Tragic Mother: The Continuation of an Autistic Family

Opening poem

by Su Shi: "Jiang Cheng Zi - A Dream on the Night of the Twentieth Day of the First Month of the Year Yi Mao" Ten years have passed, life and death
have separated us, I try not to think of her, yet I cannot forget. A lonely grave a thousand miles away, nowhere to speak of my sorrow. Even if
we met , we would not recognize each other, faces covered in dust , temples like frost. Last night, in a dream, I suddenly returned home, to the small window where she was combing her hair. We looked at each other speechlessly, only tears streaming down our faces. I know that every year , at this place of heartbreak, on a moonlit night, by the short pine hill, my heart will break. ~~ ... Although my mother's face was somewhat blurry, I didn't care. I pulled her into the bed and started stripping her clothes. She wasn't dressed very formally. In a few quick movements, I opened her clothes at the chest, revealing her breasts. I ignored any foreplay and quickly pulled down her pants, exposing her genitals. She resisted somewhat, but not too strongly. I pulled out my penis, already hard, and thrust it into her: Ah~, so good. Then I leaned over her, wrapping my arms around her body. My chest pressed against her breasts, sending a shiver down my spine. I didn't dare linger, unsure if this was real, and quickly began thrusting. So good! So good. Thrusting~, thrusting~, thrusting~, my penis felt so good, why couldn't I reach orgasm? I fucked harder and harder, but still no orgasm, no ejaculation. Suddenly, my mother disappeared, but my penis still felt, and I continued my piston-like movements. Gradually, I woke up; it was all a dream. Recalling the scene, I felt a deep sense of melancholy. My mother was truly gone. I touched my penis; it was indeed hard. I'm actually over sixty, and while I'm not impotent, it's difficult to maintain an erection for long. The dream I just had was like the wet dreams I had as a child. Back then, my wet dreams were with my mother. I rolled over and crawled into bed with my wife. She groaned but didn't resist. I pulled her pajamas aside and pressed one of my thighs against hers. My penis pressed against her bare buttocks; the pleasure was real, not a dream. My penis hardened again, but when I tried to go further, it went soft. I knew I wasn't producing many hormones anymore. My sexual arousal was always short-lived. The dream of having sex with my mother had depleted my hormones. I slipped an arm under my wife's neck, hugged her, and kissed her. My other hand touched her breast, my thighs were tightly wrapped around her midsection, and tears streamed down my face. As I kissed my wife's face, I wiped my tears onto her cheek. She woke up, reached out to wipe my tears, and asked affectionately, "Missing Mom again?" I hummed in agreement. "I miss Mom too," my wife said. I told her everything in detail about how I had dreamt of making love with my mother and almost had a wet dream: "Now that I'm old, I can't even have a wet dream anymore." My wife reached down and grasped my penis; it was limp. She gently stroked it a few times, but there was no sign of it getting hard. We fell asleep again, embracing each other. 1. The Deaths of Grandparents and Maternal Grandparents I heard my mother say that my father came from a landlord family. There had once been a child bride in the family, much older than my father, whom her family had insisted on giving to my grandfather's family. Because her family was poor and couldn't afford to raise her, they gave her to my grandfather's family as a child bride, hoping she might become the next landlord's wife. My paternal grandparents, especially my grandmother, were kind-hearted and accepted the marriage proposal, even giving her family a considerable amount of money and unnecessary items. At that time, my father was studying in the provincial capital, and communication was difficult. When he returned home for vacation, my grandmother told him about it; he was shocked and immediately asked her to return the marriage. My grandmother said, "How can that be? She's being divorced before the marriage is even consummated! How will she ever remarry?" My father angrily retorted, "What era are we living in? You still have these kinds of things to do; I don't want it. I'll decide my own marriage, don't interfere." He stayed home for only a few days before returning to school. Soon after, he was admitted to a medical school in a big city. He returned home with some valuables, and my grandmother wanted him to consummate the marriage with his child bride so they could have an heir. He refused and left again; he never returned to his hometown, nor ever saw his parents again—my paternal grandparents. Actually, it was close to "liberation" by then, and not long after, the land reform movement began in the village. The child bride from my grandfather's family was persuaded by the land reform work team to go on stage and denounce the "cruel exploitation and oppression" of my grandfather's family. My grandparents were dragged out for public criticism. They had never suffered such humiliation before. They both committed suicide. The child bride was raped and then married by the poor peasant soldier captain who had been brutally criticizing my grandparents. News of the death in my grandfather's family reached my maternal grandfather's village. My maternal grandfather had no sons, only my mother, his only daughter, whom he cherished dearly. He sent her to school from a young age, and she passed the entrance exam for the provincial high school just before "liberation." When she returned home for summer vacation, her grandfather told her, "The land reform is in complete chaos. The landlord couple in the neighboring village committed suicide together. Their son is still studying away from home; they don't know anything about it. This storm is about to hit our village. The land reform work team came to the village a couple of days ago, talking to poor peasants and hired laborers, and they've formed a poor peasants' association. Yesterday, the work team talked to me, asking me to confess about my family property and my crimes of exploitation. How would I know what exploitation is? I only hired temporary laborers during the busy farming season. I think we can't live like this anymore, but even if I die, I have to protect our family's wealth; I can't let it be squandered in my generation. Your father can't bear to see you fall into the hands of those poor, neighboring countries and be ruined. I'm giving you all the valuables in the house; you should leave quickly, the farther the better. Don't ever come back!" That night, the whole family hugged each other and cried bitterly. The next morning, her mother left. Her mother initially returned to the county middle school. The students there were also mobilized to support the land reform, painting slogans and chanting chants everywhere. My mother, worried about my maternal grandparents, stayed in the girls' dormitory, asking around to find out about the family. Soon after, devastating news arrived. My grandfather refused to confess his crimes or hand over the land and other valuables, and was subjected to a public beating and executed by the poor peasants' group. My grandmother, witnessing her husband's death, returned home and hanged herself. The family was finished. My mother initially refused to believe it, but after receiving the same news from several different sources, she had no choice but to accept it. Not daring to stay in the county for long, she went to the provincial high school to enroll. The provincial high school was also supporting the land reform, just like the county school. Before the semester started, my mother ran away again. She thought and thought, everywhere was populated by poor and lower-middle peasants; she was the daughter of a murdered landlord—who would take her in? Who would dare to take her in! Finally, she thought of the son of the landlord's family in the neighboring village, the couple who had committed suicide—my father. Only he was of the same class as her; perhaps he could take her in or discuss a solution. 2. After my mother arrived in that big city, she inquired around and found out which university my father attended. Actually, there was only one medical school in the city, so it was easy to find out. When she knocked on the door of the boys' dormitory, my father answered. He asked who she was looking for. My mother told him his name. He said, "That's me; what do you want?" My mother asked him to speak privately. My father, full of suspicion, followed my mother to a teahouse on the street. They ordered a pot of tea and chatted over drinks. My mother told him what had happened to my father's family, which shocked him greatly. My mother quickly pressed him down, saying, "This is not the time to be emotional; please let me finish." My father suppressed his grief and listened to my mother recount her family's ordeal. My mother concluded, "Now both our families are gone, and we're orphans. If we go home for the funeral now, the peasant militia will be afraid of revenge and will surely kill us; we absolutely cannot go back. I still have some money, but I'm unfamiliar with this place. Could you help me find a place to settle down first, and we can discuss things later?"

According to Mom, Dad was stunned when he heard about their family's ordeal. He seemed completely lost, leaving everything to Mom, a girl he had just met, to decide. Mom asked Dad to find her a place to stay. Dad found out there were empty beds in the nurses' dormitory and let Mom stay there.

Mom went to the nurses' dormitory, greeted the other girls, and found an empty bed. Then she and Dad went to a small restaurant on the street for a quick bite, not daring to say a word. Only after leaving the restaurant and going to the school playground, seeing that no one was around, did they comfort each other and remind each other to be careful and not to show their emotions in front of strangers. There were eyes everywhere, and they didn't know if a slip of the tongue could lead to their deaths.

