Ambiguous relationship with mother

Hearing the sound of water coming from the bathroom, I knew Mom was enjoying a shower. The thought of her being naked, listening to the rushing water as she washed herself, made my blood boil, especially since there was only a thin wall between us. I imagined: Mom cupping her full breasts in her hands, Mom scrubbing her deep red vagina with her fingers, Mom rubbing her plump buttocks… I wanted to strain my ears to hear and fantasize at the same time. When the water slowed down, I quickly sat up straight. With a sudden burst of energy, I quietly ran to the bathroom vent and lay down. Less than a minute later, I saw Mom open the glass shower door, and through the swirling steam, a beautiful mature woman emerged from the shower with a towel. Her breasts hung low in front of her chest, and the pubic hair in her pubic area clung tightly to her full mons pubis from the washing. She dried her fair, full body as she walked towards the sink. My mother's breasts were slightly sagging, after all, she had breastfed and was middle-aged, but thankfully they hadn't lost their shape; her breasts were still full, two purple grapes set against her deep red areolas, looking exceptionally three-dimensional and alluring.

My mother stood in front of the sink, drying herself with a bath towel. With each movement, her breasts trembled slightly, even her dangling labia minora swayed, making me afraid to blink. My mother was very hygienic; she didn't use the hotel towel to dry her labia, but instead dried her pubic hair with the towel before gently wiping them with a tissue. No wonder she was so well-maintained; apart from the unavoidable dark purple of her labia, everything else was perfect. A short while later, my mother finished drying herself, picked up the short-sleeved shirt I had given her, and prepared to put it on. Just as she turned to the side, it was as if some intuition struck her. She paused for two seconds, then suddenly called my name. I quickly strode over and lay down on the bed, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart. "What's wrong, Mom?" I asked. "It's nothing." A second or two later, I heard my mom's reply. Less than a minute later, I heard the door open, and then I saw my mom come out. Her wet hair was draped over her shoulders, still glistening even after being dried. Since my white t-shirt was wet, it clung tightly to my mom's body, making her nipples proudly stand erect. As for her lower body, I was even more incredulous: the t-shirt barely covered her buttocks, leaving her white thighs exposed, even more so after her shower. The t-shirt was too short; if she bent over or straightened up, her lower body would definitely be exposed. I was stunned; I actually found my clothes sexy, but it was actually because my mom's body was sexy. I was almost staring intently. My mom noticed my unusual behavior early on and said, "Don't just stand there, go take a shower." "Mom, you're so sexy," I blurted out, unable to contain myself. She paused for a moment, perhaps not expecting me to be so direct: "Stop talking nonsense, go take a shower." Seeing my mom's stern face, I knew I shouldn't bother, so I quickly took off my shorts, standing in the room in my underwear that barely concealed my erection. My mom sat on the bed, ignoring me. Realizing something was wrong, I quickly grabbed my phone and went into the bathroom. After

closing the door, I immediately searched for clues. There were a few short, curly pubic hairs on the floor, undoubtedly my mom's. I carefully picked them up, dried them, and placed them next to the sink, intending to keep them as a souvenir. I eagerly opened my phone, rewatching the photos and videos I had just taken. Watching my mom's voluptuous body in the videos, my penis became rock hard. I masturbated for a while before taking a shower to cool down. When I came out of the shower, I was wrapped in a towel. My mom was standing between the two beds, bending over with her back to me, drying her hair. Because of the whirring of the hairdryer, my mom didn't know I was out at first. So, from behind, I admired her slightly exposed buttocks and a few pubic hairs. As Mom dried her hair and bent over to unplug the appliance, her t-shirt slipped up above her plump buttocks. Seeing her thick, protruding labia majora and minora, I couldn't resist taking a picture. Just then, she noticed me behind her, glanced at me, and pulled her t-shirt down with one hand. Good grief, the shirt was only so long; what was the point of pulling it down further? It was pointless, a complete attempt to cover it up. The atmosphere at that moment was incredibly awkward. I lay on the bed looking at my phone, while Mom propped herself up on the bed with a pillow, but covered her legs with the blanket. Now I was doomed; I couldn't see anything. Silence fell between us. If unintentional exposure at home was Mom's habit, something she initiated; now, in this small room, it was passive, because she had nothing to wear. So her relaxed mood turned into wariness. After a while, I broke the awkward silence by asking Mom if she wanted to watch TV. Mom hummed in agreement. So we turned on the TV and happened to find the family drama she'd been watching lately. Even though the episode numbers didn't match, we watched it with great interest, as if the awkwardness of the evening had vanished. We didn't notice what time it was when some strange noises suddenly came from inside the motel. Yes, it was the classic, passionate moaning sound from inside the motel. The sound was like the creation of the world, booming in. The girl's "Ah! Ah! Ah!" made me instantly salute, mixed with a rhythmic "slap! slap! slap!" At that time, I only knew the basics of three shallow thrusts followed by one deep one, or nine shallow thrusts followed by three deep ones. Judging from the sound, it was going all the way through every time. Damn, this was animalistic! Neither my mom nor I said a word. The girl's voice grew louder and louder, but I couldn't tell if it was coming from next door or upstairs/downstairs. I pretended to sigh heavily, feigning helplessness. My mom understood what I meant and said, "Just watch TV." "This is too noisy," I complained. Mom ignored me. A few more minutes passed, and the battle was still going on. Mom got annoyed: "Turn it off, I'm not watching anymore, I'm going to sleep." I didn't insist, so I turned off the TV and the lights. Mom stretched, and there was a "crack" sound, the kind of sound where joints rub together. "Mom, please be quiet, I'm going to sleep," I joked.

