Mom, your son wants to sleep with you.

Mom, your son wants to sleep with you. The morning
light

filters through the sheer curtains, and in the gentle breeze, dappled golden rays onto the pink sheets. I
open my sleepy eyes and gaze at my mother, still lost in a sweet dream beside me. Her gentle, beautiful face, the slight
upturn of her lips, her even, soft breathing—all these stirred my heart. I turn to her, lovingly brushing
the strands of hair from her cheek, and passionately kiss her full, luscious lips. A tender feeling washes over me, an
indescribable warmth and comfort.

Sensing the love on my lips, Mom wakes, opening her captivating eyes to look at me with tender affection. She
extends her fair, jade-like hand and rests it on my cheek, a blush characteristic of a mature woman rising on her face—utterly alluring
, shy, and enchanting.

I gently lifted my mother's chin: "Mom, you're awake. Did you sleep well?"

My mother nodded: "Yes, Mingming, with you here, I slept soundly. It's been so long since we've
been together ."

I felt a surge of emotion mixed with sadness. Yes, I'm studying at a university in a city thousands of miles away. Although
I come back during long holidays, we rarely see each other. My mother is alone in her empty house; her loneliness and sorrow are unimaginable.
My mother gave me this, and I should fulfill my responsibilities and obligations as a man, spending more time with her when I'm home, bringing
her joy, tenderness, and passion.

"Mom, I love you." I rolled over and pinned my mother beneath me, leaning down to kiss her red lips again.
My mother wrapped her arms around my shoulders, opened her lips, and greedily sucked on my tongue, passionately
entwining with it.

I reached one hand to my mother's crotch, rubbing her sensitive clitoris through her black lace panties.
My other hand deftly moved to her back, unhooking her black lace bra. Her full, round
breasts bounced wildly. I grabbed her right breast and rhythmically kneaded it. My tongue brushed against her upper lip
before quickly withdrawing, then moved to her left breast, sucking on her nipple with gusto. My
hand, rubbing her crotch, increased its speed and force.

"Mmm...mmm...ah...ha..." My mother let out a series of pleasurable moans.

Although I had been eager to make love to my mother as soon as I got home last night, rolling around and passionately until late,
the long separation had heightened our desire to its peak. Hearing my mother's alluring moans, I couldn't resist lifting
my head and pulling down her panties. Seeing this, my mother obediently sat up and pulled at my panties. My penis
was already proudly erect, a drop of pre-ejaculate seeping from the tip, like the finishing touch, making it even hotter and harder.

My mother stared intently, her eyes glazed, her breathing rapid. At this point, I had no heart to appreciate the erotic scene anymore.
I threw the lace panties onto the bedside table, pressed my mother down, and she fell heavily onto the Simmons mattress, her body
rising and falling with the swaying of the mattress. Her long, beautiful black hair spread across the sheets like a peacock's tail. I
excitedly rubbed my penis against her vulva, warming up and down, left and right, grinding against
her clitoris.

My mother cried out in a pleading voice, "No...no...I can't take it...come in...son...
come in ...ah...ahhhhhh..."

"I'm coming, Mom, I love you, I'm going to fuck you..." In the blink of an eye, my large penis
slammed into my mother's vulva like a missile. My mother's eyes rolled back, her head tilted back, one hand gripping my
arm, the other clutching the sheets, her legs stiffly kicking towards the foot of the bed.

"Ah!!!!!"
A released, shaking our souls. It was more like a battle horn, encouraging me
to launch a fierce attack. I didn't take it slow; instead, I thrust hard from the start, each time hitting the very
core, each time pulling the labia in and out, each time creating a collision of spirit and flesh. I was like a
valiant knight, excitedly galloping through the honeyed jungle.

My mother gasped for breath, moaning and groaning, "Give me, give me, Mingming, give
me, hurry, hurry... ah, so good, so good!" "Mom, is it good? Is it good?"

"Yes, so good, so comfortable, Mingming is so amazing, you're making me unable to take it anymore, ahh..."
As I thrust hard, I squeezed and kneaded my mother's breasts. Her breasts
heaved , making my blood boil.

Slowly, Mom's honey pot began to overflow with lustful fluids, streams of which were drawn out by my penis, soaking a
large area . The sounds of impact changed from a single "slap slap slap" to a symphony of "slap sizzle sizzle."

After five or six minutes of penetration, Mom's whole body convulsed, her phoenix eyes widened, her face flushed, her red lips parted, and the veins on the back of her hands bulged
slightly. Then came wave after wave of spasms. Mom shook her head desperately, her body swaying constantly, and I increased
my thrusting speed.

"Ah!!!! I'm coming, I'm going to die..." Mom's hands moved up to my shoulders, her nails digging into
my flesh. Mom had an orgasm. Waves of heat from her honey pot pounded against my glans like crashing waves. I couldn't hold back
any longer , I didn't want to hold back anymore. I quickly pulled out my penis, and just as the glans was about to leave the entrance of her honey pot, I didn't give
Mom a chance to feel the emptiness. I immediately pressed my buttocks down heavily, and my penis plunged in all the way back in.

"Mom, I'm going to cum."

"Cum, cum, cum all of it into me, my good son." My

ejaculation was released, and countless drops of semen bombarded my mother's uterus like cannonballs. My mother bit her lower lip tightly
, moaning and struggling weakly. We reached orgasm at the same time, and I collapsed into my mother's arms. My mother immediately hugged me tightly,
caressed me, and nibbled at me...
Memories of my past with my mother:

I was born in my rural hometown and grew up in the city. My parents were both from the countryside and had worked their way up, experiencing the hardships and suffering of
the working class. They couldn't bear to let their precious child suffer the same hardships, so they
loved me very much and tried their best to indulge me in everything. They would satisfy me as much as they could.

I was like a precious treasure, afraid of breaking if held in their hands or melting if kept in their mouths, enjoying
the treatment . This shaped my willful and stubborn personality. Stubbornness, in a sense, is the same as persistence—the kind of persistence that
doesn't give up until the goal is achieved, the kind that keeps striving. This may explain my later obsessive and almost
crazy behavior.

During my early childhood, my family's financial situation wasn't very good. My parents had only been working for a year or two, and
we had many relatives and siblings who needed support. My parents were very kind-hearted people; whenever a relative was in trouble, they would help no matter what.
Everyone would try to help and support me. My grandparents were getting old and could do less farm work, so naturally,
the burden of supporting the family fell on my father.

To save more money, my father often took odd jobs after work, such as driving a motorcycle taxi,
selling flowers and plants at a stall, or doing delivery work. He often didn't get home until late at night, and sometimes, if it was too late to disturb my mother
and me, he would simply sleep at a friend's house.

After work, my mother would go straight to the teachers' dormitory (both my parents were teachers, but not at the same school,
but in two different towns. During the day, after my parents went to work, my maternal grandmother would take care of me).
The first thing my mother would do when she got back to the teachers' dormitory was to pick me up and kiss my forehead and cheeks, saying, "You missed your mother, didn't you, my baby?"

