【Northeast-style heated brick bed】(Revised Edition) (01) Author: 998

Author: 998
Word Count: 17395

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. Adaptation Direction: Enhanced details in the sex scenes to increase immersion; the plot has been completely overhauled, with a pure love theme.
Therefore, the original scene of the eldest sister being brutally raped by the fat man has been significantly modified, but depressing scenes remain.

However, the reason I retained the depressing scenes is to prepare for the protagonist's power surge to "slaughter" the fat man, and
the eldest sister will not betray the protagonist, body or soul; see the main text for details.

Finally, and most importantly, a tribute to the original author!

Chapter 1:

I was born in a very remote and backward mountain village in Northeast China. My family consisted of my parents, two older sisters, and myself—a total
of five people.

In the early days, men and women married young, especially in the poor and remote mountain villages of Northeast China. My mother
married , and gave birth to my eldest sister the following year. When my mother was 19, she gave birth to my second sister. Due to the one
-child policy, my parents should not have had any more children.

However, rural areas were very feudal, and it was common knowledge that girls
were
n't considered for carrying on the family line; this concept was firmly ingrained in everyone's minds at that time. My father was the highest-ranking official in the village—the village party secretary. Although he also held this view, he dared not consider these issues because of his position.

However, two years after my second sister was born, various rumors began to circulate among relatives, friends, and villagers. When
these rumors reached my grandparents, my maternal grandparents, and my maternal grandparents, the four elders immediately braved the wind and snow, traveling over a hundred miles
to my house. According to my eldest sister, who was only four or five years old at the time, my grandparents pointed at my mother and scolded her, while my maternal
grandparents pointed at my father and scolded him. After a while, they turned to comfort their children.

Although I don't know what they said, a year later, I came into this world crying.
Although I later heard that my parents had been arrested and subjected to some kind of surgery, and that my father had been dismissed from his public office.
But when we held a banquet to celebrate my 100th day, my parents and the four elders stood tall, their faces beaming,
joyfully welcoming the villagers.

After my birth, those rumors supposedly disappeared, and for a time, my parents were quite
proud , looking very confident in front of the villagers. However, because my father lost his government job,
he had no income other than his small plot of land, and life became difficult. The pride in my parents' eyes vanished.

To support five mouths, my father gritted his teeth and left the village to work elsewhere. Only my mother
and the three of us siblings remained at home.

Although my mother was left alone with three young children, my father's work outside
was very successful. Every six months, he would return with many gifts and a considerable amount of money. Our
family regained its prestige among the villagers, and we were the first family in the village to replace our mud house with a cement one. Coupled with
the prestige my father had earned as the village secretary, no one in the village dared to bully us women and children.

A year or two later, when my father brought back the village's first color TV, the whole village was abuzz
. When they were testing it, almost every man in the village, young and old, came, crowding the house inside and out.

After the New Year, my father went out to work again, but this time he didn't go alone; all the able-bodied men in the village
went with him. This left only the elderly, women, and children in the village. My mother, shrewd and
capable , was adept at handling interpersonal relationships and got along very well with the villagers. Everyone admired her, so her
reputation in the village reached its peak.

In many ways, my mother's words carried more weight than the village secretary's.

And I grew up in this happy family, in this village that could be described as a village of daughters.

In Northeast China, there's an age-old custom, though few people, especially in the city
, still practice it in our remote, snow-covered village:

sleeping naked.

The elders say that crawling naked under the covers onto the heated kang (a traditional heated brick bed) feels much warmer
and more comfortable than wearing clothes. Of course, everyone has their own quilt.

I don't remember much from my childhood, only vaguely that I never had my own quilt.
From a very young age, my mother always held me in her arms, and we slept in the same quilt. My mother's quilt was the biggest in the house;
my older sister said it was shared with my father, hence its size.

When my father came home, I wouldn't sleep with my mother, but with my older sister. Whenever my father
was home , especially when I woke up needing to pee at night, I would see my mother's big quilt moving constantly, and
hear my parents' rapid breathing. When I cried to pee, my father, who usually doted on me, would scold me
because my mother would always get up to help me.

I don't know if my two older sisters saw this scene, but when I did,
they were all fast asleep, completely still. Maybe they saw it, but were afraid of being scolded by Dad and didn't dare to disturb
them. So, when I was old enough to urinate, I never bothered them; I would just sneak out of
bed do it myself.

Our kang (heated brick bed) was a large one, big enough for three adults to sleep side by side, or even just a few people could squeeze in. There were only three quilts
on the bed Mom and my two older sisters, so it was quite spacious. At that time, what I wanted most was
to have my own quilt, but Mom always said I was too young and liked to kick off the covers, and she was afraid I would catch a cold, so she wouldn't allow me
to sleep alone.

I really hated sleeping with Mom then because she never let me move around and always liked to touch my
penis after something happened when I was 10 years old, I never mentioned wanting a quilt again.

This is a story.

At that time, there was no primary school in the village, and the children in the village had to walk more than ten miles to go to
the primary school in the township. However, it snows for six months of the year here, so many children in the village,
especially girls, have to postpone or stop going to school altogether.

But, I don't know if it's because my father was often away and experienced, or if we had some spare money, but all three of us siblings
started school early. I was in fourth grade at ten. My second sister, three years older than me, was in sixth grade, and my eldest
sister, five years older, was in ninth grade at the town's middle school. That year, my mother was only 32.

Speaking of my mother, I was always very attached to her because she was not only gentle and virtuous, but also a renowned beauty in the surrounding area
. And men, regardless of age… no, it should be said that regardless of gender or age, everyone must…
It's inevitable to judge people by their appearance, and I'm no exception. So, my clinginess to my mother might be because she's so beautiful.

Just how beautiful is she?

She's over 1.7 meters tall, with cascading black hair and a perfectly oval face. Beneath her arched,
willow-leaf eyebrows are bright, kind eyes, and her naturally red lips are smooth and luscious. Despite having given birth to three children, her figure
hasn't changed at all due to years of hard work; instead, it's incredibly alluring.

And thanks to those three pregnancies, her milk supply increased dramatically with each breastfeeding period, widening her pelvis
. Combined with the fact that she wasn't naturally slender, her hips were quite fleshy, resulting in an exaggeratedly full figure.

