A recollection of a past love affair with one's mother: The Wild Boar Chasing the Wind

Author: Chasing the Wind Little Wild Boar
Date: April 22, 2012
I've been lurking for a long time and have read many excellent works. I've always wanted to share my experiences with everyone, but I'm hampered by my poor writing skills, and often when I pick up a pen, I don't know where to begin. During these conflicting days, I also came across and encountered many masterpieces of erotic fiction in the forum's comment and recommendation sections. I'm not exactly a qualified erotic fiction reader; many of the stories I've read weren't posted in chronological order. Some of the more memorable ones include: "The Breakthrough Between Mother and Son After the New Year," "Chen Pipi's Struggle," "My Mom Called Me Home for Dinner," "A Memoir of Motherly Love," "Snow-White Buttocks," etc., as well as some short erotic stories, such as "Mother and Son's Love in the Attic" and "Mother's Helplessness." Many erotic stories on forums these days read very artificially. The writing is rough, and the plots don't even connect with reality. Perhaps some readers enjoy visual impact, but personally, I usually skip articles where screams and moans take up most of the text.
Okay, enough rambling, let's start my story. Please forgive any shortcomings in my writing.
(I)
I think many people have a mother complex in childhood, just to varying degrees. Everyone's experiences are different; some families are more open, others more conservative, and parents' love for their children varies. The reasons for incest also differ, but one thing is certain: a mother's love for her children. I believe all mothers in the world cherish their children. I know many readers might ask me, "If you know your mother loves you, how could you have a relationship with your own mother?" To be honest, I don't have a definitive answer myself. I know it's incest, it shouldn't have happened, but I know I love my mother. Everything that happened seemed so natural to me, so natural that I can't find a single particularly special experience to describe. I believe that all sons deeply love their mothers, the mothers who gave me life and raised me. And I, an ordinary son in reality, encountered so many unlikely events with my mother, and so my story with her slowly began. My mother was born into
a scholarly family in the 1960s. From a young age, she studied the Four Books and Five Classics with her father, receiving the influence of traditional culture. Later, because her education level was slightly higher than average, she was exposed to some open-minded ideas in university. After being assigned a job, she married my father, who only had an elementary school education. My father wasn't impotent or violent, nor did he like to beat his wife, as some erotic novels portray him, even though he only had an elementary school education. My parents married through a traditional arranged marriage. My mother probably initially liked my father because of his sunny and handsome appearance. However, his circumstances were very difficult. I clearly remember that when I was old enough to remember things, we didn't have a single light bulb in our house, nor did we have a concrete staircase. Back then, my mother would carry me up the bamboo ladder at night. Our home was incredibly simple. We barely managed to make ends meet with my father's carpentry work and my mother's salary. But my parents spoiled me no less than any parent born in the 1980s today. Aside from slightly poorer living conditions, my childhood was filled with things like snacks, toys, clothes, and shoes that many children at that time couldn't even dream of. Of course, I'm not bragging; I'm just giving an example to illustrate how much my parents spoiled me—excessively so.
Thanks to the reform and opening up policy and my parents' hard work, our family's conditions gradually improved. Like many people remember, we renovated our house and no longer lived in a house without stairs. Soon, I left my mother's warm embrace and had to climb the sturdy, cold stairs alone. The image of me as a child, nestled in my mother's arms, my little hands clutching her breasts, watching her struggle up the bamboo ladder, is forever etched in my mind, like a brand. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why I have such a strong Oedipus complex many years later.
Before I entered elementary school, I still slept with my parents. I occasionally saw them making love, but I was too young to understand it, and I didn't have any impure thoughts, so my memories of those things are very vague. The only thing I remember vividly is that in winter, my mother would tuck my feet between her legs to keep me warm, so much so that after my father made me sleep alone, I spent several winters longing for my mother's legs.
Children born in the 1980s tend to be precocious, and I was no exception. In fourth grade, I was already playing pranks on the girls in my class with the mischievous boys – basically, the kind of teasing we'd develop as adults. My elementary school wasn't far from home, only about 100 meters. Back then, my mother loved listening to pop songs on her tape recorder. Towards the end of my elementary school years, I often bought her tapes of popular songs. After lunch at school, I'd listen to them with her, and she'd even hum a tune when she was in a good mood. Once, I got first place in my class on a test and brought home a certificate. While we were listening to music at lunchtime, my mother praised me, hugged me happily, kissed my forehead, and then lingered on my right cheek for three or four seconds. It was just a sweet gesture between mother and son, but I remembered it vividly because of the sweet feeling it evoked.
When I entered junior high, my grades weren't as good as they were in elementary school, but I was still among the top students in my class. But my mother wasn't satisfied with my ranking, and her discipline became stricter, greatly diminishing my image of her as a gentle mother. I remember at that time, she started asking teachers and other parents for advice, then finding suitable tutoring classes and tutors for me. Looking back, I realize how devoted parents are, but at that time, I was at a rebellious age, always disobeying my mother's wishes, and sometimes even speaking rudely and talking back. Once, my mother was so angry with me that she tricked me into her room, locked the door to prevent me from escaping, and then took out a broom from behind the door and started hitting my bottom with it. I can't remember how hard it hit me now, I just remember being stunned, turning around, and seeing my mother hitting me, I couldn't even believe my eyes. I didn't cry, but my mother, tired of hitting and scolding me, sat down on a chair next to me and began to berate me—or rather, to motivate me to study. As she spoke, she became increasingly convinced that I wasn't living up to her expectations, and she started to cry. That was the first and only time I ever saw my mother cry. I admit I was incredibly proud at that moment, but I couldn't bear the sadness she was instilling in me, and I cried too. I don't know if I had already fallen in love with my mother then, but from that moment on, I began to study even harder. Of course, I didn't neglect my hobbies. I remember first encountering erotic novels because of my cousin. In junior high, a cousin of marriageable age lived with us. I don't remember exactly why she lived with us, but I vaguely remember she was dating a boy, and her family objected. After she eloped with her future husband, she left behind several books, which my mother had originally hidden. Out of childish curiosity, I found them in an old, worn-out box. I believe many girls have lustful thoughts, because I know my cousin also likes to read these pornographic books, and her name is clearly written on them. If I could still find those books now and blackmail her, I wonder what she would think, haha. Of course, this is just wishful thinking. She's not much older than my mother, maybe only 7 or 8 years old, but she's not good at skincare, unlike my mother, who has become increasingly fond of skincare since our family's financial situation improved. The number of skincare books and medications we have at home has increased as I've grown older. But let's get back to the topic and talk about that pornographic book. Actually, looking back now, in this information age, that pornographic book is far inferior to any pornographic book available today. The illustrations in the comics either didn't show genitals or were just dark blurry images, and the dialogue was very subtle. Undeniably, for me, who was entering puberty, the impact was no less than a stellar collision. Thus, I entered puberty under the guidance of their sexual enlightenment and those leaflets about aphrodisiacs.
Then, during puberty, I became very different from many people. For example, my childhood best friend told me he liked a girl a year younger than us. I told him I had a crush on our elementary school music teacher, and he didn't understand. I didn't have a definite answer for him either. One day, while browsing the internet later in life, I suddenly realized that it was a manifestation of Oedipus complex. I suddenly understood. I wondered if my childhood friend had harbored doubts, wondering if I was thinking about my mother every day. In junior high, the physiology teacher didn't take it seriously at all. The science teacher at that time was a male teacher who had just graduated. Based on my own life experience, I guessed he only had a superficial understanding of physiology. Because it wasn't until long after I graduated from university that I learned that women still bleed after childbirth and tubal ligation, and that menopause only occurs in their fifties or sixties. But I didn't know that at the time. Once, I ran out of toilet paper in my room, so I went to my parents' room. After relieving myself, I suddenly saw my mother's used sanitary napkin in the toilet paper roll. If it were me now, I probably wouldn't have any evil thoughts, but back then I was in puberty and full of curiosity about women's physiology, and evil thoughts instantly overwhelmed me. I found my mother's underwear in my parents' bathroom, imagining what she looked like, and gently placed the underwear on my penis, pressing it. It felt very comfortable. After a while, I suddenly felt a slight urge to urinate. I thought that must be what the biology textbook called ejaculation. I suddenly had an urge to ejaculate on my mother's underwear, wondering if my mother would get pregnant. But I was still afraid of being discovered by my mother, so I hurriedly covered my penis with my hand. That's how I completed my first masturbation with my mother's underwear.
(II)
To be honest, while sharing my memories of the past with everyone, my account went from level 1 to level 2. I'm so happy! After I finish writing down my memories, of course, not just my mother, but also my memories with my wife, I guess my account will become much higher level, and I'll have more browsing privileges. I'm fantasizing again... As I always say, people who are behind the scenes are all horny and repressed. My wife is a typical example of that. Yesterday, after I finished writing that small part, I even showed it to my wife. Before going to bed last night, she kept teasing me. I patted her butt and said, "Your son will steal your underwear someday, just you wait." My wife didn't say anything, probably fantasizing. After a while, she turned around and stroked my penis up and down, saying, "I want it." I turned on the light and asked, "Who was just teasing me? Fantasizing about their own son?" My wife blushed and buried her face in my chest...
Here's a little tidbit for you guys to enjoy, and I also want to thank the moderator for the guidance and the support from you guys. Now, I'll continue writing my recollections from last time.
Ever since I started masturbating with my mother's underwear, it felt like I was tasting the most exquisite delicacy in the world. The stimulation and pleasure it brought me, both sensoryly and psychologically, far surpassed any video game console or toy I had ever played with before. It was precisely because I derived such immense pleasure and satisfaction from my mother's underwear that, almost every noon afterward, I would use the excuse of relieving myself to go to my parents' bathroom. I even came up with a reason that rivaled the intelligence of an adult: that I used my own toilet seat, often splashing dirty water onto my buttocks. My mother believed me without question, and after I tearfully complained about my own toilet seat, she strongly encouraged me to go to her bathroom. My mother, of course, never imagined that a thirteen or fourteen-year-old child would develop such a strong interest in his own mother's underwear, nor did she realize that her son was gradually approaching the castle of her life under the influence of an Oedipus complex.
And so, encouraged by my mother, I began to express my love for her by using her underwear. It was through these repeated masturbations that my feelings for her slowly began to become distorted and warped. Gradually, what started as occasionally fantasizing about my mother's body while holding her underwear developed into a situation where, no matter what arousing material or picture I saw, the first woman I thought of was my mother. Given my father's careless nature, he certainly didn't notice these actions, but I'm not sure if my mother was aware of them.
As the saying goes, "He who walks by the river will eventually get wet," and I wasn't always able to control myself when I was emotionally aroused. Later, I started to enjoy using my mother's soft clothes and bras to cover my penis and making thrusting motions. This inevitably caused my penis to wet them. One afternoon, I saw a purple bra of my mother hanging on the balcony. Based on my experience of frequently entering and leaving my parents' bathroom and knowing the color of my mother's clothes inside and out, I knew that was her only purple bra. The day before, it had been lying quietly in her laundry basket… I told myself at the time that she might have been preparing to wash it but had forgotten to put it in the basin.
But later, I realized that my mother most likely had noticed. The liquid was sticky, and the temperature through her skin would reveal the presence of something. An experienced woman could tell at a touch whether it was water or discharge. However, my mother never asked me, nor did she offer any warnings or hints. I never dared to tell her that I had been masturbating with her clothes at that time. She would definitely be angry with me because she had always believed it was her own fault that had led me down this path. Of course, I can't rule out her own faults. My mother is a typical talented woman from Jiangnan, not only gentle and charming in appearance but also with a soft and sweet voice. She had also been very attentive to skincare from a young age, which certainly had a significant impact on me, a homebody with a strong Oedipus complex. But ultimately, the root cause was me. I was worried that telling her this would make her feel that she had made a mistake in my parenting, rather than for the reasons she had initially imagined, which she wouldn't be able to accept immediately. My mother is a woman with somewhat high standards, sometimes quite aloof. She likes to analyze and find answers to problems in her own way, and if someone tells her her answer is wrong, she will argue endlessly, holding a grudge for a long time. However, this is rare; most of the time, people in her social circle know this is the kind of person she is. (I don't know if this explanation makes sense, but my mother probably thinks that my adolescence combined with her appearance is what made me have inappropriate feelings for her, rather than because I have a strong Oedipus complex).
And so, the days passed, peaceful yet turbulent. I remember one time, because I was driven by lust, I didn't care whether my penis hurt or not. Plus, I was wearing my mother's bra and didn't pay attention to how much I was pulling. After the climax, I pulled back my foreskin and saw that the part of my glans that was connected to the foreskin had been torn apart, exposing the entire glans, which was a little bloody and looked quite frightening. However, there was no bleeding. I didn't dare tell my parents at the time. After a few days, the scar on the glans healed, and it was from then on that my penis started to get bigger. Later, I could even stick the head out of my mother's bra. Then, slowly, my penis got used to my mother's clothes, and it often took a long time to come out.i=9> Next, based on your years of masturbation experience, you can probably guess a bit of what's coming next. When you're not satisfied with the stimulation one thing gives you, won't you start looking for something that can make you even more fascinated and excited? I know the answer. To put it more sophisticatedly, that's human nature. A person's desires can never be truly satisfied. Speaking of sophistication, I can't help but think of many sophisticated events in China. Today, Guo Degang's disciple assaulted a reporter again. However, Guo Degang's explanation completely surprised me. He said the assailant was a temporary worker, which makes me think of certain public departments in China. The truth behind major events always seems to have astonishing coincidences: a vegetable farmer in Henan had his stall overturned and was beaten by urban management officers, but the relevant department clarified that the assailant was a temporary worker; the Zhejiang Red Cross Society had 8 million yuan worth of charitable supplies in its accounts last year, but the warehouse did not find a single item worth 800 yuan, and the relevant person in charge said that it was a temporary cashier who made false accounts; the Shanghai fire was caused by temporary workers; the Sichuan "civilized inspection team" caused a vandalism incident in an entertainment venue, which was done by a temporary driver of the department... There are many, many more temporary workers. I'm really annoyed because this reason is too clever, much more clever than my reason for going to my mother's bathroom. It leaves 1.3 billion people speechless. If the people who give this reason are not clever, why are they still high and mighty and still arguing so confidently... People will judge their merits and demerits, so I will not comment on their actions. Let's get back to the main topic.

After I became dissatisfied with using my mother's clean clothes for molestation, I started secretly searching for her more hidden places to keep her personal belongings, including her underwear in the laundry tub on the balcony. The first time I found her underwear in the tub, unwashed and untouched, I was overjoyed. Because the balcony was brightly lit, and I was afraid someone might see me, I quickly crumpled it into a ball and went into the bathroom. In the bathroom, I eagerly pressed it to my nose and took a deep breath, but I couldn't smell much, unlike the strong, pungent odor described in some erotic novels. Perhaps my mother changed her clothes more frequently. Unfolding it, revealing the crotch area, I was instantly aroused. I saw my mother's discharge. I touched it with my finger; it was dry, the color slightly whitish against the black underwear, and under different angles of light, I could vaguely see the reflective, shiny parts.
I pulled down my pants and used the crotch area of my mother's underwear to cover my penis, imagining my mother's body, and quickly began to masturbate. After a while, I still felt unsatisfied. Looking at the peony pattern on my mother's underwear, I couldn't contain my excitement and my playful nature was aroused. So I took off all my pants and placed them on the toilet seat, then slowly put my mother's underwear back on. My mother's underwear was so small, tightly constricting my genitals. I imagined my mother squeezing my penis with her genitals while running my hand up and down on my penis, getting the maximum psychological stimulation. Before long, I felt the urge to ejaculate, wondering if I should ejaculate on my mother's underwear... At that moment, I was incredibly wicked, so I suppressed the urge to ejaculate, took off my mother's underwear again, aligned the crotch area with my urethra, and then sped up. In less than half a minute, I happily ejaculated as close to my mother's penis as possible. Afterwards, I used tissues to clean up the excess semen. Although it was still quite wet, I didn't care. I thought that if the sperm were resilient enough, it would carry my longing for my mother into her body and express my feelings and excitement about returning to the place where she gave birth to me. I put my mother's underwear back in its original place, and I even folded it exactly as I remembered it. Looking back now, I was incredibly naive. If my mother had touched it before washing, she would have definitely noticed. But I naively thought that as long as I put it back in the same shape, she wouldn't notice... As for the result, of course, my mother didn't notice. Otherwise, given her attitude at the time, she would have definitely given me a good beating and then disciplined me severely, and naturally, the later events wouldn't have happened.
(III)
Now, let me give you a little appetizer and tell you my story with my wife.
Attentive readers will notice that I'm sharing my memories with my wife.
In fact, my wife knows about my relationship with my mother, which may sound hard to imagine, but it's true. My wife and I were classmates in college. My university was in a small inland city, where the environment, transportation, and cost of living weren't great. When I filled out my college application, I somehow ended up there by chance. My wife is actually two years older than me, which I didn't know when we started dating because she was in the same year. I assumed she was my age, and she looked much younger. Later I found out she had repeated a year of high school, and I was deceived by her youthful appearance.
My mother visited me alone when I was in college and we took a trip together to a famous mountain in a nearby city. My wife met my mother then and told me that my mother looked very young, not like my real mother at all, but more like an older sister. We dated for two years, almost to the point of wanting to get married immediately. My wife is a bit of a wicked woman with a penchant for extreme topics; we often discussed rape and incest with each other. After returning from my trip with my mother, my wife and I had just finished making love in the hotel. She probably noticed my semen was less abundant or thinner than usual, and suddenly asked, "Honey, did you and your mom... you know...?" (She called me by name, so I'll just call her "honey" here). I was startled. This girl usually seems so oblivious, how come she's so quick-witted? I quickly lied and said, "How could you be so wicked? That's my own mother, you even fantasize about her?" Hearing this, my wife half-jokingly said, "So what if she's your own mother? She's still got some charm. I bet you fantasized about her a lot when you were little." It was a joke, but it hit the nail on the head, arousing me. I jokingly replied, "More than just fantasizing, I know exactly how many pairs of underwear she owns and what colors they are." This little devil was indeed wicked; she immediately started relentlessly demanding I tell her the story. I made up a few fabricated events to appease her, but my wife wasn't satisfied and wanted me to continue. As I was talking, I got carried away with my fantasies and started telling the truth. After I mentioned a couple more things, my wife suddenly interrupted me and asked, "You and your mother have been intimate, haven't you?" I don't know what I was thinking at the time, but I told her the truth. This little vixen was really something, calling me "husband" in a sweet, affectionate way, and touching my penis. Seeing her aroused expression, I reached down and touched her genitals, only to find that she was incredibly aroused, more aroused than ever before... I don't know how my wife could accept that her husband had been intimate with his own mother. Maybe it's because she loves me, and what she wants most is my love for her. In the end, she still chose to marry me. A woman who gave birth to me, raised me, and poured most of her life into raising me, and a woman who will dedicate her entire future to me until old age, both deeply love me. I can say that I am already the happiest person, and I also have sexual happiness... I'll
stop writing about my wife here and move on to the main topic.
