Beautiful Mom

"Yang Yang, what time is it? Get up! Hurry up! You'll be late if you don't get up soon!"
I put the soy milk and fried dough sticks I just bought on the dining table, knocked on my son's bedroom door, and urged him to get up quickly. This kid is really something!
He's almost 18 years old, and I still have to urge him to get up every day. He's such a worry.
"I know! What time is it!"
my son asked impatiently from his room.
"It's almost 6:30! If you don't get up soon, you'll be really late for school!"
I set out the breakfast and went to my bedroom to wake up my husband, who was still fast asleep: "Old Yang! Get up quickly too! Aren't you taking the train to Nanjing this morning? Get up quickly!"
"Hmm...hmm..."
my husband opened his sleepy eyes and hummed a couple of times. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand, pulled me down next to him, and started hugging me and kissing me passionately.
"Stop it! What if the child sees this again! I hate it!"
I struggled in his arms, whining and kissing him a few times before breaking free from his hand that was trying to lift my skirt. I stood up and got out of bed, straightening my wrinkled suit dress as I complained, "You're so annoying! Weren't you done last night? It's so early in the morning, our son's already up. What will he think if he sees this! Get up and eat!"
My husband smiled but didn't say anything. He started getting dressed and washing up. When he finished, he saw that our son's bedroom door was still closed and got a little impatient. He knocked hard on our son's door, "Yang Yang! Aren't you getting up? How many times has your mother called you? If you don't get up, you're not going to school! Do you hear me? Get up now!"
"Okay! So annoying, can't I even sleep a little longer?"
Our son muttered softly as he got dressed and opened the door. My husband and I felt a little sorry for our son, seeing his distressed expression. Next year he'll be taking the college entrance exam, and the immense pressure of studying leaves him with virtually no time to play. He often doesn't get enough sleep, and seeing him so listless every day worries us about his health.
But there's nothing we can do; he still has to go to school, and he has to take the college entrance exam. All we parents can do is try to meet his material needs to find some comfort.
After washing up, the three of us gathered at the table for breakfast.
"Here's your allowance for this week!"
I took out 100 yuan and handed it to my son.
While drinking soy milk, he took the money and asked my husband, "Dad! How many days are you going on this business trip?"
"Three or four days if it's quick, a week if it's slow. Listen to your mother at home, and don't talk back, okay?"
my husband sternly admonished our son.
"You always say that when you go on business trips, as if I'm so disobedient! Alright! Go ahead and relax!"
my son retorted, wiping the oil off his hands with a tissue.
"You're going to listen? If you were obedient, would your father need to remind you every time?"
I saw that the father and son had finished eating, so I started clearing the table. I do all the housework every day; they're used to it and don't help. My son goes to get his schoolbag, my husband turns on the TV to watch the morning news, and by the time I'm done, it's time for me to go to work.
My name is Wang Yan, I'm 40 years old, and I work at a bank. This morning was no different from any other. My marriage has been like this for over ten years. At home, I'm a typical virtuous wife and loving mother; at the bank, I'm the most honest and dutiful employee, somewhat weak-willed and lacking in assertiveness.
My husband, Lao Yang, however, has a fiery temper, is decisive, and I always feel very safe with him. He's a salesman for a construction company and often travels for work. At first, I wasn't used to it, but after so many years, I've gotten used to it.
My son, Yangyang, is in high school. When he was little, his personality was a lot like mine—a bit timid. My husband often got angry with him because of this, feeling he lacked manliness. Every time my husband glared at him, he was too scared to speak. But as he's gotten older and entered his rebellious adolescence, he sometimes dares to talk back to his father. Most of the time, however, he's a well-behaved boy, just a little mischievous.
"Mom! Hurry! The bus is here!"
My son dashed towards the bus stop. Wearing high heels and a tight-fitting suit skirt, I couldn't keep up with him at all, and could only manage a hurried pace. Luckily, there were many people waiting for the bus, and although I walked slowly, I still managed to catch up with my son before the doors closed. We boarded the No. 27 bus one after the other. The
No. 27 bus runs north-south through my small city. The bank where I work and the school my son attends are both along this route, so every morning, without exception, my son and I have to leave for the bus together.
Through thick and thin for over ten years, from when my son was a docile child, I held his hand and led him to school, to now, my son is in high school, much taller than me, and reluctant to take the bus with me every day. The bus routes have changed, the buses are crowded, and the roads are terrible.
It's late spring, early summer, and the various flowers and plants planted in the city's roadside green belts are in full bloom. The warm morning breeze carries the fragrance of flowers and plants from the open windows, somewhat easing my anxiety caused by the crowded bus. The bus is like a human can, people packed tightly together.
I'm fortunate to have a window seat, where I can at least feel some cool breeze and not get too hot.
My son wasn't so lucky; he was pushed to the front by the crowd and sandwiched between two migrant workers, looking like he was struggling uncomfortably.
"Yang Yang, come here! It's spacious here, stand over here!"
Hearing my call, my son shook his shoulders and struggled out from between two migrant workers, parting the crowded throng as he walked towards me, apologizing profusely to the disgruntled people around him.
"Ouch! It's so crowded! There are so many people today! I'm all sweaty!"
Finally reaching me, I laboriously shifted back to make room for him by the window. He adjusted his backpack, grumbling as he stuck his head out the window to get some fresh air.
"Hey kid in the back! Pull your head back in! Are you crazy?!"
the bus driver yelled! Startled, my son quickly pulled his head back out of the window.
As I pulled out tissues to wipe the sweat from my son's brow, I grumbled, "Are you stupid?! The driver's driving! If you stick your head out, what if another car passes by? Your head'll fall off! This kid's always so naughty! I'll tell your dad when we get home!"
"Mom! You're so nagging!"
My son impatiently pushed away my hand wiping his sweat, turned his face to the window, and ignored me. I stood behind him, shaking my head helplessly, and put the tissues away again. Because of my son's tall frame blocking my view, the wind from the window couldn't reach me anymore, making me feel a little stuffy again.
After two stops, the road started to get rough; it was a section of road under repair. The work had been going on for several days and wasn't finished yet. The road surface was full of potholes, and the bus bounced violently as it drove over them.
I was jostled against my son, and with the crowded bus, I involuntarily pressed my breasts tightly against his back. This sudden situation made me incredibly embarrassed, but there was no way to get away; the space created by my swaying was immediately taken! I could only let my 85C breasts sway irregularly against my son's back, rising and falling with the bus's jolts.
Because it was getting warm, the bank required female employees to wear long skirts and white silk blouses, and my son had already changed into a short-sleeved t-shirt. There was very little clothing between us, and I could almost feel his body heat through my breasts.
Embarrassed, I tried to shift my position, but the people behind me were squeezing me tightly, and I couldn't move at all. Instead, this futile struggle only made my breasts rub against my son's back even more intensely.
Although my bra had padding, I could still feel a jarring sensation from the friction that made me, as a woman, very uncomfortable; my nipples were hardening… and this physiological reaction was actually being triggered by my son! The thought made my face flush slightly.
"I'm his mother! What's wrong with being so close to him? Besides, he's still young, what could he possibly be thinking?"
I reassured myself, while trying to observe my son. He was looking out the window, seemingly oblivious to my awkward situation. I let out a long sigh, inwardly scolding myself for overthinking.
But standing like this wasn't a solution! How could I, as a mother, keep rubbing my breasts against my son like this? I gritted my teeth and called to my son, "Yangyang! Come here! Let's switch places. You stand behind me; it's too crowded here. You're tall, you can block me out."
My son turned around, said "Oh," looking rather awkward, his face slightly flushed, perhaps embarrassed by the friction from his mother's body. Anyway, it took quite a bit of effort for him to switch places with me, letting me stand inside near the window while he stood behind me, holding onto the handrail.
This was much better; near the window, with no one in front of me, avoiding the suffocating feeling and the awkwardness between us. I breathed a sigh of relief.
What was that?
Just as I was enjoying the brief respite, I felt something hard suddenly pressing against my buttocks. Something was very wrong. That thing seemed to be trying to get away from me, but just like when I struggled to keep my breasts from pressing against my son, the more it struggled, the stronger the friction against my buttocks became. And what was initially just a little hard, as it pressed closer and closer to my buttocks, and with the increased friction from the bus's bumps, it seemed to be growing larger and harder, making it even harder to escape my body.
"Oh my god! It's a man's penis!"
Having been married for many years, I certainly wouldn't be as shocked as a little girl. Being plump and fairly pretty, I'd experienced being sexually harassed by lewd men on buses before.
I should have been used to it, but now I instinctively covered my gaping mouth with my hand. The owner of that penis, erect from rubbing against my buttocks, was undoubtedly my son! He was actually having a physical reaction to his mother's body on the bus! What should I do?
My breathing became rapid, and I didn't dare look back at my son. From his evasive manner, I knew he hadn't done it on purpose. Just like how his back had rubbed against my nipples, causing a slight physical reaction, how could I blame him? He's a teenager, after all; erections caused by external stimulation from a woman's body are perfectly normal, no need to make a fuss.
I thought to myself, glancing at my son behind me in the reflection of the car window. Just as I expected, his embarrassed and awkward expression was almost adorable. I felt a little embarrassed by my initial unease; I, as a mother, had overreacted. Since my son wasn't doing it on purpose and was just as embarrassed as I was, I should be understanding. If I had acted rashly, I don't know how much of a negative psychological impact it would have on him. It seemed that pretending nothing was wrong was the best option.
But having my son with an erection pressed against my buttocks was clearly more embarrassing than my previous situation. I had to find a way to change my posture. I moved forward with difficulty and turned around—and that was it! My son and I stood side by side, finally avoiding indecent contact between mother and son, and I breathed a sigh of relief. At the same time, I felt my son, sitting right next to me, seemed to relax a bit.
"It's so crowded! Mom, turn around, it's a little easier now!"
I tried to break the awkward silence by making conversation with him.
"Yeah, it's definitely a bit more spacious..."
my son replied, head down, and another awkward silence ensued.
Clearly, he was feeling embarrassed too.
Finally, the bus arrived at the bank stop! I told my son, "Come home early after school tonight! Don't play around."
Turning around and getting off the bus, I noticed a slightly strange look in my son's eyes, but I didn't think much of it and hurried towards the bank.

Chapter 2:
No job is more tedious than being a bank teller. Every day, facing long queues and processing hundreds of transactions, with no room for error in the accounts, the pressure is immense. And today's workload was exceptionally high; even I, a veteran employee of over ten years, felt overwhelmed. The stuffy air in the bank quickly turned me into a sweaty mess. I couldn't wait to get off work, take a hot shower, and relax.
Finally, after checking the last account, I was overjoyed to be off work, only to find it was rush hour. I had to squeeze onto a crowded bus to get home, and by the time I was almost there, I was exhausted and drenched in sweat. I really didn't want to cook anything complicated today, so I just bought two pounds of noodles at the main kitchen on my way home, thinking I'd make do with a simple meal for my son.
"So tired!"
I wearily tossed my bag aside, sat on the sofa, and unbuttoned my shirt to cool off. A cool breeze caressed my delicate breasts, encased in a flesh-colored bra, and I felt a wave of comfort. I sipped water while keeping an eye on the wall clock to keep track of time.
"It's six o'clock now, and my son won't be home until seven. I'll take a shower first. After I'm done, I'll make him his favorite braised noodles. By then, he should be home, and we can eat right when he walks in."
I secretly planned. As a wife and mother, I revolve around my husband and son like the earth revolves around the sun. Everything I do must consider them first, then myself. No wonder, they are the people I love most!
After making up my mind, I changed into slippers and started taking off my clothes.
I took off my shirt and uniform skirt and threw them in the washing machine to wash after dinner. I carried my stockings, bra, and underwear into the bathroom. I planned to wash my underwear while showering, a habit I've developed over the years. Underwear should be hand-washed with soap so it's drier when worn.
I first soaked the underwear in warm water in the washbasin. Then I turned on the water heater and slowly enjoyed the hot bath I'd been longing for all day. I love taking hot showers. When the scalding water washes away the sweat, I feel incredibly relaxed, as if all the day's fatigue has been washed away with the sweat, and I feel refreshed.
As I lathered myself with soap, I looked at my white cotton underwear in the washbasin, secretly amused by the obvious yellow stain on the crotch.
Probably because he was going on a business trip, my husband and I had sex three times last night. That jerk not only exhausted me, but he also used up all the tissues to wipe his cum without even going to the storage room. He just used my underwear to wipe his penis. This morning, I was still half asleep and didn't think to change my underwear, so I went to work all day wearing this dirty thing. I only discovered it when I went to the toilet during my lunch break. It was disgusting.
Thinking about it, my face flushed. My husband and I aren't young anymore, so why are we still so eager for sex? I rinsed off the soap and looked down at my body. Although I am forty years old, my skin is still fair and delicate, my breasts are still full and high without any signs of sagging, and my legs are still long. However, my nipples and areolas are no longer as pink as a young girl's, but have turned a mature dark brown.
My lower abdomen is slightly protruding, so my waist doesn't seem as slender as before. Especially the irreparable scar from my C-section, which I still find hard to look at, but overall I don't feel bad about myself. Plus, I'm quite confident in my appearance, which easily explains why my husband is always so sexually aroused after undressing me.
But what about my husband?
Thinking of him makes me sigh.
He's very good to me, and he's my most important support. Our love is obvious to everyone.
There's just one small flaw that people have been making fun of since we started dating. Although it didn't become an obstacle to our relationship, and we eventually got married and had children, and after marriage I became his wife whom he can't live without, this small flaw still lingers in my heart to some extent.
My husband is a bit ugly! Not terribly ugly, but at least when we go out together, it has drawn comments like "a beautiful flower stuck in cow dung." Sometimes when I compare my appearance with my husband's, I realize there's a reason why people don't think we're a good match in terms of looks.
First, there's the height difference. I'm 1.65 meters tall, which is considered quite tall for a woman, while my husband is a measly 1.6 meters. I'm taller than him even without heels. Second, my husband is dark-skinned, while I'm fair-skinned. I was naturally dark-skinned, and because of my husband's years of work in construction, his tan is beyond imagination. Every time we make love, I often think of an American porn movie we used to secretly watch together, a scene where a black man violently fucks a white woman, which often makes me inexplicably laugh out loud while we're having sex.
Finally, there's his appearance. My husband comes from the countryside and wasn't good-looking to begin with. In recent years, because he's earned more money and eats better, he's gained weight, almost reaching 220 pounds. You can imagine how disgusting a woman would feel if a dark, fat, ugly man were in heat. Add to that his rough nature, ingrained by his work and background, and sleeping with him is a nightmare.
Of course, compared to his love and care for me, these are minor issues. I chose to marry him because I valued his reliability and diligence more; compared to inner qualities, these outward appearances are insignificant. These are just some minor complaints I made when I was lonely at home alone.
Similarly, even though seeing him naked is like a nightmare, I still can't bear to give up having sex with him. My husband's performance in bed, like everything else, cannot be judged by his appearance. I do dislike seeing his ugly body and his face, which becomes even uglier due to his contortions during sex, but he seems to have an extraordinary talent for satisfying women.
I'm a naturally sensitive woman, and in all the time we've been married, he's almost always brought me to the peak of pleasure during our intimate moments. I've lost count of how many times I've fainted from pleasure during sex, which is a hidden reason why I'm so attached to him. However, as I've gotten older, I've come to enjoy the pleasure he brings me with my eyes closed, while fantasizing that a handsome young man from a movie is riding on top of me.
Of course, I only have these thoughts of infidelity when I'm having sex with my husband, due to the intense physical pleasure and the stark contrast with reality. Normally, I'm an extremely conservative and virtuous wife and mother. In real life, I've never had any improper thoughts about men other than my husband. Not even a fleeting thought.
Every time I shower, when my hands brush against my sensitive areas, I always have these wild thoughts about intimate things between husband and wife. Today was no exception. I didn't realize I'd been showering for a long time until the water from the water heater cooled down.
I quickly turned off the shower, dried myself with a towel, and squatted down to wash my underwear. The semen stains my husband left on my underwear were hard to remove; I had to use soap twice to clean my underwear and stockings.
After washing, I carried the washbasin out of the bathroom. Since no one was home, and we live on the top floor, I confidently went to the balcony to hang my underwear to dry. Although I knew the building across the street couldn't see our apartment, I still tried to hang the clothes up as quickly as possible. Standing naked on the balcony hanging clothes made me feel a little guilty.
I quickly hung up my underwear and was about to rush back to the bedroom to change into clean clothes to cook for my son when the door opened and he came home.
I froze, startled. He casually closed the door and headed towards the living room, his eyes meeting mine, and he was momentarily stunned.
Worse still, because I was so startled by his sudden return, I hadn't thought to cover my private parts with my hands, nor had I turned around in time, exposing all my feminine privacy to him.
"Ah!"
After a moment of stunned silence, I finally reacted, quickly squeezing my legs together, covering my private parts with my hands, and turning away. My son let out a startled cry and fled into his room.
I was left alone in the living room, my face flushed and completely at a loss.
"Mom, what are you doing? Why aren't you in your room? How am I supposed to go to the living room?"
my son called out from his room, clearly annoyed. "Even if no one's home, don't you know to wrap yourself in a towel after your shower?"
He sounded as if I'd done something wrong.
My face flushed as he berated me through the door. Ashamed, I didn't know what to say, so I went back to my own bedroom to find some clean underwear and a dress to put on.
After changing, I called out to my son's room, "Come out! Mom's changed."
Then I started preparing noodles.
When my son came out, he didn't say anything, just turned on the TV and waited for dinner. I glanced at him and noticed he was also secretly looking at me, seeming extremely uncomfortable. Wanting to comfort him, I adopted a motherly demeanor, pretending to be nonchalant, and said, "Why are you so nervous? You're my child, we're mother and son, what's there to be embarrassed about? Okay, Mommy will be more careful next time. You rest for a while, and Mommy will make you dinner. I'll make your favorite braised noodles, okay?"
My son nodded noncommittally, without saying anything. His handsome little face was rosy, very cute. Thankfully, my son looks more like me—fair-skinned, tall, and handsome, a real catch. This is one reason why my husband and I dote on him so much. It's just that he's so introverted. My husband and I are busy with work and rarely really communicate with him, so he's always been well-behaved yet reserved in our presence, always seeming somewhat distant.
Oh well, it's all in the past now. Just like I comforted my son, he's my own son, what's the big deal about his mother being seen naked once? Besides, my child had always bathed with me until he was five. Although he's grown into a young man, he's still the son I used to bathe with! Why should I be nervous?
I reassured myself as I quickly prepared dinner. During that dinner, my son and I barely spoke.
Although I tried to hide it, a vague shadow remained between us.

Chapter 3:
After dinner, my son locked himself in his bedroom, diligently studying, leaving me bored and sitting alone on the sofa in the living room, watching my favorite show with the remote: a boring South Korean idol drama!
The plot was nothing more than a typical Cinderella and Prince Charming story. The drama itself held no appeal for me. The only reason I watched this utterly boring drama so intently was because the male lead was incredibly handsome!
Perhaps because my husband's personality and appearance were so ugly and vulgar... Our marriage was a far cry from the ideal union of a handsome man and a beautiful woman that I had often fantasized about in my youth. Therefore, I have always harbored some regret in my heart. Although this regret is unrelated to our marital relationship and life after marriage, it has always made me feel a kind of underlying restlessness: whenever I see a handsome and well-behaved man, I feel an inexplicable impulse.
This subconscious impulse perhaps confirms the old saying, "Young girls don't yearn for love."
As the years have passed, the once-year-old girl has now entered middle age and is already a mother. Logically, that restless feeling should have been submerged in the mundane routine of daily life, but quite the opposite is true. With age and the intensity and frequency of my marital sex life, the initial shyness unique to me as a young girl has indeed vanished, replaced by a middle-aged woman's fascination with carnal desires.
This complete change from naivety to repressed lust is ultimately due to my sexually voracious and physically strong husband. It is his superior performance in bed and his boundless energy that have given me, at an age when women are at their most sexually active, complete satisfaction in terms of pure lust.
I don't lack physical needs.
But psychological satisfaction is another matter entirely.
Whenever I saw my husband's dark, fat, and ugly appearance, I would comfort myself with the promise of our marital love. At times, I even deceived myself, genuinely believing that appearance didn't matter. As time passed, I gradually adapted to his ugly face and began to accept it as part of my life.
This at least meant accepting my husband's appearance.
But it was merely a matter of no longer rejecting him.
My inner longing for handsome and well-behaved men didn't diminish despite the satisfaction of my sexual desires. Even if my husband was incredibly skilled in bed, able to bring me to multiple orgasms, I couldn't shake off this lingering regret. The stark contrast between physical satisfaction and profound inner disappointment made me incredibly melancholic.
What made me feel most guilty towards my husband was seeing him, after a passionate and intense orgasm, his fat body huddled in a ridiculous, panting position, looking so dark and ugly. I felt an extreme disgust, a disgust I knew I shouldn't feel but couldn't control, which made me feel incredibly ashamed towards him.
Unable to conceal my disgust, for a period after our marriage, I would inexplicably lash out at my husband after every sexual encounter. My loving husband would always try his best to cheer me up, which only resulted in my outward expression of joy turning into anger, and my inner guilt deepening.
As time went on, this feeling of extreme guilt towards my husband grew stronger. On one occasion, I tried another way to release my pent-up emotions: remembering the handsome male leads in movies and TV shows I'd watched, and fantasizing about them on top of me during sex, using self-deception to achieve both physical and emotional pleasure. Books call this "fantasy."
Although difficult to talk about, it was incredibly effective. Especially when we had sex with the lights off, I would fantasize that it wasn't my rough, dark-skinned husband riding me, but a handsome, fair-skinned young man. Along with the intense physical satisfaction my husband gave me, my guilty thoughts, like my physical climax, were released and brought immense relief.
In my view, emotional infidelity is harmless to a couple's sex life. The result is that after each sexual encounter, I experience double pleasure, and afterwards, I present a completely different wife to my husband: gentle, alluring, and even a little seductive. My oblivious husband initially didn't notice the change in me, and when he did, he didn't find anything strange about it. He simply thought I had learned to be more romantic and was very satisfied with my lingering affection after intercourse.
At first, of course, I felt a little ashamed of my slightly perverse fantasies, and even felt a deep sense of guilt, believing that this emotional infidelity was more shameful than despising my husband's ugliness. But as time went on, I became fascinated by this ambiguous combination of mind and body, and the extraordinary sensory stimulation it produced. Considering that I hadn't hurt anyone else, and I hadn't actually done anything to betray my husband, I let go of my psychological burden.
I kept this secret deep in my heart, my greatest privacy, and never mentioned it to anyone. Gradually, I got used to it. Even when my husband wasn't home, late at night, lying in bed, I would secretly masturbate, fantasizing about having sex with handsome young men
. My husband, whom I should have been longing for, never appeared in my fantasies. Speaking of my fantasy subjects, I like young, well-behaved boys. My initial sexual fantasy object was Alec Su from the Little Tigers. But as the wrinkles on Alec Su's face gradually increased, my sexual interest in him was gradually replaced by the ever-increasing number of South Korean male stars. Although I had heard that these handsome men and beautiful women from South Korea were all the result of plastic surgery, the allure of the boys' handsome faces was simply too great. Anyway, they were just tools for my fantasies, so I didn't care about anything else.
Recently, I've fallen for the lead actor in this idol drama: a South Korean young man surnamed Zhang.
In his early twenties, he's incredibly handsome, especially his sunny smile. I've been watching this trashy idol drama for days on end just to remember his face.
On TV, the male lead takes the female lead to a beautiful forest, and after a few lines, they start kissing.
I stare at the female lead on screen, who, despite having undergone plastic surgery, looks incredibly pure and beautiful, her eyes closed as she enjoys the boy's passionate kiss, feeling a slight pang of jealousy. How I long to be the one kissing that handsome young man!
A sudden dryness grips my mouth, and the man and woman on TV blur. It's as if I'm the one being held in that young man's arms, passionately kissing him. In the dim forest, the handsome boy smiles at me. I lick my dry lips, a girlish blush rising to my cheeks. Being intimate with such a handsome young man, even in my middle age, still makes my heart flutter.
I tried to take the boy's hand and put it inside my skirt, murmuring, "Come on! Touch me! Darling!"
The boy blushed, shyly letting me put his hand inside my damp underwear, groping my genitals haphazardly, his shy expression incredibly cute!
"Ah! Keep going, keep touching me! Little guy! Don't be shy! Auntie likes you so much!"
This sexual fantasy of disciplining a young boy made me incredibly excited, as if I could really feel the handsome boy's shy expression and gentle caresses. I was so intoxicated that I lost control.
After a while, I returned to reality, watching the changing scenes on the TV. As always, it was all just a fantasy. Feeling incredibly melancholy, I couldn't help but sigh softly. Just then, my
son suddenly came out of his room, stood next to me, looked at the TV, and noticed I was watching an idol drama. He looked very engrossed and couldn't help but chuckle disdainfully.
"Mom! You're watching this movie again? It's so rubbish! South Korea just makes up some nonsensical love stories to make middle-aged women like you cry. You actually fell for it!"
My son grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the table and took a bite.
"Ugh, don't block my view of the TV. Sit down. I'm old enough to watch some dramas, it won't bother you!"
I waved my hand at my son, annoyed, to let him leave me alone. Little did he know how I felt.
"Go ahead and watch, I'm going to take a shower."
My son finished the apple in a few bites, threw the core aside, and started taking off his clothes.
Although he was very unhappy that afternoon because I had seen him naked after my shower, he never seemed to care about me. He never tried to hide his clothes from me when he showered or changed, and I was used to it. After all, he's my own flesh and blood, what's the big deal? A few years ago, before we had air conditioning, my son would wander around the house in just his underwear during summer vacation, and I never thought anything of it.
Today was no different. My son was taking a shower, and as he undressed beside me, I didn't initially notice when he tossed his clothes onto the sofa where I was sitting. But when I smelled the strong masculine scent emanating from his shorts and vest, I couldn't help but take a closer look at him.
He's a bit thin, but muscular, with fair skin inherited from me—I'm glad he didn't inherit that trait from his father. He's also very handsome, undoubtedly inheriting my good genes; they say boys resemble their mothers, and it seems that's absolutely true.
He's also inherited some of his father's physique. Although my husband always thinks our son is weak-willed and not physically strong enough, I find him to be much gentler and more considerate than him. And while his physical condition isn't as good as my husband's, it's certainly healthy for his age, especially considering he's going through puberty.
It's just that, being mother and son, I've never realized how perfectly my growing son matches the criteria of my subconscious sexual fantasies: handsome, sunny, gentle, and shy. In that instant, even the way I looked at him undressing seemed a little off.
My son, stripped down to only his briefs, seemed oblivious to his mother's slightly surprised expression. He didn't say much to me, and went into the bathroom alone in his slippers.
Watching his retreating figure, a wicked feeling I'd been indulging in resurfaced. The handsome man I'd been fantasizing about was suddenly replaced by my son's appearance.
"No! This is my son! How can I have any thoughts about him! It's so perverted!"
I tried desperately to suppress my wicked thoughts, but I kept staring at his strong back until he closed the bathroom door. My heart started pounding.
"My son is so handsome now… how come I never noticed… No! I can't think like that! Not even a thought!"
I rested my head on my hand, conflicted. Suddenly, a faint whiff of male sweat wafted into my nose. It was my son's shorts and vest. I couldn't help but stare at his shorts, a secret urge to sniff them.
"What am I thinking?"
I tried to control my impulse, my face burning. How could I, a mother, suddenly have such indescribable thoughts about my son? Was it the stimulation of his masculine scent on his clothes? Or was it the impulse left behind from being suddenly interrupted while having a sexual fantasy about a handsome boy? In any case, how could I do something so shameful!
Although I kept fighting against the evil desires that inexplicably arose in my heart, my mind suddenly flashed through all the ambiguous things that had happened today, one by one: the unspeakable embarrassment of my ample breasts pressed tightly against my son's back on the crowded bus, and the shame of my son's erect penis rubbing back and forth against my buttocks because of my physical stimulation, all intertwined silently in my heart.
The memory is incredibly stimulating now. The image of me standing naked in front of my son that evening, filled with immense shame, aroused by his scent and fueled by the burning desire I'd just witnessed while watching TV, even led me to fantasize about a more erotic scene of a man and woman facing each other. The face of the man in my fantasy gradually shifted from that surgically enhanced handsome man to my son's pretty face.
"Ah! What...what's wrong with me?"
I murmured to myself as the initial impulse subsided and my mind cooled. My face flushed red, and I realized that without realizing it, I was clutching and playing with my son's shorts.
How utterly indecent! I was now aware of this; if my son saw me in this ridiculous state, the consequences would be unimaginable! I desperately forced myself to throw his shorts aside. I stood up, tidied my disheveled hair, and tried to calm myself. But no matter what I did, the wicked thought that had suddenly arisen in my mind about my son wouldn't go away.
Even though that vague thought was only fleeting, I still felt incredibly ashamed. But the smell of sweat on my son's clothes seemed to have a magical power, making me somewhat reluctant to let go of this feeling. I couldn't help but secretly pick up his shorts again, hold them in front of me, and take a deep sniff. It was a very strong, sweaty smell, but why was it so alluring to me?
When my son came out of the bathroom, dripping wet after his shower, I sat up straight, pretending to be watching TV and ignoring him, but out of the corner of my eye, I couldn't help but glance at his strong body and handsome face. When my gaze lingered on the cute mound of flesh tightly encased in his dark blue briefs, my slightly trembling lips immediately became even drier than when I had a brief sexual fantasy, so much so that I involuntarily licked my dry upper lip.
My son didn't notice my inner impulse and the discordant behavior I was trying to conceal. He stood beside me, glanced at the boring TV show I was still watching, and muttered dismissively, "Boring!"
before turning and going back to his room.
My tense nerves finally relaxed after my son left!
I'm naturally prone to daydreaming, and after suddenly having these inexplicable lewd thoughts about my son, my heart was pounding wildly. I was terrified he'd discover my dirty secret—smelling his shorts. Luckily, he's rather careless and didn't notice anything different about where his dirty clothes were.
Now that he's in his room sleeping, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. I turned off the TV and took his dirty clothes to the bathroom with the other dirty clothes to wash tomorrow. Holding his clothes, smelling his scent, my heart churned with anxiety. I struggled to resist the urge to sniff him more closely.
This fascination with the scent of a man's body was something I'd never experienced before. The complex mix of tension, shame, and fear I felt because the object of my affections was my own son—it was like being a thief, yet also incredibly exciting. At the same time, the first time I fantasized about a handsome young man next to me, the real feeling—including his naked body and the strong smell of sweat—was far more tangible than my unrealistic fantasies about teen idols.
However, I still couldn't quite accept my inappropriate thoughts about my own son. No matter how tempting those thoughts were, we are, after all, people living in reality. The responsibilities of being a mother, a wife, and a woman's morality restrained me. This restraint, coupled with reason, plunged me into deep self-reproach after my emotions were completely under control.
The self-reproach was only temporary. As the night wore on, what followed was the loneliness and emptiness unique to middle-aged women, left alone in their empty house because their husbands were away on business.
I lost all interest in watching TV. I went back to my bedroom, closed the door, turned on the computer, and logged onto an online video website that my husband and I often watched, wanting to completely vent my inner frustration.
It was a pornographic website, offering paid online adult movies.
My husband and I are both quite open to new things, and we share the same open-minded view on sex. Therefore, to add some fun to our sex life, we secretly watched porn together back in the days of VCRs. With societal progress, VCDs and DVDs were constantly updated, and now we live in the internet age. This unhealthy habit has accompanied us from shy, naive newlyweds to our current state of raging middle-aged sexual desire.
Countless nights we've watched porn and enthusiastically imitated the actions of the men and women in the films, making love wildly. Countless nights when my husband was away on business, or during my menstrual period, one of us would masturbate alone while watching porn to relieve our cravings. These repeated nights have made porn an inescapable source of mental nourishment for me.
Perhaps it's due to my own upbringing and temperament, although I admit that deep down I might be a promiscuous woman.
In my daily interactions, no one knows the extent of my unbridled desires. Only my husband knows just how slutty I am in bed. He's happy that I take the initiative and go wild in bed, so he can enjoy a more perfect sex life.
In short, in my husband's eyes, I'm the perfect woman: a housewife at home, a lady in public, and a harlot in bed. From an outward perspective, this assessment is quite accurate. But in reality, he still hasn't grasped my true inner thoughts. The reason I act so wanton and seductive in bed is simply because I always close my eyes and fantasize about him as my ideal handsome young man.
The entire pornographic video website contains nearly ten thousand adult films of different styles; the resources are undeniably comprehensive.
My husband and I are both rather straightforward people; we only like to watch uncensored porn. We've always looked down on films with mosaic censorship, believing that censored films are more likely to be fake, lack visual stimulation, and have dragging plots; they're just more finely categorized, so we rarely watch them. But today, inexplicably, I stumbled into the uncensored porn section, cautiously searching for the category I was looking for.
Incest series! Found it!
Seeing those four words made me blush even more than if I'd actually watched porn, my heart started racing again. But I still chose a Japanese uncensored porn film with a decent-looking cover, put on the headset I'd bought specifically to keep my husband and I from finding out, and started playing.
An old woman, at least fifty years old, was screaming in agony, while a man who looked to be at least 45, with a lewd face, dressed in a Japanese school uniform, was licking the old woman's vulva. Thick mosaics completely obscured the man's stubble and the old woman's darkened genitals!
This was awful!
I'd originally been driven by some inexplicable resentment, with a mix of impulse and longing, wanting to find some mental satisfaction online, but instead I encountered this garbage. It was truly a blow! I closed the video.
This time, I didn't bother looking at the cover description and randomly opened another movie.
This one was completely different from the poorly made trash I'd just watched. A plump middle-aged woman, about my age, was hanging her washed underwear to dry in the yard, while a thin, fair-skinned boy was secretly peeping from a corner. Although he looked equally lewd, at least the male and female leads really did look like mother and son.
I rested my chin on my hand and watched intently at my computer desk: the plot had unfolded. The seemingly dignified single mother knew her son was lusting after her beauty and often subtly tempted him. Finally, the teenage son, in a moment of impulse, raped her, but the seemingly rape-like mother-son sex was portrayed with incredible beauty.
Especially the scene where the boy was having sex with his mother from behind while she was lying on the sofa, holding her breasts and giving her a wet kiss as she turned her face away, I replayed it several times.
My underwear was even a little wet! I took off my nightgown, spread my legs, sat in front of the computer, and put my hand inside my underwear to masturbate.
My husband is often away on business trips, so masturbation is a regular occurrence for me, given my high libido. Knowing my sensitive spots perfectly, a quick touch to my clitoris is enough to bring me to a peak of pleasure. A brief moment of pleasure is enough to satisfy me. But watching those repeatedly played pornographic films about mothers and sons having sex, today, no matter how much I stroked my smooth clitoral glans exposed outside my foreskin, I couldn't feel satisfied. What I desperately craved was the feeling of a man's penis truly penetrating me!
Ah! I tried inserting my index finger into my wet vagina, stimulating my G-spot, and finally, I felt something. I let out a soft, seductive moan, just like the mother in the video, but I tried my best to keep it as low as possible. Afraid my son next door would hear, I covered my mouth tightly with my other hand when I felt like screaming. Waves of pleasure, growing stronger with each passing moment, combined with the joyful intercourse between mother and son in the pornographic film, unconsciously transformed my desire for a man into a longing for my son.
At this moment, a lewd image flashed through my mind: as I knelt on the ground, using every trick in the book to play with the erect penis before me, the owner of the penis, a naked, fair body, was gradually revealed, until the man's face, tinged with an embarrassed smile, was shown. And the boy, with a shy expression and his penis erect, letting me manipulate him, was my son: Yang Yang…
I climaxed! I climaxed! The sounds of a man and woman making love in my earpiece, the sexual fantasies before my eyes, and the wild masturbation finally brought me to the peak of pleasure. A large amount of vaginal fluid gushed out, completely soaking my cotton panties.
My body went limp, and I licked my wet fingers, still feeling unsatisfied, watching another round of mother-son intercourse on the screen, feeling a mix of emotions. Was it disappointment? Was it satisfaction? Or was it desire? I couldn't say for sure.
I only remember that I couldn't sleep that night. My son's tall figure kept flashing through my mind, and I felt a burning desire whenever I looked at his image. On the other hand, my conscience was also deeply condemning me: a great mother, actually fantasizing about her son and masturbating—how shameful! Shame and desire tormented me, keeping me awake for a long time, constantly wavering between reason and fantasy. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that I finally drifted off to sleep, exhausted.
That night I had a dream. I dreamt that the three of us were happily eating breakfast around the table. My husband was reading the newspaper while eating, and my son, as always, was absent-minded. I was sitting among them, chatting and laughing, and it felt incredibly warm and cozy.

