Parting the pink labia of the young mother

I was able to marry my mother smoothly, entirely thanks to God's ingenious arrangement. Of course, I also have to thank my great father. Our family consists of my father, mother, and me. My father, Yang Dacheng, is the man I admire most in my life; he is my role model. I love him and respect him immensely. In my eyes, he truly is a towering figure. At the age of fifteen, he responded to the Party's call to "go to the countryside," going to the remote "Great Northern Wilderness," where he worked and studied simultaneously. Ten years later, he returned to Shanghai and was admitted to Shanghai Jiao Tong University in the first year of the college entrance examination after its resumption. He married my mother at the age of thirty; she was eighteen at the time. Soon after, I was born. Then he quit his job and went to Shenzhen alone, where he carved out a successful career, establishing his own company. It is said that his assets have exceeded 100 million yuan. My mother, Xia Shanshan, is an outstanding actress with the Shanghai Yue Opera Troupe and even won the "Little Hundred Flowers" award. She is the troupe's recognized leading lady, meaning "the most beautiful among all the flowers." I don't know how to describe her beauty, so I'll quote a famous poet's comment on my mother's beauty... Xia Shanshan's beauty doesn't just bring sensory pleasure; it evokes a deep emotion within you, an indescribable feeling, a touch of joy mixed with a touch of melancholy; her beauty is so poignant it makes your heart ache, yet so melancholic it leaves you feeling lost; you seem to discover sunspots in the sun, only to find the sun already scorching you until you're dizzy... From the time I was old enough to understand, my heroic father and star-like mother made me the envy of my classmates, who all thought I, Yang Xuecong, was the happiest person in the world. However, I didn't feel happy at all. My father was busy with his business, often away from home, and my mother was constantly busy with performances. I was the only one who learned to take care of myself. I learned to cook at five, bought groceries and cooked by myself at seven, and by ten I could do all the housework. This hardship tempered me and accelerated my maturity. I understood my parents and always took them as role models, so I studied diligently, and my grades were always number one. However, my health wasn't very good. I had pneumonia when I was thirteen, and it never fully healed, so a cough was a constant companion. As I grew older, I gradually developed an interest in my mother. I remember starting to collect photos and magazines of her when I was ten, getting excited looking at the various expressions on her face. When I was twelve, my attention shifted to her clothes, and I started washing them for her. At first, she wouldn't let me, but later, whether it was because she was too busy with work or because she was becoming increasingly dependent on me at home, she stopped saying anything. Sometimes I could even wash her underwear, which made me incredibly happy. Around the age of fifteen, one day I accidentally found a curly, shiny black pubic hair on her bed, and I was overjoyed. From then on, every day I would search her room for any long hairs and pubic hairs that had fallen from her body. These treasures led me to start... of course, all of them were for my mother. It was also from then on that I started keeping a diary, where I freely expressed my love for my mother and indulged in my sexual fantasies about her. But I wasn't satisfied with that; I wanted to go further. To win her favor, I couldn't help but shower my mother with attention, treating her like a princess. Sometimes, when she was in a good mood, I would massage her back, wash her hair, or comb it. Sometimes I would joke with her, making funny faces to scare her. Sometimes she would invite me to go shopping with her, or to see a movie or have a Western meal. Gradually, my conversations with my mother became richer and more engaging. Later, I found that our conversations became more relaxed, and we would even exchange harmless jokes like friends, enjoying each other's company immensely. Later, I was admitted to my father's alma mater, Jiaotong University. I spent less time with my mother, but I loved her even more and felt more sorry for her. I knew that I was gradually losing my former glory, having fewer and fewer opportunities to perform on stage, and suffering more and more grievances. She felt a deep sense of loss. My father's business grew bigger and bigger, and he could no longer guarantee his monthly visits home. His son, with whom she had spent nearly twenty years, had also left her. How could she not be sad and lonely? Thinking of this, my heart ached, and a wave of tenderness washed over me. How I wished I could hold this poor woman in my arms forever, offering her frail body a strong support with my arms, and dedicate my entire life to loving and cherishing this beautiful woman. So, whenever I had free time, I would call home, sometimes talking for over an hour. Every weekend, I