How to understand your mother

How to Understand Your Mother (

Original Author: Michael Ha;
Translated by: Feng Xing Xiaoyao

)

It was a typical Friday evening, and I went to my mother's house for the weekend as usual. However,
this turned out to be the most unusual weekend of my life. When I arrived, my mother told me she had seen an article in the newspaper
about Unitec accepting summer job applications via email. For
students with computer experience, they would pay ten dollars an hour.

This sounded like the perfect way to spend the summer before starting college in the fall. So, I quickly
submitted my application, asking them to reply by email if I met the requirements to schedule an interview.
My mother and I ate the dinner she had prepared, and then I remembered to ask her if everything was alright, as she seemed quite
upset.

I was nervous about the job application; I didn't know if I had all the details, so I went to the computer
to check my emails. When I opened the folder, I saw my emails and
one that my mother had sent. I checked my emails; everything seemed normal. I knew my mother always deleted everything,
because whenever I used her computer, it was always clean. However, this email was
sent at 3 AM. When I checked the address, I found it had an erotic subject. Although I felt a little
guilty, I couldn't help but open it. It said:

"Dear Em:

Thank you so much for sharing your story with your son. You let me know I'm not alone. I have feelings for my
son , and I've always had a hard time accepting it. I've always been a very sexually active person, and my
husband said my appetite was abnormal. He didn't complain for the first five years of our marriage, but after he
became interested in other women, he found my needs excessive. We are no longer together.

Your writing shows you are a sensitive woman. But I don't know if it's appropriate, or if you have
time, let me tell you about my situation, maybe I can get some advice from you. I think I can't
continue my fantasies, but I know I have no one to talk to about this. Whatever your answer is
, I will be very grateful. As long as it's your work, I will continue to read it.

Your honesty, Paula."

Reading this, it's hard to describe my feelings at that moment. At the same time, many things I had experienced
flashed through my mind. Before a certain thought disappeared, I had to read this email three more times.
Seeing the emails about my mother's sex life filled me with mixed emotions. One thing was undeniable:
the thought my mother had of me stirred something within me.

It was as exciting as what had happened in my own sex life. I was eighteen then,
still a virgin. I still blushed around girls and didn't know what to do. Like that time
with a girl I'd been pursuing for a while, we were lying in bed, and she said, "I want
you."

I didn't know what she meant, and I said, "I want you too." But I just kissed her and did nothing else
. You might think I was waiting for an invitation to penetrate. After a while, she broke off the relationship with me, telling
others it was because I was too inexperienced. Undoubtedly, that was true.

I was completely stunned by what I'd seen. I must have seen the words 'sexually active' and 'affectionate towards my son
' countless times. I spent the rest of that night imagining this unthinkable thing
. I couldn't sleep, constantly imagining making love to my mother. All my attention was focused on this
. I knew a son couldn't ask his mother to do that, but I wanted her from the tip of my throbbing penis
to every part of her; I imagined penetrating her, I imagined a three-x
leap with my mother. I almost had to scream, my orgasm coming so intensely.

I hoped my mother would write to that author again so I could see what she had to say. I
got up around eight the next morning, had coffee with my mother, and then went on the computer to see if Unitec had replied.
That was one reason; actually, I was more interested in em's reply.

I had to walk through my mother's bedroom to the small living room because the computer was there. As I walked past, I
was struck by her presence and her absence. She was there, dressed in a cobalt blue silk dress, sitting gracefully
in the chair left over from the night before. She was there, her body in the silk dress powdered, though I knew it was
completely unnecessary. I knew I had never even truly touched her calves to thighs with my hands, nor
had I ever touched the slender waist from her neck to the curve of her hips. She was there, smelling of
lavender ; you could smell it if you got close to her skin. But she didn't
seem to care what her vulva looked like, her legs spread, waiting for her son to enter her. Ever since I saw that
email , that's been the image I can't shake from my mind. To be honest, I really don't want this.

On the computer, there are no emails in my inbox. But when I check my sent emails,
there 's another one that Mom has sent. I guess Em replied to her sometime on Saturday morning,
and Mom must have deleted it, but she didn't realize that the emails she sent were automatically saved for a day.
Mom wrote:

Dear Em:

Thank you so much for your reply. You warned in your reply that things could get hard to control because once
you cross the physical line, there's almost no turning back. For me, it seems like all the time is getting
worse. I've been with many men in my life, but just being near my son arouses desires I've never experienced
before . I know the excitement of incest is part of what's stimulating me, but I'm deeply
attracted to him. His name is Paul. When he was born, my husband said, “We have to call him Paul
because he looks so much like you.” Even though he’s only been with me on weekends all these years, I still feel he
’s a part of my life, and always will be. Um, I do feel heartbroken for him. I might continue,
but I’m worried it will embarrass us both. Thank you for listening.

I love you, Paula.

Everything on Saturday seemed to fuel my emotions. I fantasized, I masturbated. I was caught in a cycle of anxiety
, deciding to do something, then giving up, then deciding to do something again. I left home in the afternoon
to play basketball with my friends. I even missed a sure basket. When I got home that night, I
couldn't help but steal glances at my mother's body. In my frantic mind, it seemed like Mom was telling me something
. Her top looked a little tight, her skirt a little short, and her heels a little high.

Yes, I'd noticed before that she had beautiful breasts and a perky butt, but that hadn't aroused
any desire in me. Yes, I'd noticed before that her legs in stockings looked very long, but I
'd never thought of putting my hands between her thighs. No, of course I never imagined that the
first woman I might sleep with would be my mother. But my erotic brain told me to try, and
my hardness, which hadn't softened all day, gave its consent.

I ate dinner absentmindedly, and after finishing, I asked her if she wanted to sit on the back porch.
It was a warm June evening, and we were sitting in the couples' seats. It should have been a pleasant time to enjoy a
fragrant breeze and a sky full of stars, but the actual weather was gloomy and quite damp. I
stretched my arm out behind the couples' seats, like a boy on a first date at the movies,
his arm draped over his girl's shoulder.

If I hadn't believed what those emails had been saying, I certainly wouldn't have said anything. My
heart was pounding in my chest, and to figure out if it was true, I blurted out
the only thing I'd thought about all day. I said, "Mom, I've always had feelings for you." When she asked what those feelings were
, I started to stammer and became nervous. I didn't know what I could say.

But Mom said, "You can tell me, Paul. There's nothing we can't talk about."

I said, "I think you're beautiful." Oh, son, how did I get off topic?

She smiled and said, “Thank you, son.” In the ensuing silence, her eyes seemed to encourage, “
Try again.”

I said, “Mom, I get excited when I’m with you. I know I shouldn’t, because you’re
my mother, but I really do.”

I could hear her breathing as she said, “I know, sometimes we just can’t help our feelings,
but you can tell me, and I won’t be angry.” I looked at her breasts as they pushed
up her soft cotton bra.

I said, “Mom, I want to do something a boy shouldn’t do with his mother.” She seemed
to be discerning the true meaning of my words. Her breathing was becoming heavy, and
her nipples rose and fell with each breath.

She said, “Do you really feel that way about me, Paul?”

