The fragrance of garden flowers and wildflowers fills the air; bees and butterflies dance wildly among the blossoms.

The fragrance of wildflowers filled the air, and bees and butterflies danced wildly among the blossoms.

I remember when my third uncle got married, he didn't have a house to live in and lived with our family for several years.

We had four children, and my third uncle had two, plus four adults—ten people living under one roof. Even in the countryside where land wasn't so scarce, this kind of hardship was unbearable.

Under these circumstances, my eldest sister, second sister, and youngest sister slept together, while I slept with my parents. This situation continued for several years until my third uncle and his family found a new home.

I was only five or six years old then, and didn't understand anything. I often got angry because I was woken up in the middle of the night.

My dad was a rough man; sometimes, when he suddenly felt like it, he would climb on top of my mother, waking us both up.

However, he wasn't very skilled; he would usually finish as soon as my mother was woken up and then fall back asleep.

In my memory, he never lasted more than five minutes. Sometimes I really doubted whether such an incompetent man was really my biological father (just kidding!).

Looking back now, it seems I can't blame Dad. He was busy making a living every day and didn't have much energy to begin with, especially since Mom was so beautiful; she probably drained him dry long ago.

However, for Mom, it was a truly painful situation.

She never loved Dad, and in this situation, she felt like a sex object, and the unfulfilled sexual desire caused her immense psychological and physical distress.

Mom came from a scholarly family.

My maternal grandfather's side was a large family; he had once been a university professor and was extremely knowledgeable.

Mom was his most beloved daughter. While she may not have inherited his knowledge, she was certainly a talented woman.

My maternal grandfather was very wealthy and powerful; before Liberation, he was the largest landlord in the area, reportedly owning half of the county town.

Needless to say, such a large landlord was bound to suffer after Liberation.

Otherwise, how could someone like Dad have married a talented and beautiful woman like Mom? And I, too, would never have been born.

My mother was probably only sixteen or seventeen when she married into the family, or so I guess, because she never told me the truth.

She only said that it was a very rushed affair; they married after knowing each other for only a few days. She only knew that my father wasn't bad-looking and wasn't a bad person—two of his few good qualities.

Later, my uncle vaguely mentioned that it was probably to avoid trouble—a beauty like my mother, from that family, was bound to be bullied in those times. Finding a strong support was the best option, a helpless situation.

Because of their backgrounds, my mother and father had a great distance between them.

My mother loved literature, especially classical poetry and prose. She had beautiful handwriting, could paint, and played the flute.

I could only rival her in history; otherwise, I was inferior to her.

My father, on the other hand, was illiterate, cowardly, incompetent, and vulgar. In terms of personality, talent, character, and cultivation, he was far inferior to my mother. The two had absolutely nothing in common. Even my grandparents, who doted on my father, had to admit that he was indeed unworthy of my mother.

My mother was very frustrated, but helpless, and could only silently endure it.

I remember my mother once wrote a poem, and the lines "A river of spring water flows eastward, the moon sets in the west and never looks back" probably reflected her inner feelings.

Perhaps because she didn't love my father, my mother doted on me very much, even spoiling me, and always gave in to my every whim.

When I was very young, she was exceptionally affectionate towards me, often hugging and kissing me indiscriminately, and always holding me tightly when we slept (my mother said that I was more attractive to her than other children when I was little).

My father, once asleep, was impossible to wake up even with thunder, but my mother often couldn't sleep at night, touching me all over, especially my little brother.

Although my mother and father shared a bed, they slept back to back. Occasionally, when my father turned over and put his hand on her, she would remove it, while I, on the other hand, was used to sleeping in my mother's arms, touching her breasts.

It's quite obvious that Mom had absolutely no feelings for Dad, but she couldn't bring herself to file for divorce.

Divorce is commonplace in modern times, but for people back then, it was an insurmountable obstacle, especially for women.

Even today, in our hometown, there are women who would rather commit suicide than get a divorce.

Summers were very hot there, electric fans were expensive and most people couldn't afford them, and power outages were frequent, so many people slept outside their wives' homes for the coolness.

This often led to rape cases.

Nine out of ten rural women who were raped dared not speak out, because it meant ruining their reputation.

Dad never slept indoors in the summer; he was extremely sensitive to the heat and would often sleep on the stone bridge by the river (the river breeze was very cool).

Mom would rather die from the heat than go outside (which is understandable; now Mom is over forty, and she's still often harassed by a bunch of bored men, let alone back then when she was under thirty, young and beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the area—if she slept outside, something terrible would surely happen).

Because my dad wasn't around and the bed was too hot, my mom would often lie there wearing only her underwear, her snow-white body dazzling to the eye—my mom had the whitest skin, even my little sister was a bit less fair. One of my favorite things to do was watch her lying naked on the bed, trembling and moaning under my lecherous hands—I was little then, and I liked to lie on top of her, touching her breasts and listening to her tell me stories.

I was already very familiar with my mom's body then, the only thing I hadn't touched was her vulva.

Once, out of curiosity, I touched her underwear, and my mom just paused for a moment without stopping me.

But I was only six or seven years old then, and I didn't understand anything. I touched it once and then pulled my hand back, not knowing what it felt like.

That time was one of the happiest times of my life, because I felt that my mom belonged only to me.

Perhaps it was then that my Oedipus complex became uncontrollable.

Later, my third uncle and his family moved away, and we had an extra room. By then, I was nine years old, so I no longer slept in the same bed as my parents, but slept with my eldest sister.

Because touching my mother's breasts every night had become a habit, I naturally ended up touching my older sister's bra (my mother wasn't wearing a bra at that time, but my twelve-year-old sister was already wearing one).

To be honest, it wasn't intentional; it was just a habit.

When my sister woke up and pushed my hand away, I didn't even know how my hand had gotten inside.

The next morning, when I woke up, my hand was still on my sister's breast.

My sister was just starting to develop, and her breasts were small, not as full as my mother's, so touching them didn't really feel special.

However, at the time, I didn't know how to distinguish between good and bad breasts; it was just a matter of habit, without any other intention.

Every night, my older sister would remove my hand in the middle of the night, only to find it still there the next day.

Later, when we discussed this, I asked her, "Your breasts are so full now, did I touch them when you were little to make them bigger?" This inevitably resulted in a beating; she accused me of being a pervert since childhood.

This went on for over a week until my sister resigned herself to it and stopped bothering me.

Until she went to high school and lived at school, her beautiful breasts remained my possession.

Perhaps the friction really did help with breast development; my sister's breasts were exceptionally beautiful from a young age—white, tender, full, soft, and perky, making her female classmates envious and attracting the attention of many perverts. As a result, from the second year of junior high onwards, my sister never lacked suitors.

When I was in sixth grade, at thirteen, the city organized a math competition to select participants for the provincial competition. I was fortunate enough to be selected, achieving first place.

