My classmate's mother and I were having passionate sex in a hotel.

My classmate's mother and I were having passionate sex in a hotel.
The first time I saw her was in junior high school. One day after school, I went to my good male classmate's house. Only her mother was home. The moment I saw her, I felt immediately attracted to her. She wasn't particularly beautiful, had single eyelids, a great figure, and was very well-maintained, looking very young (I later learned that she gave birth to my classmate when she was 20, when she was in her 30s). She was very warm and had a gentle voice that made people feel comfortable and friendly. I kept staring at her, listening to her voice and every movement she made. My classmate didn't notice my unusual behavior; he was watching a cartoon on TV. But my heart was with her mother. That night, I couldn't sleep. Her image and voice filled my mind. From then on, I often went to my classmate's house to see her and hear her voice more often. But my classmate didn't know I was going to see her mother. We became best friends and often hung out together.
I started to think that I had fallen in love with his mother. Although I didn’t really understand what liking or love meant at that time, I wanted to see her every day and hear her voice. That was a kind of liking, I guess. The more I went there, the less his mother treated me like an outsider. I would also try my best to win her favor. Once she jokingly said that I should be her godson so that she would have two handsome sons. My classmate said that we were good brothers to begin with, and I laughed happily.
After graduating from junior high, I continued to high school, while my classmate chose vocational school. We saw each other less often, but we remained good friends. High school studies were demanding, but I still visited my classmate's house whenever I had time. I missed her terribly after not seeing her for so long, and she was still as warm and welcoming as ever. One day, I overheard the adults talking. They mentioned that my classmate's father (who was a bureau chief) was having an affair and had even bought a house elsewhere. He was rarely home. They said his mother was pitiful, and that the couple had no feelings for each other anymore and had nothing to say to each other. No wonder they rarely saw her father at home. Her eyes always seemed to hold a hint of sadness. My classmate had never mentioned these things before. Melancholy women are the most captivating, and from then on, I liked her even more, perhaps even with a touch of pity, because she needed a man's tenderness. That's truly what I felt. Why didn't her husband appreciate such a wonderful woman and instead sought out other women? But this remained my secret. I knew I couldn't confess, but just being able to see her often and hear her voice was enough. Once, I went to her house, and she was alone. My classmate was studying in another city and was supposed to return that day, but something came up at school and he had to wait a few days. I knew his father wasn't home. Since my classmate wasn't there, I was about to leave when she asked me to stay for a while and have some tea. It was quite cold, so I went inside and sat for a bit. This was the first time I'd been alone with her, and I was a little nervous, but I tried my best to be natural. We chatted while drinking tea, and we really clicked. We felt relaxed and comfortable talking. Maybe it was fate :)
Before I knew it, it was time to eat. She invited me to stay, and my intuition told me it wasn't just politeness. I also didn't want to leave, so I stayed. I said, "Why don't you try my cooking? You can watch TV and wait for dinner." She smiled and agreed. I've cooked a little at home before. When the food was ready, I called her to eat. She was very happy and took out a bottle of red wine that someone had given to her husband, jokingly saying it was a treat for her godson. I was delighted and poured her some wine. We ate and chatted, and she said my cooking was excellent, that I was very capable, unlike her son who couldn't cook anything and always caused her worry. I said, "People gradually learn." She smiled, saying I was very sensible. The atmosphere was great, we talked a lot, and we drank quite a bit of alcohol. Although it wasn't very strong, our faces gradually turned red. Her flushed face made her even more charming as a mature woman. Perhaps it was the alcohol that emboldened me, or perhaps it was her charm that gave me the courage. I said, "Auntie, I really like you, really, really like you." She was startled, perhaps a little flustered, and didn't dare to look me in the eye. But after a while, she calmly said, "Silly boy, you're still young, you don't understand. Auntie doesn't blame you." I panicked and said I was serious. So I poured out everything about how I started to notice her and how I liked her. Then I said I knew her husband treated her badly and had another woman. I told her I would treat her very well. She was startled, perhaps never expecting me to say such things, or perhaps it touched a raw nerve. Her eyes began to