Mother-son love

Mother
-son love

I was able to marry my mother thanks entirely to God's wonderful arrangement. Of course, I also have to thank my great father. Our family
consists of my father, mother, and me.

My father, Yang Dacheng, is the man I admire most in my life; he is my role model. I love him, and I respect him deeply. In my eyes, he truly
is a towering mountain.

When he was fifteen, he responded to the Party's call to "go to the countryside" and went to the remote "Great Northern Wilderness". There he worked and studied at the same time.
So, ten years later, he returned to Shanghai and was admitted to Shanghai Jiaotong University in the first year after the college entrance examination was reinstated.

He married my mother when he was thirty; she was eighteen. Soon after, I was born. Then he quit his job and went to Shenzhen alone, where he carved out
a successful business for himself, establishing his own company. It's said his assets are now over 100 million yuan.

My mother, Xia Shanshan, was an outstanding actress with the Shanghai Yue Opera Troupe, and even won the "Little Hundred Flowers" Award. She was the troupe's undisputed queen, meaning
"the most beautiful among all the flowers." I don't know how else to describe her beauty, so I'll quote a famous poet, Ru Feng's, comment on my mother's beauty:—

Xia Shanshan's beauty doesn't just bring you sensory pleasure; it evokes a deep emotion within you—a
feeling that's hard to define, a mix of joy and melancholy; her beauty is so poignant it breaks your heart, yet so poignant it leaves you feeling lost; it's as if you've discovered sunspots in the sun, only to find
the sun already scorching you until you're dizzy—

From the time I was old enough to understand, my heroic father and star-like mother made me the envy of my classmates, who all thought I, Yang Xuecong, was the happiest
person in the world. However, I didn't feel happy at all. My father was busy with his business and often away from home, while my mother was constantly busy with performances. I was the only one who learned to take care of myself
. I learned to cook at five, bought groceries and cooked by myself at seven, and by ten I could do all the housework.

In this way, I suffered some hardships, but they also tempered me and accelerated my maturity. I understand my parents and take them as role models in everything I do, so I studied hard and consistently
ranked first in my class. However, my health is not very good. When I was thirteen, I contracted pneumonia, which was never fully cured, so a cough has always
been a constant companion.

As I grew older, I gradually developed an interest in my mother. I remember starting to collect photos and magazines of her when I was ten years old, and
I was very excited looking at the different expressions on her face in the pictures.

When I was twelve, I started paying attention to my mother's clothes and would wash them for her. At first, she wouldn't let me, but later, whether it was because she was too busy with work or
because she was becoming more and more dependent on me at home, she stopped saying anything. Sometimes I could even wash her underwear, and I would be overjoyed. Around
the age of fifteen, one day I accidentally found a curly, shiny black pubic hair on her bed, and I was ecstatic.

From then on, every day I would search her room for her long hair and pubic hair that had fallen off her body. These treasures led me to masturbate, and of course, the objects of my masturbation
were all my mother. It was also from that time that I started keeping a diary, in which I freely expressed my love for my mother and indulged in my sexual fantasies about her.

But I wasn't satisfied with that. I wanted to go further. To win her favor, I couldn't help but fawn over my mother, treating her like a princess
. Sometimes, when she was in a good mood, I would massage her back, wash her hair, or comb it. Sometimes I would joke with her and make funny faces to scare her
. Sometimes she would invite me to go shopping with her, or even to see a movie or have a Western meal.

Gradually, my conversations with my mother became richer and more engaging, and we found ourselves getting along better and better. Later, I noticed that our conversations became more and more relaxed, and we
would even exchange harmless jokes like friends, making each other very happy.

Later, I was admitted to my father's alma mater, National Chiao Tung University. I spent less time with my mother, but I loved her and cherished her even more.

I know that she has gradually lost her former glory, has fewer and fewer opportunities to perform on stage, and has suffered more and more grievances. She feels a deep sense of loss. My father
's business, on the other hand, is growing bigger and bigger, and he can no longer guarantee that he will come home once a month, which he used to do regularly. And her son, who had been with her day and night for nearly twenty years, has also left her. How
could she not be sad and lonely?

Thinking about all this fills me with heartache, and a wave of tenderness washes over me. How I wish I could hold this poor woman in my arms forever, with my arms...

I will give her frail body a strong support, and dedicate my whole life to loving and cherishing this beautiful woman.

So, I would call home whenever I had free time, sometimes talking for over an hour. Every weekend, I would rush home and
do all the housework; I didn't want to leave her with anything to do. Sometimes I would also bring her small gifts like hair clips or stockings.