Although my family was used to the piles of certificates and prizes that my four siblings and I would bring home from time to time, this still made them very happy. The whole family gathered together to celebrate. Grandpa even got drunk that night; his health was closely related to his alcohol consumption.

During my first year of university, I used my scholarship money to buy Grandpa a gift, and he got so happy that he drank too much again. After that, he could no longer drink and soon passed away. I still feel sad when I think about it now.

At that time, my father and fourth uncle had already gone to Yunnan to do business, and my eldest sister was in high school and living at school. Although there were a few fewer people at home, there were still so many family members. The noise and chatter continued until midnight, and I had long since gone to bed, unable to bear it any longer.

When I woke up in the middle of the night, I saw my mother sitting alone by my bed, drinking alone and crying.

At the time, I didn't know why my mother was crying, but later I learned that my fourth aunt, that pampered girl, had said some things that she shouldn't have, which stirred up my mother's emotions.

My fourth aunt's family is very wealthy. My fourth uncle was able to do business in Yunnan thanks to their help, so she always spoke loudly and gruffly, which made her disliked by

the rest of the family. According to my fourth aunt's logic, my fourth uncle is the most capable person in our family, and our current situation has only improved thanks to her family. Therefore, she should be the most valued among the daughters-in-law. However, everyone always praised my mother, which made her very dissatisfied. Perhaps she had drunk too much and said some things she shouldn't have, which upset my mother.

My mother didn't react when everyone was around, but after everyone left, she started crying alone, waking me up.

Looking at my mother crying silently, I felt incredibly sad.

To be honest, none of us four children have much affection for our father. Even today, our only understanding is that "he is our father."

But it's different with my mother. Besides filial piety, we even have a bit of admiration, thinking she knows everything.

But that night, I felt my mother was truly pitiful, just a woman worthy of pity.

I hugged her from behind and let her cry in my arms.

You might not believe it, but that's the truth.

At that moment, I truly believed I should protect her.

I think that's when I truly fell in love with my mother.

My mother, initially surprised by my embrace, quickly began to cry on my shoulder, muttering between sobs.

I don't remember what she said, and neither does my mother, because she was drunk. If she hadn't been drunk, none of what happened would have occurred.

And my life wouldn't be what it is now.

After crying, my mother and I lay side by side on the bed, her arms around me as she spoke.

It had been over three years since we'd slept together, but there was no awkwardness whatsoever.

I naturally slipped my hand inside my mother's shirt and placed it on her familiar breast. My mother didn't stop me; she even took off her shirt to make it easier for me to touch her.

In my mother's heart, I was still that little boy who clung to her, and she didn't intend to seduce me.

But she forgot that I was already thirteen years old, and in some ways, I was even more developed than my peers.

(My second sister often said I was born a rascal. Sometimes she would get angry with me and want to scold me, but before that, she would always give in to my antics. By the time she was done, she was too exhausted to scold me anymore, so she was afraid of my gentle teasing. My second sister said that it was lucky there were several women in the family, otherwise she would have been tormented to death by me.) While she still thought I was just an innocent child, a certain part of my body began to swell, my heart was beating fast, my body was hot, and my hands were no longer just aimlessly touching things, but were now teasingly caressing my breasts.

My mother, being an experienced woman, quickly sensed something was wrong and looked down at me.

My heart was pounding, I was terrified, like a thief caught red-handed, my hands frozen, not knowing what to do.

If my mother were sober, she would definitely have stopped me, but she didn't. She just looked at me, her face expressionless, then closed her eyes and said nothing.

I think she tacitly consented, so I continued to touch her breasts, feeling her nipples harden and gradually stand erect.

Now I know it's a sign of my mother's arousal, but at the time I didn't know what it was; I just felt that the hardened nipples felt even more comfortable to touch.

At that time, I already had a basic understanding of sex and really wanted to see my mother's vulva, but I was afraid she would be angry, yet I didn't want to give up, so I tentatively touched down her lower abdomen little by little.

When I touched my mother's underwear, she suddenly grabbed my hand, opened her eyes again, and looked at me, then at my lower body.

It was a hot day, and my mother and I were only wearing underwear on the bed. Under the light, my erection was clearly visible.

I looked at her nervously, wondering what she would say, whether she would scold me or even hit me.

However, my mother didn't. She looked for a while, smiled, and said, "So my son has grown up." Then she turned off the light, turned her back to me, and told me to go to sleep quickly so I could get up early the next day.

The lights went out, plunging the room into darkness, the only sound the heavy breathing of the mother and son.

I felt a mix of fear, anger, and resentment.

My mother used to be so doting, but now she dared to turn her back on me, so cold and distant, which infuriated me.

I simply wrapped my arms around her from behind, pressing my erect penis against her buttocks.

My mother's breathing quickened noticeably, her body stiffening, but she still didn't turn around.

I grew even angrier, thrusting my penis against her buttocks repeatedly, and then… I ejaculated quickly.

To be honest, it didn't feel good, because I felt my mother was so far away, and I almost cried from the frustration.

After ejaculating, I lay flat on the bed, unable to fall asleep for a long time, even feeling tears welling up in my eyes.

But Mom thought I was asleep. She turned around and looked at me, touching my face for a while before kissing me.

My heart slowly calmed down, and I felt Mom's tenderness.

She called my name, but I pretended to be asleep and ignored her.

Then Mom hesitated for a moment, placed her hand on my underwear, and just left it there, then sighed softly.

I don't know how long she looked at me, but my heart was beating very fast, and time seemed to pass incredibly slowly.

I guessed Mom actually knew I wasn't asleep, but she didn't say anything, and I didn't dare open my eyes.

After a long time, Mom turned to her side and hugged me tightly, my face pressed against her breast.

When I was little, Mom often hugged me like this, but later it gradually decreased, and I don't know when she stopped hugging me like that.

But this hug made me very happy, and I became bolder. I quietly placed my hand on Mom's underwear. Mom's body trembled, but she didn't say anything. Only then did I realize that Mom's underwear was a little wet.

Then Mom said my underwear was wet and I should take it off quickly so I wouldn't feel uncomfortable.

I obediently took off my underwear and looked at my mother, wanting her to take off hers too but not daring to speak.

My mother lay flat on the bed, seemingly lost in thought, and didn't ask me to change my underwear.

Later, I asked my mother if she would have refused me if I had pounced on her.

She replied that she didn't know, saying she didn't even know what she was thinking at the time.

However, I still didn't have the courage to pounce on her, and instead obediently lay on my mother's arm.

My mother kissed my forehead and slowly stroked my body, and I slowly stroked my mother's body, gradually reaching her underwear.

When I took off my mother's underwear, she didn't stop me, but instead started touching my penis.

I touched my mother's vulva with trepidation and nervousness; it was warm, soft, and slippery with some sticky fluid.

I didn't dare to insert my fingers, but just touched my mother's labia majora from the outside, occasionally using the pad of my middle finger to gently glide along the cleft between the labia.

