My mother's main argument (complete)

(I) Between Mother and Son

? My name is Jimmy, I'm thirty-three this year; my mom is fifty-five. I thought about it for a long time before deciding to

write .

Let me state first that I never had any impure thoughts about her when I was a child or teenager. I know many of you think that

every boy has impure thoughts about his mother when he grows up, but I didn't.

Really, I never peeped at her, and I never had any interest in her underwear or other women's intimate items.

However , I have a very strong "sexual interest." Maybe too strong, because I've had a girlfriend since I was sixteen. And sex is

a major part of my life, both in my youth and now.

Let me tell you about my mom; she's still my dad's wife. My dad is fifty-nine this year and retired. The two of them live

a quiet . My dad likes to stay at home, sometimes with friends.

My mom is always by his side, without her own opinions; she does whatever my dad says. In the eyes of the world,

they are a good couple, and that's not an exaggeration. However, I later learned that at her age, my mother still

wanted more, more excitement in her life.

She found what she wanted in me.

I still don't understand how she managed to hide this other side of herself so well all these years. She

told me she had never been unfaithful; I was the third man she had slept with.

Yes, I slept with my mother, and frequently. Besides me, she had

a relationship before marrying my father, and that's how it was.

To help you understand her better, let me share a couple of things she told me. She told me her sex

life used to be good. After having my brother and me, she was quite satisfied. But in the last ten or eight years, her sex life became bland

and monotonous, only happening occasionally.

In comparison, her sex life with me was fantastic! This isn't me bragging, but what she said

. She also told me that since starting this relationship with me, she felt more open

and , enjoying every moment of life. A woman who is in love and has

a fulfilling sex life can be seen on her face. My mom always has a sweet smile on her face, letting everyone know she's a

happy woman.

Okay, let me tell you what my mom looks like. She's 170 cm tall, neither fat nor thin. She's

obsessed with fitness and slimming, and maintains a pretty good figure. I can't think of the right words to describe

her figure; my Chinese is too poor. If you've seen her body, you'll understand

what I mean.

Sorry, you can't see it, only I can. Envy me, having a "fantastic" mom.

She has blonde hair (not dyed, it's natural), straight, and long, reaching her shoulders. Her breasts are simply "amazing

" (Hong Kong slang for "wonderful"). Her two breasts are round and large, naturally drooping slightly. Her

arms and legs are smooth, with no visible varicose veins.

Her buttocks were perfectly round, the simple curve forming a cleft. Occasionally, when she bent over or squatted, a

glimpse would steal your soul through that tiny crevice into her panties. Her

labia were thick, like a kitten's, and though she wasn't a virgin anymore, they could be as tight as you wanted. Golden pubic hair probably grew on her mons pubis.

Oh, and I forgot to mention, she had a lovely face and a big mouth. She had many assets, which could only be

appreciated she was naked. Don't misunderstand her as some kind of wild woman; she was a typical housewife. Normally, she

would walk past you on the street unremarkable, just an ordinary wife. But once you got her into bed, it was

a different story.

She was both virtuous and wild, and she was willing!

(II) First Encounter with Wushan

Our first time began like this…

The situation was quite bizarre, completely unplanned. Neither I nor she were.

I swear I had no improper thoughts about her before. I'm a normal man, perfectly normal. I never imagined I could turn my mother into a

sex partner. But that day, we finally consummated our relationship, and I truly experienced ecstasy with her. It was because I was shameless and

bold enough; I knew that if you seize an opportunity, you have to persevere and you'll reap the rewards!

It all started in early September 2003.

It was a Wednesday and Thursday, a time to go home for dinner and visit my parents. My dad asked me to accompany my mother

to a wedding on Saturday. It was my

cousin's wedding, and my mother was going to the banquet. My dad, as usual, didn't go, disliking social obligations, preferring to stay home. My aunt

and uncle 's house was far away; it would be a day's drive.

Normally, I wouldn't be so dutiful as to go. Unfortunately, I had just broken

up with —a record. I knew that at the wedding, I would meet some lonely, "desperate to get married"

women. Since we were going to another city, it would be good to get away and relax. Since we'd already booked a hotel room,

I figured if I was lucky enough to pick up a girl, I wouldn't have to sleep alone.

