Incestuous mother

We lived in the countryside, and our family was poor. I don't know what charm my father possessed that allowed him to marry my beautiful and gentle mother. In my memory, my mother was simply stunning: tall, with a fair complexion (a rare sight in the countryside), a soft voice, and especially her breasts. Although she had given birth, time hadn't left many marks on them; they remained firm and full. When she carried loads, her breasts swayed, making many men, including myself, unbearably aroused. I secretly observed that it would take at least two hands to touch them, but unfortunately, people in the countryside didn't wear bras back then, otherwise they would have been large (extra large).
Perhaps it was a man's instinct, but I vaguely liked my mother when I was little. Sometimes I would beg and find an excuse to sleep with her, but I never did anything inappropriate. I remember when I was eight or nine, my mother was breastfeeding my younger sister, and I watched intently, a look of longing on my face. My mother smiled and said, "You're all grown up now, still wanting to eat?" I had to walk away, but my mother's mature figure was deeply imprinted in my heart. My mother seemed to have no inhibitions, often wearing loose underwear and tank tops in front of us. In the summer breeze, we could vaguely see her large breasts without a bra. When she sat on the sofa reading newspapers or watching TV, I would always use excuses like dropping a pen or going to the bathroom to peek at her private parts, but unfortunately, I didn't see anything. A few times, I only saw a glimpse of her pubic hair. Even more unbearable was that she often urinated in the nearby toilet without regard for our presence. A few times, I even saw her undoing her menstrual belt to change something, but I was too timid to look directly at her. This continued until I was in the second year of junior high school.
That summer was particularly hot, coinciding with the busy double-cropping season in agriculture. The adults, exhausted from a long day's work, went to bed early. I was also very tired. For some reason, I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. I felt like I had inexhaustible energy. Maybe it was puberty, or maybe it was because I had just started studying physiology and hygiene. Suddenly, I had an urge. I tiptoed into my mother's room (my father is a night owl), and gently lifted a corner of the mosquito net. I saw my mother wearing loose underwear and a vest. The vest had been pulled up halfway in her sleep, revealing half of her breast. Her thighs were wide open and slightly bent, and she was snoring softly. The fan was blowing from the side, and as the underwear was blown around, I could see glimpses of dark, curly pubic hair and the surrounding fat. I couldn't stand it! I really wanted to pounce on her, but I didn't dare. My outstretched hand trembled and withdrew. I went back to bed feeling sullen. This continued for several days, leaving me at a loss. My mother didn't notice my strange behavior and continued to do her chores and sleep as usual (still wearing loose underwear and a vest).
One night, I actually reached out and slowly pulled down my mother's underwear. And there it was—as the underwear was pulled down little by little, I saw the sacred place I had longed for day and night—lush pubic hair, a full vulva, and a swollen, dark "bean" on the vulva…it really looked just like in the textbook. As I continued pulling down the underwear, my mother jumped up and said in a low voice, "I'm your own mother! How can you do this to your ancestors?
" I stood there dumbfounded, speechless. My mother asked again, "Did something happen at school? Who do you usually play with?" "Nothing. I was thinking…" Just then, the door opened. I quickly went to open it. "Why aren't you asleep yet?" my father asked as soon as he entered. "I was discussing something with him; his school starts soon," my mother said, appearing out of nowhere to smooth things over. We said goodnight to each other and went to sleep. The next day, I slept until late morning. Normally, my mother would have already made me get up to do chores. For several days, I didn't speak much to my mother. Fortunately, the harvest season ended a few days later, and I went back to school for extra classes. Since that incident, I noticed my mother dressed much more seriously, even wearing long pants to bed. The chances for me were slim.
As a farm boy, for the sake of my future and livelihood, I could only study diligently and was admitted to the city's top high school with excellent grades. Seeing me studying so hard, my mother seemed to have forgotten about the incident, and went back to wearing loose underwear and a vest to bed. But then something happened during the summer of my second year of high school, something I now find unbearable to recall!
Strangely enough, that summer was exceptionally hot. After the harvest season ended, school hadn't started extra classes, so I stayed home. One night, I went into my mother's room to get some hot water and glanced at her sleeping body (I saw her fair thighs). My father was up late again, and his long-dormant desires were rekindled. I whispered, "Mom, is there any hot water?" She didn't answer. A surge of joy washed over me. I secretly climbed onto the bed, kneeling beside her thighs, my head hovering above her private parts, my hands carefully pulling down her panties… When they were almost down, Mom opened her sleepy eyes—such a complex look: anger, surprise, disappointment… She said in a low voice, "What a terrible thing to do! What a disgrace!" Her tone was full of sorrow. I don't know where the courage came from, but I suddenly hugged Mom and whispered, "Mom, teach me…" "Teach me what? You'll know when you're older!" Perhaps Mom noticed I was hugging her tighter, because she pushed me away, and I fell off the bed. Don't think nonsense! The hope of the whole family, the whole clan… My mind went blank. Dejected, I went back to my room to sleep. I heard Mom let out a long sigh, a sigh I'll never forget—a long, heavy, resentful sigh, like a hammer pounding into my heart, a wave of pain.
