Mother's Notes

Mother's Notes

Chapter One: A Mistake That Shouldn't Have Happened

That year, my son was preparing for his high school entrance exams. He was focused on his studies, leaving early and

returning late every day. He took the school bus to class during the day and went to bed after tutoring at night. Until one day, I found some

liquid on my underwear that wasn't mine. I could tell from the smell that it was thick, pungent semen. At first, I thought maybe there was a

perverted neighbor nearby, but when I found that even my sexy underwear in the closet had been stained, I was certain it was

someone in my family.

Actually, the culprit was already obvious, but I didn't want to believe it. Each time my underwear was stained,

it was around the time I returned from my morning jog, and I found my room had been entered. My younger brother was only in

fourth grade, and my husband was already impotent, so I only had my son left. I knew that teenagers

were easily influenced by female hormones, especially the hormones emitted by middle-aged women like us. I'm

only 160cm tall, petite, and my breasts are small, just a B cup. No matter how many supplements I take,

I just can't grow taller, and my breasts won't develop.

When I shower, looking at my body, I'm over 35, my breasts are slightly sagging, and the only thing I can look at

is my face. My buttocks are flat from sitting in an office all day, thankfully not widening, but they're covered in flab

. I stick my butt out and mimic the AV actresses in the mirror, raising my hips, squeezing my legs together, and twisting left and right

. My private parts are very uncomfortable because my husband has been impotent for years, and I haven't had sex in ages. At first, it was really painful, and I even considered

going out to find a man to relieve my sexual desire, but only occasionally. Once, I met a part-time worker at a restaurant.

He had just returned from military service, and his strong body and firm buttocks made this office lady unbearably itchy. After that, I decided to

go to the restaurant every day and start teasing this young man.

I've read some articles and discussion forums online, even some dedicated to discussing which places have

attractive women. While I read these, I still find the idea of having sex with older men I don't know disgusting. Perhaps I should put it this way

: I overheard colleagues at work talking about a 45-year-old woman who, through makeup and coquettishness,

could easily hook up with a bunch of students—middle schoolers, high schoolers, college students—at nightclubs. Why would she do that? Wouldn't they feel cheated if they knew

her age? I don't know, but from what my colleagues said, these young men,

whom we call "studs," are simply in heat and want sex, especially with older women. Young men are

particularly fond of mature women, even middle-aged women.

My colleague was quite lewd, constantly saying things like, "Last night I slept with another college student. He was so cute the first time.

I ejaculated once, and he got hard again immediately. Even though his technique wasn't great, youth makes you hard. I squeezed him

dry until his legs went weak. It was really good." Or another colleague would tell me that on the bus today,

a high school student was peeking at her neckline from behind, staring intently at her cleavage. Although I noticed him glancing,

I didn't confront him. This feeling of being spied on made me eager to have sex with my husband that night

, but it ended in less than ten minutes, which infuriated me.

I casually asked a close colleague, who, like me, is a mother, and whose son is already

working. I thought she might have some experience. I told her about what I'd discovered about my son, and she laughed and

said it was normal. Her son used to ask her to have sex, but of course, she told him no.

Luckily had a girlfriend in high school, and his behavior became normal afterward. So, you're saying my son should have one too? I

don't know your situation. I only spent time guiding my son because he was curious about sex; once he matured, he

stopped thinking about incest.

I thought about it and remained silent. That day, I went to a restaurant as usual, a casual dining area for nearby office workers

. Every time I ate, I deliberately unbuttoned the first and second buttons and loosened my clothes. Anyone standing above me

could immediately see my small breasts. I was young then, so they were round and perky.

I also pulled my skirt up a few centimeters. Whenever the delivery guy came, he would stare at my cleavage and my

thighs. This went on for a month. One day, I left a small piece of paper with only a phone number.

Not long after I got off work that day, I received a call. I simply asked him if he wanted a one-night stand. He immediately rode his motorcycle to

the place I specified, got on the motorcycle, and went to a nearby hotel. Before we started our lovemaking, I clearly told him that only I could contact him, and he

was not allowed to call me. If he broke the rule once, he would never contact me again.

I asked him to massage me first. It felt really good to have someone give me that kind of attention. This guy, a young man who had just finished his military service, didn't have

a girlfriend and therefore no sexual experience. That night, although we did it four or five times, he had

absolutely But the itchy pussy, with that young penis, although not very big, was just as they say,

young people get excited quickly. And that guy kept praising me, saying that mature women really do have better skills. Actually, I couldn't say

why, I just knew what men liked about me. For example, my expression had to be that I didn't really want it, but I was

half-heartedly resisting. My mouth had to make wet sucking sounds, and my hands had to rub his penis quickly. My tongue was a must. I personally liked

the doggy style because that way his penis could reach my cervix completely, and I couldn't see him. Only my pussy was being constantly

pumped, which made me imagine countless orgasms.

But after that guy's skills improved, he got a young girlfriend and left me. It didn't matter much

. As time went on, although I still felt lonely sometimes, I would take advantage of the time when my family wasn't home. I

bought an electric massager online, and there were some movies on my computer that I could use to masturbate at home. A few times I even

reached orgasm and squirted, soaking my son's computer desk, including the screen and keyboard. It

took me a whole hour to clean it up. Now that I've quit my job and am a full-time housewife, I sometimes check what's on

my son's computer, but it's all normal. There are some pornographic videos, and he visits pornographic websites.

Lately, my underwear has been getting increasingly smelly, and I feel like it's happening more and more frequently. It's even changed from being thick

to being watery, indicating that I'm indulging too much. As a mother, it's time to tell my son about sexuality. That night

, I made a late-night snack and brought it to my son's room. Before I even entered, I found him masturbating. His penis was

thick and curved. For several days in a row, my son hadn't closed the door when he masturbated. Did this mean he

was doing it on purpose for me to see? I was shocked, but I still didn't dare let my son know. One night at dinner, my son...

