[A Breakthrough for Mother and Son After the New Year] [Part 1 Complete]

Chapter 1

Everyone harbors a dream that's hard to fulfill, a dream that constantly guides our actions.

Of course, it's not called an ideal because of its unrealistic nature.

If you can easily achieve your dream, it proves you're unambitious and your goals are too narrow.

Of course, if your dream is glamorous and you're constantly enveloped in it, unwilling to wake up, that's also undesirable. If you buy lottery tickets all day, are you also constantly calculating how to allocate your winnings? That's just wishful thinking.

The above discussion is irrelevant to this article. Don't scold me. The reason I mention dreams is because I had a dream from childhood that felt both real and unreal.

In the dream, I was only four or five years old, around noon, and was awakened by voices. I opened my eyes and saw my mother leaning over the headboard watching me, with a strange uncle behind her. My mother reached out to hug me when she saw I was awake, but her body was swaying back and forth. Only when I was groggily helped up by my mother did I see that the uncle had pulled down my mother's skirt. My mother said this was a doctor who specializes in giving injections, and my mother was being injected… Many years have passed, and I can no longer distinguish whether this was a dream or a real memory. However, ever since then, I've been particularly afraid of injections. Even when I scored high on the college entrance exam and filled out my college application, my first choice was medicine. Even now, when I see those who didn't get into medical schools, I feel envious of their comfortable lives.

As mentioned above, dreams can guide our actions and methods. Since I understood matters between men and women, I've occasionally recalled that dream, which seemed both real and unreal. It seems to carry a certain indescribable feeling towards my mother, guiding my future interactions with her.

Are you all impatient? I also feel like I'm acting like Tang Sanzang from *A Chinese Odyssey*, being all sentimental.

Okay, folks, Uncle Zhao Benshan said to omit 78 words, so I'll just omit 780.

The story is over. Thank you for the applause.

Just kidding, if that were really the case, my inbox would probably be overflowing again. It's not good to get yelled at during the New Year, so I'll just describe what happened on the first day of the Lunar New Year in detail. Fellow wolves, hold your breath, here's what happened… It was the first time on the first day of the Lunar New Year, and we were visiting relatives and friends, I think it's the same all over the country. Before dawn on the first day, I dragged my wife out the door. After finally visiting everyone's houses, the sun was already high in the sky. My head was throbbing from waiting for Benshan's skit last night, and I'd had a few drinks at Ming Ge's house this morning. Plus, the bright sunlight was blinding me, so my wife took over driving, and I wanted to get home quickly and catch up on some sleep.

We were almost home when my wife's phone rang. It was a classmate of hers who had married and moved south. She was going back to her parents' home for the New Year this year and would be going back south on the third day, and wanted my wife to come visit for a while. Damn it, I had no choice but to get out of the car, tell my wife to drive slowly and get home early, and then head home, my head still throbbing.

When I opened the door, I found the TV on in the living room. I changed into slippers and prepared to go upstairs to the bedroom. Just then, my mother's voice came from the study, "Did you go to your third grandmother's house? I heard your uncle from Beijing came home for the New Year this year?" I rubbed my eyes and followed the sound into the study, finding my mother standing by the desk with a ruler in her hand. Seeing me come in, she immediately asked why my wife hadn't come back, and I explained the situation to her.

"She went to your third grandmother's house. That uncle didn't come back; I heard he came on the third day of the Lunar New Year to avoid the train travel rush. Where did my dad go?" I said, turning to leave.

"What are you doing with that ruler?" I suddenly remembered this question and turned back to ask my mother as I reached the door.

"Your dad was called out for drinks by your uncle. His back is itchy again," my mother said, reaching the ruler back into her clothes to scratch his back.

My mother has psoriasis. I've had it since I was little, and back in our hometown, I often scratched her back. Like mottled patches, they would scratch off in small spots, leaving the scratched areas red and sometimes even bleeding.

When I was little, my mom often said she wanted to be a doctor when she grew up and take a good look at what was wrong with her.

But in the end, I let her down. Why? She probably will never know.

Later, I went to many hospitals on and off, took medicine constantly, and tried all sorts of remedies. I stopped scratching her when I went to high school, and she once told me that she was almost completely healed. If my wife were home today, she would definitely not scratch her in front of me. Although the disease is not contagious, it's not aesthetically pleasing. My mom cares about her image, I know that best. My wife still doesn't know that my mom has this disease.

"The one on your spine isn't healed yet? Let me take a look." I went back to the study.

