Unable to quit the pleasure of the illusion mother

Prologue:
I know it's wrong, but once you've tasted that feeling, you can never quit.
Chapter 1: The Spark
I believe many people develop an interest in their mothers, mostly from pornographic films and stories. I don't really believe anyone would want to have sex with their mother from elementary school. The reason for such an interest is either external influences or sex education, leading to sexual fantasies about the mother. In mild cases, it's imagining the mother's naked body while masturbating; in severe cases, it's trying every means to commit incest with the mother.
"And I am the latter, alas... I am truly a beast."
Enough of the digression, let's get straight to the point. But while I'm sharing my experience, I still need to give a basic introduction. I live in a busy city, in an old neighborhood. Most of my neighbors rarely talk to each other. After all, we are city dwellers, going to work and coming home, each living our own lives. At that time, I was in my senior year of high school, facing school skills tests and university entrance exams. I was extremely busy, and my way of relieving stress was masturbation.
It's shameful to admit, but back then, moderate masturbation did help relax my tense nerves. It was also around that time that I became obsessed with erotic literature. Basically, I'm a person with a rich imagination, and I was indulging in the erotic pleasure of reading erotic stories. I imagined myself as a god, "having sex with all the beautiful women in the world and ejaculating into the bodies of mature women." In my imagined world, I reigned supreme. Unfortunately, after ejaculating, everything returned to the reality of being a poor student.
While my father would be ranting and raving on political talk shows every night, I would still be studying diligently in my study. One time, when I was studying until midnight, I felt my bladder was about to burst, so I went to the toilet to urinate. I thought no one would be there at that time, so I didn't even turn on the toilet light. After I finished urinating, I opened the door and was suddenly startled by the person outside, which made me curse.
"You don't turn on the light when you go to the bathroom? You're going to scare me to death!"
I turned on the small light, and the soft, orange glow slowly spread in the dim bathroom. My mother stood in the doorway, her long, wavy hair curly and sticking out, half-covering her face. She wore a loose nightgown on top and only a pair of briefs on the bottom, revealing her shapely thighs. My eyes were fixed on my mother's private parts, the slightly raised triangle, while my mind was filled with all sorts of perverted fantasies.
"Remember to turn on the light next time, and go to bed earlier," my mother said softly, sounding very apologetic.
I deliberately slowed down and walked past my mother from the side. We were both standing in the doorway, so we both had to turn sideways. My mother had her back to me, and I looked at my mother's fleshy buttocks from behind. Her briefs looked tight on her round, full buttocks. I moved like a crab, and my penis was already so hard that it was bulging out of her briefs. I thought of the "buttock thrusting" in some erotic novels. Is that really true? However, reason prevailed over my inner demons. I only felt my face burning, and I hurriedly went back to my room. I masturbated then, imagining how my mother would react if I were pressing my penis against her fleshy buttocks. By the time I regretted not rubbing it against her more, I had already ejaculated, and with exhaustion and sleepiness, and with the image of my encounter with my mother in the bathroom in mind, I fell into a deep sleep.
Undeniably, the scene that night deeply shocked me. I had never had a girlfriend, so this was the first time I had seen a woman naked. Although I felt guilty several times, I only masturbated with the thought, "It's just imagination, nothing will happen." From then on, my object of masturbation was my mother.
After reading articles and watching videos about incest between mothers and sons, I deeply realized that many things were impossible, but it also gave me a lot of fantasies. Observing my mother's life made me pay more and more attention to her every move. My mother usually had to go to work, my father would get up early, and I also had to go to school. The only time I could spy on my mother was in the middle of the night.
Every time, I would hide in my room pretending to read, but actually waiting for my mother to get up to use the toilet. After she finished, I would pretend to urinate briefly before going in myself, just to masturbate by ogling her body. My mother is about 165 cm tall and slender. Perhaps because she was a volleyball player in her school days, her thighs and calves are very strong and well-proportioned. Most importantly, her beautiful, fleshy buttocks—the muscles from exercise make them firm and perky, lacking the sagging flesh of a mature woman, but instead giving her a swaying, graceful walk that makes me hard every now and then.
I never realized how well my mother maintained her figure. She works at an electronics company and usually goes to the gym after work. Even though she's over forty, she's still very well-maintained. I heard that some people at her company have pursued her, but after learning about my father's past involvement in organized crime, they quickly gave up on the idea.