Chapter 4
Half-asleep, I was woken by the alarm clock. Still sleepy, I habitually put on my nightgown, yawned, and got out of bed to wash my face. Perhaps because I hadn't slept well due to the dream, my head was still groggy when I woke up in the morning.
Last night's random thoughts were unconsciously forgotten as the busy morning began.
After washing up, I hurriedly made breakfast for my son and put it on the table, calling him to get up and eat while I went back to my room to change for work.
Having worn the bank uniform for over ten years, I felt a bit aesthetically fatigued. But because the branch of the bank I work at is so small, the employees don't even have their own changing rooms, so I have to wear the uniform to and from work every day. As a result, although I've bought many beautiful clothes, I've never had a chance to wear them; they're just hidden in the closet. I feel a little helpless and dissatisfied with life because of this, but that's life. What can an ordinary person do?
I took off my nightgown and looked down at myself, discovering that the stains from last night's masturbation had left a dirty mark on my recently changed underwear, making it almost unwearable. I frowned and gently pulled down the underwear, changing into a clean pair of white silk underwear. Feeling much fresher, I slowly began to get dressed.
The weather is getting hotter and hotter.
I found a plain white cotton bra without padding and put it on. My 85C breasts felt very relaxed and comfortable without the padding, though they did show slight signs of sagging. However, because my breasts are well-proportioned, this slight sagging, outlined by the thin bra, accentuated the unique charm of a mature woman—a seductive beauty unique to young women.
I unconsciously took two steps back in front of the mirror, and the two full peaks, tightly encased in the white bra, rose and fell with the rhythm of my movement, making me feel even more that being a woman is "pretty" good.
I tugged at the bra straps, adjusting it to the most comfortable position, and gently supported my breasts, which my husband adored. They were heavy and soft. After so many years of marriage, I really don't understand why men crave women's breasts so much, even more so in my husband's sexual expressions, where the caresses of my breasts far surpass those of his genitals. I don't dislike my husband's caresses, and I even enjoy them myself. But as a mother, I see breasts as having another sacred function.
That was a mother's tool for breastfeeding her child. When Yangyang was born, the moment the little guy first put his mouth to my nipple and greedily suckled, the excitement I felt is still unforgettable. The joy of becoming a mother for the first time is indescribable. Before that, my nipples had only experienced the erotic pleasure of being teased by my husband's hands and tongue. But the moment my son held my nipple in his mouth, I felt an unprecedented sense of happiness.
The contrast was like heaven and earth, utterly incomparable. Therefore, whenever I hear men around me making lewd comments about women's breasts, I don't care, and I even feel indignant. But as a woman, I can't argue with those trashy men who enjoy telling dirty jokes to harass female colleagues, so I can only keep these feelings to myself.
Speaking of which, Yangyang was very well-behaved as a baby. After each feeding, he would quietly fall asleep in my arms, gently patted, without crying or fussing, sleeping soundly until dawn. When he woke up, his little face was rosy and he was very cute.
His laughter, especially, was clear and bright. As his mother, I found joy in hearing it every day. So I tried everything to make him happy, almost always going along with his wishes. As
he grew older, my husband had to travel frequently for work. I was left to care for him alone. The bond between us was strongest before he started elementary school. Back then, he would often act spoiled towards me, his favorite thing to do being to grab my breasts tightly with both hands and bury his head in my chest,
affectionately calling out, "Mommy! Mommy!"
It would hurt me a lot when he did this, but seeing his adorable face, I couldn't bring myself to scold him. I would just hug him tightly, kiss his little face, and try to make him happy.
When I put him to sleep at night, he would always hold my breasts before falling asleep. Occasionally, when he was happy, he would shout, "Mommy, I want to nurse!"
and then press himself against me, sucking and biting my nipples indiscriminately. Although I had long since stopped breastfeeding, seeing my son's mischievous antics revealing his attachment to his mother filled me with immense happiness as a mother. I let him fuss around, coaxing him to sleep when he was tired.
Thinking back to the awkwardness of him when I pressed my chest against his on the bus, I couldn't help but chuckle.
This child was growing up, yet becoming increasingly distant from his mother. However, since my son started school and had his own bedroom, no longer sleeping in the same bed with his parents, these intimate gestures gradually disappeared.
Like all parents, my husband and I became preoccupied with his grades and daily life. As for his inner world, as we became increasingly busy with work, and as our son grew older and entered adolescence, he developed significant rebellious tendencies. It was as if an invisible barrier separated us, making genuine communication impossible.
The respect and care between mother and son, father and son in daily life felt like that between neighbors in the city: outwardly harmonious, but inwardly unfathomable. This feeling is vastly different from the heartfelt connection I felt when I first became a mother, holding my speechless son. Back then, even though he couldn't speak, his attachment to his mother was far greater than what my son shows now, often ignoring me or even arguing with me.
Time not only ages us, but it also fades everything, including family bonds.
After admiring myself in the mirror for a while, I took out a brand new pair of flesh-colored pantyhose and slowly began to put them on.
I love flesh-colored stockings and pantyhose; the texture of flesh, to me, is far more understated than other flashy colors. Wearing my bank uniform skirt year-round, I feel very uncomfortable without stockings. Moreover, my figure is rather full and I'm quite tall, making me perfectly suited to wearing high heels with stockings.
The lines of my full, alluring thighs, revealed by the stockings, appear even more defined and elongated than in reality, and the unique flesh-colored texture of my snow-white legs shrouded in the semi-transparent stockings evokes endless fantasies.
Although I had no intention of seducing other men, every summer I would feel the lustful gazes of men, both familiar and unfamiliar, fixed on my thighs, which were involuntarily exposed beneath my uniform skirt. I always felt genuinely disgusted and ashamed, yet amidst this dissatisfaction with their rudeness, there was also a hint of pride.
It was a secret joy and pride in still retaining my charm despite being middle-aged. Therefore, I felt a mixture of disgust and a desire to attract more attention; I don't know when this contradictory psychology developed.
After putting on my stockings, I began to put on my uniform skirt and shirt. That damned bank, it seemed they used us female employees as bait to attract depositors. The black wool uniform skirts they issued were so short they didn't even cover my knees, and every female employee walked around the office area with half her thighs exposed, making the atmosphere in the bank extremely ambiguous. The white long-sleeved shirts were so transparent that you could see the underwear underneath.
While working, I often overhear lewd people whispering about the color and style of a female employee's underwear, making us female employees extremely embarrassed. But no matter how unwilling we are, we still have to wear it; it's a strict rule.
After tidying up my clothes, I put on the black high heels that match my uniform skirt, bent down in front of the dressing table, roughly applied lipstick, and drew my eyebrows. Then, I turned around, grabbed my handbag, opened the door, and quickly walked out of the bedroom while putting my long hair up in a bun.
At the dining table in the living room, Yang Yang was wolfing down his breakfast.
This kid is in a growth spurt. A half-grown boy can eat his father's bread—that's no exaggeration. Four slices of bread, two eggs, and a glass of milk were gone in no time. Seeing me come out, he greeted me mumbledly while chewing his food, "Mom! Aren't you eating?"
I felt very uncomfortable in my stomach this morning, so I only prepared breakfast for my son, not for myself. Seeing her son ask, she replied, "Mom isn't hungry, you eat. Hurry up and you'll be late. You have a test today! Be careful during the test, don't be so careless. You'll be taking the college entrance exam next year..."
"I know! Aren't you tired? So much nonsense every day!"
her son grumbled, cutting her off before she could finish her sentence. She could only watch him finish breakfast, then silently clean up the dishes, and they continued to catch the bus to work one after the other.
Everything was the same as before, the daily rush and routine instructions to her son, even his impatient replies remained unchanged.
These past few days since her husband left have been uneventful, except for one thing: whenever she and her son had physical contact while squeezing onto the bus, she felt a strange sensation in her heart. Especially after discovering that her son had grown into such a handsome and sunny young man, every time she stole a glance at him, she felt a long-lost flutter in her heart, like a deer trapped in her chest. It felt like I could no longer simply treat him like a child.
I found myself, several times on the bus, even in not-so-crowded conditions, deliberately pressing my breasts—wearing only a bra without padding—against my son's half-exposed arm gripping the handrail. Even though it was just an unconscious act, I still felt uneasy after realizing my mistake. Fortunately, my son seemed oblivious, which slightly relieved me, and I silently reminded myself to control my emotions and not embarrass myself as a mother again.
Thankfully, the heavy workload each day dragged me back to reality from the blissful moments on the bus with my son. Every day, as I sat in my office chair and began my tedious work, those fleeting emotions were forgotten amidst the harshness of life.
Sometimes, when I couldn't sleep at night, I tried to rationally analyze the almost distorted psychology within my yearning and fantasies about this sunny, carefree boy. After calm reflection, I realized that the combination of age, work pressure, and the gradual accumulation of dissatisfaction with certain aspects of my husband's behavior is the root cause of my current high libido and tendency to fantasize.
But just like drug addicts who know the drugs are harmful but still can't quit, I know that my mental state is far from the dignified and chaste person I am in reality. But since the various moral constraints in reality prevent me from indulging, what's wrong with wallowing in my own inner world?
So, even though I know the root of the problem, after finding reasons to convince myself, I continue to maintain a near-separation of body and mind when releasing my physical desires. Only because my husband is away on business, my sexual partner has changed from his penis to my fingers.
When my husband isn't around, masturbation isn't a big deal for me; it's even an open secret between my husband and me. But recently, the sexual partner I repeatedly crave is my son, whom I've been trying so hard to avoid. The guilt of this thought is unbearable, yet I can't shake it off. I can't escape the embarrassment towards my son, nor can I escape fantasizing about him.
These agonizing days pass by one by one:
the unintentional physical contact with my son every morning—the immense work pressure after work, forcing myself to suppress myself—and the solitary release at night.
This vicious cycle repeats itself every day, and the repressed emotions and desires are no longer something that can be relieved by ordinary venting.
Even if my inner self is completely different from reality, I don't want to use my son as a target for my fantasies. Like a man visiting a prostitute, various handsome male celebrities have appeared in my mind like a revolving lantern, adding a lot of color to my married life with my husband. Why is it that only my son's image can't be shaken off now? Even though I've been trying to restrain myself, my son's image still often appears before my eyes when I masturbate alone late at night. This sinful thought is what I least want to bear right now.
But even the hardest days have an end, and in the blink of an eye, the week is almost up. The day my husband is supposed to return from his business trip is fast approaching. Perhaps my husband's return will change me, so I eagerly look forward to this day. At the same time, the loneliness and depression of the past few days also make me yearn for my husband's caresses.
But all these hopes were shattered the day before my husband's business trip was to return.
That afternoon, I was impatiently dealing with the long line of depositors at the window when suddenly the duty manager called me to answer the phone. (Our bank rules prohibit using mobile phones during working hours.
The call was from my son's PE teacher.
My son had fallen while running during PE class and fractured his right arm. He was in the hospital with a cast on, and the teacher told me to bring money to the hospital immediately.
My heart sank. Oh my god! A fracture? My son is my husband's and my lifeblood; he's never suffered such a serious injury before. I can't imagine how much pain he's in. I immediately asked the duty manager for leave, hailed a taxi, and rushed to the hospital.
When I got out of the taxi, I ran straight to the orthopedics department. My son's homeroom teacher, Ms. Liu, was pacing back and forth in front of the treatment room, frowning helplessly. I had just gone over to greet her when I heard my son scream from inside the treatment room.)
"Ouch! It hurts! Be gentle! Ah!"
His screams, mixed with my son's sobs, broke my heart, and I felt like I was about to cry myself.
I cried out anxiously, "Yangyang! How are you? Mom's here!"
Teacher Liu looked up and saw me, quickly coming over to help me sit down on a chair and comforting me, "Yangyang's mother, don't worry, the doctor is setting Yangyang's bones, correcting the fracture, and then they'll put a cast on him. Don't be so nervous!"
"Teacher Liu, what, what happened? Yangyang was fine when he went to school this morning..."
Hearing my son's incessant screams, my heart was breaking. I was very dissatisfied with the teacher's tone. It's like, if it weren't for your son, you wouldn't be worried!
"Here's what happened. During PE class this afternoon, Yangyang tripped and fell while running. When he tried to get up, he used his hand to brace himself, and perhaps the force and angle were just right, fracturing his right arm bone. Our PE teacher quickly contacted me to bring him here for treatment. Fortunately, it's not a serious problem. After the bone is set and he rests for a week or two, he can go back to school. It won't interfere with his studies too much."
It was clear that the accident had nothing to do with the school's management, and Ms. Liu spoke to me with remarkable ease.
"But! Will he suffer any permanent disability?"
I was still a little worried and quickly asked.
"It shouldn't be, right? I asked the doctor when he went in for treatment, and he said it was just a minor issue. But it takes a hundred days to recover from a broken bone, so some rest is definitely needed."
Just then, my son came out of the treatment room, his right arm in a cast, tears welling in his eyes.
Seeing me, he couldn't help but cry out, calling, "Mom...Mom!"
and then buried his face in my arms.
Although he's already a head taller than me, he cried like a child who had been wronged. Looking at his sling arm, my heart ached, and a few tears fell from my eyes. I quickly patted his strong back with one hand and took out a tissue to wipe his tears with the other. He was in so much pain that tears and snot streamed down his face. I really don't know how much suffering he's endured.
At that moment, it felt like I was back when my son was a child, and I felt his deep affection for me once again.
"Alright! Alright! You always talk back to me, always act like an adult. I really thought you were a little man! Crying like this over such a small injury, aren't you ashamed? Don't cry, son, it's okay, does it still hurt?"
I comforted my son while, without waiting for his answer, I quickly asked the doctor, "Doctor, is my son's hand alright? Will he be disabled?"
The doctor was an elderly man in his fifties. He handed me the X-ray image of my son, briefly explained the condition, and told me that Yang Yang's hand was only slightly fractured. After it healed, he shouldn't do any strenuous exercise, and the cast could be removed in about a month. Then he wrote a two-week sick leave note for Teacher Liu and signaled that we could leave.
As we walked out of the hospital, I learned that Teacher Liu had paid Yang Yang's medical expenses in advance, so I quickly took out the money to return it to her. She didn't refuse, put it away, and told Yang Yang to take good care of himself and not to neglect his studies during the recovery period. My son and I thanked her again before parting ways.
"Yang Yang, stop hugging me like that!"
After Teacher Liu left, Yang Yang and I walked towards the bus stop. All the way, Yang Yang insisted on putting his uninjured left hand around my shoulder as we walked. I couldn't stand my son's sudden display of affection and tried to break free from his embrace.
His actions made me so uncomfortable! On the street, my son isn't a child anymore; he's taller than me and quite strong. What would strangers think if they saw us like this? Besides, I already had some unspeakable feelings for him, though he didn't know them. Because of this, I was extremely wary of his affectionate gestures—not towards the child, but towards myself!
"Mom! What's wrong! Didn't I always hug you like this when I was little? Even though I'm all grown up, I'm still your son! Today, when that old doctor was setting my bones, it hurt so much! I just wanted Mom to hold me! But you came so late!"
My son choked up, as if he was about to cry again.
No matter how much he argues with me, he's still a child after all, and as my husband said, he is indeed very weak-willed. He couldn't handle even this little bit of suffering and desperately needed comfort.
I shook my head with a wry smile, no longer refusing my son's arm around my shoulder, and obediently walked slowly with him in his arms, even though my son is much taller than me, and to others it looked like I was being hugged by him. But the bond between mother and son made me deeply feel that at this moment, my son was still so young and needed protection. The one being hugged and loved was actually still my son himself.
"Give me your phone! Yangyang! Mom left in a hurry and forgot my phone at the bank. I need to call your dad! You've had such a big accident, and your dad doesn't even know! I wonder how angry he'll be when he gets back!"
"It's in my bag! Mom, you can get it yourself!"
Yangyang said, stopping in his tracks.
My son stopped, and I turned around to face him, looking down at his bag for his phone. Because there were so many textbooks in his bag, I couldn't find it right away, and I couldn't help but mutter a complaint under my breath about how messy his bag was. My son quietly apologized, still holding me tightly with one arm.
Night was falling, but the streetlights weren't on yet. In the dim evening, many passersby cast curious glances. They probably hadn't seen a tall boy in a high school uniform with one arm in a sling, carrying a bag, so openly embracing a middle-aged woman in business attire, seemingly whispering sweet nothings to each other on the street. The middle-aged woman was whispering something in the boy's arms, her head buried in his chest, seemingly very tender.
Perhaps because I've maintained a decent figure, my back view was quite attractive. Although passersby could clearly see that I was much older than my son, none of them seemed to realize I was the boy's mother. The way they looked at us was like watching an ill-matched couple flirting brazenly in the street—curious yet lewd, as if hoping to see us do something provocative to satisfy their curiosity.
I suddenly felt these ambiguous gazes from those around me and looked around. Some pedestrians quickly turned their heads away, pretending not to notice, while others hurried away. But I had already realized something was wrong. After finding my son's phone, I resolutely broke free from his embrace, preparing to call my husband while gesturing for my son to continue towards the bus stop.
The call had just connected, and I had barely called out "Husband" when, before he could answer, my son's healthy hand reached out and pulled me along. I hesitated for a moment, but didn't resist. I let my son hold my hand as we walked towards a bus that was about to leave the station, while I continued talking to my husband.
"Look at you! How can you be so clumsy? You even trip and fall while running! What can you do at your age?"
My husband berated our son on the phone, his voice so loud it seemed everyone on the bus could hear. I sat next to my son, and seeing his tense expression because of his father's scolding, I couldn't bear it. I squeezed his cold hand to comfort him, then took the phone from him and tried to calm my husband down by not yelling at our son.
"Old Yang! Stop yelling at the child like that, okay? He didn't want to fall. Do you know how painful a broken arm is? You just start scolding him out of nowhere, scaring him even more. He's already upset!"
Before I could finish, my husband interrupted, "Yanzi, stop protecting him. Look how you've spoiled him! A grown man, pampered like a girl. Who will want a child like that when he goes to college and looks for a job? Every time I scold him, you take his side. You just keep indulging him. It's good that he broke his arm! It lets him know that his parents can't do everything for him."
I was a little annoyed too, and said irritably, "Fine, fine, I can't talk to you about this. What time will you be home tomorrow? What do you want me to prepare in advance?"
"Let's eat dumplings! I've been eating boxed lunches every day since I left on this business trip, I'm so tired of it!"
My husband's tone softened considerably when he mentioned coming home. "My train will arrive this morning, but the company wants me to go to headquarters as soon as I get back, so I probably won't be back by noon. You can prepare dinner."
"Okay."
I glanced at my son beside me, who looked unhappy but dared not retaliate after being scolded, and whispered to my husband, "Don't be so harsh with Yangyang when you get back. Our son has never suffered such injustice before. Don't always have such a stern face towards him."
"I just think he's too weak. Never mind, we'll talk about the child's issues later. Tell him to take good care of his injury, study more, and not let this little thing interfere with his studies! I bought him a pair of Nike shoes, I'll tell him that when I get back, don't say anything more!"
My husband is always tough on the outside but soft on the inside.
I couldn't help but smile slightly and agreed, asking him if he wanted to say anything more to our son. My husband said no, and our son kept shaking his head at me, indicating that he didn't want to listen to his father's nagging anymore. I shook my head and hung up the phone.
This father and son are so incompatible; no one can do anything about them.

