The true love between mother and child transcends all taboos.

It's just my mom and me in our family. After my mom and dad divorced, she never had a proper marriage. She'd rather stay single for the rest of her life than enter into a loveless marriage again. I took the opportunity to confess to my mom, "I agree with you, Mom. I love you, and I want to be your lover." My mom was clearly shocked by my words. But she quickly calmed down and told me that she didn't want to blame me, but that we were mother and son, not lovers, and that I would definitely find my true love in the future. I told my mom on the spot that I was her true love.

This had always been my true feeling.

On Sunday, I drove my mom out for a whole day, and we had a great time. It was clear that my mom was starting to relax around me. When I took her hand and rubbed and stroked it, she no longer resisted.

We drove for over two hours on the winding one-way country road. The sky was sometimes cloudy, sometimes sunny, and the woods, pastures, and cornfields flashed by on both sides of the road. We were always excited and happy together. Whether talking or silent, my mother and I were always communicating.

The leaves were still green, but a hint of yellow had already appeared within the green. Small herds of cows and horses grazed with their heads down. We could see bundles of hay rolled into large rolls on the pastures. Some of the hay rolls were wrapped in white plastic sheets. The corn was already taller than a person, and the ears were already showing. The open fields were breathtaking.

My mother and I tried our best to avoid discussing our mother-son relationship in our usual conversations, but we both knew that every action and word we shared made our relationship increasingly closer. For us, breaking through the barriers between mother and son wasn't a question of whether, but when. We stopped by a vineyard and a winery, had lunch at a roadside McDonald's, and then visited one of the most prestigious state universities in our area.

The new semester was about to begin. Groups of 18- and 19-year-old freshmen were touring the campus. Individual male and female students were also there, carrying plastic bags filled with heavy books—clearly textbooks for the new semester. My mother said she loved strolling around university campuses, enjoying the vibrant energy of young people. I, on the other hand, kept pointing out the beautiful, voluptuous girls around me. I never hid my fondness for women, especially voluptuous ones.

It was now considered autumn. The weather was very cool in the morning, but by the afternoon it had warmed up and become quite humid. The girls on campus, all wearing various short tops, displayed their shapely curves beautifully.

As I kept praising the girls passing by, my mother said, "Yes, you'll be going to university in two years. There are so many pretty girls there; you can like as many as you want." I said, "Mom, don't try to control me from being too flirtatious or capable. Mom knows I only like you." My mother said, "Compared to them, Mom is already old. Isn't that right?" I stopped, took my mother's hands, looked directly into her eyes, and said, "Mom can't say I'm old, I can only say I'm more mature. Maturity has its own charming appeal." My mother pulled away from my hands, smiled, and said, "Pshaw, you're not that old, but you're quite good at flattering people. Mom doesn't need your flattery." But I could clearly feel that my words touched my mother. She didn't say much after that, just lost in thought. I pretended not to notice my mother's mood, and whenever I saw a pretty, voluptuous girl, I would take my mother's hand and show her.

I said, "How comfortable it would be to hold such a voluptuous girl in my arms." My mother only gave me a faint smile, her hand still in my grasp. Although my mother is 37 years old this year, her small hands are still very soft and tender. Just holding her hand, or even just looking at her small hands, can make me aroused.

At dusk, we drove back. My mother's directions lacked the enthusiasm and rigor she had shown on the way there. I said, "Mom is probably a little too tired, you don't need to give directions. I'll find the way myself, don't worry." My mother readily agreed, relieving herself of the responsibility of giving directions, her head bowed in a relaxed manner.

We hadn't even driven halfway when it was completely dark. But the drive home was exceptionally smooth, taking only an hour and a half. Back home, my mother prepared a simple dinner, and I quickly took a shower. By the time I finished, my mother had already put the food on the table.

We both ate absentmindedly. I cleared the table, and my mother went to the bathroom to shower.

While washing the dishes, I heard the sound of running water from my mother's shower, and I could no longer suppress my desire to have sex with her. Hearing her turn off the tap, I pushed open the bathroom door, opened the glass door to the bathtub, and said to her, "Mom, let me dry you." My mother smiled shyly at me, "Go away." But I tried to grab the towel from her hand, and she resisted for a few moments before letting go. I dried my mother's hair, chest, and back. My mother's breasts have always been firm and full. In addition, my mother's upper body is slightly plump, and the fat protruding from her back and lower abdomen gives her a kind of hazy, full beauty, no less than a well-defined figure.

My mother's pubic hair is quite thick. The dark, curly pubic hair densely covers her vulva. When I was about to start drying my mother's lower body, she snatched the towel from my hand.

I quietly watched as my mother finished drying her buttocks, vulva, thighs, and calves. Then, I said to my mother, "I want Mommy." She wanted to wear underwear and a bra, but I stopped her.

"Mommy, don't wear them," I said. I took her hand and led her out of the bathroom and into my bedroom.

My mother, as if in a daze, obeyed my lead and stood in front of the large mirror in my bathroom.

We stared at my mother's naked body in the mirror. She looked at the mirror, watching me caress her breasts, her lower abdomen, and her vulva. We were having sexual intercourse with each other, both in and out of the mirror, which made her constantly resist me. However, seeing my desire for intercourse, seeing my dejected state because I hadn't been able to have sex with her for many days, my mother was very worried about me.

