ejaculated, making me feel a little nauseous. Hearing your panting, Mom knew the afterglow hadn't subsided. She grabbed your penis again, took it in, and sucked hard, her tongue swirling around the glans. Your father loved that final thrust.

Your climax finally passed, and you called out to me, but my mouth was still full of your semen. I quickly ran to the bathroom to rinse. When I came out of the bathroom, you were standing at the door, holding me. I knew you wanted to thank me, but how could I say something like that?

Soon you fell asleep holding me, but I couldn't sleep at all. I was struggling internally, as if two voices were arguing. One voice condemned what I had done, while the other seemed to be defending me, saying I did it all for my son's better growth. Actually, Mom cried all night that day, but you didn't know. In

the following days, Mom was in a state of turmoil. Sometimes when others looked at her, she felt like everyone knew about her and you, like a sinner. Mom was constantly immersed in regret, her mind in a daze, as if countless voices were cursing her in her ears, as if the fires of hell were burning her entire body. I remember talking to you those few days. After all, we're mother and son, and what I'm doing is wrong. And I've been deliberately being cold to you.

I know you masturbate every night, and once I even couldn't resist the urge to help you. But I know that continuing like this will inevitably lead to a sinful abyss.

The immense psychological pressure made me sick. That afternoon, I couldn't hold on any longer and went home, took my medicine, and went to sleep. When I woke up, I saw the clock was already six o'clock. You should be home by now, so I struggled to get up, wanting to make you something to eat. When I got to the kitchen, I found you were cooking porridge. My son has really grown up; he's become considerate. My eyes immediately welled up with tears. You turned around and saw me, and like you were comforting a child, you coaxed me to bed and fed me the porridge. At that moment, I was truly moved. Although I'm your mother, I'm also a woman. For so many years, how I've longed for someone to care for me and love me. Tears streamed down my face, as if years of pent-up grievances had finally found an outlet. You gently held my head, stroked my hair, and told me that you're my son, and it's my duty to take care of you. This is a lifelong commitment. Hearing your words, I was truly touched. As a mother, sacrificing for my son is only natural. As long as I adhere to the bottom line and don't cross the line, I don't care about the world's condemnation or hellish punishment. I'll do anything for my son; as long as you're well, my sacrifice is worthwhile. That night, I dreamt of your father. I was holding him tightly, crying. He gently stroked my head, comforting me, and even approved of what I did to you. Although I knew it was just my own imagination after waking up, I want to believe that your father's spirit in heaven will understand what we did. My heart is truly weary; I can't bear such a heavy burden.

When I woke up the next day, I felt much lighter. Perhaps my heart had been untied, and my illness had subsided. As soon as I woke up, I found you, my little rascal, had your penis between my buttocks, moving it around. I reached out and touched it, and sure enough, it was there, hard and erect. I nudged you, and you, probably shy, pretended to be asleep. I sat up, but you were still pretending. So I held your penis and called to you. You kept pretending, but your penis had already betrayed you, getting harder and harder in your mother's hand. So I said to you, "Actually, I know what you want to do, but I can't let you do that... Sigh, I know you're uncomfortable, but I really can't help you, son, you... Sigh, study hard, get into university, graduate, get a good job, and I'll definitely find you a good wife... Hehe... I also want to hold my grandson..." I knew you heard me, but you were still pretending. Then I reached into my pants and grabbed your penis. You pretended to have just woken up, slowly opened your eyes and smiled, and casually pulled me onto the bed. Hehe, trying to play tricks on your mother, you're still too green.

"You... did you hear what I said?" You didn't answer, pressing your penis tightly against me, almost pushing me off the bed. I let you in a little, you hesitated, but still held me tightly.

"Do you know what I want to do?" you asked back.

"Hmph, do you think I don't know what you're thinking?" I chuckled. "Hmm... why don't you tell me what you want to do?" "I... I just want to hug Mommy like this, I just want to kiss Mommy, I just want to touch Mommy..." you said after thinking for a moment.

Hehe, if that were all, I wouldn't have grabbed your big cock when I woke up. "Liar... what were you doing just now?" You were a little embarrassed and pretended to be confused. "I, I was asleep just now..." Asleep? You're kidding me. Your cock was moving so smoothly. "Hmph, you little rascal, you can't do that again, understand?" "Then... what can I do?" You continued to play innocent with me.

"What, what can you do?" I asked.

You weren't being honest again and gently pinched Mommy's butt. "Is this okay?" Sometimes you're just like your dad, a little rascal, but I like it.

"Hehe..." you laughed, as if you knew that Mommy had given her permission.

I really don't know what to do with him, but I still have to say what I have to say. "What are you laughing at?! Mommy is telling you, you can't treat Mommy like that in the future, Mommy..." Before I could finish speaking, you little rascal snuggled into my arms. It made me both laugh and annoyed. Then you started nuzzling my breasts with your mouth, and even tried to suck on my nipples, making them hard. I couldn't help but try to push you away, saying, "What are you doing? You... ah... no... you bad thing... ah..." But I couldn't keep up with what was happening below, and you grabbed my bottom tightly, even putting your hand inside my pants and giving my bottom a good squeeze... You little rascal, you're getting more and more outrageous! I quickly pushed you away and sat up, pretending to be stern, saying, "You!

If you keep doing this, Mommy will really get angry!" You then put on a pitiful look and said, "Then tell me what I can do..." "What do you mean, what can I do? Ugh, really... what do you want?" Looking at your annoying face, Mommy was really getting fed up. How could I possibly say these things to you?