At that time, I was just a young child who didn't understand anything. Every time my mother kissed me, I
would shyly squint my eyes and turn my head back, but I loved the feeling of being kissed by my mother; it was
the closeness a child feels to their mother.

During dinner, I sometimes fuss and want my mom to hold me, to sit me on her lap. I don't
like sitting on hard wooden stools, and besides, it's harder for me to reach for food because I'm not tall enough. I
prefer sitting on my mom's warm, soft lap so she can feed me.

Mom often says I'm a four-year-old now and should learn to do things myself, but of course I won't let her. It would be a shame not to sit in
such a comfortable spot. Sometimes Mom tries to coax me into being independent,
but she always gives in to my tantrums and lets me sit on her lap.

And so, I enjoyed my mother's pampering like an emperor, snuggling into her
arms every now and then, munching on my food while my hands mischievously groped her breasts. I had no
impure playful and active, finding my mother's breasts fascinating. What could a four-year-old understand
? So my mother let me touch them, only coaxing me to sit still and eat
properly My grandmother, eating nearby, watched her grandson's lively antics, enjoying
the warmth of family life. Her kind smile added to the scene's cozy atmosphere.

At night, I would rest my head on my mother's arm, listening to her tell stories. Then she would
gently pat my back to lull me to sleep, and then take off her clothes to sleep with me.

I need to clarify that I don't like sleeping alone, nor do I like anyone else taking my mother's role. I
only like sleeping with my mother. Until I was in the first year of junior high school, I would always pester my mother to sleep with me. However ,
after the fifth grade of elementary school, as I grew older, I mostly slept in my own room. But whenever I had the chance,
such as when I did well on a test or did excellent homework, this was the reward I asked for.

Haha, looking back now, I feel embarrassed. I don't know if it's just me who's so
immature. One thing needs to be clear: I didn't have any ulterior motives. I was just too dependent on my mother and too
clingy!

When I slept with my mother, before falling asleep, I would often playfully tease her breasts.
My mother knew I was just playing around and didn't interfere. I would fall asleep while playing, and I found
that this helped me drift off to sleep earlier than listening to stories.

Around third grade, I stopped playing with my mother's breasts. It wasn't out of embarrassment between boys and girls,
but simply because I found it uninteresting. Since I hadn't developed yet, I didn't understand
what breasts meant to boys and girls. If I had understood romantic feelings at that time, given the circumstances, I certainly wouldn't have stopped.
But that's just hypothetical.

Time passed, and after finishing elementary school, my excellent grades led me to the best public junior high school in the county.
If life had continued on this predetermined path, I would have smoothly completed junior
high, gone to high school, then university, and finally found a job. My story with my mother would have been a distant memory, since
childhood playful interactions and affectionate moments with one's mother are experiences most people have to some extent. When I entered junior high,
thanks to my parents' hard work and frugal living, our family's financial situation improved significantly.

My father entered the civil service through a recruitment exam when I was in fourth grade. Because of his smooth interpersonal skills, efficient
work ethic, and loyal character, he earned the praise of his superiors and colleagues, and now he's
the head of a section in a certain bureau. We've become wealthier, moved from the suburbs to
a .

Since becoming a minor leader in a powerful department, my father's social engagements and business trips have increased, meaning
he spends less time at home. However, this hasn't made much difference to me, as I've
never communicated much with him. He's always been busy outside, and when he comes home, he probably just spends time with my mother
before resting, rarely showing any interest in my life or thoughts.

Since my grandmother passed away, it's usually just my mother and me at home. My mother has always treated me like a treasure,
caring me, of course, about things like my life, studies, and health. This is typical of Chinese parents; they easily
neglect their children's adolescent education, failing to understand their thoughts and feelings, assuming that providing comfortable
material conditions and environment is enough. Therefore, my mother hasn't noticed the changes in me after I entered puberty.

Entering puberty, I inevitably developed feelings for the opposite sex. I would talk to my friends about girls at school, discussing
things we only vaguely understood about romance. I had a particular preference: I wasn't
very interested in young, cute girls, except for very pretty ones. I preferred mature women, those with a sophisticated allure. So,
I would unconsciously fantasize about the young female teachers I knew.

Back then, tight pants were fashionable, and seeing their alluring figures accentuated by them would
excite me, especially their pubic area, which sparked endless fantasies. Later, I found myself yearning for female teachers
in their thirties and forties, even more so than for younger ones. Their slightly protruding
bellies and the rounded hips that came with childbirth fueled my adolescent desires.

Sometimes, I would dream of being intimate with a voluptuous woman. Her face
was so blurry; perhaps that moment never actually happened, and the woman in my dream was
simply a manifestation of my daytime and nighttime fantasies.

My mother is also a voluptuous woman. She's 1.65 meters tall with a perfectly proportioned figure.
Although she's gained some weight, it hasn't diminished her beauty in the slightest; instead, it has added to her mature and alluring charm. She wears her long hair...
Her long, black hair, bright eyes and white teeth, almond-shaped face, rosy cheeks, round nose and red lips,
and a few wrinkles etched with the vicissitudes of time gave her a unique charm. These descriptions were meaningless to me at that time. I
didn't have any romantic feelings for my mother then; it was just the pure mother-child affection of family. I only knew that my mother was my mother,
nothing more.

Later, something happened that became a turning point, because it inadvertently planted
the seed of Oedipus complex in my heart. This story starts with my penis. Hehe, my foreskin was a bit too long, which had attracted my parents' attention
since A doctor friend also suggested to my father that I should have surgery to remove the foreskin.
So, during the summer vacation before the start of my second year of junior high school, my parents took me to the hospital for circumcision. I won't go into the details
, but I was afraid that this kind of surgery had to be done with utmost care, otherwise it could affect me for life!

After the surgery, I staggered out of the operating room and, with my parents' help, limped towards the cart,
groaning softly. My dad patted me and said, "A real man doesn't need to worry about this pain;
you'll be fine soon."

