[Ode to Joy] "My Love" (Mom and Me)

Chapter One: My Mother and Me (Part 1)

My father was rugged in appearance and meticulous in his work. He was a hardworking laborer, accustomed to
working under the scorching sun for long periods, with dark skin and well-developed muscles. He was tall and thin, and took everything he did
seriously . He was also strict, but not without his endearing qualities.

My mother was the complete opposite of my father. She was petite, gentle, with brown hair and brown eyes,
and a very traditional housewife. We children inherited her good qualities; we also had brown hair
and brown eyes. My mother was witty but somewhat casual, completely different from my father's straightforward personality.

Their sex life was always harmonious. In the first three years of their marriage, my mother gave birth to three children.
If my father hadn't left for a period of time, I would certainly have more siblings than I do now.

My earliest memory of my mother begins with an innocent family game from my childhood.

I was born very active, and even when I was two years old and still babbling, I could already walk around everywhere,
curious about everything I encountered.

One day, although it was still broad daylight, my parents hid in their room. I wanted to play
with , so I pushed open my parents' bedroom door (none of the rooms in my house are locked) and went in. I saw
my mother lying on the bed, her pajamas slipping off her shoulders, revealing two swollen lumps on her chest.

That day, my father taught me a new word—breast. But until I was ten,
the only thing I associated with that word was fried chicken. My mother's breasts were the most beautiful in the world, large, firm,
and perky, without sagging. The nipples were cherry red, surrounded by areolas the size of silver coins.

At that moment, my father was suckling on my mother's breasts. He let me climb onto the bed, and I curiously touched and gently
patted them, discovering that my mother enjoyed it. My father and I kept in sync; he would first lower his head and suckle on my mother's
breasts for a while, then leave, and I would touch and pat them, while my mother moaned happily. Later, I mischievously
slapped my mother's snow-white breasts hard, and although it hurt her, they both laughed and seemed very
happy .

There was only one thing that puzzled me: Dad never let me suckle Mom's full breasts like he did, even though
I remembered doing so a year earlier. I stubbornly climbed next to Mom, wanting to suckle her
other breast, but the game was over; Dad kicked me off the bed, and they continued their amusing game.

Unwilling to accept defeat, for the next twenty years I tried every possible way to get close to Mom's
breasts, just like any other attempt in life. My efforts had their successes and
failures .

In fact, my next success came a year later.

That's when Dad started drinking heavily and his temper became terrible. He would explode at any moment, not just
at us, but at everyone in the world, especially the local police. It was
a family tradition; his four older brothers were all like that. The five of them would often go to the pub together, drink heavily, and then
get into fights. If they couldn't find anyone else, they would fight until the bartender called the police.

Ultimately, Dad paid the price, serving two years in prison for assault while drunk, leaving
Mom and us children to struggle.

We soon discovered that Mom hated sleeping alone, so my two sisters and I took turns sleeping with her.

Don't get me wrong, there's absolutely nothing sexual in this. Mom wasn't perverted; she just
loved the warm, comfortable feeling of holding someone, whether it was a man, a woman, a boy, or
a girl. She just didn't want to sleep alone.

I didn't mind at all. Kids, like kittens and puppies, who wouldn't want to lie comfortably in their mother's
warm embrace, listening to her hum lullabies to lull them to sleep? But on the other hand, because Mom
liked to wear see-through nightgowns, I could see her beautiful, full breasts quite clearly. Of course, I
was too young to talk about sex at that age; it was just my natural love—a child's
deep .

However, when it was my sisters' turn to sleep with Mom, I was neglected for several weeks. Mom said she
was tired of waking up every time because I was sucking on her breasts. Usually, Mom's pajamas covered her
completely , but occasionally I would find a way to pull them open, exposing her bare breasts, and then
suckle them vigorously, just like Dad did.

When I didn't sleep with Mom, I usually slept with my other sister, who hadn't had her turn yet. But to me
, there was nothing special; they were both younger than me, their breasts not yet developed. In my mind, they were just
two little ones. The only difference between us was that they squatted to use the toilet, and they didn't have
to fix their hair as often as I did.

A few times, none of the three of us had to sleep with Mom; she would bring a few men home, staying for a night or
a week, who knows. After all, Mom was still young and healthy; she always said that if Dad didn't know, he would
n't have been hurt. That was just her way of having fun; those guys were just automatic
toys , destined to leave once Mom's desires were satisfied.

When I was five, Dad was released from prison, and that's when our family's life truly began to change.

My father seemed like a different person. He became religious, more cautious, and even found a good
job . Our family's life gradually improved.

I continued to sleep with my two younger sisters until I was ten. We each slept in our own beds, but
I felt a sense of loss after we separated.

I had outgrown my childhood of disliking girls and entered puberty with rapidly escalating sexual urges. To make matters
worse , I inherited my parents' strong sexual desires.

With my father's return, my longing for my mother's breasts remained only a memory, with my father continuing to
fulfill his obligations. My father liked to read a magazine called "Men's Magazine," which he hid under his pillow, but I
found it. Whenever they weren't in the room, I would sneak in to admire the women in the magazine; it was my earliest
sexual awakening publication.

Of course, magazines like Playboy and Penthouse today would probably
disdain . The pictures were black and white, and the girls in the pictures always
covered their nipples with their hands, arms, or something like a fence. In my memory, women's breasts seemed to have two pointed bumps on top, as if they were
specifically designed to fill a man's mouth. Also, the women's legs in the pictures were always together, as if they were trying to hide...
What was hidden?

When I was nine, one of my cousins showed me the secret. On the way back from hunting rabbits, he
talked at length about the mysteries of the female body and why men like to stare at women. I learned two new words—
vagina and intercourse. He told me that women don't have a penis between their legs, but there's a
slit and men can put their penis into this slit; that's called "intercourse." He also told me that when a man
and a woman are thirty, they can have a baby through intercourse.

Then I proudly shared this knowledge with the neighborhood kids, acting like a nine-year-old sex guru.
As a result , my sister and the older sister of my best friend across the street were moved and wanted to have so-called "
intercourse" with me. I liked the older sister across the street the most; she was twelve and her breasts had already started to develop.

Later, all the kids in our neighborhood came to play this game. Of all the girls, only my sister wouldn't let me
touch her vulva. I felt it was very unfair because the girls I played with also had brothers, and they could
play with their vulvas and small breasts, so why couldn't I touch my sister?

I said we were just playing because my cousin hadn't described in detail how men "had sex" when they pulled down women's
underwear ; we just treated it as a game.

A group of us boys would chase after girls, grab one, pull down her underwear, spread her thighs,
and pry open her hairless labia to see the little hole we all wanted to enter, though all the holes were small. My cousin
hadn't mentioned the hymen or that a woman's vagina could stretch, so we were content with rubbing our penises back and forth on
her labia , considering that we had "had sex," and the girls obviously enjoyed it. Whenever
this happened, I felt a sense of pride, thinking I was doing something grown-up.

I especially loved smelling or licking girls' vulvas; I loved the smell. My cousin hadn't
told me this, and I guess it was just my nature. When I licked girls' vulvas, they always
did something strange, but it never made me stop.

However, this didn't last long. Six months later, we moved, and my early "sexual life"
ended in a sense.

We never seemed to stay anywhere long, which left me with insufficient time to persuade the neighbor girl to
take off my underwear, which frustrated me. Worse still, Dad stopped buying teen magazines.

As time went on, I reached the age of nocturnal emission, and I was surprised to find my penis getting bigger and
harder. I learned more vocabulary, such as penis, vagina, and anus. I often
fought with my younger siblings and, like other older boys, enjoyed bullying younger boys. I learned a
lot , but Dad always sided with my siblings, so I could only rely on Mom.

Later, our family finally settled in California, and Dad and Mom bought a small house. Due to age
and taboos, the boys and girls lived separately. I lived with my two younger brothers, my two sisters had smaller
rooms, and Dad and Mom had the largest bedroom with a big bed.

At this point, I need to clarify that in the seven years after Dad's release from prison, they still loved each other so deeply—
the intensity of their love sometimes terrified me—but it also inspired me: when you find
someone you truly love, joy can be eternal. My father was lucky to have found my mother, and I was happy for them.

Of course, I was still infatuated with my mother's breasts, but only in a literal sense.

My mother's love for my father was as deep as his love for her, but with one difference: my mother
had a penchant for flaunting her beauty, and I became her primary victim. My mother liked to start wearing
her pajamas at dusk, and she liked to wear transparent, revealing, low-cut clothes. When she sat down to read the newspaper or watch TV, her pajamas would
fall to her chest, and I could even see her erect nipples. I would often go over and look down at
her protruding breasts and cherry-red nipples—it was my childhood dream. I really wanted to reach out
and touch them , but that was my father's prerogative, not mine.

When I was fifteen, the situation worsened. My mother often walked
around the room at night in her pajamas, sometimes even less dressed than in bed. Several times, when I went to the bathroom or to get a drink of water in the middle of the night, I would
run into my mother on the way. She wore a very narrow, short slip (transparent, of course), barely covering her armpits and just enough to envelop her firm,
full breasts. It extended down to just below the pubic area, barely concealing her slightly protruding vulva. But
as she moved, the slip swayed, and I could clearly see the ripples of her large breasts and
the dark, curly pubic hair between her legs.

I began to wonder if my mother had any "that kind of" interest in me. Of course, by then I knew
the meaning of "incest," and I knew it was against common sense and condemned by society, but I didn't care. I started
trying to seduce my mother, but she seemed to find my efforts merely amusing.

When I turned sixteen, my father lost his job, and our family's financial situation suddenly became dire. When things
worsened and became unsustainable, my father had to consider going out to work.

Later, he found a construction job on the West Coast, which at least guaranteed him
a salary for a year. To keep our family afloat, my father accepted the job, which meant
he had to be away from home for a considerable period.

Before he left, he held my hand and said, "Now I'm the head of this family. I should take
responsibility for taking care of Mom and my younger siblings because I'm all grown up now."

It was just a father's parting words to his son, nothing particularly significant. He often
said the same thing to me before, because I was the eldest son.

I agreed, reassuring my father, but my attention shifted to my mother.

Why did my mother look at me with such a strange expression when my father gave me his usual instructions?

A week after my father left, my mother became even more alluring.