You seemed a bit flustered back then, probably because I was stern: "You still touched mine,

didn't you? You're not even as good as a stepmother..." Seeing your embarrassed expression made me both laugh and cry. "I can't be bothered to talk to you. It's only because you're my biological mother that it's not allowed, you know? Silly boy!" You became even more anxious, and started to get serious. "What, it's not my biological mother? Can't I kiss my biological mother? Can't I touch my biological mother? This is ridiculous!" In my heart, I had already agreed, but I couldn't say these things to you. You're such a silly child. Thinking back to your silly appearance today still makes me laugh. Hehe, so I continued teasing you, "Of course you can touch other parts of me, but you can't touch my breasts or my butt..." "Why can't I touch you? Didn't you give birth to me from your butt? Didn't I grow up drinking your milk?" "Are you being reasonable? You're xx years old!" "What's wrong with being xx years old? Does being xx years old mean I don't need my mother anymore? Okay, from now on we'll call each other comrades." "What?" "So you call me 'AAA comrade,' and I'll call you 'BBB comrade!'" "You little brat, how dare you talk to your mother like that?" "You said it yourself, being xx years old is different..." Watching you argue like that is both infuriating and hilarious, just like how your dad used to act like a scoundrel towards me.

"You...you...you're twisting the facts...I'm not talking to you anymore, Comrade AAA, I'm going to buy groceries..." I said, unable to bear it any longer, and went out to buy groceries. On the way, I thought back to our conversation, and realizing it had a bit of a flirtatious tone, I chuckled. This drew strange looks from passersby, and my face flushed slightly. This bickering even had a hint of romance! At that moment, I wondered if I had fallen in love with my son—not with maternal love, but with the love between lovers. Perhaps it was from that day that I began to love you, my dear son.

That evening, before bedtime, Mom deliberately spoke to you very formally, "Comrade AAA, you have to go to school again tomorrow. Tonight you have to sleep obediently and no tantrums or unreasonable behavior..." You immediately retorted, "Comrade BBBB, please don't just accuse people of being unreasonable. I'm fighting for my mom's love, and I want to protect my right to love her." Seeing your feigned seriousness, Mom laughed, "Oh, where's your mom? You're not talking about Comrade BBBB, are you?" You laughed too, "Okay, I'll formally call you Comrade Mom, okay?" "No, you either have to call me Mom, or you can just call me Comrade BBBB..." I continued teasing you.

But you little rascal immediately hugged me and said, "I'm sorry, Mom..." "Comrade AAA, admit your mistake now, I thought you'd hold out for a few more days..." "Ah... Mom..." You started acting spoiled again, hugging me and rubbing your body against my breasts. What a little rascal.

"Sigh, now you know what happens when you don't listen to your mother, right?" I said with a laugh, covering my breasts with my hands.

"Yeah!" I nodded, pretending to be serious. "A child who doesn't listen to their mother isn't a good child..." "A child who touches their mother indiscriminately isn't a good child either..." I couldn't help but laugh again.

That night, after we went to bed, you hugged me, wrapping your arms around my chest and alternately squeezing my breasts. I didn't move, but you pressed your hardening penis against my buttocks. I had to push you away. Really, I had already given in a lot. I knew you wanted to, but that last step couldn't be taken any further. I whispered to you, "Baby, it's not okay. Sigh, why don't you sleep in your own bed?" Luckily, you moved your buttocks back a little, but your hands continued to caress my breasts. I didn't say anything more, and we slept like that... I slept very soundly that night.

In the following days, although we were still in the same bed, we used separate blankets, and you behaved yourself for a few days. Actually, as long as you don't masturbate too often and harm your body, it's okay for Mom to help you occasionally.

A few days later, my workplace announced a trip to Dalian on August 15th, and family members could bring their spouses. I'd never been on a trip with you before. I thought to myself, you're in your second year of high school, soon to be a senior, the most crucial sprint stage. This opportunity would be a chance for you to relax before the college entrance exam. I originally planned to tell you right away, but then I thought, what if you couldn't resist touching me during the trip, and someone found out? Then we wouldn't be able to face each other anymore. So I started to hesitate. It wasn't until August 12th, when it was time to register, that I finally made up my mind to go on the trip together. These kinds of opportunities don't come often. You're getting older, and this might be the only time in my life I can travel with you like this.

When we got home, you little rascal, you were all over me, kissing, hugging, and touching me. After dinner, we went for a walk together. Thinking about our upcoming trip, as we were going downstairs, Mom reminded you to behave yourself and not to touch Mom... it was a little heads-up before the trip.

I remember that day during our walk, you kept trying to make Mom happy, but you were very well-behaved, so Mom felt relieved.

As soon as we came in, you hugged Mom. Mom knew you'd been holding back for a week and were probably feeling restless, so she smiled and gently pushed you away, telling you to do your homework first. After Mom finished showering, she was very happy to see you still diligently doing your homework, so she went to your side, patted your head, and told you to finish by 10 o'clock and then take a shower. You nodded, deliberately pouting, and Mom could only gently kiss your lips before going into the inner room.

It was past 10 o'clock, and you were still doing your homework. Actually, you were really working hard then, so much homework! Luckily, you're smart and have always had excellent grades, never causing Mom much worry. As for this aspect, well, there's just no way to deal with it.

I didn't want to wake you; I wanted to go to sleep first. But then I remembered I still needed to pack for our trip in the next couple of days, and besides, you'd been well-behaved for a week, so I figured you'd wake me up even if I slept. So I started calling you: "Baby, it's past ten o'clock..." As soon as you heard me call, you immediately took a shower, rushed to bed, and snuggled up to me, hugging me tightly. You slipped your hand under the covers and started groping my breasts. Actually, I was thinking about going out in a few days, so I wanted to make sure you were well-fed these next few days, so you wouldn't be unable to resist and get caught. After showering, I just put on a nightgown and didn't even wear a bra. You noticed quickly, and while groping to unbutton my clothes, you excitedly called out, "Mommy..." I knew you were excited, so I interrupted you, "Don't talk so much, go to sleep!" Although I said I was going to sleep, I gently stroked your shoulders and back. You were a little confused, and your hand stopped on my chest. Hehe, silly child, you're still young; you should really think more about what women say. Mom had no choice but to press your head closer to her chest. You immediately understood, buried your head in her arms, unbuttoned her clothes, and took one of her nipples into your mouth. At that moment, Mom was truly excited. Although you only sucked on it briefly, that long-lost pleasure immediately surged up.

