Mother's romantic history [1-7]

(I)

Here I want to tell you my family story, about my mother and her romantic history. My mother's name is Li Yan, but when
someone registered her name, they mistakenly wrote it as Yan, and this name has been passed down, almost like an alias.
In fact, both names, whether Yan or Yan, vividly express different aspects of my mother's personality. My mother has
a lively and lovely side like a swallow, and also a beautiful and charming side.

My mother comes from Northeast China. She has fair and smooth skin, is 1.68 meters tall, and has a full bust and wide hips, with
a figure like a foreign lingerie model. Especially her buttocks, which are round, plump, and like the bottom of a pear, exuding femininity.

Later I realized that Northeast China is a newly developed area with abundant resources, fertile land, and a sparse population,
so children receive excellent nutrition during their developmental period. Immigrants from Shandong and Hebei who went there developed fully in less than three generations. My mother was a typical example. When she was young, her beautiful big buttocks were like a balloon that had been inflated. She became even more plump and rounded
after she turned 30 . Back then, many people from Northeast China came to our Northwest to build factories. As the tall chemical plants and oil refineries were erected , they stayed, settling down. My mother married my father, whose family had lived in the six counties of Longshang for generations. My mother gave birth to me when she was 26. My maternal grandparents in Northeast China worked hard, bringing six daughters into the world, finally having a son, my uncle. My grandfather loved my uncle and kept him in the Northeast, letting go of the six daughters. That era was bustling with activity—the Down to the Countryside Movement, the Third Front Construction—Chairman Mao's call was answered by everyone, and five of the six daughters came to Jincheng. Jincheng is the ancient land of Xiliang, one of the six counties of Longshang, where the clear Yellow River flows like a ribbon. This is my hometown. My mother was the youngest of the five, the sixth child. My cousins all call her "Sixth Aunt," and some cousins affectionately call her "Old Aunt." I later realized that in Northeastern dialect, this term has a rather ambiguous connotation. Five beautiful flowers, so vibrant and charming, how could no one be tempted? Soon, from the second to the fifth sister, they all got married . Only my mother, the sixth sister, remained living with her second sister and refused to marry. Needless to say, my mother was the fairest and most voluptuous of the five sisters. Although her face wasn't as pretty as my second aunt's, my mother was cheerful, lively, gentle, and considerate. So, most people said my mother was the most beautiful. And because of this, more and more people proposed to her. In that era, although arranged marriages were abolished, and my maternal grandfather was far away in the Northeast and couldn't interfere with his daughters' marriages, truly free-choice marriages were still rare. Most marriages were arranged by organizations or relatives. They would meet, get to know each other, talk, and if they clicked, they would get married. The whole process was very quick. Actually, all the conditions were already considered before meeting a potential partner. As long as you went for the meeting, there weren't many problems. Having common interests and life ideals was n't the main point of choosing a partner. The main points were class background, seniority, political affiliation, and rank (cadre or worker). In those days, Party members were more attractive than ordinary people, and cadres were more attractive than workers. In short, becoming a Party member meant a bright future, while not being a Party member meant a significant disadvantage. However, joining the Party was very strict back then, unlike now where it's easy to buy one anywhere. My mother's fourth and second sisters considered this when they introduced my father to her, even though he wasn't a cadre at the time, relatively unknown, just a —a small leader of a few workers, who also had to work on the machine tools. This time, my mother agreed. Firstly, she wasn't young anymore, 23 years old, and in those days, not being married was quite rare. Secondly, she was obsessed with the idea that a Party member husband was guaranteed happiness, and she was probably swayed by this Party member . As for my father, this time he didn't hesitate. The reason he immediately fell for my mother was her voluptuous body, especially her large buttocks, which must have deeply attracted him. Men who grew up in Gansu for generations rarely failed to be captivated by the snow-white, full buttocks of Northeastern women. Although the women of Xiliang are beautiful, fair-skinned, and voluptuous, even comparable to women from Northeast China, the natural conditions of Xiliang mean that the sunlight is very direct and extremely damaging to the skin. Furthermore, Xiliang the women there have to engage in more arduous outdoor labor and endure intense ultraviolet radiation from childhood. Over time...

A persistent red tinge formed on their faces, colloquially known as "red patches," instantly making even the most beautiful woman appear
rustic . Coupled with a lack of education and a complete absence of elegance, they naturally paled in comparison to the fair and radiant women of Northeast China
.

My father, at that moment, immediately decided on his marriage, and my mother, encouraged by my sister,
was also eager to marry. The wedding quickly arrived, and my father finally obtained that voluptuous body.

However, as it turned out, or rather, as evidenced by decades of married life, my parents'
hasty marriage was unwise. Firstly, their personalities, interests, and hobbies clashed; secondly, their language
, lifestyle, and eating habits differed greatly; and most fundamentally, their attitudes towards life were too different for my parents to reconcile, making it difficult for them to integrate over
a lifetime . What attracted them was merely the wife's body and the husband's status.
Of course, after I was born, I became a crucial link between them.

My second and fourth aunts, who introduced my mother to potential partners, didn't care about such things and were even quite proud of themselves. After all, their
own husbands weren't Party members, and they had introduced a cherished unmarried Party member to their younger sister. Naturally, these two older sisters
had high hopes for the marriage.

Decades after their marriage proved that their expectations were well-deserved. My father lived up to the reputation of cherishing Party members in that
era . After marriage, he rose rapidly through the ranks. With his maturity, competence, and a touch of cunning, he
quickly achieved a meteoric rise, from team leader to director, from director to section chief, and from section chief to deputy factory director.

In a large state-owned factory, deputy factory director was already a high rank. If my father hadn't experienced an extramarital affair
and setbacks later in life, he could have easily been a high-ranking official in the Beijing headquarters. Of course, that's a story for later.

My mother's husband was the deputy factory director, which brought her many conveniences and benefits, even though she
rarely consciously realized this connection. As the deputy director's wife, who would dare not give her face and preferential treatment
? Unbeknownst to her, her job was transferred from machine tool to office. She became a clerk in the workshop,
the easiest job in the entire workshop, requiring two jobs.

While other male and female workers toiled for eight hours a day at noisy machine tools, my mother was in the office,
drinking tea and chatting with a fan. And her salary was even higher than theirs, because a clerk was considered a cadre.
See, this is happiness. My second and fourth aunts were right; after marrying a promising
party member husband, my mother was no longer a sweaty blue-collar worker, and her work life became easy and pleasant.

Besides being relaxed and enjoyable, the clerical job also greatly facilitated my mother's maintenance. Unlike ordinary
blue-collar female workers who lose their youthful glow early, my mother remained beautiful and gained a more mature charm. Sitting for long periods without
moving also added some alluring fat to her lower body, making her slender thighs more plump and her full buttocks more ripe and
tempting.

However, the consequences of my parents' marriage, the result of being introduced to a potential partner, and
the consequence of marrying without knowing each other, led to problems in their marriage. Love was not cultivated, but resentment and conflicts grew day by day.

(II)

Last time, I talked about my parents' life after marriage. Both of them were doing well in the workplace, mainly my father. My mother, who worked in
the same naturally followed suit. For my mother, who only graduated from junior high school, being a clerical worker and managing
the payroll data of one or two hundred workers was a job that other women could only dream of.

In that era, men had very low levels of education, let alone women. Most women were forced to work as laborers,
wasting their youth by machine tools and boilers. Although many of them were stunning beauties, and would have been
dating wealthy men, high-ranking officials, or foreigners today, in that era, they had no choice. It was truly a case of "marrying a chicken, following the chicken; marrying a dog, following the dog."
My mother married a seasoned and capable husband, and her career was relatively smooth.

But people are never content with their lot. My mother never seemed to acknowledge this, and
her conflicts with my father grew increasingly intense, escalating until, when I was eight, they reached their first major peak and
filed for divorce.

My father, on the other hand, was quite capable in his career—mature, efficient, and somewhat cunning—and...
His technical skills were superb, and other men respected him. In the precision manufacturing workshop where my father worked, he had
many close friends. But for some reason, my father wasn't as adept at handling women as other men, which was probably why
he married late.