I combined these two things and hatched a plan. I readily agreed, and the journey began. Actually,

it would only take a day to get there, but starting the trip that day would be too tiring by the time we arrived. So, we decided to leave on Friday noon,

planning to drive until the afternoon and find a hotel for the night.

The weather was sunny and hot that day. We talked about weddings the whole time. My mother even told

me I was at the age to be thinking about marriage and should start thinking about it sooner. I told her I wasn't considering it yet.

Around 7 pm, I told her I was tired and couldn't drive anymore, asking her to keep an eye out for hotels. Five minutes

later, we saw the first hotel stop there.

It was a small hotel, and the man behind the counter said there were two rooms. One had a double bed, and the other was a triple

room with three single beds. I wanted to take both, but my mother said we should take the one with the three single beds. She

said, "Why pay for two rooms? All we need is one bed to sleep in.

" She went to take a shower first, and I paid, then followed her into the room with our luggage. I took a shower too. We went to a

nearby restaurant for dinner and drank a bottle of wine.

Neither of us got drunk, but the wine helped us relax. The journey had made us tired, and around nine o'clock, we

decided to go back to our room.

Back in the room, I sat on the bed. My bed was near the wardrobe, where I put my luggage. Mom came to the wardrobe...

Near the closet, she took a robe from her suitcase and unbuttoned her shirt. She was also wearing a skirt and

sandals. Here, I should explain: growing up at home, we were used to seeing each other in our underwear; it

was normal. But I had never seen my mother naked.

Anyway, she took off her shirt, but her bra (black) remained on. I didn't want to stare at her chest, so I turned

to take off my shoes. I took off my socks too, but my mother came in front of me, still wearing her bra, and asked me to scratch her back

. Following her directions, I scratched her itchy spots, and I heard her moan with pleasure. Seeing how much she enjoyed it,

I said to her, "Sit down, sit here. I know what you need." We sat on the bed, and I

massaged her back.

At that moment, this woman so close to me, a woman I hadn't considered before, suddenly

clicked . My eyes lit up; my mother, dressed very little, only in a bra and panties (not the sexy

kind), was actually a very attractive woman.

I would never have looked at her like this before. Her blonde hair brushed against my arm, she moaned softly, her

scent and her smooth skin, her black lace bra and panties—all of it made my penis hard instantly.

The thought of doing "that" with her flashed through my mind, and I almost came.

You can imagine I pounced on her and made love to her. I didn't. At that moment, I did

nothing ; it wasn't lovemaking, it was rape. I continued to massage her casually, as if without any ulterior motive,

stroking her neck and bare back above the shoulder straps, until she thanked me and said, "That's enough.

" I remembered when I was a child, when I was with her, she would put on her nightgown in front of me, and then, with

a woman's .

I thought she would put on her robe and take off her bra the same way, but instead she asked me to unhook her bra for her,

saying she was too tired to do it herself. I complied. She stood up and used both hands to hold

the bra in place on her breasts, preventing it from falling down. She ran to the corner of the wardrobe, where there was a chair, and her

robe was draped over the back of the chair.

I thought she would pick up the robe and go into the bathroom to change. But instead, she turned her back to me and

took off her bra right there. Just as she was about to put on her robe, I spoke.

I don't know where I got the courage to say those words; perhaps it was because I hadn't thought about it at all that they blurted out.

The words came naturally to my lips. I was captivated by her beautiful figure; every gesture she made had a hypnotic

effect , making me involuntarily say to her, "Don't wear a robe."

She heard me, picked up her robe, and stood there blankly. A moment later, she asked me what I had just said to her.

She still had her back to me; I could only see her bare back and the outline of her breasts, but not her expression.

I thought I should seize this opportunity and press on, otherwise I would regret it later. I

walked to her side, leaned close to her ear, and said very calmly that she should turn around and face me because I wanted to

see her breasts.

She froze, speechless for a long time. When she finally spoke, her voice trembled. "Jimmy, I'm your

mother! Why did you do that?" she said.