Before any reasonable thought could stop me, I impulsively leaned down and kissed her firm breasts.
I felt more shocked than my mother at my own actions. She looked at me for a moment and said, “Paul—
what are you doing?”

I didn’t want to say anything, nor did I want to explain about the emails. She let me kiss her nipples, and I said,
“I don’t know, Mom… I want you.” I leaned down and kissed her neck. I grasped one of her breasts, which filled my hand,
and said, “They’re so perfect.”

She said, “Oh, Paul… baby…” She looked into my eyes and then pressed her lips to
mine. It didn’t last long, but it was more like a kiss that wasn’t a mother’s. She was trying to hold
her breath. I realized what she was doing as she pulled her blouse out of her skirt. As she pulled the blouse
down to her neck and watched her breasts bounce, I grew increasingly excited. She slipped her thumb into
the soft white bra and pulled it down below her breasts, exposing them completely to me. What

struck me first was how enormous her nipples were. They practically covered
the tops of her breasts like caps, reaching towards me through the support of her bra. My mother held one breast towards me
, the smooth breast stretched out, a few tiny green veins highlighting her large nipples, making them appear
even more perfect. I took it into my mouth, and she closed her eyes and held my head. She said, “Yes,
baby, yes, just like that…” She stroked my hair, her voice growing softer and softer
.

I held her other breast in my hand, feeling its velvety flesh, and I couldn't help
but begin to suckle. The tip of the large nipple stood erect, and I even knew that meant Mom liked everything I
was doing . The tip of the nipple in my mouth felt like elastic rubber. The areola was smooth and
swollen, and my tongue felt that velvety sensation. I sucked hard, almost immediately feeling it
release sweet milk into my mouth again, and Mom moaned as I suckled.

I paused for a moment and said, "I like tasting you, Mom." She smiled at me.

She said, "I like how you feel." She unbuttoned my shirt and placed her hands on my chest,
her breathing becoming heavier in the process. When she took off her top and unhooked her bra, her breasts
sagged only slightly on her chest, but both breasts were still perky, making them look more like
the breasts of a woman in her twenties than a woman in her thirties.

Now Mom was in control. She pulled down my pants, and then her skirt. She was still wearing her
high heels , stockings, and panties, and I pulled down my shorts. I looked between her legs and saw her mons
pubis, but her panties weren't very transparent, so I couldn't see her vulva clearly. I sat there waiting for
what she wanted me to do next. She wanted to kiss me.

We kissed, and I caressed her breasts, since she had already let me. I wasn't willing to force myself to touch her vulva until she allowed it
. It wasn't time to go too far. After all, our relationship had gone from ordinary to very special in just
a few hours. I said "we kissed," but you
have to understand what those words really meant to me. It was my mother's tongue in my mouth. Her lips
moved so thirstily over mine, we almost wanted to melt each other in our mouths.

The way my mother kissed me felt like it was a kiss full of sex, but also full of love.
My first thought was that I seemed to have a lover. My mother's kiss gave me that hope. My erection
was still going strong, and it felt like an eternity before I felt her hand stroking my
penis. She interrupted our kiss and said, "Do you really want me, baby?" It sounded more like
she was surprised than asking me a question.

I said, "Of course I want you, Mom. How could I not want a woman as beautiful as you?"

She said, "You certainly won't be bothered by the fact that I'm your mother?"

I said, "Does this look like a bother to me, Mom?" I pointed to my erection. My mother pulled
down my belt, revealing my entire penis.

She said, "No, baby... no, my beautiful, firm, big baby." She pulled down my underwear
and held my penis in her hand. It was very hard, standing erect and pointing right at me. She bent down
, her lips close to my large glans, her fingers caressing my testicles. Her warm lips enveloped my
penis, and my mother's wet mouth and tongue began their work. I had been licked by several girls before, but
none of them had ever brought me to orgasm. It sounds unbelievable, but it had little
to do with those girls. I'm not saying it felt bad, but I just didn't lose control. It

was a different story in my mother's mouth. In fact, it was my mother sucking me, which certainly
had a lot to do with that, but how different it was when she did it. Her hands, her mouth, her lips, and her tongue all seemed
to be stimulating me simultaneously. If she hadn't been so sexually aroused, I would have lost
control.

She said, "Oh, it tastes so good. Your cock is so big and hard, isn't it? Baby, I want you
inside me. Mom will be better than anyone you've ever been with."

I said, "Mom..."

She looked at me, into my eyes, as if she could read my mind. She took a deep breath and put
her fingers to her lips, her expression saying it all. I said, “Mom, I want this
to be you, I want this more than anything. I want you to help me… tell me… I don’t know how to make you
feel comfortable.”

She paused for a moment, then smiled warmly and comfortingly at me, saying, “Don’t worry, child, it’s
all wonderful.” She put her legs on top of me, wrapping them around my waist, her hands holding my
penis . She prepared for me to enter her, saying, “No, we’ll do that later. For your first time, I
want you to possess me first.” She lay back, opening her legs. She said, “I’m so glad you want me to be your
first girl, I mean your first woman…” She laughed. “But you make me
feel like a girl again, a girl who is very proud to be the object of a boy’s first deflowering. Come on,
my child, put it in.” She rubbed her vulva a few times, then said, “Oh my God, yes,
put it in my body. Paul, I’ve been waiting for you to put it in my body.”

I took my penis in my trembling hands and placed it at the entrance of her vulva. I pushed hard and opened
that soft window, entering my mother’s vulva. I thought I knew what it felt like, but when I
actually felt my penis slide into my mother's body, I realized I knew nothing. Because it
had nothing to do with thought; it encompassed all sensation. It was almost a dreamlike feeling. My swollen glans
pushed aside her folds and entered her vagina. Her wet, slippery flesh enveloped my penis, and with my mother's thrusts
and massage, my entire penis throbbed. I involuntarily plunged deep into her. As I
penetrated, my mother kept saying, "Oh, Paul, yes, just like that, you're doing so well, child
, yes...yes...yes..."

I entered my mother's honey pot, entered her body, and penetrated her soft flesh with my hardness
. She tightly enveloped me, massaging my penis. I didn't belong to myself; the feeling could only be described as
ecstatic . I had a lover, and this was my mother.

All I knew was that I was moving inside her, and I couldn't help but want to keep doing it. It felt
so good. But I didn't need much guidance in this regard. I thrust downwards, she thrust upwards, and
we were both moving. No problem at all. This angle is fine, that angle is fine, fast
or slow, whether she pulls her legs back around my waist or spreads them wide open. It
all feels fucking amazing.

Mom knows what she's doing, no doubt about it. Every time I thrust down, she moves
her hips and her muscles work together, making me feel like it's not just me thrusting into her, but her thrusting into me. She
guides me silently with her fingertips or her hands, and when I'm in the right place, she
tells me with a moan or a "mmm..." that my cock is hitting her erogenous zones. For me, everything is fine
. Penetrating my mom's cunt makes everything feel good. Just watching her legs spread wide is
incredibly exciting, and for a boy who has never been with a woman,
thrusting is certainly amazing. Every time I penetrate her open flesh, I think, "This is truly
unparalleled," always will be.

