Mother under the red gate

The Mother Under the Red Gate
Author: Unknown
Word Count: 26663
I was outside the bathroom door, constantly stroking my genitals, thinking of my mother's body bathing in Langlingqing. The bathroom
steam and the scent of bath lotion wafted out through the crack in the vent under the door. Even though I was greedily squatting on the ground, I
couldn't see anything. I listened to the sound of the flushing water, the water flowing over my hair and face, down to my breasts, down my pubic
hair in my cleavage, and then condensing into a stream of water at my vulva, flowing down my inner thighs, the droplet sliding down
my thighs and calves, finally pausing briefly on the back of my foot before flowing into the drain.
The family home was located in a high-end residential area of Tianmu, a grand twelve-story building with a duplex apartment.
The entire house was filled with a classic European atmosphere, and art pieces were everywhere. The woman rarely left her home, and having long been estranged from her father, she had long forgotten about sex. Now, with a man's penis before her, she
didn't cover herself tightly, leaving her breasts partially exposed. As she walked, drops of moisture clung to her fleshy buttocks, and with each
sway of her hips, I, hiding in a corner, felt my blood boil.
Although the family seemed happy, my mother and father had long been estranged, not only because of their work, but more
importantly, because her father's family believed she had only married into
the . Because of relatives, my mother had long been accustomed to being alone. Sometimes she would go to the bookstore to read or stroll around the streets,
her fingering and playing flowing smoothly. Sometimes I would stand in the large floor-to-ceiling window of the music room, looking at the small balcony in front of it.
My mother had planted all kinds of flowers and plants there, and in the afterglow of the setting sun, that golden glow shone on me.
I watched that warm afterglow, as time gradually moved across the flowers, until the entire sunset
cast . Standing on the balcony of the flower garden, the light and shadow of the floor-to-ceiling window was like a gateway to heaven
. The aluminum frame on the floor-to-ceiling window was made of two large rectangular pieces of soundproof glass, and the inlaid aluminum frame was
a decorative item made of an unknown material, like a relief in a Roman church. Under the glow,
the reflection was even more beautiful.
Her brows furrowed as she looked around the music room, and a lump formed in my throat. I turned to face the balcony, gazing into the distance.
I wondered if my mother also had a door in her heart, a door called loneliness, long since closed .
I placed one hand on her waist, and pulled her up until my entire penis was almost out, forcefully thrusting it into her vagina, her buttocks
, and locking it tightly with a steel padlock. My mother's fingers pressed the keys, the hammers pressed the strings, playing a somber, melancholic
moonlight sonata. The music mirrored her heart, the desolation caused by her father, the bitterness from her in-laws' scolding.
The moment she married into the family, the most brutal golden years of her life had already vanished. I forgot my mother's face.
The setting sun told me that I would take my mother away from this home, away from this cold prison that had imprisoned her for almost twenty years
.
"Knock, knock, knock!" A knock sounded on my palm-wood door. It was the maid, Sasaya, reminding me to
get up. I laughed and said, "I didn't know you could dance, Mother!" My mother turned around and smiled, "Don't you know to
come downstairs for dinner?" Sasaya is an Indian woman, very young, a year or two younger than me. Last year, when I was eighteen,
I went on family trip to Jamaica Mosque in India, and then to the Taj Mahal. As I walked with my mother
, I wondered what the future held.
Behind my father, my grandmother, and some relatives were chatting and laughing, while my mother and I were in a
completely different, cold world. One family group, two people with different mindsets... I followed my mother to the foot of the Taj Mahal
, even threatening my father to forbid that wretched woman from setting foot in the house, blaming everything on my mother, right up to
the mausoleum.
Nearby, tourists came and went. My mother gazed
thoughtfully I casually engaged in small talk with the other family members; perhaps because I was the eldest and only son, the other relatives
were away visiting clients abroad. The second floor was my and my mother's room. Every time my mother finished bathing, she would leave
for the Taj Mahal wrapped only in a towel. It was built by Shah Jahan, the fifth ruler of the Mughal Empire, in memory of his wife,
Taj The Taj Mahal means "In Memory of Mahal."
Legend has it that when the Mughals learned of Taj Mahal's death, his once black hair turned white overnight, and he wept bitterly, his face streaked
with tears . Compared to my wife's longing and my father's indifference towards my mother, this was like heaven.
I reached under my mother's skirt and pulled it up to her waist, revealing a pair of black lace panties.
The contrast between this and hell, of fiery passion and frosty coldness, was stark. That evening at the restaurant, my father asked if I wanted to go shopping with
my , to try some local snacks. My mother, however, said she was tired and wanted to rest in her room. I thought she probably
didn't want to spend time with relatives; after all, all we ever talk about are polite formalities.
