[Childhood Memories: The Older Brother Next Door (A Short Story with a Green Maternalistic Touch)]

At the farewell dinner before graduation, I drank until I was almost unconscious. A few strong classmates threw me
onto my dorm bed. I kicked my shoes off and passed out.
Around midnight, the air in the dorm reeked of alcohol and foot odor. I woke up needing to pee and got up in the
dark.
After peeing and returning to bed, I couldn't fall back asleep. My mind raced back to that
ridiculous thing I did as a child, something I felt incredibly guilty and regretful about. I've probably thought about it tens of thousands of times…
My father was a chief accountant at a bank, very shrewd with money. He believed that money in the bank
would always lose value in an environment of inflation. So he invested in many financial products and real estate.
Several rental apartments in our neighborhood were under his name. He did
some basic renovations, furnished them, and rented them out. Even the older boy from the Dong ethnic group across the hall rented
our apartment.
This older boy was the son of my dad's friend, studying at a nearby university. My dad, a very
loyal friend, rented the apartment to him at a very low price, and exclusively
to him.
Not only that, but every weekend and holiday, my dad would always invite him over for dinner.
Familiarity breeds contempt. As a child, I quickly became close with him. When he
first took me into his room, I felt like I was in heaven—this older boy, in today's
terms, was a complete otaku. His room was filled with comic books, figurines, and model toys; the living room
even had a PS1 plugged into the TV.
So I often went to his rented room to read comic books, play with toys, and play PS1 games.
But my mom didn't like this older boy. The reason was simple: as an otaku, he
inherited all the typical otaku traits—a lack of personal hygiene. He wore glasses, but they
were always dirty. His hair was always greasy, as if he hadn't washed it in ages. Spring, summer, autumn, and winter, he always wore slippers
everywhere. He was 1.7 meters tall but weighed 95 kilograms.
All of this made my mother feel no affection for this older boy.
My mother is a very traditional Chinese woman who manages our household very well. No matter
how tired she is from work, she always comes home on time to cook, mop the floor, and wash my and my father's dirty clothes. Sometimes when my father's relatives
come to visit, my mother has to cook for them, and after cooking, she can't sit at the table herself; she can only
eat the leftovers after they've finished eating.
My mother's clothing is also very conservative; the low-cut tops and short skirts that are popular nowadays have never appeared on her.
Even the long stockings that were fashionable among housewives are something my mother refuses to wear, thinking they are too revealing.
"Don't let him come to our house for dinner. He doesn't even wash his hair or face. He doesn't even know to change into proper shoes when visiting other people's homes;
he's so inconsiderate," this is what my mother often says to my father after the older boy has eaten at our house
.
"His dad helped me a lot back then, I have to repay that favor. Besides, he's still a kid,
he'll be fine once he enters society," my dad always comforted my mom like that.
Although my mom didn't like my older brother and always thought that someone like him would never find a job or
a wife, she still treated him warmly whenever he came to our house.
"Xiao Zhi, aren't your parents home?" he asked me once when we were playing PS together.
"They went to a wedding banquet," I replied casually, focused on the screen.
He then strongly urged me to bring the PS console to our TV to play, since we had a super-large
LCD TV.
He found a few bottles of beer in our refrigerator and even made me drink one. As a child, I couldn't control myself, and
the two of us made a complete mess of our house.
When my parents came home and saw what had happened, they were furious. My mom pointed her finger at my older brother and berated him, showing
no mercy whatsoever.
"Auntie, Uncle, I was wrong, I know I was wrong." The older brother just blushed and stammered with his head down.
From then on, the older brother came to my house less often, while I went to his house more often.
The older brother bought a new handheld game console, but he never lent it to me. He said if I could find him a
woman he could do whatever he wanted, he would let me play it.
"What do you mean by 'do whatever you want'?"
"It means she's drunk, or unconscious, and you little kid, where are you going? I'm just teasing you."
That's what the older brother said.