We'd reached this irreversible point far earlier than I'd anticipated, but I'm proud that
I've persevered as long as I've started. As we moved simultaneously, Mom was whispering things I
could barely hear. I heard her say things like "Yes, that's it," and to some extent
, I thought she was muttering "Fuck me," or at least I hoped that was what she was saying.

She started urging me to push harder, which almost exhausted me. I thrust as fast as I could,
and then I told her, "Mom, I'm coming... Oh, Mom." In fact, with
each syllable of those words, I ejaculated inside my mother's vagina.

"Yes, child," she said, "shoot it in, shoot it in." My desire was released,
and I was somewhat surprised that I had just orgasmed inside my mother. A disturbing question lingered in my mind.
Question—Was I good enough? Will Mom let me do it again? After my body
trembled one last time, I realized from my mother's voice that she was still in control; she hadn't orgasmed yet.

After I orgasmed, she hugged me and said, "Yes, child, stay inside me, sweetheart."

I kissed her neck and said, "That felt so good, Mom, but you haven't orgasmed yet, have you
?"

She said, "No, but that's okay, I will." I hoped this meant we would have
sex again soon. And we did. Five minutes later, I was inside her again. This time she
did . I don't remember how many times I had sex with her that night, but we did it until 4 a.m.
All we could do was have sex. There was a time when I wanted to put my penis in her mouth, but I didn't want
to force her. I said all we could do was have sex, and that wasn't a complaint. We had doggy style
, with her sitting on top of me, riding me, her legs finding many positions to allow me to enter her body from different angles
, each position feeling different. That night, I learned
more , but what I didn't learn was even more important.

After our sex marathon, I must have had so much excitement in my body that I woke up after
only a few hours of sleep. I woke up in my mother's bed, thinking about everything we had done,
and my penis got hard again. I wanted to wake my mother up and have sex with her, but she was very weak after being woken up
so , so I decided to let her continue to sleep deeply. It was
around 9 a.m., the best Sunday morning I'd ever felt. I felt full of energy, and I
knew those guys were probably starting our usual game in the park, so I went. When I got back
, there would be plenty of time for sex. I'd never played basketball so well.

After a few hours of playing, we went to get pizza, then went back for another game, followed by
beer . Then one of the guys said there was a baseball game at college, followed by some kind of dance for freshmen.
So I went to the game, went to the dance, danced, and kissed.

I know what you'll think. You're so stupid, aren't you? I didn't call my mother.
After a passionate
night with my mother, I was quite confident in my sexual prowess, so I wanted to try out my newly discovered techniques. These techniques actually proved effective. I had never
kissed a girl in my life before, let alone dated her. I danced
twice , and then we kissed passionately. She told me she wanted to see me again, something that had never happened before in my life. 　　When I finally returned to my mother's house, it was evening, and I was ready to kiss her again. But I really should check her complexion, see if anything went wrong, see what she had taken. This
was n't a recent development. In fact,

one of the reasons the judge awarded custody of my father was her frequent use of certain substances. It could be cigarettes, pills, alcohol, or whatever else she took. This was also one of the reasons I didn't know my mother well enough. When I was a child, I only saw her once a week, sometimes less. At that age, I didn't understand why sometimes my father wouldn't let me see her for months at a time. 　　Now, she wasn't in too bad shape, but she was speaking so slowly that I knew she 'd changed her mind about something. I said, "Hi, Mom, how are you?" 　　She said, "I'm fine." She wasn't dressed, and I could see she wasn't wearing a bra under her robe. My penis started to harden, and I went over and grabbed her breasts in my hands. Just as I was about to kiss her, she took a step back and said, "You're definitely fucking messing with me." 　　I said, "What?" 　　She said, "Look at Paul, this is all wrong." 　　I said, "Last night was a mistake? Mom, that was great, you said it was great." 　　"I know I said it... I know what I was thinking, but I'm an idiot, a fucking moron ." Mom said "fuck" twice, more than she usually does in a year. 　　I said, “What did I do wrong? Are you angry because I went out?” 　　“No, Paul, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re a boy, and I don’t know what I’m thinking. I think it’s just sex to me.” She hesitated for a moment, then said, “Okay, listen, it’s not your fault, and I’ll try my best to explain things, but it’s really embarrassing. This feeling about you and me has been on my mind, and I feel like this is what I want… oh, damn it… You see, I’m not saying it’s bad. It’s good, you’re great, and I do want to have sex with you. But sitting alone all day , I realized I’m really looking for something beyond sex. I need someone to give me what I’ve always wanted… something I couldn’t get from your father. It’s just intimate talk about sex, but not everything. Oh, Christ, I’ve said so much, and maybe you don’t know what I’m talking about.” 　　“But, Mom,” I said, “I thought I was doing this for your own good.” 　　“It’s not your fault, son,” she said. “It’s my fault. I just can’t take this anymore . I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I’m too old for you, I need someone older who can understand me. It may be too late for me, but too early for you… What a twist of fate, darling.” She took a deep breath. “You’re fine. I wasn’t blaming you before. You’re doing very well for your age. Have fun, forget what happened… forgive your foolish, drunken mother.” A few tears rolled down her cheeks. 　　I said, “Oh, okay, Mom. I’m sorry, I should have called you, I should have come home sooner … Don’t be angry with me.” 　　“I’m not angry with you, I’m angry with myself. Please, child, I made a mistake, a terrible mistake… Please forgive me.”

I said, “Mom, I won’t forgive you for the best night of my life.”

She forced a smile and said, “Oh, dear… well, consider it a one-time
experience and learn something useful from it.”

I said, “Mom…” and started to reach out my hands to her.

She shook her head and said, “No, child… maybe you should leave.”

I felt terrible. She seemed deeply hurt; I had never seen her so vulnerable. I said
, “I want to stay here tonight.”

She said, “Paul, we won’t have sex.”

I said, “I’ll listen to you, Mom. Okay, I just want to stay with you. Why don’t you get
dressed and we’ll go to the restaurant for something to eat?”

She took a deep breath and said, “I… oh, okay, well, I’ll get dressed… no
problem.”

We sat in the restaurant talking for about two and a half hours. Mom said, “Thank you for staying
with , Paul. It makes me feel better that you don’t hate me.”

I said, “How could I hate you? You’re my mom.” She smiled slightly. I said, “I don’t
know if I should tell you this, but I went to that dance this afternoon, and I wasn’t like I used to be
.” She asked how I was, and I told her how confident I was, how I saw
things .

She said, “I’m so glad, honey. I don’t think we can erase what happened last night, but maybe it
can help us understand each other better. I think we can talk to each other about anything from now on.”

I said, “Of course, Mom.”

She said, “What I want to tell you is that intimacy is about making things worthwhile. That’s sharing,
um, sharing everything. Being with someone means, in a way, being
connected , even when they’re not around. I’ve rarely felt that way in the past, but I know this is
what I want.”

“That sounds really nice, Mom,” I said. “I think this is pretty much what it’s all about.”

“Yes, Paul, that’s it. When you can confide in someone and trust them
to keep your secrets, yes, that’s a huge part of intimacy.”