She couldn't help but moan, "Gently, baby..." You gently sucked on Mom's nipple, just like when you were little. Your hand slowly moved to Mom's other breast, gently kneading it, while your other hand moved down Mom's body. Waves of pleasure washed over Mom. Mom's hands caressed your head, shoulders, and back. She wished it could last forever, but she couldn't take it anymore. So Mom grabbed your hand that was moving down, but you grabbed her hand back and continued moving down, twisting your body, trying to get Mom's hand inside your pants. Your penis was pressed against Mom's leg, and Mom could feel its size and heat.

After a while, you stopped suckling at Mom's nipple. You reached down to your crotch and stroked your penis, then unbuttoned the last two buttons on Mom's clothes. You grabbed Mom and pressed your hard penis against her crotch. Mom tried to pull away, but you held her tightly. When Mom stopped resisting your thrusts, your hands began to knead Mom's breasts… Mom felt really uncomfortable; she felt completely wet down there, slippery and sticky. Itching started from her hair to her toes. At that moment, Mom really wanted you too, but we were mother and son, and we couldn't take that step no matter what. Mom could only touch your penis and gently squeeze it, hoping you would ejaculate quickly.

Perhaps because it was being caressed outside your pants, your pleasure wasn't as intense. You groaned, "Ah... Mom... It feels so good... Can you put your hand inside?..." As you spoke, you pulled down your pants and shoved your hard penis into your mother's hand. Your mother grabbed your penis and started stroking it.

You hugged your mother tightly, your hips thrusting rhythmically against hers. Hearing your increasingly rapid breathing, your penis moved faster and faster in your mother's hand. Afraid of chafing your penis due to the lack of lubrication, your mother spat a large amount of saliva into her hand and switched hands to grip and stroke your penis. Perhaps due to the saliva, your pleasure intensified, and your mother immediately... I felt you were about to ejaculate. When you finally couldn't hold back and came, Mom tried to pull away, but you held me firmly beneath you, bouncing on top of me in the afterglow of your orgasm. Mom couldn't escape. Only when you finally calmed down and climbed off me did Mom breathe a sigh of relief.

After cleaning up, you tugged at Mom's hand, wanting to talk to her. Mom knew you felt guilty, but so did I. I could only say, "Go to sleep, Mom is tired..." But you couldn't sleep at all. After a while, you even sat up, unbuttoned Mom's clothes, and stared intently at Mom's breasts.

"Can't sleep?" Mom asked softly. You were startled, looked down at Mom, smiled, and said, "Yeah, Mom, why aren't you asleep either?" Mom touched your face, thinking about how to help you. "You're tossing and turning, how can Mom sleep? Sigh, Mom really doesn't know what to do. Actually, this already makes Mom feel really bad..." You looked at Mom quietly, and Mom could feel your inner struggle—on one hand, the craving for sex, on the other, the guilt and self-reproach. Mom really didn't know how to comfort you. Hearing your long sigh, Mom felt like her heart was being pricked by needles. If she didn't help you relieve your sexual needs, you couldn't get over it physically; if she did, you were in emotional pain. Mom was in a dilemma too.

After a while, seeing you quiet down, Mom hugged you and asked, "What are you thinking about?" You didn't answer, but you took Mom's hand, put it to your lips, and kissed it. You fell asleep like that, holding Mom. But Mom didn't sleep well again that night.

The next morning, I woke up groggily to find you had unbuttoned my shirt and were touching my breasts again.

I immediately turned to my side and hugged you tightly, trying to stop you from doing it. It's only been a few hours since I ejaculated, and you want it again? It's bad for your health. But you grabbed my breast with one hand and placed the other on my waist, giving my nipple a hard kiss before straightening your body and pressing your penis tightly against my hips.

This won't do, son. I really wanted to push you away, but looking at your longing expression, I was afraid that rejecting you would hurt you psychologically. After all, you've always been a sensitive child. Mom's heart softened again, and she could only hug you tightly once more. Your hand naturally slipped under her waistband, reaching her buttocks, and began to squeeze and knead them tightly, in sync with the thrusting of your penis, increasing the pressure of your grip and thrusting… Actually, Mom had no desire at that moment; she was only desperate to satisfy your desire as quickly as possible, so she reached into your pants and grabbed your penis. Your penis began to rub against Mom's palm. You wanted to climb on top of her, so Mom slowly turned her body, changing from a side-lying position to a supine position, and you naturally climbed onto her as well.

At the same time, your hand slid away from Mom's buttocks, touching her side, and then so naturally moved to her front. Your fingertips touched Mom's pubic hair! Your hand continued downwards, smoothly slipping into the thicket of pubic hair, even touching Mom's most sensitive spot. Mom instantly became wet, feeling the fluid gushing out. For years, no one had explored this area, but today you had touched it. Your hand continued its exploration in the jungle, like an explorer trekking through a muddy flower path... At the entrance to paradise, at the top of the cliff, Mom's pleasure steadily increased. Unconsciously, Mom stroked your penis, savoring the approaching climax in a dizzying state.

Everything stopped abruptly with that spurt, and Mom also experienced a long-awaited climax in that instant. Since your father left, this was the first time Mom had experienced an climax through a man. Although you are my son, the moment of climax still made Mom tremble with excitement.

As everything slowly subsided, Mom tried to remove your hand from underneath. But you insisted on not pulling back. After a while, Mom slowly pulled your hand out, gently pushing you away. You rolled off Mom. Mom sat up, looking at her pants mixed with your semen and her own vaginal fluid, shook her head, her heart filled with mixed emotions, and whispered, "You've gotten it all over Mom again..." before getting up and leaving the bathroom.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Mom's heart was in turmoil. The afterglow of her climax still lingered on her face.

