My tragic experience with my mother on the bus

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On the day we returned to the provincial capital, the long-distance bus station seemed unusually crowded. The station was small, with only one person maintaining order, and even my grandparents, who came to see us off, couldn't squeeze in.
My mother and I, carrying large bags, stood in line behind many people.
My mother initially didn't want to squeeze in and wanted to wait for the next bus, but after inquiring about the time, she learned that the next bus wasn't until 2 PM, meaning a five-hour wait, by which time this bus would arrive. So, she decided to just get on this bus.
The August weather was terrible; the slight coolness that had managed to build up the previous night vanished almost instantly under the sun.
It was only 9 AM, but I already felt a little sticky, and my mother had beads of sweat on her forehead and nose. Her light green silk shirt clung to her body, and her white bra, visible through the shirt, tightly hugged her two high, firm breasts.
Despite this, my mother's impressive breasts bounced up and down as she jogged, and her new high heels, unfortunately, made things difficult for her, squeezing her little toes until they hurt a little. She had to shift her weight onto the inside of her feet, unconsciously raising her hips.
As my mother, with her buttocks half-raised and breasts swaying, jogged past the long-distance bus, several pairs of eyes in the last row locked onto her full body beneath her thin clothes, and their groins began to stir.
Most of them then swallowed hard; in most cases, they could only swallow hard at the sight before continuing with what they were doing. The beast within them silently roared and rose, yearning for that warm, sweet spring of desire they remembered, but such a spring mostly existed only in their imaginations.
They were used to soothing their beasts with their rough hands like they would a pet; in this situation, even a dry well was a rare luxury for them.
My mother squeezed onto the bus behind me. The bus was already packed with passengers, but there was no one standing in the aisle, so there might still be seats. With this thought in mind, I walked from the front to the back of the bus, glancing left and right, unwilling to let my last hope be dashed.
Finally, I saw a small gap next to an elderly man in the third-to-last row. I offered my mother the seat, but she looked at it, shook her head, and said, "Zhen, you sit." I thought, surely my mother wouldn't be embarrassed to sit next to an old man?
But when I sat down, I realized the gap was barely big enough for half my bottom, let alone my mother's large bottom.
The seemingly kind-looking old man squeezed in a little, allowing me to sit comfortably.
Passengers continued to board, and those who arrived later had to stand in the aisle. The driver kept urging everyone to squeeze in, saying it would only take a few hours. My mother initially stood next to me, but was later pushed to the very back of the bus by the people in front.
At this point, my mother began to feel a slight pain in her lower abdomen. She initially thought it was from catching a chill while sleeping the night before, but then she realized the real reason.
Since giving birth to me, my mother has noticed that if she doesn't have sex for a while, she experiences lower abdominal pain during ovulation, which disappears once she resumes sexual activity.
She saw a Western doctor who said her hormone levels were unstable, indicating a mild endocrine disorder. The doctor advised regulating it through diet and lifestyle and prescribed an imported birth control pill.
Initially, the medication seemed to work, and the pain during ovulation subsided. However, once she stopped taking it, the symptoms returned. Even more alarming, she found her breasts became more sensitive, her nipples enlarged, and she frequently experienced milk leakage during intercourse, causing her considerable embarrassment.
When my mother told my father about this, he seemed indifferent. When happy, he would say it was good to have milk; when impatient, he would say, "I told you not to take these medications!" However, my father still dislikes using condoms, so my mother continues to take the pill weekly when at home.
Their sex life has taken an additional step: after each sexual encounter, my father insists on emptying my mother's breasts of milk.
My mother hadn't had sex for two weeks, and she hadn't brought any birth control pills. It wasn't until she started experiencing lower abdominal pain that she realized it was probably her ovulation period. No wonder she found clear, blood-tinged discharge in her underwear that morning.
With just over four hours until they got home, my mother thought she'd definitely ask my father to "treat" her. Sexual intercourse was still the most effective treatment, though she reminded herself to take her medication beforehand. The thought of "treatment" made my mother's mind wander.
While she was thinking about this, she was completely unaware that twelve eyes behind her were greedily staring at her rounded buttocks.
They weren't originally traveling together; they were just ordinary travelers, but the long separation from their families had fueled a restless desire within them.