Some men, despite their small stature, are particularly good at pleasing women, finding ways to make them happy, and
women often become blinded by them and marry them. My father was relatively poor in this regard, especially in understanding women's psychology.
My mother, on the other hand, was a sexy and charming woman with a rich and passionate mind, needing her husband's attentive care.
This created a huge disparity between them.

The honeymoon period was relatively smooth, but as time went on, resentment accumulated. In addition, my father was not good at expressing
his feelings—in today's terms, he had low emotional intelligence. So, after a fierce argument, my father slapped
my mother in anger. My mother cried all night and immediately filed for divorce. I was eight years old then. My mother carried me
to sleep on the Simmons bed that was originally meant for her and my father. How could I sleep well? Of course, I was terrified by my parents' argument and
started crying. My mother cried too

, and my father stormed out in anger. I cried and cried until I was exhausted, then lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. She
still had that fair and beautiful face. Actually, my father's blows were quite gentle; it was just a threatening gesture.
But my mother wouldn't have it. It's understandable; she was the youngest child, and no one at her workplace dared to offend her. When had she ever suffered such
humiliation? She suddenly turned to me and said, "Mingming, Mom is getting a divorce from your father. Who will you live with?"

I was only eight years old then. I wasn't a genius, nor was I precocious. I just wanted a happy family.
I didn't think about those kinds of things. So I started crying again. My mother hugged me tightly and said, "
Live with your father. Mom will come to see you often, okay?"

"No, no!" I felt that my mother was going to abandon me, and I cried even harder.

“Your dad’s a director, he can provide a good life, and he can even find you a stepmother. You’re going to suffer living with me,
my eldest son,” Mom said, bursting into tears again. I felt that night was definitely
the saddest night of my childhood.

Of course, like other arguments, the matter was easily resolved by relatives and friends. Neither of us got
divorced afterward, and we continued living together as usual, sharing mundane chores and laughter. When we were in a good mood, we would chat and laugh, and
Dad would regularly “exercise” on Mom.

But I still sensed a difference. In the past, my parents’ arguments were always heated verbal battles. After Dad slapped Mom
in anger , the arguments often turned into a cold war. Is a cold war good? Actually, no.
A cold war is even more painful. If it’s a heated argument, although it’s intense, it’ll be over in two or three days. But a cold war is different.
Mom would have a cold face and wouldn’t say a word to Dad. Often, a cold war could last for two or three weeks. I’ve always
been good at politics, so I have a direct understanding of the term “cold war.”

Summer vacation arrived, and at eight years old, I was still a carefree child, having long forgotten my parents' recent
divorce battle. I spent my days running around like a wild child. My parents' relationship, like the season, was warming up.
My father was battling interpersonal relationships at the factory, while my mother's workshop was organizing a trip to Mount Emei in Sichuan
. What about me?

"Leave him at home, I'll take care of him," my father said, seeing that my mother wanted to have fun without any worries.
This was a small improvement from my father after the divorce battle.

My mother hesitated for a moment, but of course, she happily agreed.

However, two days before the trip, an accident happened in our neighborhood. A family's child got caught in a mud mixer while playing
and was killed. We lived in a large factory, and because of the introduction of new equipment, there were many old machines lying around,
many of which were rented by construction foremen. But these foremen did
n't forgetting to turn them off or causing short circuits. So, the places where children played in the streets and alleys were very dangerous.

With this in mind, before leaving, the mother decided to tell the father, "Mingming should stay with me.
It's so dangerous now. I can't rest easy if you don't take care of the child."

And so, I went to Mount Emei with my mother. Due to budget constraints, children weren't allowed to come,
but since my father was now a director, I made an exception and got a ride.

My mother was a woman who loved beauty, and when traveling long distances, she dressed up beautifully. She especially loved wearing skirts. Actually,
a woman with her full figure would look stunning in pants too, but my mother had a gentle, feminine charm. A sexy woman wearing
all sorts of beautiful skirts exuded a captivating and alluring femininity.

I'm not sure if the female workers were jealous of my mother's beauty and sexiness, but
one thing : my mother was popular. Besides the male workers who enjoyed chatting and joking with her, she had many female friends, including
a few close confidantes like Aunt Han and Aunt Jiang. They had their own stories, which I'll tell you later. My

mother and the aunties chatted and laughed all the way, whether commenting on the scenery or jokingly discussing
different men. Anyway, at that time, I was just wanting to have fun, running around everywhere, and didn't pay any attention. It wasn't until the bus arrived in Chengdu that I was back
in my mother's arms. It was my first time staying in a hotel, and I was so excited! My mom was especially happy too. Our boss had once
again taken care of our family, giving my mom and me a single room, unlike our other colleagues who had to share rooms,
several men and women separated.

Back then, government agencies weren't as extravagant as they are now, and they genuinely didn't have the money, so these practices seem rather ridiculous
now . But Chinese people are used to cramped conditions, like being back in a school dormitory. Everyone
knew my mom and I were being taken care of, but they also knew my dad was the director of the precision workshop, so no one complained
. My mom, however, was beaming from ear to ear, treating the hotel room like home, looking around and tidying up. After
all, it was her first time staying in a hotel. After

she finished looking around, she took out her cosmetics and clothes from her bag—wow, she brought quite a lot!
While I couldn't help but smile wryly, she had already picked out a couple of items and gone into the bathroom to shower.

On our first night in Chengdu, our boss said we wouldn't go anywhere sightseeing; everyone was tired from the journey, so we should rest and
enjoy the night view ourselves.

The bathroom was filled with the sound of running water; Mom had been showering for a long time. I was bored in the house, so I started rummaging through Mom's clothes and bags
. When I was naughty, Mom always liked to trick me into giving her candy, saying she'd give it to me if I was good. So I was especially curious to see
if Mom really hid candy in her bags. Instead, I found a fragrant little ball of cloth, white cotton, somewhat
transparent . When I opened it, it looked like two straps connected together. What was it for? Suddenly, it looked a bit
like a waistband. Ah, a waistband? There are waistbands like that!

Just then, someone knocked on the door. It was Uncle Song, the repairman in the workshop. I always
thought he was quite old, like he was in his fifties. Later I learned he wasn't that old, only in his early forties
. Because he had participated in combat and served in the army for many years, enduring hardships, he looked older. But he was
n't old in a decadent way. I always felt that Uncle Song's face, covered in wrinkles, subtly contained both the heroic spirit of a soldier and the worldly wisdom of a seasoned
veteran .

Then, Uncle Song saw what I was holding, smiled, and said to me, "Where's your mother?"

"She's taking a bath, and she's making quite a racket."

"Hey, I heard her. Little Mingming, you're so naughty! You're rummaging through your mother's things while she's taking a bath."

"I didn't, I, I..."

"I what? I'll tell your mother, and she'll get angry and won't take you out to play. She'll lock you in the hotel."
Uncle Song threatened me with a gesture. I was genuinely scared
. I remembered how my mother could be very strict with me sometimes, and how she'd said children shouldn't take adults' things. I was afraid she might actually get angry.

"Hello, Uncle Song, please don't tell my mother."

"Give me that piece of cloth, and I won't tell your mother."

"But this is my mother's stuff."

"I'll give you this in return." Uncle Song then took out a dough figurine. I'd never seen one before; it seemed to be
a specialty of Sichuan. I was immediately attracted and gave him the piece of cloth.

"This is so fun! I want more!"

"Shh, no problem, but don't tell your mother I've been here. Come on, Uncle will take you to see the dough figurine shop."
"I'll buy you another one." Uncle Song said, leading me to the store. After showing me around for a while, we ran into some colleagues
who had just finished dinner and were out enjoying the night view. Among them was Aunt Han. Uncle Song handed me over to her. "Little Han, hurry up,
take good care of this little guy. I'm out of water in the car and I'm so sleepy. This little guy keeps pestering me to play with him."

Aunt Han chuckled, pinched my nose, and took over my care. Aunt Han didn't have a son, but she had always
liked me since I was little. She was happy to hold my hand, as if she had a son. But Uncle Song disappeared in the blink of an eye.