"Is there still a patch on your left shoulder and lower back?" My mom turned around and lifted her shirt.

It had been more than ten years since I last saw her, and compared to what I remembered, it had indeed improved a lot. At least most of her back was smooth, with only small white patches remaining in some areas.

"Hmm, it's definitely much better. Shall I scratch it for you again?" "Hehe, aren't you worried about getting dirty?" Mom turned around and grinned sheepishly at me.

"Hey, I've scratched your back before when you were little. If I thought it was dirty, I would have cut ties with you long ago. Lift up your jacket, that area on top looks quite large." I said, supporting her shoulders as I helped her lean over the desk.

"Oh dear, that would be like forgetting your mother after getting married. Fine, I'll take off my jacket." Mom stopped refusing, stood up, took off her coat, pulled her sweater up to her shoulders, and leaned over the desk.

So I started scratching Mom's back, and soon, the dead skin on her shoulders was peeled off. Looking at Mom's body, I was filled with emotion.

It had been over ten years since I'd scratched her back. Thinking back to when I was just a little kid, and now I was about to become a father. Now I understand what my dad meant when he said, "Never be a dad, it's exhausting!" It's true, childhood was better; you didn't have to think about anything. Unlike now, you have to constantly be on guard against someone plotting against you, and you have to be careful in everything you do. Sigh, I'm getting off-topic again… Anyway, I just went through my entire life in a short time. Sigh, after scratching my shoulders, I was about to scratch my lower back when my memory stopped on the bus to high school.

Why can't teenagers drink alcohol? Because alcohol is bad; it gives you courage and messes up your brain.

I couldn't help but glance down. My mom was leaning over her desk, her big, round butt less than ten centimeters from my lower body. If I moved forward even slightly, I could touch it.

"Ah, of course, my lower back. Look, there's still a big part here," I answered absentmindedly, but my mind was still on that butt I'd been pressing against on the bus for over a year. My mom must have felt it back then, but why didn't she make any move to avoid it? Was it shyness that made it difficult to start, or...? If I pretended to accidentally push it up again now, would nothing happen?

As you get older, you think about more things. Although I'd had a few drinks, I still knew the consequences, and ultimately I didn't dare. I shook my head to clear my head and said to my mom, "Mom, there's still a spot down there, pull your pants down a bit more." To be honest, there was indeed a small spot down there that I hadn't scratched, and I certainly didn't have bad intentions. But my mom wouldn't let me, saying she could reach it herself. I said I should at least scratch it once and clean it up. So I pulled down her pants with both hands.

My wife bought my mom's pants; they were very loose, made of soft material, and the legs were very wide, like bell-bottoms. I didn't approve of them when we chose them; they weren't winter clothes, they were summer clothes. If my mom saw them, she'd think we bought out-of-season clothes to save money, but my wife said I didn't understand. After buying them, my mom really liked them.

Ah, women's aesthetic sense... But what I didn't expect was that the pants were loose at the legs and waist. With just a gentle pull, the pants slid past her big buttocks, and down to below, her white, round buttocks were right in front of me. In that instant, I was shocked. Was this the buttocks I had been thrusting into? Much fuller than my wife's. If I were to thrust into her from behind, it would definitely feel good. The peeping I did as a child was just a reflection in the mirror, nothing compared to this real stimulation.

At this point, impatient readers might be fantasizing. I've attached a picture. Please don't misunderstand, this isn't my mother. I do have some photos of my mother, but for privacy reasons, I won't post them. The photo was given to me by an online friend. Now, it seems her figure is very similar to my mother's, so I'm sharing it for your reference.

My mother froze for a second or two, probably not expecting her pants to be pulled down so easily. Then she slightly bent her legs and squeezed them together, reaching for the pants.

I was still watching with my mouth agape, not thinking anything of it, when I grabbed her pants to stop her from putting them on, my other hand grabbing half her buttocks. But I immediately regretted it. What was this? A son grabbing his mother to stop her from putting on her pants? It

was too blatant. But I had already grabbed her; letting go would make me seem like I had really dirty thoughts.

My mind raced, trying to find a way to back down.

Mom was still pulling hard with both hands, and I couldn't think of a good reason, so I just kept going.

"Sigh!" Mom let out a loud sigh.

Then she buried her face in her arms and slumped back onto the desk. Oh no, this was Mom's warning. If I didn't pull her up, the consequences would be serious. This was my own mother, after all; I felt guilty.

But looking at that plump bottom, haha, I felt a little resentful, so I gave her a couple of slaps and prepared to put her pants on.