Every night when I went to the bathroom, I encountered many "strange encounters." My mother was still wearing a tight, short skirt,
but it was even shorter, only covering her nipples, exposing most of her snow-white chest muscles and revealing a deep
cleavage, often making my eyes bulge. Almost every time I got up in the middle of the night, I would encounter my mother
dressed , as if she was deliberately waiting for me. I wanted to know what her real purpose was.

On the first Sunday after Dad left, Mom and I sat in the living room, but I felt very bored.
Mom seemed a little restless, and she said she wanted to teach me a two-player card game. She was wearing a light brown sheer dress.
Ming's old pajamas revealed her firm, red nipples through the neckline as she bent over to shuffle the cards. Each
time our hands accidentally touched, her body trembled as if electrocuted, her breasts
quivering alluringly.

A tense, restless atmosphere filled the room.

Mom was sweating profusely, despite the cold and her scant clothing. My body temperature
rose rapidly, influenced by the atmosphere. My genitals, unable to resist the urge, swelled
larger than ever before, but the tight jeans pressed painfully against my glans.

I began to think of new games, searching for one where Mom could join in, but just the two of us.
Mom exuded a mature woman's alluring scent, a fragrance that could ignite a man's desire,
which fueled my lewd and obscene thoughts; my longing for her body intensified.

I thought Mom probably felt the same way, but with other children present,
she dared not make a move. In the living room, my sister Rose was watching us play card games with great interest. Under
that focused gaze, how could I possibly have the chance to slip my hand inside my mother's pajamas? Remembering
how often we argued and fought, I wanted nothing more than to kick her out of the room.

But on the other hand, I felt a chill.

I was only sixteen, while my mother was a mature thirty-two-year-old woman, older than me and my own
mother. Could it be that I was just being delusional, misunderstanding her intentions? Perhaps she was simply
concerned , driven by natural maternal love?

After all, she was my mother; how could a son touch his father's woman? The textbooks clearly
stated that incest was wrong, that incest was bad, and that incest had serious consequences—there should
be no doubt about that.

These thoughts made me feel deflated.

These terrible and chaotic thoughts strongly troubled me. I stood up and told my mother I wasn't
feeling well and wanted to go back to my room to sleep.

“Okay, baby. We’ll come see you again tomorrow morning. Get some rest tonight,” Mom said lovingly, giving
me a goodbye kiss. But this time, she didn’t kiss my cheek; instead, she kissed my lips
. I swear, her tongue touched mine.

This unexpected stimulation made me ejaculate twice before I finally fell asleep, exhausted.

Around three in the morning, I woke up needing to pee and had to go to the bathroom. I reluctantly got up
, a little afraid to go, because I was almost certain Mom would be waiting for me in the hallway, as usual
.

But I was wrong. Mom wasn’t waiting in the hallway. I guess I was being paranoid. Come to think of it,
it was three o’clock; even if Mom was interested, she wouldn’t stay up until then.

Oh, that’s great. I haven’t been able to go to the bathroom so easily in a long time.

On my way back to my room, I passed Mom’s bedroom. Usually, Mom would be sleeping in her enviable big
bed at this time.

The door was open, everything seemed normal. I stopped because I heard
some .

What was wrong with Mom? I figured she must be doing something strange again, but maybe she was sick?
Perhaps I should call the doctor.

The room was dark, but I could clearly see Mom standing in front of the dressing table, facing
the mirror left hand was on the table, her right hand obscured, so I couldn't see what she was doing, but I could
tell her right hand was moving back and forth near her groin, as if pushing something inside her. The clattering sound
came from the dressing table, and the moans came from Mom; she let out pleasurable moans as her right hand moved. I stared blankly at the mirror, and in it, I saw Mom's full breasts trembling

with her masturbation . Oh, what a sensual and stimulating scene! But before I could appreciate it, I was captivated . Mom's eyes were open, but not at her trembling breasts, nor at her groin ; her eyes were fixed on me, clearly watching my reaction. Dim moonlight streamed in through the window, and I think I saw a desperate plea and need in Mom's eyes. Suddenly, I felt extreme fear and confusion. I ran back to my bedroom as if my life depended on it and drifted off . The next morning, when I woke up, I found my mother standing by my bed (this time wearing a well-fitting bathrobe) , touching my forehead. "You're a little hot. Looks like you have a pretty high fever. I think you'd better not go to school today." Actually, I was fine and didn't have a fever, but what sixteen-year-old boy could possibly enjoy going to school? If my mother allowed me to skip school, who would be foolish enough to insist on going? After she made breakfast for my younger siblings, she sent them all off to school as usual. Ten minutes later, my siblings had all left, and my mother came in: "You're not sick. Get up. Go take a shower . I have something to tell you." She commanded, but her tone was gentle. I slipped into the bathroom, adjusted the water temperature to a comfortable level, and began my morning routine of masturbating. Just as I was enjoying myself, the bathroom door suddenly opened, and my mother was standing in the doorway. Chapter 1 Mom and Me (Part 2) "I told you to take a bath, not to play with your thing. Do you want me to stand here and watch you shower?" she said angrily. "No, no, no! Mom, please close the door!" I pleaded. After Mom's interruption, I lost interest, and my penis quickly shrank. I hurriedly finished my shower and was drying myself with a towel when the door opened again, and Mom came in. "Hi, baby, let Mom help you," Mom said, drying me with a large, soft towel . "I didn't want to interrupt your good time, baby," she said, "but we need to talk about last night. I think it'll be good for both of us, if you didn't ejaculate." After drying me, Mom took my hand and led me to her bedroom. We sat together on the bed; she was still wearing the bathrobe she had been wearing. "Now, let's talk about what happened in the bathroom. How many times do you masturbate every day? Anyway , I've never seen a boy ejaculate as frequently as you." "Oh, Mom! I don't ejaculate as much as you say!"

She grinned, revealing her teeth, and said, “Be honest, don’t try to fool your mother. Think about who does your laundry
. Your shorts are always soaked with dried semen, your sheets are always stained, not to mention
you use every pair of your sister’s and mine’s underwear as a rag. Your brothers are only seven and eight years old, it couldn’t be
them , so who else could it be but you? Tell me, how many times?”

I looked down at the floor and hesitated before saying, “Usually five times, sometimes seven.”

My mother’s eyes lit up, and she murmured, “Great.”

She lifted my head, making me look at her.

“Last night I saw you staring at me. Do you know what I was doing?”

“No, Mom. At first I thought you were catching something, but you looked like you were enjoying yourself.
Mom , I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have peeked.”

“You weren’t peeking, child. I made you look. I needed you to look so we could talk.

I really wished you would come into the room last night, but it’s good this way. Now we have things to talk about, and we
can see what the other is doing and with whom. I was masturbating, what you call masturbation.”

“Does Mom do that too?”

“Of course, baby.” She said, “People do that when they can’t satisfy their sexual needs. Okay
, now let’s go to bed.”

She had me lie down in the middle of the bed, then went to the window, drew back the curtains, and let the morning sunlight into
the bedroom .

Then she took a strip of black cloth from the closet, went behind me, and suddenly
blindfolded , then tied a knot.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll untie it for you soon. I just wanted to surprise you.” I was
pondering what my mother meant when I heard something slip down, like a snake. Then the bed moved;
my mother had gotten into bed and lay down next to me on the pillow.

“Okay, I’ll untie the blindfold, but don’t peek, okay? Keep your eyes closed.” She said,
“Swear you won’t peek.”

“Okay, Mom, I swear.”

My mother untied the blindfold, letting it fall around my neck. I kept my promise and kept
my eyes tightly shut. I smelled my mother’s faint fragrance again, the same delicate, musky
scent . My lower body began to harden. My mother must have seen it; I wanted to know her reaction.

“Okay, child, open your eyes.”

God, my mother is so beautiful!

The “hissing” sound was just the sound of her bathrobe slipping off.
My mother’s body, now before me, was like God’s most perfect masterpiece, naked and dazzlingly beautiful. Naturally,
my gaze first fell upon my mother's breasts, which I had always longed to climb since childhood.

Since I was three, I had never had the chance to see them without obstruction. Now they were
openly displayed before me, still so white, firm, and full, the nipples as
red as I remembered, now erect and aroused.

My eyes quickly swept over my mother's vulva, not daring to linger. I knew I had to,
because I knew my mother might have come up with a new way to tease this novice, and soon I would be sent back
to my room to masturbate to these memories.

My mother's pubic hair was jet black and shiny, looking somewhat damp, the thick pubic hair covering the entire mound, obscuring
the slit I had seen with my girlfriend in the same grade.

Suddenly, my mother's pelvis thrust forward, her body arching back, revealing the slit of her vulva. My mother
spread her labia with her hands, and I could see a large, granular object at the top of the cleft. Was this
the so-called "clitoris" I'd read about in a wedding manual I'd stolen from my mother's girlfriend? Below it was a deep,
unfathomable hole that seemed capable of swallowing my penis effortlessly.

The thought of the pleasure of my penis being swallowed by my mother's mysterious vagina made me tremble involuntarily. My penis
became vigorous, fully erect, and clear fluid flowed from the tip.

At the same time, my mother pulled a long, white plastic dildo from under the pillow. She told me
it could relax her muscles, then inserted it into her vagina and began to thrust forcefully.

“This is what I did last night,” she said. “I wanted a real penis inside me, but all I had was this
cold plastic toy. I could only use it to comfort myself. How I wished someone could completely save me.

But last night my cowardly son didn’t have the courage to do it. Now I don’t need it anymore. I want you,
son , come on!”

Somehow, I misunderstood my mother’s meaning because she was still rubbing her
vulva with that plastic thing.

“Are you still going to use this thing to satisfy yourself?” I asked stupidly.

“No, son, I don’t want to do it by myself. I think it’s more fun if we do it together.”

This time I didn’t misunderstand. I stammered, “Mom, you mean we…
we …together…uh…together…that…uh…together with it?”

“No, baby, we’re not going to use ‘it’. We’re going to make love together! I’ll suck your penis, and you
’ll lick my hole. You’ll suck Mom’s breasts, fuck Mom’s breasts, and I’m going to suck every drop of your semen
so you can’t get up today.”

She turned me around and gently kissed my mouth with her wet lips.