The distance between us was gradually closing, and her attitude towards me changed imperceptibly. She slowly opened up in my presence, no longer deliberately trying
to project the reserve and composure of a mother. I could vaguely sense a woman's attachment to a man.

I quietly observed her changes, yet constantly sought opportunities, fantasizing about a new breakthrough. Finally, one day, our relationship unknowingly
broke through and transcended. This was something I never dreamed of.

Whenever I do housework, my mother is always beside me, either chatting with me or just quietly watching me. I've noticed that her tone of voice when she speaks to me
has become especially gentle, and her eyes are filled with tenderness when she looks at me.

One day, while I was tidying her bedroom, she was in a particularly good mood. So, I playfully teased her by suddenly coughing violently, pretending to be out of breath
. She was terrified, turned pale, ran to me, hugged me, and cried out, "Is it my old problem acting up again? It's all my fault—it's all my fault—I'm a
lazy woman, I'm a bad mother—" She was already sobbing uncontrollably and speaking incoherently.

Seeing her tearful, heartbroken face, I truly understood how beautiful "pear blossoms in the rain" could be, and
how wonderful the feeling of "cherishing beauty and pitying the flower" could be. I held her tightly in my arms, and she rested her head on my shoulder.

I gently stroked her hair, constantly comforting her. She slowly calmed down, raised her head, looked at me anxiously, and said softly, "Are you feeling better?" I
noticed that her eyes were slightly swollen, a few strands of her dark hair were stuck to her jade-like cheeks with tears, and her bright red lips seemed to be saying something—I dared not
look. For the first time in my life, I had admired her face so closely; she was too beautiful, breathtakingly beautiful.

I controlled my emotions and whispered in her ear, "Silly girl, I was just teasing you." I felt her body tremble, and she suddenly broke free from me,
crying again. She pounded her fists on my chest, sobbing, "You lied to me! You little rascal, you lied to me! You scared me half to death! You made me cry
for so long! All you do is bully me!"

I grabbed her little hand, and she snuggled into my arms again, crying and fussing. I knew Mom was being affectionate with me; her repeated use of "I love you" made my
bones feel weak and incredibly comforted. So I whispered in her ear, "Okay, okay, my lazy mommy, my naughty mommy, and my
spoiled mommy."

I gently stroked her face with my finger, then boldly laughed and said, "Shame on you, shame on you! What kind of mother acts so coquettishly in front of her son?" Her
face immediately turned bright red, but she wouldn't give up. Like a little girl, she pouted her rosy lips and stomped her feet, saying sweetly, "I want to act coquettishly, I
want to act coquettishly! What can you do about it?" Then she chuckled and hugged me sweetly, saying, "I'm like this because you spoil me! Besides, who says
a mother can't act coquettishly in front of her son?"

With such a beautiful woman in my arms, how could I not be tempted? I felt my whole body heat up, my heart race, and my penis was rock hard, ready to burst forth. My mother clearly
sensed my physical change; she tried to pull away, but I held her even tighter. She didn't struggle anymore, but quietly said, "You like Mommy very much,
Mommy has known that for a long time. Actually, Mommy likes you very much too. However, Mommy loves your father very much, and Mommy doesn't want to do anything to betray him. So we
can't go too far; we need to have some boundaries. Do you understand?"

I understand, of course I understand. Her words had three layers of meaning: First, Mom already loves me very much, the kind of love a woman has for a man. Second, she doesn't want to
betray Dad. Third, she didn't mention the word "incest," indicating she doesn't really care about the taboo of incest; she just doesn't want to hurt Dad. There's
one more thing I'm not sure about: is it possible for us to love each other without sex?

Having understood all this, I admired the woman in my arms even more. Her mind was so open, and her behavior was so eccentric. She was so special.

Thinking of my father, all my desire vanished instantly. I know that although my parents have been separated for a long time and only reunite a handful of times each year, they love each other dearly.

My father's love for me was meticulous, so when my mother mentioned him, I felt incredibly ashamed. I had no reason to take away what my father loved.
But I also didn't want to let go of this woman who had consumed almost all my emotions. My heart was filled with conflict—we just held each other tightly for a long, long time. My mother
chuckled, breaking the silence. She said, "We're like a couple—" "A couple? A couple of what?" I asked quickly. She said playfully,
"You know, we understand each other without saying a word."

She looked at me slyly, then slowly said, "I'm so happy today, how about you?" I smiled knowingly. She looked up, and I saw
a captivating allure on her face, her eyes radiating tenderness. My heart was swooning. We no longer avoided each other's eyes, and our gazes finally met. Our faces
slowly drew closer, and Mom gently closed her eyes.