My mom, watching my gait and glancing at my crotch from time to time, chuckled. I saw this and
had to force myself to stay focused, stubbornly breaking free from my parents' arms and swaying forward. I heard my mom anxiously
call out, "Mingming, be careful, don't hurt yourself..." My mom stopped talking because that thing
was difficult to talk about, especially in public. Perhaps it was the combination of

my mother's uniquely feminine voice and the image of "penis" flashing through my mind, a continuation of her unfinished words , that caused me to feel a sudden surge of pleasure. Though it lasted only a fraction of a second, an indescribable ecstasy coursed through my entire body. My genitals, still recovering from surgery, began to ache; perhaps this was divine punishment for the shameful pleasure I had experienced . During the few days I spent recovering at home, the uncomfortable, throbbing pain accompanying erections prevented me from having any erotic dreams while sleeping. On the day the stitches were to be removed, my father happened to be away on a business trip, so my mother had to help me into the car and take me to the hospital alone. After leaving the hospital, my penis, now with the stitches removed, remained in a semi- erect state, neither growing larger nor smaller. This bothered me greatly; my thighs would rub against my glans as I walked. Since the glans had only recently emerged from the foreskin and was still very tender, every rub caused itching and pain. My mother quickly came to catch me, and, with a sudden surge of childlike innocence, I pretended to be dying and collapsed into her arms. Mom quickly put her hands on my shoulders, "Mingming, are you alright? Don't scare Mom . How are you? Ah, Mingming?" The moment Mom caught me, her body fragrance intoxicated me, especially since I was leaning forward on her shoulder. Through the collar of her business shirt, I could see her breasts tightly wrapped in a black lace bra. The visual contrast between her fair skin and the black lace was incredibly striking. My penis, stimulated by this, suddenly became erect, pushing against the crotch of my loose sweatpants like a mountain rising from the ground . "Mom is a woman!" This thought flashed through my mind, and my wildly pounding heart made me not dare to linger. I hurriedly straightened up, shook off Mom's hands, and ran nervously to the car. My mother was initially stunned by my sudden, strange act of walking away with my arms swinging. When she saw me running , she was genuinely startled and rushed over to ask what was wrong. I didn't dare look up, but I knew she must be very anxious. I pretended to be impatient and said, "Nothing, hurry up!" Then I jumped into the back seat . My mother was still confused, but she quickly got into the driver's seat, started the car, and drove home. After what had just happened, I felt much calmer, but my mother's snow-white breasts and black lace bra were forever etched in my memory. When we got home, I insisted on holding onto the handrail to climb the stairs myself, refusing to let my mother help me. Perhaps I felt shy and embarrassed, and I was also worried that too much contact would make me feel guilty and disgusted . I continued to rest at home, trying to purify myself of worldly desires. I was afraid that my penis, which was constantly getting hard , would become deformed, so I tried hard not to think about those female teachers. Three days passed, and I felt my penis had almost recovered. Walking wasn't as strenuous anymore. I was surprised to find that my penis was much larger than before the surgery, probably because the foreskin wasn't restricting it anymore. I pinched my glans with great interest, feeling a sense of self-satisfaction. One morning, I lingered in bed, stroking my penis after a nocturnal emission, reluctantly savoring the feeling. Images of female allure began to surface in my mind again. Just as I was about to drift back into my dream, my mother called, "Mingming, Mingming, get up and have breakfast!" I reluctantly called out, "I'll sleep a little longer." "Mingming, come eat soon, breakfast's getting cold!" The onset of puberty had made me more rebellious, and I yelled, "Aren't you annoying? I want to sleep more, I don't have class, what's all the noise about?!" Mom didn't say anything after hearing me; I think she probably had a helpless expression. Heh, just as I was continuing to indulge in the pleasure of rubbing my penis and fantasizing, Mom quickly brought a bowl of soy milk into my room. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but I was masturbating, so my heart started racing. I hurriedly pulled up my pajama bottoms, tried to sit up calmly, and didn't dare look at Mom, thinking she'd discovered my embarrassing act. "Drink it while it's hot, it'll get cold later," Mom seemed oblivious to my masturbation, and handed me the bowl of soy milk. I quickly took it and gulped it down to hide my earlier panic. "Drink slowly, baby, don't choke," Mom said gently and lovingly. Hearing her say that, I instinctively stopped, trying to slow down, but I lost my rhythm, and soy milk choked me, entering my throat and nostrils. Just as I was about to spit it out, the bowl lost its balance and slipped from my hands. Mom and I both reached out to catch it at the same time, but the interference caused us to miss, and the bowl crashed to the ground, spilling soy milk everywhere. Unfortunately, the rim of the bowl hit my crotch, and the warm soy milk soaked my thigh. I felt a sharp pain and quickly covered my penis with my hand, my face contorted in pain. Mom saw this and hurriedly squatted down, asking, "How are you, Mingming? Are you alright? Does it hurt?"

I didn't answer. I was in pain, but honestly, it shouldn't be so bad that I'd be wincing in pain. I had a playful thought
and continued to pretend to be in a lot of pain, wanting to see how my loving mother would react.

"Ouch, Mom..."

My mother was really worried this time. She pulled down my pants to check my injury. I guess
she probably realized something when my pants were down to my knees. But as a mother, she wouldn't think
too much about it. I was startled by this sudden action, especially since my large penis was still semi-
erect !

Embarrassed, I turned my head away, but out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my mother's face was also red. After a few seconds of
awkward my mother broke the silence. She lifted my penis with one hand and took out a tissue to
wipe it, cleaning the remaining soy milk residue from my inner thigh.

The cool, smooth touch of my mother's well-maintained hands contrasted sharply with the heat of my penis, creating a pleasurable
sensation. A wave of pleasure washed over me, and my penis uncontrollably swelled within her fingers, the head staring at her with
a fierce intensity My mother, seeing my reaction, was embarrassed, her ears turning red.

Since I started school, my mother hadn't touched my genitals. She never expected that upon our reunion, her son's penis
would become erect because of her, seemingly "provoking" her. In the brief moment my mother was stunned, I
secretly observed her. She wore a green tank top and tight jeans,
perfectly showcasing her voluptuous figure, her smooth skin, her rounded shoulders, and
her center-parted bangs that reached her eyelashes. My breath quickened!

My penis continued to swell, swelling to its maximum. My mother instinctively withdrew her hand from my penis, turned around
, and said breathlessly, "Ming...Ming, it should...it should be alright, get up and wash up."
She quickly picked up the bowl from the floor and walked away, leaving me sitting on the edge of the bed, inhaling the lingering
fragrance .

At that moment, my mother was still my mother, and I was still me, but I later realized that from that moment on
, I had fallen in love with my mother. My mother was the voluptuous woman I admired.

That year I was 15, during the summer before starting junior high, and my mother was 37.

In the days that followed, my mother became my sole object of fantasy. Every time I had a wet dream, I would dream of snow-white
breasts and a black lace bra. Every time I masturbated, I would fantasize about my mother's fragrant shoulders and jade-like hands. This
forbidden pleasure made me deeply addicted, but I also carried a heavy mental burden, even condemning myself for my
lewdness. But reason is usually no match for desire, especially since I was just a teenage boy; I didn't have the self-control of
an adult .

Of course, I wouldn't do anything out of line; it was just a thought in my mind. In daily life, I treated my mother the same as
before , and she didn't seem to care about that incident. What seemed so significant to me
wasn't enough to leave a deep impression on her.

After I entered the second year of junior high school, my father was promoted to deputy director of a bureau. With a higher position and more power came more social engagements,
and more people came to curry favor with him, including many sycophantic young women. My father often accompanied his superiors or accepted
invitations to go out for karaoke and drinking, frequenting hotels and various restaurants, often getting completely drunk. When he came home, he wouldn't
say a word to my mother and son, but would just collapse into bed. My parents' sex life noticeably decreased.