"Don't you trust me?" I asked.

"Of course I trust you. But I don't understand why you want me to do this," she said.

"I don't know either. I just want to see your body. Is that alright?" I told her.

She stood there, and those few seconds felt like centuries to me. Then, she slowly turned around.

She stood there, embarrassed, her hands covering her breasts.

I beckoned to her, beckoning her to come with me. I sat on the bed, waiting for her. She hesitated for a moment, then came over and

stood before me.

I told her to move her hands away, and after a while, she slightly moved them apart,

revealing her alluring nipples and areolas between her fingers. Right there, right in front of me, for the first time in my life, I saw her breasts face-

to-face, majestic and unobstructed.

Those breasts were round and large, full of milk. Remember, she was fifty-five years old, no longer a young woman, and

her breasts were inevitably a little saggy.

But her breasts were incredibly beautiful. If I had to describe the beauty of her breasts in one sentence, I would say they were breasts brimming with

maternal love , unlike the firm and youthful breasts of my girlfriends.

I wanted to touch them immediately. Afraid that touching her breasts so readily would frighten my mother, I slowly raised

my hand, slowly moved it, letting her know that I wanted to touch her, that I would touch her.

My fingers circled her areola, but didn't touch her nipple. She trembled all over,

yet remained standing, eyes fixed upwards, afraid to look at me or the hand that caressed her.

"Don't be afraid," I said, gently taking her hands that were covering her breasts and removing them completely, letting my

hands protect those sacred peaks in her place.

I didn't cover her breasts or anything, just caressed them, very gently and calmly; then I touched her

nipples, already erect, just like any other woman's.

I didn't know what I would do next. To be precise, I didn't know how far my mother would let me go.

However, I knew that at that moment, there was one thing I wanted to do most: suckle my mother's nipple!

I told my mother to sit on the bed. (Let me explain: it wasn't a request, nor an order; I simply

spoke to her in a calm tone, asked her to sit down, and then quietly waited for her reaction.) She listened to me and

sat down beside me, her hands involuntarily covering her breasts again. I told her she'd better lie down, lie on the bed,

and not cover her breasts, as I'd already seen them. At this moment, she turned her head, looked at me, and our eyes met. She didn't

say anything, just looked at me, her expression somewhat confused.

I waited for her to speak; it seemed she wanted to reason with me. However, she didn't argue with me, but instead did as I

wished. She bent down, took off her sandals, and lay down on the bed. I don't know why I had this thought:

if she took off her shoes before getting into bed, I would have hope. What was my hope? To test the limits? To admire

my mother's naked body, which I had never seen before? If allowed, to touch every lovely place, and ideally, to make love to her.

I leaned closer to her, my hands covering her breasts, and began to caress them. Her nipples pressed firmly against my

palms . She looked directly at me, eye to eye, without flinching. A woman looking at me like this in my bed is usually...

She would avoid my eyes or close them.

But my mother stared intently at me, which I couldn't bear. So I lay down beside her.

My mouth found her nipple, first a light kiss, then a gentle bite. But sleeping in the same bed with my mother

was incredibly awkward, a blankness swirling in my head. I didn't know what to do next, so I let my instincts dictate my actions,

starting to suckle my mother's nipple, while pinching the other nipple with my fingers.

She moaned, not a loud cry, but a soft hum, so sensual, so incredibly erotic.

After caressing her for a while, I moved my hand to the adjacent nipple, rubbing and kneading it. My mother's sighs grew

heavier, and she placed her hand on my head, stroking my hair with her fingers.

In the silence, I suckled her nipple, and she stroked my hair. After a long while, tears dripped onto my

face, and I realized she was crying.

I didn't speak, afraid that saying the wrong thing would ruin this satisfactory situation. I first unzipped my pants

, because my swollen penis was unbearably constricted. Then, I kissed my mother's breasts, all the way down

to her face.

I wiped away her tears, caressed her face, and gently pecked at every inch of her skin. When I kissed her

lips, she shuddered and asked me to kiss her gently, but when I tried to put my tip in her

mouth , she turned her face away.