In Chapter 5,
after arriving home, I was too exhausted to cook, so I went to the restaurant near my house, ordered a few dishes and some rice, and prepared to have a simple dinner with my son.
My son's right hand was in a cast, so he couldn't use chopsticks and had to use a spoon in his left hand, struggling to eat bite by bite. He'd barely taken a few bites when he suddenly shoved his bowl away, huffing and puffing, "Mom! I'm not eating!"
I put the bowl down again, walked over to my son, and sat down in the chair next to him. I gently patted his back and asked softly, "What's wrong, son? Is the food not to your liking? Do you want me to cook you some noodles?"
"No! I just feel uncomfortable eating with a spoon! And I'm so not used to using my left hand! I'm always afraid of tipping the bowl over if I scoop up a mouthful of rice, so I'm just not eating! You eat! I'll just have a biscuit later!"
My son seemed to be softened by my gentle gaze; his mood had calmed down.
"Silly boy! I knew it! Never mind! Here, let me feed you!"
I picked up his bowl, scooped a few spoonfuls of his favorite Kung Pao Chicken, mixed it well, scooped a spoonful of rice and vegetables together, tested the temperature with my lips—it wasn't too hot—and gently placed it in front of him.
"Mom! No need! I'll just eat some cookies later! I'm so old, it feels so awkward for you to feed me!"
My son shook his head and turned it away.
I found it a little funny. Teenagers in their adolescence are like that; they want to be independent in everything, let alone be fed by their mothers like a good boy. It must be a huge blow to their self-esteem. But can he really be independent like this? Stubbornness won't do him any good in the end. It seems I still need my mom's guidance. I smiled and shook my head, continuing softly, "What nutrition do cookies have? Your hand is so badly injured, you need to nourish your body. How can you get better if you always eat snacks as your main meal? Be a good boy! Eat this bowl of rice properly! Besides, there's so much food, I can't eat it all by myself, it's such a waste! Come on, be good! Open your mouth!"
My son looked at me. Although he was uncomfortable with my constant "good boy" advice, seeing the hint of heartache in the depths of my loving eyes, he couldn't be stubborn anymore. He swallowed the spoonful of food I handed him and whispered, "Okay! Mom! Put it down. I'll eat it myself, you should eat quickly so the food doesn't get cold!"
Hearing my son's considerate words, I felt a surge of emotion, but I insisted on feeding him the whole bowl of rice. My son seemed a little impatient, but he held back and chose to comply, letting me feed him
bite by bite until he finished his meal. Deep down, seeing him so obediently letting me do as I pleased, opening his mouth when I told him to, and eating slowly when I told him to, I felt a strange, unprecedented excitement. Clearly, this excitement wasn't the satisfaction of seeing my son be sensible; it was the thrill of having my strong desire to control a young man fulfilled.
My rebellious son initially clearly didn't want to accept this kind of care from his mother, but after a couple of bites, he gradually adapted. After finishing one bowl, he asked me for half a bowl more, seemingly enjoying it very much. While eating, he asked me, "Mom! I remember you used to feed me like this a lot when I was little, right?"
I smiled and reminisced about the past, saying, "That's right! Back then, your dad was always away on business trips, so your parents sent you to your grandparents' house to be taken care of. But you always refused to eat the food your grandma fed you; you always insisted on being fed by your mom."
"Later, your grandma saw that you couldn't live without your mom, so she persuaded your mom to take a leave of absence to stay home and take care of you. Back then, you were just like you are now, always opening your mouth wide and calling for your mom to feed you. Now you're all grown up and independent. Your mom has to beg you to feed you; it's so unfair!" My
son chuckled and continued eating. After he finished, I picked up my own bowl and ate a few bites with the leftovers.
After dinner, Yangyang, having been quite frightened during the day, wasn't in good spirits and seemed a bit dejected. I told him to rest early. The child obediently went back to his room. Only after cleaning up the dishes was I left in the living room. Exhausted, I watched TV for a while, feeling unsettled. I couldn't shake the brief excitement I'd felt while feeding my son.
It seemed my old habit was acting up again. I licked my dry lips, silently calling my own name: "Wang Yan, Wang Yan! Your husband's coming home tomorrow! Just bear with it. Masturbation can't compare to real sex. Hold on today, and you'll be even more passionate when you do it with your husband tomorrow."
On the other hand, I knew that my son's long-lost intimacy with me today had awakened not only the maternal love I'd buried deep for years, but also some wicked thoughts deep within me.
I mentally pressured myself, trying to find something to distract myself. Suddenly, I remembered the doctor had prescribed some traditional Chinese medicine for Yang Yang when we left the hospital. I quickly found it, took one dose to the kitchen, brewed it, poured it into a bowl, and brought it to my son.
Yang Yang was lying on his side on his bed, holding a comic book with difficulty, engrossed in reading it under the lamp.
He never locks the door, so it wasn't until I tiptoed to his side that he suddenly noticed me, quickly sat up, closed his comic book, slung it behind his back, and asked with a forced smile, "Mom! What are you doing here?"
I glared at him, placed the bowl of decocted Chinese medicine on the desk in front of his bed, and said with a light, slightly angry tone, "Reading comics again! Look at your hands, they're all messed up, and you're still flipping through books! You really have the spirit to read books, why don't you look at your English textbook?"
"Mom!"
My son blushed and argued, "I rarely read comics anymore. It's rare for me to have a few days off, and I don't read them all the time. I'll review my lessons by myself tomorrow! Don't worry!"
"Drink your medicine first!"
I gestured for my son to drink the medicine, and seeing his grimacing face from the bitter taste, I quickly poured him a glass of water to mask the bitterness. Then, picking up the medicine bowl, I walked out while threatening him, "I don't care anymore! Your dad's coming back tomorrow anyway. If he finds out you only read comics and don't study, he'll tear all your comics up!"
I really hoped I could scare him with his dad, but my son just made a face at me and remained unmoved. I could only sigh and leave his room.
The next day was the weekend.
I woke up early, very excited. My husband, whom I hadn't seen for a week, was finally coming back. Yesterday on the phone, that rascal wanted dumplings, so early in the morning, I went to the market and bought ground meat and shrimp, preparing to make his favorite three-delicacy dumplings for him in the afternoon.
Yangyang, however, seemed visibly uncomfortable because his dad was coming back.
After lunch, I hurriedly started kneading the dough and mixing the filling to prepare for making dumplings. Yangyang, on the other hand, made an excuse to go to the library and quickly slipped out. I knew he was afraid his father would scold him for being careless and unable to handle things, so he decided to go out and clear his head, so I didn't say anything and let him go. This child loves reading; he's usually at the library or bookstore, which is beneficial to his studies, so my husband and I don't really object to him going.
As the sun began to set, bright sunlight streamed into the living room through the balcony glass. It was late spring, early summer, and I, alone in the living room, stood diligently making dumplings for my husband, already sweating profusely. Being
naturally sensitive to heat, I was wearing a pale yellow skirt and a light white short-sleeved t-shirt.
Because I wanted to avoid the hassle, I didn't wear my favorite flesh-colored stockings today. Instead, I wore my two clean, adorable little feet bare, slipped on pink slippers, and casually tied my long hair into a ponytail, looking every bit the housewife
. I was diligently working, occasionally raising my arm to tidy up a stray strand of hair that had fallen in front of my eyes while I was rolling out dumpling wrappers, or to wipe the sweat from my temples. I had only finished half of making dumplings when the door opened. My long-awaited husband had finally returned, looking travel-worn.
I couldn't hide my joy. I rushed to greet him, ignoring the flour still on my hands, wanting to hug him. Although it had only been a few days, for some reason, this time my husband was away on a business trip felt like an eternity. My physical and emotional longing for him was indescribable.
My husband is my pillar of support. Although I fantasize almost every night about certain illusory, even sinful, thoughts to gain psychological satisfaction, I know these unspeakable thoughts are fundamentally sinful. Even though I know I can't easily shake off these sinful thoughts that haunt my mind, I firmly believe that these sinful thoughts arise from the unfulfilled desires of my body.
As long as my husband is by my side, with his unparalleled energy and my years of love for him, I'm
sure he can firmly suppress those recently emerging, deeply shameful sinful thoughts through physical pleasure. At the same time, I hope that from now on I will stop having these wild thoughts, abandon my various excuses, and truly achieve a union of body and soul with my husband to purify my soul.
With all these beautiful thoughts, I nestled into my husband's arms. But before I could say anything, my husband unexpectedly opened his mouth and started cursing, urging me to help him tidy his clothes.
"Damn it! They always send me to do all the hard work! Yanzi! Quickly get me a few more sets of clothes, socks, underwear, and stuff. Also, check how much cash we have at home and give me some extra. I have to leave right away!"
My husband came in without even changing his shoes, just gave me a light hug around the waist, and pushed me away to head to the kitchen.
I quickly followed and asked, "What's wrong? You just got home, where are you going?"
"Back to Nanjing! There was a major accident on this project, and I'm the main person in charge. I just got back to the company and got a good scolding from the boss. They've rescheduled it, and the company has assigned me to the construction site to supervise the project until it's finished! Looks like I'll be away for a month or two!"
My husband opened the refrigerator, rummaged through some pastries, and ate a couple of bites haphazardly. I asked, "Where's our son?"
"He went to the library after lunch. Should we call him back?"
I went into the bedroom to pack a suitcase full of clothes for my husband's trip, and at the same time, I took out all the cash in the house and handed it to him. He looked exhausted, unshaven, and his clothes were sloppy. A pang of heartache shot through me. The thought of being separated again so soon after our reunion filled me with reluctance. Gently stroking my husband's mud-covered face, tears welled in my eyes as I tenderly asked, "What time are you leaving? If you have time, eat the dumplings I made before you go."
My husband looked at me with eyes full of guilt and warmth. He wrapped one arm around my waist and took the hand I was using to stroke his face, gently kissing it and whispering, "Yanzi, take good care of yourself while I'm gone!"
Then, filled with deep affection, we began to kiss. Our tongues swirled passionately in each other's mouths. He gently released my hand and began to roughly knead my breasts.
Because my bra wasn't padded, my breasts ached a little from my husband's forceful rubbing through my shirt, and I couldn't help but let out a soft "Mmm." I nestled in his arms, passionately kissing his stubble-covered face, while raising my left leg and skillfully rubbing my bare knee, exposed by my pale yellow skirt, against his crotch. His penis, rubbed against my fair, glistening thigh through his pants, seemed to be aroused.
"Come on, honey!"
I whispered seductively, my eyes filled with intense longing. After several days of emptiness, if I didn't take advantage of our son's absence to make love with my husband, my usual masturbation wouldn't be enough to rid me of these sinful thoughts. At this moment, my husband seemed like the best medicine to cure my emptiness and anxiety.
And that's why, after this short separation, my husband, who was previously unremarkable and now disheveled, aroused an incredibly strong desire in me. This was a different kind of teasing than the previous ones, which relied on my fantasies to arouse my nerves. It was simply the surging of sexual desire between a man and a woman.
"No time! I have to catch the train soon, I don't even have time to eat dumplings, and besides, it's broad daylight, what if Yang Yang sees this when he gets back..."
My husband was about to argue when he suddenly realized that I had been forced to unzip his pants without his consent. I reached into his crotch, pulled out his large penis, and stroked it. Before it was fully erect, I squatted down and began to greedily suck it.
"Ah!"
My husband let out a low growl of pleasure, said nothing more, and held my head, thrusting his penis forcefully in and out of my mouth.
My husband probably hadn't showered much during his business trip, and his thick, black penis smelled incredibly foul. I only sucked on it a couple of times before I was overwhelmed by the stench emanating from his genitals. But my husband couldn't bear to put his penis in my mouth. The intense suction of my mouth on his glans kept him from doing so. He kept pressing my head down, happily thrusting his penis in and out of my mouth. The oral stimulation quickly made him rock hard.
I tried to push away his large hand from my head, gagged a few times, and after feeling nauseous for a while, I stood up and pulled him into the bedroom. We closed the door and suddenly fell onto the bed in a passionate embrace, groping each other and exchanging kisses.
My husband's rough right hand gently touched the inside of my smooth, white thigh under my skirt, then suddenly pulled down my white silk panties. He then slipped his hand under my skirt and ran two fingers along the edge of my vulva, tracing my clitoris. Finding my touch warm and damp, he leered at me, "Wife, you're really horny. I've only been away from home for a few days, and you're already horny after just a few touches?"
With that, he unbuckled his belt, pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees, and climbed on top of me, his large, dark, smelly penis, already hard and swollen from my saliva, began to rub against my flawless white legs. He looked anxious, waiting for my permission while simultaneously pulling down my panties, which he hadn't completely removed earlier, and tossing them aside.
I playfully punched him a few times, pulling my skirt up above my stomach, spreading my legs to reveal my naked private parts. I reached out and grasped my husband's large penis, rubbing it back and forth, guiding him to place the head of his penis against my vulva, urging him, "Stop talking so much nonsense, aren't you rushing to catch the train? Hurry up! Otherwise, Zizhen will be back soon!"
"My little slut! I'll fuck you to death!"
My husband laughed heartily, straddling my legs as I guided him to slowly insert his penis into my vagina. His hot, hard penis paused slightly in my wet vagina, seemingly searching for that long-lost feeling. Suddenly, my husband shouted and began to mount me, starting his conquest.
There was no excessive passion, no excessive shyness; this couple, married for many years, began their familiar sexual life on this weekend afternoon. What we sought in each other was pure physical pleasure. My husband has almost never disappointed me in this regard. His hard, dark penis thrusts in and out of my vagina, which has been empty for days, while I twist my lower body to actively cooperate with his intercourse. Soon, we are both covered in sweat and panting.
"Yan'er! How is it? Huff... I'm about to cum!"
My husband is a little overwhelmed, and his thrusting speed is getting faster and faster, and he is sweating more and more.
"Mmm... I want more! Harder! Husband! Again! Ah... like this! Again!"
Every now and then, my husband's glans touches my cervix, and every time that stimulating feeling comes, I can't help but shudder and moan happily. For a moment, I am panting heavily, and my soft breasts rise and fall with the rhythm of lovemaking. I twist my waist more vigorously and use my already dripping vagina to play with my husband's penis, which is getting bigger and bigger from the rapid thrusting, while making comfortable moans.
"I can't take it anymore! I really have to go! Ah... I came!"
My husband was probably still preoccupied with work, and this time he came so quickly. So much so that I didn't even have time for the beautiful fantasies that usually accompany an orgasm before
he finished, which left me slightly disappointed. But there was nothing I could do; I still held onto my husband's plump waist, letting him lie on top of me, motionless, ejaculating all his passionate semen into my body. We kissed and kissed until he had completely ejaculated and was fully satisfied, before slowly separating from each other.
Perhaps it was the disappointment after sex, or the pain of separation that would continue to accompany me after the brief pleasure, that made it hard for me to accept. After the intercourse, I silently got out of bed, wiped my soiled lower body clean with the tissues on the bedside table, put my underwear back on, straightened my clothes that my husband had wrinkled and my messy ponytail, looking somewhat listless, and leaned against the headboard with a frown. My silent demeanor was a stark contrast to my earlier passionate and affectionate moments in bed.
Seeing my pitiful state, my husband, already dressed, came to my side, put his hand on my shoulder, and was about to offer some words of comfort. Suddenly, we heard the faint sound of a door opening outside: it was our son!
I quickly pushed my husband away and whispered, "Yang Yang is back!"
My husband heard me too and hurried to the living room. I quickly got out of bed, put on my slippers, and followed him out.
"Dad..."
The son came in with his head down and saw his husband coming out of the bedroom. He seemed very uneasy, but because he felt he had done something wrong, he didn't dare to face his father. He didn't seem to notice anything wrong between the two of them and just asked softly, "You just got back?"
"Yes!"
The husband, covered in sweat, looked at his son, who had just run back from outside and was also covered in sweat with an injured arm in a sling. He said to him in an unusually gentle tone, "Yangyang, Dad can't stay home much this time. I have to go to the construction site in Nanjing right away. This time it will be for a month or two. You listen to your mother at home and don't make her angry, understand?"
"Just got back and you're leaving already? So soon?"
The son threw his backpack, which was full of books that he couldn't tell if he had borrowed or bought, onto the sofa and asked his husband in confusion.
"Yes, there was an accident at the construction site, and we have to rush to finish. Remember what I said, don't make your mother angry, and listen to her in everything. I'll try to come back to see you when I have time, but if your mother complains to me when I get back, see how I deal with you!"
The husband's tone shifted to the stern one he usually used with his child.
"Okay! Dad, be careful at the construction site. I'll take care of things at home, don't worry!"
"This child! And you! You broke your hand while running, how are you? Does it still hurt?"
The husband handed his son some pocket money and asked.
"It hurts! I didn't fall asleep until midnight last night!"
The son took the money from his father. He was no longer so afraid of his father.
"Take good care of yourself, don't spend money recklessly, and don't upset your mother. Focus on your studies and don't let it interfere with your schoolwork. Dad will call often. Oh, and those Nike shoes Dad bought for you are in that pocket over there
. Try them on later to see if they fit. Okay, I have to go." As he spoke, my husband glanced at me, his eyes filled with reluctance. Clearly, he had many heartfelt words he hadn't had time to say, and the impending separation made him feel a little sad. But how could I not feel that same sadness? And as a woman, it was even stronger for me.
My son and I helped my husband carry his luggage all the way to the entrance of the community. After watching him get into a taxi to the train station, my son and I went home in silence.

Chapter 8.
I wasn't the only one stunned. My son had also regained his senses. Just moments before, he had been completely absorbed in his dream. Seeing me suddenly wake up and sit up, looking at him in surprise, was something he clearly hadn't expected. He stood there dumbfounded, his face gradually turning ashen from the flush of excitement.
In the dimly lit room late at night, my son and I lay nearly naked on the same bed, speechless. Neither of us knew what to say; the air was thick with silence, and neither of us knew who should break the silence.
My mind was a complete mess.
Although I had just woken from a vivid dream, my consciousness was still sharp. The scene before me was unmistakable.
While I slept, my son had been secretly touching my breasts and masturbating. This sordid sight filled me with shame and anger, but as the victim and his mother, I was in this awkward position, unsure whether to reprimand him or discipline him! My mind was a jumbled mess, and all I could do was glare at him fiercely. This was no longer just a simple matter of a child masturbating; if word got out, I wouldn't know how I would ever face anyone again.
My son lowered his head in shame, and his penis drooped lifelessly.
Gazing at my son's limp genitals hanging limply to the side, a strange stirring suddenly welled up within me, stirring a feeling that had been filling me with shame and anger. This impulse arose the instant my gaze swept over his penis. Looking at his erect member, I was inexplicably ablaze with intense lust. It was the familiar urge I often felt in the quiet of the night, a longing for the caresses of a handsome young man.
And my handsome son's guilty expression after his mistake was utterly adorable, acting as a catalyst for my possessive desire as a lonely, mature woman who craved handsome young men. What should have been a fit of rage left me feeling parched. I licked my dry lips, stealing glances at my nearly naked son. A conflict arose within me; his gaze no longer held only anger and shame, but seemed to contain a hint of tenderness, though barely perceptible.
My son quietly removed his injured hand from his penis, seemingly trying to support himself so he could pull up his blue underwear, which was tucked into a ball on his knees. After all, exposing his genitals so naked in front of his mother was incredibly shameful. But the moment his right hand, still in a cast, touched the bed, a sharp pain shot through his injured arm with the slightest pressure, causing him to groan softly.
Anger, shame, and desire—three completely different emotions intertwined and battled within me. Should I fly into a rage, first berating my son for his shamelessness, then calling his father to punish him? Or should I continue to keep quiet, like when I inadvertently caught him masturbating last time, enduring the humiliation and keeping his secret for my weak son?
Or perhaps…
Suddenly, for some reason, I thought of my son's erotic comic book, and the incestuous porn I secretly watched alone late at night.
Those passionate scenes of lovemaking between mother and son seemed to flash before my eyes. The naked moments of the mature, beautiful middle-aged woman and her handsome young son were vividly recalled. My face flushed slightly. For some reason, a sinful thought suddenly welled up within me, and this shameful idea drove me to stare intently at my son's adorable little penis, now shriveled into a lump of flesh.
Just as my thoughts briefly drifted, I suddenly heard my son let out a low groan of pain as his injured arm touched the bed. My already anxious heart clenched instantly. Yang Yang was, after all, my only son. Seeing him instinctively rub his injured arm again, how could I, as a mother, not feel heartache? A mother's love instantly overcame all external emotions, bringing me back to my senses.
I quickly reached out to help my son, who was about to get up, and helped him sit up again. I gently rubbed his injured arm while frowning and scolding him, "Be careful! Your arm isn't healed yet! Don't be so careless!"
My son's underwear wasn't pulled up properly as I helped him sit down beside me. He was clearly embarrassed, quickly pulling a towel over his crotch to avoid further embarrassment. However, because of the pain in his arm, he clenched his teeth, his face contorted in pain. My method of rubbing his arm was probably wrong; large beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
"How are you, Yangyang! Are you feeling better?"
Seeing that my son seemed to be in even more pain, I panicked and loosened my grip on his arm.
"It's...it's alright. Ouch..."
my son cried out in pain again.
I quickly and gently lowered his injured arm, wiped the sweat from his brow with a tissue, and then gently helped him lie back down, relaxing and stretching his arm.
"Mom..."
my son called out after lying down, his face full of shame, unsure of what to say.
I knelt beside him and continued gently massaging his injured arm. My chaotic emotions were beginning to calm down as I focused on massaging his arm. Seeing my pampered son in such a pitiful state, I couldn't bring myself to say anything to blame him. While silently massaging him, I was also deeply considering how to resolve this situation.
This trip was a picnic with my colleagues, and if I had a big argument with him about this, and my colleagues found out, how could I face my colleagues at work? Besides, I couldn't tell my husband either; with his explosive temper, he'd probably explode if he found out our son was reading pornography. And if he found out about our son's inappropriate behavior, I couldn't guarantee he wouldn't do something drastic.
Therefore, I had to keep this matter buried deep inside. But even buried deep inside, could I just let my son's audacity continue like this?
"What are you doing!"
I gently massaged my son's injured arm. Hearing his call, I hesitated for a moment before replying curtly.
"I didn't mean to!"
My son muttered softly, his face flushed. His arm didn't seem to hurt so much anymore.
"Oh? You didn't mean to? You were just masturbating by pinching your own mother's nipple! If it were just simple physical contact, I could understand that you didn't mean to, but you… Okay, stop explaining!"
I felt a mix of shame, anger, and disdain for my son's perfunctory explanation. This child didn't even have the courage to admit his mistake! No wonder his father had some prejudice against him.
"No! Mom! Listen to me!"
My son pleaded softly, supporting his injured arm.
Then, before I could nod, he mustered his courage and said, "Mom! I admit, it's wrong to read porn! But… but I did it because I couldn't resist your temptation!"
"What? My temptation?"
I stared at my son in shock, unable to believe what he had just said. To be honest, I regretted my husband's ugliness and had fantasized about handsome young men, even about my son… Just now, when I saw my son pointing his immature genitals at me, I almost felt the kind of daring, lewd urges you see in porn and erotic comics. But to say that I had ever actively seduced my son, I can honestly say no!
"Explain yourself! In what way did Mom seduce you!"
My tone was stern with anger and shame.
"Mom, do you remember? One morning you got up and we squeezed onto a bus to go to school... On the bus, I was pressed tightly against you by the crowd. I smelled your faint fragrance then, and for the first time, I felt a desire for the opposite sex. I got an erection... It was the first time I had an erection because of physical contact with a woman!"
"Can you imagine how important that was to me! You're my mother! But I treated you... And, it seems like it was the same day, I accidentally caught a glimpse of you naked while you were taking a shower at home, even if it was just a fleeting glance. But your full, snow-white body is deeply imprinted in my mind, and I can't shake it off."
The son became more and more agitated as he spoke.
"Do you know! That night I fantasized about you and masturbated five times! A full five times! That was the first time I'd ever seen a woman's real body since I grew up, and Mom, you're so beautiful! No one can replace you in my heart! I know this is incestuous thinking, but I just couldn't control myself." "
To smell your fragrance and feel the warmth of your body, I tried everything to be affectionate with you! I just wanted to stay by your side a little longer! Every time you took a shower, I would linger in front of the bathroom door. Do you know how much self-control I used to stop myself from rushing in and offending you!"
The son said, tears streaming down his face.
"Why! Why! You have to be my mother! Why are you the most beautiful, gentlest, and most considerate woman I've ever met! Impulsiveness and reason have made me extremely depressed lately. I can only find solace in erotic comics about mothers and sons committing incest. I so want to devise a scheme like the son in the comics, I'd do anything to get you, Mom! But... but you confiscated my comics, they were my last bit of emotional support." "
And you even found out I'd learned to masturbate! I was terrified! I was so afraid you'd tell Dad! I'd be beaten to death by him! Thank goodness you kept my secret! Mom! Do you know how grateful I am to your gentleness and consideration! Later, I tried to focus on my studies to distract myself. Although the results weren't great, I still secretly masturbated behind your back, but at least after masturbating, I felt both physical and emotional satisfaction."
"At least I could control myself and not do anything to you. But today, you called me 'Dad' in my dream, and you were naked and pressed against me, your voice so seductive, your expression so alluring, the whole room filled with the scent of your bath. I'm your son, but I'm also a normal boy! How could I possibly control myself in front of such a sexy mother like you!"
"At first, I just wanted to secretly and gently touch you, but your smooth body was like a magnet. My hand touched your breast, and I didn't want to move it away. And you encouraged me to continue caressing you in the same coquettish tone you used with my dad, and I lost control even more! Touching your sexy nipples, my mind was filled with wicked thoughts of possessing you. To avoid doing something even worse, I could only try masturbating, hoping to quickly escape the temptation from you and commit a crime, but…"
I covered my mouth in shock, watching my son quietly as he poured out his heart, unable to believe it was all real.
In recent years, my son had entered puberty, growing taller and more handsome. Already often alone at home and in the throes of heightened sexual desire, I frequently entertained fantasies about him. Yet, I kept these absurd thoughts buried deep within. Because I love my husband, and I know that shame and morality restrain us women, I harbored longings for young, handsome men, even harboring a vague yearning for my son, but these were merely emotional outlets for my loneliness.
As a still-attractive woman, I've faced temptations from men before.
But most were vulgar men driven by lust, whom I generally dismissed with disdain, skillfully escaping their advances. However, the handsome young man of my dreams, due to the vast age gap, seemed impossible to believe. And
yet, it actually happened, and the young man of my dreams who confessed his love to me was none other than my own son! I was utterly shocked! But I knew that if I didn't handle this properly, it wouldn't just be a matter of betraying my husband, but something far more terrifying: incest between mother and son. The consequences of that would be far more serious than ordinary infidelity!
"Mom..."
my son said through gritted teeth, trying to continue. I waved my hand, not wanting to hear him anymore. I already knew what my son was thinking. Perhaps it was true that some things I did in my daily life weren't discreet enough, which led him to develop inappropriate thoughts about me over time. But little did he know that in the same lonely daily life, the temptations he felt for me were no less than the temptations I felt for him. But how to deal with our almost twisted feelings for each other at this moment was a difficult question.
It was already past 3 a.m., and the entire hotel was quiet. The dim light from the orange wall lamp in our bedroom made the seemingly peaceful yet ambiguous room appear even more serene and elegant.
Under the lamplight, I sat on the bed, knees bent, wearing only a pair of pure white cotton underwear. My son lay beside me, looking bewildered. The towel covering me had somehow slipped to the floor. Lost in thought, my heart pounding from my son's confession, I hadn't even noticed that I was sitting half-naked beside him.
My son, like a condemned prisoner on the execution ground, felt that since he had already said what he needed to say, he decided to be bolder. At first, he just stared at the uncertain expression on my face, searching for an answer.
Then he suddenly realized that I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I hadn't paid attention to anything else. Under the lamplight, my snow-white body gleamed beautifully, and my full, round breasts hung low in front of him. My dark brown nipples trembled restlessly with my breath. He couldn't help but think that he had just carefully played with these beautiful breasts. My son, after all, was full of youthful passion. Looking at my alluring nipples, he secretly became erect again at this most awkward moment between us.
I was still struggling internally.
I love my son, but it should have been simply a mother's love for him. A mother's love should be the greatest, but my recent feelings for him have long since crossed that line. My son isn't entirely wrong; he's my son, but also a physically normal man. Even I, as an adult, can't fully control my impulses, so how can I expect my son to be so restrained?
Thinking about it carefully, the fact that my son desires me shows how important I am to him. And I've also had some unethical fantasies about him, which could be described as mutual affection. But we are still mother and son! Mutual affection with one's own son is something I can't even bring myself to talk about.
Besides, even if we both accept this almost twisted feeling, what then? My son is young and energetic, while I'm middle-aged and alone. Can I really restrain myself from committing incest?
As I was thinking, I suddenly noticed something wriggling between my son's legs. Then the thing started to grow bigger, creating a small tent in his crotch, which was tightly covered by a towel.
I didn't know whether to laugh or be angry. Looking at my son lying beside me, I realized from his lustful gaze that I was half-naked. My breasts were completely exposed, being scanned back and forth by this little devil's eyes. A wave of shame washed over me. I quickly picked up my towel from the floor, wrapped it around myself, and then glared at my son with a furrowed brow and a teasing look in my eyes.
My son lay there and smiled sheepishly. He probably thought I was used to his physical reaction.
Anyway, there was no need to hide anything anymore, and he seemed quite at ease. He was no longer the bewildered person I'd suddenly discovered. He also understood that there was no malice in my glare.
My son was indeed a little embarrassed about his erection. He tried to smooth it down with his fractured right hand. But as soon as his injured hand touched the tent in his groin, it went limp and fell down. Then he let out a low groan of pain. It seemed the old injury he'd accidentally aggravated earlier had caused him considerable pain.
Seeing my son like this, my maternal instincts kicked in, making me feel a mix of love, resentment, and pity. I quickly took his injured arm and gently massaged it again. After a while, the pain subsided, and he nodded gratefully, saying, "It's okay! Mom, it doesn't hurt so much anymore!"
I put his arm down and used a tissue from the bedside table to wipe the cold sweat from his face. Seeing that his penis was still erect, my heart softened with pity, remembering his confession to me. Looking at his handsome, pained face, in that instant, I abandoned all resistance and felt that anything was worth doing for my son.
I sighed, lowered my head slightly, and let my long, disheveled hair obscure my face. I avoided eye contact with my son. I was terrified that what I was about to do would cause me to lose face.
I reached out my pale arm and gently lifted the white towel covering my son's crotch, leaving his small, erect penis standing proudly before me.
My son was completely unprepared for my sudden action.
He let out a soft shriek, "Mom..."
I ignored him and instead reached out my slender hand to firmly grasp his already burning hot penis. My son shuddered, not yet understanding what was happening, before I had already expertly started stroking it up and down.
My son struggled to free himself from my hand, stammering, "Mom! No... what are you doing... don't do this!"
He was genuinely embarrassed; it was the first time in his life that someone had held his genitals like this, making him incredibly shy, his face flushed red.
I looked down at his penis, now glistening with moisture as I stroked it, and said in a low, serious voice, my face red, "Don't move! If you hurt me, Mom won't be responsible!"
"Ouch... Mom... be gentle!"
My son stopped struggling, looking at me shyly as I masturbated him.
"Hmm... your hand isn't working properly. Tell Mom if you need anything! Mom can help you! But don't hurt yourself anymore, understand?"
I whispered to my son as I masturbated him. I wanted to reciprocate his feelings, and I also didn't want his already injured hand to linger for too long. On the other hand, a deep-seated desire compelled me to hold his penis and feel his youthful passion.
"Really? Ah... ouch... Mom..."
My son was both surprised and delighted. The physical pleasure and the sudden good news made him let out a soft, unrestrained cry.
"Keep it down!"
Although I had already hinted that I accepted his affection, I was still worried that his moans in the middle of the night might be heard by my colleagues at the bank next door.
"Mmm!"
My son happily responded on the pillow, enjoying the sensation of masturbation from his mother—a completely different feeling from his usual self-pleasure—and his heart was filled with joy.
"Mom...that's amazing!"
my son praised, though I couldn't tell if he meant my masturbation technique was amazing, or the act of me masturbating him was amazing to him.
His praise was too embarrassing to admit, so I pretended not to hear and continued to concentrate on stroking his penis. The intense friction between my palm and foreskin made his penis feel like a red-hot iron rod, hot and hard.
Watching the tender glans occasionally peek out from under his foreskin, the fire in my heart burned hotter and hotter!
I wanted to kiss it! I even dared to fantasize about feeling my son's tender yet energetic genitals inside me. But I still had some rationality; although my desire was strong, I could still control myself.
I suppressed my inner desires, trying to appear poised and graceful, as if masturbating my son was a sacred duty of a mother, preserving my maternal dignity. But my right hand, used to masturbate my son, betrayed my inner longing. I wasn't just mechanically masturbating to relieve my son's physical discomfort.
At this moment, my hand, playing with my son's penis, gradually began to tease him, fueled by the growing desire within me. While one of my slender hands gently stroked his penis up and down, my other hand, with its jade-like fingers, lightly caressed his perineum and anus. My son, tickled by this teasing, giggled involuntarily.
"Mom! No...don't do that! It tickles!"
he pleaded, laughing.
"Hmph!"
I blushed, not without a hint of smugness, and stopped teasing his perineum. Instead, I gently caressed his wet glans with my index finger, stroking along his urethra with tender caresses. My son's body trembled on the bed, causing the mattress to shake.
From my extensive sexual experience, I knew he was close to ejaculating. His erect penis rose and fell with the rhythm of my hand movements, the foreskin being pulled back and forth, revealing the tender red glans hidden beneath. My son is still just a child; his foreskin hasn't completely fallen back yet, and he's already so eager for sex. It's really hard to understand.
"Ah...no! Mom, I...I'm going to come!" "
Okay, if you want to come, just come. Don't hold it in! Holding it in will make you sick!"
I lifted my gaze from his glans, looking at his dazed, pleasurable eyes, and gently encouraged him.
"No...ah...ah...ah..."
With a few low, joyful growls, he ejaculated his hot semen everywhere! The sheets, the towel, his own thighs, my body, my hands—everything was covered in his youthful semen.
After his orgasm, he lay sprawled on the bed. I found some tissues on the bedside table to wipe the mess he'd made. For a moment, neither of us spoke. My son's body relaxed, his eyes closed, savoring the memory of his mother's gentle masturbation. And somehow, my tense and complicated heart also felt a certain release and relief with my son's ejaculation.
Without a word, I wiped the semen off my hands and body with a tissue. I changed the tissue and wiped away the splattered semen on the sheets and towels. Then I pulled out another tissue and carefully wiped my son's wet genitals. It took two tissues to clean him completely. I thought back to when my husband and I were newlyweds; he used to ejaculate just as much.
Every morning, our bedding was damp with his semen and my vaginal fluids. But in recent years, as he's gotten older, although he's still very vigorous during sex, the concentration and amount of his ejaculation are far less than before. On the other hand, now that I'm middle-aged, my vaginal fluids flow like a fountain; even the slightest stimulation can cause me to squirt. It's a pity that we can't live in perfect harmony as a couple.
Seeing the sheer volume of my son's ejaculation after masturbation, a mix of emotions, including a touch of joy, welled up within me. But then, the thought of a mother masturbating her own son filled me with unbearable shame. I could only lower my head, my face burning red, unwilling to look at his penis any longer.
We hesitated for a moment. The blush on my face gradually faded, and I finally raised my head slightly to ask my son,
"Yang Yang, are you satisfied?"
I gently brushed the sweat from his hair, asking with the tender care of a mother, as if asking him after a meal
if he had eaten enough. My son nodded vigorously. Suddenly, he raised his uninjured left arm and grabbed one of my bare breasts, squeezing it. I was startled, realizing that in my reverie, I was still half-naked beside my son, wearing only my underwear. Although I felt a pang of shyness, I didn't reject my son's caresses. I turned my face away, avoiding looking at him, thinking this would probably prevent any awkwardness between us.
"Mom, is this real?! I can hardly believe it!"
my son exclaimed, rubbing my breasts.
"Well, Mom has figured it out. Rather than letting you masturbate secretly, it's better for Mom to help you with this. Mom is even afraid that if you keep hurting yourself like this, it will cause problems for your body and mind in the future. Anyway, your right hand is not very mobile right now, so isn't it good for Mom to take your place like this?"
I whispered, hypocritically covering up my incestuous behavior, and kissed my son's forehead as I spoke, appearing very maternal.
"Mom..."
my son called out to me again,
his voice filled with the same gratitude he felt when I fed him and wiped his poop as a child.
Then he reached out his left hand and hugged me tightly.
At first, I felt a little awkward being held in my son's arms, the sight of my ample breasts pressed tightly against his firm chest was undeniably embarrassing. But when I smelled the unique scent of a young man on him, my heart skipped a beat. Without any resistance, I quietly held him for a while.
My son's hands became restless; he stroked my waist for a while, then roughly kneaded my plump buttocks through my underwear. I blushed and whispered, "You naughty boy! Don't mess with Mommy."
He stopped for a moment, then boldly slipped his hand inside my underwear, gently caressing my pink buttocks while his restless fingers reached for my anus and perineum.
"No!"
I blushed and abruptly broke free from his embrace. Although I was willing to do anything for my son in this moment of passion, a mother's dignity and ethical constraints made me forcefully refuse him the instant he was about to touch my private parts. After all, I wasn't psychologically prepared to have a physical relationship with him.
"Mom..."
The son's displeasure was evident as he didn't get to touch what he wanted.
He then pleaded, "Let me see it, let me touch it. I... I've only ever seen it drawn in comics. I've never seen a real female vulva."
Although Yang Yang sounded pitiful, the thought that he was my own son still made me feel conflicted. My moral bottom line had been crossed, but I couldn't overcome my sense of shame as a woman. I knew that the real issue wasn't whether I dared to let my son touch my genitals, but whether I could control my own restless heart if I satisfied his desire.
If my son were to ask me for sex right now, I certainly wouldn't refuse. How could I face my husband if I did that…? And the whole hotel was full of my colleagues; what if I accidentally made some dirty noise and they heard…?
Thinking of this, I gritted my teeth and pushed away my son's hand, which was still trying to hug me. I put on my usual cold expression and said to him, “Alright! Look how late it is! Go to sleep! Mom is sleepy, don't bother me anymore! And from now on, if you're disrespectful to Mom without permission, Mom won't forgive you. Don't think you can get away with anything just because I've given you a chance! Do you hear me?”
My son pouted and tried to pester me again after I finished speaking, but I ignored him, lay down on the bed, and turned my head to the other side. Then, I said softly, with a hidden meaning, “There's plenty of time. Don't be so impatient, okay? There's a long road ahead! Go to sleep, we have to go home early tomorrow morning!” After saying that,
a wave of fatigue washed over me, and I really did feel sleepy. I closed my eyes and quickly fell asleep.
Yang Yang sat beside me, scratching his head for a while. It was late, and he was getting sleepy. He couldn't resist lying back down beside me, tossing and turning anxiously until snoring soon filled the air. At least the child had some self-control.
In my sleep, I turned over, stretched out my snow-white arms, and tightly embraced my son, sharing a blissful dream with him.

