Mom in her daily life

I don't know if my mother knew about my fantasies about her body, but many times, she acted without any restraint in front of me. When she appeared before me wearing those tight pants and no underwear, her expression and demeanor were no different from usual.
She should know how alluring she was, standing before me in those thin white silk tight pants and high heels, without underwear. The tight pants clung so tightly to her lower body—her firm thighs, which looked incredibly soft to the touch, her beautifully shaped buttocks, and her vulva, which bulged like a small hill beneath the thin, elastic fabric.
The area where her thighs met, the recessed area.
Under the thin fabric, her almost completely exposed crotch was directly facing me.
I didn't need to do anything; just looking straight ahead, I could clearly see the seductive scene revealed by her lower body.
But she seemed completely oblivious.
She could point them at me without any restraint, as if unaware that her genitals were facing me in a nearly naked yet more provocative manner than nakedness.
At these times, I always wanted to pounce on her, hug her buttocks, tightly embrace her genitals, lean my head against them, pull her lower body towards me, bury my face between her legs, press tightly against her crotch, and deeply inhale her scent. Then I would stick out my tongue and greedily lick it.
My mother would also casually spread her legs and sit down in front of me. At this time, her tight pants would create some wrinkles. Looking at these wrinkles would inexplicably excite me. Her vulva would be more prominently displayed because of her sitting down, pushing against the fabric of the tight pants. Then her lower body would be pulled by the tight pants, and I could clearly see her vulva being tightly bound, forming a concave slit shape on the pants, revealing the semi-transparent outline of her vulva.
She would also bend down deeply in front of me to tidy up things without caring at all. She stuck out her large, round buttocks, her back to me. Just imagine a beautiful, curvaceous woman wearing incredibly elastic, semi-transparent white leggings, bending over and sticking out her buttocks in front of you—you'll know how irresistible that is to a man. I love my mother like that. I love how she looks in leggings, and I love even more how she looks now, wearing leggings and no underwear.
Perhaps I should talk about my fetish here.
To be precise, I like seeing women in leggings, just as I like seeing women in stockings. It's a kind of fascination with certain objects. However, of all these fascinations, I like seeing women in leggings more than stockings and uniforms.
Maybe it's because… there are always so many women wearing stockings being played with in porn, so easy to see, while women wearing leggings being played with are very rare. Perhaps it's because I'm not experienced enough, but I feel there are almost none, at least I haven't encountered any myself.
And even if I have, it's rare to find a beautiful woman as the main character.
Among these beautiful women, mature women who are truly glamorous are even rarer.
First and foremost, I like mature women, glamorous women. I don't know if this idea will change in the future, but for now, this standard trumps everything else. And then other things stem from this.
Of course, my strange fetishes aren't limited to this, but it would be too abrupt and inappropriate to discuss those here. I'm mentioning this simply to emphasize the feeling my mother evokes.
In my mother, there's maturity, beauty, tight pants, uniforms, stockings… all the things I chased in pornographic films for so long are present.
I often keep my mother in my mind, imagining what it would be like to make love to her. There are many scenarios and scenes, such as my mother standing in front of me, and me pouncing on her, pushing her down, stripping her naked… and so on. But fundamentally, it's all about imagining my penis thrusting hard into my mother's vagina, penetrating her body, fucking her.
To the point that I don't even remember when it started, but I have such a strong sexual desire for my mother's body.
This longing grew stronger and stronger. Thinking
of my mother's body would inexplicably send shivers of excitement through my senses. It was a surging excitement that couldn't be released. It wasn't a desire that could be relieved simply by masturbation; it only grew stronger after each act of masturbation.
It was as if something high in the air was bewitching me, my heart and senses inexplicably drawn to it.
That feeling seemed so close, almost within reach, yet each time I tried to reach out and touch it, I only grasped at an empty void. I began to crave more… Like someone who needs new stimulation to revitalize their weary senses, I wanted new stimulation, not because I was tired of what I had, but because I hadn't obtained what I wanted… [!--empirenews.page--]
I became fond of my mother's underwear, her bras, panties, and stockings.
Especially those she wore all day. After my mother finished showering, I would secretly run to the bathroom and carry her clothes back to my bedroom.
I brought my mother's panties and bra to my nose, inhaling deeply. They smelled of her vulva and breasts. The thought that she had worn them all day, and now I was holding them and playing with them, filled me with a strange excitement. Even though I wasn't playing with my mother, but rather her underwear, the thought that it was the closest thing to her body, her most private thing, and imagining the panties and bra covering her vulva and breasts, gave me a strange thrill.
The thought of playing with my mother's most private things seemed to connect me to her in some way, indirectly arousing her physical pleasure and releasing my own sexual desires.
I used them to cover my penis, masturbating in the pleasure of anticipation and fantasy.
I especially loved my mother's panties; after wearing them all day, there were always traces of her genitals covering her vulva. Those traces excited me. If I occasionally found a single pubic hair on her panties, my heart would race for no reason.
Because… it was my mother's pubic hair.
Part of my mother's most private area.
For a long time at the beginning, I didn't know if my mother knew I liked to fantasize and masturbate while holding her worn underwear. But later, I knew she knew.
Although I was always careful when masturbating with my mother's underwear, trying not to ejaculate on it, there was one time when I couldn't tell if it was intentional or accidental. Perhaps I was too excited, and in my vigorous masturbation, I didn't think about anything else, and my semen completely sprayed onto the lace panties covering my penis.
The area covering my mother's vulva was stained with the sticky semen, sticking together in a mushy mess.
Perhaps desire struck me hard; instead of secretly washing away the semen on my mother's underwear, when I put her underwear back in the bathroom, I didn't throw it in the washing machine. Instead, I placed it on top of the washing machine, and... in the most conspicuous place.
The underwear was on top, the semen-stained area spread out, the stains, filth, and obvious.
Obviously, I did it on purpose.
What would Mom think if she knew her son was masturbating with her worn underwear? Of course, I didn't know.
I imagined Mom's reaction when she found out, and I imagined her imagining me masturbating with her underwear. My heart pounded. A mix of nervous anticipation and excitement filled me.
But Mom remained calm and composed, saying nothing. Everything was normal, as if nothing had happened.
I knew Mom knew.
Because from that day on, Mom never closed the shower door again, as if she had no idea I was secretly watching her.
This continued.
I would still take Mom's underwear to masturbate after she showered. But no longer did it furtively; I took it openly. Mom also stopped washing the clothes immediately after showering, leaving them for the next day. My mother's underwear no longer appeared in the washing machine immediately after her shower. Instead, it would be back where I had put the clothes before, always on top, with the part facing me—the part that had been stained with my semen—covering her vulva.
Although I was doing this openly, my mother never caught me doing it.
She would always go back to her bedroom and close the door. She would only reappear in the living room after I had finished.
I don't know how she managed it.