The chopsticks fell to the ground. As he bent down to pick them up, I noticed his gaze seemed to be fixed on my skirt. I quickly

clenched my fists, and only then did my son stand up. I felt there were obvious lick marks on my bra, and sometimes my son would

secretly look at me from behind, seemingly looking at my private parts. That feeling of being spied on was awful.

Once, his teacher called, saying that my son was listless in class and his grades had dropped significantly, making it difficult for him to

get into a national university. I was extremely anxious because we simply couldn't afford to send him to a private school. Just when I decided

to talk to my son about it, his Christmas presents were a pair of flesh-colored stockings and a pair of

black buckled garter stockings that looked incredibly humiliating. Did my son want me to wear these things? It was just too strange. That

day, as usual, I was using the computer to check stocks when I found a Word file in the E drive. If the file name

were normal, I usually wouldn't suspect anything, but this one was definitely about incest. I clicked on it, and oh my god,

it was full of articles about mother-son incest, so many of them.

There were scenes of training, rape, drugging, planned acts, coercion, teasing, and intentional exposure—all sorts of perverted

scenarios. I immediately stabbed him in the back. I also checked his bookshelf and found many

incestuous articles tucked among his reference books, all printed from the internet. In a box on the bookshelf, I also found various incestuous DVDs,

adult comics, and… a pair of my underwear. This cotton underwear was tacky, but because it was a large item and pure cotton,

I loved wearing it even though the style wasn't nice. I always thought I'd lost it, that it

disappeared , I think around when my son was in his third year of junior high. I shuddered. It turned out my son had been fantasizing about me since before junior high

, all the way up to his senior year of high school. I sat on the bed, unable to control myself for a long time, my mind filled with thoughts of my son's penis,

the exaggeratedly large breasts and buttocks of the characters in those adult comics, and those incestuous novels.

What did I mean by gradually breaking down a mother's defenses? Suddenly,

I remembered an article I found online. The title of this incestuous novel stuck with me: "The Plan to Rape Your Beautiful Mother." It taught you how to get your mother to perform

oral sex, anal sex, and even intercourse. I was so angry I threw my chair away. Writing this kind of thing is harmful; it's all

fiction, all lies. Why was my son corrupted by this? I remember feeling both angry and sad—angry that

I only discovered my son's abnormality so late, and sad about how to face him. I went online and posted an

article asking if any mothers had experience having sex with their sons. Immediately, I received a flood of emails, mostly

asking if I wanted to have sex or offering to do it for my son. After filtering through the emails, I discovered that some

people had actually told me.

He said his son was under a lot of pressure from his studies, and because of the scenes in Japanese adult films, where the mother would help him masturbate to relieve his sexual tension and help

him concentrate on getting into a good school, the mother refused, calling it incest and immoral. His son protested,

threatening to fail his exams, but the mother remained defiant, allowing him to indulge in sexual activity. She also said his son was sick, believing the adult film scenes

to be real. Then one night, when only he and his son were home, he unexpectedly

sneaked into his bedroom in the middle of the night, and while he was asleep, he taped her mouth shut and

handcuffed her hands and feet. The more I read, the more frightened I became. I nervously drank a cup of hot tea before returning to continue reading.

The mother woke up in the middle of the night to find herself turned over, lying face down on the bed,

her hands behind her back and her feet flat on the bed. Her son was sitting on her buttocks,

repeatedly thrusting a foreign object into them. Because her mouth was gagged, she could only whimper, her face pressed against the pillow, only able

to peek at what was happening behind her. When she realized a soft, large object was slowly

being forced into her vagina, she knew she was in trouble. Suddenly, a forceful thrust opened her vagina, regardless of whether it was wet.

She knew her son was raping her. Her son stopped inside her, and the mother

writhed, struggling with her arms and legs, her wrists and ankles covered in blood. The tape over her mouth prevented

her from making a sound, only allowing her to protest through nasal sounds. Her son held her shoulders down, constantly

thrusting his penis in and out, each thrust causing pain. Her pajamas were completely stripped off; only her

underwear remained beside the pillow. The breasts she had used to feed her son decades ago were now being played with by his hands, and

her back was covered in saliva.

Then I found myself moved to my side, the handcuffs on my feet were removed, and

one of my thighs was lifted. The strength I had used to struggle was long gone, and the numbness in my lower body made the mother

unable to exert any strength at all. A burning hot penis was thrusting in and out with the up and down movement of the spring bed.

I felt a wet tongue licking and sucking my ear, but I was powerless to do anything about it. Finally, I was turned over and

I watched the perpetrator who violated me thrusting in and out of my lower body. My son tore off the gag from my mouth. My lower lip

had already been bitten raw by my upper teeth because of the pain in my private parts. I cried and cried, cried and cried. I refused to help

my son masturbate and indulge in his lust. After a long period of accumulation, my son planned to rape me. My legs were like

a puppet with broken strings, swaying in mid-air. Just like that, the handcuffs were removed, and my lower body and mouth were filled with my son's

thick semen that he had been holding back for so long.

The next day I reported it to the police. Leaving Taiwan alone, this painful place, even after I started a new life abroad

, this scar in my heart remains a lifelong pain. I hope you make a good choice and don't let your son make

a terrible mistake, leaving behind a wound that will never heal. After reading this shocking confession, I decided to

talk to my son that very night. That night, knowing everything I knew, my son knelt on the ground, knowing he was wrong,

but he said he couldn't break the habit. The incestuous scenes between mother and son excited him. He said he was willing to quit, but he

had only one request: he wanted me to help him masturbate once. I never expected him to have such thoughts.

Just like in that article, my son asked me to help him masturbate. I said that was impossible and slapped him

, telling him not to think such things. Back in my room, I was unable to calm myself down for a long time.