I hurriedly showered her face with kisses, making her scream. She struggled free and said, "It's not like that, come on—I'll teach you." With that
, she pulled me to the living room, had me sit on the sofa, and then, sitting on my lap, she parted her lips and slowly pressed her face against mine. She
gently kissed my earlobe, eyes, and nose, and I felt like I was flying—finally, her lips met mine. She sucked on my upper and
lower lip, then slipped her tongue into my mouth, slowly swirling it around.

As the passionate kiss continued, I found myself lying on the sofa, my mother pressed against me. I cautiously opened my eyes and saw that
her hair was completely disheveled, her eyes tightly closed, her delicate eyelashes curled into a line, and she was lost in the midst of our passionate kiss—I had never seen my mother so wanton before.
Inexperienced as I was, how could I withstand such intense stimulation? Suddenly, I felt a jolt in my lower back, and a gush of hot semen spurted out. My mother quickly got up
, looked at my embarrassing state, and couldn't help but giggle, a triumphant expression on her face. I felt so humiliated—

Soon after, my mother retired early from the Yue Opera troupe because a completely new lifestyle awaited her. The day after she retired, she went to my school,
and from then on, I became a "celebrity" in the whole school.

I saw her at the cafeteria entrance that noon. She was dressed exceptionally youthfully and brightly, looking every bit the vibrant young woman. She had
dyed her hair a brownish-yellow and styled it into two small bell-shaped strands, but her makeup was very light. She wore a white cotton tank top, blue denim shorts,
and white sneakers. She wore no jewelry, just casually pinned her sunglasses between her high breasts. Her outfit seemed effortless,
but I knew it was carefully chosen and thoughtfully executed.

She clearly displayed all the best features of her body perfectly: shapely arms and long legs, a high bust and a slender waist,
fair and healthy skin, and a delicate and exquisite figure, coupled with her impeccable appearance—looking at this forty-year-old woman before me, I
couldn't help but sigh. Forty years old for most people means wrinkles, freckles, sagging breasts, weight gain, and the gradual onset of aging. But
none of this belonged to my mother.

Heaven has been so kind to her, it seems unwilling to etch the marks of "age" onto her. I approached her and said softly, "My dear mother, my sweet
mother, what are you doing here?" She pouted and said sweetly, "I missed you."

Ever since that day, she'd been speaking to me in that same tone. It was peak time in the cafeteria, and we, especially her, suddenly became the center
of attention. I felt a little uneasy, but she didn't seem to care at all. She continued, "It's the weekend, I've come to pick you up." She looked around, then stood
on tiptoe and whispered in my ear, "Don't call me 'Mom' here."

I looked at her attire and understood her situation, so I took the opportunity to blackmail her: "Fine, I'll call you Sister Shan, and you have to call me Brother Cong, otherwise—"
I pretended to shout "Mom!" and she panicked, as if she was going to do something drastic, and said loudly, "Brother Cong, let's go eat!" Then she grabbed
my hand and ran into the cafeteria.

In the days that followed, we were like a couple deeply in love, immersed in an ocean of affection. My mother seemed reborn; she forgot her age and...

In many ways, she was like a young girl experiencing love for the first time. She often exclaimed, "The taste of love is so wonderful." Of course, we also had our share of
helplessness and awkwardness. "Brake" was the word we had to say when our passion reached its peak. She was usually the one to say "brake" at first, but later it was often me who said it
. Every time I forcefully pulled the brakes, I would find her looking aggrieved and unwilling.

Before I knew it, I graduated and spent more time at home. Facing my amorous mother every day, my defenses crumbled. My mother was completely captivated
; she not only seduced me with her beautiful body but also became increasingly brazen and audacious in her words. She called me "husband, husband" incessantly, her body
seemingly ablaze with desire. Those days, I was exhausted from dealing with my mother's relentless nagging, exhausted from the ever-present burning desire within me, exhausted from
the battle between lust and conscience. I felt so tired, and my mood was terrible.

On my twenty-third birthday, I received a call from my dad early in the morning wishing me a happy birthday. Then, a gift arrived by courier—a
laptop. I was overjoyed and immediately started fiddling with my new computer. After what seemed like an eternity, a warm, fragrant body suddenly sat in my lap, her arms wrapped
around my neck, and she began to kiss me. Since my computer chair couldn't support two people, I picked her up and placed her on my bed.