I excused myself by saying I was still adjusting to the time difference and told my father I was sorry. He whispered that I should
keep an eye on my mother. I patted his back and smiled, telling him to hurry and go with my grandmother, otherwise he'd blame my mother again
. My father looked disappointed, sighed softly, and we parted. My mother lay exhausted on the bed. I
asked her if she wanted to take a shower, and she nodded. This restaurant is considered five-star. This large suite was originally meant for
my parents and me to sleep in, but it seems my father will be bothered by my grandmother again tonight, so it will just be my
mother and me.
The room is quite spacious, decorated in a style that blends Indian aristocratic influences with a touch of Baroque Chinese style. The bed is draped with white, pink, and
light blue fabric, the material resembling chiffon. To the right of the bed is a door with an Indian elephant pattern engraved on it, leading
to the bathroom. Just inside the door is a small living room with an unidentified LCD TV. Opening the window reveals
a glimpse of the balcony, which reminds me of my mother's unnamed cat's-eye ring on her left hand—I haven't seen her
wear it .
My father was born into a wealthy family. Thanks to his grandfather's connections to a political party and his
own status as a senior member of that party, he was strictly controlled by his grandmother from a young age. He couldn't disobey his grandmother
's orders and was completely obedient to her. He lived like a robot, following the path laid out for him. His upper
lip was tightly closed, still adjusting to the size of my penis inside her vagina. I thrust my penis forward, and her vagina was stretched to its
highest point. His grandmother believed he would follow in his grandfather's footsteps and become a member of parliament. However, this time,
my father made a decision that everyone rejected, and he was resolute and unyielding, even threatening suicide.
That is, he married my mother.
It's said the two went to a notary office to get married, but the specifics have been
evasive . So, little by little, as I grew up, I finally understood
the core story. [The rest of the text appears to be a fragmented and nonsensical collection of characters and phrases, possibly from different sources. A more accurate translation would require the full context.] Preparing for graduate school, my father visited my mother at the library every day. The process was like a classic love story
; they fell deeply in love (to the point of madness).
I was awakened by a very soft, faint sound. I blinked, wearing my dim yellow nightgown, and listened intently.
At that moment, a thick, foul-smelling, white semen shot from my mother's eyes. I saw her swallow hard,
and my years of love for her vanished. My father also knew about my mother's family background. She came from a musical family, but unfortunately,
her parents didn't want their child to pursue music. So they only nurtured her interest in music, letting her
study the rest on her own. While her family wasn't wealthy, they were comfortably middle-class. Despite his father's repeated attempts to dissuade his mother from seeing the situation, the circumstances remained unchanged.
The two young people, blinded by love, recklessly chose
to marry, believing it to be true love.
Upon hearing the news, the grandmother was devastated, unable to believe the reality before her .
The mother returned home in a state of extreme grief and anger, unaware that this would plunge her into an even deeper, more profound darkness.
When the mother first entered the house, although the relatives outside were all smiles and laughter, she was filled with a strange, indifferent joy . Don't even mention those days living in the luxury mansion in Taipei. My mother was constantly being verbally abused by my grandmother, while my grandfather was always vying for
my belly, his eyes telling me, "This isn't for me."
I hope my mother can understand. My father also firmly believed this was only temporary. It wasn't until my mother gave birth to me the following year that my grandmother and
the others greeted her with smiles and took meticulous care of their precious grandson.
However, this brief period of blissful happiness faded as I grew up. My mother and father gradually became estranged, despite my
attempts to mediate. It wasn't until my mother decided to move out of the mansion to Tianmu, using playing the piano as
an excuse to persuade my father to let her go, and I... At first, I lived at home, but after being admitted to university the following year, I
moved in with my mother. My father frequently traveled abroad, and whenever he returned to Taiwan, my grandmother would constantly be with me, so I
had less and less interaction with my mother and me.
Rumor had it that my grandmother had recently found a respectable woman for my father, wanting him to take her as a
concubine just a rumor, based on experience, such rumors were often true. While my thoughts were still lingering
on my father's return, my phone rang with the theme song of the
character Han Yan Cui from the puppet show "Hong Long." I have a habit of watching puppet shows, so my phone ringtone is often Hong Long's. Music. I
checked my phone. It was a text message from a college friend. He's a natural talker, a real daredevil,
with frameless glasses and a refined face. Sometimes he's incredibly boastful, sometimes his words are spot-on. He's someone I can
confide in.
The message said, "I suppose you're in India now, enjoying the boundless spring scenery. If you're so capable,
open up... I'm only now thrusting one last time, my penis rubbing against the sticky, wet vagina. I think I'll
bring back a hot Indian girl soon. A night of passion is worth a fortune, remember that." I chuckled.