My mother and I didn't take any further action; we simply and gently caressed each other's genitals. It wasn't flirting between a man and a woman, but rather a tender caress of each other's bodies. The feeling was gentle and comfortable.

To this day, I still habitually use this method of caressing my mother's genitals to calm my emotions and feel the tender affection between us. It's like a spring breeze rippling across the water, creating gentle waves that bring only relaxation, without the fear of a violent storm.

In these gentle caresses, my restlessness was calmed, my heart was comforted, and then I fell into a deep sleep.

I didn't do well in that competition because I caught a cold.

But I didn't regret it. I thought my relationship with my mother had progressed further, becoming even closer.

But my mother became timid, often intentionally or unintentionally avoiding me, trying to avoid opportunities when it was just the two of us.

Before, she would always check to see if I was asleep before going to bed, but now she would come very late, by which time I was already asleep.

I quickly sensed her avoidance, feeling a little angry and a little wronged, but I didn't dare to blame her.

One night, I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night and found my mother sitting by the bed, staring at me intently. I pulled her, wanting her to sleep with me, but she ran away.

I cried quietly, and cried all night.

I began to regret that night; I thought I was closer to my mother, but now I realized we were further apart.

The summer after graduating from elementary school was very unhappy. I even had several arguments with my second sister and beat a boy two years older than me half to death, causing his family to come knocking on our door.

I thought my mother would scold me for fighting, but she didn't, which made me even more heartbroken.

The turning point came during winter vacation.

My second sister and I would go home every weekend.

My eldest sister was three years older than me, but she started school four years earlier, already in her second year of high school.

My eldest sister was a very career-oriented woman; her wishes at that time were: "Go to Peking University, study abroad, and own a car." Now all three wishes have come true, and she herself has become a wealthy woman, earning more money than I do.

Back then, my eldest sister rarely came home, only once a month. After she went to study in Beijing, she went back even less, spending several winter and summer vacations working there.

My father was still in Yunnan, so it was often just my mother and younger sister at home.

By then, the family's situation had gradually improved; my father was sending money back from Yunnan, which lightened my mother's burden considerably, but she also became increasingly lonely.

Every time we went back, it felt like a holiday for my mother.

Because she had more money, my mother started to care more about dressing up.

Every time I went back, I felt that my mother seemed to change every time, becoming younger and more beautiful, which often left me speechless.

Actually, my mother dressed up just for me, she later told me.

In her words, apart from her son, no one else appreciated it; it would only attract gossip, so why bother showing it to them? I felt that my mother was gradually becoming closer to me again, no longer avoiding me, and sometimes she would secretly kiss me or playfully hit me.

My mother used to never let me lift a finger, but during that period, she always made sure to call me to her side whenever she did anything. She'd either give me a small task or simply want me to stay by her side.

It was somewhat like our close mother-son relationship before, yet slightly different.

I could snuggle in her arms and secretly touch her, which made her very happy.

Sometimes she'd lie on my bed for a while, but she wouldn't take off her shirt anymore. She'd just let me touch her breasts through her clothes; any more and she wouldn't allow it. She'd tap me, scold me, and leave, calling me a "little rascal."

During winter break, my eldest sister came home from high school, making the house even more lively.

My father has five brothers, all married. According to our family tradition, on New Year's Eve, we eat at five different houses—from ours to my fifth uncle's.

Clearly, this was just for fun, to let the kids have some fun; nobody had the stomach to eat at five different houses.

This custom persisted even after my fifth uncle's death. Although his family was no longer alive, the last remaining family still contributed to the New Year's Eve dinner, with the other four families sharing the meal. At each family's table, my fifth uncle and grandmother always maintained their seats.

This custom only truly ended after my grandfather's death, when the family scattered to different places. Before

the Lunar New Year, there was a small New Year's Eve. That noon, my mother, eldest sister, and younger sister went to the market to buy New Year's goods, leaving only my second sister and me at home.

My second sister had been tidying up the house all morning and was tired, so she wanted to take a nap.

She was used to cuddling me while sleeping, and hadn't had a chance to be affectionate with me since returning home. So that day, she asked me to close the door and draw the curtains, then lay down on my bed, hugging my waist and resting her head on my lap, falling asleep.

As I stroked her head, I suddenly felt a warm and comfortable feeling in the atmosphere.

I put down my book and looked at my second sister's face. Although there was some dust on her face, she was exceptionally beautiful, and I stared at her for a long time.

I knew my second sister was beautiful before, but even when we were intimate, I always treated her as an older sister (just like I treat my eldest sister now, mostly as an older sister and friend, and only occasionally as my wife). I had never truly fallen in love with her, but at that moment, I was truly moved. I thought that even if I had a wife in the future, she would never be as good as the sister in front of me.

I gently wiped the dust off my second sister's face, then lowered my head to kiss her, afraid of waking her.

However, my second sister's intuition was sometimes frighteningly sharp.

She was usually not easily woken up when she was asleep, but my kiss actually woke her up.

She was pretending to be asleep, and I quickly discovered this, so I became playful and thought, "Let's see how long you can keep up this act."

I put her on the bed, crawled under the covers, and started to take off her clothes.

She was still pretending, so I unbuttoned all her clothes and kissed her from her chest all the way down to her vulva.

My second sister never let me perform oral sex on her before, saying it was too dirty.

This was my first time doing it, and my technique was definitely terrible, but she said it was the most pleasurable experience she'd ever had.

Before, even when she orgasmed, she would only whimper softly through gritted teeth, but that day she screamed loudly and unrestrainedly, which startled me, and I covered her mouth with a towel.

She reached orgasm quickly, intensely and for a long time, her vaginal fluid spraying directly onto my face.

Her body trembled, and she pulled me up to kiss me passionately, with an unprecedented level of fervor.

After the kiss, she just stared at me, motionless, oblivious to her naked body. I had to help her get dressed. Throughout the whole process, she seemed paralyzed, just staring blankly at me.

As I mentioned before, in my second sister's mind, genitals were very dirty.

Her willingness to perform oral sex on me meant she had already submitted to me, and my oral sex on her was a response to her feelings.

Actually, my second sister's requirements for me have always been very simple: first, I must genuinely love her; second, I must be successful; and third, I must not deceive her.

By "successful," she doesn't mean being rich and powerful like my eldest sister, but simply being able to proudly say to others, "I believe in him." She doesn't care about any other shortcomings.

My second sister's trust in me is unbelievable.

Inevitably, I encounter situations outside that require playing along, and the rest of the family doesn't believe I can remain unmoved by beauty. They all know I have a very strong sex drive; I feel restless if I don't touch a woman for three days. But my second sister believes me.

This trust moves me deeply, but it also brings immense pressure, preventing me from acting recklessly.

It can be said that my mother shaped me into a successful person, but it was my second sister who guided me to become a responsible adult.

