Underwear Adventure

A Strange Encounter with Underwear

Opening the locked drawer, I found it crammed full of all sorts of women's underwear, less than fifty centimeters square. Hundreds of sexy pieces, enough to make any man's heart flutter, were neatly arranged inside—my treasured collection accumulated over the years—my underwear kingdom. I cared for my collection like a pet, knowing the owner of each piece. Whenever I held them in my hands, it felt like I was caressing their owners—how intoxicating! My inexplicable connection with women's underwear dates back to when I was twelve. My aunt, who had immigrated to the United States many years ago, returned to Taiwan to visit my mother and stayed for over half a month. My aunt had always been the most beautiful in the family, and after so many years, she had become even more mature and stunning.

Surprisingly, at only fifth grade, I had developed inappropriate thoughts about her! But thoughts were one thing, and I was powerless to do anything about it. Just then, something on the back balcony caught my eye—my aunt's underwear.

Women's underwear is something you can see on the back balcony every day, nothing out of the ordinary. But in the past, I only ever saw the underwear of the two women in my family—my mother and sister. My mother's underwear was always simple, prioritizing comfort over anything fancy, and my sister, being younger, wore only girlish underwear, nothing attractive at all. Because of this, I considered women's underwear just ordinary clothing. But after seeing my aunt's underwear, I was completely stunned.

Transparent, soft gauze, beautiful lace trim, and a sexy, openwork design—I wondered what such underwear could possibly cover? Yet, this was exactly what my aunt wore every day!

And so, my aunt's underwear became my first collection. Even by today's standards, her underwear at the time was quite avant-garde. And because of this, women's underwear plunged me into an abyss from which I've been unable to escape ever since.

Among my collection, aside from a few pieces from my mother and sister (partly because the styles weren't very appealing, and partly because I was afraid of attracting their attention, so I only occasionally played with them in the bathroom, or even used them for masturbation, but didn't collect them), most came from my neighbor's apartment.

Whether by coincidence or fate, because there was a private girls' college across the street from my house, the landlord rented the apartment to female students long-term. Because of this, a whole row of women's underwear could almost always be seen on the back balcony. Of course, girls in their early twenties wouldn't wear overly sexy or revealing underwear, but occasionally, some stunning pieces would appear. I habitually peeked out from the back balcony every day, and once I spotted my prey, I never missed.

As a result, in just five years, I collected hundreds of sexy pieces of underwear. I can even vaguely remember the pure and lovely faces of their owners—they were truly irresistible!

But the thing I least wanted to happen actually happened last month.

The homeowner, desperate for money, sold the house. Looking at the drawer full of underwear, the thought of losing my supply naturally dampened my spirits. The

new neighbors next door had moved in a week ago; my mother said it was a woman in her early forties and a boy of about fifteen or sixteen. Hearing this, my heart sank. A forty-year-old woman—wasn't she similar to my mother? Looking at my mother, I should be able to deduce the new neighbor's appearance and the style of underwear she wore.

That day, I reluctantly went to the back balcony. Perhaps out of habit, I leaned over the iron railing, wanting to see if the new neighbor's, that forty-year-old woman's, underwear was any different from my mother's.

An unbelievable thing happened! Good heavens! These were…women's underwear! These were real underwear!

I almost screamed with joy. Yes, the underwear I'd been waiting for finally reappeared. I'd always assumed a forty-year-old woman wore the same boring, unattractive underwear as my mother, but our new neighbor turned out to be a woman of exceptional taste.

Black, purple, dark red, apple green—a riot of colors—corresponded to the lingerie hanging under the eaves, swaying in the breeze, and my spirits soared with it. For years, I'd thought my aunt's underwear was the epitome of style, but now, even sexier, more romantic, even slightly obscene lingerie was appearing on the back balcony of a forty-year-old woman's house.

The owner of the underwear quickly piqued my interest. You know, underwear reflects the person, and the person reflects the underwear; if the two differ too much, the underwear loses its allure. So, I wanted to meet her.

Unexpectedly, it happened again—before I could even approach her, she came to my door.

When I first saw her, it was hard to reconcile her with her sexy underwear. It wasn't because she was ugly; on the contrary, her beautiful face and tall figure were stunning. Although upon closer inspection, she wasn't as young as before, but the undeniable femininity she exuded made her appear much younger.

The reason lay in her clothing. A noble and elegant Western-style dress gave her an air of unapproachability, a stark contrast to her lewd and sexy lingerie. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed those were her underwear!

"Hello, young man, my surname is Zhang, your new neighbor. Please take care of me."

She would later be the Aunt Zhang I would call "in public," and the godmother I would call "in private"!

I didn't like the title of "underwear thief," although I was indeed a master underwear thief, but in the five years I had "committed crimes," I had never been caught. However, this myth was ultimately shattered.

Ever since I first saw Aunt Zhang's underwear, I've been obsessed, spending all my time on the back balcony staring at the underwear she hung on the rack. I even meticulously recorded all her underwear, noting the pattern, color, and style of every bra, pantyhose, stockings, and sexy nightgown. This went on for a full month. After tallying it up, I discovered she had over thirty sets of various underwear, not including those she hadn't worn yet.

Finally, I decided to steal Aunt Zhang's first pair of panties. That purple, silky, sexy pantyhose was simply too tempting, as if beckoning me, "Steal me, steal me!"

The pantyhose was successfully stolen.

That very day, I used this new pantyhose to cover my penis and masturbated for a full three hours, ejaculating four or five times. This was an experience I'd never had before, and it certainly demonstrated its irresistible allure!

As the saying goes, once is never enough. I usually don't steal from the same person repeatedly in a short period, because it's easy to attract their attention. But Aunt Zhang's underwear was just too alluring, and I was addicted to it. So, I made my first mistake ever, stealing four pairs of her sexy underwear.

Just as I was about to steal it for the fourth time, a woman's voice came from the next room: "So it's you! I've been waiting for you for so long." I'd

been caught red-handed, and I had to find a way to deal with it. I figured Aunt Zhang would forgive my youthful ignorance, considering I was still young. I took the underwear I'd stolen from her balcony over the past few days, and with a heart full of fear, to her doorstep, ready to face the merciless punishment... What if she didn't accept my apology and insisted on calling the police? I might go to jail! Oh God! What should I do?

Just as I hesitated at her doorstep, the door opened from the inside.

"Aren't you coming in? What are you doing standing outside?"

Aunt Zhang greeted me with a kind smile, urging me to come inside. Standing outside, my legs went weak with fear; I didn't know if I'd ever come out once I was inside.

"I...I'm sorry...I shouldn't have...I was indecent...I..."

In my anxiety, tears welled up in my eyes. But then Aunt Zhang came out of the kitchen with more hot tea, asking me to have a drink with her. Was this my last meal? I stood there, stunned, watching the kind Aunt Zhang fill my cup, wondering what she was up to.