would rush home to do all the housework, not wanting to leave her with anything to do. Sometimes I would bring her small gifts like hair clips and stockings. The distance between us gradually closed, and her attitude towards me changed imperceptibly. She slowly opened up in my presence, no longer trying to maintain the reserve and composure expected of a mother. I could vaguely sense a woman's attachment to a man. I quietly observed her changes, constantly searching for opportunities and fantasizing about a new breakthrough. Finally, one day, our relationship unknowingly broke through and deepened. This was something I never dreamed of. Whenever I did housework, my mother would always be beside me, either chatting or simply watching me quietly. I noticed that her tone of voice had become exceptionally gentle, and her eyes were filled with tenderness. One day, while I was tidying her bedroom, she was in a particularly good mood. So, I mischievously teased her by suddenly coughing violently, pretending to be gasping for breath. She was terrified, her face turning pale. She ran to me, hugged me, and cried out, "Is it my old problem acting up again? It's all my fault…it's all my fault…I'm a lazy woman, I'm a bad mother…" She was sobbing uncontrollably, her words incoherent. Seeing her tearful, heartbroken appearance, I truly understood how beautiful "pear blossoms in the rain" could be, and how wonderful the feeling of "cherishing a flower and a jade" could be. I held her tightly in my arms, and she rested her head on my shoulder. I gently stroked her hair, constantly comforting her. She slowly calmed down, looked up at me anxiously, and said softly, "Are you feeling better?" I noticed that her eyes were slightly swollen, and a few strands of her dark hair were stuck to her jade-like cheeks with tears. Her bright red lips seemed to be saying something... I couldn't bear to look. This was the first time in my life I had admired her face so closely. She was so beautiful, dazzlingly beautiful. I controlled my emotions and whispered in her ear, "Silly girl, I was just teasing you." I felt her body tremble, and she suddenly broke free from me, crying again. She pounded her fists on my chest, crying, "You lied to me, you little rascal, you lied to me! You scared my soul away! You made me cry for so long! All you do is bully me..." I grabbed her little hands, and she leaned back into my arms, sobbing again. I know, Mom was being affectionate with me. Her repeated use of "I love you" three times made my bones melt; it felt incredibly comforting.com">9999 Hot Here Only High-Quality Domestic Videos. So I whispered in her ear, "Okay, okay, my lazy mom, my bad mom, and my spoiled mom!" I gently stroked her face with my finger, then boldly laughed and said, "Shame on you, shame on you, shame on you, what kind of mother acts so coquettishly in front of her son?" Her face immediately turned red, but she wouldn't give up. Like a little girl, she pouted her red lips and stomped her feet, saying coquettishly, "I want to act coquettishly, I want to act coquettishly, what can you do to me?" Then she chuckled and hugged me sweetly, saying, "I'm like this because you spoil me, isn't it? Besides, who says a mother can't act coquettishly in front of her son?" "With such a beautiful woman in my arms, how could I not be tempted? I felt my whole body heating up, my heart racing, and my penis was rock hard, ready to burst forth. My mother clearly sensed the change in my body; she tried to pull away, but I held her even tighter. She didn't struggle anymore, but quietly said, 'You like your mother very much, and I've known that for a long time. Actually, I like you very much too. However, I love your father very much, and I don't want to do anything to betray him. So we can't go too far; we need to have some sense of propriety. Do you understand?'" "I understand, of course I understand. Her words have three layers of meaning: First, Mom already loves me very much, the kind of love a woman has for a man. Second, she doesn't want to betray Dad. Third, she didn't mention the word 'love,' indicating she doesn't really care about the taboo of 'love,' she just doesn't want to hurt Dad. There's one more thing I'm not sure about, which is whether we can love each other without any conditions? Understanding all this, I admire the woman in my arms even more. Her thinking is so open, and her behavior is so eccentric, she's so special. Thinking of Dad, all my desires vanished instantly. I know that although my parents have been separated for a long time, and the days they reunite each year are few and far between, they love each other dearly. Dad's care for me is even more meticulous, so when Mom mentioned Dad, I felt incredibly ashamed, and I had no reason to take away what Dad loves. But I also didn't want to let go of this woman who had almost exhausted my life's emotions, my heart was so conflicted... We hugged each other tightly for a long, long time. Mom giggled, breaking the silence, and said, 'We're like a couple...' 