slut mother

I was born in a southern city. Both my parents worked in public institutions. I remember when I was very young, our family wasn't well-off, but we were always happy together. Later, as the local economy developed, my father started working on construction projects, often traveling throughout the province, sometimes not home for ten days or half a month. Although our family's financial situation gradually improved thanks to his efforts, the time we spent together as a family gradually decreased, and the warmth and liveliness of the past were gone. Most of the time, it was just my mother and me living alone.

My mother is a teacher, capable in many ways. She is diligent and hardworking at work, highly appreciated by her superiors, and at home, she manages the household chores and supervises my studies. In everyone's eyes, she is a virtuous wife and loving mother who is equally adept at social graces and domestic duties. My mother used to have a very cheerful personality. I remember she loved to laugh, and her two dimples were especially adorable when she smiled. My father would often jokingly say she was like a little girl. However, as my father's work became increasingly busy, and he spent less and less time at home, I could clearly feel that her mood was not as bright as before. Gradually, she wasted her days in endless work and housework, and she lost her former cheerful and lively spirit.

Speaking of my mother's appearance and figure, she was considered quite tall for the South at that time, probably around 1.65 meters. She had a pretty oval face, delicate and bright eyes, slightly upturned eyebrows, and long eyelashes, making her look beautiful yet charming. Especially the small beauty mark near her right eyebrow added a touch of mature allure. While not exactly a stunning beauty, she had many suitors back then.

To some extent, my mother was one of my fantasy figures during my sexual awakening. This was partly due to a male-centric Oedipus complex, and partly because I witnessed several of her romantic relationships during my childhood.
Perhaps "romantic relationships" would be more accurate as "sexual experiences." Although I didn't approve of some of her actions, looking back now, I think that in such difficult circumstances, some things were truly unavoidable.

I was a precocious child, probably because I spent most of my childhood alone at home. My mother was busy working, and my father was often away, so I was more independent than other children my age. The same applies to my sex education. Quite by chance, I saw a pornographic videotape hidden deep in my father's closet. I remember I was probably in third or fourth grade that year. Seeing the intense sex scenes on TV, although I couldn't truly understand the meaning of such behavior, I instinctively felt both excited and ashamed. Perhaps this is the tragedy of sex education in China.

Getting to the point, I met my mother's first lover by chance when I was around 18 or 19. He was a distant relative, not related by blood, and I still don't know the specifics of our relationship. He didn't live in our city, but in a neighboring city. My mother called this man "brother" and told me to call him Uncle Ma. Uncle Ma wasn't much older than my mother, very tall, and had developed a large belly from business dealings. Every time I saw him, he was always dressed in a suit and tie, and always had a mobile phone in his hand, looking every bit the successful man.

Although he had a very imposing appearance, his heavily accented Mandarin always made my mother and me laugh.

My mother was around 36 years old then, just shedding the naivety of a young woman and entering the allure of a mature woman. Tall and slender, her figure was shapely and graceful. She usually wore suits to class, which accentuated her beautiful figure.
Her delicate face rarely wore makeup, which was quite rare in those days. This actually allowed her skin to remain unburdened, appearing even more radiant. Her smiling eyes curved like water.

I once overheard my mother chatting with colleagues over tea, mentioning that a student had given her a love letter. It's clear that my mother's charm hadn't diminished with age, but rather gained a mature and sophisticated allure.

Uncle Ma didn't come often, only occasionally visiting for business. Each time he came, he would have a drinking contest with my father. My father always had a high tolerance for alcohol, but even he was amazed by his impressive capacity. Whenever they drank, my mother would prepare a table full of delicious food and buy plenty of beer, then watch them drink with a smile. Occasionally, she would have a little herself, her face immediately turning rosy like an apple, which looked especially beautiful.

Actually, I don't have a deep impression of Uncle Ma. I only remember that he was very talkative and good at making people happy. I remember that my mother was always especially happy when he came, without her usual melancholy expression. I was also quite happy when he came, because he would always bring me toys or treats, which was an incredibly joyful thing for a child at that time.

The first time I felt that his relationship with my mother was a little strange was because of one incident. I don't remember how old I was at that time, probably just starting elementary school, and I was completely ignorant about matters between boys and girls. The first time Uncle Ma came to our house, my father was rarely home at that time. I remember my mother was very happy and prepared a lot of treats before he came. When Uncle Ma arrived, he brought me a lot of new toys, and I happily played with them. Uncle Ma and my mother chatted in the living room. I vaguely remember my mother asking me to give Uncle Ma a gift as well. I couldn't think of what to give him, so I asked Uncle Ma what he wanted.