Only then did I realize that Mom's outfit today was unusually alluring. She wore heavy makeup, and what was even more shocking was that she was only wearing a thin, gossamer-thin nightgown, and
I could clearly see that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. I stared at her, stunned, my whole body already burning with desire, and my little brother was throbbing with excitement. She looked
at me with seductive eyes, and then said sweetly, "Darling, happy birthday. Today, Mom gives you her whole heart and her whole being. I know you've always wanted
it, so consider today your birthday present." With that, she slowly closed her eyes.

My heart surged with emotion, and I pounced on her, showering her with kisses—just then, "Happy Birthday" suddenly blared out. I realized it was
the birthday card Dad had tucked into the computer case; I'd carelessly tossed it onto the bed, and my mother and I'd made it ring out in our frenzy. "No!" I snapped back to reality, scrambling to my feet and rushing
out the door, hearing my mother's angry shouts beside me: "You're a coward! You're a hypocrite!"

My mind was blank; I wandered aimlessly through the streets like a lost soul, not knowing how long I'd walked. It was already dark, and the streets were becoming increasingly deserted.
Suddenly, a cold droplet landed on my nose, and then I saw a torrential downpour begin. The cold raindrops pattered against my skin, and I felt incredibly comfortable
; my mind gradually cleared. I let the rain soak me, but my mind began to replay what had just happened. I knew I had successfully prevented
incest from happening; I no longer felt that pang of conscience towards my father. But I couldn't feel happy at all. I knew that the
most precious thing in my life was about to be lost, that two-year-long, deeply etched "mother-son love" was about to end. I didn't know how to face the
woman I loved so deeply.

At that moment, her stunning beauty, her every smile and frown, her shyness, her playfulness, her tenderness—everything about her flashed into my mind.
Could I break up with her? Could I live without her? How would I get through the days without her? I asked myself these questions over and over again, tears streaming down my face. The rain
mingled with my tears, sending chills down my spine.

"You're a coward, you're a hypocrite—" These words seemed to echo in my mind again. I suddenly realized that my once pure and innocent mother had been
led to this state step by step by me. "Today I give you my whole heart and my whole being, I know you've always wanted it—" She said this
to the one she loved, these were her heartfelt words, how much courage it took! Thinking of this, I suddenly shuddered, my heart aching, followed by
a violent cough. Only then did I truly see myself clearly: I was the most despicable, shameless, selfish, hypocritical, and cowardly man in the world. I
ran home desperately, I wanted to beg her forgiveness, I wanted to win back this love.

When I ran home, I felt dizzy. I knelt down in front of her: "Shanshan, you must forgive me. I will treat you well from now on. I—
" Before I could finish my sentence, suddenly, I felt a sweet taste in my throat, and a mouthful of blood gushed out. I heard my mother scream, and then I knew nothing more.

When I woke up, I found myself in the hospital, on an IV drip and receiving oxygen. I knew my old ailment—pneumonia—had flared up again. I felt completely
weak, as if I had collapsed.

"Dad!" I exclaimed, realizing my father was dozing on my bed. He immediately sat up, staring at me excitedly
. "Son, you're awake! You're finally awake!" he cried, running towards the door. "Doctor! Doctor, come quick! My son's awake
!"

I had never seen my father so agitated; his concern and anxiety were palpable. After examining me, the doctor told my father that I was out of danger
and that I could be discharged after a few days of observation.

After the doctor left, Dad sat down by my bedside. He placed his warm hand on my forehead and asked, "Are you feeling better?" I looked at Dad and noticed he
had more gray hair, and a hint of weariness in his eyes. His expression couldn't hide his anxiety and unease. Had something happened?
A sense of foreboding crept into my heart.

"Where's Mom?" Mom wasn't beside me. "Did something happen to her?" I asked anxiously. Dad said, "No,
she's been exhausted these past few days. She just went home to rest today. She's never been this tired in all her years."

Then Dad chuckled and said to me jokingly, "Why are you only concerned about Mom? Do you know your old man hasn't slept a wink for three days
?" I blushed deeply and quickly said, "Dad, you'll always be a hero in my heart. What storms haven't you weathered? And Mom—
" Before I could finish, Dad burst out laughing and said, "Is Mom just a little girl who'll never grow up in your eyes?"

I was stunned. The words my father said were ones I often wrote in my diary. Could it be— Before I could even think about it, my father continued, "Sigh, it's all my
fault. I've only been busy with work and haven't even tried to find a way to cure your pneumonia, leaving you unconscious for three whole days—it's my fault,
I'm so sorry. I thought—" As he spoke, my father choked up, tears welling in his eyes.