So we shared a chocolate cake and many things we’d never told each other before. I
learned about her relationship with my father from a different perspective than I’d ever seen before, and I told her about my fears about girls
and the life I wanted. On our walk home, she hugged my arm and said, “Thank you for telling me this
, Paul. I never thought I’d feel better than ever.” Whatever she’d been taking
had gradually subsided, and she was able to see things clearly again. Back home, we went to bed, of course
, in separate beds.

In the morning, I checked the computer, and there was bad news on both fronts: there was
no ; and Unitech said they had too many applicants to process and couldn’t schedule
interviews. I told Mom this, and after thinking for a moment, she said, “I don’t know if this will help, but maybe you
could post an ad for computer repair.” Mom lives in a newly developed
area with hundreds of apartments in three buildings.

I said, “I don’t know, but I think I can handle most common problems that cause malfunctions.”

She said, “You should try.”

I told her I was willing to try, and then said, “Mom, I want to tell you something.
After our conversation last night, I felt like I did something wrong. I peeked at your emails.”

She said, “What do you mean?”

I said, “When I was on the computer, I saw emails you sent to that
novelist , and I read two of them. I’m sorry, Mom, I shouldn’t have done that, but
after reading the first one, I… I’m sorry.”

She covered her mouth with her hand for a moment, then said, “Oh, now I see… well, I think
things are surfacing now. I’m glad you told me, Paul, and I’m glad you want us
to be honest with each other from now on… that’s good.”

I said, “Do you forgive me, Mom?”

She said, “Of course, we’re not the same as when things happened, are we?”

I said, “Yes, Mom, we’re different. I think we’re better now.”

She laughed and said, “I feel the same way.”

Mom’s advice really worked. Within days,
I started getting a lot of calls for consultations from the phone number I left on the flyers. I told people I wasn’t a professional, but my fees were very
low . I only had to tell a few people to seek help from others, and in most cases, it was
something like "forgot to plug it in," with some even telling me to do disk cleanup every week from now on
. I was earning more money than I expected at Unitec, and I went to my mother's building
three or four times a week. I would usually drop by to see her, we'd have coffee or lunch together, or just
chat .

I found my mother to be a very easy person to get along with. You don't have to spend "precious
time" on someone to get to know them; you just need a little time or a period of time
. A few months later, I saw another difference. I said, “Mom, is it just my imagination
or have you reduced your medication?”

She laughed and said, “You noticed, huh? Yes, it wasn’t something I planned. I just don’t
seem need to take as much medication as before to get by. I’m feeling better and better.” Then, she
thought for a moment and said, “No, I shouldn’t say I haven’t done anything. I think since you came…
I didn’t want to disappoint you. I feel better, and I’m so glad it’s really working.”

I said, “It really is, Mom, thank you for telling me.” I stood up and said, “I have to go to work
now, goodbye.” I gave her an exaggerated kiss on both cheeks, and she hugged me back. I said, “Oh, I have
an idea, how about we go on vacation together next week?”

She laughed and said, “Are you out of your mind? I can barely afford a vacation, and besides, this is…”
"This is the first job I've actually been able to stick with for a while."

I said, "No, I mean another kind of vacation. I'll spend a week with you, and we'll do things together
. I'm in and out of these buildings almost every day anyway."

She said, "That sounds interesting. Well, I'll try it and think of something to do, and you too,
okay?"

I said, "Yes, ma'am." "And then I left.

It was a wonderful week. I remember never spending more than
a day or two with her before. We had a lot of fun. We went to the movies, the zoo, and the beach. But there was
nothing special about it; it was the feeling of being together. I think we always had so much to talk about, it was
an amazing feeling, being able to say whatever we wanted, feeling like the other person was always open to you,
listening and understandingly.

I did hide something. No, not intentionally, because I felt she knew how I felt.
So if I said I hadn't thought about my mother sexually, I would be lying. That night we
spent together isn't something I'm going to forget. It was my first time, it was very surprising, and it was
with my mother. So, yes, when I looked at her body, I wanted her, but it's gone beyond
that now. I enjoy being with her, I enjoy talking to her. No, it's gone beyond 'like,'
it's a 'need.'

As autumn approached, one day she said, 'I've been thinking about something:
why don't you stay here before you go back to school? It's closer, and you can still make more money in the surrounding buildings. What do you
think?'" “

I said, ‘Mom, I do, thank you. I miss you so much when I can’t see you.’

I could see she was touched. She said, ‘Really? My child, I miss you too.’

I gave her a hug, then held her tightly. She stayed in my arms, and I gently kissed
her lips. Mom’s lips were soft. She opened her lips, and our tongues touched for a moment, then
Mom stopped, and her head tilted back. She said, ‘Paul, what’s going on?’

I said, ‘We’re in love.’

She said, ‘You can’t fall in love with a thirty-seven-year-old woman…especially since she’s your mother.’

I said, ‘If you can fall in love with your nineteen-year-old son, I can. Can you, Mom?’

She said, ‘It’s too late to ask me this now, and I think I’m already like this. Do you really love
me? Paul, is it about sex?’

I said, ‘Yes, Mom. It’s about sex, but it’s more than just sex. Of course, I want you;
you drive me crazy when I’m this close to your body. ’” But if you say we can't have sex
, I still want to be with you, talk to you, spend time with you, because, yes, I
really love you, Mom.”

“Oh, Paul, for the past few months I've been asking myself: can I really feel this love between
us , or am I just deceiving myself again?”

I said, “It's true, Mom. I knew
what . I want everything about you, Mom. Do you want me?”

She said, “Yes, Paul, I do. As long as you promise me you'll be there for me, that this love
will last, and that we won't give up.”

“I promise, Mom.” I guess you could say these were our wedding vows, that night that started
our honeymoon, that Saturday night, and that's when I had sex with Mom for the first time. But this
one was better because of love.

After a long, passionate kiss, Mom said, “Let's go to bed, son.” "We
went to her bedroom, and I suppressed my instinct to enter her honey pot as quickly as possible, slowly undressing her. I really
hoped it would last longer. Since my first time having sex with my mother, I've had sex with several girls, and
my stamina is pretty good, but I wasn't sure if I could last as long as my mother.

My mother, however, had other ideas. She said, 'I've been thinking about this for days. I want you
to do it in my mouth.' She pulled down my underwear, and as I emerged, her hand grasped my penis,
saying, 'Yes, this is what I remember, thick, big, hard... oh...' She knelt
before , opening her mouth to receive me. She leaned towards me, and I leaned towards her.

My mother's mouth adjusted to my penis; her lips and tongue began to lick and suck, and I cried out in pleasure:"
“Oh…” I stroked her hair, closed my eyes, and felt her hands
kneading . Incidentally, when she did this, I knew she wouldn't
stop after a minute or two like the first time; she seemed intent on sucking until the very end. She knew I was about to come, she knew
where I would ejaculate—in her mouth. I knew that too.