I no longer hesitated to ejaculate all over her underwear, then put it back.
The next day, when she tidied up, she was still calm and indifferent, as if nothing had happened.
Until one day…
Before that, I think I should mention something.
I've always only talked about my mother and me, but never about my father, because in my mother's and my world, my father has never existed. As for why he hasn't, that's not really relevant to my topic. So, there was no need to pay attention.
That day, as usual, Mom took a shower and returned to her room. I went to the bathroom and took Mom's underwear to my bedroom. While fantasizing about Mom, I started masturbating.
I wrapped my penis with Mom's underwear, moving my hand up and down, the swollen glans scraping back and forth on Mom's underwear. [!--empirenews.page--]
I closed my eyes, imagining myself forcefully thrusting into Mom's vagina, my penis deeply inserted into Mom's vagina. I fucked Mom hard, my lower body repeatedly thrusting and slamming down between Mom's legs, violently slamming into Mom's vagina.
Mom trembled violently from my fucking, letting out gasps and moans.
Then, semen sprayed onto Mom's underwear like water.
I exhaled and opened my eyes. I used Mom's underwear to wipe my glans, which was still dripping with a strand of sticky fluid. I raised my head, wanting to stand up and then tidy up Mom's other underwear that I had thrown on the bed.
But my body stiffened for a moment; I froze, speechless.
My mother stood in the doorway of my bedroom, watching me with an unreadable expression as I sat on the edge of the bed, my pants pulled down to my ankles and legs spread.
When had my mother arrived?
She'd forgotten to close the door—something that had never happened to me before.
I didn't know what to say.
I couldn't even utter the word "Mom."
It wasn't embarrassment; surprisingly, I didn't feel embarrassed. Perhaps I felt a little bit lost and confused at first, but after regaining my composure, I felt an unexpected excitement and thrill.
My mother had seen it all?
She'd seen her son masturbating with her underwear.
My mother's gaze fell on my penis and the underwear, still clutched in my hand, covered in semen.
"Do you do this often?"
"Yes."
"You like doing this."
"Yes."
"Does this excite you?"
"Yes."
My mother was referring to her underwear. I nodded.
I thought my mother would ask why I did this, why I liked it, but she didn't. Or rather, I expected her to ask that question and then give me the answer she wanted to give. She didn't ask, and I felt a little disappointed.
Mom came over, picked up the underwear from my hand, and I blankly let go.
Looking at the messy underwear, Mom's face was expressionless. She placed the underwear on the desk next to her.
Mom stood in front of me, squatted between my legs, buried her face in my crotch, and took my penis into her mouth, beginning to give me oral sex...
This was the scene I had been fantasizing about.
But—I actually felt a sensation on my penis.
In my daze, Mom was already squatting in front of me, her fair hand grasping my penis.
I was truly stunned.
The touch of her slender hand made my penis, which had already gone limp, start to stir again. Mom's hand moved, and a strange sensation continuously came from my penis... a feeling completely different from masturbation.
With Mom's movements, my penis stood erect and came alive.
Mom lowered her head, saliva dripping from her mouth, wetting my penis. My penis was wet, and Mom cupped it in her hands, then began to slowly stroke it up and down.
"Sizzle!"
A sound rang out from Mom's palms.
The pleasure I felt on my penis sent waves of sensation through every nerve in my body.
"Oh!"
I couldn't help but groan.
Mom released her hands, flattening them on either side of my penis, then lowered her head and took it into her mouth. It wasn't like insertion, but more like being sucked in, feeling a suction like sucking on an ice pop. My penis slowly sank into Mom's mouth until the pubic hair at the base of my penis touched her lips.
Lubricated, soft, warm… the sensation of my penis being held in Mom's small mouth was incredible.
The scene I had always dreamed of had suddenly become reality. There was no warning whatsoever; the surprise and anticipation I felt for what was to come had no chance to exist.
I was almost stunned.
Only the waves of pleasure emanating from my penis told me that it was truly real.
My penis was in her mouth, and my mother was sucking on it, her tongue swirling around it. She'd spit it out, then swallow it again. The suction in her mouth pulled at my penis, bringing a tingling pleasure that almost made me ejaculate.
My mother's shoulders moved up and down with the movement of her head. The strap of her robe slipped down to one side, and through the exposed neckline, I could see a large expanse of her snow-white breasts. She
wasn't wearing a bra!
Her two full breasts bounced incessantly inside the robe.
I was truly mesmerized.
I couldn't resist reaching out, my hand trembling slightly, and slipping inside the neckline of her robe. My mother didn't stop me.
The solid, pleasurable sensation in my hand made me grasp her breasts, kneading them greedily and forcefully.
My mother, who had been squatting with my penis in her mouth, slowly stood up, lifted the hem of her robe to her knees, and then squatted down again.
I didn't know why my mother was doing this.
When my gaze slanted downwards again, I saw my mother's two smooth thighs, and the hairy area between them—she wasn't wearing underwear! [!--empirenews.page--]
I hadn't seen it before because it was hidden by her robe. Now that she had lifted her robe and spread her legs, the view of her lower body was revealed.
I stared intently.
A strong urge controlled my nerves, and my hands pulled out from the collar of her robe, reaching down from her breasts, wanting to grab her genitals.
But in this position, I couldn't do it. I could only watch.
My mother lifted my penis, licked my scrotum, and took my testicles into her mouth, gently sucking on them.
I had only ever seen these actions in porn. All these actions brought me unprecedented pleasure. Excitement surged through my body like an electric current.
"Plop! Plop! Plop!"
My mother's hands gripped my penis and worked it vigorously and quickly.
"Ah—!"
The climax came, and I ejaculated.
Several times in quick succession, semen sprayed onto my mother's face, sliding down her eyebrows, staining her long eyelashes, and dripping down her cheeks…
My mother slowly stood up, the hem of her robe falling, covering the glimpse of spring I hadn't had a chance to possess.
She picked up the underwear she had left on the desk and used it to wipe my penis.
"Go take a shower, then rest,"
my mother said calmly, ignoring the semen still dripping down her cheeks. She picked up the clothes she had thrown on the bed, went out, and closed the door.
And I, for the first time, didn't achieve excitement through porn, didn't gain pleasure through masturbation, but reached orgasm through a woman's manipulation—and that woman was my own mother…
The next day, my mother was still the same calm and composed woman, just like many times before, as if nothing had happened.
But I knew that some things were indeed different.
Because some things had truly happened.
When Mom appeared before me again, wearing those almost transparent white, tight-fitting pants, I no longer concealed my greedy gaze and fervent longing. Without restraint, I stared nakedly at her crotch. Seeing this, Mom didn't say anything, but she did something that almost made me unable to resist—I wanted to pounce on her, pull down her pants, and thrust my penis into her vagina, fucking her wildly.