I placed the four stolen pairs of underwear on the coffee table, keeping my head down, not daring to look her in the eye.

"Drink up! It won't taste good if it gets cold."

"Aunt Zhang… these underwear…"

She seemed to deliberately avoid mentioning the underwear, but since the four pairs were already on the table, I had no choice but to pick them up.

"You like the underwear I wear?"

I nodded.

"Besides these, I suppose you have other women's underwear in your house?"

She saw right through me, and I had no choice but to agree.

"So you're an underwear collector. Looks like we're kindred spirits."

What? Did I hear that right? She actually said "we're kindred spirits"? Unable to contain my curiosity, I looked up at her for the first time.

"Finally, I don't have to look at your head when I talk to you."

"You said...we're kindred spirits...what does that mean?"

She picked up the purple panties in her hand, examining them closely, her seriousness no less than mine, but this was rare for a woman.

"These panties, I asked a friend to buy them in Paris, they're designed by a famous designer! Don't let the lack of fabric fool you, they cost me a lot of money. These black panties, I bought them at a boutique in Japan..."

Good heavens, she knew every single pair of panties like the back of her hand, even their origins. What else could this be but a kindred spirit? No wonder she had so many underwear, and each one was so alluring; the charm of underwear is probably irresistible even to women.

"Actually, I noticed when you stole my first pair of underwear, but we're both into that, and I didn't want to make things difficult for you. But think about it, I cherish my underwear like you cherish your collection. If I didn't stop you, I'd probably suffer a huge loss."

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I won't do it again."

"By the way, what did you do with my underwear after you stole it?"

Why did she suddenly ask such an embarrassing question? If I told her I used her underwear to cover my penis and masturbate, she'd kill me! Turning her head, she actually picked up the underwear, sniffed it, and a strange smile appeared on her face.

"You little rascal, you actually used my underwear to masturbate! Don't deny it, the underwear is covered in the stench of your semen."

I was speechless and could only let her scold me, but she wasn't angry. Instead, she looked at me with a smile.

"Why are all you young boys like this? Even my son is no exception."

"What? Your son also... took yours...?"

"Yes."

I never expected that even Aunt Zhang's own son would be interested in her underwear. Great minds think alike.

"Although I don't want to make things difficult for you, I can't let this one go so easily."

"What do you want?"

"From now on, you're punished by coming to my house every day to keep me company."

I couldn't believe my ears. What kind of punishment was this? It was practically a reward! What I didn't expect was that she actually gave me all four pairs of underwear.

"Take them if you like! Consider it a gift from me. Please take care of me in the future."

And so, my first encounter with Aunt Zhang ended in an atmosphere full of surprise and joy, thus beginning our inseparable bond.

A month passed, and I went to Aunt Zhang's house every day. She always greeted me warmly, like a kind older sister next door. I never imagined that Aunt Zhang, a woman of the same forty, would be so different from my mother. My mother is a typical middle-aged woman, while Aunt Zhang seems like a newlywed. Sometimes I even fantasize about how wonderful it would be if Aunt Zhang were my mother! Thinking of this, I can't help but feel envious and jealous of Aunt Zhang's son.

She told me that her son is a year or two younger than me, but much taller. He went back to his school dormitory in the south a few days after moving here because of the start of the school year, so we haven't seen each other since. As for why she's single, she didn't explain, and I was too embarrassed to ask.

Aunt Zhang is kind and charming, and I quickly fell into her gentle trap. Sometimes I even ate dinner with her. She said that she and her son rarely saw each other, and that having me with her made her feel at home.

"Why don't I become your godson? Let me take care of you."

This sudden idea surprised her, but she readily agreed. The only condition was that we would address each other as mother and son in private, but in public, I could only call her Aunt Zhang.

"From now on, your godmother will treat you like her own son. I hope you will treat me like your own mother too. Don't be like my heartless son who left without a word..."

I didn't know why, but every time my godmother mentioned her son, her face showed a mixture of joy and sadness.

"Don't worry, godmother, I will treat you ten times better than I would my own mother. If you don't mind, I'll call you Mom from now on."

Perhaps she was too emotional, as she hugged me tightly, repeatedly calling out, "My good son, my dear son, my sweetheart."

From then on, I had two homes. My mother had never cared much for me, but now I seemed to have found my place. Sometimes I even thought that my godmother's home was my real home.

Perhaps my godmother only sought me out because she was lonely, but my feelings for her were much more complicated. Because of her underwear, Aunt Zhang became my godmother. Although I genuinely treated her like my own mother, whenever I saw her beautiful face, graceful figure, and undeniable femininity, an wicked desire welled up from the depths of my heart, impossible to suppress.

Every night, I could only relieve my unbearable lust by masturbating with the few pairs of underwear she gave me. But how long could this last? I seriously doubted.

Several times, I found a few pairs of dirty underwear in my godmother's bathroom—a rare treasure for a man. There were even a few strands of her pubic hair stuck to them, and the yellowish crotch emitted a strong, fishy stench—was it urine or feces? I couldn't resist licking the secretions off the underwear and then masturbating while sitting on the toilet…

My godmother had already given me her most cherished pairs of underwear; I had no reason to steal hers. But the magic of underwear was like a bottomless abyss, never satisfied. But even if I stole all her underwear, what then? Instead of stealing, why not... let her offer it to me herself...?

It's a strange idea, but the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. But how?

I thought of her son.

I remembered her saying that her son had been using her underwear to masturbate since he was ten years old. But as a mother, how could she tolerate her son using her underwear to masturbate for so many years? If I could find out the reason, wouldn't I be able to do the same?

"Are you still using my underwear to masturbate?"

That night, she suddenly asked this embarrassing question, and I nodded.

"Mom, your underwear is so tempting. Even just looking at it can make a man's body ignite."

"So, you've had your hands on Mom's body too!"

I never expected to get that out of her with just one sentence, but my godmother's question seemed to have a hidden meaning.

"Why did you suddenly ask about this?"

"Nothing. I just suddenly realized that if it weren't for my underwear, I wouldn't have a son like you. So, I really should thank those old clothes."

"Mom… I have a favor to ask, but I don't know if I should say it?"

"We're family now, there's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I want to… see Mom's collection… Mom's underwear."

It was indeed a strange request, but my godmother didn't refuse, leading me into her room. I'd been in my godmother's room many times, and although I knew all her underwear was kept in each wardrobe, I'd never actually seen it. Now that she'd made the request, my godmother couldn't refuse, even though showing her godson her underwear was quite embarrassing.

My godmother opened the large sandalwood wardrobe by the window. It had twenty small drawers. She casually opened one, revealing several bras and panties neatly folded into small balls. If each drawer contained five pairs of underwear, the wardrobe would hold hundreds of sets—several times more than I had expected.