So, last time I masturbated with my mother's unwashed underwear, and after gaining great mental satisfaction, I started tirelessly searching for other private items my mother used. The old saying my teacher often taught me was true: "Where there's a will, there's a way." Besides occasionally finding my mother's clean clothes, I also found a feminine wash brand bidet. Because of my age, when I first saw it in the small cabinet next to my mother's bed, I just thought it was something private, but I didn't know what it was for. Later, I found its instruction manual in the box next to it. After looking at the illustrations, it dawned on me that this inconspicuous thing had been inside my mother's vagina. A young man's lust arises quickly; I held it, touched and smelled it for a while, imagining it entering my mother's vagina while masturbating. Finally, I didn't forget to smear some of my remaining semen on it, hoping it would carry my "things" to my mother as a gift.
After that, I couldn't find any other tools that could arouse my lust more than these. Things like vibrators or dildos were unavailable; I didn't even know what they were. My curiosity drove me to my mother's house to look for some mysterious items, but the result was a huge disappointment.
Then one day, something unexpected happened. Back then, cars were rare, and roads weren't as extensive as they are now. Many people were proud to own a Honda motorcycle. My family was better off than the average family; my father was a businessman, and my mother worked in a government institution, earning a middle-class income. My mother had a Yamaha women's motorcycle, a good size with a storage box in the back. She would occasionally pick me up from school. I didn't dare to be naughty on her motorcycle because I knew I was constantly fantasizing about her. So I would lean against the storage box, leaving about half a person's space between me, and hold onto the handrails under the seat. I had fantasized about my mother countless times, but I never considered betraying her. I knew that if she found out, the consequences would be dire. However, not considering it didn't mean it was impossible. The low probability of this happening made me convinced that my mother would eventually let me succeed.
It was a harvest season. The countryside back then was unlike the rural areas of today. The rivers were blue, the mountains were green, swallows roamed in spring, and wild animals still roamed the deep mountains. The joy of a bountiful harvest was visible yet indescribable, unlike the current social climate where no one dares to help an elderly person who has fallen, and children are often run over if hit by a car; private business owners make money through high-interest scams, and state-owned enterprises profit through monopolistic advantages; public servants visiting the countryside wear designer suits and have secretaries holding umbrellas for them, and when people resist violent demolitions, they pour gasoline and invite leaders to watch…
It was the weekend, and my mother took me to my maternal grandparents' house to help them harvest rice. The fields stretched as far as the eye could see, a golden expanse. The working people, the rustling of the wind, the hum of the threshing machines, the green hills and clear water, and the neat rows of telephone poles along the road created a natural movie. Seeing such a rich scene and hearing such beautiful natural melodies, my heart soared with the birds in the sky. My mother was also in a great mood. That day, she wore thin white cotton trousers and a gray long-sleeved shirt, helping my grandparents harvest rice all day. In the evening, after the harvest was finished, my grandmother invited us to stay for dinner. My mother said she was worried my father would go hungry at home alone, so my grandmother didn't insist. As we prepared to leave on my mother's motorcycle, less than a hundred meters later, an aunt called out my mother's name. I don't remember what this aunt looked like, but I am still grateful to her. As for why I am grateful, you will find out as I continue my story.
My mother stopped to wait for my aunt to catch up. The aunt asked for a ride to town, and my mother readily agreed. Because I was a child, my mother was worried I'd bump into the storage box if I sat at the back, so she let me sit in the middle. The moment my aunt got on, my mother realized something was wrong, because my penis was rock hard, pressing firmly against her back. I was extremely ashamed, but the body of my mother, whom I had longed for, was pressed against me, and I couldn't control myself. Because it was the rice harvest, I was wearing very thin sweatpants, with only four thin layers of clothing separating me from my mother's back. I couldn't feel her body temperature, but she must have felt the heat emanating from my genitals. When my mother noticed, she didn't say anything—of course, she couldn't—she just shifted her body slightly forward. I didn't want to leave, so I quickly moved closer. The aunt behind us noticed we were moving her to a different seat and subtly reminded my mother, saying, "It's not crowded in the back, it's alright. It must be hard on you two." I saw my mother's ears turn bright red, while I secretly rejoiced.
The village roads were paved and relatively smooth, but at the village entrance, they became gravel roads, not exactly bumpy, but still somewhat jolting. I tried to grab the armrests under the seats, but the aunt's thighs were too thick, and I couldn't reach them. After groping for a while, I gave up. Occasionally, when the bumps were a bit stronger, I instinctively held onto my mother's waist. Feeling safe, I naturally focused my attention on my mother's buttocks and back, my penis growing increasingly swollen. I used the bumps to subtly wiggle my penis, making sure the aunt behind me wouldn't notice I was molesting my mother. When I thought of my aunt, I immediately focused my attention on my back. My aunt had large breasts, and with a slight jolt, I leaned back and felt the fleshy texture of her breasts, even though she was wearing a bra. I guess I was just fantasizing at the time. My mind was filled with lust, and my penis was rock hard. I gritted my teeth and decided to go for it. I touched the not-too-excessive flesh around my mother's waist, and saw her ears turn red again. A playful urge arose within me. I gently pressed against my mother's buttocks and back while placing one hand on her leg and stroking it. At that moment, it was just childish fun, not flirting. After touching my mother's thighs enough, I moved my hand up, imagining the position of her breasts. At that moment, the urge to ejaculate surged up. The instant my hand touched my mother's breasts, I ejaculated—a lot. The semen quickly seeped through my pants, wetting my mother's buttocks and back. I saw her ears turn red again, even redder than the previous two times.
For my mother, the long and anxious journey had finally come to an end. My aunt had arrived at her destination first, and she got out of the car to say goodbye. Then we turned and went home. When we turned home, I wasn't as bold as before. I quickly moved away from my mother's back. Maybe it was because of the wind, but my lower body suddenly felt cold. I believe my mother felt the same way, because I saw my mother's ears turn red for the fourth time... When we got out of the car, I got out first. Under the reflection of the streetlights, I saw a small patch of light. I wondered if there was another patch of light ahead of that light. Then I ran away guiltily, leaving my mother to come home about three to five minutes later. I thought she was probably cleaning up our first battlefield...
(IV)
I've written three articles, and my wife has read them all. Last night, I asked her if she was satisfied. My wife told me that she wasn't satisfied at all because there were very few replies on the forum. She refreshed the page all night and didn't see any new replies. Of course, that wasn't what I was asking. Although I was also quite concerned about whether many people supported me to continue writing. I wrote a piece of erotic fiction, and my wife actually became my fan! I was quite surprised.
Speaking of my wife refreshing the forum, it reminded me of the Ministry of Railways website in China. I won't comment on that here, but it's just amazing—millions of dollars invested, and on average, you have to refresh 500 times to book one ticket. I chuckled. Back in university, I also had to take a 20-hour train ride from my hometown to the city where the university was located. I remember one time after the Spring Festival, my mother made me take a down comforter and two boxes of egg yolk pies on the train. That was the most crowded train I'd ever seen in my life. Because my destination wasn't the final stop, and because there was limited time to get off, and also because there was simply no extra space on the train, the down comforter and egg yolk pies I was carrying eventually slipped from my hands in the rush. I was quite strong back then; I could do a pull-up with one hand. You can imagine how crowded the trains were during the Spring Festival travel rush. I wonder how those returning home this year are doing. I wish them all the best.
Before bed, I asked my wife again if she was satisfied. Knowing my stubborn nature, she kissed me on the forehead and said emotionally, "Feel it and you'll know if you're satisfied." I reached out and touched her, secretly pleased. The answer was: extremely satisfied…
My wife is now in her thirties. They say thirty is like a wolf, forty like a tiger, and it seems there's some truth to that. In college, her desire wasn't this strong. Later, I discovered her little devil was getting better and better at sucking. Now, she needs to be fed almost every other day a week. If it happens like last night, it's hard to satisfy her even after just one time. This reminds me of when I was in junior high. My mother was also in her thirties, not much older than my current wife. I wonder if my father also frequently "sucked" my mother back then. However, I suppose my mother must have been well-fed. My father was born into poverty and often did manual labor for the family from a young age, so he was definitely much stronger than a scholar like me. Moreover, during my childhood, my father often took me to exercise; I remember he was very good at weightlifting and long-distance running, and his strength and endurance were at least no less than mine now.
Now, back to the main point…
After returning home that evening, my mother didn't have a heart-to-heart talk with me. In the following days, she didn't show any intention of guiding me sexually, so I, as a child, assumed she tacitly approved. My wife told me that it wasn't what I imagined at all; rather, my mother didn't know how or what attitude to use to educate me. Although my mother was very strict with me regarding my studies, that was limited to academics. In daily life, as long as my grades satisfied her, she wouldn't restrict what games I played or what comics I read, much less warn me about which friends to associate with or where to go. So, now that I think about it, my mother probably had more conflicting feelings and some unspeakable anxieties. Actually, if my mother had made her stance clear back then and warned me not to offend her again, I certainly wouldn't have dared to do anything bold to her in the future. At most, I would have only fantasized about things like her underwear and bidets, but I would never have thought of one day holding her and returning to the place where I was born.
Although I thought my mother tacitly approved at the time, I still didn't dare to easily offend her buttocks and back. During the following junior high school years, especially in the days leading up to my senior year, my mother would pick me up and drop me off almost every day, but I never dared to touch her lower body again. So, junior high school years, accompanied by my current endless nostalgia, have gradually faded away, sometimes so far that I almost can't remember the names of my friends from that time.
Another thing happened during junior high school, and because of it, I changed my sleeping habits and later developed a liking for sleeping naked. To this day, I'm still trying to figure out my mother's psychology at the time, and I've asked her about it, but she has no recollection of it.
It was a slightly chilly early autumn evening. In junior high, I always went to bed very early, never later than 9 pm. That day, my mother and father went to a friend's house for drinks. After finishing my homework, while my parents were out, I frantically searched for my mother's clothes. I searched for a long time but couldn't find any unwashed underwear she had taken off. Disappointed and losing interest, I found a clean pair of her underwear in the bathroom and masturbated. However, I couldn't feel anything for a long time.
Anxious about my parents suddenly returning, I felt weak, so I put my mother's underwear back where it was and went back to my room to sleep. Back in my room, because I hadn't put the underwear away, I couldn't fall asleep. After resting for a while, I simply took off my own underwear and threw it aside, lying flat under the thin blanket and masturbating. Because children are prone to sleepiness, I fell asleep quickly.
I don't know how much time passed, but I vaguely felt the light in my room being turned on, and then I heard my mother's voice. My mother usually comes to my room to check on me while I sleep. Occasionally, if she sees I'm sleeping in an awkward position, she'll straighten me and tidy the blankets. Today, her coming to my room seemed perfectly normal to her. She didn't seem to mind disturbing me and called my name. Perhaps the blanket covering me was a little too far off the edge of the bed and might have slipped to the floor, because she pulled it up slightly, trying to move it a bit further in. Then she saw my lower body, which wasn't covered by underwear. She asked if I had wet the bed. Half-asleep, I only heard her voice and, too sleepy to answer, just mumbled "Mmm." Seeing my underwear by the bed, my mother assumed it was wet and quickly grabbed it. She felt it and found it dry, no trace of urine. She muttered to herself, "It's not wet," and without thinking, reached under the blankets, found my penis, and squeezed it.
I believe my mother had no ulterior motives beforehand; she acted solely out of concern and love for me. But when my mother's hand touched my penis, I vaguely sensed that she paused for a moment, then gently rubbed the edge of her palm against my sparse hairs, gently pinched it, and finally flicked it lightly. She then kissed my forehead, saying softly, "Serves you right for being naughty again," before pulling her hand away, tucking the blanket around her, and getting up to leave. When she pinched my penis, my sleepiness lessened slightly, but I was still not fully awake. If I hadn't been so sleepy that day, I believe my penis would have grown rapidly in her hands within three seconds. I know my mother had been drinking that day, but I still wonder what she was thinking when she was willing to spend several seconds playing with my penis in that state. Perhaps she was naturally playful, perhaps she wasn't averse to such behavior, or perhaps the alcohol had given her a slight, albeit intangible, attraction to her son's penis. What's certain is that my mother has a playful spirit; she loves to have fun and is more youthful-minded than her peers. For example, she's already bought firecrackers, planning to set them off with us during the New Year, and she especially likes the skyrocket kind. I've seen at my classmates' homes that most of the people buying firecrackers are men, and it's almost always just a way to welcome the new year and bid farewell to the old. As for whether my mother is internally averse to it, I don't know. Personally, I'm conflicted. When I talk to my mother, her breath seems exactly the same as mine, which unconsciously creates a sense of repulsion, as if trying to dispel any impure thoughts I might have about her. But there's another side to my feelings; I desperately want to smell her scent and kiss her. I'm often caught in this internal battle, but usually, the latter wins. Perhaps my mother feels the same way I do.
The words my mother said before she left haunted me like a curse: "I'll teach you to cause trouble again..." I can't recall the exact tone of her voice when she said it, but I habitually fantasize about it in a passionate tone. Whenever I think of those words at night, I absolutely cannot fall asleep without masturbating. However, this improved a lot after I met my wife. When I think of those words, I basically don't have any impure thoughts anymore, only a faint longing for my mother.
The next morning at breakfast, I could still vaguely remember what happened last night, and then I stared at my mother across from me, lustfully fantasizing about her. My mother noticed, probably thinking about what happened last night, and her face turned red in an instant, which made me secretly happy. However, my mother quickly interrupted my thoughts and told me to eat quickly. I wasn't very shrewd at the time, and my impure thoughts came and went quickly, so I obediently buried my head in my food. From that time on, I started sleeping naked every day, hoping my mother would pinch me again. I would immediately wake up, hold her hand, and enjoy the feel of her touch. I developed the habit of sleeping naked, but my mother never came to my room to make my bed again. I was so disappointed...
In this way, my entire junior high school years passed by in countless fantasies about my mother. For someone as young as me, one time when my mother and I were both conscious, I thrust into her buttocks and back until I ejaculated, and another time when my mother was conscious and played with my penis, although it only lasted for about ten seconds, it was already a huge leap between my mother and me.
(V)
My wife, after reading the previous posts, told me to write less about national affairs, as that's not what my readers want to see. I teased her, saying, "Is it that someone doesn't want to read this, but wants to read something else?" I exposed her little scheme, and unable to find a good reason to refute me, she angrily said, "Make your own breakfast, I'm not serving you anymore!" Her words startled me. I suddenly remembered what my mother had said to me when I was in college, "Mom's not serving you anymore." The memory felt like yesterday, but compared to the time I recalled in the post, my parents have aged considerably, and a chill ran through me.
"The tree desires stillness, but the wind never ceases; the child desires to care for his parents, but they are no longer there." I wonder how many people remember this saying. I know I'm not noble at all; sometimes I even feel guilty towards my parents, especially my father. I made an excuse for myself: I love my mother, but the love I gave her went awry by chance.
I wonder if my parents consider me a filial son; I hope so.
Perhaps my readers don't like this narrative style, but I'll still write it this way. Of course, I'm not trying to reform them; I just want them to know that a person isn't always just evil. If I only write about those evil past events, the plot might become disjointed. Everyone has two sides. I believe that many readers, when they step out of their incestuous fantasies about their mothers, also deeply love their mothers—a simple love, without any lewd connotations.
I saw on the webpage that China and India would be holding border negotiations on the 17th of this month. What if Wu Dalang and Ximen Qing sat down to negotiate, discussing setting aside their disputes and jointly developing resources…? But every day, something happens in China that challenges my imagination, and I can't help but ask the same question as the Indian Ministry of Finance: "Will China still be a threat in two years?"…
I felt incredibly disappointed, and my emotions were drawn to these events, making it impossible for me to concentrate on writing my next recollection, while time continued to flow…
The middle school entrance exam results came out quickly, followed by filling out college applications. Perhaps it was good fortune, but I performed well on the exam that year, and coupled with my already good grades, I was guaranteed admission to the best key high school in the county. I didn't need to spend any time or energy filling out applications or comparing schools.
From the middle school entrance exam in May until the high school military training at the end of August, I was free from my mother's usual control over my study time and the constraints of a normal routine. At first, I spent all my time at home with that game console, playing Contra, then Super Mario Bros., then Cuban Heroes, rotating between the three. I also went to my mother's bathroom every few days. But anything gets boring after a while, so I started watching TV. TV is different from games; I wasn't fully focused. So, whenever I saw something on TV that even remotely reminded me of something erotic, I couldn't help but shift my attention to my mother. Gradually, I began to observe my mother's habits.
My mother works year-round, but she always gets time off on holidays. If even public institutions in China operate this way, it's easy to understand why people are so enamored with and eager to become "civil servants" these days (ironically, I'm one of them, someone who can't change the status quo on her own but hopes to do her part for those around her—but that's a story for another time).
My mother has a habit of showering on weekday evenings and weekend afternoons, but unlike what I imagined, she only showers the next day. She does laundry in the morning before work, and for larger items like sheets and blankets, she goes to the stream near her parents' house on weekends. That stream is large and the water is very clear; I used to catch fish and shrimp there when I was little.
My father is always home when my mother showers at night, and even if I had the guts of a leopard, I wouldn't dare peek outside their bathroom. Only during the day, when my father is at the shop all day, do I dare to be so unrestrained.
That weekend, when I finally guessed when my mother would take a bath, I was so excited that I got up early. The wait was long; the whole morning passed, then noon, and I started getting anxious, running around the house impatiently. My mother saw me and asked, "What are you doing, wandering around like a headless fly?" Feeling guilty, I vaguely said I was looking for something. She asked what it was, and I said, "You don't know!" She walked away, puzzled, and came back a while later to ask if I had found it. I said, "Never mind, I can't find it." Women are all observant, aren't they? She could roughly tell from my tone and actions that something was wrong. She patiently asked if I had any difficulties that I needed her help with. In my heart, I definitely said yes, and that only she could help, but I said to her, "No," and then walked away.
A long time passed—actually, not long, just my imagination—I saw my mother come downstairs, then heard the door close, and then she went back upstairs. Here, many readers might still not know the layout of my house at that time, so I'll describe it in detail. Our first house was a single-room bungalow. When our family's financial situation improved and we needed to renovate, my father bought the house next door. Back then, houses were incredibly cheap; I heard my father paid about the same amount for the house itself as he did for the renovations. My father was a shrewd man; the design for the renovation already had the beginnings of a suite, though it seemed rather immature compared to others. The first floor was large and used for entertaining guests. On the second floor, my room was on the southwest side, my parents' room was on the southeast side, and the north side was the kitchen and TV area. The third floor was used for storage. My door faced my parents' door, and our bathrooms were outside our rooms, each separated by a wall.
I pretended to sit in a chair watching TV, secretly observing my mother's every move. Soon, she put on slippers and entered the bathroom; I deduced she was going to take a shower. I tiptoed to the bathroom, listening intently to the sound of water coming from inside to determine if she was actually showering. The bathroom door had a ventilation design at the bottom, the kind that lets you see inside.
I can't remember the excitement I felt as I slowly approached that ventilation panel; I only remember my heart pounding, my mouth feeling sticky and difficult to swallow.
Standing, I bent over, one hand on the wall, and peered inside. Finally, I saw it, and the excitement was indescribable. My mother's skin looked so even and smooth under the incandescent light. Unfortunately, the bathroom was too humid, so I couldn't see her body clearly. Her breasts weren't large, and her buttocks weren't very perky, just slightly upturned, but her abdomen was flat, and her navel was perfectly shaped. Her hips were a bit wide, and between her legs was a dark patch, so I couldn't see anything clearly. Even so, I was still incredibly aroused, feeling a kind of dazzling sensation.
