boom!!!
Thunderstruck!
The world is spinning!
I felt all the blood in my body rushing upwards, only to freeze into ice shards in the next second!
A buzzing sound filled my ears, and only those few words pierced my eardrums like poisonous thorns!
Fuck your mother to death... Fuck me to death... Fuck me to death...
In that instant, all of my mother's "unintentional" and "coincidental" touches over the past week were connected before my eyes!
My breasts were being squeezed at the breakfast table!
The friction of thighs inside the carriage!
That precise, chest-grabbing brush past me in class!
Every time, beneath that seemingly calm gaze...
It's not about having stronger willpower at all!
On the contrary! Her willpower... was gnawed away by this hidden desire, even less than that naive and innocent Shen Youyi!
Shen Youyi openly demanded things, like an enthusiastic little puppy.
My biological mother, Ms. Zhou Huixin, developed a twisted desire under extreme repression—a desire that was even more sticky, more haunting, and as ubiquitous as spider silk!
Using every excuse, they crave every insignificant physical contact, relying on illusions during their solitude at night to satisfy their seemingly endless and insatiable abyss of desire!
I felt like a puppet whose soul had been ripped away, my legs were weak, my back pressed against the cold wall, sliding down little by little, silently gasping for breath.
I dared not look at the light leaking through the crack in the door again.
The suffocating sounds inside became clearer: the greedy sucking of my panties, the increasingly rapid squelching of fingers churning inside my slippery flesh, the desperate yet ecstatic moans…
I had absolutely no intention of rushing in. Fear? Absurdity? Or some hidden thrill stirred deep within me by her twisted words? I couldn't tell myself. The only clear thought was: Run!
I held my last bit of strength, used all my control, and silently shrank back into the darkness, like a true ghost, tiptoeing and floating back to my room.
The door clicked shut in the dead of night, startling me so much that my heart stopped and my back was instantly soaked with cold sweat.
I leaned against the door, panting heavily. In the darkness, I could almost hear my own heart pounding like a drum and the seemingly endless moaning of water in the distance.
In the days that followed, my observations were like loading a shotgun, with a cold yet scorching scrutiny.
The truth is like an open ledger.
The kitchen was filled with the aroma of toast early in the morning. My mother, with her back to me, bent down to open the lower cabinet and take out a baking tray.
The tight-fitting, body-hugging lounge dress tightened instantly with the bending over and sticking out of her buttocks. The hem of the dress was lifted up a little bit due to the force, revealing a small section of skin behind her thighs covered by thin black stockings. Her full buttocks squeezed out an alluring soft curve at the edge of the tight stockings.
Her arms seemed unable to reach the depths of the cabinet, and her body movements were astonishingly large. The curve of her hips, tightly wrapped in fabric, almost touched my arm as I stood by the kitchen counter holding a glass of milk!
My hand holding the milk glass remained motionless as my eyes swept over the sink faucet in the corner of the kitchen—it was brand new and shiny, with water flowing smoothly.
Why go through all that trouble to reach the innermost baking pan?
The market was bustling with noise. My mother was picking out potatoes in the fresh produce section, and I followed behind, carrying the bags and doing the heavy lifting.
A greasy old man wearing flip-flops and carrying a plastic bag strolled over, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, his murky eyes glancing intentionally or unintentionally at the young woman at the meat stall next to him.
As if she had eyes in the back of her head, just as he was about half a step away from her back, she suddenly grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the side.
"Don't block other people from getting on the scale!" My mother's voice carried a hint of urgency, and she pulled my wrist with considerable force.
Her body leaned slightly towards me, her full, soft breasts bumping solidly against the outside of my upper arm!
That feminine scent, a blend of the smoky aroma of the market and a faint fragrance, along with an amazingly soft and supple feel, instantly struck my senses.
The old man sullenly squeezed past where we had just been standing.
I chuckled inwardly. Was she afraid someone would block her way, or was she afraid the old man would get too close to her? She didn't hesitate at all in pulling her son close to her ample body.
The living room after dinner is the common area of my home.