I didn't force my tongue in, and turned back to kiss her cheek. Since lying in bed with my mother,

my hands hadn't left her breasts, taking turns squeezing and caressing them. Her reaction was the same as any other woman's;

her nipples were full and erect.

I leaned close to her ear and whispered to her that she was beautiful. She didn't reply. I said, "I want her, I must

have her.

" I spoke as politely as possible, afraid of offending her. She turned her head, brushed my hand away,

faced me, and said, "That's enough, let's stop here."

"We've only just begun," I said.

"We can't go on like this," she said.

"No. Mom, I can't stop."

"No. This isn't right. Let's stop here, okay? It's time to sleep," she said. Tears

streamed down her face again.

I kissed her, she turned her face away to avoid it, but I followed her and finally kissed her lips.

"That's the last kiss, okay?" she said.

I said to her, "I can't sleep at this point. I know you don't want it to end here either, right

?

" My hand wandered under her skirt, lifting it inch by inch until I saw the fabric of her panties

where . Without a word, I slipped my hand inside her panties, exploring the unknown

territory.

"Oh! No, Jimmy. Don't touch me, don't touch that place," she said, trembling all over.

I ignored her and instead stuck a finger into her "pussy

. "

My God! Her pussy was soaking wet, like a flowing river. I was amazed; for my mother's

age as well and started

to fuck her with my fingers.

She said no, but her body betrayed her, surrendering to me without further protest. Now was the time to have what I wanted

.

Now was the time, and I rolled off the bed. This action surprised her; what was I doing getting off the bed?

I told my mother I was taking off my clothes. In front of her, I took off my t-shirt, pants, and what Hong Kong people call "twin chimneys

." My huge cock stood out, dangling in front of her, but she looked away.

Without wasting a moment, I got back onto the bed and spread her legs. When I tried to take off her panties, there was no

resistance ; she even lifted her buttocks slightly to help me, which emboldened me.

I leisurely took off her panties, slowly admiring the view of her vulva. It was covered in curly hair, clearly

unkempt. She was a "golden cat," with naturally golden hair, and her golden vulva hadn't

faded with age—a rare gem.

I lifted her thighs and placed her feet on my shoulders. Thinking about what I was about to do—

a moment of great importance—I felt a deep sense of awe. Mom's eyes were closed, her face flushed.

I took a breath, thrust forward, and it was inside. A few more thrusts, and it was fully inside—

my cock, of course.

At that moment, I heard my mother let out a soft, seductive moan, and I was completely captivated.

I resolved to make love to her properly, really! However, I didn't act rashly, simply because she was my

mother. I just kept my penis inside her, holding her firmly, without moving.

I embraced her, inside her, clinging to her, letting her wetness and warmth envelop me.

In an instant, I witnessed something I had never seen before. Her whole body began to tremble and sway uncontrollably, as if she

couldn't breathe, as if she were about to exhale her last breath.

I could tell it was a reaction to orgasm, but if I had to say, I had never seen anything like it in my life.

Never before, and never again.

Seeing my own mother beneath me, "coming like this." I'm the one who caused her to be like this, and

the responsibility will fall on my head (or rather, my penis). Thinking of this, I couldn't hold back anymore and

ejaculated inside her without even thrusting.

We were both finished, and I looked at her. She was covered in sweat, but her face was no longer tense; she looked relaxed,

as if all her problems had been solved.

I realized I was still hard inside her, so I lowered her legs, pressed myself on top of her, and

intertwined my fingers with hers. I felt her breasts pressed against my chest, her legs wrapped around me, trying to hold me, to

keep my penis inside her, the deeper the better.

This position of intercourse made me feel wonderful, and I understood that she liked it this way. So, I was on

top of , relying on the still-hardness of my penis, gently thrusting in and out, and surprisingly, it still felt tight. I was amazed at the excellent

elasticity of my mother's vagina. She whispered in my ear, "Don't stop."

I kissed her lips, searching for her tongue; she returned the kiss, her tongue trailing behind mine. We kissed passionately.

Finding a rhythm in our lovemaking, we slowed down, unhurriedly savoring each movement, making a

sweet and beautiful love.