This was from a friend of mine. The stories, aside from the incestuous one, are all his stories. You'll never know
some people know I'm quite wealthy because I drive a Mercedes, which I usually hide very well. Who knows which
classmate will see it one day, making me stand out in class.
No one says anything, but that's how I've lived my whole life. This kind of scenario often plays out on TV, but
it happened to me—quite interesting. I can't remember when I started talking to this guy,
only that I enjoyed chatting with him. He mostly told stories or gossiped, avoiding
schoolwork as much as possible, so we got along quite well. My classmate sometimes appeared in class, sometimes disappeared;
he was hard to spot.
Anyway, I told my friend my family story, not a complete recounting,
but pretty much it. My friend listened with a completely different expression, not with that ambiguous smile, but simply patted me
on the shoulder and said, "Life is full of sorrows (looking back, you were so presumptuous before)," and I immediately burst into tears. The tears
welled up in my eyes, warm tears streaming down my cheeks to my chin. My nose stung, and I thought about
all life, and everything at home. My shoulders relaxed; I was so tired, so weary.
I longed for a simpler life. In our small family, my father, tired from a long day, would come home and I'd call out
, "Hey, Dad, shall we eat together later?" My mother, already prepared, would softly say,
"Hurry, hurry, take off your clothes, eat first, then wash up, quick!" My father, held by my mother's hand, would laugh and say,
"It's not like I don't want to eat, I'll eat now, you're in such a hurry!" The three of us would sit at the table, eating my mother's home-cooked meals,
listening to my father's stories about work and daily life. I don't know how many times I've imagined such a family atmosphere.
At that moment, my hand would clamp and pull, pulling my nipple and breast forward. My mother would let out a soft moan, and I would lick that white,
delicate... It was cold, almost artificial. The dining table was silent. Even when I spoke to my mother, she only
gave half-hearted replies. Eventually, I stopped talking altogether.
Grandma, shedding her usual stern expression, pressed her face against mine and made a face. Grandma laughed. My father, after my death...
I touched my phone, thinking of what text message to send back. Just then, my mother came out of the shower, wearing a
loose-fitting , aristocratic-style dark red dress that covered her entire body. A
belt around her waist separated the dress, revealing her naked body before me. I spoke
a few words to my mother, telling my father... I was staying at Grandma's. My mother's expression was indifferent; she only focused on applying light makeup,
poured herself a glass of red wine from the hotel room, and leaned alone against the other window, gazing at the moonlight.
After I finished showering, my mother was already slightly tipsy, watching TV. She was dancing in the small living room, probably influenced by
the TV program. I watched my mother's graceful dance, the flowing skirt and sleeves moving with her body
. "There's so much more!" I let my mother dance happily until she was tired, and with the alcohol taking effect, she let out a
moan. I didn't care if anyone heard me; my lower body kept twisting rapidly, my hands clenched and suspended in mid-air.
She was sweating profusely, so after taking another shower, she pulled me to bed.
I don't know if it was from the alcohol, or if my mother was simply in a good mood, but she was very talkative, chatting about her studies and work. I listened with great interest; it had been a long time since I'd had a conversation with my mother like this. We both
lay sideways on the bed, pillows under our waists. I noticed her rosy complexion, a slight upturn at the corners of her mouth, and her long, beautiful hair,
the ends of which were swept over the back of her neck and down her left chest, revealing her collarbone. At that moment, we didn't seem like mother and son. Then my
mother yawned, put on her nightgown, said goodnight, and turned
to sleep on her side with her back to me. I got out of bed, turned off the light, drew the curtains, pulled back the bed curtains, and lay down on my mother's left side, also sleeping on my side. Until midnight,
I heard sobbing. By then, I was already eighty percent awake. It turned out the sobbing was coming from my older mother's side…
I propped myself up on my left elbow and lifted my head, using the moonlight filtering through the curtains
to see my mother trembling slightly. I reached out my right hand and gently shook her shoulder, asking, "Mom...?
What's wrong? Why are you crying?" My mother didn't answer, only covering her sobbing nose and saying, "Nothing
... Mom's tired. You should go to sleep too." I didn't say anything more. Because I knew that my mother must be crying because she was upset
. I wanted to tell her to lie down and pretend that this wasn't happening, to let her calm down, and that she would be fine in a while
. For many years, whenever my mother cried, I would comfort her, until later, I started to
become numb to everything in this house.
But today, for some reason, the turmoil in my heart has left me restless. I think of my father, grandmother, relatives,
school, and mother. Why does my mother have to bear all the suffering alone? Why am I always so weak and cowardly?