Because of my posture, I got tired in less than half a minute, but the beautiful view was right in front of me, and I wasn't about to let it go so easily. I steeled myself and changed my previous position of only peeking through the exhaust vent with one eye out; I simply lay down on the ground, sticking half my head out to peek at my mother's alluring body, not caring whether she would notice this area near the doorway, or whether the dirt on the ground would stain my clothes.
My mother liked to rub her breasts for quite a while, until they were slightly red under the light, before moving her hands to her lower abdomen and rubbing them back and forth. Then she carefully washed her armpits, and finally, she spent a lot of time cleaning between her legs, but not in a masturbatory way. I wondered if she would lift one foot onto a stool and insert the bidet, which carried my signal, into her genitals to clean them, but I was disappointed again, and I never saw it happen again until the end of the summer break before my middle school entrance exams.
After my mother turned off the shower, I got up and left. Back in my room, I masturbated intensely, recalling the scene of her showering.
In the few times I spied on her afterward, I became bolder and bolder, fueled by lust. First, I lay on my back, tilting my head to watch her shower, quickly pulling down my pants and masturbating on the spot. But I dared not ejaculate directly on the wall, worried that my mother would find out someday, and the consequences would be unbearable. However, what happened later proved my worries unnecessary. Because the floor was cold and hard, lying on my back for a long time made my head and shoulders very uncomfortable. Coupled with the combined effects of tension and excitement, the time it took to reach climax was longer than the first time.
So one time, on a whim, I took a pre-cleaned mirror. After my mother had been in the bathroom for a while, I pulled down my pants and sat cross-legged at the bathroom door, then placed the mirror near the exhaust vent, searching for her reflection. Although the mirror's effect was much worse than observing her directly with my eyes, sitting like that wasn't tiring at all. Considering the cost-effectiveness, I still preferred the mirror. But even my cleverness couldn't overcome the mysteries of science. Just as I was engrossed in observing my mother's different body parts from various angles in the mirror, and stroking myself with great relish, I suddenly noticed that my mother's movements paused. I saw that she didn't move, and then I tilted the mirror up slightly. This time, I was shocked. From the moment my mother paused until I saw her face facing the door, it was less than 3 seconds, but it made my heart skip a beat, and my mind went blank. My mother turned off the shower and was about to do something. At this point, I could only hear. The sound of the water stopping startled me awake. I immediately put away the mirror, pulled up my pants, and ran back to my room as fast as I could. Normally, this series of actions would probably take me half a minute, but at that moment, when I heard my mother call my name, I was already panting on the bed. Then I did something I never imagined: I calmly replied to my mother, "What?"...
(VI)
My mother paused for a few seconds, and then said, "It's nothing." I, who had been anxious, felt relieved. I waited anxiously in my room until my mother finished showering. I thought that, given her temper, she would definitely give me a good beating after she finished. To my surprise, in the days that followed, my mother never mentioned that I had spied on her while she was showering.
As for my mother asking about me peeping at her while she showered, it was many years later, when I graduated from high school. I remember that summer after graduating high school, because I got into a good university, and the acceptance letter arrived early, my mother was very happy. She often said that she had finally raised me into an adult and that I could make something of myself. Back then, the internet wasn't very widespread, and that summer was spent completely having fun. Because of my age, many of my classmates had already been in relationships, and some had even tasted the forbidden fruit. Influenced by what I saw and heard, I also got a girlfriend that summer. After getting drunk at a classmate's thank-you banquet, I stayed at her house for one night. Unfortunately, that night, nothing passionate happened, but I lost a series of my "firsts": including my first hug, first holding hands, first kiss, and first time spending the night together. Because I was drunk and had no sexual experience, we kissed for a long time in a daze and then fell asleep without knowing what to do next. When we woke up the next day, we were a little shy in front of each other, so that thing was left unfinished. Later, with my friend's guidance, I learned to buy porn from the stalls by the bridge. I was timid back then, so I always went with my schoolbag, walked to the bushes on the riverbank to make the transaction, grabbed a few discs, stuffed them into my bag without even looking at the subject matter, and ran home, afraid of being arrested by the police. The more times I bought them, the more bad movies I got. There were some good ones, but not many. I collected the discs I liked and threw away the ones I didn't.
I moved the VCD player from my mother's room to my own. Every time I bought a disc, I would watch it late at night behind closed doors. My mother would occasionally come to my room with fruit or stew. The first few times I watched porn and my mother came to my room, I would promptly switch the VCD player to cable TV. Perhaps I was blinded by the joy of getting into university and accurately judged that even if my mother found out, she wouldn't do anything drastic. So, on one particular occasion, I was watching porn while masturbating. On one hand, I was afraid that my mother would come in and find me in this embarrassing situation, and on the other hand, I was really looking forward to her coming in to bring me fruit.
As I was making my final thrust, staring at the actress's breasts swaying back and forth on the screen, I saw the door open out of the corner of my eye. Because it was summer and I was wearing shorts, I could just pull them down a little while masturbating. I quickly put my penis in my shorts, gently pulled them up, and then felt the dizziness and excitement from my racing heart. My mother obviously saw it, but she just smiled and came straight in and put the fruit on the table, leaving me unsure how to react.
I looked at where the fruit was, and then at my mother, and realized that she wasn't looking at me at all, but directly in front of me, in the direction of the TV. I then realized that I had forgotten to change the channel, and my mother was watching what was on TV. My mother looked at me for a few seconds, then turned to me. Finding me staring directly at her, she shyly looked away, which surprised me. Even my little brother got hard, throbbing against my crotch. Embarrassingly, she noticed again when she looked back.
Because I had turned the TV volume down to the lowest setting, the room suddenly felt unnecessarily quiet. I quickly switched the channel to cable TV and grinned at my mother. She seemed to be infected by my mischievous expression and said, "I think you should find a girlfriend. You're not getting any younger." And so began my first-ever sexual psychology conversation.
She came over and saw the discs next to the VCD player, picking them up and flipping through them. After looking them over, it wasn't hard for anyone with normal intelligence to realize that I liked porn with mother-son themes. Of course, my mother noticed that too. She kept flipping through them, as if she was thinking about where to begin.
I spoke first, "Mom, stop watching, it's so embarrassing..."
My mother, seemingly engrossed, retorted, "If you're not embarrassed watching it yourself, I think you've lost your mind, watching this kind of thing all the time..."
"I've already watched it!" I muttered, stepping forward to take the disc from my mother's hand.
My mother paused, realizing she had misunderstood, remembering the time I secretly watched her shower after graduating from junior high. This also reflected that she still held a grudge about me watching her shower, though she was too ashamed to bring it up. "Yes, you've already watched it, secretly watching your own mother, how shameless!"
"Mom, what are you talking about! Bringing up things from when I was little, how can I face anyone if they hear that?"
"Oh, you weren't ashamed when you watched it, but you're ashamed now that you're talking about it?" Seeing my embarrassed expression, my mother teased me even more, completely losing her usual serious demeanor in front of others.
"I was just a kid then!" I had no way to refute it.
"Aren't you still a child? Why are you watching these kinds of things?"
"It's only natural. You just couldn't see them back then. Even if you could, you still watched them. My female classmates said they watched them too!" To escape my predicament, I tried to shift the focus of the discussion to my mother.
After all, she's my own mother, and I know her temper well. "Get lost! I didn't watch these things back then. I didn't even have time to eat or dress properly. I told you you're always up to no good. You're about to go to college, so tone it down!"

"I'm not peeping now..." "
Then come and watch!" After I was caught peeping at my mother while she was showering, she nailed a thin board to the ventilation panel and then put a layer of plastic on top of that, double protection. Since then, I haven't been able to peep on her successfully. I guess my mother has tried it countless times herself, which is why she said this with such confidence today. However, the context of my mother's words was a bit awkward. She was talking about her own son, and my mother realized it and laughed to cover her embarrassment.
But to me, my mother's expression was full of infinite charm and temptation. Unable to contain my excitement, I stepped forward, pulled my mother's collar aside, and peeked inside. I whispered in her ear, "Look, I see it..." My mother's purple bra instantly triggered memories of masturbation from middle school. My previously limp penis swelled to its fullest extent, almost wanting to press against her thigh.
My mother quickly slapped it away, her tone not angry, but rather playfully teasing: "Go away, you shameless thing, taking advantage of your mother!"
I thought to myself that my mother was in a great mood today, so I'd better take this opportunity to tease her. If I waited until another day, she might get angry, which would be embarrassing. "Mom's tofu is rich in protein, it'll make you fat..." Driven by lust, I reached out and pinched my mother's breast.
My mother was startled, clearly not expecting me to be so audacious. She blushed instantly and pushed my hand away with her arm. "Alright, stop pushing your luck! I'm your mother!"
From my mother's tone, I could tell this was clearly not her bottom line, but I still pretended to be submissive and said, "Yes, ma'am!"
My mother was amused by my reaction and tapped my head with her finger, saying, "How old are you? How can you act like this!"
"I didn't do anything wrong, and besides, it's not like the newspapers haven't written about it..."
"Which newspaper?" Perhaps my mother, like me, held a kind of inexplicable expectation about it.
"I've seen it but forgot. There's also the movie!"
My mother then realized she had been tricked and felt embarrassed, saying, "Okay, you can watch it then. Mom's going to sleep."
I wasn't about to let her go. As my mother turned to approach the door, I stepped forward and hugged her, pressing my lower body tightly against her buttocks without thinking twice. Re-experiencing the pleasure I enjoyed as a child was so wonderful that I momentarily forgot myself, rubbing my lower body against my mother's buttocks a few times. "Mom, I need to see your..."
My mother was a little annoyed this time, forcefully pushing me away. "You're getting more and more outrageous as you get older! If you keep making a scene, Mom will get angry!" I
finally let go of her, looking at her sullenly. My mother turned around and saw my dejected appearance, finding it amusing. She laughed and scolded, "What kind of behavior is this? Go find a girlfriend, Mom won't serve you..."
Hearing her say that, I secretly chuckled. "Mom, I'm actually thinking of serving you!"
My mother turned and left. I wonder if she ever thought about those words in the days that followed.
From the time I was caught peeping at my mother taking a bath until the start of high school, I went to watch a few more times, but unfortunately, the ventilation panel had already been modified by my mother. To prevent my father from suspecting that I was behind it, my mother smashed half of the ventilation panel. As for how she explained the reason to my father, my mother later told me that the reason was very simple: the ventilation panel was already a bit rotten because of the water on the ground, and when she was washing clothes, the washboard in the washbasin hit it hard, and it broke.
(VII)
Today is the first day of work. I would like to wish all my fellow wolves a successful career and a happy life in the new year!
I had just started working and had a lot of things to do. I didn't plan to take time to continue writing these few days, as I wanted to get into work as soon as possible and adapt to a normal schedule. I saw the replies from my fellow wolves a couple of days ago and realized that some of them had questions about the plot development above, so I'll take this opportunity to explain it to everyone.
The aforementioned peeping incident happened during the summer after I graduated from junior high school, while the previous chapter recalled the first time my mother mentioned that I had peeped at her while she was showering, which took place during the summer after I graduated from high school. The time span from the summer after junior high to the summer after high school is three years. Many readers may not have noticed the difference between "junior high" and "high school" after reading the whole thing, which is why they felt the plot progressed too quickly. Another reader said, "Please don't abandon this story! You know life goes on. I can tell you in advance that I will write up to the point where we first had sex." I'm like you; I also enjoy reading erotic stories on forums in my spare time. I often find good stories, and sometimes even though the story is practically the ending, I still hope the author will continue writing, so I always feel it's abandoned. But when I start writing myself, I realize that a novel, like life, doesn't have an ending. As for whether this novel will be finished by the deadline, I don't know. If it's not finished, I'll just consider it a friendly submission; I didn't come here for it anyway.
Let me go back to the time when I graduated from junior high school…
Because of rural customs, several of us from junior high who got into top high schools had to hold a thank-you banquet for our teachers, inviting relatives and friends. One of my female classmates' mothers happened to be my mother's best friend—they're called best friends now, but back then they were probably called sisters. My mother and I both went. I sat with my own junior high group, while my mother sat with her friends. We were all very rebellious back then. Normally, the adults wouldn't let us drink or smoke, but at those thank-you banquets, although we still couldn't smoke, the adults allowed us to drink beer. Being young and not knowing how to control our alcohol tolerance, we all drank beer with all our might, each hoping to be the one with the highest alcohol tolerance at the table. After a while, everyone's stomachs were bloated and they couldn't drink anymore. I drank some too, but the alcohol hadn't fully taken effect yet. My mother has always had an excellent alcohol tolerance; I often heard the aunties at the table talking about who had outdrunk her in a drinking contest. However, precisely because of this, many people like to "attack in groups." I believe everyone can understand this mentality, haha. My mother often gets slightly drunk, but she has excellent drinking manners and has never caused any serious problems. This is largely due to the environment and companions she chooses to drink with.
The current social environment is different; I estimate that even my mother would likely face serious consequences. Nowadays, drinking parties are mostly mixed-gender, and almost every man who urges a woman to drink has some ulterior motive from the start—this is based on my observations. For example, some leaders I've met love to force young women to drink and tell dirty jokes. As for the news stories about a land bureau chief raping a drunken female teacher, a town party secretary raping a female subordinate, and a municipal government office director getting a girl drunk and raping her, these are already well-known. If a similar situation were to occur again, I could probably write a news report in five minutes. Questions like whether wearing a condom constitutes rape, or the fact that a certain state-owned enterprise, which went public in November 2007 with an opening price of 48 RMB and is now trading at 10 RMB, raised $2.9 billion in the US and distributed $11.9 billion in dividends to overseas investors as of November 2011 (while domestic figures are embarrassing to even mention – some dividends were single digits, still in RMB), and whether such state-owned enterprises are sucking the blood of the people to support foreigners, don't test one's intelligence, but they certainly test one's patience…
As usual, my mother had some to drink that time, and perhaps the alcohol hadn't fully taken effect. After the banquet, she took me home on her motorcycle. On the way home, I felt dizzy and sleepy, and afraid I wouldn't be able to hold on, I leaned against my mother, wrapped my arms around her waist, and rested my head against her back. My mother seemed to realize something, hesitated for a moment, and then gently tried to remove my hand. But I was sleepy, and instead, I tightened my grip, making it even tighter. My mother couldn't do anything about it; pulling too hard would be unsafe, so she let go and focused on driving. I had some lewd thoughts in my head, but the alcohol was too strong, and I had no feeling in my lower body, nor could I sense its current state. Leaning against my mother's back, a strong wave of sleepiness washed over me, and my eyelids barely stayed open until they closed. After a while, I was almost asleep, and my hands loosened, hanging down between my mother's legs. I didn't see my mother's facial reaction to the sudden intrusion of my hands from her waist—was it surprise, guilt, excitement, or anger? I didn't see any of it. My mother reached out her right hand and slapped my hand a few times, each time harder than the last. I pulled my hand back, but instead, it moved even closer to that forbidden area. My mother called my name twice, and because my head was pressed against her back, her voice was loud, though a little muffled. I lazily responded, and my mother then realized I hadn't intentionally violated her. Then I felt her warm hand grasp my right hand, then pull it to her left and grasp my left, finally placing it between her legs and resting it on her navel.
I don't know what my mother thought of her wicked thoughts; perhaps she felt embarrassed, but she couldn't help getting wet… This is just a possibility…
I remember nothing after we got home. I think my mother probably carried me upstairs. Whether I took advantage of her again along the way, I don't know.
My junior high summer vacation passed just like that, quietly submerged in the sea of memory along with my naive past.
In high school, my mother replaced her old motorcycle. Because I studied in the county town, she spared no expense to learn to drive and bought a car. That year, the gas price was 2.4 yuan per liter; later, when I learned to drive, it was 4.2 yuan per liter, and now…
High school was a boarding school; we were only allowed to register and leave on weekends. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, my mother would bring me home-cooked meals every Saturday noon and wash my clothes. Ironically, I considered myself a high achiever back then, but it wasn't until I graduated high school and entered university that I learned to wash my own clothes. And some clothes, like down jackets, I couldn't wash; I still had to take them home for my mother to wash during winter break and bring them back again during summer break. Luckily, I married a virtuous wife; otherwise, washing clothes would have been a real challenge for me.
Due to the pressure of studying, I often only masturbated on Friday nights. After masturbating, I would simply cover myself with my underwear, wipe myself, and throw the underwear into the laundry basin under the bed. I would then shower and wash the underwear on Saturday morning. Every time my mother came to visit, she would complain that I didn't wash properly. When she did laundry, she would also wash my underwear again. At first, she thought I didn't want her to wash my private parts, but later she found out the reason.
One time, because I needed to work on the blackboard bulletin board, I didn't want to waste my afternoon at the internet cafe, so I went straight to the classroom after showering in the morning, thinking I could wash my underwear before my mother arrived at the dorm. Unexpectedly, the bulletin board took an unusually long time to complete that time; only two of us were working on it, everyone else had gone to play basketball. Of course, the two of us who worked on the bulletin board were paid for it; otherwise, who would do a losing business?
When my mother came to my dorm that time, she went to wash my clothes, and naturally, she discovered the secret on my underwear. When I came back, I found that my underwear had been washed, and I felt extremely uncomfortable while my mother ate next to me. My mother said very subtly, "Don't do bad things, you're still growing," and I was mortified. Embarrassed as I was, I brazenly decided not to wash my underwear anymore, since my mother would have to wash it again anyway. My mother didn't say anything else, occasionally giving me a lecture, but it was basically the same old thing, always revolving around that same point. My mother was already 40 years old then, at the age when she was going from being a wolf to a tiger. I wonder if there was ever a night when my mother uttered my name. Maybe, just like my wife is now.
My first and second years of high school went by like this. It was during these two years that I truly came into contact with some erotic novels. They were full of bloodshed, grudges, and love, but what attracted us most were the thrilling erotic passages, many of which crossed ethical boundaries. I remember many people were reading it back then, and I read quite a few myself. I also gained some superficial and shallow knowledge about sex from these books.
(VIII)
I remember that my essays when I was a child always started with those two idioms, "Time flies like an arrow, and years pass like a shuttle." It's true, in the blink of an eye, I was already in my senior year of high school. The start of senior year was almost half a month after the start of summer vacation, but because all the courses had already been completed in the first and second years of high school, it became less stressful. In addition to the regular classes on weekends, the school arranged a lot more free time each day. There were only 6 classes a day, and the evenings were for self-study. However, everyone usually studied in the same classroom until the bell rang at 9:30 pm.
Due to the traditions of the countryside, and also because my mother was worried about my studies and life, she rented a house near the school. Apart from class time and playing ball during my free time at school, I spent the rest of my time in the house my mother rented, including self-study, naps, meals, etc. Of course, I also slept there at night, just like a day student. My mother was responsible for preparing three meals a day for me, waking me up in the morning and at noon, and taking care of my daily needs.
