Holy Mother

Time flies, another year has passed in the blink of an eye, and I've entered the crucial final year of junior high.

This year, I experienced two years of voyeurism. It's not that it's immoral, just a kind of curiosity and impulse during puberty. The strong desire of boys for the opposite sex and the conservative and closed nature of society mean that the growth process of children of our generation is often filled with repression and confusion. Fortunately, I had a few beautiful and charming women around me who satisfied all my curiosity and brought me comfort and joy in my growth.

Of course, voyeurism also depends on the timing; you can't let anyone find out, yet you have to see clearly, which is a very exciting behavior in itself. Every time I peeked at a woman who was usually conservatively dressed and prim and proper, completely naked and unguarded in front of me, I felt my heart race and my blood rush. This feeling accompanied me for the past two years, constantly urging me to mature during my puberty.

Masturbation was inevitable. Seeing women, especially beautiful women, women I liked, with their legs spread wide, exposing their genitals—dark labia, tender red clitoris, gushing fluid, open anus, expelling waste—everything was something I wanted to experience. My penis would involuntarily become erect, I would feel restless, and my hand would unconsciously stroke it. But the most painful thing was seeing my beautiful mother and father being intimate, my pussy being mercilessly fondled. That was what I most wanted to see, but to avoid being discovered, I dared not feel anything. My penis, though extremely hard, could only be allowed to swell with blood. Even without stroking, the intense stimulation would cause me to ejaculate naturally.

My adolescence was spent growing up amidst this repressed lust and stimulating behavior. My body was also gradually growing; I was already over 1.65 meters tall, the same height as my mother.

Admittedly, peeping wasn't easy, and actively seeking opportunities didn't guarantee success. The toilet has been rebuilt, making peeping virtually impossible. I've grown taller, and peeping through other people's windows would be easily discovered, which terrifies me. My parents, seeing I'm older, still love me dearly but are much more careful now. A thick, large curtain separates our two beds, making it impossible to peek through a corner.

At night, when they make love, I can only hear the sounds and imagine what I used to see.

This torment is devastating. Junior high is incredibly demanding, and the pressure is immense, but I can't concentrate. The restlessness of adolescence is intense; the less I can see, the more I yearn. And as I get older, peeping isn't as satisfying anymore; I often have the urge to be intimate with women. This thought is obviously childish, but it stirs up my emotions and affects my grades.

My parents are naturally worried. I'm my mother's lifeblood; they only have one son, and my future is incredibly important to them. I used to be a top student, frequently in the top five of my class, but now I'm in the bottom ten. They're embarrassed and worried I can't handle it.

Every weekend when my father comes home, he talks to me, but at night he still happily has sex with me, which makes me anxious and confused. The thought of my mother's beautiful face, fair skin, full body, soft breasts, large buttocks, delicate vulva, and pink vagina being ruthlessly played with and violently thrust into by my father, while my mother moans ecstatically, enjoying herself blissfully, fills me with a sense of unease. I can't hear a word they say; I can't escape my thoughts about women, and this attachment to women has brought me to the brink of emotional collapse.

My mother loves me infinitely, but she is also strict. She is sacred and inviolable; her love for me is selfless and she would give everything, but she is very frustrated and disappointed by my regression, often crying sadly. Last time I talked to Teacher Zhang about this, I went home and cried bitterly, showing how anxious and helpless she is.

Of course, my mother cannot understand the thoughts of teenage boys; several mothers have discussed this when they talk about boys' growth. She probably knows I'm growing up every time she washes my underwear.

My mother's beauty and charm have captivated me. She washes her underwear immediately after showering at night, but sometimes if she has an urgent matter to attend to, she'll leave it and wash it with the laundry. Of course, I wouldn't miss this opportunity. When my mother isn't home, I close the door, take out her underwear, and since she'd just finished showering and taken it off, there's still a small amount of vaginal discharge—a very light, sticky, yellowish-white discharge. I pick it up and smell it; it has a strange odor, probably what's called a "woman's smell." This smell is unique to women. My mother is healthy and has no gynecological problems; normal vaginal discharge has this smell. This smell is very stimulating. Before, my voyeurism was visual; now it's gustatory. The warmth and scent of a beautiful, mature woman... I unconsciously lick it with my tongue and inhale it with my mouth. The taste isn't disgusting at all; it's a little salty—the scent of a woman. My penis couldn't take it anymore, so I pulled on my underwear, smeared my semen on my glans, and masturbated while fantasizing about my mother's body and the ecstasy she felt while being fucked. I reached my limit, and fearing I'd ejaculate on her underwear and be discovered, I quickly pulled it off and ejaculated on the floor.