My mother and I tried to persuade my father to drink less and go out less, but he wouldn't listen. He continued his extravagant lifestyle,
indulging in a life of debauchery. Although he didn't break any laws or regulations, his lifestyle began to become corrupt (this is what I learned later).

So, every night, Mom would wait for Dad to come home, help him wash up, and get him to
bed . Often, she'd wait until one or two in the morning. If Dad didn't come home, Mom couldn't sleep, perhaps
because she craved intimacy. I couldn't stand Dad's behavior; it was completely irresponsible of him to leave his wife at home
alone he went out having fun. But I was the younger generation, and I didn't have the right or the courage to criticize him.

Later, Dad simply stopped coming home. This worried Mom terribly. She'd ask him where he'd been the night before,
and he'd only say he'd gone to a friend's house. His friend gave the same answer. If Mom pressed him further, Dad would reek of
alcohol and yell impatiently (I only realized later that this was probably because he felt guilty).

Sometimes, when Mom pressed him too hard, under the influence of alcohol, Dad would even raise his hand to slap her. Mom
stopped asking, but the resentment lingered.

During my second year of junior high, it was mostly just my mom and me at home. We ate breakfast, lunch, dinner, and late-night snacks
together . To alleviate her loneliness, my mom would come over and chat with me, telling me
about trivial things, and occasionally revealing her grievances and complaining about my dad's gradual indifference.

I mostly listened then, unable to interject. When my mom got to the sad parts, I would only offer a few words
of comfort . I didn't really have the mindset to get involved in adult matters. However, during that year, my
feelings for my mom developed significantly. I began to feel the need for a man to protect a woman, and I vowed to
study so that I could give my mom greater happiness in the future.

Thanks to my intelligence and effective methods, I completed my junior high studies with ease and
was admitted to the county's top high school with good grades. My parents were naturally very happy and bought me a computer as a reward.
With the computer, I discovered a new world: online, I could find many erotic novels and
movies to satisfy my adolescent desires.

I have a vivid memory of the first pornographic film I ever watched, *Jin Ping Mei*, which a classmate introduced to me. It was
the first time I'd seen a woman's naked body, the first time I'd seen a complete sex scene, and the first time I'd heard
a woman . All of this novelty and excitement was irresistible.

After gradually becoming familiar with the online pornography scene, I learned to search for my favorite themes online.
So I downloaded a bunch of incest movies and browsed incest novels, mostly about mothers and sons, brothers and sisters-in-law, and the like
. Whenever I got to an exciting part, I'd masturbate in front of the computer screen.

At first, my desires were controlled by these images, but slowly I became dissatisfied with facing the virtual world.
Desire drove me to focus on my mother. I really wanted another "soy milk incident," I really wanted my mother's
delicate hands to caress my penis again, I really wanted to be closer to my mother. To be honest, I
didn't want to have sex with my mother yet. At that age, at that

level of psychological development, my fantasies about my mother could only remain about her breasts, black lace lingerie, delicate hands, and fragrant shoulders.
On concrete things like long, beautiful hair.

Once, Mom called me from her room, "Mingming, could you help put the clothes
in the washing machine? Mom's cleaning."

I agreed and went to the laundry room in the master bedroom. I saw a huge pile of clothes on the laundry tub. There were so many that I
had to pick them up one by one and put them in the washing machine. Suddenly, I stared at the laundry tub like I'd discovered a treasure.
Oh my god, Mom's black lace bra and black lace panties!!!

I grabbed them and sniffed them hard. It was Mom's scent, a mixture of her milky fragrance and
the secretions , making my blood boil. My penis quickly became erect, and I could feel its
hardness and swelling. My mouth went dry, and my hands trembled with excitement.

I couldn't resist taking off my own underwear, rubbing my bra against my face while simultaneously pulling my mother's
panties over my penis and
masturbating violently. The pent-up desires of my adolescence, like a flood that had been building up inside me for so long, suddenly found a way to burst forth, and I rampaged recklessly. I even went so far as to bite my mother's bra with my teeth,
as if trying to swallow it whole.

The atmosphere was so intense that I quickly ejaculated, a large gush of white semen spraying onto my mother's
panties . I let out a long sigh, feeling immense satisfaction. Regaining my senses, I quickly remembered my
task in the laundry room. I hurriedly dumped the remaining clothes into the washing machine, closed the lid, and ran off,
oblivious to what was happening outside.

Just as I stepped out of the laundry room, my mother came over. I couldn't stop in time and
bumped into her. Startled by the sudden collision, she slipped and lost her balance,
falling backward. Luckily, I reacted quickly and grabbed her waist to stop her from falling. I
was still small and not much taller than her, so I was pulled forward by her and we
both fell to the ground.

My lips landed on her cheek, and my body pressed heavily on top of her. Coincidentally,
because she stumbled as she fell, her legs were spread apart, and my swollen
penis was pressed hard against her genitals. My arms were around her waist, and our heads
were turned to that side, with a large full-length mirror in the middle.
Our posture was reflected in the mirror, making it look as if I was pinning her down and trying to rape her.

Looking in the mirror, I realized my mother was wearing loose pajamas. She also noticed her
son on top of her in a manly position. Both of us blushed. I didn't get up,
but continued to press down on her, my penis still pressed against her buttocks. I could feel
the allure emanating from her genitals; it was indescribably pleasurable.

After a short while, my mother was the first to break free from the erotic atmosphere. She pushed me away, stood up,
and scolded me sternly, "How could you be so careless? Can't you walk properly? Why are you running like that?
Luckily you didn't hurt yourself. What if you had?"

I was speechless for a moment. I hadn't recovered from what I'd just witnessed, so I just stood there, scratching
the back of my head
Getting up, did you put the clothes in the washing machine?"...

I will never forget this scene. It was the first time I had a woman on top of me, and that
woman was my own mother. It was the first time... The first time I kissed a woman's cheek, the first time my penis pressed against a woman's genitals,
and this woman was also my mother. This scene made me realize the proportion of my mother's body beneath me,
and it also made the image of the voluptuous woman I had always fantasized about in my dreams clearer, infinitely close to my own mother...

Once Pandora's box was opened, it could not be closed again. My lust for my mother deepened, and I became more addicted to incestuous pornography on
the internet . I would also occasionally find opportunities to sneak into my parents' master bedroom when no one was home,
steal my mother's bra and panties, and put them on my penis to masturbate, just like the first time. If I found a black lace
bra and black lace panties, I would be even more excited.

However, my reason told me that although I had transgressed social norms, I should be mindful of the consequences and
control myself appropriately. So, each time, I resisted the urge to ejaculate on my mother's underwear and bra at the last moment, choosing instead to spray
towards her Simmons bed. I enjoyed the pleasure of releasing my lust, reluctantly wiping away the
rubbed-off pubic hair, putting the underwear back in its place, carefully wiping the semen off the floor, and
only .