But this sinful climax wasn't brought on by anyone else, but by her own son. Mom only wanted to help you at first, but now she herself was caught up in it. This really can't go on. God, please give Mom some guidance.

She wanted to go back to bed, but she really didn't know how to face you, her dearest son. She could only sit on her son's bed, her mind blank, tears streaming down her face. Why is my life so bitter?

You came out, probably a little scared when you saw Mom's appearance. "Mom?!" you grabbed Mom's shoulders, saying, "Hit me, scold me, you...you don't cry..." You knelt down in front of Mom, looking at her anxiously. Tears also welled up in your eyes.

What could Mom say? It was all Mom's fault. If Mom had been more resolute from the beginning, all of this could have been avoided. But Mom really couldn't bear to see you in pain, not even a little bit. "It's okay, baby, Mommy isn't blaming you. It's Mommy's fault..." I wiped away the tears from the corners of your eyes.

"No, it's my fault, I...I..." you said, choking back tears.

"Don't do it again, okay?" Really, Mommy doesn't want to continue like this.

"No..." you said softly but firmly, "No...Mommy...I..." "You really can't do it anymore...baby...Mommy can't take it anymore. Mommy feels so...so...wrong, really, just this once, never do it again...okay?" Seeing your stubborn look, Mommy felt a pang of heartache.

You remained silent and didn't answer me.

After a while, you stood up and asked me softly, "Mommy, what do you want for breakfast? I'll go buy it..." I knew you were changing the subject, but this matter really needed to be clarified, so I had to let you go wash up first, and we could talk later.

After you finished tidying up and came in, you reverted to your usual mischievous tone, teasing your mother by saying, "Mom must have been very beautiful when she was young..." "You mean you're old now and not pretty anymore?" "Of course not, I'm even more beautiful now..." Knowing you were trying to change the subject, your mother turned around and pushed you towards the bed. "Hmph, stop trying to fool your mother. Sit down properly, and I'll talk to you properly..." "Baby, Mom has thought it through. From now on, you'll sleep in the inner room, and I'll sleep in the outer room. You're not allowed to sleep with Mom anymore; it's really wrong... You need to study hard... You need to get into a prestigious university and make Mom proud... Don't get distracted; things will work out in the future... We can't go on like this..." You resisted with silence again. "What do you say?" your mother continued.

"We..." You thought for a moment and asked, "Does this count as incest?" This time, your mother was stunned and hadn't figured out how to answer you. You continued, "Mom, what you just said is all true. I should study hard and try to get into university. Actually, I want to get into a good university even more than you do. It's not just a matter of face. I feel like you prioritize face in these matters. For me, the so-called 'ten years of hard study and passing the imperial examination' doesn't mean how glorious it is to pass the examination. It means that passing the examination is the best affirmation of my ten years of hard work. But that's not the most important thing. The important thing is that getting into a good university means that my standard of living will be a little better than others, even if it's just a little bit better. In my opinion, that little bit of better will make your life a little better than my classmates' mothers, just a little bit better..." Listening to what you just said, Mom was a little confused. She couldn't figure out how what you just said had anything to do with the incest issue mentioned earlier.

You then asked, "Right, Mom?" Mom hadn't quite figured it out yet, so she just went along with you, "Yes, that's why Mom's willing to give you the room with air conditioning so you can study in peace..." You shook your head, "Air conditioning is nice, but it's not the most important thing, Mom. If it weren't for Mom, and I had to live alone in a five-star hotel's presidential suite, eating gourmet food every day, I wouldn't be able to concentrate on my studies, let alone go to university, you know? Being with Mom, living happily with Mom, is my goal and pursuit. You said if we continue like this it's incest, we'll be paraded through the streets, stoned to death. I don't know if society is still like it used to be, but are we incest now? I think not, right? What exactly constitutes incest? How can Mom and I be happy without being incestuous?" "You? Why are you thinking so much?" Son, the more you talk, the more confused I get. "It's not that I'm overthinking things, it's that I'm thinking very simply. I just want to live happily with Mom. For the past two weeks, I've felt incredibly happy, especially when I'm with Mom. Really, Mom..." As you spoke, you stood up, walked to your mother, and gently hugged her. "Actually, hugging Mom isn't the best feeling..." "Really? Then don't hug me..." Hearing this, Mom felt a little disappointed, wondering what you were thinking.

Then you kissed Mom and said, "Being hugged by Mom is the best feeling. Mom, hug me..." After all that, you little rascal had tricked me, but I felt a little happy. No matter what, you still loved Mom, and I was touched, so I hugged you back. "Baby, Mom hugs you..."

You started kissing Mom and whispered in her ear, "Mommy, kiss me..." They kissed and embraced until they fell back onto the bed.

Sigh. "Son, I'm really exasperated with you. You little rascal, all you've got is a trick to get your mom into bed. Sigh, you should use your brain more on your studies..." "Am I wrong?" you asked, sitting up. "I've been using my brain on studying lately. You told me not to sleep with you, so I started thinking about this..." "So, according to you, it's my fault?" Mom was both amused and exasperated, at a loss for words.

"Of course it's your fault. Everything was fine, but you insisted on sleeping outside. You must have something wrong with your head..." you started arguing.

"Originally? Originally, you were supposed to sleep outside. Okay, let's go back to the original plan. You sleep outside, and I'll sleep in the air-conditioned room..." "Stepmother! Stepmother doesn't treat her son like a human being! I'm going to die of heat..." Seeing your unreasonable behavior, I really wanted to slap you a few times, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"Go call me from the yard. I'll get you a megaphone..." Your antics had eased my earlier frustration.