This happened occasionally, but it couldn't satisfy my desire for women. I realized this wasn't right; if I didn't do well on the high school entrance exam, life would be tough, and I'd be letting my parents down. I tried my best not to think about women and to focus on my studies, but I just couldn't.

March arrived, spring was in full bloom, and the new semester began. This was the last semester before the high school entrance exam, the most crucial period. Everyone's attention was focused on us students, but my grades still weren't improving. Actually, my foundation was good; I understood the concepts, but my mind was chaotic, my heart was restless, and I couldn't concentrate on the exam. My mother was extremely sad and anxious, constantly trying to discuss why my grades were dropping, but I didn't dare say anything, and she wouldn't even consider that possibility.

April in the South is already quite hot, and with the rainy season, everyone's mood is generally low. But something happened this month that completely changed my relationship with my mother and truly made me a man. Motherly love is great, yet subtle; a mother can sacrifice everything, even her life, for her son.

That day was a weekend, and the sky had finally cleared. Around noon, after finishing my lunch, I went to rinse my mouth and saw Teacher Zhang going into the toilet. I quickly followed. I knew that although the toilet had been rebuilt, someone had dug a small hole opposite the toilet stall. Because the hole was low and well-hidden, it was hard to spot. Only someone wanting to peep would notice it. I guessed Awei had done it; he probably couldn't stand it anymore and risked digging it himself.

I took off my shoes and tiptoed to the toilet stall entrance. Because the entrance was small and low, I had to crouch down, peering through the hole. It had been so long since I'd peeped; I'd almost forgotten what a woman's genitals looked like.

The light was abundant. The woman was already squatting over the latrine drain, her snow-white inner thighs revealing a complete vulva before my eyes. The wrinkled texture and the parted, dark labia minora revealed pink, glistening gums, glistening with dew from the recent urination. While women in the past were generally clean, they were frugal and usually didn't wipe after urinating. Aunt Zhang swayed her hips from side to side to shake off the water droplets, then got up and put on her pants. She then used a ladle to flush away the urine; actually, it was just a drain, so flushing wasn't necessary except for defecating.

Although I didn't see the urination process, her complete vulva was laid bare before me. I hadn't seen such a clear cunt in a long time. As I watched, I reached into my pants and masturbated, but Aunt Zhang was only urinating and finished quickly, so I had to get up immediately too.

This was the first time in my life I'd experienced such an embarrassing and devastating event. As I tried to get up from the ground, I turned around and saw a familiar figure standing by the well, looking at me with a complex expression—a mixture of emotions: atmosphere, disappointment, sadness, and confusion. At that moment, I was completely terrified and could barely stand. My mother told me in a low voice, "Go back inside." I quickly ran back inside. My mother must have also needed to use the restroom and had just witnessed me peeping.

I felt like the world was ending; I'd been discovered! Thank goodness it was my mother.

Then I heard Aunt Zhang and my mother greeting each other outside—it seemed normal. A little while later, my mother finished urinating and came inside.

After she returned, she glared at me. That glare shattered my heart. I stood there, frozen, while my mother sat there, tears streaming down her face. I didn't dare breathe; I felt completely drained.

After a while, Mom said, "How could you be so pathetic, peeping at women using the toilet? It's lucky I caught you today; if it were someone else, I'd worry about how they'd behave in the future, how they'd behave in the family." She added that she thought I'd amount to something, but I never expected me to be like this, that she'd spoiled me for nothing. I didn't dare say anything, and finally, I couldn't hold

back anymore; tears streamed down my face. Actually, I felt wronged; I didn't want to be like this, but I couldn't control myself. Mom saw how upset I was, and she knew I was trembling. She was worried something might happen to me, after all, I was her precious child, so her tone softened, and she asked me what was wrong. At first, I didn't know how to answer and just kept sobbing. Mom stood up, walked to my side, and stroked my head, saying, "You're our precious darling. You can't let anything happen to you. Don't let us down."

I said, "Mom, I was wrong, but I couldn't control myself." So I told Mom about all the thoughts and actions I'd had during my two years of puberty, including watching them make love at night, and also about my attachment to her. I spoke calmly, but my mother's beautiful face flushed and paled in turns. She never imagined that a little boy from two years ago would start peeping, nor did she ever imagine that her own son would witness her unbridled and open sexual encounters in front of her husband. She felt utterly stripped of her mystery and dignity.