Of course, this was a naive idea. Everyone knows that when masturbating, the penis secretes some
semen and vaginal fluid, which seeps into cotton underwear and leaves stains and a smell. I thought that as time
went on and the frequency increased, my mother would notice. Perhaps she didn't know how to bring up the topic or
how to communicate with me, so she never mentioned it and remained
natural .

This was confirmed shortly after I entered high school. My mother's bras, underwear, and some sensitive feminine
hygiene products were moved to a different location, a change that truly made me behave for a while.

As dawn

broke through the sheer curtains, golden rays of sunlight danced on the pink sheets in the gentle breeze. I
opened my sleepy eyes and gazed at my mother, still lost in a sweet dream beside me. Her gentle, beautiful face, the
slight upturn of her lips, and her even, soft breathing stirred my heart. I turned to her, tenderly brushing away
the strands of hair that cascaded down her cheek, and kissed her full, luscious lips with deep affection
. A wave of warmth and contentment washed over me.

Sensing the love on my lips, my mother awoke, opening her captivating eyes to look at me with tender affection. She
reached out her fair, jade-like hand and placed it on my cheek, a blush of mature womanhood spreading across her face. She was utterly alluring
, shy, and enchanting.

I gently lifted my mother's chin: "Mom, you're awake. Did you sleep well?"

My mother nodded: "Yes, Mingming, with you here, I slept soundly. It's been so long since we've been
together ."

A wave of emotion washed over me, mixed with a pang of sadness. Yes, I'm studying at a university in a city thousands of miles away. Although
I come home for long holidays, we rarely see each other. My mother is alone in her empty house; her loneliness and sorrow are unimaginable.
My mother gave me this, and I should fulfill my responsibilities and obligations as a man, spending more time with her when I'm home.
Pleasure, intimacy, madness.

"Mom, I love you." I rolled over, pinning her beneath me, and kissed her red lips again.
She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, opened her lips, and greedily sucked on my tongue, entwining with it wildly
.

One hand reached down to her crotch, rubbing her sensitive clitoris through her black lace panties.
The other hand skillfully moved to her back, unhooking her black lace bra. Her full, round breasts
bounced wild horses. I grabbed her right breast and rhythmically kneaded it. My tongue brushed against her upper lip
before quickly withdrawing, then moved to her left breast. I suckled her nipple with abandon, while my
hand kneading her crotch increased speed and force.

"Mmm...mmm...ah...ha..." Mom let out moans of pleasure.

Although I couldn't wait to make love to my mother as soon as I got home last night, we rolled around and were passionate until late at night, but
the long separation had aroused our desire to the extreme. I heard my mother's seductive moans, and I couldn't help but lift
my head and pull down her panties. Seeing this, my mother cooperated by sitting up and pulling down my panties. My penis
was already proudly erect, and a drop of pre-ejaculate seeped from the tip, making it even hotter and harder.

My mother stared at me, her eyes glazed over, her breathing rapid. At this moment, I had no heart to appreciate this erotic scene anymore.
I threw the lace panties onto the bedside table, pressed my mother down in her daze, and she fell heavily onto the Simmons mattress, her body
rising and falling with the swaying mattress. Her long, beautiful black hair spread out on the sheets like a peacock's tail. I
excitedly rubbed my penis against my mother's vulva, warming up and down, left and right, grinding against
her clitoris.

My mother cried out in a pleading voice, "No...no...I can't take it...come in...son...
come in

quickly
... ah ... ahh ... Mom gasped for breath, moaning and groaning, "Give it to me, give it to me, Mingming, give it to me quickly, hurry, hurry... Ah, so good, so good!" "Mom, is it good? Is it good?" "Yes, so good, so comfortable, Mingming is so good, you're making Mom unable to take it anymore, ahh..." I thrust hard while kneading Mom's breasts, which heaved with each tremor , making my blood boil. Slowly, Mom's vagina began to overflow with lustful fluid, streams of it being drawn out by my penis, soaking a large area . The sounds of the thrusting changed from a single "slap slap slap" to a symphony of "slap sizzle sizzle." After five or six minutes, Mom's whole body convulsed, her phoenix eyes widened, her face flushed, her red lips parted, and the veins on the back of her hands bulged slightly. Then came wave after wave of spasms. Mom shook her head desperately, her body swaying constantly, and I increased my thrusting speed. "Ah!!!! I'm coming, I'm going to die..." Mom's hands moved up to my shoulders, her nails digging into my flesh. Mom had an orgasm, waves of heat from her vagina crashing against my glans like waves crashing on the shore. I couldn't hold back any longer , I didn't want to hold back anymore. I quickly pulled out my penis, and just as the glans was about to leave her vaginal opening, I didn't give Mom a chance to feel the emptiness. I immediately pressed my hips down hard, and my penis plunged in all the way back in. "Mom, I'm going to cum." "Cum, cum, cum all in me, my good son." My ejaculation was released, and countless drops of semen bombarded Mom's uterus like cannonballs. Mom bit her lower lip tightly, moaning and struggling weakly . We reached our climax simultaneously, and I collapsed into my mother's arms. She immediately hugged me tightly, caressed me, and nibbled at me… My memories of my Oedipus complex stem from my birth in my rural hometown and my upbringing in the city. My parents were both from rural backgrounds who had worked their way up, experiencing the hardships and struggles of the working class. They couldn't bear to let their precious child suffer the same hardships, so they loved me dearly and tried their best to indulge me in everything they could. I was treated , which shaped my willful and stubborn personality. Stubbornness, in a way, is like persistence —the kind of relentless effort that doesn't give up until the goal is achieved. This might explain my later obsessive and almost insane behavior. During my early childhood, my family's financial situation wasn't very good. My parents had only been working for a year or two, and we had many relatives and siblings who needed support. My parents were both kind-hearted people, and whenever a relative was in trouble, they would find a way to help them, no matter what. My grandparents were getting old and could do less farm work, so naturally, the burden of supporting the family fell on my father's shoulders. To save more money, my father often looked for odd jobs after work, such as driving a motorcycle taxi, selling flowers and plants at a stall, or doing delivery work. He often didn't get home until late at night, and sometimes, if it was too late to disturb my mother and me, he would simply sleep at a friend's house. After work, Mom would go straight back to the teachers' dormitory (both Mom and Dad were teachers, but not at the same school; they worked in two different towns. During the day, after Mom and Dad went to work, Grandma would take care of me). The first thing Mom did when she got back to the dormitory was to pick me up and kiss my forehead and cheeks, saying, "You missed Mom, didn't you, my baby?" At that time, I was just a young child who didn't understand anything. Every time Mom kissed me, I would shyly squint my eyes and turn my head back, but I loved the feeling of being kissed by Mom; it was the closeness a child feels to their mother. At dinner time, I would fuss and ask Mom to hold me, to sit me on her lap. I didn't like sitting on hard wooden stools, and besides, it was difficult for me to pick up food because I wasn't tall enough. I liked sitting on Mom's warm, soft laps, having her pick up food and feed me.