He hadn't even bought me the dough figurine yet! This Uncle Song, he didn't keep his word! I thought to myself, and found an opportunity
to slip away from Aunt Han's hand and run back to the hotel to find Uncle Song.

But Uncle Song wasn't asleep, and he wasn't there either. I was bored and felt like no one was playing with me anymore.
Suddenly my stomach rumbled. Oh dear, I was hungry. I'll go back to my mom

's room. So I went back to my mom's and my room, and heard a middle-aged man's voice inside. Ah, it
was !

(III)

Uncle Song entered Mom's room. The hotel room was winding and the walls were incredibly thick,
twice the also warm wallpaper, and the soundproofing was excellent. It wasn't Uncle Song's distinctive Korean-accented Northeastern accent; instead, it had
a strong kimchi-scented accent that assaulted my ears, and I almost pushed the door open.

Speaking of Uncle Song, his life story is quite remarkable. Why the kimchi accent? Because he was of Korean ethnicity and had
a very Korean-sounding, peculiar name, something like Song Shunzhe.

In those days, names were considered auspicious and vibrant, so no one called him by his full name; they all called him Old Black Civet.
Why ? Probably because he was tall and thin with a lot of fur, and when he went to the public bathhouse, his black fur
frightened his coworkers. Some of the Northeastern workers made risqué jokes, calling him a black civet from the mountains. He
didn't was quite proud of it, and so the nickname "Black Fox" spread. As he grew older,
the word "Old" was added before his name. Some women called him "Thief Fox" behind his back, while others affectionately called him "Black-haired Brother" or "Fox Brother," like
my mother.

Of course, his heavy body hair wasn't genetically related to being a "Black Fox." In the Guanzhong Plain and west of Gansu, there are often
men with very fair skin but extremely thick body hair. I later read some books and learned that this is due to the long-term
cold climate of the north. In the northwest, there are endless yellow sandstorms and strong winds, while in the northeast, there are dense forests, cold and damp
conditions , which may explain the exceptionally abundant hair growth.

Many indigenous ethnic groups of Northeast China, such as the Koreans, are like this, but
those who immigrated from Shandong and Hebei to Northeast China are not. They possess both the genetic traits of those from within the Great Wall and the nourishment of those from beyond, resulting in women with exceptionally fair ,
smooth, and tender skin.

Unlike my mother's hometown, Changchun, a major city, the quiet, cold mountains of Northeast China—this was Uncle Song's
hometown—located in the remote mountains of Yanbian, Jilin.

As a child, I often overheard my mother speaking to relatives with a rather disdainful tone, saying that Yanbian was incredibly poor, that Koreans only wanted to
go to Changchun, and that Koreans initially couldn't speak Mandarin and were uncouth. Indeed, in the 1950s, when my mother was still a young
girl , the Manchukuo period had just ended, and Northeast China was still quite desolate. There were only two major cities, Changchun and
Fengtian (Shenyang), and further down was Beijing. Han Chinese were all trying to find ways to move south, to more prosperous places, let alone
Koreans .

Uncle Song, in his youth, was such a restless person; the mountains of Yanbian couldn't contain his heart. So much so that he joined the army
at a very young age and went to the front lines during the Korean War. He was only
ten years old. Perhaps because he was tall from a young age, and given the era's tendency to put on a brave face and fight the Americans, from
Lin Biao's Fourth Field Army to Peng Dehuai's forces, we lost many soldiers. The front lines were short of manpower, so we urgently recruited, mobilizing locally from
Yanbian, Jilin , and thus not restricting age.

Speaking of war, it's quite cruel. Now, seeing Arab children on TV, so young yet holding guns
with solemn expressions , was a stark reminder of how cruel war was. Our time was the same; Old Song, nicknamed "Black Fox," was one of them.

Although many things happened afterward, my friendship with Old Song, who worked in my mother's workshop, remained strong from childhood
. When there weren't many machines to repair, he would often sit alone in the tool shed, feeling bored, and I would often...
I would ask him to play and pester him to tell me stories.

He had many stories to tell: American devils, South Korean puppet troops,
beautiful blonde Russian women, and his own life experiences. He was a bit reserved, so I knew quite a lot about him. This
sparked my later deep interest in Northeast China. Of course, my mother was the eldest daughter of Changchun, so I guess I have
half Northeastern blood.

Black Fox joined the army and ended up spending most of his life there. He didn't die a glorious
death , but he suffered many injuries. He developed chronic neck and back pain at a young age, and his back was hunched over
for the rest of his life. It would hurt even more on rainy days. Wearing clothes with a hunched back wasn't dignified, but without them, with his black fur,
he looked even more like an old black fox.

This kind of injury is actually called arthritis. If we had the technology of America today, gunshot wounds back then
could have been treated properly and wouldn't have left any lasting effects. But back then, China didn't have so many considerations; people just made do. Old Blackie's condition became
increasingly painful, making it impossible for him to serve in the army. But what else could he do besides the army? He didn't know many characters,
but after years in the army, he was extremely familiar with Soviet military equipment and vehicles. The army chose to utilize his expertise and
demobilized him to the petrochemical industry.

At that time, the country was building factories in the Northwest, and almost all the production equipment was brought in from the Soviet Union. People
like had accumulated years of experience with Soviet machinery, were assigned to the Northwest, to Jincheng, and then
to our factory's tool workshop. Like fate, he met my mother, and
the kind of fair-skinned, plump beauty he had dreamed of in Changchun since he was still in Yanbian.

Of course, his expertise was purely based on experience; he was far from being a technician or R&D engineer.
So he was assigned to the workshop as a maintenance worker. This was partly to utilize his strengths, and partly because maintenance work was light and not strenuous,
a consideration given he was a wounded veteran. He was content with his lot, except for one thing: he didn't worry about
finding a wife. He was over forty and still single.

In the past, the country placed great importance on the family life of soldiers, and given that he was from an ethnic minority, the organization was even more
attentive. The labor union constantly introduced him to potential partners. With his height, some technical skills, and a well-paid, stable job,
finding a wife shouldn't have been difficult, despite his back injury. Many women were willing to be with
him, but for some reason, he wouldn't agree. The organization was anxious but helpless, and many women who were only interested
were heartbroken. Everyone was baffled.

At that time, the concept of homosexuality didn't exist in society; otherwise, people today would surely guess he was gay.
But that's not the case. I know his dream girl has been with him since childhood. Based on my later analysis, his dream lover must have been a beautiful woman from Changchun
—fair-skinned, voluptuous, with a lovely, soft, and tender body, a sweet and charming voice, a touch of feistiness, and a hint of masochism. This was largely related to his childhood experiences. Because of poverty, he was discriminated against by people from Changchun, yet he longed for Changchun. Because of his poverty and being of Korean ethnicity, he was discriminated against by wealthy and civilized Han Chinese families, yet he longed for the daughters . He had feelings of hatred, love, inferiority, and ambition—in short, his deep-seated psychology. It was basically similar to the psychology of a typical rural man towards a city woman. The crucial thing was that he found his dream lover, but he met her in Jincheng Chemical Plant, far from Northeast China— it was my mother. Thinking about it carefully, my mother and his dream woman, at least in terms of appearance, really did match. This was probably why he repeatedly rejected the organization's offers of help and refused to date. This Korean man was quite devoted. Of course, I only understood these things later. I was only eight years old then, and I was simply amazed and curious about everything. Driven by curiosity, instead of going in to find the old fox as usual, I pressed my eye against the hotel door, which smelled of wood oil. I gently pushed it, and surprisingly, the door wasn't locked properly. Through a crack, I could see them. Thank goodness , the hotel was carpeted, and there were cushions around the door. I made very little noise, and the people inside didn't notice me at all. What I saw stunned me—a scene of spring beauty I had never seen before.

After her bath, Mom's skin was white and damp, exuding a fragrance. She wore a silk slip dress,
clean but slightly disheveled, with pale aquamarine straps and lace trim. The dress itself was light white, somewhat transparent, and
short, barely covering her plump thighs. A faint
hint two tender pink nipples were
faintly visible on her upper body. Good heavens, Mom was only wearing a sexy nightgown, without a bra or panties, nestled gently in Old Li's arms.