“Don’t hate your mother, child,” she said, and for the first time, I saw tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m not
old yet. I have the same strong sex drive as you, but no one can truly satisfy me. I can’t
just pick up any man; your father would find out, and I don’t want to hurt him. Your father asked you
to take care of me before he passed away. I don’t think he meant it, but now I really need you to.”

“Oh, Mom, I’ve never hated you. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, but I don’t know
what to do. I’ve never actually done this with a woman before.”

“I suppose so. You don’t even know how to kiss.”

“Teach me, Mom.”

Mom leaned closer to me, and her lips met mine again. I felt her tongue gently
glide across my lips, then tease my teeth, trying to push in.

“Open your lips a little wider, baby,” Mom said.

I felt Mom’s soft, warm tongue slip into my mouth, intertwining intensely with mine. I lowered my tongue…
I consciously resisted my mother's advances, but her tongue suddenly flicked back into her mouth,
drawing my tongue into hers instead.

What an erotic experience! Our tongues intertwined passionately, each thrusting in and out, desperately
sucking at the other's saliva.

At the same time, my mother guided my hand to her high, firm breasts, squeezing and kneading her nipples forcefully, and I
felt my penis harden like never before.

Mom turned to me and said, "You want to suckle them, don't you? Do you remember what you were like
when you were little? You used to sleep with me back then."

"I remember, Mom. You chased me off the bed because I kept suckling your nipples."

"I chased you away because I loved it when you did that. When you were a baby, your father didn't
approve of me breastfeeding you, saying it would ruin the shape of my breasts, but he suckled every day, didn't he? But
I would secretly breastfeed you whenever I had the chance, you remember? You were a natural at suckling, and I
almost came every time."

Mom's hand gently stroked my hard, throbbing penis, her slender fingers lightly tapping my
glans, spreading the clear lubricant that had flowed from my glans and the entire shaft. It felt so good,
so good that I couldn't help but gasp.

"Now I'll teach you how to use your mouth, watch carefully," she said.

Mom suddenly lowered her head, opened her mouth and took my penis in, the warm feeling enveloping my entire body.
Having never experienced oral sex before, I couldn't help but moan. My mother was deliberately trying to embarrass me. Her head bobbed up and down, her
lips tightly sucking on my penis, her tongue circling the shaft and moving back and forth, her teeth gently
biting the base of my penis, the squeezing sending a radiant sensation through me.

I had read in some novels about men ejaculating in women's mouths to please them, and I
didn't want my first time to be wasted so easily, but I could no longer control my senses.

I felt like an old car, about to break down at any moment.

My mother didn't seem to realize I would ejaculate so quickly, so her deadly tongue pressed against the
tip of my penis, gently teasing it with the tip, a tingling sensation shooting straight to my brain from the glans.

Before I could even realize what was happening, a numbness shot through my lower back, and a thick stream of semen suddenly
gushed out, blocked by my mother's tongue, splashing everywhere, filling her mouth. Then I collapsed onto
the bed , the radiant pleasure still lingering in my mind.

My mother licked my semen clean and then swallowed it in large gulps.

“God, this tastes so good, I love it. But next time I suck your cock, don’t
ejaculate so quickly, okay? At least last a little longer so Mommy can have some fun, otherwise Mommy will get angry.”

Mommy licked her lips, a little unsatisfied.

“Now, let Mommy give my good son some reward. Come here, let Mommy breastfeed you.”

As soon as she finished speaking, I reflexively darted to Mommy’s side. My long-standing special fondness for
Mommy’s breasts made me act so inappropriately.

Mommy sat up. Her breasts were snow-white and full. Although they were a little saggy, they undeniably exuded
the charming allure of a mature woman.

I reached out and cupped Mommy’s breasts, raising them to my mouth so that I could reach the two firm, rosy
nipples.

Only now did I understand
what it meant . My mother's breasts were surprisingly substantial, their size, color, and erect nipples
seemingly proclaiming themselves the breasts of a mature, perfect woman, far
superior to the artificially large breasts of so-called teenage girls or the withered breasts of naive young girls. These were real breasts, displaying
the charm of a truly mature woman.

As I suckled them with ecstasy, I truly felt like an adult.

My mother moaned, stroking my hair.

The image of her tongue drawing me out earlier was vivid in my mind. I licked my mother's right breast, taking the erect
nipple into my mouth, my tongue gently circling the areola. From the sensitive tip of my tongue, I could feel
my mother 's body trembling slightly, and a warm liquid seeping from her nipple. I gently bit
the base of my mother's nipple with my teeth, licking the flowing milk with my tongue—faint, sweet, and strangely familiar.

I focused intently on my mother's right breast, and her moans grew more rapid. Finally, she couldn't help but ask,
"Is my left side bad?"

"No, Mom. I just want to make you happier. If you like, I'll switch right
away ."

I switched sides and repeated my efforts on her left breast.

"Oh, baby, you're doing so well. Your father can't compare to you. I wish
I could have breastfed you every day when you were little, and I wish I could have breastfed you all the time when your father was in prison. I'm so stupid, I
missed so many good times. Oh, suckle Mommy's milk, baby, suckle Mommy's milk hard!"

I remembered the scene of my mother suckling my penis earlier, which made me ejaculate embarrassingly, and I was determined to make my mother
suffer .

I gently bit my mother's nipple, pulling it from side to side, while vigorously kneading
my mother's full breasts like dough.

My mother gasped and moaned, "Harder...oh...oh...harder...child...more
..."

After a few minutes of diligently kneading my mother's breasts, she couldn't resist any longer. She pulled my
head away and pressed it against her vulva, saying, "I didn't expect you to be so eloquent, child. Now, use your
little slutty mouth to fuck my cunt."

My mother fumbled around a few times before finally guiding my face to her vulva, which was already soaking
wet , emanating a warm, sweet scent that was a hundred times more intense than any other stimulation.

"Lick Mommy there, child," Mommy said, afraid I wouldn't understand. "Use your tongue to lick Mommy's
vulva . If it goes well, we'll both be very happy. Don't be shy. You know this is where you were born.
Your father ejaculated inside, and then you came out from here. You're just going back to your old place for a visit. Hurry
up and lick it, stick your tongue in and lick the honey inside clean. Don't worry about ethics or morality, let them go to
hell ."

With Mommy's words, I confidently licked Mommy's entire vulva with my tongue. My tongue went deep inside...
I entered my mother's vagina and scraped hard against the vaginal walls, drawing out the fluid that flowed continuously and swallowing
it . You see, I only do this when I'm eating ice cream or seeing a particularly beautiful woman.

I paid close attention to my mother's reactions. When my tongue moved inside her vagina, she would let out short breaths
, her body would tremble, and the secretion of fluid from the vaginal walls would intensify.

I discovered that when I licked a small protrusion inside my mother's vagina, her reaction would suddenly intensify, so
I specifically targeted that protrusion.

My mother moaned, "Oh...yes...child...you little rascal...oh...so clever...
knowing to lick Mommy's little clitoris...making Mommy so itchy...oh...oh oh...so good...oh...God
...Mommy's going to cum...oh..."

I kept licking my mother's vulva, my tongue deeply inserted into her vagina.

I tasted the flavor of my mother's vagina, a mixture of incredible stickiness, moisture, warmth,
a hint of spiciness, and a slightly salty taste.

I felt a strange excitement because this had always been my father's most beloved forbidden zone, the
place where my siblings and I were born, and I also knew it was where my penis would soon enter.

My mother's breathing became more and more rapid, her vaginal walls contracted violently, tightly wrapping around my tongue as if trying to
twist it off and shove it as deep as possible.

My mother's vaginal fluid kept flowing out, running down my face, sticking to my face and the entire groin of my thighs, then
flowing onto the bed, soaking a patch of the sheets.

"Oh... baby... my dearest son..." my mother cried out, "Suck harder... good
son lick my pussy harder... oh... oh... Mommy's going to come... good son... you
made Mommy come... oh... so good... I can't take it anymore... oh... oh... oh oh... it's coming... I

can't take it... I'm coming... I'm coming..."

I withdrew my tongue and looked up at my mother.

My mother's body was convulsing, her expression extremely painful, her hands tightly gripping my shoulders, her fingers digging deep into my
muscles.

After a while, Mom calmed down, smiled at me, and then said the words that touched me the most.

Chapter One: Mom and Me (Part Three)

"Thank you, child, my love. That was so beautiful. You brought me to an orgasm too.
Now , it's time for my precious son to experience adult pleasure. Come on, child, fuck Mom!"

I climbed on top of Mom, face to face, my erect penis touching her pubic hair,
intensely stimulating my glans.

"Mom, I know our behavior is wrong. We won't call each other by our real names, we'll be
like , okay?"

"No!" Mom was unexpectedly agitated.

Soon she spoke to me in a gentle tone: "Child, do you know what incest is?"

"Of course, Mom," I said, "It's incest when members of the same family commit adultery and have sex with each other, like
what we're doing now, right, Mom?"

"That's right, son, absolutely right. Do you know that incest is the most lewd and depraved thing? In real society,
it's absolutely forbidden, it's a mistake, a crime, even against nature. Do you know all that?"

I laughed, "Of course, Mom. But isn't it more fun this way?"

Mom laughed too, "Mom is glad you think so too. I don't want to lose this wonderfully lewd
feeling. I also want you to keep reminding me that we are mother and son, that we are committing incest.
When we make love later, I'll call you son, and you have to call me Mommy, not Mother or Mom, just Mommy. Children all
call their mothers... " "Call me Mommy, I want you to remember making love with my dearest son."

I looked lovingly into my mother's beautiful brown eyes and said, "I love you, Mommy."

My mother happily replied, "I love you too, son. I'm so glad you haven't
been . Mommy wants to be my precious son's first woman, and Mommy will teach my good son how to make love with a woman."

She reached down and grasped my penis, saying with joy, "Oh, so hard! This is
Mommy . Thank you, son."

She guided my glans to her vaginal opening, then circled my buttocks and pushed me forward.
Because my mother's vaginal opening was already wet, my penis entered my mother's body smoothly.

My mother exclaimed joyfully, "Oh, welcome back, my good son."

My mother taught me to thrust my hips back and forth so that my penis could be fully inserted and we could become
one .

I felt my mother's warm, fleshy walls tightly wrapped around my penis. There seemed to be a
suction , drawing it in deeper. The walls undulated rhythmically—truly an experienced, well-trained cunt
!