The rented room was very simple, with only two rooms separated by a bathroom. My bed was against the wall connected to the bathroom, with a desk next to it, and a large table by the sunny window, on which were my various review books. My mother's bed was in another room, against the other wall of the bathroom, with a small coffee table next to it and a rice cooker on it, and a gas stove near the door and window. There was a public corridor in front of the door, and we used the public stairs. That was all.
However, there were many people in similar situations at the time, including the older students from the town. Several of my peers attended the same high school as me, and their mothers also rented houses near the school, although our houses were scattered around the school. As for their Oedipus complex, I didn't know about them, because I would never tell them about such things, and naturally, they wouldn't tell me either. I was somewhat resistant to the idea of renting an apartment and commuting to school, because it would mean my mother wasting almost a year of her time unnecessarily. However, given past experience, those older students all went on to very good universities, so I had no reason to object.
At that time, the soaring housing prices in China were becoming increasingly apparent, and news of real estate speculation in certain areas was occasionally appearing in the media. My father, having been in business for many years, had developed an excellent business acumen. After discussing it with his friends, he decided to withdraw from the manufacturing industry and invest all his funds in real estate. My mother was initially opposed, but time proved that my father's decision was entirely correct. During my senior year of high school, my parents agreed that my father and his friends would go to Beijing, the city that holds the most sacred place in my memory, while my mother would stay with me to complete my studies. Their investment wasn't very successful at first, but perhaps due to the prevailing Chinese tendency towards self-interest, my father weathered the storm within six months.
My mother stayed with me for almost a year, sharing breakfast, lunch, dinner, and late-night snacks almost every day. During each meal, she would chat with me about trivial things, like what happened in my class, the lives of other students like me who lived off-campus, interesting news, and so on. I always believed that feelings could be cultivated gradually, because my relationship with my mother slowly became better and more complex during that year. Even after I entered university, I would often think of her, sometimes more often than my girlfriend at the time. I wonder if my mother also subconsciously developed some dependence on me; judging from her coming to visit me at university later, I think she probably did.
At first, I had many opportunities to spend time with my mother, and gradually I began to focus more of my attention on her. However, because I was with her day and night, and she was almost always in my room, I often masturbated secretly before bed, let alone looking for her underwear.
Later, my mother often chatted with other mothers of students who lived in rented apartments outside the school. Since we were all from the same town, they gradually became good friends. Eventually, they often played mahjong and cards together, perhaps because they were lonely, as I see it now.
My mother told me that they went to a bar once that year, but found it too noisy and went to a food stall instead. I remember that time vividly because it was the only time my mother took a shower after I had finished playing ball in the afternoon and taken a shower. Because of the wall separating us, the sound of her showering water kept hitting my eardrums, making it impossible for me to concentrate on my homework. I put down my pen, quietly walked to the bathroom, lay down, and looked up through the vent. Unfortunately, the vent was made of plastic, double-layered, so I couldn't see anything, only hear the sound of water. But just hearing that sound of water, and imagining the scenes I had secretly watched before, was enough to arouse me. I paced back and forth between my mother's room, the hallway in front of the bathroom, and my room, checking the rice cooker's cooking time, the dishes on the table, and my homework, but I couldn't find anything to calm my mind. Finally, I climbed into my bed, pressed my ear against the wall, and listened intently. After a while, the sound of water stopped, but there was also no rustling of clothes being put on. I heard the toilet seat click (I later guessed it was my mother putting one foot on it), followed by the sound of my mother's body leaning against the wall, and then, a moment later, the intermittent, rhythmic sound of water returned. With a soft, long "hmm" from my mother, the water stopped abruptly. At the time, I guessed my mother might be masturbating, but I wasn't sure. It wasn't until after I had sexual experience that I realized she had indeed been masturbating that time. As for whether she had my underwear with her, I had no idea.
My mouth was dry, and I suppressed the urge until I finished eating. Only when I focused on studying did the desire subside slightly. My mother said she had to go out for a while. I guessed she was going to play mahjong again, so I just gave a casual reply. Thinking about her unwashed clothes in the bathroom, I felt a burning urge to go out.
After she left, I put down my pen and exam paper and rushed to the bathroom. The same old scenario played out: I took my mother's bra and kissed and smelled it, then kissed it again. The discharge on her panties was thicker than I'd seen before, and the color wasn't as pale as before; it was milky white—the color of loneliness. I took it and ejaculated hard, this time without caring about anything else, directly onto her, disrupting that milky white layer. I don't know what my mother felt when she saw it; perhaps a mix of nervousness and a bit of joy. My mother didn't say anything at the time, and afterwards, she didn't seem particularly wary of my lewd behavior towards her panties.
With her indulgence this time, I started paying attention to her underwear again. My mother usually washed her clothes right after showering, so I rarely found any that hadn't been washed. Then one time, because I couldn't find my mother's underwear and was desperately needing to relieve myself, I impulsively grabbed a pair of her dried underwear from the clothes rack in her room and ejaculated on them. Afterwards, I regretted it and carefully washed the underwear and put it back where it was. The next time, I repeated the same thing. I don't know how many times I did this, but my mother noticed. During dinner, my mother said, "Don't do anything bad. Don't think I don't know. If you fall behind in your studies, other families with children studying hard all get into good universities. If you do poorly, how can I face anyone?" I confidently assured her, "Mom, don't you know me? I'll make sure you get a good score!" My mother was a little doubtful, but she didn't want to put any more pressure on me, so she reluctantly let me off the hook. After that, I stopped washing clothes altogether. I remember my mother jokingly scolding me once while washing clothes, saying I was shameless for not cleaning her clothes properly. I replied while doing my homework, "We know what's going on." My mother threatened that if I didn't get into a good university, she would pretend I was a shameless brat. I asked my mother, "What if I get in?" My mother said, "We'll see." I started looking forward to the college entrance exam. Later, I noticed that my mother started intentionally or unintentionally leaving her used underwear unwashed, but they were all clean, and I no longer saw any milky white discharge.
The time my mother went to the bar was the same time I overheard her masturbating in the bathroom. I'm so sure because what she said later perfectly matched my memory of that day.
My mother and her friends sometimes feel lonely, and that time they planned to go to a bar. But they didn't like the atmosphere; it was too stuffy and noisy, so they went to a food stall instead. From the start, they were just going to have fun, and they drank without restraint. I don't know how much my mother drank that day, but when she came back, she was drunk and lying on the bed. My mother asked me to get her a glass of water, and when I brought it over, I found her completely intoxicated. So I got her a basin of warm water and wiped her face. My mother had a faint fragrance about her, and looking at her delicate features, I couldn't help but get an erection.
After returning to my room, I couldn't concentrate on my homework; all I could think about was taking advantage of my mother's drunkenness and not missing this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I cautiously approached my mother's bedroom door, peering through the doorframe. I saw she was already asleep, undressed and covered with a sheet. I figured she'd changed into her nightgown in her last moments of lucidity. I tentatively called her name several times, but she didn't respond. I brought back a glass of water and called out to her loudly, patting her legs a few times, but still no reaction. I chuckled, put the glass on the table, and tiptoed towards her breast. Finally, I touched it, but the cotton nightgown obscured the flesh. I continued my search, and suddenly felt a small bump—I'd touched her nipple! How can I describe the excitement I felt at that moment… was it excitement, excitement, and more excitement? I finally touched it, I told myself, while my brain short-circuited, nearly overheating. I gently pressed the protrusion in circles a few times, then carefully pinched it with my thumb and middle finger. Even after only a few squeezes, I could clearly feel it harden, just like in those erotic novels. And my mother, in her drunken state, was actually able to feel it—this startled me. I pretended to call out to my mother again, but she showed no sign of faking sleep. So I started teasing her nipples again. Tired of playing with her nipples and touching her breasts, I wanted to put my hand inside to feel the real flesh of her breasts, but I was afraid my hand would wake her from the cold, so I gave up.
I slightly lifted the sheet covering her lower body and pulled her nightgown up to where her underwear was visible. To be honest, that nightgown was really troublesome; it took me a long time, lifting her legs several times before I finally got it to that position. Fortunately, the result was satisfactory.
Because it was too dark, I went to my room and got my emergency flashlight, placing it between my mother's legs. For the first time, my gaze was so close to the place I came from, and for the first time, I had the opportunity to carefully observe and examine the place where I was born. Excitedly, I placed my right palm on that flat area, and because I didn't know the entrance, I began to stroke it up and down with my entire hand. I didn't feel anything particularly special, but I continued involuntarily. Until my middle finger suddenly touched something wet and sticky. I removed my palm and saw a wet stain on my mother's pink underwear. Curious, I slowly pried open a piece of her underwear. At this moment, my mother, perhaps uncomfortable, turned and lay on her side, facing the wall. I was in a predicament; my mother's buttocks were facing me, and the underwear covered most of her buttocks, making it difficult to pry open and see that area. I had no choice but to give up and then put my index finger inside the underwear, searching for the wet spot. I found it quickly. I moved it around a few times with my index finger and discovered that my mother had released a lot of fluid. Shining a small flashlight on it, half of my finger was shiny. I searched diligently for the opening, and when I parted the two pieces of flesh and my fingers sank in, I thought I had found it. Overjoyed, I smeared my mother's fluid on my weapon and began masturbating next to her. I ejaculated in just a few strokes.
After ejaculating, I sobered up and started to feel scared. I quickly cleaned up the scene and rushed to sleep.
My mother didn't say anything the next day, but after that incident, until I graduated from high school, she never drank again, at least I never saw her come home drunk again. Much later, I asked my mother, and she said she had found out. She felt something was off as soon as she woke up and guessed it was me, but she couldn't find a reason to punish me, so she just swallowed her anger.
(IX)
The year of senior high school passed by slowly yet quickly. By the time I was about to graduate, I had even started to cling to my mother. I would deliberately eat slowly when I ate, wanting to chat with her a little longer; when my mother wanted to go out to play cards, I would occasionally stop her by saying that gambling was harmful, so that she would stay with me while I did my homework. My mother was happy to sit beside me and knit while I studied. She knitted two very thick sweaters for me, just the right size for college. She never spoke while I did my homework. Even if I got tired and wanted to chat, she would let me continue studying. But usually, around 11:30 pm when I finished studying, she would bring me a late-night snack, and her chatter would begin. The snacks were usually walnuts, longan, lotus seeds, and eggnog—I think my boundless energy back then was partly due to these snacks.
Three days after the college entrance exam, I estimated my score. My estimate was fairly accurate, and the school's cutoff score for first-tier universities was also very accurate. Because my score was significantly higher, I wasn't worried about not getting into a good university. Of course, my mother was the happiest. She always told me that her hard work throughout the year hadn't been in vain. I think she still cared about my actions towards her. I haven't thought about how my mother would react if I had failed the exam, or how my relationship with her would be now. It would probably be terrible. Fortunately, fate was kind to me.
Graduation came next, and overwhelmed by the joy of graduation and the relief from exam pressure, I took all my textbooks and reference books from my drawer and tore them to shreds. I remember feeling an overwhelming urge to cry. I never imagined it would be so far removed from me now, yet that feeling remains as vivid as ever.
After moving back home after graduation, the huge house felt strangely empty. Later, I realized it was because my father was gone. I've always deeply respected and admired my father, and I wonder if my possessiveness towards my mother was tinged with jealousy towards him. Occasionally, I miss him, worrying about whether he's doing well in the city, struggling to make ends meet for the family. But from his phone calls, I can tell he's doing alright.
After I received my university acceptance letter, I often spent time with my girlfriend, returning home very late at night, and sometimes even sleeping at a classmate's house. My mother seemed much more active during that time, frequently going to the mountains to burn incense, doing aerobics in the square, or driving with her sisters to nearby cities for sightseeing. Later, she would frequently drive to hot springs, still with her sisters, but I inexplicably became jealous. So, I deliberately found an opportunity to chat with my mother and asked if she could take me with her when she went to the hot springs, and she agreed.
My mother took me a few times, but her sisters would also be there. Every time I met my mother in the first hot spring pool we arrived at, after she had changed into her swimsuit, I would involuntarily get an erection. Luckily, by then my lower body was already in the water, so they couldn't see my embarrassing situation. My mother would call me to go surfing in another large pool, but I would always wait until they were long gone before running over, my penis already soft. They would play on one side, while I played on the other. My mother indulged me, while her sisters often said I was shy and that I'd never find a girlfriend. Haha, shy sister, huh?
Then one time, I don't know if my mother's sisters really had something to do or if my mother just made up an excuse, but that day my mother only took me to the hot springs. I was naturally very excited, and hurriedly changed into my swim trunks and rushed to the outdoor hot springs to wait for my mother to come out of the women's changing room
. Because there were many people in that large pool, I didn't dare to be too bold. After my mother came out, I lay in the outdoor hot spring for a while, as usual, until my penis went soft, before heading to the wave pool where my mother was. My mother seemed to particularly enjoy this; holding onto the rope in the wave pool, she bounced up and down in the waves. I swam to my mother's side, grabbed the rope, and tried to enjoy her experience with her. But my mind was completely focused on my mother; I couldn't feel the fun of wave surfing at all.
As I stared intently at my mother's chest, she suddenly slapped me lightly on the head. "Have you stared enough? I'm just that good for you!"
I closed my eyes in ecstasy. "Perfect..."
My mother was both amused and annoyed, teasing me, "Look at you, so pathetic. No wonder people say you can't find a girlfriend."
"Isn't that it?" I reached out and pinched my mother's waist in the water. Then I put my arm around her waist and pressed my lower body closer to hers. Everyone around us was busy having fun, and since we were near the wall where there were fewer people, no one was paying attention to us. I thought, even if they did see us, so what? Scenes of men and women engaging in intimate acts in hot springs are commonplace.
My mother didn't react, but simply said calmly, "Behave yourself."
From her tone, she seemed more worried about others suddenly noticing us. But I was now incredibly bold, and as a wave crashed over us, I pressed my hand directly against my mother's abdomen, pressing it tightly against my hard lower body. My mother and I rose and fell with the waves, my lower body pressing hard against her inner thighs. Separated only by two thin sheets of cloth, I could almost feel the warmth emanating from her buttocks. That feeling is unforgettable; I longed to pierce the fabric between our bodies and enter the place that conceived me.
My mother was already flushed, whether from shyness or from my vigor, I couldn't tell. Perhaps I had pressed too hard, for she reached out and pulled at my hand on her abdomen, saying angrily, "You're going to die!"
My movements stopped as the waves subsided, and I released my hand from her abdomen. My mother pinched my thigh hard, "Are you going to die? There are so many people here!"
I chuckled apologetically, feeling incredibly satisfied with my newfound advantage. Unexpectedly, what I received that day far exceeded what I would normally expect.
After a while, my mother said she wanted to go to the fish spa. I used to avoid going to the fish spa with my mother, afraid that the older women would notice my erection while I sat in those small pools. This time, however, it was just the two of us, so I accompanied her.
The fish spa was an artificial, cylindrical pool, each holding about 5-8 people. It was backed by a mountain, and the pools were separated by artificial hills. Because there were already few people, the fish spa was even less crowded. My mother and I sat in the pool with our backs to the mountain, able to see everything around us clearly. I think my mother felt much more at ease, just like me.
My mother lay quietly beside me with her eyes closed. I was a little ticklish; the tickling from the fish nibbling on my skin, combined with my mother's presence, made it hard to resist. I looked closely at my mother's face. In the bright light, I saw the wrinkles that had crept onto her face without me noticing, and my heart ached. From the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes down her neck, a sour feeling lingered. But as I moved further down, to that bulge, the sourness was completely replaced by a burning desire. My mother's breasts were as delicate as her features; perhaps because they weren't large, they didn't show much sagging. Her abdomen, however, wasn't very attractive. Then I looked down, to where my fingers had once touched.
I reached over and gently tapped her inner thighs a few times with my fingers, like playing the piano. My mother reached out and grabbed my hand, placing it aside. I reached back up, and she pulled my hand back again. After several repetitions, my mother grew impatient and said, "Are you done yet? Don't move! Fish therapy is more effective..."
"Mom, my skin is all new, I don't need fish therapy!"
"Little brat, you don't understand, fish therapy absorbs toxins..."
"Mom, I want to be a fish and let you absorb some!"
My mother's face flushed, and she casually said, "I can't be bothered with you," and stopped stopping me.
I assumed I had my mother's tacit approval, so I began to caress her thighs. Perhaps she didn't feel uncomfortable, because she didn't object. After kneading her thighs for a while, I slowly moved my hand towards her groin, and based on my previous experience, I gently rubbed her crotch. My mother was wearing a one-piece swimsuit, and the fabric at the crotch was sewn at the hip area, with the front being a complete piece of fabric. Because it was thin, I could clearly feel its shape. My mother
unconsciously spread her legs slightly, and this subtle movement undoubtedly gave me a lot of encouragement. I used my index and middle fingers to press and rub that approximate spot even more carefully. My mother's body swayed slightly with unease. Just as I was about to grab the edge of her crotch and stick my fingers inside, my mother decisively reached out and slapped me, gritting her teeth and saying, "I'll see if you're still not obedient!"
(X)
I am very grateful for the criticism and correction from the attentive fellow enthusiasts. I made the corrections on the same day I saw the post. I made a mistake in my description of my mother's birth date in the first section. I wrote "late 1960s,"
but I meant "1960s." It was probably an oversight in my typing haste. Her birth year is 1960. As for the information about my mother receiving a traditional education and memorizing the Four Books and Five Classics in her early childhood, I learned from her, so it's probably true. I also saw some readers expressing their opinions on some current events mentioned in the article. Actually, I wrote those because I had nowhere else to vent. I used to often express my opinions on a local current affairs forum. Once, I didn't write a long post; I just supported a rather radical viewpoint and briefly mentioned my own. Later, the Municipal Personnel Bureau somehow found out about me and warned me that my status made inappropriate remarks in an inappropriate setting, demanding that I stop such behavior. Honestly, I'm a little afraid to publish articles now. As for my views, I believe you readers can see through them. I love this land and the people who live here, and I hate the corrupt officials who have made this place so chaotic. Leaving aside the internal issues, just look at the surface: look at our mountains, look at our rivers—I won't give examples—everyone knows what the current state of people's lives is like. As for territorial issues like the South China Sea, sometimes I think their explanations in the news make sense, but actions must match slogans to be convincing. The truth about these major issues is not something a commoner like me should be aware of. I'm getting a bit carried away; I hope my fellow netizens will forgive me.
Let's continue from where we left off…
After my mother finished speaking, I thought she was angry and about to leave. But instead, she first looked up and carefully scanned her surroundings, then turned back with a complex expression. A moment later, she freed her left hand to reach over. Thinking she was going to pinch me, I hurriedly flung her hand away with my right. Seeing my startled expression, she pretended to be stern and said, "Don't move!"
I looked at her with confusion as she placed her left hand on my abdomen, then saw a barely perceptible mischievous smile on her face. Anxiety mixed with anticipation, I quietly waited for her next move.
She quickly reached her right hand towards my crotch, and I held my breath excitedly. She pulled my swim trunks aside, revealing my testicles. I was stunned, not understanding her intention.
Soon, small fish gathered around my testicles and began nibbling. I then realized my mother's purpose. An intense itch shot through me, and I squirmed a few times to get away from the fish. Seeing this, my mother seemed to get into a playful mood. She took her right hand and squeezed my semi-erect penis, gesturing, "Don't move, or I won't squeeze it anymore!" It was the first time I'd had such intimate contact with my mother's hand, and even though it was through my swim trunks, I was incredibly excited, savoring the feel of her touch for a long time. Feeling so good, I obediently listened to my mother and stopped moving, afraid she would stop kneading and move her right hand away.
