growing up

Because I was too busy last night, I didn't go to sleep until 2 a.m., and I hate being disturbed when I'm sleeping. When I heard my son crying, I got up to soothe him, but he not only wouldn't listen but became even more agitated. My mother-in-law couldn't wrap him in the blanket; he kept tossing and turning in bed, refusing to stop. I was terrified he might do something like that, because he might catch a cold and vomit. I was at my wit's end, so I spanked him twice on the bottom. This only made things worse; he became even more agitated. Sigh! I had no choice but to leave him alone and let his grandmother soothe him. I don't know how his grandmother eventually managed to get him to sleep. "
I'm his mother, but his thing is erect right now, pointing at me!
My breathing became inexplicably rapid. My heart was pounding; I've never felt so nervous and embarrassed with any other man.
My son came closer to me and then forcefully pulled my hand to his erection.
My hand recoiled as soon as it touched it, as if I'd been electrocuted.
'Is it big?'" "My son asked me.
I bit my lip and lowered my head. To be honest, his thing was still quite immature, and the size was average. That's what I thought, because I hadn't seen any other boys' penises besides his.
" "My big cock!" my son said to me, his voice trembling slightly. I could tell he had mustered up the courage to say that.
I pretended not to hear anything, raised my hand to tidy my hair, but at that moment my son pushed me down.
I reached out to push him away, but stopped. Oh well, I'd already washed half of my hair, could I not finish?
My skin was very white, and under the light, it looked like a pile of white flesh on the bed.
My son pressed me down, and I felt something very hard thrusting against my vagina from different places. It swept over a hairy area, then touched a soft, hot patch of flesh, and then pressed against a moist, slippery opening. Then, it went in.
I clearly felt a swelling at the entrance of my vagina, and at that moment I opened my mouth and groaned through my nostrils, "...Mmm..."
Then, it went straight in all the way in, and my vagina quickly felt that fullness. I felt that his tender thing could fill me completely. I could feel the shape of his penis, the ridge of his glans.
My face flushed, and I closed my eyes. The fact that I had been fucked by my son again filled me with shame.
My son must be finding this scene very exciting now; just a moment ago I was his mother, and now I was lying under him being fucked.
He was on top of me, no longer so inexperienced, thrusting into me gently, slowly, and steadily. As he fucked me, his hands continued to caress my body, playing with my breasts like they were still warm buns.
(From a parenting diary: "In the evening, my son and I were watching 'Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck' on TV. Suddenly, my son turned to me and said, 'Mommy, can you give me a little Mickey Mouse so I can play with him?' I was startled. How could I give birth to a Mickey Mouse?! Haha! I said, 'Sweetie, Mommy can't give birth to Mickey Mouse, but Mommy will play with you every day, okay?'") My son, Qi Bao, cried, crying very sadly. "Then Mommy, please give me another little sister! I'm alone every night, I want a little sister to play with me!" Waaah, waaah, my son cried even harder. "Mommy, Daddy has to work every day, if I have a little sister, no one will take care of me." "Mommy, don't worry, you and Daddy go to work, my sister and I go to kindergarten, I'll take care of me." I started to reflect. Was it because I didn't spend enough time with my son, didn't communicate with him enough, that this happened? I always thought I was a very good mother, but it turns out I'm not! Keep trying! Good Mommy!
My son's head was right above my face, his warm breath on my face. He stared into my eyes, his expression of longing and possessiveness making it hard for me to breathe.
I turned my face away, afraid he would see my expression, and I didn't have the courage to look him in the eye. Just moments ago we were in McDonald's, we were a normal mother and son.
The sofa creaked beneath us. My legs were lifted and placed on my son's shoulders.
That thing inside me felt like a red-hot iron, its thrusting and throbbing quickly burning my entire body.
His rhythm slowly aroused me; I breathed softly, involuntarily closing my eyes and arching my body to meet his movements.
This was the first time I had truly and consciously experienced the sensations my son was giving me. As that thing moved in and out, I clearly felt the head of his penis rubbing against the walls of my vagina. That intense sensation was so beyond my control; it so easily made my body float in the air. My
body floated and soared, like a leaf falling in the autumn wind.
"I must have owed you something in my past life…" I murmured softly as my son continued to penetrate me, closing my eyes, tears welling up and sliding down my cheeks. At that moment, my tone didn't sound like a mother admonishing her child, but rather like a weak woman facing her conqueror.
