I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, completely immersed in a sensory storm I had never experienced before. A series of broken, tearful moans and exclamations of wonder escaped uncontrollably from the corner of my mouth.
These brazen, lust-filled words clearly made Mom even more embarrassed and flustered. Her face flushed as red as a ripe tomato, and even her neck was tinged with pink.
I could feel her palm, gripping the base of me, starting to sweat, becoming warm and damp.
Yet, strangely, despite her shyness, the movement of her hand didn't stop. Encouraged by my unconscious moans, it even seemed... seemed to find a bit of a rhythm, becoming slightly smoother.
Her body also underwent subtle changes. Her originally rigid sitting posture loosened a little. Her buttocks squirmed uncomfortably on the bedsheet for a moment, and her two plump, fair thighs unconsciously rubbed against each other briefly.
All these tiny movements were captured by my half-open eyes, further stimulating my nerves.
The pleasure was building up far too quickly, too intensely.
Mom had only stroked my cock for less than a dozen times when a powerful, irresistible urge to ejaculate surged violently from deep within my lower abdomen, shooting straight to my tailbone.
"I can't hold on! Mom! I... I'm going to cum! I can't hold it back! Ah—"
I cried out in panic, my body tensing like a fully drawn bow, my toes curling tightly.
Hearing my warning, Mom seemed to tense up as well. Her hand subconsciously quickened the pace and increased the pressure of her strokes.
It was these few hurried, somewhat flustered yet determined strokes that became the final straw.
My defenses gave way. My waist thrust upward uncontrollably several times with violent force, and streams of hot, thick semen shot out like floodwaters bursting through a dam!
"Ugh, ahhh—!"
Accompanied by my unstoppable, nearly sobbing low roar, white semen traced slightly viscous parabolic arcs through the air, spurting out with force.
The first wave, the second, the third... several consecutive spurts, most of which, unexpectedly and accurately, splattered onto Mom, who was caught completely off guard!
Some landed on the chest of her lavender nightgown, quickly spreading into a small, dark wet patch that clung tightly to her full breasts, outlining their enticing shape. Some even splashed directly onto her exposed collarbone and neck. And a few drops actually shot onto one side of her cheek and chin!
Mom was completely stunned, frozen in place. Her hand remained in the position of holding me, her eyes wide open, her face filled with shock and bewilderment, as if she hadn't yet processed what had just happened.
The aftershocks of the climax left me completely limp, my mind blank.
A few seconds later, I realized the "disastrous scene" before me and was instantly terrified out of my wits. All the pleasure was replaced by immense panic.
"I'm... I'm sorry! Mom! I'm sorry!"
I fumbled to grab tissues from the bedside, stammering my apology, my voice choked with tears. "It was... it felt too good... I... I couldn't hold back... I got it on you... Let me wipe it for you..."
It was then that Mom seemed to snap out of her frozen state.
She looked down at the mess on her chest and body, then raised her hand and gently wiped the sticky fluid from her cheek with her finger. She brought it before her eyes, looking at it with a complex expression.
An extremely strange look flashed across her face—shame, panic, and perhaps a trace of... a barely perceptible tremor?
But she quickly masked it. Gently blocking my outstretched hand that wanted to help wipe her, her voice was somewhat hoarse but surprisingly calm: "It's... it's okay. You... clean yourself up. Mom... Mom will go wash first."
With that, she stood up. Without looking at me again or saying anything more, she left my room with hurried, almost fleeing steps, gently closing the door behind her.
The room was suddenly left with just me. The air was filled with a faint, unique musky scent, reminding me that everything that had just happened wasn't a dream.
I slumped on the bed, breathing heavily, staring in the direction of the door, unable to regain my composure for a long time. Ecstasy, lingering fear, shame, disbelief... a flood of emotions washed over me.
Mom actually... really used her hand to... take care of me...
I pulled up my pants, mechanically moved to the edge of the bed, and sat in the spot where Mom had just been sitting.
The bedsheet still retained the warmth of her body and a faint, elusive fragrance.
I lay down, burying my face in the pillow that still carried her scent, and took a deep breath.
Strangely, the restlessness, anxiety, and the agony of being unable to concentrate that had plagued me for weeks had now miraculously vanished.
In their place was an unprecedented sense of relaxation and... a secret, immense satisfaction.
My body and mind felt completely emptied out, then filled with something warm and peaceful.
An intense drowsiness washed over me. Soon, amidst these complex, indescribable emotions, I fell into a deep sleep.