Sometimes, the influence people have on each other is truly incredible. The fact

that our family has remained together without any problems is largely thanks to my second sister.

Incest, aside from being unacceptable in society, will inevitably leave some lingering doubts even within ourselves.

My mother hasn't fully recovered from this trauma. Although she loves me terribly, her psychology has become slightly abnormal. Her dependence and subservience towards me sometimes frighten me.

When I was critically ill in a car accident, she even considered removing my oxygen tube before committing suicide.

My younger sister, who used to be willful and mischievous, is now quiet and burdened with worries. She clings to me as soon as she gets home, afraid I'll suddenly disappear. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night to find her staring at me intently, then desperately professing her love.

My eldest sister has experienced more and is more resilient. Her feelings for me aren't as deep as theirs, and she maintains a normal demeanor, though she both loves and hates me. Sometimes she gets angry at me for no reason, then treats me incredibly well. My

second sister has remained constant throughout. Her actions have soothed the occasional crises in the family, making us feel that this is a normal family, albeit with some strangeness, but still a happy one.

Her presence has dispelled our anxieties, allowing us to live our own lives.

That year, my second sister was incredibly happy. She not only finished all the chores for our family but also helped some of my uncles, and she was especially kind to me.

Before, whenever we left our little room, she wouldn't allow me to be intimate with her, afraid of being discovered. But now, she tried her best to let us be together, letting me touch her all over and indulge my desires, even secretly giving me oral sex once.

I didn't understand why she had changed; I just foolishly enjoyed this sudden happiness.

When I returned to school, I didn't realize the moment I had been longing for was about to arrive.

My second sister acted completely normally that day. First, she took the quilt that had been idle all winter to air it out, then she sent me away so she could clean the room, telling me not to come back until after 9:30 pm, which confused me.

Our school usually had evening self-study sessions, which ended around 9:30 pm. After 10 pm, there was practically no one around the school.

My second sister and I usually study for over an hour after we get home, and we don't get intimate until after 11 PM. Plus, our house is quite secluded, so hardly anyone comes by on weekdays, and we've never been discovered.

But that day was the first day of school, and classes didn't officially start until the next day. Why did I wait until after 9:30 PM to get home? I was quite puzzled. When I got home a little earlier, I found her locked in the shower, humming a song as she did so.

Actually, the school has a shower room, a bit run-down but still usable, but obviously it wasn't open on the first day of school; it wouldn't officially open until the next day.

I was very confused. Why was she in such a hurry to shower? Waiting a day wouldn't have mattered, would it? My second sister is very clean; she always wipes herself clean with a towel after being intimate, but I didn't expect her to be this clean. She even showered at home last night. Besides,

where did she get the hot water? She's not like me, showering with cold water even in the dead of winter.

To be honest, although I was used to touching my second sister's body, I hadn't seen her completely naked many times, because we usually did it after the lights were off, and the room wasn't very well lit.

On the few occasions I'd seen her under the light, she'd shyly hide under the covers or turn off the light, let alone see her taking a bath.

So I knocked on the door to come in.

My second sister was startled at first, but when she recognized me, she told me to wait a moment, opened the door a crack, and handed me two thermos flasks to fetch hot water.

The school's boiler room wasn't running, let alone had hot water; I had to get it from two teachers I knew.

Our small town didn't have much entertainment, and everyone went to bed early. They had already closed up shop, and I felt very embarrassed for disturbing them by knocking for so long.

I thought she hadn't had enough bath water, so I ran to get it for her, worried she'd get cold water if I got back late. When I got back, she was already finished bathing and sitting on the bed waiting for me, which infuriated me.

The room was sparkling clean, though; the sheets and blankets had just been washed and dried, smelling of sunshine.

My second sister stood up, closed the door, pulled a basin from under the bed, poured in hot water, and then cheerfully told me to take off my clothes.

I asked, "What? Isn't it too early to sleep?" "Shh! Keep your voice down! I'm helping you bathe." I was surprised and also very tempted, and said with a smile, "Then help me take them off." My second sister blushed and actually came over to help me undress, quickly getting me completely naked.

I was used to her service, and seeing each other naked was a habit, so I didn't pay much attention. I reached out to touch her breasts and realized she was only wearing a coat; she wasn't wearing anything underneath. My heart ached for her; it was quite cold, what if she got cold? I told her to go to bed and I could wash myself, but she told me not to worry about it and then helped me dry off like a submissive wife.

Actually, I'm used to taking cold showers and am not afraid of the cold at all, but her using hot water made me feel cold. As soon as my upper body was clean, I quickly put on a coat. Watching her wipe my penis over and over again was quite funny, so I joked, "Why wipe it so clean? It won't look good if it's too white." As a result, she hit me on the head, pushed me onto the bed, and covered my upper body with the blanket.

I didn't pay attention to her and just picked up a book to read, letting her wash my feet.

This bath took more than an hour to finish, and I almost caught a cold from being wiped so many times.

When she finally finished wiping me off, my second sister immediately took off her clothes and crawled into bed, then turned off the light.

I had just said "What are you doing?" when she covered my mouth with a passionate kiss.

At this point, I really felt something was wrong, so I rolled over and pinned her down.

"Sis, you're not trying to rape me, are you?" "Nonsense!" My second sister pinched me and said boldly and directly, "Haven't you always wanted to have sex with me? Here you go." I was overjoyed and immediately thrust my hard penis between my second sister's thighs. But because I was too excited, I didn't find the right spot and instead hurt my second sister, who pushed me off.

"What an idiot!" My second sister scolded as she climbed on top of me, and I could only smile awkwardly.

"Be good and don't move! Don't make a sound!" My second sister instructed me, then kissed my way down my chest and disappeared under the covers.

I touched her face and hair, feeling the pleasure of her licking and sucking my penis, trying my best to hold back my cries.

My second sister licked my penis from head to toe, then sucked on it for a while, and even sucked on my scrotum for a while, before finally climbing on top of me again.

"Little brother, is it comfortable?" "Mmm, it feels so good." My second sister chuckled happily in the darkness, whispered for me to stay still, then parted her thighs and slowly guided my penis into her vagina.

A wonderful sensation immediately surged through me. My second sister's vagina was burning hot, the walls tightly enveloping my penis, trying to prevent it from going any deeper. The feeling was incredibly pleasurable. My

second sister slowly lowered her hips until my glans touched a soft lump of flesh before she stopped, letting out a long sigh. She asked in a slightly panicked voice, "Why doesn't it hurt?" I was still experiencing that wonderful sensation and didn't quite catch what she was saying. I blurted out,

"What?" "Isn't it said that a woman's first time is always painful? Why don't I feel any pain?" My second sister was genuinely flustered.

I thought for a moment and said,

"Maybe I accidentally broke your hymen when I touched you before." (Actually, no, she broke it herself during her own activity).

My second sister said "Oh," and asked in a low voice, "Is it comfortable?" I honestly replied, "It hurts a little." My second sister's vagina was very tight, and she had squeezed her legs together tightly in her tension, so it really did hurt a little.