Therefore, after resisting me to a certain extent, she half-heartedly allowed me to have sex with her. When I have sex with my mother, we always use the missionary position because only in this position can I get her to cooperate, even if she's not entirely willing.

However, for some reason, I'm almost always in a state of orgasm when I penetrate her. It's her resistance that's like incredibly stimulating foreplay for me. I can clearly feel that her resistance only intensifies my sexual desire and makes me want her even more. I

usually ejaculate after only a few thrusts in her vagina. Even when I try to control the urge and stop thrusting, I'm always on the verge of climax. Whenever I stop moving, my mother kisses me, making it impossible to suppress the urge to ejaculate any longer. I then thrust forcefully, trying to ejaculate as far as the end of her vagina could go.

From penetration to ejaculation, it usually takes one or two minutes. After I ejaculated, I felt my sexual desire completely released. Although I tried to continue touching and kissing my mother after ejaculation, she clearly sensed that my desire had disappeared after ejaculation, and her touching and kissing lost their previous fiery passion. At this point, my mother pushed me away, got up to tidy herself up, and wiped away the semen that had begun to flow out of her vagina.

I know I didn't last long enough inside my mother, disappointing her. But I've read scientific literature and know I don't have premature ejaculation. I'm quite diligent in my studies. I not only study for schoolwork, but I also read many books on sexual matters, because these are readily available.

The books say there are many ways to prolong intercourse and allow both partners to fully enjoy sexual pleasure. As understanding and rapport develop, each couple can choose their preferred method.

For example, during intercourse, the woman can use her thumb and forefinger to firmly pinch the penis when she senses the man is about to ejaculate, forcibly preventing ejaculation and suppressing his urge, before he resumes thrusting. Alternatively, when both partners feel ejaculation is imminent, they can stop, think about other things, or talk about other topics, preventing the man's orgasm from escalating further or even lowering it, thus delaying ejaculation.

I showed these books to my mother as well. I don't know if it's because my mother is embarrassed or for some other reason, but during our intercourse, apart from the occasional moan of pleasure, she always refuses to actively participate.

I can see that my mother is conflicted. On the one hand, her female instincts make her crave intercourse, and she needs enough time, a relaxed mind, and a good mood. But on the other hand, my mother is reluctant to have sex with me because of our mother-son relationship and social customs. However, seeing my sexually frustrated state, my mother worries about me and reluctantly lets me have sex with her. During our intercourse, she can never relax, as if she hopes to finish as soon as possible.

My mother is probably afraid that I will see that she enjoys sex, and I will feel that she condones or encourages our mother-son sexual relationship. My mother may also feel that having sex with me is something she has to do, and therefore she is not in the mood to enjoy sex with me. In any case, my mother's tension inevitably affects me, causing me to be tense as well, and I always ejaculate within a minute or two of penetration, with very few exceptions.

But today's outing, for some reason, made my mother completely relax. I grabbed my mother's legs with both hands, placing them on either side of my hips, and moved my hips back and forth, watching my smooth penis slide in and out of her vagina.

Standing like this, I could clearly see the entire process of my penis entering and exiting her vagina.

My mother closed her eyes, letting me go in and out. It was clear she was enjoying it.

Her large breasts swayed with each thrust. With each stroke, I could see three-quarters of my glans protruding, only the tip remaining in contact with her vaginal opening. Then I would arch my back, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, pushing my entire penis into her vagina.

My mother began to moan softly with my rhythmic thrusts.

I told her, "I like hearing your moans, they sound so stimulating. If you feel particularly good, moan loudly, don't suppress it, don't be shy. I like hearing it." My mother opened her eyes and asked, "Really?" "I do like hearing it," I said. "Hearing Mom's moans, I know how to make her feel good." Mom closed her eyes again, and her moans grew louder. I could feel her vagina becoming more aroused. I felt the urge to ejaculate rising within me, but if I stopped for a few seconds, the urge would subside, while still maintaining my orgasmic pleasure. We had been having sex for about half an hour, and I hadn't ejaculated yet. During that time, Mom had five or six orgasms. We had never had sex for so long before.

Mom kept moaning. When the moans stopped, I could clearly hear the sound of my penis going in and out of her vagina. It was the squelching sound of the well-lubricated vaginal walls as my penis was withdrawn.

Looking at Mom's closed eyes, her expression a mixture of pain and pleasure, watching her breasts sway back and forth, her open vagina, and listening to her moans with each penetration, I thought Mom was so lewd and so cute.

Suddenly, as if startled awake, Mom opened her eyes and asked, "You didn't ejaculate, did you?" I told her I hadn't, and told her not to worry. But Mom pressed on, "You won't ejaculate now, will you?" I said no. Mom then urged me, "Whatever you do, don't ejaculate inside." The way Mom looked at me was somewhat pitiful. I felt that Mom and I were now equals. I was no longer Mom's son, but Mom's sexual partner, a partner Mom had to treat as an equal. This was something that had never happened between Mom and me before.

Before, when I pestered Mom to have sex with her, she mostly scolded me ("Why do you think about these things all day? Think about other things, do other things, isn't that better?"). Occasionally, when she didn't scold me, she would laugh at me ("Is your sex drive really that strong? Can't you take care of it yourself? You say you feel good having sex with Mom, but Mom doesn't feel good at all. Can't you see that?").

Now Mom no longer had that condescending attitude at all. She no longer treats me like a child, not at all.

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The true love between mother and child transcends all taboos.

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