Before I would only avoid all of this or choose to accept it all. Now, is my life, and my mother's later years,
really going to be lived like this? I've asked myself a huge question. A friend once said, "Live in the moment,
and you'll be carefree." But what about me?
I moved behind my mother, resting my head against her neck, and whispered, "Mom...
do you want to leave here, leave this prison-like home?" My mother's shoulders trembled, and she said, "
Why
saying such things? I'm fine, don't worry." I wrapped my arms around her waist, pressing my entire
body against hers. I told her everything, including my deepest thoughts and
what I wanted to do in the future—all of it. My mother cried, not a loud sob, not a wail, just a soft, continuous sob. I
comforted her and told her my idea of taking her away. My mother turned to look at me and said she was very
sorry , constantly apologizing, which only made me more melancholy and upset. I lifted my mother's face and said, "From now on, I will never let
Mom suffer. I want Mom to live a happier life, instead of always frowning and looking worried." My mother
looked at me with reddened eyes, her gaze filled with unease, exhaustion, and fear, yet also with a touch of warmth, making
my heart sweet.
But at least from what I heard, this piano was from abroad, costing over six million yuan when it was bought, seemingly from a famous family that makes famous pianos.
At this moment, I poured out all my feelings for my mother. I kissed her cheek, and she closed her eyes, letting me
kiss her neck. I sucked on her frosty, honey-like lips. After a long kiss, she opened her eyes and
half-pushed me away, saying, "No... this isn't right..." I sighed and said, "Mom... how does Father treat you,
and how do others treat you?" My mother frowned, sat up, her upper body half-loose,
hanging half-on her shoulders, revealing her cleavage.
I cupped my mother's oval face in my hands and said, "Mom, if you don't want to, I won't force you. But I want you
to remember , I will definitely take you away, away from this awful place!" A
large tear rolled down my mother's cheek, her lips parted slightly, and she looked at me intently. I lowered my hands, and my mother wrapped her arms around my neck,
resting her head on my shoulder, her cheek pressed against mine, saying, "I want to leave, but I'm afraid you won't be able to." I pulled
her up under my arms, saying, "Don't worry, there will always be a way."
I felt the warmth of her firm breasts against my chest. I rubbed my cheek against her rosy cheek, kissing her with
apologetic and forgiving words.
I kissed her ears and neck, and my mother opened her arms, looking at me. I placed my hand on my mother's forehead, tracing her
hairline with my fingers, gently brushing away the wisps of hair. Then I touched her lips, my tongue licking her soft, warm mouth. Our tongues intertwined, and my mother closed her eyes, initially
passively letting me suckle her lips, but then actively engaging in a French kiss with me.
"Go to sleep... we have to get up early tomorrow, otherwise your grandma will scold you again," she said, then lay down with her back to me.
Seeing my mother like this, I snuggled into the quilt she was wearing, and began to caress and pinch her fleshy
buttocks . The silk was very smooth. My mother pretended nothing was wrong and continued to sleep. I rested my chin
on my mother's neck, breathed on her ear, and started licking the back of her ear, my tongue probing inside.
I opened my mouth wide, my entire ear inside, and licked it with my tongue. My mother let out a soft moan.
I continued to pinch her buttocks, scraping against her cleft through the quilt. I used my palm to...
I wonder how long it's been since she cooked?
Her fleshy buttocks, pushed forward, accentuated her plump, peach-like buttocks. A sharp finger was constantly being inserted into her honeypot,
though... (The text abruptly shifts to a seemingly unrelated anecdote about a woman's buttocks sliding into her mother's thighs.) The sharp finger then directly penetrated her snow-white thighs and private parts. Her mother hurriedly covered herself with her hands, even
turning back to look at me anxiously.
Seeing that I couldn't touch it, I decided to be ruthless and pulled the hem of her dress back, then threw the blankets
all over her back. A pair of perfectly proportioned, fair legs, covered
only black socks, were laid bare before me. I grabbed my mother's fleshy buttocks with both hands, pinching each fleshy part.
At home, she would go to the music room to play her favorite piano pieces, though they were mostly simple tunes.
With a push and a pull, her panties sank into her anus and covered her vulva. The sight of her pubic hair
and the bulging mound of her pubic area from the pulling of her panties made my mouth dry. I immediately began sucking on her fleshy buttocks.
My mother, however, clenched her fists tightly, remaining silent. After I had thoroughly tasted her buttocks, I turned her face away . Since
it was difficult to tease her breasts while she was lying on her side like this, I simply helped her sit up again, with her back to me.
I stretched out my legs, intertwining them around my mother's slender waist. My hands kneaded her soft breasts from behind. My mother tilted her head
back, leaning against my shoulder, and said, "Tonight's events will remain my secret, okay?"