I always felt that my mother's hips were like the large, round peaches my father brought home for Chinese New Year.

Of course, she wasn't as bulky as the average short-legged peasant woman. Because my mother was tall with exceptionally long legs,
the same large bottom looked much more harmonious on her, avoiding the unpleasant feeling one might have for a typical middle-aged
village woman. Instead, she created a strikingly sexy visual impact, arousing desire.

My mother, so perfect, was even more remarkably fair-skinned in the long-term exposure to the wind and sun in the countryside, her
complexion as white as jade. While such a radiant complexion under the sun is rare, it's not uncommon,
especially in Northeast China. I believe everyone has seen, or even envied, such a beauty with snow-white skin.

Correspondingly, how could my stunningly beautiful mother not attract attention? With her husband away from home for long periods, she was undoubtedly
a prime target for men with ulterior motives and fantasies.

However, my mother came from a scholarly family in the area, and even her grandfather's name sounded elegant—Yao Xi.
My maternal grandfather was a proud, cultured man at heart, a remarkable figure in those days
.

My mother, growing up around him, gradually absorbed this intellectual pride. She always maintained a subtle sense of superiority over the roughnecks in the village, rarely
interacting with them except for essential matters, thus eliminating any possibility of her changing her mind.

Not to mention, I had a father who had served in the army. How could he have married my mother if he wasn't capable? Although he
wasn't even as tall as my mother, his fiery temper was legendary in the village. In his youth, he was known for
his bravery and ruthlessness , earning a fearsome reputation early on.

Even though he wasn't as domineering as before, his influence remained, so anyone who dared to make a move on my mother had to
think .

Life was uneventful, as calm as still water. Nothing dramatic
happened after all, there weren't many exceptionally capable people in this remote, impoverished area, and my mother's attitude was airtight,
leaving no room for anyone to interfere. So even if some men are itching and tempted, they can only indulge in idle chatter and
utter a few lewd remarks.

The past is gone with the wind. Now the village is full of old men and young children; the young and strong have all left, leaving only a handful of
old scoundrels and lecherous lads who can only stare at my mother's back for a fleeting moment, barely daring to look her in the eye.

As for the occasional lecherous devil who comes from the countryside drawn by her fame, they only come to make their way in,
feast their eyes , and then slink away when they see no opportunity. They wouldn't dare to stage any bullying or humiliation,
because anyone who has lived in the countryside, especially in very backward mountain villages, knows that the villagers are very united when it comes to outsiders
. My mother gets along well with the villagers, and with my father's years of influence and influence in the village
, if anyone dares to cause trouble, wouldn't everyone respond with a single call?

Although my father wasn't as tall as my mother, the three of us siblings had very standard figures and equally
outstanding looks. It's understandable; my father was good-looking, and my mother was tall and beautiful, so we children naturally
inherited these excellent genes.

Then again, perhaps it's because people in Northeast China are generally not short. I was already 1.45 meters tall at ten, while my
second sister, at thirteen, was almost 1.6 meters. My eldest sister, at fifteen, was even more impressive, not much shorter than my mother. Her
tall figure, though slightly slender, accentuated her pure and fresh girlish charm.

I don't know if it was because the nutritional supplements my father brought back in previous years were too nourishing, or what, but
although my two sisters were slender, they already had feminine curves. Although they were still far from mature, and compared to my mother they were like matchsticks,
they were still very attractive to young boys.

The three of us siblings had a very good relationship, perhaps because from a young age, whenever I received a special gift from my father, I
would always share it with my sisters. For some reason, I've never had a possessive streak. Everything I'm given
individually I share with my sisters. Even the nutritional supplements specially bought for me, I
share with them without hesitation.

I've never argued with them, never even raised my voice. I'm gentle and
considerate towards my family, which makes my two sisters even more fond of me. Also, because we often slept naked together as children,
it seems that without the barrier of clothing, it's easier for the three of us siblings to open up. My sisters especially love confiding in me
, and over time, our relationship has become incredibly close.

I also have a strong sense of responsibility. Once, I got into a fight and beat
up the same school, was severely reprimanded by the teacher when she was called to the office. Although my sister and
the teacher both asked me why I hit someone, I didn't answer. I figured the student I hit wouldn't say
why .

When the teacher couldn't get an answer, they made me copy a text ten times as punishment. Of course, I didn't care, but
my second sister clearly knew I wouldn't hit someone randomly, so as soon as we left the office, she pulled me to a secluded corner.
She cupped my face in her hands, her plain, unadorned face filled with tenderness, and stared intently into my
eyes , saying nothing, just quietly watching.

Her eyes were very expressive, blinking as if they could speak. Knowing how close we were, I knew she
wanted to ask why I'd fought, but I didn't want her to hear any vulgarities, so I
looked away, deciding to remain silent.

Receiving no answer, my second sister suddenly smiled—a beautiful smile that inexplicably stirred my heart, but
being completely ignorant I didn't realize it was a yearning to possess her. My sister stared at me with a smile for a while, and finally said in a
slightly reproachful voice, "Was it because your classmate cursed at you that you scolded him?"

I nodded involuntarily. Nowadays, people usually curse with things like "fuck your mother," "screw your mother,"
or "fuck your mother's stinky piss." But maybe because my sister is so beautiful and I see her so often, people who argue with me
often say things like "fuck your sister's cunt" or "fuck your sister to death" when they curse at me.

Although I didn't fully understand these words, and I believe the child saying them didn't either, everyone knew it was
a very serious insult—after all, adults use such language when they're angry.

Knowing it wasn't well-intentioned and involved family, my reaction was always extreme. If anyone dared to insult me like that, I'd
grab my fists and fight them, regardless of whether I could win. Over time, this ferocity made people around me
afraid to insult me anymore. Of course, this also meant I didn't have many friends. As for the guy I beat up so badly
, he was a new transfer student.

My older sister, of course, knew all about these things, so my second sister didn't ask any more questions, though she was secretly pleased. She gently
patted my cheek, stroking it with obvious affection, and said softly, "You gave
me a good beating right after I transferred schools. I guess I'll never dare to swear in front of you again." Then, she suddenly gave
my head a light tap, not too hard, and scolded, "But you're not allowed to fight next time. It hurts! If I scold
you, you can tell the teacher. Fighting like this hurts everyone, doesn't it?"

