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[When passion runs deep, son fucks mother][The End] 

I was born in the early 1960s in a small town on the Yunnan-Guizhou Plateau. My mother was 36 years old when she gave birth to me. She was definitely one of the most beautiful women in the surrounding communes. So, she was very picky when she was young, and most men simply didn't meet her standards. Later, she met my father, who was seven years older than her and equally picky but also very handsome. My father worked at a grain station in the county town, only a few dozen miles from our small town. I remember that when I was little, my father only took me to his workplace twice. My father was actually a weigher at the grain station, and the woman he worked with, Aunt Duan, who was in charge of issuing invoices, was very pretty. Both times I went to the grain station, she liked to give me hard candy and touch my face. My father and Aunt Duan seemed to be good friends; as far as I remember, they seemed to enjoy chatting with each other. It wasn't until decades later that I understood, and still vividly remember, that Aunt Duan possessed a fiery, alluring beauty that easily attracted men, while my mother possessed a different kind of beauty—the kind of classical, aloof beauty we often talk about today. My mother's beauty contained an undeniable reserve, pride, and nobility, silently seeping into the hearts and marrow of those who stole glances at her. Every Sunday, my father would ride his heavy-duty bicycle home to visit my mother, sister, and me. He would also bring back some treats for my sister and me.

By the time my father returned home, it was almost dark. My mother, who worked at the post office, had already finished her shift. She would always close the wooden shop where we lived earlier than usual, and after dinner, she would quickly wash my sister and me, then urge us up to the wooden staircase to sleep. After tucking us in, she would go downstairs. Back then, there were no electric lights. Sometimes my sister and I would peek out from under the kerosene lamp to look at comic books, and sometimes we'd eat the snacks Dad brought home. I'd feed her a bite, and she'd feed me one too. Before long, my sister and I would often hear Dad and Mom laughing and talking in the house downstairs, and sometimes we'd hear strange "gurgling" sounds... Sometimes, the next day, I'd curiously ask Mom what those sounds were. Mom would always blush, shyly smiling, and say, "Children don't understand. That's Mom and Dad playing a game!"

Oh, so it was a game. Until I grew up and had sex with Mom, I always believed it was a game.

To make it easier for my sister and me to get up and relieve ourselves in the middle of the night, Mom put a small wooden basin in the corner of the wooden house. My sister and I would pee in the basin. The next day, Mom would come upstairs, take the basin down, empty it, and casually wash the basin in the ditch flowing from the rice paddy behind the house. Of course, I pee standing up. Sometimes I'd even deliberately hold my penis and shoot it in circles around the edge of the basin. My sister would always grin and watch me pee with great curiosity. Of course, her eyes were mostly on my penis. When she peeed, she always needed me to hold her, pull her underwear down to her calves, bend over, and stick her butt out high, otherwise the pee would spill outside the basin. When my sister peed, the pee was often very fast, a large gush shooting out of her vagina and far away, with a small amount slowly trickling down to her anus. Every time she finished, I'd wipe her clean with coarse paper. I always enjoyed watching her pee with her white butt sticking up high. Sometimes my sister would ask me why she couldn't shoot her pee in circles. I'd say it was because she peed in a different place than me. I'm a boy, and she's a girl. At that time, my sister and I would often curiously spread our genitals for each other to see. My foreskin was a bit long then, and my glans wasn't fully exposed; the tip of my penis was still a little red. When I looked at my sister's, it was usually just a slit. When I spread it open, I could see pink flesh inside, and it looked like there was a small hole or something. Anyway, nothing special.

My sister and I lived together like this until I was 15 and went to vocational school, but we never actually had sex. However, we continued to look at and touch each other's genitals until I left home for vocational school. Neither of us knew who had grown pubic hair first. I touched her there, and she touched my penis. When I touched her vulva, she would always blush and smile shyly at me. When she touched my penis with a red face, my penis would always unconsciously become hard. We also impulsively tried a few times; I took off my clothes and climbed onto my sister's stomach. Then I would aim my penis at my sister's vagina and try to penetrate her. But every time, we both blushed and couldn't manage to get it in. My penis would always have a little slippery white fluid on the tip. Of course, all of this was done secretly from my parents.

In my memory, I was definitely a good child when I was little. I was sensible early, studied very hard, and always ranked among the top three in my class. I was also very filial. Sometimes the farmers around would give me some of their delicious homegrown fruit (like cherries, plums, etc.), and I wouldn't eat it all myself; I would always take it home for my mother and sister. I could also sense a hint of joy on my parents' faces when they mentioned me to outsiders.

Back then, the mountainous area was quite isolated, and the only means of transportation to the outside world was a bus that ran twice a day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon. My mother took me to the county town twice when she went to meetings there. In my memory, the county town was a big place, so big and lively! From that moment on, a secret impulse arose in my young heart: I must one day leave the mountains. This impulse accompanied me throughout my childhood, becoming an invisible driving force for my studies. My academic performance was always excellent, and in 1978, I successfully gained admission to a vocational school in the provincial capital with high scores, realizing my dream of leaving the mountains.

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