It was already bright outside. I was getting ready to make breakfast, and then I had to pack. Oh right, after all that commotion last night, I hadn't told our son about the trip. I was just about to tell you when you called out,

"Never mind, I'll treat today! What does Mom want to eat?" Hearing this, Mom immediately smiled. "You're treating? Great! Mom wants shark fin soup and snow frog. Oh, and snow frog is good for your complexion, so let's have snow frog..."

You firmly replied, "No problem! I have over three hundred yuan, and I'll spend it all today! I'm going right now!" "Silly boy." Mom felt a surge of happiness; her son was understanding, knowing she was tired in the morning and not wanting her to work so hard making breakfast.

"Mom loves xiaolongbao and beef noodles the most, go ahead." After breakfast, our son started reading. Around eleven o'clock, Mom returned from grocery shopping, and you and Mom went to the kitchen together to cook again. After lunch, you asked to turn on the air conditioning for a nap. Mom knew you were up to something again, but you'd already ejaculated twice. So she laughed and said, "Okay, you can sleep by yourself..." You laughed too, "Mom, want to sleep with me?" "No, I'm cold..." "Then let's not turn on the air conditioning..." "Without the air conditioning, it'll be too hot to squeeze together!" You pretended to be sulking and sprawled out on your little bed. Mom was too lazy to pay attention to you and went to sleep in the inner room. In my hazy state, I felt you kiss my cheek and touch my thigh. Thinking you wanted to rest together, I moved over to make room for you, but you just hugged me, casually touched my bottom, and said,

"You sleep, I'm going to read..." I was so tired last night that I drifted off to sleep again.

It was almost four o'clock when I woke up. You were still diligently doing your homework. Looking at your back, I felt a pang of heartache, so I went behind you, hugged you, and kissed you on the cheek. "Baby, what do you want for dinner? Mommy will make it for you..." "I haven't finished the food from lunch yet. How about adding a fish? Teach me how to cook fish..." "Okay, Mommy will go buy a fish in a bit..." As you spoke, you stood up and stretched. Looking at your healthy body, Mommy was truly happy. Perhaps in every mother's heart, her son is the most perfect. My son is growing up, and Mommy is slowly getting older. "Ah, youth is so wonderful. Mom's old arms and legs can't move anymore..." "Who says?" You perked up immediately, "Grandma Li is almost seventy, and she's still dancing senior disco!

Don't make excuses for your laziness..." Mom laughed, "You little rascal, lecturing your mother now! Don't think your mother can't do anything!" She couldn't help but think back to her own childhood, when practicing dance was really tough. She wondered if her basic skills had faded after all these years. She stretched her legs a few times, warmed up for a bit, and then smiled at you, saying, "You little rascal, why don't you do your mother's moves?" With that, she lifted her leg and easily did a "skyward kick." Although it was a little strenuous, it looked effortless. Seeing your stunned expression, Mom burst into laughter.

Once Mom put her leg down, you clapped, "Amazing, amazing! Do another one!" "Hmph, you go first?" Mom looked at you with feigned disdain. You shook your head and waved your hands, "No, I can't. You must have trained when you were little. Which school are you from? Shaolin? No, you should be from Emei, definitely Emei..." "Hahaha, you've read too many martial arts novels..." Mom laughed, "Sigh, thirty years... If Mom had endured a little more hardship back then, maybe I would have been an Olympic champion?" "No way? Mom!" You widened your eyes. "

Maybe. Mom started learning gymnastics in elementary school, but later I just couldn't keep it up. Your grandparents didn't support me either. Taking the sports school entrance exam... Maybe they passed but didn't tell me. Anyway, I didn't go to a sports school, who knows?" Life is full of unknowns. If I had gone to a sports school back then, maybe today... Sigh, thinking too much is useless. That last move really got me excited, those moves from back then flashed before my eyes like flowing water. Looking at an empty wall, she bent over and did a handstand. Her posture was perfect, but her pajamas rode up while she was upside down, falling all the way to her breasts. She panicked a little, but then thought, "Well, it's my son who's watching, so what?" She got down, tucked her clothes into her pants, bent over again, and used her hands as legs to "walk" to the middle of the room. Sometimes her legs were together and straight, sometimes they were wide apart, sometimes she moved her hands, rotating her legs. She

only stopped when she couldn't hold on any longer.

You were stunned. As soon as your mother stood up, you jumped over and hugged her. "Mom, you're so amazing! You, you're my idol!" you said, kissing her several times on the cheek. She

was really tired; it had been so long since she'd practiced, and these few moves had made her back and waist ache. "Ah, just these few moves have made me so breathless, I'm really getting old..." "Still going strong! I want to learn!" you exclaimed.

When I came out, I saw you still reading, but I wasn't sure if you were really reading or just pretending, so I slipped into the kitchen to start making dinner. I thought to myself that I had to talk to you about this tonight, no matter what. I had wanted to talk about it this morning, but you kept interrupting me.

During dinner, you were surprisingly well-behaved and didn't mention what had happened earlier. You finished eating quietly, rushed to wash the dishes, and then went to do your homework. Seeing you like that, I took a shower, changed my clothes, and went to the other room to watch TV. As I watched, I got sleepy. I looked at the clock, and it was already past nine. Remembering that I had to go out the day after tomorrow, I told you to shower early and come to rest before I even told you.

As soon as we got into bed, you tried to hug me, so I pushed you away and sat up, my face serious. Seeing my serious expression, you also sat up and leaned against the bed.

"Baby, Mommy has been thinking about this all day, and it's time to talk to you. This morning you asked Mommy if what we're doing is incest. Mommy thought about it, and we're not. Mommy is just concerned about you and helping you with your sexual frustrations. In the end, when Mommy is helping you, I'm just a tool." Before I finished speaking, you laughed. I patted you and put on a stern face. "Be serious and listen to Mommy." You stuck out your tongue and made a face. It made Mommy both annoyed and amused.