This was our second time, a beautiful moment to hold onto, but neither of us could resist, and we came quickly

. Mom came first, then I did. We collapsed into each other's arms and fell asleep immediately.

How ironic, there were three beds in the triple room, yet we were sharing a single bed.

But—and I say "but"—because life is unpredictable. The next morning, I woke up to find Mom not beside me. I found her in

the hotel restaurant. She was eating breakfast alone. The expression on her face told me something was wrong.

She said good morning and looked down at her coffee cup. I didn't say anything, letting her be; it was still morning anyway.

We left the hotel and continued our journey.

In the car, we became tense, the atmosphere unbearable. After a moment of awkward silence, I couldn't help

but speak.

"It seems we should have a serious talk and clear things up." "

We have nothing to say," she interrupted abruptly.

"What did you say? What we did…"

"Don't bring it up again. We're both adults, we both have needs. We did it, and that's

it . But we won't do it again. Understand? This is between the two of us, don't gossip.

Promise me you won't bring it up again."

I was speechless.

I had no premeditation in wanting to have sex with my mother, nor did I have any ill intentions towards her. Just as my mother said, what's done is

done , there won't be a next time.

I've had many fleeting affairs, all brief encounters, followed by no further contact.

I don't know if I should call sleeping with my mother a "fleeting affair." Because she's my

mother , having sex with her and still having to see her is more awkward than not knowing each other at all, even a little guilt-inducing.

However, I still cherished this almost impossible romance. Since it had already happened, I wasn't willing

to let it end . There would always be a sequel, right? Although I didn't know how it would happen, what was destined to happen would happen.

"Did you hear me? Will you say yes?" she interrupted my thoughts.

"Yes." What else could I say? She was my mother. That was our last conversation.

We remained silent the whole way until noon, when we arrived at my uncle's house.

Upon arrival, Mom immediately showered and changed, chatting incessantly with my aunt. We stayed for a few hours before checking into

a hotel . My uncle arranged everything; we each had a room. We locked ourselves in our rooms and

didn't leave until the wedding day.

After the wedding came the banquet. I had no interest in dancing or flirting, so I stayed in my seat the whole time.

Mom danced with my uncle and other men, trying her best to appear normal. All night, I watched her.

A couple of times, our eyes met by chance, and I caught a glimpse of the utter confusion and unease on her face. What she couldn't

hide was the way she was scrutinizing me.

The party wasn't over when Mom said she had to leave. She told Uncle she was tired from the journey and had to travel home the next day.

Back at the hotel, she asked me when I was leaving the next day, and I just said goodnight. Alone in my room,

I tossed and turned all night, racking my brains, trying to find an explanation for what had happened the past two days.

The atmosphere was even worse the next day; we were stuck together in the train car all day. Suddenly, we didn't know how to interact;

awkward and uncomfortable. Every time we tried to speak, we could

n't get the words out. Finally, we gave up, remaining silent on the way home. The long journey took us until we arrived at my parents' house at 7

pm . I dropped her off at the door and left. I didn't want to see my father.

And that's where it ends (for now). I didn't intend to write in such detail, but I just wanted to

make the events clearer.

I want to hear what you all have to say, especially

the responses . I even want to hear someone say it's a fictional story or that I'm lying. But don't judge me right away

. Something else will happen in a few days.

Will things be good or bad? To find out, stay tuned.

(III) Once You've Tasted the Flavor

It's not easy to bury the memory of having had sexual relations with someone. Once it happens,

there will be a second, a third... and it's the same with my mother.

Let me explain first, since that Sunday night when I took my mother home, we haven't seen or

spoken to each other. Only twice, my father called to ask if I wanted to come home for dinner. Both times I made an excuse to decline.

I understand that my mother is embarrassed to see me again; she harbors resentment, so I didn't want to force her or make things difficult for her.

I finally came to a conclusion: after all, she's my mother, and fantasizing about having sex with her is unrealistic.

A single, accidental event can only be relived, not repeated. However, for the past two weeks, my mother's image has

been constantly on . The second week, I decided to stop thinking about her and went out hunting for other women, seeking pleasure.

