Mother Mao Lihua

My mother's name is Mao Lihua. She is 1.68 meters tall, a little chubby, and weighs over 130 pounds. She has a thick waist, thick legs, thick arms, and a large bottom, but her whole body is muscle without an ounce of fat, so she is in good health and has a pleasing figure. As for her appearance, she is undeniably beautiful, with big eyes, a high nose, thin lips, and white teeth. Her only flaw is that, due to her weight, her face is slightly large, but it doesn't detract from her beauty at all. My mother has very good, fair skin; I call her my chubby, fair-skinned mother. My mother wasn't this chubby when she was young; she was an absolute beauty. My father fell in love
with her at first sight and, after much effort, married her, and then I was born. When I was very young, I had a crush on my mother. Back then, I was too young to think about having sex with her; I just longed for her wide, thick bottom, wishing she would lie obediently on the bed so I could sit beside her and comfortably touch her bottom. When I was breastfeeding, I would tentatively touch her breasts, but my mother would make a threatening sound from her nose, so I would quickly pull my hand back and clutch her large breasts. Speaking of my mother's breasts, they were truly beautiful. If she stood, her chest was like two high mountains; if she lay down, although there was some flesh under her arms, the mounds were still clearly visible. As I grew older, my parents let me sleep in my own room. Leaving my mother's embrace was truly painful for a while; I was afraid to sleep at night, afraid of losing my parents' protection. But seeing other classmates sleeping like that, showing off their manliness in front of me, and not being afraid at night, I also started to act like a man. My parents were very happy to see me like this and often praised me outside for my progress, saying I was now an adult. Actually, I was quite fascinated by my mother's body; every time I saw her, I felt a surge of desire. After starting middle school, my fascination with my mother's body intensified, leading to an erection. I started masturbating, fantasizing about masturbating while holding my mother's big buttocks, kissing her while masturbating, and touching her breasts while masturbating… I even dreamt of having sex with my mother, but at the time I didn't know much about female genitalia. It was all vague; I only remember going to a forest with my mother, her getting tired, and sitting on a hillside. I snuggled up to her, reached out to touch her breasts, and she didn't object. Then I touched her buttocks, and she didn't resist. In a daze, I pushed her down on the hillside and ejaculated. That's roughly it. Even so, I was excited for a long time and became even more interested in my mother, which led to more masturbation. Don't think I'm being dirty-minded. I think every man has fantasized about his mother when he was young. After all, the woman who cares about you the most is your mother. From breastfeeding, you learn about the differences between male and female bodies, and that's when you develop a sense of mystery about your mother. Even if your mother isn't conventionally beautiful, everyone has fantasized about her; perhaps that's the origin of the saying "a son doesn't despise his mother for being ugly." I have a fair-skinned, plump, and beautiful mother by my side; it's perfectly normal for me to fantasize about her. Those who say they've never fantasized about their mothers, I think they must have lost their mothers when they were young.