He grinned and said, "How about I get your mom?" I immediately saw my mom frown and glare at him, scolding, "What nonsense are you talking about?" I naively thought, "Thank goodness Mom disagreed, or I wouldn't have a mom anymore."

After playing for a while, my mom sent me to the next bedroom to play by myself because they thought I was making too much noise and disturbing their conversation. Anyway, with a new toy, it didn't matter where I was, so I went to the bedroom while they continued chatting in the living room. I

played in my bedroom for a while, and then suddenly realized the house was quite quiet; I couldn't hear them talking next door. I was a little scared, so I thought about checking the living room to see if they were still there, but I was worried about being scolded for being noisy and impolite. So I just peeked into the living room from the bedroom doorway. What I saw was very puzzling.

My mom wasn't sitting in her usual spot; instead, she was sitting on the armrest of the sofa where Uncle Ma was sitting, her hands on the back of the chair, her hands on Uncle Ma's shoulders, listening to him with a smile. Uncle Ma sat on the sofa, turning his head to say something. They spoke very softly, too softly for me to hear. Uncle Ma, while talking, put a finger to his lips and made a thrusting motion. My mother blushed and playfully punched Uncle Ma a few times, but he seemed to enjoy it, still grinning.

This obvious suggestive gesture, which now seems like a joke to me, was just a game to me at the time, and I didn't take it to heart. I vaguely felt that my mother and Uncle Ma's intimacy was inappropriate, but I couldn't quite put my finger on why. After
confirming that someone was in the living room, I retreated to my bedroom and continued playing with my toys. A little while later, my mother came over and said I was too noisy and should go out and play with my classmates. I was still wondering what I had done wrong, but of course, I was happy to go out and play, so I ran off without thinking too much about why my usually strict mother had suddenly become so kind and let me go out.

I don't remember how long I played before I got home. By the time I arrived, Uncle Ma had already left, and the house returned to its usual quiet and dull state. My mother had finished her chores and gone to bed early. Lying in bed, I thought about what had happened that afternoon. I felt inexplicably awkward, but I couldn't quite put my finger on why. Perhaps what I was thinking about most was the worry that if my mother left with Uncle Ma, I wouldn't have a mother anymore. In those naive days, I never imagined that just a few hours earlier, in this room, on this bed, my mother and Uncle Ma had been satisfying their desires. How they sought, satisfied, and released their pent-up desires in each other—I had no way of knowing, but now it's a memory that lingers in my mind.

Ever since I sensed something was off about my mother and Uncle Ma's relationship, I would pay special attention to their behavior whenever Uncle Ma came to our house. Most of the time, they didn't seem to do anything unusual. Maybe it was because it had been so long and I hadn't remembered, or maybe Uncle Ma really did come very infrequently. But this only fueled my curiosity, especially after I first came across a pornographic videotape. You can imagine the shock a child feels when they first see naked intercourse. It's like opening a door, and what's inside deeply attracts me to explore and feel. At that time, I hadn't connected my mother and Uncle Ma's unusual behavior with matters between men and women. It wasn't until this scene was vividly presented before me that I realized that my previous awkwardness and confusion stemmed from the most primal human instincts and feelings.

Even now, thinking back to that scene still makes my blood boil. It was the first time a naive child had directly experienced live sex. The impact, even many years later, remains strong and shocking. Although I can no longer remember the exact date or scene, I can still clearly recall every action and every word, as if branded onto my body, indelible.

It was an afternoon. I don't remember why school let out early, and a few classmates and I, a bunch of mischievous kids, were figuring out where to go to raid bird nests or roast sweet potatoes. I thought I'd drop off my schoolbag on the way home.

Speaking of which, I have to mention my house. We lived in a dormitory building. The south side was the stairwell, and the north side was a courtyard that only our family could use. Connecting the courtyard and the house was a door, and inside the door was my room. There was also a small iron gate at the entrance to the courtyard, which was usually locked because we rarely went in or out. Since we always went to the back courtyard after school, as a mischievous kid, sometimes I was too lazy to go around to the front door and would just climb over the iron gate and enter my room through the back door.
That day, I easily climbed over the iron gate and went straight to my room. I didn't expect anyone to be home, because my mother should still be at school at that time. When I got into my room, I felt something was wrong; there seemed to be noise coming from inside. I immediately thought I'd been burgled, so I mustered my courage and tiptoed to find the source of the noise.
I went to the living room and found no one there. There were teacups on the coffee table, indicating someone had been there. A suit jacket was draped over the back of the sofa, and what was covered under the jacket reassured me: it was Uncle Ma's ever-present mobile phone. In those days, it was a symbol of status, and Uncle Ma carried it everywhere like a treasure. Clearly, the person who had come was Uncle Ma.

