In math class, the teacher was on the podium, passionately explaining functions, the blackboard covered in dense writing.
I yawned, my eyelids too heavy to lift.
Last night, we had gone at it until almost two o'clock again. Mom ended up crying and begging for mercy before I let her go.
When I got up this morning, she couldn't even close her legs properly, walked a bit awkwardly, and shot me a reproachful glare.
But... who told her to be so damn tempting.
"Lin An, what's up with you lately?" Liu Hao nudged me with his elbow, lowering his voice. "You look like a ghost drained of its life force, sleepy all the time."
I rubbed my eyes and made up an excuse: "Nothing, just stayed up late studying, tired."
"Bullshit," Liu Hao scoffed, but didn't press further. He secretly pulled out his phone from under the desk and went back to reading his fantasy novel.
I wish I *were* studying.
But every night when I get home, seeing Mom bustling around the kitchen in that silk nightgown, smelling the aroma of food mixed with her scent... I forget everything else.
Only one thought remains in my head.
I want her.
Want her badly.
My mom is the same.
I don't know if it's because she was repressed for too long, but after that window paper was pierced, she seems like a different person.
During the day, she's still that gentle, caring mom, the flower shop owner, speaking softly to customers.
But once night falls...
She's crazier than I am.
Sometimes when I'm doing homework, she brings in fruit, bends over to place the plate, her collar gaping open, those plump white breasts swaying right before my eyes.
I can't help but reach out to grab them. She doesn't dodge, just blushes, slaps my hand lightly, and whispers, "Finish your homework first."
But her eyes, glistening, clearly say, "Hurry up and finish."
I'm only eighteen, just starting to taste the sweetness. How could I possibly hold back?
After having her once, I want a second time. After the second, I want a third.
My mom is the same. Half-resisting, half-yielding, her mouth says "no more" or "we have to get up early tomorrow," but her body turns soft as water, clinging to me, her legs hooking around my waist, not letting me go.
We're like two people who have been thirsty for too long in the desert, suddenly finding an oasis, drinking desperately, recklessly.
We couldn't care less about anything else.
I yawned again.
I rubbed my temples, forcing myself to focus on the blackboard.
The math symbols in front of me started to dance, twist, turning into my mom's writhing waist, swaying breasts, and her flushed, dazed face at the peak of pleasure.
Fuck.
Can't think about that anymore.
I pinched my thigh hard, snapping myself slightly more awake.
Finally, the bell for the end of class rang. I immediately slumped onto the desk, falling asleep in a second.
So tired.
Really, my body feels completely drained.
This feeling lasted until school ended in the afternoon. The last period was self-study; I almost fell asleep again and had to be shaken awake by Liu Hao.
"Hey, the homeroom teacher is looking at you!" he whispered urgently.
I quickly sat up straight, pretending to look at my test paper.
The homeroom teacher looked at me from across the classroom, her expression somewhat complicated.
My heart sank.
Damn.
My recent quiz scores haven't been looking too good.
When I got home that night, pushing open the door, I smelled a strange herbal medicine scent.
Weird, a bit bitter, with a hint of something pungent.
"Mom, what are you cooking?" I asked while changing shoes.
Mom peeked out from the kitchen, looking a bit unnatural. "Oh, I made some soup for you... to nourish your body."
She walked out carrying a bowl of something black and placed it on the dining table.
"Come drink it."
I walked over, looked at the bowl, and felt a bit apprehensive. "What is this?"
"Why so many questions? Just drink it." Mom shoved a spoon into my hand. "It's good for you."
I scooped a spoonful and tasted it.
The flavor... hard to describe. Weird, but tolerable.
"Mom, do you think I've been too much lately..." I said while drinking, sneaking glances at her.
Mom's face flushed. She turned away to tidy the stove. "Stop talking nonsense and drink up. You have to drink this every day from now on."
She paused, her voice dropping a little. "You... you have been a bit... lacking restraint lately. Even young people need to take care of their bodies."
I chuckled, gulped down the soup in a few mouthfuls, then hugged her from behind, my hands wandering up mischievously. "Then why do you keep tempting me, Mom?"