redden. She stood up and said, "You're still young, you don't understand. I'm your elder. If you say that again, I'll get angry. I'm not feeling well, you should go home first. I'm very disappointed and sad." I said, "Then you should rest well, I'll leave first." When I was almost at the door, I couldn't hold back anymore. I ran over and hugged her tightly from behind, saying, "Auntie, I really like you." She struggled and said, "Don't do this, I'm your..." I knelt before her, hugging her legs and crying, "Auntie, I'm serious. It's okay if you reject me; I just want to tell you I'm serious." She didn't push me away anymore. She cried too, saying, "Don't be like this. Get up quickly." She pulled me up and gently wiped away my tears. A mature face, never so close to me before. I gently wiped away her tears as well. She didn't refuse. I hugged her tightly. Although she still resisted, it wasn't as firm anymore. I started kissing her face and lips. Her slight resistance couldn't withstand my passion. I carried her into the bedroom.
That was my first time. I was 17, a high school sophomore, and she was 36. I felt it was worth it because she was the woman I loved. I didn't go home that night. I'll always remember that night; it was crazy and sweet. She finally became my woman. Our long-suppressed emotions exploded that night. The next day, when I left, we were both a little reluctant to part, like lovers who had to separate temporarily. Later, my classmate came back, and we acted as if nothing had happened. I just felt sorry for him because she was, after all, his mother. But I loved her, and it had already happened. Later, she told me that she owed me from a past life. I smiled. Maybe so, otherwise I wouldn't have met her. I was immediately drawn to her. Summer vacation ended, my classmate went back to school in another city, and his father was still not home. My school was starting a few days later, so I went to her house. The two-month wait was long. We hardly went out during those days. I was in my senior year of high school, and the workload had increased, but I still made time to see her. Once, she told me very seriously that she had decided not to see me before the end of the college entrance examination. She said she would reward me if I got into university, and if I didn't, our relationship would end. I promised her that I would definitely get in. I started studying hard. I admit that the reason I was working so hard at that time was because I didn't want to lose her. Later, I realized that it was just a way for her to motivate me.
Finally, the college entrance exam was over, and I was admitted to a university in the provincial capital. She was very happy, and we went to Beijing for a week (I told my family and friends that I was going on a trip, but she told me that my classmate was going on a business trip. My classmate never cares about his parents' affairs, as long as he has money to spend). In the unfamiliar city, we were both very relaxed and no longer so restrained. We held hands and hugged like lovers, and made love wildly in the hotel at night. I had worked hard for this day for a year, and that week was the happiest memory of my life.
After starting university, we saw each other less often, but we talked on the phone frequently, sometimes saying very sweet things. When classmates asked if she was my girlfriend, I would just smile and not answer. At that time, I considered her my girlfriend, with a touch of maternal affection. She had also gone to university, had excellent manners, and her thinking was close to that of young people. For her, I was half her man and half her son, definitely not just for physical needs. She told me she loved two men right now: her son and me, both very important. We both knew this kind of relationship was abnormal and wouldn't last, but neither of us wanted to separate. She told me that if I found a girl I liked, she would quietly leave. How could I bear to leave such a wonderful woman? We had a few brief breakups because she didn't want to affect me. We were both heartbroken and would cry on the phone, but we still got back together. She would come to my school every month to see me and spend a few days with me. We would eat, go shopping, and watch movies together, just like any other couple. She said that she didn't understand my love in her past life, which is why she's with me in this life. I was really touched. If she were a few years younger and I were a few years older, I would definitely marry her and cherish and love her for the rest of my life. Now I'm a senior in college, and we've maintained this relationship. We don't know what the future holds, but we both feel that it's enough to cherish the present. I met someone online who also had a similar relationship with his mother, and we had some wonderful memories together. We both feel that this is a real phenomenon in society. Others may think it's immoral, but we're happy with it.

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My classmate's mother and I were having passionate sex in a hotel.

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