"It's all here. Take your time looking! Be careful not to mess it up."

Perhaps embarrassed, she turned and left after saying this. And me? If I could look in a mirror, I would see a pair of shining eyes and a grinning mouth. Good heavens, this is a treasure trove!

An hour after my confession, I emerged from my godmother's room with a motherly smile. She was sitting on the sofa, seemingly having waited for me for a long time.

"How was it? Didn't disappoint you?"

"More than that! It was an eye-opener!"

I exaggeratedly described my inner emotion, and my godmother listened with a smile. Her wardrobe was practically a small lingerie museum, with everything imaginable.

"It's so nice to be a woman, to be able to wear such beautiful lingerie and panties."

"What? This is the first time I've heard of this. But I don't love these lingeries because I like wearing sexy ones. Otherwise... well, no matter how beautiful or sexy lingerie is, it's just a piece of clothing, no different from socks on your feet."

I knew my godmother's words had a hidden meaning, and she obviously had something she couldn't say, which was the secret I wanted to know.

"I don't understand. If you don't like them, why do you have so many underwear? And why are they all so sexy and flashy? My mom's underwear is barely better than a flour sack. Could it be... because of a man?... Is it your husband? Am I right?"

"Half right. But I have to tell you, I divorced a long time ago. Come to think of it, I've been single for about ten years."

"The only man in your family... could it be..."

"Stop guessing."

"You once said your son also uses your underwear to masturbate, could it be because..."

"I said stop guessing! Your godmother is a little tired and wants to rest. You should go home."

"I'm sorry, Mom, I misspoke."

"It's not your fault. I'll let you know the reason when I have the chance."

Sure enough, the reason was her son. A son masturbating with his mother's underwear, plus a mother buying sexy underwear to provide her son with masturbation tools—what an interesting picture!

My godmother's birthday is March 20th, the last day of Pisces. People born on this day possess the extremely emotional nature of Pisces, combined with a touch of Aries' impulsiveness, often leading them to do unexpected things. However, conversely, if someone makes a special move towards her, they can also reap unexpected rewards.

"Happy birthday!"

My godmother was startled when she opened the door by my sudden "Happy birthday." My unexpected appearance at her door with a birthday cake and a mysterious little gift made her very happy.

"Come to think of it, I've been celebrating my birthday alone for five years now. By the way, you little devil, how did you know it was my birthday today?"

I scratched my head and had to confess that I had accidentally seen her ID card on her dressing table.

"Oh dear! Now you've discovered my age too, which is a woman's biggest secret!"

"Godmother, don't worry, you don't look like a forty-year-old woman at all..."

My godmother tapped my head with her finger to shut me up, but even so, I could see that she was flattered by my unexpected blessing. She personally cooked a delicious meal and opened a bottle of red wine, saying it was to make up for the past five years of celebrations all at once. We ate, drank, and chatted, and before we knew it, the bottle of wine was gone.

"Oh, right, godmother, I have another gift for you. I went to great lengths to get this."

A beautifully packaged little box, almost weightless in my hand, was opened by my godmother with a hint of suspicion. Her face immediately lit up with a mixture of joy and shyness.

"Although I know godmother wears designer clothes, my allowance can only afford this..."

My godmother held up a pair of bright red lace panties. The almost transparent panties only had a single blooming rose embroidered in red thread on the crotch area. I bought it from an adult mail order. Although it couldn't compare to my godmother's other panties in terms of style or quality, it would definitely look incredibly sexy on her.

"This is the best birthday present I've ever received!"

Tears welled in my godmother's eyes as she clutched the underwear tightly, unable to contain her excitement.

"Godmother... are you alright? It's just a cheap pair of underwear..."

"No, no, no, this is more precious than any designer brand."

"Will you wear it often?"

"Of course! I absolutely love it! I never knew you had such good taste; you truly are an underwear collector."

My godmother hugged me tightly and planted a deep kiss on my forehead. I smelled the fragrance and scent of alcohol emanating from her, and suddenly felt a surge of desire. Coupled with her deep kiss, I suddenly had the urge to kiss her.

"Godmother... I... I... can I kiss you?"

My godmother looked at me, her face slightly flushed with intoxication, then closed her eyes without saying a word, her lips slightly parted. Was she hinting at something? My heart was pounding, my palms were sweating, and my godmother was still holding me tightly. What should I do…?

Suddenly, my godmother's moist, soft lips pressed against mine, then quickly pulled away. Although it was only a fleeting touch, it truly shook my heart! My godmother had kissed me first!

“Thank you! Thank you for everything you did for me today.”

We sat on the large sofa in the living room, and my slightly tipsy godmother nestled against my shoulder like a docile Persian cat. Although it wasn't the first time I'd been so close to my godmother, I felt incredibly excited.

“Want to hear a story from your godmother?”

“You mean…”

“My story. Haven't you always been curious?”

"But every time I asked you about it, you got angry. Why are you telling me today?"

"Because only today did I find my real son, and that person is you."

"What? I'm getting more and more confused. What about your biological son?"

"I don't know where he is. But the reason I moved here is actually to hide from him."

"Hide from your own son?"

"What? Isn't this a fascinating story?"

And so, my godmother spent the entire evening recounting an unbelievable family tragedy to me.

When I was seventeen, I gave birth to my son, Zizai, the product of a night of passion with my boyfriend. Unfortunately, Zizai's father disappeared without a trace. My ex-husband was my high school classmate. He secretly loved me during our school days. We met again at a class reunion. After learning about my experiences, he felt great sympathy for me, which moved me deeply. He proposed to me, and I married him without hesitation.

After marriage, we did enjoy a very happy married life for a while. However, because we were unable to conceive, he began to feel resentful about our son's existence, and this resentment grew stronger over time. Ultimately, we had no choice but to divorce.

At that time, our son was only five years old, while I was a woman without the ability to support myself. I had to leave him with my brother while I became a flight attendant, traveling to various countries around the world…

During this time, due to my work, I rarely contacted them. My brother and sister-in-law treated our son like their own, which reassured me. I even considered sending him to my brother as an adopted son. But things didn't go as planned. My brother's business failed, leaving him with a large debt. Unable to support himself, he was unable to care for our son and asked me to take him back. That's when I quit my flight attendant job and returned to Taiwan.

I didn't see my son for seven whole years. To my surprise, he was already in the first year of junior high school, tall and handsome, a spitting image of his father.

Facing me, the mother who abandoned him when he was young, Zizai seemed very unfamiliar and shy. I rented an apartment and began to rebuild our mother-son relationship.

For the first few months after our reunion, Zizai treated me like a stranger. After school, he would lock himself in his room until dinner time. I tried to communicate with him, but the situation didn't improve. Ultimately, it was my fault; how could I blame my son? This ambiguous relationship between us lasted for more than six months. Then,

on Mother's Day that year, when I came home from work, I unexpectedly found a gift on my bedside table: a card and a bouquet of carnations. This unexpected gift became the turning point for our cold relationship, because in the card, Zizai revealed his feelings and thoughts over the past six months.