I was captivated by this unimaginable pleasure. What kind of feeling was this?

It wasn't at all the kind I'd read about in books—"tight enough to break your genitals."

You see, my mother had given birth to five children, and my father never let her go.

This was a warm, comfortable feeling, like wearing a perfectly fitting glove—not too
tight, yet perfectly against my penis, feeling incredibly good.

My mother's vagina was hot and wet; this was the first woman's cunt I'd ever penetrated.

Remembering what my mother had just said, I relaxed my body, letting the lewd, incestuous feeling guide my
actions . I talked to her as I penetrated her.

"Do you like it, Mommy? It's your own son fucking Mommy's cunt."

"Want to continue, Mommy?"

"Oh, this feeling is so lewd, so obscene, is

n't it, Mommy?" "Does it feel good for Mommy and your precious son to fuck together?"

"..."

I lowered my head and bit my mother's nipple, pulling it hard from side to side, my tongue licking the center of her nipple, giving
her an excruciating pleasure.

My mother's hand stroked my hair: "Oh...oh...yes...son is fucking Mommy...oh...
obscene son and Mommy...oh...good son...harder...keep fucking Mommy...fuck
Mommy hard..."

I stole a glance at my mother; her eyes were tightly closed, her face flushed, her breathing heavy, and fine sweat beaded on her forehead,
she looked very intoxicated.

"Is your son's penis big, Mommy? Do you like your son's penis?"

My mother murmured unconsciously, "Oh...oh...yes...oh...yes...so big...
so hard...oh...my precious son has a big penis...oh...oh oh...it feels
so good to Mommy...faster...harder...oh..."

I knew my mother's reaction to me biting her nipple, so I did another experiment.

I reached down to my mother's vulva, teasing her labia, forcefully
twisting and pulling them up and down, back and forth, left and right, while my penis moved in and out faster. With each thrust, my mother's vaginal muscles rolled in and out, bringing out a lot of
vaginal fluid. The scene was extremely lewd.

"Oh...oh!" Mom screamed, "No...no...oh...oh oh...please spare Mommy
...oh...it's so beautiful...oh oh...I can't take it anymore...son...Mommy can't take it anymore...faster...faster
...Mommy's coming...faster...faster...oh...oh oh...oh oh oh...Mommy's
going to cum...ah..."

Although Mommy had already come once from my licking, her juices started flowing out in large quantities, running down my penis
to my lower abdomen, thighs, and hands, completely soaking the sheets.

With each powerful collision of our bodies, her juices were splashed everywhere, covering my entire body.

Mommy's vaginal walls tightened more and more, gripping my penis tightly, making each thrust incredibly difficult.

At the same time, Mommy kept moaning wantonly, assaulting my consciousness. Her throbbing buttocks swayed wildly
from side to side , as if trying to rip my penis off at the root. This feeling was
so much better than when Mommy sucked me out with her mouth, and that time it was just my orgasm, this time I was going to cum with Mommy!

My consciousness blurred, all my senses focused on the point where my mother and I were joined, feeling
the rhythmic throbbing, my body trembling, as if something was constantly radiating
out , making me feel completely comfortable.

This radiating sensation lasted for a long time; I couldn't remember ever ejaculating so
much in my life.

I separated from my mother, lying wearily beside her, my consciousness not yet fully returning to my body, everything around me
feeling so distant, so blurry.

In my blur, I seemed to hear her say, "Oh, my son is so good, he ejaculated inside me,
if only we could have a child."

I suddenly snapped back to reality. Damn it! I suddenly remembered my cousin telling me that sex between men and women could lead to childbirth
, and I had not only slept with my mother, but also ejaculated inside her.

I panicked instantly. I wasn't the father, and even if I wanted to, my brothers and sisters would never
allow it . How could I explain this to my father? Letting my mother have a child was my father's responsibility.

"Oh God, Mom. What if you get pregnant? What should we do next? How long will it take for my baby
to come out? What should I do?"

I was indeed a little anxious. After all, I was just a child, and when faced with something I couldn't control, I could only listen to my mother
.

Mom laughed: "You know this will make you pregnant? I thought you wanted Mom to give you a son
! Isn't this good? It would be fun to have a son who calls you 'brother.' Besides, I also want to give my precious
son a big, healthy boy."

I was so anxious that I was about to cry.

Seeing how anxious I was, Mom teased me for a while before saying: "Baby, don't worry, it's not that
easy to get pregnant. Mom's safe period is still a week away. Even during the unsafe period, if Mom wanted to
get pregnant every time we did it, I would be exhausted. Look at how long it took your father and me to have five children!"

Oh, I see. I felt relieved.

My mother continued to reassure me, allaying my concerns: "Listen, child. I am your mother. Even if I
were promiscuous, I would never hurt my own son. I just want you to make love with me, and
I hope you like it. Don't worry about getting pregnant; that's my problem, you don't need to worry about it."

She then gave me a long, slow, gentle, and deep kiss.

"Okay, now, I want you to try something new. You only licked my vulva before,
let Come on, child, lick me again."

I licked my mother incessantly, and she licked my penis. Every time before and after having sex with her, I would
diligently lick her vulva until she was satisfied.

I truly enjoyed it; that day, the number "69" became my lucky number.

When my mother clamped my penis between her full, soft breasts, I felt like I was in heaven. This
was the most amazing experience I had ever had since I was two years old. I realized that breasts could not only be used for breastfeeding but also
fulfill some of the functions of a vagina. It truly opened my eyes.

It seems today truly is the happiest day of my life.

We entwined ourselves several times until we were both exhausted and could no longer continue. However, even if we wanted to
continue it was impossible; looking at the time, the other children would be coming home from school soon.

The return of the others was indeed a problem. Although I could make love with my mother until my father returned,
it would be a big problem if my younger sister and brother found out.

My mother and I discussed it and decided that from then on, we would only make love twice a day: once in the afternoon before the others
returned from school, and once at night when everyone else was asleep. But sometimes, when we couldn't resist, we would
sneak into the warehouse to satisfy our cravings first, and then drive to the cedar forest outside the city, stop, and have our fun in the back seat.

Two months after my father left, our happiest time arrived, an opportunity created by my mother. Since
it was summer vacation, my mother arranged for the other children to either visit relatives or go camping. Of course, I was "
forced " to stay and look after the house with my mother. This gave us a whole week to enjoy time alone together, and I
felt like a married man, enjoying the sweetness of life with my beloved wife. I openly slept on my mother's large bed, and we would make love nonstop whenever we wanted. To please
me, my mother would go completely naked for a whole week. Even after we finished, when her breasts were
so sore from my sucking and biting that they wouldn't stand up, I still derived immense satisfaction from watching her naked body. Especially the sight of my saliva and bite marks covering her snow-white,
full breasts, and the way my semen flowed from her plump vulva,
excited me the most.

Indeed, watching my semen slowly flow from my mother's vulva was an extremely...
I felt immense satisfaction. However, as my mother and I made love more frequently, one thing constantly troubled
me, increasing my mental stress: could my mother become pregnant because of our sexual relationship?

I decided to have a serious talk with her about this, after all, even a child
my .

After one particularly passionate night of lovemaking with my mother, I brought up this troubling question.

"This is truly the greatest moment of my life, Mom," I said. "I hope it lasts a long
time ; I can't imagine what I'll do when I can no longer have sex with you."

"Oh, me too, baby. I wish we could stay like this forever; maybe we can find a
way to continue without anyone finding out."

I kissed my mother deeply and said, "That would be crazy, Mom! But if you
were pregnant, it would be difficult, even though we've been very careful."

"What are you talking about? Do you want to use a condom?" Mom smiled and lowered her voice. "Oh,
but this is indeed a troublesome matter. I almost completely forgot about it until you mentioned it. But it's too late; my
safe period ended three days ago. Oh well, it's already like this, there's no escaping it. I think we won't have to worry for the next three
weeks , until nine months from now."

Then she laughed again. "Don't worry, child. The chance of a woman getting pregnant is extremely slim. I
don't believe you'll be so lucky. If you do, you'll be a father."

To be honest, for the next ten days, I was constantly on edge, trying my best to avoid ejaculating directly
into Mom's vagina. I felt that Mom had the same reaction as me.

Sigh, marriage and childbirth are normal human desires, but incest involving mother and son is so troubling.

On the eleventh day, Mom said, "Okay, child, let's rest for a while. Today is my period
."

I could hear the helplessness and longing in Mom's heart.

For the next month, we were both exhausted by this matter, and our schedules were often messed up.

Sometimes Mom would say, "Today is a safe period," then immediately change her mind, saying, "Oh, I forgot what day it is. Worrying
won't help."

Goodness, Mom's driving me crazy! It seems even she doesn't understand her own safe period.

While we were enjoying our summer "honeymoon," we received a call from Dad—he was
coming home! His boss had granted him leave, and he could come home this weekend.

During this last week, Mom and I completely forgot about the anxiety of the past month.
Pregnancy , childbirth—we threw all that to the back of our minds and just kept making love day and night.

I became bolder than ever, not only ejaculating all over Mom's body but also preferring to ejaculate deep into
her uterus, regardless of safe periods.

"Mom, we've done everything in these past three months, but there's still one thing we haven't done."

"What are you talking about, child? Do you really want a baby?" Mom looked very eager and
excited .

“No, Mom, it’s not like that. I mean, if you
have a baby within six to nine months after Dad leaves, people will suspect something.”

My fingers slid over her buttocks, stopping at her anus, and I said, “I mean, I’ve been with
your vagina, breasts, and mouth, but this is the only place I haven’t been with. Mom, let me do it.”

“Oh…oh! Child,” Mom exclaimed in surprise, “No one has ever done this to me before, not even your
father .”

“Great!” I said happily, “You’ve taken my virginity, so at least I have the right to explore
another virgin territory, Mom, and besides, Mom wants to do it too, right?”

The next day, after the other children went to school, I swaggered into Mom’s bedroom. Mom took out a
soft tube to make it easier for me to enter her anus. I put the tube on my erect penis, inserted the other end into Mom’s
anus, knelt down, aligned the head of my penis with Mom’s anus, and pushed forward forcefully.

Mom’s body was tense, and her anus contracted tightly, making it difficult for my penis to move an inch.

I knew from a book that if Mom was happy, her anal sphincter would relax, making penetration much
easier . But I didn't want that; I wanted to force my way in, and Mom seemed to want that too.