'A couple?'" "A pair of what?" I asked quickly. She said playfully, "You know, we understand each other perfectly." She looked at me slyly, then slowly said, "I'm so happy today, how about you?" I smiled knowingly. She looked up, and I saw a captivating beauty on her face, her eyes radiating tenderness. My heart was swooning. We no longer avoided each other's eyes, and our gazes finally met. Our faces slowly drew closer, and Mom gently closed her eyes. I rushed to kiss her face passionately, until she cried out in pain. She struggled free and said, "It's not like that, come... I'll teach you." "As she spoke, she pulled me into the living room, had me sit on the sofa, and then, sitting on my lap, she gently parted her lips and slowly pressed her cheek against mine. She lightly kissed my earlobe, my eyes, and my nose, and I felt as if I were flying... Finally, her lips met mine. She sucked on my upper lip, then my lower lip, and then slipped her tongue into my mouth, slowly swirling it around." As the passionate kiss continued, I found myself lying on the sofa, my mother pressed against me. I cautiously opened my eyes and saw that her hair was completely disheveled. Her eyes were tightly closed, her delicate eyelashes curled into a line, and she was lost in the midst of our tongues entwining… I had never seen my mother so wanton before. Inexperienced as I was, how could I withstand such intense stimulation? Suddenly, I felt a tingling sensation in my lower back, and a hot gush spurted out. My mother quickly got up, looked at my embarrassing state, and couldn't help but giggle, a triumphant expression on her face. I felt so humiliated… Not long after, my mother retired early from the Yue Opera troupe, because a completely new lifestyle awaited her. The day after her retirement, she went to my school, and from then on, I became a "celebrity" throughout the school. I saw her that noon at the entrance of the cafeteria. She dressed herself exceptionally youthfully and radiantly, practically a vibrant young girl. She had dyed her hair a brownish-yellow and styled it into two small flared strands, but her makeup was very light. She wore a white cotton tank top, blue denim shorts, and white sneakers. She wore no jewelry, only casually pinning her sunglasses between her high, firm breasts. Her outfit seemed casual, but I knew it was carefully chosen, thoughtfully executed. She had clearly masterfully accentuated all her physical advantages: shapely arms and long legs, a high bust and a slender waist, fair and healthy skin, a delicate and exquisite figure, and her impeccable beauty. Looking at this forty-year-old woman before me, I couldn't help but sigh. Forty years old for most people means wrinkles.Freckles signify sagging skin, weight gain, and the gradual onset of aging. But none of this applies to my mother. Heaven seems to have been too kind to her, as if unwilling to etch the marks of "age" onto her. I approached her and said softly, "My dear mother, my sweet mother, what are you doing here?" She pouted and said sweetly, "I missed you." Ever since that day, she had spoken to me in that tone. It was cafeteria time, and we, especially her, suddenly became the focus of attention among the students. I felt a little uneasy, but she didn't care at all. She continued, "It's the weekend, I came to take you home." She looked around, then stood on tiptoe and whispered in my ear, "You're not allowed to call me 'Mom' here." I looked at her attire and understood her situation, so I took the opportunity to blackmail her: "Fine, I'll call you 'Shan's Little Sister,' you have to call me 'Cong's Brother, otherwise..." I pretended to shout "Mom!" She panicked, as if she was going to take the plunge, and shouted, "Cong's Brother, let's go eat!" Saying that, she grabbed my hand and ran into the cafeteria. In the days that followed, we were like a couple deeply in love, immersed in an ocean of affection. My mother seemed reborn; she forgot her age and identity, often acting like a young girl experiencing love for the first time. She frequently exclaimed, "The taste of love is wonderful!" Of course, we also had our share of helplessness and awkwardness; "brakes" were the two words we inevitably uttered during our passionate moments. At first, she was the one who mostly said "brake," but later it was often me who said it. Every time I forcefully stopped her, I would see her looking aggrieved and unwilling. Before I knew it, I had graduated and was spending more time at home. Facing my amorous mother every day, my defenses were becoming increasingly fragile. By this time, my mother was completely infatuated. She not only used her beautiful body to seduce me, but her words were also unrestrained and bold. She called me "husband, husband" constantly, her body seemingly ablaze with desire. Those days, I was exhausted from dealing with my mother's endless nagging, exhausted from the ever-present burning desire within me, exhausted from the struggle with my conscience. I felt so tired, and my mood was terrible. On my twenty-third birthday, I received a call from my father early in the morning. He wished me a happy birthday. Then I received a gift