Is this Dad? Is this the same tough, unyielding man? I suddenly realized that my illness must be serious, otherwise why would my dad, who never sheds a tear, be like this? So
I cautiously asked, "Dad, is my illness very serious?" Dad quickly replied, "No, no, don't think too much—" I already
understood, but I didn't ask him any more questions.

The next day, my mother came to my hospital room early in the morning. She cried and laughed at the same time. After learning about my situation, she finally calmed down and told my father to go home and rest, while
she stayed to keep me company.

After my father left, I immediately started talking to my mother, trying to get information about my illness from her.

"Shanshan, please forgive me? I was really conflicted at the time—then a heavy rain made me realize that I can't live without you because I
love you so much. I really don't know how I would live without you—" I burst into tears, my true feelings showing.

My mother panicked and rushed to my bedside, saying, "I forgave you a long time ago. That day, even when you were unconscious, you kept calling out someone's name, making
everyone in the hospital think we were a couple—" She blushed as she spoke, then added timidly, "Two nurses were so envious of me, telling me that
there are so few good men like you these days, so devoted and loyal."

Seeing her incredibly shy expression, my heart melted. So I teased her again, "You must have done something unusual for people to think we're a
couple, right?" She immediately jumped up, covered her face with her hands, turned around, and said sweetly, "I'm ignoring you! I just called you 'Brother An' a few times,
and told you not to scare me!" Seeing her like this, I couldn't help but laugh. So I said, "Didn't you call me 'good husband'?" She turned around again, raised her little fist
to hit me, but seeing the needle in my hair, she pounced on me, "I'll bite you, see if you dare bully me again!" Saying this, she opened her little mouth and gently bit
my cheek. Then she began to kiss me. Her kiss was so gentle, so careful, and her expression so solemn, so earnest. It was as if she
wanted to kiss out all her love—

A hot tear fell onto my face. My mother was crying; she was crying so hard, so desperately. From her cries, I seemed to sense something.
Combined with my father's expression last night, I understood. I knew this illness was very, very serious. Was my life about to end? The thought made me pause...

I was filled with anxiety, but seeing my mother's tearful face, I couldn't bear to ask her anything more. I knew that she and my father had been suffering from my illness these past few days, and their
feelings were probably no better than mine. So I started to cheer her up, and finally made her laugh before I coaxed her to go home.

Lying alone in my private hospital room, I let my thoughts wander. I thought about so many things. I worried about my father; he's over fifty and still so busy.
I worried even more about my mother. Would she still be happy if she left me? I also had a little regret: my mother and I ultimately couldn't overcome that hurdle. But I was content
. Isn't leaving a little regret in my heart a kind of beauty? My heart gradually calmed down, and I fell asleep without realizing it.

When I woke up, I found that my dad had been there for quite some time. After dinner, I felt much better. I got out of bed by myself, moved around a little
, and then told my dad that we should just be discharged tomorrow. I was just saying it casually, but to my surprise, my dad readily agreed.

That day, Dad was very talkative, chatting with me about everything under the sun. He talked about his struggles, his grand goals, his company, and before I knew it,
he was talking about his family, about Mom. He told me many interesting stories about Mom, as if to tell me what a pure and lovely
woman she was.

I didn't know why my father was telling me all this. Then he continued, "She's not only incredibly naive, have you noticed? She looks like
a twenty-year-old girl, without a single sign of aging. She herself is a miracle; it's said that only one in tens of millions of people can be found who doesn't age—
"

Hearing my father's explanation, I suddenly understood. I remember being in great pain before graduation, trying to get rid of this "Oedipus complex." I read many psychology
books, all of which said that this kind of Oedipus complex would gradually fade and disappear with age. However, for me, this feeling
only grew stronger with age. At the time, I couldn't understand it at all, but now I fully understand: my mother is a woman who never ages; her age has stopped at twenty. So, as I grow older, my age gets closer and closer to hers. We spend so much time together, and we become more and more attracted to each other, and before we knew it, a spark of love
ignited between us .

I've read reports about "ageless women" and had close contact with her many times, experiencing her smooth and supple skin repeatedly, but I never
imagined my mother was one of those enviable, ageless women—

As Dad spoke, his expression gradually turned serious. He lit a cigarette and said quietly, "Today I'm divorcing your mother!" I was shocked: "Dad,
how could you do this? You—" My tone was full of resentment towards him. But Dad waved his hand, stopping me from continuing.

