My Mother and I in the Red Years

That day, I returned home with the dry, hard pancake in my hand. My mother was still sitting in her chair, her hands clasped behind her back like an obedient schoolchild, her eyes closed and her head slightly tilted to the side of the chair back, seemingly asleep. I quietly approached her, circled her a few times, and found it amusing. The scene was easy to imagine: in a room plastered with red posters, under a dim light, I stood beside my mother, carefully observing her sleeping posture. The red posters, reflecting the dim light, seemed to float on my mother's face, softening her frozen, weary smile. Perhaps in my short sixteen years of life, I had never seen a woman sleeping so closely, and now it was just the two of us, no one was watching me, I could wholeheartedly admire my mother's beauty without any reservations, without considering her status as a class enemy, without worrying that she might suddenly turn into a venomous snake and devour me. And so, I was stunned, astonished by the weary beauty of my mother's sleep! As a child, I didn't realize that my astonishment perfectly matched the ancient Chinese tale of "admiring a beauty by lamplight," a fortunate experience in an era when books were scarce. A soft, yielding feeling welled up within me, and my nose, unusually sensitive, caught a faint fragrance. The scent was so familiar, reminding me of everything that had happened the previous night. I felt my face burning red, and a sense of pride welled up within me for my feat.
Just then, my mother woke up. She noticed me staring intently at her chest, my face flushed. This reminded her of the humiliation she had suffered that day—I had stripped her naked and exposed her to everyone. She was filled with hatred; she wanted to spit on me, to curse me, but she did nothing. After all, I was her son. She hadn't eaten a single grain of rice for two days. Perhaps due to hunger, she could only manage a weak smile, and when our eyes met, she breathed out: "I'm ashamed of you! You little beast!" I jumped back as if electrocuted, as if my mother had seen through my thoughts. My face flushed red as I said, "Jia Meirong, you mustn't insult revolutionary youth!"
My mother still smiled that same pale, silent smile, yet it carried the weight
of a thunderbolt, sending shivers down my spine. I liked that smile, but for some reason, I was also afraid of it; it seemed to conceal a chilling coldness that sent shivers down my spine. In the days that followed, even after I possessed my mother's body, even after her hostility towards me softened, she would often reveal that pale smile, sending shivers down my spine.
To hide the tremor and unease in my heart, I pulled the dry, hard pancake from my pocket and shoved it to my mother's mouth: "Eat it, or I won't be able to explain myself if you die." My mother hesitated slightly, then took a big bite, almost biting my hand. I jerked my hand back, watching the pancake wriggle painfully in my mother's mouth, its expression contorted in agony.
My work was monotonous and tedious every day, revolving around two main issues: food and sanitation.
Food was the fundamental issue and relatively easy to solve. I carried four bags of rice and flour from the commune home, then replaced the lock on the front door with a new Red Guard brand lock. By the time I finished, I was drenched in sweat and exhausted. I stood with my hands on my hips and said to my mother, "Jia Meirong, you need to understand the situation. The people are the masters now, and any schemes you conspire against will only lead to your own destruction. From today onwards, you must cook for me. The people are invincible."
Even so, I was still not entirely at ease. I found some old wire, looped it around her neck and waist, freeing only her hands to work. Then I strung the loops together behind her back with a rope, tied the other end around my own waist.
While my mother cooked, ate, and went to the toilet, I held her with the rope; the rest of the time, I tied her hands as well. This way, there was no chance of anything going wrong. I was quite proud of myself for this.
That morning, I sat by the door, contemplating my revolutionary struggle, and drifted into a dream. The bright sunlight shone on my face, shimmering brilliantly.
I was dreaming, thrilled by my idea of independently launching a revolutionary struggle. I thought, wasn't it precisely by independently leading the Autumn Harvest Uprising of the Hunan peasants that Chairman Mao established the precious Jinggang Mountains base area for our Party?