(My son's second-grade composition, "My Mother": My mother is of medium height, neither fat nor thin, with long hair, usually tied in a ponytail. Below her beautiful eyebrows are a pair of almond-shaped eyes that look like crescent moons when she smiles. She also has a sweet dimple on her left cheek, which looks very kind. Don't let her kind appearance fool you; when I don't do my homework properly or do something wrong, she can be quite fierce with me! She often scolds me, and sometimes even spanks me. When I behave well, she smiles at my dimples and grants my request as a reward. Every day, my mother cooks me different delicious meals; the dishes I cook are fragrant and tasty. In short, I love my good mother very much.)
The hard, hot male genitalia slowly withdrew from my vagina until the glans reached the entrance, then quickly and forcefully thrust in, penetrating fully into the depths of my vagina before stopping, repeating the thrusting motion rhythmically at the same speed.
This child has completely mastered all the techniques a man should have with a woman.
It was impossible for me not to react to being done like this. I groaned, not a loud cry, but a soft moan.
"Mmm..." I don't know when, but I started panting. I tried my best to suppress the sounds, biting my lip hard after each soft breath, but my son's more vigorous thrusts made my lips involuntarily open again.
Hearing my groans, my son was extremely excited. This was the first time I had truly made a sound of pleasure while he was with me, and it was probably the first time he had ever actually heard a woman moan in this situation. All of this further aroused my son, and he thrust even more wildly, supporting his body with both hands, like a push-up, pounding hard up and down on my genitals.
I couldn't take it anymore; it hurt down there. I gasped and turned to him, saying, "Be gentle..."
"Parenting Diary: Today, my son's kindergarten teacher, Ms. Zou, came for a home visit. I hugged my son very affectionately. Generally, children who are both pretty and well-behaved are liked by teachers, but for children who are only pretty but not clever, the teacher's affection will diminish over time. My son is both pretty and smart, so he is well-liked by his teachers at kindergarten. Ms. Zou, in particular, likes him very much. Ms. Zou is tall and slender, with a shiny black ponytail tied at the back of her head with a colorful hair tie. When she walks, it swings like wheat ears swaying in the wind. She has a rosy oval face, and a pair of bright eyes under her curved eyebrows make her look kind and approachable, especially when she smiles." Her rosy lips accentuated her small, white teeth, making her smile exceptionally sweet. Ms. Zou had only recently married and didn't have children yet. I had always had a soft spot for this little boy in my class, not only because he was smart, handsome, and quick to learn, but also because he was more sensible than other children his age, very perceptive, and willing to help the teacher with chores, like distributing meals to the other children or putting away toys. My son also particularly liked the kind-hearted Ms. Zou. He was completely at ease with her and always loved to stay by her side. Truly, my son always made me proud.
This was a struggle and clash between soul and body.
Night had fallen, like the wings of a large bird covering everything. Without the lights on, everything in the room was vaguely visible, making it all the more unreal.
I will never forget that night. Because for the first time during that moment, I completely forgot that the other person was my son, forgot the moral constraints that had driven me to despair, and for the first time, I felt the pleasure that should be felt during sexual intercourse.
"...Mmm...Mmm..." I groaned silently beneath him, my thighs trembling helplessly, unsure whether to clench or relax.
My son moved with great force, squatting down to thrust, his speed too fast, the sounds of our lower abdomens colliding frequent and intense, each of his movements accompanied by my moans that seemed to be a mixture of pain and pleasure.
"My Diary: Today I'm in a really bad mood. It all started this morning when my son was going to kindergarten. It was already 7:30, and no matter how much I called him, he wouldn't get up. I had an appointment to run errands at 8:30, and seeing him dawdling there, I suddenly got angry. He likes to sleep naked, so I caught his little bare bottom and gave him a good spanking. After I finished, seeing how pitifully he was crying, my heart softened, and I regretted hitting him too hard, so I cried too.
To be honest, when my husband isn't home, I love my son very much and rarely hit him. Maybe he's gotten used to my temper, which is why he was so reluctant to get out of bed this morning.
I feel uncomfortable all day; I feel like a bad mother."
Under the lamplight, my face was flushed, my hair was disheveled, and my eyes were half-open. My son, aroused by this seductive demeanor I'd never seen before, became even more agitated. He frantically increased the speed and force of his thrusts, recklessly pounding his glans against my cervix. That was the place where I had once carried him.
In the middle, he stopped, stood up, and then pulled me up.