My second sister smiled secretly and deliberately squeezed my legs together a couple of times.

I asked, "How do you feel?" She replied, "It feels strange, I don't know." Then she told me not to make a sound and slowly began to move her hips in small motions.

I developed very slowly; I was only 1.64 meters tall when I graduated from junior high school. With my cute face, I looked like a thirteen or fourteen-year-old child, not a sixteen-year-old boy. This worried my second sister for a long time, thinking it was because I was too young to have sex, and she said she shouldn't have seduced me (was she seducing me?). However, I started growing like crazy in my first year of high school, growing a full decimeter in one year to reach 1.74 meters, and I was 1.8 meters tall when I graduated from high school.

Now I am 1.84 meters tall, tall and strong, and I often move my 1.72-meter-tall second sister around like a child.

But back in seventh grade, I wasn't even 1.6 meters tall, much shorter than my second sister. Being pinned down by her was like being submerged.

Her breasts were large, and when she moved back and forth, they rubbed against my neck, making me very uncomfortable.

I turned my head and bit her nipple, sucking on it, while my hands touched her buttocks. As a result, she moved even more violently, and then started breathing heavily in my ear.

Looking back now, that time wasn't very successful.

Although we were usually affectionate, we had no practical experience, so naturally, we made many mistakes.

Actually, I had watched my parents make love when I was little, so it would have been better if I had taken the initiative. But my second sister, that fool, always treated me like a clueless child, insisting that she take the initiative. As a result, she played on top for a long time, while my penis only moved in and out of her vagina very little. There was hardly any intense pleasure.

However, this was enough for us, who were experiencing forbidden fruit for the first time.

Neither of us dared to speak, and we secretly had sex under the covers.

My second sister would ask me after a while if I was comfortable, lick my ear, kiss me, and her hands would wander over my body.

Actually, I wasn't exerting any effort at all, and it felt pretty good, but I felt a little uncomfortable being pressed down by her, and also a little unsatisfied.

This gentle, light intercourse lasted for a long time, until my second sister finally reached her climax, letting out a soft moan before going limp on top of me.

She told me not to move, saying we'd do it again later.

I refused, grabbed her body, flipped her over, and pinned her down, starting to thrust myself in.

It was obvious that this position was more comfortable for my second sister than the previous one.

At first, she was just breathing heavily, then she couldn't help but moan softly, only moaning twice before quickly covering her mouth and telling me to be gentle.

I ignored her and continued to thrust in and out forcefully, while kneading her breasts and biting her nipples.

My second sister pressed her right hand on my back, her left hand tightly covering her mouth, afraid she wouldn't be able to stop herself from crying out.

As a result, the more tense she became, the more sensitive she was, and the faster the pleasure came, quickly reaching her second climax.

At that moment, she couldn't hold back any longer. She pressed down hard on my buttocks with both hands, and bit down hard on my shoulder, silencing the scream that was about to escape her throat.

With that bite, my body relaxed, and I ejaculated all my semen inside her.

My second sister seems to have a natural tendency to moan during sex. Whenever we're alone, she moans loudly and unrestrainedly, sometimes making me climax from her moans.

However, if we're with a group of people or the environment doesn't allow for such unrestrained moaning, she struggles to hold back, often needing me to find an opportunity to satisfy her again and let her release her pent-up emotions.

During those years when we were secretly having sex, my second sister never dared to moan loudly, sometimes biting a towel, which deprived us of a lot of fun.

The time she was most unrestrained was during the first six months of my university life in Beijing. Since it was just the two of us living together, my second sister often walked around the house naked, making love to me anytime, anywhere.

My first time making love with my second sister had a less-than-ideal start, but it ended well.

After the climax, I continued to lie on top of my second sister, panting, while she held me and touched my body.

She asked me if I felt good, and I said I felt very good. How about you? She said she felt good too, especially the last moment, which felt like flying to heaven.

Then she touched the teeth marks on my shoulder and asked if it hurt. I said it didn't hurt much.

Then she kissed the teeth marks.

We both lazily chatted idly, playing with each other's bodies.

After a while, my interest returned, and my little brother, still inside my second sister's vagina, stood erect again, begging for her pleasure.

My second sister chuckled and covered both of our heads with the blanket.

This time it lasted much longer, more than half an hour.

My second sister bit her lower lip and moaned, until finally her lip bled, she was so comfortable she felt like she was dying.

That night I ejaculated inside my second sister four times, until she was too exhausted to move.

Actually, my second sister's constitution is really good, her recovery is quite good, and she was able to go to class the next day as if nothing had happened.

I later did the same thing to my mother, and she slept for a whole day and night before recovering and avoided me for several days.

Actually, I'm not usually that good, but according to my second sister, you can't be without women around, especially after you grow up.

If I went more than half a month without touching a woman, everyone in the family would know, and it would definitely take several people to keep me company; going alone would be unbearable.

Even my second sister, who had the best physical condition and the strongest recovery ability, didn't dare to handle me alone.

So, throughout the second semester of junior high, I spent almost every night in bed with my second sister, enjoying the wonderful taste of sex.

To avoid being discovered, we would study for more than an hour after evening self-study, as usual, and only start making love when it was late at night.

However, this studying sometimes turned into foreplay before sex.

My stamina grew longer and longer, sometimes even lasting for an hour or two. My second sister both loved and feared me, and got used to satisfying my desires with a combination of oral and vaginal penetration.

Later, my second sister went to the city high school, and came home much less often.

Our city high school was very famous, with a high college entrance rate. Although it was just a small county-level city, even students from the provincial capital transferred to our high school.

The city's high school was known for its strict management. Six days a week were dedicated to classes and evening self-study, with only Saturday evenings and Sunday days off. Sunday evenings were also for self-study.

The intense studies and long commute meant my second sister could only come home every three or four weeks.

Each time she came back, she would stay overnight at my place and then go home with me the next morning.

She knew I was suffering, so she always let me stay up all night.

Later, my second sister told me that I had really put her through the wringer during my second and third years of junior high. Every time she came home and saw me, she couldn't sleep, and the next morning she had to get up early to wash the sheets and then go home pretending nothing had happened—she was exhausted.

She always ended with the line, "I must have owed you something in my past life!" Without my second sister's company, I, full of energy, had to find things to do.

Every day I ran, played basketball, played soccer—anything tiring. I won many medals at the sports meet, eventually setting a terrifying record of doing 200 push-ups in one go, earning me the nickname "Superman" from my classmates.

When my fourth uncle was in the second year of junior high school, something happened that led to my mother and father starting to divorce.

In rural areas, especially in our area, family ties are very strong and have a significant impact. Family fights involving hundreds of people are common, and unless someone dies, the government doesn't really care, or in fact, it can't.

Our family is the largest in the area, probably numbering over a thousand people across several villages.