Her breasts, in my hands, deformed with my squeezing. My thumb and forefinger supported the base of her breasts, moving from her lower body up her back to her
creamy white back. She said, "Mom... I will definitely... I will definitely take you away." My mother lowered her head and said, "Don't say anymore
..." I turned my mother onto her side again. My fingers deftly slipped into her panties, inserting into her honeypot. Her flesh
... Unfortunately, now the servants were cooking, and only my mother and I were at the table. The cold knives, forks, and utensils...
Her vagina was already muddy and overflowing with lustful fluids. My mother arched her beautiful back, resting her head on the pillow. Under the probing of my fingers,
her body trembled, and she let out a mournful sigh.
A soft, shy cry escaped her lips, and her buttocks trembled violently. A gush
of fluid flowed from her large, fleshy opening, and the afterglow of her orgasm made her body tremble. The only sound in the air was her deep, resonant breathing, while my rock-hard penis
stood erect. I pressed the head of my penis against her vulva, preparing to give her a good sip, when my mother's hand stopped me.
My face immediately fell, and I adopted a tired posture, kissing her lips and saying, "Mother, if you feel comfortable, that's
enough
... go to sleep." My mother blushed and said, "I... I'll help you..." I watched as my mother sat down,
her hands grasping my penis, stroking it up and down. I lay down, my head resting on a soft feather pillow, enjoying my mother's masturbation skills.
Then, my mother's smooth, slippery skin and slender, jade-like fingers grasped my hard, burning penis. I closed my eyes, resting and
enjoying this aphrodisiac.
Women who have had sexual experience, especially mothers from wealthy families, understand the importance of skill.
After the initial climax, fueled by the lingering desire of widowhood, they would grasp their son's penis and rub it vigorously, until it
swelled further from the masturbation, the glans stretching the foreskin. I gently pressed the back of
my mother , signaling her to give me oral sex. My mother gave me a seductive look and shyly took my glans into her mouth.
It was more like two partners confiding their troubles to each other.
At this moment, I turned my mother's buttocks to my left. My mother knelt on my left side, her mouth still adjusting to my
penis, while my left hand was not idle, continuing to rub and tease her vulva from behind. My mother's tongue circled the glans, her hand gripping the base;
her lips sucked on my penis, the sucking sounds pleasant, making my legs straighten, my scrotum strain, and I thought I was about to ejaculate .
Then, with a forceful thrust of her left hand, she pushed deep into my penis. My mother tilted her head back and groaned, then stopped her mouth movements, allowing
the urge to ejaculate to subside. My thighs relaxed, and I exhaled.
I felt my vagina was flowing with more fluid, my left palm completely wet. My mother continued sucking my penis,
but this time it wasn't the same. She knew I was close to ejaculating; if I hadn't suddenly squeezed myself while stimulating her vagina,
causing her to pause, I would have ejaculated long ago. My mother opened her mouth and began to blow vigorously,
but it was too late. My mother's fingertips were still playing the Moonlight Sonata, a piece I'd known since I was a child. She played
it her fingers moving with a mixture of licking, sucking, and holding. I couldn't hold back for more than five minutes. I extended my left ring and middle
fingers, scratching inside her vaginal walls, while my thumb circled around her anus.
Suddenly, my thumb gently inserted into her anus, and my two thumbs thrust against her uterine wall, causing her
body
to tense. Her juices flowed again, and that instant orgasm made her suck on my penis even tighter, her cheeks hollowing out. The base of her penis moved up and down, and in that instant, my glans was numb
with pleasure, and I swallowed all of her semen.
My mother gently pushed against my glans with her fingers, and my penis, still trembling slightly from ejaculation,
cleaned itself with toilet paper before we showered together. There wasn't much interaction during the process;
perhaps we understood each other perfectly with just a glance. My mother was in the bathroom, the steam from the hot water
obscuring her face, but her shy expression and charming eyes were captivating. That night, my mother and I
dressed and lay down. I thought about how we hadn't yet released our pent-up emotions. My mother, dressed in
silk , wasn't wearing a bra, only pink thongs. Now, our relationship was different. I gently
took my mother's right hand and held it tightly.
At that moment, a phrase came to mind: "In the dead of night, when no one is around to whisper secrets, silence speaks louder than words." I
disregarded everything and kissed my mother again. After a passionate kiss, I turned over and went to sleep, waiting for the trip to end
.
Now, we're driving back to our mansion in a nine-seater SUV from Songshan Airport. Originally, we were going to
go to the mansion first to prepare for Grandma's 68th birthday celebration, but after I told my father, we decided to go ahead first to give
Grandma face and wait a while before driving my mother and me back to Tianmu.