He said, word by word, "I have no other choice, because of you! Because you love her so much, to the point of obsession, so I'm giving her to you!" Hearing
this, I trembled all over, thinking, "How did Dad know? Did Mom let the secret slip?" I coughed loudly in my nervousness. Dad quickly supported
me, his tone softening, "Don't be like that, don't be like that. Dad was a little harsh just now, but I didn't mean to blame you. A few days ago, I saw
your diary next to your pillow, and after reading it, I've been feeling really stifled ever since."

Diaries? The moment Dad mentioned diaries, my mind raced. I had two secret diaries, one written before college,
filled with my unrequited love for Mom, and the other written after college, detailing our love story. I remember hiding the second diary in
a very secret place, one that no one else would ever find. That way, Dad would definitely see the first one. Thinking this made me feel
a little better, but I also clearly remembered that the first one was with Mom. I remembered that only after Mom "confiscated" my diary did she slowly
become gentler with me, slowly start treating me like a man—so how did this diary end up next to me? It must be Mom, but why would she
do that?

Dad continued, "It's not entirely your fault. There are many reasons. These past few days, I've been thinking, if I were in your shoes, a hot-blooded young man,
facing a stunningly beautiful woman every day, wouldn't I also have inappropriate thoughts? Even if she were my mother, what would happen? So I bear an undeniable responsibility.
I haven't cared for you enough, both emotionally and physically."

He paused, looked at me, and then said, "You're very smart. You must have guessed about 70-80% of your diagnosis, right?" I nodded and said, "How much longer do I have to
live?" Dad sighed and said, "Aren't you afraid?" I said firmly, "I am afraid! But I want to face it. I don't want to hide, because I am Yang Dacheng
's son!"

Dad laughed heartily: "Excellent, excellent! That's exactly how Yang Dacheng's son should be!" Then he said gravely, "You have lung cancer this time, and
it's in its late stage. Without a miracle, you have at most a year left. But I believe in you. You can definitely create a miracle. Mom and Dad will support you wholeheartedly because
I've never believed in fate; fate can be changed!" Dad, being the CEO of a large company, had me fired up with just a few words, filling me with enthusiasm and confidence.
So I said, "I definitely won't let Dad down. Dad, tell me any good ideas you have, and I'll definitely follow your advice!"

Dad paced back and forth in the hospital room, then said firmly, "I've asked many famous doctors, both domestic and foreign. They say
there are precedents of recovery from this disease. They also say that treating this disease requires not only good medicine, but also that the patient must maintain a cheerful mood.
I'll find the good medicine and the good doctors, but that cheerful mood depends on you and your mother creating it. So the first step is for me to marry you off to the woman you've secretly loved for so many years, your mother
, so you can live happily ever after—"

"No!" I interrupted my father, because this was too sudden for me; I wasn't prepared for this, and besides, it was too unfair to him, and
I couldn't bear to do it this way. Unexpectedly, my father angrily retorted, "Why are you like this with my very first arrangement?"

"I... I can't be so selfish. I can't build my happiness on your suffering. Besides, she and I are ultimately mother and son. Although I
love her very much, I've never thought about marrying her. How can my mother and I feel at ease with this arrangement? There's no way we can be happy."

Dad sighed again and said, "Why can't you understand my good intentions? Actually, your mother and I have already discussed it; she doesn't care that you're her
biological son! I can clearly see that her love for you far exceeds the typical motherly love for her son! Do you think that if you die, you'll be the one who suffers the most? No!
She'll be the one who suffers the most! If you die, she will definitely commit suicide for you! She told me this herself. My heart is truly aching. You are all the people I love most.
I don't want either of you to leave before me. You will never understand the sorrow of losing a child in old age—"

He had moved me to tears, and I cried, "Dad, please stop talking. I'll listen to you—"

Dad walked to the window, opened it, looked up at the sky, and remained silent for a long time. I knew that making this decision must have been incredibly painful for him; it
was perhaps the most difficult and helpless decision he had ever made. I also understood that he wasn't confident about my illness, and that another purpose of his actions
was to fulfill my last wish through his sacrifice.

Two days after I was discharged from the hospital, my father returned to Shenzhen. He still had many things to take care of.

After Dad left, only Mom and I were left at home. Since we both knew our mother-son relationship was about to end, replaced by a husband-wife
relationship, we quickly adjusted our mindsets and roles. Mom became more like a gentle wife, taking meticulous care of me.
Within a few days, I felt refreshed and my body seemed to have returned to its best condition.