After a while, my mother asked if my declining grades were due to this. I said I didn't want to, but I couldn't control myself. I was afraid of being discovered, so I dared not peep anymore, but I kept thinking about it and felt very frustrated. I wanted to catch up, but I couldn't concentrate.

My mother's emotions had stabilized; after all, she was facing her son, the person she loved and was closest to. My mother asked if it was too late to catch up on my grades. I said my foundation was actually quite good, but I just couldn't concentrate, and I was angry with myself.

After thinking for a while, my mother made a decision I could never have imagined, a decision that changed our relationship. Mom said, "You're my precious child. My future depends on you. You can't let me down. Getting into a top high school and then a prestigious university is your only way out. You must pull yourself together and get good grades on the high school entrance exam." Mom was very calm; it must have been a decision she made after a great internal struggle. In that feudal and closed-off era, you can imagine how painful it must have been for her to make this decision. But for my progress and a bright future, and because I'm her precious child and her future support, she made this decision.

She said, "Do you like me a lot? Are you interested in women? If I satisfy your desires, will you be able to calm down and study hard to catch up with your grades? Of course, I love you very, very much, but because we are mother and son, some things have to go beyond the normal mother-son relationship. We need to think it through."

I was stunned. I never expected Mom to make such a decision for me. I felt both scared and nervous, but deep down, I was filled with anticipation. Seeing my silence, Mom knew I was still young, and as her elder, I couldn't handle the situation. But she already understood that the root of my poor grades was my early puberty leading to a lack of concentration.

She pulled me close, took my hand, and said calmly but firmly, "Mom can grant your wish, but you must agree to a few conditions: First, this must be between the two of us; no one else can know. We must behave normally, and no one should notice, especially your father. Second, the time and method of my indulgence will be decided by Mom, especially when Dad is around; you mustn't have any other thoughts. Third, you must focus on your studies and not spy on other women."

Since she had stated the conditions, it meant she had opened her heart. I didn't dare speak and nodded repeatedly.

Mom laughed, saying, "You silly child, you were my nemesis in a past life! I almost died when I was pregnant with you and gave birth to you, and now you're here to take my life again!" Of course, I knew she was joking.

I said, "Mom, I will definitely follow your instructions. I won't let anyone else know, and I will catch up in my grades. I will definitely get into a top high school so she can rest assured."

Mom said I absolutely couldn't let her down and that I had to make my parents proud; it seems saving face is important too.

Mom sat down and asked if I was feeling unwell. Hearing this, I knew things were looking up, and my penis immediately hardened. I nodded repeatedly. Mom told me to lock the door, which I did quickly. Mom washed her hands in the basin and told me to take off my pants. I pulled off my pants and shorts in one go. My penis had grown, though not as big as Dad's, but it was considered large for my age. It had a bit of foreskin, but when erect, the dark glans was still visible.

Mom didn't seem surprised. As a middle-aged woman, she knew best the function of a penis and a man's feelings. Mom gently stroked my penis; her soft, yielding hand felt like a spring breeze, making me feel weak and limp. Mom's hand felt like an electric current coursing through my body, a strangely comfortable feeling, both stimulating and tense, completely different from my usual masturbation.

I was standing, and my mother was sitting. My glans was right next to her mouth, but she wasn't going to give me oral sex. After all, it was just the beginning. With one hand, she gently massaged my testicles, while the other hand stroked my penis from the glans to the base. I was so stimulated and felt so good that I couldn't speak, but I still hadn't reached the end, hadn't ejaculated. My mother was very experienced; she wanted me to enjoy it a little longer, so her movements were very gentle.

At this point, I didn't dare look down at her, and instead tilted my head back to enjoy it. After about five minutes, my mother said, "Don't hold back, come out." She spat into her hand and began to lubricate my glans with her saliva and stroke it quickly. I thought of how she and my father did this when they masturbated, and suddenly all the scenes of their lovemaking flashed before my eyes. I finally looked down at my mother. Her beautiful face had a slight blush, and her soft, boneless hand was stroking my penis. I didn't dare touch her; I felt that this was already the greatest favor she could do for me.

It was so exciting! I reached my limit quickly, and for the first time, I ejaculated intensely in front of my mother. I don't know how much I ejaculated, I only know that I was almost completely exhausted. I only know that my mother gave me eggs for dinner that day. After all, she's my mother who loves me the most, the mother I cherish most, the woman I want to be closest to. My heart and body were completely satisfied.

[The End]

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