If I struggled against my mother, perhaps I could even extract some useful clues from that landlady's mouth; then I would have rendered a great service to the Red Army. Then I wondered, if I performed a meritorious service, what reward would the commander give me? Perhaps the commander would say, "How about giving you Jia Meirong instead?" Rewarding those who have rendered meritorious service is the established practice. What should I do then? Should I accept it or not? My mother's weary smile flashed before my eyes again, her two large, protruding breasts seemingly pressing against my lower abdomen, and I felt a surge of heat below. I cursed inwardly: "Damn it, a poisonous snake is biting me! Fuck it!"
After lunch, I pulled my mother to sit opposite me and said sternly, "Jia Meirong, you've been doing alright these past few days, haven't you? You should understand that this is the people's way of treating you well; you should at least show some appreciation!"
My mother replied indifferently, "What's there to say? I only blame myself for not strangling you, you little bastard!"
I was red-faced from the scolding and jumped up and down, yelling, "Jia Meirong, don't insult revolutionary youth!" I stepped forward and ripped open my mother's coat. I don't know where the strength came from, but the wire mesh around the hem tore open.
My mother's breasts were exposed again, trembling slightly, expressing their disdain.
I said fiercely, "Didn't you say you wanted to humiliate me? We'll humiliate you again today. Think about how many respectable women your family has trampled on!" My mother smiled bitterly, "But I don't feel humiliated now. You are my son, and your mother is waiting for you to nurse. Why don't you come over?"
I hesitated for a moment, then squatted down, trying to bolster my courage. I said, "I want to kiss her. Revolutionary masses have a reason to rebel, we're not afraid of anything! We want not only your milk, but also your blood!" Then I grabbed my mother's breast and put it to my lips to suckle. I would occasionally look up at my mother triumphantly, but she remained unmoved. I was having a lot of fun, kissing this one, then pinching that one, finding it very exciting. This was something I had never done before. When I was little, my godmother breastfed me, and she never gave me this opportunity. Nursing was fine, but kneading like this for a long time was absolutely forbidden. She would glare at me, then slap my hand away, leaving me crying in fear. I noticed that my mother's breasts were different from my godmother's. My mother's breasts were full, delicate, and heavy, while my godmother's breasts were rough and withered, as sallow as her face. This was perhaps the most fundamental difference between a poor peasant and a capitalist's daughter. If I had to choose, I would definitely choose my mother. But then I realized I'd made a mistake in my stance; even the best enemy's things are just sugar-coated bullets. I'd rather have socialist weeds than capitalist seedlings. Besides, my mother's breasts aren't producing milk now; they're just for show, meant for the bourgeoisie. My godmother's breasts are for nurturing children; my godmother's are better. I looked up at my mother again, trying to see pain and embarrassment on her face. But there was none. My mother still smiled wanly, without even a frown. I suddenly felt wronged, as if I'd been mocked. I lowered my head and bit her breast hard. My mother's scream echoed through the house, and I finally saw her contorted, miserable expression of pain.
That night, I couldn't sleep. I listened next door, but my mother didn't make a sound; she seemed to be sleeping soundly. I felt a little regretful about what had happened during the day. Such beautiful breasts, and I'd bitten them—it was truly regrettable. I remember the blood had stained her breasts red, and now I felt a vague unease. Then I blamed myself, wondering if I was sympathizing with a class enemy just because she was pretty? Maybe she was just putting on a show?
Such emotions are the worst thing you can have. I tried to close my eyes, but I still couldn't sleep. My mind was a mess, and I couldn't make sense of it. In the end, I decided to go to that room to check on things.
I tiptoed to my mother's bedside and could hear her even breathing. Thankfully, she hadn't been awakened. I gently lifted the covers and looked at her in the pale moonlight. The iron rings around her neck and waist were still there. Her front was open, her breasts protruding, and her hands were flat at her sides, just as she had during the day. Normally, I would tie her arms and body together when she slept, but today, because of the bite on her breast, I couldn't do anything else. I only tied the iron rings, attaching the other end of the rope to the bed. Now, I noticed that the bitten breast was covered with a piece of cloth. I hesitated for a moment, then gently lifted it. The wound, surrounded by four teeth marks, looked like a red moon embedded in her high, white breast. Blood was still seeping from the wound, like tears streaming down the red moon. I stared at it for a long time, my whole body trembling slightly. A complex emotion slowly rose within me, enveloping me! Finally, I climbed onto my mother's body and did what I had to do!