Once, I got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. Passing my parents' room, I suddenly heard my mother groaning. I found it strange, so I knocked on the door and asked, "Mom, what's wrong?" The groaning stopped abruptly, but I could hear that she was suppressing it, not wanting to make any more noise. "Nothing, go back to sleep," my father replied. Since my father was there, I didn't need to do anything, I thought. So I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, I didn't hear anything. During the day, my father went to work, leaving just my mother and me at home. My mother acted as if nothing was wrong. At dinner, I asked, "Mom, what happened to you last night?" My mother's face flushed red to her neck, and she stammered, "Oh...nothing, I just felt a little uncomfortable." But I could see in her eyes that she was hiding something, something I couldn't get out of her by asking. This matter has always been a mystery to me, and I even resented my mother for keeping things from her son. Now, thinking about it, it's really funny. In my third year of junior high, a classmate invited me to his house, saying there was something interesting there, so I went. He was very mysterious; he locked the door and hung the curtains. I didn't know what he was going to do, but I sensed something was about to happen. After he finished everything, he eagerly pulled a DVD from under the bed. My eyes were immediately drawn to it. The cover showed a naked man and woman, Europeans. Although I had never seen a woman's genitals, I recognized a man's—so thick, inserted into a woman's body. This was the first time I had ever seen a woman's genitals, and my penis became erect again. What followed left me speechless. The man and woman on the cover were sitting on a sofa, first kissing, then undressing, and then having sex on the sofa. The woman was moaning and screaming. I suddenly remembered my mother's moans that night—they were the same! So my parents were having sex too. No wonder my father yelled at me to "sleep with your ass!" and my mother hesitated for a long time before telling the truth. Back home, my heart couldn't calm down; my mind was filled with the scenes from the TV. So, I started masturbating, fantasizing about having sex with the female protagonist in the DVD. But just as I was about to ejaculate, my thoughts drifted back to my mother. I fantasized about holding her big, white, thick buttocks and ejaculating into her vagina. Actually, I fantasize about many people—teachers, the neighbor's aunt, older girls—but every time I'm about to ejaculate, my thoughts always return to my mother. After seeing that scene, I couldn't resist fantasizing about my mother even more. I remember masturbating four times that day, and one time it was even my mother's doing. A classmate gave me a website, repeatedly warning me not to let adults see it. When I got home and opened it, it was a pornographic website. I browsed the pictures voraciously, each one making my penis swell. I started masturbating while looking at the pictures, ejaculating thoroughly.
Suddenly, I saw an incestuous article, which excited me instantly. I rushed in. I wanted to chew every word thoroughly, afraid of missing any punctuation marks; my head was practically buried in the computer screen. Suddenly, a thunderous voice boomed from the doorway: "Is this child deaf? He won't answer no matter how many times I call him!" It was Mom! I hadn't even noticed when she came home. I quickly closed the page. Luckily, Mom was just yelling from the doorway and hadn't noticed what I was reading. From that day on, I spent almost all my time reading incest stories, trying to learn from them. I wanted to get my mom. But it was easier said than done. Mom's personality was neither extroverted nor introverted; sometimes she was cheerful, sometimes stern and cold—completely different from the mothers in those incest stories. I didn't know what to do. Once, I hurt my hand, and Mom was very distressed. She came over and sucked on it with her mouth. I even suspected that Mom had feelings for me. I inhaled deeply the fragrance emanating from Mom. She looked up at me and asked, "What are you doing?" I said, "Mom, you smell so good." Mom smiled and said, "You naughty boy." Huh? Wasn't this just like in those incest stories? Now all that was left was for me to confess to my mom. I put my arm around her shoulder and said, "Mom, you're so good to me." Mom smiled and said, "All mothers are like that." This matched the story in the article. My hand slowly slid down and touched Mom's buttocks. Unexpectedly, Mom acted out of character, pushing me aside and yelling, "What are you doing?" Clearly, Mom knew my intentions. She turned and walked away, leaving behind a sentence: "Can't you study properly?" This was a big blow to me. I was afraid Mom would tell Dad, afraid Mom would spread the word. The next day, I told her that Mom hadn't done it, but she was very cold towards me. I was somewhat disheartened. It turned out that incest stories were all fabricated and couldn't be done in real life. Since it couldn't be done, I lost interest in incest stories and focused my energy on studying. But to be honest, my interest in Mom's body didn't diminish at all; on the contrary, it grew stronger. I often looked at Mom's wide, thick buttocks from behind. Mom probably noticed and stopped wearing tight clothes and pants. My second attempt on my mother was in my senior year of high school. I was nineteen, and my mother was forty-one, but she was in excellent health and could carry 100 pounds of grain up five flights of stairs. Even though I'm a boy, I couldn't do that; I had to rest on the third floor. That night, my father was on duty, and I thought the time was right. Taking advantage of my mother's inattention, I grabbed her and pushed her onto the bed. I wanted to force myself on her, like in most incest stories. My mother immediately understood my intention. Although she didn't scream for help, she resisted fiercely, scratching and clawing, and finally kicked me to the ground. Ignoring my injuries, she rushed over and slapped me twice, muttering, "You beast, you shameless thing, get out of here!" It was the first time my mother had hit me, and the first time I'd ever seen her so angry. Terrified, I immediately knelt down and begged for her forgiveness. I even wanted to use those incestuous lines again—like how I'd loved my mother since I was little, how I only loved her! But my mother didn't give me a chance to speak at all. She only said one thing: "Get out, get as far away as possible." That night, I went to my classmate's house and lied, saying that relatives had come to visit and there was nowhere for them to stay. I thought my mother would come looking for me, and if she did, I would still have a chance. But my mother really didn't come looking for me.