My mother's hand would gently squeeze the middle of my penis and pull it up and down, then press on the glans, making circular motions. In less than two minutes, I was already hard. My mother's hand was enjoying it so much that I was completely unaware of the tickling sensation from my clitoris. Under such intense sensory stimulation, I comfortably closed my eyes, ready to quietly enjoy it, when my mother stopped. I opened my eyes and followed her gaze; she had only seen a few customers walking around. Even so, my mother stopped. Still wanting more, I pulled my mother's hand to my genitals, wanting to savor the sensation again. My mother asked playfully, "Was that good?"
I nodded frantically, hoping for another touch from her fingers. My mother raised an eyebrow, a half-smile on her face, and said, "Get up if you're satisfied." Despite my utter reluctance, my mother got up, wrapped herself in a towel, and headed towards the hot tub. I didn't care anymore, got up, wrapped myself in a towel, and followed closely behind.
The hot tub—though called hot—was only about 40 degrees Celsius, slightly warmer than the fish spa and the large pool we'd just entered. It was just a little deeper; the water reached up to my chest when I sat down. The pools were scattered around, and my mother finally stopped at a small hot tub and sat down. This hot tub was designed like a four-cornered pavilion, with the chairs simply placed inside the water.
I had intended to sit back down next to my mother, waiting for an opportunity to make my move. Just as I approached her, she whispered a reprimand, "Sit over there!" To appease her, I obediently sat on the bench beside her, leaning back, swinging my legs in the water, and closing my eyes to savor the wonderful feeling I had just experienced. The recollection, coupled with my fantasies, reignited my recently subsided desire. I opened my eyes and looked at my mother. It was the same face, the same small breasts, the same belly and hips swaying in the reflection of light, leaning back against the chair, occasionally scooping water to splash on my arms. For a moment, it felt like a painting, not of a beautiful fairy, but of my mother. Thinking about her actions, I was once again deeply intoxicated.
My mother's voice brought me back to reality. "Can't get enough of looking?" she asked casually.
A little embarrassed to face her, I chuckled.
"I'm telling you, you're all grown up now, why are you still like that when you were a kid? There are so many young and beautiful girls out there, why are you staring at your mother like that!" My mother seemed a little angry, but mostly she was loving. Hearing
her say that, I started to have lustful thoughts. "Mom... it was just a momentary impulse of curiosity..."
"Get lost, how many times have you been driven by curiosity!"
I heard my mother's tone soften, and guessing she probably wasn't angry, I started playing the family card. "Mom, have you ever heard of Oedipus complex?"
My mother's eyes lit up; it was clear she had researched it, or at least seriously understood it. "Judging from your case, it's a bit severe, it might have become a psychological problem!"
"No way, I'm just thinking that I'm about to go to university, and after four years of university, I'll be working right away, and then I won't have another chance, so I wanted to seize this opportunity!" I guessed my mother had just felt good, so I steered her thoughts in that direction.
"Look at you, shameless thing! You're not like my son at all, just causing me trouble!"
"Mom, I was just curious, and besides, I wanted to see how to make you feel good."
"Get lost! I think you just want to feel good yourself!" "
I was thinking of serving you, but you don't appreciate it..."
My mother's pretty face flushed, and she couldn't say anything for a moment. This undoubtedly added fuel to my burning desire. I moved closer to my mother and slowly stretched out my leg to approach her genitals. My mother kicked me hard. I shamelessly asked, "Mom, did you feel good just now?"
My mother sensed the teasing tone in my voice, but instead of scolding me, she asked, unusually, "How about you? Did you feel good?"
Hearing that I had a chance, I immediately crawled and scrambled to my mother's side and whispered in her ear, "You made me feel so uncomfortable, so uncomfortable..."
"Who said it felt good just now!" My mother didn't look away and turned her head to say.
I grabbed my mother's hand and said in a coquettish tone, "Mom, why don't you just be a good person to the end? Otherwise, I'm going to pester you all day..."
"You've always been a pester! Go away!"
"I'm just afraid someone will miss me when I'm not bothering them anymore..." I said sullenly.
I thought it was just a casual remark, something that just slipped out, but my mother didn't respond. Looking at her dim eyes and thinking back on what I had just said, I realized she was affected by the meaning of my words. I also started thinking about those words, and couldn't help but feel a little sad. I thought about studying at a university thousands of miles away, only able to come home a few times a year, and with work after graduation, the opportunities to see my family would be even fewer. I'm the only son in the family, so it's natural for my mother to react that way. Lost
in thought, I loosened my grip on my mother's hand slightly, and she squeezed my palm tightly, making me realize what had happened.
"Mom will grant your wish today. From now on, you'd better behave yourself. A person can't stay young forever, you know?"
Never before had my feelings been more complex. There was sadness, excitement, joy, surprise, warmth… but when my mother looked straight ahead and her hand slowly moved towards my crotch, all my emotions were burned to ashes by lust.
Sitting to my mother's right, hearing her words and seeing her actions, I was afraid of saying anything that might upset her. So I closed my eyes, leaned back in the chair, and focused on the pleasure her hand was giving my lower body.
Without pausing, her right hand slipped into my swim trunks, grasping my penis, which had become rock hard the moment it touched her hand, and pressed the tip with her thumb. She pushed it further in until her fingers reached my testicles, then stopped, gently stroking them. Excitedly, I reached for my mother's waist, and she didn't stop me. My mother repeated the action, and my hand slowly moved towards her lower right breast, then gently pinched that little white rabbit. My mother was wearing a swimsuit and no bra, so when I pinched it, I could clearly feel the raw, fleshy texture. My mother scolded me, half-jokingly, "You're being naughty!" As if given a pass, I was flattered and immediately moved my hand up, wanting to feel my mother's nipple, but unfortunately, that area seemed to have some kind of sponge, and I couldn't feel the nipple's protrusion. After searching for a while without finding it, and considering the effort of using my hand in the opposite direction, I simply gave up and placed my hands directly between my mother's legs.
My mother removed my hands and said softly, "Behave yourself, don't be naughty!"
"Mom, don't do it again..."
My mother believed this too, and stopped stopping me, starting to masturbate. The feeling... indescribable...
Just as I was vigorously exploring between my mother's legs, and she was also starting to speed up, I suddenly felt her movements stop abruptly, and her hand quickly left my lower body and pulled my hand away. I opened my eyes and saw someone walking towards us from the side. Looking at my mother, her chest was rising and falling noticeably, I didn't know if it was from pleasure or nervousness...
(XI)
Today is Valentine's Day, here's a gift for everyone.
I've been really busy lately and haven't had time to update this, please forgive me. I apologize to everyone here. I told you guys before that I probably won't have enough time until April.
It seems you guys are more concerned about my wife, I'm sweating. It seems everyone has some dirty thoughts in their hearts, just like the saying goes, "A wife is not as good as a concubine, a concubine is not as good as a stolen one," I'm the same, but I will not really share my wife with you guys, even if she is willing, I will not be willing. I did discuss wife-swapping with my little vixen, asking her if she'd be willing to let my friend sleep with her. She always gets angry, saying I don't care about her at all.
A friend messaged me asking why my mom was actively flirting with me and playing with my penis during the fish spa… I can't really explain it. I can only say that women are similar to men; they also have moments of lust. I think the sneaky feeling stimulated her, and I reignited her desire.
Now, let's continue.
Seeing a few people approaching in the distance, my mother and I tacitly started soaking in the hot spring. But I kept tickling her foot with my toes, a gesture to remind her to keep my promise. However, my mother was only focused on playing in the hot spring water, ignoring me completely, until the group of tourists passed our area and continued on their way.
"Damn it, didn't you see they were coming?"
Hearing my mother say that, my lust returned, and I eagerly tried to cling to her and take her hand. My mother slammed her hand on my shoulder, jumped up, and went straight to grab a towel. Thinking she was annoyed, I sheepishly followed her to a place offering cold drinks. Seeing she had two bottles of mineral water, I realized she was thirsty. I sat with her, drank a few sips, and chatted for a while—about the health benefits of hot springs, the nearby mountains and rivers, and so on. After a while, I unconsciously started to look bored; I figured she'd changed her mind.
My mother seemed to see through me, and with a tap on the head from the water bottle, she yelled, "You brat, what are you thinking? Look at you, is it really that bad?"
"The cooked duck flew away, who wouldn't be angry!" I
said, a little embarrassed and resentful. "Alright, alright, Mom doesn't go back on her word!"
I exclaimed, suddenly overjoyed, wishing I could suffocate in her arms, my whole body trembling with unease.
Seeing my drastically different actions in such a short time, my mother scolded me again, "Look at you, so pathetic! Don't embarrass me anymore!" Then she told me to use my token to get a key card for a "couple's cabin." Just the name "couple's cabin" sounded mysterious enough. On the way to get the key card, I was a little nervous, afraid someone would see me... But when I got there, I realized that many of the people getting key cards were families. I looked at the description of the cabin: over 100 yuan an hour, and the pool inside had Chinese medicine—the legendary medicinal bath.
I took the key card, not bothering to look at the advertisements anymore, and went straight to my mother's spot. My mother followed the directions on the back of the key card and walked ahead on her own. Judging from her unfamiliarity with the place, she had never been inside the cabin before, and must have long yearned for this mysterious place. I followed closely behind, telling my mother that some families went into the couples' cabins. My mother blushed, turned around, and said resentfully, "What did you think? Only couples can go in?" I then realized that my mother had only vaguely never been into a couples' cabin, but she already knew everything about it.
The so-called couples' cabins weren't anything special. They had glass doors and windows, decorated with paper-cut window patterns, a large pool inside, and wooden planks beside the pool with three or four packets of medicine and small tools for scrubbing backs.
I eagerly slipped into the pool, watching my mother choose a packet of medicine, slowly tear it open, pour it in, and gesture for me to stir it. Then she closed the doors and windows, checked it again, and finally took off her towel and put it aside before stepping into the pool. In this safe, undisturbed place, my courage grew. I looked up at my mother as she stepped in, and reached out my left hand to cover between her legs. My mother opened my hand with her right hand, walked around to my right, and sat down. My right hand followed her movement, reaching between her legs, palm down, to cover her pubic area. This time, she didn't remove my hand; she simply leaned back against the wooden board and gently closed her eyes.
I knew she was letting my hand roam freely this time, so I repeated the same movements. After a while, my mother suddenly opened her eyes, looking straight at me. Her gaze was somewhat unfocused, as if expecting something. I pressed my head against her face and kissed her lips. She actually extended her tongue, and I couldn't help but suck it in, rubbing it against her skin. That was the first time I learned to French kiss, and one of the few times I kissed my mother. Perhaps it was the smell of the medicine at the time that weakened my sense of smell for my mother's scent. Later, when I kissed my mother, the scent of her breath felt like my own, always immediately creating a strong sense of resistance. Over time, I stopped initiating French kisses with her.
After a long French kiss with my mother, she finally turned her head away, ending the kiss. I pulled her swimsuit down from her shoulders, revealing her breasts. Her nipples were already a bit purplish-black; I didn't know if it was from when I was little, as my mother had told me I wasn't weaned until I was quite old. I didn't care about that, nor did I care about the position of her breasts in the water; I frantically sucked on her nipple. Her nipple was hard and had become long and large. I sucked hard, hoping to draw more milk from her. After finishing her left breast, I crawled over and sucked on her right. My mother's hand had somehow moved to my penis , gently rubbing it and occasionally stroking my testicles.
To avoid disturbing her, I sat back down and put my right hand between her legs to tease her. Her hand and mine crossed, but they tacitly avoided touching. I lifted the thin cloth between my mother's legs and explored and caressed the deep crevice with my middle finger. Suddenly, my finger seemed to find an entrance at the end of the crevice. My head buzzed, and the sensation in my finger told me that I had found the place that had conceived me. I pressed my finger against the entrance a few times, and it was easily sucked in, revealing a slippery world inside. My finger went in and out for a few minutes, but I got bored and pulled it out, leaning back to enjoy my mother's movements.
Perhaps because it had been too many times, my penis had become somewhat numb. I could only feel my mother's hands sometimes speeding up and sometimes slowing down, but the original tingling pleasure was much less. My mother, her hands almost touching mine, moved to knead her exposed breasts. She seemed tired and asked in surprise, "Aren't you coming? How long are you going to hold back, son?"
"Mom, I'm not holding back. Maybe your son is too strong?"
"Strong, you even dare to make advances on your own mother!"
"Mom, do you think mine are big?"
"They're alright. I haven't seen many."
"Then do you want to try them?"
"Go away, you're pushing your luck!"
I was irresistibly aroused by my mother's seductive voice. I lifted her buttocks and placed her on top of me. After a few token movements of resistance, she placed my penis between her legs and held it between her hands, the head of my penis pressed against her palm. Without any instruction, I thrust up and down a few times, my penis half-pressed against her half-exposed vulva. The pulling of the flesh between our bodies brought me immense pleasure, but this position was strenuous, and I could only perform the thrusting movements very slowly.
After a while, I was too tired to continue, so I finally lifted my mother down, still holding her buttocks. My mother stood up, bent over, and placed one hand on the wooden board, calling me "Come." I quickly got up and rubbed my hard penis against the opening of her vulva through the fabric. My mother's right hand reached between her legs and grabbed my penis, pulling me forward. My lower abdomen pressed against her fleshy buttocks, while my penis remained between her legs and hand, pressed against her palm. My mother placed my hands on her breasts again. I understood what she meant and grabbed her breasts, kneading them vigorously. She then placed her right hand back in its original position, letting my glans press against her palm. I slowly began thrusting. Holding her breasts made it much easier, and I quickly reached a high speed. The sounds of my lower abdomen hitting her buttocks and her intermittent moans filled the air. A thought flashed through my mind: "I finally fucked Mom!" This was followed by an overwhelming pleasure, and then my semen spurted into her palm. My deep longing for my mother, along with the burning heat, was quickly transmitted to her. Watching the semen slide from her palm down her thigh, I felt a tremendous sense of satisfaction.
My mother asked with deep affection, "Is your wish fulfilled?"
I suddenly felt guilty towards her, but I didn't know how to tell her. I took my mother's right hand, gently wiped away the semen with water, and lowered my head to say to her, "Mom, I love you, really..."
My mother smiled from the bottom of her heart, touched my hand, and said, "Mom too."
(12)
It's been a long time since I updated, and I apologize to everyone here. I didn't want to write anymore. The original essay submission didn't even get a 5 out of 10, which, to be honest, hurt my pride. Plus, I'm usually quite busy, and even when I have some free time, I don't always think about writing. I'm not a professional writer; I'm just bored and want to share my stuff with you guys. I will update slowly from now on. Please don't be offended if the updates are slow.
The hot spring trip ended after a few minutes of packing up. Next, it's time to go home, reminisce, and so on.
In my imagination, I thought my relationship with my mother would undergo a complete transformation, and that we could even enjoy intimacy every day. But reality was quite different. I still respectfully called her "Mom" every day, and she maintained the same tone and demeanor as before. This made me regret not having made love more at the hot springs that day.
The time for me to register for university was drawing near, and my mother started packing clothes and necessities for me. I was indeed very incapable of taking care of myself; my mother had to help with everything, but at the time, I thought it was her responsibility to do so. My girlfriend wasn't going to the same university as me; she registered two weeks earlier than me. So, during this time, I stayed home. Without my girlfriend, with whom I was always together, I suddenly felt empty.
Back then, I didn't like making phone calls, and cell phones weren't common yet, unlike now where you can send text messages. And so, my attention slowly began to focus on my mother again. I would steal glances at her face and lips, observe her every move, stare at her backside from behind, and steal a few glances at her chest while she ate… Inevitably, my mother would catch me, but she would only smile awkwardly or give me a few words of criticism, which I would usually stop on my own, trying to win her favor. Women are sensitive, and I believe my mother could sense my normal yet unusual feelings for her. Sometimes, I even felt that my love for my mother had simply taken an extra step. I don't know how long it took my mother, or how much determination she had to make, to respond to me, but perhaps her love for me had also taken an extra step. Spending
time alone with my mother was both a pleasure and an ordeal. Once, my mother was tidying up some small items and the wardrobe in my room. I knew the tidying was almost finished, and I would be leaving in a few days.
This was the first time in my life that I had been away from my mother for an extended period of time, more than a week… Watching my mother walk around the room, I felt a pang of sadness at the thought of our impending separation. My mother stood in front of the wardrobe, carefully tidying things up. I walked behind her and gently hugged her. I meant to say, "Mom, I'm leaving soon, I'll miss you..." but my mind went blank the moment my bottom touched hers. I only managed to call out "Mom," and then my lower body began to swell. The hands that had been around her waist tightened, pulling her closer to me. In the summer heat, wearing thin pants, time seemed to stand still. The only proof that time was still flowing was my mother's breathing and the strength in my hands.
My mother simply murmured "Mmm," gently patting my hand on her waist. I realized then that my mother was also reluctant to let me go. She was filled with sorrow at my impending departure, and yet I had acted this way... I rested my head on my mother's shoulder, filled with deep self-reproach, thinking about the next four years—a sense of confusion, unease, and a touch of longing. My lower body went limp without me realizing it, and my mother and I stood there hugging for a minute or two.
My mother seemed pleased, happily saying, "You were a good girl today!"
But I was still lost in my own emotions. "Mom, I'll miss you..."
"This is the first time I've heard you say that. You've improved."
"Mom, I'm serious, don't joke around."
"Yeah, it's okay, I'll be back soon for the National Day holiday."
"Yeah."
Hearing my mother say that, my previous emotions vanished, and my lower body started to stir again. I whispered in my mother's ear, "Mom, before I leave, can I touch you?"
My mother said somewhat resentfully, "I just said you were honest! I told you you're not young anymore, go to university and find a girlfriend, don't waste your time on things you shouldn't be doing."
As I listened to my mother, I moved my right hand up to below my mother's breast, gently lifting it, and said, "Mom, right now I just want to touch it, I don't want anything else."
"I think it's more than that."
Hearing such encouraging words, I couldn't help but move my hips against my mother's buttocks. Seeing my movement, my mother tried to pry my hand away. Seeing how forceful she was, I became somewhat timid, afraid of upsetting her, and obediently let go.
My mother gave me an approving look, took a step back, patted my thigh, and said, "You, don't always be so immature. I'm your mother; you need to know your place."
I tentatively asked, "Can we wait until after today, starting tomorrow?"
"You've studied for so many years, haven't you learned the principles of being a decent person? This is incest, don't you know?" My mother seemed a little anxious.
This was the first time my mother had so openly used the word "incest," which showed that she wasn't actually that averse to it.
I was speechless, because at that time there was very little theoretical research on incest, and I didn't know how to persuade my mother. It wasn't until much later that I mentioned to my mother, "From the perspective of traditional morality, it's incest; from an emotional perspective, it's just a way of expressing it," and gained her approval.
Then there was silence; my mother didn't say anything more and continued tidying up. After a while, I felt the atmosphere was tense, so I took the initiative to say to my mother, "Mom, I just like you, I didn't think about those things."