That night, I dreamt that I was like his mother, being sexually assaulted by my son when he was in his first year of high school. I remember

it was at school; it was a parent-teacher conference that day. I didn't have work that morning, so I wore an office lady outfit to school, and my flesh-colored

stockings were captivating. In the afternoon, I had put on heavy makeup, like a TV

news anchor, to meet an important client. At school, my son said he had an upset stomach and needed to go to the toilet, but a few minutes later he texted me saying...

They said they were out of toilet paper and asked me to get some. I thought it wouldn't matter; it shouldn't be strange for a mother to walk into the men's restroom

. But as I knocked on each stall, calling my son's name, no one answered. The text message said the fifth floor

—this place is so remote! I was exhausted from walking all that way. I was so embarrassed to have to walk so far while I was taking a dump, afraid someone would see me. Then

the last stall opened.

A little annoyed, I said, "Why aren't you saying anything?" I went behind the door and saw no one. When I turned around,

I saw my son behind me. He shoved me inside, first pressing my head to the ground, and kept yelling, "Are you crazy?"

My son pulled the cuffs of my suit jacket back and tied them in a knot. I could only struggle with my hands behind my back.

Because the toilet space was cramped, I was in a doggy-style position. My son kept lifting my buttocks up and

pushing them forward. My neck felt like it was about to break. I kept screaming wildly. My son took the opportunity to rip my stockings

, tear off a large wad of stockings and stuff it into my mouth. He pulled my skirt down so that my buttocks were facing the sky

. I was looking down at my private parts. My son pinched my buttocks and stared at my vulva. Through my

semi-transparent underwear, I could see my mons pubis throbbing naturally with fear. My left thigh was lifted onto my son's

shoulder , while my right thigh was placed on the trash can. My son first kept sucking on my mons pubis with his tongue and lips,

as if there was sweet juice inside. He kept sucking, then, finding my underwear troublesome, he pulled it down to my ankles in my high heels.

I looked at his face from below, and he was using his hands like a wild beast, roughly kneading and

squeezing my buttocks, as if trying to squeeze out every drop of juice. Later, he even slapped my buttocks hard, leaving two

burning handprints on my buttocks.

The stockings in his mouth made me only able to whimper. My hands were trapped inside my coat, unable to move, and all my weight was on

my shoulders and neck. I was tired, truly tired in this dream. I gave up struggling. I saw

my son pull out his penis; it was so big and thick, but I didn't want this penis to belong to my son. My son took the stockings out of my mouth

, and before I could finish shouting, "You beast, this is indecent..." he shoved his penis into my teeth. I refused to

open my mouth, but he pinched my nose and kept prying my mouth open with his hands. Finally, when I couldn't breathe, I

opened my mouth, and his penis and penis were shoved into it. When he saw that I wouldn't suck his penis, he started moving his hips. I

felt utterly humiliated. Then, my plump vulva was repeatedly penetrated and withdrawn by my son's hands.

Two fingers dug into my vaginal walls and kept stimulating my clitoris. Finally, I couldn't resist my body's reaction

. My buttocks trembled, and my vaginal fluid flowed out and dripped onto my face.

My son smeared his penis with my vaginal fluid. Seeing my body go limp from the flow of my juices, he pulled my buttocks

forward and down, grabbed my coat collar, and lifted me up like a slingshot, placing me on the trash can. My

face was pressed against the wall, my stomach against the trash can, my hands could only grip the wall to keep my body from pressing down on

the floor

. As my buttocks were sticking out, my son spread my legs apart. I thought to myself, if only this were a sit-down toilet, at least I wouldn't be so tired. My genitals were facing the floor-mounted toilet.

Ignoring my pain, my son thrust his penis in and out, making a

clattering sound from the trash can and the ceramic toilet. My vaginal fluid dripped continuously into the small basin of the toilet. I hated my son for

doing this to me. Finally, my breasts were squeezed tightly, and I was lifted up from behind. In my dream, my expression

was one of enjoyment. The warm liquid inside my stomach and the rape-like pleasure from my son stimulated every nerve in my body.

I woke up in a cold sweat. I told myself I must have been watching too much incest stuff to have

this nightmare. I decided to wash my face and calm myself down, but when I got to the bathroom, I discovered my vagina, which

hadn't been , was completely soaked with sweat. I couldn't believe I'd just

had an orgasm because of the dream. I sat on the toilet, thinking about my son's demands, thinking about everything. I opened my bedroom door and

sneaked into my son's room. I saw him masturbating. It was 1 a.m., and he wasn't asleep, doing

something so harmful to his health. I went in. My son was scared at first, but he continued masturbating in front of me,

telling me he wanted to show me.

I couldn't stand the constant harassment. My son's health, his studies, my family, my finances, incest—I lost

my mind. I sat next to him and started masturbating him. It was thick and hot, and his penis

trembled in my hand. My son hugged my waist and kept kissing my neck. I let him kiss me because after tonight,

none of this would ever happen again. I told my son I was willing to grant his request, but if he didn't keep his

promise, I swore I would never let him off the hook. My son nodded, enjoying the moment with my hands. As time

passed , I helped him masturbate once, then gave him oral sex until he ejaculated, and finally wedged his thighs together for a shallow sexual encounter. I then asked him for a

day off so he could rest properly the next day.

As a mother, I had fulfilled all my obligations. Whether it was for the family or my son's desires, I always thought that

this would be the end of the incestuous taboo, and my son kept his promise, taking the entrance exam for his ideal university as scheduled.

However, university life offered more freedom, with more free time, and my son spent more time at home. Little did I know,

the fire of incestuous lust had already spread. Every time the night was quiet, I had to endure the pain in my lower body until a stream of

fluid shot into my abdomen, only then could my desires be quelled.

This time I changed my writing style, and I feel it's a bit erotic and perverse, but personally I think it's okay. I hope everyone will

like it. I will consider making a sequel, writing about the son's abuse from the mother's perspective.