The cramped car interior reduced the distance between people to almost nothing. My mother's elastic, tight black dress clung to her full buttocks, and the nearest man's nose was less than a foot away—even raising his hand could accidentally touch her. The men's wild desires fermented in the faint scent of my mother's sweat.
I don't know when we started driving, but a few miles out of the county town, we were on a bumpy mountain road. The bus, packed with passengers, swayed constantly from side to side, and my mother had to struggle to maintain her balance.
Even so, before an uphill climb, a sudden acceleration made my mother scream and land on the person behind her. To make matters worse, she felt something hard between her legs.
My mother struggled to stand up, and at that moment, I turned around. My mother felt a pair of hands supporting her waist and pushing her up, as if they had touched her buttocks. Everything happened so fast; it was over before she could even think. My mother was both ashamed and angry, but she couldn't retaliate, and she dared not look back.
The man behind my mother touched his crotch, savoring the wonderful feeling of that moment: a soft buttock pressing against his thigh, his penis pressing against that horny woman's...that place, the sweet spring he had longed for.
He regretted helping this horny woman up so quickly, even though he had touched her buttocks in the chaos, and then nothing more. He was fine until that sitting, supporting, and touching him, and the small flame in his lower abdomen instantly turned into a raging fire.
There were still several hours until they reached the provincial capital, and even then, he wouldn't find a place to vent. He only had 20 yuan left in his pocket, and he needed to eat before finding work.
The person on his left nudged him. When he boarded the bus, he glanced at the guy with the long scar above his eyebrow and didn't dare look again.
Who wouldn't want to avoid trouble when traveling? Sitting next to him was already incredibly uncomfortable, but there were no other seats available.
He turned to look at the person on his left, who held a sharp razor blade, looking at him with a strange, half-smiling expression. He looked at the person on his left with confusion, unsure of his intentions, and then finally realized he wanted to switch seats. "
Switch then, why the razor blade?" he thought to himself, not daring to ask. He stood up to let the person on his left move, feeling his erection pressing against the woman's soft buttocks. My mother felt it too, but she didn't move because she had no room to move forward. Fortunately, the person behind her sat down quickly.
My mother breathed a sigh of relief, but felt a burning sensation in her lower body. She tried not to think about it, but it became increasingly uncomfortable. There seemed to be more fluid seeping from her vaginal opening, and it was itchy.
Just then, a thick arm was placed on my mother's right shoulder, and her mouth was simultaneously covered by a large hand. At the same time, a deep but vicious voice rang in her ear: "Don't shout!"
My mother was startled, feeling a chill before her eyes. She then noticed the gleaming blade less than two inches from her face. The man behind her said something else, but she didn't hear a word, only the last sentence, "Understand?" She nodded hastily, glancing at me sitting to her left, where I was dozing with my head down.
My mother instinctively looked at my sunburnt neck, realizing she was doomed. For some reason, her lower body felt increasingly hot. She still dared not look back.
My mother felt hands greedily groping her waist and genitals. The zipper of her skirt was pulled down, and she suddenly remembered that she had inexplicably worn a pink thong that day. What my mother didn't know was that after two weeks of abstinence from sex, during her ovulation period, she subconsciously desired intercourse.
What she was about to experience, from a biological perspective, was perhaps the inevitable result of this subconscious desire—after all, sexual behavior in most animals resembles rape. To put it bluntly and crudely, my mother was an incredibly horny and slutty woman that day. What happened to her wasn't surprising at all; in fact, it was exactly what she deserved.
My mother knew her thong was exposed, and she was both ashamed and frightened, wanting to scream, but she held back. A few buttons at the waistband were undone, and then the waistband loosened, and the skirt slipped down to her ankles.
The people in the last row stared at my mother's almost naked, full buttocks and thighs, swallowing hard. Their burning gazes made my mother twist her body uncomfortably, which only intensified the intensity of their stares.
Apart from my father, no other man had ever looked at her naked body so closely, let alone six men. My mother trembled at the thought of what was about to happen, but seeing me sitting in front of her, she knew she had no choice but to comply. The man who was about to violate her stood behind my mother, his hands roaming over her snow-white, fleshy buttocks.
For a moment, she calmed down, thinking that if she could delay the inevitable, perhaps a miracle would happen and help her escape this predicament. Thinking this, my mother squeezed her legs together, hoping to make it harder for the man behind her to remove the last barrier protecting her lower body. As she squeezed her legs, her skirt slipped down to her ankles, but my mother didn't care about the skirt now.