Although my mother and I acted as usual on the outside, sometimes the way she looked at me was a little off, even if only for a moment,
I could still sense it.
To put it nicely, it's supposed to seat nine people, but in reality, only the driver and the two rows behind are barely livable.
My mother and I were in the last row, which was basically a space for luggage, a chair that could be assembled and disassembled. The legroom was
very short, and since my legs are long, there was nowhere to put them, so I had to spread them apart. The air conditioning in the back wasn't very effective either.
Seeing my mother's tired face, I sat in the very back with her without saying a word. To the right of the driver's uncle was my eldest aunt,
in the second row were my grandmother's father and my aunt's son, and in the third row were two other aunts. My mother and I were
in the very back .
My mother was wearing a simple yet elegant suit today. On the bus, she had a ladylike reserve, so she kept her legs
close together , leaning slightly towards me, and her body slightly tilted towards me. At that moment, our eyes met, and thinking about
what happened the night before, I felt embarrassed and quickly looked out the window. As the bus moved,
the streetlights on the highway outside gradually formed a line. It was already evening. The streetlights, adorned with a deep orange
glow, formed a fiery dragon. In the distance, the city was ablaze with a string of red taillights due to traffic congestion.
I watched my mother dozing in the car, but she was awakened by my sudden touch of her left hand. My intentional touch,
along with the wooden handkerchief, stirred ripples in my life force. But things had changed, and everyone had their own path. I could only
scratch my palm. My mother's oval face, illuminated by the car lights, smiled slightly at me. Ahead, everyone
except my uncle, who was still driving, was fast asleep. I softly called to my uncle, "How much longer?" My uncle turned his neck...
"Look how bad the traffic jam is after a while," my son said. At this point, I started teasing my mother, using my index finger and thumb
as feet, crawling all over her arms, and finally even touching her thighs.
But all of this was done from below. My mother didn't stop me when she saw me gently touching her thighs. I
moved closer to her and pulled her hand onto my thigh. She looked at me with a suspicious smile. I slickly
made a shushing gesture and gently lifted her long skirt. She hurriedly tried to block me, a little startled. I
whispered in her ear, "Just caressing, nothing serious." She blushed slightly and told me to
be discreet .
I caressed her fair thighs, my fingers intentionally or unintentionally rubbing the inside of her thighs. When I touched her private parts, I
lightly scratched her vulva with my fingers. Even through her underwear, it made her blush. I placed my mother's hand
directly on my penis, pressing it down with my own to massage it. Only then did she begin to caress me more actively, showing
less aversion to me. I wondered if she felt the same way I did.
Underneath my jeans, my erection was unbearably hard. I unzipped my pants, pulled my underwear to the side, and my semi-erect penis emerged.
My mother pretended to be asleep, but her eyes darted at me. She used her left hand to caress it, and once it was fully erect,
she began to stroke it more quickly, making it even harder and thicker. As the traffic gradually eased, the car picked up speed
, and we entered a mountainous area. Seeing my unbearable erection, I wanted my mother to give me oral sex, but she
said she was afraid someone would see. In the end, she complied, lowering her head and quietly sucking my penis. However,
due to her fearful nature and the vibrations in the car, her oral skills weren't as good as usual, only making me feel even more pleasure
.
Finally, we arrived at a luxury mansion in Taipei. I quickly put on my pants, while my mother tidied herself up. The car
started making noise as we arrived. After everyone got out, my mother and I filed into the house. Of course
, there were plenty of formalities and platitudes. Not only were there family members, but also other political and business figures who came to wish Grandma a happy birthday in advance.
My mother helped my father greet the guests, while I sat in the main hall with a Hiroshima iced tea. This was
a bar set up in the corner of the hall, which was decorated with crystal fluorescent lights. Servants began pushing food carts, filling the dining table with exquisite
dishes .
Grandma loved grandeur. I never understood her thinking. Even though she was tired from getting off the plane, she still had to put on an act.
This guy always managed to make me happy. He was one of the few people who didn't have any financial motives. Normally at school,
she acts like nothing's wrong, chatting and joking with these political and business gentlemen. What I hear is mostly flattery.
I grew up in that kind of environment. Suddenly, my mother looked up from the main hall and gave me a meaningful look, signaling me
to come down . The hall has intricately carved granite staircases on both sides, forming a walkway from which you can see
everyone. I like being here; it gives me a sense of security.
I descended the steps, gripping the Romanesque stone carvings for support. I politely greeted passersby with a nod
and a slight smile. Every time I appeared, I had to endure stares, listen to whispers,
and the playful banter of girls. Anyway, I was already used to it. I had to maintain a smile; every gesture represented the family. The girl, a member of parliament's daughter, was
about my age, studying abroad and returning to Taiwan today.