I initially thought he was angry with me for not fulfilling my responsibilities as a mother, but it turned out to be completely different. I had been overthinking it; otherwise, our mother-son relationship could have been resolved six months ago.

"Mom, I don't know how to express my feelings to you, because to me, you've always been a stranger to me. When I found out that my mother was actually my aunt, the shock was immense, and I couldn't accept it at first. But when I saw you, an inexplicable feeling told me that you are my real mother. I didn't know how to call a stranger 'Mom,' so I was conflicted. I could only hide my true feelings and avoid you every day, but I want to tell you, Mom, I love you."

In this way, all my inner conflicts were resolved, and from then on, my son Zizai truly returned to my side.

Time flies, and two years have passed. Zizai is now a young man, sixteen years old, tall and strong, which makes me very proud. For the past two years, Zizai has been my biggest pillar. Just when it seemed that our happy days as mother and son were about to arrive, our relationship began to change again after a sudden accident.

The accident happened at eight o'clock one morning. After Zizai finished his class, I, as usual, took the broom and cleaned the whole house.

Zizai has always been a clean freak. His room is always the tidiest and cleanest spot in the house. I sat on Zizai's bed, looking around at the spotless room, leaving him no room to exert himself. I glanced at a photo on the bedside table—a picture of my son and me from a trip to the south last year. Zizai always praised me for looking beautiful in the photo. Even though he's already a sixteen-year-old boy, he still insists on keeping our photo on his bedside table, which deeply touched me.

Flipping through the photo album on the table, besides Zizai himself, it was filled with pictures of her. The thick album didn't contain a single girl his age. I had asked Zizai about this before, and he simply told me in his usual playful tone, "In my heart, no woman can compare to Mom. Mom is the most beautiful and gentle goddess."

Looking at Zizai's handsome face in the album, and remembering his praise, a knowing smile crept onto my lips. I love Zizai more than anything, not only because he is my own flesh and blood, but also because of his understanding nature, which always makes me feel like the happiest mother in the world. Zizai is the most carefully crafted masterpiece of my life, and he seems to understand my intentions perfectly, never letting me down. Because of this, I am willing to sacrifice everything for him and do anything.

In the afternoon, the weather became unusually hot. Unfortunately, the only air conditioner in the house had broken down recently. Living on the top floor, I couldn't bear the heat and decided to take a cold shower.

Sure enough, the cool water made me feel refreshed. I only intended to soak in the bathtub for a short rest before getting up, but I actually fell asleep in the tub.

A series of hurried footsteps rushed from the door to the bathroom. The sound of the door opening startled me awake. When I opened my eyes, I saw Zizai standing naked in front of me. A moment later, I realized I was also lying naked in the bathtub. Worse still, I hadn't even brought any clean underwear into the bathroom, so I could only cover my genitals and breasts with my hands.

"I...I'm sorry...It's hot outside, I rushed home to shower, I didn't know..."

"No, it's my fault, I fell asleep in the bathtub without realizing it."

Mother and son looked at each other awkwardly, occasionally catching a glimpse of each other's naked bodies. Despite their close relationship, they were both adults, and facing a mature, naked body, even mother and son couldn't help but blush and feel their hearts race. Just as

Zizai was about to leave the bathroom, I called to him, "Do me a favor, go to my room and get some underwear for Mom..."

Only then did Zizai realize his mother hadn't even prepared any clothes. He went to his mother's room and opened her wardrobe. Colorful panties and bras were neatly arranged before him. Not knowing which one to take, he closed his eyes, grabbed a pair of panties and a bra, and ran to the bathroom.

He slipped the underwear to me through the crack in the door. I said thank you and closed the door again.

"Mom, are you alright? Why aren't you coming out?"

I sat on the edge of the bathtub in the bathroom, holding the underwear Zizi had just brought in, but I hesitated to put it on. It turned out that in his haste, Zizi had grabbed a pair of panties he used to use with his boyfriend in the bedroom—pink sheer fabric, sexy lace trim, so small it barely covered anything. How could I walk out of the bathroom and into front of my son wearing that? But I couldn't stay in the bathroom forever either. This left me in a dilemma, completely at a loss.

Hearing Zizi calling from outside, if I didn't go out soon, he might think something had happened to me and rush in. The only option was to pretend to be calm and walk out.

The door opened, and I casually walked out, still wearing my sexy pink sheer panties, rushing straight into the room without looking back. I had no idea how my son would react to this scene.

Yes, my mother emerged from the bathroom in a sexy outfit, truly shocking my son outside the door. He stared intently at her sexy panties and her alluring figure, as if he were watching an erotic film. Entering

the bathroom, my son gazed at the tub filled with the liquid that had soaked my mother's body all afternoon, and a wicked thought suddenly occurred to him: he jumped into the tub, soaking himself in the liquid that had just touched every inch of my mother's skin. He longed to smell the lingering scent of her body, remembering how every drop of water had intimately flowed over her cheeks, her breasts, and her genitals. He wanted to use this water to make the closest possible contact with my mother's body.

Finally, he masturbated in the tub and ejaculated in the water where we had once been intimate…

This was something my son later told me.

Recalling that embarrassing scene, I was filled with shame. How could I ever hold my head up in front of my child again? But then I calmed myself and thought, I am Zizai's mother, and his body is also flesh and blood given to me by my own flesh and blood. Why should I blush over seeing his private parts? Besides, why should I feel ashamed for letting my son see me wearing sexy underwear?

Thinking this, I couldn't help but smile at myself in the mirror. Looking at my graceful figure, I didn't look like the mother of a sixteen-year-old boy at all. It was Zizai, not me, who should be blushing.

At the dinner table, mother and son tried to avoid each other's gaze, just eating with their heads down. They were like children who had done something wrong, and any glance would expose their embarrassing moment.

Although the days passed one by one, the accidental incident that happened that afternoon was not forgotten. On the contrary, it spread quietly through our bodies like a virus.

Everything seemed to have returned to normal. As usual, after Zizai left, I cleaned the house again—something I'd done for over two years, so much so that I could do it with my eyes closed. But today was different. She accidentally found a woman's panty under Zizai's pillow.

Pink sheer fabric, sexy lace trim—I recognized it immediately as the panty I'd worn that afternoon when I'd acted like a slut in front of my son. How it ended up under Zizai's pillow, I had no idea. Examining the panty closely, I found it covered in stains of filth, emitting a foul odor. As a grown woman, I was certain that Zizai had been masturbating with my own panty these past few days. This conclusion shocked me. My lively and cheerful Zizai was using his own panty to masturbate—a scene I'd never imagined.