They whispered intimate words, Mom occasionally tilting her head back and pouting her soft lips to give Old Li a quick kiss .
Old Li's large hand roamed restlessly over Mom's soft waist and large buttocks, occasionally slapping her plump bottom with a sharp crack. The soft flesh trembled, making Mom blush and giggle, her buttocks wriggling under Old Li's hand. "Yanzi, that felt so good! You were so sexy just now, I really wanted to give you another go." "You bad brother, Black Hair Brother, you call me sexy? If you weren't so amazing, I wouldn't be sexy." "My cannon is right in your flower heart, isn't it? Come on, do you want me to fuck you hard again? I still have plenty of strength I'll fuck you all the way to your womb." Saying this, he lifted his mother's nightgown and reached out to squeeze his mother's breasts, while his other hand sank into his mother's deep butt crack, and his penis gradually swelled up again. His mother swayed again and said in a coquettish voice, "You bad boy, you're so shameless. I almost killed your sister just now, and it's not enough. Your sister is already yours, she has plenty of time to serve you. Stop playing now, what will happen when Mingming comes back ?" As she spoke, her face was full of the embarrassment and anxiety of a housewife having an affair with her husband and son behind his back. "What are you afraid of? I haven't done it with you in ages, it's been months! I've missed you so much, Yanzi! Didn't you say you were coming out for your honeymoon and I'd fuck you like crazy? How could you forget?" "Mmm—" Mom said coquettishly, "But my son can't see this, he's not a kid anymore." "Not a kid? He's still a child. I tricked him out just now, hehe." "You bad boy, you tricked my son into going out to play and then came back to play with his mother. My son calls you 'Uncle' all the time , is that how an uncle should act?" As she spoke, she looked at Old Lizi with flirtatious eyes, and the two of them laughed. Unable to resist Mom's seduction, Old Lizi squeezed Mom's white breasts hard as if to vent his anger. "Honestly, Yanzi, I love you so much, I'm crazy about you. I've been eating rice for over forty years, and I've never loved a woman like this before. Yanzi, how wonderful it would be if you could marry me." Mother gently pressed her tender lips against the old fox's furry chest, like a fair woman lying in the arms of a wild beast. "Brother—, Black Hair Brother, don't say anything more. I know your heart, and my heart is exactly the same for you . Let's forget everything, forget all of this, and love each other well during this ten-day honeymoon." "That's what I originally thought, but with your little Mingming here, it just doesn't feel right. If it weren't for Mingming, I would take you to the park tonight , and we would love each other to the point of death under the moonlight, love each other all night long." As he spoke, his hard, large penis thrust against Mother's plump buttocks, causing her to gasp for breath again. “Brother, don’t be angry. It’s just that the factory area isn’t safe right now. I’m worried about Mingming being home alone. I’ve already thought of something. I’ve noticed that Xiao Han really likes Mingming, so I’ll find an excuse to have Xiao Han take Mingming to her place to sleep. Then we can—” Mom gently squeezed Old Li’s rock-hard penis, “and then I’ll be yours, Black Hair Brother, and you can do whatever you want with me.” She finished speaking with a blush on her face. “Good Yanzi, you’re so good. Then I’ll go back and take a nap first, and tonight we—” Before she could finish speaking, Mom’s tender red lips were already pressed against Old Li’s lips, her fragrant tongue teasing him. Old Li pushed Mom down onto the bed and pounced on her full, white flesh like a wild beast. The two of them kissed for a long time, their kisses so intense that the world seemed to spin, with only the sounds of smacking and smacking, and the sweet scent of their kisses filling the air. Tears streamed down Mom’s face. The old fox kissed her cheek affectionately until the clock struck nine, at which point he resolutely got up to leave. Just as he reached the door, his mother pounced on him and hugged the tall old fox. The old fox lifted his mother's nightgown and, with a series of sharp slaps, gave her bare, plump bottom a few hard spankings, saying tenderly, "Swallow, why are you always so persistent?"

"I'm reluctant to part with you. I'll come back tonight, sweetie. You should go back and get some sleep too."

"Blackie, do you love me?"

"I love you."

Only then did Mom let go, her pajamas disheveled, still gazing at Old Lizi with reluctance. She was truly a woman in love
; when moved, she couldn't bear even a few hours of separation.

Old Lizi turned and opened the door, disappearing swiftly and lightly into the hallway—a typical soldier's
style . Old Lizi looked old, but his physique was not; on the contrary, he was shrewd and capable. Mom's satisfied expression and reluctant,
infatuated look proved this.

As for me, I had already hidden far away to the side. This scene was just too exciting. Hiding behind a flowerpot
, I suddenly sat down on the ground, not having had time to think about what was happening. Just then, I suddenly felt a finger tap on
my forehead , and I came to my senses. I saw Aunt Han standing opposite me with a smile. "Little Mingming,
what's wrong? I thought you were lost. Auntie was so worried."

(IV) "

Little Mingming, Little Mingming," Aunt Han's big eyes sparkled, reflecting my lost and
forlorn expression.

"Little monkey, what's wrong?" A plastic bag of hot buns dangled from Aunt Han's slender fingers. Seeing that I
remained unmoved, Aunt Han leaned close to my ear and whispered sweetly, "My little monkey, what's wrong ?
Tell Auntie, were you naughty and did your mother hit you?"

Aunt Han was from the South, and her Mandarin was gentle and soft, just like the way my mother
used to talk Thinking of what had just happened, and looking at the aunt across from me, the little boy suddenly felt
that the aunt was the closest and dearest person to him in the world. I couldn't help but feel wronged and threw myself into Aunt Han's arms,
bursting into tears.

"Auntie, Auntie, you're so kind." "

Of course, I didn't understand things between men and women back then, but I was eight years old, and in my hazy state, seeing my mother
so tenderly in the old fox's arms, I instinctively felt that my mother's heart had been stolen. Did my mother still want me? Did she still want
my father? How could a child understand such questions? I just felt wronged, and I pressed my face against Aunt Han's stomach, crying
so hard my neck stiffened.

Aunt Han saw me crying so sadly, but she didn't ask anything. She just squatted down and gently hugged me. Aunt Han
's breasts were so big, round and soft, and they felt soft against my face through her shirt. A strange effect was created.
Mom , Mom, I felt like I was being held by my mother again. Soon I stopped crying. Aunt Han's breasts were so tender
.

'Auntie, you're so kind.'

'Little monkey, I told you not to run around like that, not staying by Auntie's side. As a result, Mom scolded you
. You don't know how good Auntie is.' Aunt Han let me stay in her arms, and deliberately pinched my cheek with her slender fingers in a playful scolding tone.

'Auntie, will you leave me?'" "Thinking of Mom just now, I suddenly asked a strange question.

'Silly monkey, Auntie loves Xiaomingming the most. I won't leave you, I won't scold you, and I won't hit you.'
Aunt Han's tone had a hint of comparison to Mom.

'Auntie, I like you too. I'm hungry, I want to eat steamed buns.' Children always forget bad moods easily,
and I immediately became carefree again, mischievously reaching for the steamed buns.

Aunt Han patted my little hand affectionately, 'What's the rush? Auntie knows you love steamed buns, so I bought
these especially for you. There are also some for your mom. Go back and eat with your mom.' Aunt Han and Mom are colleagues
and good friends, and I think Aunt Han is especially kind.

'Auntie, I'll tell you a secret,' Auntie leaned closer, and I whispered in her earlobe
, 'I don't like Mom, I like Auntie, I want Auntie to be my mom.' Aunt Han smiled, her face
slightly red. I knew Aunt Han didn't have children and especially loved the feeling of being a mother, so she
must be .

'Little monkey, you're so sweet-talking.'" "

I want to be with Auntie, I want to feed her big steamed buns."

"Hmm—"

"I want to sleep with Auntie."