There won't be as many sexual descriptions; instead, there will be more scenes of the mother being forced. I will also use a writing style that I often use

, which is to depict human nature and interweave it with the plot. If there are parts you don't understand or feel that the plot jumps around, don't

worry too much. If you feel that the plot jumps too much, tell me which part, and I will revise the writing. Finally, thank you

everyone. Also, just a heads up, I plan to end the "Mother Oedipus Memoir" series up to III.

The reason is that I reached the tearful point in that part of the memory, and it's time to wrap it up.

I'll see if I want to write the Mother Oedipus series again in the future, because writing about Mother Oedipus is really tiring. Finally, thank you everyone, and I wish

all the brothers across the country who will be enlisting at the end of September a safe year in the military together. (tears.)

Chapter Two: The Deterioration of Motherly Love

I endured the pain in my anus, burying my face in my elbows, as my son sat on my buttocks. All of this came from

It happened too fast. I wasn't even ready when I felt a tearing pain in my anus. It hurt so much,

so much. If my son hadn't threatened to let me choose between my vagina and anus, I wouldn't have let his

penis completely penetrate my anus. Tourists came and went on the beach, not many, but there were still

some . I listened to the sound of the waves, smelled the salty seawater, and let my son press down on me. I tried to recall

how all this happened.

After helping my son indulge in pleasure that night, he changed completely. He became greedy and crazy. Although he seemed the same as

usual , as his mother, I realized that he had really changed. The way he looked at me was no longer the

way a mother should look at someone, but rather at a woman who could satisfy his lust. My son, who's in college, started

abusing me at home. My husband leaves early, and I, an office lady, have quit my job. Every time he leaves,

while I'm brushing my teeth and washing my face in the bathroom, my son comes right in, pulls out his penis,

urinates , asks for water to wash his hands, and then leaves. I'm shocked that he's become so brazen; he must have

believed those incestuous articles and started doing it.

I started telling him to respect me, that even though I'm his mother, I'm still a woman. He's become

increasingly disrespectful, constantly using vulgar language, even inviting me to his room to watch videos together, which turned out to be

about incest. I was furious and immediately got up, but he pretended to be calm, thinking I was overreacting. He said I'd already

done it for him, so what was there to be ashamed of? I said I helped him so he could study hard, but he said,

"Anyway I got accepted, so Mother, you can…"

I said, "What can I do?" You could have helped me vent my anger a bit more, but I never expected my son to escalate things so

much that it backfired. He started harassing me at home. Once, I was washing dishes in the kitchen,

and he started touching me all over my buttocks, telling me how firm and soft my penis was. I glared at him and told him to watch his body. At

first I was scared, but later I wasn't. Touching my buttocks has become commonplace, along with verbal sexual harassment. He would ask me if

I was wearing underwear, what kind of underwear I was wearing, and whether my bra was front-fastening. I didn't want to answer any of it.

One afternoon, my husband was about to come home when my son suddenly pulled me into his room and started rubbing my

breasts with both hands, wanting me to give him another round of pleasure. I thought it was getting late, and my husband would be in

big trouble if he saw this, so I had no choice but to agree to his request. I put on an office lady outfit and flesh-colored stockings, knelt on the floor

, and gave my son, who was sitting on the bed, oral sex. I imitated the techniques from those porn movies, blowing his penis until it bounced up and down.

I could only think of it as a popsicle, a very smelly and fishy popsicle. In the end, I ejaculated. I didn't expect it to be so sudden.

Later, I found that my head was being pressed down.

He shoved his entire penis into my mouth, the head pressing against my throat, and ejaculated deep inside. I swallowed a few times

, then quickly pulled my head out, gasping for breath. The suffocating sensation of being swallowed so deeply was strangely pleasurable.

My son slapped me across the face, waking me in pain. I yelled, "Why did you hit me?" He picked me

up , threw me on the bed, and started tearing my shirt and jacket

open. The buttons came undone, revealing my breasts. He spread my legs and pressed himself against me.

I panicked, started crying, screaming "No! No!" I saw him

sucking on my nipples. Oh my god… wasn't this rape? Thinking of my dream, I realized resistance

was futile; I should just relax and accept it. I could only watch my son's brutality, crying. He forcefully pulled my

shirt down, exposing my shoulders, breasts, and lower abdomen.

My son knelt up, like a lion pouncing on a rabbit, eager to get a good look at my body and enjoy this "delicacy

." I realized my head was being held in place by his hands, and my mouth was covered in his saliva. I didn't

want to I could only sob as a form of protest. My son frantically sucked on my ears and neck, then started playing with

my breasts. I understood the feeling of being raped; there was no pleasure, only fear.

My breasts were being licked whole by his tongue, and he was also kneading and pinching them harder and

harder, making me scream in pain. My son seemed to enjoy my masochistic cries. Suddenly

, I felt a sharp pain in my nipple. I looked down and saw that my son was biting my nipple with his teeth and pulling it upwards. I cried

and said no, but he only sucked hard once more, then used both hands to pinch my nipple and pull it up again. This time,

I simply stopped looking, turned my face to the side, and pushed my son's chest with both hands. Only then did he stop.

I cried and begged that my husband would be back soon. My son rolled me onto my side, ripped my stockings to shreds, and slapped my

buttocks hard. I cried out in pain and realized my underwear had been pulled down, and something was pressing against my vaginal opening. I

tried to get up, but my son held me down with his hand. Before I could even react, I felt a

swollen, hot, and large foreign object being shoved into my

vagina. I knew it was my son's penis. Actually, the whole process was very short. Maybe it was because it was the first time my son had inserted his penis into my vagina, and he

was too nervous and too excited. His penis was squeezed and squeezed inside my vagina. I felt my sticky vaginal

walls. With my son's swaying hips, his penis kept rubbing against my vaginal opening. I started to get excited. I

hadn't and had almost forgotten what this felt like. It was better than a cold vibrator. The warm penis

made me involuntarily moan a few times.