Thinking back, since that incident that afternoon, Zizai had indeed been behaving strangely. Although he tried to appear natural, he couldn't escape my notice as his mother. This explains why I've been feeling like someone's spying on me while I shower lately. I initially thought I was being overly sensitive, but there's no one else at home except for Zizai. She called out several times, but there was still silence outside. So, I decided to investigate my wild suspicions.

After dinner, I went into the bathroom to shower, pretending the door was accidentally left open, leaving a tiny crack for peeping.

While showering, I deliberately turned my back to the crack, but placed a small mirror in front of me so I could clearly see who was spying. Sure enough, soon after, I saw a figure moving outside. It was none other than Zizai.

Zizai has fallen for me, not just as a son's love for his mother, but also as a man's infatuation with a mature and alluring woman. In Zizai's mind, I've transcended the simple role of a mother and become the object of his fantasies.

Learning the truth didn't bring relief; on the contrary, it made me feel even heavier. I love Zizai more than myself. I would give everything for my son without complaint, but I never thought that this would include my own body.

That night, I couldn't sleep. All I could think about was Zizai playing with my underwear and masturbating. Strangely enough, I wasn't angry at all; I even felt a little excited. At that moment, my hands seemed to have a mind of their own, involuntarily sliding into my underwear... When I came to my senses, I found that my underwear was already soaked...

I originally thought my godmother's story would be a boring recollection, but unexpectedly, it unearthed a secret mother-son relationship. The plot became increasingly suspenseful and somewhat taboo, but my godmother always glossed over the important parts. Even so, it made my heart itch. Let alone her son Zizai, even if it were me, facing this beautiful and graceful mother every day, it would be hard not to have impure thoughts.

My godmother paused for a while, seemingly embarrassed by the unfolding story, so she hesitated to speak. Being a considerate man, although I wanted to hear the whole story, I stopped her.

Sure enough, she was deeply moved by my gesture, which reminded me of her beloved son, Zizai. She nestled tightly in my arms, wanting me to hold her close, because she intended to finish the story, and what followed might cause her some unease…

And so, the story of incest between a mother and son began to unfold from my godmother's lips.

Since discovering Zizai's love for his mother, my godmother had become somewhat uneasy. Reason told her she should talk things out with Zizai to prevent him from sinking deeper, but her selfish soul thought otherwise. Her son's infatuation was a good thing; this way, she could completely possess him and never have to worry about him being seduced by a young, beautiful girl and losing her precious child.

Although the godmother harbored her own agenda, Zizai wanted more than just emotional love; he also had physical sexual needs. The godmother was fully aware of this, but she couldn't let go of the irreconcilable bond between mother and son. She was prepared to sacrifice everything for Zizai, but she didn't want to implicate her son in incest. In this helpless situation, the godmother could only try her best to satisfy Zizai's desires, providing him with any material he could use for sexual fantasies to hold onto his heart.

With this naive idea in mind, the godmother began to go to great lengths to adorn herself. Already possessing striking beauty, coupled with a sexy figure, her innocent attire already captivated countless men, let alone her alluring outfits.

The godmother's skirts grew shorter and shorter, her clothes became increasingly revealing and flamboyant, even her pajamas were as thin as gauze, and her underwear was the epitome of provocation—transparent, short, sexy, and alluring styles of form-fitting lingerie filled her wardrobe in just a few weeks, all to attract Zizai's attention and provide him with more and more stimulating masturbation tools.

Sure enough, under the godmother's skillful arrangement, Zizai was gradually falling into her pink trap. The godmother noticed that the clean underwear she deliberately left in the bathroom after showering would mysteriously disappear, only to reappear a few days later. During those days of disappearance, the godmother could almost picture Zizai sniffing her panties, even licking the remaining secretions, while indulging in masturbation.

Strangely enough, every time she thought about this, the godmother would become unusually excited, and even had the urge to masturbate. Her heart was filled with lust, and she wished she could run to Zizai at this moment, spread her legs and shout to him, "Come on! My good son, if you want to lick, just lick my pussy. What fun is there in licking a piece of cloth?"

But how could a mother say such a thing to her son?

Just as his godmother had predicted, Zizai was already deeply trapped in the snare his mother had intentionally or unintentionally laid, and he couldn't extricate himself. Ever since he first masturbated with his mother's sexy underwear, Zizai had been intoxicated by this fantasy game of sex and love. He knew that using his mother as the object of his sexual fantasies was a despicable and vulgar thing, and stealing his mother's intimate underwear as a tool for masturbation made him even more uneasy. But the more taboo something is, the more it can arouse a deep desire. Sometimes he would even use his mother's underwear to wrap his penis and masturbate, thinking that what was covering his penis was not a piece of cloth, but his mother's soft and wet vagina...

Zizai, who was immersed in this taboo game, didn't seem to realize that all of this came so easily. He could get his mother's underwear that she had just changed out of at any time in the bathroom, and what was hanging on the balcony was always a set of pretty and sexy bras, stockings and panties; whenever he showed any desire to peep, his mother would unintentionally cross her legs, revealing everything under her tight skirt to him without any cover.

But all of this came too easily, and the clever Zizai couldn't help but feel suspicious. Why would his naturally clean mother carelessly toss her most intimate underwear in the bathroom? Why would her, so dignified and virtuous, dress so revealingly? What made him even more suspicious was that his mother had become completely unguarded with him. Not only did she always forget to close the door when showering or using the toilet, but she also napped in just a cool shirt and underwear, lying brazenly on the living room sofa, giving him ample time to feast his eyes on her body.

To verify his suspicions, Zizai decided to take a daring step.

In the past, Zizai had only used his mother's body and clothing as tools for his fantasies, and all his intrusions were limited to visual. If it was just his imagination, his mother wouldn't feel anything. But if his mother was already aware of and condoned his disrespect and intrusions, then he could certainly extend the intrusion to physical contact.

At two in the morning, Zizai tiptoed into his godmother's room. His godmother was sleeping on her side. After confirming that his mother was fast asleep, Zizai gently lifted the hem of his mother's nightgown. Although only the faint moonlight could see into the room, his mother's two shapely and slender legs still shocked Zizai's heart. He couldn't help but follow the lines of her legs from bottom to top and touch his mother's sensitive inner thigh. His mother's body trembled slightly, and Zizai quickly withdrew his hand. After seeing that his mother was not in any abnormality, he reached out to touch her full breasts.

Before going to bed, his mother took off her bra. Her soft, elastic breasts seemed to have a magical power, instantly drawing his hand to them. Zizai boldly pinched one lightly, then gently teased the slightly protruding nipple with his fingertips. The feeling was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He wanted to roar with excitement, even to tear off the cumbersome nightgown and devour his mother's breasts...

At dawn, his godmother sat on the edge of the bed, stroking the semen Zizai had ejaculated on her thigh. Her thoughts were somewhat chaotic. She had naively thought that a few pairs of underwear and visual surveillance could solve this troublesome problem, but who knew that young people's desires had no limits? Once easily obtained, they would want more!