Mom had just changed out of her daytime business attire and was wearing a slightly casual V-neck thin knit sweater, paired with a pair of comfortable and form-fitting smoky gray yoga pants that perfectly accentuated her long, straight legs and round, perky buttocks.
She sat on the sofa watching a family drama, holding a cup of hot tea in her hand.
"Xiao Mo, bring the fruit over." She didn't look up; her eyes were still glued to the TV.
I placed the washed grapes on the low table in front of the sofa. Just as I straightened up, a well-maintained hand with rounded nails reached out, its target the remote control in the middle of the table.
The skin on the back of her hands is delicate, and the lines of her knuckles are very elegant.
But instead of taking a straight path to the remote control, she deliberately drew a strange arc, her little finger grazing over the back of my hand, which was hanging by my side, with extremely precise, deliberate, and even slightly sticky force!
That gentle, warm scrape, like an electrified feather! Whoosh! A tiny current shot up my spine!
I jerked my hand back as if I'd been burned by a hot iron.
My mother casually picked up the remote, pressed her thumb on the volume up button, and kept her eyes fixed on the melodramatic plot on the screen. She didn't even glance at me, as if what had just happened was the dust settling in a world collision, and was not worth mentioning.
Only the cup of hot tea she was holding had a tiny ripple on its surface that I noticed.
The next morning.
At the breakfast table, the aroma of toasted bread mingled with the bitterness of coffee.
As I walked past her with my milk cup, my arm seemed to be drawn by some invisible magnetic field, and I "accidentally" brushed against the side of her buttocks as she bent over, taking a toast pan out of the oven.
Those were the buttocks encased in crisp trousers, their astonishing fullness and elasticity clearly visible through the thin fabric. Like a ripe, juicy peach, they possessed a breathtaking softness and resilience.
Her body stiffened slightly, then she casually placed the toast plate on the table. Only the barely perceptible blush on the edge of her earlobe and the quick, hooked glance she gave me as she turned her head towards my bulging crotch betrayed her secret.
"Be careful, don't burn yourself." Her voice was calm, as if scolding her son for his recklessness, yet it had a slightly nasal quality, like a feather tickling the heart.
Once inside the car, this silent "accident" escalated into an unspoken silent drama.
A red light came on.
She slowly stepped on the brake, her body leaning forward as a result.
In that instant, her fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel, and she seemed to unconsciously press the horn twice.
At the same time, her pert left buttock shifted back a little with an extremely precise angle and force.
"Thump".
I placed my leg on the outside of my side and, without warning, bumped into a surprisingly plump, soft, and bouncy flesh.
Through my thin summer casual pants and my own thin cotton trousers, her full, rounded flesh felt like a warm sponge, pressing against me hard, carrying her body heat and her unique, warm body fragrance.
My Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily, and my fingertips dug into my palm.
The countdown time at the red light seemed to stretch out indefinitely.
She didn't move her body away immediately; the muscles in her buttocks even subconsciously tensed slightly at the moment of impact, giving me a more firm and solid feel.
It was like a silent confirmation, a secret confrontation.
It wasn't until the green light came on and the car started moving smoothly that she seemed to be carried along by inertia, and she readjusted her body to a proper driving posture.
Throughout the entire process, her gaze remained steady as she looked ahead, with even a barely perceptible smile playing on her lips.
The air inside the car had already become thick and scalding through silent body language.
This subtle, daytime teasing was like adding fuel to the fire. It stirred my nerves, built up my restlessness, and fixed my gaze firmly on that seemingly magical bathroom door in the dead of night.
That door became my most accurate clock at midnight.
At 1:10, as expected, a warm yellow light shone through the crack in the door, like the eye of a giant beast in the darkness.
Like an addicted gambler, I pressed my eye against the cold door on time, embedding one eye in the crack.
The scene before my eyes happens every night, yet it remains breathtaking.
The mother—no, at this moment, Zhou Huixin, the usually stern physics teacher and strict mother, was sitting on the toilet lid.
She was wearing a cream-colored silk slip dress that had been washed until it was extremely soft, thin, almost translucent, and its original color was almost impossible to discern.
Two bare legs were slightly apart, and one hand was tightly clutching my dark blue sports underwear.