My face flushed, I bit my lip and remained silent, overwhelmed with embarrassment, unsure whether to comply or refuse. But somehow, I ended up doing as the child instructed, supporting myself on the sofa with both hands and bending down, then lifting my buttocks behind me.
To be honest, I used to dislike being behind my husband when we were together, because I had a strong sense of pride and didn't want to crawl like an animal waiting for him to take me; I felt it was humiliating. This position is normal for any woman, of course, but I felt even more ashamed because my son was standing behind me.
I still remember the first time I assumed this position; before that, I had no idea that it was possible to do this from behind. It was one night, more than half a year after what happened between my brother and me, and a month or two after my stepfather had me. My stepfather picked me up from my side on the bed and taught me to kneel on the bed like him—hands on the bed, forehead on the bed, back arched, legs kneeling on the bed. Just like the position of ministers receiving imperial edicts in the old days. He said, "Let's play tiger mating.
" The moment I heard the word "mating," the latent desire my stepfather had been arousing for days vanished instantly. Only cats and dogs mate; did he want to mate with me? Was he a male dog and I a female?!
My stepfather hugged me again, begging me again. I had no choice but to comply, lying down, my face flushed, my bottom sticking up, shamelessly waiting for my stepfather's "mating."
On the low cabinet next to the sofa, a photo of me holding my three-year-old son was right in front of me. Although the room was dimly lit, I could still see it clearly. In the photo, young me and my babbling son were both smiling happily.
"Parent-Child Diary: The district organized a performance of reciting the 'Three Old Articles' by kindergartens. Of course, those who performed on stage were chosen for their good looks, intelligence, and clear pronunciation. Teacher Liu, without hesitation, recommended my son. The principal even specifically requested that my three-and-a-half-year-old son wear open-crotch pants to create a cute effect. Teacher Liu taught Dasong a section of 'In Memory of Qiu Yen.'
From the moment my son walked onto the stage, some people in the audience started laughing. When my son stood in the center of the stage, the effect of the open-crotch pants the principal had given him became fully apparent, but my son was completely unaware, reciting 'In Memory of Qiu Yen' in a childish, serious voice:" "Comrade Bethune was a Canadian Communist Party member, over fifty years old," my son said, holding up a small hand to indicate fifty, deliberately drawing out the "five," as he thought that age was too old. To enhance the performance, Teacher Liu specially choreographed actions and expressions for Da Song. My son frowned, clenched his right fist, and poked his forehead, striking a pose reminiscent of Rodin's "The Thinker," his little arms and hands looking adorably clumsy. As soon as he stepped off the stage, Teacher Liu, who was waiting for him behind the curtain, picked him up and showered him with kisses on his chubby little face, repeatedly saying, "Baby, you're so great!"
Sitting in the audience, I laughed along with everyone else, needless to say, I felt very proud at that moment.
I knelt on the sofa, my son, who looked thin and frail compared to my plump, snow-white body, stood behind me. Our current state was so different from our usual interactions; I wondered what it would look like if this scene were captured and placed next to the photo on the low cabinet.
Could we have imagined this moment back then?
My two plump buttocks, raised high, were large, white, and tender. My son spread my buttocks apart with both hands. I bit my lip, knowing that my organs were now displayed before my son like pictures of female external genitalia in a medical book. My
son, now fourteen, grabbed my buttocks and thrust forward forcefully. His body slammed heavily against my large buttocks, making a sound of flesh hitting flesh. He then inserted his penis back into me from behind.
"My son has always been very close to me. Every morning when I take him to kindergarten, I make sure to walk him all the way to the classroom door. Sometimes I even secretly hide nearby, wanting to see what he's doing in class. Whenever he finds out, he eagerly pushes me away, urging me to hurry up. I always silently scold him for being so inconsiderate, but I never say a word; I just tell him to be good. Since I started working, mornings have become so rushed. Every day I only take him to the very top of the hill near the kindergarten, and then..." He would walk down the slope and into the gate by himself. Every time, I would stand on the slope and watch his small figure with his little backpack walk down the hill until he turned into the gate and disappeared from sight, only then would I leave with peace of mind, even if it was already late for work. I've laughed at my own foolishness; every time he would run off and disappear in a flash, he would only occasionally remember to turn around and wave to me when he was near the gate, and I'd never heard him say anything to his mother. This morning, when I took him to kindergarten, it was raining, and we walked one after the other under an umbrella. This time, just before going down the slope, he actually stopped, looked up at me, and gently said, "Mom, be careful!" "Then he waved goodbye to me and slowly walked down the slope. In that instant, my heart skipped a beat, my throat tightened, and a surge of joy welled up inside me. My child already knows how to care for his mother. My heart was filled with this feeling of happiness. Son, because of your words, everything I've done for you in the past has been so worthwhile. Watching you grow up, I feel the same happiness as a farmer waiting for a bountiful harvest in autumn. In these five 365-day periods, I've raised you from a tiny baby weighing only 3.85kg and 50cm long to a sturdy little man standing 1 meter tall; from someone who could only express his wishes through crying to a eloquent and considerate little one… My youth has quietly faded with your growth, and fine lines have crept onto the corners of my eyes, but I've never regretted it, never complained. Are all mothers in the world equally devoted? My child, as long as you are happy, I'm always willing to be busy and tired for you. I love you, forever!"