She woke up in the dark and found a trembling hand caressing her breasts. Looking closer, she realized it was Zizai.

Despite the dim light in the room, she, as a mother, could feel the hunger emanating from her son. He was like a ravenous wolf, eager to devour her body. But the godmother couldn't stop him, nor did she want to. She had to pretend to be fast asleep, letting Zizai do as he pleased. She squinted, looking at Zizai's face through the dim light. Good heavens! How much he longed to possess her body, yet he could only suppress his rising desire, tentatively reaching out his invasive tentacles, lightly touching that forbidden territory of over ten years…

If she could, the godmother would undress Zizai, letting him enjoy her body without restraint. But she still suppressed her impulses, passively accepting any violation from Zizai. Finally, Zizai took out his penis and masturbated, a stream of hot semen spraying onto her thighs…

The godmother hadn't expected Zizai to do such a thing. Wasn't he afraid of waking her from her dream? Even ejaculating on her legs right in front of her—was this some kind of hint? But what does it mean? Has Zizai already discovered her ingenious plan? Yes, it must be so, but the relationship between mother and son is so ambiguous that neither dares to confess first. Perhaps if one of them were to openly express their feelings, the situation would dramatically change. But who should speak first? She was quite certain that mother and son loved each other, but how could she, as a mother, confess to her son about this unblessed, forbidden love, this relationship that has been severely taboo for thousands of years? Perhaps her son only wanted some sexual comfort from her, and his mother was the easiest and most convenient object for him to use. Many teenagers have the experience of masturbating with women's underwear at home; perhaps Zizai was one of them. If she confessed the wrong thing, it would not only ruin her reputation but also brand her as a harlot.

One "perhaps" after another kept the godmother tossing and turning at night. Zizai's sudden probing had indeed disrupted her naive plan. Summer had reached its sweltering peak, and people seemed to be infected by its heat, their moods suddenly becoming restless.

Late at night, Zizai was reading at his desk, taking advantage of the cool evening air. His godmother, wearing a thin nightgown, came to his side. Zizai turned his head and was suddenly struck by the sight of his mother's alluring body, barely concealed, causing him to blush and his heart to race.

His godmother placed her hands on Zizai's shoulders, gently massaging him. What should have been a heartwarming gesture from his mother was, in Zizai's eyes, the prelude to flirtation. Yes, his mother was teasing him with her body; the transparent nightgown, and the sexy bra and panties underneath, were the best proof. Zizai was almost certain that his mother had come prepared this time. Was she responding to his previous probing?

Suddenly, his mother's hands slowly slid down his neck, gently embracing him. Zizai's body jolted as if electrocuted. Then, he felt his mother's soft breasts pressed tightly against his back, gently kneading and rubbing. He could even hear his mother's heartbeat, as rapid as his own!

Then, the room fell into a deathly silence. Mother and son stood frozen like wax figures, motionless.

Zizai, like a volcano erupting, suddenly turned and pushed his mother onto the bed. He pounced on her like a hungry tiger, ready to devour his uninvited prey. But his mother, lying paralyzed on the bed, remained calm, as if she had already foreseen her misfortune, or perhaps it was all a trap, and his mother was a tempting lure that he had fallen into headfirst.

Zizai used his strong arms to pin down his frail mother. His godmother, panting and trembling, stared wide-eyed at her agitated son.

"Zizai...don't do this...let go of Mommy."

Zizai seemed not to hear anything, instead kissing his mother's neck and cheeks passionately. At the same time, his hands became restless, lifting his mother's barely-there nightgown and brazenly roaming over her breasts and private parts.

Although his godmother kept murmuring for him to let go, her shy tone sounded like provocative words to Zizai, which only fueled his desires, leading him to violate his mother even more.

"Mom...I love you...let me love you properly..."

"Zizai...Mommy loves you too...but...is this okay?"

"Heaven knows, earth knows, you know, I know. As long as we don't say anything, who will know?"

At this moment, humanity's most primal desires were testing this mother and son. Zizai was absolutely right. If both of them kept their mouths shut, who would suspect that this reclusive mother and son would commit incest?

Zizai's actions grew increasingly brazen. His godmother's pajamas were long gone, her bra unhooked, and her two full breasts were now in his hands, being played with. A mischievous mouth and a playful tongue were licking her nipples, which were already erect with excitement. Her genitals were overflowing with lustful fluids, and even her last line of defense had been unknowingly pulled down to her knees by Zizai.

"Is this okay...we're mother and son..."

"Can't mother and son love each other?"

"Mother and son can love each other, but...can we commit incest?"

Suddenly, a strong sense of morality surged through the godmother's heart. She felt she was doing something unforgivable, a mother leading her son down the path of incest. She resolutely pushed Zizai away, ran naked out of the room, leaving a bewildered Zizai sitting helplessly on the bed.

He had acted on his own initiative, yet in the end, he had succumbed to his conscience. Is morality really that important? Incest between mother and son has existed throughout history and across cultures; isn't it simply a manifestation of human nature? Since it's a deep-seated human desire, why impose so many ethical norms to suppress this genuine affection? Just because they are mother and son, why would she prevent her own flesh and blood from entering her body again?

In the following days, the mother and son acted like strangers, even deliberately avoiding each other's gaze when they met. The once lively Zizai became extremely silent, often locking himself in his room.

Although the godmother tried everything to salvage their nearly broken relationship, Zizai remained unmoved. The godmother kept wondering if she had really done something wrong. To satisfy her son's sexual fantasies, she was willing to dress like a harlot; to provide him with a more convenient outlet, she bought an entire wardrobe of sexy clothes; to make it easier for him to peep, she even displayed her private parts nakedly before him without reservation; all because she didn't want to be the eternal sinner who led her son into incest, she was discarded like trash by him, not even bothering to look at him properly. Was she really wrong?

Days passed, and the relationship between the godmother and her son deteriorated. The godmother's inner turmoil tormented her like an invisible shackle every day, and the once radiant young woman aged considerably.

In truth, the godmother didn't understand why she had such a strong reaction that night. If she had just steeled herself, closed her eyes, let her body and soul roam free, temporarily setting aside morality, and waited until everything was settled, there would be no need to worry about the issue of incest. Perhaps it was just a temporary decision, but she still chose to withdraw gracefully.

After taking a shower, the godmother wandered around the house thoughtfully. When she came to her senses, she found herself standing outside Zizai's bedroom door. The door was latched, but a faint light shone from inside. The godmother knew Zizai was still awake, but she didn't know what he was doing. Was he reading? Daydreaming? Or perhaps still occasionally taking out her sexy underwear to masturbate? Had Zizai lost interest in her? Or had the last incident made him lose faith in loving her?

She gently turned the handle and pushed the door open.