"Really, your main task right now is to study and try to get into a prestigious university to comfort your father's spirit in heaven." Mentioning your father made me a little sad, and you fell silent. You lay down and rested your head on my lap.

I stroked your head and continued, "What happened before has already happened, and we can't change it, but we really can't go on like this. I'm your mother." After saying that, Mommy felt a little sad, and tears welled up in her eyes.

You didn't say anything, just hugged your mother's leg. But your mother could feel you crying too, your tears streaming down her pants.

After a long while, you finally said, "Mom, after Dad left, I couldn't get out of the shadow for a long time. You helped me get back to a normal life. Actually, for you, my feelings for you are partly lust, but more importantly, I've always loved you, Mom. Without you, I can't live a single day." After saying that, my son burst into tears.

"Baby, don't cry, Mom knows," I really didn't know how to comfort you, patting your back, trying to calm you down. But I knew some things had to be made clear.

"Okay, don't cry. Listen to Mom, there's still a year until the college entrance exam. Putting everything else aside, you must work hard in your studies and try to do well. As for life, Mom and I have three rules. First, you can only masturbate once a week, and you can't do it behind Mom's back." Before I could finish, you jumped up: "Was it Mom who helped me that time or did I do it myself...?" What a little rascal, always thinking about this kind of thing. I smacked your head and made you lie obediently on my lap. "Listen to Mom. Second, don't force Mom. You must stop when Mom says stop. Third, no matter what, you can't cross the bottom line. Can you do that?" "Mom, what is the bottom line?" Your question left Mom speechless. Sigh, you're such a little rascal. Do you really not know or are you deliberately teasing Mom?

"Okay, that's all. Can you do that?" "Long live Mom!" You shouted as you pulled me down and pressed me against you, even grabbing my breasts. What a little rascal!

"How could you forget what I just said? You've already exceeded the limit this week, twice already. You'd better go back to your own bed and sleep." Although you were unwilling, you obediently went back to your own bed. To be honest, my son can be quite well-behaved sometimes.

I turned to look at you. "Oh, right, there's something else. Next week, Mom's company is organizing a trip to Dalian. Do you want to go with Mom?" "Really!" You excitedly sat up again.

"Okay, but one thing, you absolutely mustn't touch Mommy inappropriately while we're traveling. If you can't, we won't go." "Okay, I know, I promise I'll complete the mission." He lay down after saying that, but then jumped up again a moment later. "Then Mommy, you have to make it up to me when we get back." This child, sigh, Mommy really can't do anything with you.

During our trip to Dalian, you were very well-behaved, like a little adult, helping everyone carry things and so on.

Mommy's colleagues all praised Mommy for being so lucky to have such an obedient child. Although sometimes you still miss Mommy and stare straight at her, as soon as Mommy glares at you, you immediately stick out your tongue and run away. Actually, Mommy is really happy to go out with you.

When we got back from the trip, Mommy was very tired. After taking a shower, I went to sleep first. I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and saw you sleeping soundly. The house was also tidied up; clothes that needed to be put in the washing machine were put away. I felt very gratified; my son has grown up, become sensible, and knows how to care for Mommy. I gently kissed your forehead and went back to sleep.

Then I had a dream, and it seemed like I was with your father again. He was slowly kissing my whole body with his lips, tracing my earlobes, brushing my nipples, passing through a jungle, and finally stopping by a stream to gently wash over me.

I was so excited that I couldn't contain myself. I tightly grabbed your father's head, my body twisting and turning. Then I woke up and realized that I was really holding a head, not your father's, but yours. I was stunned. Perhaps it was an unconscious kick, but I kicked you off the bed.

You leaned against the wall, crying pitifully. Seeing you so sad, I felt helpless and could only pull you back onto the bed. You buried your head in my chest and choked out, "When I was little, you always told me that making others happy makes me happier. Mom, you always help me, and I want to help you too, to make you happy." Hearing this, I burst into tears. Actually, I also need someone to love me, someone to care for me. For so many years, I've been pretending to be strong for you. But Mom is a woman too. Today, finally someone came to care for Mom, but Mom never imagined that person would be you. Son, my dearest son.

You remained silent, gently kissing away my tears with your lips, resolutely heading downwards, crossing mountains, basins, and grasslands, accurately capturing Mom's valley. Gently sweeping, sometimes playfully pushing towards the entrance. At that moment, Mom's mind went blank, immersed in ecstasy.

"Yes, making others happy makes you happier," these are the words Mom taught you. You then told Mom in return, and Mom gently turned her head, moving her head towards your penis.

Realizing your mother's intention, you immediately turned your body around, your buttocks rising, your penis accurately pressed against your mother's face. I opened my mouth and flicked my tongue across your scrotum. You instinctively tightened your buttocks and thrust forward, and I moved down, accurately taking your glans into my mouth. In that instant, I heard your pleasurable moan.

Your buttocks began to move rhythmically in your mother's mouth, and your mother held you tightly. Several times you thrust so deep that it almost reached your mother's throat. Go, it made Mom feel nauseous. But your happiness is my happiness, so Mom endured it until you erupted in bliss. You pressed down on Mom tightly, and your semen flowed down Mom's throat. This was the first time Mom had swallowed a man's semen, something even your father had never done.

Afterwards, you held me, and neither of us said a word. Some things are understood without being spoken. Son, I love you, more than anything.

The weather is getting colder, and your restless heart is gradually calming down. Since that trip back from the trip, we've been exploring each other once a week. The secrets of your body. Almost every time, we reach orgasm simultaneously in the 69 position.

Occasionally, Mom would question whether this was the right thing to do, but physical desire and psychological dependence always led Mom to repeatedly engage in our game.

The high school entrance exams were over, and you ranked second in the city with a score of 6800. Mom was truly gratified; at least Mom's actions towards you didn't affect your studies.