from the courier company—a laptop. I was overjoyed and immediately started fiddling with the new computer. I don't know how much time passed, but suddenly a warm, fragrant woman sat in my lap, her arms wrapped around my neck, and she began to kiss me. Since my computer chair couldn't support two people, I picked her up and placed her on my bed. Only then did I realize that my mother's attire today was unusually alluring. She wore heavy makeup, and even more shockingly, she was only wearing a thin, gossamer-thin nightgown; I could clearly see that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. I stared at her, my whole body burning with desire, my penis throbbing. She looked at me with seductive eyes and said sweetly, "Darling, happy birthday. Today, Mom gives you her whole heart and her whole being. I know you've always wanted it, so consider this your birthday present." "After saying that, she slowly closed her eyes. My heart surged with emotion, and I pounced on her, showering her with kisses... Just then, the song 'Happy Birthday' suddenly started playing. I realized it was the birthday card Dad had tucked inside the computer case. I had carelessly placed it on the bed, and Mom and I'd made it ring out during our frenzy. 'No!' I seemed to snap out of my daze, scrambling to my feet and rushing out the door. I heard Mom's angry shouts: 'You're a coward, you're a hypocrite...' My mind went blank, and I wandered aimlessly through the streets like a lost soul, not knowing how long I'd walked. It was already dark, and the streets were becoming increasingly deserted. Suddenly, a cold droplet of water landed on my nose, and then I saw a torrential downpour. The cold raindrops hit my body, and I felt incredibly comfortable. My mind gradually cleared. I let the rain soak me, but my mind began to wander back to what had just happened. I knew I had successfully prevented 'that,' and I no longer felt any remorse towards Dad." A sense of unease washed over me, but I couldn't find any joy. I knew the most precious thing in my life was about to be lost, that two-year-long, unforgettable "mother-son love" was coming to an end. I didn't know how to face the woman I loved so deeply. At that moment, her stunning beauty, her every smile, her shyness, her playfulness, her tenderness—everything about her flashed through my mind. Could I break up with her? Could I live without her? How would I endure the days without her? I asked myself these questions again and again, tears streaming down my face. Rain mingled with my tears, sending chills down my spine. "You're a coward, you're a hypocrite..." Those words seemed to linger in my mind again. I suddenly realized that I had gradually led my once pure and innocent mother to this state. "Today I give you my whole heart and my whole being. I know you've always wanted it..." She said this to the one she loved; it was her heartfelt confession. How much courage it took! Thinking of this, I suddenly shuddered, my heart aching, followed by a violent cough. Only then did I truly see myself clearly: I was the most despicable, shameless, selfish, hypocritical, and cowardly man in the world. I ran home desperately, trying to beg for her forgiveness, trying to win back this love. When I got home, it was already... A feeling of dizziness washed over me. I knelt before her, pleading, "Shanshan, you must forgive me. I promise I'll treat you well from now on, I..." Before I could finish, a sweet taste rose in my throat, and a mouthful of blood gushed out. I heard my mother scream, and then I knew nothing more. When I woke up, I found myself in the hospital, on an IV drip and receiving oxygen. I knew my old ailment—pneumonia—had flared up again. I felt utterly weak, as if I had collapsed. "Dad!" I cried out, noticing my father dozing on my bed. He immediately stood up, staring at me, visibly excited. "Son, you're awake! You're finally awake!" he exclaimed, running towards the door, "Doctor! Doctor, come quick! My son's awake!" I had never seen my father so excited; his concern and anxiety were palpable. After examining me, the doctor told my father I was out of danger and could be discharged after a few days of observation. After the doctor left, my father sat down by my bedside, placing his warm hand on my forehead. "Are you feeling better?" he asked. I looked at my dad and noticed he had more gray hairs, and a hint of weariness in his eyes. His expression betrayed his anxiety and unease. Had something happened? A sense of foreboding crept into my heart. "Where's Mom?" I asked anxiously, "Mom isn't here." Dad said, "No, she's been exhausted these past few days. She just went home to rest today. She's never been this tired in all these years!" Then he chuckled, jokingly saying, "Why are you only concerned about Mom? Do you know your old man hasn't slept a wink for three days?" I blushed deeply and quickly said, "Dad, you'll always be a hero in my heart. What storms haven't you weathered? And Mom…" Before I could finish, Dad burst out laughing. He said, "Is Mom a little girl who'll never grow up in your eyes?" I was stunned. This