"Who's tempting you!" She squirmed to get away, but her voice was soft, with no intimidation at all.
I took her earlobe into my mouth and licked it.
She shuddered all over.
"Mom, tonight..."
"Eat first." She pushed me away, her face red as if about to drip blood. "Also, have you finished your homework?"
Watching her flee back to the kitchen, all my sleepiness vanished.
I felt restless.
Don't know if that soup really worked or if it was just psychological.
Over the next few days, I felt much more energetic.
Even after a night of exertion, I didn't feel as exhausted the next morning.
Mom clearly increased the "dosage." The herbs in the soup became more and more varied. Sometimes I could even see whole pieces of something like animal penis, stewed until mushy.
She watched me drink, her eyes evasive, her ears bright red.
Life went on like this.
During the day, I muddled through school. At night, I came home, ate, drank soup, did homework, and then rolled into bed with my mom.
She became more and more uninhibited. Sometimes she would even take the initiative to ride me, moving on her own, those breasts swaying until my vision blurred.
We tried all sorts of positions, in all sorts of places.
On the sofa, the dining table, the bathroom. Once, even on the workbench piled with flowers after the shop closed.
Mom covered her own mouth, not daring to make a sound, but her body was brutally honest, so wet it soaked through my pants.
I thought this kind of life would continue forever.
Until the October monthly exam results came out.
Not in the top twenty.
Top thirty...
My eyelid twitched. I kept looking down.
Finally, at nineteenth place, I saw my name.
Lin An.
Total score dropped nearly fifty points from last time.
Class ranking fell from fifth to nineteenth.
My mind went blank for a few seconds.
...
When I pushed open the door home, the house was very quiet.
No smell of cooking, no herbal medicine scent.
Mom was sitting at the dining table. My phone was in front of her, the screen lit up, showing that report card.
She didn't look at me.
"Mom..." I called out, my voice a bit weak.
Mom looked up.
Her eyes were slightly red, but her face showed no expression. Just that kind of... tired, disappointed look.
My heart tightened.
She pointed to the chair opposite. "Sit."
I sat down.
Mom pushed the phone towards me, tapping the screen with her finger. "Explain."
I opened my mouth, wanting to say something, but my throat felt blocked.
Say what?
Say it's because I sleep with you every night and have no mind for studying?
Say it's because my head is full of your breasts, your ass, and I can't focus in class at all?
"Lin An," Mom's voice was calm, terrifyingly calm. "Have I been too indulgent with you?"
I didn't speak.
She suddenly slammed the table!
"Look at this! Dropped to what place? Nineteenth! You were fifth last time!"
Her voice finally rose, trembling. "Do you know what senior year of high school means? Huh? What did you promise me before? You said you'd study hard. And now?!"
I lowered my head, staring at the tabletop.
"Say something!" Mom stood up, looking down at me. "Have you gone mute?"
"... I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Does 'sorry' help?" Her chest heaved, those full breasts swaying under her thin loungewear, but I had no interest in them now.
She looked at me for a long, long time.
Then, she took a deep breath, as if making a huge decision, and said word by word:
"Starting today, you move back to your own room to sleep."
My head jerked up.
"And," she avoided my gaze, her voice cold and hard, "until I see your grades back in the top ten, don't even think about touching me."
My mind buzzed.
"Mom..."
"No discussion." She turned and walked towards the kitchen. "Eat. After eating, go do your homework. I'll check it."
I wanted to follow her, grab her hand, act spoiled and unreasonable like before.
But her back was ramrod straight, completely ignoring me.
That meal tasted like chewing wax.
My mom didn't say a word, just silently put food in my bowl, then lowered her head to eat her own rice.
The atmosphere was unbearably oppressive.
After eating, I took the initiative to clear the dishes, wanting to ease the tension.
She didn't stop me, but she didn't look at me either. She went straight back to her room and closed the door with a *bang*.
I looked at that tightly shut door, feeling empty inside.
Fuck.
I'm really screwed.
In the following days, Mom truly kept her word.
After dinner at night, she would return to her bedroom early, closing the door tightly.