Honestly, my mother and father's story could fill many pages, but I'll leave that for later. My mother probably never imagined her son would be interested in her. Naturally, she was rarely home, only spending weekends there. But that's how the opportunity arose.
Because I often studied late at night and always waited for my mother to use the bathroom, she gradually changed her habits, starting to ask if I wanted anything to eat. I always asked her to make me a cup of oatmeal milk, and while drinking, I would chat with her.
"Mom, thank you for making me a drink."
"Studying must be stressful, right? If you need anything, you can tell me." It was this sentence that made me decide whether to take the plunge and honestly tell my mother, "Mom, I'm under a lot of pressure, can you help me masturbate?" But I immediately rejected that idea. My mother would only agree to such a ridiculous scenario if she were a slut. It was impossible. "Leading questions," I thought, and then started asking some questions.
"Mom, how did you deal with stress before?"
"Going for a walk, doing things that make me happy."
"Mom, I don't know if I should tell you, I'm afraid you'll get angry." "Heh, what are you being silly about, just say it." "Well... I sometimes masturbate to relieve my urges, I don't know if that's normal." My mother paused for a moment, then stared at my crotch, looked at me for a while, and then slowly said, "It's normal for boys to masturbate, just don't overdo it." "What do you mean by overdoing it?" "Doing it several times a day." "But Mom... I do it an average of three times a day..."
I really admire my own acting skills. If there were an Oscar, I would definitely be the winner. In front of my mother, I pretended to be an honest, innocent teenager, and even I was almost fooled by myself.
"Three times...? That won't do, it's too bad for your health, child."
"Mom, I'm sorry, but sometimes when the pressure comes, I really want to masturbate." "Sigh..." The mother fell silent. It seemed that this was the first time a mother had encountered such a question from her son, and she was at a loss. After all, in Eastern countries, matters of sex are rarely discussed openly, especially by traditional mothers. She was caught in a dilemma, half out of shame and half out of caution, answering her son's questions.
"Then...Mom, do you masturbate?"
Damn, I really admire my own courage to ask my mother such a question. Looking back now, I was really driven by lust and didn't think things through.
"Go to sleep early,"
the mother said without saying anything and left the room.
After my mother left, I lay on my side on the bed, my right hand caressing my penis through my underwear. I imagined how, after I confessed to her, she understood and was willing to help me masturbate. I pictured her slender right hand, her palm rubbing against my penis through my underwear, her fingers teasingly stroking my scrotum. In the middle of the night, mother and son, mother on son's bed, doing that forbidden thing.
I drew back the curtains, the dim light from outside making the room a little brighter. My mother's face was half-hidden by her hair, her left hand hooking the top edge of my underwear, slowly moving it down. I lifted my buttocks to make it easier for her to pull off my underwear. My mother's warm palm held my penis, my breathing quickened, and her hand began to stroke it up and down.
I propped myself up with my hands. I was lying down. My mother's face was slightly flushed. Every time she lowered herself, her pink glans would be exposed. As my mother stroked me, my penis grew bigger and bigger, hot and hard. When I wanted to ask my mother some questions, she made a silencing gesture. I think she was afraid of disturbing my father who was sleeping soundly next door.
As I imagined my mother masturbating me, her image became increasingly vivid in my mind. What exactly were my feelings for her? Was it infatuation with a mature woman? Or the pleasure of incest? Or love for my mother?
Or simply a desire for sexual release? Forget it. Just imagining my mother providing me with various sexual services was almost numbing me. That taboo-breaking pleasure was like a poison, uncontrollable.
In my imagination, my mother's hands encircled the lower edge of my penis, her movements faster and faster, and I lasted for about five minutes. Mother, now you know how strong my sexual ability is, right? My mother then straddled my waist, her plump buttocks right in front of me, making my blood boil even more. Just as I was about to squeeze those peach-like buttocks, my real-life excitement reached its limit, and I ejaculated clumps of semen from fantasizing about my mother.
But I knew that a subtle change had occurred in my relationship with my mother, even if it was slight. After that, when our eyes met, there was an unnatural atmosphere between us. Because after our chat that night, the next morning, when I was getting ready for class, my mother had already changed into a suit. A well-fitting suit accentuated her figure, and seeing her fleshy buttocks swaying in her tight skirt made me unconsciously erect again. As I left, my mother, carrying her keys, said to me,
"I'll drive you to class today."