Her fingers gripped my penis, stroking it evenly up and down along its length, while her other
warm hand kneaded my testicles.
How long could I possibly hold back when my mother, with whom I was having an affair, was doing this—definitely not much. I could feel her love for me; she licked hard. She sucked the head of my penis
, then tried to swallow it as far as possible down her throat, watching my shaft slide in and out between her lips. When she pulled my
penis out of her mouth and licked the entire shaft, I could see how full and
swollen ; it almost turned purple from being licked between her lips, like a stretched balloon.
In fact, my entire penis was painfully hard.

Her cheek rubbed against the glans, and then I felt my penis incredibly penetrate deep into her
throat . She looked up at me lovingly, but her licking became even more intense. A moment later,
I reached the point of near-explosion. I couldn't help but cry out, "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy...
" I didn't need to tell her I had orgasmed. As I ejaculated my first spurt, my hands
unconsciously grabbed her hair, my whole body stiffened, and with each continuous
ejaculation , I kept calling out, "Oh...oh...oh..." I wasn't just ejaculating, but...
It reached her mouth. I couldn't imagine how much my mother could swallow, as if it would never stop ejaculating
. She sucked on the long, thick penis, giving her everything I had stored up. The
release sent shivers down my spine. When my semen was completely drained, I felt
a deep sense of satisfaction, a profound love for the woman who made me feel this way.

We went to bed, and I pulled her into my arms. I had never known such a fulfilling
moment. I knew she loved me, I knew I loved her, and I knew the lovely body I held would
bring me years of pleasure, and I wanted to make her happy too. I told her how much I loved her, kissing
her belly and mons pubis in my own way. I loved her trimmed vulva, the smooth labia topped with a neat tuft
of pubic hair . When I licked her shaved vulva, smelling her juices for the first time, it was exactly
the scent I loved.

My mother's vulva was the first vulva I had ever licked, and from her moans, I knew I would continue
. She guided me to lick and suck here and there, but I knew perfectly well that the swollen little bud was her sensitive spot.
Her clitoris peeked out from her folds, and her body began to writhe under my licking. Under my
tongue 's licking, Mom couldn't seem to lie still on the bed at all. Soon, Mom climaxed,
screaming, "Paul...!" As she continued to thrust upwards, I found it really hard to keep my
mouth on her vulva.

When she calmed down a little, I licked and sucked vigorously, and her body began to spasm again, as if she
had climaxed again. Her whole body stiffened, and then her body trembled as if electrocuted
. Every time I kissed her clitoris, her buttocks almost immediately thrust upwards. My kisses gradually
moved upwards, all the way to her nipples, which were very sensitive, and she let out a long, thin scream.

I held her for a while and asked if she had orgasmed once or twice. She said, "Oh my God, I have
no idea . I just know I can't get that feeling very frequently."

I said, "So, am I doing well, Mom?"

She smiled, "Ah, yes, you're doing well, child."

After letting her rest for a few minutes, I prepared to continue. Her scent filled my mind, and I wanted
to penetrate her. I sat up and caressed her breasts, then I kneaded her vulva. She was ready just as I was
.

The first time I penetrated my mother's vulva, I felt nothing could feel better. I was wrong
. I don't know if it was because I loved her so much now, or because I thought I would never have her again
, or for any other reason. I was sure this time would be better, and now she was waiting for me. As I lay on
top of her, she smiled at me, her hands wrapped around her knees, her legs pulled back and spread,
her actions saying she wanted to give herself to me. For me, I thought nothing could be more sensual than a mother opening her legs to her
son . Her eyes silently spoke, she was giving not only her body, but
also her heart.

I guided my penis to her glistening opening, thrusting it into her honey pot until I was completely
buried in her wet flesh. She let out a long moan, making me feel as if I were penetrating her body. I
stayed inside her like that, my penis fully inserted. I said, "This is where I want to be, Mom."

She said, "Yes, baby, this is where Mom wants you to be, just like this, deep inside me.
" Her hands left her thighs and placed on my buttocks, helping me penetrate her deeply. I felt her
high heels on my back, her buttocks spinning and thrusting as fast as they could, moans escaping from her
lips . She said, "Oh, I miss you inside me. Even on
days when I thought it was impossible, I still miss the feeling of your penis filling me that night." She rotated her hips again,
thrusting upwards a few more times, and then said, "Yes, I miss you, baby, fuck me, fuck me."

I began to thrust slowly and deliberately, savoring the friction of my penis against every inch of her honey pot. As I
pulled outwards, my penis emerged until it was
completely . As I pushed back in, I pushed all the way to her depth, hearing her moan as she told
me she was completely filled. And so, I thrust my penis in again and again,
penetrating her soft flesh with my hardness. Soon we found our rhythm, entering the beat of lovers' intimate movements
.

I placed one of her legs on my shoulder; I could tell Mom liked this angle. She said, "
Oh, yes, like this, ah, ah, ah… I love you so much, Paul… it feels so good, baby.
" I felt her love, and I felt my love for her making our sex even more wonderful. My
hips rose and fell, faster and faster, Mom's words perfectly matching my thrusting rhythm. I
played with one of her breasts, its shape constantly changing between my fingers. I wanted to lower my head and suckle
the large nipple that protruded from between my fists, but I knew that at the angle I was fucking her, my mouth couldn't reach it at all,
so I kneaded it between my fingers to enhance my mother's response.

She said, "Paul, you're making me lose it," because her breathing became more and more rapid and shallow. This
was exactly the effect I wanted her to achieve. I felt very strong on top of her, and each powerful thrust made
me want her to orgasm faster.

I said, "Yes, Mom, come on, orgasm on your son's hard cock, it's hard for you
, Mom."

She said, "Yes, orgasm on my man's big cock. You're my man now, Paul, aren't you?
Tell me, tell me, tell me."

I heard the urgency in her voice, and I said, "Yes, Mom, I'm your man, I'll love you
, fuck your man..."

She arched her back, and I thrust towards her, continuing to explore her honey pot. She said, "Yes... oh,
God... love me, fuck me, oh oh oh oh oh..." Under my continued thrusting, she orgasmed, and
she cried out loudly. Her orgasm was prolonged, her voice was very loud, and
it was especially satisfying for me that I was the one who brought her to orgasm. As her body fell back onto the bed, it trembled as if in spasms.
She shuddered a few times. She said, "Oh, oh, oh... God... what's happening... I've never felt
so ... comfortable." Her arms wrapped around my neck, and she pulled my head down to kiss me.

When

her orgasm ended, I withdrew from her body. As I kissed her,
my still-hard penis returned to her warm, moist place. She said, "Mmm..." I continued thrusting
as , and I could feel her smile. I continued to slowly pump, each time all the way in
. She said, "Your needs have always been so strong, darling. And you're still so strong for me now, aren't you
? Child, when you're inside me, I can feel it, and you'll help me clean up, so I'll
be good to you too, will you, child? That's what I want, I want to be good to you."

I said, "Yes, Mom, I will. We'll do it together, just you and me." I
increased the force of my thrusts, penetrating deeply into her honeypot, and she responded passionately. I grabbed her legs and pushed
them back, looking at her smooth, delicate buttocks as I penetrated her. I placed one of her
legs on my shoulder and stroked the firm muscles of her buttocks. I ran my fingers over the pink folds and
gently rubbed them a few times. She made an encouraging sound, so I slipped my fingers inside.

