Forbidden Mother and Child

My home is in a small town in the north. Calling it a town is a bit of a stretch; it's really just a residential area bisected by a decent provincial highway. Behind the densely packed two-story houses on either side are endless rice paddies, so the townspeople's livelihoods consist mainly of migrant work and traditional farming.

Although I've been away for ten years, my name is still widely known in the town. I am a disgrace to the town. I've only ever had one woman, my mother. My sex life is also very simple; for so many years, I've only had sex with my biological mother. My incestuous relationship with my mother is a perpetual topic of conversation among the townspeople, a story that will likely never fade.

I was seventeen then. I was a good student; the teachers in town all said I could go to university. Having studied so much, I didn't look like a typical farm boy at all—I was as thin as a bean sprout! To others, my family was like any other ordinary family in town: well-fed, living a slow-paced, comfortable life. But in my childhood memories, home was terrifying and cold.

My father was the clerk of the town's Party branch. He always had slicked-back hair and wore inexpensive suits, giving him a somewhat city-manly air. He was involved in meetings, reading newspapers, and conducting inspections, and held a certain amount of power in the town. But to me as a child, my father was like a demon because he would often beat my mother for no reason at night. During the day, he was kind and even considerate to her, but at night he became a different person. Once, twice, three times, I finally realized that my father was ill; he was sick.

My mother and I were very close since childhood. She was an extremely gentle woman who loved and protected me. Because of my father's violence, my mother and I weakly avoided him, clinging to each other, desperately shutting ourselves off. Perhaps it was this strong dependence that gradually evolved from the depths of our hearts into a deep-seated affection, leading my mother and me down a shameful path of no return.

I remember that night when my father was beating me again in the middle of the night, and my mother cried and ran up to my attic. I pulled away the ladder, and my father screamed and pounded on it from below, but to no avail. It would have been another ordinary night for my family. My mother and I would have squeezed into my cramped attic bed, so tight we could barely stand up straight, and cried in each other's arms until we were exhausted and fell into a deep sleep. But that night was different. My father had probably just made love to my mother and then become violent again. My mother had come upstairs naked, her body still damp. That night, I felt none of the usual pain. Instead, an inexplicable heat swelled within me. My mother's two full, snow-white breasts almost filled my entire field of vision.

Even without the fabric to set them off, those two high mounds of flesh hardly sagged! The crystal-clear, snow-white orbs were perfectly rounded, looking like ripe peaches—firm, full, and overflowing with juicy sweetness, making one want to take a bite! Two delicate nipples, not very large, were tender and protruding, like plump little cherries, adorning the round, snow-white breasts, creating an extremely provocative and sexy scene... I almost desperately tried to suppress myself for a long time, but finally I felt the room getting hotter and hotter, so hot that I lost control. I closed my eyes, and my hands, like wild horses, trembled wildly as I covered my mother's protruding breasts. My mother's two breasts were unusually full, smooth and lustrous like thin-skinned, thick-fleshed fruits. That heavy elasticity brought an unprecedented stimulating sensation, making my blood boil and I act recklessly.

My lips trembled as I captured my mother's warm lips, my hands kneading her round, soft breasts. I went wild, my penis uncontrollably erect, pressing against her warm, smooth thighs. My mother didn't resist or cry out; at first, she simply gripped my back tightly. Gradually, her body began to writhe, and soft moans escaped her lips… Instantly, the attic transformed into a sauna. My mother and I entwined passionately on the bed, caressing and kissing each other. Her fragrant breath brushed against my chest, her smooth legs rubbing against my genitals. Finally, we made love. I never imagined my first sexual experience would be with my own mother.

That night, I ejaculated for the first time, but in my impatient movements, at the very moment of ejaculation, my penis slipped out of my mother's vagina, a large glob of semen shooting onto her plump thighs and the sheets.

My first time was only with my mother. Because I had just finished making love with my mother, and we were still in the daze of incest, my grandmother, as usual, got up and called my mother downstairs. Whenever my parents argued, my grandmother always acted as a mediator. My face was burning hot, and I helplessly looked at my mother. She hurriedly pulled a sheet over herself and rushed downstairs.

Many years later, my mother told me that after returning to the big bed, my father suddenly became sexually aroused and wanted to have sex again. My mother desperately resisted, covering herself tightly, because she was afraid that my father would touch her lower body, which was covered in my sticky bodily fluids.

After that, I developed a deep hatred for the night, because my father usually slept with my mother every night. The heart-wrenching feeling of watching helplessly was beyond description! In fact, my heart was breaking, and I was driven mad with jealousy.

[The End]

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/203757.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=203757&aspx=1

Previous Page : Big-breasted cousin

Next Page : Christmas gift from my wife's colleague

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

Forbidden Mother and Child

comment Open a new window to view comments