Aside from sleeping with my mother once, I hadn't tasted "meat" for a month; I was practically an ascetic

. I needed to find a girlfriend quickly; having a girlfriend would help me forget my mother.

But, bad luck struck; I didn't meet anyone I liked. Luckily, I ran into an old flame, and we slept together

twice in a week, which was a small consolation. Then

, something unexpected happened! It was a weekend in mid-September, around 1 p.m., and I was bored,

wearing only a pair of shorts, sprawled on the sofa reading the newspaper.

The doorbell rang. I asked who it was. The person outside said, "It's me." Of course, I recognized my mother's

voice . She showed up at the door without warning.

I had to take a deep breath before opening it.

"Good morning!" she said.

"It's not early, it's one o'clock in the afternoon."

"May I come in?"

"Oh, of course." I stepped back slightly, making way for her. She

brushed past .

She looked around and said, "Am I bothering you?"

"I have nothing to do," I said, feigning laziness.

Her unexpected arrival made me a little nervous. I used to be afraid she would catch me with another girl in the act.

Making love in bed was the reason I had insisted she not come to my house before.

I was nervous, my heart was racing—not out of guilt, but because I sensed something was about to happen. She was like a

"flying grasshopper," flying into my doorstep.

How did I know? From her expression and her mannerisms, I could tell from the smallest detail that

she was in an exceptionally good mood.

Another strange thing was that even in this sweltering heat, she would be drenched in sweat wearing just a t-shirt,

yet she came in a windbreaker—it seemed odd.

Entering the living room, I invited her to sit, but she refused, insisting I sit instead. I sat on the sofa, and she stood in front of me,

asking again, "Are you home alone? No one else?"

"I told you I was alone."

I sensed something was about to happen, but I thought she just wanted to talk to me. She stood for a moment,

looking down at the floor.

I waited for her to speak, and then she took off her outer garment, revealing a thin summer dress. I saw

the shape of her breasts where the fabric bulged, slightly sagging, with two nipples protruding and faintly visible beneath the shirt. The first and

second buttons were undone, revealing a deep cleavage.

She wasn't wearing a bra, and I couldn't see if she was wearing underwear. These days, seamless

underwear , allowing people to touch a woman's "bottom line.

" Besides that, she was only wearing a pair of sandals. She looked directly at me, our eyes meeting, and said, "If you don't want me, you can just tell me to leave.

But I thought you would like to take off my bra, like last time.

" "Mom, you're not wearing a bra. You were last time," I replied seriously.

"Really? Oh, yes. Then, I need you to do something else for me." With that, she began

to pull up her skirt in an extremely seductive pose, slowly revealing a pair of jade-like legs beneath.

But the biggest surprise was yet to come. She gave me a lewd smile, then suddenly lifted her skirt,

revealing that she wasn't wearing underwear and had shaved her head clean, becoming a "white tiger (phoenix)." I

was shocked and speechless.

She said, "I thought you liked me like this. Will this solve your problem?" She pointed to my erect

penis, which was peeking out from between my "twin chimneys" of pants.

Her pointing made me instantly extremely embarrassed, and I immediately covered it with my hand. It seemed I wasn't the only

one who wanted to have sex.

It was a bit abrupt; she kept pulling up her skirt, her pubic area at eye level with mine, allowing me a full,

unobstructed view. I beckoned to her, and she came over. I patted the spot next to me, and she sat down

beside me.

I reached out, put my arm around her waist, and pulled her close. She leaned towards me and kissed me without a word. She

reacted immediately, returning the kiss. We kissed passionately, and just as I was about to give her a wet kiss, she pushed

me away, saying, "Wait."

What was she thinking? Had she changed her mind? I looked at her, completely bewildered. She smiled at me and said, "If

you want to make love, come and fuck me now."

It was the first time I'd heard my mother use such a vulgar word as "fuck me." However, I knew she wasn't

joking . I decided to oblige and immediately mounted her, spreading her legs, removing her panties. She lifted her skirt,

letting me lie on top of her and enter her.

Her vagina was as wet as ever. I didn't need to tease her anymore; she was already burning with desire. It all happened

so suddenly, and fearing she might change her mind and I'd lose my chance, I was so focused on fucking her relentlessly that I didn't think about anything else.

