I like the taste of my son.

Let me briefly introduce myself. My father is Japanese, and he later married my Chinese mother. They were very loving. Both my parents studied art, and under their influence, I developed a romantic and proud personality, along with a natural talent for art. As an adult, I joined an arts troupe. From elementary school until now, many men have pursued me, but I've never been interested, except for the man from university who later became my husband. After we got married, I discovered he was just an ordinary person with the mundane life that other men lead.

Later, he went abroad for further studies, and upon his return, he was disgusted by my infidelity and the fact that I had an illegitimate child. We eventually divorced, and he left behind this son.
My son is actually the product of my father and me.
While my husband was studying abroad, I wasn't too bothered by the daytime rehearsals and performances, but I felt very lonely at night. My father came to visit me from Japan and stayed with me for a while. His care, love, and romantic atmosphere were very

attractive me, and I finally succumbed to his embrace. Making love with him was incredibly passionate, bringing me to multiple orgasms, and that's how I became pregnant with my son.
My child is adorable and well-behaved. Perhaps it's genetic, but he has a high IQ and artistic talent. However, he's been physically weak since childhood, possibly due to inbreeding. I'm grateful to God for giving me a genius son, yet I also feel sorry for God's unfairness, always making him sick.

For my child's sake, I work tirelessly, not wanting anything to hinder his growth, and I never considered finding him a stepfather. I had many opportunities to remarry a good man, but I didn't want my child to suffer neglect from a stepfather. I didn't send him to kindergarten; I taught him myself, and he skipped to third grade. Naturally, he did better than other children, always ranking first. However, he's unsociable and has an odd personality, leading to jealousy from classmates and scolding from teachers.

But when my son comes home, he's very lively, calling out "Mommy, Mommy!" He plays games, watches TV, plays the piano, and draws. Sometimes he hides in his room, doing who-knows-what.
My son is eleven years old, approaching puberty. One day, I discovered him secretly masturbating, his little face flushed red. I was terrified. My son has a congenital heart defect. Worried about him, I coaxed him by giving him oral sex to prevent him from overdoing

it and harming his health. I told him to come to me if he wanted more.
Since childhood, I've longed for a god-like man to appear in my life, but I haven't found one. Looking at my son, I felt he was an angel sent by God to save me. Perhaps all mothers think their children are good, but I feel my child is not only good, but the best. I believe my son will grow up to be an outstanding person, and I will be his witness.

I love my son's scent. His clothes, his underwear, even the smell of his thin semen.
I especially love the smell of his foreskin. Every time I clean his foreskin while bathing him, I smell it intensely for a long time. The smell inside my precious son's foreskin is so stimulating.
I appear very proper on the surface, but I don't have many proper thoughts. I don't want to be constrained; I'm not bound by moral obligations.

I asked my son,
"Am I pretty?"
"Mommy is the most beautiful woman in the world."
Suddenly, I felt his words implied something. Why didn't he say "Mommy is the most beautiful mom in the world" but rather "the most

beautiful woman"? Yes, I am also a woman, a woman who corresponds to the masculine side of my son! From that moment, the question of whether I had fallen in love with my son arose in my heart.
My son is growing up under my care.
On rainy days, my son snuggles in my arms, looking at the rain pouring down outside the window, and says,

"Mommy, I dreamt I married you yesterday." I look at him, my thoughts racing. Does he even know what marriage is?
Perhaps in his young heart, marriage represents the highest and most sacred intimate relationship between two people? In his heart, the concept of "wife" is the highest repayment he can give his mother?
Sometimes, watching my son intently painting or playing the piano, lost in thought, I sigh, any woman in the world

could have the opportunity to become my son's wife, but I cannot. I only deserve to be respected and cared for by him in my old age. There is no love, only the affection of nurturing.
I have special fantasies about my son, and also a way to vent my loneliness.
I like to play with my son's penis.

I divorced my husband when he was a little over one year old. My son is now thirteen and will be starting junior high school this year. My son and I have always had a very good relationship. He sleeps with me all the time, and he likes to touch my breasts, saying it helps him sleep better. I often touch his penis while he sleeps too, though I'm actually masturbating with my other hand. Maybe I'm not a good mother. But this is my son. Having witnessed the indifference and games between people, I feel that the bond between mother and son is the most real. I made up my mind to fulfill our wish.

I took my son to Hokkaido to visit his maternal grandmother, and a year passed quickly.
My son and I were very happy this year. The dreamy cherry blossoms, blooming amidst the harmonious union of fish and water, have already blossomed in my homeland! Today, I just returned from Hokkaido with my son, my little sweetheart. My son accompanied me to the flower market to buy some flowers to decorate our love nest.

My son is now in junior high school; he needs me, he needs my gentleness and the tenderness of a woman. I think many men haven't enjoyed these blessings in their youth! My child is fortunate; his mother has given him everything.
He's asleep now, and looking at his sleeping face, I long to kiss him.
I am a woman who defies societal norms, so I am destined to live a life of quiet desperation.

In this era, I cannot find a man I love; I cannot compromise. Only my son has entered my heart. Those who haven't experienced this kind of love will not understand. My son is sensible now, understanding matters between men and women, yet he still believes his mother is the best, and he wants to be with me forever. When my son nestles in my arms, when his eyes meet mine, have you ever imagined such a heartwarming moment? I am his only goddess.

My son is my greatest love, and also my greatest worry. His congenital heart disease is a hidden danger that could explode at any moment. His talent is overflowing; wouldn't it be a disservice to heaven's favor if it withered away like this?
I am willing to dedicate my waiting youth to my son, in my most beautiful years, in the most tender years of a mother's life, to let my son enjoy as much human love as possible in his limited life.

I have a bold plan: to prolong my son's dwindling life.
My son and I never needed another child, but my deep love for him makes me want to have a child of his own.
We have no offspring; when we die, that will be our end, and that leaves me with a deep sense of regret.
My fourteen-year-old son is fertile, and carefully giving him a child is my greatest wish. He's

still young; I will take good care of myself.
My son is happy; perhaps the process of conceiving with his mother will drain his limited life force.
My son sits at the piano, and I sit beside him. He composed a new piece today; the music fills the old room, the notes fluttering out the window, gazing at the myriad lives of people in the ancient city of Beijing, neither lamenting his own fate nor laughing at the world, but simply speaking for the world of humanity itself

. I am from a special single-parent family, with a special child and his special mother. I didn't let my child clone my soul; he has his own complete soul. I never experienced the mainstream education I did; I was once a very obedient yet stubborn woman. Decades have passed, and I never foresaw this outcome. Today, I cannot face the past within my heart. I don't know if this drastically different path in life is a special arrangement by God for me, a woman who gazes at the stars.

For my precocious son, age sometimes seems superfluous; he can't be judged as a normal child. I didn't control his soul or emotions. He was loved by girls at school, but he didn't love them, or perhaps he didn't feel anything for them. His peers couldn't connect with him. I think if it weren't for me, he would definitely seek out older women in the future, and women who resemble his mother. The kind of woman he wants is extremely rare, the probability is too low.

It's not just maternal love, it's transcended; he's not an ordinary child. There will be no other man I can rely on; my heart and soul have already given themselves entirely to my son.
Two years later, my son and I had our child, another source of comfort, a fairy-like daughter.
(The End)

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I like the taste of my son.

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