"Hmm—"

Actually, I didn't really like Auntie Han before because she always liked to hug me, touch this, kiss that, and
quietly call me "son, son." Little boys are often hyperactive, and I was especially restless, so I really disliked being
held tightly by her; it felt like I had no freedom and was very uncomfortable. In fact, when I was little,
I couldn't I would cry loudly after being held for a while. But Auntie Han just liked to hold me, so I would run away
whenever I saw her. Thinking back, I must have made Auntie very upset.

But after this night, things were different. I suddenly felt that Auntie Han's embrace was so fragrant, so soft, and had such
a motherly scent, especially her breasts, so soft and tender. How come I had never noticed them before? Maybe I was too young
then , or maybe it had something to do with seeing my mother and the old fox in such a compromising situation. I had hurt Auntie before,
and now I wanted to make it up to her, so I started to speak sweetly.

Mom had originally planned to find an excuse to leave me with Aunt Han, but this time she didn't need to. We'd eat steamed buns together
and then sleep together; Aunt Han and I had already agreed. But I still had to tell Mom. When we quietly opened the door
to her room, she was already curled up in bed, fast asleep, her soft, even snores filling the air
. Her hair was disheveled, her face rosy, and a sweet smile played on her lips.

"She must have been too tired on the train; your mom's asleep. Look how beautiful she is," Aunt Han
said , her envy for Mom evident. Of course, only I knew that Mom had just
been snuggling in Old Li's arms, her rosy lips having just been kissed passionately by him.

The door wasn't locked properly, probably so Old Li could easily come in. Mom wasn't afraid of anyone coming in,
because of Dad's prestige at the factory; apart from Old Li, who had connections through back alleys, no one dared to trespass into the director's wife
's bedroom. In those days, a secure job was everything for a laborer. Forget about sneaking into a woman's room; even a lecherous
glance required careful consideration of one's fate. Strong men possessed women—at least to outsiders,
it was perfectly natural for a strong man like my father to have a mature woman like my mother.

"Let's go with Auntie. Your mother is sleeping so soundly; let's not disturb her." Holding Aunt Han's soft little hand,
as we left the doorway, I couldn't help but turn back several times to look at my mother—that beautiful woman, that maternal body,
that sweet, loving mother of mine. Although I had just been heartbroken, a son's attachment to his mother
is innate.

Like most of the workers and cadres in the factory, Aunt Han came from out of town. At that time,
people from all over the country gathered in Jincheng. Some were educated youth, some were Red Guards, and
some had enrolled in technical schools to gain experience in factories. In short, once they arrived and secured a well-paid and secure
job , they settled down and put down roots. Whether they were from Northeast China, Shanghai, or Guangdong, they
were now all Jincheng people. Just as Shenzhen is now an immigrant society, Jincheng was like that back then.

However, despite the glittering job, some people couldn't adapt to the climate of Northwest China, especially
southerners. Aunt Han's husband was one of them.

In our Northwest, the wind was like a knife, the snow like ice chips, the long winters like iceboxes, and even the tap water
stung your tongue. Aunt Han's husband, a native Nanjing intellectual, couldn't stand it anymore. In
the early 1980s, when the reform and opening-up policies were more relaxed, he applied and applied repeatedly, and was transferred back to Nanjing. But for some
reason , he left without telling anyone, disappearing the very next day without a trace,
including his wife, my Aunt Han.

Simply put, he abandoned her. Aunt Han was also an intellectual; it's said her parents were
high-ranking officials . She received an exceptionally good education from a young age, attending university in Nanjing. Calling her a well-educated, refined young lady
wouldn't be an exaggeration. But during the Cultural Revolution, her family suffered. Her parents were criticized and denounced, and Aunt Han was forced to go to the countryside to receive education
from poor and , to transform herself from a bourgeois young lady into a good daughter of workers and peasants.

It was the unique historical environment of that era that shaped Aunt Han, a beautiful young woman raised on the banks of the Yangtze River .
A girl from the south was sent to our Xiliang Prefecture, and Aunt Han's husband, a very thin
intellectual , was fortunate enough to marry such a good wife.

But people just don't know how to cherish what they have. They take what they have for granted, only yearning for what they can't have. After marriage,
Aunt Han didn't conceive. Two or three years would have been fine, but as time went on, her husband began to have suspicions. Back then,
medicine wasn't widespread, and couples often blamed the woman for infertility. Her husband concluded that Aunt Han was infertile.
Somehow, he secretly contacted his family back home, found a wife in Nanjing, and then, under the pretext of a job transfer, quietly
left without informing anyone. Presumably, this was the reason he returned to Nanjing to marry his new wife, leaving Aunt Han
alone and miserable in Xiliang Prefecture.

In reality, it turned out that it was her husband who was infertile, or perhaps, she had a small penis,
making conception impossible. Of course, that's a story for later.

Aunt Han became a discarded woman, and the older women in the factory started gossiping. Some of the less educated female workers, especially
those who couldn't get along with a cultured woman like Aunt Han, were jealous and gossiped that Aunt Han was sick and couldn't
have children, which was why her husband didn't want her. In those days, having children was very important; a woman who could n't
have children was considered shameful, not only in the countryside but also in the city. Poor Aunt Han, not only had to support herself
but also endure the scornful looks from some of the female workers.

Gradually, Aunt Han accepted that she couldn't have children and developed a strong liking for other people's little boys—
a kind of compensation, perhaps. And her favorite was probably me, even though I was the most mischievous and naughty. Later,
Aunt Han once told me that my dark eyes were bright, clear, and full of life;
no matter how much trouble she had in her relationships or at work, as soon as she saw my clear dark eyes, all her worries would disappear.

How could a capitalist's daughter not undergo labor training? Although Aunt Han had gone to university, she wasn't used to such things and
still had to go to the factory to operate the machine tools like other female workers. It wasn't until a workplace accident that Aunt Han was
freed from the machine tools and sat opposite my mother's desk, becoming the second clerk in the workshop. By then, my mother
had already been sitting in the office for several years. My mother only graduated from junior high school, while Aunt Han graduated from university, and
she paid the price of losing two fingers to get an office job. In that era, just like now, there was no fairness.

Later, I was playing with Aunt Han and asked her, "Auntie, where are your fingers?"

"They were crushed by the machine."

"Then how do you write?"

"With my left hand."

"Auntie, does it still hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt anymore, little monkey. Everyone else is afraid of Auntie's crippled hand, aren't you afraid?"

"I'm not afraid, I like Auntie, so I like everyone." *Smack*—I got a kiss on the cheek.

"Little Mingming is the best."

"Auntie, when I grow up, I'll earn lots of money and make your fingers grow back..."

From that night on, I felt that Aunt Han was so kind, just like my mother,

and I wanted to make Aunt Han happy. We cuddled together for ages until we finally finished our steamed buns. The other female workers in the room returned. The union
had arranged four people to share a double room in the hotel. Aunt Han smiled and washed my face and feet, then
hugged me and we went to bed.

Because it was hot in the summer, Aunt Han was only wearing a thin shirt. My face was pressed against her large breasts—it felt so good
! Lying there, I thought of my mother again. What was she doing now? I compared my mother's and Aunt Han's
breasts. My mother's breasts were also quite large, but Aunt Han's were even larger. My mother's breasts were round, soft, and bouncy, while
Aunt 's breasts were so soft you wanted to suck on them. My mother's nipples were pink, while Aunt Han's were light red.
In comparison, my mother's were more vibrant, while Aunt Han's were more delicate. Thinking about it, I got tired on the bus and fell asleep.

(V)

I lay in Aunt Han's arms, nestled against her soft, big breasts, sleeping soundly. As I slept, I had
a dream.

In the dream, Aunt Han was no longer wearing her work clothes and polyester shirts, but instead wearing clothes that Bian Ming had never seen before.
The wedding dress was snow-white, so clean and white, with many beautiful lace details. Auntie was so beautiful, so gentle and
lovely. The snow-white, transparent dress covered two mounds of snow-white breasts.

In my dream, Auntie smiled and said, "Silly monkey, what are you looking at? You're all dumbfounded. Come and kiss Auntie."