was a phrase I often wrote in my diary. Could it be…? Before I could think further, Dad continued, “Sigh, it’s all my fault. I’ve only been busy with work and haven’t even tried to find a way to cure your pneumonia, leaving you unconscious for three whole days… It’s my fault, I’m so sorry. I thought…” As he spoke, Dad choked up, tears welling in his eyes. Was this my dad? Was this the same tough, unyielding man? I suddenly realized my illness must be serious, otherwise why would my dad, who never sheds a tear, be like this? So I cautiously asked, “Dad, is my illness very serious?” Dad quickly replied, “No, no, don’t think like that…” I understood, but I didn’t ask him again. The next day, Mom came to my ward early in the morning. She laughed and cried intermittently, but after learning about my condition, she finally calmed down. She told Dad to go home and rest, and she would stay with me. After Dad left, I immediately started talking to Mom, trying to get information about my condition from her. “Shanshan, please forgive me?” I was so conflicted at the time… Then a heavy rainstorm made me realize, I know I can't live without you, because I love you so much, I really don't know how I could live without you…” I burst into tears, my emotions overflowing. My mother panicked and rushed to my bedside, saying, “I've already forgiven you. That day, even when you were unconscious, you kept calling out my name, making everyone in the hospital think we were a couple…” As she spoke, her face turned red, and then she added timidly, “Two nurses were so envious of me, telling me that there are so few good men like you who are so devoted.” Seeing her incredibly shy appearance, my heart melted, so I teased her again, “You must have done something unusual for people to think we were a couple, right?” She immediately jumped up, covered her face with her hands, turned away, and said sweetly, “I'm ignoring you, people only…”"I called you 'Brother An' a few times, and told you not to scare people, right?" Seeing her like this, I couldn't help but laugh, so I said, "Didn't you call me 'good husband'?" She turned around again, raised her little fist to hit me, but after seeing the needle in my head, she pounced on me, "I'll bite you, let's see if you dare to bully people again." "She opened her small mouth and gently bit my cheek. Then she began to kiss me, her kisses so gentle, so careful, her expression so solemn, so earnest, as if she wanted to kiss out all her love... A hot tear fell onto my face. Mom cried, she cried so sadly, she cried so desperately. From her cries, I seemed to sense something, and combined with Dad's expression last night, I understood. I knew this illness was very, very serious. Was my life about to end? The thought filled me with fear and anxiety, but seeing Mom's tearful face, I couldn't bear to ask her anything. I knew that she and Dad had been suffering from my illness these past few days, and their feelings were no better than mine. So I started to cheer her up, and finally made her laugh, and then I coaxed her to go home. I lay alone in the private room, letting my thoughts wander. I thought about so many things. I worried about Dad; he was over fifty and still so busy... I was even more worried about Mom. If she left me, would she still be able to live a happy life?" My heart... I still have a little regret, that is, my mother and I ultimately couldn't overcome that hurdle, but I'm content. Isn't leaving a little regret in my heart also a kind of beauty? My heart gradually calmed down, and I fell asleep without realizing it. When I woke up, I found that my father had been there for quite some time. After dinner, I felt much better. I got out of bed by myself, moved around a bit, and then told my father that we should just be discharged tomorrow. I just said it casually, but I didn't expect my father to agree so readily. That day, my father was very talkative, chatting with me about everything under the sun. He talked about his struggles, his grand goals, his company, and without realizing it, he talked about his family and my mother. He told me many interesting stories about my mother, as if he was telling me what a pure and lovely woman she was. I didn't know why my father was telling me these things. Then he said, "She's not only very simple-minded, have you noticed? She looks like a twenty-year-old girl now, without a trace of aging." "She herself is a miracle. It's said that only one in tens of millions of people can be found like that..." Hearing my father say this, I suddenly understood. I remember before graduation, I was in great pain, trying to get rid of this "Oedipus complex." I read many psychology books, all of which said that this kind of Oedipus complex would gradually fade and disappear with age. But for me, this feeling only grew stronger with age. At the time, I couldn't understand it at all, until now I fully understand: My mother is an ageless woman; her age has stopped at twenty. So, as I grow older, my age gets closer and closer to hers. We spend so much time together, and we've become more and more attracted to each