What? I usually take the bus to class, and my mother actually wanted to drive me? I could only get on the back seat, my hands around her slender waist, my thighs pressed tightly against her fleshy buttocks, my nose inhaling the fragrance of her hair. My mother rarely drove me. My half-erect penis pressed against her tailbone. Scenes from novels made me even more excited on this journey.
"I know it's normal for someone your age to have all sorts of wild thoughts, but you need to learn to control yourself. Don't make a big mistake in a moment of impulse. Don't think I don't know what you're thinking. I've been there too. I've seen those things before, so when you asked me last night, I knew exactly what you were up to. Don't learn nothing good and only pick up these bad things." My mother, with a stern face, lectured me in a serious tone in a corner by the school gate. I felt like a child who had done something wrong, being scolded mercilessly. I was also restless in class that day, and I even peeked at my mother going to the toilet in the middle of the night. Did my mother already know about these actions? At that moment, I felt incredibly stupid, so stupid that I wanted to jump out of the window.
"Mom, you're human too, of course you masturbate,"
were the words my mother said to me as she rode away on her motorcycle after scolding me at the school gate.
Before starting this article, I still like to share my recent situation with everyone. After all, it's my habit. Five years after my Oedipus complex was resolved, I had to stop writing due to family and work matters. A major reason for this was that my articles were no longer being discussed. I knew that with time, people would forget about them. I thought to myself, if no one is discussing it anymore, then maybe I shouldn't write anymore.
Moreover, more and more excellent writers are writing about Oedipus complexes. I remember it was "A Recollection of an Oedipus Complex," and someone said that it could be as good as "Oedipus Memoirs." At that time, I thought, since someone has the same writing style as me, then let them continue writing.
Chapter Two: Espionage
Although I was severely criticized, when I returned home that night, my mother and I were still as usual. My mother liked to wear tight pants, white, tight, thin long pants, cropped at seven-tenths length, revealing her fair ankles. The curves of her calves and thighs looked exquisite under the pants, and her pubic mound was slightly protruding. Her fleshy buttocks were even more exquisite, with the entire outline of her panties protruding from her pants.
I peeked into my mother's room through the curtain. She usually reads at night; her long, wavy hair was tied in a ponytail, and her frameless glasses added to her air of elegance. Her short-sleeved t-shirt revealed her side breasts, though they were only a B cup
. She stood up, yawned, and stretched her arms upwards and backwards, her breasts taut against her clothes, their shape even more alluring. She looked a little tired. After stretching, she patted her fleshy buttocks, and the sight of those swaying lower buttocks instantly aroused me. While rubbing my penis, I imagined my mother's beautiful figure. Was I sick? Her buttocks were round, full, and pert—no wonder men would steal glances at them on the street. I even fantasized about squeezing those buttocks myself.
While reading at night, I was restless. I looked at erotic articles online, analyzing the possibility of my mother committing incest with me. "Damn, that's impossible." I thought about it. My mother's family received a Western education, so her family values were more open from a young age. In contrast, my father, being from a farming family, seemed much more reserved and stable.
Assuming my mother was a traditional Eastern woman, the chances of her being sexually harassed by her son and not daring to speak up were higher. I imagined my mother as a traditional, respectable woman, with freshly washed clothes hanging on the balcony, her clothes slightly damp. I was behind her, and I was lightly touching her buttocks with my penis a few times. At first, she pretended not to notice.
As my movements became more intense, the shape of my penis squeezed into her buttocks, rubbing up and down. My mother blushed with shame and let me rub against her. I loved this "rubbing buttocks and penis" action. On one hand, it didn't have the same pleasure as direct penetration, but it gave me the feeling of forcing my mother to do something she didn't want to do. The excitement was even greater than thrusting directly from behind.
My mother's brows furrowed slightly, as if she wanted to leave me but couldn't escape. My hands roamed over her slender waist, my fingers teasing the inside of her thighs. As my fingers approached her private parts, she pulled back, her buttocks arching and twisting naturally, deepening the pressure between my penis and her buttocks.