I went over, cupped those two mounds of breasts, and started kissing, touching, and biting them. Auntie Han's big breasts, I love them the most
! Auntie pulled my little hand, "Silly monkey, I told you to kiss me, not just there."

I looked up. Auntie's face was flushed, her eyes were closed, and her red, tender lips were pouting, like
a little girl next door who had been wronged. I thought she was so cute, so I couldn't help but lean in, and our lips met.

Mmm—a sweet and refreshing kiss. Bian Ming had never kissed a woman like this before. Mmm, is this
a kiss?

"Auntie, you smell so good."

"You naughty boy, still calling me 'Auntie'? I'm your bride!"

"Ah, bride? Am I marrying Auntie?"

"You naughty boy, you don't want to? Don't you like Auntie anymore?"

"No, I like Auntie! I like Auntie Han the most! But my mom says kids can't just marry
any wife."

"Hmph~~ What mom? It's always your mom! You want your mom, not Auntie? Then Auntie's leaving,
boohoo ..."

Auntie Han cried, crying so sadly. Bian Ming tried to reach Auntie Han, but he couldn't reach her no matter how hard he tried
. Auntie seemed to be getting further and further away, and finally she disappeared. I was so sad, I burst into tears too.

"Little Mingming, Little Mingming, what's wrong? Why are you crying so sadly? Little monkey, do you miss your mother?
Hehe ."

I opened my eyes. Ah, it was just a dream. Aunt Han was still beside me, she hadn't left.
But Aunt Han wasn't wearing that snow-white wedding dress. Thinking about the dream, Bian Ming hugged Aunt Han tightly,
holding her large breasts.

"No, I don't miss my mother, I want Auntie, I love Auntie the most, I'll listen to Auntie."

"Silly monkey, Auntie is so sweet. Look at the time, hmph—you woke up crying in the middle of the night, woke
Auntie up, and then said these silly things."

The hotel room was quiet, the warm moonlight outside the window was soft. This is Sichuan, it's different from Longshang. The summer night
in the south is quiet and gentle, just like Aunt Han's fragrant embrace.

I looked at my watch, looked out the window, and smiled. My dark eyes rolled around, and I smiled sheepishly at Han Xue. I was really embarrassed to have woken
Auntie up.

Han Xue, however, was utterly unable to resist my mischievous and adorable charm. It was as if her defenses, her maternal
instincts , were instantly breached. She longed to immediately remove her shirt and bra, letting her plump, snow-white
breasts caress and soothe the boy's face and restless little hands.

Aunt Han probably secretly knew that I adored her breasts, and she was quite proud of her bust size,
enough to satisfy any mother in the world. To have her beloved little boy nestled in her breasts, feeling like a mother herself, mother and son naked and close, so intimate—how beautiful! This dream, the dream of being a mother, had probably been on Aunt Han's mind for a very long time
at 32. Needless to say, the little boy in Han Xue's heart was me. From his first year as an infant crying, to his first words at , to his first steps and crawling at three, and now to his mischievous eight-year-old self, I had always been in Aunt Han's heart. In a sense, Aunt Han's close relationship with her mother also motivated her to seek opportunities to be close to me. I, this clever and adorable little boy whom Aunt Han has already taken for her son, am now restlessly touching her breasts and suckling at her nipples in her arms. I wonder if Aunt Han would want to expose her breasts to me? I probably don't have the courage yet; wearing only a shirt and a bra, Aunt Han is probably already quite satisfied . We played together for a while, but Han Xue, unlike me with my boundless energy, got really sleepy and quickly fell asleep . I, however, was wide awake. Being a child, my curious and restless nature kicked in when I was in a strange place.

Unable to sleep any longer, I excused myself to pee and ran out of the room. What was Mom doing? I decided to go see her.

I tiptoed to Mom's room and peered through the keyhole. There it was again—Old Leper, that hairy
man, embracing my mother's smooth, white, and full figure. One large hand firmly controlled and fondled her plump, ripe
buttocks, while her breasts and face were pressed against his hairy chest.

The moonlight streamed in through the window; it was a summer night in the south, the evening breeze intoxicating. Mom's room had a really good location, overlooking
the Chengdu river and offering a view of the moonlit night. The wide balcony had a long recliner, and Old Leper was lying there with Mom in
his arms, whispering intimate words while gazing at the moon. Moans and kisses filled

the air. Although I'd seen Mom having an affair, I'd never actually witnessed a man and woman making love. This time was no different. By the time I
arrived, the two had probably already made love several times. Each time they'd just finished, the old fox looked
like a smug, self-satisfied old man, while the mother looked like a plump, moist fruit after a spring rain.

Having witnessed my mother and the old fox's intimacy the first time, I wasn't so shocked anymore. The eight-year-old
boy , however, seemed to be guided by a strange psychological urge to continue monitoring his mother's affair.

Although he didn't see them making love, Bian Ming overheard them talking about their history of infidelity.

"Yanzi, your butt is so beautiful, you know? I was completely captivated by your big white butt."

"Hehe, you're so silly, always saying nice things. Is your butt really that beautiful?"

"Yes, it is. Of course it is. In the whole factory, your butt is the fullest. It's big, white, round, shiny
, soft, tender, smooth, and fragrant—"

"Hehehe, get lost, you're so annoying. 'Butt,' you mean? I'm like a sow now. You're so naughty—so naughty…"
Mom laughed, her small fist weakly hitting the old fox's chest, her butt and thighs rubbing against the old fox's
furry body.

"Haha, what are you afraid of? A sow is a sow, but even a sow's ass isn't as plump as yours."

"Hmm—you're making me so angry! I'm a sow, so why are you doing this to me? You must be a boar."

"I am a boar, but a male raccoon. I came from the old forests of Yanbian, my hometown, to see which sow
is the prettiest, most passionate, and most seductive. I specifically seduce her and then play with her big ass, haha..."

"Oh, I'm so embarrassed! You're so shameless, always saying such shameless things. So tell me, how many
sows ?"

"Hehe, just one. At first, I seduced her, but then I fell in love with her.
I wanted love and cherish her forever, and to have her give me a litter of civets."

"Black Hair Brother—do you only love her?"

"Of course."

"Who is she?"

Mom asked knowingly, her face flushed. A woman's charm, her longing for a man's affection and sweet words,
is never enough.

The two were whispering sweet nothings, the moonlight so pure and bright, making both man and woman
feel . As they talked, they reminisced about how they met.

I listened to them word by word from outside the door, becoming engrossed as if listening to a story. Suddenly,
I shivered . Although it was a summer night in the south, there was a slight chill in the air in the latter half of the night. I felt
my forehead starting to burn; I had caught a cold.

(VI) Emei's Torture

"Achoo—" A sneeze jolted me awake. My own sneeze had woken me up .
In the quiet corridor of the southern summer night, under the pale yellow wall lamp, after the eight-year-old boy's loud sneeze, everything
was eerily silent.

I realized that my sneeze had not only woken me up but also the two people in my mother's room, who were deeply
in love Quietly, silently, but in fact, everyone's heart was pounding.

A sneeze hits the head, making the child dizzy, and an indescribable discomfort rushes
through . I had just stood up to take a few steps when I slumped back down. Just then, two women appeared at the same time:
Aunt Han, her face full of anxiety and concern, and my mother, her face full of tension and unease.

"Mingming," Mom spoke first, "you naughty child, how could you sleep in the hallway? You must be being
naughty ."

She walked over, looking quite angry, and tried to pull me up. I didn't understand why Mom was
pretending at the time, but now I think it was to hide her guilt and embarrassment.

I was feeling unwell from my cold, and being scolded made me feel wronged. I stubbornly twisted my neck away from Mom's hand, and she pulled
me forcefully. Aunt Han saw this and immediately came over and picked me up in her arms. "Sister Yan, it's all my fault. I
didn't watch Mingming properly. He said he needed to go to the toilet, and I should have gone with him. He wouldn't have fallen asleep in the hallway."

"Little Han, you just love this child." With Aunt Han holding me, Mom couldn't pull me anymore and
could only sulk.