I often thought about that handheld game console, and also about how to find an unconscious woman for the older brother, although I
didn't know what use an unconscious woman would be to him. One day, the opportunity came, but this woman was...
"Xiao Zhi, is that Xiao Zhi? I'm your mother's classmate, quickly help your mother into the house." A
woman reeking of alcohol helped my mother, who also reeked of alcohol.
"Xiaozhi, I won't go in. Quickly help your mom inside." The aunt smiled at me and quickly
left.
It seemed my mom had drunk too much at the class reunion, and my dad had gone on a company trip. I was the only sober
person in the family.
Looking at my mom, fast asleep on the sofa, my older brother's words, "a drunk woman," floated into my mind.
When I knocked on the door of the older brother's room next door and handed my mom to him, he was first surprised, then overjoyed
. He practically threw the handheld console at me, telling me to go home and play.
I got the handheld console I had been longing for, forgetting about my mom, and happily went to play on my bed.
But my older brother only gave me the console with a little bit of battery left, not the charging cable.
My older brother was careless; he didn't close the door properly, and I just pushed it open and came in.
The room smelled of alcohol, and there was a man's deep "whoosh," like the sound of someone exhausted after a run
. And the creaking of the bed came from my older brother's bedroom.
I went to my older brother's room and peeked at what was happening to me.
It was the first time I had ever seen a woman naked, pinned down by a man. My own mother
's naked body, the naked body of a woman who was just over ten years old. Her skin was snow-white, her hair beautiful and long, her breasts...
The room, a dark ravine. I didn't know what they were doing, but I felt a faint heat rising in my body.
I didn't know what the older brother was doing to my mother. I was terrified and didn't dare to go forward. My legs went weak, and
I sat down on the ground.
The older brother's buttocks moved back and forth between my mother's legs, his mature, dark male genitals
appearing and disappearing on the inside of my mother's thighs. At that time, I was very surprised because the penis the older brother used to urinate
was very different from mine. Mine could perhaps be called a penis, while the older brother's looked like a thick sausage
!
Even after I went to university, the shock of seeing an adult male's genitals for the first time, and
the scene of my biological mother being raped by a man other than my father, remained vivid in my memory.
My penis became increasingly itchy. I reached into my pants and rubbed it, but it didn't help at all. My heart felt like
it was burning, consuming my brain and throat. I swallowed hard, and my hand unconsciously increased
the speed of rubbing my penis.
My older brother, like a raging bull, frantically thrust his large
"meat stick" into my mother's dark, gaping hole. I remember that scene vividly. My mother was naked, and
her breasts, which I loved to suck on as a child, swayed back and forth with his thrusts. My mother's face, flushed from the alcohol, seemed even
redder than before, and she occasionally let out nasal sounds.
My older brother bent down, his saliva-covered tongue prying open my mother's red lips,
sucking passionately like on television. I was utterly shocked at the time, because I knew that was called "kissing," but when I unintentionally
saw my parents "kissing," it was just a quick kiss on the lips, nothing like my older brother's tongue going in like that
.
My older brother roared, his hands gripping my mother's waist tightly, his buttocks shoving hard
between my mother's dark thighs.
Thinking something had happened to my older brother, I quickly stood up, pushed open the door, and shouted, "Big brother, what's
wrong!"
When he saw me, his eyes widened, and he let out a strange cry. I was so frightened that I fell to the ground.
Sitting on the floor, I watched as my brother's head shook incessantly, his eyes fixed on me, while his lower body remained
pressed tightly against my mother's lower abdomen.
At the time, I didn't understand; now I do: I was witnessing a man other than my father
transferring hundreds of millions of sperm into my mother's uterus.
My brother's penis slowly withdrew from my mother's body. At that time, I didn't know what a glans penis was; I only noticed
that the tip of my brother's penis was different from mine—a large, egg-sized, protruding
, dark red thing.
That dark red thing emerged from my mother's opening, slowly closing vagina, with a
sticky strand of fluid still attached to its tip, like a candied banana in a restaurant.
