Lustful Godmother

After October 1st, the weather changed noticeably; the continuous hot and humid periods became shorter, and going out at night felt like being in the north—no, I mean, the "wolf" was me, it was the wind. I've been in Wuhan for a few months now. I always wondered what was different about Wuhan, the largest city in Central China and one of the major cities in the country, and wanted to experience it. But with work commitments, it often remained just a dream. In these two months, I've gradually gotten used to the slow pace of life in Wuhan, but under my godmother's "tutelage," I still feel out of place. I don't like hot dry noodles, potstickers, or bean curd sheets; I don't even like flower rice. I feel it lacks the natural aroma of Northeast rice and the appetite-inducing quality of Northern steamed buns. The only change is that I'm becoming less and less like a Northerner, which might be thanks to my godmother. She always tells me to be cleaner, shave regularly, and change clothes often. Being rather thin, wearing glasses makes me look even more like a "pretty boy" (actually, I don't need glasses; influenced by Tangtang, she likes large, unframed glasses, a style from a few years ago, a kind of non-mainstream look, like she came from another planet).

These past few months have actually been quite busy, because I'm in my internship period, and no matter what, I'm never really free. The entire October 1st holiday felt like a dream to me; sometimes I even woke up laughing from my dreams, that lewd, sleazy side of me made my godmother want to spank me. And for the first time, I felt a lack of stamina in bed, especially after multiple nights of sex; I just wanted to sleep. Of course, this is also one of the reasons I didn't have much time to go out (I only had a few days off, and I was mostly in bed). It was also the first time I "slandered" my godmother, saying that thirty is like a wolf, forty like a tiger, but seeing her graceful and charming appearance, I just couldn't bring myself to say such things. My godmother, who is the perfect mature woman with a perfect family in my mind, knows my current situation and always makes me ribs and other nourishing foods. Sigh... I'm conflicted, experiencing both pain and pleasure. (Actually, I don't blame my godmother in this regard; it's all my own doing. When I'm tired at night, I swear I will never bother my godmother the next day, but the next morning, when I see my morning erection, I surrender again. It's like when I'm drunk and feel terrible, I swear I will never drink again, but when I see a good banquet with good wine, I start drinking without anyone urging me. I can only tell myself - I deserve it).

I've always felt melancholic about the weather in Wuhan. Not long after the long holiday, I started experiencing severe discomfort in my cheeks. Pressing on them felt like being pricked with needles, and eventually they became numb. However, this was accompanied by a fever. A hospital checkup revealed I had mumps, a very bothersome condition. I know this isn't like when I was a child, where I wouldn't have to worry about my head feeling like a gourd. My godmother and father were extremely worried because mumps is contagious, like the flu, and it can make you feel dizzy and disoriented all day. What I found strange... I'm already so old, and I still got mumps. Needless to say, I was on anti-inflammatory injections and medication every day. I don't know how many days passed, but every day was filled with the smell of medicine from the hospital and a heavy, throbbing head. It wasn't until a few days before the Double Ninth Festival that I started to feel a little better. This made me realize one thing: nothing is worse than being sick. Once you're sick, everything else is useless. The most direct feeling was that even with a beautiful woman like my godmother around all day, I had no desire to have sex. If even a bird can't lift its head, how can you expect it to sing melodiously?

Maybe I'm mistaken. In 2009, our country didn't have a public holiday for the Double Ninth Festival. But I didn't go to work during that year, naturally living the life of a so-called "ancient young master" at home. Tangtang also went home. What I find strange—at least I still find strange—is that Tangtang, such a smart girl, is no different from those non-mainstream, blonde-haired girls every day. She's always squatting by the computer with her "brainless" classmates, discussing going skiing in Harbin in winter, searching for the Wild Man in Shennongjia, or even having a barbecue at East Lake Forest Park. I can't help but groan inwardly. What time is it? The leaves are almost yellow; it's not spring. What kind of barbecue and picnic is that? And her classmates are quite familiar with me; they've all learned from my godmother to call me "Little Guan," never dropping the "Little." Tangtang is the same. Thinking about this makes me dizzy. I'd better not think about it, for my godmother's "happiness," and for my own. My godmother, being very virtuous, prepared lunch for Tangtang and me. I lay on the sofa in the living room, watching soap operas out of boredom. I only looked up when my godmother came in, feeling like the injections I'd been getting these past few days had made me a bit silly.