I slightly bent my right middle finger, hooking it like a hook, and pulled her shorts and panties upwards, making her vulva rub against the panties. My mother let out a soft "Ah..." I rested my chin on her shoulder, breathing into her ear, and with my left hand, I reached under her clothes, cupping her breasts and making circular motions. Then, I spread my fingers and kneaded her snow-white breasts that were exposed through the bra. From the outside, only the movements of my hands were visible; inside, my left hand was playing with and kneading my mother's breasts.
"Mom...don't make a sound."
"You...if I keep doing this, I'll tell Dad."
"Mom...you don't want to, and if you just let me come out quickly, it'll be over, right?" "Ugh...hurry up...pull." My mother, constrained by family, dignity, and societal pressure, could only silently let me have my way again and again. In the end, my mother became my sex slave. A middle-aged woman was repeatedly teased by me until...don't be silly, this kind of plot is old-fashioned. Not to mention others, even I don't believe it. In today's society, which son wouldn't get a beating if he rubbed his penis against his mother's butt? So, this kind of thing is completely ineffective for traditional women. Moreover, my mother is relatively open-minded. If you bully her, she'll shock you on the spot. So I've been thinking, should I find a weakness in my mother? Sorry, threatening people isn't my style. Should I have a pure love affair with my mother? Ugh, I admit I'm perverted, but to be like the mother and son in "Memoirs of a Mother Oedipus Relationship," turning sex into love, my current experience isn't tragic enough.
So I understand perfectly well that I simply enjoy the thrill of incestuous mother-son relationships. Yes, like masturbation—I don't usually think about it, but when the urge strikes, I really want it. When I realized that ordinary fantasies of my mother masturbating couldn't satisfy me, I started discussing sex with her. This helped me better understand her boundaries regarding sex.
"Knock, knock, knock," the knocking sound was from my mother. It seemed she was going to make me a late-night snack. Actually, I had already planned this. I pulled down my pants, looked at the computer, and while masturbating with my right hand, my mother opened the door. I pretended to be startled, hurriedly pulling up my pants and even falling off the chair. When my mother saw me on the floor, she was surprised for a moment, then blushed, realizing what I had just been doing.
"Mom…why did you come in so quickly?"
After putting on my pants, I looked embarrassed. "E'e, how was I supposed to know? You were doing... doing that kind of thing...hehe." My mother chuckled twice. "Mom~" I protested, emphasizing my words. "I understand. Next time, Mom will wait longer. Also, reading until midnight and masturbating, aren't you afraid of being tired for class tomorrow?" "Mom, you underestimate me. I have plenty of stamina." I glanced at my mother, thinking that since she didn't turn away after seeing me masturbate, but instead chatted with me for a bit, it seemed that my mother was quite open about sex. What if I probed and questioned her further? "Mom, let me ask you something. Do you really masturbate?" "Sigh... Both women and men have physiological needs, just to varying degrees." "So, Mom, are you considered to have a strong sex drive?" "You child, you're talking nonsense." "Mom, I only dare to talk to you about these things because you're more open-minded. If it were Dad..." "Sigh, Mom understands you're in your adolescence, so it's normal to be interested in women." "So, Mom, I think I have a very strong sex drive. I always have sexual fantasies about you..." "You still dare to say that? Be careful, or I'll beat you up. I already told you this morning, and you still want to mess around with me." "But I can't even think about it?" "Your kind of thinking is really bad. Who can accept incest?" "Mom..." But nobody knows, and besides, you have a great figure and are beautiful. Maybe strangers will have sexual fantasies about you too. "Pah, don't talk nonsense. Do you want your mother to be messed around with by other men?" "I wouldn't do that, Mom. It's because you're sexy that I think that way." Actually, it wasn't just my mother's appearance. The main reason was that the incestuous relationship from Kansai excited me. In this process of developing a mother-son incestuous relationship, my mother gradually accepted the idea that incest between mother and son was acceptable through my persuasion and training. But at first, I planned to let my mother accept another way. Rather than the radical method of directly peeping at my mother while she was showering and masturbating on her underwear, I chose to let my mother understand on her own.
"Stop being so sweet-talking, and stop messing around. Get a girlfriend, it'll be better for your health, both physically and mentally~" "But Mom, I'm a virgin, can you help me lose my virginity?" Note that the moment you say this, it means you've already given up. Because your mother is your mother, when you say this, she'll imagine you on top of her, masturbating. What mother can withstand such an impact? It's a miracle she didn't slap you on the spot.