She absolutely didn't want anyone to see her like this. Fortunately, she had two large woven bags in her hands, which she could use to cover her half-naked lower body.
A woman's so-called rationality is generally quite limited, and it turned out that my mother's attempt to squeeze her legs together was futile. The man behind her didn't intend to remove it properly; instead, he reached down to my mother's waist, where the thong was just a narrow strip.
The man lifted the thong at my mother's left waist, and it snapped off with a sharp sound where the blade passed. Then he did it on the right side. My mother, holding the woven bags covering her naked lower body in both hands, couldn't stop him and dared not stop him. The thong instantly became a strangely shaped strip of cloth between my mother's legs, and my mother's lower body was completely naked.
The man stood behind my mother, unzipped his pants, and his engorged penis eagerly sprang out, as if he had caught the scent of my mother's genitals in the air and instantly became aroused.
This man clearly had phimosis; his erection couldn't hide the fact. His right hand caressed my mother's smooth buttocks, while his left hand pulled back the foreskin to reveal a dark red glans. The foreskin was still damp, covered in black smegma, and the air around his penis instantly filled with the stench of urine, causing those sitting in the back row to fan the air with their hands.
My mother felt one hand reach under her crotch to support her plump mons pubis, while the other pressed against her back. One hand pulled back while the other pushed forward, forcing her upper body forward and her buttocks sticking out. My mother's perineum was exposed between her bare thighs as she arched her back.
This was the most alluring and secret place on my mother's body; even my father had never seen her in such a seductive pose. The man reached between my mother's legs, gesturing for her to spread her legs wider and stick her buttocks out higher. My mother obediently complied.
From the front, apart from a slightly flushed face and a forward-leaning posture, my mother appeared normal. Of course, if it weren't so close, a careful observer could see her skirt and thong on the floor. From behind, my mother was completely naked from the waist down, her legs spread at a 45-degree angle, her most beautiful area exposed. Her anus was faintly visible in the crevice, below which was her relatively darker perineum, the plump flesh of her vulva embracing the entrance to her vagina.
My mother's vaginal opening faced downwards and slightly, opening and closing with the rhythm of her rapid breathing, captivating those who watched.
During intercourse, the timing of genital insertion is usually entirely controlled by the man, making the moment of impending penetration the most agonizing for a woman, especially during forced sexual acts. My mother's mature female genitals knew she was about to be invaded by a man's penis, so her cervix stretched and her vagina began to moisten, ready to receive the penis at any moment.
When the expected insertion didn't come, my mother's mind was in turmoil, like a cat scratching at her, completely confused. Just as she was at a loss, something quickly entered her vagina, making her involuntarily gasp. It was finally happening. However, the expected feeling of fullness in her vagina did not occur, despite the natural contraction of my mother's vagina.
The man withdrew his right middle finger, which had been tightly gripped by my mother's vagina, and it was already wet with clear mucus. He licked his finger with satisfaction; my mother's reaction was stronger than he had expected. Because he had a long foreskin, he usually needed to lubricate thoroughly before insertion, otherwise it would hurt. Now it seemed that my mother's vagina was fully ready.
He brought the head of his penis to the entrance of my mother's vagina and slowly slid it into her warm, moist body. The smell of urine around his penis disappeared instantly. Although she was fully prepared mentally and physically, the first time a man other than her husband penetrated her still made my mother feel lost and overwhelmed.
This was a completely different sensation. The man's penis wasn't particularly large, but she was being raped in such a public place by a man other than her husband, with her son nearby. The extreme fear and shame combined to create a strange excitement my mother had never experienced before. She felt a tremor in her vagina and cervix, unable to explain the continuous flow of fluid from her lower body.
My mother had never had sex before marriage, and in ten years of married life, she had never felt anything like this. It was unimaginable that her vaginal spring would be opened today on a long-distance bus for an uninvited guest who threatened and humiliated her.
Equally frightening for my mother was the burning sensation she felt spreading from the friction against her vaginal walls, filling her lower abdomen, rising again until it filled her breasts. She felt a throbbing pain in her breasts, her nipples pressed tightly against the fabric of her bra, almost suffocating her.