Chapter 9
: Dusk. The setting sun shone on the earth, turning everything golden.
Yang Yang sat on a low chair in front of the French windows on the balcony, holding an English textbook, basking in the summer evening sun, pretending to be diligently studying.
But a closer look revealed that although he seemed focused on reading, his face was completely distracted. His attention was clearly not on the textbook, but rather he would occasionally look up, staring blankly at a pair of white cotton women's underwear and two pairs of flesh-colored pantyhose swaying in the breeze on the balcony clothes rack. It was obvious that his mother's underwear and stockings were far more alluring to him than the English textbook in his hand.
Two days had passed since the outing, but his mother's attitude towards him wasn't as enthusiastic as he had expected.
Logically, after that incident…
Yang Yang couldn't forget that night that had brought him such ecstasy.
The person he respected most!
His mother, who had always loved him most!
The woman he considered the perfect!
His own mother, Wang Yan! She had actually helped him masturbate without his knowledge!
Just thinking about how his penis had been held by his mother's warm, gentle hands, how he had ejaculated in front of his sacred mother, filled Yang Yang with immense guilt. But unlike the oppressive guilt of a wrongdoing, this guilt, which was deeply buried within him, was different. In this terrifying and shameful psychological burden, Yang Yang experienced an unprecedented and intense pleasure. This heartfelt joy even far surpassed the physical pleasure of ejaculation.
And before that, his mother was still so sacred in his heart.
Thinking about all this, Yang Yang silently admitted to himself that he had indeed been driven to irrationality by adolescent sexual urges from time to time. His beautiful mother was always around him, often making seemingly unintentional but ambiguous contact, leading him to unknowingly develop a secret infatuation with her.
Frankly, the mature beauty and allure his mother exuded were far more attractive than the arrogant school beauties who were fawned over by the boys. Compared to his mother, the school beauties' thin figures, immature expressions, and coy manners made Yang Yang utterly disdainful.
When did his mother become the object of his masturbation?
Yang Yang closed his book, pondered for a moment, but couldn't remember. Perhaps it was that night he inadvertently saw his mother standing naked in the living room after her shower? That was the first time I had ever seen a woman's naked body in real life. Although I pretended to be temperamental and talked back to her a few times because she was my mother, her round breasts and thick black pubic hair were still deeply imprinted in my mind.
Before that, he often read erotic comics, but he always felt averse to stories about incest between mother and son. His mother was a sacred and inviolable goddess in his heart! But ever since he started fantasizing about his mother's body and masturbating, Pandora's box had been completely opened!
He fantasized about having sex with his mother almost day and night, and his tormented sexual urges could only be released through erotic comics and masturbation! He fantasized time and again about being the male protagonist in the comics, using all sorts of schemes to seduce his mother, but after masturbating, not only did all those schemes in his mind disappear, but he also repeatedly slapped himself in the dark for desecrating his goddess, secretly vowing never to fantasize about his mother as a sexual partner again!
But not long after, whenever he saw his mother wearing a short skirt with her long, beautiful legs in stockings showing, he would shamefully get an erection again. Yang Yang knew then that his attachment to his mother was hopeless!
That night, sleeping in the same bed with his mother was a godsend for Yang Yang! He had initially tried to restrain himself, but the lingering fragrance of his mother's body made it impossible for him to control himself. He boldly tried to masturbate, caressing his sleeping mother's body, the body he had longed for day and night. He
thought his movements were gentle, but to his utter surprise, his mother caught him in the act.
At that moment, for Yang Yang, perhaps suicide out of shame was better than enduring his mother's stern gaze and his father's beating. Yang Yang was born with a fear of his father. Even when his father spoke to him gently, he felt his father's authority was palpable, let alone after such a shameful act.
However, his mother's reaction was so unexpected, even bordering on delight!
If his sexual fantasies and urges towards his mother were merely a one-sided, unrequited love, then his mother's traditional, inviolable views still subtly suppressed his heart like a seal.
But his mother's reaction shattered those inner shackles for Yang Yang!
Like a devout believer watching his most sacred goddess being pulled down from her pedestal and her mysterious veil unveiled, his feelings towards his mother underwent a profound change.
"Perhaps... as a man, I should take the initiative in this kind of thing?"
Yang Yang pondered how his relationship with his mother should progress, like a boy in the throes of first love trying to understand his partner's feelings.
The young man reading by the French windows sometimes smiled, sometimes frowned; only he knew his own joy and sorrow.
Evening fell.
The door suddenly opened, and a figure flashed by. I returned from work.
"Yang Yang, how are you feeling today? Is your hand better?"
I placed my bag on the sofa, wiped the sweat from my forehead, and turned to change into slippers.
"It's alright, not so painful anymore. I went downstairs to the restaurant for lunch and had a bowl of beef noodles. I took a nap and read for half the day."
Yang Yang turned to look at me and said calmly.
I leaned against the shoe cabinet by the door, bending over to take off my high heels.
Perhaps because I was wearing a black uniform skirt, and the way I bent over, sticking out my buttocks, and fiddling with my high heels looked somewhat sexy, Yang Yang couldn't help but secretly swallow, his eyes becoming quite frivolous, though I was completely unaware of it.
"Oh!"
I finally managed to change out of my high heels and sat on the sofa in pink plastic slippers. I kicked off the cumbersome slippers, bent my right leg, and rubbed my toes, which were sore from wearing new high heels all day, through the thin flesh-colored pantyhose. I frowned and asked my son, "What do you want to eat tonight? Mom will make it for you later. Ouch... my feet really hurt."
As I spoke, I inhaled sharply and rubbed my feet, complaining that the new shoes were too stiff and had made my feet swollen after wearing them all day.
Yang Yang placed the letter he was holding on the coffee table, gently walked to my side, looked down at my full thighs exposed by flesh-colored stockings under my short skirt, and whispered, "Mom, does your foot hurt? Let me see!"
He sat down beside me and, without further ado, eagerly grabbed one of my slender feet, gently rubbing the instep of my foot through the stockings.
I was initially startled by my son holding my foot.
Since that intimate encounter with my son a couple of days ago, I've been conflicted about how to interact with him in the future. After all,
he's my own flesh and blood!
Although I was driven by intense sexual desire and an almost twisted possessiveness, making it difficult to control myself, the deep self-reproach and shame I felt when I calmed down far outweighed the torment of my inner desires.
After that day, I had boldly considered abandoning my maternal dignity and succumbing to my inner desires, indulging in carnal pleasure with my son to satisfy my seemingly harmonious but actually endlessly empty sexual needs. But when it came to actually doing it, my sense of shame as a woman and my maternal pride constantly clashed with my conscience, making it impossible for me to completely abandon my moral constraints.
After all, I am a respectable woman who has been married for many years and has never been unfaithful to my husband before! The inner ties I carry are far greater than those of my son, that immature boy! Even after that night's events made me truly realize that my goals were almost identical to my son's and I decided to completely indulge myself, I still couldn't fully let myself go because of these underlying inner constraints! And my strong desire for my son didn't diminish because of these constraints; on the contrary, it made me even more insatiable.
Yang Yang! I've already compromised
deep down! You know that? But even if I'm a strong mother in front of my son in real life, in our purely sexual relationship, I am ultimately a weaker woman. Should I abandon my maternal dignity and grovel before my son?
No! Perhaps all I need is an opportunity!
I've been carefully observing my son these past two days.
He inherited my personality; he's practically identical to me. He was filled with desire, yet he always pretended to be a good boy, never mentioning what happened between us that night. He must have been waiting for me to make the first move, but silly son, why didn't you think about your mother? A mother is, after all, a woman. If I could really abandon my dignity and grovel to seduce you, would we have waited until now?
So, even though I knew that every time my son looked at me, it was as if he wanted to devour me, I still pretended to be nonchalant, and I never mentioned that night. Deep down,
I longed for an opportunity. An opportunity for something to happen between us again. For example, if Yang Yang, deeply tormented, couldn't resist masturbating again, and I caught him again, intentionally or unintentionally, I thought our relationship might develop more naturally, and my inner constraints would naturally dissolve.
At this moment, when Yang Yang held my foot tightly, I understood that my son might have finally seen the light.
The stalemate in this ill-fated relationship between us finally needed courage from one of us to break. My son, now a man, has finally bravely shouldered this responsibility and taken the initiative to pursue me.
My current task is to gracefully accept his courage without losing my dignity as a mother!
But I don't have much confidence in this.
Because in my heart, my desire for my son is incredibly strong, and I even fear that I might do something to him in a moment of passion!
My son gently but firmly massaged the soles of my feet with his thumbs.
"Mom! Does it still hurt?"
he asked softly after a few strokes.
Although his massage techniques were clumsy, the pain in my feet was greatly relieved. But perhaps out of timidity, the advances I longed for from my son were delayed. His hands remained restrained, seemingly lacking the courage to transcend the moral boundaries between mother and son, merely applying pressure aimlessly to the soles of my feet, trying to experience the sensation of caressing my body.
I leaned against the armrest of the sofa bed, bent my legs, and placed my entire foot on top of my son's thighs, letting out soft, comfortable moans in rhythm with his massage: "Ah...not bad, good boy, down...a little lower. Ah...so good."
The suggestive tone was clearly teasing. Since my son still lacked the courage, perhaps I should try encouraging him indirectly.
Sure enough. My almost moaning, seductive voice acted like a shot of adrenaline. My son turned and glanced at me, his hands suddenly becoming less attentive. The pressure of the massage became erratic, occasionally tentatively tickling the soles of my feet, making me giggle. My beautiful feet, clad in flesh-colored stockings, gently kicked in his hands as I playfully complained, "Yang Yang! What are you doing? You're tickling Mommy!" My
son didn't speak. He stopped massaging my feet with both hands and instead lifted my leg slightly, which was nestled in his lap, with one hand. His other hand gently stroked my calf. Through the stockings, I could feel the warmth of his palm. At that moment, neither of us spoke. My
son, who had always been introverted, had already done his best to hint at something.
Should I continue to be hypocritical?
I smiled as I looked at my son, who was gazing down at my sexy legs beneath the flesh-colored stockings. His gaze held a mother's loving care, a girlish shyness, and a lover's warmth.
I finally spoke: "Silly boy, don't I know what you're thinking? Whatever you want... just do it."
By the end, my voice was almost inaudible. Although I was middle-aged, the innate shyness of women still caused a blush to spread across my cheeks.
"Mom!"
My son put down my legs and suddenly hugged my shoulders tightly, leaning over to kiss me deeply on the lips.
The unique masculine scent of the young man made my heart flutter.
At that moment, I was only focused on kissing my son, actively teasing him with my tongue. My son understood and responded with his own tongue. Our warm, smooth tongues intertwined and stirred, the most taboo moral constraints completely broken by our French kiss. What greeted us was humanity's most primal instinct for pleasure. Driven by this instinct, Yang Yang and I were no longer a mother and son bound by ethics and morality, but simply a man and a woman.
After a period of French kissing, my son, through my white shirt, grasped my right breast and began to knead it vigorously.
Since it had gotten warmer, I had been wearing a thin, unpadded cotton bra, which made it feel wonderful to my son. Being young, his desires were strong; after only a few kneads of my soft breast, he immediately became erect.
"Mom!"
my son called again.
After being kissed and caressed by him in his arms, I felt dazed, my body limp, as if the sweetness of my first love with my husband had been rediscovered. My son's forceful kneading of my breasts made me feel utterly intoxicated. I was powerless to resist his next move, nor did I want to. I even closed my eyes and fantasized about my anxious son raping me. Just then, my son's call snapped me back to reality.
"What's wrong, baby?"
I opened my eyes and saw my son frantically taking off his shorts.
"I...I can't take it anymore!"
my son said as he pulled off his shorts and underwear, quickly throwing them on the ground. Then, standing stiffly in front of me with his erect penis, he said with shame and anxiety, "You...you said last time...I need...you can...you can..."
My son stammered, his face red.
I was first surprised. Then, I couldn't help but smile.
It turned out my son still remembered my promise to him last time.
I held his erect, hard penis in my hand and stroked it back and forth in front of me. I laughed and said, "You silly boy! Didn't Mommy say? You can do whatever you want... never mind..."
I blushed and took back what I had just said. It seemed my son was still innocent. In his mind, the most intimate contact with his mother was probably limited to touching and masturbation.
My son stood in front of the sofa with his penis erect, looking down at me as I earnestly stroked his penis. Then, he boldly slipped his hand down the collar of my white shirt and into my bra, gently teasing my nipples with his index finger.
I silently endured the teasing of my son's fingers, but my body's physiological reaction still caused my nipples to quietly become erect with the stimulation of my son's fingers.
My son's foreskin was still so long, and the foreskin stimulated his tender glans with the rhythm of my masturbation, and soon my son's love juice was flowing out. As the lubrication increased, I quickened the pace of stroking my son's penis. The squelching sounds from the friction between the foreskin, the lubrication, and the glans grew louder.
"Ah!"
my son groaned.
"Mom! Mom!"
he called softly.
"Are you about to cum?"
I asked gently, my hand movements continuing without slowing down.
"Ugh! I can't take it anymore... Mom! I'm about to cum!"
my son screamed.
"Hmm..."
I murmured softly, lowering my head. My
long, disheveled hair covered my eyes. Suddenly, I didn't want to watch my son ejaculate. Deep down, I felt a pang of frustration at his impending ejaculation! Because I so desperately wanted his passion to erupt during a complete sexual encounter!
"No! Mom, let go!"
my son suddenly cried out, clearly on the verge of ejaculation.
Before I could respond, my son forcefully pulled his throbbing penis from my hand, leaned forward, and straddled my outstretched legs. He quickly stroked his penis a few times, then gripped the base of his genitals, pressing the head against my stockinged thigh and rubbing it against the smooth fabric before ejaculating with a look of pure bliss.
The hot semen seeped through the thin flesh-colored stockings, staining my thigh and leaving dirty marks on my body along my outstretched legs.
After ejaculating, my son seemed to enjoy it. He got up, grabbed some tissues, and wiped his quickly shrinking penis. Suddenly, he noticed me frowning at him. He realized he had soiled his mother's stockings. He quickly handed me a stack of tissues, smiling apologetically. After watching me carefully clean the stains from the stockings, he stood up. Unlike before, he didn't shy away from having him nearby. He reached under my skirt and gently pulled down the soiled pantyhose, tossing it onto a chair beside me.
I sat back down on the sofa, crossing my legs. Without the stockings, my legs looked even whiter and more translucent.
After it was all over, no one knew what to say.
"Mom!"
My son, regaining his usual weakness after ejaculating, called out to me. It was clear he didn't know what to do next. This silly child couldn't even offer basic comfort!
"Sigh!"
I sighed softly, both for my son's incompetence and for my own unfulfilled passion. Looking at my son, who was utterly incapable of fulfilling his responsibilities as a man, I smiled helplessly: "Are you satisfied?"
"Yes! Mom... I actually... but I..."
My son, his bottom bare and face flushed, tried to explain.
His handsome face, which already captivated me, now held a cute anxiety, rekindling my slightly disappointed desire. This innocent boy, with almost no sexual experience, felt far better than being manipulated by my husband, a rough man like a sexual wild horse!
I stood up, seemingly understanding, and patted my son's shoulder kindly. Although he was much taller than me now, to me, he was still a child I could manipulate.
"Mom understands now! Your feelings for Mom. I think you can understand Mom's thoughts too, right?"
My son nodded shyly. He naturally understood that everything his mother had done for him was no longer just simple mother-son affection. These words could only remain in our hearts, unable to be expressed in words.
"I know... but Mom, I'm still not entirely sure, and I still don't have the courage to really do anything to you!"
my son said dejectedly.
I smiled; my son was still so honest with me, and as a mother, I felt gratified.
"Mom's burden is no lighter than yours!"
I picked up the stockings stained with my son's semen that I had thrown on the chair, blushing as I looked at them softly, "But you have your thoughts, and I have mine. Although our thoughts are different, our desires are the same."
"Son! Mom knows this might be difficult for you, but it's not easy for Mom either. But Mom has been through it all, so let Mom bear all this psychological pressure from now on! As long as you study hard and get into a good university, this will always be a little secret between us. Don't feel any pressure! Instead, treat it as the best way to relax and unwind in your stressful study life, okay? Silly boy!"
My son smiled too.
He reached out and tightly grasped my hand holding the stockings, saying nothing more. The previous awkwardness and shyness gradually dissipated.
(To be continued)
PS, I originally thought the setup was over and it was time to move on to the theme of incest between mother and son. But I suddenly realized that the most important aspect of incest is the gradual disappearance of the emotional barriers between them. At this point, Wang Yan has completely opened her heart to her son. And although Yang Yang is timid, his final smile reveals his complete acceptance of this illicit love.
So I'm wondering if I should stop here?
Many friends have said that my psychological descriptions are quite good. I personally agree.
However, as the story progresses, the sex scenes will take center stage, and the psychological descriptions at this stage might become much less prominent.
Because in my vision, Wang Yan is definitely not the type like Zhang Lin who is seduced and falls into depravity but is still a virtuous woman at heart.
The harm caused by Wang Yan's restless heart and her emotional infidelity is far more serious than the consequences of physical infidelity.
Incest is definitely less acceptable than adultery.
But once she commits adultery, Wang Yan's reaction will be very different from Zhang Lin's.
Zhang Lin gradually experiences pleasure amidst humiliation, a kind of helpless bitterness.
Wang Yan, on the other hand, is undoubtedly pursuing the pleasure of sadomasochism with great anticipation.
Therefore, her psychological descriptions are certainly not as stimulating as Zhang Lin's, who is burdened by shame.
Because I don't actually focus on explicit sex scenes, although I have many ideas for them, I only write them in conjunction with the characters' inner emotions.
A woman like Wang Yan, once she becomes unrestrained, is simply a sex machine in my imagination. Is there any point in writing a story about shameless sex and handjobs?
Let me think about it some more.