Mom told Dad what Grandpa had told her: When someone dies, the funeral is not important. Funerals are always ostentatious. Parents in heaven don't care if their children give them a grand funeral; what they care about most is their children's safety. This is what truly worries parents.

With Mom's comfort and persuasion, Dad gradually calmed down. They met every day, sharing their family situations, and the final topic was Mom's future – whether to continue her studies or find work.

Dad thought about it; in this era of political maneuvering, finding someone to talk to wasn't easy. He suggested Mom enroll in the nursing program at the medical school; she could find work after graduation.

Mom had gradually become familiar with the girls in the nursing dormitory over the past few days and agreed to Dad's suggestion. She then inquired about enrollment with the girls in the nursing program. The girls were willing to help. Just then, several students dropped out at the beginning of the semester, presumably due to family issues. One of them seemed to have gone to Hong Kong with her parents. Mom was willing to fill the vacant spot. The school required an entrance exam. Mom, who could easily get into a provincial high school, passed with ease and enrolled in the nursing program.

The other girls, seeing Dad and Mom often together, inquired about their relationship. Mom only said they were from the same hometown. People from the same hometown had more in common. The other girls then assumed they might be a couple and stopped asking further questions.

The school was also in turmoil, with political movements happening every few days. Dad and Mom reminded each other to neither be enthusiastic nor lag behind. They'd always manage to spout a few catchy slogans during these movements, and when it came to speaking at discussions, they'd manage to get by.

Although Dad started school first, his medical studies were longer. Mom's nursing program was shorter, and they graduated in the same year.

After graduation, they were both assigned to the affiliated hospital. Dad studied physiology and originally wanted to be a teacher; his specialty was reproductive physiology. Because of the "people being the masters of the country" policy at the time, childbirth required large hospitals, leading to a shortage of staff. The hospital leaders, seeing Dad's specialty was reproductive physiology, persuaded him to become a doctor in the obstetrics and gynecology department. While it was called "persuasion," he couldn't refuse and had to agree. The leaders asked if he had any other requests. Dad asked that Mom work as a nurse under him. The leaders agreed.

Before starting work, Dad told Mom he wanted to marry her. Although they weren't dating, their classmates and teachers already considered them a couple. Not only did my father not have a girlfriend, but my mother also didn't have any male suitors. My mother said that the reason my father gave her when he brought it up was quite peculiar. He said he was about to start working and would be in contact with a lot of pregnant women. He had never had sexual experience and was afraid he wouldn't be able to control himself during clinical work.

My mother didn't say anything when she heard my father's confession. The next day, she gave my father a pair of knitted gloves and a hat, which fit him perfectly. The boss also quickly approved their marriage.

On their wedding night, my mother later told me that after everything, my father had carefully observed my mother's genitals. My mother was also a medical worker, so she didn't think much of it and let my father see as much as he wanted. From then on, my father and mother worked together in the operating room to deliver babies. My father became a doctor, and my mother gradually became the head nurse of the obstetrics department.

Of course, later we had me.

3. My Childhood

When I was in elementary school, there was still a distinction between boys and girls. Boys would play around together, and girls would flatter the teacher. Around fifth or sixth grade, one day, I suddenly realized that girls were actually quite cute too. Just thinking about it made me feel a tingling sensation in my lower abdomen.

One winter break, the boys crowded in the corner outside the classroom to sunbathe. Boys, you know, can't stay still. So, starting with the outermost boy, they'd bump into each other, one by one, until they reached the corner. That boy would bump into the corner, bounce back, and then bump into the outermost boy again. They'd play like that.

The bell rang, and a girl in the class, a class leader, called the boys to come in. Looking at her, I suddenly couldn't help but pull her into my arms. Since it was in front of half the class, I thought no one would misunderstand. Unexpectedly, the girl pulled her hand away from my arms and slapped me hard across the face, yelling, "You pervert! You pervert!"

I was stunned and tried to let go, but it was too late. As soon as she entered the classroom, she complained to the teacher that I had been a pervert, harassing a woman.

I was speechless. No matter how I explained, no one believed me. I was called to the front of the class to be criticized by my classmates; I wished I could disappear into the ground; I felt like dying. During the parent-teacher conference, the teacher criticized this incident in front of all the parents. All eyes turned to my mother. But she remained expressionless, as if the teacher wasn't talking about her son.

When I got home, I prepared for a good scolding from my mother, and even for telling my father so I could get a beating. But nothing happened. My mother only privately talked to me about feudal ethics: men and women should not touch each other. I was absolutely forbidden from touching any part of a girl's body, not even shaking hands. I listened intently, nodding in agreement.

From then on, I suppressed myself again, not only no longer touching girls, but also not speaking to them. Of course, because of my previous recklessness, all the girls treated me like a pervert, and no girl spoke to me anymore. But human nature cannot be suppressed. The tingling sensation of wanting to hug a woman didn't subside.

4. Nocturnal emission

One day, while I was doing my homework, my mother bent down, carrying a kettle, to pour hot water into a thermos. The sound of water pouring gradually increased, sounding like music. I glanced back unintentionally and saw my mother's protruding buttocks. Although Mom's pants were baggy, they still revealed the curves of her body underneath—so beautiful! A tingling sensation ran through my lower abdomen. Wasn't Mom a woman too?

I remembered the feudal ethics Mom taught me: men and women shouldn't touch each other. Of course, this included Mom.

From then on, all my fantasies about women were directed at Mom, especially chores like filling the thermos. No matter how much Mom asked me to, I wouldn't do it. Every time Mom had to do it herself, I would listen to the sound of the water being poured, scrutinize her buttocks from behind, and imagine what it looked like underneath her pants. Every time, my penis would get hard. Although I resolutely refused to help Mom fill the thermos, I did all the other chores diligently. Only this one chore. Mom, though unaware of the reason, would only complain a few times and then let it go. Dad

was a doctor, and his working hours weren't too strict; he could sleep in a little longer in the morning. But Mom was a head nurse, and she usually got up earlier than me. But one day, because I had to do my cleaning duty, I got up a little earlier than Mom. I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom when Mom suddenly came in, pulling up her pants. Because she needed to use the restroom, she hadn't fastened her belt, even though she was wearing pants.

My mother, oblivious to my presence in the bathroom, pulled down her pants and sat on the toilet. Although nothing was actually exposed while she was doing this, a triangular patch of her buttocks was visible between her shirt and pants. My fantasies while she was filling the thermos had now been glimpsed. An urge to touch it welled up inside me, but I suppressed it.

I pretended not to see her go into the bathroom, washed my face, and left. From then on, I suddenly became a diligent student, waking up early every day to enter the bathroom before my mother, waiting for her to come in and relieve herself. I could frequently catch glimpses of her exposed buttocks.

One day I woke up too early and turned on the radio, the volume was quite loud. Suddenly, my mother came out of the master bedroom, very angrily telling me to be quiet, as my parents were still sleeping. Because she was in a hurry to turn off the radio, she wasn't wearing pants, only her underwear, revealing her two fair thighs. I was stunned, speechless, my eyes fixed on her underwear. My mother scolded me a few times and went back to sleep. My penis was rock hard, so I quickly turned off the radio and went to school.

The most arousing time was when I went into the bathroom and looked up to see my mother standing in front of the toilet, her pants pulled down to her knees, revealing her entire midsection, a small tuft of black hair on her white lower abdomen—she was changing her menstrual belt.

I quickly turned my head away, pretending I hadn't seen anything, washed my hands at the sink, and left.

I sat on the sofa, slightly out of breath. A little while later, my mother came out, dressed. She sat down next to me and told me that everyone grows hair on their genitals when they grow up.

Actually, I had already started growing pubic hair, but I was too shy to talk about it and went to school.

That day, I couldn't concentrate on anything in class. My mind was filled with images of my mother's exposed pubic area, her beautiful waistline, and the pubic hair in between; my penis was hard all day, and my inner thighs and abdomen felt numb all day.

