Memoirs of a Mother's Obsession III (Chapter One: Bed)

After a long period of silence, from last year until now, I still find myself constantly thinking about the Oedipus complex. Joining the military has calmed my mind and diminished my motivation; perhaps I'm thinking further ahead, planning for my future. While writing Oedipus II, my memories of my mother abruptly stopped. I feared that writing more would make me more unable to extricate myself, sinking deeper into the illusion, blurring the lines between reality and fiction, like viewing flowers through a fog. Perhaps my fingers grew tired of typing, and I stopped putting my heart into writing. After finishing Oedipus, I still wrote small fragments of stories, compiling them into "Overstepping Boundaries," but as more and more nonsense emerged, I couldn't face myself. When I was halfway through the first chapter of Oedipus II, I felt something was wrong. I couldn't surpass my first work, the Oedipus memoir, so for a while, I didn't want to write at all.
In the dead of night, I took the northbound train back home from the military camp today. I played a few games with friends. When I looked back at the articles I had written before, I felt both ridiculous and ashamed. I used to always set a goal for myself, to write a certain amount of text within a certain time and read the replies to motivate myself to keep going. Now, after several months of military service, I have calmed down a lot, but at the same time, my desires are even stronger. I don't know where to start. Anyway, I want to write some stories now. You can just read them as "stories".
After sixteen days in the army, my mother finally gave me leave. Before talking about my mother, allow me to tell you about a romantic encounter. I was a sentry, and vehicles were prohibited from entering or leaving at night, except for civilian vehicles during shifts. I got to know quite a few people while on guard duty, including a senior sergeant. She had fair skin and a rosy face, and I heard she was called Sister Apple. She always greeted me warmly. Perhaps because I was from the north, this sergeant liked to chat with me. As far as married women were concerned, she was indeed striking. She was 163 cm tall, had no breasts, probably a B cup, and you couldn't tell she had given birth to two children. She drove to and from work. We got to know each other better as we chatted. To be honest, once when I came back from my shift, I went to the toilet and thought about giving the sergeant a good ejaculation, but it only happened once.
I forget which day it was, but it was early morning, during a night watch. The sergeant's wife drove back without a pass or clearance. If I let her in and she got caught, I'd be in solitary confinement. Usually, I'd just shoot her and tell her to get lost. But that day, the sergeant's wife seemed to have had a few drinks, and she kept nagging me. I half-jokingly said, "If you give me a kiss, I'll let you in." To my surprise, she readily agreed. Because my spot was in a remote area with a small gate, and the surveillance cameras were just for show, I thought I'd let her in even if there was no kiss. After all, she's a superior officer; it's better not to offend her. The sergeant drove up in his white car. I thought he'd just drive away, but instead, he parked on the grass on the other side, turned off the engine, and got out.
I don't know if she was just pretending to be drunk or what, but she walked towards my guard post with a smile, chatting with me about how she'd been tricked into drinking with someone again, how so-and-so had taken advantage of her, and how the dark side of the military was something only we knew, so I won't go into details. After we'd chatted for a while, I half-jokingly asked, "Sergeant, do you still want to kiss me?" The mayor immediately came over and kissed me, mouth to mouth. I was stunned for three seconds before putting my tongue into the mayor's mouth. I'd been holding back for so long in the army, and our tongues intertwined softly, exchanging saliva. The sergeant had short hair five centimeters below her ears, and her hair smelled sweet, she smelled of alcohol, and she had the allure of a mature woman. We kissed passionately for a full two minutes, until I got an erection, and my lips were covered in the mayor's lipstick.
My heart hadn't raced this fast in a long time. I pulled the mayor into the guard booth, pinned her against the wall, and pinched her buttocks with my left hand while rubbing her breasts with my right. The mayor was wearing a military uniform that resembled a suit. I pressed my erect penis against her abdomen until I pulled her hand to rub my penis. Only then did the mayor begin to resist. By then, I had already pulled her trousers down to her knees, revealing sexy black lace panties. I wanted to suck her breasts, but the mayor wouldn't let me. I thought about whether we could have sex, but I thought that was too much, so I gave up. However, my penis was very hard, so I asked the sergeant, a married woman, to see if she would give me oral sex. Later, I stood in the guard booth, looking through the small glass window at the road outside, while the sergeant below was bending down and giving me oral sex. She had indeed given birth to two children.
I've forgotten the exact time, but my relationship with my mother was very simple back then. If I wanted to satisfy my desires, I would ask my mother to do it for me with her hands or mouth. However, my mother rarely gave me oral sex. After all, she was proud and arrogant, and it must have been very uncomfortable for her son to bend her head down and give her oral sex. So, I went back to the old tricks: buttock sex, rubbing my penis against her buttocks, and so on. If my mother's sexual desire was aroused, I might caress and knead her body. Sometimes, my mother would grant my request and we would kiss each other.
Gradually, I started thinking more and more about my mother. I really enjoyed touching her when she was away from others, especially in front of my father. When he couldn't see, I would secretly rub my penis against her buttocks or legs. At first, my mother would scold me and even give me a hard look. Although she always had a poker face, after I started pinching and squeezing her buttocks and legs, she would turn a blind eye. Once, the phone rang at home. The phone was on a low cabinet. My mother was wearing a light yellow sweater and a pale white chiffon skirt. She was leaning over the cabinet with her back to me, talking on the phone.
Her pert buttocks swayed with her conversation. I had fantasized about this erotic scene countless times. I walked directly behind her, put my hands under her armpits, and rubbed the base of her breasts through her sweater. I held the lower edge of her breasts with my thumbs and slid them upwards over her nipples, pushing her breasts upwards. As she spoke, she pushed me with her elbows. I arched my body against her back and breathed hot air onto the back of her neck as if I were being affectionate. This was one of her erogenous zones. Her fleshy buttocks and cleft should have felt the hardness of my penis.