Chapter 10:
The moral bottom line was so easily breached; unbridled desires, like wild horses, were no longer under my control.
At this moment, no more words were needed. Full of anticipation, I was suddenly pulled tightly into my son's arms, face to face, rubbing against his ear.
My long-accumulated sexual fantasies about him and his desire for me over many days allowed us to completely overcome our inner fear of morality and ethics. Our lips, mother and son, were tightly pressed together, inseparable, encouraging each other's confidence.
"Good boy, Mommy will teach you! Like this…" I put my tongue into my son's mouth, teasing his tongue. My son was initially startled by excitement, then responded joyfully. Our tongues intertwined in each other's mouths, and soon both of us were drooling, yet we still couldn't bear to separate our passionately kissing lips. Compared to me, an experienced woman, my son's kissing skills were clumsy and intense, requiring my guidance at every turn.
I savored the stimulation of my son's tongue, like a first kiss, while greedily sucking the saliva flowing from the corner of his mouth.
At that moment, I wholeheartedly wanted to pursue my sensual desires as a simple woman, wanting to completely abandon my supposedly reserved motherly role and welcome that sacred first time with my son!
"Mom... Mom!" my son called out urgently, licking my saliva as well. "Quick... I can't hold back! I want you... Mom! Quick!" My son, experiencing a first-time tongue kiss, began to get excited and restless.
After all, he was young and full of energy; a gentle touch turned him into a raging fire.
Like all men who are inexperienced yet intensely crave women, my son was incredibly impatient when he first had the chance to touch a woman's body without restraint. One hand roughly kneaded my breasts through my clothes, while the other slipped under my skirt, eagerly groping and fiddling with my crotch area.
Having been married for many years, I was already familiar with my husband's eagerness and knew that regardless of experience, men's instincts would make them incredibly proactive in bed. Faced with my son's equally eager desire for pleasure, I should have remained calm. But his handsome face, his awkward caresses, and his burning desire clearly affected me. I also began to lose my reason and acted impatiently as well.
I passionately kissed my son's cheek down to his ear, nibbling at his earlobe as I whispered in his ear, "Mommy gives you... Mommy gives you everything! Come on, my good son! Mommy wants you too! I want everything you have!" As I spoke, I knelt down and eagerly pulled down his shorts and underwear.
His noticeably immature penis stood erect and joyfully facing my beautiful face.
I reached out and pinched his mischievous little penis. Smiling, I gently rubbed the glans, still covered by his foreskin, against my usually dignified and quiet face.
A trickle of sticky pre-ejaculate oozed from the hot glans. With a few strokes of my hand, his uncontrollable pre-ejaculate left irregular wet streaks on my face.
My son trembled with excitement. He pressed his hands against my head, gently stroking my hair, and kept murmuring, "Mommy, hurry! Mommy, hurry!" Actually, he didn't know what he wanted me to do next; he just instinctively wanted to move on to the next stage as quickly as possible, ideally to immediately mount me, thrust into my womb, and bring me to a climax so he could have his fill.
Seeing my son so eager, my possessiveness towards him was greatly satisfied.
Even though I was just as eager and impatient to have my son's first time, as a woman with extensive sexual experience, I knew that perfect sex wasn't just about the simple act of penile penetration, but about savoring every moment of pleasure.
I hoped that in our future sexual relationship, my actions as a mother would serve as a model, teaching my son how to appreciate the joy that every detail of sex brought him, instead of being like his father, who straddled me like a lustful monkey, only knowing how to crudely and simply possess a woman's vagina.
While gently using my delicate fingers to pull back the long foreskin covering the glans of his penis, I commented on his genitals with the critical tone typical of someone with experience: "Baby, your penis is too small, not even half the length of your father's, and the foreskin is so thick. Maybe I should suggest to your father that you go to the hospital and have this inconvenient thing removed, otherwise it will be a big problem later." My son was naturally very nervous about his first time. Hearing me say that made him even more uneasy. His psychological state clearly affected his body; the penis I was holding softened a little.
"Hehe," I chuckled, finding the sensitive, adolescent mindset of my son quite amusing, and couldn't help but look up and give him a playful smile.
My son looked down and saw me smiling at him, but there was no hint of disdain in that smile, which he had feared. He breathed a sigh of relief. Blushing, he scratched his head sheepishly, and our eyes met, filled with tender affection.
I had already pulled back the foreskin, revealing his fleshy, moist glans. If a photo were taken from his perspective, his lustful penis and my alluring face would create an extremely lewd image.
I pinched the base of his penis with my right index finger and thumb; even fully erect, his penis was indeed less than two-thirds the size of my husband's… Compared to my husband's large, dark penis, my son's genitals appeared pale and slender. However, their hardness when aroused was exactly the same. It's just that my son's glans looked so delicate and pink, almost pitiful, while my husband's glans… thinking about it now makes me want to vomit.
That's probably because of the countless times he came back from business trips, ignoring my feelings and not even showering, just shoving his penis directly into my mouth, leaving me to endure the sour stench – a painful memory accumulated over time.
My son's penis, on the other hand, was clean and tender, like everyone else's. To me, though flawed, it was irresistible. I gently touched my son's pink urethra with my left index finger, dabbed some of his still-flowing fluid, and tasted it. It was colorless, odorless, clean, and transparent. It smelled exactly like the beautiful young man I often fantasized about. Overwhelmed by lust, I no longer cared about the taboos of mother-son ethics, only wanting to caress my son, this little darling who made my heart flutter.
"What a naughty little cutie! Come on! Let Mommy say hello to it!" Saying this, I brought my pouting, rosy lips closer and gently kissed my son's glans.
My son jolted awake by my kiss.
Then he felt a smooth, warm tongue tracing the tip of his penis. His mother's sensual tongue gently teased his urethra.
"Mom!" he whispered. With a forceful push from my head, I thrust my entire hard penis into his mouth, all the way to the base.
"Mmm...mmm," I choked, unable to speak with his penis in my mouth, only able to look up at him with deep affection, seeing his shy, adorable expression and the happiness on his face. A strange sense of pleasure welled up inside me
. My darling! You belong to your mother! Let me teach you how to find your most primal instincts in the Eden of love, filled with the pleasure of carnal desire between men and women!
Do you know how long my heart has wandered in despair? Perhaps to others this is shameful incest between mother and son!
But how can others understand the fragile heart of a woman wounded and hidden for so many years by the unfairness of life's path?
My love for my husband is unwavering, but fate has cruelly mocked me, making the one I love so different from my ideal!
I'm sorry, my dear husband!
I simply cannot overcome the unspeakable desire in my heart! And our son is the second most important man to me, after you. My submission to him is both a compromise with fate and, to some extent, a way of... It could alleviate some of the guilt I felt towards my husband, after all… besides my husband, the only other men who could possess me were my family.
Ah! My lovely son!
Don't just indulge in the sexual pleasure you've longed for. Can you understand the turmoil in your mother's heart?
I truly hope you can understand me, instead of simply seeing me as a wanton woman and your personal sex toy. What I want is you, your heart, everything about you. Let us become one, mother and son! As I sucked on my son's penis, tears welled up in my eyes for some reason. My complex emotions made me silently shed tears while performing oral sex on my son. I couldn't tell whether those tears were tears of joy or sorrow. My
son, on the other hand, didn't seem to have so many psychological burdens.
For young people, direct sensory stimulation is more important than anything else. He desperately twisted his lower body and haphazardly thrust his penis into my mouth.
Once! Twice! Three times! ...
In just half a minute, the rapid thrusting of my son's penis made it hard for me to breathe...
"Mom!" my son suddenly shouted, arching his back and grabbing my hair, forcefully pressing me against his crotch. He thrust in and out a couple of times like a monkey, then his penis seemed to spring to a sudden realization, and a thick stream of semen shot forcefully into my throat.
My son's sudden ejaculation caught me completely off guard, causing me to cough violently. Unable to spit out the foreign object in my mouth because he was holding my head down, I could only half-heartedly swallow my son's first offering of his semen to his mother so quickly. While surprised, I also felt a strange pleasure at the thought of him ejaculating in my mouth.
However, because I rarely swallow men's semen, I still felt a little nauseous. I immediately pushed my son away, squatted down, and dry-heaved twice. Apart from a little white liquid sticking to the corner of my mouth, I didn't vomit anything. Turning my head to look at my son's wet, shrunken penis after ejaculating, I felt a sense of unsatisfaction.
I boldly reached out my right index finger and thumb again and pinched my son's glans, ignoring the nausea as I gently licked away the remaining fluid, saying with a hint of reproach, "How could you be so useless? Mommy only gave it a little nudge. Why did you react so strongly and ejaculate so easily?" Deep down, I desperately wanted our first time together to be a perfect union of body and soul.
But this simple act of oral sex, such ordinary foreplay, had made him ejaculate so easily, and I was quite disappointed.
"I don't know either," my son slumped onto the sofa.
The psychological and physiological gap after ejaculation made him very frustrated. Especially since the thought of his beloved mother setting aside her sacred status as a mother to become his first woman was incredibly exciting, and now that it had actually happened to him, how could he be so incompetent?
He usually fantasized about doing whatever he wanted to his mother's sexy body, and even masturbating made it difficult to ejaculate quickly, so why did his mother orgasm so quickly when they were actually intimate? Yang Yang couldn't understand the key point.
Regardless, the genitals of the opposite sex are the best aphrodisiac for both men and women.
Even though her son had already ejaculated, and his penis now looked utterly shrunken, her libido was still high, and she couldn't help but gently caress his foreskin.
No matter what, her handsome son belonged to her!
I didn't scold my son any further; it's normal for young people to lose control. This was actually one of the alternative thrills of youthful sex I was seeking, completely different from the intense pleasure I experienced with my husband.
I resumed masturbating him.
Holding his penis, I stood up and leaned close to him, kissing him again. While my tongue mingled with his, I mumbled, "Silly boy, let's start over. Come on, baby!
Help Mommy undo her skirt, okay?" As I spoke, I took his sweaty hand and guided it behind me, directing him to unhook my black uniform skirt. With
a soft "swish,"
the sexy black bank uniform skirt fell gently to the ground.
Because I had soiled my pantyhose while masturbating him, I was only wearing white lace panties to cover my private parts. My white shirt was too short to cover my thighs. At that moment, I let my long, full, snow-white thighs be completely exposed to my son's eyes, feeling a little nervous.
I could clearly feel his breathing quicken again.
He boldly reached out and touched my right thigh. Then he pushed away my hand that was holding his penis, squatted down in front of me, and hugged my two white thighs with both hands, stroking them vigorously up and down while rubbing his hot cheek against the inside of my thighs, making joyful noises
as he did so. "So beautiful! Mom, your legs are so sexy!" he said, kissing my thighs wildly.
"What a cute little fool!" I laughed as my son kissed me, stroking his head. Although my thighs aren't as erogenous zones as my nipples or clitoris, the little guy's actions made my already aroused heart even more eager.
"You silly boy, aren't you going to... aren't you going to help Mommy take off her panties... really! Do I have to be taught everything?" I said, pushing my son's face away from my thigh and hastily pulling down my already soaked panties. I openly displayed my private parts to my son.
My son knelt in front of me, staring intently at the dark, mysterious triangle of a woman's body.
I could clearly hear him swallowing.
In his mind, his sexual fantasies about me, his mother, were probably still at the stage where I masturbated him; the oral sex he had just experienced was an unexpected delight for him.
Although we both knew that the taboo of human relations could not stop our desire for each other, and we were both willing to bow to our true desires and give ourselves completely to each other, my son was only 17 years old! He was still an innocent teenager who had never experienced anything like sex!
The male hormones of puberty might have stimulated his longing for the mystery of sex. And the restless heart of a teenager could only be vented through exaggerated pornographic comics and fantasizing about masturbation. But seeing a real woman's genitals still shocked him immensely.
And the woman who owned this vulva was his own mother, whom he had always respected and loved.
This woman's paradise, which he had longed for day and night, was also the place where he was born 17 years ago. The twisted feelings intertwined within him—how could he not be shocked!
His son stared intently at my vulva, unblinking. After a long while, he finally mustered the courage, trembling, and touched my thick, dark pubic hair with his finger. He looked foolish and somewhat bewildered, no longer daring to make any further moves, but the initial shock in his eyes had been replaced by a man's desire.
"What are you looking at? Silly son, do I need to say it clearly? You little fool, hurry!
I can't wait any longer! Give it to me!..." I felt shy under my son's burning gaze, but since it was too late to change anything, and my desire was so strong, I steeled myself and stopped trying to hide it!
At this moment, I shamelessly pressed my son's head between my legs, making his nose touch my clitoris, encouraging him to boldly attack his mother. Driven by
primal desires, my son began to respond passionately to my advances. He grabbed my white buttocks with both hands and began to rub them vigorously. Following the force of my pressing his head, he pressed his face against my vulva, gently rubbing it against my genitals as he had caressed my legs earlier. Occasionally, he would stick out his tongue and lick randomly among the thick, dark pubic hair. Before long, his previously limp penis became erect again, pressing against my calves and rubbing restlessly.
I sat back on the sofa, spreading my legs into a large M shape, smiling as I guided my son's head to bring his face close to my warm, pink, and alluring vulva, carefully admiring every detail of his beautiful mother's vulva.
Seeing the rapturous expression on my son's face, the wicked desire that had been building up inside me for years was finally released!
I wanted my obedient son, this handsome young man, to fall between my legs!
How could my rough and ugly husband appreciate such a beautiful woman? Even if he could give me multiple orgasms, this regret in my heart could only be satisfied by my son.
"How about it, Yangyang? Isn't Mommy beautiful?" I seduce my son with a lewd pose. Seeing his complete submission greatly satisfied my vanity that had been unfulfilled for years, and at the same time, made me feel like a completely different person from my usual gentle and weak self.
I am his mother! In life, I have always been the dominant one, and in our future sex life, regardless of age or experience, I should also be the dominant one. My dear son, let Mommy teach you to grow up quickly! After a long
silence, my son finally looked away from my vulva, looked up at me, and his eyes seemed to be blazing with fire.
"Mom, I want to fuck you!" My son said, standing up, his little penis already uncontrollably erect. The foreskin was so tightly covering the glans that it looked a little comical to me, his mother.
My son's voice was low and resolute. I had been eagerly anticipating this moment. I held him close, guiding him to place his penis between my legs, gently encouraging him, "Come on, my little man. Mommy gives you everything!" As I spoke, I reached out and pinched the base of his penis, helping him find the source of pleasure that came from his mother.
His foreskin was too long, and in my haste, I didn't bother to pull it back.
The instant his hot penis touched my labia, I closed my eyes, silently awaiting the powerful thrusts that were about to come. Soon, my son would return to the womb where he had spent ten months seventeen years ago, to feel his mother's warmth again with his genitals.
Just as my son's foreskin-covered penis touched the entrance of my vagina, his face suddenly changed drastically. His face turned pale, and he twisted his body violently. A gush of hot semen shot towards my vulva, but failed to penetrate. It flowed between my legs and down to my buttocks.
My son had ejaculated prematurely again!
Two premature ejaculations in such a short time infuriated me, who was already desperately craving sex.
He was all show and no substance.
I, his mother, had risked incest, sacrificing my basic dignity as a woman and mother, to give myself to my son, only to receive this ridiculous result. It was hard for me to accept.
I angrily pushed away my son, who was still clinging to me, trying to make another attempt with his limp penis. While getting up to find tissues to wipe myself, I didn't know how to complain to him, so I just glared at him fiercely.
My son was even more bewildered.
He covered his genitals, his face full of guilt, and seeing me glaring at him, he nervously kept apologizing: "I'm sorry! Mom!... I don't know what happened! How could this happen!" I sulked for a while, but seeing my son's pitiful appearance, I couldn't bear it anymore.
I put my underwear back on, picked up the skirt that was lying on the ground, and put it on while comforting him, "It's okay, it's alright. Maybe it's because you're young, maybe we rushed things, and it's also Mom's fault for not thinking things through. Anyway, you've already ejaculated three times today, so don't overthink it, you need to rest, okay? Next time Mom will be gentler and more attentive. Okay, come on, put on your clothes! Mom has to make dinner!" "Mom... will you look down on me?" my son asked softly.
"How could that be! Silly boy. Remember that night in the hotel when I masturbated you, how long did it take you to ejaculate? My hand was sore that day, but you just wouldn't come. And just now, the first time I masturbated you, you lasted a long time too! I already told you it's normal to ejaculate prematurely because it's your first time due to nervousness. Don't overthink it, you'll be the best man! Have some confidence in yourself!" I put on my dress and sat down next to my son, encouraging him gently. My hand restlessly pinched his limp penis again.
Although his words sounded nice, I was equally disappointed that my desire had been stirred up so intensely only to end so miserably.
My son, holding my delicate hand that was touching his penis, said unwillingly, "How about... Mom, let's try again?
" "No! You've used up too much energy! Mom can't hurt you. We have a long life ahead of us. Now that Mom is yours, are you afraid Mom will leave? Listen to me, get dressed and go read a book for a while, then wait for dinner! Remember! Get a good night's sleep, and don't let your mind wander, understand?" I pulled my hand away from his penis and said sternly, "Also, remember to keep this a secret!
This is the most private thing between you and Mom! You can't tell anyone, understand? You're not a child anymore, you should know that we're committing incest! If it gets out, it won't just be a matter of Mom's reputation, but if your father finds out, given his personality, it might lead to someone's death! Do you understand?" Hearing the word "Dad," my son's penis went even softer.
PS: I haven't updated for two or three years. Many friends have messaged me asking if there's a sequel.
Actually, by the time I wrote up to chapter 9, Wang Yan and her son had already opened up to each other. I've said before that the rest would be all sex scenes, which I'm not good at and don't find interesting. The biggest difference between Wang Yan's story and Zhang Lin's is that this is an incestuous story without conspiracy or suspense, only a hint of romance. So the whole thing is just simple daily life. Since there's no suspense, the ending could have been anywhere.
However, it's true that the story ended abruptly here, feeling a bit unfinished. I always felt bad for the friends who liked this work, but getting married and having children changed my life, and I no longer had as much time to write, so I had to put it aside. But I'm grateful for the 10 days of free time this New Year holiday, and I decided to finish this story. I think I finished it by yesterday. I estimate there's still about a third left, which I'll proofread and revise in the next few days before releasing it.
I would also like to express my heartfelt gratitude to the friends who have been thinking about this work. Thank you for giving me confidence.

Chapter 11.
In the following days, my son and I continued to try several more times.
However, at every crucial moment, he couldn't control himself. Either he would suddenly ejaculate all over me after we had just reached the height of our passion, or he would involuntarily ejaculate as soon as our penis and vulva made contact.
Every time this happened, I felt like a starving person who was presented with a delicious meal, but before I could even eat it, someone sprinkled a handful of poison on me. It was unbearable.
If I were still at the stage where I had fantasies about my son because of my sexual fantasies about handsome young men, and it was just a kind of unrequited love in my heart, then it would probably be better than it is now. In the end, even the bottom line of morality and ethics couldn't stop my son and me from having this illicit affair based on mutual physical desire. Layers of moral constraints and psychological pressure were broken, but the most wonderful moment when mother and son should have been enjoying intimacy and savoring the fruits of their love ended abruptly because of my son's physical problems. How could I not feel extremely frustrated?
This disharmony disturbed my peace of mind, to the point that my mood was absolutely terrible for several days. I often lost my temper for no reason at work, and I received a lot of criticism from my superiors.
Several of my female colleagues noticed my recent bad temper and would whisper among themselves, thinking that my husband's long business trips had caused my pent-up sexual desire to erupt. They even joked about it a few times. Out of politeness, I just smiled bitterly and remained silent each time, thinking that they had no idea that what was truly causing my sexual frustration wasn't my husband's business trip, but my seemingly obedient and weak son.
After repeated, devastating sexual failures, I considered taking him to the hospital to see a doctor.
Sometimes I thought, whether my own sexual desires could be satisfied was secondary; if this child really had some kind of medical condition causing premature ejaculation, it would affect his ability to marry and have children in the future, so it was better to treat it early.
That day after work, Wenwen walked with me because she had errands to run.
Seeing that I always looked worried lately, she asked as we walked, "Sister Yan, what's wrong with you lately? You always seem distracted and get angry easily." "I don't mean anything by it!" Thinking about how I would face my son when I got home—who would undoubtedly be eager to try again with me but couldn't perform—I didn't feel like talking to Wenwen and just vehemently denied it.
"Really? It's not just me; Xiaoli and the others also think you've been acting strangely lately. You're usually so gentle, but lately you've been getting angry with clients all the time; something must be wrong. They all like to joke around, but I've always considered you my sister. Don't hide anything from me! I'll do everything I can to help you!" Wenwen said sincerely.
Wenwen's surname is Zhou, and her given name is Zhou Wenwen. She's 28 years old, got married two years ago, and became a mother last year. This beautiful girl has a personality very similar to mine—gentle, kind, and very warm-hearted. Because I often helped her at the bank, she always treated me like an older sister, and we were best friends who could talk about anything.
But I couldn't tell Wenwen about my incestuous relationship with my son, no matter how close we were. After all, it's the biggest taboo in human society.
I shook my head and smiled bitterly, saying, "It's really nothing, don't overthink it. It's just that your brother-in-law has been away on business for so long, and I do miss him a little!" I lied, a lie that sounded plausible to anyone.
"Okay, it's good that you're alright! Sister, maybe talking to your brother-in-law on the phone more often will help." Wenwen didn't press further and we walked slowly towards the station together.
After a few steps, Wenwen suddenly called me softly, "Sister Yan..." "What is it?" I turned around and looked at Wenwen, puzzled.
Normally, this girl, though not as outspoken as Xiaoli, is quite cheerful and often chats and laughs with me. But now, she seemed preoccupied.
"I have something I want to tell you, and I'd like to hear your advice. Shall we go sit in that KFC over there?" I checked the time; it was still early. Although I was worried about my son, I couldn't refuse my good friend's request, so I nodded and went with her into a KFC by the roadside.
Once inside, we ordered two drinks and found a corner to sit facing each other. I looked at Wenwen with a questioning gaze.
Wenwen fiddled with her straw, looking both nervous and excited. She whispered, "Sister Yanzi, what do you think about extramarital affairs?" I was startled! I almost dropped my drink, thinking to myself, how did this clever girl discover my and my son's shameful affair!
Before I could recover, Wenwen muttered to herself, "I think... I might have an affair!
" Goodness! You little brat, you almost scared me to death!
I felt ashamed. I wondered how she knew about the shameful things my son and I did at home; it turned out she was just infatuated.
"What happened?" Since it wasn't my business, as a woman, my gossipy nature made me very curious and pressed Wenwen for details. She said shyly, "You've probably heard about my husband's situation, sister. He's impotent and has premature ejaculation. To be honest, our child was... was conceived when he ejaculated before penetration. Our marriage is utterly unhappy. But he's rich, owns a house, and is very devoted to me. Now we have a child, so I shouldn't have wronged him. But... I'm a woman too. If I weren't married and still a virgin, maybe I wouldn't have such strong desires. This situation is truly agonizing for me. Two months ago, I met a young man online, and we chatted..." We hit it off really well and exchanged phone numbers. He asked me to be his girlfriend, and I initially thought it was a joke but agreed. However, he took it seriously. After talking to him a few times, I found out he was just a high school student, about the same age as your son. I wanted to break off contact with him, but he called me every day. I looked at his photos on his Weibo and thought he was quite handsome. Every time he called, he was full of sweet talk. I couldn't help but feel a little flutter in my heart. And... a few days ago..." At this point, Wenwen seemed unable to continue, her pretty face filled with the shyness of a young woman.
"What happened a few days ago?" I listened intently to the secrets in the heart of this beautiful young woman. Women are naturally fond of hearing these kinds of gossip. And judging from Wenwen's expression, her relationship with that boy had clearly gone beyond a normal online friendship, so I couldn't help but press her for more information.
"A few days ago...that night, my husband wasn't home, and he asked me to video chat. It was the first time I'd seen him in person, and he was just as handsome as in his photos. He knew I was actually married. He asked if my husband would be jealous if he saw me video chatting with him, and I told him honestly that my husband was out. Then, this little guy kept pestering me to do a nude video chat. He said things like, 'How could my second husband not have seen his wife's body?' Then he went on and on about how sweet and affectionate he was, calling me 'good sister' and 'dear sister.' It made my heart flutter, so...so I took off all my clothes and did a nude video chat with him!" "Ah!" I looked at Wenwen in surprise. I'd known this delicate and beautiful young woman since I started working at the bank. My initial impression of her was that she was gentle, refined, and shy. I never imagined that a few simple sweet words from a strange boy could entice her to undress and reveal her most precious body. How could I not be surprised? But when I think about how our simple mother-son relationship has developed in just a few weeks, from loving mother and son to an incestuous affair where we can sleep together, what does Wenwen's change amount to?" "And then?" I continued to ask.
"Then... this little guy actually started masturbating in front of the computer screen. While he was masturbating, he kept calling out to me, 'Good wife, let me take a closer look...' He asked me to point the webcam at his genitals and take a close-up shot for him.
" "You did that?" "Yes!" Wenwen nodded, blushing, but seemed very excited.
"I put the webcam in front of his vulva, and the shot was very clear. After he saw it, he was incredibly excited. While happily stroking his penis, he asked me if his penis was bigger than my husband's. To be honest, it's much bigger and stronger than my husband's. To be honest, Sister Yanzi, my husband's useless thing... I really crave it..." "Wenwen, you're not a child anymore, you're a mother, how can you do such a ridiculous thing!" "I rebuked her sternly.
It wasn't that I was being hypocritical, pretending to be virtuous while having an affair with my own son. On the contrary, it was because I was constantly suffering from guilt towards my husband that I didn't want Wenwen to fall into the same abyss of desire.
'Have you considered your son? If you and this wild boy have any entanglements in the future, like Cecilia Cheung in the Edison Chen photo scandal, how will you face your husband and child?' 'But!' Wenwen argued, 'But who can know the pain in my heart? What am I supposed to do with such an incompetent husband? Besides, he's just a young man's exploration of the mystery of women! I'm not stupid, how could I abandon my family for him! I know very well that he only wants my body, but I also want my body to be satisfied! In that case, this kind of purely lustful relationship, even if it's infidelity, shouldn't be a problem to me!'" "Wenwen's words have actually echoed in my mind more than once.
Seeing her so openly facing her desires at such a young age, I suddenly felt that I had been suppressing myself for the rest of my life. For the sake of family harmony, and to repay my husband's love, I strictly adhered to chastity and served him faithfully. But in the end, my inner desires were like a flood that had burst its banks, uncontrollable. Moreover, my incestuous behavior was far more despicable than Wenwen's current extramarital affair. If I forced Wenwen to suppress her inner desires, perhaps years later, when her son grew up, the tragedy of incest would also befall her.
We were silent for a while, and I asked, 'So you called me out to tell me this?' 'Yes!' Wenwen nodded.
'Sister Yanzi, you know, the feeling of secretly video chatting naked with him is just too exciting. I really can't keep it to myself. You are my closest older sister, and I can only confide in you. I don't actually expect you to give me any valuable advice. I'm just happy to hear what you have to say.'" I shook my head helplessly and smiled bitterly.
After all, it was her own business, and I was already touched that she was willing to share this secret with me. She's an adult, and I don't need to force her to follow the path she chose.
"So, you'll just continue dating him like this?" I asked, taking a sip of my drink. "Yeah! Actually, I'm going to meet him today... for the first time! Thinking about it makes me feel shy, like I'm experiencing first love." As she spoke, Wenwen cupped her flushed face in her hands, closed her eyes, and seemed completely intoxicated.
"Looks like a lovesick fool!" I said with a laugh, casually rummaging through my purse and finding the box of condoms I had secretly bought from the pharmacy that day, quietly handing it to her.
"Here, what does that little brat know! It's your first time, don't cause any trouble. Also, be careful in everything you do, don't let him take any nude photos or anything that could give him leverage." "Wenwen took the condom, blushing shyly as she put it in her purse. Then she gave me a strange smile and asked, 'Your brother-in-law has been away on a business trip for so long, who are you planning to use this with? Confess! And what do you mean by 'don't leave any evidence or get nude photos taken'? Speaking of which, you seem to have a lot of experience, sister!
Tell me! Have you ever wronged your brother-in-law all these years?!' 'Go away, don't tease me. I only bought this because I heard you and Xiaoli talking about how using condoms is more exciting, so I was planning to use it with your brother-in-law. I'm so much older than you, I've heard all sorts of things, I was just trying to give you a friendly reminder and you're accusing me! I'll call your husband tonight and report you for cheating!' I said to Wenwen with a smile. '
Okay, I'll let you off the hook!'" "But thank you so much, Sister Yanzi, thank you for sharing my joy and pain," Wenwen said, lowering her head.
After parting with Wenwen, I sat alone on the bus home, lost in thought.
Everyone says men are lustful. But why do they all ignore women's feelings?
Wenwen and I are both weak women tormented by desire. Was the path of incest we each chose right or wrong?
If Wenwen's choice to have an affair because her husband had erectile dysfunction and she had completely lost the satisfaction she deserved in her marital life, and in pursuit of basic sexual needs, could be considered understandable,
then my marital life for over 10 years had been relatively fulfilling, but my inner resistance to my husband's ugly appearance and rough personality gradually accumulated to a climax, ultimately leading to my incestuous relationship with my son—isn't that a bit absurd?Regardless of the outcome of Wenwen's affair, her guilt will certainly not be as great as mine. Because I always feel that in this matter of incest, I was the one who seduced my son. Even if the sexual confusion of a teenager is intense, without my half-hearted consent or even active guidance, he wouldn't have dared to do anything to me, no matter how bold he was. It was precisely my indulgence and tolerance, even driven by selfish lust, that led to this illicit relationship between us. And even from the perspective of simply pursuing carnal desire, this illicit affair has brought neither of us the outcome we desired. Instead, it has made my son more distressed and me more confused.

Thinking about my recent failed sexual experiences with my son, feelings of self-blame, shame, dissatisfaction, and fear overwhelmed me.
I stared out the car window, my mind in turmoil.
What was Wenwen doing right now?
Perhaps she and her young lover were hand-in-hand, searching for a suitable upscale restaurant for dinner. Afterwards, they would find a comfortable hotel, book a warm room, and then a lonely young woman deprived of intimacy and a sexually aroused young man, like dry wood meeting a raging fire, would surely indulge in passionate pleasure until dawn.
However, based on my own experience, I highly doubted that the young man, similar in age to my son, could truly satisfy her. My son's situation made me completely distrustful of such immature children. I could already imagine the immense disappointment Wenwen would feel after her initial high expectations.
Oh! Well, even if Wenwen's young lover, like my son, suffered from sexual dysfunction due to inexperience, she could easily dump him and find someone new. A lonely young woman seeking comfort online is like a lamb entering a tiger's den; all sorts of men will overwhelm her if she agrees. Surely one of them will satisfy her and become her suitable sexual partner.
While I seemingly maintained a reluctance to have any shameful sexual contact with outsiders, I absurdly chose the even bolder path of incest. Once Pandora's box is opened, it's destined to affect my son and me for life. I no longer have the right to be picky about the sexual partners I choose. On the contrary, my son will eventually marry and have children, and as a mother, especially as the woman responsible for his premature ejaculation, a sense of guilt arises inexplicably.
As a mother, making sacrifices for my son is only right! In the past, my eagerness to gain satisfaction from my son's youthful body seems truly wrong. Then again, every time I flirted with my son and saw his infatuated and entranced state, wasn't I already satisfied? Perhaps my initial direct and explicit sexual contact with my son was a mistake. What I originally wanted from my son was that pure and shy satisfaction. It wasn't purely a physical need. If it were just about making me scream in bed, my dark-skinned, ugly husband could easily do that; why would I bother seducing my son? Although I believe perfect sex is a full union of body and soul, since fate has forcibly divided my desired sex life in two, giving one half to my husband and the other to my son, why should I force it? Isn't it equally perfect as long as we each get what we need from them?
I'm truly grateful to Wenwen.
Her confiding in me made me realize that women's desires are all the same. If a woman is lucky, she'll meet a husband who is her equal and devoted partner, and she'll stay with him faithfully. But such happy marriages are extremely rare. Women in unhappy marriages either remain truly chaste and suffer greatly, or they compromise with their nature and openly or secretly find new love. Undoubtedly, Wenwen and I both chose the latter. Was this choice wrong? Perhaps! But at least I think this choice is more in line with my own conscience and feelings. After all, Wenwen and I are both gentle and good women who have spent most of our lives quietly giving to our husbands and families. We've already made enough sacrifices. Sex is a private matter that relates to one's lifelong happiness, so let's allow ourselves a little selfishness when making choices!
As for our son,
Mom will maintain this incestuous relationship with you, a mutually beneficial arrangement, with the gentlest maternal love. But if I try a few more times and you still can't get it, then perhaps I'll have to take you to the hospital for treatment first. However, I believe our hearts will always be connected. PS: This post is actually only half of this chapter. Proofreading and editing take a lot of time, and I don't have much time, so the posting is a little slow. Please forgive me. The character Wenwen appears only to help Wang Yan resolve her inner turmoil regarding the upcoming incestuous plot and to arrange a dialogue between her and Wang Yan. Later, I also conceived of having her online friend, Wang Yan's son Yang Yang, be discovered, leading to a three-way brawl. However, because Wenwen had met Yang Yang before, this idea was abandoned. Then, I conceived of a boy who sleeps with Wenwen, a bully from Yang Yang's school. His affair with Wenwen is discovered by Yang Yang while he's boasting. With the help of Wang Yan and her son, Wenwen escapes the bully's harassment. To comfort Wenwen, who also has sexual problems, Wang Yan generously offers her her son to share with her. Ultimately, however, only the pure love between mother and son... The premise of this story, focusing on the emotional world, led me to decide that Wenwen is just a minor character; she will reappear later. Her appearance is merely a foil to Wang Yan's own story. So, friends who were interested in this beautiful, adulterous young woman after reading this, you'll be disappointed. After all, I've finished writing the entire text; I'll only make minor corrections to typos and grammar, and major changes are impossible.