That night, I suddenly dreamed of my mother. I nervously suppressed myself, afraid to touch her body, but my penis couldn't help but gush out urine. How embarrassing! I was so old and still wet the bed. When I woke up, I touched my underwear and, sure enough, I had peed, but not much, and it was sticky. I later learned that this was a boy's nocturnal emission, accompanied by a pleasant dream. My dream was of my mother.

It took more than half a year after my first nocturnal emission for me to have a second one, and my dream was still of my mother. From then on, I especially looked forward to nocturnal emissions, but most of the time I neither dreamed of my mother nor had any nocturnal emissions. The frequency of my nocturnal emissions gradually decreased, from more than six months to five months, then four, three, two, one, and finally about once a month like a woman's period, but not as regular as a woman's period. Sometimes it was twice a month, sometimes only once every two or three months. But my dreams were almost always about my mother.

5. Impulsiveness

Once, I hadn't had a nocturnal emission for a long time. When I got up in the morning and went to the toilet, my mother was already sitting on the toilet. Her triangular buttocks, between the hem of her shirt and her waistband, were pressed against the toilet, squeezing out a fleshy mound.

I couldn't hold back any longer. I lingered by the sink, and just as my mother stood up to pull up her pants, I rushed to her side, hugged her body, grabbed her waistband to prevent her from pulling up, and immediately pulled out my hard penis and pressed it against the tip of my mother's buttocks. It was flesh against flesh, a woman's flesh, my mother's flesh! My penis, as if in a dream, ejaculated as soon as it touched my mother's buttocks. At that time, I didn't know what a vulva, vagina, or vagina were, let alone that penetration would be more satisfying.

At first, Mom resisted my sexual assault, anxiously shouting, "What are you doing? Don't be disgusting! Let me flush the toilet." The first two sentences frightened me, but the part about flushing the toilet seemed less resolute. As soon as I started ejaculating, Mom immediately stopped, waiting for me to finish.

Then I let go, knelt down abruptly, and said, "Mom, I'm sorry..."

Mom ignored me, just pushed me away, and picked up a piece of toilet paper to wipe the semen off her buttocks. I stood up and helped Mom flush the toilet. After wiping, Mom pulled up her pants, said nothing, and left the bathroom.

From then on, Mom always locked the toilet door when she went to the bathroom. And if I was already inside, Mom wouldn't go in again, waiting until I came out. My obsessive attempt to see Mom sitting on the toilet with a corner of her buttocks exposed was no longer possible; I only dreamed of Mom's body when I had wet dreams.

I still liked to see Mom's buttocks when she bent over to fill a thermos. In winter, when Mom sat on the sofa, she always liked to put her hands inside her thighs to warm them. I imagined my mother's hand touching the area where her pubic hair grew. But I gradually learned that sexual relations between mother and son were incestuous, unacceptable according to ethics. In ancient times, if such a thing were discovered, the mother and son would be punished by being placed in a pig cage or drowned; it was extremely severe and cruel.

6. The Cultural Revolution's Destruction of the Four Olds: The Cultural

Revolution began, starting with the destruction of the Four Olds. At school, I saw the Four Olds confiscated from homes. Among them was a set of nesting dolls, but instead of depicting dolls, each layer was carved with an erotic image—fairies fighting. Later, I realized the carving was simple and crude, but for someone like me, living in that harsh, closed society and never knowing what sexual intercourse was, it was like a revelation;—it turns out that during sexual intercourse, men and women connect using their lower bodies. Even so, I still couldn't imagine what a woman's genitals looked like.

The middle school students' angry ransacking of homes and beatings were actually a form of displaced catharsis—a sexually mature act of not knowing or being able to cope. I was also inspired by the fervent fervor of the Cultural Revolution, feeling an inexhaustible energy coursing through my body. My fists itched, and I always wanted to find a way to relieve that itch. Of all the results of the "Destroy

the Four Olds" campaign, I loved looking at the confiscated pornographic materials. That day, I had just secretly looked at erotic dolls at school and hadn't ejaculated for three or four months. My heart burned with rage, and my eyes glazed over when I looked at my mother. I couldn't hold back any longer. Before my mother could even lock the door after entering the restroom, I suddenly blocked the door and forced my way in. My mother looked at me with surprise and asked, "What are you doing?"

I pleaded with a pained expression, "Mom, I'm dying to hold it in. Can you help me?"

My mother asked curiously, "Help with what?"

"Ejaculate," I said bluntly.

My mother said, "You stand there, let me go first."

My mother worked in a hospital and had seen many injured people beaten up during the "Destroy the Four Olds" campaign because of similar sexual harassment. For example, a pretty female passenger on a crowded bus had her penis pressed against her buttocks, and someone ejaculated all over her pants. The Red Guards on the bus grabbed the man who had ejaculated and beat him half to death. The police from the local station arrived and took him to the hospital, but he died despite their efforts.

This was just like the time I forcibly ejaculated on my mother's buttocks. Luckily it was my mother. If it had been someone else on the bus, they would have been beaten to death long ago.

My mother seemed afraid her son would suffer the same fate. After relieving herself, she pulled up her pants and made me take them off and sit on the toilet. As soon as I sat on the toilet seat, I felt the lingering warmth of my mother's buttocks. It felt so good! My mother washed her hands at the sink, lathered them with soap, and like a nurse in an operating room, she knelt down in front of me, grabbed my erect penis, and started washing it.

My penis felt incredibly good in my mother's hands. She rubbed my penis with her soapy right hand. Similarly, she rubbed my scrotum with her soapy left hand, massaging my testicles like an old man playing with two walnuts or an iron ball. The tingling sensation on my penis in my mother's hand shot straight to my fontanelle. I was panting heavily, and soon I ejaculated into my mother's hand. As soon as she felt me ejaculate, she stopped rubbing and just gripped my penis tightly.

After I finished, she let go and stood up to wash her hands. I wiped my penis clean and put on my pants. My mother washed her hands, said nothing, and went straight out. When I came out of the bathroom, I saw my mother sitting on the sofa, so I sat down next to her and said, "Thank you, Mom."

My mother moved her buttocks a little further away and said, "You must remember, you must never have any thoughts about other girls, and you must never touch them. This is not a joke. Several people have already died in our hospital. This is a matter of life and death!" I nodded in horror.

7. My father was beaten to death

One day I came home from school and saw a big poster on the door with the title "Down with my father, the big hooligan." The content said that my father "played" with the vaginas of several to dozens of women who had just given birth every day and "molested" them by sticking his fingers inside. I was terrified when I saw it. The Cultural Revolution finally reached our family. My father came home late one evening, looking dejected. He had just been criticized and denounced at work.

This terrifying period only lasted a week. One day, as soon as I got home, a neighbor told me that something had happened to my father and that I should rush to the hospital.

When I arrived at the emergency room, the nurses all recognized me and told me to rush to the resuscitation room. My father was lying on the operating table, his head wrapped in bandages, blood seeping out; he had already passed away. My mother and the other nurses at the hospital were busy around him. My mother, afraid of frightening me, let me see my father briefly and then told me to go home, instructing me not to show any reaction and to control my emotions. No matter who asked me anything, I was told to say I didn't know. I looked at my father's body with lingering reluctance, slowly leaving the resuscitation room.

My mother didn't come home that night. I waited at home all day the next day. My mother finally returned in the evening, ate a few bites of food, said, "Your father will be cremated tomorrow," and went to sleep. I stayed up in fear until the early hours of the morning before finally falling asleep.

On the third day, my mother and I borrowed a flatbed tricycle and went to the hospital morgue to carry my father's body. My mother sat beside him. I pedaled for two hours to reach the crematorium. My mother and I didn't say a word the whole way.

We took my father's body to the crematorium. My mother told them not to keep his ashes. I was shocked, but Mom wouldn't let me speak, so I left. Back home, I looked at Mom, puzzled: what had happened? Dad was suddenly gone.