I kept rubbing my glans against my mother's long skirt, then simply lifted the hem and rubbed my glans against her private parts. My mother was talking on the phone while looking at me, her expression was truly beautiful, cold and stern, her brows furrowed, wanting to scold me but restrained by the phone call. My right hand released her breasts and slid down to my mother's private parts. My mother grabbed my right wrist, and I deftly hooked my middle finger and scraped it against the entrance of her panties. My mother kept talking and dodging me, pulling her body back further and further, her fleshy buttocks sticking out higher and higher, twisting violently, making my penis even harder.
My mother was in a hurry to hang up the phone, so I looked down and said, "Mom...can you do it for me?" My mother snorted and pushed me away. I hugged her again, turned to the side, and exposed my penis. My mother stared at me and said, "You always ask me to do it for you. Be careful you don't ruin your health." I smiled and stole a kiss on my mother's neck. "Mom...your hands are really great..." I begged my mother. Only then did my mother hang up the phone. She started rubbing my penis with her right hand, stroking it up and down with a skilled rhythm. My mother and I kissed each other, and I thought to myself, this feeling is really great.
Incest feels really exciting. Mature women plus beauties plus incest, and mother and son having sex. Whenever my mother is willing to give me anal sex to relieve my desire, I think about how long it took for her to risk her life to help me. My love for my mother has long been uncontrollable. Outside, I am a normal person with a girlfriend, but the passionate sex with my girlfriend is far less exciting than the pleasure of rubbing my penis against my mother's beautiful buttocks until I ejaculate at home. My mother also secretly does this for me behind my father's back. It's true that having an affair with my mother makes my sex drive even higher.
On Sunday morning, I had been playing video games until dawn, around 5 a.m. When I felt I should sleep, my penis was erect from morning erection. I went to my mother's bedroom; she was sleeping alone as usual. I guessed my father was the same as always, probably out having an affair with some woman. Although my relationship with my mother has improved a little, the idea of sleeping with her every day, making love until dawn, and playing all sorts of sexual games is basically impossible; that kind of scenario only exists in novels.
In real life, it would be great to kiss my mother on the lips and tongue. Usually, I would wait until my mother got up before deciding what to do. But that day, for some reason, I really wanted to. I lifted my mother's quilt and heard her soft breathing. My mother was sleeping on her side with her back to me, wearing a light blue silk onesie. I rubbed my hands against her buttocks and massaged her breasts, just like in porn movies. My mother was woken up by me. She was probably half asleep, so she didn't resist my advances much.
I flipped my mother over onto her back, lay down next to her, and pulled her nightgown down completely, revealing her teardrop-shaped breasts. Although they were a little saggy, they were still full and large. How many men wouldn't take a second look at my mother's cleavage when she wore a push-up bra? Unfortunately, only I could enjoy those breasts. I placed my hands under my mother's armpits and spread her legs apart for the first time. At first, she would close them, but after I forcefully pried them open, she seemed to fall into a deep sleep.
My mother's lace panties were so sexy. I hugged her tightly, her legs spread wide. I pressed my panties against her vulva. We were both wearing panties, and this close contact was intense for the first time. I wanted to slap her, but what if she didn't want to? What would happen if I successfully raped her? Would my proud and aloof mother allow me to do this? I wrapped my arms around her armpits, holding her tightly, rubbing my genitals against her. Her panties were so slippery. Her eyes were half-open, and she moaned softly.
After kissing my mother's sweet lips, I said, "Mom...can you squeeze my waist?" My mother closed her eyes and said, "So proactive first thing in the morning, your sex drive is too strong, isn't it?" "Who told you to be so tempting, Mom?" I whispered, rubbing faster and faster, the thought of incest between mother and son stimulating my nerves, making me more open, more wild. I didn't get up until my underwear was soaked with my semen, and my mother's underwear was also soaked. When I woke up at noon, I asked my mother, "If Mom wants it in the future, I can help Mom..."
Unfortunately, there's a big difference between what happens in bed and what happens outside of bed. My mother has reverted to her old ways, coldly saying, "Don't be ungrateful. Some things can be done in private, but don't talk about them." Women are indeed strange, but I can never figure out what my mother is thinking. What kind of relationship do my mother and I have? I love my mother very much, and she is willing to help me deal with my sexual desires, but I just can't do it myself, nor can I help her with sexual intercourse. Perhaps my mother can't cross that line in her heart, that line of incest.
Whenever my mother returned from yoga in a tight-fitting outfit, her mature charm, her large, firm breasts, her taut, shapely buttocks and legs, her tall and slender figure, her wavy brown hair, and her expressionless face—who could resist such a beautiful mother? The way my mother's honeyed lips licked my penis was unforgettable, unforgettable. The dangerous thrill between mother and son might be gradually extinguishing the iron wall of my mother's reason. I want my mother to be my wife, no matter how long it takes, I am willing.
Actually, I don't even know what I'm writing anymore. Like "Over the Boundary of Ephemeral Love," it's getting more and more chaotic. When reality and fiction intertwine, I initially thought I could control it, but as more and more memories are released, the emotions deep in my heart are like a hole in the sky, with rain pouring down on my head. I've told myself countless times to stop writing, which is why I have many short stories to temporarily calm my emotions. But in the end, I've come back to this: "Oedipus Relationship." It starts here, but I don't know when it will end.

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Memoirs of a Mother's Obsession III (Chapter One: Bed)

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