Seeing my gaze, her hand followed my gaze and pressed against her vulva through her tight pants. She pressed on that protrusion, as if teasing something, gently rubbing and gliding it with her fingertips… then moving downwards, as if trying to manipulate my gaze.
Mom succeeded; my gaze followed her hand.
Her palm, through the tight pants, pressed against her vulva, rubbing it up and down like a woman masturbating in an adult film. Her movements were very light, as if she were cherishing something, yet full of provocation.
Her hands caressed her full buttocks, as if she were displaying her genitals, tightly encased in her leggings.
Just as I was about to pounce on her, Mom turned and went to her bedroom.
She changed her clothes and then left.
When Mom returned home and appeared before me again in her leggings, I ignored everything else and, just as I had always imagined, went up and hugged her from behind, her back turned to me. My hands pressed against her crotch.
I pressed down, squeezed, and kneaded, feeling the presence of her genitals through the leggings. My lower body pressed tightly against Mom's large buttocks, encased in her leggings, feeling the excellent elasticity of her muscles. My crotch was pressed against her buttocks, between her legs.
I began to rub my crotch against her buttocks, feeling the excitement of my penis sliding back and forth through her pants.
I played with my mother's genitals, encased in tight pants, as if I were playing with a cute doll, mimicking everything a man in an adult film would do when fondling a woman's genitals.
I gently pulled down my mother's zipper.
After making a small opening, I slipped my hand inside along the crotch... My mother didn't stop me.
I had a very strange feeling. I don't know why, but I always felt that my mother should have stopped me, even though she had always been like that, always with that indifferent look in her eyes, an overly calm expression, as if she were a void with nothing to touch.
I had never been able to discern my mother's emotions. Perhaps that's why I always felt that if I went too far, something uncertain might happen, just as excessive calmness is like excessive repression, and excessive repression, when excessively catalyzed, will excessively erupt... So I was like a voyeur, yearning yet always cautious, hiding in some corner, carefully probing and searching for something. [!--empirenews.page--]
And at the end of my peeping gaze was my mother.
So, although I had never stopped spying on my mother, I had never dared to be too brazen.
However, I don't know when it started, or what it was, but it seemed to give me a reason to gradually become more audacious. Perhaps it started when I could so openly peep at my mother showering, when I could so shamelessly, yet secretly, ejaculate on her underwear.
That taboo corner, seemingly torn open at some unknown time, I longed to make it bigger, to see more… This distorted desire seemed to be gradually dissolving and disintegrating the remaining restraint.
My mother didn't stop me, which left me speechless.
It seemed different, yet was it really? That feeling of something always so important, yet somehow completely unnecessary, that uncertainty and absurdity of something so difficult to achieve yet so easily attained. Although
this strange feeling lingered for a moment, the sensory excitement didn't cease despite the inner conjecture. And my mother's tacit approval only heightened my excitement. My palm touched my mother's skin, seemingly cool yet with a faint warmth gathering in my palm, feeling delicate and soft. I felt her vulva swell beneath my palm, filled with the same wonderful sensation I had imagined.
My hand moved down, touching my mother's pubic hair. That thick, furry feeling overwhelmed my palm.
Then came my mother's vulva…
excitement, stimulation, softness, beauty.
This was my mother's genitals, my mother's vulva.
I played with my mother's labia, teased her vulva, pressed her clitoris. I teased my mother's genitals.
I could see my hands moving constantly beneath the tight pants, stretching the fabric and forming various shapes.
My mother remained motionless, standing, letting me manipulate her body.
Her body trembled slightly, her face still expressionless, as if she weren't the one being played with. But I knew she was feeling something. I could feel her vulva gradually becoming wet, her labia sticky and slippery. Her eyes seemed calm, but if you looked closely, you could still see a glimmer of desire deep within them.
I pulled my hand out of her pants, my fingers damp with her bodily fluids—I wiped them directly on the crotch area of her tight pants.
I zipped up her pants, and the open opening slowly closed again.
I continued to pull up the zipper. Her tight pants were pulled upwards forcefully, the crotch pulling up her lower body and tightening around her vulva. Then I pulled it down and closed it again… Because Mom was facing away from me, I couldn't clearly see how tightly her vulva was being constricted.
After repeating this several times, I stopped. I closed Mom's zipper again.
I pulled Mom's buttocks back, making her bend over with her hands on the table, sticking her buttocks out.
Mom didn't say anything, just cooperated with my request without any expression.
As many times before, Mom's buttocks were prominent. Because of this position, her pants were pulled up, and her crotch area was pulled and constricted tightly by the pants. Under the two plump buttocks, the full shape of her vulva was clearly revealed on the pants. I pinched it with my hand and twisted it.
My fingers pressed against Mom's buttocks and touched them hard. I changed the shape of my hand, my five fingers grabbing like claws, scratching on Mom's buttocks.
I used to feel excited because of Mom's position, but now I could feel it so closely and play with it at will. That excitement and pleasure surpassed everything I had ever felt since I was a child.
My forehead pressed against my mother's buttocks, my face between her legs, my tongue lolling out, passionately licking her vulva through her tight pants.
Saliva soaked her pants; the already thin fabric became almost transparent, clinging tightly to her vulva, revealing the red slit of flesh.
I pulled down my own pants, pulling out my already throbbing penis.
I wanted to press it between my mother's buttocks, but clearly, I couldn't. I wasn't tall enough.
I had my mother slightly bend her knees and squat down.
I pressed my penis between her buttocks and rubbed it up and down like during sex. The glans scraped against her tight pants… I ejaculated, the glans against my mother's buttocks, the semen landing on her tight pants.
I didn't stop there.
I guided her to lie on her back on the floor. I parted her legs, making her lift them and spread them wide, then hugged her, keeping her legs open in this position, and then thrust my lower body forward.
I played with my mother's genitals again through her tight pants.
Then, as before, I pulled up the zipper of her pants. I pulled it up forcefully, then pulled it down again. This time, I could clearly see how tightly her vulva was constricted. This sight excited me immensely. [!--empirenews.page--]
When I stopped this repetitive motion, I gently pulled down my mother's zipper again.
The gap in her crotch slowly widened. First, her swollen, smooth vulva was revealed, then gradually downwards, revealing a small tuft of beautiful pubic hair.
Then, I lay on top of my mother, my penis pressing against her vulva through her tight pants. I thrust my body like I was making love.
My penis rubbed against my mother's vulva.
Finally, I ejaculated again onto my mother's tight pants, this time down to her crotch and vulva...
I realized, and knew, that I really enjoyed playing with my mother wearing those tight pants.
I couldn't quite describe the feeling; it was probably a kind of abnormal, perverse fetish, but I was incredibly, madly, obsessed with this way of playing. And I didn't feel any shame or guilt about it. I used every imaginable way I could think of to arouse myself.
Then I thought, it was a great blessing that my mother hadn't thrown those tight pants away in the first place.