I don't know if my second sister was just naturally like that or if she was precocious, but unlike my eldest sister, she wasn't
lively or mischievous. She was very mature and sensible, so she could easily persuade me, and I listened to her.

But I was very stubborn on matters of principle. Without thinking, I shook my head and never considered lying to my sister.

My second sister didn't say much, just pouted and angrily poked my forehead a few times with the tip of her index finger
as punishment. "I won't tell Mom... I'll rub it for you if it hurts later."

She casually dismissed the matter.

Our area is harsh, and many students live far from school, so no one goes home for lunch;
everyone brings their own lunchboxes to school. Just as my second sister and I were eating our lunchboxes, the school's
loudspeaker suddenly broadcast the principal's voice, ordering students to immediately return to their classrooms.

Back in the classroom, I heard the announcement that another continuous blizzard was coming, and school was letting out early.
While the blizzard raged, everyone was to stay home and study until it passed.
Such things were common in our area during this harsh winter; sometimes even final exams were canceled.

For the students, the blizzard meant several more boring days. When the blizzard came,
they couldn't even go outside, let alone play with their friends. The classroom was filled with sighs and groans.

I wasn't in high spirits either. Weakly, I was led away from school by my second sister and rushed home.
Even a three-year-old living in this snowy region knows the terror of a blizzard; no idiot would
play on the way home.

When we got home, I found my eldest sister, who was in middle school, had also returned. My mother, seeing everyone was home, breathed
a sigh of relief and busied herself heating the kang (heated brick bed). In our area, we eat, chat, and sleep
on the kang. Normally, the quilts are folded and stored in the cupboard built against the wall; only at night are they moved from the low table
and spread out.

I took off my heavy sweater and boots, climbed onto the kang, turned on the TV at the head of the kang, and then took out
my homework and placed it on the low table. Of course, my second sister, who had followed, immediately turned off the TV, glared
at me, and took out her homework as well.

I understood that my second sister wanted me to finish my homework before watching TV, so I just stuck out my tongue and started doing my homework
. My eldest sister and mother began preparing for the blizzard, gathering food, checking doors and windows
, and so on .

When I finished my homework, I found my second sister had already finished. She wasn't watching TV; she was simply resting
her chin , casually twirling a strand of hair behind her ear, engrossed in a storybook. I loved how considerate my second sister was,
so I quickly packed my schoolbag while shouting to her that I'd finished my homework, knowing she actually loved watching
TV .

Night slowly fell, and the wind outside grew stronger, but I didn't feel the cold at all. I
had a warm dinner in my mouth, a cozy heated kang bed beneath me, and my eyes were glued to the exciting program on TV.

How could I care if it was cold outside? After dinner, the four of us sat
on , watching TV and chatting. Nestled in my eldest sister's arms, I suddenly felt that this was happiness. But my
feeling of happiness suddenly turned into a profound understanding of misfortune, because the power went out.

Ugh, it felt like the sky had fallen…

Children are afraid of the dark, and I was no exception. The room was pitch black, so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face, and
eerily silent. I, being young, immediately felt a chill of terror.

I rushed into my older sister's arms, fearfully wrapping my arms around her soft, boneless waist, holding her tightly.
But suddenly, she pinched my cheek, and I realized my face was pressed against her soft breasts.
Although she was wearing a thick cotton-padded coat, I could still feel her chest bulging, as if
two .

I didn't realize my sister was blushing in the darkness. She didn't push me away, but playfully pinched my nose to stop
me from breathing, asking, "Mom, where's the candle?" Mom said, "In the bottom drawer in the corner.
Didn't you do your homework?" My sister said, "I finished it at school. What about your homework, Second Sister?" She
pinched my nose between her fingers and stroked the tip.

"Ouch...Mom, Sister's bullying me!" It really hurt, burning hot. My sister was really good at this.

"Liu Mi, don't bully your little brother," Mom called out in her full name as usual. Perhaps because we're all grown up now, Mom only calls my two older sisters by their full names,
except for my nickname.

My eldest sister gave a playful huff, letting go of my nose, but didn't push me away.

"Have you finished your homework?" Mom asked again.

My second sister and I replied, "Yes, we've finished."

Upon hearing this, Mom said, "Then you don't need to find candles anymore. Go to sleep; there's nothing else to do." Hearing
this , I protested, "Mom, it's only a little past 8 o'clock. Why go to sleep so early? Maybe the fuse blew;
the power will come back on soon." I didn't want to go to sleep so early; channel 3 would be showing cartoons at 9 o'clock.

My eldest sister was amused by my anxiety and burst into a cheerful laugh, like a nightingale singing. Then she pinched
my nose and teased, "Oh, how did you know the fuse blew? Even if it did, it's windy and snowy outside,
who are you going to call to change it?"

My second sister chimed in, "Children should go to bed at 8 pm, that's what the books say." As she spoke,
my second sister and mother had already opened the cupboard in the dark, taken out the blankets, and started spreading them out. My eldest sister, who couldn't sit still, started
tickling me again.

My family was used to it, so they let us fool around.

There was a rustling sound of bedding, and after a moment, my mother said gently, "Come to sleep."

I wasn't happy about it, pouting in the dark, but I didn't go over, silently protesting.

My mother loved me dearly and patiently coaxed me, "We just replaced the fuse a few days ago, and you
can't see any light outside. The heavy snow must have broken the power lines. Not only will there be no power tonight, but it might not be back on for the next few days with this
blizzard and sleep now. If you can't sleep, I'll talk to you
."

Hearing this, my heart sank. Once before, a heavy snow had broken the power lines, and it took
several weeks for someone to fix them. There was nothing we could do; our area was very inconvenient and extremely
remote . Even after the blizzard, the power company
wouldn't come until the knee-deep snow melted.

My spirits plummeted, and I remained silent. My family knows me well and knew I was sulking,
so they took turns trying to coax me until my second sister agreed to go out and build a snowman with me after the snowfall. Only then did I leave my eldest sister and
quietly sneak to a corner to take off my clothes.

Although it was pitch black, and my sister and mother were tidying up the blankets, and since I was old enough to understand, my family has always
turned off the lights before taking off my clothes and getting into bed, I was still afraid of being seen.