...
And in another space I was completely unaware of—the bathroom.
Mom had locked the door, leaned back against the cold tiled wall, and slowly slid down to sit on the floor.
She looked at the woman in the mirror—flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, chest and face stained with her own son's semen. Her eyes were filled with confusion, guilt, and a deep, bottomless self-loathing.
Yet, amidst this extreme turmoil, an even stronger, physiological impulse swept over her.
The physical emptiness brought on by her husband's long-term absence was completely ignited by the forbidden, youthful, life-filled stimulation from moments ago.
She could clearly feel the swampy wetness between her legs; her panties were completely soaked. An unbearable emptiness and itch were spreading from the deepest part of her body.
As if guided by some unseen force, she raised a trembling hand. With her fingertip, she gently scraped off the now somewhat congealed, milky-white semen belonging to me from her cheek.
She looked at the viscous fluid on her fingertip, her eyes struggling intensely. In the end, desire overwhelmed everything.
She closed her eyes and, as if tasting poison, slowly, bit by bit, licked that uniquely scented fluid into her mouth, even sucking her finger clean.
After doing this, she buried her burning face in her knees and let out a suppressed, tearful moan filled with helplessness and despair:
"An'an... Mom... what should Mom do..."
She could clearly feel that her long-neglected, mature body had undergone a terrifying and dangerous change.
The new day arrived with the blaring of the alarm clock.
I opened my eyes, without the usual irritation and heaviness of being dragged from bed.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, and the scent of fried eggs drifted in the air.
I stretched, feeling comfort in every joint. Last night's chaotic yet ultimate release was like a torrential downpour, washing away the heat and muck that had accumulated in my heart for months.
I got up briskly and washed up. The person in the mirror had eyes that shone with an unfamiliar brightness. The dark circles under my eyes had faded, and even my cheeks seemed to have gained a bit of color.
I grinned at myself in the mirror.
Walking into the dining area, Mom had her back to me, arranging the fried eggs and bacon on plates.
Today she wore a light apricot-colored knit top with beige straight-leg pants, still covering herself up, but her silhouette was graceful. The morning light cast a fuzzy golden halo around her.
"Mom, morning!"
My voice was louder than usual, carrying an unconscious cheerfulness.
Mom turned around with the plates. Seeing my energetic appearance, she clearly paused for a moment.
A flicker of relieved ease passed through her eyes, but then the images from last night intruded. That ease was immediately covered by a faint blush.
She somewhat unnaturally averted her gaze, placing the plate in front of me.
"Morning... eat quickly, or you'll be late."
Her voice was still gentle, but the tail end wavered slightly.
"Mhm!"
I sat down opposite her, picked up my chopsticks, and ate quickly and heartily.
The fried eggs were crispy on the outside, tender inside; the bacon was perfectly salty and savory. Even the plain white rice porridge I usually found bland tasted exceptionally sweet and refreshing.
I secretly glanced up at her. She was taking small sips of her porridge, her eyelashes lowered, the blush on her cheeks not yet fully faded, like a light dusting of rouge.
The sunlight happened to fall on her profile, illuminating the fine downy hairs and the expanse of fair skin on her neck.
My heart swelled with a strange sense of satisfaction and closeness. Last night's incident hadn't created distance; instead, it felt like an invisible thread, understood only by us, had been tied between her and me.
I finished my food like a whirlwind, grabbed my schoolbag, picked up the cup of warm milk on the table, and gulped it down in one go.
Putting down the cup, I looked at her and blurted out, "Mom, I'm off to school!"
I paused. The words that had been rolling around in my throat, carrying a bit of recklessness and testing, finally rushed out:
"Love you, Mom."
After saying it, I didn't dare look at her reaction. Like a startled rabbit, I turned and ran out of the house.
The security door slammed shut behind me, cutting off everything inside.
I stood in the hallway, breathing in the cool morning air in big gulps. My heart was still pounding, my face felt hot, but I couldn't help grinning.
I practically bounced down the stairs, heading in the direction of school, my steps so light I could almost fly.
Inside the door, Mom remained frozen by the dining table.
That "love you" was like a small pebble tossed into her already unsettled heart, sending out ripples of complex emotions.
She looked at the closed door, the sound of her son's light, receding footsteps still seeming to echo in her ears.
She slowly sat down, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the warm ceramic surface of her cup.
After a long while, an extremely faint, relieved smile finally spread from the corners of her mouth, dispelling the last remnants of gloom and worry from her eyes.