She opened her eyes and said, “Take me there, Paul, I want you.” She said, “Yes,” almost
to herself. Then she added, “I’ve never let anyone do it to me before, but I want
you.” I was surprised; I hadn’t even considered anal sex. I was getting used to my mother’s ideas about any sexual position.

I said, “Mom, this might hurt you.”

She said, “I’m always afraid of this, but I know it will be very comfortable with you. I want to, child…
if you want.”

I looked at her round buttocks and that tempting little hole and said, “Yes, I do, Mom.” She
took some saliva from her mouth and smeared it on her little anus. Actually, she didn’t need
to do that , because when I pulled my penis out of her vagina, it was already soaked with my mother’s juices
. I placed the head of my penis on the rose-colored ring.

I pushed in as gently as possible. Mom took a deep breath and said, "Oh."

I asked, "Are you alright, Mom?"

She said, "Yes, son, I'm fine."

The anal ring squeezed the part of my penis below the crown that was now inside her. Her
anus was tight and hot, and it felt really good as I pushed in. When I started thrusting,
it felt like a hot, throbbing fist was squeezing my penis and massaging it up and down, more pleasurable than I expected, and even more so than
Mom had anticipated. She said, "Oh, Paul, my God, your baby is so big, yes, son, yes...
don't stop, don't stop."

I was so glad Mom felt good because I felt amazing too, and all I wanted to do was never
stop . I
increased the speed of my thrusts a little to see how much she could take, and she kept saying "yes," so I thrust harder and faster until I was completely inside her
. I couldn't believe I had gone from having absolutely no experience with any woman to this point, my
penis buried to the hilt in my mother's ass. She moaned, each thrust pressing my
testicles tightly against her round, lovely buttocks.

With each thrust, I understood that what my mother gave me went far beyond sex itself. I told her,
“I love you, Mom. I’ve never felt so close to anyone, you are in me, and I am in you.”

She knew I wasn’t just talking about where my penis was. She said, “Yes, child, this is what
I’ve always wanted, and I’m so happy to be connected with you. Yes, lover, yes, you are in my heart.
” I continued to quicken the pace of my thrusts, maintaining the
rhythm . She said, “Yes, darling, just like that. Oh, lover, I didn’t know it could feel this
good. Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

I caressed one of her breasts with one hand, then the other. My hand moved down over her
abdomen to her vulva, stimulating her clitoris with my thumb. To my surprise, she
orgasmed within seconds. She screamed, “Ahhh…”, her body swaying from side to side, having to grab my
back for support.

I was nearing my own climax, on the verge of ejaculating, and my semen began to shoot into
her body. I said, “Mom, yes, oh, fuck, yes…” Her tight anal ring squeezed out all the semen from my
penis .

As I thrust in and out of her now fully lubricated hole, I could see my penis and
the pearly semen on her folds. She kept calling out to me, “Paul, Paul, oh, yes, child,
oh… oh… oh…” It felt as if I was filling her body with the love flowing through me. I
knew this meant my mother was giving herself completely in this way, and for me, it was the most
beautiful act of love we had ever done.

After we both climaxed, her tight grip kept me inside her. Mom
sighed , stretched out her arms and hugged me tightly, and I lay relaxed on top of her. She gave me a
long, tender kiss of contentment, and I said, “Mom, I will love you forever.”

She smiled and said, “I know.”

It sounds like the end of a story, but in real life, life goes on, and
things happen. We lived happily ever after for a long time, yes, many years. This is a new chapter in
our lives. I went to school and got a part-time job, and my mother also
worked. We struggled financially, but we made it through. We lived together like lovers;
whenever we closed our front door, we were husband and wife. It sounds strange, but
it's the most natural thing in the world for us. We love each other, and that's what we've always done.
We're more careful in public because it's foolish to cause trouble. We don't care that few people would
understand.

We became friends with a couple we met online, Jim and Santi. They were older than us,
but not by much. They were also a mother and son, and had been living together for seven years. They lived
not far from us, and we spent a lot of time getting to know each other.

At that time, I was twenty-three, and my mother was almost forty. I had an idea in my head, initially
because all my attention was focused on sex.
I suckled too much, so one day she told me that her breasts were sore several hours after we made love
. When I apologized, she said, “Oh no, baby, I love this feeling. It’s like
when you’re inside me for a long time, sometimes it hurts.” She laughed and added,
“It’s like the day after you’ve done it to me, I can still feel you, I still miss you.”

This thought came to me after the first six months of our lovemaking, when I started tasting
the sweet milk from my mother’s large nipples. My mother said it might not be, but when we did our research, we found that a woman can produce milk even
if she’s not pregnant, and frequent stimulation can achieve this effect. After that,
the sweet milk flowing from her nipples gave me a lot of ideas. I imagined she was pregnant with my child, and then whenever I
penetrated her without a condom and ejaculated inside her, I had a strong desire to get her pregnant.
Of course, I knew she was on birth control pills, but I started imagining what it would actually be like.

Jim and Santi perhaps added fuel to the fire by telling us they had actually been trying to have a child but
couldn’t conceive, which led to an argument. When I first voiced my opinion on this, she said
, “You’re kidding, right?” When I told her I wasn’t, she became worried about it. She said, “
Let’s think about this carefully. I’m not young anymore.”

I said, “Mom, you’re young, strong, and very beautiful.” I kissed her
while my hands played with her breasts. I said, “I can imagine your breasts and nipples
swelling your belly carrying our baby.”

She said, “Oh, dear, believe me. If I were younger, I would long to be with your baby
, I would be proud, that’s what I think, dear. But I don’t think I can handle all of this at this stage of my life
. It’s too hard, believe me. Listen to me, dear, there’s nothing
wrong with just us. Haven’t you always known how much I love you? Haven’t I shown you?”

I said, “Yes, Mom.”

She asked, “What do you want in bed that I haven’t given you?”

I said, “No, Mom.” Indeed. Many times, whenever I had a strong
desire, she would look in magazines or books; when a bulge appeared in my shorts, I was already in her mouth before I even
realized it . I said, “Okay, forget about it.”

“Then let’s not ruin something good,” she said. “This might be a little ridiculous. We’re both
working, I can’t do this. So listen to me, let it all go. Why did you suddenly call me ‘Mom
’?” I’d almost always called her Paula since we started living together as lovers.

I said, “Maybe it’s because you’re going to make a decision, and it seems like I’m your child again. Maybe it’s because you
don’t want my child, maybe you’re ashamed of me, of what we’ve done, and of who we are.”