Some might ask, what's there for a child to be afraid of? My family must have carefully examined my
body when I was little; what is there that I wouldn't dare show them?

Actually, a month ago I dared to take off my clothes openly, but now I don't dare, because I've grown hair on the belly of my
penis ! I've secretly observed my classmates when they go to pee,
and they don't have any hair at all, and my penis is more than twice the size of theirs.

Also, recently during PE class when I was climbing the pole, my penis was squeezed, and even through my thick cotton pants,
I could still feel a strange sensation—a feeling that was both uncomfortable and somewhat anticipated.

I didn't even tell my closest sister about this feeling. I'm not one to ask my elders for help,
but I knew it must be related to the few small bottles of drinks my father brought back. I only remember the name was something like "hormone.
" My father was afraid I wouldn't grow as tall as him, so he forced me to drink it. Could it be because of that?

Of course, what bothered me most was the hair around my penis. At first, only one or two hairs grew in that smooth area
, and I didn't pay much attention. I just secretly cut them off with scissors. But a few days later
, dozens of hairs grew out! I was so scared that I carefully cut them all off, but then the area became incredibly itchy,
so itchy that I had to scratch it every now and then. I had to scratch it, but I was also afraid of being seen and laughed at. It was really uncomfortable.

However, when the hair grew back, the itching disappeared. I also knew
that cutting the hair would make me itchy again, and the hair wouldn't prevent me from urinating, so I
stopped cutting it. I'm too shy to let my family know about my hair, which is why I hide in a corner to take off
my clothes .

Just then, Mom called out, "Doggy, are you dressed yet? If you are, hurry up and get under the covers
so
you don't catch a cold." Doggy is my nickname, the one I dislike the most among all my nicknames, but Mom especially loves to call me that. Actually, I quite like it when Mom calls me by the nickname "Little Third," but Mom says that calling me that in a cheeky way will help me grow up safely.

I felt a bit cold even though I was naked; if it weren't for the warm kang (heated brick bed), I would have caught a cold long ago. So I quickly
crawled towards Mom in the dark. I didn't dare walk, afraid of stepping on someone or tripping. Since Mom slept on the
outermost side, and I was used to taking off my clothes facing the closet wall, I had to crawl through my sisters' territory. My sisters seemed
very familiar with this habit I had developed since childhood, and they all
patted .

My eldest sister would occasionally pinch my penis to play with, but lately I've been avoiding it, and this time was no exception.

After so long, my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but it was still night outside, and there was no
moonlight ; I could only vaguely make out a shadow. Seeing the largest shadow lift the covers and beckon to me,
I, already feeling a bit cold, quickly rolled into the covers. "Wow, so comfortable, so warm!" I exclaimed

comfortably as my naked body touched the warm blankets . Everyone just smiled and didn't reply. Judging from the rustling sounds, I knew without a doubt that Mother and Sister were starting to undress. A moment later, I felt a cold draft in; it seemed Mother was lifting the covers to come in. I instinctively turned slightly towards Sister, something I'd done ever since my hair grew in, because I was afraid Mother might accidentally touch my fur, and then she'd find out! That was my most embarrassing secret. After Mother came in and lay down, she noticed that because I had moved, a gap had appeared in the middle of the blanket, letting in a draft . So, just like before, she moved her voluptuous body to press against me, slightly propping herself up and extending a jade - like arm to tuck the blanket around my side. After tucking the blanket in, Mother's hand naturally embraced me, and then her entire body pressed against mine . This movement caused her high, full breasts to rub against my bare back several times. I could clearly feel the two soft yet firm, incredibly elastic nipples sliding and circling on my back with the movement of her breasts , a tingling, slightly itchy sensation that I thoroughly enjoyed. Then Mother squeezed in completely, pressing her bare back against mine, a perfect fit. My mother has repeated this action countless times since I was a child. Perhaps before my penis grew bigger and pubic hair, or perhaps when I was already very sleepy before falling asleep, being held in my mother's arms would only help me fall asleep faster. Leaning against those smooth, soft breasts would only make me feel warmer and more drowsy, and I wouldn't think about anything else. But tonight I went to bed unusually early, and now that I'm wide awake, how can I fall asleep? And I don't know why, but when my mother's breasts rub against me, I have a strange feeling, a dull , itchy sensation, like ants crawling inside me. I don't know if it's lust acting up, but I just shifted my hips uncomfortably, trying to get away to relieve this restlessness. But perhaps my shifting created a breeze, because my mother shifted her body and also moved her hips, her mons pubis pressing tightly against mine.

At first, I didn't pay attention and continued to wriggle, but suddenly I felt a tuft of hair on my mother's lower body. This tuft of hair gently tickled my bottom
as I wiggled.

I immediately stopped moving. I felt sorry for myself because I thought only women had hair, and now that I had hair, I
must be a woman. I had always been proud to be a man, and now that I knew I was a woman,
what a huge blow it was to my young heart.

At this moment, my older sister, who was sleeping half-asleep next to me, spoke up: "Mom, my brother keeps pushing me, tell him to move back a bit."

My mother slapped my bottom as if scolding me and said, "That little rascal, Gou'er, won't sleep properly. He keeps moving
around and making a fuss, so I have to keep pushing forward." After saying that, my mother moved the hand that was holding my chest down and
hooked it around my abdomen, and then pulled me back a few times like that.

After returning to our original position, Mother half-pressed down on me, leaning over to tidy the corner of the blanket on my
side. I could feel her plump, soft breasts flattening against me, and then suddenly she straddled me with one leg, her mons pubis
pressing unprotected against my hip bone. That tuft of hair tickled me, but the sliding, fleshy protrusion within it
felt incredibly pleasurable.

This made me increasingly aroused, a strange restlessness making me feel
increasingly suffocated and uncomfortable, yet conflictedly wanting to continue the contact.

Mother tidied me for a while, and when I felt a dampness on my hip, she suddenly sighed, hugged me
again remained still.

When I came to my senses, I realized my penis had swelled up and was painfully throbbing
. I was terrified by this reaction. I thought I was sick and was about to tell Mother,
but somehow, in my fear, my penis shrank, and the swelling disappeared.