Zizai seemed somewhat surprised to see his mother enter his room again, but he chose to remain silent until he understood why she had come tonight.

"Zizai, Mom wants to talk to you."

"What's there to talk about?"

Zizai turned his back, appearing somewhat impatient.

“Last time, Mom didn’t mean to push you away, but… you know my difficulties.”

“You have difficulties, but don’t I? We’re mother and son, but so what? Aren’t I a man and you a woman?”

“That’s true, but Mom doesn’t want to put you in the wrong position of incest.”

Zizai turned around and grabbed his mother’s hands, shouting excitedly, “I don’t mind! I don’t care about incest or anything like that, I only know that I love you! I want you!”

The godmother turned her head away, two lines of clear tears rolling down her cheeks. Hearing her son’s heartfelt confession, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. She seemed to be blaming herself for being wrong to refuse him back then.

“Zizai…my darling…my sweet baby, Mom loves you too…”

“Mom…do you know how hard it is for me to love you…since I came back to your side, I can only secretly love you in the dark. Haven’t you ever noticed that I haven’t dated any other girls? I haven’t even given them a second glance. Why? It’s all because of you! Because my heart is full of you, so there’s no room for any other girl. Don’t you feel anything?”

The bolder Zizai’s confession was, the more guilty his godmother felt. Her son loved her so deeply, couldn’t she treat him the same way?

"It's not that Mom doesn't understand. Everything Mom has done is for you! Haven't you noticed that Mom has almost become a different person lately? To satisfy your desires, Mom even dresses like a harlot every day. Can you say I haven't felt anything?"

At this moment, the mother and son were like enemies facing off in court, telling each other about the suffering they had endured these past few days. After a heartfelt exchange, they gradually understood the sacrifices the other had made for them. It turned out that all the problems stemmed from two words: "morality" and "incest." These have been taboo since ancient times, but the more taboo something is, the more attractive it is to people. Do people willingly break the taboo of incest just for momentary selfish desires? Perhaps only those involved truly understand this question.

The godmother and her son, Zizai, are facing the biggest decision of their lives. They have the motive for incest, and they also have sufficient reasons to support their incestuous relationship. They love each other, transcending the limitations of age, and now they must transcend morality and ethics, because they firmly believe that love is the most irresistible reason, even though they are mother and son connected by blood, and even though they know that this relationship is destined to be cursed.

The mother and son sit facing each other on the bed, holding hands. Tears well up in Zizai's eyes, while the godmother is already sobbing uncontrollably.

"Mom, I've said everything I needed to say. What are you going to do now?"

At one o'clock in the morning, the godmother lay naked on her son's bed. Beside the bed were her underwear and bra, which her son had just gently removed. Zizai lay on his side next to his mother, one leg draped over her, the other hand grasping and playing with her breast...

"Zizai... please turn off the light... Mom is shy..."

"No, no, no... I like seeing Mom blushing shyly, like a little girl."

Zizai used his knee to nudge his mother's genitals, and under her son's playful teasing, the godmother's body slowly began to react. Shyness, excitement, shame, pleasure, anticipation, worry… a tidal wave of conflicting emotions washed over the godmother, churning her thoughts…

At this moment, all she could do was let her son have his way…

“Mom… I want to kiss you… is that okay…?”

“…Mom is now… yours… do whatever you want…”

Even the godmother herself couldn’t believe she would say such shameful things to her son, but to Zizai, it was like a pardon. Just a few days ago, his mother had harshly rejected him, and now, in just a few days, she had given him her body without reservation!

Having received permission, Zizai calmly kissed his mother. Their wet lips met, and the godmother naturally opened her mouth. Zizai put his tongue into her mouth, swirling it around haphazardly. The godmother followed suit, putting her tongue into his mouth as well. Mother and son exchanged saliva, sucking on each other’s tongues, their kiss growing more intense and wild…

“Mom’s saliva… is so sweet… so fragrant…”

The godmother wrapped one arm around Zizai's neck and the other around his buttocks, naturally pushing her genitals towards his lower body, rubbing her pubic mound against his penis.

"Mom...I love you so much...I want...to penetrate your...little hole..."

"I've...completely...gone to you...you must...treat Mom well...you know...never...let...you...betray...my...hard work..."

Zizai's hand moved from his mother's breasts to her genitals, his body pressing heavily against hers. Faced with her son's forceful advances, the godmother naturally spread her legs, anticipating his penetration...

Zizai found his mother's entrance, first inserting his fingers inside and playing with it, causing his godmother to overflow with vaginal fluid. The godmother's vagina was unbearably itchy. Although Zizai's large penis had been waiting outside for a long time, it hesitated to penetrate. The godmother, unable to speak of it, couldn't help but twist her lower body, repeatedly pressing her vulva against her son's penis…

“Mommy's so wet down there…”

“Good baby… don't tease me anymore… hurry… hurry…”

“Hurry what? I want Mommy to say it herself.”

Zizai asked knowingly, his purpose being nothing more than to make his mother feel even more ashamed and lewd.

“Hurry… hurry and put it into Mommy's body… Mommy needs you… needs your baby…”

Zizai got into position, his hips sinking down, a lustful penis plunging all the way in. To hide the shame of her orgasm, even though her body was already at its peak of excitement, the godmother could only bite the blanket tightly, afraid to make a sound, but sweat already covered her face…

“Mmm… mmm… mmm… mmm…”

Zizai continued to thrust his penis in and out, the godmother biting the blanket and letting out muffled moans.

For the first time, Zizai tasted the forbidden fruit. Facing his beloved mother, a great woman, he forgot what it meant to be gentle and considerate. He didn't care whether his mother's body could handle it; he just kept thrusting, thrusting, and thrusting... simply because the feeling of intercourse was too wonderful.

"Zizai...Zizai..."

His godmother's endless murmurs aroused the wild beast deep within Zizai's heart. Although the air conditioning was on in the room, the mother and son were still covered in sweat, their vaginal fluids soaking the sheets, and Zizai's penis filled his mother's vagina...

"Fifteen...twenty...twenty-five..."

Zizai silently counted the number of times he thrust into his mother. Although Zizai had only masturbation experience in the past, he still hoped to leave his mother with a beautiful first memory.

"Mom...I can't take it anymore..."

"Don't...don't ejaculate...inside..."

Thick semen spurted out. Just as he was about to ejaculate, Zizai pulled out his penis and shot the hot semen onto his mother's belly.

After a wild, unrestrained thrusting session, my godmother had already fainted from pleasure, sweat and tears streaming down her face. From now on, she and Zizai could no longer be just mother and son.

"So, you and your son Zizai must love each other very much, but you told me that you moved here to hide from him. The more I hear, the more confused I get."