I was just making things up, but it made Mom’s face turn ashen. “How could you say that? ”
she said, almost screaming. “How could you say that to me? You know exactly how I feel, you see how I feel every single day. When have I ever given you any reason to doubt me? This is awful… Oh my God…” In an instant, she went from anger to heartbreak, tears streaming down her face. “Everything I’ve done is out of love for you… I’ve never felt ashamed… never…” 　　I felt terrible and went over to her and pulled her into my arms. I said, “You’re right, Mom, it’s a terrible thing to say that. I know you’re not ashamed. It’s just that it keeps going on in my head , and it’s not like you’ve ever told me, but it’s still wrong. Do you forgive me, my love?” I kissed her moist eyes. 　　She said, “Oh, darling, of course I forgive you. You know I’m proud of you, proud of us, aren’t I? I’m not saying we can’t talk about it. But when you say I still see you as my son…you’ll always be my son, right?” She looked at me with a hurt expression. 　　I said, “Of course, I will always be your son.” She kissed me, then caressed my penis in the way she thought I was unhappy with her. Usually, she would make me feel better through sex, and usually it really worked, because how could I not feel good after ejaculating in my mother’s mouth or vagina ? She made my penis hard, telling me how proud she was of being the woman I wanted. Her fingers gripped my penis as she whispered in my ear. “I’m so proud of everything you’ve done for me with this …you made my orgasms so intense, you know?” 　　I said. “I know, Paula, I’m so proud that you’re my lover, my mom, and wife, right, baby?” 　　She said, “Yes, I’ve always been your wife. Maybe now we can think about me carrying your baby, think about how it might be a sweet fantasy for both of us when you were inside me?” 　　I said, “Yes, Paula…Paula, my sweet wife.” 　　We started making love. As I thrust inside her, she said, “One day you’ll ejaculate inside me and get me pregnant, Mom will be carrying your baby, and I’ll be so proud that you wanted me. ” Mom’s orgasm came quickly and intensely, and then she hugged me tightly. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Then 　　disaster struck suddenly, engulfing us completely. On their way back from the supermarket, Mom and Santi were hit by a drunk driver who ran a red light and crashed violently into the side of their car. I hope he spends the rest of his life in jail . Santi died instantly. This beautiful and lovely woman I had just met a few hours earlier was gone forever.

My mother was in critical condition and unconscious. They said that even though the safety bag was inflated, somehow
her head still hit the car window at an angle. She was sitting opposite the point of impact and only
suffered minor injuries. The trauma caused her brain to swell, and she looked horribly injured.

I stayed in the hospital day and night. Jim came to see me two days later, and we kept waiting, mostly
saying nothing except "we're doing our best." Damn, my life had hit rock bottom.
Jim cried and grabbed his mother's hand, as if hoping that if she were alive, his mother would be alive too.
The next day he said his mother squeezed his hand, and I ran to call the doctor, but the nurse said it was just a reflex
and quite common. We had to keep waiting.

Jim was upset, and so was I. My only hope was that the doctors would say she could be out of danger at any
time . Because of the head injury, they couldn't determine how her condition might develop.

On the fifth day, my mother finally woke up. It was both a relief and terrible. She was confused and
couldn't . She hardly spoke and slept most of the time. This wasn't some movie where the protagonist wakes up
and everyone celebrates being back on track. The next day, when the doctor
examined , she pointed at me as if trying to remember something, then asked, "Is this my husband?"

The doctor said, "No, Mrs. Miller. This is your son; he's been here
taking care ."

She said, "Oh." She looked at me with a distant gaze and said, "There was an accident." You
could tell from her monotonous tone that she knew nothing. Over the next two days, it was obvious that her
personality had changed; she was completely devoid of passion, which I hoped was temporary. Mom had always been a passionate person,
whether we were talking about a movie, arguing, or making love. Now, nothing could stimulate her
. She was very calm, seemed very docile, and spoke in the monotonous voice I hated hearing.

In the following days, the doctors said there was nothing more they could do, and because she had begun to remember some
details of the past, they hoped her recovery would speed up. They also said that the longer it took, the
less likely a full recovery would be.

When the swelling subsided, I took her home; although she could walk freely, she spent a lot of
time in bed. She was in a strange state of being both able and unable. If I told her what to do,
she could do it well. If left to do it herself, she could barely begin anything. I gave her a
list of things to do, and Jim and a neighbor would occasionally come over to check on things, since we only had one income again and
I had to go to work.

A week passed with little progress. When I came home one evening, I found her frantically applying lotion to the same arm in
bed . I said, “Let me help you, Mom.”
She lay on her side, and I applied it to her legs and arms. Her pajamas were loose, so I reached inside and applied
the lotion to her back, and she made a soothing sound.

The sensation of her soft skin touching my body suddenly opened the floodgates of memories in my mind. Her
stomach wasn’t fully flat, so I slowly stroked the outer edge of her breasts that I could reach. I touched it again,
then stopped, thinking carefully, because I didn’t know what would happen next. She didn’t jump up
or scream, and I resumed kneading her back. She said, “Paul, why did you
do that ? I’m your mother.”

I wanted to tell her how much I loved her and wanted her, but I said, “I’m sorry, it was an
accident .”

She said, “Oh, it’s okay.” The consequences of the touch finally showed the next day. Before going to work
, I brought her breakfast, and she said, “Paul, I had a lot of strange dreams last night, but I don’t remember the details
. Paul, would you tell me some of the truth?”

I said, “Of course, Mom.”

She said, “Did you touch me like that yesterday… while I was asleep?”

I was startled. I said, “Mom! I would never do that.”

She handled the whole thing calmly, always asking me questions, as if it wasn’t just out of curiosity
. I think she remembered my hand on her body, and I’m glad about that. She said, “Paul
, were we close before?”

Although I knew telling her the truth might upset her, she asked me so calmly that I could only answer,
“Yes.”

She gave a soft “humph” and asked, “We were close more than once, weren’t we?”

I said, “Yes.”

She said, “Many times?”

I said, “Many…many times.”

She said, “Did I seduce you, or did you seduce me?”

I said, “We were attracted to each other.”

She said, “Do you think that’s why I thought you were my husband after the accident
?”

I couldn’t take these questions anymore. I rested my head on her breast and just said, “Oh, Mom
…”

She stroked my hair and said, “I think it’s certain…it’s strange…my son is my
lover.” Her voice sounded distant. “But I can almost understand it. You’re handsome,
gentle , and loving. You know Paul, it seems right to me, but I don’t remember anything. Is
n’t that nice? Paul, do we love each other?”

I said, “Perfectly, Mom. Even when we argue, it’s perfect.”

She said, “Do you want to touch me? Paul…you can, if you want.”

I was speechless. She invited me to touch her, but she wasn't the Paula I used to know. I succumbed to temptation,
hoping we could both wake up from this terrible dream. I pulled down the collar of her nightgown, grasped one of her
breasts, pushed the flesh against her swollen nipple, and put it in my mouth, as I had done many times before. I
sucked hard on the nipple, and Mom said, "Oh, that feels so good, Paul." It wasn't Paula
speaking ; it was my mother. I couldn't go on.

I pulled the nightgown back up over her breasts and said, "I have to go to work now, Mom, I'll..."
"See you soon, okay?"

She said, "Okay," as if nothing had happened. I knew I would never
forgive myself if I slept with her; it would make me feel like I was taking advantage of my mother, who had become a stranger, and that
I was deceiving her.

As more and more time passed, I grew worried until I came home from work one day and felt a sense
of relief . My mother said, "Oh, Paul, I'm so glad you're home." This wouldn't
have sounded unusual under normal circumstances, but my confidence soared because she smiled, and there was
a hint of life and excitement in her voice since the incident. She said, "I remember some things. We went to the lake and rented a
small boat with oars, and we ate ice cream on the lawn and dripped it on my white clothes, right?"