At least, his spirits were better.
His complexion was rosier.
He looked... like a normal, energetic senior high school boy.
Last night... let's just treat it as helping him through a... special phase of adolescence.
It was just using her hand... many boys his age... take care of it themselves. He was just... under too much pressure, needed a little... help.
She convinced herself this way, trying hard to push the wet, sticky sensations, the scorching heat, and her own body's shameful reactions from last night into the deepest corner of her heart.
When she got up to clear the dishes, her movements were even a bit lighter.
Yes, as long as her son could get better, other things... could be ignored.
The entire day, I felt like I was on a high.
In class, the math teacher droned on about boring parabolas, but for once, my eyes could actually follow the chalk. Those formulas and graphs were, for the first time, clearly making their way into my brain.
My deskmate, Liu Hao, leaned over again, whispering about some game. Unprecedentedly, I actually listened to a few sentences and even replied, "Yasuo? I think Yone is more flashy."
He looked at me like I was an alien. "Lin An, did you take the wrong medicine? You're so normal today?"
I pushed up my glasses, ignoring him, but my heart felt clear and sunny.
So this is what it feels like to concentrate.
So this is how clear your mind can be when it's not hijacked by all those messy fantasies.
Time flew by. When the school bell rang, I packed my bag more efficiently than anyone else.
Carrying a warm secret in my heart, I hurried home with eager steps.
Last night's agreement... even though there was no explicit mention of a next time, I vaguely felt that it wouldn't be the only time.
Mom wasn't home yet. The house was very quiet.
For once, I didn't immediately collapse onto the bed. Instead, I took out my homework, sat at the desk, and actually started working on it seriously.
The efficiency shocked even me.
Close to seven o'clock, the sound of a key turning in the lock made my heart skip a beat.
I put down my pen, practically straining my ears to listen to the commotion at the door.
Mom pushed the door open, carrying groceries. She looked up and immediately met my overly bright, expectant gaze projected from the living room.
The meaning in that gaze was too straightforward.
Su Yuqing's face flushed crimson once again.
She avoided my gaze, looking down to change her shoes, her voice a bit tight. "Finished your homework?"
"Almost!"
I stood up and followed her to the kitchen doorway, watching her take out the vegetables from the bag one by one.
She wore a loose linen top today, but when she bent over, the rounded curve of her buttocks was still faintly visible beneath the fabric.
My gaze felt glued there.
Feeling the scorching gaze from behind, Su Yuqing's movements became somewhat unnatural.
She washed the vegetables, the sound of water splashing, yet it couldn't disperse the intangible, ambiguous tension in the air.
"Mom..."
I licked my dry lips, my voice a bit hoarse.
Su Yuqing turned off the faucet, didn't turn around, but her tone took on a deliberate seriousness: "An'an, last night... it was because you were in such a terrible state. This kind of thing... can't happen every day. You're in your senior year of high school, your health is important, you can't... can't indulge."
My heart sank all at once. The excitement that had lasted from morning until now felt like a punctured balloon.
"Oh..."
I lowered my head, my voice muffled, disappointment written plainly on my face.
She turned around, saw me looking as deflated as a balloon, and a flicker of pity flashed in her eyes.
After a few seconds of silence, as if having gone through a difficult internal struggle, she drew the line in a very soft, stumbling voice:
"Once a week... at most three times. Any more... absolutely not allowed. It's really... not good for your health."
Three times!
I jerked my head up, my eyes lighting up again, like a starving puppy seeing a meaty bone.
"Really? Mom! Three times... three times is fine too!"
I eagerly agreed, but greedily tried to bargain for more, "How about... four times? Friday and Saturday could be for relaxing..."
"Lin An."
Mom's face hardened, her tone truly firm this time, "Three times. Take it or leave it."
I immediately fell silent, my head drooping, muttering softly: "Fine... three times it is."
But in my heart, I quickly calculated: Monday, Wednesday, Friday? Or Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday? Seems... that's enough too.
At least, there was a clear expectation now.
Seeing my expression, a mix of aggrievedness and hidden delight, Su Yuqing felt both annoyed and amused, along with a secret flutter she didn't want to examine too deeply.
She turned back around, turned the faucet on again, the sound of running water masking her too-rapid heartbeat.
"Go finish your homework. I'll call you when dinner's ready."
"Okay!"
And so, between my mom and me, a secret, unwritten agreement was established.
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