Just as she struggled on the verge of suffocation, she felt a large hand caressing her breasts through her bra, and then she felt the pressure on her breasts ease, revealing that a razor blade had cut between the two cups of her bra.
My mother then realized that the bottom two buttons of her shirt were undone, and the man's hand was inside.
But she didn't resist at all, not even for a moment, letting her bra be slashed to pieces by the sharp blade, the pieces pulled out from the neckline. The man continued thrusting, casually tossing my mother's bra to a few people in the back row, who grabbed it and sniffed it like precious treasures.
At this moment, my mother's worst fears came true. Hearing my mother's heavy breathing, I turned to see what was happening. I saw that my mother's posture was strange—legs apart, upper body leaning forward, like a horse stance. Her clothes looked odd too; I couldn't immediately figure out why, but something felt different, something was wrong.
"Mom, are you tired?"
"...Not tired, not tired...Xiaozhen, sit still, don't look around."
"Mom, why don't you come sit down for a while?"
"No!! Don't come over! Xiaozhen, listen to your mother, sit down and don't move."
I was puzzled by my mother's anxious expression when I stood up to let her sit down.
"Mom, how about I help you get your things? It must be tiring for you to stand and carry things."
"No!!! Didn't you hear me telling you not to come over? I'm carrying them perfectly well, turn your head away!"
I was confused as to why my mother suddenly got angry. At that moment, I saw a man standing behind my mother. He had a fierce face, and although there was a seat behind him, he didn't sit down but insisted on standing right next to my mother.
My eyes met his, and he glared at me fiercely. Even though it was the middle of summer, I still shivered.
Just then, the old man next to me grabbed my shoulder and said, "Don't look, good boy, listen to your mother."
I turned around, full of suspicion, but dared not look back again, so I pretended to be dozing off in the back of the seat in front of me, occasionally glancing back out of the corner of my eye.
Seeing that I had finally turned away and wasn't looking back, the man put away the razor blade he had been holding to my mother's neck, wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, and reached his right hand down to her crotch to rub her clitoris and labia, while his left hand went inside her clothes to pinch her breasts and nipples.
My mother's body, which had been cooling down after the initial shock, was aroused again. Although she kept cursing herself in her mind as a shameless, slutty woman, her genitals didn't respond to her brain.
The man could clearly feel my mother's genitals gripping him; the tip of his penis felt the suction of the vaginal muscles, and the frenulum was being squeezed by the warm flesh of her vagina. With each thrust and withdrawal, his penis had to part my mother's vagina, which had become tight due to sexual arousal. The unique shape of the coronal sulcus of his penis was like a pump, each withdrawal bringing the milky white, viscous fluid seeping from deep within the vagina to the shallower parts, so much so that the base of his penis and pubic hair were covered with my mother's vaginal secretions.
My mother felt her vagina tightening, the sensation of her vaginal cavity being stretched intensified with the increased speed of thrusting. Her uterus began to contract, and at that moment, a gush of hot fluid spurted from the urethral opening at the tip of his penis. The penis no longer withdrew but throbbed up and down within the limited space of the vagina, spraying thick streams of semen into my mother's vaginal cavity.
Because she wasn't taking birth control pills and was ovulating, the environment inside my mother's vagina was ideal for sperm. Hundreds of millions of sperm in her semen vigorously swam towards the depths of the uterus and fallopian tubes, seeking an opportunity to fertilize the egg.
My mother seemed to realize the seriousness of the situation at this moment, pulling her buttocks forward with a "plop," and the glans slid out of her vagina. But it was too late; ejaculation was complete, and the penis, having fulfilled its seed-planting task, began to soften, with only a drop of milky white semen remaining near the urethral opening.
Several men who had been watching for a while, driven by their own genitals, also began to stir. Each of them had a seed-planting machine in their crotches, and the fertile soil inside my mother's body was ready for planting. Who says men don't think with their lower bodies? At this moment, the other five men sitting in the back row were completely controlled by their own genitals.
From the moment my mother's lower body was stripped naked and she was forced to bend over, exposing her genitals, all five pairs of testicles began working overtime to send sperm into the epididymis.
For the reproductive organs of the men in the last row, the orgy had only just begun. They started exchanging seats, and whoever's turn moved to the seat behind my mother.