In the days that followed, I always relied on those pants and many similar things to satisfy many of my abnormal desires, and no matter how many times I played with them in almost the same way, I never got tired of it. For this kind of thing and for my mother like this, I was always deeply aroused, just like the first time, with a desire that made all my senses tremble. It was
as if I had opened the door to a desire that made me willing to sink into it to death. After that, the relationship between my mother and me became even more peculiar.
For me, this was a wonderful change.
I also became bolder and bolder. At home, whenever my desire arose, I would go to my mother and grope her. I often tried to figure out what the limit would be for her, so I was always cautiously testing the waters. Sometimes I would think of things that I thought might be too much, and I would stop immediately if my mother got angry.
But I found that no matter what I wanted to do, my mother never seemed to stop me or show any reaction, as if I wasn't touching her body.
Because of this, at home, I could take off my mother's clothes at any time and in any place, do whatever I wanted with her body, make her pose however I wanted, dress her however I wanted her to dress—stockings, SM, uniforms… and ejaculate on any part of her body at will…
I became addicted to this indulgent and unrestrained pleasure, and often made my mother cooperate with me day and night, regardless of the occasion.
Sometimes it was short, sometimes a few hours, sometimes a whole day. Often we'd start playing fully clothed and end up naked, then entangled together, masturbating and giving each other oral sex. The balcony, the bathroom, the living room, the bedroom… anywhere in the house was a place we played.
The only thing was, Mom never let me have sex with her.
I could press the head of my penis against her vulva, letting her labia rub against it, ejaculating onto her vulva—as long as I didn't penetrate her vagina.
Many times, in the excitement of playing, I'd pin Mom down, my penis against her vulva, wanting to fuck her hard without restraint. She wouldn't say anything, wouldn't stop me, just calmly and quietly cover her vulva with her hand, preventing me from entering. Sometimes, I'd accidentally penetrate her, but as soon as that happened, she'd immediately push me away, and that was the end of the day's game.
Besides that, Mom seemed to have no other taboos—I felt like I was definitely touching something, yet it was vague and uncertain.
This thought made it hard to believe, yet I also hoped it was real.
For the first time, I felt a strange mix of excitement and unease. I imagined what if this were real… what if it were real? I didn't think about it too deeply. I just felt… really excited!
So I started to bring out all those scenarios, those things, those ways of playing that had only existed in my imagination before, and put them onto my mother.
So I took out my camera to take pictures of my mother, and she didn't stop me. I told her: these photos are going to be posted on the forum. She still ignored me. I took pictures of her face, and she still didn't seem to notice, neither dodging nor stopping me. So, I took many pictures of my mother, and I began to have a hobby of photographing the body.
These photos were all different: some showed my mother dressed, some showed her naked; some showed her in tight pants, some showed her with her tight pants pulled down to her knees, her lower body bare; some showed my mother dressed while I played with her, some showed her naked while I played with her; some showed my mother giving me oral sex, some showed my mother masturbating; some showed my mother wearing tight pants and masturbating naked…
Regarding my mother masturbating, she didn't usually masturbate, and even if she did, she never did it in front of me. [!--empirenews.page--]
That day, I suddenly had an idea. I said, “Mom, put on your tight pants and masturbate for me.”
My mother didn't reply, remained silent for a moment, and then went back to her room. I thought she had refused, but three minutes later, my mother appeared before me, naked from the waist up, wearing those white silk tight pants and high heels.
She squatted down, spread her legs, leaned back, and placed one hand on the floor behind her. Her expressionless eyes were calm, looking at me serenely. Then she moved her hand to her waistband.
My mother's crotch was directly in front of my face, and I could clearly see her hand slip inside her waistband, moving downwards, and then pressing against her vulva…
As she masturbated, she arched her body upwards, thrusting her lower body high towards me. I could see it all clearly.
That time, I was once again overwhelmed by unprecedented pleasure. I knelt on the floor between my mother's legs, my glans facing her masturbating area, and my semen sprayed uncontrollably onto it again.
From then on, my mother began masturbating in front of me.
The photos were very clear, showing my mother in various positions, the different ways we played, and close-ups of her genitals, various parts of her body, and close-ups of her giving me oral sex and masturbating. I posted those photos on a forum. I showed them to my mother, but she didn't say anything.
The photos were all faceless, and even those that did show faces were edited out. It wasn't that I was afraid people who saw the photos would know what my mother looked like, but rather that I didn't want them to know what she looked like. I could share the sensual pleasure my mother's body gave men, but I didn't want them to share my mother as a person. Once they knew what my mother looked like, it would feel like she had been stolen away.
The thought of some men sitting in front of their computers, looking at my mother's naked body, fantasizing about her body and masturbating, gave me a strange sense of excitement.
I also went further.
Once, while we were playing, I carried my naked mother to the balcony and made her perform oral sex on me there, with passersby clearly seeing what we were doing.
I also pulled my mother to the window, opened the curtains and the window, and then completely undressed her piece by piece, then picked her up, spread her legs, and exposed her vulva to the outside.
My mother never paid any attention to or stopped me.
Later, I set my sights on the outside.
Except when my mother was at school or at work, I was always by her side.
When walking with my mother on the street, I would slip one hand under her waistband and into her crotch, playing with her genitals as we walked. Passersby could clearly see all of this.
I would also frequently stop at street corners or alleyways, pull my mother aside, and make her perform oral sex and masturbate me.
I even tried to suddenly unbuckle her belt while walking, pulling her pants down to her knees, exposing her genitals. My mother didn't wear underwear. Once, I told her that she wouldn't wear underwear unless I asked her to. She didn't agree or disagree, but after that, she did exactly that. However, from then on, she changed her pants much more frequently.
I thought that doing this would surely elicit a reaction from her.
But she didn't. She just left her genitals exposed in the street, walking along in that position as if she felt nothing. Finally, I rushed up and pulled her pants up before anyone could take a picture.
I've taken my mother to parks, stripped her of her clothes, and made her go out in a skirt without underwear. Then I've made her sit with her legs spread wide on buses, on benches, and on the subway, letting men who saw her lewdly stare at her genitals with lustful eyes.
My mother did all this calmly. She showed neither willingness nor unwillingness, like a schoolchild doing homework due on time.
My mother didn't react, but my desire would always be aroused intensely by these actions.
So, whenever and wherever I wanted, whenever I needed, I could freely manipulate my mother's body without any reason, making her do what I wanted her to do—give me oral sex, masturbate me, pose lewdly for me and for whomever I wanted to show her.
At home, my mother's body was my most wonderful tool for sexual release. Outside, my mother's body was my most beloved toy.
I don't know what my mother is thinking, just like many people, even the closest of friends, don't really understand each other. But I love my mother and her body.
