Chapter 2

I am trying my best to describe the development of the entire event, and I want to string together every bit scattered in my memory and try to restore a real process for everyone.

From the initial ignorance, to the later desire, to the urgency, to the end, to the real occurrence with my mother, it is actually a complex and slow process of continuous development.

I can't remember the time span. It probably started with my vague consciousness in the third and fourth grades until the summer vacation of the third grade, I really had a relationship with my mother.

I think the most important thing in the middle is probably the first time I had contacted my mother's private parts for the second time. I always thought I was very careful and cautious, and I thought my mother would not know her little thoughts. Haha

Now when I think back on how an adult didn't know the little movements of a childish teenager, I don't know why my mother didn't stop me. If my mother scolded me severely or simply slapped me, even if she firmly refused, things wouldn't have happened later.

I have read a lot of erotic articles. If you follow the logic of erotic articles, it will be attributed to desire, saying that mothers also need it. Dad is rarely at home, and I have never discovered any connection between mothers and other men.

But this is definitely not the reason why my mother allowed it. I think the biggest reason is that my mother doesn't know how to deal with this matter, and is afraid that loud scolding and rejection will have a bad impact on the child. The mother is just out of her mother's love for her son, maybe it's spoiling.

This kind of spoiling made my mother retreat step by step until my first contact with her mother. The first contact made me feel the beauty of sex. The first intimate contact of a young boy, and the partner was the goddess who was longing for a long time. During the second contact, my mother's resentful and soft scolding gave me extreme courage.

I have recalled countless times what would happen to me if I went back to that night?

I don't know, I really don't know, I may really not have the courage to do anything else, I don't know if my mother would reject me if she returned to that night, instead of choosing to endure and bear it.

There is no if in the world...

Mom is a little bourgeoisie, with a romantic feeling. I don’t know what to say. Even if a plate of simple fried potato shreds, Mom will use green peppers to embellish it. A simple blue cloth will make a beautiful bouquet.

From childhood to adulthood, I have hardly seen my mother and anyone blush, nor have I heard my mother say anything wrong with anyone behind her.

In fact, it is quite incompatible with society. My father is just the opposite. He has a low education, but he is good at dancing and lives like a fish in society.

I don't know how to evaluate my father. My father gave me more like a stranger, a stranger who at least brought me and my mother a good material life.

I have been searching for people who have the same experience on the Internet countless times. Unfortunately, until now, I have not found a true story that I can believe. In their telling, full of desire and vulgar words, my mother is just a slut, a slut who can go to bed with just one look. They have no guilt and anxiety, no regret or confusion.

What I want to say is that the purpose of telling this story is not to show off, I just want people to know that whether it is right or wrong, at least this has happened once

Mother and son, I'm sorry, I don't want to say those two words, it's definitely not a simple thing. I don't know how to describe the feeling of my mother and I feeling after the first time, depression, helplessness, regret...

It's really overwhelming

I don't know what my mother feels. We hid each other in those days, and we really had no desire.

After this incident, my father came back a few days later. I think my father would definitely not feel the secret between me and my mother. My mother covered up very well in front of my father, but instead I was worried.

When I saw that I was unhappy, my father took me and my mother out to play. At noon, I was having dinner outside. The chopsticks fell to the ground. I bent down to pick them up. I looked up and saw the white thighs under my mother's short skirt. Human desire was really strange. Blood suddenly rushed to the top of my head. The desire was rekindled, and the lower part became hard immediately...

Humans are a strange animal. Desire comes and cannot be controlled. Their mind is slowly filled with the shadow of mother. They are always savoring every intimate contact between themselves and mother, savoring their delicate skin, white and slender thighs, and savoring the glutinous and wet feeling of mother's tender garden...

I had never been interested in my mother's clothes before. I used my mother's underwear to masturbate in those days. After ejaculation, I felt empty and helpless. I suddenly felt disgusted with what I did. I felt very uncomfortable. I wanted to cry but couldn't cry.

Every night I go to the door of my parents' room to eavesdrop. I heard the sound of my parents having sex. In just a few minutes, my father's heavy breathing and my mother's soft moans. Finally, I heard my father say something. I ejaculated, and soon my father's snoring sounds

I stood outside the door, feeling mixed feelings in my heart, and was extremely excited. I masturbated with my hands, fantasizing that I was constantly thrusting hard on my mother, and on the other hand, it felt sour, as if my woman was snatched away by my father and I was powerless.

Finally, I looked forward to my father's departure. After my father left, my mother's mood seemed to be much more stable. Although she was still a little depressed, she finally started talking to me. Of course, all the things she said were trivial matters. That night was the deepest secret in our hearts, and no one dared to mention them.

I wandered outside my mother's door for several nights, but I still didn't have the courage to go in!

I am not as full of courage as I imagined, so I kept thinking that if my mother refused me harshly or politely at the beginning, maybe there would be no such things. After my mother refused me twice, I would not dare to look for my mother. I don’t know how to describe that mental state. What you shouldn’t have gotten, mixed with helplessness, depression and beauty. Then you lost it again, and felt extremely lost in your heart. Gradually, my mind was filled with the shadow of my mother. Not just that kind of thing, including my mother’s every frown and smile, every moment I was with my mother, I would recall for a long time. At night, I savored the beautiful moments with my mother frequently masturbated. During the day, I was full of helplessness and sorrow.

At that time, school had been starting more than two months. I didn't know many of the classmates in the class. Every day, I sat in the classroom in a daze, and could hardly hear anything. After class, I lay on the table and sleep like a walking corpse. In fact, my teacher and classmates naturally saw my condition. To be honest, I don't care. I only care about my mother. I am not interested in everything else...

Since the first time I really happened to my mother, I had almost no communication with my mother. My mother subconsciously avoided me. I was also afraid to see my mother. Desire occupied my heart more and more. I think the look of my mother reveals desire in my eyes, but it was my mother who broke the deadlock. At night, my mother sat in my room for a long time and wanted to say something to me, but she never said anything. Looking at my mother's back as she left, my mind was filled with the feeling of mom's lower body being plump and wet, and my thick and hard penis was pressed against my pants. I had the urge and pleasure to ejaculate...

Actually, I wrote a text to describe the story of my mother and I. Over time, I have gained a lot of new experiences and feelings. I am not willing to post that tender text, but I wrote a postscript. You can take a look. This is also my original intention of writing this text.