The New Year arrived in the blink of an eye. At midnight, Mom and you stood on the balcony. You hugged Mom from behind and told her that you would make Mom happy forever. But Mom cried. You kept asking Mom why she was crying, but Mom never told you. Son, now Mom will tell you. Mom has lived more than half her life. Your life has just begun, and a bright future awaits you. You will eventually start a new life, and you can't let Mom affect your future. Mom's presence in your life will eventually fade away.

Actually, that night, Mom made a decision to slowly distance herself from you in this way, to get your life back on track.

That night, you thought about it again. Actually, Mom wanted to too, but Mom refused you. When you tried to continue, Mom hit you and asked if you remembered the second rule we made. You looked at Mom with a wronged expression, then turned and went back to your room to sleep. Actually, Mom was heartbroken too. Mom kept suppressing the urge to hug you. Maybe some things should end.

For the next few days, you were very silent, and you barely responded when Mom spoke to you. Mom's heart was bleeding when she saw you like this. But a short, sharp pain is better than a long, drawn-out one. So Mom persisted. Mom later thought that if she had persisted like that, perhaps what happened later wouldn't have happened.

You got thinner and thinner. Mom saw it and it hurt, but Mom couldn't do anything about it. Until that day, when the teacher came for a home visit, Mom learned that you had only scored a little over 400 points on the city's first mock exam. Do you know how Mom felt then? Mom was truly desperate. Mom had given so much, and this was how you repaid her? Mom felt guilty. Perhaps she was wrong; she shouldn't have been so resolute with you. This was like a drug addiction; continuing would only lead to deeper addiction, but the sudden withdrawal symptoms were unbearable.

That day, Mom cried for a long time in the bathroom. When she came out, she saw you standing by the door, watching her come out. You immediately hugged her and cried, "Don't do this to me, Mom, I really can't take it anymore." You pulled up your sleeve, and I saw the messy

knife marks on your arm. To be honest, Mom was stunned. "Mom, I miss you, I'm going crazy with longing. Every time you ignore me, I have to cut my arm with a knife, but the physical pain can't stop my love for you. Don't ignore me, don't stop loving me, Mom," you said between sobs. At that moment, Mom's heart broke.

Mom frantically hit herself, regretting the harm her actions had caused you. God, if this is a sin, if this is your punishment, please let me bear it alone, and don't blame my son, don't hurt him.

You saw Mom's appearance and were terrified too. You hugged Mom tightly. Crying, you said, "Mommy, I'm not afraid of anything else, I'm just afraid that you don't love me anymore, that you won't talk to me anymore. If you really don't like it, I promise I'll never touch you again, okay? Mommy, please." We hugged and cried for a long time that day. Fortunately, Mommy finally understood the root of your recent unusual behavior.

That night, Mommy waited for you after taking a shower. You took a long time to get into bed. You tried to check if Mommy was asleep with your hand, but Mommy didn't move. It seemed like you were holding back. But you kept tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. After a long time, you got up and went to the bathroom and didn't come back. Mommy was afraid something was wrong, so she followed you.

The light was on, and you were frantically stroking your penis against the wall. Mommy knew you didn't want Mommy to help you. Actually, Mommy was willing, but Mommy was just afraid you would get hurt. Mommy approached you, pressed her body against your naked body, slowly turned you around, then squatted down and took your penis into her mouth.

This was the first time I saw your penis under the light. The pink glans was going in and out of Mom's mouth, the veins on it prominent. Your eyes were closed, your expression a mixture of pain and pleasure. Perhaps it had been a long time since you'd done it, because you quickly ejaculated in Mom's mouth. Before Mom could even spit out your semen, you knelt down and kissed me. Then you picked me up and placed me on the table. Mom tried to turn off the light, but you grabbed her hand. Mom covered herself, and you tried to pull your hand away, saying in a hoarse voice, "Let me see, Mom, let me see where I was born." Mom helplessly let go, watching you fascinated by her private parts, making Mom feel incredibly ashamed.

You finally tentatively began to lick it. Your recent experiments had taught you how to bring a woman to the ultimate pleasure. Mom closed her eyes at your touch, fully enjoying the pre-orgasmic bliss, her mind drifting to a state of bliss.

But son, my dear son, I never imagined that you would penetrate me while I had my eyes closed. In that instant, I opened my eyes in terror, trying to push you away, but you held me tightly, making it impossible for me to move. Your enormous penis was still throbbing inside me. God, save us. We had finally fallen into the abyss of sin.

You were still throbbing, but my heart had grown cold, as if my soul had been drained, leaving me without any strength. Even my lower body was starting to dry out; your friction was causing me pain. You finally ejaculated inside me, and in the final moment, you called out "Mommy" in your throat. When you regained your senses and calmed down, seeing my tearful face, you grabbed my hand and desperately slapped your own face. I stopped you. Since it had already happened, what was the point of hurting you further? I picked up a towel and calmly wiped your body clean. I held you and we went back to bed.

Seeing your terrified expression, I could only force a smile, pat your head, and hold you as we slept. Actually, that night, I thought about death. But Mom was afraid that after I died, no one would love and care for you like I did.

She was even more afraid you would do something foolish.

The next morning, you got up very early to go to school. When you came home that evening, you acted like a child who had done something wrong, trying to hide from Mom. That night, Mom calmly took your hand and told you, "Baby, the past is past, no matter how much you think about it, it can't be undone. From now on, Mom only has you left. You must take good care of yourself, study hard, and live up to Mom's expectations." You looked at me timidly: "Mom, I'm sorry, please forgive me?" What could I say? What's done is done. Blaming you would only deepen your remorse. Let Mom bear the guilt alone. That night, you hugged Mom tightly, shrinking into her arms like a baby, and occasionally your body twitched. Son, although you're almost eighteen, you're still just a child.