"Nonsense, if you didn't think about them, then what were you watching?"
"I haven't watched them in a long time, I know I was wrong."
"Well, you should learn to be sensible. From childhood to adulthood, I've given you everything I could. If you go down the wrong path, I really don't know what to do..."
My mother has already sacrificed so much for me, and thinking about this, I stopped thinking about anything else.
Soon it was time to register. The day before registration, my father flew back, and the next day he took me to university. I don't know if my father and mother made love that night, but I imagine they did. As the saying goes, "a long drought meets sweet rain," my mother must have seized the opportunity to take full advantage of me, which can be seen from her later display of a strong sex drive.
After registering and making my dorm room, my father and I had lunch, and then he bought train tickets and left. Although my father is as quiet as I am, and although I no longer playfully fight with him like I did when I was a child, I know that he will always be the father I respect in my heart, and I sincerely hope that he will live a long and healthy life.
After my father left, everything slowly became unfamiliar. Everything around me was unfamiliar, and I began my military training on the second day after registration.
Unlike the military training in junior high and high school, perhaps it was psychological, but it felt very intense. Coupled with the hot inland weather, the change in environment, and the oppressive atmosphere, and not being a very resilient person, I quickly couldn't take it anymore and wanted to find someone to confide in. The first person I thought of was my girlfriend, the one I started dating after high school graduation. When you start feeling unlucky, bad things always seem to follow, like with me. My girlfriend called me, offered a few words of comfort, and then got to her point. She said she wanted to break up. I asked why, and she said we were too far apart. I said I wouldn't, and she told me not to be childish. I was speechless. After a while, she said, "Maybe we should just leave it at that," and then hung up. She hung up on my childlike innocence about love. Later, I read Eileen Chang's quote, "The passage to a woman's soul is her vagina," but at the time, I didn't understand why my girlfriend would turn to someone else so quickly.
After that, I endured it for over a week. Being woken up by whistles in the middle of the night for assemblies was truly unbearable, along with the mental torment. I gradually became out of place with the people around me, even unwilling to participate in group activities, like eating together. Initially, I ate with my roommates, occasionally chatting about our hometowns.
I finally couldn't take it anymore and called my mother, crying and telling her about my girlfriend and school, saying it was too tough out there and I didn't want to go to university anymore. Although I wasn't very capable in many ways at the time, and I would want to give up at the slightest difficulty, I rarely cried in front of my mother. This time, she panicked and kept criticizing my girlfriend on the other end of the phone, saying that if I really didn't want to go, I should just come home. After venting, I felt much better. When I hung up, my mother didn't say anything else, just that boys need to be able to withstand hardships to grow, and that was very helpful. I
was just about to change my mindset and face the future when my mother arrived in my city on the evening of the third day after that call. She said she was afraid something might happen to me, but I wasn't stupid enough to make myself suffer. Then my mother specifically explained the situation to my counselor and asked for a day off for me, saying it was to help me relieve stress. My counselor was a woman, a graduate student at the time, not much older than me.
Later, when we talked about the past, she laughed at me, saying that I came from a big city and received a high-quality education, but I didn't expect my mental fortitude to be so poor. This made me think of the saying "children from poor families mature early." I think there was a problem with my parents' education methods, and perhaps many children in China have received similar education models as me.
I was overjoyed at my mother's arrival, and even felt like I was reuniting with a long-lost friend. Unlike me, my mother looked very tired. The twenty-hour train journey was a challenge for both my mother, who had never left the province, and me.
(13)
I still often think about that girlfriend. To be frank, the reason is that I never slept with her. I believe many people can understand this feeling. I have a bit of an idealistic tendency. Although we hadn't been together for two months, I always had high expectations for her. I forgot whether cell phones were really not popular during my university military training. In my memory, cell phones only became popular when I started to get addicted to online games. They were no longer those black screen images.
Speaking of cell phones, it reminds me of the three giants of the world's communications industry. They should be the top three: Nokia, Motorola, and Ericsson. The world changes too fast. There was a time when I firmly believed that global giants like Motorola and Nokia couldn't possibly decline so quickly. But reality has taught me that even the most glorious and dazzling things are vulnerable in the face of fate. Just a few years ago, Nokia held a third of the global market share, enjoying its zenith. Motorola was also incredibly popular, leading a generation of mobile phone trends. Now, Motorola was acquired by Google earlier this year, and the other two seem to be on a downward spiral. Nokia was even named the most likely global brand to disappear in 2012. In the long river of history, countless prosperous empires have crumbled. As an ordinary person, all I've learned is: live for the moment.
My mother has her own interpretation of "living for the moment," but she has prerequisites: it must not affect the family or be known to others. However, I don't know the standards for these two conditions, what constitutes affecting the family, or who qualifies as "others," etc. Because my little devil already knew about this, I don't know if my father knew. I think he probably didn't, otherwise he would definitely kill me... If I were in my father's shoes, I could accept this. Besides ethics, I really can't think of any other harm. If you guys think I have psychological problems, please be kind.
After my mother and I had a meal at a restaurant, seeing that I was still sullen and silent, she forced herself to cheer me up and asked me to go to a bustling area to stroll around and have some snacks. My university is in the suburbs. Although the area is not as big as my hometown, it is still about half an hour's drive from the city center, about 15 kilometers away. We hailed a taxi and went to the pedestrian street in the city. I had often heard my classmates say that the pedestrian street was lively. This time, with my mother visiting, we had the opportunity to experience the scenery together.
I'm not usually a big fan of snacks, so I wasn't particularly interested in them. My mother, however, immediately asked the taxi driver if there was a food street or snack street nearby, even though we had just eaten! This shows that a woman's love of food isn't just innate, but also ageless. No wonder almost everyone around me is a foodie. When we arrived at our destination, I truly witnessed just how much a woman can eat… After witnessing my mother's incredible appetite, I was less impressed by smaller eaters like Xiao Xianjing. There were so many kinds of food – roasted, grilled, fried, steamed, soaked, and so on – not large quantities, but a wide variety. We didn't visit any clothing or jewelry stores that evening; we spent over two hours on that snack street. I remember it was almost 10 pm, and my mother still seemed reluctant to leave, completely unlike her earlier tired self. However, I found that the people there had a very good lifestyle. The food stalls were gradually closing, and there were very few pedestrians on the street, unlike our coastal area where it was still bustling and brightly lit even at almost midnight.
Seeing that it was getting late, my mother went to a nearby hotel to check in. My dorm room didn't have air conditioning, only a fan, and it was very hot. Coupled with the temptation of sleeping in the same room as my mother, I stayed with her. My mother was probably exhausted; as soon as we got to the room, she took off her clothes and went to bed while I was in the bathroom. Seeing how tired my mother was, I didn't have any lustful thoughts. I turned off the light and went to bed as well. Once the light was off, I realized I hadn't yet emerged from the shadows; I felt a little lonely and afraid. Then I saw my mother beside me and felt so warm. I couldn't fall asleep for a while, so I got up and watched a movie that was already a quarter of the way through. It was a bad movie. After watching for a while, I got tired and lay down to sleep…
a dreamless night. Because of the military training schedule, I woke up promptly at around 5:50. It was probably just dawn outside; the curtains were drawn, so I didn't look. Then I turned on the light to brush my teeth and wash my face. That one glance at my mother's bed made my already aroused penis even harder.
My mother was lying on her side; I could vaguely see half a shoulder and a black bra strap under the covers. Her hair was down to one side, and I couldn't see her face. My mother's usual sternness made me struggle with my conscience, but reason always wins in the face of desire, especially when I thought about that time at the hot springs. This made me determined not to let my mother's long journey be in vain.
To avoid having bad breath that might affect my ability to handle any emergencies later, I forced myself to brush my teeth, wash my face, and urinate, despite the uncomfortable swelling. After drying my hands, I went back to my bed and turned the air conditioner to 28 degrees Celsius. Estimating my body temperature to be similar to my mother's, I reluctantly crawled into her bed.
I thought I was being careful and she wouldn't notice, but things didn't go as planned. After I got in, she suddenly said in a reluctant tone, "Let Mom sleep a little longer, I'm so tired!" I was startled, then overjoyed. There was a reason she was tired; I guessed she hadn't slept well for the past two days. I reached out and hugged her, my hand immediately touching her bra, while my penis pressed against her buttocks, still so fleshy. I gently shook her breasts for a while, but it wasn't enough. Thinking about how my mother had already done that with me, I steeled myself. What's the worst that could happen? I was prepared anyway.
I reached behind my mother, intending to unhook that damned bra with one hand. Being an inexperienced kid, I couldn't manage it, and after a while, I couldn't get it open, so I adjusted my position and tried with both hands. I managed to unhook it, but I couldn't take it off. However, this created a gap in my mother's breasts, so I didn't care and reached inside, grabbing one breast and starting to play with it. My mother's nipples hardened quickly, and after a while, I felt her breasts were firmer than before, no longer soft and limp, and they felt much better to the touch. I really wanted to lean in and suckle, but the position wasn't right, so I gave up. Whether my mother was comfortable or uncomfortable with the bra, she pulled it off, placed her hand on the bedside table, and said, "Let Mom sleep a little longer." I didn't believe her. Her words and actions didn't match. In this respect, my wife is quite like my mother. Sometimes when I touch her while she's sleeping, she often says she wants to sleep, but then she adjusts her position and spreads her legs wide.
Without the bra in my way, I began to tease her nipples, gently pinching, circling them in my palm, or stroking them up and down when they were rock hard. After a while, my mother seemed to enjoy it and placed my hand on her breast. I wasn't going to stay idle, so I slipped my other hand under her neck and placed it on her breast, continuing my actions. I pulled my hand away from her breast, moved it down her abdomen, and then down to her crotch. Unfortunately, her legs were crossed, so I couldn't reach in. I had originally intended to attack from behind, but my penis wouldn't leave, so I settled for a gentle caress on her inner thigh. My mother began to fidget slightly, which excited me even more. Thinking that I could finally conquer the mother I had been longing for, I pulled both hands back and placed them on her buttocks, pulling up the edge of her panties, intending to take them off directly. But my mother showed no willingness to cooperate; instead, she reached out and pinched me, removing my hand. I initially thought my mother was just putting up a token resistance, but after several attempts, I realized she was genuinely unwilling. Based on past experience, I knew I couldn't force my way in with a tigress, so I had to give up on this battleground and find another.
I started slowly pressing against my mother's buttocks, but finding it unsatisfying through her underwear, I simply took off my own. Holding my penis, I slid it up and down along the cleft of her buttocks. The flesh against her thighs felt much better. I placed my penis between her thighs, below her sacred place, and began thrusting, trying to push in forcefully. Perhaps because her thighs were crossed, or perhaps because it wasn't slippery enough, I couldn't penetrate for a long time, only managing to get it inside the small crevice. Unwilling to give up, I pushed harder, only to have my foreskin ripped open in a burning pain.
Then, my mother made a very slight movement of opening her legs. Sensing a slight opening, I immediately pressed down hard, this time placing my entire groin between her legs, my lower abdomen pressed against hers. My mother then closed her legs again, returning to her original position. The different temperatures emanating from my mother's back, buttocks, and between her legs made me dizzy. After the dizziness subsided, there was a series of thrusts, gradually increasing in speed. The sensation was exquisite, no less than actual penetration, at least that's what I thought at the time. Of course, I later overturned this conclusion myself.
I realized then how incompetent I was; I don't know if I lasted even two minutes before I couldn't help but ejaculate, without pulling out, directly onto my mother's thighs and the blanket. The hot temperature and wetness made my mother sit up abruptly. My penis, slipping between her thighs for the last time, enjoyed the tight grip of my mother, and I couldn't help but ejaculate the last drop of semen. My mother was wiping the semen off her thighs with a tissue. The wet stains on the sheets and blankets hadn't been cleaned yet when she got up, took something out of her bag, grabbed it, and went to the bathroom.
(XIV)
When my mother came out, I was cleaning up my little brother who had just finished his business.
My mother had forgotten to take her bra when she went in, so she came out shirtless. She had changed her underwear, which made me very aroused. However, my little brother was not up to par and couldn't get into the mood right away. But when my mother came to get her bra, I took the opportunity to grope her. During this time, my mother dressed herself properly.
I checked the time and it was almost 7 o'clock. My mother and I were both wide awake.
After my mother finished washing up and put on some light makeup, she came over and patted me, who was watching TV. "If you've had your fun, get up quickly and take Mom for a walk around!"
This was clearly a blatant provocation. With normal physiological needs, how could I resist such verbal stimulation? The thing between my legs immediately went into battle mode.
I shifted my position closer to my mother's, pulling her hand to signal her to sit down. She readily sat next to me, and I moved even closer until she was practically sitting between my legs. My left foot was behind her, my right foot was in front of her chest, and her shapely buttocks were close to my penis.
I pulled back the blanket that had been covering my lower body, revealing my naked body to my mother.
My mother turned her head from watching TV and looked down at my crotch. She saw my iron-like penis staring at her menacingly, a half-smile on her face. She flicked it lightly with her right hand and said, "You're recovering from your breakup pretty quickly!" A double entendre...
"Mom, it's not just a heartache, it needs a heart remedy. Once the heart remedy is here, it'll definitely cure everything."
"Get lost! Isn't your heart remedy at her school?"
I pulled my mother's hand to my burning penis. She understood and grasped it. The cool warmth of her palm instantly spread throughout my body, making me involuntarily squeeze harder, allowing my penis to make closer contact with her palm.
"This heart remedy is a miracle cure!" I covered my mother's breast with my right hand through her shirt.
"I've cured you this time. If you relapse next time, I'm not going to serve you anymore." My mother said, squeezing my penis harder, making it burn with rage.
I braced myself against the bed with my left hand, provocatively responding to my mother's thrusting motion in her grasp.
She adjusted her position slightly, placing her left hand under my testicles, cradling them—the cool sensation was quite pleasant. Her right hand then began to stroke rapidly.
Luckily, I had already ejaculated once, so the sensation wasn't too intense; otherwise, given her speed, I think I would have finished quickly.
I deliberately suppressed my pleasure, focusing my attention on my mother. I unbuttoned her bra, stroking it back and forth, then slipped it inside, lifting her nipples and teasing them.
They soon hardened like agate. I glanced at my mother's face; her gaze was fixed on my crotch, her hand still diligently stroking, though I could faintly hear her heavy breathing.
I tried to push her back onto the bed twice, but she struggled to get up each time. Seeing her refusal to yield, I felt a growing frustration and disappointment, and my movements ceased. Seeing my attitude, my mother didn't say anything, but turned around and squatted down on the ground.
Looking at my mother's disheveled shirt and bra underneath, I felt a strange excitement. Instinctively, I moved closer to the edge of the bed, reaching out with my right hand to gently cup her breast.
My mother's movements slowed noticeably, then she switched to her left hand, but that didn't work either. I thought to myself, if I just held back, I could definitely seduce my mother, but she seemed hesitant.
She hesitated for a moment, then suddenly pressed her head close to my lower abdomen. I had never experienced anything like this before and didn't immediately understand her intentions. But then I felt a warm embrace and a strange suction. I realized then that it was my mother's mouth; she was giving me oral sex—the kind of thing I'd only ever seen in pornographic books, and it was actually happening to me.
I was incredibly excited, unsure where to put my hands. Placing them on my mother's breasts or back seemed inappropriate, as I feared it would interfere with her movements. Finally, I gently stroked her face, touching her earlobe—the book said earlobes were erogenous zones…
My penis continued to move in and out of my mother's mouth. Only then did I realize how naive my initial thoughts were. The way my mother's legs moved was utterly unappealing compared to her mouth.
Perhaps because her movements weren't large enough or slow enough, that time lasted unusually long. My mother seemed tired, and after a while, she released my penis, sat on the bed beside me, and gestured for me to rest.
Having tasted the novelty, I wasn't about to let it go. I immediately stood up, erect, and stood before my mother. My mother gave me a resentful look, helpless, and had no choice but to take it into her mouth again.
This time, her hair didn't obscure her face as before; I could clearly see her face and her slightly furrowed brows.
I began to cooperate with my mother, slowly thrusting, also to penetrate deeper.
My mother stopped moving herself, seemingly enjoying my penetration. A few times, when it went too deep, she would spit out my penis and cough to relieve the discomfort in her throat.
In my later experience, my mother was clearly trained, because when my little vixen first gave me oral sex, her teeth kept hitting the glans, causing me intermittent pain, but my mother didn't. She could tolerate even slightly deeper penetration.
My mother squeezed her throat and took my penis back into her mouth. I held her chin to help me speed up.
Because her chin was somewhat rounded, I stroked it as I moved in and out of her mouth, looking at her delicate nose. My
mother let out a soft "hmm" from her throat. I didn't stop stroking her. My mother became more active, making continuous "hmm" sounds. Later, I learned that the area from her chin to her throat was her most sensitive spot.
Listening to my mother's moans and watching myself move in and out of her mouth was a pleasure, and soon I couldn't control myself anymore.
My mother sensed I was about to ejaculate, but instead of spitting me out, she used both hands to speed up the process. After I ejaculated into her mouth, she held it in for a while until my penis was almost completely limp before letting go and going to the bathroom to rinse her mouth.
I never imagined I would one day give my mother oral sex; it was even more unimaginable than penetrating her. Before this, I had only ever imagined penetrating my mother, and my first experience with oral sex was actually done by her. Sometimes, my little devil in the house would even get jealous because of it.
After my mother came out, she asked me if the service was satisfactory. My mother's sudden bluntness made me a little uncomfortable. Since she was willing to make such a sacrifice for me, thinking about it later, it wasn't so hard to understand why she said such a thing. I had never enjoyed such treatment before, so naturally, I answered that it was satisfactory.
My mother said, "Then hurry up and find a girlfriend so she can serve you every day!"
Speaking of girlfriends, I was a little unhappy. I told my mother that I had just broken up with her and had no mood to find one.
My mother dismissively said, "Nonsense, you weren't in the mood just now."
"What if I still want your services after I get a girlfriend?" I shamelessly looked at my mother with a lewd smile.
"I know you too well how you forget your mother after getting a wife. When you have a girlfriend, you're always running around outside, and only when you lose her do you remember to call home crying and begging for
your parents." I shook my mother's arm, acting like a child I never expected. Was I just naturally immature, or do men sometimes really act like kids? I don't know. "Mom, I won't forget you in the future..."
"Nonsense! If your wife finds out, she'll kill you!"
"Then wife and mom will both come at me!"
My mother blushed and spat at me. "You're really shameless... Do you think she
'd want that?" "What if she did?" I pinched my mother's butt; it was very bouncy.
My mother slapped my hand away, "Then let her go! I'm not giving in!"
Suddenly, I realized my mother had lost her former demeanor; now she seemed more like my lover. Whether I'd give in or not, the answer was already in her tone.
When we checked out, we ran into the cleaning lady. She glanced at my mother a few times, then at me, her expression complex. I wondered if she'd looked at our sheets while cleaning—maybe she had, but she'd never know we were mother and son.
We had breakfast at the hotel, then took a bus to the zoo and amusement park. Around noon, we found a local restaurant nearby and had lunch.
After a short rest, we went straight to the train station to buy my mother's return ticket. During the trip, I took advantage of my mother, especially when she linked arms with me. I occasionally bumped her breasts with my elbow, but she didn't react.