Whether it's spiritual or sensual, ethical or erotic. [!--empirenews.page--]
(The End)

I don't know if my mother knows about my fantasies about her body, but many times, she is indeed completely uninhibited in front of me. When she appears in front of me wearing those tight pants and no underwear, her expression and demeanor are no different from usual.
She should know how alluring she is, standing in front of me wearing those thin white silk tight pants and high heels, without underwear. The tight pants cling so tightly to and wrap around her lower body—firm thighs, looking and feeling great to the touch, beautifully shaped buttocks, and her vulva, protruding like a small hill under the thin, elastic fabric of the tight pants. The
indentation where the thighs meet.
Under the thin fabric, her almost uncovered crotch is directly facing me.
I didn't need to do anything; just looking straight ahead, I could clearly see the alluring sight of her lower body.
But she seemed completely oblivious.
She could point them at me without any restraint, as if unaware that her genitals were facing me in a nearly naked yet more provocative manner than nakedness.
At that moment, I always wanted to pounce on my mother, hug her buttocks, tightly embrace her lower body, lean my head against it, pull her lower body towards me, bury my face between her legs, press tightly against her crotch, and deeply inhale her scent. Then I would stick out my tongue and greedily lick it.
My mother would also casually spread her legs and sit down in front of me. At this time, her tight pants would create some wrinkles. Looking at these wrinkles would inexplicably excite me. Her vulva would become even fuller and more prominent against the fabric of her tight pants because of her sitting down. Then, my mother's lower body would be pulled up by her tight pants, and I could clearly see her genitals being tightly bound, forming a concave slit in the pants, revealing the semi-transparent outline of her vulva.
She would also nonchalantly bend over deeply in front of me to tidy up, her large buttocks sticking out with her back to me. Just imagine a beautiful, curvaceous woman wearing incredibly elastic, semi-transparent white tight pants, bending over in front of you with her buttocks sticking out—you'll know how irresistible that is to a man. I love my mother like this. I love how she looks in tight pants, and I love even more how she looks now, wearing tight pants and no underwear.
Perhaps I should talk about my fetish here.
To be precise, I love seeing women in tight pants, just as I love seeing women in stockings. It's a kind of fascination with certain objects. However, of all these fascinations, I love seeing women in tight pants more than stockings and uniforms.
Perhaps it's because... there are always so many women wearing stockings being played with in porn, so easy to see, while women wearing tight pants being played with are extremely rare. Maybe it's because I'm not very experienced, but I feel like they're almost nonexistent, at least I haven't encountered any myself.
And even if I have, it's rare to find a beautiful woman as the main character.
And among these beautiful women, mature women who are glamorous are even rarer.
First of all, I like mature women, glamorous women. I don't know if this idea will change in the future, but for now, this standard is paramount. And then other things extend from this.
Of course, my strange fetishes aren't limited to this, but it would be too abrupt and inappropriate to discuss those here. I'm mentioning this just to emphasize the feeling my mother evokes.
In my mother, mature woman, glamorous, tight pants, uniform, stockings... all those things I've been chasing in porn for so long exist.
I often keep my mother in my mind, imagining what it would be like to make love with her. There are many scenarios and scenes, such as my mother standing in front of me, and me pouncing on her, pushing her down, stripping her clothes off... and so on. But the most fundamental one is imagining my penis thrusting hard into my mother's vagina, penetrating her body, fucking her, and having sex with her.
So much so that I don't even remember when it started, but I developed a strong sexual desire for my mother's body.
This desire grew stronger and stronger.
Thinking of my mother's body would inexplicably send shivers of excitement through my senses. It was a kind of excitement that kept swelling but couldn't be released. It wasn't a desire that could be relieved simply by masturbation; it only grew stronger after each act of masturbation.
It was as if something high in the air was seducing me, my heart and senses were inexplicably drawn to it.
That feeling seemed so close, within reach, but every time I tried to reach out and touch it, I only grasped at an empty void. I began to crave more… Like someone who needs new stimulation to revitalize their weary senses, I also wanted new stimulation, not because I was tired of what I had, but because I hadn't gotten what I wanted… [!--empirenews.page--]
I developed a liking for my mother's underwear, her lingerie, panties, bras, and stockings.
Especially the ones she wore all day. After my mother finished showering, I would sneak into the bathroom and carry her clothes back to my bedroom.
I would hold her panties and bras to my nose and inhale deeply. They smelled of my mother's vulva and breasts. The thought that my mother had worn them all day and then I was holding them and playing with them. Although I wasn't playing with my mother, but rather her underwear, the thought that these were the things closest to my mother's body, her most private things, and imagining the panties and bras covering my mother's vulva and breasts, gave me a strange excitement.
Then I thought about how I was playing with my mother's most private things, and it seemed that this action connected me to her in some way, indirectly arousing her physical pleasure and allowing me to release my sexual desires.
I used them to cover my penis, masturbating in the pleasure of guessing and fantasizing.
I especially liked my mother's underwear; the underwear she wore all day always left some traces of her genitals on the part covering her vulva. Those traces excited me. If I occasionally found a single pubic hair of my mother on her underwear, my heart would race for no reason.
Because… it was my mother's pubic hair.
Part of the most private part of my mother's body.
In the beginning, for a long time, I didn't know if my mother knew that I liked to fantasize and masturbate while holding her worn underwear. But later, I knew she knew.
Although I was always careful when masturbating with my mother's underwear, trying not to ejaculate on it. But there was one time, I couldn't tell if it was intentional or accidental. Maybe I was too excited, and in my frantic masturbation, I didn't think about anything else. My semen sprayed completely onto the lace panties covering my penis.
The area covering my mother's vulva was stained with the sticky semen and stuck together.
Perhaps desire struck me hard on the head. I didn't secretly wash away the semen stain on my mother's underwear, and when I put her clothes back in the bathroom, I didn't throw them in the washing machine. Instead, I placed them on top of the washing machine, and... in the most conspicuous spot.
The underwear was on top, the semen-stained area spread out, the stains, filth, and obvious.
Clearly, I did it on purpose.
What would my mother think if she knew her son was masturbating with her worn underwear?
Of course, I didn't know. Imagining my mother's reaction when she found out, imagining her imagining me masturbating with her underwear, my heart pounded. A mix of nervous anticipation and excitement welled up inside me.
But my mother remained calm and composed, saying nothing. Everything was normal, as if nothing had happened.
I knew my mother knew.
Because from that day on, my mother never closed the shower door again, as if she had no idea I was secretly watching from outside.
This continued.
I still masturbate with my mother's underwear after she showers. But no longer do it furtively or secretly as before; I do it openly. My mother no longer washes her clothes immediately after showering; she leaves them until the next day. Her underwear is no longer thrown into the washing machine after showering; instead, it appears where I put it before, always on top, with the part facing me—the part that was stained with my semen—covering her vulva.
Although I do it openly now, my mother has never caught me while I'm doing this.