I've been thinking about my mother's breasts for a long time. I've touched them many times, each time with a different experience and feeling, swelling my desire and giving me a sense of novelty and excitement. The first time, at the criticism meeting, I should say I only touched them, but it was already extraordinary. A wisp of floral fragrance emanating from my mother's body lingers in my memory, causing me the same dizziness whenever I think of it. The second time was on a higher level. You see, I kissed them with my lips, greedily and indulgently sucking, using this to provoke my mother. I think this is also good. First, the revolutionary struggle has achieved results, striking a blow to the enemy's arrogance; second, I can finally openly and fearlessly kiss my mother's breasts, realizing a dream of mine. I think this is the benefit of revolutionary struggle! Like the commander and deputy commander, I have both close comrades-in-arms and breasts to kiss. I understand that I am different from the commander and the others. Jia Meirong and I are not enemies but mother and son, but how should I put it? I think, at least I have managed to balance family affection and womanhood! In this respect, we are still the same.
Thinking of this, my head started to float again. I felt that simply kissing her breasts wasn't enough; I wanted to expand my revolutionary conquest. I thought, "Mommy, even if you're a viper or a demon, a revolutionary's righteous spirit will overthrow all monsters and demons. Even if you're a demon, I'll subdue you. I won't wait until you're asleep to fuck you; I want you to watch me fuck you, and I want you to fuck me! Even if you're a viper, I'll swallow you whole."
After dinner, Mommy said she needed to use the toilet. I waved my hand and decisively said, "Let's go!" It was already quite dark outside. I walked ahead, hands behind my back, strolling leisurely, while Mommy, bound by iron rings, followed behind. We walked to a spot not far south of the house, where there was a makeshift toilet.
It was surrounded by mud and stone walls over a meter high, leaving a narrow doorway. Inside was a squatting position made of two stone slabs, with a deep pit the size of the toilet itself. I watched Mommy go in, feel her way to the squatting position, pull down her pants, revealing a section of her white, bare body, and then squat down. I was certain it was her buttocks.
To get a better look, I went to the doorway, but still couldn't see clearly. I said, "Jia Meirong, come pee here!" Mom hesitated for a moment, then squatted down beside me. A stream of golden water shot out from under her, dripping and splashing on the ground, forming a small puddle. Then it slowly flowed between her legs towards where I was standing, with some foam floating on top. The stream finally thinned, dripping down drop by drop.
I thought Mom was about to get up, but after a while, she didn't.
Suddenly, I heard a "plop" sound. Mom had farted! I saw a small, dark hole in the middle of her snow-white buttocks, expanding and contracting, her white buttocks trying to squeeze out a piece of poop. I was so excited I almost fainted. Mom, her face flushed, shouted, "What's so interesting about a woman pooping? Get out!" I said, "I'm afraid you'll commit suicide." I looked on confidently; it excited me. My beautiful mother, as lovely as a fairy, was about to poop in front of me! I could already smell her fart, though it was clearly a foul odor. Finally, a brownish object slowly squeezed out of her anus. I heard her make "Oh...oh..." sounds. The brownish poop, with a graceful arc, grew longer and longer outside her body, finally breaking in two in mid-air. I was completely intoxicated by the increasingly strong smell. The piece of poop on the ground seemed to still be steaming. I couldn't resist rushing over to kiss my mother's anus. My mother said, "Give me some toilet paper!" I pulled her up, and she had no choice but to put her pants back on without wiping her bottom!
Back home, I said, "Take off your pants, Jia Meirong, I need to check your butt." My mother said, "Check my ass! There's poop!" I said, "I just saw something hidden inside. I need to see if it's intelligence about your collusion with foreign countries. Hurry up and take it off!" My mother suddenly laughed, "Intelligence my ass, you want to see it? Look all you want."