My mom often says I'm a four-year-old now and should learn to do things myself. Of course, I don't allow it! It would be a shame not to sit in
such comfortable spot. Sometimes my mom tries to coax me into being independent,
but she always gives in to my tantrums and lets me sit on her lap.

So, I enjoy being pampered by my mom like an emperor, snuggling into her
arms from time to time, munching on my food while my hands mischievously grope her breasts. I have no
impure ; I'm just playful and active. I find my mom's breasts very interesting. What could a four-year-old understand
? So my mom lets me touch them, only coaxing me to sit
still . My grandma is also eating nearby, watching her grandson so energetically, enjoying
the warmth of family life. Her kind smile adds to the cozy atmosphere.

At night, I would always snuggle against my mother's arm, listening to her tell stories. She would
gently pat my back to lull me to sleep, then take off her clothes and sleep with me.

It's important to note that I didn't like sleeping alone, nor did I like anyone else taking my mother's place. I
only wanted to sleep with her. Until I was in seventh grade, I would always insist that she sleep with me. However,
after fifth grade, as I grew older, I mostly slept in my own room. But whenever I had the chance—
for example, if I did well on a test or got an excellent grade on my homework—this was my reward.

Hehe, looking back now, I feel embarrassed. I don't know if it's just me, so
immature. One thing is clear: I didn't have any ulterior motives; I was just too dependent on my mother, too
clingy!

When I slept with my mother, before falling asleep, I would often playfully tease her breasts.
My mother knew I was just playing around and didn't interfere. I would fall asleep while playing, and I found
that this helped me drift off to sleep earlier than listening to stories.

Around third grade, I stopped playing with my mother's breasts. It wasn't out of embarrassment between boys and girls,
but simply because I found it uninteresting. Since I hadn't developed yet, I didn't understand
what breasts meant to boys and girls. If I had understood romantic feelings at that time, given the circumstances, I certainly wouldn't have stopped.
But that's just hypothetical.

Time passed, and after finishing elementary school, my excellent grades led me to the best public junior high school in the county.
If life had continued on this predetermined path, I would have smoothly completed junior
high, gone to high school, then university, and finally found a job. My story with my mother would have been a distant memory, since
childhood playful interactions and affectionate moments with one's mother are experiences most people have to some extent. When I entered junior high,
thanks to my parents' hard work and frugal living, our family's financial situation improved significantly.

My father entered the civil service through a recruitment exam when I was in fourth grade. Because of his smooth interpersonal skills, efficient
work ethic, and loyal character, he earned the praise of his superiors and colleagues, and now he's
the head of a section in a certain bureau. We've become wealthier, moved from the suburbs to
a .

Since becoming a minor leader in a powerful department, my father's social engagements and business trips have increased, meaning
he spends less time at home. However, this hasn't made much difference to me, as I've
never communicated much with him. He's always been busy outside, and when he comes home, he probably just spends time with my mother
before resting, rarely showing any interest in my life or thoughts.

Since my grandmother passed away, it's usually just my mother and me at home. My mother has always treated me like a treasure,
caring me, of course, about things like my life, studies, and health. This is typical of Chinese parents; they easily
neglect their children's adolescent education, failing to understand their thoughts and feelings, assuming that providing comfortable
material conditions and environment is enough. Therefore, my mother hasn't noticed the changes in me after I entered puberty.

Entering puberty, I inevitably developed feelings for the opposite sex. I would talk to my friends about girls at school, discussing
things we only vaguely understood about romance. I had a particular preference: I wasn't
very interested in young, cute girls, except for very pretty ones. I preferred mature women, those with a sophisticated allure. So,
I would unconsciously fantasize about the young female teachers I knew.

Back then, tight pants were fashionable, and seeing their alluring figures accentuated by them would
excite me, especially their pubic area, which sparked endless fantasies. Later, I found myself yearning for female teachers
in their thirties and forties, even more so than for younger ones. Their slightly protruding
bellies and the rounded hips that came with childbirth fueled my adolescent desires.

Sometimes, I would dream of being intimate with a voluptuous woman. Her face
was so blurry; perhaps that moment never actually happened, and the woman in my dream was
simply a manifestation of my daytime and nighttime fantasies.

My mother was also a voluptuous woman. She was 1.65 meters tall with a perfectly proportioned figure.
Although she was a little plump, it didn't diminish her beauty in the slightest; instead, it added to her mature and alluring charm. She had long, flowing
black hair, bright eyes and white teeth, an almond-shaped face with rosy cheeks, a round nose, and red lips. A few wrinkles on her face etched
the marks of time, giving her a unique allure. These descriptions didn't resonate with me at the time. I
didn't have any romantic feelings for my mother then; it was just the pure, maternal love of family. I simply knew that my mother was my mother,
nothing more.

Later, something happened that became a turning point, inadvertently planting
the seed of a mother complex in my heart. This all started with my penis, haha. My foreskin was a bit too long, which caught my parents' attention
when . A doctor friend even suggested to my dad that I have surgery to remove the excess foreskin.
So, during the summer before I started junior high, my parents took me to the hospital for a circumcision. I won't go into the details
, but I was terrified that this kind of surgery had to be done with extreme care, otherwise it could affect me for life!

After the surgery, I staggered out of the operating room, limping towards the cart with my parents' help,
groaning softly. My dad patted me and said, "A real man doesn't need to worry about this pain;
it'll be fine soon."

My mom watched my gait, glancing at my crotch every now and then, giggling. I saw it all.
Forced to muster my strength, I stubbornly broke free from my parents' arms and swayed forward. My mother
called anxiously, "Mingming, be careful, don't hurt yourself..." She trailed off, because that thing
was difficult to talk about, especially in public.

Perhaps it was the uniquely feminine voice of my mother combined with the word "penis" that flashed through my mind, continuing her unfinished sentence
, that caused a sudden surge of pleasure. Though it lasted only a fraction of a second, an
indescribable ecstasy coursed through my body. My recently operated genitals began to ache; perhaps it was divine punishment for the shameful pleasure I
had experienced .

During the few days I recovered at home, the uncomfortable swelling and pain accompanying erections
prevented me from having any erotic dreams while sleeping. On the day the stitches were removed, my father was away on a business trip, so my mother had to
help me into the car and take me to the hospital alone. After leaving the hospital, my penis, now with the stitches removed, remained in a semi-
erect state, neither growing larger nor smaller.

This made me very uncomfortable. My thighs would rub against my glans when I walked. Since my glans had only recently emerged from the foreskin and
was still very tender, it would itch and hurt with every rub. My mother quickly came over and caught me. I was overcome
with childlike collapsing into my mother's arms. My mother hurriedly put her hands on my shoulders. "Mingming, are you alright? Don't scare
Mom. How are you? Ah, Mingming?"

The moment my mother caught me, the fragrance emanating from her body intoxicated me. Especially since I
was leaning forward on my mother's shoulder, through the collar of her business shirt, I could see her
breasts tightly wrapped in a black lace bra. The visual contrast between her fair skin and the black lace gave me a powerful
shock.