After dinner, Mom and I each took a shower. I finished first and went back to my room to get into bed. Mom finished showering, but instead of going to her room, she came to mine, told me to tuck myself in, and then pulled back my blanket and came in.

Only then did I ask Mom how Dad died. Mom told me that two temporary workers who worked at the boiler room came with sticks to teach Dad a lesson, calling him a "landlord's son, a bourgeois reactionary academic authority," cursing him: "You womanizing scoundrel! I'm a poor peasant, I can't even afford a wife, I've never even smelled a woman's scent. You, a male doctor, what right do you have to touch so many women's cunts every day…" Dad initially didn't resist

and silently waited for the criticism, but unexpectedly, the two workers, amidst their vicious curses, raised their sticks and smashed them directly on Dad's head. In just a few blows, Dad's head was bleeding profusely, and he collapsed to the ground, unable to get up. Hearing the shouting and cursing outside, Mom rushed out to save Dad, but it was too late. The two workers, seeing someone was about to die, walked away cursing. Mom picked up Dad and rushed to the hospital, but she was too weak and collapsed after only a few steps. Luckily, the neighbors helped, and they managed to get Dad to the emergency room, but it was too late. Dad stopped breathing halfway there, his pupils dilated.

Hearing this, I was furious and immediately got up to find a knife for revenge. Mom grabbed me, preventing me from getting up. My eyes were blazing with anger, I was panting heavily, unable to utter a word.

Mom waited a moment and said to me, "Hold me tight—hold me tight!" I mechanically followed her instructions and reluctantly hugged her. Mom said, "Hold me tight—hold me tight!" I hugged Mom tightly. This was the closest I'd ever been to my mother since I was old enough to understand. But at that moment, my lower body shamelessly became erect. I didn't know what to do. Looking at my mother in my arms, afraid she would find out, I instinctively bent my lower body back, trying to hide it.

My mother buried her head in my chest, biting my shirt with her teeth. I felt hot tears seeping into my body. My mother burrowed tightly into my arms, silent. After a while, a low sob escaped her throat. I didn't know how to comfort her, because I was also in pain. But I am a man, and when a woman, even my mother, buried her face in my chest and cried, I couldn't control myself. From then on, I was the only man to protect my mother.

8. My Mother's Love After

my father died, we spent a few days in silence. On a weekend evening, my mother took a shower and went to her room to lie down. When she heard me leave the bathroom after my shower, she called me to her room.

Still grieving for my father, I silently went to my mother's bedside. My mother lifted the covers and let me get in. My mother let me hug her. I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly. Mom stared into my eyes and suddenly asked, "Don't you think Mom's getting old?"

"No! You're my dearest mom," I replied, puzzled.

Mom waited a moment, then asked again, "Can Mom find you a stepfather?"

"No, no! I'll never let another man into our family!" I snapped, my eyes blazing with anger, staring at Mom and demanding, "Mom~, Dad just died, how can you want to remarry?!"

Mom stared at me silently for a moment, then said, "Then~, can you kiss me?"

"Yes." I hugged Mom tighter again and kissed her on the cheek.

Mom suddenly pulled her arms away from my arms, wrapped them around my head, and pressed her cherry lips tightly against mine. I quickly opened my mouth to meet hers.

This was my first kiss! Given to my dearest mom.

Mom and I kissed tightly. We kissed and kissed for a full five minutes. I hugged Mom, turned around, and lay down, letting Mom lie on top of me. I spread my legs and clamped Mom's legs between mine. My mother's hands never left my face, nor her lips. She kissed me for another five minutes.

Then, leaning against me and looking into my eyes, she said, "From now on, you're my only family. Only the two of us are truly close."

"I know, I promise I'll never leave you, Mom," I vowed.

"Then you must promise me one thing," my mother said.

"What is it?" I asked.

"You're not allowed to seek revenge again! You absolutely cannot do anything to avenge your parents!" my mother said firmly.

"Why?! Did Dad die in vain?" I asked in surprise.

Then my mother told me about my grandfather's murder, my grandmother's hanging, and my grandparents' forced suicide after being persecuted; she told me that now it was the era of the workers and poor peasants. If I sought revenge, it would be class retribution, and I would be executed. Five people in our family have already died since your father. If you die too, where will I stand?" "

My anger was burning inside me, but I just listened blankly, without saying a word. My mother continued, 'Those two who beat your father to death were ignorant and foolish workers. You can't risk the life of my last remaining relative against them. How will I survive alone in this world?!'

Seeing that I still didn't speak, my mother broke free from my embrace, pushed up my thong, and pressed her face tightly against my chest. Hot tears streamed down her face. I couldn't bear it, so I picked her up again and kissed her tearful eyes. My mother closed her eyes. The usually strong-willed mother had become a pitiful, tearful woman.

We kissed each other for a while. Suddenly, my mother told me to take off my clothes. I took off my thong. My mother said, 'Take off the bottom too.' I then..." I took off my underpants, leaving only my underwear. Mom also took off her top, revealing her bra; she took off her underpants, revealing her panties. Then Mom hugged me tightly.

My heart fluttered, and my penis shamelessly hardened. Mom and I embraced, skin to skin, caressing each other, our mouths mingling. We kissed, touched, hugged… hugged, touched, kissed, kissed. Until we were both a little tired.

Mom's hand slipped into my underwear, grabbed my erect penis, stroked it a few times, and said, "Take off your underwear too."

I did as Mom instructed.

"Help me take off my bra."

I used my arms, which were wrapped around Mom, to unhook her bra at the back.

"Take off my panties too." "Mom continued giving instructions.

I reached down and pulled down Mom's panties until my arms couldn't reach them anymore. Then I used my feet to push them down until they were off Mom's feet. Mom and I were completely naked, skin to skin.

Mom stroked my penis, stared into my eyes and asked, "You can stop Mom from seeing men, but do you dare to have sex with Mom?"

Mother-son sex is incest. I didn't know how to answer, and just stared blankly at her.

"Dare?!" she asked me again.

"I dare!" I answered firmly, imagining the terrifying thought of a strange man walking into our home. Since my mother had taught me feudal ethics, she had the right to lift those rules.

So we stopped talking and continued to caress and kiss each other until I couldn't hold back any longer and tried to push my penis into her vagina. But I couldn't get it in no matter how many times I tried. My mother said, "Let me be on the bottom." She rolled off me and lay down beside me.

I rolled onto my mother, wrapped my arms around her body, and tried to push my penis in and out from below—but I still couldn't find the way in.

My mother told me to let go of her and lift my upper body. Then she reached out and grabbed my penis, pushing it towards her vagina. I immediately felt a warm, soft wetness. The feeling was indescribable.

After it went in, I lay on top of my mother, letting her breasts warm my chest. Although I had had wet dreams and my mother had made me ejaculate, I still didn't know what to do when it came to actually penetrating her vagina. My

mother didn't say anything, but just moved her lower body slightly. I immediately understood that it would be more comfortable to rub my penis back and forth against her vagina. I propped myself up again and did push-ups on my mother's stomach. One, two… I didn't actually count, until waves of tingling sensation rose from my penis to my fontanelle. I finally couldn't hold back any longer; my mind went blank, and my semen gushed into my mother's uterus.

My penis was still hard afterward. I lay on my mother's stomach for a few more minutes before it softened and slipped out. I rolled off my mother and lay down next to her. My mother turned to her side, rested her head on my arm, stroked my chest, and said affectionately, "As long as you don't avenge Dad, Mom will always be yours. If you avenge Dad and get shot, Mom will have no choice but to commit suicide like your grandmother. Our family, actually, is just your father's and Mom's families, and both will be extinct."

"I can't let go without revenge!" I retorted.

"You have to let go, even if you can't!" my mother said bitterly. After a while, she suddenly lay on top of me like a spoiled little girl and started sobbing. I turned to my side and hugged my mother tightly.

This was my first time!

After a passionate night of mother-son intimacy, we were both exhausted, and we fell asleep in each other's arms.