While waiting for the train, I started to feel reluctant to leave, my mood unusually low, and I spoke listlessly.
Seeing this, my mother asked slyly, "What, haven't you had enough fun yet?"
I replied with a casual "Mmm."
"Hold on, I'll reward you when we get back for National Day!" my mother blurted out.
These words instantly swept away all the gloom that had just enveloped me, and I became incredibly energetic, full of anticipation for National Day.
Seeing how fickle I was, my mother gritted her teeth and pinched my hand, making me cry out in pain. I wondered if my mother's sensitive heart could sense that my desire for her was stronger than ever before.
After seeing my mother off on the train, I once again experienced the pain of parting, but it was unstoppable. I left sadly and began my long wait for National Day.
(15)
The National Day holiday quickly arrived with the end of military training, and I took the train ticket I had booked long ago and went home. Full of joy, I couldn't wait to knock on the door, but to my surprise, my father opened the door and immediately said, "Did you knock on the door until it broke?"
There was no estrangement between father and son, but my father's appearance completely disrupted my expectations.
I angrily tossed all the bags to my father and asked, "Dad, I'm home! Where's Mom?"
"She's wearing a face mask!"
As soon as I got home, all the frustration from school vanished. Even though seeing my father home meant my mother couldn't keep her promise, I was actually delighted. So, after greeting my father, I called out "I'm back!" in my mother's direction and went to my bedroom.
I slept soundly for a long time, vaguely hearing my mother calling me for dinner. At the table, I noticed that in front of my father, my mother had completely changed from her spoiled manner towards me during my university days; she was now as dignified and serious as before. Naturally, I wisely refrained from making any inappropriate moves.
I remained quiet until the quiet eve of the long holiday's end. In my bedroom, I turned on a pornographic film, lowered the volume to the lowest setting, and prepared to masturbate while watching before bed. Feeling thirsty, I went to the kitchen to get some water and was about to return to my room when a sudden thought struck me: I wanted to check if my mother was asleep.
I tiptoed towards my parents' door and noticed a sliver of light still shining through. I became extremely alert, fearing someone might suddenly open the door and walk out. With heightened concentration, I pressed my ear against the wall, listening intently for any sounds from inside.
To my surprise, I heard a soft thud of buttocks colliding. "What a coincidence!" I thought to myself.
Not daring to miss a single sound, I quickly pressed myself against the wall. About half a minute later, accompanied by rapid thumping sounds, came my mother's urgent moans. Her moans and groans grew increasingly shrill.
Then, the rapid pounding slowed noticeably, "Slap! ~ Slap! ~ Slap! ~" from three times per second to about three times per second, and my mother's moans became more hazy and drawn-out.
After about a minute, the pounding became intense and rapid again, and my mother responded with urgent moans, only to be abruptly stopped with a loud "Slap!"
My heart was already pounding wildly, my penis was throbbing in my pants, and I was desperately suppressing my lust, my ears pressed against the wall, not daring to relax for a moment.
Just then, I heard my mother's soft moan, "You've been seeing plenty of prostitutes outside, haven't you!" Then I heard
my father sigh, "I'm getting old, I'm useless now!"
Next came the sound of running water from the bathroom, followed by my father's deep voice, "Take a pill tomorrow!"
"Go to hell, you want to fuck me to death? This precious place of mine can't withstand a pill-driving jackhammer..." It was the first time I'd heard my mother swear. My penis swelled to its limit, so I stopped eavesdropping, went back to my room, and thinking about the jackhammer my mother had mentioned, I masturbated three times before finally falling asleep.
The next day, I had to take the bus, and it was my father who woke me up. My mother added a few things to my things and gave me a lot of instructions, but because my father was there, they were all just ordinary ramblings. Before entering the platform, my father went to the restroom.
During that time, I asked my mother, "Mom, where's my reward?"
"You little rascal, you've got a good memory!"
"Of course, it's all thanks to my studies."
"Keep it up, kid, you'll get your share. Mom always keeps her word!" " It's
a deal." "Of course!" I knew my mother's temperament; she wouldn't go back on her word. I returned to school with my mother's words in mind. Strangely enough, time heals all wounds. After the long holiday, I gradually got to know my classmates and resumed my social life. It was after this that I found another girlfriend, let's call her Xiao Ke. After dating Xiao Ke, I completely forgot about what happened with my mother. We traveled together, ate and drank, and had fun. Our sex life went from five times in a row at first to once a day, and then every few days. In terms of sex, my mother had given me my first taste, but under Xiao Ke's guidance, I had tried everything. My experience with sex was extensive, and I became quite skilled. So, during my summer and winter vacations, Xiao Ke and I traveled around aimlessly until the summer of my sophomore year when a phone call from my mother told me to come home. The day I returned home, my parents took me to a real estate developer's sales office and paid for an apartment. The next day, I accompanied them to the Civil Affairs Bureau, and seeing them sign the divorce papers felt like a bolt from the blue. Later, I learned that my father had accumulated a huge debt due to a debt dispute, and seeing no way to escape, he resorted to this desperate measure. In a daze, I waited until the third day. My parents had already packed a few simple belongings. After my mother nagged me for a while, I was still in a dream when the family parted ways. I returned to my school, and my parents went to another city. After that, my mother would occasionally call me through Xiao Ke's number using a new number, but only a handful of times. With Xiao Ke by my side, I didn't experience much emotional distress regarding the drastic changes in my family, and continued as usual. Until before the National Day holiday of my junior year, Xiao Ke received a call from my mother saying she was coming to see me and Xiao Ke. Hearing this news, thinking about how long I had been away from home for the past two years, and recalling my mother's promise, I was overjoyed. After discussing with Xiao Ke, we chose a scenic mountain area perfect for a relaxing trip. It had a food court, guesthouses, and plenty of opportunities for hiking and water activities. When I saw my mother again, she looked thinner and a little tired. She was wearing a long dress with an ink-wash print and high heels. Her neckline was stretched taut by her increasingly full breasts, and a quick glance revealed her light blue bra and a glimpse of her fair skin peeking out from it—she was breathtakingly beautiful. Xiao Ke and my mother hit it off immediately, exchanging pleasantries before finding a guesthouse together. My mother stayed upstairs, and Xiao Ke and I stayed downstairs. My mother wasn't particularly interested in the scenery but was quite keen on the food. Luckily, Xiao Ke was our knowledgeable guide, and she accompanied her for two days, sampling various regional cuisines. I happily joined them, and after spending the night with Xiao Ke, I didn't even think about my mother. On the third day at breakfast, Xiao Ke received a call from one of her high school best friends, saying it was a wedding. They hadn't informed her beforehand, and Xiao Ke was a little reluctant, but out of politeness, she finally agreed. At noon, she said goodbye to her mother and rushed to catch the train back to her hometown. I was secretly delighted; it was truly a stroke of luck. In the afternoon, I invited my mother to hike for the entire afternoon, returning to our lodgings only near sunset, drenched in sweat. My mother, who was already lacking in exercise, complained incessantly after the hike, unaware of her son's ulterior motives. While my mother went upstairs to shower, I secretly took some crayfish and beer from outside. After a quick shower, I carried the items to my mother's door and knocked. She came out, startled at first, but then let me in after seeing what I was carrying. My mother was wearing a white sleeveless chiffon dress, her slightly long hair tied up at the back of her head, still damp. As I walked past her, a fragrant scent wafted towards me, and I couldn't help but take a deep breath; my penis immediately began to stir. My mother and I sat facing each other at the computer desk, having a few drinks. She didn't seem wary of me at all; within an hour or so, she was already quite tipsy, her cheeks slightly flushed, looking alluringly beautiful. My mother talked about recent events at home, and I listened attentively. When she mentioned Xiao Ke, she seemed very happy, her eyes filled with approval and gratitude for Xiao Ke. From the moment we finished cleaning up the mess until my mother washed her hands and sat on the bed, I moved to the sofa and slumped down, echoing her words and praising Xiao Ke profusely. But as I spoke, my mother suddenly showed signs of jealousy. I quickly changed the subject. "Without her, I really couldn't have gotten through these hurdles." "You too, Mom's been through it all, we've broken up and gotten back together, it's all just like that." "You're so insightful, seeing her is knowledge!" "Oh, I told you you don't understand, you do have a brain after all." "Of course, after all, I went to university." My mother pressed her hands on the edge of the bed, shifted her bottom, and spat, "University student, my foot!" "So what if I went to university?" "My university student is so unambitious..." My mother sighed deliberately and shook her head. Thinking about my mother's promise, a wicked thought suddenly arose, and I asked back, "Mom, are you bringing up the past? Does your promise still stand?" "Alright! Let's not talk about that, tell me about the interesting things that happened in university." "No interesting things, it was all with Xiao Ke."

I briefly recounted how I met Xiao Ke and how we got together, embellishing the story occasionally. When I mentioned the night raid on Xiao Ke, my mother clearly hadn't expected me to be so explicit, and perhaps recalling the time I ambushed her, her chest heaving noticeably. I couldn't contain myself any longer and pressed, "Mom, do you still stand by what you said?"
My mother turned her head and rolled her eyes, "You brat, you have a wife and you still worry about your old mother!"
I jumped up and strode to the bedside with lightning speed. Before my mother could react, I grabbed both of her wrists and pressed her forward, forcing her down onto the bed. I buried my head in her ample breasts, and with one hand, I pulled down her sweatpants and underwear, revealing my erect penis pressed firmly against her crotch.
Just as I was about to pull aside my mother's skirt and force my way into her cotton panties, she snapped out of her daze. Although we were in a guesthouse and she didn't dare shout, she struggled desperately. The hand I had temporarily released slapped at me, making me flustered. My hard penis thrust in and out several times, but I couldn't hit the bullseye.
I withdrew my hand from her crotch, grabbed her again, used my knees to press down on her, and thrust my lower body forcefully about ten times. My penis rubbed against her panties, and I could vaguely feel her erect clitoris. I felt a wetness on the glans, unable to tell if it was my own fluid or her vaginal fluid, and I felt waves of pleasure.
I brought my lips close to my mother's chin and neck, and my wet tongue licked her neck flesh. My mother shivered, all her strength gone, and her pretty face turned red to her ears.
I began to lick her vigorously. My mother struggled with her desire for about twenty seconds. Just as I was about to knead her breasts, she straightened her back and used her legs to throw me off her,
tumbling to the ground with a thud. Caught off guard, I scrambled to my feet. My mother coldly snapped, "If you do this again, we're done!"
Her attitude was resolute, and I dared not utter a sound. Seeing her reddened eyes filled me with shame, and my lust subsided considerably. I pulled up my pants, knelt before her, and said, "Mom, I'm sorry, I couldn't control myself." Her
tone softened slightly. "It's getting late, go back to sleep!"
I reluctantly returned to my room, lay down for a while, watched some TV, and called Xiao Ke. She said she had to get up early the next day, so we didn't talk. Frustrated by the alcohol, I turned on my phone and started reading pornographic novels. I vented my frustration haphazardly in the bathroom before lying down and drifting off to sleep watching TV.
I was woken up by the noise outside before midnight. I got up to get some water and suddenly found two keys left by Xiao Ke near the kettle. Upon closer inspection, one was our room number, and the other was my mother's. A thought flashed through my mind, and my heart started pounding.
Emboldened by the alcohol, I steeled myself, grabbed the keys, and went straight to my mother's room.
Using the faint light filtering through the curtains, I quietly approached my mother's bed and saw her lying on her side with her back to me.
My heart pounded so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of my throat. I took a deep breath to calm myself. I carefully reached out and lifted the corner of the blanket, revealing my mother's smooth back, and my penis became aroused.
I impatiently stripped off my clothes, slipped into my mother's blanket, and pressed my back against hers from behind. My left hand was under my head, and my right hand gently caressed her buttocks. I was shocked to find her completely naked. Instantly, I felt dizzy and my mouth went dry.
I lifted my lower body slightly towards her buttocks, my penis throbbing in her cleft. My right hand covered half of her breast. My nose pressed against her fragrant back; a faint, sweet scent filled the air.
I couldn't resist giving her a deep kiss, teasing her with my tongue. She murmured softly, almost inaudibly.
My hands weren't idle either. I hooked my index finger around her nipple and teased it a few times. I felt it harden, so I pinched it between two fingers and gently twisted it. Her nipple swelled even more, and I almost wanted to reach over and suckle it.
After fiddling with it for a while, my penis felt incredibly hot and uncomfortable, so I lifted my buttocks and pressed it down between my mother's legs with my hand, then slowly moved my lower body closer to her buttocks.
The contact between my penis and her labia brought a wet sensation. My mother's labia were flat and large, extremely similar in shape to the genitals in the photos I uploaded. I freed my hand and placed it on my mother's waist, my penis moving back and forth between her soft labia.
Soon, I could clearly feel the swollen, engorged clitoris at the front of her labia, the glans already wet.
My hand on my mother's waist reached down, pressed my penis, and pulled it along her vulva. My penis slid smoothly against her vulva, my fingertips occasionally brushing against her sparse pubic hair.
I pressed down on the base of my penis, squeezing it forcefully against her labia four or five times, and my mother let out a long, soft "eng~". I hadn't expected my mother to be sleeping so soundly; I had finally succeeded, and a surge of secret joy filled me.
After a few tentative movements, my penis nestled inside my mother's soft, wet vagina.
Suppressing my surging emotions, I slowly inserted it all the way in. I found no resistance; it felt like my entire penis had entered a waterfall, as if there were endless springs of water inside.
Although there wasn't a strong feeling of tightness, it was warm, slippery, and incredibly comforting, enveloping my penis completely. I began to slowly thrust in and out, my penis moving gently in and out of my mother's vagina, each thrust releasing a little more fluid.
My mother's vagina was shallow; about ten centimeters in was enough to reach her clitoris. A little further in, and I could feel her little mouth greedily sucking at my glans.
Suddenly, my mother woke up with a start, cried out "Ah!", and began to push me away forcefully. I refused to give in, grabbing her waist tightly and beginning to thrust powerfully.
My mother let out a series of "Ah! Ah! Ah!" sounds, then suddenly realized something, and lowered her voice,
turning into muffled "Hmm! Hmm! Hmm!" Even the strength to push me away vanished, and her buttocks involuntarily arched, welcoming each thrust.
A moment later, my mother pulled her arms back, gripping the pillow, her body gradually stiffening, her breathing becoming erratic. I knew she was about to climax, and disregarding everything else, I increased my speed, thrusting vigorously.
My mother's lower abdomen contracted, her vagina clenching tightly, sometimes loosening, sometimes relaxing, a clear gush of fluid gushing out.
This tightness from my mother brought me to the brink of ecstasy, and I couldn't hold back any longer, thrusting twice more before ejaculating.
My mother trembled twice more in the afterglow, then went limp. I lingered in her wet embrace, reluctant to leave.
After a while, my penis went limp and slipped out of my mother's vagina, semen mixing with her vaginal fluid flowing down her buttocks.
My mother felt a chill, got up to cover herself, and grabbed a tissue from the bedside table to wipe herself.
I found it a little funny and chuckled. My mother, her face flushed, looked up at me and threw the tissue at me. "Get it clean!" I took the tissue from my mother and cleaned my penis .
I heard my mother say indifferently, "Just this once!"
I knew what she meant, but practice makes perfect.
My genitals were sticky, so I went to the bathroom to wash myself. When I came out, I found my mother had already gone to bed.
I didn't stand on ceremony and gently lifted her blanket and lay down. This time, however, my mother was wearing underwear.
Exhausted from the whole day, still feeling the effects of the alcohol, and after the recent encounter, I quickly fell asleep.
In the early morning, before dawn, I woke up with numb hands and saw my mother sleeping facing me, her two large breasts drooping, the nipples appearing particularly dark against her fair skin.
I lay down and buried my face in my mother's chest, took her nipple into my mouth, and began to suckle and tease it with my tongue.
My mother's nipples stood erect in her mouth. I reached my right hand between her legs and ran it back and forth across her labia.
At first, her labia were relatively dry, but soon a trickle of fluid flowed from her opening, becoming slippery under my fingers. My mother wrapped her arms around me, pulling me tightly to her chest. My tongue began to wildly slap and shake on her nipples, while my fingers, dipped in her vaginal fluid, gently rubbed her clitoris. My mother's grip tightened.
Releasing my mother's nipples, I called out, "Mom~ let me kiss you~"
My mother loosened her arms, and I moved my body upwards, my mouth meeting her lips. This time, there was no unpleasant smell.
I used my tongue to pry open her teeth and tease her fragrant tongue, and my mother began to respond with her tongue moving in response. I reached out and lifted my mother's left leg, placing it in the crook of my arm, then lifted her left leg and placed it on my body, before grabbing my glans and pulling it towards her opening.
My mother's vagina was already overflowing with moisture, and my rounded glans easily slipped into the fertile flesh. This time, my mother was willing, so I didn't rush into a vigorous thrust. Instead, I slowly probed deeper, savoring my mother's tender vagina. It
was slippery and hot, the entrance tightly gripping. Each time I fully entered, my mother involuntarily trembled. After five minutes of slow in-and-out movements, my mother gripped my arm tightly, her nails digging into my flesh, and she convulsed.
I pulled out my penis, turned my mother over, and climbed up, bending her legs towards her chest. I grasped my penis and pressed it against her wetness. After a couple of thrusts, I couldn't penetrate. I pulled my penis back and looked; it turned out my mother's labia were a little short, and the entrance was a bit far from her anus.
I pressed my penis against her labia and slid it down, and the large glans broke through again. My mother let out a muffled groan. Encouraged, I began to thrust violently. My mother had just recovered slightly from her orgasm
when she was hit with several more vigorous thrusts. My testicles slapped rhythmically against her anus with
each thrust, and she groaned softly, her vaginal fluids soaking a large patch of the sheets. I felt a chill run down my spine, and the tingling sensation on my glans intensified. "Mom~ I'm coming~" I pressed my thumb against her clitoris and began to rub it, while my other hand grabbed her calf, my hips slamming against her buttocks with a loud slapping sound. My mother cried out, "Ahhhhh..." Her legs, which had been wrapped around my waist, gradually loosened, followed by a spasm, and a gush of hot fluid erupted from her body.
I called out "Mom," pressed my penis firmly against her hips, and ejaculated inside her all at once. I
lay on top of her for a long time without getting up. My mother, breathless, pushed me up and grabbed a handful of tissues to wipe herself.
Seeing me staring at her genitals, she got up and went to the bathroom to wash.
I overslept and missed breakfast. I got up, ate something quick, and then dragged my mother back to her room
to rest. We did it again until I was completely exhausted, and I didn't even have time for dinner. This went on for several days until I was utterly drained. That National Day holiday was the most intense period of my physical release with my mother.
Later I learned that, given my mother's personality, the chances of me succeeding by force were almost zero. Although she had been somewhat prepared during her visit, she hadn't expected me to use force.
I jokingly asked her what would have happened if I had penetrated her on the first try. She said she would have given in. It seems fortunate that Xiao Ke left the key; otherwise, failing to penetrate on the first try would have been a great regret.