I obediently nestled between those two big breasts, not even glancing at Mom, deliberately sulking. Aunt Han
gave me a quick kiss on the forehead, then lovingly stroked the boy's cheek. "Sister Yanzi, little boys are just restless
. He falls asleep as soon as he gets sleepy. Don't blame Mingming. His forehead is a bit hot; maybe he's caught a cold
."

"Little Han, you're so good to this child. Letting him run around like that, I've already gone to sleep and he still hasn't come back. If you ask me,
even if he catches a cold, it's a lesson," Mom said, still worried about me. Mom is a woman with a sharp
tongue

but a soft heart; she couldn't help but come over and touch my forehead, but I turned my head away, deliberately not letting her touch me. Mom was really anxious, I don't know if she was annoyed by my naughtiness or worried that I had seen something. She covered her face
with her hands and burst into tears, muttering incoherently, "You child, ignoring your mother now?
Good, you've got some nerve, making your mother angry."

Seeing Mom cry, I really felt sorry for her. Actually, I love my mother so much. Compared to Aunt Han,
my mother is the most important; she's irreplaceable.

Aunt Han couldn't bear it either, and felt a little embarrassed. She transferred me to my mother's arms, saying, "Little monkey, don't
make your mother angry anymore. Look how much your mother loves you. Be good, sleep with your mother tonight."

Just like that, I returned to that long-missed bedroom,
a room that the union leaders had specially prepared for my mother and me, with that double bed—my mother's bed. Now I was back there.

My mother had taken a special shower and changed into a new set of snow-white, embroidered, long, traditional pajamas.
She took out cold medicine from her travel bag, touched my forehead, kissed my cheeks, and fed me the medicine, taking meticulous care of me. Her maternal love was
as gentle and tender as ever. After a while, she finally went to bed and held me in her arms to sleep.

I stubbornly remained silent, but my heart was deeply moved. No matter what, a mother's love is still the most touching thing
for a boy. I nestled in my mother's arms. Her breasts were round and soft, not as large as Aunt Han's,
but smoother and fuller. And extending down from her breasts was an even more alluring body. The plump
, fleshy buttocks encased in her pajamas were something Aunt Han couldn't compare to.

Thinking back to just a short while ago, that plump buttocks had been caressed by Old Fox, my mood soured again. That plump buttocks
belonged to Dad—no, they belonged to me, no, they belonged to both Dad and me—
the plumpest, smoothest, most maternally tender, white buttocks in the world.

Right, where's Old Fox? He was in this room before I fainted. Why
couldn't we find him after Mom and I came in? Everything was still, as if no man had ever been there. Old Fox
couldn't have come out through the door, so did he fly out the window? Wow, like the human flying man from the dinosaur special, Koseidon
! Eight-year-old boys often rely on fantasy to gradually replace reasoning. Lost in thought, the medicine took effect, and I drifted off
to sleep.

The long train journey, the unfamiliar environment, the chill at night, and other factors meant that I only realized
the seriousness of the situation My cold escalated into a fever and diarrhea. Perhaps those not officially part of the program shouldn't have joined the trip; this ten-day
trip to Chengdu seemed to mean nothing more than bed rest and medication for me.

My mother suggested staying to take care of me and not going to Mount Emei. The union leaders had no choice but to arrange for her
to stay . But as soon as we set off, one colleague was missing—Old Lizi hadn't arrived either. It turned out Old Lizi was visiting someone in Sichuan…
Many of my old comrades-in-arms left early in the morning to set off alone.

The trip to Mount Emei would take three days, with no return to the hotel. Our factory's working-class tour group,
the men missing their mothers—a plump, beautiful woman—and the women missing their old, witty, and mischievous husband
, Lao Lizi, must have been somewhat disappointed.

Of course, I didn't have time to care about all that; I was delirious with fever. Thankfully, our factory's
sister unit in Chengdu promptly sent a doctor. I wonder how he is now. Back then, socialist workers were practically at home everywhere,
especially those of us in the same system. So, as a family member of a worker from Jincheng,
I enjoyed . Of course, not all companies were like that. My parents
' workplace, then and now in China, was a key industry supported by the state.

Enough of the chit-chat. The doctor in Chengdu prescribed medicine, and I felt much better throughout the day. But by evening, the virus
had returned. Lying in bed, I felt nauseous, cold, and miserable again. "Mommy, Mommy, where are you? I feel so
awful, I need water,"

I cried incoherently, over and over again. Strangely, where was Mommy? Mommy had left me again.
Mommy was gone.

This thought jolted me awake. When a person is feverish, a sudden stimulus can actually make them more alert—a
feverish alertness that is a hundred times more energetic than normal alertness.

I sat up with swollen eyes, and with a strength I don't know I found, I got out of bed. I looked at the clock on the table; it
was 11 p.m., and it was already dark. Where was Mommy?

No, I had to find Mommy. Driven by a strong desire, even in my feverish, alert state, I
hastily threw on a few clothes and set off. I had to find out where Mommy was and what she was doing. It could be described as
an unusual burst of energy under the influence of a high fever, or it could be described as a son's powerful potential to find his mother.

It was eleven o'clock. They say the summer breeze in the south is gentle and intoxicating, but now it felt chillingly cold against me
. Like a little devil, I didn't go out the door, but instead climbed onto the window. The room was on the second floor, and outside the window was a small
grove of trees. The soft grass seemed not far from the windowsill; it was from here that the old fox had slipped away, and now my mother
was missing , which was also related to this place. The feverish little devil was surprisingly bold; without thinking, I jumped down.

Being small and light, and with the soft soil of the southern grass, I landed on half my bottom, which hurt quite a bit,
but I was alright. I stood up again and peered deeper into the grove.

Several streetlights emitted a soft, yellowish light, just enough to illuminate a
small circular area around each lamp. It was a typical southern grove, with what seemed like a pond in the center, a small bridge, and a smooth
, clean bluestone path. The streetlights cast their glow on the path, like beautiful
arcs of light on a completely dark ballet stage.

Lying by the bushes, gazing at the path, lost in thoughts of ballet, I was suddenly speechless. From
the darkness beside the light, a ballerina really did walk in—no, strictly speaking, a
woman in a short nightgown, the hem barely covering her waist, revealing a large, plump, white, bare bottom
that was captivating under the streetlights.

It was my mother! Good heavens, my mother was walking alone in a grove of trees in
Chengdu .

And it wasn't just ordinary walking; with each step, her large bottom swayed exaggeratedly from side to side. Her already snow-white,
plump maternal buttocks, dancing under the streetlights, appeared even more alluring and seductive.

*Ding-a-ling*, a pedestrian rode by on the bike path beside the grove. He seemed to notice my mother's
plump bottom under her nightgown; his bike screeched to a halt, and the pedestrian peered into the woods, his eyes fixed on her.

My mother trembled, then suddenly squatted down, turning her back to the passerby, her large, ripe buttocks arching into a round,
crescent shape , gleaming under the streetlights. Then, with a soft "splat," like a small stream, a
thin stream of urine shot from between her buttocks onto the bluestone pavement. Good heavens, that passerby must have been as shocked as I was—my mother was actually
urinating on a stranger's bare buttocks!

Suddenly, a soft moan escaped her lips; she couldn't help but groan, her whole body trembling uncontrollably, her legs giving way.
She lay down on the ground, her big buttocks still facing the passersby, trembling and writhing on their own.

The cyclist must have been terrified; he probably never imagined such a scene. The bicycle was picked up again
, and he sped away.

Mother seemed to be exhausted, lying on the cold bluestone slab, panting weakly. Suddenly, with a crack, a whip lashed across her fat buttocks in
the darkness Mother jolted awake, and a voice in the darkness said, "Stand up,
sow, keep writhing your big buttocks."

It smelled of kimchi, and the accent was Korean. The one giving the order in the darkness was Old Lizi. It turned out he wasn't going to see his comrades, but
was waiting for Mother to play with her ripe, horny buttocks in the dark.

I broke out in a cold sweat.