When I woke up the next day, my mother was already up and had prepared breakfast. I got dressed and sat down at the table with my mother. We looked at each other silently, without saying a word.

After breakfast, my mother reminded me, "Don't tell anyone about what happened last night."

"Of course, I know." Since my classmates learned that my father had died, they were all sympathetic, but they also wisely avoided asking about my family.

When I got home that evening, I ate, washed the dishes, and took a shower as usual. This time, my mother finished showering first and went to her room. After I finished showering, my mother called me to her room. After I went in, my mother lifted the covers and let me lie down. The second day was similar to the first. Because we had already reached a tacit understanding, we didn't talk anymore. I took off my clothes and let my mother help me take off my last pair of underwear. I helped my mother take off her last bra and panties. The process of undressing each other aroused us, and we lay down and began to have sex. What kind of incest is this? It's incest!

This time I was already quite skilled, and it didn't take long before I penetrated my mother's vagina. Because I had ejaculated the day before, I could do push-ups for much longer. Because the process was prolonged, my mother seemed increasingly excited until I ejaculated.

9. My sister's

third day was similar to the second day, then the fourth day, the fifth day... my mother gradually became more and more excited and proactive than me, and more willing to have sex. We did it for a full half month. When I was already finding it difficult to continue every day, my mother suddenly said, "Okay."

I asked, "What 'okay'?"

My mother said, "You haven't had your period this month, you might be pregnant."

I was shocked and asked nervously, "What should we do?!"

My mother said calmly, "What's there to do? Just have the baby. The reason I'm making time for you during your father's mourning period is to get pregnant with this child, so that outsiders will think it's your father's posthumous child."

"What? Mom, why do you have such a plan?" I asked in surprise.

“Our two families, your grandfather’s and your maternal grandfather’s, have already lost five people. If we don’t have more children, the family line will end when we all die,” Mom said.

“Is there any other way to continue our family line? Aren’t children born from inbreeding unhealthy?” I asked doubtfully.

“Then you’ll have to get married. What good woman can a landlord’s son like us find? If you marry a woman, she’ll bring your father-in-law’s customs into our family. Will she understand our family’s thoughts? Do you dare tell her about your father’s murder? If your father-in-law is domineering and insists that our family obey their customs and take pride in our good birth, won’t our family tradition be broken? If that happens, your mother will be all alone and will have to find a man. Do you want to see me making love with proletarians like the people who killed your father, and having children for them?”

Mom paused and continued, “The reason why offspring from inbreeding are not healthy is because the incidence of genetic diseases is higher, but it’s not 100%. Distant inbreeding can also produce children with genetic diseases, although the incidence is lower, it’s not zero. For our family, I’m willing to risk it all to have this child.”

Mom’s belly grew bigger every day, and everyone who knew her thought she was Dad’s posthumous child and showed her deep sympathy. In addition, my mother was the head nurse of the obstetrics department, and she had all the prenatal checkups available in the hospital, and everything was normal. Ten months after my father's death, my mother "carried for ten months" and gave birth to a baby girl.

Since my mother became pregnant, our sex life decreased to once a week, and after three months, we stopped completely to protect the pregnancy. I have tried more than once to recreate the pleasure of the first time I squeezed my penis against my mother's fleshy buttocks in the toilet and ejaculated wildly; I have tried to squeeze my penis against my mother's buttocks or from the front against the soft flesh of her lower abdomen in bed, but just rubbing against her flesh no longer ejaculated. If I was too full, if I wanted too much, my mother would masturbate, just like she did when she helped me wash my penis in the toilet last time. Three months before the due date, my mother and I started having sex cautiously again. We stopped for three months before and after delivery. After that, my mother and I maintained a frequency of once a week. Since my mother was the head nurse of the obstetrics department, she was the one who found the contraceptive method, and she never failed.

My daughter, whom outsiders thought was my younger sister, was someone I loved very much before she was five years old, and I helped my mother take care of her. After I turned five, my mother told me that from now on I must remain indifferent to her and no longer be affectionate with her. I asked why. My mother wouldn't tell me, only saying, "You'll know when the time comes."

Of course, during this time, my mother subtly declined a series of marriage proposals.

10. The Cultural Revolution Ended

The Cultural Revolution ended, and my father's work unit exonerated him and gave him a 300 yuan pension, asking if we had any requests. My desire for revenge remained undiminished, and I requested that the murderers be criminally prosecuted. But the work unit disagreed, saying that the murderers were all temporary workers. They had only criticized my father to improve their performance and get permanent positions. They were workers and poor peasants, acting out of momentary indignation, and their intentions were good, so they couldn't be prosecuted.

After my father's exoneration, I took the exoneration certificate to court to file a complaint. As a result, the court said that there was a document from above stating that Cultural Revolution cases were only exonerated, not prosecuted through legal channels; they would not accept the case.

The resentment deep in my heart did not dissipate at all. When I returned home that evening, my mother saw that I was in a bad mood and asked me what was wrong. I told her about the court's refusal to allow me to file a complaint. My mother said, "Don't believe their propaganda." There is no justice in this world. Give up on revenge. Let's find a way to keep the family going, don't let it die out. That

night, seeing that I was still consumed by hatred, Mom took off my underwear, then her bra and panties, and climbed on top of me. I had no desire for revenge, but my penis still stubbornly became erect. Mom straightened my penis, aligned it with her genitals, and slowly sat down. I remained silent and motionless. Mom remained on top of me the entire time until I ejaculated.

Afterwards, my mother cleaned up the mess herself, then hugged me from the side, tears streaming down her face, begging me to give up revenge: "You now have two women, you must live safely. Otherwise, what will happen to us, mother and daughter?!" I had no choice but to helplessly turn over and hug my mother, kissing her eyes. Looking at my mother, who resembled a delicate

little woman in my arms, and thinking of the hatred for my father's murder, I was truly caught in a dilemma. One day that year, I suddenly ran into my elementary school classmate who had accused me of "indecent behavior" years before. She was overjoyed to see me. After exchanging pleasantries, she asked about my marital status. I could only say I wasn't married. She asked if I had a girlfriend. Of course, I said no. She happily treated me to a meal at a restaurant; then, indirectly, asked if I would like to be friends with her. Facing this girl who had ruined my reputation and confidence from the very beginning, I thought to myself: If only I had known this would happen!

I didn't directly reject her, but simply asked about her marital status. She said she was divorced; her ex-husband was our class monitor, who later got promoted and turned his secretary into his mistress.

When she asked me again about my plans for marriage, I said I'd never had a girlfriend before. I could date someone with a romantic history, but she had to be a virgin. I couldn't imagine being intimate with a woman who had been intimate with another man. She was rejected and didn't contact me again after the breakup.

11. When the college entrance

exam was reinstated, my mother helped me with my studies. I realized that her knowledge far exceeded that of an ordinary head nurse. I applied to a university in my city so I could go home every week to be with my mother and continue to receive her help with my studies. Some girls at university showed interest in me, but I pretended not to notice and subtly avoided opportunities to be alone with them.

Actually, my mother had told me that if I liked a girl outside the university, I could go for it. She would let me go and move out with my sister. But whenever I encountered girls outside the university showing interest in me, it reminded me of the terror of being accused of "perverting" when I was little and the sweet feeling of having a crush on my mother. Plus, I worried that if I separated from my mother, she might really find me a stepfather, so I refused to move forward.

After graduating from university and getting into graduate school, I immediately became a hot commodity in the marriage market, with a constant stream of marriage proposals. Thinking about my family's childhood experiences, I tried to see if the potential partners could understand. For example, we would watch "scar literature" and movies together, and then discuss our feelings. None of them could grasp the point; so I declined them one by one: "You don't have my experiences, you can't understand my feelings, how can I spend my life with you?"—Only my mother understood me.

After graduating with my master's degree, I was caught up in the wave of people going abroad. At this time, my mother's uncle suddenly returned from abroad. He had studied abroad before the liberation. After returning, he inquired about his family's whereabouts and learned that his brother and sister-in-law had died during the land reform. He was deeply saddened, but after learning that his brother's daughter was still alive, he managed to find our family.