The next morning, I returned home dejectedly. Before I even entered the door, I heard my mother crying. My father asked what was wrong, but my mother just kept crying and didn't say anything. I thought that once my mother had finished crying, she would definitely tell me the truth. My mind was in complete turmoil, and I don't know what force compelled me to go inside. My father glared at me: "Where have you been all night? What did you do to make Mom so angry?" I saw that the room was a mess; the table was overturned, and teacups were broken on the floor. I knew that this was what my mother had done in a fit of anger last night. My father still asked, "What exactly happened?" My mother finally raised her head, glaring at me angrily, and said, "Ask your good son!" My head immediately spun three times larger, and I didn't know how to answer. My father grabbed me and asked, "What happened?" I lost my balance and stepped on the broken teacup with a "crash." Suddenly, I found an excuse. This lie was now on my mother's shoulders. If she found out, I was finished. I said, "Mom told me to study hard, but I didn't listen, so she yelled at me. I got angry and overturned the table." Dad yelled, "You've gone too far!" and started hitting me. I was powerless to fight back, but to appease Mom, I struggled and cried out, "Mom, I know I was wrong, I'll never do it again. I'll go to school today to complete the boarding procedures." Mom yelled, "Get out now, and don't ever come back to this house!" Dad softened and said, "Lihua, the child has admitted her mistake, so don't kick her out." Mom was firm and said, "No, I don't want to see him again." I was also firm and said, "Dad, don't try to persuade me anymore, I've made up my mind to board at school." Dad compromised and said, "Fine, it's good to be apart for a while." So, I moved into the school. I knew Mom couldn't tell Dad about this, and I felt a little comforted. But those two slaps from Mom left me heartbroken. Even when I masturbated, thinking of Mom made my penis go limp. I stopped thinking about Mom, stopped masturbating, and poured all my resentment into my studies.
In the college entrance exam, I didn't ask my parents for help; I registered myself. My mother didn't interfere, but my father called, telling me not to be too ambitious and to apply to an ordinary university. Hmph, my father really underestimated me; he didn't know my abilities. I didn't listen to my father and insisted on getting into a prestigious university. At the graduation banquet, my father's colleagues came, my mother's colleagues came, relatives came, and neighbors came too. They kept praising me, after all, I was the only student from my city to attend a prestigious university. They also praised my parents, and my mother smiled, which was rare for her. Our neighbor, Brother Tang, took out his camera to take a picture of me, so all the relatives and friends took pictures with me. Brother Tang called out, "Come on, come on, let's take a family photo." My mother was reluctant, but was pushed along and reluctantly came to my side. Brother Tang made my father sit down, and my mother and I stood behind him, wanting me to put my arm around my mother. My mother forcefully shook me off, and those people shouted, "Oh, what's wrong with your son putting his arm around you?" Only then did my mother reluctantly let me put my arm around her shoulder. It had been so long since I'd been this close to my mother. I whispered, "Mom, I'm sorry about before." My mother whispered back, "Get as far away as possible, and don't come back." Without waiting for me to reply, she yelled, "Tang Er, hurry up and take the picture!" And so, our family had its last family photo. As soon as the flash went off, my mother pulled away from me, refusing to take the picture, making me incredibly embarrassed. Four years of university life is a long time, and time is the best test of character. A year later, my bad habit of masturbation returned. To be honest, I'm a very persistent person. Maybe I like curvy women. I always felt that none of the chubby girls around me could compare to my mother. Some were dark-skinned, some had bad skin, some weren't pretty enough, and some had bad teeth—in short, none of them were as good as my mother. Gradually, I started fantasizing about my mother masturbating again.
[The End]

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Mother Mao Lihua

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