My penis, stimulated by this, suddenly became erect, pushing against the crotch of my loose sweatpants like a mountain
rising from the ground . "Mom is a woman!" This thought flashed through my mind, and my heart pounded wildly
, preventing me from lingering. I hurriedly straightened up, shook off my mother's hand, and ran nervously to the
car.

My mother was initially stunned by my strange action of suddenly shaking off her hand and running away. When she saw me
running , she was genuinely frightened and rushed over to ask what was wrong. I didn't dare to look up, but I knew my mother
must be very anxious. I pretended to be impatient and said, "Nothing, hurry up!" Then I jumped into
the back seat .

My mother was still confused, but she quickly got into the driver's seat, started the car, and drove home.
After what had just happened, my emotions had calmed down a lot, but my mother's snow-white breasts and black lace bra were
forever etched into my memory.

Back home, I insisted on climbing the stairs myself, refusing my mother's help. Perhaps I
felt shy and embarrassed; I was also worried that too much contact would make me feel guilty and disgusted
. I continued to rest at home, trying to abstain from worldly desires. I was afraid my penis, which was constantly engorged with blood
, would become deformed, so I tried hard not to think about those female teachers.

Three days passed, and I felt my penis had almost recovered. Walking wasn't as difficult anymore.
I was surprised to find that my penis was much larger than before the surgery, probably because the foreskin was gone.
I fondly pinched my glans, feeling a sense of self-satisfaction.

One morning, I lingered in bed, stroking my penis after a nocturnal emission, reluctantly savoring
the feeling. Images of female allure began to surface in my mind. Just as I was about to drift back into my dreams,

my mother called, "Mingming, Mingming, get up and have breakfast!"

I reluctantly called out, "I'll sleep a little longer."

"Mingming, come eat soon, breakfast's getting cold!"

The onset of puberty had made me more rebellious, and I yelled, "Aren't you annoying? I want to sleep more,
I don't have class, what's all the noise about?!"

Mom didn't say anything after hearing me; I think she probably had a helpless expression. Heh, just as I
was continuing to indulge in the pleasure of rubbing my penis and fantasizing, Mom quickly brought a bowl of soy milk into my room.
Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but I was masturbating, so my heart started racing. I hurriedly pulled up
my pajama bottoms, tried to sit up calmly, and didn't dare look at Mom, thinking she'd discovered my embarrassing act.

"Drink it while it's hot, it'll get cold later," Mom seemed oblivious to my masturbation, and
handed me the bowl of soy milk.

I quickly took it and gulped it down to hide my earlier panic.

"Drink slowly, baby, don't choke," Mom said gently and lovingly. Hearing her say that, I instinctively
stopped, trying to slow down, but I couldn't stop in time, and the soy milk choked me, entering my throat and nostrils. Just as I
was about to spit it out, the bowl lost its balance and slipped from my hands. Mom and I both
reached out to catch it at the same time, but the interference caused us to miss, and the bowl fell heavily to the ground, spilling soy milk everywhere.

Unfortunately, the rim of the bowl hit my crotch, and the warm soy milk soaked my thigh. I felt a sharp
pain and quickly covered my penis with my hand, making a pained expression. Mom saw this and hurriedly squatted down, asking,
"How are you, Mingming? Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

I didn't answer. I was in pain, but honestly, it shouldn't be enough to make me wince. I had a mischievous thought
and continued to pretend to be in a lot of pain, wanting to see how my loving mother would react.

"Ouch, Mom..."

Mom was really worried now. She pulled down my pants to check my injury. I guess
she realized something when my pants were down to my knees. But as a mother, she wouldn't think
too much about it. I was startled by her sudden action, especially since my large penis was still semi-
erect !

I turned my head away embarrassedly, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Mom's face was also red. After a few seconds of
awkward silence, Mom broke the silence. She lifted my penis with one hand and took out a tissue to
wipe it, cleaning the remaining soy milk from my inner thigh.

The cool temperature of Mom's well-maintained, fair and smooth hands contrasted with the heat of my penis
, creating a wave of pleasure. My penis uncontrollably swelled up in Mom's fingers, the glans staring at her
with wide eyes . Mom was also embarrassed by my reaction, her ears turning red.

My mother hadn't touched my genitals since I started school; I never expected to see my son's penis again.
My penis would become erect, "provoking" itself. In the brief moment my mother was stunned, I
secretly peeked at her. She was wearing a green tank top and tight jeans, which
perfectly showcased her voluptuous figure, her smooth skin, her rounded, fleshy shoulders, and her
center-parted bangs that reached her eyelashes. My breath quickened!

My penis continued to swell, swelling to its maximum. My mother subconsciously withdrew her hand from my penis, turned around
, and said breathlessly, "Ming...Ming, it should...it should be...okay. Get up and wash up."
After saying that, she quickly picked up the bowl on the floor and walked away, leaving me sitting on the edge of the bed, inhaling
the fragrance .

At that time, my mother was still my mother, and I was still me, but I later realized that from that moment on, I had fallen in love with
my mother. My mother was the voluptuous woman I admired.

That year, I was 15 years old, during the summer vacation before starting junior high school, and my mother was 37 years old.

In the days that followed, my mother became my sole object of fantasy. Every time I had a wet dream, I would dream of her snow-white
breasts and a black lace bra. Every time I masturbated, I would fantasize about my mother's fragrant shoulders and delicate hands. This
forbidden pleasure captivated me, leaving me unable to extricate myself. At the same time, I was burdened with mental pressure, even berating myself for my
lewdness and depravity. But reason is usually no match for desire, especially since I was just a teenage boy; I didn't have the self-control of
an adult .

Of course, I couldn't do anything out of line; it was just a thought in my mind. In daily life, I treated my mother the same as
before , and she didn't seem to care about that incident. What seemed so significant to me
wasn't enough to leave a deep impression on her.

After I entered the second year of junior high school, my father was promoted to deputy director of a bureau. With his higher position and greater power came more social obligations, and
many more people came to curry favor with him, including numerous young women who fawned over him. My father frequently accompanied his superiors or accepted
invitations to go out for karaoke and drinking, frequenting hotels and various restaurants, often getting completely drunk. When he returned home, he wouldn't
say a word to my mother and me, but would just collapse into bed. My parents' sex life noticeably decreased.

My mother and I tried to persuade my father to drink less and go out less, but he wouldn't listen. He continued his
extravagant lifestyle, indulging in a life of debauchery. Although he didn't break any laws or regulations, his lifestyle began to become corrupt (this is what I learned later).

So, every night, Mom would wait for Dad to come home, help him wash up, and get him to
bed . Often, she'd wait until one or two in the morning. If Dad didn't come home, Mom couldn't sleep, perhaps
because she craved intimacy. I couldn't stand Dad's behavior; it was completely irresponsible of him to leave his wife at home
alone he went out having fun. But I was the younger generation, and I didn't have the right or the courage to criticize him.