I covered my mouth with my hand, letting my son grab my waist and relentlessly thrust his thighs against my

buttocks . During this thrusting, he kept playing with my buttocks, pinching and kneading them. Just thinking about

it made my face flush, my heart race, and my breath catch in my throat. The speed gradually decreased and increased, my vagina being rubbed

rapidly , and I actually moaned, letting out soft "ah ah ah ah" sounds. Then, a warm sensation filled my stomach as a glob of

semen shot into my uterus. I could feel my son's penis trembling inside my vagina.

My son withdrew his penis and began licking my stockings, his hands constantly caressing my thighs, smearing the semen from

his glans onto my stockings. I noticed secretions flowing from my vagina, a mixture of vaginal fluid and semen

flowing from my labia. My whole body felt numb, and I let my son caress me until I came to my senses,

pushed him away from my breasts, and went to the bathroom to shower, waiting for my husband to come home.

That night, for some reason, all I could think about was the image of my son raping me. I lay in bed, my husband

fast asleep from exhaustion. I went to the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and sucked on my own fingers, imagining...

It was my son's penis, and his right hand was digging and probing my tender hole between his legs. My whole body was so hot and burning. I

knew I was becoming lewd, wanting to have sex, but the object was my own son. How could this be

?

As I imagined it, my fingers moved faster, and suddenly a stream of vaginal fluid flowed out onto the surface of the toilet water.

Back to the beach, this morning our family went to the beach in the south. I was on the sand, while my husband

went fishing with his friends. I knew my son had been wanting to do something to me for a while. I was lying under a parasol, with

a plastic cover underneath. My son took the initiative to apply sunscreen to me. I felt my back being

caressed My son untied the strings of my swimsuit from the back. I was wearing a two-piece swimsuit, I think it's called

a bikini, the kind that's sky blue. My swimsuit was spread open, exposing the sides of my breasts.

I was worried that people nearby might see, but I was wrong; there were only a few people far away.

My son pressed his fingers against my breast, pulled up my swim trunks, inserted his penis into my buttocks, poured on lubricant, and

kept rubbing it against my buttocks. I felt my anus and vagina were very slippery and a little cool. My whole

body was shaking, and my buttocks rippled as my son shook me. I crossed my arms and rested my

face on my arms. My son leaned his head behind my ear and asked if he wanted to penetrate me.

I quickly said no because my period had just ended. My son then said he would have anal sex, and I had to choose one

. I had no choice but to choose the latter. At this moment, I bit my lower lip, enduring the pain in my anus. With each

crash of the waves, the penis was thrust into my anus again and again. My son kept telling me to relax

, and finally, he shoved it all the way in, saying it was tighter than my vagina. Of course, it was my rectum! But mental protests

were useless. I felt my anus being pulled out and pushed back in repeatedly.

My anus was full of semen, so hot. I simply walked into the sea, letting the seawater wash away the pain in my anus

and cleanse my body of incestuous filth. When I got home, I looked at my anus in the mirror and saw it was covered in slight

tears , even a little blood. And soon, I would have to give my son oral sex to relieve his lust. If this continued, I

would really become my son's sex slave, his tool for release. I didn't want that, so I decided that I would make

my son feel good, but I had to be in control. I couldn't let my son do whatever he wanted anymore.

Chapter Three: The Time My Virginity Was Taken Away

As a mother, I struggled painfully between sex and morality. I thought I could control my son's

behavior , but now I was being controlled, forced into sexual intercourse, even my anus, the dirtiest place, was

penetrated by my son's penis. Faced with the choice between my anus and my vagina, I chose my anus. Being raped by my son once, just once

, brought a little bit of my sanity back.

Rather than letting my son keep forcing me, I'd rather let him indulge in his desires. Young people have strong sex drives; as long as they're

aroused by eroticism, their lower bodies become erect again. Actually, this is very similar to me as a girl. When my son was in puberty

, I was also a girl with a strong sex drive. It's just that in those days, everyone was very conservative, and girls

wouldn't discuss such things. But I loved reading back then, often going to the library to read novels.

Sometimes the titles seemed normal, and I thought they were romance stories, but I didn't expect some of the scenes to make me

feel hotter and hotter as I read. The male and female protagonists in the stories described the process of sex, and used adjectives I never knew before

, such as: penis, vagina. I was so shy the first time I read it. I always felt like the people around me

knew what I was doing. When I read it after class, other girls would see me reading and ask me out of curiosity. I

would immediately put the book in my drawer and talk to them with another book.

I would be so embarrassed if they knew I was reading this kind of book. After that, I started reading

all kinds of erotic novels. Even if lust wasn't the main theme, I still got very excited. I imitated

the heroines masturbated. I would touch my vulva with my fingers, and my body felt like it was being electrocuted. It's hard to describe,

but it was very tingling and comfortable. Gradually, I started to use my hands to enjoy this pleasure. I tried to gently insert my fingers into my vagina,

but I was afraid of the pain, so I only touched and rubbed the outside.

I was thinking about the plot of a novel, imagining myself as the female protagonist, being violated by a man's fingers, with lewd

words whispered in my ear. As I increased the pressure of my right hand rubbing, I felt something secreting from my vagina. Suddenly, my body went numb

, my thighs stiffened, and then a stream of clear liquid flowed from my vaginal opening. That was my

first time masturbating, and I felt a blissful sensation, as if my whole body was floating. In my naivety, I began to learn

to relieve stress through masturbation.

My nipples were also one of my erogenous zones. Sometimes during lunch break, I would wear a jacket, and my hand

would move up from under my stomach to pull up my bra. By then, my breasts were already quite well-endowed. I would

stroke my nipples with my fingers, and the feeling was very itchy. The more I touched them, the harder they became, and images started appearing in my mind

. After half an hour of this, when I went to the toilet after class, I found my underwear was wet. I blushed; I

realized how horny I was.