My mother pulled down her pants and let me feel it, but all I felt was a piece of blood-soaked toilet paper. I waved it in front of my mother, proudly asking, "What's this?" My mother just smiled faintly, "It's menstrual blood." I said, "What menstrual blood? This is clearly a blood oath between you and foreign enemies! I need to examine it carefully and report to the organization."
My mother laughed heartily, "Go ahead and report it; they'll praise you." I said, "Don't laugh! You'll be sentenced to death! Now I want to feel it and see if there's anything else." My mother had no choice but to wait. A gust of cold wind blew in through the crack in the door, making her shiver, even though it was already December. I said, "Put your hands on the stool, stick your butt out! You've put the intelligence in your ass!" My mother blushed, trying to hide her face, while her beautiful buttocks kept wiggling!
I crawled on my knees behind my mother's buttocks, a stench assaulting my nose. I discovered that my mother's anus was covered in thick, black hair. "Have you finished looking?" my mother asked. I touched my mother's anus with my hand, and an urge to kiss it welled up inside me. "I'm going to check it with my mouth," I said seriously.
"Bend over and raise your butt."
"No...you little beast, I'm so ashamed..."
my mother said, but she still helplessly bent her upper body down, raising her butt.
However, I continued to touch her intently. She said impatiently, "I know what you want to do. Stop trembling and take off your pants!" I said, blushing, "You think I'm afraid? Revolutionaries are fearless. I'm not afraid of you."
So I took off my clothes and stood in front of my mother. Perhaps it was because of the cold weather, or perhaps it was because of a sudden feeling of fear, but I hugged my shoulders and then saw my mother's smile—a bleak smile. My mother's smile made me even more uncomfortable, and I trembled all over. I said angrily, "Don't laugh." I pushed her onto the bed and pounced on her. The sudden stimulation of the cold bed made my mother involuntarily flinch. I smiled smugly. "How about that? Scared now?" I excitedly stripped my mother of her clothes until only two shiny black wire rings remained. After doing all that, I froze, unsure what to do. Should I do it again? So, I blankly grabbed her breasts, kneading and kissing them. What would happen after that? I had no idea. I didn't know how she would react.
But my mother had already grabbed me, her thin fingers gripping me painfully. She rubbed me against her lower body, and I felt pain, itchiness, and despair. I looked up at her helplessly. My mother's eyes were closed, her face expressionless. My head drooped helplessly, my tongue greedily licking her nipples. My mother's face gradually turned red, and suddenly she murmured, "It's fine this way, anyway, we're both your son and your father." She lifted herself up and actually put my penis in her mouth, licking it. A wave of pleasure washed over me.
"Mom!..."
I finally stopped calling her by her name. My mother seemed very excited after hearing this, and skillfully licked my large penis with her tongue. My whole body muscles involuntarily contracted. A warm little mouth was sucking tightly on the shaft, and a small tongue was licking back and forth on the glans. I couldn't believe it was real. My noble and beautiful mother, whom I had imagined, was actually lying on top of me, sucking my penis like a prostitute. My penis was swollen to its limit, big and hard.
Never having experienced anything like this before, I quickly crumbled, "Mom...I...can't take it anymore..." Hearing my words, Mom sped up even faster, and soon a gush of hot semen shot out. Mom's mouth didn't leave, swallowing every last drop of my semen. I collapsed weakly to the side. Holding Mom's body, I said, "Mom, you're my good mom!" "No, I'm not your mom, I'm a whore, I'm a prostitute!" Mom's eyes were filled with tears of grievance, and traces of my semen lingered at the corners of her mouth.
Two steel rings were still around her neck and waist! Her naked body trembled uncontrollably!
"No, you're my mom!" I sat up and hugged Mom tightly. Mom pushed me away slightly, but still sat in my lap!
"Mom, why did you leave me and Dad?"
"Who isn't your dad!" Mom calmed herself, smoothed her hair, and slowly began to tell me her story.
It turns out that my mother and the county magistrate's son were childhood sweethearts. They got engaged when she was eighteen, and on their engagement night, they consummated their marriage and I was born. But two months later, their hometown was liberated, and my father fled. Her family's farmhand, Si, took advantage of the situation and raped her, forcing her to marry him. I was born a few months later. My mother waited for an opportunity to escape to another town, but this year someone recognized her and brought her back.