However, no one in our family has ever become wealthy or powerful, and our influence is not as great as that of another family, the Zhou family.

Our family is the leader of our clan in the area.

Of my father's five brothers, my father was the most honest, my second uncle was rather lazy and liked to play tricks, my third uncle was the most hardworking, my fourth uncle was the smartest, and my fifth uncle was the most ruthless, fighting like his life depended on it, often taking on several people at once.

At that time, my fourth uncle made a lot of money in Yunnan and took my third and fifth uncles with him, leaving only my second uncle and a large group of women at home.

My aunts would play mahjong when they were bored, sometimes for the whole day.

Although my mother didn't play mahjong, she would sometimes watch from the sidelines and chat with them to pass the time.

There was an old rogue in the Zhou family. He wasn't very capable himself, but his two sons were hooligans who not only fought but also gambled and lent money at exorbitant interest rates. They were quite wealthy, and he was incredibly arrogant because of his sons' power.

Now, those two hooligans are nothing, but even back then, in the eyes of my uncles, they were practically worms.

My fifth uncle once beat those two boys so badly that even their own mother wouldn't recognize them.

But by then, my uncles were all gone, and their family acted very arrogantly.

That Saturday, I had just returned home and saw that old rogue playing mahjong with some of my aunts. As they chatted, his language became increasingly vulgar.

In the countryside, saying a few dirty words isn't a big deal, and my aunts didn't seem to care much. However, my mother, who was standing nearby, was a little unhappy because the old rogue kept bringing up her.

This was understandable; although my mother was in her thirties at the time, she was still much prettier than those twenty-something girls, inevitably attracting the attention of some scoundrels.

Even I didn't expect that old bastard to be so bold as to flirt with me to my face.

You know, in the countryside, the punishment for this kind of thing is terrible. If he really did something, there would only be one outcome: he would be drowned in the river by my uncles, and even his family wouldn't dare to save him.

That bastard was probably blinded by lust; he deliberately knocked the mahjong tiles to the ground and then tried to touch my mother's feet

while picking them up. My mother got furious and was about to kick him when I rushed up from behind, grabbed a stool next to me, and smashed it down on his head, knocking him to the ground. Then I started punching and kicking him.

If my mother hadn't held me tightly, that old scoundrel might have been beaten to death.

Later, that old bastard spent three months in the hospital and still has a scar on his head.

Of course, this couldn't just end there.

His two sons threatened to kill me, and his underage sons even got into several fights with the younger members of our family; I even participated twice.

However, it never escalated into a family feud because the elders of the Zhou family knew they weren't in the right, and none of my uncles were easy to mess with.

They demanded I apologize to that old scoundrel to let the matter drop, since he was from the same generation as my grandfather.

I refused, and almost beat him up again.

I said, "What are you so arrogant about? So what if you have a little money? In a few years, when I'm older, we'll see who beats whom." They couldn't do anything about it. If things got out

of hand, not only would they be in the wrong, but their family definitely wouldn't be able to beat ours in a fight.

And they were only targeting me? My reputation was so great back then that even the town leaders knew about me (I'd won many awards in competitions). What would happen if something happened to me? The matter was dropped, and the elders even warned their nephews and nieces not to mess with me, saying I was ruthless and would beat people to death without regard for the consequences.

My fourth uncle had originally planned to return to handle the matter, but after hearing what my grandfather said about me, he just smiled and didn't come back.

A few months later, my grandfather celebrated his sixtieth birthday, and all my uncles returned, throwing a three-day banquet that cost over 100,000 yuan.

At the banquet, my fourth uncle personally apologized to that old bastard, which was clearly a show of force.

"Your son's rich, isn't he? Now let's see who's richer." I never knew what kind of business my fourth uncle and his associates were doing in Yunnan, but I guessed it wasn't legitimate, because they made money so quickly, earning one or two million yuan in just a year or two.

But I couldn't be sure; my fourth uncle was smart and wouldn't do anything illegal.

This matter should have ended there, but it left a lingering problem.

This lingering problem escalated into an unmanageable situation with the arrival of my uncle.

My uncle left home at a young age, wandering around doing whatever made money. He traded steel, worked as a middleman on the Sino-Russian border, and was a construction foreman. Now he's the CEO of a real estate company, though I don't know exactly how much money he has.

My uncle and mother had a very good relationship, but he was rarely home. The siblings hadn't been in contact for over ten years, and my uncle was completely unaware of my mother's situation.

At that time, he was preparing to divorce his second wife when, for some reason, he came to our house.

He already looked down on my father, thinking he wasn't good enough for my mother. But when he came and saw that my mother was living a hard life while he was enjoying a life of luxury and had forgotten about my sister,

he felt very ashamed. His embarrassment was one thing, but then he heard about this incident and flew into a rage, saying that my father couldn't even protect his own wife and let others bully her—what was the point of being with such a man? He'd probably gotten used to divorces, so he encouraged my mother to get one too.

After all, he had money and didn't care about supporting my sister.

Actually, my mother had never considered divorce.

It wasn't that she had feelings for my father, but rather that she couldn't bear to be without us children.

My uncle's outburst, aside from making him an unpopular figure in my family, didn't really achieve anything.

But my uncle, well, he's always been self-centered. Feeling incredibly guilty about my sister's years of suffering, he actually tricked my mother into coming to his house and treating her to all sorts of good food and drink—it was both infuriating and laughable.

My mother originally planned to stay for a few days and then come back, but she became good friends with my uncle's soon-to-be-divorced wife, helping her take care of her younger cousins, and thus stayed away for a long time.

To be honest, my mother isn't a good wife, and in some ways, not even a good mother.

While she's not lazy, she's definitely not diligent. She's

very capable, but housework isn't one of her specialties, although she's a very good cook.

She's intelligent, but not capable; she might starve to death if she were left to survive independently in society.

She enjoys life, has a bit of a bourgeois sensibility, and doesn't like others intruding on her personal world.

Overall, if she were in a wealthy family, she would definitely be a refined lady, incredibly charming.

But in the countryside, she seemed somewhat out of place, like a celestial being fallen to earth.

However, my mother possessed a charm that made people respect and cherish her, feeling she was born to enjoy a life of luxury.

So, although she wasn't as capable as other rural women, no one blamed her; instead, some worried she was overworking.

The rough men in the village spoke without restraint, but with my mother around, they naturally became refined.

From my mother, I could see that some people truly are born to be revered and worshipped like gods.

Ultimately, the reason for my parents' divorce was me, though no one said it, everyone knew.

My eldest sister strongly supported the divorce, my second sister strongly opposed it, and my youngest sister was indifferent.

As for me, I never voiced my opinion, but my mother knew I wanted her to divorce, so she did.

My second sister was most worried about our divorce; she once went alone to my uncle's house to persuade my mother to come back, but to no avail.

When she came back, she told me about it, and she was very sad.