But I didn't dare say anything, and I didn't discuss it with anyone. I heard that the boys in my class liked to make lewd jokes openly

. Actually, I had seen a boy's penis before. It was when other male classmates played a prank on him, pulling

down , exposing his penis. It was completely different from what I imagined; it was very small and shrunken. I just

felt disgusted at the time and didn't want to look again.

Speaking of my virginity, I lost it to a student teacher. It's a long story. I was in my third year of junior high

school there was a student teacher in my class. He was tall, good-looking, but very humorous and liked to tease the students

, regardless of gender. Under the pressure of the big exams, this student teacher was indeed a stress reliever for us.

I'll just call him Teacher Gao. We had evening self-study sessions. The students who had money went to tutoring classes outside, and the students who didn't go to

school .

I guess it was a case of developing feelings over time. Young girls all yearn for love. Although

many , perhaps because I matured early, I wasn't interested in those little romances. On the contrary

, I was particularly fascinated by male students like Teacher Gao who had just graduated from university. I don't remember when I started liking Ms. Gao, I only remember that

because I was the class monitor, I often had to collect the class's exam papers and take them to the professor's office for grading, while

I would handle the tasks assigned by the teacher.

Because our class was a bit special, we had two class advisors, one of whom was a woman around thirty-five years old...

Before taking my class, the teacher had already taught two classes, making her a veteran at the school. The other student

teacher, Mr. Gao, was a recent university graduate earning teaching credits. What was unusual was that Mr. Gao lived in

the school dormitory. At this point, you might be assuming that my first time with Mr. Gao happened in his dormitory

, but unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

That evening, after the exam, I was collecting my exam papers to go find Mr. Gao. Since class advisors usually go straight

home, I went to his office and saw no one there. Thinking Mr. Gao might have already left, I put the exam papers on the table, picked up

my bag, and headed out. Then, I suddenly needed to pee, so I ran to the restroom outside the advisor's office. This restroom is usually for

teachers, not students, but I figured the school was empty now, so it wouldn't hurt to use the restroom

.

Shortly after I entered, I heard a woman's voice outside. I went to the stall next to mine,

but then I heard a man's voice. I thought it was strange—why was there a man in the women's restroom? I heard the sound of clothes being

tugged and the slurping of saliva between lips. My mind immediately conjured up scenes from novels. Good heavens, this

wasn't some toilet monster; it was happening right next door!

I wiped the urine off my vulva with toilet paper, put on my underwear, and straightened my kilt. I

almost stopped breathing, listening to the commotion next door. I heard the woman say, "Hurry up, my husband will be

suspicious if I go home late." The man said, "Why don't you just sleep here tonight, then you can..." The woman said, "Stop! If you

want to play longer, wait until your vacation." The man laughed and said, "Then we'll see when you're free."

Then came the sounds of movement; I didn't know what they were doing, only the sound of a woman sucking water and a man's

low groan. Then there was silence. Later, they seemed to kick a trash can, startling each other. Gradually

, I could hear the woman's heavy breathing. I pressed my ear to the stall and heard the woman's muffled

breathing. I heard something colliding, and the woman seemed to have her mouth covered, making unintelligible sounds. Then

the man let out an "Ah..." followed by a long silence.

After a long time, the two finally left the restroom. Once I was sure they were far away, I quietly came out and looked at the next stall

. The floor was covered in toilet paper, and there was a thick white liquid on the wall. It smelled terrible, so

I quickly left. Then I noticed the figures coming down the stairs—it was Professor Gao and his advisor! Professor Gao was stroking

his advisor's buttocks. I was stunned. No wonder the voices sounded familiar; the advisor had said he had to leave first, but he was

waiting until nighttime when no one was around to have an affair with Professor Gao.

After that, I felt something was off at school for a while. Something felt very strange, but I couldn't say anything. Occasionally

, when I felt like it, I would go to the restroom to wait for the two of them. Sometimes, while in the restroom, I would listen to Ms. Gao's

flirtatious words in the next stall, and even touch my own genitals. Several times, my legs went weak with pleasure, and I almost bumped into a stall

and made a sound. Luckily, I managed to steady myself, or I would have been in big trouble.

Then one day, after they left, I came out as usual, but to my surprise,

Ms. was outside the restroom. Our eyes met, and Ms. Gao was momentarily shocked, then asked

what I knew. Seeing that I was still there so late, I had no reason to justify my presence, so I had

to tell the truth . Ms. Gao asked when I had known, and I didn't elaborate, only saying that I had known for a while.

It was dark in the school, and I couldn't see Mr. Gao's face clearly, so I lowered my head and said softly, "I'm leaving now

." As I turned around, one hand covered my mouth, and the other hand wrapped around my body from behind

, pulling me backward. I tried to scream, but the hands were tightly

covering my face, even my nose. I kicked and struggled, being dragged along the ground until I was lifted up and dragged

to the corner past the restroom—a dead end.

Finally, Mr. Gao released me and pushed me into the corner. I coughed, my body trembling involuntarily. In

the moonlight, Mr. Gao's face didn't resemble the lewd, obscene faces of rapists in novels, spouting vulgarities

.

Mr. Gao leaned against the wall outside the corridor, looking down at the classrooms on the fourth floor. He was

smoking , taking a drag and saying, "I didn't mean to. I was just worried you'd tell, so I... I'm sorry."

This surprised me. Mr. Gao looked at me with a weary expression.

I swallowed hard and said, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." Teacher Gao flicked her cigarette out into the corridor

and walked towards me. At that moment, I didn't feel nervous; my heart was pounding. Teacher Gao pulled up my shirt

collar , and in the tug, all the buttons on my white uniform shirt fell off,

exposing my breasts. After adjusting my clothes, Teacher Gao hugged me from behind, resting her chin on my neck

and saying, "I believe you."

Those words felt sweet, but then I noticed something pressing against my buttocks. I didn't know when, but

Teacher Gao's hands were kneading my breasts. Watching my breasts being pulled under my shirt, I felt a strange excitement.

