The real whole process of having sex with my mother

This post was last edited by cuiyun on 2009-5-12 15:30.

September 9th is the Double Ninth Festival, and my mother and I went back to pay our respects. My hometown is surrounded by mountains, with a mountain stream in front of the house.

The scenery is beautiful and the air is fresh. Not many families celebrate the Double Ninth Festival as Qingming Festival; my hometown does. I haven't been back to my hometown for many years. After graduating, I was unemployed at home, so on September 9th, I went back with my mother to pay our respects, hoping to relax and adjust my mindset before trying to find a job again.

My mother and I took an overnight bus and arrived in my hometown at 9 am. My ancestral home, due to years of disrepair and its long history, collapsed in a storm. Now we can only stay at my uncle's house, which is located halfway up a mountain. The house is small, and naturally, there aren't many beds. That night, I had to share a bed with my mother. The weather on the mountain was strange; it was quite warm until 11 pm, very cold after midnight, and quite chilly until 11 am. There was a high mountain in front of our place, so the sun didn't rise until after 11 am, making the mornings generally very cold.

My mother and I arrived in our hometown early, so we hadn't started the ancestral worship ceremony yet. That time, the whole family worshipped, and it was a large-scale event. My family only needed to contribute money; we didn't need much help, like repairing the ancestral temple. My mother and I have a very good relationship, although we sometimes have a generation gap and speak freely. That day, my mother and I took a bus to the city; we just wanted to see what local specialties we could buy. My mother is a very cheerful woman, 41 years old, with a fair complexion and a face shape somewhat like Zhao Yazhi's. She was neatly dressed and liked to take care of her skin and groom herself, looking somewhat like a wealthy lady. She was about 160cm tall. My mother and I went to an amusement park outside the city for a while, and then went shopping, buying some local specialties. We ate lunch outside the city and went back to my uncle's place around 3 pm.

Tonight we ate some local specialties; the taste was okay, but much bland. My mother and I were a bit tired from playing, so we showered around 8 pm and went back to our room. I watched TV while my mother chatted with relatives outside. Around 10 pm, my mother showered and came back to her room. Her hair was still a little wet, and she was wearing a cute old nightgown. She started arranging the things we bought that day. I told her we could do it tomorrow and watch some entertainment. She agreed to watch what she liked, and sat next to me, chatting about TV celebrities.

I don't like watching TV (I prefer the computer), and as we chatted, my eyelids started to get tired, so I leaned on my mother's shoulder, holding her left hand with both hands, and closed my eyes to rest. My mother saw me and told me to go to sleep, but I don't like going to bed early, so I said I'd just wait a bit and rest. We just stayed like that, leaning on each other and chatting. My mother's body was neither too fat nor too thin, with a moderate amount of body fat, making her very comfortable to lean against; at least I couldn't feel any hardness. I told her, "Mom, it feels so comfortable leaning against you, so soft, and there's a faint scent of soap." My mother replied, "If it's comfortable, lie down a little longer. Are you not used to this wooden bed?"

I nodded, and she continued, "We were poor before, and your father and I slept on this kind of bed. Thinking back, I was working to earn money while your father continued his studies. Now he's an engineering designer; it really wasn't easy..." I nodded again, and she continued talking. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep.

When I woke up, my mother was holding me to her chest, preparing to lift me up. I was woken up, my eyes still blurry, probably from playing too much that day. I lazily wrapped my arms around the base of my mother's head, vaguely feeling the elasticity of her breasts, which felt incredibly comfortable. My mother tried to lift me up, but she was getting tired. Seeing me still half-awake, she shook me awake. I wanted her to lift me up, but it was no use. Once I was awake, I jumped straight into bed and went back to sleep. Clutching the blanket, my mother turned off the light and got into bed. She slept next to me. The wooden bed was small, just enough for the two of us. Soon after she lay down, I turned to my side and wrapped my arms around her right arm, my head close to hers, my body resting against her lower left side—just touching, nothing more. My mother let me be. We slept like that until, I don't know what time it was, but it was very cold outside. I'm sensitive to the cold, so I woke up, but my mind was still hazy. My body seemed to instinctively move towards warmth. My hands were gripping the top of my mother's right arm, my legs wrapped around the inside of her thighs, and my head pressed against the side of her neck. It was so cold! I curled up. Even under the blanket, I still felt shivering. My mother's left hand was around my back, encouraging me to sleep closer for warmth.