The way she looked at me also turned cold. She still cooked for me and supervised my studies, but that warm, intimate atmosphere disappeared. She became that strict, somewhat distant mom again.
I tried knocking on her door at night. Through the door, her voice was stiff: "Go to bed early. You have school tomorrow."
I could only sigh and slink back to my own cold, lonely bed.
I had been sleeping with her all this time. Now, lying alone in this bed again, it just felt empty, and a part of my heart felt hollow too.
Tossing and turning, unable to sleep, my head filled with images of her yielding beneath me, of her bouncing on top of me, of her mouth taking my cock in and out... The more I thought, the more restless I felt. The more restless, the harder it was to sleep.
Sometimes in the middle of the night, I'd get so hard it was unbearable. Sneaking off to take care of it myself felt utterly pointless.
Can sexual desire... really be suppressed? She was so voracious before. Can she really just stop like that? I couldn't help but think darkly. But seeing her cold, serious demeanor during the day, it didn't seem fake.
We lived awkwardly like this for about a week.
That night, I was doing problems until almost midnight, my head aching. I got up to use the bathroom.
The living room was pitch black. Only a faint sliver of weak light seeped from under Mom's bedroom door, probably from a bedside nightlight.
A very soft, rustling sound.
I held my breath, pricking up my ears to listen.
It was from Mom's room.
What was she doing?
My heart felt like it was being scratched by a cat's paw, unbearably itchy.
I got out of bed quietly, walked barefoot to the door, and pressed my ear against it.
The sound stopped.
I waited a moment. Just as I was about to go back, the sound started again.
This time clearer.
It was... the sound of a mattress gently creaking.
And, very suppressed, almost inaudible panting.
My heart jumped violently.
A thought surfaced, impossible to suppress.
I hesitated for a few seconds, then gently turned the doorknob and pushed the door open a crack.
The hallway was pitch black. Only a faint sliver of light came from under Mom's room door.
She wasn't asleep yet.
Like a thief, I tiptoed over.
The closer I got, the clearer the sounds.
The rhythmic, slight *creak* of the mattress.
And... a strange, wet, sticky sound.
*Squelch, squelch.*
Very soft, but in the silent night, it exploded in my ears like thunder.
I stood outside her door, hand on the doorknob, my heart pounding like a drum.
The door wasn't locked.
Just slightly ajar.
I swallowed, applied a little pressure with my fingers, and pushed the door open a crack.
Only a small bedside lamp was on in the room, a warm yellow glow enveloping the large bed.
Then, I saw.
Mom was lying on her side on the bed, back towards the door, the quilt only covering up to her waist.
One of her legs was bent, the other stretched out straight.
That stretched-out leg was bare, its pale skin glowing temptingly in the dim yellow light.
One of her hands was between her legs.
No, not a hand.
I squinted, seeing clearly.
She was holding something in her hand.
Pink, thick, with textured bumps on the tip.
A dildo.
Right now, most of that thing was buried between her legs.
Her hips were slightly undulating, making that dildo thrust in and out between her thighs.
*Squelch... squelch...*
That wet, sticky sound was coming from there.
Her other hand was vigorously kneading the soft flesh of her chest, her fingers pinching and pulling at her already hardened nipple, rubbing, pressing.
"Mmm... hah..."
She let out short, suppressed moans, burying her head in the pillow, her long hair disheveled, shoulders trembling slightly.
She was masturbating.
With a dildo.
I stood there. All the blood in my body seemed to rush to my head, then instantly surge downwards.
Hard to the point of pain.
My eyes were fixed on the undulating curve of her waist and hips, on that pink toy moving in and out of her opening, on her hand kneading her own breast.
She seemed close to climax.
Her movements grew faster, the sway of her hips more pronounced, and her moans could no longer be suppressed, spilling from her throat.
"Ah... mm... An'an..."
She called my name unconsciously.
That sound was like a match thrown into a gasoline barrel.
My mind went blank, I didn't care about anything else, I pushed the door open violently and rushed in!
"Mom!"
Mom's body jolted violently, and she whipped her head around!