But after just a light tap, Mom made a sound I'd never heard from her before—a drawn-out "eng..." in Mandarin pinyin. Thinking I'd misheard, I tapped her harder with the other hand I'd been using to pull up my pants. This time I heard it clearly: a long, deep "hmm..." sound, much louder and trembling.

I'd been secretly watching her for years, and I'd never heard that sound before. My wife, on the other hand, often makes "eng..." sounds. Thinking about all this, I felt myself getting increasingly aroused. But I still wasn't sure what Mom was thinking.

So, I boldly placed my hands on Mom's shoulders and pressed my lower body against her buttocks, pushing her against the desk. I thought, if she wasn't thinking that, she'd definitely get up and leave. But to my surprise, she hugged her arms again, burying her head even lower.

Suddenly, I thought of that face-to-face position, so I pulled out my penis and tried to get my mom to turn around, but I couldn't budge her. In desperation, I grabbed her waist, lifted her off the desk, and forcefully turned her around. My mom still covered her face with her arms, and no matter what I did, she wouldn't stand up, instead leaning her buttocks against the desk in a half-sitting position.

How could I get in this position? I couldn't penetrate her at all. I stood there dumbfounded, and when I was at my wit's end, I noticed that although my mom was sitting, there was still a gap between her legs. So I pulled one of her legs outwards, and guided my penis in. My mom obviously didn't expect me to use this position, and initially tried to push me away with her head, but once I was inside, she stopped struggling, covered her face with one hand, buried her head in my chest, and used the other hand to hit my shoulder from behind.

Seeing that she didn't resist much, I started thrusting again. This time, I held her buttocks with both hands, making her half-sit on the desk, and she spread her legs, clamping my body between them. Although I was still a little embarrassed, I was really not calm at the time. I really wanted to see her face, so I leaned back as far as I could, trying to get her head off my body.

But the more I leaned back, the closer her head got to me, to the point that my penis was almost slipping out. I had no choice but to grab her buttocks and pull her off the desk. Finally, we were standing face to face.

In the position I'd always dreamed of, I started thrusting hard, occasionally slapping her buttocks.

Finally, Mom seemed to be getting into it; her legs started to clamp together, and her other hand went onto my shoulder.

The intense sensory and psychological stimulation began to make me lose myself. As the movements quickened, Mom still didn't make a sound, but her penis started to move in sync with mine.

Finally, I couldn't hold back anymore and ejaculated. I have a habit of kissing my wife's lips when I ejaculate.

So I pulled one hand away to try and pry Mom's hand off her face, but she held it tightly. I simply used both hands to pry her apart. Without my support, Mom's buttocks began to instinctively respond to my thrusts.

Another stalemate ensued. I suddenly wanted to laugh, and couldn't help but laugh out loud. For some reason, Mom separated her hands, revealing her eyes to look at me, and then I received another heavy slap on the shoulder. Her fluids had already soaked down her thighs, sticky and wet.

It all came inside. While I was ejaculating, Mom's legs were tightly clamped together, rubbing back and forth, as if trying to suck me out completely.

As soon as I finished, Mom turned around and started wiping herself. I weakly pulled up my pants.

The feeling afterward was a bit of regret. What happened? How could I have done such a thing? Although I was very passionate at the time, I thought about many other things afterwards. That's the end of the first part.

Okay, the story is over. Or rather, a partial end, because I don't know what will happen next.

But now I can be sure that this has become a story. Perhaps it's best not to mention the dusty past, but things like this, perhaps there's some meaning in telling them. Those who have gone through it see it as a lesson, while many who haven't may yearn for it. Remember, this is just a story.

As for what happened afterward, it was normal. Mom is still Mom, and I am still me. The difference before and after is something only the two of us truly understand: she's become more like a mother, and I'm more like a son.

Haha. We're mother and son to begin with, so how can we be more alike? Saying our relationship is closer is a bit of an exaggeration; anyway, it's a very subtle relationship.

[The End]

Byte count: 10650

Total bytes: 168048

Topic: 1st floor, Update: 11th floor
srd//boo.bx/fhdms> srd//boo.bx/fhdms>

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/183290.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=183290&aspx=1

Previous Page : [Nine-Rank Sorcerer II] Chapter 8, Part 32

Next Page : [Nine-Rank Sorcerer II] Chapter 5, Part 32

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

[A Breakthrough for Mother and Son After the New Year] [Part 1 Complete]

comment Open a new window to view comments