I had just breathed a sigh of relief when Mom's hand suddenly moved to my abdomen again, pressing me forcefully into her arms
. Then she started moving, arching her backside forward, pressing tightly against mine. She paused for a few seconds,
seemingly hesitant, but finally made up her mind and began slowly rubbing up and down.

The tuft of hair on her buttocks and the warm, soft flesh inside created an intense sensation, causing my penis
to swell Previously drooping, it was now erect and stiff—harder than I'd ever been before.

Mom's breathing became noticeably rapid. The hand holding my abdomen gently caressed me, reaching my navel and
then slowly moving downwards.

I could feel the sweaty dampness of her palm. Her hand moved lower and lower, and my penis, under these
movements, felt like it was about to explode!

This time, I didn't stop her as usual. However, when her hand touched my pubic hair, I felt her tremble
slightly, and her movements paused for a second. Then she moved her hand down again, and stopped again…

because her palm touched my erect penis—no, more accurately, my big penis.

My mother seemed to gasp, then abruptly pulled her hand back, as if stung. After a while,
although her breathing became heavier, she didn't make any movement, which slightly eased my anxiety about having my secret exposed.

But she quickly resumed stroking my pubic hair, but no longer touched my erect penis. Gradually
, her movements became distorted, and her plump body became damp with fragrant sweat—not much, but enough to lubricate her
.

This made her movements smoother; she rubbed against me like a snake, leaving me feeling sticky
and uncomfortable. But I dared not make a sound; my mother's unusual behavior frightened me.

Suddenly, I heard a soft sound of swallowing saliva, followed by the sticky sound of lips pursing.
Then a warm, ambiguous breeze blew into my ear, making me shrink back. My heart felt even more
suffocated.

But I suppressed my anxiety and pretended not to hear. My mother tentatively blew a couple more times, but I still ignored her.
My mother paused, and just when I thought she had returned to normal, I suddenly felt her smooth fingers
writing words on my back. This was a game she had come up with a long time ago to teach me to read. At my
fourth-grade level, I immediately recognized the words "grown up."

Although I recognized the words, I was very confused. Did it mean I had grown hair and grown up? Or that my penis had grown
erect?

Thinking this, I couldn't resist my curiosity and turned around. For some reason, my mother turned around first when she noticed I was about to turn around
. My erect penis immediately pressed against my mother's swollen, plump buttocks.

For a split second, my lower body trembled involuntarily. This intensely stimulating sensation was incredibly powerful for a virgin.
I shivered violently, a feeling similar to urinating surged through me, which I forcefully suppressed, not daring to move again.

But I noticed that my mother's body was trembling, her buttocks jerking, and I was forced to endure the intense
urge to urinate.

I quickly shrank back. In the darkness, I saw my mother's back to me, her breathing rising and falling. Realizing she had stopped
trembling and didn't show any displeasure at the contact, I relaxed.

Suddenly, I wondered if my mother's sudden turn meant she wanted me to write on her back for her to decipher.

Anyway, I had a question to ask. After hesitating for a moment, I reached out, intending to
write . However, the instant I touched her, my mother suddenly acted strangely. Her body began to tremble slightly again, occasionally
twitching as if trying to avoid my fingers.

I had long known my mother was ticklish; seeing her reaction, I knew she was very ticklish. A sudden surge of revenge welled up within me,
because my mother had just embarrassed me. So, I got playful and started gently stroking my mother's back and waist,
from to her tailbone.

My mother's body trembled even more, and she even started to writhe like she had when she was lying on top of me. But what
puzzled me was that before, when I tickled her, she would laugh uncontrollably, but now she not only remained
silent but also tried her best not to writhe too much, sometimes dodging and sometimes meeting my teasing hands.

I was even more puzzled; what was wrong with my mother today?

Wanting to find out, I started tickling her with both hands, and I happened to know that light, almost imperceptible
touches would make her ticklisher, so I used that trick.

My mother's breathing became uneven and erratic, and she started to shrink towards the wall. But

I wasn't about to let her get away. Determined not to stop until she begged for mercy like before, I
moved closer and continued my mischief, intensifying my attack.

But Mom wouldn't say a word, and after I touched it for a while, she bent over and rubbed her butt against my penis.
I quickly pulled back.

This made me a little resentful. Suddenly, I remembered how my mother had touched the hair on my belly earlier, and I felt incredibly itchy
. It seemed that only this trick would make my mother beg for mercy like before.

So I slipped my hand under my mother's arm and started touching her belly. At the same time, I felt how smooth my mother's
body was , and I wondered why she was sweating so much. Although the kang (heated brick bed) was warm, the outside
temperature of tens of degrees below zero was no joke.

Just as I was touching my mother's soft, smooth belly and moving downwards, my mother, who had been ignoring me,
grabbed my hand. I struggled for a moment, then slipped my other hand under my mother, so that I was hugging her
.

And the purpose, of course, was still to touch my mother's hair. At this moment, my mother grabbed my hand as well. I tried to
struggle , but my mother held me even tighter, making me unable to move.

I panicked and wanted to scream, but for some reason, I didn't want my two older sisters to know that my mother and I were so
intimate . Perhaps because my parents used to spoil me so much, I never acted like a child in front of my older sisters, maybe
because I was afraid they'd be jealous.

So I decided to find a way to free my hands myself, and I immediately had an idea.

When my penis touched Mom earlier, she was shaking so badly; it must have been so itchy.

Having made up my mind, I immediately put it into action. The moment I touched her, I
gasped in shock, feeling my penis throbbing violently. My "self-inflicted injury" had a corresponding "enemy injury" effect on Mom
.

Sure enough, Mom started trembling again.

Then, as if electrocuted, she pulled her large buttocks apart slightly, preventing my penis from pressing against them.
I felt smug; Mom was indeed afraid of my penis!

Hehe…

I knew I'd found a way to free my hands. I wrapped my arms around Mom's slender waist. Although I didn't have
the strength to pull her closer, I could pull myself closer. I used both hands and my buttocks together, a contraction that
I called "squeezing."

My throbbing penis finally touched my mother's buttocks again. This time, as it brushed against her sweaty, plump
buttocks, it slipped and fell into her cleft. Immediately, my penis felt the heat and moisture, and my mother's
muscles tensed reflexively as her buttocks contracted tightly.