She wore white high heels, clearly not an ordinary person. I knew
what , so I just went through the motions, asking the girl if she wanted to walk around with me. Which of these elders didn't want me
to do this? It was all about two words: face—a sickeningly fake facade.
I took the girl's hand like a gentleman; she was wearing gloves matching her suit. We strolled
together in the back garden. The garden was oval-shaped with a fountain in the center, filled with koi, and
lined with streetlights typical of British streets. I made small talk with her
,
trying to get information out of her. I did this to see if she was like me,
the same kind of person. [The rest of the text appears to be
unrelated
possibly from different sources. A
more coherent translation would require the full context.]
The girl was quite comical, but it was getting late, and I had to see her off quickly. So I went back to the hall, and my father
pulled down his shirt, revealing two pairs of high, snow-white breasts that popped out, slightly drooping.
He said the girl's parents had already left and that I should take her home. I thought I was leaving anyway, so I pulled the girl and
her grandmother to say goodbye. Then I exchanged a glance with my mother, and the three of us got into the car, quickly leaving this
castle full of lies and falsehoods. When we arrived at the girl's house, I gave a goodbye gesture and headed towards my mother's house.
After the long sightseeing and the banquet at the mansion, I no longer cared about my image and collapsed into a deep sleep in the back seat.
As I drove into the garage, Sasaya, who had already received my call, was waiting for me at the door. I carried my mother in a
princess carry and took her directly to her bedroom. The maid followed behind with the luggage and asked
what I wanted to do. I told the maid to help my mother settle in before coming to find me. In my mother's room, I saw a photo.
It was a picture of me, my parents, my grandparents, and me. My grandfather was still a political figure at the time, so it was rare for him to
go out with me. This photo is the only one that makes me happy.
Everyone in the photo looks so natural and happy.
I went outside, up to the music room and then to the flower garden balcony. Whenever I feel down, I come here to look at the scenery. The
sunlight hits the flowers.
I remember that time was in fourth grade. At that time, my father was a financial analyst in China, and my mother was
a housewife.
That day, I think I was nagging about going to the beach, saying that everyone was being unreasonable. It was agreed that my parents, grandparents
, and other family members would go with me. I was sulking for three whole days because of this. In the end, my grandmother couldn't bear it and asked my grandfather to give me
a day , and he finally agreed.
In the photo, I am at the beach, with the sea behind me. My grandmother is hugging me, and my grandfather is standing on my left. And my grandfather is actually...
I flashed an exaggerated smile, making my mother laugh heartily. The person taking photos of us even remarked on the strong bond within our family.
But times have changed. Grandma is unrecognizable,
as is my father. I've never seen Grandpa smile. My mother only smiles when she's with guests, but even that's a forced smile.
The next morning, I woke up at noon, my back aching all over. Wearily, I got out of bed,
opened the window, and breathed in the fresh air of this 12-story building. Then we went downstairs and ate
the meal that Yu Kui Gou Ren had prepared for me. My mother, however, said she would cook. Sasaya and I exchanged glances, finding it unbelievable.
I jokingly said, "Mom, it's been so long since you've cooked, are you sure you can manage?" My mother put egg noodles and some
vegetables into the pot, added some sliced pork belly, a handful of scallions, and an egg. It was done in less than ten minutes. I
told the maid to go ahead and do her work. Only then did my mother sit down beside me, watching me eat. I saw a loving look in my mother's eyes,
a look I hadn't seen in a long time. The noodles were piping hot, but truly delicious, even better than those in high-end restaurants.
No delicacy could compare to one of my mother's dishes. My heart immediately ached, and tears welled up again. I quickly
pretended nothing was wrong and finished the noodles in a few bites.
I asked my mother if she wanted me to play the piano later. My mother followed me into the music room. I didn't know the brand of the piano
, but its craftsmanship, sound quality, condition, wood, and lacquer all indicated its exceptional quality. Now,
my father had chosen to leave home, and after six months of blissful intimacy with my mother, my grandmother finally acknowledged the truth. During
a university general education class, my father watched "The Legend of 1900" on screen, and the piano seemed familiar, as if I had heard it somewhere before.
As the piece drew to a close, I wrapped my arms around my mother's neck, kissed her face, and then
reached back to caress her breasts. My mother was wearing a white dress. Judging by the dress, I knew it was
another masterpiece. The dress featured special stitching around the bust area, which
accentuated and created a deep cleavage. Two gold rings fastened at the waist, highlighting her curves.
The skirt was a classic Western style, with abundant lace lining, and the back was bare, revealing her beautiful shoulders and back.