We were making love at the time, and I laughed and said, "It's better if we get divorced, I'll take care of Mom!" My second sister kicked me off the bed and was angry with me for over a month.

Mom had been staying at my uncle's house for too long, over a year, which made me angry too.

Later, Mom told me that she was running away, but she didn't know what she was running away from.

She missed me terribly and drew many pictures with my face on them, so my aunt and cousins, who had never met me before, recognized me immediately.

Mom often talked about me in front of them, saying how well-behaved, successful, and filial I was, repeating every little thing about me from childhood.

My aunt thought Mom missed her son and tried to persuade her to come back several times, but she refused. She also thought Mom didn't want to see Dad and suggested she get a divorce, but she didn't respond. It was a lot of a mess, and we didn't know what Mom was thinking.

Actually, I also miss Mom very much and want to visit her during winter and summer vacations.

But my grandparents here won't let me.

My grandparents also had their own agenda. They knew my mother missed her child and wanted to use us to force her to come back, but they didn't succeed.

I wrote many letters to my mother, and she wrote back many more, wanting to know every detail of my life.

My second sister once read those letters and got jealous, saying that I had never said anything sweet to her, so why was I so good to my mother? Then she started attacking me.

I had to lie and say that I was trying to trick my mother into coming back.

My mother has been gone for over a year, and I've missed her for just as long. I feel out of sorts and can't seem to muster any energy for anything.

Initially, there was one advantage: since my mother's departure, my younger sister had no one to care for her and started living with my grandparents, rarely home.

This meant my second sister wasn't home much, so whenever she came home, we didn't have to be intimate in that small room anymore; we could make love directly on our big bed.

With fewer inhibitions, we started trying different positions.

My second sister liked being on top, letting me admire her bouncing breasts or her swaying ass, and she started openly moaning, easily uttering phrases like "good husband," "dear husband," and "big cock brother."

I liked having her on top like a doggy-style position, penetrating her from behind, admiring her beautiful ass, sometimes even slapping it. Watching her moan, cry, and writhe beneath me gave me a real sense of conquest.

Without any inhibitions, my second sister's openness was astonishing. Sometimes she would fall asleep with my penis in her mouth, and I was woken up several times in the morning by her oral sex.

It's clear that deep down, my second sister is quite horny.

However, summer and winter vacations were always a source of frustration.

My older sister was already in university then. She was a study fanatic and a workaholic, and during her vacations, she never went home but stayed in Beijing to work and gain social experience. Her family scolded her for being heartless, and she's still not welcomed by her hometown relatives.

With Mom and Dad not home, it was always just the three of us at home during vacations.

My clingy younger sister was infuriating. She never gave me any chance to be affectionate with my older sister, always sticking to us, even sleeping with us.

As a result, the three of us had to squeeze together to sleep every night, unable to do anything else. If we wanted to be intimate, we had to avoid her during the day, forget about it at night.

Speaking of which, my younger sister was actually quite pitiful.

She was three years younger than me, young, and had a bad temper. She liked to bully others, so few friends wanted to play with her.

With our parents and family not around, she was very lonely, which is why she was so clingy.

However, my younger sister was a bit dim-witted and a bit slow.

During my three years of high school, I often had affairs with my mother and older sister, sometimes blatantly, and she never suspected anything.

The funniest time was during the winter break before Chinese New Year in my third year of junior high.

My younger sister, like my second older sister, is a heavy sleeper, so when she's asleep, I can touch my second older sister inappropriately, except for sex, which is absolutely forbidden, as my second older sister doesn't want my younger sister to find out.

However, I hadn't found a chance to be intimate with my second older sister for several days, and I was feeling incredibly pent up. I could

n't resist any longer and just rolled over and went for it. My second older sister was shocked and started pinching and biting me, resisting

fiercely, making me feel like a rapist. Our movements were so loud that they woke my younger sister up. She looked at us groggily and asked,

"What are you doing?" I immediately replied, "My sister has a stomachache, I'm rubbing her stomach." My younger sister said "oh" and fell asleep again.

My second older sister and I both wiped away a cold sweat, looked at each other and laughed, and then my second older sister pinched me hard a few times.

But my second older sister was still kind to me. Knowing I was uncomfortable, she crawled under the covers and gave me oral sex when my younger sister was asleep.

Just when I was at the most critical moment, my younger sister woke up again, turned on the light, got out of bed, and went to the bathroom, scaring my second sister and me half to death.

I was so frightened that I lost all desire and obediently prepared to sleep.

But before I could fall asleep, I felt someone touching my penis. I thought it was my second sister teasing me, but when I touched it, I realized something was wrong. It was my younger sister, probably finding the hard thing in the way, pushing it away with her knee!

Luckily, she didn't kick hard, or I would have been half-dead! The next day, my second sister and I laughed uncontrollably when we talked about it.

After that, my second sister made sure to sleep between us so my younger sister wouldn't touch me.

However, that girl liked to sleep in other people's arms, always complaining that my second sister's breasts were too big and in the way, saying it was more comfortable for me to hold her while we slept.

Of course, she didn't dare say this to me, only to my second sister, who teased her quite a bit.

Later, I discovered one of my younger sister's flaws: she couldn't drink alcohol. Even a little bit would make her drunk, and once drunk, it was hard for her to wake up.

I took advantage of her flaw to do many bad things behind her back, but now I have to warn her never to drink outside. It

wasn't until the summer vacation after my third year of junior high that I had the chance to see my mother, accompanied by my younger sister.

By then, my uncle had divorced my aunt, and although the two children nominally lived with my uncle, they were still with my mother. I

was quite surprised when I first saw my aunt. She was not yet thirty, her skin was somewhat dark, but her face was even more beautiful than my mother's; no wonder she was called "Black Pearl."

The only drawback was that this Black Pearl hadn't received much education; she was beautiful but lacked substance, far inferior to my mother.

However, everyone who saw her for the first time was sure to be amazed by her.

My uncle actually divorced her; I really admire his cold-bloodedness.

Actually, my uncle is quite adept at dealing with women. He has been married four times, and his current wife has just graduated from university and is younger than me.

Although he has been divorced several times, he maintains good relationships with all his ex-wives.

For example, this "black pearl" (my cousin's nickname) is still with her uncle; whether they're divorced or not makes little difference.

Her uncle's flaw is his fickle nature; he's had one woman after another, especially young girls. His advantage is that he's generous, straightforward, and never forces anyone.

The power of genetics is terrifying, something I truly experienced when I met my two younger cousins.

My cousin was only ten, but I have to admit, he was more handsome and popular than me back then.

My younger cousin, who's always been clingy, rushed over to him like she'd seen a celebrity, easily leaving me behind.

And my eight-year-old cousin—honestly, if I ever regretted never meeting an angel, seeing her makes all my regrets disappear. When she called me "brother," I almost fainted from joy.

Her uncle has always been very proud of his two children, once telling me he'd already written his will, leaving most of his wealth to them.