"Ah...hiss..." The overwhelming pleasure made me groan uncontrollably. My mother was struck as if by lightning, her
body convulsing as if she had a seizure. Her buttocks were so tight that I felt like I was dying of pleasure. I instinctively hugged my mother tightly,
as if I wanted to mash her into my body. My mother was curled up like a shrimp. She might have bitten something in her mouth,
as she made low whimpering sounds, but I could feel the difficulty she was trying to suppress.

As my penis touched the bottom, a stream of hot liquid spread from my mother's cleft, a considerable amount of thick liquid splattering onto my penis
. However, I was probably too engorged; although I felt like I was about to urinate, the feeling of blockage and
the lack of stimulation (the stimulating motion) combined with my shame about bedwetting and my desperate attempts to hold it in meant that
I didn't urinate even after my mother finished her convulsions.

I was then immersed in the shock of my mother's bedwetting. I don't know how much time passed, but my mother's panting back
slowed down; she seemed to have fallen asleep. I didn't dare say anything, but my penis remained hard, still deeply
pressed against my mother's wet, hot cleft.

A moment later, my mother suddenly shifted her buttocks, seemingly trying to pull my penis out of her cleft. Of course, her
movements were very slow; it seemed she didn't want my two older sisters to know we were playing, and that she had embarrassingly wet the bed.

Although I felt my mother's urine was dirty, at this moment, especially since I was in the embarrassing situation of having my penis urinated on by my mother
and even groaning, I dared not make a sound.

So I cooperated and tried to pull out, but just as I was
about , my mother... lowered her waist and bent over, pulling my penis back into her cleft!

I felt my penis being swallowed by my mother's buttocks as it left, and a feeling of thrusting my hips surged within me
. I couldn't resist, and I actually cooperated with my mother's hip-bending motion, thrusting it back in.

My mother's buttock cleft was really deep; my large penis could actually reach all the way in, although it would push her buttocks inward
when .

With my mother's urine on it, when I inserted it, it actually made a "sizzling" sound, which was barely audible, but
could still be heard in the quiet night.

I felt a little perverted; so dirty... and I actually liked this wet and smooth feeling...

I couldn't stop, thrusting into my mother's buttock cleft several times in a row, but she couldn't take it anymore, her breathing trembled, and
her buttocks started to retreat again, as if she wanted to spit out my penis.

Having gotten into the swing of things, I ignored everything else and pressed myself tightly against my mother's buttocks as I advanced. Finally, my mother was pressed against
the corner of the wall, and I could feel the hardness of the wall behind the blanket on my hand. I was delighted. It was my mother who wouldn't pull out
, and now it was her again. Hehe, let's see where she can run this time.

My mother finally couldn't escape. So, with victory in sight, I triumphantly thrust my rock-hard penis towards
my mother's buttocks.

But this time, I immediately discovered that when I reached the bottom of my mother's buttock cleft, it actually had a tendency to sink in.
And because I used more force this time, my penis head felt like it was being squeezed into a hot, dry, painful fleshy hole
. My

mother let out a muffled groan and clearly froze. Her body jolted violently, and her hands, which had been tightly gripping me, finally loosened.
I felt my penis, sunk into the cleft, being gripped tightly by my mother's two plump buttocks. My mother's buttock muscles were very well-developed from years of hard work
, and this unprecedented tightness made it feel as if my penis was being bitten by a mouth
.

My mother's body was burning hot, especially her buttocks. The heat made me want my penis to come out and breathe, but the head inside
that fleshy opening felt incredibly uncomfortable.

So I gently moved my hips back, pulling my head out.
The friction between my head and my mother's tight, slippery buttocks gave me an indescribable sensation, making me want to experience it again. Compared to
the pleasure , the pain in my head was nothing.

Without thinking, I immediately thrust my penis forward. This time, with deliberate control, I only reached
the bottom , not penetrating that dry, fleshy opening. Now that my hands were free, I immediately pulled them
out and went to my mother's plump buttocks, stroking the sticky, slightly sweaty flesh.

The feel of her big buttocks was mesmerizing. Of course, I wouldn't just touch it and leave it at that. I found the crevice of my mother's buttocks and used...
I spread them apart with my hands, then thrust my hips forward, making it easier for my penis to slide in.

When I released my hands, I enjoyed that tight feeling again. This time I wasn't as foolish as before;
I didn't pull my penis out completely, but only a little. When I pulled it out, my mother's buttocks were so tight that they actually tugged at my
skin , as if she didn't want me to leave like that.

Of course, I didn't want to leave either, so I immediately thrust in hard, then pulled out again, repeating this process.

My hands, having already completed their task, weren't idle either
.
One hand went up, passing under my mother's warm armpit, touching her full, firm breasts, and I grabbed them hard, my fingers sinking into the flesh, being "swallowed" by my mother's plump breasts. My other hand went down through my mother's waist, preparing to touch her pubic hair, completing my previous plan.

My hand, which had been outstretched, suddenly closed, pinching her particularly hard and large
nipple . I kneaded it vigorously for a while, panting, before moving on to her other breast. But I found it
already occupied by one of her hands. I had to retreat to my original position.

My next hand was even less successful, finding itself occupied by her other hand before I could even make an attack. Of
course, I wasn't willing to retreat like that, so I tried to see if she would agree to form a joint exploration team. As a result, I
successfully touched my mother's plump mons pubis and got a handful of hair.

It was arranged vertically, unlike my hair which was arranged in a triangle. Once I reached my destination, I
focused my mother's pubic hair. But once I felt the plumpness and thickness of her mons pubis, the soft texture made me
love it. After that, playing with the pubic hair became secondary; I focused on this mound of flesh and couldn't get enough of it.

This plump, tender flesh, I could actually squeeze it into a ball with my little hands, and the feel of it
was no less than that of my two older sisters' breasts. Of course, although it was covered in sticky, rotting hair,
I surprisingly liked the dirty, sticky feeling.

However, because I was playing with my mother's breasts and mons pubis, I forgot to thrust my lower body, but my mother actively wiggled her buttocks, seemingly
urging me to focus my attention back on her cleft. My mother vigorously contracted her buttock muscles, successfully
drawing my attention to my penis.