other, and before we knew it, a spark of love had ignited. I've also read reports about "ageless women" and had been in close contact with her many times, feeling her smooth and elastic skin, but I never thought that my mother was the kind of ageless woman that everyone longed for... As my father spoke, his expression gradually became serious. He lit a cigarette and said quietly, "Today, I'm divorcing your mother!" I was shocked: "Dad, how could you do this?" "You..." My tone was full of resentment towards him. But Dad waved his hand, stopping me from continuing. He said, word by word, "I have no choice but to do this, because of you! Because you love her so much, to the point of obsession, so I'm giving her to you!" Hearing this, I trembled all over, wondering how Dad knew? Had Mom leaked the secret? I coughed loudly in my nervousness. Dad quickly helped me up, his tone softening as he said, "Don't be like this, don't be like this. Dad was a little harsh just now, but I didn't mean to blame you. Dad found your diary next to your pillow a few days ago, and after reading it, I've been feeling really stifled ever since." "Diaries? My mind races whenever Dad mentions diaries. I have two secret diaries. One was written before I went to university, filled with my unrequited love for Mom. The other was written after I started university, detailing the entire process of our love. I remember hiding the second diary in a very secret place, one that no one else could possibly find. That way, Dad would definitely see the first one. Thinking about that made me feel a little better, but I also clearly remembered that the first one was with Mom. I remember that after Mom 'confiscated' that diary, she slowly became gentler with me, slowly started treating me like a man… So how did this diary end up next to me? It must be Mom, but why would she do that?" Dad continued, "It's not entirely your fault. There are many reasons. These past few days, I've been thinking, if it were me, a hot-blooded young man, facing a stunningly beautiful woman every day, wouldn't I also have inappropriate thoughts, even if she were my mother?" "So I have an unshirkable responsibility. I haven't cared for you enough, both mentally and physically." He paused, looked at me, and then said, "You're very smart. You must have guessed seven or eight parts of your illness, right?" I nodded and said, "How much longer do I have to live?" Dad sighed and said, "Aren't you afraid?" I said firmly, "I am afraid! But I want to face it. I don't want to hide, because I am Yang Dacheng's son!" Dad laughed heartily, "That's right, that's right, Yang Dacheng's son should be like this!" Then he said heavily, "You have lung cancer this time, and it's in its late stage. If there's no miracle, you have at most a year left. But I believe in you. You can definitely create a miracle. Mom and Dad will support you wholeheartedly, because I've never believed in fate. Fate can be changed!" Dad, as expected of the CEO of a large company, made me feel excited and full of confidence with just a few words. So I said, "I will definitely not let Dad down. Dad, if you have any good ideas, just tell me. I will definitely follow your arrangements!" "Dad paced back and forth in the ward, then said firmly, 'I've asked many famous doctors, both domestic and foreign. They said there are precedents of recovery for this disease. They also said that treating this disease requires not only good medicine, but also that the patient must maintain a happy mood. I'll find the good medicine and the good doctors, but you and your mother have to create that happy mood. So the first step is for me to marry your mother, the woman you've secretly loved for so many years, so you can live happily ever after…' 'No!' I interrupted Dad, because this was too sudden for me. I wasn't prepared for this, and it was also too unfair to Dad. I couldn't bear to do it. Dad angrily said, 'How can you say this for my first arrangement?' 'I... I can't be so selfish. I can't build my happiness on your suffering. Besides, she and I are ultimately mother and son. Although I love her very much, I've never thought about marrying her. How can Mom and I feel at ease with this arrangement? Let alone be happy.'" "Dad sighed again and said, 'Why can't you understand my good intentions? Actually, your mother and I have already discussed it. She doesn't care that you are her biological son! I can clearly see that her love for you far exceeds the love a mother has for her son! Do you think that if you die, you will be the one who suffers the most? No! The one who suffers the most is her! If you die, she will definitely die for you! She told me this herself. My heart is really aching. You are all the people I love most. I don't want either of you to leave before me. You will never understand the sorrow of losing a child in old age…' I was moved to tears by what he said. I cried and said, 'Dad, please stop. I will listen to you…'"

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Parting the pink labia of the young mother

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