However, my younger cousin isn't very successful; he hangs out with hooligans all the time, driving his uncle to the brink of a heart attack.

My cousin is also a clingy one.

Of course, she's a little less clingy than my younger sister, but she's cuter, which is the most important factor.

Sometimes I can still be ruthless enough to refuse my younger sister, but as soon as my cousin asks, I have no choice but to happily run over and serve her.

It's really pathetic, really. I've been pampered by women all my life, and now I've become a little girl's plaything and I'm even enjoying it. It's a huge loss of face for me.

However, let me state upfront that I absolutely have not made a move on my cousin, not even the slightest bit of impure thought.

In her presence, it's really hard for anyone to have any impure thoughts.

My cousin's behavior can only be described with one word: cool! There are four girls living next door; the youngest is about the same age as my younger sister, and the oldest is about the same age as my second older sister.

These four girls come to their house almost every day to tease my little cousin. He ignores them and sometimes even throws tantrums, but they just love him, so there's nothing they can do.

Actually, I find them quite annoying too, but I can only avoid them; I can't be as cool as my little cousin. My younger sister, on the other hand, gets along quite well with them. The girls' constant chatter is really unbearable.

However, my little cousin seems to respect me because I'm physically strong.

When I do push-ups, I often have my younger cousin sit on my back, doing dozens in a row, which stuns him.

Plus, I know more than him, so I'm always successful at fooling kids.

My mother cried with excitement when she saw me, hugging me tightly as soon as she saw me.

At that time, I was only 1.64 meters tall, shorter than my mother, and I hadn't changed much, but my mother had changed a lot.

People say that upbringing shapes character, and living environment shapes physique; I think that's definitely true.

Over a year of pampered living had changed my mother quite a bit. Her skin had become fairer, her figure fuller, and she looked younger, exuding a remarkably elegant and serene aura.

This kind of气质 (qi zhi, a kind of refined elegance or poise) can't be faked. Many wealthy women I meet these days either reek of nouveau riche or possess the restless, materialistic air of an elite white-collar worker; they can never embody the calming and reassuring aura of a classic beauty.

It took me several days to understand why my mother had become like this.

She had practically nothing to do there, spending her days painting and occasionally writing. Without the pressures of life or bothersome household chores, she could do what she loved and live the life she wanted—no wonder

she looked so young! If it weren't for her children who cared for her, she might never have gone back.

Actually, I'm naturally active and find it difficult to sit still. It's just that my mother instilled in me from a young age the habit of always carrying a book, and I'm always on the go whenever I have a few minutes of free time, which helps me stay calm.

However, I can usually remain quiet around my mother.

Even now, I still have the habit of touching women with one hand and reading a book with the other, but usually, only my mother, and sometimes my second sister, will cooperate with me to the end.

My mother is also used to lying in my arms, letting me touch her, and sometimes we'll discuss the contents of the book together.

If my second sister isn't busy, she'll lie in my arms and let me touch her, doing nothing else, but sometimes I'll get aroused while touching her.

My eldest sister is very busy, and she also likes me to touch her, saying it soothes her emotions, but sometimes she'll fall asleep while I touch her or remember something to do, which makes me both laugh and cry.

My youngest sister is the most mischievous, never staying still, always climbing up to me to be affectionate, or tickling me and wanting me to talk to her.

My mother reads a much wider variety of books than I do.

I usually only read novels, then historical materials, and occasionally magazines.

My mother reads everything: literature, religion, philosophy, history, geography, painting, calligraphy, sculpture, flowers, cookbooks, clothing, and even erotic novels.

That summer at my uncle's house felt like stepping back in time. I often talked with my mother, lay on her lap, kissed her faint fragrance, and let her gently stroke my hair. I felt that there was no greater happiness in the world. My

aunt, who was no longer my aunt, was always deeply moved by this heartwarming scene, pulling her two children away to keep them from disturbing us.

It would have been even more perfect if my younger sister hadn't occasionally come over and spoiled the mood.

My uncle's house was a three-story villa.

The first floor was the living room, the second floor was where my aunt and the two children lived, and the third floor was the guest room.

Originally, I slept in one room, and my mother and younger sister slept in the other, but sometimes I would stay in my mother's room late and sleep with them without any problem.

My younger sister didn't mind at all; sometimes she would even ask me to stay, which I guessed was because she hadn't been with her family for a long time.

My mother didn't refuse.

However, she usually stayed very late, and when I woke up in the middle of the night, I would often find her not there but watching me.

At that time, I never thought of seducing my mother.

I used to be very curious about women's bodies, but now that curiosity has been completely satisfied by my second sister. What I crave more is the taste of maternal love.

Sometimes I still touch my mother's body, but there's nothing obscene about it.

This is the truth; even now, when I'm with my mother, I can usually suppress my desires, but when I'm with my second sister, I often think about having sex with her.

My mother doesn't seem to mind my intentional or unintentional physical contact because it's within her acceptable range.

I found a lot of paintings in my mother's room. Some were still lifes, some were portraits of my younger cousins, and some were sketches of my older sisters and younger sister. But almost half of them were mine—some were from when I was little, some were from now, and there were even two of me asleep. I don't know when she painted them.

Although I don't understand art, I can at least distinguish between good and bad paintings, and I can clearly see the emotions in them.

What shocked me the most was that I found several nude portraits of myself under the cabinet. One of them was clearly imagined; although my face hadn't changed, it was obvious that I was already an adult.

If it were just a nude painting, it wouldn't matter, but this nude painting depicted someone bathing me, carrying some indescribable meaning that made me blush.

The painting was clearly crumpled up and then unfolded, the creases clearly visible.

Seeing this painting, my heart pounded, and memories from three years ago resurfaced.

I thought my mother had forgotten about it, but it seemed she hadn't.

To me, my mother was like a dream, something ethereal and forever unattainable. Now that this dream had a chance of becoming a reality, how could I give it up? I put the painting away, thinking about how to achieve my goal.

At that moment, I felt grateful for this summer.

Although there was air conditioning in the house, it was still very hot.

I wore less and less clothing when going in and out of my mother's room, sometimes even just my underwear.

My figure was still quite ample, a large, bulging mass; I was sure my mother wouldn't miss it.

At night, when I slept in my mother's bed, I would intentionally or unintentionally touch her thigh with my lower body, and my hand would also intentionally or unintentionally rest on her breast.

Each time, my mother would remove my hand and pull her thigh back, but she wouldn't scold me.

I think her tolerance for me is getting higher and higher, so one day, while my younger sister was watching TV downstairs, I discussed the issue of Oedipus complex and maternal love with my mother.

My mother said, "Almost every man has had an Oedipus complex. After all, the first woman he faces in this world is his mother, the closest person to him is his mother, and the one who treats him best, most selflessly, and without expecting anything in return is also his mother. Maternal love is far greater than romantic love." "Many things..."

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