I greeted the beautiful girl, who wore an elegant dark blue suit, her hair styled in a bun, her legs long and slender.
As I played with her breasts, my mother stood up and locked the music room door. I looked at my mother, sitting on the
maroon piano chair, and greedily sucked on her breasts, while she wiggled her hips, enjoying
the teasing I gave her.
I pulled up my mother's skirt, unzipped her pants, revealing my erect penis.
I probed her vagina with my fingertips, and said, "Go wash up..." She was
soaking wet. I pressed the head of my penis against her labia. My mother frowned, I kissed her, and then, supporting her buttocks,
she sat down, and my penis entered her vagina. My mother let out a soft moan, her face flushed, her eyes half-open, her mouth
parted. Her limp body slumped onto my shoulder. I reached under her skirt, pulling up her panties
, and in the distance, I could see the white walls of the Taj Mahal. I took a deep breath, exhaling a pent-up sigh, imagining my father's
thong tucked into his buttocks, his underwear pulled up beside his vulva to avoid obstructing my thrusting.
I began to move my hips, letting my mother open her mouth and thrust in and out, my thoughts drifting back and forth. I was involved in all sorts of university parties and nightclubs. I knew they only approached me because I was rich, but I still
swayed my hips, my breasts heaving, my penis almost completely inside her. I let my mother...
Saliva covered both of our mouths. After a passionate kiss, my mother blushed and looked at me, panting,
and started riding me, twisting left and right, pressing back and forth. Her vaginal walls gripped my penis tightly. My mother
's lewd appearance at that moment, biting her slender finger, a pockmark on her nose, her entire thighs covered in vaginal fluid.
The flesh hitting her thighs made a slapping sound, and my mother let out a lewd moan. I made my mother hold my neck with her hands, and I
lifted her legs with both hands while I stood up. My mother seemed afraid... As she fell, I swung my mother's upper body,
each thrust powerfully filling her head, causing her to howl and sob, yet she clung to me tightly with pleasure.
I carried her to the back of the piano, making her lean back against me as she carefully closed the piano lid, sticking her buttocks out and
spreading her legs. I licked her beautiful back from behind, and then unzipped the back of her dress, letting her take off her clothes. She then pulled
her panties down to her ankles, leaving her only in her high heels. I pressed down on her waist, urging her to
stick her buttocks out even higher. She had no choice but to stand on her tiptoes, exposing her entire anus to me.
I squatted down and licked her vulva and anus from bottom to top, then gently inserted my penis into her mons pubis,
holding her hips with both hands, and began to thrust in and out, again and again. The sound of thighs slapping, the mother's
breasts groaning , faster, almost faster, her entire vagina was filled with lustful fluid, flowing down her thighs and ankles.
I thrust hard, stopping inside my mother's womb, lifting her right leg with one hand, turning it
180 degrees, supporting her buttocks with both hands, placing her on the piano lid, holding her hands, her legs like frog legs
. I quickened the pace, inserting two fingers into her vagina, the speed increasing as my fingers twisted and turned against the vaginal walls,
so tight, so gripping, not only wet, but also sensitive, making my mother's lustful fluid flow even more. With a quick movement of my glans, I
pulled and put it on.
Semen fell in mid-air, covering my mother's body, her lower abdomen, chest, face, and even the piano. On the piano lid,
the white semen on the black piano created a stark contrast. I lay on top of my mother, kissing her fragrant lips
, recalling her wanton moans and shy expression. I made up my mind that my mother was
the person I wanted to protect.
In an apartment in Kaohsiung, the mother and son were making love on the sofa early in the morning. My mother was wearing a short t-shirt and hot pants,
something I had never seen her wear before. Her eyes were alluring, filled with deep affection. During our time in Kaohsiung
, my mother and I were like newlyweds, making love every day—on the bed in the big room, straddling the toilet, performing
oral sex under the kitchen sink. Today, we were making love on the sofa. My mother had started wearing sexy lingerie and cosplay.
Ah, she completely shed her former aristocratic demeanor.
She was only a little more reserved in public, but once on the back of a bus, she gave me oral sex.
And then there was the time we had sex in the park and got bitten by mosquitoes. My mother changed; she became cheerful and lively. I dropped out of school and started
online shopping at home, and my mother helped me. This made me cuddle with my mother every day, enjoying her
company all the time, even while playing the piano. My mother shyly straddled my legs, wiggling her hips under her skirt, stimulating my penis. I...
I'm enjoying sweet love. Everything from the past is long gone, and I don't cling to those memories. As long as my mother is by
my side, I'm content .
********** 　　... I asked myself, although I only knew him for a short time, but the pain he felt at that time, I wondered...

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Mother under the red gate

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