Because at this time, she always goes back to her bedroom, closes the door, and only reappears in the living room after I've finished.
I don't know how my mother manages to do it.
I no longer hesitate to ejaculate freely onto my mother's underwear before putting it back.
The next day, when packing clothes, Mom was still calm and indifferent, as if nothing had happened.
Until one day…
Before that, I think I should mention something.
I've always only talked about my mom and me, but never about my dad, because in my mom and me's world, Dad has never existed. As for why he hasn't, that's not really relevant to my topic. So, there's no need to worry about it.
That day, as usual, Mom took a shower and returned to her room. I went to the bathroom and took Mom's underwear to my bedroom, fantasizing about her while masturbating.
I wrapped my penis in Mom's underwear, moving my hand up and down, the swollen glans scraping back and forth against her underwear. [!--empirenews.page--]
I closed my eyes, imagining myself forcefully thrusting into Mom's vagina, my penis deeply inside her. I fucked Mom hard, my lower body repeatedly rising and falling between her legs, violently slamming into her vagina.
My mother trembled violently as I fucked her, letting out gasps and moans.
Then, my semen sprayed onto her panties like water.
I exhaled and opened my eyes. I used my mother's panties to wipe my glans, which was still dripping with fluid. I raised my head, wanting to stand up and tidy up my mother's other underwear that was lying on the bed.
But my body stiffened for a moment; I froze, speechless.
My mother stood in the doorway of my bedroom, looking at me with an unreadable expression as I sat on the edge of the bed, my pants down to my ankles and my legs spread.
When did my mother come in?
She forgot to close the door; this had never happened to me before.
I didn't know what to say.
I didn't even utter the word "mother."
It wasn't out of embarrassment; surprisingly, I didn't feel embarrassed. Perhaps at first I felt a little bit lost and confused, but after regaining my composure, I felt an unexpected excitement and stimulation.
My mother saw everything?
She saw her son masturbating with her underwear.
My mother's gaze fell on my penis and the underwear, still clutched in my hand, covered in semen.
"Do you do this often?"
"Yes."
"You like doing this."
"Yes."
"Does it excite you?"
"Yes."
My mother was referring to her underwear. I nodded.
I thought my mother would ask why I did this, why I liked it, but she didn't. Or rather, I expected her to ask, and then give me the answer I wanted, but she didn't, and I felt a little disappointed.
My mother came over, picked up the underwear from my hand, and I blankly let go.
Looking at the messy underwear, my mother's face was expressionless. She placed the underwear on the desk beside her.
My mother stood in front of me, squatted between my legs, buried her face in my groin, and took my penis into her mouth, beginning to give me oral sex…
This was the scene I had been fantasizing about.
But—I actually felt the touch on my penis.
In my daze, my mother was already squatting in front of me, her pale hand grasping my penis.
I was truly stunned.
The touch of her delicate hands stirred my previously limp penis once more. My mother's hand moved, sending a strange, continuous sensation through my penis… a feeling completely different from masturbation.
With her movements, my penis hardened and came alive.
My mother lowered her head, saliva dripping from her mouth, wetting my penis. Now wet, she cupped it in her hands and began to slowly stroke it up and down.
"Sizzle!"
A sound rang out from her palms.
The pleasure I felt on my penis transmitted through every nerve in my body.
"Oh!"
I couldn't help but groan.
My mother released her hands, flattening them on either side of my penis, and lowered her head to take it into her mouth. It wasn't like penetration, but more like being sucked in; I felt a suction like sucking on an ice pop. My penis slowly sank into my mother's mouth until the pubic hair at the base of my penis touched her lips.
Smooth, soft, warm… that’s the sensation my penis felt as it was held in my mother’s mouth.
The scene I’d always dreamed of had suddenly become reality. There was no warning whatsoever; the anticipation and excitement of knowing what was coming had no chance to arise.
I was almost stunned.
Only the waves of pleasure emanating from my penis told me it was truly real.
My penis was in her mouth, my mother sucking, her tongue swirling around it. She’d spit it out, then swallow it again. The suction of her mouth pulled at my penis, bringing a tingling pleasure that almost made me ejaculate.
My mother’s shoulders moved up and down with the movement of her head. The strap of her robe slipped down to one side, and through the exposed neckline, I could see a large expanse of her snow-white breasts.
She wasn’t wearing a bra!
Her two full breasts bounced incessantly inside the robe.
I was completely mesmerized.
I couldn’t resist reaching out, my hand trembling slightly, and slipping inside the neckline of my mother’s robe. My mother didn’t stop me.
The solid, comfortable sensation in my hands made me grasp my mother's breasts, kneading them greedily and forcefully.
My mother, who had been squatting with my penis in her mouth, slowly stood up, lifted the hem of her robe to her knees, and then squatted down again.
I didn't know why she was doing this.
When my gaze slanted downwards again, I saw my mother's two smooth thighs, and the hairy area between them—my mother wasn't wearing underwear! [!--empirenews.page--]
I hadn't seen it before because it was hidden by her robe. Now that she had lifted her robe and spread her legs, the view of her lower body was revealed.
I stared intently.
A strong urge controlled my nerves; my hands pulled from the collar of her robe, away from my mother's breasts, and reached down, wanting to grab her genitals.
But in this position, I couldn't do it. I could only watch.
My mother lifted my penis, licked my scrotum, and took my testicles into her mouth, gently sucking on them.
These actions were things I'd only ever seen in porn. They brought me unprecedented pleasure. Excitement surged through my body like an electric current.
"Plop! Plop! Plop!"
My mother's hands gripped my penis, thrusting hard and fast.
"Ah—!"
The climax arrived, and I ejaculated.
Several times in succession, semen sprayed onto my mother's face, sliding down her eyebrows, staining her long eyelashes, and dripping down her cheeks…
My mother slowly stood up, the hem of her robe falling, covering the scene I hadn't had a chance to possess.
She picked up the underwear she'd left on the desk and used it to wipe my penis.
"Go take a shower, then rest,"
my mother said casually, ignoring the semen still dripping down her cheeks. She picked up the clothes she'd thrown on the bed, went out, and closed the door.
And for the first time, I didn't get excited from porn, nor did I get pleasure from masturbation. Instead, I reached orgasm through a woman's manipulation—my own mother…
The next day, my mother was still as calm and composed as ever, as if nothing had happened.
But I knew something was different.
Because something had indeed occurred.
When my mother appeared before me again wearing those almost transparent white tights, I no longer concealed my greedy gaze and fervent longing. I stared unabashedly at my mother's crotch. Seeing this, my mother didn't say anything, but she did something that almost made me want to pounce on her, pull down her pants, and thrust my penis into her vagina, fucking her wildly. Seeing my gaze, her hand followed the direction
of my eyes and pressed against the area of her vulva on her tights. She pressed on that protrusion, teasing it with her fingertips, gently rubbing and gliding it... then moving downwards, as if manipulating my gaze.