I asked her if she was pretending to be asleep the first time she was touched. My mother told me that she was already exhausted those days. She
had climbed the mountain all day and drunk so much alcohol that she was dizzy. Then I touched her a few more times. Her body had been celibate for a long time, and it made her want it too. She only struggled because of her son. If it were anyone else, she would have given in long ago.
After I left, I was upset and couldn't suppress my lust. I lay on the bed and masturbated for a while. Then I went to the toilet to wash off the sticky clothes. I was too lazy to put on clothes. I locked the door and fell asleep immediately.
I didn't expect that the door of the guesthouse could be opened even when locked with a key. It was also my body that was not cooperating. Those few real touches hit the itchy spot and my lower body cooperated involuntarily. Afterwards, I thought that since I had already promised, I should keep my promise.
(16)
After returning to school, life returned to its original state. My mother would occasionally contact me, mostly about weather changes and preventing infectious diseases, as if nothing had happened. Most of her energy was focused on Xiao Ke,
so I didn't worry too much. Graduation was fast approaching, and we planned to go back to our hometown to find jobs together. But Xiao Ke, for some reason, insisted on taking the postgraduate entrance exam, and nothing could sway her.
After the Spring Festival that year, I started working at a company in my hometown, while Xiao Ke entered the graduate program at our university.
At my new job, I was unfamiliar with the work and spent a lot of time and energy getting used to it. I also had to take the train to see Xiao Ke once or twice a month, so life was busy and fulfilling. During this time, because I lacked independence, my mother traveled a long distance to help me with the major paperwork for starting work, and she would come to clean my place every month after I went to work or went out. Because I didn't have much time alone with my mother, nothing much happened for a long time.
As my work gradually became less demanding, and Xiao Ke was too far away to help, I started to focus more on my mother.
My lifestyle became increasingly slovenly, and I neglected my diet. Later, I contracted acute gastroenteritis and was hospitalized for two days. My mother, worried sick, came to see me that very night.
Two days later, she moved into an apartment about 20 kilometers away from where I lived. The apartment was a loft design; the first floor had a dining room and living room, and the second floor had a bedroom. Due to the low ceiling, the bedroom was so narrow that I could barely stand upright, and I always felt like I was bumping my head
. My mother seemed wary of me; she didn't even give me the apartment key. At my place, she would occasionally come to change the sheets or heat up some soup, but I rarely encountered her directly in my home; she was clearly intentionally avoiding me.
Later, I learned that she moved in partly because she was worried about my lack of self-sufficiency, and partly because my father's temper had drastically worsened.
In the following two years, although my father paid off his debts with the help of friends and his business slowly improved, the rift between him and my mother had widened considerably. Later, when I married Xiao Ke, I only saw my father once, at the wedding. After that, I heard from my mother that my father had found me a stepmother.
My mother didn't show much emotional fluctuation. As she herself said, she was used to breakups and reconciliations. She had experienced so much herself, let alone my father.
During this time, I learned a lot about the internet and surveillance online. Later, I bought her a laptop and secretly installed a remote control program on it. My mother started using QQ again, which she hadn't used in a long time, and became addicted to online card games.
I observed her screen from the other end of the network, watching her every move through her webcam, and often played card games with her. My mother typed slowly and rarely replied on QQ.
Once, on a whim, I put the articles I had written between forty and fifty, "I'm Just a Woman" and "I Love My Son," into documents next to the game icons on her desktop. I don't know when my mother first opened them, but the first time I saw her browsing those two articles was late at night.
My mother turned off the lights, wearing a gray-blue cotton sleeveless slip dress, her nipples barely visible through the fabric, supported by her breasts. The screen light shone on the mother's face, clearly showing her flushed cheeks and tiny beads of sweat. The document slowly scrolled down; the mother was intently reading Chapter Four.
A moment later, her left hand moved to the underside of her breast and began to knead it, her eyes fixed on the screen with unwavering concentration.
Her index and middle fingers teased her nipples, her fingernails occasionally tracing circles around them. Under her caresses, her large nipples bulged, as if about to burst open. She used her right hand to pull down the strap of her bra over her left shoulder, leaning back in her computer chair, and began to vigorously knead her left breast. Her breathy moans filled the headphones, making my blood boil. After she took off her panties, I followed suit.
Her nightgown hung loosely around her waist like a belt. She propped her feet up on the computer desk, her left hand grasping her right breast, her body reclining in the chair. Two fingers of her right hand slowly massaged her genitals. Unfortunately, the camera only showed her lower abdomen; not even a single pubic hair was visible. Her breathing grew heavy, punctuated by muffled groans, and her movements gradually quickened.
In less than half a minute, my mother's face was filled with pain, her plump legs tensed, and even her breathing became erratic. Then, she clamped her legs tightly around her right hand, her body trembled involuntarily, her two mounds of white flesh jerked, and her lower abdomen contracted violently twice. My scalp tingled, and I ejaculated, my rapidly moving penis gripped tightly in my hand.
My mother remained limp for a while before recovering. Then I saw her grasp her right breast, inserting two fingers into her vagina and gently moving them in and out. Soon, she increased the speed, her two fingers moving rapidly inside her vagina, while her palm simultaneously rubbed her clitoris. The gurgling sounds, accompanied by the muffled moans emanating from her mouth and nose, became increasingly clear, and her breasts appeared even more erect.
Seeing my mother's forearm movements intensify, her palms beginning to stir incessantly, my mother lowered her head, biting her lower lip, her body drenched in sweat, emitting intermittent moans from her throat. Then, she opened her legs, raised her buttocks high, thrust her lower abdomen upwards, her whole body trembling, completely immersed in the pleasure of orgasm.
At that moment, I clearly saw the two fingers inserted into her vagina and the vaginal fluid flowing from her vulva to her anus. The slightly dark outline of my mother's genitals and the pink inner walls made me swallow hard. Looking at my still-shrunken penis, I thought to myself, "My dear mother, you're so horny."
After shutting down the computer, my mother didn't turn it on for two consecutive days. On the third night, she played cards for a while. On the fourth night,
she opened the document again and started reading it from the beginning, masturbating with a series of soft moans. This repeated for two or three months.
I gradually added many more mother-son novels to her desktop, and she would open and read every single one, especially "My Mom Called Me Home for Dinner" and "The Breakthrough Between Mother and Son After the New Year," which she read over and over again.
She asked me why some unfamiliar things appeared on her computer. Of course, I knew what they were and explained that they were probably website ads and nothing to worry about.
My mother was secretly masturbating, while I patiently observed her habits, calculated her menstrual cycle, and
even memorized when she usually bathed, ate snacks, wore what clothes when she was thirsty, and which part of an article resonated with her most.
Later, when Wi-Fi became more common, I thought of getting my mother a wireless router. She wasn't familiar with network devices and had no idea I had installed cameras on the two routers in her house. These two cameras gave me a deeper understanding of my mother's daily life—but that's another story.
At that time, four bags of apples were all the rage, and smartphones with WeChat were gradually becoming popular. My mother didn't use mobile data, so she didn't use WeChat or anything like that. After I explained Wi-Fi, she readily agreed to have it installed, but I didn't schedule a date with her.
I waited until late one night to see my mother, who had showered and changed into her gray-blue sundress, sitting in front of the computer and opening a document. I sent her a message on QQ saying I was coming over to install the router. She opened the chat box and only typed "Now" after a long night. I figured it was a question, and before she could finish, I quickly added, "Come and do it to me now, son."
My mother, having just looked up from the keyboard, saw what she had sent and paled, unable to believe she had sent it. I replied, "Mom, your computer's got a virus, right? I'll come over and fix it for you." Before she could reply, I was already out the door, driving to her building, buying a pancake, and excitedly going upstairs.
When I entered, I found her wearing a plain sleeveless pleated long dress; turning around, I could clearly see the outline of her bra and underwear. My mother blushed and walked straight inside with her back to me, saying softly, "My computer got a virus just now, it wasn't me who sent it!"
"Yeah, I know, I'll pretend I didn't see it.
" "It wasn't me!" My mother seemed a little guilty.
"I know, I know."
Then I started installing the router and adjusting its position. My mother saw that I was about to use her computer and hurriedly stopped me, telling me to come back another day to fix it.
I went to the bathroom to wash my hands and came back to sit on the sofa on the other side of my mother's side. Watching her eat her pancake, I asked, "Mom, have you read all the novels I sent you?"
My mother was so surprised that she almost dropped her pancake. She kicked me hard with her left leg and said, "You little rascal, I was wondering where they came from, so it was you who was up to no good!"
"Have you read them?" I grabbed my mother's small foot that she hadn't had time to pull back and placed it on my lap, giving her a few massages.
The mother leaned back on the sofa without pulling her legs away, saying, "Didn't see it! Deleted it!"
"Not at all."
"I'm telling you, you're not a kid anymore, why do you always have such crooked thoughts about your mother?"
"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, and besides, this flower is blooming so beautifully, it would be a shame not to pick it..."
"Go away, what kind of twisted logic is that? I'm still a budding flower!"
"Alright then, I'll smell the fragrance, help it ripen, and gather some nectar." The hands on the mother's calves moved slightly towards her knees.
My mother blushed instantly, lowered her voice, and said sternly, "Come on, what kind of mother and son do this!"
"Mom, where did your knowledge go? People may have eaten pork but seen pigs run, but you've eaten pork all your life, why are you asking this?"
"It's different!"
I said with a grin, "How is it different? I've been to that house countless times, I could find my way with my eyes closed!"
"Nonsense, don't make me upset, people aren't animals, you can't just do whatever you want!" My mother's face turned as red as a rotten apple. "
Anyway, no one will know, what's there to be afraid of?"
"It's not a matter of being afraid or not, we just can't do this, you know?"
"You're still afraid. Don't worry, I promise it won't go wrong, we'll only do this when we're at home and no one else is around."
I started gently massaging my mother's thighs with both hands.
"Get out!" My mother was silent for a moment, then handed me the half-eaten pancake. "I can't eat anymore."
I reached my left hand under my mother's skirt and slowly rubbed it against her inner thigh, almost touching her underwear. "Mom, you know I don't like this kind of dry, crunchy stuff. I want something moist and tender."
"How could I have given birth to such a thing? Shameless!"
I moved closer to my mother, my right hand reaching behind her to put my arm around her shoulder, while my left hand gently traced the flesh of her inner thigh with the edge of my nail, like playing the piano. "Anyway, I just feel especially comfortable and happy with you."
My mother put the pancake aside, picked up a piece of cantaloupe with a toothpick, and put it in her mouth. "Oh, happy? What about you and Xiao Ke?"
"That's different."
"How is it different?"
"I feel especially warm inside you."
"Xiao Ke's inside is ice cold."
"No, that's not quite right. Inside you, I feel infinitely enveloped." I placed my left palm up, my index finger touching my mother's mons pubis, then slid my finger down, gently rubbing it against her panties.
"Just say I'm loose!"
"No, no, Mom, you said Dad hasn't used it all these years, is it different here than before?"
I pressed my finger against my mother's vulva, my fingertip wet with the vaginal fluid seeping through her panties.
"If your dad doesn't use it, then no one else will."
"Who?"
"Myself, you filthy scoundrel!"
I reached my right hand under my mother's armpit and grasped her right breast, my left palm covering her mons pubis, my thumb pressing on her lower abdomen, and my four fingers applying a little pressure, making circular motions on her vulva. "Mom, I want to fuck you!"
My mother's face was flushed, her breathing rapid, and she grabbed my hand that had already pulled open the edge of her panties, saying, "It's a promise, the last time!" "
Hmm!" I didn't care, I pushed my mother down onto the sofa, reached into her long skirt and pulled out her purple lace panties, draped the pleated skirt over my mother's waist, and spread her legs apart.
Seeing this lewd scene, my mother panicked and covered her genitals with her hands to block my view. Her body twisted restlessly, her labia clearly wet and glistening, and her vagina was already overflowing with fluid.
I removed my mother's hands, gently placed my hands on her thighs, lowered my head, and gently parted her labia with the tip of my tongue, slowly flicking at her clitoris. My mother couldn't help but shiver and pressed my head down tightly with both hands. I
pressed my tongue firmly against my mother's genitals, rubbing it vigorously from bottom to top. After only five or six strokes, it was covered with her overflowing vaginal fluid. As my tongue licked harder, my mother's hands pressed down on my head even tighter. Listening to the moans coming from her upper body, the "gurgling" sounds coming from her lower body gradually grew louder.
My powerful tongue pierced my mother's wet vagina, teasing and flicking at the entrance. My mother's buttocks rose high,
welcoming my tongue, trying to penetrate even deeper. My teeth touched my mother's clitoris, my tongue deeply inserted into her vagina, wriggling. The stubble on my chin occasionally scraped against my mother's perineum, and a gush of fluid splashed onto my tongue.
My mother slapped my shoulder, scolding, "You brat, are you trying to kill your old lady with impatience? Hurry up and come in!"
"Mom, this is the last time, I have to serve you properly, don't I?"
"You can have as many times as you want, just come in!"
I stood up straight, one foot on the floor, my right leg bent under my mother's left thigh, straightening my penis and aiming it at my mother's vaginal opening. With a slump, my entire penis slid in with a whoosh. My mother let out a weak "ah," the sound lingering in her nose.
My mother's vaginal opening tightly gripped the base of my penis, the soft, tender flesh inside undulating rhythmically. Her clitoris was hard, like a small, sucking mouth, constantly drawing in waves of pleasure. Wave after wave of pleasure surged from my glans to the top of my head.
Seeing I didn't move, my mother shook her hips again. "What are you standing there for? Move!"
At her command, I suddenly began thrusting at full speed. Caught off guard, my mother tensed her legs before she even finished speaking, her calves gripping my back tightly. After a spasm, her hands, which had been wrapped around my waist, fell limply to the sofa.
I waited for my mother to slowly recover before accelerating my thrusts again. My mother pushed me against my lower abdomen, signaling me to stop, saying, "You're pounding a hole! Your cunt's all swollen from all this! Be gentle!"
Stimulated by her words, I thrust my penis inside her about ten times, felt a chill on my back, and with a thrust of my hips, I ejaculated.
My mother felt my penis throb a few times inside her vagina, knowing I had ejaculated. But she was on the verge of another orgasm, and this sudden stop left her wanting more. She
braced herself with one hand, pushed me back with the other, and then sat on top of me, grabbing my semi-erect penis.
Lying there, I held her throbbing breasts, letting her move on top of me. My penis, which had just ejaculated, slowly hardened again. My mother's moans grew louder; she tilted her head back, her hair falling loose, completely immersed in the act.
After a while, she collapsed on top of me, her buttocks still moving.
"I can't take it anymore, you take over,"
I said without a word. I grabbed her buttocks, lifting them to hold them in place, and thrust my hips up and down rapidly, my testicles hitting her anus. My mother clung tightly to my neck, her lips pressed against my chin, sweat beading on her forehead, moaning incessantly.
I pried open my mother's mouth with my tongue, sucking on her fragrant tongue. Hearing the muffled moans coming from her mouth, my penis thrust faster, and I ejaculated again.
My mother lifted her buttocks to take a tissue to wipe her genitals, and I realized my lower abdomen was covered in a mixture of our vaginal fluids, and the sofa was also wet.
I went to the bathroom to wash up, and without ceremony, I lay down on my mother's bed. Before falling asleep, I hugged her from behind and made love to her again. My mother kept saying that her stomach couldn't take it and asked me to slow down.
Not long after falling asleep, I heard a series of moaning and groaning sounds of sex in my sleep. I thought I was just groaning, but when I woke up, I found my mother listening to the sounds too.
It turned out to be coming from the living room upstairs; a young couple was enjoying their lovemaking. Listening to this, I pulled my mother up and made her kneel on the bed, then thrust my semi-erect penis inside her.
The moans of my mother and the girl upstairs mingled together, sounding incredibly sweet and pleasant. After half an hour, I ejaculated again, pulled out my penis, and fell into a deep sleep.
The next evening, I asked my mother if this happened often upstairs. She said that if it weren't for this, I wouldn't have had the chance to break in again. I secretly thought that those documents were the main culprits. I wondered what my mother downstairs was thinking; the soundproofing was indeed poor.
After that, except for weekends when I went to Xiao Ke's school, I spent the rest of the time bringing my mother pancakes. When my mother heard me mention bringing pancakes on WeChat
, she understood my intention. Occasionally, I would meet her during her period and enjoy her hand and mouth services; the rest of the time, it was just a quickie and then I'd sleep.
Later, Xiao Ke got a job at a food company near me, and after Xiao Ke and I got married, my mother moved to
another city. I knew what my mother was thinking and knew I couldn't make her come back, so I would occasionally chat with her on WeChat. I even bought a train ticket overnight to come and have sex with her the next day.
Once, I inadvertently looked through Xiao Ke's WeChat and found that she already had my mother as a friend. No wonder, the two of them got along very well. The chat content started with food and travel, then escalated to lingerie and sex, culminating in a conversation where the two women addressed each other as sisters, their conversation so vulgar and obscene.
Later, I saw that Xiao Ke wanted her mother to come live with them, but her mother refused, which made me feel even more grateful and guilty towards Xiao Ke.
Three years passed, and Xiao Ke's belly showed no signs of pregnancy. Both Xiao Ke and I had some doubts, and my mother was also worried. During a conversation with my mother, she suggested that we both go to the hospital for a checkup.
"I was wondering if you have some kind of disease."
"That's possible. You've never been pregnant, have you?
" "Get lost! I'm tubal ligated!"
"What! You're tubal ligated and you still use sanitary napkins?"
"Can't I use
them if I'm tubal ligated?" "I thought I didn't need sanitary napkins after tubal ligation."
"You don't know anything! I haven't gone through menopause yet!"
"Right, right, and I haven't stopped menstruating either, I'm still very horny."
"Get lost! You beast!"
"If I'd known you were tubal ligated, I should have released a few more times!"
"Hey, you seem to have released quite a bit, haven't you?"
"Less than planned, the land is almost overgrown."
"It's almost overgrown with weeds."
"I'll pull the weeds."
"Come on, before you come, let's check the seeds first, maybe some melons will still grow in the ground."
"Okay, I got a tubal ligation. All my troops capsized in there,"
my mother sent a smirking emoji.
Later, a hospital checkup revealed azoospermia. After treatment and spending a lot of money on IVF,
Xiao Ke finally got pregnant. Later, Xiao Ke said she needed someone to take care of her during the pregnancy and invited my mother back to stay at my house. At first, my mother was still a bit hesitant, always locking her bedroom door. Xiao Ke couldn't touch her, so my penis could only remain erect.
However, even on home turf, my mother sometimes slipped up. Initially, she wore short sleeves and hot pants, but after I succeeded a few times in the kitchen and bathroom, she simply wore a short nightgown for quick and easy finishing. Later, she didn't even lock her bedroom door anymore. Except for the balcony, almost every corner of the house smelled of our battles.
(The End)
Postscript:
Hastily concluded, please forgive me. If I had more time, I could definitely expand on it and write more.
But now that I'm middle-aged, I'm often not in control of my own destiny. If I have more free time in the future, I might continue writing, but the chances are slim.
As the saying goes, flowers may bloom again, but youth never returns. Just read this novel, use it as a light read, to get a feel for it. Don't do anything rash in reality; cherish the good times. I wish everyone all the best, peace, and good health!

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A recollection of a past love affair with one's mother: The Wild Boar Chasing the Wind

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