My godmother's dining room was quite large, at least 20 square meters. The table was square, but not very big. We never followed any Confucian rules when we ate at home; we were very lively. My godmother sat in the middle, and Tangtang and I sat opposite her. She kept putting food on our plates, making herself feel like a useless bum, which was quite embarrassing. Tangtang seemed to intermittently "shut up," devouring the glutinous rice balls in front of her. Don't worry, after swallowing them, she would launch into a long-winded explanation of her grand plans. My godmother and I just smiled at each other and gave her perfunctory replies. It was still very hot in Wuhan at midday. My godmother was still wearing a sundress that barely covered her bottom, revealing only a narrow outline of her underwear. When she sat down, her underwear was faintly visible from the side. (But I've never seen my godmother dressed like this when guests come over. I thought to myself, I really am one of her closest people.) Completely opposite to my godmother, Tangtang always likes those loose, cartoonish, oversized bathrobes that cover her up completely. (Of course, with my godmother Zhu Yu in the picture, I really have no desire to look at them, even now when I see her breastfeeding her child, it's like the "licentious elopement" poem in the Book of Songs.) The poem "The Gate" says: "Going out of the east gate, there are women like clouds. Though they are like clouds, none are the one I long for. Dressed in white and wearing green scarves, they bring me joy." A modern translation would be: "My first love in college, I was on the west campus, she was on the east campus." I don't know how many times I saw her "going out of the east gate," but every time I saw her, she had a smile on her face. During that time, I walked with my eyes straight ahead; so many girls passed by, but no matter how beautiful or ugly, I wouldn't give them a second glance. Seeing the bulge on my godmother's chest, I finally felt a stirring of desire. Ah, it feels so good to be cured. Looking at the glutinous rice ball in front of me, and then at my godmother's little grapes, I felt endless感慨 (gǎnkǎi, mixed feelings of emotion and reflection). There's really no comparison.

Just as I expected, after lunch, Tangtang changed her clothes, slung her little backpack (which she thought was quite charming), and went out to "go wild." Her godmother cleaned the table and mopped the floor, as usual. I also changed out of my pajamas early and lay down on her godmother's bed (Tangtang was home, so I skipped her room, fearing another argument; the bedding in the guest room was still drying, and I really didn't want to go). By the time her godmother finished, I think I had already dozed off for a while. Her godmother came in and sat on the edge of the bed, patted my head, and said my fever had subsided. I put a pillow under my neck, leaned against the headboard, and chatted with her. I asked her, "Where's Tang's dad? Why isn't he back yet?" She said, "He went to Hanyang and will be back later." Actually, I didn't want to be affectionate with my godmother in this situation; it would be too bold. But hearing her say that, at least I didn't have to worry about Tang's dad suddenly returning, and my heart warmed up. I told her to lie down too and gave her a pillow. She lay down naturally, propping her head up with her right hand, facing me from her side. Her two purple grape-like nipples were visible above the low-cut top of her tank top, very alluring. It seemed my godmother's breasts were quite well-endowed. I couldn't help but touch my godmother's right hand with my right hand. It felt very comfortable. I pulled down my pajama pants with my left hand, and my erect penis sprang out. I then grabbed my godmother's left hand and held it. My godmother slowly began to masturbate me. It was the first time I'd ever seen her do this during the day, with the curtains open. The bedroom door was open, and I could hear the TV series "Bright Sword" playing, with Li Yunlong's distinctive voice occasionally drifting in. At that moment, neither my godmother nor I thought about anything else. For me, seeing my godmother every day but having gone over a week without sex—this was my first time since being deflowered—so I couldn't just let her masturbate me. My godmother seemed a little tired, so she sat up and started masturbating me with both hands, occasionally asking if it was comfortable, and then bringing up things like, "You're not feeling well, can't we stop?" I didn't care about any of that. I straightened up, sat up, and pressed my godmother's head down, making her give me oral sex. My godmother didn't disappoint; her small lips swallowed my penis. Watching her cheeks swell and bulge, making soft squelching sounds, I couldn't help but touch my own cheeks. Sigh, they were still a little swollen and sore. Looking at my godmother's earnest expression, I couldn't help but feel grateful; heaven had truly been kind to me. At that moment, because my godmother was kneeling and swallowing my penis, her two breasts were clearly visible from her neck, like two playful little piglets, swaying like on swings, waiting for me to fondle them. Naturally, I cupped them in my hands, watching them constantly change shape, my penis growing even stronger. My godmother seemed tired. She raised her head, her eyes brimming with moisture, a mixture of lust and the pressure from the pressure on her throat. Seeing the veins on my penis, made even more prominent and larger by the saliva, I pulled her closer, letting her straddle me. Her small pink panties were clearly damp at the front. I gently pulled the thin fabric aside, revealing her two purplish-black labia, slightly deformed and protruding from the fabric. My penis naturally pressed against them, and my godmother and I both looked down, watching as my penis slowly made contact with her labia, slowly parted, and slowly thrust inside—an indescribable stimulation. At that moment, a sudden whim struck me, and an wicked thought popped into my mouth—yes, into my mouth, not my brain. I stopped my penis and whispered in my godmother's ear, "Mom, will you let your son ejaculate inside your vagina later?" I asked her this in perfect Mandarin, word for word. (During my time in Wuhan, I seemed to have gotten used to only talking nonsense with my godmother during sex. After all, deep down, I thought of her as virtuous and gentle, not a slut. Even if she were, she should belong to me alone. Am I being too selfish and chauvinistic? I think every man feels this way.) My godmother didn't seem surprised, because this wasn't the first time, although afterwards... She always called me a "fool," but my godmother was clearly provoked. "You little rascal," she said, and then she forcefully sat down, holding my penis. I felt my penis pressing against the softest spot deep inside my godmother's vagina, maybe the cervix, or something else. I'm not a doctor, so I don't know, but my godmother and I both let out a comfortable "ah" at the same time. Then my godmother pressed her whole body against me. When kneeling became uncomfortable, my godmother stretched out her legs and hugged me. I could only move forward a little by using my hands to support myself on the bed. Only then did my godmother have the space to wrap her legs around my waist. I hugged my godmother, and she hugged me, like Guanyin sitting on a lotus, rising and falling continuously.