After years of hardship, I was admitted to a prestigious university in the north, ranking first in the city—a university considered the "official lineage" of the university. My whole family and village were overjoyed. After attending the university's awards ceremony, I reluctantly returned home. My mother was excited to see me, scrutinizing me closely. Seeing her smiling face, I was overwhelmed with emotion. As usual, we held ancestral worship at home, setting up a few tables for a feast, before I set off north.
During my first winter break in college, I was fighting with my younger sister, who had just started junior high, over a game console. I pinned her down on the bed, our position resembling that of a couple having sex. I yelled, "Give me back my game console!" "Brother, you're so mean! You bullied me like Dad bullied Mom! Mean! Mean!..." These words were like a thunderclap. "Dad bullied Mom?" "Bullyed Mom?" I murmured.
My mother and I try our best to avoid discussing our mother-son relationship in our daily conversations, but we both know that every action and word we share together is making our relationship increasingly close. For us, crossing that line isn't a question of whether, but when.
While washing the dishes, hearing the sound of running water from my mother's shower, I could no longer suppress my desire to have sex with her. Hearing her turn off the tap, I pushed open the bathroom door, opened the glass door of the bathtub, and said to her, "Mom, let me dry you." My mother smiled shyly at me, "Go away." But I tried to grab the towel from her hand, and she resisted for a few moments before letting go. I dried my mother's hair, chest, and back. My mother's breasts have always been firm and full. In addition, my mother's upper body is slightly plump, and the fat on her back and lower abdomen gives her a kind of voluptuous beauty, no less than a well-defined figure. My mother's pubic hair was quite thick. Dark, curly pubic hair densely covered her pubic area. When I started to wipe her lower body, she snatched the towel from my hand.
I watched quietly as she finished wiping her buttocks, pubic area, thighs, and calves. Then, I said to her, "I want Mommy." She wanted to put on underwear and a bra, but I stopped her. "Mommy, don't wear them," I said. I took her hand and led her out of the bathroom and into my bedroom.
My mother, as if sleepwalking, obeyed my lead and stood in front of my large mirror. We stared at my mother's naked body in the mirror. She looked at the mirror, watching me caress her breasts, lower abdomen, and pubic area. We looked at each other in and out of the mirror. I undressed and began to slowly kiss her. She opened her mouth, letting my tongue explore her oral cavity. When I paused, she kissed me back.
I led her to my bedside, with her back to the bed. I gently pushed her down onto the bed. Mom obediently lay down, her upper body on the bed and her lower body off. I grabbed two large pillows from the headboard and placed them under her head, then grabbed her legs, which were dangling off the bed, and draped them over my shoulders. I pressed my engorged, purplish-red penis against her vulva. Mom reached out her gentle little hand, grasped my penis, and guided it into her vagina. I thrust forward, and my penis slid smoothly into her vagina in one go. Mom's vagina was already very slippery. When I pulled my penis out, I saw that it was completely covered in Mom's vaginal secretions. Under the bedside lamp, Mom's love fluid made my penis glisten. Today, Mom seemed to be completely relaxed, and therefore I also felt an indescribable comfort and relaxation.
However, for some reason, by the time I penetrated my mother, I was already at orgasm. But my mother's resistance was actually quite stimulating foreplay for me. I could clearly feel that her resistance only intensified my desire, making me want her even more.
Standing while having sex with my mother, I could clearly see her vaginal opening and the entire process of my penis entering and exiting. My mother had her eyes closed, letting me go in and out. It was clear she was thoroughly enjoying it. Her large breasts swayed with each thrust. With each stroke, I could see three-quarters of my glans protruding, only the tip remaining in contact with her vaginal opening. At this point, I would arch my back, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, pushing my entire penis into her vagina. My mother began to moan softly with my rhythmic thrusting.
I told my mother, "I like hearing your moans, they sound so stimulating. If you feel really good, moan loudly, don't hold back, don't be shy. I like hearing it." My mother opened her eyes and asked, "Really?" "I do like hearing it," I said. "Hearing your moans tells me how to make you feel good." My mother closed her eyes again, and her moans grew louder. I could feel that her vagina was even more slippery. At first, if I thrust too much, my penis would slip out of her vagina. My mother would calmly reach out and grasp my penis, aligning it with her vaginal opening, allowing me to reinsert it. It seemed that my mother
was having an orgasm; her vaginal opening was noticeably wider. Perhaps it was because her vaginal opening was open, perhaps it was because of the large amount of vaginal lubrication, or perhaps it was because I had become accustomed to this position when having sex with my mother, but in any case, after my mother moaned loudly, when my penis slipped out of her vagina again, I only needed to lean forward, and my penis would naturally re-enter her vagina. My mother's vaginal opening seemed to have formed a funnel shape, automatically guiding my penis into her vagina. So I deliberately increased the amplitude of my thrusts, each time letting the head of my penis leave my mother's vagina about 10 centimeters away, and then quickly inserting it all the way in. After only a few thrusts, my mother groaned loudly as if in a dream, "Ah, ah, so comfortable." "Really?" I felt even more stimulated.