So I thrust again, withdrawing and inserting much more skillfully than before. Just like my precocious penis, I
seemed to a special talent for this. As time went on, each thrust brought me intense pleasure, a
feeling completely different from the feeling I had when climbing the pole.

My penis was thick, about 15 centimeters when erect, and with each thrust, I could reach the bottom of her cleft,
or even further. Then, I discovered a slightly open, warm, moist crevice at the bottom. Unlike my mother's anus,
this crevice contracted like a living thing the moment my glans touched it. When this crevice tightened
, my mother's buttocks became very tight, even squeezing my penis a little painfully.

And this crevice was so wet, the outside very soft and fertile, making me feel very comfortable. So I decided to explore
it further.

I attacked that crevice a few times, getting squeezed by my mother's buttocks each
time , I felt that strong urge to urinate again, a sensation like an electric shock, surging up from my heels, first
to my brain, and then to my penis.

I was startled. Was my mother urinating because she felt good? But I couldn't urinate! My mother had given me
such a wonderful feeling, and I actually wanted to urinate on her? Even if my mother doted on me, I doubted she would
forgive me for urinating in her buttocks while playing a game. Besides, we were on the kang (heated brick bed),
a place for sleeping; how could I do it here?

I immediately inhaled, gritted my teeth, and held back, pressing down on the base of my penis to prevent the urine from leaking out. This
was a technique I learned from a game we played as kids to see who could pee the longest. After a while, the urge finally subsided, and I
breathed a sigh of relief—I had finally wet the bed.

Several more urges made me very wary. I thought about it and, ultimately, fearing I would pee in my mother's buttocks, I decided to stop
the game.

But my mother bent over and rubbed against me again. This time, I firmly pushed her buttocks
away . I refused again, and then she stopped moving.

I originally wanted to turn over and go to sleep, but after thinking about it, I inserted my penis back into my mother's buttocks. My mother immediately
started wriggling again. I held my mother's slender waist with both hands to stop her from moving, and wrote the word "sleep" on her back with one hand. My
mother froze, sighed, and became obedient.

My two older sisters were fast asleep at this time, and I could hear their breathing. Just as I closed my eyes to
fall asleep , my mother suddenly pulled her buttocks away, letting my penis out. Then Mom turned around to
face . Even in the darkness, I could still see her watery, alluring eyes.

Neither of us spoke for a while. Then Mom reached out and pushed me around, and
began writing on my back. I could tell from her writing that it was a bit hard to understand. The first sentence was: "Little bastard, you even
fuck your mother's ass!" The "x" was because the character had many strokes, and I couldn't make it out at all.

I was a little stunned because I didn't know what "fuck" meant. Did it mean I would use my penis
to thrust into Mom's ass? I seemed to understand why those guys always said "fuck your mother" when they cursed people. So
godmothers really are that fun. Hmm, I wonder if god-sisters are that fun too?

But I will never let those guys fuck my mom and my sister. Only I can do it! I
made up my mind. The second sentence Mom wrote was, "When did the hair grow?" I understood this. I turned around, but
this time Mom didn't turn around; she just moved her lower body, which was pressed against me, back slightly. I could only
write on Mom's abdomen, "A month ago."

Mom asked again why I was doing this at such a young age. How was I supposed to know what age was appropriate for this? So
I didn't answer, but just touched Mom's smooth, sweaty lower abdomen, and continued writing, "Go to sleep." I was really
sleepy.

I was so drowsy, but Mom seemed very energetic. Her fingers
wandered over to my chest and rubbed it a few times. When I didn't react, she pinched me, then angrily slid her fingers across my chest, quickly
writing a few words, and then pushed me to turn around.

I thought about it carefully for a moment before realizing that the sentence was, "Heartless."

Heartless? What does that mean? How could she be heartless?

I was about to turn around to protest, but Mom had already straightened the blankets, then turned back and hugged me tightly, one
leg draped over me, her sticky mons pubis pressing against me, rubbing against me a few times as if in revenge, making me wet.
I felt a little uncomfortable. But I was sleepy and too lazy to protest.

After a while, my mother kept bothering me with her little actions, but I remained calm and almost fell asleep. Suddenly, my mother
put one hand around my neck and wrapped it around me, while her other hand grabbed my soft little penis.

After playing with it for a few seconds, my penis quickly became erect, but I pretended to be asleep and didn't intend to pay attention to her.

My mother, however, didn't intend to let me go. She pulled back my foreskin, stroked my glans for a while, and then let go,
as if checking if there was anything on her hand. I could hear my mother sniffing, and she seemed to
smell it. Then, that hand grasped my penis again and gently moved it up and down.

Although it felt good to be stroked by my mother's smooth hand, it couldn't compare to the tightness of her buttocks.
So I didn't feel a drop of urine at all, letting my mother play with my penis. My endurance in this area is amazing.

Suddenly, my mother pulled up the blanket, covering both of us under it. Before I could react,
my mother's lips gently pressed against mine again. In a soft, husky voice only I could hear, she exclaimed, "So
amazing...doggy...you didn't even ejaculate!"

I didn't understand what ejaculation meant; I just felt suffocated and desperately needed air. I struggled to get out.
Seeing my struggle, my mother hummed softly, straightened the blanket, released her grip on my penis, and moved behind me
to write again.

Through my sleepy eyes, I sensed it was a sentence: "Don't let anyone know what happened just now, not even your
sister." Although I didn't understand why my sister couldn't know, deep down I thought it was
best not to.

So I nodded, and finally, exhausted, I fell asleep in my mother's arms. Before falling asleep, I
felt my mother still holding my penis, which was slowly starting to relax, playing with it with obvious affection.

Since that day, my mother and I had a shared secret, and she would play
games with me every few days. I disliked the feeling of needing to pee, and coupled with my mother's persistent clinging, I gradually grew to dislike that cloying affection.

After several refusals, Mom finally couldn't help but ask me what was wrong. I told her the reason, and she thought for a moment without saying anything,
but promised me that she wouldn't "play games" without my consent anymore. Finally, she said that I could touch her
anytime .

Touching Mom's body still fascinated me, and this suggestion tempted me. So I made a
request: I couldn't touch her when she wasn't allowed to touch me. Mom agreed. After that, I took the initiative and started leading
the game.