I even forgot to resist. Teacher Gao kissed my neck, her penis pressing against my underwear from under my skirt. It wasn't until her

fingers traced down my thighs towards my genitals that I quickly struggled free and glanced back.

I saw Teacher Gao grab my shoulder and shove me aside, causing me to fall to the ground. Teacher Gao was on top of me, and I

quickly turned around and crawled. After only a couple of steps, a hand grabbed the back of my collar, and my shirt was violently

ripped open from behind, revealing my bra strap. Then I noticed a hand groping my buttocks. My neck was pressed to the floor

, and Teacher Gao was pressing my entire body down with his knee. I started sobbing and shouting "No!" but there was no one at school. When

I shouted again, my hair was pulled back, and the pain was so intense that I couldn't speak.

After Teacher Gao saw that I stopped screaming, he let go of my hair. Then my skirt was pulled up to my waist, and a finger went

down from my underwear along my buttocks, eventually pulling my underwear down to my ankles. I could only

sob . Then, a finger invaded my vagina. It was the first time my vagina had been penetrated so deeply. At first, it hurt a lot, but

then I started to get used to it. Next, two fingers were inserted, which hurt even more. It really hurt.

I wanted to turn my head to look, but I couldn't. My whole body started to heat

up and finally, I started to produce vaginal fluid—more than I could produce by masturbating

. I took a couple of breaths, and my body had only just relaxed when suddenly a swollen object was inserted into my vulva, slowly pushing its entire length inside.

My vagina hurt so much, even more than my fingers. I could only clench my teeth in pain. I could hear Mr. Gao's panting.

Then, it felt like his penis couldn't go in anymore. It slowly pulled out, leaving only the glans on my labia. I

felt a wave of relief, and then it went in again. This time, Mr. Gao didn't stop. I felt my buttocks being

spread open, and he was penetrating from behind to the front. It was slow, but it was going in little by little. Finally, I felt my

vagina was completely filled, but he was still going in. Finally, he reached the deepest point and stopped. My vagina kept contracting

, getting used to the warm penis.

I don't know why I was so calm. I didn't scream or twist my body. Was it because I already knew

what was going to happen? Or was it because I secretly longed for something to happen? I don't know, I'm not sure, but right now, I have a

feeling of being violated. Mr. Gao slowly moved his waist, helping me up. My body felt numb. I finally understood why the heroines in

novels went limp after being penetrated.

I gripped the handrail of the corridor wall with both hands, my legs were pulled apart by the teacher's hands, my waist bent

and

my buttocks raised. I don't know why I did that, maybe it was something I read in novels. Then Teacher Gao's hands pulled my entire upper body down, pulled up my bra, and touched and kneaded my breasts. It was different from caressing myself, the feeling was indescribable,

very tingling. My body started to sway back and forth, his penis rubbing against my vagina. Although it still hurt, there was a kind of

pleasure, indescribable.

His penis kept thrusting, and my legs were so weak that I couldn't stand up. My vaginal fluid kept flowing from my labia

. Are all male penises this hot? My mind went blank, and I was in a semi-dazed state. Then

I was pulled to the floor. I looked at the ceiling of the corridor, and to my right was the classroom glass. Teacher Gao

spread my legs wide, and because my muscles were stiff, it hurt quite a bit. I saw Teacher Gao sucking on

my lips, his tongue completely wrapped around them.

There was so much saliva, and then his penis thrust into my vagina once more. This time I don't remember what it was like; all I

felt was pain, numbness, soreness, and itching. I involuntarily groaned. I felt my face burning hot, and my breasts

swayed up and down with each thrust. Mr. Gao sped up, and my breasts swayed even more violently. My vagina felt so hot, and his penis

kept going in and out. My mouth was half-open, but I couldn't hear what I was saying. I felt like I was melting. I

didn't even know what it felt like to have my hymen broken.

Suddenly, Mr. Gao slowed down and stopped. I felt a warm fluid shoot

deep inside me. Mr. Gao stood up and looked at me. I was lying limply on the ground, my shirt already pulled down to

my elbows, exposing my chest, shoulders, and back. My pleated skirt was up to my waist, and my underwear was at my ankles

. I couldn't stand up; my groin hurt terribly. Mr. Gao helped me back to his staff dormitory, which wasn't big,

more like a suite, but it had a toilet. I took a shower.

When I got home, it was already an hour late. I made an excuse that I was helping with my homework at school, and

that's how I escaped my mother's wrath. I lay in bed, thinking about how Mr. Gao looked when I left. He gave me a light kiss

, and when I rode my bike to the alley entrance, I wanted to kiss him first, but I was afraid of being seen, so I left.

I didn't know if Mr. Gao thought I hated him. My first time was almost forcibly ended like that.

Apart from the pain in my lower body, I was quite calm. I got up in the middle of the night to wash,

and I was afraid of being discovered because of the bloodstains on my skirt. Thinking about everything that happened that night, I couldn't help but blush again.

The next day, I ran into Mr. Gao as usual. I nodded and greeted him, and he smiled and nodded as usual. Until

a week later, one day Mr. Gao asked me if I wanted him to tutor me on the weekend. I was stunned for a moment, and then

I saw Mr. Gao's expression. I squeezed my thighs together, put on an inward-pointing stance, nodded shyly, and said yes. Mr. Gao

smiled, as if he understood what I meant, and then I left.

On the holiday, I wore a tank top under a sports jacket, white shorts, and white sneakers

, with my hair in a high ponytail. I was considered tall back then, but I shrank as I grew older. When Mr. Gao saw me, he

secretly led me into his dormitory. I couldn't see clearly that night, but it looked really old today. Schools were very

dilapidated back then, let alone surveillance cameras. Not many teachers wanted to live there unless they were from out of town. As

soon as we entered, he asked what kind of school I wanted to study. I shyly said I was fine with anything. He put his hand on my shoulder,

ran the back of his hand across my face, and said he had decided to study later. Then he started to caress me. I didn't know how to caress. I lay on the bed with

him , and he taught me step by step. I followed his instructions, imagining scenes from novels. First, a

deep kiss, then my neck, and then his hand was supposed to caress my penis. Mr. Gao closed his eyes and let me tease him.