(VII)

Old Lizi stood in the darkness, whipping Mother's fat buttocks. Whenever Mother made a movement that displeased him,
her plump buttocks were mercilessly beaten. The whip was soaked in water, so it must have hurt a lot when it hit, and the sound
was loud downs.

Old Li Zi seemed to enjoy whipping women's plump buttocks, and he was quite skilled at it, his proficiency no less than when he repaired
machine tools . Strike after strike, in the quiet night, under the soft lamplight, on the romantic tree-lined path,
Old Li Zi, a retired soldier from the Korean ethnic group, was like an artist, performing his art on my mother's doughy, snow-white, alluring buttocks.
My mother's plump buttocks were the best instrument under the moonlight, allowing Old Li Zi to play a perverse yet enchanting
symphony of whipping buttocks in this southern night.

I was amazed; Old Li Zi must have practiced whipping women's buttocks for a long time. After dozens of water lashes, there was no blood on my mother's
smooth , white buttocks, only perfectly placed dark red marks. With his wildly twisting waist, from
a distance, they looked like dark red snakes coiling around my mother's mature, maternal buttocks.

I knew Old Li Zi had huge hands, covered in hair. I'd seen those hands
in photos , repairing machines in a factory, and lewdly fondling my mother's buttocks—all of which I
admired. But now, those same hands were playing such a beautiful buttocks-whipping symphony, which truly astonished me. What other surprises would Old Li Zi bring me on my trip to
Chengdu ?

But my mother, cooperating in this symphony of whipping and buttocks, this naked, plump sheep under the water whip, groaned incessantly,
drenched in sweat , her eyes glazed and unfocused. With each stroke of the whip against her mounds and buttocks, she
trembled like a leaf, her mouth open, saliva drooling. Years later, this scene remained vividly etched in my memory: a once virtuous and
respectable woman reduced to a sex slave, whipped to near-madness by a wild man.

My mother's image plummeted in my mind. Although I was only eight years old, I understood that this scene,
these groans and whippings, meant my mother wasn't simply passively being beaten, but deep down, she longed to be whipped by a man in the wild
. In other words, using what later became known as my fat-bottomed mother, she was a masochist, or at least a whipping-craving maniac,
or a woman's sacrifice for her beloved man.

If she had been forced, I could forgive her, but she was simply
sacrificing herself . Thinking of this, I couldn't help but feel contempt and resentment towards this
woman who had once been pregnant with me, given birth to me, fed me, loved me, and cared for me.

I thought of the TV series "Little Soldier Zhang Ga," which young boys often watched in those days. I remembered the flirtatious translator's wife
in , wearing a revealing cheongsam, swaying her hips on the streets of the old society, seducing
every bad guy, including the Japanese soldiers. The image of that flirtatious woman overlapped with the image of my mother before me.

I suddenly imagined my mother's first encounter with the old fox. My mother must have walked along
the workshop path, her plump, swaying buttocks enticing the tall, strong Korean man behind her, tempting him to attack her lustful rear. Thinking of
this, my heart skipped a beat. My mother's former beautiful image vanished. Deep down, I even considered
things from the old fox's perspective. Subconsciously, I longed to see him continue to humiliate my plump, mature mother, the one who gave
me life and raised me.

And so, I held my breath, silent, unusually lucid despite my high fever, anticipating it.

Night was approaching. In those days, most people were still very traditional, and nightlife was rare, even in Chengdu.
In this southern metropolis, because of the quiet woods, no one else was around. This little grove, filled with
a perverse atmosphere, seemed to exist in isolation.

The fat sheep with its bare white rump was called a sow by the old fox. The old fox liked to call my
beautiful , as if it were particularly exciting. He would add various modifiers before and after "sow," such as "slutty sow," "fat
sow," "baby sow," and so on. Every time he called out, my mother would reply in a seductive voice, "Brother Fox, whip your
sow's fat ass hard." The scene was truly perverse.

The water whip pounded rhythmically, the symphony gradually reaching its climax. Suddenly, my mother trembled violently, accompanied by a cry, and
a thin stream of white fluid gushed from her vagina. My mother could reach a shameless climax just from being whipped by the old fox,
and even squirt out when she was whipped.

Old Lizi, brimming with a sense of accomplishment, emerged from the shadows.
I could then see he was wearing a yellow military uniform—a treasured possession he'd always refused to show me. Now, to torture my plump,
mature mother, he'd actually donned it. But this only made the scene more perverse. Who could accept seeing
a tall, imposing PLA soldier, in the dead of night, playing with his shameless sex slave in the woods of Chengdu, a beautiful, plump
woman, a mother, a wife?

Old Lizi put away his water whip, abruptly pulling my mother, whose buttocks were bruised and bleeding, onto a lover's chair, caressing her injured
, weeping, plump bottom. The PLA soldier had been fierce moments before, but now Old Lizi
was ; his large hand seemed to possess a magical power, gradually calming her ripe buttocks. My mother, like the legendary Japanese beauty Mijiri,
pressed her face against Old Lizi's chest, so gentle, so obedient, as if the world held nothing to her
; only the Korean man embracing her was everything. The two began a long, passionate kiss.

“Yanzi, I was a little rough today, but you seemed particularly enthusiastic. You were so naughty just now.”

“You naughty brother, you're one to talk! It's all your fault! You love spanking people's butts, and my butt is
so…”

“So what?”

“It's getting more and more… well, when I'm at home, just thinking about you makes my butt feel weird, like
you're stroking it.”

“Hehe, when your husband and son are around, does your butt itch when you think about your brother?”

“Hmph, you're naughty, asking that on purpose. Whenever I think of you, no matter when or where,
my butt feels like it's about to cry.”

“Hehe, crying, my good Yanzi,” Old Li Zi cupped his mother's fragrant lips and gave her a hard squeeze, “You
described it so well. You went to middle school, you know how to use words better than your brother.” Old Li Zi looked at his mother affectionately,
“Yanzi, you'll stay with your brother from now on, and I'll make your big white butt cry every day.”

“Mmm—, brother, you're so good. I want to stay with you forever, to let you bully my big
butt .”

"Hehe, so sexy, my little swallow, come on, brother will take you for a late-night snack."

"Heh, okay, what time is it?" "

12:30."

"Oh dear, Mingming, Mingming is still in the house. My son has a fever today, and I just remembered that
I haven't given him his medicine tonight."

"Hey, what's there to be afraid of? That kid can take it himself. When I was a kid, I bandaged myself when I got shot."

"Oh dear, no, I, as his mother..." The mother suddenly blushed. This woman only
remembered her now. The mother must feel very guilty and ashamed.

"Haha, what's wrong? Do you feel very lewd and depraved? My little fat pig, I especially like you
like . Every time I see you, I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you now." As he spoke, the old fox flipped over and
pressed the mother down onto the chair, making her stick her fat buttocks up high. The old fox shook his big gun and was about to insert it.

"Oh dear, but—"

"But what? This kid shouldn't have come in the first place. I was thinking of finding a way to switch him out, but
now it's not necessary. This kid has the self-awareness to stay sick in bed, giving us a chance to be alone, and he even left his mother alone."
"Come out and let me do it. I'll fuck Bian Ming's mother's big fat ass. I'll fuck Bian Da Guang's wife's tender pussy,
hahaha ." He laughed uncontrollably, truly enjoying life to the fullest.

Old Li Zi was in high spirits, mocking and ridiculing me, his mother's only son, in front of my mother,
spewing vulgarities, as if mocking the men of our Bian family for being incompetent, unable to even keep their own women.

Although until now I only hated my mother's lewdness and not so much Old Li Zi, at this moment, I was
furious . Although I was only an 8-year-old boy, I was still enraged. Our Bian family's beautiful buttocks were
being enjoyed by wild men, and Korean men at that! I couldn't help but shout, "Old Li Zi, I'll shave you!"

Suddenly, at the same moment, a loud clap of thunder, and heavy rain began to fall. The torrential rain common in the summer nights of the South had arrived
.

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/205334.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=205334&aspx=1

Previous Page : Mother and son in blissful ecstasy

Next Page : Sexual arousal experience

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

Mother's romantic history [1-7]

comment Open a new window to view comments