I said, "Yes, Mom, that's right. That was wonderful!" "The doctor said it might
recover little by little. I went over and kissed her as usual, but I was worried it might upset her, so I kissed
her on both cheeks. She kissed my lips, but only for a moment. She gave me a warm smile
. She shook her head and said, 'You certainly didn't tell me we were lovers so you could put your hands in my
shorts?'

I said, 'Mom!'

She laughed, 'I was just kidding.' I was relieved; it was the first time she'd joked. She said
, 'I know we're close, I can feel it. I'm sorry, Paul.'

I said, 'There's nothing to be sorry about, I'm glad you're getting better now.'

She said, 'Kiss me.' This time, it was a lover's kiss, and it lasted a long time. She said, 'Hmm, that's good
.'

The next night, she thought about more of the things we'd done, a lot of things that happen in the world,
but nothing related to our lovemaking. So I was surprised that, as I was getting ready for bed, she called me
to her bedroom and said, 'Paul, it doesn't matter whether I remember or not, I want you to touch me like you did the other nights
. '" Hearing the tone in her voice, my reluctance vanished.

I began to suckle at her nipple, this time for a long time. I remembered her telling me that
a mother's breasts are made for her children. As I touched and suckled at her breasts, I believed they
were made for me. When I tasted some of the sweet milk, I held it on my tongue and then fed it
to my mother. After she tasted it, she looked at me in surprise. I said, "This is good, isn't it, Mom? That
's because I've done this so many times... We used to love it."

She smiled and said, "We'll do it again, dear." "I was so happy to hear that
term of endearment ; I missed them so much. I lifted her nightgown and kissed my way down her stomach to her panties to
see her reaction. She was breathing heavily and clearly didn't want me to stop. I pulled her panties down and licked her in the way she
liked . She closed her eyes, giving in to the pleasurable sensation.

My tongue licked back and forth on her clitoris, and she made some sounds I used to know. She
gradually became aroused, and her vagina was flowing with fluid. She grabbed my hair and tugged at it sometimes,
something she had never done before, something that seemed novel to her. As I opened my mouth to lick and suck her entire
clitoris , occasionally teasing it with my tongue, Mom's orgasm began. The sense of accomplishment I felt, being able to hear and see her trembling and writhing during her orgasm, was indescribable
. She cried out
, 'Oh... ah... oh ...
"You know how to make me feel comfortable... but
I don't remember what you like, Paul."

I said, "That's okay, you'll remember."

In a world or movie where anything is possible, her climax might open the floodgates of memory,
and everything could return to the way it was before, but I was glad that after her climax, she wanted
me and spoke to me tenderly. She said, "I feel so comfortable with you, Paul, I feel
so close to you, you make me feel safe." I didn't know if she wanted me to stay the night, so I kissed
her and stood up to leave. She excitedly said "No," pulled me back, and said, "
Stay , I love you, stay."

I hugged her and said, "I'll always be with you, my love. I'm here, there's nothing to worry about
." She fell asleep peacefully in my arms. Even though she had been a little angry, I was glad to see
more of her emotions.

This would be crucial. Over the next five days, she began to think more about
things related to her feelings, until she said, “When I called you my husband in the hospital, it was because you were my husband
and I was your wife, right?”

When I heard this, I wasn’t ashamed to say that I burst into tears. I hugged her and said, “Yes
, Paula, you are my wife, yes, it’s you.”

She placed her hand on my penis, which was exactly what I wanted her to do. She said, “Then come on
, be my husband.”

We stood by the bed kissing for a long time, me savoring her mouth and tongue. It was
the same as before, yet different. Our hands explored each other's bodies, undressing each other. Mom 's
skin seemed especially sensitive; my fingertips traced her breasts and nipples, causing her body to tremble slightly
. I wanted her honey pot. My hands cupped her honey pot and began to caress it, one finger
sliding along the folds of her labia until they parted beneath my fingers. My fingers slipped into the wetness, then placed the moist
nectar between our still-kissing lips. Mom licked it clean, and I told her, "This is your
love for me."

She said, "Yes, darling." It wasn't an ordinary word for her, and I loved
the sound of her voice and her rapid breathing. My hands reached behind her, grasping the two hemispheres of her buttocks,
firm, round, and soft. She kissed my neck, then my nipples. She knelt down and
held my penis in her hand. She said, "Your penis is thick and hard because of me." "My mother was always fascinated
and proud of my body's sexual response to her; whenever I caressed or saw her naked body, I quickly became aroused."
I longed to be inside her.

She took my swollen glans into her mouth and began to suck, this time for longer than usual. I
couldn't hold back any longer, my hips thrusting forward, pushing my penis deeper into her mouth. She held that
position as I moved in and out of her mouth. I tried to control myself and not go in too deep, to prevent her from
choking . She made soft moaning sounds as she licked and sucked, and feeling the warm wetness between her mouth and tongue,
I easily reached orgasm. Although I was satisfied after ejaculating in her mouth as before, I
still wanted to ejaculate inside her vagina in the way we used to.

I pulled her to the bed, she lay down and opened her legs, my penis actually
finding its target on its own, her vagina opening to me, accepting my arrival, my first penetration eliciting a
mesmerizing moan. Each time I pushed into her slippery passage, I was able to go deeper, and Mom
responded with an encouraging "yes". She clung to my arms, her legs pulling back, and said, "I want it, Paul, I want you."

I said, "I'll always want you, Paula, like this, like this, like this."

Mom said, "Yes, child, yes."

As I thrust deeper into her, I said, "This is mine, Mom."

She said, "Yes, child, I can feel it, you belong to me, to my honey pot, fuck me, fuck
me, oh..."

She kept moaning, and I thrust as hard as I could into her depths. Her seductive voice was full of encouragement:
"Yes, darling, harder, like this."

I felt a part of her again; I had found my Paula, found my mother
. Each thrust confirmed that we had rediscovered a part of our shared experience,
deep . As her back arched upwards, I could feel her orgasm approaching.
After a few more thrusts, a sharp, high-pitched "Ahhh..." pierced the room; Mom's orgasm had finally arrived. I
quickened my thrusting pace because I wanted to reach orgasm with her. In the past, when we made love, there were often
no problems, but at this moment, I wanted to be in sync with her, both physically and emotionally. My
rapid , forceful thrusts finally brought us both to climax simultaneously.

I called her name, "Paula... Mom..." and began releasing my love juices into her
honey pot.

She felt me ejaculating inside her and said, "Yes, my love, shoot it into my body, shoot it
in, fill me up..."

With my seemingly endless ejaculation, I think I truly filled her up. As I felt
the last shudders of my mother's orgasm, my penis slowly withdrew, and I saw my penis and
the labia of her honey pot shimmering with a pearly sheen.

My mother smiled relaxedly and said, "Oh, darling, it's so good to be back."

I said, "Don't leave again."

She said to me, "I won't, child, and you shouldn't stop loving me like this."

I kissed her and said, "Never."

(The End)

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