Chapter 12
: Over the past few days, my son's fiery passion has gradually faded.
In the days following our formal sexual relationship, although he repeatedly failed in bed, he was, after all, a young man with a strong libido, and he was extremely craving his mother's alluring body that she had completely opened up to him. He could still manage to keep trying despite repeated failures. Even in the dead of night, when I was yawning and begging for mercy after his countless premature ejaculations had completely killed my interest, he would still pester me unwillingly, wanting me to try one more time, until I could no longer bear it and kicked him off the bed.
Especially every evening when I get home, before I can even take off my high heels, he'll suddenly grab me from behind like a lustful monkey, eagerly grabbing my breasts through my clothes and kneading them vigorously, while pressing his already erect penis against my round buttocks in my school uniform skirt, mimicking sexual intercourse, thrusting back and forth to enjoy the pleasure his mother's big buttocks give him, and then shamelessly begging me for sex. He
does this every day, and I'm afraid he'll indulge himself to the point of overindulgence. I have to try every possible way to get rid of his entanglement.
As my son grew increasingly frustrated, when I got home today, he wasn't so anxious anymore. Instead, he just sat calmly on the sofa watching TV, and when he saw me come in, he only looked up and weakly called out, "Mom." "What's wrong? My little darling. You seem unhappy!" I changed my shoes, unbuttoned my shirt collar, sat down next to my son, and asked with a smile.
"Nothing. I'm a little hungry. Mom, you go and cook." My son's attitude was lukewarm.
I was slightly disappointed.
Thinking about Wenwen and my own situation on the way home, I was somewhat emotional. I really hoped my son would greet me with a tender, lover's embrace. Even his usual eager and lustful behavior, like before, felt more comfortable now than this ordinary mother-son relationship, as if nothing had happened. After a moment
of silence, seeing that my son didn't seem to have any affectionate thoughts or enthusiastic actions—after all, I am his mother, and it's not appropriate for me to be too proactive—I got up and went back to my room to change into my usual pink slip dress, put on an apron, and started making dinner.
After dinner, my son remained indifferent.
Usually, this is his second heat cycle. But today, his attention seemed completely elsewhere.
Even though I had tried to subtly and overtly suggest to him that I was in a good mood and could try "that" today...
But my son remained unmoved, and his demeanor was completely different from before. He was a stark contrast to the man who would relentlessly pursue me in bed. There was a hint of unspoken words in his eyes, an awkward atmosphere more akin to the shy, hesitant feelings we shared when our feelings had just blossomed, before we could even confess.
Perhaps he was tired of our incestuous relationship?
Or perhaps it was just his youthful impetuosity, a case of fickle desires, that he was tired of seeing his mother's body, which was supposed to be mysterious, and was now bored with my sexuality?
I pondered these thoughts for a while, then decided it wasn't wise to put too much pressure on him. A few days of rest would be good, so
I stopped pursuing him, washed up, and went to my room to sleep. Although my son wanted to sleep with me, considering his severe premature ejaculation, I was afraid that physical intimacy and sharing a bed would cause him to lose control and harm his health, so I firmly refused.
The next day, my son was the same, still somewhat cold towards me.
The mother-son relationship, which should have been inseparable after their first taste of forbidden fruit through incest, remained stubbornly silent for three days straight.
My son's unusual behavior made me even more agitated than before. So much so that when Wenwen greeted me with a radiant smile and asked to talk, I had no patience for her.
It was clear she had enjoyed a passionate night, eagerly sharing her happiness with me. But who could I confide in about my inner turmoil and uncertainty?
After work, I didn't agree to Wenwen's request to talk to her alone; instead, I rushed home.
I desperately wanted to understand what was wrong with my son!
Why had he changed so much after just one day at work? Had our newly formed, open relationship been so easily shattered by reality?
No!
I wanted to tell my son!
Even if his premature ejaculation couldn't be cured, his mother wouldn't despise him!
As his first woman and his most beloved mother, I would do everything in my power to help him overcome this shameful condition! I believe my encouragement will help him get back on his feet! If he really dislikes me for some other reason, I will tell him! A mother's door will always be open for him! Whatever he needs, his mother will selflessly give him!
This is also a small compensation for my guilt about leading my son astray.
"Yangyang, Mom has something to tell you!" As soon as I entered the door, without even changing my clothes, I plopped down next to my son, snatched the TV remote from his hand, and turned off the TV.
My son was a little surprised to see me so blunt and direct after coming home in such a hurry. But then he smiled and grabbed my hand excitedly, saying, "Mom! Don't say anything yet, let me tell you something first!" "Oh? What do you want to hear? You've been cold to your mother for days! What good thing could you possibly have?" I asked, dissatisfied. "Of course!" My son was completely unaware of how sensitive I was to his lukewarm attitude towards me these past few days, and just kept talking to himself.
"Mom, you know what? I've been researching online in your room these past few days, and through my own experiments, I've proven that my premature ejaculation isn't physiological at all!" "Oh?" I had been eager to talk to my son face-to-face, but what he said was completely different from what I expected.
This brat! To let him focus on his studies, his father and I haven't bought him his own computer. We were planning to get him a good one after he got into university, but this kid always sneaks into our bedroom to use the computer when no one's home.
Oh well! I'm too lazy to scold him! I'll listen to what he has to say.
I sat down beside him, full of curiosity, and listened intently
. I consulted a hospital specializing in men's health online. They said premature ejaculation is divided into two types: physiological and psychological. Physiological premature ejaculation means I can ejaculate easily regardless of the type of sexual contact, while psychological premature ejaculation only occurs under extreme excitement or during unexpected events.
The doctor had me do a simple test: observe the duration of my masturbation. If it lasts longer than two minutes, physiological premature ejaculation can be ruled out.
Mom, you know…
I'm only so useless when I'm having sex with you or giving you oral sex; I can last quite a while when I masturbate. I've been testing my masturbation time these past few days. Mom, do you know what? I've recorded the longest… "I can last 15 minutes before ejaculating! And... I've also carefully recorded the duration of my ejaculation and the corresponding sexual fantasies during each masturbation session. I've found that the more I fantasize about you dressed elegantly like you are now, especially in that familiar bank uniform skirt I'm used to seeing, and especially when I fantasize about caressing your beautiful legs in stockings, the easier it is for me to become intoxicated! The masturbation can also last longer.
Conversely, when I think about how you always take off your underwear and expose your wet vulva to me, the intensely sexually stimulating image makes me even more excited and my ejaculation is more rapid!" "Oh? Mom seems to understand. So you mean..." I seemed to understand a little.
It seems the child is quite young; besides his desire for sex, he also harbors a strong romantic sentiment. What he yearns for is the hazy feeling of gradually unveiling the mystery; what he craves is that step-by-step, gradual atmosphere of sex.
Because of my husband's roughness and direct influence in bed for so long, as I grew older and accumulated more sexual experience, I unconsciously became like him, with a similar fondness for the exposure and contact of naked genitals. In that sense, it's no wonder my son, a novice, couldn't handle such intense sexual stimulation and ejaculated prematurely. Looking back on our efforts, I realize I did tend to rely more on directly using my genitals to arouse his desire. While it was effective—my son always had an immediate physiological response to my genitals—it was too hasty, and I forgot to consider his true feelings. I also lost the completely different kind of romance I sought with him compared to my husband!
"How exactly should I do it? I…I don't know…but Mom, maybe it would be better if you were more subtle!
" my son said shyly after thinking for a moment.
I ran my fingers through my long hair, playing with the ends of my hair at my temples, and looked at Yang Yang, thinking about his words. They did make a lot of sense. But once a habit is formed, it's hard to change. My husband's wild bedroom style has infected me, unconsciously instilling in me a slightly lewd sexual habit. Now, for the sake of our son, I'm asked to switch to a different kind of sexual atmosphere I've never tried before, which isn't easy. But since I've already considered my son my closest lover, and he's an innocent child in the world of sex, I must guide and cooperate with him with a mother's patience, gradually leading him into the world of pleasure! Whether it's addressing his psychological barriers or the alternative stimulation I'm seeking, it's all beneficial and harmless. I just hope he can grow up quickly! After all, my greatest expectation for my son is to have a harmonious relationship with him, where he can bring me unique psychological satisfaction, and also allow my physical needs to be fully released, replacing my husband's—that's my ultimate ideal.
"Okay, Mommy promises you, from now on Mommy will be gentler with you. Also, Mommy will respect your opinions more. Before, Mommy always treated you like a child, afraid you wouldn't know this or that, and that was indeed a bit too hasty. Now, Mommy will go along with your wishes! My little darling, Mommy will be a good lover for you!" Saying this, I leaned in and gently kissed my son's cheek, not with the eager, wet kiss I'd given him before, just a light, fleeting kiss.
My son smiled. He smiled very happily.
"Really, Mommy?" my son asked.
"Of course, my silly son, from now on, you are Mommy's little lover, little husband. Everything in our sex life, Mommy will listen to you. As long as your little penis works perfectly, Mommy is willing to do anything for you." Although I spoke firmly, my cheeks still flushed as always.
"You mean... I can do whatever I want at home?" my son asked with a mischievous grin. "Don't try that! You cunning little thing, all I'm giving you is control over our future sex life. Don't try to use this as an excuse to skip studying or ask for more pocket money. You need to understand that your important issue right now is getting into a good university next year!" I immediately saw through his ulterior motives, and though gentle, I maintained my maternal authority, sternly reminding him.
"Okay! You saw right through me, you're such a clever mother, I can't outsmart you. But you personally promised that your body would be under my control, so you can't go back on your word! Let me think, how should I punish your cleverness next? ""As he spoke, a mischievous yet longing gleamed in my son's eyes. I blushed and pretended to be nonchalant, saying, 'Mom's already yours. What can a boy with premature ejaculation like you do to Mom?' Looking at my son's handsome face and the way he was thinking seriously, I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my heart, my words carrying a clear hint of flirtation."

"Ugh!" My son was a little angry when I mentioned his premature ejaculation.
"Okay, Mom, stand up first." I stood up as instructed and walked to my son. My full figure, dressed in a sexy black uniform skirt, exuded a unique charm of a middle-aged woman.
"Take off the skirt first!" my son ordered.
I obediently reached behind my back, unhooked the skirt, took off the black uniform skirt, and placed it on the sofa. Then, looking at my son, I pretended to take off my stockings and underwear, while giving him a sly smile. "Say you'll take it step by step, but you're still just as impatient. What? You want to make love with Mom right now?" "Don't take off your stockings and underwear! Don't take off your white shirt either!" my son hurriedly stopped me. His eyes were fixed on my thighs, which were covered in flesh-colored pantyhose, and he was greedily scrutinizing them.
I smiled slightly, understanding my son's thoughts. I've always been proud of my figure. Although I'm a little fuller now that I'm middle-aged, my proportions are still just as good. Especially my sexy hips and long legs.
Wearing a tight short skirt usually attracts lecherous glances from men. I just don't know when my son became so fixated on my legs.
"Mom, turn around," my son said, swallowing hard as he looked at the few dark pubic hairs peeking out from under my white silk panties.
I obediently turned around, gently unbuttoning a button on my white shirt. This made the neat shirt even looser, allowing my son to continue admiring my stunning legs and the half-exposed, sexy, high-perched buttocks clad in flesh-colored pantyhose beneath the shirt hem. To ease the tension, I deliberately swayed my hips, letting my buttocks bounce in front of him.
This little sexual teasing clearly worked!
My son sat behind me, leaning forward slightly, one hand lifting the hem of my shirt, the other gently sliding between my buttocks and thighs through the delicate stockings, caressing them.
In the setting sun, the flesh-colored stockings made my legs and buttocks look so alluring. I could feel the infinite tenderness from my son's fingers. I slightly raised my buttocks, swaying my hips from side to side in rhythm with my son. The pleasure of being caressed by my son, amplified by the friction of the stockings against my skin, strongly stimulated my desire. I felt my juices involuntarily flowing out.
"Keep going, baby! It feels so good to touch Mommy!" I reached into the pantyhose and tugged at my underwear. I rolled up the back of the underwear into a line and tucked it between my buttocks, as if wearing a thong, completely exposing my beautiful buttocks to my son.
"Haha! Mom, you're really something. But you should buy a thong from now on. Ordinary underwear is a waste for such a perfect butt!" As he spoke, my son slapped my buttocks hard.
"Ah!" I cried out in pain, my cry filled with seductive charm.
"You're moaning so lewdly! Ah... I'm sorry, Mom... I shouldn't have said that to you," my son apologized hastily after his momentary lapse in judgment.
"It's alright. Silly boy, Mom already said don't hold back in sex. Do what you want, say what you want! Mom just wants to be your woman." I continued to wiggle my hips, enjoying my son's caresses and pats.
My son's excitement intensified! He stood up and quickly stripped himself naked! That little penis that had once disappointed me so much was now proudly erect again, covered by that annoying foreskin!
Yang Yang came behind me, my buttocks raised, and with both hands on my beautiful buttocks, like in doggy style, he thrust his little penis hard against my inner thighs. This fierce attack made me feel both excited and a little amused, and I couldn't help but let out a series of giggles.
After a few forceful pokes, my son calmed down. He pulled my left hand to hold his penis, and I, understanding his intention, continued to bend over with my back to him in a sexy position while masturbating him.
My son silently enjoyed my masturbation, his hands constantly caressing my thighs and buttocks covered in stockings, occasionally reaching forward to pinch my breasts through my shirt and bra, but seemingly hesitant to touch my private area. After masturbating my son for
a while, I felt that standing with my buttocks bent and my waist twisted like that was getting tiring. So I begged my son to let me change positions. My
son was very comfortable with what I was doing, no longer as smug as when I first gave him sexual power. Subtly, it seemed that no matter what our sexual positions were, he could never truly achieve complete control, and he was very obedient to my suggestions.
He pulled my hand and made me turn around to look into his eyes, and we, mother and son, were filled with boundless tenderness. I continued to hold my son's penis and slowly stroke it up and down, then gently rubbed it against my warm crotch through my stockings and underwear. My son wrapped his arms around my waist, closed his eyes, and began to kiss me passionately.
My mouth was wet with his saliva. He held me close, kissing me while continuing to caress my stockinged thighs, seemingly endlessly enamored with my beautiful legs. I gently lifted my knee and rubbed his penis back and forth for a while, then helped him sit on the sofa bed, freeing myself from his embrace.
"Mom?" My son seemed a little surprised.
As I helped him sit down, I took off my high heels and climbed onto the sofa bed, sitting opposite him with a smile. "Silly boy, you seem to really like Mom's legs. Let Mom surprise you with these stockinged legs!" As I spoke, I gently played with his erect penis with my bare feet, which were covered in beautiful stockings.
"Mom, you're so untrustworthy! You promised to listen to me, and now you're doing this on your own!" my son protested.
Years of habit had unconsciously led me to regain the upper hand in front of him, and I smiled sheepishly.
It wasn't entirely my fault; my son was timid, and although I was just as timid in real life, my rich sexual experience always made me unconsciously want to be a qualified sex mentor to him.
"Okay, okay! Mom will listen to you! My good son, how do you want Mom to make you feel good?
" I was still wearing my white silk shirt, turning my head to let my waist-length hair fall over my curled-up legs, making me look even more alluring.
My son stroked my long, black hair and said smugly, "Then I command! Mom, surprise me with these beautiful legs in stockings!" "Ugh! You naughty son! You're just teasing your old mom!" I gently tugged at the few pubic hairs on my son's penis, flirting with him.
"Hehe!" my son chuckled mischievously, asking, "So, my beautiful mom! How are you going to use your beautiful legs to make your good son happy?" I blushed, yet was incredibly excited. I didn't answer his question, but gently peeled back his foreskin, revealing the warm, pink glans. I pinched it hard with my thumb and forefinger, and my son screamed in pain.
"Ouch, Mom, be gentle! I can't take it!" The genitals of a boy whose development is not yet complete often have phimosis, where the glans is deeply hidden under the foreskin. This lack of contact with the outside world makes it extremely sensitive. Removing the thick foreskin and fully exposing the boy's tender glans is the sacred object that a woman yearning for most.
At this moment, I was playing with my son's penis in my hands, inhaling his strong masculine scent, and looking at the penis that so captivated me, my heart pounded. I couldn't wait to take off my underwear and ride on it, enjoying myself to the fullest.i=35> But my son's good looks but lack of function have shattered my dream more than once. I swallowed hard, trying to suppress my inner desire. I held my son's penis and gently rubbed the glans against my plump, sexy thigh. The damp glans, through the thin flesh-colored stockings, pressed tightly against my leg. I could deeply feel the warmth of my son's penis. With the friction of my son's penis, very obvious wet marks appeared on the beautiful flesh-colored stockings.

The friction between my beautiful, white thighs and sexy stockings caused my son's tender glans to respond to my teasing with an even stronger erection! I remember the first time I masturbated my son as his lover, this little guy ejaculated onto my stockings. It seems that women's stockings are the most alluring weapon for most men.
"Ah! So good! Mom! I want it!" my son cried out happily, lying on the sofa armrest with his eyes closed.
"Want what? Want to make love with Mom?" I asked with longing, continuing to gently rub my sexy thighs against my son's glans.
"Yes! I want to fuck Mom! But... but not yet, I'm afraid of failing! Like this... this is good! I've wanted to fuck Mom's beautiful legs for a long time! But I only had the impulse, I didn't dare to do it. I want Mom's legs. Your legs and stockings are mine!" My son was so excited that he was a little out of his mind, just stroking my thighs.
"Mommy's giving this to you! Everything Mommy has belongs to Yangyang! My good son! Kiss Mommy!" My cherry lips pressed against my son's dry lips, which were dry from excitement, and I gently licked his lips with the tip of my tongue.
My son, bursting with desire before me, his vigorous young penis in my hand, the deep, passionate kiss between mother and son, and the caresses of my son on my thigh—how could I not be excited?
I sat up, curled my right leg, and hooked the back of my thigh around my son's erect penis, gently squeezing it. With my beautiful, jade-like leg, usually clad in dignified flesh-colored stockings, I helped my son fulfill his long-cherished wish to make love with the beautiful legs that had captivated him with my allure.
The hot penis, glistening with love juice through the thin stockings, was tightly connected to my full thigh. I worked up and down, carefully stroking my son's penis with the back of my thigh. My son was overjoyed, pressing his hand tightly against my right leg, which was servicing him, and stroking it back and forth through the stockings. I was completely satisfied with the pleasure brought by my mother's beautiful legs in stockings. We were silent, only the soft rustling of the foreskin against the stockings echoing throughout the living room.
My son's hand unconsciously slipped inside my open white shirt, playfully pinching my nipple through my bra. After a moment, I couldn't bear it any longer. My intense lust made me quicken my pace as I performed groping on my son's legs. I eagerly reached into my underwear and began to caress my wet vulva. While fiddling with my sensitive clitoris, I whispered for my son's permission, "Good son! Mommy… Mommy can't hold back either. Touch Mommy, okay?" As I spoke, I pulled his hand, which was pinching my nipple, inside my pantyhose.
My son was feeling increasingly comfortable. He nodded excitedly, continuing to enjoy his mother's beautiful silk-stockinged legs while haphazardly fiddling with her panties. Still an inexperienced young man, he was completely clueless about how to touch a woman's sensitive areas. He only stroked my vulva for a while before trying to insert his fingers deeper into my vagina, but couldn't find the entrance.
I was extremely annoyed by my son's clumsy touch. I guided him to place his fingers on my clitoris.
This time, he finally gave me some pleasure.
Our bodies intertwined, writhing haphazardly on the sofa until my son ejaculated.
Although I didn't have an orgasm, I was still reluctant to let go of my son's hand touching my clitoris, and he didn't want to remove his limp penis from my wet thighs. We rested together for a while before getting up to clean up the mess.
"You naughty son! This is the second pair of stockings you've dirtied. You're responsible for washing them!" I took off the flesh-colored pantyhose, put my skirt back on, and complained, blushing, as I tied the skirt hook.
"Wash! Wash! Wash! I'd wash Mom's stockings every day, and not just stockings, I'd wash her bras and panties too!" My son recovered quickly after ejaculating; after all, he was young and full of energy. He wiped his penis clean and looked for clothes to wear while responding.
"You little rascal!" I playfully patted his head and asked,
"What do you want to eat tonight? Mom will make it for you! You little rascal, you've really gone too far this time, taking up almost half an hour of my time. You've really changed. It seems I really can't be too direct with you! But it's good this way. I was originally planning to take you to the hospital, but this proves you're still healthy, and I can save a lot of money, haha!" I smiled.
"I told you I was fine! It's all your fault, Mom. Okay, go cook! After dinner, I want to continue our in-depth discussion about sex!" My son said shamelessly, patting my bottom as I put on my short skirt.
"Shameless! Who wants to discuss such disgusting topics with you? Stop being lazy and go study. After dinner, you still need to review your lessons, understand? Don't think you can use this as an excuse not to study just because you're starting to improve! You need to know that besides sex, I'm still your mother!" I pushed away my son's hand that was trying to slip under my skirt and said, pretending to be serious.
"Okay, okay, let's eat first. You go ahead and cook, my dear!" My son ignored my refusals and forcefully slipped his hand under my skirt, pinching my bottom hard before mischievously running away.
"Ouch! You little rascal, you're so annoying!" I rubbed my bottom, which my son had hurt, but felt a sweet warmth in my heart. Then, with a beaming smile, I went back to the bedroom to change and start cooking dinner.

Chapter 13.
Out of concern for my son's health and to avoid interfering with his studies, even though our ambiguous sexual games have become quite enjoyable, I still consciously try to control the frequency of our sexual encounters.
Initially, I hoped our daily sexual contact wouldn't exceed two hours. I felt that too much pleasure would lead to my son's excessive indulgence, while too little time wouldn't satisfy my own cravings. After some calculations, I felt two hours was just right.
However, the harsh reality of my son's premature ejaculation gradually made me impatient, so I secretly changed the limit to three times a day. Even then, he often couldn't last more than 25 minutes, including foreplay. To prevent his health from being compromised by premature ejaculation, which could seriously affect his physical health and studies, I even considered reducing our sexual contact to once a day.
After this relatively enjoyable leg-to-leg sex session with my son, I realized that his health was better than I expected, and this unusual form of sex felt both fresh and exciting. My husband, though sexually active and capable, always laughs off unusual sexual practices. Being naturally honest, he doesn't consider sex other than genital intercourse to be true intercourse, so we've hardly tried anything different in all our years of marriage. The only other sexual activity he enjoys is oral sex during foreplay, but the thought of his large, smelly, black penis erect against my beautiful face makes me want to vomit.
In contrast, my son's youthful, vibrant penis always captivates me.
After dinner, my willpower was weak, and I initially wanted to refuse my son's advances, wanting him to focus on his studies, which he had neglected these past few days because of his distracted thinking. However, I couldn't resist his persistent pleading and finally gave in, putting on a new pair of pantyhose and pursuing our dreams once more.
My son was captivated by his mother's alluring legs in the stockings, while I, as the mother, experienced almost no physical sexual pleasure in this novel sexual experience. Instead, I was more captivated by my son's infatuated devotion, feeling that my beauty had conquered not just my son, but all the handsome young men I had ever fantasized about had fallen at my feet.With a happy heart, I enthusiastically used my little feet, clad in flesh-colored stockings, to clamp my son's aroused penis and began to perform footjob on him.