I remember glancing again at my mother's small, fleshy opening; layers of pink flesh were undulating
and rolling, and a milky liquid seeped from the crevices.
My older brother had lied to me, saying he was helping my mother sober up, otherwise her life would be in danger.
Naively, I believed him. Seeing he'd fooled me, he chuckled and pulled several pairs of
black stockings from a hidden compartment in the wardrobe.
He told me they were medicinal stockings, for treating illness. I asked why there were
white liquid stains on the black stockings, and he said that was the medicine. Of course, now I know that the stockings
were probably covered in my brother's semen after masturbation.
He picked out the stocking with the most semen stains and put it on my mother's legs. This was the first time I'd ever seen
my mother wear black stockings.
My older brother held my mother's small feet, bent her legs, and slowly pulled the stockings up to her buttocks. My mother
's snow-white legs were gradually covered by black fabric, with only the calves and the base of her feet showing
a hint of her natural skin color.
I was too young then to notice anything special about it. Looking back now, I realize that the stockings
accentuated my mother's best features. Her rounded hips, slender calves, and delicate feet were all
beautifully displayed beneath the black stockings.
What I remember most vividly is my mother's genitals. She wasn't wearing underwear, just stockings,
the bulging pubic hair hinting at its mystery. The pink vulva and the barely visible opening made
one want to tear the stockings to see what lay beneath.
After she was dressed, my older brother rummaged through a pile of shoeboxes and found a pair of white leather high heels with gold heels for her
. At the time, I thought it was a strange sight: my mother completely naked from the waist up, her breasts exposed,
yet wearing black stockings and high heels.
After a while, I understood my older brother's intention. He bent down, his nimble tongue licking from my mother's
toes all the way down to her buttocks, the stockings glistening with his saliva. He also kept rubbing my mother
's nipples with his hands.
Then, he directly tore the stockings at my mother's crotch, revealing her dark vulva, which looked incredibly
tempting and alluring through the pubic hair. My older brother's penis, which had just gone limp, became erect again.
This time, for the first time, I saw how a man other than my father inserted his penis into my mother
's vagina: my older brother's egg-sized glans slowly parted my mother's delicate labia, forcing
open the already closed vaginal opening. The vaginal opening, like a suction cup, instantly sucked the large glans into the dark hole, and
my older brother then inserted his entire penis into my mother's vagina.
My older brother brought my mother's two beautiful legs in black stockings together and placed them on his shoulders, wantonly licking
my mother's legs with his tongue. Her lower body was also stretched into a straight line because her legs were together, with only
the area where her older brother's penis was inserted being a round, fleshy opening.
Her high heels swayed with each thrust, shimmering alluringly under the light, and
large clumps of some unknown liquid clung to the torn parts of her black stockings.
Soon, her older brother ejaculated a second time inside her.
He told me not to tell anyone about this, because this method of treatment was very life-threatening.
If everyone sought his treatment, he would die quickly, and I wouldn't be able to invite him to play games or read comics anymore.
I promised him I would clean my mother's body and carry her home.
Afterwards, my older brother graduated and moved to the city where he worked. Before he left, my father invited him to
our house for a meal once more.
I remember my father saying to my older brother, "Don't blame your aunt for what happened last time; she
was just angry. She's usually very virtuous, you know that."
My older brother said, "Uncle, I know. Aunt is indeed a very good person; I won't be angry with her."
My father didn't know that my mother's womb had already been filled with my older brother's semen.
After my older brother graduated, my mother gave birth to her second child, and my father was overjoyed. I remember
on the day of the child's 100-day celebration, my father drank too much, held my younger brother, and ran to my older brother and his father, saying, "Look, I'm already
this old; even with protection, I can't stop my offspring. My wife gave me my second big, healthy son."

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[Childhood Memories: The Older Brother Next Door (A Short Story with a Green Maternalistic Touch)]

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