"I sat in the car for too long today, my back aches," Mom replied. "Let me massage you," I said, seizing the opportunity. "No need." Mom knew exactly what I was thinking. "Oh, don't be so polite, we're like family." I didn't give her time to refuse, and went straight to sit on the edge of her bed, massaging her shoulders with both hands. Because of uneven pressure, Mom cried out in pain several times. I asked Mom to turn over, but she didn't turn over immediately. Instead, she slowly turned to lie flat on her back, her back to me. I gently lifted the blanket, revealing Mom's two long, white legs. I remained sitting on the edge of the bed, keeping my distance from Mom, and massaged her from the side, giving her a sense of security. After massaging her shoulders, I patted her back and waist, then moved on to her full buttocks. My mom's buttocks were absolutely gorgeous—white and firm, without the sagging and looseness often seen in mature women. Because of the shoulder and back massage, I'd unintentionally pulled her t-shirt up a bit, but the room was too dark, and I didn't know how much of her genitals were exposed. If we were at home on the sofa, with her wearing pants, I might have dared to pretend to pat her buttocks a couple of times. But I didn't dare touch her now; she was only wearing a short t-shirt, and I knew I couldn't directly touch her skin. After a brief moment's thought, I placed my hands on my mom's thighs and started squeezing them hard. Perhaps because her legs weren't very sensitive, she didn't say anything and let me do as I pleased. While massaging her thighs, I swung them outwards, inadvertently separating them slightly. As the massage moved down, I boldly straddled the bed, but kept my legs a distance from hers, avoiding direct contact. My mom quietly enjoyed my service. I braced myself on the bed with both hands, carefully lowering my head to my mother's crotch, only daring to inhale softly. Because she had showered that evening, her genitals didn't have much of an odor. Last time in the kitchen, I only caught a whiff, but this time I could smell it properly. I felt my heart was about to leap out of my chest. Perhaps sensing my hands had been still for too long, my mother tried to turn over to check, but her buttocks slammed into my face, my nose and her plump bottom making intimate contact. "What are you doing!" my mother scolded angrily. "Nothing, I was just about to get down when you turned over, and it hurt my nose," I protested. Actually, it was just a slight scrape, a bump from a beautiful, mature woman's plump buttocks. "Get off!" my mother snapped. It seemed I was truly doomed this time. I slunk back to my own bed, my heart nearly stopping. Most people have had the experience of making a mistake as a child, feeling like the sky was falling, wishing they could die immediately. That's how I felt then, a feeling of utter despair. My mom sat on the bed, and in the dim light of the night, I noticed she was looking at me. She spoke first, "XX (my nickname), Mom's so old, what's there to see?"

She didn't name names for everything I did, but I knew what she meant. "Mom, you're not old, I'm so sorry," I said softly, almost crying. "Mom hopes you won't go astray. I saw on the news the other day that a man was groping a woman on the subway, and his face was slapped until it was swollen." "No, I'm not a pervert," I replied. "I know, you have an Oedipus complex, something Mom hasn't noticed all these years. It's Mom's fault." Mom's voice lowered; she seemed to have calmed down. "Mom, I'm sorry, I'll manage." "You've always had good grades; your father and I have never had to worry about you. Do you know? Peeping is illegal. I can sue you, I can put you in jail, but I don't want that." Mom's words were barbed. She was right; I was speechless. At that moment, I was nothing more than a son who had made a mistake, a pervert, sitting next to the woman I had hurt. I knew she was wary of me at that moment, I knew she would forgive me out of family ties, and I knew we would face each other with fake smiles from now on. But I really don't want to lose this relationship!

[The End]

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