My mother had met this uncle when she was young, and the two talked a lot about the joys of rural life in their hometown. My mother's uncle knew that my father had died during the Cultural Revolution and that I was about to graduate with my master's degree, so he offered to help me study abroad. He guided me on how to apply and provided his own financial guarantee.

With my mother's guidance, I reviewed foreign languages and finally passed the exams, successfully receiving my acceptance letter. Before I left, my mother and I made a promise that once I established myself abroad, I would bring them over.

I endured two years of hardship abroad, received financial aid, and obtained family visit permits for my mother and sister, bringing them both over. Unexpectedly, the 1989 Tiananmen Square protests occurred, and the country I was in issued permanent residency to all Chinese passport holders to prevent them from being persecuted upon returning home. So we stayed.

After graduating, I found a job, and my mother, with her excellent midwifery skills, also found a job as a midwife at a maternity hospital. We both earned money, and my sister went to school. Abroad, people generally respect privacy and don't pry into other people's private affairs. Our life was stable, with few worries. Only my burning desire for revenge for my father remained. Whenever I felt resentful because of this, my mother would comfort me and then gently comfort me, relieving my hormonal surge.

12. My daughter is growing up

. As soon as she entered high school, my mother told me to start showing her affection. She refused everything she wanted, but left her the opportunity to beg me. Because of my indifference towards her over the past ten years, my daughter had the impression that her father was heartless. Once Mom opened up to intimacy, she suddenly discovered a mature man completely different from her past impressions. Whenever she needed to be picked up or dropped off at school, I was the one who did it; I also paid for her shopping.

In high school and college, several boys showed interest in her. But she always compared them to her father, and none of them treated her as well as he did; so none of them worked out.

After my sister graduated from college, Mom asked her if she had found a boyfriend. She said no. Mom asked what kind of boyfriend she wanted. She said she wanted someone like Dad.

By then, Mom was almost sixty; our sex life gradually cooled down. Fortunately, it wasn't hard to find porn abroad, so we started flirting by watching AVs. After watching many, we finally realized that we were still Chinese, and preferred watching Japanese porn, which featured other Asians, rather than white or black people.

One day, Mom talked to my sister. My sister came home and gave me a strange look. Afterwards, Mom told me that she had told her daughter the truth about the relationship between the three of us.

After my daughter and I gradually returned to normal... My mother talked to her again, and when she came back, the way my mother looked at me was different again.

This happened several times. My mother told me that the reason she had kept me and my daughter in a cold shoulder for over ten years was so that a loving and caring man would suddenly appear in her life when she matured. She had already told her daughter that no one interferes in other people's private lives abroad. If she could find a boyfriend abroad, that would be fine; otherwise, emotional and physical needs could be resolved at home. My younger

sister started high school abroad. After the initial culture shock, she gradually learned not to speak ill of others, not to pry into other people's private lives, and not to talk about her own private lives with outsiders. Although she was shocked when she first learned that my mother and I were mother and that she was actually my daughter, she soon became used to it and returned to normal. My daughter

didn't want to marry a black man, and white people didn't want to be friends with her. She met some international students from China, and after getting to know them, she found that they all wanted to use marriage to solve their immigration status problems. Some even conspired with their girlfriends to fake breakups to pursue her, so that after succeeding, they could get immigration status, then divorce their girlfriends and go back to their ex-lovers.

After my daughter learned the truth, she resolutely broke up with them. Heartbreak left her distraught for a long time. Her mother made her move back home as a precaution.

Her mother began to subtly hint at things. First, she left pornographic videos in her room for her to watch. Many of these were about incest between mothers and sons, or fathers and daughters. This was meant to help her open up. Then, her mother gradually encouraged me to have physical contact with her daughter. It started with kissing cheeks, rubbing cheeks together, and hugging each other's waists. This happened every day. Over time, there were no more taboos between father and daughter. Then, her mother would deliberately be affectionate with me in front of her daughter. Previously, we had always avoided being intimate with our daughter. As time went on, her daughter's feelings were aroused, and she became even more uninhibited. After cuddling and kissing me, her mother would immediately have me turn around and cuddle and kiss her daughter who was standing nearby.

Every now and then, her mother would subtly hint to her daughter that if she had any physical needs, she could ask her father for help. But at the same time, she respected her daughter's choices and never questioned her. The mother told her daughter about the family's past, the murder and forced suicide of her grandparents, and the tragic death of her father during the Cultural Revolution. She also explained why she and her daughter ended up living together: either she remarried a stranger, and she married a stranger, separating mother and son; moreover, her stepfather was a complete stranger, making it easy for him to seduce her wife at home. Or she and her daughter could have a child together, living like they did now. Which was better? Who was closer?

The mother told her daughter to decide for herself.

13. The daughter's love

. One day, the daughter hesitantly told her mother that she wanted a man. The mother was happy and let her daughter do as she pleased.

She first made her abstain from sexual activity for a month. Then, one weekend, after the family had dinner, the mother put on an adult video, and the whole family watched a scene of a mother and daughter having sex with the same man.

After watching, the mother called her daughter into the master bedroom and asked her three times, "Have you thought it through?"

The daughter answered, "I've thought it through."

Then the mother said that the three actors in the short film they had just watched were definitely not related by blood. She asked if the daughter was truly sure whether she would be willing to watch people who are actually related by blood have sex, specifically whether she would be willing to watch her father and mother make love.

The daughter was already aroused, but still curious about what the intimacy between her real mother and her biological son was like. So she said she was willing to watch her parents have sex first.

We closed the doors and windows tightly and drew the curtains. The mother took off her clothes, and then had the daughter and me take our clothes off too. Then the mother and I started having sex. After a series of affectionate actions, I penetrated the mother's vagina; I worked hard for about ten minutes, finally ejaculating.

After we finished, the daughter next to us was blushing. The mother told me to go take a shower first, and she talked to the daughter to calm her down. After I finished showering and returned to the bedroom, the mother gave me a piece of Viagra to eat. We rested together for an hour, and as the drug took effect, my penis gradually became erect. My mother took my daughter's slender hand and placed it on my penis, asking her to masturbate. My daughter wasn't very good at it and didn't know what to do.

My mother said it was okay; she pulled my daughter up and had her sit on my lap. All three of us were completely naked. As soon as my daughter sat down, her eyes became glazed, half-open and half-closed, her whole body limp against me. Her hand was still masturbating my penis, but it was getting slower and slower, and her hand was getting weaker and weaker.

After a while, my mother said it was okay. She helped my daughter lie down on the bed, spread her legs, and then had me lie on top of her. My mother repeatedly told me, "Be gentle, be very gentle."

I carefully supported myself on either side of my daughter's body, and used my erect penis to explore my daughter's genitals. My daughter's eyes were glazed, she didn't move, and didn't respond. Seeing this, my mother reached out and took my penis, aimed it at my daughter's genitals, and then said, "Okay."

I thrust in and it slid in. My mother and I have been intimate for over twenty years, and my mother's genitals have gradually aged. It was my first time entering a young girl's body, and it felt incredibly novel.

I thrust into my sister, but because I had just ejaculated on my mother, it wasn't easy for me to reach orgasm immediately. But my daughter was too tender, and I didn't want to be too rough. So I slowly and deliberately did push-ups. My daughter's genitals became increasingly wet, and suddenly she opened her eyes, overwhelmed by the pleasure, and lifted herself up, hugging me tightly as she leaned back, pulling me onto her. I immediately understood her desire and quickened my thrusts.

My mother watched from the side, occasionally reaching down to touch the point where my daughter and I were joined, checking if my penis had slipped out so she could help us put it back in. When my penis was inside one woman's vagina, and another woman's hand was touching it, it felt doubly pleasurable. Soon after, I ejaculated.

My mother cleaned up the mess, rearranged the bed, had me lie in the middle, and lay on one side, with my sister on the other. I stretched out my arms, one arm around my mother, the other around my daughter. And so I fell asleep.