In the brightly lit bedroom, the naked son lay half-reclined against the headboard, facing his beautiful mother, who was only wearing flesh-colored stockings. His playful hands pinched and twisted his mother's brown nipples. The mother, shyly, gently caressed her son's burning red penis with her sexy, stockinged feet.
Under such tender affection, how could the son bear to ejaculate prematurely again?
After a moment of self-satisfaction, my temper returned to its usual gentleness over the next few days, as my mood improved. There were no more arguments at work.
These past few days, Wenwen had been confiding in me about her private affairs with her cheating boyfriend. And, filled with affection for my son, I was willing to listen to these topics that usually made me shy, sharing the different feelings of two cheating wives.
Her young lover was about the same age as my son, but his performance in bed was completely different.
Although Wenwen's husband had a serious hidden illness, and considering she had been a mother for many years and was about 10 years older than the boy, once they were in bed, Wenwen, who hadn't held out much hope because she thought he was a virgin, experienced multiple orgasms and immense pleasure after just one round. Since that affair, Wenwen would call her husband every few days, lying that she had to work overtime, and then secretly meet with her lover. Each time, they would make love until late at night before reluctantly returning home.
Wenwen specifically asked me to cover for her, saying she was working overtime because of her affair. Because of this, I received inquiries from her husband every few days, and had to pretend to be working overtime with her and lie to cover for her several times.
While lying to other people's husbands, my own husband also called every few days; he called this morning alone.
Usually, when he was away on business, my son and I would call him, reminding him to be careful and take care of himself. Recently, because I've become infatuated with my son, I've felt guilty towards my husband. I didn't dare call him too often, afraid of feeling guilty upon hearing his rough voice. But I still had to answer his calls. I could only feign concern and ask after him.
I didn't remember the specifics, only that my husband said the project was progressing well and he might be able to come home early. On
one hand, I felt indifferent towards my husband, but on the other hand, I was becoming increasingly dependent on my son. My son was still as enthusiastic about my legs in stockings as ever; foot fetishes and leg fetishes seemed like our daily ritual.
Today, when I got home, I had just taken off my high heels and was bending over to tidy the shoe cabinet when my son rushed over impatiently, lifted my skirt without a word, pulled out his penis from his jeans, and began to rub it against my buttocks with one hand while the other hand held his penis and rubbed it against my buttocks through the flesh-colored stockings.
As he rubbed, he said, "Mom, you're finally back. Come here, I missed you so much!"
I reached back and squeezed my son's aroused penis. I smiled sweetly, turned around, and gave my son a deep kiss.
After kissing, I casually stroked the foreskin of my son's penis while muttering a complaint.
"Look how impatient you are! Wait a minute, Mom has something to tell you!"
My son sat down on the chair in the hallway, holding his penis, and stroked it a couple of times as it began to soften, asking, "What's wrong?"
"Your dad called today. He asked about your injury. If he hadn't asked, I would have almost forgotten that you've been recovering very well recently. Your dad and I have decided to let you go back to school next week."
Indeed, these past few days, my son and I had gone from fantasy to the reality of incest, from ecstasy to disappointment to pleasure. This series of twists and turns had almost made me forget that my son was the hope of my husband and me, and his important task was to get into university.
"Ah?"
My son let out a disappointed "ah," and his bare genitals drooped listlessly.
"The doctor said to rest for a while, and gave me two weeks' leave. Later, they gave me another one, and I finally got to rest... It's been four weeks?"
My son also realized that the time he had spent enjoying his own private moments had unknowingly passed so long. Going to university wasn't just pressure from his parents; it was also his life goal. Having unknowingly wasted so much time, he suddenly realized he really should go back to school.
"So…Mom! After I go to school, can…can we still be intimate?"
my son stammered.
I knelt down, watching with interest as his penis, suddenly huddled up like a chubby little mouse from the shock, gently rubbing his scrotum. Smiling, I replied, "Of course! Mom has said it more than once, Mom belongs to you, you are Mom's little lover. Would Mom abandon you just because you're going to school? Silly boy, if you study hard and improve your grades, Mom might even give you an extra reward!"
Saying this, I lifted his penis and kissed it with my lips.
My son's performance in sex was worlds apart from his father's.
My husband wasn't as gentle and shy as my son; every time he came back from a business trip, he wouldn't shower and would immediately ask me for sex.
The stench from his penis always sent chills down my spine.
Ever since my son and I started having sexual contact, he would always clean his genitals beforehand, knowing I was almost home. Sometimes he would even take a shower beforehand. His penis only emitted a faint scent of soap and the heavy, masculine aroma that captivated me.
Since learning that leg and foot play made him happier, and that my previous direct, sexually driven approach only caused him premature ejaculation, I hadn't kissed his genitals so directly for a long time.
"Really?"
My son only twisted his body slightly when I kissed his penis. His reaction was noticeably less intense than before. Perhaps it was because I was kissing his glans through his foreskin, making him less sensitive.
"Okay then! I'll do as you say, I'll go to school next week!" My
son whispered, touching my dark hair that had fallen onto his legs as I lay between his legs.
At that moment, I was kneeling between his legs, unable to resist licking his penis with my slippery tongue.
The closer I got to my son's genitals, the more I was drawn to his masculine scent mixed with soap.
"Mmm! Good boy! You're so obedient. Let Mom reward you!"
I murmured, drooling as I continued to lick his penis.
"Aren't you afraid...aren't you afraid I'll ejaculate prematurely again?"
my son whispered, stroking my earlobe.
"Yes! But...Mommy loves your little penis so much. Mommy has to eat it! So it won't be naughty anymore, won't bully Mommy anymore!"
I joked with my son, half-jokingly, as I took his glans into my mouth and gently pulled at his foreskin with my teeth.
My son winced in pain, "Gently, Mommy! It hurts!"
By now, I had pulled his annoying foreskin down to below the coronal sulcus, his penis in my mouth, savoring the sweet fragrance that brought me pleasure.
The delicate taste buds brushed against the sensitive pink glans, and warm saliva dripped down his penis to the inside of his legs.
My son sat stiffly in the chair, letting me perform oral sex on him. Although it wasn't the first time he'd experienced the ultimate pleasure from his mother's sensual tongue, this time it was different. He seemed nervous yet enjoying it. Although he remained tense and silent, unlike before when he'd ejaculate like a shot after just a few licks, leaving me with an embarrassing mess of cum all over my face and mouth, he remained erect and firm no matter how I sucked and teased him.
It seems the foot fetish I've been doing with my son lately has had some positive effects. He's no longer as shy, nervous, and easily agitated as when he first entered the world of sex.
I was secretly pleased. I also started to increase the intensity and frequency of my oral sex on him.
After a while, he suddenly bent down, cupped my beautiful face in his hands, and kissed me affectionately. Then, with a raised eyebrow and a shameless grin, he said, "Mommy, wait a minute, I want to drink your milk!"
I straightened up, returning his kiss while tapping his forehead hard with my finger, blushing as I said, "How shameless! You're so old and you still want to drink Mommy's milk! No way!"
Although I said no, I hurriedly undressed, unbuttoning all the buttons on my shirt.
I didn't even have time to unhook my bra, so I quickly rolled up the top edge of my thin, flesh-colored lace bra and placed it under my breasts, presenting my large, soft breasts nakedly to my son, yearning for his caresses.
My son cupped my breasts, which were slightly sagging from leaning forward, and kneaded them vigorously, sending a shiver down my spine. Then he brought his mouth to my left nipple and playfully licked it greedily with his tongue. It was
just like his reaction when I gave him oral sex and my taste buds stimulated his tender glans. The sight of my son's fiery tongue licking my sensitive nipple, which had never been touched by anyone other than my husband and my breastfeeding son, sent shivers down my spine.
The thought that after more than a decade, my son was caressing my breasts again in a way completely different from the simple mother-son bond we once shared filled me with a mixture of shame and excitement, almost making me lose myself.
"Mmm! So good! Mommy wants more!"
I cupped my other breast, rubbing my trembling, sexy brown nipple against my son's flushed face, eagerly craving his continued caresses.
"Mmm!"
my son whispered in response. He gently licked my nipple, which I had offered, before taking it in his mouth like a child and sucking greedily.
"Ah! So good! More! More!"
I brushed my long, loose hair aside, watching my son's greedy expression as he held my nipple tightly, my desire burning fiercely.
After a while, he released my nipple, which was covered in his saliva and teeth marks, and pinched it hard between his thumb and forefinger. Then, his face flushed, he said, "Mommy! Can I... try... with your breast?"
My son's tendency to be shy is very similar to mine, but despite his shyness, his unwavering desire for novelty and excitement is something I've inherited.
“My dear son, didn’t Mommy say that there’s nothing Mommy won’t do in our sex life if you need it? Come on, baby, is this it?”
I said, kneeling between my son’s legs, pressing tightly against him, and lifting my heavy breasts to try and clamp his restless penis between my cleavage.
“Yes! Just like that! So warm! So soft!”
My son tilted his head back again, savoring the fleshy feel of his mother’s beautiful breasts with his penis.
“How annoying! Mommy has never done this with your father before! But this feeling, hehe, is also very interesting!”
I complained as I performed a breastjob on my son, watching his foreskin flip up and down and his glans appear and disappear as it was firmly clamped between my breasts, a feeling of amusement filled my heart.
I held my son’s penis with the foreskin rolled back and lubricated his pink glans with saliva. Then I brought my right nipple closer, letting these two most delicate genitals of my son and me make intimate contact. My son's excited lower body thrust back and forth, as if he were having sex, his glans pounding hard against my nipples.
My beautiful, dark brown nipples were deeply penetrated by his pink, hard, and hot glans into my wide areolas. Then, half of his short penis was completely submerged on my full, soft breasts. Each time his penis attacked my breasts, it stirred up waves of milky ripples, a scene that was incredibly erotic and breathtaking. After
playing with his penis with my breasts for a while, I put his little darling between my breasts again. This time, while moving my upper body up and down, I bent down and took his glans into my mouth. My
son, who should have ejaculated prematurely, still didn't ejaculate despite the double service of my breast play and oral sex. On the contrary, I was panting heavily, my underwear already soaked with excitement from the lewd things I had done for my son.
I grabbed my son's feet, which were wearing slippers, and helped him take them off. I pulled his foot inside my skirt, pressing it against my genitals. My son, understanding perfectly, nudged my vulva with his big toe through my wet stockings and underwear.
"Ah...no...Mom! I'm going to cum!"
My son desperately pressed my head down, trying to get away from my breasts and mouth. He didn't want to involuntarily ejaculate into his mother's mouth again.
Though somewhat reluctant, I complied, spitting out his wet penis, smiling, and about to say something when hot semen spurted from his urethra, spraying all over my face, hair, and breasts. I
dabbed some semen on my face with my hand and licked it shyly, finding myself increasingly captivated by the unique taste of my son's semen. Then, smiling, I stood up to find tissues to wipe myself clean.
"Ouch...oh!"
My son leaned back in his chair, letting out a weak sigh. Then, excitedly, he said, "Mom! Don't you think I'm getting better and better?"
While wiping the sticky white liquid from my breasts with a tissue, I turned to him and smiled, "You really are amazing! At this rate, I think you'll recover soon. But you little rascal, look at you, you always make Mom so disheveled. Tell me, how should Mom punish you!"
My son hugged my waist, stood up, and kissed my pouting lips, which were feigning anger. He mischievously said, "Then how about punishing me to serve Mom well tonight, Mother?" "
Get lost! After dinner, you'll copy English words 100 times!"
I pushed my son away and laughed.
"Okay, let's get serious. Your dad called and said the project might be finished ahead of schedule. If he comes back early, remember to keep it a secret. Don't let your dad know about this, understand?"
"Ah! Dad's coming back early? Why did you bring back only bad news today, Mom!" My
son was shocked to hear that his father was coming back.
"Don't worry, your dad will be just as busy with work when he gets back. We'll have plenty of time to spend together. But I'm really afraid you might give yourself away if you see your dad!"
"Don't worry about that. Actually, I have many secrets you don't know. I'm very good at hiding them. But Mom, you have to remember your promise. If you leave me lonely for too long, I can't guarantee I won't do something inappropriate in front of Dad, like... this!"
As he spoke, my son suddenly pinched my thigh, which was covered in stockings, hard, and then hurriedly ran into his room. I was both ashamed and angry, and chased after him to his door, yelling at him.

Chapter 14:
Happy times always linger.
Yang Yang only realized that the final exams were almost here when he picked up his schoolbag again at the start of the new week.
During this month of our incestuous time at home, my son initially became infatuated with my beauty, but later, as we overcame our emotional barriers and he gradually discovered the true meaning of love between men and women, he indulged in unrestrained and illicit desires until he became completely absorbed. As a teenager experiencing the pleasures of intimacy for the first time, it was inevitable that he would become unable to extricate himself and neglect his studies. Although I had been maintaining a less-than-ideal sex life with him while constantly fulfilling my duties as a mother and supervising his studies at home, he was still young at heart. He devoted most of his attention to how to win my favor and how to avoid premature ejaculation and embarrassment in front of me. So much so that when he returned to the reality of the classroom from this incestuous paradise, he realized how difficult it was to catch up on the lessons he had missed in the past month. Even worse, he still couldn't control his wandering thoughts.
"Yang Yang! What have you been doing at home for the past month? How could you answer such a simple question wrong?
" His English teacher, who used to have high hopes for him, was very dissatisfied upon his return and noticed a significant decline in his academic performance.
"Yang Yang! What are you daydreaming about in class? Have you injured your arm and your brain gone haywire? Do you even know how much time you have left until the college entrance exam?" The math teacher had also noticed that Yang Yang was out of sync with the class's learning atmosphere.
My son's homeroom teacher told me all about these problems over the phone.
My son was originally one of the top students in the class, but since returning from his sick leave, he's been inexplicably daydreaming in class. Sometimes he smiles to himself, sometimes he looks worried. The teachers are also very disappointed with his answers; they're either completely irrelevant or he stands there blankly, not understanding what the teacher is asking.
"Yang Yang's mother. I hope you understand that we are a top high school in the city. The college entrance exam pass rate is strictly controlled every year. Yang Yang was originally a well-known top student, how did he suddenly drop to the bottom? I hope you can increase your supervision of his studies at home. Also, observe whether he's in a relationship? Based on my years of educational experience, I feel that he's in puberty, and his infatuation suggests a strong tendency towards early romance.
Regardless, he's still a high school student. If you, as his mother, notice any signs, please contact me immediately. Our school is willing to cooperate with parents to help your son's mental well-being. Don't let these things affect his entire life!" After hanging up the phone with the homeroom teacher, I felt heavy-hearted and conflicted.
For the past few days, because I noticed some improvement in my son's sexual function, I started frequently performing oral sex, breast sex, and his favorite footjob on him. Knowing that my son would soon be returning to school and that my husband might not return for some time, my attachment to my son grew stronger each day, making it difficult for me to control the frequency of our intimate moments.
I think this must have affected his mindset after returning to school.
When I got home that evening and prepared dinner, my son rushed to me, wanting a hug, before even unpacking his schoolbag.
I pushed away his enthusiastic arms and said sternly, my face ashen, "Stop it!" "What's wrong, Mom?" he asked, disappointed. He threw down his schoolbag, changed his shoes, and came back to me.
"What's wrong with your studies? Your homeroom teacher called me. You've fallen to the bottom of the class! Do you know that's a top-tier high school? There's a strict probability system for getting into college. With grades like yours, you're likely to be eliminated." I said angrily, pointing at my son.
The days of intimacy between mother and son had almost made me forget my role as a mother. I was only focused on finding the wonderful feeling of first love and the simple sexual experience with my son. Now, I felt both ashamed and angry, both because of my son's lack of ambition and because I had actively led him into incest. This fact, which had been putting a lot of pressure on me, had finally borne bitter fruit, making me even more ashamed and remorseful.
"Mom! Listen to me!" my son tried anxiously to explain.
"I won't listen! I don't want to hear your explanations! The final exams are in two weeks! I just want you to show that same hard work you used to have. If you fail the final exams, you know how your dad will punish you when he gets home! Also, you need to focus these days! I won't allow you to touch me again! And I won't allow you to have your mind filled with those bedroom thoughts! If your teacher tells me you're still so distracted, don't blame me for never giving you another chance!" I scolded Yang Yang through gritted teeth.
My son's face turned pale, a mixture of shame, disappointment, and self-reproach. He lowered his head and pondered for a moment before falling silent, picking up his schoolbag and going to his room.
I called him twice for dinner, but he ignored me. It seemed he was really angry with me.
I picked out some of his favorite dishes and put them on a plate, then filled a bowl with rice and brought it to his room.
I found him sitting alone under the lamp, quietly reviewing his lessons. A wave of relief washed over me. My son was finally sensible and hadn't let me down. I gently moved closer to him, but he ignored me, engrossed in his book. I put down dinner and, like a wife to her hardworking husband, tenderly kissed him on the cheek. Then, with a mother's loving caress, I patted his head, turned, and closed the door, no longer wanting to disturb his studies.
From then on, our relationship seemed to return to a simple mother-son dynamic.
It was as if we had never experienced anything incestuous. Every day, my son studied diligently, leaving early and returning late. I, on the other hand, tried my best to do housework and, to prevent him from having any wild thoughts, kept myself in my room to avoid us both becoming unable to control ourselves from seeing him too often.
However, every morning when we went to work or school together on the bus, my son would sometimes sneakily touch my sexy, stockinged legs under my short skirt, or sometimes deliberately nudge my buttocks with his erect penis. I would always smile and remain silent, letting my son sexually harass me without responding. Sometimes, I would even subtly wiggle my hips in response to the rhythm of my son's penis rubbing against me. These simple acts of flirting at least reminded me that beneath the surface of our otherwise mundane life, there was a hidden passion.
My son, after all, had a good academic foundation and was intelligent. After I suppressed his wandering thoughts, his grades recovered quickly.
Soon after, he ranked 11th in his class and 28th in the entire grade in the final exams. Although this was somewhat disappointing compared to his previous final exam results, it was still quite good compared to the fact that he had fallen far behind others after just returning from vacation.
When my son came home with his report card, I had prepared dinner as usual and was watching TV while waiting for him to come home.
As soon as he entered the door, he excitedly handed me his report card, boasting about how hard he had been studying lately, how he had underperformed during the exams, and how his current score wasn't as ideal as he had hoped.
I looked at the report card, smiled with satisfaction, and casually praised him a few times.
"Just verbal praise?" My son asked after changing his shoes and washing his face. "Aren't you going to give your son a real reward, Mom?" "I'll have your dad slap you as a reward later!" I said with a laugh. "If it weren't for Mom's strict discipline, I don't know how your dad would beat you when he got home! And you dare to ask for a reward!
" My son plopped down next to me, brazenly putting his arm around my shoulder and rubbing his face against mine. He whispered in my ear, "Mom! I've been holding back for so long! Now that the exams are over, I should be on summer vacation. Shouldn't I give my son a good time today?" As he spoke, his mischievous hand reached under my dress.
I blushed and let my son grope me, not refusing his hand under my dress. A long-lost tenderness welled up in my heart. I didn't dare look at my son's gaze, which made me nervous, and just kept staring at the TV, letting him gently rub his fingers against my private area through my stockings and underwear.
"Are you bullying your mother again?" Having not been with my son for a while, I felt a little embarrassed by his touching. Finally, I couldn't help but stand up and walk away, whispering, "Ugh! Look at you, you're all sweaty and smell awful. Go take a shower. After dinner, if you have anything to say, come to my room and we'll talk." Although the words were veiled, the meaning was clear to my son and me, this incestuous mother and son.
To celebrate my son's exams, which he did quite well, I, as his mother, decided to use my body as encouragement and reward him for his hard work that night. On the other hand, because I hadn't had any real sexual contact with Yang Yang for a long time, I also wanted to see if his premature ejaculation problem had improved after the various sexual encounters and the rest I'd been doing.
After dinner, I took a shower, making sure it was more thorough than usual.
After showering, I changed into a clean, light yellow silk nightgown, hesitated for a moment, and then put on a pair of flesh-colored stockings. Then, I lazily nestled against the headboard, flipping through the erotic comics I'd confiscated from my son while eagerly awaiting the arrival of my little sweetheart.
My son had been watching TV since finishing his meal. I glanced at him after showering, and the little guy, knowing full well what was going on, got up and went to shower as well. I heard the hairdryer and knew he was drying his hair. Thinking about how much our long-awaited intimacy was emphasizing, I couldn't help but smile slightly.
The door opened, and my son silently entered my bedroom, locking the door behind him. I pretended not to notice, still facing the bed, flipping through his erotic comics page by page, ignoring him.
The explicit sex scenes made my heart pound, and the sound of my son's breathing getting closer made me even more nervous.
My son started touching me. His
warm, large hands skillfully and greedily caressed the section of my thigh clad in stockings that was exposed under my nightgown.
I still ignored him.
He started lifting my nightgown, reaching down to my chest and brazenly squeezing my breasts.
I couldn't hold back any longer and giggled. I turned around and playfully tapped my son's head with the comic book in my hand,
laughing and scolding, "You're so naughty!" Before I could finish my sentence, my son's hot lips were already pressed against mine, and we began a passionate kiss. "Oh! Mom," my son said, his eyes half-closed, completely absorbed in the French kiss, while his hands busily kneaded my breasts and touched my thighs, murmuring, "I've missed you so much! You know how hard I've tried these past few days to make you happy... and I've been refraining from masturbation... You know how beautiful you are... I don't want to waste my love on other things; I want to give you the best gift with my grades and my love for you." We had just broken free of our moral constraints and were deeply in love, but my son's studies abruptly severed that bond. Our hearts, which had just grown closer after breaking the taboo, began to drift apart as my son focused on his studies. I felt a pang of sadness about this.
But hearing my son's tender words whispered in my ear filled me with a mixture of shyness and gratitude. Finally, after we broke through the forbidden zone, I had truly won his heart. In return, I would naturally be extra gentle and attentive in bed.
"Mommy knows! My good son! I'm sorry you've suffered! It's all my fault! Come on, my little lover! Tonight, Mommy belongs to you. You should know that Mommy has been longing for this moment to come. Come on, son, let's indulge ourselves!" I returned his kisses while caressing his naked upper body, feeling the smoothness of every inch of his skin. I also poured out my heart to him. A
man and woman in the throes of passion need no words; their bodies are the best comfort.
When my son came into my bedroom after his shower, he was only wearing boxer shorts, which were now nowhere to be seen. His naked body embraced me, and we rolled around on the bed, French kissing. After a passionate, sensual encounter, I sat up. My son, understanding my unspoken message, helped me lift my nightgown. I raised my arms and pulled myself up, and the nightgown, which had been in the way, was easily removed by my son. I was now naked, facing my naked son, completely exposed to each other.
I reached down to pull off my stockings from my thighs, but my son stopped me, pressing my hand down. "Don't take them off, Mom! You look even sexier in stockings. Come on! Stand up and let me see." I obediently stood up, smoothing my long, flowing hair. Standing naked before my son, I suddenly felt a little embarrassed and lowered my head, blushing.
My son also stood up, put his arm around my shoulders, and examined my beautiful body with eyes full of love and desire, as if scrutinizing a work of art. At this moment, my son no longer felt the ecstasy and unease he had when he first saw his mother naked, nor the lingering infatuation he had shown when we performed leg play or oral sex. I don't know when the mundane years had made my son mature, but now, once again, we were naked together. It felt as if my long-held sexual fantasies were about to become reality. A handsome young man and his beautiful princess were about to romantically experience their shy first night together.
Ah! This was the moment I had always dreamed of!
At this moment, I could no longer be as wanton and assertive as before. In this warm atmosphere, I unconsciously became intoxicated, like a virgin shyly awaiting her first time. I even forgot that my son had premature ejaculation; my eyes, looking at his penis, were both yearning and tender.
"What beautiful breasts!" My son reached out and pinched my slightly erect nipple, praising, "I haven't touched them for days, but Mom's nipples are still so smooth and alluring." I shyly turned my head away, saying nothing. I let my son play with my beautiful nipples, remaining silent.
My heart, however, felt sweet.
"What's wrong, Mom? You seem shy." My son gently lifted my chin and kissed me again. His restless hands began to caress my pubic area, which was covered in thick, dark pubic hair.
As I responded to my son's tongue with mine, I whispered, "Somehow, Mom feels you're a little different today. Maybe we've been too empty lately, but anyway, Mom feels great right now! How do you want to make love to Mom today? With your breasts or your mouth? My good son who loves learning! Whatever reward you want, Mom will give you!
" "Today... I want to truly be Mom's man! Is that okay?" My son ran his fingers through the thick pubic hair between my legs and said decisively with courage.
"Of course! My silly child. Mom also longs to have you. But we've failed too many times in the past..." Just thinking about those frustrating sexual experiences made my heart feel heavy.
"No... don't believe me! Mom, let me try again!" Looking at my son's determined eyes, and at the same time, the warm atmosphere in bed today was so intoxicating. I couldn't refuse my son's efforts again, so I obediently nodded, let my son help me lie down quietly on the bed, closed my eyes, and waited for my son's countless attempts at intercourse.
Since my son and I started having leg-to-leg sex, although I've often tried having him masturbate me, he seems to have a particular arousal for naked female genitalia. To avoid triggering premature ejaculation, I haven't directly exposed my vulva to him in a long time.
Right now, while I'm still hesitating about whether to actively spread my legs, my son has already grasped my knees, clad in flesh-colored stockings, and forcefully spread them apart, instantly exposing my most beautiful clitoris completely
."So beautiful! Mom! Your vulva is like a beautiful rose, I bet it smells wonderful!" Yang Yang said, lying between my legs and bringing his head close to my vulva, taking a deep, affectionate sniff. Then, like a thirsty child, he couldn't resist pressing his lips to my vulva, savoring the most mysterious scent of his mother.
"Ah!" After all, that's a woman's most sensitive area, and being licked by my son made me let out a joyful scream.
My son had often performed oral sex on me before, but back then I was too focused on my own pleasure and didn't consider his feelings. I always readily offered my vulva to his mouth, which he, being new to this, couldn't resist and licked and nibbled indiscriminately. This time, however, my son initiated oral sex during our passionate encounter. The unique gentleness and stimulation he brought were unlike anything I'd ever experienced before, making me feel intoxicated and wanting to scream with pleasure.
His tongue slid up and down along the opening of my vulva, the taste buds stimulating my delicate labia, and occasionally he'd lick the delicate clitoris exposed by his foreskin. Soon, my juices flowed like a torrent. My son even greedily sucked several mouthfuls of my flowing fluids, laughing as he looked at my embarrassed face. I don't know when, but my son had become so incredibly important to me.
"So good! Mommy wants more. Mommy wants your big cock! Hurry up and fuck Mommy's cunt hard with your big cock!" I was burning with desire from my son's meticulous oral sex. My love juices flowed uncontrollably, and I couldn't bear it any longer. I could only beg my son to take me quickly with the most degrading posture of a woman, using foul language.
My son lifted his face from my beautiful cunt and smiled. He crawled forward and pressed himself close to me, using his thumb to dab the sticky lustful fluid on my clitoris. He started to hold his foreskin-covered cock between my legs, looking for the entrance.
"Why can't it go in?" After searching for a while, my son couldn't get it in. My son asked himself.
"What a clumsy boy. This..." I curled up my legs and spread them wide to make it easier to welcome my son's foreskin-covered glans with my wet cunt, while reaching out to hold the base of my son's cock and guide him to the correct entrance.
"Mmm..." My son and I both murmured softly at the same time.
His little penis finally penetrated completely into the vagina that had given him birth and raised him, just as he had wished. The instant our genitals intertwined, neither of us moved. Our eyes met, observing each other's expressions.
The son was both surprised and delighted that he hadn't ejaculated prematurely on his first time having sex with his mother in the normal sexual position. I, on the other hand, was both happy and ashamed that his first success had finally fulfilled our incestuous relationship. But a moment later, we realized that after countless hardships, our efforts as mother and son had finally paid off, and we hurriedly began to move our bodies, eager to let each other experience pleasure.
The son, covered in sweat, thrust his penis in and out tirelessly. I, drenched in sweat, swayed my hips gracefully, skillfully matching his rhythm with my vagina. His foreskin inside my vagina was covered in vaginal fluid, and each thrust produced a wet, squelching sound. It was as if a simple symphony of love between a man and a woman was being played.
To be honest, even if my son didn't have premature ejaculation, his penis was still far inferior to his strong father's. But at this moment, I no longer cared so much about direct physical stimulation. What fascinated me more was the act of my son and I having intercourse.
"How about it, Mom! Now you won't laugh at me for premature ejaculation anymore, right?" my son said triumphantly, panting as he fucked me.
We didn't time it, 10 minutes? 15 minutes? In short, this time the intercourse time was no different from that of normal intercourse between men and women.
"You little rascal! Now you can use your little penis to bully Mom!" I said coquettishly, my face flushed and covered in sweat. My climax was approaching. I started to blush, my nipples hardened, and my juices gushed out uncontrollably, soaking a large area of the sheet under my buttocks. I became dazed and started moaning passionately.
I hugged my son's neck tightly, kissing and biting him wildly, eagerly longing for his love to arrive.
My son also climaxed.
He gripped my trembling breasts with both hands, squeezing them hard, his hips thrusting rhythmically as he relentlessly plunged his penis deep into my vagina. With a series of pleasurable cries, his fresh, hot semen gushed out, my uterus feeling the powerful impact of his scalding fluid.
After a long, long time, he slowly withdrew his penis from my vagina and collapsed beside me, panting heavily. I was also drenched in sweat, feeling utterly exhausted. Mother and son nestled together, feeling each other's heartbeats, and exchanged a blissful smile.
After resting briefly, he wrapped his arms around my neck and began kissing me passionately again.
"Mom!" he whispered in my ear.
"Hmm?" I asked weakly, my eyes closed, savoring the unforgettable experience of our intercourse.
"Making love with you is simply wonderful!" my son said, his arms around my neck, playfully rubbing his semen-covered foreskin against my stockinged thigh.
"Silly boy!" I scolded him with a smile, my eyes closed.
After a short rest, my son regained his strength. Ignoring the fact that I hadn't had time to wipe myself, he pressed his lips to my still-wet vulva, the mess from our previous lovemaking, and began a new round of passionate advances.
What a wonderful night it was.
My son, now confident, and his mother, whom he had finally conquered, tirelessly sought carnal pleasure together in the Garden of Love, until neither of us could ask for anything more. Then, like intimate lovers, we embraced naked until dawn. Even in our sleep, my son and I held hands so tightly! And our hearts, like our hands, were pressed together!
Son! Do you know how happy I am to be your woman!

P.S.: This story took me three years to write. The first chapter was posted on 18p on November 29, 2009.

This story is a pure love story I designed for Zhang Lin's tale after readers offered various suggestions that made it too complicated and I ended up writing something completely different.

At the time, because I was making Zhang Lin's story increasingly chaotic, many friends said they wanted to see a simple mother-son romance. However, when this story about Wang Yan reached chapter 14, many friends said that a simple mother-son relationship

was boring and that adding more characters would be more interesting...

I'm not complaining about the netizens, but as a new writer, you guys really can be confusing

. So, I decided to finish writing Chapter 10 in one go during the Spring Festival holiday. I didn't adopt any of your valuable suggestions.

In a previous post, I grumbled a little about how my posts lacked popularity,

and it's true. When I was writing Wang Yan's story up to chapter 2, I stopped writing for 10 months because of a relationship. I saw constant discussions and requests for updates on various forums. After that, I wrote up to chapter 9 in one go, and it seems like it took everyone over a year to forget about it.

When I got to chapter 9, I hesitated about whether to continue. Later, because of marriage and children, I simply stopped writing altogether. But I always felt like I owed everyone something for this unfinished story. After I finished writing it and posted a few chapters,

only old friends came to support it, but the popularity was clearly insufficient.

Maybe I've fallen behind in the last two years.

Alright, enough with the teasing, everyone. Let's talk about this last chapter.

It's two chapters long, and I'm posting it all at once to make it a memorable 15 chapters.

As usual, I've uploaded a TXT document containing chapters 1 to 19 at the end of the article for easy reading. However, the formatting isn't great, so please forgive me.

I might revise the story of "Beautiful Mom Zhang Lin" later, or I might start a new story, but the progress will definitely be slow. From now on, when you see my name, please mark it as an unfinished chapter before reading.

——

...

I was making dumplings by myself, a happy smile on my face.

They say women are like wolves at thirty and tigers at forty.

For a healthy woman in her prime at forty, what could bring me more happiness than
nights of blissful intimacy?

My son and I have become increasingly adept at sex as we've gotten to know each other better.

After his incestuous relationship with his mother, although he was initially obsessed, he quickly regained his sense of
propriety . It didn't negatively impact his studies, and with the onset of his romantic feelings, his thinking has matured considerably. These days
, during his vacation at home, he's managed his study time very well. This means I have nothing to worry about.
Every day after work, after he finishes studying, I greet him with the utmost enthusiasm, fulfilling his suppressed adolescent
desires , and we spend many blissful nights together.

I've been incredibly happy lately. My lifelong fantasy as a woman has not only come true but
has exceeded my expectations. How could my heart, which has been suppressed for over ten years, not be happy?

My son and I have a more fulfilling sex life than I ever dreamed of. The intense physical pleasure and
immense psychological satisfaction go without saying. What's even more remarkable is how
well .

Two to three times a day on average—not too many, not too few. This allows both the passionate
teenager and the tender mother in heat to achieve their due satisfaction without becoming overly tired or losing themselves.
And after each encounter, lying naked in bed with my son, embracing each other, brings our hearts closer
and our bond deepens.

Like a honeymoon, my son and I are so engrossed in this blissful time that we almost forgot my husband
had called days in advance to come home today.

Last night, after we finished, I was wiping myself, covered in sweat, when I suddenly remembered this
crucial thing. I repeatedly reminded my son to keep it a secret and not to be too affectionate with me in front of my husband.
He cooperated by hugging and comforting me, which calmed me down a bit. We cuddled for a while before I
went to sleep with my son this morning, feeling uneasy.

Although I can't continue sleeping with my son like husband and wife when my husband comes back
, he's very busy with work and often goes on business trips. Although I'm a little reluctant to give up this current happiness and freedom, I don't care
too much .

After all, there's plenty of time!