But gradually I became more awake, though too lazy to move, so I remained curled up beside her. Half an hour passed, and my mother seemed to have fallen asleep. Her warm breath touched my face, making me

feel very comfortable. I felt increasingly attached to her. At this moment, I became more awake, and I would touch her hands and feet with my right hand and foot to warm them, which felt very soothing. My mother seemed to be a heavy sleeper. As I touched her, I moved my hand up her right arm, touching her face. I felt her loveliness, and my heart was instantly filled with emotion (the kind of love between mother and child—she is such a good mother). After touching her for a while, unintentionally, my hand moved downwards, and accidentally touched her breast. Her breasts were medium to large, soft, and not very elastic. Suddenly, my attention shifted to her nipples.

But I didn't dare to reach out and touch them. My head was around her neck, so I deliberately moved my head down, slowly bringing my cheek to the front of her breasts, just touching a little bit of soft, swollen flesh. I thoroughly enjoyed the comfortable and tender texture. My body felt a little hot and I was nervous, but I still rubbed against her very, very gently. One minute later, my mother was still asleep. I cautiously moved my right hand upwards, my palm touching the top of her right breast. My palm was very hot, almost sweaty. I slowly pressed down with my right middle finger, gently stroking her right breast. The sensation was incredibly stimulating, but I was afraid of waking her. My right middle finger pressed against the flesh next to her breast—it felt amazing. As I pressed, I began to gently press on her nipple. Her nipple was very soft and tender, with a slightly tingling sensation. After a few presses, I began to gently press down with my palm, from below her breast, my fingers pressing on the nipple. I paused for a moment, a chill running through me, my mouth watering slightly. Then I gently grasped my mother's right breast (my hand was below her breast at that time), gently pressing from below, squeezing from both sides with my pinky and thumb, and lightly rubbing around the nipple with my middle three fingers. It was very soft, comfortable, and stimulating.

At this moment, I kept a close eye on my mother, afraid she might suddenly wake up. My right hand continued to caress her breasts, very gently pressing and rubbing her nipples, lightly pinching them between two fingers and rubbing them in a circular motion. My lower body was burning hot, and I pressed my abdomen against my mother's thigh. She was wearing pajamas, and my penis was pressed against the side of her leg. I could feel a strong, tingling sensation from her thigh, and my penis was very hard. I wanted to rub against her, to stimulate her, but I was afraid of waking her up, so my penis could only rest against her side leg. Because my right hand was touching my mother's breast, and she didn't seem to be awake, I boldly slipped my hand under her pajamas, moving my right hand slowly. It felt like a long way before I finally touched her breast. Instantly, I felt a thunderous shock, my heart and head burning. My entire hand was on her breast, frozen in place. After a short while, my hand felt like a worm crawling on it, incredibly warm. My right hand, absorbing her body heat, felt exceptionally comfortable. My hand started by touching, then gradually moved to my mother's entire breast. My thumb and the finger between my thumbs gently circled her nipple, swirling it lightly. At first, the swirling was very gentle, but as the stimulation increased, I became bolder, gripping and pinching the nipple slightly harder. After a while, her nipple hardened, and her entire breast seemed to come alive, softening and swelling. At that point, I didn't care anymore; I gently pinched her entire breast with my right hand, pressing my palm against that living breast, feeling as if it had grown larger than before. I began rubbing her entire breast with my palm, from bottom to top, with a relatively light touch. When my palm touched her nipple, a continuous electric sensation traveled from my palm to my heart, like being electrocuted. My palm seemed to float in mid-air, with her nipple only half-touching it. I moved my palm left and right, up and down, until her nipple just touched my palm. That feeling was even more dynamic than touching her breast (you must try it if you have the chance). A tingling sensation shot through my heart. In my excitement, I gripped my right hand harder than before. My mother stirred slightly, turning her head towards me and shifting her waist back, leaning slightly towards me. I was instantly terrified and froze, my breath catching in my throat. My hand remained on her breast, still gripping it, afraid to let go for fear of waking her. After about three minutes, my mother remained still. My right hand, still holding her breast, felt slightly damp. I gently released her breast. My hand slowly reached out from her breast, terrified that she would wake up, so I stopped all further inappropriate actions.

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The real whole process of having sex with my mother

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