I asked this question a few days later, but my godmother didn't want to say more. She blamed herself for drinking too much that day, which led her to tell me this unspeakable thing. But since the words were already out, she hoped I wouldn't ask any more questions. For some reason, my godmother's story reminded me of my own mother.

"By the way, I wonder if the birthday present I gave you that day fits me?"

Unexpectedly, my godmother turned her back, stuck out her buttocks, and slowly pulled up her skirt...

Sure enough, the sexy little panties were on my godmother, and I was so moved by the sight.

"When it's your birthday, your godmother will give you a special gift."

"Really? You're not kidding me? It's not going to be godmother's underwear, is it?"

"You're only half right. If you want my underwear, you can always come to my room and get it. Why do you need me to bring it to you?"

"I'm so looking forward to it. Did you buy some new underwear abroad?"

"You'll find out when the time comes."

My godmother checked her watch and asked if I had anything else planned for the afternoon. If not, she wanted me to go shopping with her in the East District. Shopping with my godmother has been the happiest thing for me lately, because every time we go shopping, my godmother always asks me to go with her to buy some underwear, and this is the only time I can openly walk into a women's underwear store.

My godmother took me to a shop specializing in French women's lingerie. The shop owner and my godmother were old acquaintances, so she warmly welcomed us inside and showed my godmother the latest and sexiest lingerie styles. Standing to the side, watching my godmother and the owner admiring the sexy lingerie and chatting, made me feel extremely uncomfortable.

"Oh, right, I forgot to introduce you, this is my son."

"Oh...you must be Zizai. Your mother often mentions you to me. She calls me Ah Feng, so you can call me Aunt Feng."

My godmother winked at me, signaling me not to expose her secret. I immediately understood her meaning and instantly became "Zizai's incarnation," which made me feel more comfortable in public. My godmother

stayed in the shop for a while, picking out two sets of purple lingerie with silk lace and rose patterns—a sexy and alluring style, exactly my godmother's favorite. Before leaving, my godmother went back into the store and came out with another bag.

"Godmother is a real lingerie fanatic, just as much as I am."

She picked up the small bag and deliberately waved it in front of me: "This is a birthday present!"

My godmother really was going to give me these alluring lingerie, but why did she say I only guessed half right when I asked her this morning? What was the other half? Could it be... could it be... could it be that my godmother was going to open the lingerie herself before giving it to me with "Mom's scent"? If that's the case, I'll use it to masturbate for the rest of my life!

Actually, I often sneak into my godmother's bathroom to take her dirty underwear to masturbate. The underwear, stained with pale yellow secretions, exudes a captivating scent of female hormones, mixed with the smells of sweat, perfume, and feces and urine, creating the most beautiful aroma in the world. Several times, I've been scolded by my godmother for ejaculating on her underwear while masturbating, but she doesn't seem to care.

Once, as I was reveling in the intense pleasure of my penis rubbing against the soft fabric of her underwear, my godmother suddenly burst into the bathroom. Caught red-handed, I quickly apologized.

"You boys just love playing these childish games!"

At the time, I didn't know that my godmother's son, Zizai, also had a habit of masturbating with her underwear. My godmother only punished me by making me wash her underwear, without saying much more. She didn't even forbid me from using her underwear to masturbate again, only telling me to remember to wash all her underwear afterward. I really didn't know if this was punishment or reward. After hearing my godmother's story, I began to understand why she was like this, and how her "underwear complex" came about.

"Besides my underwear, whose underwear do you use to masturbate?"

My godmother suddenly asked me this embarrassing question while I was washing her underwear.

"I used to steal some female students' underwear... I've used most of them..."

"Where are your mother's underwear?"

"My mother? Don't joke around. My mother's underwear is old and conservative. Some of them are even worn out with holes. Why would I be interested..."

My godmother gave a strange smile, as if she could see through my thoughts.

"Since you're not interested in your mother's underwear, how do you know there are holes in it? Just tell me the truth!"

"...It happened a few times...but that was before I met my godmother. Ever since I got my godmother's...I haven't used my mother's underwear for masturbation."

"Since you have so many collections, all of them trendy and sexy underwear for young girls, why would you think of using your mother's old and outdated underwear?"

"Well...how should I put it...sometimes when I go into the bathroom to shower, I happen to see my mother's underwear that she's just taken off. Although it's inconspicuous, but...the thought that it's underwear that was just taken off my mother's crotch, with...my mother's pubic hair still on it, holding it in my hand, even feeling my mother's body temperature, makes my lower body involuntarily aroused...I find it strange myself."

After listening, my godmother didn't scold me. Instead, she gave me a hug, as if to say, "Darling, I understand how you feel," and then silently walked out of the bathroom.

Looking back now, it's surprising that my godmother's own son masturbates with her underwear. It was only when she repeatedly asked me about my feelings for my mother that I slowly realized I had also been attracted to my mother's underwear before she came along. Under her persistent questioning, I even reflected on my peculiar feelings towards her underwear, because by women's standards, it wasn't particularly attractive. Perhaps my feelings for her underwear stemmed from my emotional attachment to her.

"Talk about your mother! It's not fair to only talk about me and my son; you need to be honest with your godmother."

"My mom… there's nothing to talk about. She's neither as beautiful as you, godmother, nor does she have your modern ideas. The kind of relationship you and your son have is unlikely to happen between me and my mother."

"Really? I often talk to your mother about you. From a woman's perspective, I think you and your mother just lack some stimulation."

"I've already said there's nothing between me and my mother, let alone her feelings towards me."

“Your mother and you are practically cut from the same cloth, both of you like to suppress your feelings. From your conversation, I can sense your strong Oedipus complex. Don’t deny it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be clinging to me all day. You’re just using me as a substitute for your mother to lessen your guilt.”

I remained silent, pondering every word my godmother said. My godmother truly lived up to her reputation; her analysis of my thoughts was spot on. I do have an Oedipus complex. Older women make me feel safe, and older, more feminine women are very arousing to my sexual desire. So, although my mother always gave me an impression of being simple and unapproachable, she was still the woman who most aroused my desire. I never understood this before because I always treated my mother as just “mother” and ignored the fact that she was also a mature woman.

"Even if I agree with your analysis of this part of me, you said my mother, like me, is a person who represses her emotions. How did you know that?"

"A woman's intuition is very accurate. The other day I went to your house to find you, but you were out. Your mother warmly invited me in to chat. During our conversation, I mentioned that I could sense your mother's expectations for you and... a special... feeling..."

"Feeling? Is it the kind you have with Zizai?"

"Perhaps. Willing to sacrifice everything for her son is a feeling every mother has, and your mother is no exception. When your mother talked about your deceased father, she only mentioned it lightly, but when she talked about raising you, she became emotional and shed tears."

"This is perhaps a phenomenon common to single mothers."

"This is different. She was willing to remain a widow for ten years because she always made you the center of her life. But one day, you and your sister will have your own families and leave your mother. At that time, you..."

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