Just like that, Mom's body became my toy, something I couldn't put down. Of course, there were some drawbacks
, such as her always wetting the bed when we played with her.

From the second time onwards, Mom wasn't wary of me anymore, even letting me touch her private parts. But one time, I smelled
the urine I touched and stopped touching it. I really disliked the fishy smell.

I asked Mom what I was touching, but she only said it was her urination area and forbade me to ask anyone,
otherwise she wouldn't let me play. However, the result of this was that Mom repeatedly asked me to insert my penis, but I
refused, thinking it was dirty.

I had this bizarre thought: if Mom leaks urine so easily, what must it be like inside? It must be an even dirtier diaper bag
!

It's laughable that after playing with Mom for so long, I couldn't even distinguish between urine and vaginal fluid.

As time went on, I began to sense a change in Mom's attitude towards me. I couldn't pinpoint the specific change,
but I knew she was kinder and more indulgent than before, to the point that she would grit her teeth
and try to fulfill any request I made, even for the stars in the sky.

I didn't know that Mom and I were committing incest, while she knew but kept it a secret. It seemed as if heaven was punishing Mom; the retribution for violating
incestuous came quickly.

When Father returned for the New Year, his attitude was strange. Although he was still very affectionate towards his three children and brought back a lot of money as usual, he
was somewhat cold towards Mom. Mom didn't seem to care, because her focus was entirely on me. Especially one night, when Dad
wanted to sleep in the same bed with Mom, she refused for some reason. From then until he left, Dad barely spoke a few
words to Mom.

Moreover, before Dad left, rumors started circulating in the village and quickly reached Mom's ears. It was said that a migrant
worker brought back news, and the protagonist was my father. The rumor was that my father was having an affair. The woman was young and beautiful,
and also his business partner. My father had already started a business at that time,
one of the most lucrative trades of the era, nicknamed "the middleman."

The night my mother heard the news, she took me to a secluded place and cried, holding me in her arms.

I knew nothing about relationships, just listened blankly, offering dry, unhelpful words to comfort her,
while secretly harboring resentment towards my father. It wasn't until many years later that I understood that my mother also bore some
responsibility for our divorce. Her heart was no longer with my father. So, even though he was the one who cheated, if my mother
had acted as virtuous and considerate as before during the New Year, perhaps… maybe my father would have changed his mind?

Of course, there are no "what ifs," and even if there were, the outcome would be uncertain. In short, my father never returned to that poor
mountain village. I saw him again after the incident; he had heard from a fellow villager and went to the juvenile detention center in the city to see
me. But that's another story.

After Dad passed away, Mom and I continued our "game." Sometimes I wouldn't play for ten or fifteen days, and Mom's
gaze would become strange, always seeming unsettling. Later, I realized it was a look of longing and resentment.

Dad's passing only affected Mom for a few days; after all, they'd been a couple living apart for almost ten years, and life
went on even without each other.

Within half a month, Mom recovered completely, and seemed to smile even more than before. From then on, she always radiated
happiness. I rarely saw the furrowed brow she used to have, which was a good thing, but her change in mood intrigued me.
I couldn't understand what made her so happy, since life remained the same for me,
unchanged .

I asked Mom a few times, but she just giggled and wouldn't say why.

One day, I desperately needed to pee, so I pulled down my pants and ran to the toilet. As soon as I entered, I pulled
my hard penis out of my pants, ready to pee. Oh my god! My mother was peeing inside...

I saw her pants rolled up to her thighs, her underwear pulled down to her rounded knees, her two white thighs spread
wide apart, and a stream of white urine was spraying out from the dark patch of hair. My mother's pretty face visibly turned
crimson, she glared at me, then opened her mouth in surprise and froze, her gaze clearly fixed on my penis.

The stream of urine from my mother's crotch began to spray more intensely and involuntarily. After a long while, she finally recovered from her shock. This was
the first time my mother had seen my erect penis during the day, and it was also the first time I had seen my mother's dark, pubic hair during the day,
except I couldn't see the plump vulva hidden among the pubic hair I often played with.

Moreover, my mother was so fair-skinned that the color of her pubic hair appeared exceptionally dark, creating a particularly strong visual impact, and I was stunned for a moment
.

My mother swallowed, blinked her beautiful eyes, and looked at me, asking, "Do you need to pee?" I didn't know how to answer
.

My mother said, "If you're in a hurry, just pee over here. I'll move over a little." As she spoke, my mother moved over
a little. Since my mother said so, I decided to pee. I grabbed my hard, large penis and pressed it down hard to urinate. My heart could
finally relax, but little did I know that this would only make things worse.

Thinking of my mother's smooth, white, plump buttocks, which I played with every night, my hard penis was initially manageable
to hold back. But when I recalled the scene I had just witnessed—the dark pubic hair mixed with white urine—
I couldn't hold it back anymore. My already engorged penis grew even larger!

Finally, a stream of urine shot out, splashing onto the opposite wall, scattering everywhere, covering my mother's body and
buttocks. She shivered from the drenching. Was the urine too hot?

But I was anxious and didn't care whether it was hot or not; I was certain my mother was going to be angry this time.

Mother blushed, bit her lip, and said nothing. Her expression was somewhat bewildered. She
glanced at , grabbed some tissues, and then stuck her plump, round buttocks out towards me, vigorously rubbing the area between her dark pubic hairs.
She stood up beside me, neither dodging nor flinching, and slowly pulled up her underwear,
her seductive movements seeming affected to me. Before leaving, she pursed her rosy lips, gave me a few tense looks,
and then went.

However, I still didn't see what Mother's genitals looked like. After that, I developed a strong curiosity about what it looked like,
often fantasizing about Mother's mysterious genitals and recalling the patch of dark pubic hair between her legs. So,
when I liked to touch her buttocks and asked her more often what it was.

Mother eventually gave in and told me it was a vagina. When I asked her what a vagina was for, she was too embarrassed
to answer, only telling me to insert my penis and experience it for myself to know its purpose.

However, I was just curious; I still felt disgusted by the sight of her vagina, thinking it was a urinal. But I didn't dare tell
my mother this, because she had pinched me in embarrassment and anger when I mentioned she wet the bed before.

...

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【Northeast-style heated brick bed】(Revised Edition) (01) Author: 998

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