In that era of closed-mindedness, a relationship between a teacher and a student was a very serious matter.

But back then, I didn't think so much; I just felt the teacher needed me, and I wanted the teacher—it was that simple.

Teachers back then didn't have the fancy techniques of today's porn. It was just the two of us touching and undressing, kissing and

caressing . I didn't know how to give oral sex, nor did I want to, because it smelled bad. The teacher had never licked my genitals. At that time, I only

used my hands to masturbate the teacher, while my breasts and buttocks were constantly being touched and rubbed. This caressing was more

pleasurable .

I preferred the front position; being penetrated from behind was more painful, almost reaching the very end with each thrust, and my

knees would bruise after a while. I didn't know how to moan at that time; I would only moan a few times when it felt good or the speed increased.

I enjoyed that carnal pleasure, especially with Teacher Gao. Her finger technique was really good

; she made me wet faster than when I masturbated myself. However, afterwards, I always insisted on using a condom when having sex with the teacher,

except for that one time I was raped.

This relationship was actually very short, only six months before Mr. Gao left. The reason was that his sexual relationship with Director Ban

was leaked. Of course, it wasn't me who told the story, because Mr. Gao also slept with me, so nobody

knows who said it. I had sex with him more than ten times in total. After he left, I was initially a little

disappointed , but then at night, thinking about Mr. Gao on top of me would ignite my lust. I

would masturbate five or six times a night until I was exhausted and could finally fall asleep.

This illicit affair wasn't really about love; it was just about wanting to have sex. It wasn't until I went to high school that I

realized I had been having sex so early. Now, as a mother, being penetrated by my son

makes me uncomfortable, and I don't know what to do to alleviate my anxiety.

Tonight, my son thrust into me again with his penis. I frowned, thinking about my vagina.

I had to uphold this incestuous line. Before bed, I massaged my husband until he fell asleep. Then, wearing only a thin nightgown, I looked at my

underwear and thought it would get dirty anyway, so I decided to take it off. I went into my son's room, only to find

him completely naked, his erect penis already there.

I walked to the bed, grabbed his penis, and started stroking it. My son was a little startled, not expecting me to be so proactive

. I coldly said, "You just want to ejaculate, right? You can do whatever you want with everything except my vagina, but you can't use force

. Otherwise, I will never help you release your pent-up desire again." My son struggled. The time he raped me, he was

violently thrusting into my vagina. This time, I wouldn't let my son take the initiative. Men are all like that; as long as they're satisfied, they

won't .

I skillfully blew on his penis, my saliva soaking the entire shaft. I pulled down the foreskin, spreading the glans.

The pink glans was swollen from the engorgement of the corpora cavernosa. I licked it with my tongue, and my son's leg

twitched. It seemed to be an erogenous zone. I took the glans into my mouth, licking the urethral opening with my tongue. My son's legs

stiffened and straightened. I thought to myself, this won't do, I haven't even taken the whole thing in yet.

I let the glans go and took the whole thing into my throat. The suction of my lips is no less than that of a vagina, or rather, if the suction

is strong it is even stronger than that of a vagina. I only had to suck hard a few times, then I gripped the base and moved it up and down, and I felt

semen being poured into my throat. My whole mouth was filled with the strong, fishy smell of semen. I didn't swallow it. Instead, I kissed my son deeply and transferred

the semen to him with my tongue. My son struggled for a moment, then gave up, while my hand continued

to rub his penis, squeezing out the remaining semen.

My son found the semen disgusting. I thought to myself, "Now you know how smelly semen is!" He

kneaded . I knew he would catch his breath quickly, so I wasn't in a hurry. I lay on the bed and let him caress my whole body. My neck

, breasts, vulva, thighs, calves, and feet were all licked. My desire began to rise. He used his fingers

to stimulate me. I spread my legs and let him lick me. I felt his tongue inside my vulva, going in and out. It felt

very itchy, which was nice.

Then, as my clitoris was stimulated by the licking, and his fingers dug into the inside of my vaginal walls, my whole body felt unbearably itchy

. My buttocks trembled, and a warm, clear fluid flowed out. I turned over, pressed my back down

, and knelt with my buttocks raised. My son squeezed his penis into my anus. I breathed out and relaxed my body. Then

his penis went in. I bit the pillow. The pain in my rectum was still the same. My son started thrusting his penis in and out.

Ignoring my pain, he started thrusting vigorously. I thought I just needed to endure until he ejaculated. My buttocks were

being slammed against his thighs, and I groaned to arouse my son's sexual stimulation. I'd heard that a woman's moans would excite a man more.

Suddenly, two hands gripped my buttocks, and my son's body arched forward, almost vertically

. He then forcefully sat down and thrust again, filling my anus with semen.

Panting, I got up and licked him clean. He looked a little dazed, but I ignored

him and went to the bathroom to wash myself. I then masturbated again until my body was completely numb. I didn't go to bed until midnight

. Early the next morning, after my husband left, he insisted on giving my son oral sex until he ejaculated before he would sleep

with me . My son had completely turned me into a sex slave for his own pleasure. Now I wanted to change his mindset and let him

know that I wasn't his tool for sexual release. Therefore, I decided to actively drain him dry. However,

I still needed to think carefully about what to do.

I stared at him in disbelief; his face was full of sincerity, and my heart pounded.

He took my hand and led me forward. His thoughtfulness was just right, and I didn't refuse.

I wouldn't refuse a passionate romance with him. But since he must already know what's going on, I decided to give

him everything.

[To be continued]

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