Knowing it was Uncle Ma and not a thief, I felt much relieved. I was just too young then to realize there were different kinds of thieves, besides those who stole money or valuables, there were also those who stole for lovers… I listened carefully, and the noise was coming from my mother's room. Suddenly, my heart, which had just settled, tightened again. An inexplicable surge of emotion welled up within me—more of a longing than excitement, a yearning to see something—and it dragged me step by step toward my mother's room.

The house was an old one then; none of the rooms had doors, only a half-meter-long curtain hanging at the entrance as a partition. I hid by the doorway, parting the curtain to reveal a crack, peeking out only my head. The bedroom curtains were drawn, but the bright sunlight filtering through them cast a soft glow, bathing the room in a soft light that allowed me to see the scene I would never forget.
My mother's bed was positioned sideways to the door, directly opposite it, and from the doorway, it was diagonally opposite. Beside the bed that now belonged to my parents stood a towering figure, and I immediately recognized that tall, dark back as Uncle Ma's. That broad back that once carried me on horseback was now completely bare, glistening with sweat that shimmered and slid down with each tremor, across the broad back and thick waist, landing on the firm, fleshy buttocks. The dark, muscular buttocks were thrusting rapidly back and forth, slamming against something like nails with a hammer, producing a series of slapping sounds—like wet hands clapping, a mixture of flesh against flesh and a sticky, wet sloshing.

From my angle, I couldn't see what he was thrusting into. All I saw was his two thick, hairy legs, which were dangling between the bed and the floor. His slender, long, white legs hung limply on the ground, bobbing with each of the man's violent thrusts. They were clearly unable to withstand the impact, forced to rise onto their tiptoes to support their advancing upper bodies. Even without seeing his face, I could recognize those long, white, beautiful legs as my mother's.

Seeing this, all the blood rushed to my head, and I trembled uncontrollably. I didn't know if it was fear or excitement; images from pornographic videos flashed rapidly through my mind.

They were having sex! My mother was having sex with another man! My mind probably went blank at that moment, unable to think. My whole body froze, unable to move. A mix of emotions welled up inside me—bitterness, anger, a feeling of betrayal, betrayed by my loving and caring mother, and by Uncle Ma, whom I thought was close and fun.

"Brother, be gentle~" My mother's soft whisper pulled me back to reality. No matter how unwilling I was, the reality was that Uncle Ma was holding my mother's buttocks, relentlessly thrusting his manhood into her body, possessing someone else's.

With a barely suppressed moan from my mother, her long legs suddenly drooped limply, hanging over the edge of the bed, like a wounded beast, powerless to resist. To this day, I still clearly remember my mother's words, "Hurry up, Xiao Liang will be home from school soon."

Then Uncle Ma stopped thrusting and carried my mother to the bed. Feeling guilty, I quickly shrank back outside the door when I saw their movements. When I regained my composure and looked back, my mother was already lying on the bed, her legs draped over Uncle Ma's shoulders, trembling with his movements.

At this moment, Uncle Ma's face was no longer filled with his usual smiling expression; instead, it wore a ferocious, excited look. He knelt on the bed, his hands gripping Mom's long legs, kneading her breasts, while his lower body continued to thrust powerfully and fiercely into her genitals, making slapping sounds.

Most of the time, I couldn't see Mom's expression. Occasionally, when she turned her face, she had a furrowed brow and bit her lip tightly, clearly trying to suppress her voice, only making soft moaning sounds through her nose.

"I can't take it anymore, come out already," Mom said weakly to Uncle Ma.

This clearly pleased Uncle Ma greatly. He placed both hands on Mom's waist, increasing the force of his thrusts, pulling Mom's waist towards his lower body, his expression becoming increasingly ferocious. Suddenly he stopped, pulling his penis out of my mother's body. It was the first time I'd ever seen an adult's penis; that weapon, full of conquest and murderous intent, sent chills down my spine as a young child. I saw him take something from beside the pillow, tear open the packaging, and put it on his penis. At the time, I didn't know it was a condom; I just wondered why he would put something like that on.

Then Uncle Ma inserted his penis back into my mother's body, grabbing her buttocks and thrusting hard, as if trying to pierce her body. My mother's moans grew louder, accompanied by screams of "uh-huh" and "ah-ah," mixed with cries of "brother, brother."

"Hong, I'm going to cum," Uncle Ma's movements became noticeably stronger and more forceful. My mother's legs were almost pressed against her chest, bent into a V-shape. With a low growl, his lower body pressed firmly against my mother's genitals, motionless, and my mother let out a long scream.

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