Mom succeeded; my eyes followed her hand.
Her palm, through her tight pants, pressed against her vulva, rubbing it up and down like a woman masturbating in an adult film. Her movements were very light, as if cherishing something, yet full of provocation.
Her hands caressed her full buttocks, as if displaying her genitals tightly encased in tight pants.
Just as I couldn't resist the urge to pounce, Mom turned and went to her bedroom.
In her bedroom, she changed her clothes and then left.
When Mom returned home, wearing tight pants again, and appeared before me, I ignored everything else and, just as I had always imagined, went up and hugged Mom from behind, her back to me. My hands pressed against her crotch.
I pressed down hard, squeezed, and kneaded, feeling my mother's genitals through her tight pants. My lower body was pressed tightly against my mother's large buttocks, encased in tight pants, feeling the excellent elasticity of her muscles. My crotch was directly against her buttocks, pressing between her legs.
I began to rub my crotch against my mother's buttocks, feeling the excitement of my penis sliding back and forth on her buttocks through our pants.
I played with my mother's genitals encased in tight pants, as if I were playing with a cute human-shaped toy, doing everything that men in porn movies did when they played with women's genitals.
I gently pulled down my mother's zipper.
After opening a small gap, I reached my palm along the edge of the crotch and inside... My mother didn't stop me.
I had a very strange feeling. I don't know why, but I always felt that my mother should have stopped me, even though she had always been like that, always with that indifferent look in her eyes, an overly calm expression, as if she were a void that couldn't be touched.
I've never been able to discern my mother's emotions. Perhaps because of this, I always feel that if I go too far, something unpredictable might happen. Like excessive calmness leading to excessive repression, and excessive repression, when given the right catalyst, can explode excessively… So I'm like a voyeur, yearning yet always cautious, hiding in some corner, carefully probing and searching for something. [!--empirenews.page--]
And at the end of my voyeuristic gaze is my mother.
Therefore, although I've never stopped observing my mother, I've never dared to be too presumptuous.
However, I don't know when it started, or what it was, but it seemed to give me a reason to gradually become unrestrained. Perhaps it started when I could so openly peep at my mother showering, when I could shamelessly, yet secretly, ejaculate on her underwear without any restraint.
That taboo corner, seemingly torn open at some unknown time, I longed to make it bigger, to see more… This distorted desire seemed to be gradually dissolving and disintegrating the remaining restraint.
My mother didn't stop me, which left me speechless.
It felt like it wasn't like this, yet was it really? That feeling of having always valued something, yet it seemed completely unnecessary, that uncertainty and absurdity of something so difficult to imagine yet so easily attainable.
Although I had this strange feeling at that moment, the sensory excitement didn't stop because of the speculation in my soul. And my mother's tacit approval made me even more excited. My palm touched my mother's skin; it felt slightly cool yet subtly warm, melting in my palm, delicate and soft. I felt her vulva swell beneath my hand, filled with the same wonderful sensation I had imagined.
My hand moved down, touching my mother's pubic hair. That thick, fuzzy feeling overwhelmed my palm.
Then it was my mother's vulva…
excitement, stimulation, softness, wonderful.
This was my mother's genitals, my mother's vulva.
I played with my mother's labia, teased her vulva, pressed her clitoris. I teased my mother's genitals.
I could see my palm moving constantly beneath her tight pants, stretching the fabric and forming various shapes.
My mother remained motionless, standing, letting me manipulate her body.
Her body trembled slightly, her face still expressionless, as if she wasn't the one being played with. But I knew my mother was feeling something. Because I could feel her vulva gradually becoming wet, her labia becoming sticky and slippery. My mother's eyes seemed calm, but if you looked closely, you could still see a hint of desire deep within them.
I pulled my hand out of her crotch; my fingers were damp with her bodily fluids—I wiped them directly on the crotch area of her tight pants.
I zipped up her pants, and the open opening slowly closed again.
I continued to pull the zipper up. Her tight pants were pulled upwards forcefully, the crotch pulling up her lower body, tightening around her vulva. Then I pulled them down, closed them again… Because my mother was facing away from me, I couldn't clearly see how her vulva was being tightened.
After repeating this several times, I stopped. I zipped up her pants again.
I pulled her buttocks back, making her bend over with her hands on the table, sticking her buttocks out.
My mother didn't say anything, just cooperated with my demands without any expression.
As many times before, her buttocks were exposed. Because of this position, my pants were pulled up, stretching my crotch area tightly. The full shape of my vulva was clearly visible through the pants beneath my two plump buttocks. I pinched it with my hand, twisting it.
My fingers pressed against my mother's buttocks, rubbing them hard. I changed my hand shape, my five fingers grasping like claws, scraping and pulling at my mother's buttocks.
I used to get excited by this position of my mother's, but now, being able to feel it so closely and play with it at will, the excitement and pleasure surpassed everything I had experienced since childhood.
My forehead pressed against my mother's buttocks, my face between her legs, my tongue darting out, passionately licking my mother's vulva through the tight pants.
Saliva soaked my mother's pants; the already thin pants became almost transparent when wet, clinging tightly to my mother's vulva, revealing the red slit of flesh.
I pulled down my own pants and took out my already throbbing penis.
I wanted to press my penis between my mother's buttocks, but obviously, I couldn't. I wasn't tall enough.
I had my mother bend her knees slightly and squat down.
I pressed my penis between her buttocks and rubbed it up and down like during sex. The head of my penis scraped against my mother's tight pants... I ejaculated, the head of my penis against my mother's buttocks, the semen shooting onto her tight pants.
I didn't let my mother off the hook.
I guided my mother to lie on her back on the floor. I spread her legs, made her raise them, spread them out to the sides, and then hugged them, keeping her legs open in this position, and then thrust my lower body.
I played with my mother's genitals again through her tight pants.
Then, like before, I pulled up the zipper of her pants. I pulled it up forcefully, and then pulled it down. This time, I could clearly see the way my mother's vulva was being tightened. This sight excited me immensely. [!--empirenews.page--]
When I stopped this repetitive action, I gently pulled down my mother's zipper again.
The slit in Mom's pants slowly widened. First, her swollen, smooth vulva was revealed, then gradually downwards, revealing a small tuft of beautiful pubic hair.
Next, I lay on top of Mom, my penis pressing against her vulva through the tight pants. I thrust my body like I was having sex.
My penis rubbed against Mom's vulva.
Finally, my semen sprayed onto Mom's tight pants again, this time the crotch area, her vulva…
I realized, and knew, that I really enjoyed playing with Mom wearing those tight pants.
I couldn't quite describe the feeling; it was probably an abnormal, perverse fetish, but I was madly infatuated with this way of playing. And I didn't intend to feel any shame or anything bad about it. I used every method I could think of that might excite me.