"Ugh... Mom, could you wear something a little sexy sometimes, so I can think about you more?" "You, son, I'm getting old, are you really going to insist on this?" "Mom, please, I'm begging you, I've been under a lot of pressure from studying lately, I'm thinking about you masturbating to relieve the pressure~" "That's weird, don't people usually just watch porn to relieve themselves?" "I can't help it, Mom's so beautiful, haha~" Praising a woman is always effective, no matter the era. "You're really hopeless," the mother pouted. "Then Mom, you can do some seductive moves now." "Want to do it? I haven't finished yet..." "Now? Here?" "No, Mom, don't be nervous. I won't masturbate in front of you, it's too embarrassing..." "Just do something, let me admire you." Under my direction, my mother stretched out her arms and tightly clamped her breasts with her arms, revealing a deep V-shaped cleavage. While praising my mother, I also intentionally or unintentionally rubbed my penis a few times. When my mother turned to face me, she bent over, and her fleshy buttocks sticked up. The curve of her waist made her buttocks look even sexier. I wanted to thrust hard and imagine the swaying fleshy buttocks.
"Sleep~"
My mother's playful appearance made me see a different side of her. Should I take drastic measures or take a gentle and seductive approach next? At this moment, I had completely put my mother in my heart. It seems that my mother's open-mindedness has unexpectedly created a good situation.
"Mom, you've gotten me into trouble again~"
"What?"
"You made me think you'd do it twice more."
"Aren't you ashamed? Keep your voice down, don't let your dad hear."
Several times I've wanted to just grab my mother's buttocks, but I've held back for fear of being scolded. Her eyes seem to be telling me to keep it a secret, but when I ask her, she won't say anything, turning into a strict mother. A woman's heart is unfathomable. I've tried lightly touching her buttocks with the back of my hand, but several times I've only just touched them before she grabs my hand and glares at me fiercely.
Or I'll sneak peeks at her cleavage, thighs, buttocks, etc. My mother is becoming increasingly uncomfortable with me. It seems that getting her to overcome this barrier will require a lot of courage. First, I need to make her understand one thing.
"Adultery"
between mother and son is all about the fear of being discovered, and the thrill is unparalleled. It's like a lover's affair, with both parties craving each other's bodies. But both must have a hidden side to their personalities. For example, I'm a typical Oedipus complex, and what about my mother? Is she a nymphomaniac? A virgin? A slut? I don't know, so there are too many factors involved. It seems I can only take it one step at a time.
But the next night, when my mother cooked me a late-night snack, she was wearing pajamas, but with super short hot pants on the bottom. The key point is that she was wearing garter stockings, which were incredibly seductive, the kind a maid would wear. My eyes almost popped out of my head when I saw it. My mother then said, "This time I'll let you have your fun. You won't always be this lucky." It's a pity she had that pair of shorts, otherwise she would definitely be wearing lace panties with the garter straps fastened. No wonder there were moans coming from my mother's bedroom that night. It seems my mother hasn't had any intimacy in a long time. So why did she have sex with my father tonight after talking to me about those things last night?
Chapter Three: Flirting.
It's an indescribable feeling. The relationship between my mother and me, as my actions became increasingly bold, perhaps my mother's thoughts gradually lowered her guard. That pleasure of walking on the edge of moral taboos was perhaps a faint desire deep within her heart. Unlike typical incestuous situations, I wanted my mother to slowly, genuinely, accept the relationship between mother and son.
Early the next morning, my mother looked slightly tired. I smiled and walked to her side, secretly gazing at her figure and fantasizing. It seemed she had made love with my father last night, and hadn't had sex in a long time; her body was exhausted. Perhaps it was the way my son had half-confessed his feelings the day before that reignited her desire. How long had it been since she'd been verbally aroused like that, especially since it was her own son who had crossed that line?
A middle-aged woman, who had spent her life leisurely working, taking care of her family, and raising her children, had a different approach to sex over time. She went from making love every day to just collapsing into bed as soon as she got home. Perhaps that's how it is. My mother is an internet-savvy parent, absorbing a lot of new information online. I once looked at her internet history and discovered she had secretly visited pornographic websites, but that was a long time ago. Since her internet broke, she hasn't gone online anymore.
