[Having sex with an office lady on the train]

Today, my mother accompanied me to Taitung. Our carriage was at the very end of the line, and because it was a weekday, there were practically no passengers. After a few stops, our carriage became even emptier. I had initially thought I was taking it easy, but as soon as we passed through a tunnel, the darkness immediately woke me up, and I couldn't fall back asleep. My mother leaned against the window, her head turned to the side, breathing shallowly and evenly. I looked at her profile; I could see crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, though they weren't very noticeable because of her makeup. Today, her hair was styled like an office lady's, pulled up into a small bun—not particularly trendy, but not unattractive either. My mother is a retired high school teacher who taught Chinese literature. She speaks with great elegance, and every gesture is refined. From a young age, she taught me never to swear. My mother is a classic Eastern beauty. In her early forties, she still maintains a good figure. Of course, women her age have some extra weight—flabby arms, slightly sagging hips—but because of her profession, it's perfectly normal for her to wear flesh-colored stockings. My mother also developed this habit, always wearing flesh-colored stockings when she went out. Her beautiful legs were like ice cream, making me want to lick them, but that was just a thought. My mother wore a pair of white closed-toe high heels, looking noble and elegant, with a touch of ethereal refinement. Today, my mother wore a light gray suit, a standard knee-length skirt, the material of which was more like cotton silk. I casually touched the hem of the skirt; it was very smooth and pleasant to the touch. My mother wore a well-fitting white women's blouse, with a gold flower as an ornament on the breast pocket. The fabric sleeve around the buttons on the chest was sewn with small floral lace-like fabric, not eye-catching, but it accentuated the shape of my mother's breasts, making the buttons on the chest protrude slightly, but not in a way that was overly exaggerated like in adult comics. Over my mother's shoulders, she wore a grey cloth, a dress-like material, with a bow tied at the front around her neck and chest. It overlapped with the pale blue gemstone necklace around her neck, and the gemstone, illuminated by the afterglow of the sun and reflected through the train window, shone even more brightly on my mother's face. (嬀/bbdkdol) I looked out the window at the sea; I could see the ocean, it must be the coastal line. The view of the sea outside, with the pale light of the sunset illuminating the distant horizon, made me even more reluctant to leave my mother for Australia. My mother dozed off for a moment, yawned, and said that the long train journey was really tiring. I told her to sleep a little longer, and I would wake her up when we got closer. My mother shifted her body, lowering her back and shoulders, resting her head on my left shoulder, her shoulder against my left arm. She said, "Excuse me," and then drifted off to sleep again. Then I straightened up, letting my mother slump against my left side, the scent of her hair constantly stimulating my senses. I pulled her blouse up a bit, adjusting it to cover her shoulders, and noticed that they were quite narrow, making her look even more petite. Then, I cleverly moved the bow on her shoulder aside, allowing me to completely peek at her breasts. Through the gap in the buttons, I thought I could see her off-white bra. My mother had never liked wearing overly patterned bras, preferring simpler ones. I vaguely remembered seeing this one on a clothes rack; it was something like a magic-enhancing bra, I don't really know. Back then, bras had patterns on them. I secretly touched her bra, glancing back over my shoulder, afraid of being discovered. I found only a tiny bit of padding inside, meaning her breasts were real, not padded. Although peeking at my mother's underwear felt great at the time, a few days later, while chatting with her and standing in front of her, I felt guilty thinking about her breasts. After all, she raised me, and I was having such lewd thoughts. I never peeked at her underwear again. Now, many years later, looking at my mother on my shoulder, her breasts still rubbing against my left arm from the train's vibrations, makes me fantasize about her bra even more. Although I can't see her cleavage through her shirt collar, only a tiny bit of her pinkish-white breasts and bra, it's enough to satisfy me. (嬀/bbdkdol) My father was an official, and my two older sisters were married, leaving me as the youngest. My mother and I had a very close relationship from a young age, and she even gave me more care than my two sisters. Because I was her only son, my father adopted a Spartan approach to education. My mother cherished me especially from a young age, partly because she felt sorry for my father's high-pressure management, and partly because she was a new mother and a teacher, so she gave me an overwhelming amount of love. Therefore, I deeply respect my family, and I have always held my mother in high esteem. I've never even considered incest. But now that I'm leaving home, the longing for my mother... perhaps I've already fallen in love with her, a love that transcends romantic love and friendship, etched deeply into my heart. Since I won't see my mother for a long time, I want to imprint everything about her in my mind during these final moments. Looking at my mother, already fast asleep, her entire body relaxed, her legs spread wide, her skirt pulled up by the reaction of her hips, reaching past her knees to mid-thigh. I looked at her flesh-colored stockings; although the veins on her calves were slightly bulging, I figured it was from standing for long periods as a teacher. The visual experience was quite impressive. I secretly picked up my portable mirror and placed it in the mesh rack in front of my mother's seat—the kind that retracts and holds a vomit bag. Looking at my mother's lace