"Oh, Mom, I'm going in. I'm going to force it in, whether you like it or not! If
you don't, I'll be even happier! Let your son deflower Mom's ass, you filthy bitch, you slut, watch
me fuck you to death."

This was the first time in my life I'd spoken to Mom so rudely, but she seemed quite
ecstatic .

"Oh...yes...good...son...good son...put it in Mommy's asshole...Mommy wants you to put it in...oh...oh...fuck Mommy's asshole hard...oh...fuck...fuck hard...

fuck hard...fuck until Mommy can't sit up anymore...oh...it hurts so much...Mommy likes
it so much...the more it hurts Mommy, the better..."

My penis was deeply inserted into Mommy's anus. Mommy's anus contracted very tightly, the sphincter muscles were like
pliers, as if they wanted to clamp my penis off, but it made me feel a strange pleasure when my penis went in and out.

Mommy seemed to be in great pain, but her buttocks were desperately moving towards me, giving me a sadistic
pleasure .

Soon Mommy's thighs began to tremble violently, making my penis numb, and a hot stream couldn't help but gush
out, hitting deep into Mommy's anus.

Mommy's body convulsed extremely, her legs trembled, and hot liquid flowed down her thighs.

That day, I had sex with my mother's anus twice. Finally, the pain became so bad she couldn't sit up, and I
stopped .

On the last night before my father returned, I went to my mother's room to spend our last night together.

She wasn't asleep, waiting for me, but she looked very melancholy: "Now you and your father have
something in common, child."

When I thought about the meaning behind those words, my heart almost stopped.

"It's over between us."

Suddenly, I felt I had nothing left to hold onto in this family. Although my mother's tone implied a
desire to rekindle our past, my father was coming back tomorrow, and my mother would be back in his arms.
I couldn't face that fact.

Believe it or not, I was happy that my father was coming home, even if it meant I would lose my mother.
My father loves me dearly. He's been my idol since I was little, and I tried my best to imitate everything he did, including
making love with my mother. I respect him and don't want to hurt him, and I think my mother feels the same way.

Later, I made up my mind that one day I would leave home. I knew I couldn't build a
family independently with my mother because she is my mother, and I wanted a wife to spend my life with and have a legitimate
child . I knew very well that my mother wasn't that kind of woman.

Oh, my mother, my dearest mother, she can only be my eternal, unattainable dream.

Chapter Two: The Thorny Rose (Part One)

When I look back on everything that happened, I am very grateful to my mother. She brought me into
this world, she raised me to adulthood; and she gave me the most important gift in my life
—even more important than the three months my mother and I spent together so passionately—that was the birth of my
sister Rose a year after I was born.

Rose and I seemed to be natural enemies; from the moment she was born, she liked to oppose me. Many of my
relatives say that I often bullied Rose when she was little, and that my behavior was despicable. But I
don't quite believe it ; I think it's just typical sibling rivalry. Which family with several children
doesn't bicker and argue? Ours was no different, just a little different.

What I mean is, we argued about almost everything, even fought, and
we wouldn't admit it even about things we both liked. But Rose had a secret weapon: crying. Almost every time she
lost an argument with me, she would burst into tears. Although I hated her so much I gritted my teeth, and sometimes even wanted to kill her,
I couldn't bear to see her cry. As soon as her eyes reddened, I had to slip away before the tears came, lest I
soften and comfort her.

Of course, she also had her moments of laughter, which were when we stopped arguing, especially as we grew into
our teens and stopped attacking each other so much. She also seemed like a different person, becoming very shy and
melancholic , but overly so, with a perpetually sorrowful face, which made me very uncomfortable.

However, if you get to know her well and encourage her, she'll reward you with a smile.
I have no doubt that my sister's smile can charm everyone.

Her smile is like the rising sun, like a child's innocence, like a sweet first kiss, giving off a
radiant feeling. Anyone who has seen it once would rather die than miss it again.

Unfortunately, although I often bullied her when I was little, as I grew up I had to
work hard every day to win my sister's smile, and I had other ulterior motives.

I don't know when I fell in love with my sister, but it was definitely very early, probably from
the age when I started having erotic dreams and masturbating.

I masturbated frequently when I was young, but the object of my masturbation was not my mother, but my sister
Rose.

Looking back now, it's not surprising. Although I liked and respected my mother, my
interest in her was largely due to my admiration for my father, and later it was my mother who actively seduced me. I think the reason I
was able to resolutely sever ties with my mother in the end was because subconsciously I believed that the person I truly loved was not my
mother .

I often dream of my sister naked, offering her pure body to me, willingly
sucking my penis…

One day, I was about to leave my room when my sister came in. I was thirteen, and she was twelve
. We bumped into each other at the doorway, and naturally, we reached out to steady each other.

I pulled too hard, pulling my sister into my arms, her small, firm breasts pressing against my
chest. Our stomachs slammed together, face to face, breaths mingling. My penis
inexplicably hardened, pressing against my sister's vulva through her clothes. My sister's face flushed red, and she broke free from my
embrace, running away as if her life depended on it.

I think this was perhaps the initial spark between us.

I stood there, stunned and dazed, completely oblivious to my sister's departure. I longed to relive
that intoxicating feeling.

That night, I reached orgasm for the first time through masturbation.

I lay in bed, vigorously rubbing my penis, recalling
the feeling . I longed to know how she felt then, how
alluring it would be if we played this sexual game together.

Sometimes, when my parents went shopping or to church for mass, they would leave us at home, and I would always take full advantage of
these opportunities to spy on my sister's actions.

At that time, a sexual game was popular among the children at our school: find an opportunity to walk home with a girl,
then ask her, "Can you feel it?" When she answered no, you would take the opportunity to grope her
body, saying, "Can you feel it now?"

It took my sister a long time to understand this game, and I seized the limited opportunities to feast on her
body, especially intentionally kneading her breasts. It seems I was too deeply influenced by my mother, to the point that I
was particularly interested in women's breasts.

I desperately wanted her to know my feelings for her, but I couldn't directly tell her that I loved her and
wanted to spend my life with her.

However, that's the furthest I can go right now. I don't want to simply
declare that I've done it after having sex with my sister. I see us as lovers, husband and wife, even parents.

I had dreamed of our wonderful first time, even planning every step: in the afterglow of the sunset
, we would come to the beach together, and I would slowly take off her clothes. First her shoes, then her outer pants,
then her top, then her bra, and finally her panties. By then, the sun had set, and the western sky
was filled with blood-red sunset clouds. She stood between me and the sea, turned to the side facing the beautiful sunset, and I could only see her
beautiful silhouette. Her full, beautifully shaped breasts outlined perfect curves in the afterglow of the sunset, and then she
lowered her body and sat down, looking expectant, her hairy pubic area vaguely visible. I couldn't help but
walk over and gently lay her down, and then...

unfortunately, my sister didn't seem to like this "Can you feel it?" game. Every time I asked her
"Can you feel it?", she would let me "feel" a few times, then suddenly break free and run away.

During that time, my father doted on her the most.

I was never jealous of my parents' marriage, but I couldn't help feeling anxious about my father's favoritism. I even
suspected that my father and sister were having an affair. Of course, all of this happened before my mother and I had
any secret relationship.

Because of my experience with my mother, I became increasingly eager to take further action with my sister. If she refused,
I would be completely doomed. She might submit to my father, which would definitely destroy our family,
because my father was an upright and traditional man. I could even imagine my father's furious face, my mother's
desperate defense of me, and me watching the situation unfold, and then our family would crumble.

In middle school, besides learning some knowledge and building my confidence, I also had many opportunities
to meet . At school, I was neither a playboy nor a bookworm, so I
dated quite a few girls, but at most it was just hanging out, watching movies, holding hands, and maybe a kiss on the cheek.
However, sometimes I had the chance to slip my hand inside a girl's shirt or shorts, which was quite exciting.

But after my relationship with my mother, I became tired of these superficial interactions. I was confident that if I
touched a girl again, I could make her take off her underwear. However, I didn't try those things again.

After graduating from high school, I was admitted to university and settled into the dormitory, which was the first time I had lived away from
home.

I missed my home a little, but I found university life very suitable for me. For me, it was
a good place for both intellectual enrichment and intellectual liberation.

In late autumn, the pastor from my hometown came with bad news: my family had been in an accident, a
traffic accident . But he didn't tell me the details. Although I was preparing for final exams at the time, as soon as I received
the news, I immediately drove home. While refueling on the way, I called the police to inquire, but they
hesitated and only told me to come back quickly.

I had a premonition that misfortune had finally befallen my family.

When I arrived at the hospital, I only saw my sister Rose crying hysterically on one side, and the pastor was
there. From him, I learned the details.

Our family was driving home from Mass in the caravan my father had just bought when we were
hit by a car. Neither my parents were wearing seatbelts and died instantly. My other
sister, though wearing a seatbelt, was hit from her direction and also perished
. My two brothers were seriously injured and bled profusely.

Thankfully, Rose wasn't with them.

The pastor said my mother was very upset that day; when asked why, she only said she had argued with Rose and didn't
know what would happen next.

At dawn, my two brothers also died.

I took my sister back to the empty house, but she was distraught, as if she didn't exist. She
wouldn't eat , speak, or respond to anyone.

I cared for her carefully, fearing she might commit suicide.

The funeral was held three days after the accident. My sister attended, but her dull eyes and
lifeless expression contrasted sharply with her neat black clothes.

After burying our loved one's remains, we silently accepted the comfort and well wishes of acquaintances. I could barely hold
on any longer, but my sister seemed expressionless, as if she didn't exist.

I took her home and then lay down, exhausted, and fell asleep.

About an hour later, I woke up and needed to use the restroom. As I passed my sister's room, I suddenly smelled
a strange odor. I quickly knocked on her door, but there was no response. In desperation, I started banging on the door.

After the door was forced open, I stumbled into the room and immediately smelled the pungent smell of gas and heard the hissing of the stove. Thank
God, my sister was sleeping on the bed near the door. I quickly carried her to the living room, laid her flat on the sofa, then ran
back to turn off the gas and the stove, opened the windows wide, and returned to my sister's side.

Her complexion was much better, and her breathing was somewhat normal, but very weak.