That evening, we came back from our walk, and I was in an exceptionally good mood. I exclaimed, "Wow, walking with you, aren't we getting way too many stares?
Don't you feel awkward? Maybe we shouldn't wear matching outfits anymore."

Mom chuckled, "Yeah, we can't wear these matching outfits anymore. Didn't you see the way people were looking at us? They were clearly
saying, 'Wow, how come such a beautiful flower is stuck in—'" "Fine, you dare call me cow dung!" I said, chasing after her. She laughed
and quickly retreated into the bedroom. I grabbed her and started tickling her without any restraint. She giggled. I forced her to the edge of the bed, and we both fell onto it.

I pressed myself against her and kissed her passionately. My mother's body visibly warmed up; she wrapped her arms around my head and her tongue entered my mouth, our tongues intertwining
. My hands began to roam over her body. My left arm encircled her slender waist, while my right hand slipped inside her t-shirt, caressing her full, firm breasts. Then…

I ripped off her bra and pulled off her clothes, revealing two snow-white, round breasts. I gently suckled her nipples
; it was a familiar feeling, as if I had returned to infancy, experiencing an immense sense of satisfaction. My mother began to react to my actions
; she tilted her head back, placed her hands on my back, closed her eyes, and let out soft moans.

My hand had moved to her waist, and with her cooperation, I easily pulled off her skirt and panties together. My mother was now completely naked in front of me
. Perhaps instinctively, she quickly covered her genitals with her hands, and I could see the shy look on her face. I stopped, fully admiring
this body I had longed for. I thought, soon she would be completely mine. "I never imagined your body would be more alluring than your face!"
I said, and quickly stripped off my own clothes and pounced on her. I reached out to release her hand from her genitals; she hesitated for a moment before finally letting go.

I immediately saw my mother's thick, curly pubic hair scattered haphazardly across her private area, the contrast between her snow-white skin and the glossy black hair creating a striking effect.
I parted her legs, and with trembling hands, I pried open her pink labia, only to find them already overflowing with vaginal fluid. I could no longer resist; I aimed my glans
at the entrance of my mother's paradise and thrust it in forcefully. My penis immediately felt a tight, enveloping sensation, and my mother cried out, "Oh—!" My penis slowly
moved in and out of her body, each thrust bringing a tingling sensation from the soft, downy walls rubbing against my glans.

My mother's lips were slightly parted, her eyes half-open and half-closed, looking at me languidly and weakly. Her expression, a mixture of pain and itch, made me quicken my thrusts. A moment later, she
simply closed her eyes to avoid my burning gaze. But I grew more vigorous, placing her beautiful legs on my shoulders and thrusting harder, relentlessly pounding into her clitoris. My mother
felt a tingling sensation all over her body from the penetration; she gripped the sheets tightly, her soft, white buttocks twisting and swaying upwards to meet my thrusts. "Oh—oh—" My mother began to moan
and cry out, "An'an—you're so good—oh—I'm going crazy—"

I exerted even more effort, thrusting in and out more vigorously, rotating my hips so that my large glans repeatedly rubbed against the tender flesh of her clitoris inside her wetness, until Mom
was panting heavily, drenched in sweat, "Ah!—I can't take it anymore—Shanshan really can't take it anymore—Oh—Brother An—good husband—your big cock—
is crushing my clitoris—I'm going to die—"

I was incredibly pleased with myself. I hadn't expected to bring my mother to such a blissful state, so I pressed on with all my might, thrusting twenty or thirty more times. All
I heard was my mother moaning, "Oh—you've hit my G-spot again—An—you're killing your sweet mother—ah—I'm coming—ah!—I'm coming—"

With a loud scream, my mother trembled and collapsed. I knew she had submitted to me. This had
extraordinary significance for our future.

After her orgasm, Mom lay motionless on the bed, fully enjoying the lingering pleasure and ecstasy within her. I gazed at the beauty beside me
: her flushed face was streaked with disheveled hair, her naked body glistened with beads of sweat, and her alluring vulva was slowly flowing with lustful fluids—

I lovingly held her in my arms, gently stroking her face and hair. Then we lay down naked together, her head resting on my
arm like a docile little lamb, while one of her small hands intentionally or unintentionally played with my tiny nipple. We said nothing, simply savoring this sweetness and warmth.

Slowly, her hand began to move downwards, caressing my penis. Then she said, "It's so amazing, so big! I love you so much!" I laughed out loud
and said, "Do you love it more or me more?" "Both!" she said without hesitation. I laughed again and said, "Who was it that was making you go crazy just now
, saying one minute you were going crazy, the next you were saying you were going to die?"