Later, Dad simply stopped coming home. This worried Mom terribly. She'd ask him where he'd been the night before,
and he'd only say he'd gone to a friend's house. His friend gave the same answer. If Mom pressed him further, Dad would reek of
alcohol and yell impatiently (I only realized later that this was probably because he felt guilty).

Sometimes, when Mom pressed him too hard, under the influence of alcohol, Dad would even raise his hand to slap her. Mom
stopped asking, but the resentment lingered.

During my second year of junior high, it was mostly just my mom and me at home. We ate breakfast, lunch, dinner, and late-night snacks
together . To alleviate her loneliness, my mom would come over and chat with me, telling me
about trivial things, and occasionally revealing her grievances and complaining about my dad's gradual indifference.

I mostly listened then, unable to interject. When my mom got to the sad parts, I would only offer a few words
of comfort . I didn't really have the mindset to get involved in adult matters. However, during that year, my
feelings for my mom developed significantly. I began to feel the need for a man to protect a woman, and I vowed to
study so that I could give my mom greater happiness in the future.

Thanks to my intelligence and effective methods, I completed my junior high studies with ease and
was admitted to the county's top high school with good grades. My parents were naturally very happy and bought me a computer as a reward.
With the computer, I discovered a new world: online, I could find many erotic novels and
movies to satisfy my adolescent desires.

I have a vivid memory of the first pornographic film I ever watched, *Jin Ping Mei*, which a classmate introduced to me. It was
the first time I had ever seen a woman's naked body, the first time I had ever seen a complete sex scene, and the first time I had ever heard
a woman . All of this novelty and excitement was irresistible.

After gradually becoming familiar with the pornographic environment online, I learned to search for my favorite themes online.
So I downloaded a lot of incest movies and browsed incest novels, mostly about mothers and sons, brothers and sisters-in-law, and the like
. Every time I got to an exciting part, I would masturbate in front of the computer screen.

At first, my desires were controlled by these images, but slowly I became dissatisfied with facing the abstract.
Desire drove me to focus on my mother. I really hoped for another "soy milk incident," I really hoped that my mother's
delicate hands could caress my penis again, I really hoped that my mother and I could be closer. To be honest, I
didn't want to have sex with my mother yet. At that age, at that

level of psychological development, my fantasies about my mother could only stay on concrete things like breasts, black lace lingerie, delicate hands, fragrant shoulders, and
long, beautiful hair.

One time, Mom called me from her room, "Mingming, could you help me put the clothes
in the washing machine? Mom's cleaning."

I agreed and went to the laundry room in the master bedroom. I saw a huge pile of clothes on the laundry tub. There were so many that I
had to pick them up one by one and put them in the washing machine. Suddenly, I stared at the laundry tub like I'd discovered a treasure.
Oh my god, Mom's black lace bra and black lace panties!!!

I grabbed them and sniffed them hard. It was Mom's scent, a mixture of her milky fragrance and
the secretions , making my blood boil. My penis quickly became erect, and I could feel its
hardness and swelling. My mouth went dry, and my hands trembled with excitement.

I couldn't resist taking off my own underwear, rubbing my bra against my face while simultaneously pulling my mother's
panties over my penis and masturbating wildly. The pent-up desires of my adolescence, like a flood that had been building up inside me for so long, suddenly found
a way to burst forth, and I raged uncontrollably. I even went so far as to bite at my mother's bra with my teeth,
as if trying to swallow it whole.

The atmosphere was so intense that I quickly ejaculated, a large gush of white semen spraying onto my mother's underwear.
I let out a long sigh of relief, feeling a great sense of satisfaction. Regaining my senses, I quickly remembered my
task in the laundry room. I hurriedly dumped the remaining clothes into the washing machine, closed the lid, and turned to run, not
paying attention to what was happening outside.

Just as I stepped out of the laundry room, my mother came along. I couldn't stop in time and
bumped into her. Startled by the sudden collision, she slipped and lost her balance,
falling backward. Luckily, I reacted quickly and rushed forward to grab her waist, trying to stop her fall. At that time, I was
still small and not much taller than my mother. She pulled me forward as well, and we
both fell to the ground.

My lips landed squarely on my mother's cheek, and my body pressed heavily against hers. Coincidentally,
because she stumbled as she fell, her legs were spread apart, and my swollen
penis was pressed firmly against her genitals. My arms were around her waist, and both our heads
were turned to the same side. There was a built-in wardrobe on that side, with a large full-length mirror in the middle.
Our positions were reflected in the mirror, making it seem as if I was pinning her down and about to rape her.

Through the mirror, I realized that my mother was wearing loose pajamas, and she noticed her
son on top of her in a manly position. Both of us blushed with shame. I didn't get up
but continued to press against her, my penis still pressed against her buttocks. I could feel the allure emanating from her genitals
; it was an indescribable pleasure.

After a brief moment, it was Mom who first broke free from the erotic atmosphere, shoving me aside and standing
up, scolding me in a stern tone, "How could you be so careless? Can't you walk properly? Why are you running around like that?
Luckily you didn't hurt yourself. What if you had?"

I was speechless for a moment, still reeling from what had just happened, and could only stand there, scratching
the back of my head . Seeing this, Mom said, "Alright, be careful next time. Don't be so playful. How old are you? Still running around like that.
Get up. Did you put the clothes in the washing machine?"...

I will never forget this scene. It was the first time I had a woman pinned beneath me, and that
woman was my own mother. It was my first... The first time I kissed a woman's cheek, the first time my penis pressed against a woman's genitals,
and this woman was also my mother. This scene made me realize the proportion of my mother's body beneath me,
and it also made the image of the voluptuous woman I had always fantasized about in my dreams clearer, infinitely close to my own mother...

Once Pandora's box was opened, it could not be closed again. My lust for my mother deepened, and I became more addicted to incestuous pornography on
the internet . I would also occasionally find opportunities to sneak into my parents' master bedroom when no one was home,
steal my mother's bra and panties, and put them on my penis to masturbate, just like the first time. If I found a black lace
bra and black lace panties, I would be even more excited.

However, my reason told me that although I had transgressed social norms, I should be mindful of the consequences and
control myself appropriately. So, each time, I resisted the urge to ejaculate on my mother's underwear and bra at the last moment, choosing instead to spray
towards her Simmons bed. I enjoyed the pleasure of releasing my lust, reluctantly wiping away the
rubbed-off pubic hair, putting the underwear back in its place, carefully wiping the semen off the floor, and
only .

Of course, this was a naive idea. Everyone knows that when masturbating, the penis secretes some
semen and vaginal fluid, which seeps into cotton underwear and leaves stains and a smell. I thought that as time
went on and the frequency increased, my mother would notice. Perhaps she didn't know how to bring up the topic or
how to communicate with me, so she never mentioned it and remained
natural .

This was confirmed shortly after I entered high school. My mother's bras, underwear, and some sensitive feminine
hygiene products were moved to a different location, a change that truly made me behave for a while.

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