Then I thought, it was a great blessing that Mom hadn't thrown those tight pants away in the first place.
In the days that followed, I relied on those pants and many similar items to satisfy my unusual desires. No matter how many times I played with them in almost the same way, I never grew tired of it. For this kind of thing and for my mother like this, I was always deeply aroused, just like the first time, with a desire that made my entire body tremble.
It was as if I had pushed open the door to a desire that would make me willing to wallow in it until death. After that, the relationship between my mother and me became increasingly peculiar.
For me, this was a wonderful change.
I also became bolder and bolder. At home, whenever my desire arose, I would approach my mother and grope her. I often tried to figure out what would be my mother's limit, so I was always cautiously testing the waters. Sometimes I thought of things that I considered might be too much, thinking that I would stop immediately if my mother got angry.
But I found that no matter what I wanted to do, my mother never seemed to stop me or show any reaction, as if I wasn't touching her body.
Because of this, at home, I could freely undress my mother anytime, anywhere, manipulate her body at will, make her pose however I wanted, dress her however I wanted—stockings, SM, uniforms… I could freely ejaculate on any part of her body…
I became addicted to this indulgent and unrestrained pleasure, and often made my mother cooperate with me day and night, regardless of the occasion.
Sometimes it was short, sometimes a few hours, sometimes a whole day. We often went from both of us dressed to both of us naked, then entangled together, masturbating and giving each other oral sex. The balcony, the bathroom, the living room, the bedroom… anywhere in the house was a place we played.
The only thing was that my mother never let me have sex with her.
I could press the head of my penis against her vulva, let her labia grip my penis and rub it back and forth, and ejaculate on her vulva—as long as I didn't penetrate her vagina.
Many times, in the heat of the moment, I would pin my mother down, my penis aimed at her vulva, wanting to fuck her hard without restraint. She wouldn't say anything, nor would she stop me. She would simply and calmly cover her vulva with her hand, preventing me from entering. Sometimes, I would accidentally penetrate her, but as soon as that happened, she would immediately push me away, and the game for that day would end there.
Aside from that, my mother seemed to have no other taboos—I felt as if I had definitely touched something, yet it was vague and uncertain.
This feeling was hard to believe, yet I hoped it was real.
For the first time, I experienced a vague, unusual excitement mixed with unease. I imagined what if this were real… what if it were real, what could I do? I didn't think about it too deeply. I just felt… really excited!
So I started to bring out all the scenarios, things, and games that had only existed in my fantasies and put them onto my mother.
So I took out my camera to take pictures of my mother, and she didn't stop me. I told her: these photos are for posting on the forum. She still ignored me. I took a picture of her face, and she seemed oblivious, neither flinching nor stopping me. So, I took many pictures of my mother, and began to develop a penchant for photographing bodies.
These photos were varied: some showed my mother clothed, some naked; some showed her in tight pants, some with her pants pulled down to her knees, her lower body bare; some showed her clothed being played with, some naked; some showed her giving me oral sex, some showed her masturbating; some showed her wearing tight pants and masturbating naked…
Regarding masturbation, my mother didn't usually masturbate, and even if she did, she never did it in front of me.
That day, I suddenly had an idea. I said, “Mom, put on your tight pants and masturbate for me.”
My mother didn't reply, remained silent for a moment, and then went back to her room. I thought she had refused, but three minutes later, my mother appeared before me, naked from the waist up, wearing those white silk tight pants and high heels.
She squatted down, spread her legs, leaned back, and placed one hand on the floor behind her. Her expressionless eyes were calm, looking at me serenely. Then she moved her hand to her waistband.
My mother's crotch was directly in front of my face, and I could clearly see her hand slip inside her waistband, moving downwards, and then pressing against her vulva…
As she masturbated, she arched her body upwards, thrusting her lower body high towards me. I could see it all clearly.
That time, I was once again overwhelmed by unprecedented pleasure. I knelt on the floor between my mother's legs, my glans facing her masturbating area, and my semen sprayed uncontrollably onto it again.
From then on, my mother began masturbating in front of me.
The photos were very clear, showing my mother in various positions, the different ways we played, and close-ups of her genitals, various parts of her body, and close-ups of her giving me oral sex and masturbating. I posted those photos on a forum. I showed them to my mother, but she didn't say anything.
The photos were all faceless, and even those that did show faces were edited out. It wasn't that I was afraid people who saw the photos would know what my mother looked like, but rather that I didn't want them to know what she looked like. I could share the sensual pleasure my mother's body gave men, but I didn't want them to share my mother as a person. Once they knew what my mother looked like, it would feel like she had been stolen away.
The thought of some men sitting in front of their computers, looking at my mother's naked body, fantasizing about her body and masturbating, gave me a strange sense of excitement.
I also went further.
Once, while we were playing, I carried my naked mother to the balcony and made her perform oral sex on me there, with passersby clearly seeing what we were doing.
I also pulled my mother to the window, opened the curtains and the window, and then completely undressed her piece by piece, then picked her up, spread her legs, and exposed her vulva to the outside.
My mother never paid any attention to or stopped me.
Later, I set my sights on the outside.
Except when my mother was at school or at work, I was always by her side.
When walking with my mother on the street, I would slip one hand under her waistband and into her crotch, playing with her genitals as we walked. Passersby could clearly see all of this.
I would also frequently stop at street corners or alleyways, pull my mother aside, and make her perform oral sex and masturbate me.
I even tried to suddenly unbuckle her belt while walking, pulling her pants down to her knees, exposing her genitals. My mother didn't wear underwear. Once, I told her that she wouldn't wear underwear unless I asked her to. She didn't agree or disagree, but after that, she did exactly that. However, from then on, she changed her pants much more frequently.
I thought that doing this would surely elicit a reaction from her.
But she didn't. She just left her genitals exposed in the street, walking along in that position as if she felt nothing. Finally, I rushed up and pulled her pants up before anyone could take a picture.
I've taken my mother to parks, stripped her of her clothes, and made her go out in a skirt without underwear. Then I've made her sit with her legs spread wide on buses, on benches, and on the subway, letting men who saw her lewdly stare at her genitals with lustful eyes.
My mother did all of this calmly. She showed neither willingness nor unwillingness, like a primary school student doing homework that needs to be handed in on time.
My mother didn't react, but my desire would become intensely aroused each time.
So, whenever and wherever I wanted, whenever I needed, I could freely manipulate my mother's body without any reason, making her do what I wanted her to do—give me oral sex, masturbate me, pose in lewd positions for me and for whomever I wanted to show her.
At home, my mother's body is my most wonderful tool for sexual release. Outside, my mother's body is my most beloved toy to play with.
I don't know what my mother is really thinking, just like many people, even the closest of relatives, don't truly understand each other. But I love my mother and her body.
Whether it's spiritual or sensual, ethical or erotic. [!--empirenews.page--]
(The End)

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