“…Ah…be gentle…” My son’s force slammed my body forward, making me feel a throbbing pain in my lower body. This made me involuntarily break the silence and whisper to him.
My son didn’t respond, but my pleading seemed to make him move even more violently.
I used all my strength to support myself with my hands, biting my lip, silently enduring the thrusts from behind. I heard the sound of his body gently hitting my lower abdomen and the sounds coming from below.
Under the light, my son stood behind my kneeling, plump, snow-white body, looking so small, but he was the active one. He held my raised buttocks with both hands, his hips moving back and forth, while I was just passively lying there being fucked.
“…Ah…um…ah…” I relaxed slightly in the dizziness. This relaxation caused me to completely collapse, emitting a sound deeper than desire, a wanton moan. The sound of my son’s hips hitting my buttocks seemed especially loud in this quiet moment.
"Parenting Diary: 'I've been incredibly busy lately, working during the day and tutoring my son after work. He hasn't been very proactive in his studies lately, which is really frustrating. I can't scold him or punish him. Now I can only reason with him. He's a smart child, but he's too playful, which is a real headache for me. For the past month or so, we've been busy buying a house, so I've been a bit lax with his studies. Goodness, if you're lenient, he's lenient; if you're strict, he's strict. Sometimes I really don't understand if this is just how kids are these days, or if it's just my son. As a mother, I'm very puzzled. Actually, my expectations of him aren't too high; as long as he finishes his homework, I generally don't assign him any extra homework, since he's only in first grade and cultivating his interest in learning is very important.
Yesterday afternoon, I took him shopping, and in the store he saw a toy he liked that cost almost...'" Two hundred yuan. I disagreed with buying it for him, and he got angry and ran away. I was afraid he would get lost, so I went looking for him. This child has such a bad temper; maybe I spoiled him. But after waiting for a long time, he didn't come back, and I started to panic. I searched the third floor of the mall but couldn't find him. I called his name throughout the mall, but he didn't respond. I quickly called my husband, and when I found him in the children's clothing section, I was furious and slapped him hard twice on the bottom. I also slapped him in the face in anger; I really lost control at that moment. My son came home and told me that he was very worried when he couldn't find me, so he cried and looked for me. After hearing what he said, I apologized to him, saying that I was a little angry at the time. But I was so worried about you, afraid that you would get lost. What would I do if you got lost? My son nodded and said, "Mom, I know I was wrong. I won't do it again next time." I hugged my son tightly in my arms
. My son is my hope, my everything!
My voluptuous, mature body undulated, my moans brushing past my son's ears. The swaying of our intertwined desires shattered my composure. My son pressed forward at full speed, trying to suppress my yearning to surpass him. He whispered in my ear, "Mom, I'm fucking you," the first vulgar word he'd uttered to me since we began our relationship.
Those words felt like a dream. I stopped moaning; my initial physical arousal subsided due to the shame of those words.
I bit my lip tightly, trying to remain silent.
My son didn't notice these changes in me. On the contrary, he was quite nervous after mustering the courage to say those words, and my silence told him I wasn't angry. This excited him even more; his body slammed heavily against my large buttocks, making a thud. Thump after thump, my body swayed back and forth. My two snow-white breasts swayed in the dim light, particularly dazzling.
"Mom, I finally got to taste you again today!" my son said from behind as he fucked me.
"I gave birth to him and raised him, just so he could taste what I'm like?" I groaned, my son's words making me even more ashamed and angry. I buried my head on the sofa. Because of the downward leaning of my upper body, my buttocks were raised even higher, and my breasts swayed back and forth with his thrusts.
