Ambiguity before incest

"Mom, I'm home." I called out several times but no one answered. Mom must have gone to visit the neighbors; she'd been complaining about being bored at home alone for a while. My dad is a math teacher at a top high school, teaching a high-achieving class. He's usually quite busy and doesn't have much time to spend with her. I was also in my final year of junior high, so I was always in class. Thinking about it now, it's kind of pitiful to leave her home alone. Especially these days, I feel that my parents' relationship is colder than before. They have nothing to say to each other, which I can tell from Mom's unhappy expression. It's no wonder; Mom had me with her math teacher, my dad, when she was 18. Now Dad is almost 50, while Mom is in her prime, full of youthful beauty, so naturally there's a generation gap between them. If you didn't know her age beforehand, people would think she was a young woman just starting out in her career. Her skin is youthful and radiant, and her figure hasn't changed at all—curvy and shapely—she doesn't look like a 34-year-old woman who has given birth. When we walk together, people don't believe we're mother and son; they think my sibling and I are just joking. Because of this, my mother and I were very close, sometimes hugging and kissing, but she always kept things within the bounds of propriety. Little did she know, as I entered puberty and with such frequent contact, my mother's place in my heart gradually changed. She was no longer just a mother; she was slowly leaning towards the incestuous role of a lover. I remember my first wet dream featured my mother; I barely managed to grab her breasts before I ejaculated. It was perfect that my mother wasn't around; I had the opportunity to explore her room. My coveting of her room wasn't a recent thing. Ever since entering puberty and learning to masturbate without instruction, I'd developed a tremendous interest in my mother and her personal items. I often searched the bathroom for my mother's recently removed underwear and stockings, sniffing them before masturbating with my throbbing penis. I imagined these were things she'd just taken off, as if she'd just left, still warm, left especially for me to enjoy. The more I thought about it, the more excited I became, and the faster I masturbated. With a few intense throbs of my glans, a powerful wave of pleasure washed over me. I immediately removed my mother's stockings, afraid of soiling them and her noticing. Then, a torrent of semen splattered against the walls and floor, and I slumped down. After a short rest, I began cleaning up the scene, more experienced than a detective, restoring everything to its original state. I checked my mother's stockings and underwear again, looking for any traces, then took a deep sniff—a strong feminine scent mixed with a hint of my own penis.
I took off my shoes before going to my mother's bedroom. As soon as I entered, I saw a set of ordinary white underwear on the bed. I picked it up and smelled it; it still smelled of sweat. Looking inside the underwear, I saw some vaginal discharge. My lust surged to my head, and I pulled down my pants and started masturbating. Feeling a bit guilty, I quickly became aroused. No, there's more to come! My little brother, pull back! I forced myself to suppress the urge to ejaculate, reluctantly releasing my mother's underwear. At the same time, I wondered why she changed her underwear before leaving the house. Completely baffled, I decided to ignore it and move on to the next target. I remembered that my mother's underwear was always kept separately on the bedside table. As I opened the drawer, I could clearly hear my heart pounding—it was so exciting! My mother didn't disappoint. The drawer was full of various stockings and sexy panties, mostly flesh-colored pantyhose, followed by flesh-colored short stockings, then black stockings. She even had black and white fishnet stockings, and the white stockings nurses wear, but I'd never seen her wear them. I covered my head with everything, inhaling deeply, then grabbed a pair of flesh-colored pantyhose and hugged my throbbing, over-excited penis. I closed my eyes and masturbated wildly, every cell screaming for my mother, almost reaching heaven. *Click*—the sound of a key going into a lock. Mom's home! Get out! I immediately put everything back untouched and ran out the door. Mom was startled to see me. "Xiao Jie, why are you home so early today?" she said, then sat down awkwardly on the sofa without even taking off her shoes. Mom seemed a little strange today; her face was flushed and radiant, exuding an incredibly alluring aura. She was much more beautiful than before, looking very relaxed, yet exhausted and drowsy. "Mom, what's wrong? Are you sick?" It's nothing, Mom just wants to lie down for a bit. Looking at the flesh-colored pantyhose peeking out from under Mom's skirt, my underwear started to stir, trying to find a way to touch her. "Mom, let me give you a massage." *Mmm*—Mom didn't even open her eyes, only making a nasal sound. It seemed she was completely exhausted. I reached out a trembling hand and touched my mother's calf. The sensation of the stockings sent electric shocks through my body, my mind went blank, and my penis was rock hard. "Let me help you take off your shoes, Mom." I gently lifted her shapely calf and slowly pulled the shoe off. My mother's delicate, lovely toes and sexy, beautiful arches were revealed before me. I secretly looked up and saw that my mother's eyes were still closed, so I leaned down and kissed the smooth instep of her foot. My lips brushed against the ultra-thin flesh-colored stockings, the soft, rustling sensation carrying a hint of fragrance. Because my mother takes great care of her feet, and because of her expensive high heels, her feet don't smell bad. I had secretly smelled them a few times before, and they always felt quite pleasant. Afraid of waking her, I didn't dare kiss her further. I gently lifted her feet onto the sofa, letting her lie comfortably on the armrest, her whole body relaxed. I started with my mother's pink instep, inch by inch, touching her down to her knee, savoring the sensations that usually only appeared in my dreams. I love seeing my mom in flesh-colored stockings. Her mature charm shines through. Her tiny feet (3/6), the beautifully arched insteps, her adorable toes, and her soft, rosy soles are all incredibly alluring. Her strong calves and long, shapely thighs, subtly accentuated by the stockings, always send my hormones soaring. My hands slid from her calves back to the soles of her stockinged feet, grasping the sides of her left foot and gently massaging the arch of her two big toes. I then grabbed her toes, playing with each one – it felt amazing. Not content with just her feet, I slowly moved to her calves, grabbing them and massaging them with a little more pressure. This elicited soft moans of pleasure from her, her full breasts heaving. Emboldened, my hands moved to her thighs. Her stockinged thighs felt wonderful to touch – smooth, firm, and without any excess fat. Huh, Mom's stockings are snagged. I followed the snag upwards, slowly moving towards her mysterious paradise deep inside her thigh. The higher I went, the more severe the snag became. Could it be? Was it deliberately torn? Driven by curiosity, I pushed up Mom's skirt and pulled apart her legs. My movements were too forceful, waking her. Mom immediately pushed me away, hurriedly pulling down her skirt as if afraid I'd discovered something. Her face flushed even more. "Okay, Xiao Jie. Mom's going to take a shower." She took a deep breath and got up to go to the bathroom.
I was still standing there, stunned, unable to process what had happened. Mom... Mom wasn't wearing underwear! Although Mom pushed me away immediately, in the instant she sat up, I still saw it: her stockings were torn to shreds, revealing dark pubic hair. Mom came out of the bathroom and went straight to the bedroom. I quickly pretended to need to pee and ran over to close the door. I rummaged through the pile of clothes and, sure enough, didn't find Mom's underwear. Her stockings were in the trash. I picked them up and saw a huge hole in them; they were unwearable, stained with strange marks, and had a strong odor. I brought them close to my nose, and a pungent, fishy smell assaulted my nostrils—it smelled so familiar! It was the smell of semen! Instantly, my heart felt like it had been struck by a heavy hammer. Everything was clear. "Mom, Mom," I whimpered, stuffing the stockings into my genitals and frantically masturbating, the scene replaying in my mind. In the intense stimulation, I quickly ejaculated, wave after wave pounding against Mom's stockings until the last drop. Empty and blank, my mind was a jumble of thoughts. I had to find the truth; I had to take Mom back. Mom was mine, and I would never allow anyone else to touch her.
[The End]

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