The next day, my mother woke up first, made breakfast, and called us to get up and eat together. Then we all went to work together.

When we got home for dinner that evening, Mom asked her daughter if she had enjoyed the night before. The daughter nodded shyly. Mom asked if her sexual needs were strong. The daughter said, "So-so.

" Mom said, "You're newlyweds, it's normal to be a little more eager at the beginning. For the next month, Mom will sleep in your room, you and Dad can do whatever you want. I won't 'monitor' you anymore."

From then on, my daughter and I enjoyed our honeymoon in the master bedroom, making love almost every day.

14. After a month of living in a withdrawn family

, Mom told her daughter, "We need to rearrange our schedule. I know your dad's sexual ability is only once a week. And you have to work, you can't expend too much energy on this. From now on, the frequency of your intimacy will have to decrease. And Mom also needs to be intimate with Dad, you need to give Mom some time too." The daughter nodded in agreement.

From then on, Mom arranged the sex cycle for my daughter and me. Normally, my daughter works during the day and sleeps in her own room at night. Mom and I sleep in the master bedroom. On weekends, Mom arranges for my daughter and me to sleep in the master bedroom together. She stays temporarily in my daughter's room.

My daughter chose her undergraduate major herself, but she had trouble finding a job after graduation. Her mother encouraged her to take the postgraduate entrance exam and switch to obstetrics and gynecology. Her mother said that women's physiology is much more complex than men's. As a woman, one should thoroughly understand one's own body in order to calmly cope with various physiological changes throughout life.

My daughter discovered she was pregnant just as she was preparing for her internship after completing her studies. Using all the knowledge she had acquired, she determined it was a boy. My mother and I were overjoyed.

Just then, my mother's uncle passed away. After my mother came abroad, she visited her uncle every year according to the customs of her hometown. Every Spring Festival, she sent him a greeting card and provided timely and accurate advice when his granddaughter-in-law gave birth. Her uncle thought this niece was very good, and on his deathbed, he divided his inheritance into several parts, one of which went to my mother. My mother sold her original house and used the money to buy a larger one.

After my daughter became pregnant, she had all the prenatal checkups on time, confirming that the child had no genetic diseases. My mother, being a veteran head nurse in obstetrics, was an expert. My daughter gave birth to a baby boy after nine months of pregnancy; everything was normal.

15. My mother retired

. My mother retired. My mother manages the household chores, while my daughter and I go to work to earn money. My youngest son is growing up in a good environment with good nutrition, and we are getting older. I spend less and less time with my mother and more and more time with my daughter. But I still prefer to be with my mother. After all, my mother is my first love; I had a crush on her for so long, and the feelings are deep.

My mother is finding it increasingly difficult to get aroused. Once, when I was trying to penetrate her, she kept crying out in pain and couldn't open up. I finally mustered up my courage and imitated the actions in adult films. I suddenly burrowed under the covers, crawled between my mother's legs, spread her thighs, and started licking her vulva with my tongue. Just as I started licking from the vaginal opening to her clitoris, I suddenly felt my mother's body tremble. I knew she was aroused, so I continued to lick faster.

My mother said between trembling lips, "Stop licking, it's too dirty!"

"It's not dirty, I love licking," I replied, continuing to lick.

Mom also found it pleasurable to be licked, so she stopped stopping me and said, "Then turn your lower body around so I can lick yours too."

I turned around and brought my penis to Mom's mouth. Mom grabbed it and put it in her mouth, sucking on it. We ended up in 69, and every time I licked her clitoris, Mom would shudder, clearly finding it very stimulating. But my penis didn't feel much pleasure in Mom's mouth. Instead, when I licked along Mom's vulva, my tongue felt like it was eating sea cucumber. Mom's clitoris felt like the fleshy part of a sea cucumber.

We licked each other for a while, and Mom said, "Okay, you can go in now, turn around." I turned around again and gently inserted my erect penis into Mom's vagina, slipping it in with a sticky, sticky sensation. Incest inside Mom was very stimulating, and I carefully pushed back and forth until I ejaculated.

Later, I asked to be entered from behind. Mom agreed. But we didn't do it very often.

16. I vowed never to return to China

. When my child was a little older, our whole family went back to China. At the old hospital, we learned that the two working-class men who had killed my father had both died of old age. My revenge was now impossible. We also went back to my parents' hometown and learned that the militia captain and his wife who had killed my grandparents and married my father's child bride were also dead. China's reform and opening up brought great economic development, but human relationships had changed beyond recognition. My grandparents died because they had some money; now, corrupt officials in power are far wealthier than those who were killed. In the past, the rich were reasonable, and the poor were unreasonable. Or rather, being reasonable meant having money; being unreasonable meant no one wanted to do business with you, so you had no money.

Now, under the rule of the Communist Party, the less reasonable you are, the richer you become. The more reasonable you are, the poorer you become. It's truly a "world turned upside down." Because of the reform and opening up, everything is about money. Although we have money, human relationships have become colder, everyone lies, traps are everywhere, and it's impossible to guard against them all.

After returning abroad, we vowed never to go back to China. Even if China made a fortune, it couldn't change its political bandit nature.

17. Memories of the Past

We lived our lives day after day. I alternated making love between my mother and daughter. We often talked about the past after dinner.

I asked my mother, "If Dad hadn't died, would you have given yourself to me?"

My mother firmly said, "Absolutely not! I only love your father. After your father died, my love shifted from half to half to myself, and also to you, who he loved most. Especially for the continuation of our family, I had to hurry up and get pregnant to create the illusion of a posthumous child so that we could deceive everyone."

I asked, "Does Dad know about me forcibly rubbing my semen onto Mom's buttocks and later when Mom helped me masturbate?"

Mom said, "Yes, I didn't hide it from him."

Isn't Dad angry?

"He was also surprised when he heard it. But we're all sons of landlords, we can't get angry or lose our temper. Otherwise, it would be taking out our anger on the children and venting our dissatisfaction with reality. Your dad thought about it all night, and the next day he said to me: 'The child is mature now, if he holds it in and something happens, it will be even worse. If you can help, then help. Just don't go too far.'"

"What Dad meant by 'going too far' was incest between mother and son, right?" I asked.

"Probably." My mother paused and said, "That perverted man who was beaten to death by the Red Guards, who took advantage of a female passenger on the bus and ejaculated on her buttocks, must have had nowhere to vent, he had been holding it in for too long, and he couldn't hold it in anymore. If his mother could help him release his pent-up desire, why would he have to do such a suicidal thing outside? Sex is a physiological instinct, and while it's immoral to express it excessively, it doesn't warrant beating someone to death. And if the mothers of the young Red Guards who beat him could help them release their pent-up desire, they wouldn't have been so brutal in beating a living person to death."

I asked my mother what she thought of the feudal ethics she had personally taught me. My mother said that ethics are man-made barriers to prevent promiscuity from leading to love triangles, murders, and disruption of social order. Incest is different from murder; it's not an inherent sin. The real problem is that incestuous relationships can easily result in children with genetic diseases. In ancient times, lacking scientific understanding, ethics were established, and those who dared to violate them were executed without exception; this was sometimes inhumane. Love and sex between people are purely psychological and physiological. Incest is a social taboo and doesn't harm the body. If one is open-minded, it won't harm the mind either. Sex with relatives and sex with outsiders are physiologically the same; just like marital relations and prostitution are no different; it's just one hygienic and the other unhygienic.

I then asked my mother why I had to be distant from my daughter for over ten years.

My mother explained that a son's love for his mother is an innate Oedipus complex, and it's easy to overcome if the mother is willing. But women's psychology is complex; more women commit suicide after a breakup than men. She couldn't let her daughter suddenly experience the novelty of her father's kindness when she was just maturing; it would be difficult for her to develop love for him. That's why I told you to ignore her for over a decade, and then rekindle your relationship so your daughter would develop feelings for me.

I asked my mother, "Both men and women want to possess each other exclusively. I only gained my mother's exclusive control after my father passed away. Doesn't my mother want to possess me and feel jealous of her daughter?"