They didn't sit down, but instead pressed themselves tightly against my mother's back, forcing her to bend over, and penetrating her from behind, rampaging and ravaging her vaginal cavity.
After the initial arousal subsided, my mother felt a churning, throbbing pain in her lower abdomen. She knew this was the result of excessive sexual activity causing vaginal swelling and congestion, but she was powerless against the continuous thrusting.
Each person's penetration lasted about ten minutes, from insertion to ejaculation, and involved hundreds of thrusts. The only breaks were a few dozen seconds when people changed seats, but even those few seconds were shortened later on, as the next person would be waiting in the empty seat behind my mother, the seat that should have belonged to the man currently raping her.
After all six men had ejaculated inside my mother, the pace slowed considerably as everyone's stamina increased. The first round took about thirty-five minutes, but the second round took seventy minutes, and the journey was only halfway complete.
Billions of sperm swam in my mother's uterus and fallopian tubes. They could survive for three days in a suitable environment, but only one sperm would eventually fertilize an egg, producing an illegitimate child. The rest would be absorbed by my mother's uterine wall, becoming an indelible stain on her body.
From the third round onwards, my mother began to feel exhausted, swaying and unable to stand. Her vagina was severely swollen and red from the continuous intercourse; the vaginal mucosa had turned from its initial pink to bright red, and blood would occasionally trickle from it when the penis withdrew.
Men blinded by lust had no compassion for other men's wives and mothers; they simply allowed my mother to sit on the lap of the man who was raping her, letting his erect penis penetrate her, and then they held her naked buttocks and moved her back and forth, enjoying her vagina, which was especially tight due to its swelling.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my mother sitting on someone's lap, moving up and down continuously. At the time, I couldn't understand it at all.
Initially, intercourse relied on my mother's vaginal secretions for lubrication. Later, due to frequent intercourse, the secretions became insufficient, and it gradually became lubrication through semen. As the intervals between ejaculations lengthened and the amount of semen decreased, they resorted to having one of them take turns standing in my mother's original position to block her view. My mother would then turn around, unbutton all the buttons on the front of her shirt, and kneel on the man's lap in an extremely lewd position, exposing her breasts completely. She would use her genitals to encircle his penis while simultaneously offering her breasts for him to fondle.
During the sucking of her breasts, they quickly discovered that my mother's breasts would secrete milk, which greatly delighted them. Initially, this arrangement did indeed accelerate vaginal secretion under the stimulation of shame, significantly improving lubrication. Finally,
in the fourth round, the man who had initially raped my mother came up with a new trick. When he felt my mother's vagina was too dry, he would have her kneel on the ground to perform oral sex on him, using saliva to lubricate his penis while simultaneously increasing my mother's shame, thus accelerating vaginal secretion.
This tactic worked perfectly. When my mother got up and straddled the penis again, it penetrated almost entirely without much effort. The others followed suit.
As the long-distance bus traveled through the streets of the provincial capital, my mother was still straddling the lap of the last man. Although her breasts had long been emptied, he stubbornly continued to suckle her nipples.
The drivers behind and beside her stared in disbelief as they saw my naked mother, her large breasts swaying as she was being ravaged by a man.
The moment the bus pulled into the station, my mother finally got off the man, hurriedly buttoning her shirt. Without time to find a skirt, she returned to a standing position, naked from the waist down.
My mother told me to get off first and wait for her below the bus. She waited until I got off before finally managing to find her skirt on the ground. The remnants of her bra and thong were taken away as souvenirs by the men who had gang-raped her. Before getting off, they all kissed my mother's bare buttocks.
My mother limped off the bus, her nipples clearly visible through her semi-transparent shirt, and people around her stared. She said she couldn't walk anymore because she'd been standing for so long, so we took a taxi home.
I don't remember what happened after that, only that my mother subtly asked me if I'd seen anything on the bus that day. I lied and said I hadn't seen anything, and she didn't say anything more.
Later, my mother found out she was pregnant. In June 1993, I had a younger sister. To avoid the family planning authorities, my mother took a year of sick leave and returned to her hometown to give birth.
I didn't fully understand until I was 16 that my mother had been gang-raped by those men, and that my sister was the product of that rape. My father, however, knew nothing and remained completely in the dark.

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My tragic experience with my mother on the bus

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