Since my son and I have crossed the moral line and started incest,
we've been openly and blatantly having sex at home for so long. I believe that as long as we're careful, my husband shouldn't find anything
wrong . When he goes on his next business trip, I, Yang Yang, can treat it as a honeymoon for us.

From the moment my son and I officially opened our hearts to each other and became infatuated with each other's bodies, my longing for my husband has become
increasingly faint.

On one hand, I'm busy seeking physical pleasure with my son; on the other hand, I've always felt deep guilt towards my husband for my incestuous
affair I never imagined that, in my middle age,
I would finally succumb to a woman's innate restlessness and betray my husband, cheating on
him with my own son. This incestuous relationship
casts a deep, indelible shadow on my heart. To escape this heavy psychological burden, I try to avoid
thinking about him, focusing solely on the pleasure my son brings, thus numbing myself and preventing myself from
collapsing at the mere thought of my husband.

But deep down, I truly love and pity my husband. After all, we've been married for many years, and our relationship has always been
good . My initial reason for the incestuous affair was simply that I thought my husband was too ugly and his behavior too rude;
I felt guilty towards him no matter what.

Yet, when I think about how I, as a woman, have been loved by two men I truly love in my lifetime,
I feel incredibly happy.

In short, what's meant to happen can't be avoided. Since my husband is coming back, I'll continue to be
his gentle and virtuous wife while he's home, fulfilling my duties as a woman and serving him well.

The dumplings were ready, and my husband arrived home.

The family happily gathered together for a long-awaited reunion dinner.

My husband was in high spirits because his work had gone smoothly, and hearing that his son's exam results after his broken hand and leave
were actually quite good, he was even more happy and drank a few more glasses of wine. After dinner, he called his son to his side,
took out a few hundred yuan, and handed it to him, telling him to go out and buy something he liked.

"Dad, I don't want to buy anything. I still need to study later, so I won't go!"

The son took the money but had no intention of leaving.

"Studying all the time will make you stupid! Go! I'll give you more when you've spent it all. It's good to get some exercise, hurry up.
Dad and Mom still have things to talk about!"

The husband, his face flushed from drinking, urged his son to leave.

The son, who already knew about marital matters from his mother, understood his father's intentions at this moment. He turned and glanced
at me, his eyes filled with jealousy. My face flushed, and I lowered my head, avoiding his gaze. He frowned
helplessly , then walked away, full of resentment.

"Yanzi!"

As soon as my son closed the door, my husband shouted impatiently, grabbed me, and began kissing my cheeks wildly
while hurriedly unzipping his pants and pulling out his penis.

I frowned and let him kiss me, looking down at his already erect, large, black
penis with a hint of disgust.

"Come on! Yang Yang's gone, let's do it!"

My husband, oblivious to my annoyance, started undressing me. In no

time, he had stripped me naked. My strong husband scooped me up like a child and
carried excitedly into the bedroom. Naked, I was forcefully thrown onto the bed. Like a lamb to the slaughter, I
closed my eyes resentfully, waiting for the long-awaited, rough intercourse from my husband, who had been starved for months. I just hoped he would be
gentler .

"Ah! Ah... Ah! It hurts... Ouch!"

Soon, a scream, rather than a moan, echoed from the bedroom.

My husband pinned me beneath his obese body, his dark penis, like a red-hot iron rod, pounding into my
tender cunt with rapid, relentless thrusting. There was no foreplay, no flirting. He was releasing the pent-up
lust . I, meanwhile, could only fulfill my duties as a wife, passively responding to his intercourse with moans.

Because there was no foreplay, my vagina was completely dry. Driven by alcohol, my crude
husband disregarded my feelings, seeking pleasure only in my delicate body, causing me excruciating pain.

My moans contained no pleasure whatsoever, but were simply involuntary outbursts of intense pain.

"Yanzi, your cunt is still so tight! So comfortable. Ah…ah…you must be itchy while I'm not home, right?
Come on! Let me fuck you properly…I'll fuck you…I'll fuck you…"

My husband, his face flushed, uttered vulgarities, his excitement reaching its peak. He thrust into me forcefully a few times, while
roughly twisting my tender nipples.

"Ah!...Old Yang! Be gentle! Don't do that! It hurts!"

I was sweating profusely from the pain.

"How can it be comfortable if it doesn't hurt? My little beauty, I've missed you so much! I missed your beautiful breasts, I missed
your slippery little cunt!"

My husband thrust his penis in and out while bringing his mouth, reeking of smoke and alcohol, to my snow-white breasts and
kissing them.

Unlike our previous blissful separations, when my husband was just as rough during sex after his business trips,
even though I was dissatisfied, we could still reach orgasm together. And because of his outstanding stamina, I
always felt an inexplicable longing for his rough, almost rape-like sex.

But this time, for some reason, I kept hoping that our sex would end quickly. Perhaps partly
because my heart was now with my son, and I had grown distant from my husband, and partly because my husband's roughness
had indeed caused me so much pain,

he finally ejaculated.

Just as I had rested a bit, stretching my limbs which had become stiff from my husband's actions, and feeling that the nightmare was finally over
, my husband finished a cigarette, looked at my pitiful yet naked
body became erect again.

Another intense sexual intercourse ensued.

Because I hadn't had time to wipe the semen that had entered my vagina, this time it was somewhat easier; the slippery
semen replaced the vaginal lubrication that should have flowed out, lubricating my dry vagina.

I turned my head to the side and silently let my husband insert his penis into my body again. I began to try to enjoy
the experience that my husband's penis, which was completely different from my son's, brought me.

From a woman's perspective, as long as it didn't hurt me, my husband's penis was indeed more satisfying. After all, we had been married
for many years , and after my husband had his moment of pleasure, this time the lovemaking was noticeably gentler than before. He was also more attentive
to my feelings. Soon, I reached my climax. My vagina tightly enveloped my husband's penis, and I began to
actively embrace his broad back, no longer bothered by his bad breath, and gently kissed him. The initial
disgust I felt for my husband gradually dissipated during this lovemaking.

I rediscovered the state of being a husband and wife that had been buried in my heart and body for many years. At this moment, the incestuous
mother was completely replaced by the virtuous wife.

Afterwards, as always, I gently nestled in my husband's arms, quietly listening to him pour out his feelings of separation. And
like any woman who had been separated from her husband for a long time, I began to chatter endlessly to my husband about all the family matters since he left, except for the secrets between myself and our
son .

In the evening, Yang Yang returned home and saw that I was wearing a completely different sundress than when he left, and my hair
was disheveled . The jealousy in his eyes was even stronger.

After dinner, he didn't talk much to us, making an excuse to study, and locked himself in his room and didn't
come out .

I knew that my son was jealous of his father, but I couldn't comfort him, so I could only suffer through the night.

The next day after work, before my husband got home, I comforted Yangyang and gently gave him
oral sex, which made him stop crying and start giving his father a nice look again.

My son also knew that my relationship with his father was actually very deep, and that he himself had deep feelings for his father.
It's just that after being involved in incest with me for so long, he really didn't want to share his mother with his father, another man. But he's
matured a lot since then, and his short-term turmoil was quickly washed away by the sexual
comfort and his own rationality. He no longer felt jealous about my normal marital sex life with his father.

It's almost the hottest time of the year.

It's 11:30 pm. My husband's snoring is deafening.

During this time, my husband hasn't gone on any business trips and has maintained a regular 9-to-6 work schedule. Because his work
hours are close to mine and he's not going on business trips, my affair with my son can only be carried out secretly behind his back.

These past few days, my husband has been very tired from work and likes to drink a little alcohol at night, so he always sleeps soundly until
dawn .

Because of work, my husband hasn't had sex with me for two days. As a normal woman, I
felt a bit craving.

I stood up, put on my slippers, and gently called out,

"Old Yang!"

My husband, snoring loudly, didn't respond. I gently shook him, but he remained unresponsive.

I tiptoed out of the bedroom and quietly locked the door. I went straight to my son's room and pushed the door open.

Because of the heat, my son was only wearing underwear, covered with a towel, and leaning against the headboard,
reading a book by the dim light of the bedside lamp.

Seeing me come in, my son looked up and gave me a knowing smile. He closed the book in his hand, threw off the blanket,
got out of bed and walked to me. He closed the door for me and locked it from the inside.

"Mom! "

My son reached out and put his arm around my waist. His hot body, through my thin nightgown, ignited a
wild desire in my heart. He led me to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Shh! Keep your voice down!"

I whispered to him, putting my index finger to my lips.

Then I started to take off my clothes.

I was only wearing a thin, apricot-yellow silk slip dress. I easily took it off.
Since I wasn't wearing a bra, my full, white breasts glistened in the dim
light .

I bent down, lifted one leg, and took off my only remaining white cotton panties, smiling as I
stood in front of my son.

My son also skillfully took off his underwear. His impatient little penis, already erect, pulled me tightly into
his arms !

"Mom! You're finally here! It's so late, I thought you weren't coming!"

My son's hot penis pressed tightly against my lower abdomen as he kissed me tenderly while complaining
.

I hugged my son's neck and responded to his kiss, saying,

"Silly boy, Mom's here! But we have to hurry, I don't know when your dad will wake up,
Mom has to get back quickly, come on!"

As I spoke, I squatted down, used my right thumb, index finger, and middle finger to pull back his foreskin, and
skillfully pinched the base of his erect penis with three fingers. I brought my sexy little mouth to it and began to give
him oral sex.

My son sat on the bed with his legs stretched out, silently enjoying himself for a while, then gently pulled me up from between his legs
.

"Mom! I want to fuck you!" This furtive atmosphere of making love made my son both repressed and excited, and without realizing it, he started to swear at me

like his father . "Honestly! You child! Okay, lie down now!" I grumbled as I stroked my son's penis, urging him anxiously. My son obediently lay down on the bed, his genitals erect and pointing skyward. Originally, I only wanted to come and be intimate with my son, give him oral or footjob to comfort him , and then hurry back to avoid my husband finding out I wasn't around. But my son's request for sex was hard to refuse; after all, I hadn't been intimate with him in a long time, and I was also very eager. I had no choice but to bite the bullet, climb onto the bed , straddle my son, reach out and grasp his penis, positioning it correctly for my vulva, and gently sit down. My son's penis gradually disappeared into my body. I looked down and clearly saw the dark pubic hair between my legs and my son's sparse pubic hair intertwined tightly; I could feel his hard penis trembling excitedly inside my vagina. My son's premature ejaculation was completely cured. He could easily handle this direct sexual position. I smoothed my hair that fell across my face and began to move my hips up and down, using my beautiful vulva to tease my son's penis. "Ah...ah..." I suppressed my excitement and let out a soft moan of pleasure. There wasn't much foreplay, just like before. My husband's large penis had hurt my dry vagina the last time, but this time, because of my tenderness for my son, I sucked his penis until it was covered in saliva while giving him oral sex. My own love juices had been flowing ever since my vagina touched his penis. This slippery sensation made me want to moan loudly! My body moved up and down faster and faster, and the frequency of my beautiful vulva teasing my son's penis gradually increased . I changed from a kneeling position to squatting on my son, my white legs forming an M shape, moving up and down forcefully, fiercely attacking his penis with my genitals. My son's tender penis appeared and disappeared between my slippery, tender vulva. "Mmm... mmm!" My son sighed comfortably beneath me. The rapid, intense movements of our intercourse quickly left me drenched in sweat, but the exquisite made me forget my fatigue, blindly pushing myself to increase the speed of our intercourse. "Harder, Mom! Faster! Ah... so slippery! This feeling is wonderful!" My son, gradually reaching for the next level, began to lose himself, reaching out to cup my heaving kneading them while making pleasurable sounds . "Phew! Mom's tired!" I finally ran out of energy and slowed down my ministrations on my son's penis, kneeling on top of him again, slowly continuing to slide my vulva back and forth on his penis, while weakly nestled in his arms, gently licking his nipples. "Ah. Mom, you're making me so itchy!" my son said happily. "You little rascal, you're so sensitive!" I couldn't help but laugh when I saw my son scream so sensitively when I licked his nipples . While laughing, I tidied my loose hair and said, "Mommy's tired, let's rest for a bit..." "Okay, fine! You rest for a while, I'll fuck you!" My son said, releasing his hand from my beautiful nipples and sliding it down my waist to my plump buttocks. He stroked my buttocks for a while, then lifted me up and began his sexual assault on his mother. My son also moved his hips up and down beneath me, thrusting his little penis into my vulva with each stroke. His slender, soft penis, with its foreskin tumbling, smoothly pumped in and out of my wet, plump vagina. The foreskin moved back and forth, swirling in the vaginal fluid, making rhythmic "squeak, squeak" sounds, showcasing the harmony of our incestuous lovemaking. "Great! Son, you're getting better and better at making Mommy happy." After resting on my son for a while and regaining some strength, I felt incredibly good from his fucking and started moving my genitals in rhythm with his thrusts. At that moment, my son and I rediscovered a passion we hadn't felt in days; the wonderful sex wasn't just about satisfying ourselves ...i=82> Driven by our own lust, we considerately take care of each other's feelings, and every thrust and manipulation is only to make the other person feel better from our own emotions.

This! This is the perfect union of body and soul I've been searching for.

"I want my son's cock! I want everything from my son!"

My hair flew wildly, and I was drenched in sweat. My full breasts pressed tightly against my son's broad chest, and
his . My vagina contracted rhythmically with my son's movements, my vulva gripping
his growing penis tightly, refusing to let it leave my body. Only these two sentences echoed in my mind: I want
everything from my son! In the instant of climax, I almost fainted.

"Ah! I can't hold back... Mom... I want... to cum... Mom, Mom!"

My son and I reached climax together. As he ejaculated, he kept calling my name softly... After

cleaning up the mess,

as I got dressed and prepared to leave, my son grabbed me reluctantly and said,

"Can you not leave, Mom?"

"What do you think? Silly boy!"

I lifted the sundress I had just put on, kissed his forehead, hardened my heart, and drifted
away .

Back beside my husband, lying in bed listening to his snoring,
I couldn't fall asleep for a long time, thinking about the sweetness of making love with my son. My unruly love juices, flowing out with each passing moment,
soaked my underwear and stained the blanket covering my husband.

My son, lying on the bed, seemed to be having a wonderful dream, completely absorbed. Only the lingering
scent of his mother and the wet tissues on the floor, stained with his semen and his mother's love juice, proved that his
incestuous love with his mother, transcending all boundaries, had borne fruit after that perfect lovemaking…

"Sister Yan, I have two movie tickets. Do you want to go with your husband?"

Wenwen happily waved two movie tickets in front of me.

"What movie?"

I asked while doing the accounting.

The bank was closed this afternoon for a city event, and only Wenwen and I were left
to check some accounts. We could go home soon after finishing.

"I don't know either, I just know it's an American movie,"

Wenwen said.

I took the movie ticket and saw it was for 6 pm on Saturday. I asked,

"It's on the weekend? Aren't you going?"

Seeing that no one else was in the office, Wenwen smiled and made a playful face at me, saying,

"This is a gift from my little lover! He originally asked me to go to the movies this weekend and... you
know , but I have a better place to take him, so I'm giving it to you!"

These days, Wenwen and her little lover are inseparable. I didn't know whether to be happy for her or worried.
But seeing how happy she was, I really didn't want to spoil her fun. I thanked her and chatted with her for a while about her and
her lover's private conversations before going home from work.

"The weekend? I'm not going! Who goes to the movies when they finally get two days off?"

After dinner, my husband decisively refused when I mentioned going to the movies.

"But Wenwen kindly gave me these tickets, wouldn't it be a waste if you didn't go!"

After so many years of marriage, my husband, completely lacking in romance, had never taken me to the movies
. This was a rare opportunity, yet he still refused.

"Why don't you take our son? Kids these days only love American movies,"

my husband said nonchalantly, flipping through the newspaper.

"Our son?"

This time, my husband hadn't gone on a business trip for a month, something that had never happened before. My son and I
were secretly having an affair, even more cautiously than Wenwen's.

Because my husband was almost always home, my son and I had very little time alone. Each time, we'd quickly
make love before having no time for further conversation. Going to the movies together, given our limited time together,
would be a perfectly legitimate opportunity for my son and me to be alone.

I called my son over, explained the situation, and my exceptionally clever son immediately understood. He
nodded in agreement in front of his father.

On Saturday afternoon, my son and I left the house that had confined us for so many days, leaving my husband alone to watch
TV.

After leaving the neighborhood, the mother and son, who had been walking one after the other, gradually started walking side by side.

My son had somehow managed to hold my hand tightly, our fingers intertwined, like a couple on a date,
and we boarded a bus together.

Today I was wearing a new black sheer dress. To please Yang Yang, who particularly admires my beautiful legs, I
had
specially bun, secured with a hairpin, making the black dress and my refined appearance
complement each other perfectly.

My son, as always, was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers—the typical attire of a high school boy.

Although the bus wasn't crowded, there were no seats available. My son and I huddled in a corner, holding onto the handrails,
chatting quietly.

"Mom, do you remember when we rode the bus to school together, and I bumped my penis against
your butt because we were squeezed?"

my son whispered in my ear.

"Ugh!"

I rolled my eyes at my son.

"You brat! If you hadn't sexually harassed me that time, I wouldn't have been seduced into bed!
How dare you say that!"

I blushed and whispered in his ear, breathing on his earlobe as I scolded him shyly.

"I'm innocent! It was you who rubbed your butt against my penis, that's why I got hard! You're the one who should take responsibility,"

my son whispered, secretly pinching my butt through my skirt.

"Don't do that! We're on the bus!"

I pushed my son's hand away and looked around. Luckily, we were in a secluded spot.
The few people sitting around us were either dozing or looking out the window, and no one noticed what we were doing.

"What's wrong with touching?"

My son was surprisingly bold at this point, saying nonchalantly.

"Since we're out having fun, let's not worry so much. Anyway, no one knows we're mother and son. It's rare to
be away from Dad for a little while, so I'm going to be unrestrained! Without Dad, who can tell us what to do? You agree, right ?""Mom! Today I want you to be my girlfriend! You'll do whatever I say!" As he spoke, my son placed his hand on my round bottom.

This time I didn't refuse, letting my son boldly touch my buttocks through my sheer skirt without saying anything.

At the next stop, many people got off, and only a few boarded, leaving many seats empty.
The people in the back rows got off, and my son and I sat side-by-side in the last row where no one was sitting.

After sitting down, my son brazenly placed his hand on my thigh, greedily
caressing my long, beautiful legs along the smooth black stockings. After a while, he leaned close and whispered in my ear,

"Mom! Dare to take off your underwear on the bus?"

"Ah!"

I was shocked. I never expected my son to make such an indecent request in public.
Even if it was an incestuous mother-son relationship, I was still a woman with my own sense of shame; I had never even
considered such a thing before.

"Don't talk nonsense! What do you take me for!"

I refused, blushing.

"Try it! I've always thought Mom is quite unrestrained in bed, but too demure in public. I really
want to see how cute Mom looks when she's doing something lewd while maintaining her dignified appearance! Please,
Mom!"

My son pleaded, holding my hand.

"Ugh! What are you thinking about all day?"

My face flushed. But I also felt that what my son said was indeed very exciting, so I hesitated.

"Please, Mom, please!"

At this moment, my son was completely unlike the man who made me infatuated in bed; he had become
a spoiled child pleading with his mother.

Unable to resist my son's persistent pleading, and unable to suppress the nervous excitement of being able to act so freely in public
, I finally nodded with difficulty, my face red.

After observing for a moment and confirming that the passengers in front wouldn't see my seat, I slightly leaned
forward , discreetly slipped my hand under my skirt, and grasped the edge of my underwear. A woman's innate sense of shame
made me hesitate for a second, but then, seeing my son's longing gaze and the heads swaying around me,
a strange urge for sexual stimulation overcame my hesitation. I quickly lifted my buttocks, pulled down my underwear, and with a speed that was barely noticeable
, switched legs, pulling off my usual white cotton underwear and shoving it into my son's hand.
I straightened my disheveled skirt, sat back down, and then, pretending nothing had happened, turned to look out the window.

My son, holding the underwear still warm from my body and exuding my mother's scent, secretly lowered his head to sniff it, made
a blissful expression, and casually stuffed it into his jeans pocket.

"Smells so good!"

my son whispered with a mischievous grin in my ear.

"You pervert! Are you satisfied now? You little lecher!"

Not wearing underwear made me feel a bit chilly sitting on the chair, and the fabric of my skirt made my
bottom uncomfortable. I tugged at the skirt and glared at my son.

He tried to put his hand inside my skirt, but I refused.

"Let me touch you,"

he pleaded.

"No way! You'll be so impatient!"

I teased him playfully, like a first love.

The train arrived at our stop, and he gave up, taking my hand as we entered the movie theater.

Because it was dinnertime, the theater wasn't crowded.

Only a dozen or so people were scattered throughout the empty theater, mostly couples. They weren't
sitting according to their tickets, but rather, like my son and me, finding seats away from everyone else.

The movie started, and the theater was completely dark.

My son had his arm around my neck, and I leaned my head on his shoulder, like other couples,
watching the movie on the big screen.

The film was good, but neither of us paid much attention to it. Our bodies, pressed close together
, exuded an alluring fragrance, fueling our pent-up desires and longings.
Our hands roamed restlessly over each other's bodies, our tongues occasionally entwining in passionate kisses.
A couple nearby, perhaps influenced by our interaction,
could .

"Son, listen!"

I stopped our French kiss and made him listen to the couple's sounds.

He listened for a moment, smiled slightly, and said,

"Learn from us!"

He then continued to press his tongue against my lips, while boldly slipping his hand under
my skirt, directly touching my private parts.

"You're so naughty!"

I've been teasing my son lately, often saying he's annoying, but his seemingly annoying sexual acts actually delight me
.

"You lied to Mommy by taking off your underwear so it would be easier to touch me, didn't you? You naughty boy!"

I whispered, gently biting his tongue.

"Hehe!"

My son chuckled smugly, starting to use his middle finger to search for the entrance along my slippery labia.

"Ouch!"

His finger easily slipped into my vulva, gradually penetrating deeper into my vagina. I felt a slight pain and
couldn't help but let out a soft cry.

"Does it hurt, Mom?"

My son noticed my discomfort but was reluctant to pull his hand out of his mother's warm, moist love hole,
and simply asked in a low voice.

"Be gentle, yes... just like that, don't be so rough, your nails will hurt me. Okay... be gentle.
"

I held my son's hand that was playing with my vulva, and whispered instructions for him to find my sensitive G-spot, teaching him
to rub my erect clitoris with his thumb while gently teasing my vagina with his middle finger
.

I felt very comfortable with my son's actions, and casually unbuckled his belt, pulling his penis out of his jeans
.

In the dark movie theater, most couples were engaged in intimate acts. My son and I were masturbating each other, and no
one else noticed.

"My good son, keep going...yes, right there, Mommy wants more, more, harder!" (

She was being caressed by her son. )As my G-spot approached its peak, I gritted my teeth and whispered a plea in my son's ear, while my hand stroked
his penis, which was growing increasingly hot.

It came…

I climaxed!!!

As my son's hands, caressing my delicate, flower-like vulva, moved faster and faster, a gush of fluid gushed from my
vagina . In an instant, this surge of heat spurted from my vulva along with his relentless fingers
, making a squelching sound as he stimulated my slippery vagina. This attracted the attention of
a couple help but glance in our direction.

I no longer cared whether others would see my shameful state; the intense sexual pleasure brought on by the
unstoppable flow of fluid continued. My head rested on my son's shoulder, my gaze vacant, my expression blank ,
as if I were lost in a trance. My skirt was soaked, the fluid flowing down my black stockinged legs to my feet,
staining the sexy stockings. Not only that, the leather
back of the chair in front of me was also soaked, dripping with my love juice.

My son was also utterly astonished by my sudden and intense ejaculation.

He pulled his hand out of my vagina, ignoring how wet it was, and hugged my shoulders tightly, whispering,
"

Mommy! Mommy! What's wrong? Are you alright?"

It took a long time before I felt my soul return to my body. My whole body was weak and sore, the ecstasy more intense than any orgasm
I'd ever experienced made me feel like a lump of mud. The stimulating pleasure was like a drug, seemingly capable of killing me
, yet I couldn't stop.

"Mommy thought I was dead!"

I let out a long breath and whispered.

I wasn't joking at all.

"I felt like I was flying. Really! Yangyang, Mommy has never been so happy!"

I gently rubbed my face against my son's shoulder, clinging to him like a little bird.

"You scared me to death! I thought something had happened to you! But, you sprayed so much water, like you were peeing,
it was really scary!"

I blushed and continued to play with my son's bare penis. At that moment, I considered my son my true
man .

"Want Mommy to help you with my mouth?"

After playing with his penis for a while, he was probably really scared by my squirting.
He was already on the verge of ejaculation, but he gradually went soft. After resting for a while, I suggested to my son.

My son looked around and agreed.

I bent down, skillfully peeled back my son's foreskin, and began to give him oral sex. This annoying foreskin always
takes me a lot of effort, but that's why I especially like my son's completely different innocence compared to his father. I believe that with me,
his loving and caring mother, my son will definitely shed his foreskin and become a real man in the near future!

Soon, with the help of my tongue and lips, my son ejaculated again.

With my mouth full of my son's semen, I looked up at my son and gave him a flirty wink, swallowing
the essence . Swallowing my beloved son's semen in front of everyone gave me a strange kind of excitement.

Just as I zipped up my son's jeans, the movie on the screen ended. All the fluorescent lights in the theater came on, and
the audience began to leave.

Just as I wiped the grime from my mouth and walked arm in arm with my son out of the theater,
I overheard a couple behind me talking .

"That woman in the black dress over there, that's the couple who were not far from us. Look, the woman seems
much older than the boy!"

"Yeah! They were just..."

Hearing them talking about my son and me, I felt both ashamed and anxious, but I still
clearly .

"That woman in the black dress is pretty, but she looks like she's over 30, right?"

"Exactly! That boy is probably still in high school. How messed up society is these days!"

"Stop talking, don't let them hear! What should we get to eat later?"

Hearing their comments, my heart, which had just been filled with tenderness and affection for my son, felt like it had been doused
with cold water. My son turned to yell at the gossipy couple, but I pulled him back, preventing him from
exploding. I quickly took his hand and we hurried out of the movie theater.

The streetlights were just coming on, and it was already dark.

My son and I walked hand in hand down the bustling street, heads bowed, no longer
possessing the bold arrogance we had when we first left home—the kind of

carefree attitude that disregarded societal norms as long as our husbands didn't send messages. We were met with strange looks from passersby, a stark contrast to our age. I suddenly
felt incredibly dejected. Although I still possessed some charm, I was past my prime. Even without my husband's
constraints, my son and I couldn't openly declare ourselves an enviable couple like other lovers
. This was heartbreaking for a woman like me who strives for perfection.

My son remained silent.

He had heard the couple's conversation clearly; perhaps he too was considering
the future of his relationship with his mother. My naive son, too, hoped to be envied by others after possessing his beautiful mother.
Leaving aside the unspeakable privacy of incest, the vast age gap between my mother and me meant we wouldn't be
socially , leaving no outlet for my pride in possessing my beautiful mother.

My son and I walked aimlessly, each lost in our own thoughts, remaining silent
.

Suddenly, a car roared past like a gust of wind, the gust of wind
whipping up my thin skirt. Instinctively, I realized I wasn't wearing underwear and quickly pulled my son's hand away
to
press down the fluttering hem. My son, like a loving lover, immediately shielded me with his body, gently covering my bare bottom with his hands.

His warm hands, devoid of their usual lust for a woman's body, pressed tightly against my white
bottom, covering my shame. His warm palms conveyed respect for me, his mother, and
boundless love for the woman who had given him everything.

I pulled my skirt up, but instead of pushing away my son's hand that was pressed against my bottom, I put my own hand behind my back and
pressed it tightly against the back of his hand. Let our hearts, mother and son, be firmly bound together through the closeness of our bodies!

In that instant, I suddenly wanted to announce to the whole world that I was going to be my son's woman! I
didn't care !

Under a bright streetlamp, we stopped. I pulled my son and began to kiss him passionately.

"Baby! Do you love Mommy?"I looked into my son's melancholy eyes and asked him with deep affection.

"Love! Of course I love you!"

my son answered firmly.

"Really?"

I pressed.

I lifted my son's handsome face to examine him closely. What a handsome young man!
The happiness was so close, but I still hoped he could tell me for sure!

"I, Yang Yang, swear to love my mother, Wang Yan, for the rest of my life! I will never let my mother down. I will be the man my mother can
rely on !"

my son suddenly swore to me solemnly.

"That's enough! Darling! Mom also wants to be the most important woman in your life!"

Under the lamplight, my son's and my reflections were pressed tightly together, inseparable.

Epilogue

"Yang Yang, what time is it? Get up! Hurry up! Otherwise you'll be late!"

I put the soy milk and fried dough sticks I had just bought on the dining table, knocked on my son's bedroom door, and urged him to
get up .

Then I went back to the bedroom to wake up my sleeping husband.

"Old Yang, you should get up too. You have to catch the train for a business trip later! Get up quickly!"

My name is Wang Yan, I am 40 years old, and I am an ordinary bank employee. This morning was as ordinary as ever.
Because I'm destined to be busy for two important men in my life, and I've gotten used to this busyness. Because they
are my everything!

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