panties through the mirror, my glans instantly swelled, and my penis began to lengthen and swell. I secretly pulled up my pants, positioning my penis up, as if afraid my mother would notice. The light was dim, so I couldn't see the color of my mother's panties, but I was certain they were made of lace, as they were slightly sheer. My mother seemed to prefer seamless panties; after all, she was wearing a tight skirt today, and panty lines wouldn't look good. (嬀/bbdkdol) I looked at my mother's oval face, with its defined features and fair skin, which had a sickly, weary look. I'd often seen that kind of sickly expression on my mother's face because she'd always been in poor health. My mother's lips were slightly protruding, and although she wore lip gloss, they still looked rather pale. Her eyes were my favorite feature—large, bright, and full of life. Even with just eyeshadow, her captivating gaze was alluring and alluring, as if a single breath from her could make you willingly die. Her marriage to my father was not a simple matter of parents agreeing to a shotgun wedding because both were officials; it wasn't a matter of parents agreeing to a marriage based on pregnancy. I vaguely remember my mother having a lover before her marriage. I once asked her about it, and she said that the time before meeting my father was the happiest period of her life. I was young then, and naively asked, "And now? Is Mom unhappy?" She smiled and called me silly, saying that having me was enough to make her happy for a lifetime. But when she mentioned her old flame, although she seemed unaffected, her expression was actually quite melancholy. It was only for a moment, but I remember it very clearly. Unconsciously, I began to fantasize about my mother, imagining her leaning on my shoulder, lifting her jade-like neck, and gazing at me affectionately. In a moment of impulse, disregarding whether there were other people in the carriage, I passionately kissed her pink lips, my tongue darting into her mouth, sharing the sweet, moist sensation of our tongues mingling. After leaving her lips, I watched her breath and the slight rise and fall of her chest. At that moment, no words were needed; the action was right. I pulled my mother onto my body, making her straddle my penis. I pulled her tight skirt up to her waist, and she, seemingly embarrassed, pulled the back of the skirt down to cover half her buttocks. I looked at her thighs in flesh-colored stockings, covered by her lace panties. I spread her legs wider, and she seemed to understand my intention, bending her knees and kneeling on the chair I was sitting on. I grabbed my mother's fleshy buttocks with both hands, giving them a hard squeeze before pushing them from behind towards my stomach. My mother's face looked even more shy, her cheeks slightly flushed, and her heavier breathing excited me even more. My jeans were bulging. My mother hooked her arms around my neck, constantly twisting her round, alluring buttocks, burying my face in her C-cup breasts. My penis rose and fell with the movement of her buttocks; sometimes her beautiful buttocks rotated clockwise, sometimes counter-clockwise, sometimes twisting rapidly back and forth, sometimes slowly pressing against my penis, and sometimes suddenly squeezing it up and down, making me almost ejaculate. I remember my mother being very flexible; I had seen her do the splits at home before, both frontally and sideways. I just didn't expect my mother's buttocks to be so powerful, twisting and shaking. I almost ejaculated before even penetrating her; if I did, I'd be squeezed and ejaculated within five minutes. My mother used to love watching TV, especially those shows that taught gymnastics, like how waving goodbye could help with underarm fat and Kegel exercises could increase the curve of your buttocks. She was really into these kinds of fitness shows back then, and I never imagined they'd come in handy now. (嬀/bbdkdol) I took my mother's lace blouse...My mother unbuttoned her shirt. Seeing how slowly I was unbuttoning it, she smiled and decided to do it herself, saying I'd never been good at buttoning clothes. I just smiled faintly. Once the shirt was open, my mother's pink and white breasts were in front of me. Under her off-white "magic bra," the deep V-neck cleavage was even more pronounced. I asked my mother to squeeze her breasts together with her arms. She not only squeezed her C-cup breasts but also leaned forward, letting me admire her breasts from above. I asked her to move her breasts closer to me, and I immediately stuck out my tongue and licked the cleavage from the bottom up. My mother said it tickled. I unbuttoned her bra from behind, flipping the shoulders back to let me savor her beautiful breasts. My mother was surprised that I could unbutton her bra so easily, and with a provocative expression, she said I'd learned bad habits. I said no, I learned it from watching TV. My mother didn't believe me and even asked if I'd used this trick to unbutton many girls' bras. Afraid my mother would be jealous, I kissed her first. She didn't say anything, so I kissed my way down to her breasts. Her snow-white breasts were slightly sagging, and to my surprise, her nipples were pink. My mother looked away shyly, then let me reach out and play with her ample breasts. They were like incredibly elastic mochi; I pinched them with my fingers, kneaded and twisted them, pressed my thumb against her nipple, and rotated it constantly. Sometimes I would use my thumb and forefinger to support the base of her breasts, shaking them rapidly. Her breasts felt like they were being massaged with a vibrator, the surface covered in soft, undulating waves. My mother laughed and said, "Where do you get all these tricks?" I replied that I only had so many techniques for my mother's beautiful breasts. Seeing that it was about time, I directly sucked on her nipple, which was now in my lips. My mother let out a soft moan, gripped my upper arm tightly with both hands, and said, "Gently, I'm afraid it will hurt." I told her I wouldn't bite, not