"I thought I was going to die this time, but I never expected it to end like this," my mother cried as she told me everything. I was in tears.
"Ah, Mother! My dear Mother, you've suffered so much! Your son is not human! Kill me!" I impulsively grabbed a kitchen knife from the kitchen, knelt before the bed, and handed it to my mother.
My mother grabbed the knife and reached for her neck. I rushed forward and tightly grasped her hand, snatching the knife away.
"Don't pull me, child, let me die! How can I face anyone now!" My mother grabbed me with one arm, forcefully snatching the knife from my hand. Seeing how agitated she was, I impulsively blurted out, "Okay, Mom, let's die together!" "Child, no!"
Seeing that I was about to commit suicide, my mother quickly stopped me, snatching the kitchen knife away and throwing it aside. She held me and wept bitterly. The two of us cried for a while, then gradually stopped. Only then did I realize that my mother and I were both naked. My mother had obviously noticed this as well; her cheeks were flushed, and her body trembled slightly. She covered her private parts with her hands, which only made her look more sexy. I turned around, but my penis, against my will, became erect, standing tall like an iron rod in front of my mother.
I stammered, "Mom, what should I do?" My mother, being eighteen years older than me, hesitated for a moment before softly asking, "Child, do you love your mother?" "Of course I love my mother!" "
Since that's the case, child, many truths in this world are actually lies. Like what happened between your father and me—the more people think we shouldn't do something, the more we should do it. We should betray this world, because it betrayed us first!" "Mom, you mean…?" I looked at my mother, puzzled.
"What a silly son! You don't even understand? Let me ask you, were you comfortable just now?" My mother blushed and looked at me slowly as she asked.
I immediately understood what my mother meant. I went up and hugged her slender waist, put my mouth to her ear, and whispered, "Mom, you're so good to me. I swear, I will make you very happy."
My mother placed her hand on my lower body, her voice trembling, and said, "Thief, do you know, I used to call you Thief. You were stolen from your father by your mother." I said, "Mom, can I call you Rong'er then?" You are my good Rong'er! "You talk so sweetly, why don't you do it?" Mom said shyly.
I looked at my beautiful mother and unfastened the steel rings on her body. Her legs were spread apart, full of desire—her unprecedented desire made her pubic hair stand on end. And that slit was opening wider and wider, and crystal-clear liquid was flowing out from between it, ah, what a wonderful place!
Her eyes were slightly closed, and her uncontrollable desire made her beautiful. Yes, I found that the most beautiful place was her genitals—it was so vivid, like spring arriving on a frozen, hardened Gobi Desert; and her taut legs; even her flushed face was ten times more beautiful than usual.
Mom couldn't resist my torment, after all, she hadn't been with a man for sixteen years, and the previous few nights had been done without her knowledge, so Mom's big, fat buttocks actively swayed and rocked, trying to insert my big cock into her vagina to relieve the itch, but With each thrust, I recoiled, maintaining the position of my glans swirling and moving within her labia minora. My mother cried out, "Ah...it itches...it's so itchy...you thief...you...you're so mean...faster...faster...put...your big cock...in...my...little...cunt...give...me...feel...good...my...little...cunt...it's so itchy..." My mother complained about my torment, her pleading eyes begging me pitifully. At this moment, her waist swayed, her plump buttocks trembling, revealing the hunger of her little cunt. Under my arousing actions, she abandoned all shame and grasped my big cock with her hand, pleading, "Ah...ah...Mom can't...take it...faster...put it...in...my...cunt...don't...torture...Mom...my...cunt...is...going...too itchy...to die..." Suddenly, a wicked thought occurred to me, and I asked my mother, "Mom, what do you want me to do?" "I...want you to fuck me!"
"I'm your son, why are you using such awful words? Change your words!" "Fuck me."
"Change your words! " "
Fuck me." "Change
your words!" "
Torture me.
"
"Change again."
"Fuck me to death!" "Change!" " Fuck me to death."