She yelled like a child, "I want revenge!" With that, she flipped over and climbed on top of me, shoving my penis into her vagina. With a
forceful thrust, it was all the way in. I yelled back, "Rape!" She giggled and said, "Good! Watch this lady's prowess!" I pretended to look
distressed, but inside I was overjoyed. I thought to myself, I haven't even ejaculated yet!

My mother moved slowly on top of me, then bent down to kiss my cheeks, earlobes, and neck before lingering on my chest. She opened her mouth and used her soft...

Her tongue licked my nipple, and I instantly felt a tingling, electric-like sensation surge through my body. Combined with the rhythmic, unhurried twitching of her hips, I felt
as if I were floating on clouds. "Ah, so good, Shanshan, you're amazing—ah—"

I couldn't help but start moaning. Perhaps infected by my moaning, Mom gradually became excited as well. Her thrusts quickened noticeably, her head leaving my chest,
moving up and down wantonly like she was riding a horse. I saw her eyes were languid, her tongue licking her lips, her large breasts swaying with the rhythm of her movements, and
she was constantly uttering lewd moans. When had I ever seen Mom so wanton? I was overjoyed, so I straightened my back, raised my hips, and thrust upwards towards her
clitoris to match her movements. With each collision of my glans and her clitoris, she let out a soul-stirring moan. Before long, Mom
climaxed again, collapsing onto me, panting heavily, and constantly murmuring, "So good, I'm so impressed—Shanshan wants to marry you,
my little husband—"

This time, I didn't let her off easily. Instead, I rolled over with her, pinning her beneath me, and thrust into her again, driving her to the brink of death until she cried out,
"Good husband—good An'an—let your sister go—your sister is dying—oh, it feels so good—don't stop—strange, I'm coming again—oh—"
At this point, I was extremely excited. I concentrated all my strength on one point and thrust a dozen more times. "Ah!" We both reached our climax at the same time.

That night, I couldn't believe my own strength; I had overpowered my mother, making her lose consciousness three times. From that night on, my mother seemed to transform completely;
she was utterly conquered by me. She became more gentle and virtuous. She would proactively do housework, and she would cook my favorite dishes every day in different ways. She
would dress up beautifully every day, and in her spare time, she would snuggle up beside me and sing me songs or perform a few excerpts from Yue Opera. Sometimes I would ask her to massage
my back, scratch my itches, or give me a massage. Everything seemed to have turned around; you know, I used to often try to please her like that. Of course, sometimes she would also
act coquettishly and throw a little tantrum to win my affection. She always urged me to marry her as soon as possible, but because I was worried that my illness would be a burden to her, I hesitated to agree
, which saddened her several times.

One day, my mother timidly told me she was pregnant. I was shocked. I scolded her, blaming her for not using contraception and telling her to abort
the child. She threw herself on me and cried, saying, "How can you be so heartless? This is the fruit of our love, the bloodline of the Yang family! Besides,
your father has already prepared new identification and files for me. Why won't you go and get a proper marriage certificate with me? Do you think you
won't love me anymore just because you have him? Do you still want—"

"No! I love you very much, you know that, it's just—" So I laid out all my worries and concerns. I was
even more worried about the child in her womb. First, my life was uncertain, and second, it was the product of incest. I was afraid— After hearing me say this, my mother calmed down.

She thought for a moment and said, "I've always believed you could get through this! Besides, I can't hold anyone else in my heart but you, including your father. I
will never go back to him. If you really leave me, do you think I could live? As for the child, I want to wait a few more months. Then we can naturally
find out if he's healthy or not. I owe your father so much. I want to give birth to the child, so that the Yang family line can be preserved. My husband, you'll have an heir, won't you? So
, for me, for the child, and for your father, you must be strong and live on!" After hearing her heartfelt words, what else could I say?

The next day, we went to get our marriage certificate and also picked up our birth permit.

Next, we did some simple decorations on the house and pasted up many "double happiness" characters inside. My wife and I were incredibly busy, but we were filled with joy
.

Soon after, Dad returned and asked us to go to Japan, saying he had already contacted doctors and hospitals there. Of course, the three of us felt
awkward when we met that day, especially when Dad discovered my wife was pregnant; his expression was quite complicated. But he quickly congratulated us and told us to take
care of each other while we were abroad.

After nearly six months of treatment, I miraculously recovered! Soon after, my wife Shanshan gave birth to a boy, and the child is perfectly normal.

We left Shanghai and settled in Zhuhai. Since then, the three of us have lived a warm and sweet life.

【over】

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