to be afraid, and then, like in an adult film, I used every trick in the book: sucking her nipple, licking around it, rapidly digging my fingers into her nipple, or pinching it and stretching her entire breast out of shape. My mother's expression was a mixture of unspeakable enjoyment and utter ecstasy; she was completely limp and let me do as I pleased. (嬀/bbdkdol) As I continued to fantasize about my tenderness with my mother, her waking up pulled me back to reality. She seemed to have noticed my swollen penis, but didn't say anything. I looked at her, and she softly asked if I was almost there. I said I thought so. My mother's voice was a sweet, seductive tone, not a babyish one. My penis was throbbing uncontrollably, so I quickly made up an excuse to go to the bathroom to clean myself. After I closed the bathroom door… I started imagining my mother in the train toilet, being brutally penetrated from behind. I imagined taking her to the toilet, because if I had just thrust into her directly on the chair, it would have been too conspicuous. My mother is about 164 cm tall, not tall, but with a well-proportioned figure, a perfect golden ratio. I made her put her hands on the wall above the toilet seat. She grabbed a metal bar from the toilet seat. I grabbed the back of her shirt by the collar and pulled it back, exposing her fair, smooth shoulders and back, so smooth and lovely to touch. I pulled her skirt up to her waist, making her arch her buttocks. She raised her fleshy buttocks with a hint of humiliation, perhaps because she felt as a teacher and thought this behavior was shameful. I didn't care. My hands moved down her waist, touching the buttocks that had almost made me ejaculate. I pinched hard, and she groaned, turning her head to look at me. That look made my penis even harder and stiffer. I gently inserted my fingers into her buttocks, then pulled and ripped them, tearing her flesh-colored stockings through her cleft, tearing along her tender vulva. I was experiencing intense pleasure at that moment. Hearing the sound of the stockings tearing, I squatted down and ripped all the stockings off my mother's calves. My mother was a little angry and said, "Why did you tear them? How are we going to face people when we go out?" I said it didn't matter, just don't wear them. My mother was worried that many people would stare at her legs when she walked on the street. I said, "Who told you to have such beautiful legs?" (嬀/bbdkdol) When I touched my mother's tender vulva with my fingers, I knew that she had been wriggling around so much that her juices were flowing freely. I originally wanted to play with her a bit more through her underwear, but I couldn't hold back anymore. I didn't want my burning hot penis to suffer any more. I directly pressed my penis against her buttocks, moved the glans down along the buttocks, and pulled her underwear to the side, revealing her vulva. It was dark, and I couldn't see the colors clearly. Only the dim light shone on my mother's face. My mother kept staring at me and kept biting her lower lip. It seemed that she was burning with desire. I aimed my glans at her vulva and slowly inserted it. After the entire glans was inside, I paused for a moment, feeling my mother's vulva squeezing and pressing against my glans. I deliberately pressed my chest against my mother's back, played with her breasts with my hands, and then moved my body slightly. My mother was so itchy that she kept squeezing her buttocks towards my penis. I deliberately didn't insert the whole thing, making her vulva even more itchy. My mother said I was getting worse with age, so good at bullying people. Suddenly, I arched my back and inserted my entire penis into my mother's tender vagina. My mother probably didn't expect me to do it so suddenly, and she let out a long moan, a genuine, lewd moan. Strike while the iron is hot, and thrust in and out based on feeling. My mother's tender vagina was warm and tight, and my penis kept thrusting in and out. The slippery fluid made my penis feel incredibly good. Every time I reached deep inside my mother, her anus would contract especially, and the clenching action made her vagina even more constricted. Every time she squeezed, I almost ejaculated. I thrust like this for five to ten minutes, and my mother's moans never stopped. It wasn't the kind of loud, violent moaning, but the kind of moaning of enjoyment and comfort. (嬀/bbdkdol) Because it was in the train toilet, even if the moans were a little loud, they would be drowned out by the sound of the train running. As it neared its end, I held my mother's slender waist with both hands and thrust rapidly and repeatedly, even slapping her buttocks hard with my handprint. The pain made her turn to look at me again. Finally, I wrapped my arms around her lower abdomen and continued to thrust into her buttocks. At the climax, I lifted my right leg and placed it on the toilet seat, ejaculating all my longing for my mother, along with my white semen, into her womb. I slowly waited until my penis shrank before pulling it out. My mother, like a puppet with its strings cut, slumped on the toilet, letting the semen and vaginal fluid drip into the bowl. She looked blissful. I brought my penis to her mouth, and her warm mouth and tongue enveloped it, licking it clean. My legs went weak, and I simply squatted down in front of her. As I left, she took off her stockings and threw them in the trash can. Back in my seat, I gave my mother another passionate kiss. She said that next time I tear my stockings, I should tell her first so she can prepare a few more pairs. I laughed and said that three pairs might not be enough for one day. My mother lowered her head, blushed, and her ears burned. She pinched my thigh and laughed, saying that I was just teasing my mother. I said I couldn't bear to, and then I hugged my mother to my chest and waited peacefully for our destination.

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[Having sex with an office lady on the train]

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