(From a parenting diary: "Over the weekend, I told my son: You can play on the computer after you finish your homework. On Saturday, my son told me that he had finished his homework. He has played some games on and off these past two days. This evening, a classmate who just transferred to our school came to borrow his math book to do his homework, but he wouldn't lend it to him without saying why. I realized: he hadn't finished his homework. I told him to lend it to his classmate and return it when he was done. After the classmate left, although I could see that he was scared, I couldn't hold back: You lied! You lied to play games! I hit my son.")
My son's penis was thrusting violently in and out of my vagina, the two tender labia on the outside of my vagina being constantly pulled in and out by his penis, his thighs constantly slamming against my buttocks, quickly turning my snow-white buttocks into oval-shaped red marks.
"Ah... fucking a woman really feels so good!" my son exclaimed involuntarily.
I knelt down, silently enduring his filthy words as he fucked me, only occasionally letting out moaning sounds as he thrust in and out when I couldn't hold back any longer.
I clearly remember it was after my son had been in kindergarten for a while. One day, he came home, my husband was home too, and the three of us were watching TV together when he suddenly blurted out "cb." My husband and I were utterly shocked and refused to believe this cruel reality, asking in unison, "What did you say?" Our son calmly replied, "I was saying 'little grass, little bottle,' Mom and Dad, I didn't say 'cb.'" We were both speechless, and then gave him a stern lecture. There was no way around it; once you start kindergarten, you learn everything quickly, good and bad. Judging from his expression, he had clearly heard it from other children and was just reciting it, without understanding its meaning. But we still couldn't let him say it. Also, sometimes my husband would unintentionally say "kao," and our son picked it up too. The more we forbade him to say it, the happier he became, jumping around and saying, "kao kao kao kao~ kao ah kao!" So we eventually resorted to ignoring him; whenever he said that word, we would just ignore him completely. After doing this twice, he stopped saying it, knowing that if he did, the adults would be unhappy and no one would play with him anymore.
There's even a special entry in my diary: "I remember when my son was in kindergarten, he somehow learned a really nasty swear word. One evening after dinner, he went to bed first, while his father and I each picked up a book and were engrossed in reading when suddenly, 'Fuck your mother!' popped out of his mouth, sounding particularly jarring in the quiet night. My husband and I were both startled and our mouths dropped open. But when we went to check on him, the little guy had a smile on his face and was fast asleep. It turned out he was cursing in his sleep. My husband and I were furious, 'No way!'" "We have to ask," he said. So, he pinched his nose, and I pulled his ear, finally waking our son up. When we asked him where he learned that swear word, he proudly told us, "An old man said it, and it sounded funny."
After learning the whole story, my husband was silent for a while, then he said to our son very seriously, "Listen, Dad is going to slap you now because you said something rude. If you ever hear Dad or Mom swear, you can ask us to slap ourselves." After saying that, my husband really did slap our son, making him cry loudly. At that moment, although we felt bad, neither of us paid any attention to him. After crying for a while, our son quietly crawled to my side and said, "Mom, I remember, I promise I won't swear anymore, but you and Dad shouldn't either." "After saying that, my son extended his little finger and made pinky promises to both me and his father."
Now, he could actually say those things to me in front of me, and to me no less, directly saying, "I'll fuck you."
I knew clearly that at this moment, I could no longer hope to maintain my dignity as a mother and simply be a woman. It's impossible to expect a man not to say those things to a woman while doing that.
"I'll fuck you, I'll fuck you, I'll fuck you..." My son panted and moaned softly as he moved his lower body incessantly. This child was like a tireless machine today; for a fourteen-year-old, his stamina surprised me. My moans grew louder, my buttocks gradually rising to meet my son's thrusts.
I felt his penis was like a cannonball pointing to the sky, desperately trying to shoot out. Let it explode then.
My son finally ejaculated, thick semen spraying into my uterus.
After the last drop of semen flowed out, my son pulled out. I lay curled up on my side on the bed, white semen slowly flowing from my vaginal opening. I lay there, convulsing, my head buried in the bed, motionless.
My son was fast asleep. I lay there silently, crying, tears streaming down my face. I was so shameless, yes, I was shameless. I was having sex with my own son, and I even felt pleasure, moaning and groaning!
It's over, I'm really over. Thinking back on everything that's happened these past few days, I feel like I'm going crazy!
[The End]

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