My mother said, “Hugo wrote *Les Misérables*, and we are a tragic family; so many people died for no reason. The fear imposed on us by the outside world suffocated our family, further strengthening the bond of kinship among family members. Besides, there's a nearly twenty-year age gap between you and me, and between you and her. There's a thirty-year age gap between her and me; and she's also my daughter, born after you. As a mother, I love her more. I love her enough, how could I be jealous? Actually, if you just think of sex as a part of life, like eating, and don't elevate it to something lofty and sacred, there won't be much shame or jealousy. Are you shy when you eat? Do you want to monopolize the food on the table and not share it with your family? Would you be willing to share with a stranger who might have hepatitis?”

I once suggested that the three of us sleep together and have sex, but my mother flatly refused. She said that watching others have sex would arouse her and affect the emotions of the two people having sex. So only two people should concentrate on having sex together. The third person should do their own thing and not watch.

I asked, "Then why were the three of us together on our first night together?"

Mom said, "It was her wedding night. She had no experience, so I wanted to guide her. After that night, I didn't bother her anymore."

Mom really knew everything. I later learned that she was taught by her maternal grandfather. Her maternal grandmother's father was a scholar from the Qing Dynasty. Her maternal grandmother was also taught by her father from a young age, and she was literate and reasonable. She and her maternal grandfather had a very good relationship. Otherwise, she wouldn't have committed suicide for him after he was executed. Mom was good at science in high school, but she preferred literature. Later, because of the loss of her family, she switched to nursing. She told me bit by bit that much of her knowledge actually came from my father's teachings. My father knew Latin, could read foreign language professional books, and was a key member of the obstetrics and gynecology department.

I asked Mom if the reason for killing my father and the big-character poster on the door saying that my father molested a pregnant woman were true.

Mom said, "It's routine for obstetricians to insert their fingers into a woman's vagina to check how dilated her cervix is and whether the baby's position is normal. Besides, Mom is always present when Dad touches a woman's vagina, along with a group of nurses. How could there be any molestation or promiscuity? Women are beautiful when they're having sex; but during labor, they're all overweight, with large breasts, thick waists, and stretch marks on their faces. Most are obese, their faces are fleshy, and their navels and genitals are bulging outwards from the baby's growth; there's no beauty in that. Who would love a woman in labor? The only reason I only had you was because your father and I, two orphans, were determined to have a descendant. Seeing those screaming women in labor every day, I absolutely didn't want to lie among them and go through childbirth again. Later, your father died, and for the sake of our family's continuation, I had your sister."

To prevent family members from being attracted to outsiders, Mom stipulated that they absolutely could not discuss family, ethics, love, or sex with outsiders, regardless of whether it involved them personally. These topics could only be discussed at home with relatives. To outsiders, our family members are considered very well-mannered; they never utter a single inappropriate word.

The family rule is that no one is allowed to use vulgar language like "penis," "fuck," or "cunt" at home. Violators are locked up for a month and deprived of any affection from others; however, this doesn't apply during sexual intercourse. When I want my mother in bed, I'll whine to her, "Mom~, my penis is hard, I want to fuck Mom's cunt, okay?" My mother is willing to listen, as it stimulates her desire; but she never says it aloud. I never say such vulgar things to my sister, after all, I am her father. This rule is actually for boys. Girls don't have this bad habit.

Once I told my mother that the Qing Dynasty scholar Ji Xiaolan said, "Those who gave me life are not lewd, those I gave birth to are not lewd, all others can be lewd." Our family violates these two most taboo principles.

My mother said that our family is the opposite: "Those who gave me life are lewd, those I gave birth to are lewd, all others cannot be lewd." Why can't a person use the child they themselves "lewdly" created? Yet they insist on offering themselves up to outsiders for "adultery," with unpredictable consequences. "A wife I marry is like a horse I buy; I can ride her as I please." "A married daughter is like water spilled from a cup." Many women in ancient times died within a few years of marriage. Their families, having received the dowry, had no way of finding out the cause of death. Of course, it's best to truly love someone outside the marriage; but how often does that happen? And even normal marriages only have a seven-year itch; once that's over, no matter how good things were before, the couple lives in constant fear of infidelity—isn't that exhausting?

Now, like in other countries, China has a divorce rate as high as 50%. Of those who don't divorce, more than half are just making do. Of the relatively better half, more than half are simply clueless and following trends. Subtracting these "more than half" and "more than half" again, marriages truly like your grandparents' suicide together, or your maternal grandmother's double suicide for your maternal grandfather, are extremely rare. Where can you find such a marriage? As someone from a family that is considered an outcast by the landlord class in China and an alien race abroad, the chances of such an encounter are simply nonexistent. Therefore, it's better not to even consider it; instead, transforming familial affection into romantic love provides a stronger emotional foundation.

Incestuous relationships, if kept private and without children, will not have any impact on society. Only having children increases the incidence of genetic diseases. With today's advanced medical technology, rigorous prenatal testing can significantly reduce the risks. If an embryo with a genetic disease is detected, an abortion can be performed; only embryos without genetic diseases are born.

Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law are natural enemies, and incestuous relationships between mother and son won't lead to "forgetting one's mother after marrying a wife"; because the wife is the mother. In single-parent families with multiple children, each child has their own mother in different places, leading to jealousy and rivalry, which can easily be exposed. Single-parent families like ours with only one child don't have

this problem. My mother worked as a midwife for over forty years, which, at 300 days a year, amounts to over 12,000 working days. Roughly estimating ten births a day, that's 120,000 births. She's long since seen through the nature of sex.

18. The continuation of an autistic family:

My son is growing up. I asked my mother what to do about his marriage. She said, "This child grew up entirely abroad and knows nothing about China. It's not easy for him to go against the common values of his peers and have sex with his mother. We'll see when the time comes. In short, we need to see if he keeps quiet. It's never good if he talks about it outside." But whether it's a Chinese child or a foreign child, the Oedipus complex is the same. As long as the mother is willing, the son is usually willing too; but it can't be forced. If he goes out and finds women, we can't stop him. But when he's in middle school, we need to talk to him about the risks of finding girls outside: first, the competition for love; second, hygiene. A girl who's willing to sleep with you casually can also sleep with others casually. Wouldn't you feel disgusted having sex with a girl who's just had sex with another man, with semen still inside her vagina? If he can't suppress his desire for women, he can go to his mother. But once he has a relationship with his mother, we need to make it clear that if he finds women outside, he must completely sever ties with her; otherwise, his mother will be disgusted. The young boy, unable to sever ties with his mother and with a place to release his desires, will be too lazy to take the risks outside.

Later, things unfolded exactly as his mother predicted. Since her son had a relationship with her, she stipulated that he could only get what he wanted if he got good grades. This became a reward to motivate him to study. Girls at school flirted with him and kept him hooked, asking him to buy things. Just one time was enough to instill in him a fear of dating outside girls. From then on, he stayed home and only had intimacy with his mother.

Soon after, my sister became pregnant again with her son. Of course, thanks to the most advanced prenatal care, she gave birth to a baby girl. My mother told my sister that when this girl grew up, she should marry her father. We are an endogamy; we won't register with the government or have a wedding ceremony.

Our family will never separate, and we will never bring in outsiders; we will maintain the purity of our family lineage and traditions. After several children were born following rigorous prenatal checkups, we gradually learned about the excellence of our family genes; none of them had any hereditary diseases. In this way, everyone in our family has two spouses. The men have their mother and daughter. The women have their father and son. Because we have two spouses, there's always a backup if one is unavailable, so we've never had to resort to having extramarital affairs. Whenever I travel for work, either my mother or my sister accompanies me, so I'm never lonely, even when I'm away.

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/205213.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=205213&aspx=1

Previous Page : The Tragedy of Mature Women [Part 2]

Next Page : Green Mother Exchange Meeting

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

Tragic Mother: The Continuation of an Autistic Family

comment Open a new window to view comments