I shook her hand hard, repeatedly saying, "Wake up, little sister, wake up... Oh, don't scare
me like this, little sister, don't leave me, wake up, little sister, I love you, don't leave me, wake up."

She groaned, "Let me be alone for a while, I want to die, I should die, you won't love me, I'm
so scared, let me die!"

"No, little sister. Don't leave me alone, I've lost so much, maybe even
more, just like you. Don't scare your brother anymore, I don't want to lose you, my sister."

She opened her eyes and cried for the first time, "You don't know, I killed them, it's my fault!"

"What did you say? Brother knew you wouldn't do this."

She shook her head and said, "If it weren't for me, they wouldn't be on the road, they wouldn't have had this accident."

I tried my best to comfort her, "Okay, so what exactly did you do?"

"Dad called me and said Mom had told him about our argument, and they're on their way back.
I even heard Mom and Dad arguing on the phone, I think they must have had this accident because they were arguing on the road
."

“Okay,” I said, “You and Mom had a fight, and Dad tried to make amends, then the accident happened,
but wasn’t your fault. Okay, tell your brother, why did you and Mom fight?”

“Because of you!” she said, burying her head deep in the cushion.

I was stunned. What did this have to do with me?

I pressed her for details, and finally, I understood what had happened. It all started when my sister found Mom
’s diary.

Our family likes to reminisce about the past, and we often want to look at old things. That time,
my sister had to do her homework on family, so she went to the attic to find some materials and accidentally found
Mom’s diary. Although she knew it was wrong, she still secretly read it.

The worst part was that Mom’s diary started from when Dad went to work on the West Coast, which was
the day Mom and I had our first time that summer.

Although the diary recorded sweet things, for my sister, it was undoubtedly the beginning of a nightmare.

“I remember the diary recorded everything that happened after Dad left in detail,” she said. “
Mom was depressed for the first week, but she cheered up soon after. She wrote in her diary that she was very happy that night because she
realized you had grown up.” She suddenly smiled.

Oh, that’s a good sign; it was the first time she had smiled in days.

“Do you remember that night? That night she taught you how to play cards,” she asked me.

“Of course I remember,” I said.

“From then on, I suspected something unusual was going on because she never taught any of us
other kids. I remember her eyes following you when you went back to sleep until you disappeared down
the hallway . I wanted to know what happened between you two, so I read Mom’s diary.”

I was shocked that Mom would be so careless, not only recording our relationship but also brazenly
leaving such a messy diary in the attic. Of course, I also wanted to know how detailed her entries were, and
whether she truly considered me her lover.

“When I saw the record of your first time making love, my heart broke.” She turned to me, angry
but also sad. “You know what? I always thought you loved me!”

God, how could this be? I almost collapsed to the floor. Was my sister jealous?

My sister spoke quickly, as if trying to get all the truth out before she lost her courage.

"I thought I could control myself. I mean, although I'd long suspected you and Mom had... had...

that kind of relationship, but when the facts were laid out in black and white in front of me, I went completely insane." "

I ran to Mom and used every filthy word I could find to insult her. I called her a slut, a whore,
a pervert . I questioned her about why she would steal the only
man I loved when she already had the best husband in the world."

Damn it! If she said she stole, then she had nothing to do with Dad at all.

“Wait a minute, little sister.” I quickly interrupted her. “What did you just say? I always
thought you weren’t interested in me.”

“I love you, brother, I’ve always loved you.” She said shyly. “Do you remember that time we bumped into each other in
the hallway and hugged for five minutes?”

I laughed and said, “Of course I remember, it feels like yesterday.”

“Do you know why I dodged back then? I was soaking wet down there, and I was afraid you’d think I was a little kid and
had wet my pants. I didn’t want you to see me as a child.”

“Oh, I see.” I suddenly understood. “Then why did you always avoid me when we played the ‘Can You Feel It?’ game?
I thought you hated me.”

“Did I run away when you touched my breasts?” she asked defiantly. “Later, I avoided you because
I wanted to see if you had the courage to chase me. You really are a bit childish, you know?”

As she said this, she smiled slightly at me, which made me feel much better.

But I had to ruin the atmosphere because her guilt hadn’t subsided.

“What happened next? Tell me.” I continued, “Why do you think this accident was your
fault?” Her face darkened again.

Chapter Two: The Thorny Rose (Part Two)

“I know Mom told Dad about our argument, and she might have confessed something.

I heard Mom’s voice when Dad called me while driving. She seemed to be saying something like, ‘
Don’t you know enough?’ I think Mom might have revealed something, but not…not…
“Her voice suddenly dropped to a whisper, as if someone could hear her: ‘…you two…incest.’ “

I was worried that Dad was angry and kept arguing with Mom, so he didn’t notice the other cars. I
reminded him, but it didn’t work. If I hadn’t argued with Mom, this wouldn’t have happened.”

I finally understood what had happened. I grabbed her shoulders and made us face each other.

“Listen to me, you seem to have forgotten that Dad is a strong-willed, rigorously trained, and principled
man. He knows how to distinguish between emotions and responsibilities, and no one does that better than him. No matter what
Mom said to him, he wouldn't have lost control.”

“Do you believe your brother, little sister? I spoke with the officers investigating the accident, and they told me some
facts . First, Dad saw the oncoming car, and judging from the trajectory of the car after he braked, he
didn't accelerate. He did everything he could to avoid a collision, but there was a cliff on the right side of the road, no way to go
. Dad did his best.”

“Also, even if it weren't for you, they would have had to come back from church.” I stared into my sister's
eyes and said, “You only asked them to come back a few minutes earlier, but the fact is, whether they
came back a few minutes earlier or later, they would have run into that drunk driver bastard on the way.”

“So, it's not your fault.”

My sister looked at me, seemingly much more relieved, but suddenly she said anxiously, “Then,
what do we do now?”

“What do you think?”

“I told you I love you, brother, I need you. When you shook my hand just now, I heard you say you love
me, so do you ‘need’ me too?”

I took her hand and led her to our parents’ bedroom, letting her lie down on their bed.

To her surprise, I simply picked out a nightgown for her to wear and then gave her sleeping pills.

“I brought you here because we’re going to sleep together tonight, but just sleep.” I
whispered , “After what happened this afternoon, I don’t want anything to happen to you, so I need to keep a close

eye on you.” “However, I won’t touch you tonight; I have a lot to think about.”

After watching my sister fall asleep, I went back to her bedroom to find my mother’s diary. After finding it, I returned to her
side . Thanks to the sleeping pills, my sister was fast asleep.

I sat in the armchair my mother used to sit in and began to read my mother’s diary.

Although I had once been deeply infatuated with my mother, I could never truly understand what she was thinking
, what my place was in her heart, how she viewed our relationship, and so on. I wanted
to know , and I had to satisfy my curiosity.

The first thing I saw was our initial description, and one passage particularly caught my eye.

"...He licked my vagina and brought me to orgasm once, but I had to pretend to come three times. He
tried so hard; he needs confidence..."

My mother's description made me a little embarrassed, but the words overflowed with her love for her son, which
warmed my heart.

It wasn't until three weeks later that I felt much better.

"...Five times today! This child learns so quickly..."

From my mother's diary, I finally found the answer to the question that had been bothering me—my mother actually wanted to have my child
. This shocked me, but also brought a sense of relief.

The diary revealed that she desperately wanted to have my child, but had never been able to. As I said,
My mother also had some condoms, and she hadn't had any sterilization surgery, but she never let me use
them . She thought that if we had sex four or five times a day, she might get pregnant, but by
the end of our three months, she wasn't pregnant, so she suspected I was infertile.

After reading my mother's diary (which only recorded the three months we were dating), I felt deeply
grateful to my mother. She not only brought me into this world but also took on the responsibility of raising me to adulthood,
patiently guiding me to experience the beauty of union between men and women.

After putting my mother's situation behind me, I started thinking about my future with my sister.

Tonight, I deliberately rejected my sister's advances because I know that grief is the strongest aphrodisiac. I
didn't want sadness to mix with our sinful union, even though it would be more exciting that way. She asked if I needed her. Of course I needed her, so much so, but I wanted to think about it

when we were both clear-headed . I also love my sister; I don't want to lose her. I want to see her every day, have her, and live with her. I reminisced about the past. She said she had always loved me, so she must have loved me for a long time . But did I truly love her? I tried to imagine what my life would be like without her; it was a pale and desolate picture. Even in the worst circumstances, as long as we were together, it seemed we could overcome any difficulty. I thought about sex again, but only the words "intercourse" and "making love" came to mind. Just thinking about my sister's pure and lovely face, her graceful figure, and her captivating smile made my penis throb swell. Oh, doing it with my sister would definitely be better than doing it with Mom. I returned to reality and considered what we should do next. I mean, we had to leave here. If we started a family here, everyone would know, and rumors and malicious slander would spread. But I really love our home now; it's the house Dad and Mom left us, and I really don't want to leave it. If we had to leave, where would we go? I couldn't go back to university. What would people say if I brought my sister back to the dorm ? I no longer want to pursue a degree. Wasn't the point of going to university to graduate, find a good job, and like everyone else, use the money to indulge in pleasure, to have women lick their genitals? To hell with that! I don't need any of that; I already have the woman I love most. I put on my pajamas, climbed into bed, and snuggled up to my sister. I held her close; our bodies were pressed tightly together. Even through the pajamas, I could feel the pressure of her firm breasts on my face. Her warm breath, carrying a sweet fragrance, was intoxicating. We cuddled like that and fell asleep. The next day, the brilliant sunrise shone through the window, illuminating us, and I woke up. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was my sister's bright, clear eyes. She had obviously been awake for a while and must have been staring at me for a long time. Seeing me open my eyes, she smiled slightly, leaned over, and gave me a kiss, but it was just a light . Had her thoughts changed overnight? "Are you planning to continue our conversation from last night?" I asked cautiously. She nodded and kissed my other cheek. I decided to break the ice: “When I said I loved you last night, I meant to ask you—would—you—want— to—marry—me—? Sister.” Her eyes lit up, then she sat up straight, pressing her hands tightly to her heaving chest . “If that’s the only possibility.” She was a little excited, her breathing quickening. “Listen to me, little sister. Believe it or not, I’ve learned a lot at university. I know some drug addicts and anti-war activists who can get us fake IDs—real, usable IDs. That way we can have different names and then we can get married legally. I want us to be together forever, and I won’t love anyone else but you. Promise me, little sister.” “That’s wonderful, brother.” She was so excited that tears streamed down her face. “I’ve been waiting for this day. I want to marry you, brother.” “But there are some things I think we can do ahead of time.” She took a deep breath and said, “Like, making love. I don’t want to wait until our wedding day to start.” I kissed her moist lips and said, “Whatever you want.” As I spoke, my hands were busy. I reached out to unbutton her nightgown, and she leaned completely against me, kissing me passionately. I responded, gently biting her lower lip, sucking on it, then meeting her lips with my tongue, my tongue exploring her soft, wet tongue, and we intertwined passionately. My sister resisted the assault of my tongue, then returned the favor, passionately sucking on it. I unbuttoned all the buttons of her nightgown, letting it slide from her shoulders to her waist. Her breasts were fully exposed before me; as I said, she resembled our mother so much. Her nipples were a bright red, beautifully shaped like our mother's. Her snow-white breasts, though not as full as our mother's, radiated youthful vitality—firm, with delicate, incredibly elastic skin. I reached for her two adorable nipples, gently pinching and twisting them, feeling them harden. I was careful; this was my sister's first time, and I didn't know how she truly felt, or what she liked about me. I kissed her breasts, my lips circling her areolas, feeling the slight trembling of her delicate skin as my lips moved. "Oh…brother…my nipples…kiss my nipples…" she moaned. My lips touched her nipples, gently licking and sucking. My teeth gently bit my sister's hardened nipple, pulling it from side to side, while my tongue incessantly licked it. My sister moaned continuously, her body twisting and turning , pressing her breasts forcefully against my face. I switched to using the tip of my tongue, lightly teasing her nipple, pressing it against the small opening in the center, and pushing it in forcefully. My sister's moans quickened; she reached out and tightly embraced my head, burying it deeply in her firm breasts, rubbing my face vigorously. "Oh...brother...so good...I like it..." she said happily. I released my attack on her nipple, smiled at her, and asked, "Does this feel good? You're wet down there."