I rested my chin on my mother's right shoulder and whispered in her ear, "Mom, will you dress a little sexier tonight?" My mother shrugged, trying to push me away, but I pressed myself against her back. Without turning her head, she said, "What are you saying? Your dad hasn't left yet." My penis gradually hardened again. I secretly nudged my mother's buttocks a few times before reluctantly leaving. It was evening again, and I was studying alone. How long had it been since I'd spent so much time studying here? With my mother, a woman who cared for her son but was also reasonable enough not to give in to his every whim, I started trying to flirt with her. Tonight, she was wearing a low-cut top that revealed her breasts, and long cotton pants, seemingly trying to hide the plump curves of her buttocks. After all, if I kept staring at her backside, she'd feel uncomfortable.
"Mom, you dressed like that today, it really got me hard right away." "You still say that? If it wasn't for you, what mother in the world would do that?" "Sorry, but I just love you, Mom." "Stop flattering me, hurry up and finish, go to sleep." I leaned against my mother, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the bed. Seeing me so close, she tried to stand up, but I held her shoulders down. Looking at her ample breasts, I stroked my penis directly in front of her face with my right hand. She glared at me and said, "Didn't we agree to take care of it ourselves? Now what…?" I half-wrapped my left arm around her shoulder, and when our eyes met, she stopped talking.
"Mom, listen to me first. If you think it's acceptable, then I promise I won't tell anyone." My mother glanced at me, seemed about to say something, but then stopped. "Mom, I know you and Dad rarely have sex at night anymore, and you know I like mature women, but I don't like going to prostitutes because I'm afraid of getting diseases. But I really love mature women, especially you, Mom. There aren't many women who maintain a figure as good as yours. Let me ask you honestly, when you walk down the street, don't people sometimes steal glances at you? Right?" "Um..." My mother's expression was slightly shy. "So, Mom, you..." "Ah, you've been alone for so long, don't you ever want to have sex with other men?" "Shame on you, I'm your mother, how dare you say such things to me? Aren't you afraid I'll beat you to death?" "Then Mom, tell me, do you like me?" In an instant, time seemed to freeze. My mother stared at me, and I truly felt that this minute was the longest moment of my life. I knew I was doing something worse than an animal, something that would be struck by lightning. Was I just incredibly lustful, or did I have a personality that didn't care about the destruction of my family? My mother's body, her sexual desire, I wanted to enjoy it. Perhaps the most perverted and deserving person was me.
My mother stood up, and I hugged her from behind, my genitals rubbing against her fleshy buttocks. Her plump, round bottom, combined with the slippery feel of her long pants, instantly made my penis even harder. My mother struggled to shake off my hands, but I held her tightly with both arms around her buttocks, my genitals rhythmically sliding up and down. After a while, my mother coldly said, "You'd better hurry up, or your dad will come looking for me, and you'll be dead." I immediately took off my underwear, revealing my penis. My mother was stunned for a moment. Although I didn't have an impressive length, my hardness and girth were not to be boasted about. I eagerly tried to pull off my mother's pants, but she exclaimed, "I'm not going to let you have sex with me, don't do anything reckless!" I was stunned. My mother was panting, trying to catch her breath.
"Don't rush, son. I understand what you just said, but it's impossible for me to suddenly accept it. Even without the blood ties between mother and son, I would never let you have sex. You've been reading those erotic articles, and I understand your impulsive reasons. But some things need to be cultivated slowly. I'll say it again, I'm not against it, but you want me to treat you like a woman, not a sex slave." I nodded. My mother, being highly educated, quickly grasped some of my points. I know women value feelings; sometimes, if the feeling is right, a woman will take the initiative; if not, she won't even let you touch her. Perhaps my behavior tonight was too impulsive, giving my mother a very unpleasant experience. I silently put on my pants, and my mother went back to her room.
I woke up early the next morning, feeling a morning erection, and rushed to the toilet to urinate. After a stream of urine flowed out, I opened the door. My mother was standing in the doorway. I glanced at her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her inside. I closed the bathroom door, and my mother, still half-asleep, was instantly awakened.
"Mom, you have to make it up to me."
"What are you talking about? Didn't you thrust hard enough into my butt last night?"