" Change!" " Have sex with me." "Change!" "Kill me!" "Change!" "Torture me to death!" "Change!" "Do revolutionary work with you." "Yes, it's about doing revolutionary work with me." I finally found a balance between the revolution and my mother. My mother's high-pitched, sweet cries sounded like celestial music to my ears. My mouth kissed her full nipples, teasing her until she was extremely excited. I kept kissing the ripe red cherries on her two breast buds. The passionate stimulation shook her heart again and again. My mother could no longer control her reason and was about to masturbate excitedly. I put her two pink legs on my shoulders, placed a pillow under her full, plump buttocks, making her already full, plump, hairy little hole even more prominent. I held my big cock, dipped it in the lustful fluid flowing from her little hole, pressed it against her hot labia, and thrust my buttocks hard. With a "whoosh!" sound, I thrust my big cock into my mother's little hole four or five inches. Unexpectedly, my mother cried out, "Ouch... Thief... Slow... Slow down... My... pussy... hurts so much... Your big cock... is too... thick... Wait... Wait until my... wet... is lubricated... Then... Then insert it..." Seeing my mother crying out in pain, although my big cock felt incredibly good being gripped by her plump pussy, I didn't dare to act rashly and ravage her. So I changed to a grinding motion, slowly twisting my hips, letting my big cock rotate inside her pussy.

My gentle movements aroused my mother, igniting her desire. She moaned and cried out in a dreamlike voice, "Ah!... Thief... Oh... Dear husband... Mother's... Good son... You... Use... a little more... It's okay... Ah... Yes... Just like that... Oh... Oh... Grind... Grind... There... Right there... It's so... Itchy... Oh... Oh... Harder... A little... Ah... Ah..." Following her instructions, I twisted my hips, thrusting my large penis left and right, up and down, sometimes lightly, sometimes heavily. My mother also... She thrust her hips upwards, pressing her plump little hole even closer to my big cock, and cried out lasciviously, "Ah... harder... thrust... dear husband... fuck... Mom... to death... I feel so... so good... Mom... can't... hold back... I'm going to... come... I'm going to come... ah—long live the revolution—long live the son!" Hearing my mother's cries made me even more excited, and my movements became faster and deeper, fucking her until her juices flowed continuously, and the flower core deep inside her hole kept opening and closing, gripping my big glans tightly. My mother was covered in fragrant sweat, her cherry lips... Her lips parted slightly, her beautiful face displaying a blissful expression of sexual satisfaction. She cried out in a wanton voice, "Ah... Mom... good... thief... you... you're so... amazing... big cock... almost... dying... Mom... oh... dear son... little... husband... you... have really... revolutionized... Mom...'s... life... my... water... has... all... flowed... dry... how come... you... haven't... come yet... little... darling... Mom... please... quickly shoot... your... semen... into... Mom's..." "...Inside my little hole... um... you little... rascal... if you keep... keep going... Mom... will be... fucked to death... oh oh..." My big cock, after a night of intense lovemaking, was throbbing and painful. I thrust a few more times, penetrating deep into my mother's little hole. Her clitoris sucked on my cock like a baby nursing, and then, in a burst of pleasure, "plop! plop!" I ejaculated a torrent of thick semen into her uterus. Lying on her delicate body, we both trembled and clung tightly, floating into a blissful, heavenly realm.
From then on, my mother and I devoted all our energy to our nighttime revolutionary work. We were obsessed with it, tirelessly working day and night, as if all the days were for the sake of the night. In my daze, I even vaguely felt that this was the fruit of the revolution! What are revolutionaries fighting for? Isn't it to fight capitalism and criticize revisionism, to rush into communism? With endless food and clothes, what else do people need? Isn't it just to have the woman they love? Now I have no worries about food or clothing, I have the woman I love, and I can do revolutionary work every day—I guess I've entered communism! It turns out that grand goals can be so simple. I couldn't help but feel proud of myself.
My mother gently asked from the side, "What are you laughing at?" I looked at her and nodded happily, "I've entered communist society!"
[The End]

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My Mother and I in the Red Years

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