"Is it hot and wet down there?"

My sister was already aroused by me, her seductive manner becoming increasingly unrestrained.

She gave me a flirtatious wink and said, "I'm as hot as a furnace down there, do you dare come in?"

I turned her body around so that her back was to me. I already knew last night that she wasn't wearing underwear,
so I leaned down, wanting to admire my sister's private parts from behind.

To my surprise, I didn't see the pubic hair that an adult woman usually has. My sister's vulva
was slightly raised, with a bright red and cute little slit, but there wasn't a single hair growing around the slit. This reminded me
of when we were little, when my sister and I played childish sex games, and a warm feeling welled up in my
heart.

My sister obviously noticed my reaction.

"I got up an hour earlier than you," she said. "Remember when we were little? Back then, you tried so hard to
pull me into your room, wanting to lick my pussy like you did with the neighbor's older sister, but I just wouldn't let you succeed."

After waking up, I thought that if we were to make love today, I wanted you to taste my hairless
pussy , just like when we were little. So I just shaved all my hair off. Brother, do you think this
is good?

Understanding my sister's thoughtfulness, I couldn't help but laugh happily: "I told you I wanted you to marry me, didn't
I?"

"Yes!" she quickly said.

"Okay," I said, "then let me taste my dear sister's little cunt." I

brought my head between my sister's legs, carefully admiring her vulva.

Of course, her vulva had its own unique scent, somewhat like my mother's, but much milder. Her
labia were bright red, clearly untouched. A clear,
prominent, and sensitive slit was visible on the slightly raised mound. Even the slightest
touch

, I was pleasantly surprised to find a thin membrane blocking
its path.

My sister was indeed a virgin!

For a moment, I was at a loss, as I had never had sex with a virgin before.

I had heard that the first penetration was very painful for the woman; should I enter slowly or
force my way in?

I carefully traced the shape of her hymen with my tongue; it looked thin and large,
seemingly easy to break through.

So, I decided to force my way in.

My sister clearly appreciated my tongue's movements inside her vulva; in fact, this was something my mother had taught me,
a legacy she left us.

“Oh…brother…this is so beautiful…it feels so good…is your penis like this too, brother?
Tell me…brother…I like it…”

I remembered my mother saying that incest increases the lewdness and obscenity during sex, and I thought I needed to preserve
this tradition.

I temporarily set aside my sister’s hymen, looked at her face to face, and repeated the conversation my mother and I
had had, only now it was my turn to ask.

“Do you know what incest is?” I asked.

“Like what we’re doing now,” she said, “sexual relations between family members.”

“Do you know that many people think incest is wrong, immoral, and taboo?”

She nodded.

“Well, when we make love, we should think like this: we may use different
names , but in bed, I want to remember that we are brother and sister. I love you, sister, and from now on, when we make love, you
should always call me brother, and I will call you sister, so we will be happier.”

“Okay, brother. ” "She understood quickly.

She reached out and grabbed my thick, hard penis, saying, 'I've never done anything like this before. If you
'd like , I'd like to put your big cock in your mouth.'

Oh, of course I wanted my sister to serve my penis with her mouth, but not now. I wanted to deflower
her before my penis ejaculated.

'Okay, sister. But I want to ask you what some of our organs are called first.'

I stroked her breasts and asked, 'What's this?'

'My breasts,' she said.

'Correct.' My hand moved to her mounds: 'And what's this?'

'My vulva,' she said.

'Correct, but I prefer to call it a cunt, a slut; it sounds much cuter.'

Then I raised my penis and asked her, 'As for this, many books call it a penis, but I don't
like that . My lovely sister should call it…'

'Cock!' she blurted out suddenly.

I asked in surprise, 'How do you know that name? A pure virgin like you couldn't possibly know
these things !'" "

My sister laughed smugly and said, 'I have a few rather promiscuous girlfriends, they told me. But none
of them are as lewd as me, because they don't dare to sleep with their brothers. I think that's just because they
don't have a handsome brother like me.'

'So, answer my question, brother, are you willing to put your big-cock-in-
your- mouth?'

Chapter Two: The Thorny Rose (Part Three)

She almost shouted the word 'cock,' as if afraid the whole world wouldn't know what she was
doing .

'Of course I am,' I said, 'but not now.'

'I want our first time to start with your pussy, and I want to ejaculate inside.
Are you ready, sister?'" She

bit her lower lip and nodded.

I knelt between my sister's legs, my thick, long penis pressed against her lovely slit, the head of my penis
slightly sunk in, then slid up and down along the slit, savoring
the intimate .

My sister's opening was already soaking wet, her labia covered in slippery, lustful fluid. With the stimulation of my glans,
clear liquid kept flowing out, the warm fluid sticking to my glans, making me itchy, with an uncontrollable
urge.

Afraid of ejaculating, I quickly aligned the head of my penis with the center of my sister's opening and began to push forward.

My sister's vagina was incredibly tight, the tightest I'd ever touched. Although it was very wet,
it was still difficult for my glans to penetrate. The vaginal walls felt like a clamp, tightly pressing against my glans, trying to
prevent its intrusion. I pushed in slowly and laboriously, until finally my glans touched the thin membrane. The contact made
my sister's body tremble slightly.

"Can you feel it?" I asked, kissing my sister's earlobe. "My glans is already against your hymen
. If I stop now, you're still a virgin. I wonder if my little sister is willing to let her
brother take her precious virginity?"

My sister's hand pressed against my buttocks.

"It's a husband's right," she said. "Since my brother is my husband, then it's
his right."

Then she actively pushed my buttocks forward. When my glans broke through my sister's hymen, she only let out
a soft groan, still pushing my buttocks forcefully until my penis was fully inside.

We were finally one!

From this day forward, we were brother and sister, partners, man and woman, husband and wife. Our
union will be legal, and we will love each other until the end of our lives.

I lay there motionless, holding my sister, experiencing the soul-stirring
pleasure .

The room was quiet; we could both hear each other's heartbeats. My sister's vagina tightly gripped my
penis, the slight pulsation of her vaginal walls synchronized with our heartbeats.

Her warm breath brushed against my neck, making me want to lick the back of her neck with my tongue.

Her breathing gradually quickened, her vaginal walls, as fiery as she had always desired, began to writhe violently,
squeezing my penis. Waves of intense stimulation surged through my lower body, and I began to thrust.

At first, my movements were gentle and slow, allowing my sister's newly opened vagina time to adjust. My sister's furrowed
brow finally relaxed, and a moan followed, growing louder with each thrust.

"Faster...oh...faster...brother...oh...oh...the faster you thrust, the less it
hurts...oh...oh...good...faster...brother..."

I hadn't intended to speed things up, because this was our first time, and I didn't want to ejaculate so quickly
. I wanted to savor the wonders of my sister's body.

But sex is a two-way street, and my sister had the right to make her own requests, so I started to increase
the speed of my thrusts.

Five minutes later, my sister's breathing became increasingly heavy: "Oh...this is so wonderful...oh...

brother...I'm going to come...faster...brother...thrust harder into my cunt...oh...let
me cum..."

At this moment, I had no other thoughts besides my sister. I just wanted my sister
to experience the most beautiful moment of her life during our first time. I couldn't disappoint her, so I had to endure, even though I
was on the verge of climaxing. I fought against my will, determined to hold on until my sister reached orgasm.

I gritted my teeth and thrust harder, my movements becoming increasingly vigorous. As I pulled my penis out, my sister's body
was lifted off the bed, and then I thrust down hard, slamming her back onto the bed. This repeated for
a few minutes until my sister's thighs began to tremble violently, her vaginal secretions suddenly increased, and her muscles contracted sharply.
I knew my most difficult moment was over.

"How did it feel, sister?" I asked breathlessly. "Did my lovely little sister enjoy the feeling of her pussy being penetrated for the
first time ?"

"Oh!...It's so good...I love it!" she screamed. "Brother, give me more
..."

I thrust even harder into my sister's tight, narrow vagina, and the contractions of her vaginal walls eventually turned into a violent
earthquake.

This time, I couldn't hold back any longer and asked, "Do you want me to ejaculate outside?"

"Hmm?"

"I said, I'm going to ejaculate!" I said loudly, "Do you want me to ejaculate outside your vagina?"

My sister understood and immediately wrapped her legs tightly around my waist, firmly saying, "No!"