"Comfortable, comfortable, ah," my mother groaned. "How did you do that? You really know how. So comfortable." I stood and had sex with my mother, letting her lie on the bed with her thighs facing outwards, her buttocks slightly protruding from the edge of the bed. I held my mother's legs, watching her thighs spread open, her vulva completely exposed to my eyes.
This time, having sex with my mother, I also felt very comfortable and very stimulated, but I was always able to control the urge to ejaculate very well. Only during four or five consecutive vigorous thrusts did I feel the urge to ejaculate, but as long as I stopped for a few seconds, the urge would subside, while still maintaining my orgasmic pleasure. I'd been having sex with my mother for about half an hour, and I still hadn't ejaculated. During that time, my mother had five or six orgasms. We'd never had sex for so long before.
My mother kept moaning. When the moaning stopped, I could clearly hear the sound of my penis going in and out of her vagina. It was the squelching sound of the lubricated vaginal walls as my penis withdrew. Looking at my mother's closed eyes, her expression a mixture of pain and pleasure, seeing her breasts swaying back and forth, her open vagina, and hearing her moans with each thrust, I thought my mother was so lewd, so adorable.
Suddenly, my mother opened her eyes as if startled awake and asked me, "You didn't ejaculate, did you?" I told her I hadn't, and to reassure her. But Mom pressed on, worried, "You won't ejaculate now, will you?" I said no. Mom then reminded me, "Whatever you do, don't ejaculate inside." Yoko looked a little pitiful as Mom spoke to me. I felt like Mom and I were now equals. I was no longer Mom's son, but her sexual partner, a partner Mom had to treat as an equal. This was something that had never happened between Mom and me before.
"Promise me you won't ejaculate inside Mom, okay?" "Don't worry, Mom, I won't ejaculate," I reassured Mom as I slowly thrust in and out of her vagina. "If I feel like I'm going to ejaculate, I'll definitely tell you, don't worry." Mom closed her eyes again, focusing on enjoying the pleasure of intercourse.
Mom curled her legs up, spreading them apart to form an "M." Mom's feet, like the two legs of the "M," rested in my hands. The V-shaped tip of the "M" was Mom's genitals. As I thrust in and out of my mother's vagina, her knees, or rather, her breasts, repeatedly contracted and relaxed. It was clear she was completely open. At this moment, my mother had become my woman, a woman enjoying the sexual pleasure I provided. I no longer felt that my mother was my elder, but rather like my junior, needing my care and comfort.
My mother lay naked before me, her legs draped over my waist. As my penis entered her vagina, her full breasts and lower abdomen swayed like frozen powder. Both physically and psychologically, it was no longer my mother who was superior, but me. Thinking of this, I felt incredibly excited. I placed her legs on either side of my hips, freeing my hands to caress her breasts, waist, inner thighs, calves, and feet. I increased the amplitude of my thrusts. Each time I penetrated her vagina, she let out a soft moan as my penis went deeper.
"Mom, don't be shy, I love hearing your voice, it's so stimulating," I said, stroking her inner thighs, encouraging her to relax completely. She didn't open her eyes or answer. But her moans, previously suppressed and intermittent, became continuous, almost crying sounds, which sounded incredibly arousing.
I pulled my penis completely out of her vagina, then thrust in again. The moment my glans touched her vaginal opening, she began to make muffled "ooh" sounds. As our intercourse deepened, her "ooh" transformed into distinct "ah" sounds, growing louder and louder until my penis reached the very end of her vagina, at which point her moans stopped. With slow, her "ooh" and "ah" sounds were also slow, the "ooh" relatively long, the "ah" relatively short. With rapid thrusting, her "ooh" sounds became much shorter, sometimes almost inaudible, replaced entirely by loud "ah" sounds.
As the climax subsided slightly, Mom opened her eyes, opened her arms, and said to me, "Mommy wants to kiss you." I leaned down and kissed her, my penis still inside her vagina. Mom hugged me and kissed me continuously, refusing to let go. Our tongues intertwined, pressed together, chased each other, and explored deep into each other's mouths. Mom's teasing of my tongue aroused my desire to ejaculate. I tried to push Mom away. Mom wouldn't let go of me. I felt I was about to ejaculate. I said to Mom, "Mommy, this is too stimulating, I'm afraid I'll ejaculate." I continued thrusting while caressing Mom's breasts. I still ejaculated deep into Mom's vagina.

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