"That doesn't count. Besides, Dad's still changing clothes in the room."
"You know that, so why don't you let me out? Why are we both talking so quietly?" "Mom, it's because we're both afraid Dad will find out." I stood face to face with my mother. Behind her was the cold toilet tile. I squeezed her fleshy buttocks tightly with both hands, feeling the flesh squeeze through my fingers. I pressed all my strength against my mother, making her sandwich between me and the wall. Her breasts were pressed tightly against my chest. I used my knees to forcefully spread her legs apart, so that my entire penis was pressed against her private parts, belly to belly.
Although both were dressed, the thrill of this clandestine affair made the mother blush unconsciously. Mother and son remained silent, only my penis pressed against her lower abdomen, rubbing up and down, sometimes circling, while I secretly pinched her buttocks and kissed her earlobe. The mother seemed to have given up resisting, letting me writhe and rub against her, as if to say, "You're done, so hurry up and leave." I exposed my penis, pulling the back of her hand to touch my glans. The mother whispered, "It smells so fishy~" A trail of fluid from my glans stained the back of her hand. Finally, the mother had no choice but to grasp my penis and slowly stroke it up and down. The sounds of the father walking outside the door made the mother both frightened and excited.
"I can't take it anymore, you finish yourself, I have to get out of here quickly," the mother said hurriedly.
"Mom, almost there, can't you see how hard I am?"
"Okay, let me rub it for you a little longer. If you don't ejaculate by now, you'll have to figure it out yourself. Also, don't touch my private parts with your fingers anymore, or I'll get angry." My mother's right hand formed a rounded shape, grasping the base of my penis, moving it slowly up and down from bottom to top, until her entire palm tightly enveloped my penis. I even deliberately thrust a few times. My mother glanced at me, and there was a slight smile in the corner of her eye. My left hand did the same, rubbing my mother's buttocks to increase her sexual desire and help me ejaculate faster.
"Aren't you ashamed that you're so hard?"
"Mom, it's because of you that I'm hard. Don't you like it?"
"Go away, you just love bullying your mother. You dare to ask me to do this when your father is here. What if he's not here?" "I'll eat you up, Mom~" The mother's wrist moved faster and faster. Adultery, incest, discovery—the three were combined into one. In the lewd toilet, mother and son, one half-dominant, the other half-compromising, mother and son were playing mind games in their incestuous relationship. The son wanted his mother to help him have sex, while the mother was overwhelmed by the impact of sexual harassment and her sense of morality. To do it or not to do it, to be able to do it or not to do it, perhaps, by helping her son masturbate this time, she had already proven herself. She realized that flirting with her son had led to adultery, and harassment had led to her understanding of her own charm as a woman. The virtue and restraint that Eastern women had been taught since childhood were all shattered in this instant.
The semen spilled on the floor, and my mother's hands were covered in a warm, fishy smell. My legs went weak, and I had to lean against the wall to stand up. After washing her hands, my mother pulled at her underwear in front of me, saying sullenly, "You've rubbed my underwear so much it's crooked, completely sunk into my butt crack. Aren't you ashamed?" I pressed my penis against my mother's butt crack and said, "Mom, next time try wearing your underwear and let me rub against your butt crack, okay?" "Wife~~~" A loud shout pulled me back to reality. My mother was standing in front of the mirror adjusting her appearance, and then called out, "In the bathroom, about to come out." I grabbed my mother's hand like a spoiled child. My mother looked at me, and I immediately leaned in and kissed her deeply. My mother didn't say anything and left the bathroom.
During class this morning, I was restless all day, my penis almost always erect. I didn't understand my mother's thoughts. Perhaps those incestuous scenarios between mother and son could never happen in reality, yet I tried to experience it. People always feel a strange sense of loss after getting what they want. After the passion subsided, the thought of "my mother giving me a handjob" popped into my head. It wasn't too bad, not particularly pleasurable.
But in that moment, that drug-like thrill of infidelity was irresistible. My mother's every move, her slender hands, her teasing caresses of my penis, that woman playing with my penis with a slightly disdainful look, that mother who, fearing her husband's discovery, helped her son masturbate—many times, only in the moment could I understand.
"That instant of surging lust, mother and son's infidelity, all in a flash..."
[The End]

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Unable to quit the pleasure of the illusion mother

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