"But if..." She pressed tightly against my body, whispering in my ear, "My
safe period is over, I want a baby. Brother, husband, give your sister a baby."

Although her voice was so soft it was almost inaudible, my sister's words were more stimulating than any of the most lewd words,
instantly pushing us both to orgasm.

I heard the most provocative words in the world, and my penis, unable to suppress the surging pleasure, finally erupted. I
inserted my penis deep into my sister's body, all the way to her uterus, and then passionately ejaculated all my life essence into
my sister's sweet cervix, fantasizing about my thousands of sperm swimming inside my sister's uterus,
forming .

Oh, I was simply dying of pleasure.

My sister's vaginal walls contracted, tightly gripping my continuously ejaculating penis, as if trying to bite it off and
keep it inside her forever.

Her body convulsed violently, her muscles taut, her pretty face flushed red, her hands
unconsciously gripping my shoulders, her firm breasts grinding wildly against my chest, while her lower body pressed tightly against me,
rapidly receiving my thrusts, her inner walls twitching periodically, tightening and relaxing, completely accepting
everything , not missing a single drop.

Only after it was all over did we gradually regain consciousness.

My sister placed a pillow on her buttocks, then gently stroked me, who was slumped on top of her,
softly kissing my shoulder to calm her breathing.

“Mom’s marriage manual says this increases the chances of getting pregnant,” she said, kissing me. “I
won’t restrict your movements or force you to stay with me unless you want to, brother. You said you wanted to
marry me, and I think you mean starting a family.”

“Of course,” I told her, “but you can refuse me until you have a baby.”

“Can unmarried people have children?”

“Oh, I don’t know how many couples in this world are actually siblings,” I said. “
So I’m not sure they’ll do it like we do. We have to be careful unless we can get out of
here right away. Right now it’s just the two of us living in this big house, and if your belly suddenly gets big, that’s
more surprising than any scientific discovery.”

“I can’t think about that anymore,” she said. “Anyway, you’ll definitely become a father before the end of the year.”

Then she laughed and said, “That was just perfect, absolutely wonderful! I’m so glad our
first time happened in Mom and Dad’s bed, in this home we love so much. What do you think
, brother?”

“Only one regret,” I said.

Then I told her about my childhood dream about our first time. I dreamed that at
sunset, on a romantic beach, the sea would wash over our intertwined bodies,
forgetting everything else, freely uniting in nature’s embrace.

My sister giggled, but seemed very longing for it.

“You should have told me sooner,” she said with a hint of resentment. “I could have waited.”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” I said. “That was just my ridiculous dream. I know you wanted to
start our first time here, in Mom and Dad’s bed. I love you so much, I wouldn’t refuse your request.
As for my dream, we’ll have our chance someday.”

“Unfortunately, that wasn’t our first time.” Tears suddenly streamed down her face. “Brother really
wanted our first time to be on the beach. That was his dream for years. One day I’ll find
a way to repay him.”

In the following days, we made all sorts of arrangements and plans. We would sell the house, collect all of
our parents ’ insurance, and then leave this place that had raised me to adulthood, a place filled with both happiness and pain. We
would find a new place in the outside world where we could settle down and build
a family that truly belonged to both of us.

Afterwards, I traveled around, meeting with some old friends to get new identification documents, mainly
our birth certificates. With these documents, we could apply for social insurance and driver’s licenses. I
also got a fake military service certificate to avoid having to serve several more years.

That evening, when I returned home, my sister greeted me at the door, completely naked except for a seductive smile on her face
. I picked her up and placed her on the soft grass under the old oak tree in the yard, and we immediately started having sex. As usual
, I made her completely submissive.

But my sister seemed unsatisfied: "Brother, we've already done
it , in the bathtub, in the kitchen, and even in the yard, but when can I
suck your big cock?"

"Then tell me first, do you really want to do this, or do you have to do it to please me?"

she giggled and said, "Mom's diary said you're very good with your mouth, and I want to try it too."

She lowered her head and licked my limp penis like it was ice cream, quickly making me hard again. When
I was fully erect, she opened her mouth and swallowed my penis whole, then began to vigorously stroke it up and down.

“Oh, little sister,” I groaned, “You did a great job, brother is cheering you on.”

My sister’s throat made gurgling sounds. My penis was thick and long, but she seemed to be licking it with
great gusto. Her tongue rolled around on my shaft, the tip occasionally teasing my clitoris. In
less than five minutes, I ejaculated in her mouth.

The “69” position followed naturally. My tongue fiercely attacked her overflowing
vagina, while my penis was inside her cute little mouth. She clearly enjoyed it.

That night, we satisfied each other several times with our mouths.

Soon, everything was in place. We had new names and new identification, the house was sold
, and our parents’ insurance gave us considerable savings. The only headache was what to do with our family’s belongings.

I kept my mother’s diary, while my sister kept our parents’ bed and some of her own
clothes.

Just like my mother did during our “honeymoon,” my sister walked around the house naked all day
. Of course, I also appreciated this sight; at least it made my worries disappear. My sister only wears clothes when people come over
, but that's just sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and sandals.

Luckily, no one lives around here, so she can manage. But our new home will likely be in the city,
and then it won't be so casual for her anymore.

I keep my mother's diary only because I see it as my only connection to her; I still
have so much to say to her. If I remember something, I write a footnote next to it. Through the diary, I can
vent all my unhappiness and pain.

I turn to the page I marked, where my mother comments on my ever-improving lovemaking techniques.

I write down what I want to say to her, telling her that everything she taught me is now being used on her
daughter.

In the last volume of my mother's diary, she recounted her feelings about my sister discovering it. From this, I
could understand her pain and inner turmoil. What shocked me most was her last passage: "
Now I understand that Rose truly loved him. I wish they could be together forever, could
live , but unfortunately, this world will not allow such a relationship to exist. Oh, my poor child."

I decided to begin recording all the experiences my sister and I would have after that page. I wanted to
tell my mother that I had found a way, even though it would come at a great cost.

I told her that although I loved my sister so much, if there was any way to bring them back
to life , I would gladly give up that love. I thought my sister must feel the same way.

I promised my mother that I would take good care of my sister, and that we would never forget her.

About three months after my sister and I had a sexual relationship, as usual, I continued writing about
our experiences in the sequel to my mother's diary. I turned to the part where my mother had thought I was infertile—a question that had troubled
me for a time. Now I could finally answer my mother's question.

“Dear Mom—now you don’t have to worry about your son being infertile anymore, because I got
my sister pregnant. The reason you and I couldn’t conceive, I think, is perhaps because we’re not compatible.”

One evening at dinner, my sister told me she wanted some sauerkraut and ice cream. I exclaimed in surprise, “Who in the world
would eat those things?”

“A pregnant woman,” she said softly.

It took me a moment to understand: “You mean…we…are pregnant?”

“Yes, brother, I’m pregnant, it’s your child.”

I ran quickly from one end of the table to her, knelt down, and kissed her hand, saying, "Now
we have everything, except a marriage certificate. Let's leave here right away and get married officially. Oh,
how much I love you now, you know that, sister?"

My sister came up with a good idea, and a practical one. She said,

"We'll leave here in a week. Once I'm your legal wife, I don't want to come back
. If we stay here, I'll go to jail."

"But what if others notice..." I hesitated.

"Brother, how can you be so foolish? I'm only six weeks pregnant. We have plenty of
time before others notice."

"But," she added, "right now, I just want to celebrate in bed. Brother, you won't mind
sleeping with a pregnant woman, will you?"

"Of course not!" I quickly confessed, "I can't imagine any pregnant woman being more sexy and alluring than you."

That night, we partied all night, pouring out all our love, passion, and feelings. I will always remember this
day, remember the fact that I got my sister pregnant, and I will cherish it forever deep in my memory.

A week later, we went to Lino to get married and officially became husband and wife. We spent a week there
partying and enjoying a sweet honeymoon.

Afterwards, we drove north and finally found a place to settle down in Idaho. It was a beautiful
city with stunning scenery, and you could fish and hunt. I easily found a
job as a car mechanic and was doing very well.

Of course, our sex life was insane; honestly, the feeling of making love with a pregnant woman
was simply indescribable. Watching her swollen belly and darkening nipples would make my desire
rise . Especially when you're making love and feeling the baby's restless movements inside you, it absolutely stimulates
all your nerves, giving you a thrilling pleasure.

A month later, our first daughter was born, and I named her Asari. When I first
held my newborn daughter in my arms, the feeling was indescribable. I wanted to
give her all my love, everything I had, and all the most beautiful things in the world. She was my daughter, my baby, and
I would give up anything for her.

Oh, I will never forget all the love I felt that day.

That night, I wrote down my feelings in my mother's diary, telling her that she had a granddaughter as
beautiful and .

I never told my sister about keeping a diary, but she obviously found out.
Below the page where I wrote about my sister's pregnancy, I found her handwriting.

"Dear Mom: Don't just listen to your brother's nonsense, I'm here too. 'We' are pregnant!"

Looking at my sister's prank, I could only smile wryly and write down Asari's birthday and some of her features. I thought
Mom would find this very amusing.

Due to the doctor's advice, we didn't resume making love until two months after my sister gave birth. My sister was a little worried that having
a baby would affect her attractiveness to me. But I quickly proved with my actions that my love for her remained unchanged, even
surpassed before.

Her breasts were much larger, and I loved to compete with my daughter for her milk. I loved suckling at my sister's
breasts , savoring that sweet taste, which may be related to the fact that I rarely had the opportunity to drink my mother's milk when I was a child.

I loved having her use her plump breasts to clamp my penis, smearing the squeezed milk on her
breasts , and then licking it with her tongue. We were both captivated by this extremely erotic lovemaking.

Ashley grew up healthy and happy, and four years later, our second daughter, Christy, was born. But
this time, misfortune struck; my sister had a difficult childbirth. After the delivery, the doctor told me that my wife
's life would be in danger if she had another child and recommended that I have her sterilized.

My sister was heartbroken because she wanted to have more children like our mother. I comforted her, saying I couldn't lose
her; we already had two lovely daughters, and it wasn't worth taking unnecessary risks.

Now, my sister and I have a happy and fulfilling family, two adorable daughters,
a dog, and of course, our love.

If anyone were lucky enough to witness us making love passionately in bed, who would guess we're siblings
?

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[Ode to Joy] "My Love" (Mom and Me)

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