I knew that making love with my mother required being especially gentle and considerate, but she didn't seem to mind my eagerness. She

seemed to be enjoying it even more than I was, almost moaning.

Hearing the sounds of our bodies colliding, along with my mother's moans and cries, even I felt it was incredibly lewd

. I couldn't hold back for long and ejaculated. Believe it or not, she had two orgasms, she

told me.

After the orgasm subsided, I remained inside her, embracing her, unwilling to pull out, savoring

the afterglow of our lovemaking. At this moment, we both needed to catch our breath.

After catching our breath, she asked if she could come into my bedroom. I said of course.

I helped her up her limp body and held her in my arms. She saw my erect penis pressing against her

thigh and looked a little shy. Her clothes were disheveled, and she didn't bother to tidy them up before following me into my bedroom. She told me

to lie down on the bed. I lay on the bed, my heart pounding even harder, waiting for the show to begin.

My mother bent down and took off her sandals and skirt, coming to the bed completely naked. Her naked body gradually approached, and

I couldn't help but look at her .

Not only did she take off her clothes, but her mons pubis was also smooth and hairless. I had never imagined that my mother's pubic area would be hairless

; it was the most naked thing she had ever shown me.

She got on the bed and took my penis in her hand. I thought to myself, "Mom, don't give me a handjob

(hand grab), I want to put it inside you." She touched it, kissed it lightly, and caressed my testicles

( including my scrotum) in her hand, stroking and kneading it up and down.

My penis immediately became hard again, pulsating in her hand. She straddled me, guiding my penis to

her vulva, slowly lowering her vagina onto it until my penis was fully inside her.

Then she sat on me, motionless. I didn't move either, looking at her, and she looked at me. We were now

one, and this wonderful feeling would remain in my heart forever.

In this moment of tenderness, my mother taught me many techniques for making love. She was truly skilled; she was

incredibly adept at it. She would slowly move up and down, leaning forward to caress my chest with her nipples and breasts. My

penis was inside her vulva, and when she sensed I was about to ejaculate, she would pause, then

repeat , gradually heating up the process.

As she moved up and down on top of me, I realized she had given me the best vantage point to admire my mother's

breasts dancing close to my face. We made love slowly like this for fifteen minutes before reaching our climax

together . I remember how she fell on top of me, feeling her sweaty breasts pressed against

my chest, while my penis remained inside her, refusing to slip out.

I hoped this wonderful feeling wouldn't end. I knew I'd struck gold;

the blessing of making love with my mother was a blessing earned through countless lifetimes.

Guilt couldn't ruin this beautiful moment; I believed neither of us could be without it, but desire was even

stronger, forging our two blood-bound bodies into one. The second time we made love, I already had a

connection with her. The moment she shifted her body, I knew what she wanted. I wrapped my arms around her, we lay together, kissing,

caressing each other for a long time.

She was mentally prepared and told me she had something to say. I realized that we

hadn't spoken much since my mother came in. Physical intimacy shortened the psychological distance; since we were both naked, our hearts

should . We lay in bed talking endlessly, about our relationship, about her relationship with my father, pouring out our hearts

without any reservations.

A woman is a woman; if she feels she can talk to you, she'll chatter on and on. I was starving and asked

her what she wanted to eat. She suggested we take a shower first (she meant together). She got out of bed and went into the bathroom first, and I

followed her. Yes, we'd already made love, so she wouldn't object to us squeezing into the small bathroom together.

And she said she wanted me to help her scrub her back (and the parts I'd dirtied).

I lathered her whole body with soap and washed her thoroughly. Mom helped me wash my penis, pulling

back my foreskin to clean it.

After the shower, Mom said she'd cook for me. I only had some spaghetti, so Mom made some meat sauce and opened a bottle of

Italian red wine—a perfect pairing. The most enjoyable thing was watching Mom cook. It wasn't that I hadn't seen her

cook before; I'd seen her cook since I was little. But the atmosphere was different. She was barefoot, wearing only a t-shirt that barely covered her bottom, which she

'd just grabbed from my closet.

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