Because we hadn't made love in a long time, my godmother and I were both very excited. Sometimes when I was tired and didn't want to move my butt, my godmother would move on her own. Although the movements were small, it greatly increased the fun. My godmother didn't take off her underwear, and every time her buttocks lifted and fell, it would make my penis hurt a little, but this didn't affect my interest. I could even feel the edge of her underwear digging into her labia. I wanted to look down, but my godmother's loose hair blocked my view. Even if I could see, it would only be our pubic hair tangled together. I raised my head, turned my godmother's face, and we sucked each other's tongues mouth to mouth. I lifted my godmother's camisole with both hands and kept rubbing it. My godmother finally stopped panting and made a "hmm" sound. Sometimes I would kiss my godmother, sometimes I would lower my head to kiss her two purple nipples, my buttocks thrusting up and down. My godmother's voice grew louder and louder, and the bedroom was filled with the sounds of "slapping." When I felt my godmother holding me tighter and tighter, even hurting me, I would ask, "Mom, is it good?" "Mmm." "Mom, is your son fucking you good?" "You little rascal." Then I thrust even harder, until finally, the whole bedroom was filled with "Call me son." "Son." "Is your son fucking you good?" "Yes." "Say that your son is fucking you so good." "Your son is fucking you so good." "Can I cum inside you?" "Mmm." "Tell your son, where to cum?" "Mmm." "Mom, say it." "You little rascal, good son, cum inside your mother's vagina." In fact, once a person's taboo door is opened, any magical words you can't imagine will come out of your mouth. It's as if it opens up another world for you. That's how it was with my godmother. I don't know if this is good or bad, nor do I understand whether all personalities have an evil side. When I couldn't hold back any longer, I blurted out, "Mom, I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum inside your vagina." My godmother seemed to have truly reached her limit too, responding, "Good son, cum, cum inside Mom." "Where?" "You bastard son, cum inside Mom's vagina." "Ah!" It felt like we were walking into the abyss together at the moment of the world's end. My godmother gripped my back tightly, and I thrust one last time. I could feel my penis swelling and swelling inside my godmother's vagina, like a machine... Like a gun ready to fire, my godmother's vagina, like her vibrant lips, gripped my penis tightly until we were locked in a passionate embrace. My semen surged deep into her uterus. It felt like an eternity, yet also like a fleeting moment. As we slowly relaxed and lay back, my godmother lying on top of me, I felt the fluid flowing down her vulva to my thighs. Lifting her head, I saw her hair damp with sweat, clinging to her cheeks, her face flushed.

Her usual dignified demeanor was gone; instead, she was flushed from my caresses. "The face is gone, but the peach blossoms still smile in the spring breeze." I love every face, what about yours?

This chapter is a bit too direct, which might be a little jarring for some readers. In reality, things aren't this crazy. I might use words like "son," "mother," "fuck," and "cum inside vagina," and my godmother actually responded to me in the same way described in the story. However, she often regretted it afterwards—I mean, I really regretted it. I didn't want to treat my godmother that way, but regardless, as long as my godmother is happy and I'm happy, that's all that matters. Since novels can fabricate taboo things and say taboo words, everything else pales in comparison to the amazing experiences my godmother and I had.

[The End]

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