From that day on, we went back to normal. Laughter filled the house again, and your spirits lifted. In the second city-wide mock exam, you achieved the highest score in the entire school. Mom came to terms with it; the very first time I helped you masturbate, this outcome was inevitable. Since fate had ordained it this way, Mom could only accept it. I love my son, and my son loves me. Moral condemnation, social discrimination—what does it matter as long as we're happy?

Spring passed. Summer arrived, and our clothes grew thinner. Sometimes you would gaze at Mom in a daze, telling her how beautiful you were, and Mom would feel the same joy as a girl experiencing first love. I thank God for letting me taste love again, even though this love came from my son.

I remember one weekend afternoon, the warm sunlight streaming onto the bed. You lay beside Mom, gently removing her clothes, your fingertips dancing on her skin, your slightly stubbled face painting her body.

Every pore of Mom's skin blossomed for you. Your hard spear filled every fold of Mom's secret passage.

Every thrust sent a shiver through Mom. Your climax sent shivers through my body, like ripples spreading from a stone, coursing through my entire being. Perfect sex is so intoxicating. Son, you came from me, but you've returned to me, the source of your life, only in a different way. The

day the college entrance exam results came out, I shed tears of happiness. You scored 6900 points, achieving the highest score in the city. All my years of suffering had finally paid off.

That summer was filled with joy; we loved each other passionately, and I unconditionally granted even your unreasonable demands.

I remember that day, you went crazy, kissing me there, then moving on to my anus. I pushed you away again and again, but you persisted, bringing me to orgasm several times. Later, you even wanted to do *that* with me. Although I know there's nothing forbidden between lovers, well, I couldn't resist you, you little rascal.

You carried Mom to the bathroom, had her lean against the counter in front of the mirror, and knelt down. You gently licked her clitoris from behind, occasionally lightly probing her anus with your tongue. Mom felt like she'd been electrocuted; she couldn't even stand. You thrust in violently, and before Mom could recover from the sudden attack, you probed her anus with your fingers. To be honest, the feeling was unbearable; her anus felt swollen, making her want to squeeze it out. Her vagina was even tighter, and with each thrust, the grip was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. Mom's inner walls tightly enveloped you; she could even feel every rise and fall of your penis. The pleasure was more intense than usual, and your fingers were still pressing against her anus towards your penis. In the alternation of pain and pleasure, Mom reached the most intense orgasm of her life, even uncontrollably urinating.

Looking at her familiar face in the mirror, flushed and half-closed, while your strong body continued to thrust behind her, Mom just wanted to die in that moment.

Before Mom could recover from the afterglow of her orgasm, you pulled out your penis. The moment you left, Mom suddenly felt so empty, and all she wanted was to put you back in. Suddenly, your penis pressed against Mom's anus. Mom instinctively tightened her anus, and you kept sliding your fingers around it, making Mom feel like she was being bitten by ants. Your penis pressed in again, slowly squeezing inward. The throbbing pain was even worse than when your father entered me for the first time. Mom pulled down a towel and bit down hard, feeling like her anus was about to burst open. The pain was indescribable, but for you, son, Mom endured it. You probably knew Mom's pain and withdrew, but son, Mom didn't know if she would have the courage to try this with you again if she didn't do it this time. Mom smeared some of her vaginal fluid on her anus and grabbed your penis, pushing it towards her anus again.

Son, my clever son, I really don't know how you reacted so quickly. You probably noticed me applying my lubricant and immediately grabbed my moisturizer and applied it to your penis. This time it was much easier; I felt your glans go in almost halfway. The heat mixed with the coolness of the aloe vera cream was incredibly stimulating. So I grabbed your hand, signaling you to continue. Thankfully, you were considerate and didn't have a strong urge, continuing to advance slowly. I felt my anus being slowly opened, gradually blossoming.

The moment you were all the way in, I trembled all over from the pain. Seizing the opportunity, you reached out and touched your mother's clitoris from the front, beginning to slide your hand. The pleasure, like a small stream, slowly gathered and grew stronger, until finally it surged violently, washing over your entire body. You felt your vagina contracting while your anus contracted repeatedly, a similarly intense, almost unbearable pleasure, so strong it made you cry. Because of the simultaneous contractions of your vagina, you felt orgasms coming and going, one moment from the front, the next from the back, incredibly intense. Looking at your distorted face in the mirror, you couldn't help but scream loudly, your voice trembling with tears, before fainting.

Thank you, my son, thank you for bringing me this ultimate pleasure; that beauty was truly intoxicating.

Happy times fly by, and school is about to start. This is the first time in xx years you've left your mother, left home.

On the first night before your departure, your mother held you tightly. Son, after a summer of wild fun, it's time to say goodbye. Your mother tells you that university life is a new chapter in your life, and everything from the past with your mother should be forgotten. Mom knows you love me deeply, but no matter what, I am still your mother. This is a tragic love that the world cannot accept. You cried, and I cried too. If there is an afterlife, I wish to follow you and be your beautiful bride, but in this life, we can only be mother and son.

You looked at me and asked, "Just one last time?" I looked at your face, at your sorrowful eyes, and couldn't bear to refuse.

Okay, just one last time. That night, Mom and you were locked in a passionate embrace, almost exhausting all our energy.

Until we collapsed.

Now, you are twenty-three years old, graduated from university, and have started working. You have matured. Every year when you come back for vacation, you no longer cling to Mom. Sometimes I can still see your lingering affection for Mom in your eyes. But when Mom smiles at you, you smile too. Let that memory be buried forever in our hearts.

This afternoon, the sun came out, warm and comforting. Mom lay on the balcony, looking at your photo, and fell asleep. Mom had a dream. Many years later, you've started your own family. Mom is lying under the shade of a tree, just like today, watching you, your family of three, playing on the grass. Mom is smiling happily. When she woke up, Mom was still smiling. And then, tears welled up in her eyes. There will be that day, there will be that day.

[The End]

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[Sequel to "The Edge": A Love Letter to My Son] [Author: ssrdd2008]

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