Her face was flushed with arousal, her eyes glazed, lips slightly parted, still holding that wanton posture.
The fake penis in her hand was still buried in her wet pussy.
When she saw me, her eyes widened instantly, pupils constricting.
"Ah—!!"
A short, sharp scream of terror.
At the same time, her body arched violently, her legs clamped tightly together, and that fake penis, squeezed, slipped out of her tight, wet cunt with a wet *pop*, bringing with it a gush of clear, sticky fluid that splattered onto the bedsheet.
She came.
Right in front of me, because I caught her masturbating, the shock pushed her straight into orgasm.
She collapsed onto the bed, chest heaving, her gaze unfocused for a few seconds before slowly sharpening.
Then, she saw me.
Saw my eyes fixed directly on her, and the prominent tent pitched under my pajama pants.
Shame, panic, fear, and a trace of lingering lust intermingled on her face.
She grabbed the blanket and frantically covered her naked body, her voice trembling uncontrollably:
"An... An'an... you... what are you doing here... get out! Get out now!"
I didn't move.
I looked at the wet patch on the bed, at the pink fake penis that had rolled to the side, still slick with her fluids, at her trembling form under the blanket.
My throat was dry.
"Mom," I heard my own voice, hoarse and rough, "you... you want it too, don't you?"
Mom's face instantly paled.
"What nonsense are you talking about! Get out!" She grabbed a pillow and threw it at me, her voice choked with tears.
I didn't dodge.
The pillow hit me softly and fell to the floor.
I took a step forward.
"You obviously can't stand it either," I said again, my eyes fixed on her. "Without me, you use this... to do it yourself."
"Shut up! Shut up!" Mom covered her ears, buried her face in her knees, like an ostrich. "I'm not... I didn't... you get out! Please, get out..."
She was crying.
Her shoulders shook with suppressed, broken sobs.
Watching her like that, the fire in my heart slowly cooled.
Replaced by an indescribable emotion.
A bit of heartache, a bit of sourness, and a bit of... smugness?
I walked over, bent down, and picked up the wet fake penis from the floor.
Pink silicone, still warm with her slick fluids, glistening under the light.
I brought it to my nose and sniffed.
Her scent.
Mom saw my action through her fingers, her sobs stopping abruptly. She lifted her tear-streaked face, looking at me in horror. "You... what are you doing..."
I threw the fake penis back onto the bed and sat down beside her.
The mattress dipped.
Mom flinched like a startled rabbit, shrinking back, pulling the blanket tighter around herself, only her red, swollen eyes visible, watching me with wariness and fear.
"Mom," I reached out, wanting to touch her face.
She dodged.
My hand hung in the air.
I withdrew it, placed it on my knee, and rubbed it.
"I'm sorry," I said.
She was stunned for a moment.
"I shouldn't have... shouldn't have been so crazy." I lowered my head, looking at my toes. "Shouldn't have only cared about... messing with you, and let my studies fall by the wayside."
Mom didn't speak, just looked at me.
"You're right, it's senior year, I should focus." I sniffled. "Starting tomorrow, I'll study hard. Really."
She still didn't speak.
I looked up at her. "But Mom... don't use this anymore either."
I pointed at the fake penis on the bed.
"Wait until I get back into the top ten." I looked into her eyes, enunciating each word. "I'll do it myself. Better than this... thing."
Mom's face flushed crimson instantly.
Even her neck turned red.
She bit her lip, her eyes darting away, wanting to scold me but seemingly unable to find the words.
Finally, she just grabbed the fake penis, stuffed it under the pillow, then turned her back to me and lay down, pulling the blanket high over her head, completely covering herself.
"Go back to your room and sleep." A muffled voice came from under the blanket. "Get up at six tomorrow to memorize vocabulary. I'll supervise."
Looking at her ostrich-like back, I couldn't help but smile.
"Okay."
I stood up, walked to the door, and glanced back once more.
The blanket was trembling slightly.
Was she crying? Or laughing?
I didn't know.
Closing the door, I returned to my room and lay on the bed.
Couldn't sleep.
My mind was still filled with the images from earlier.
Her parted legs, her wet pussy, and her face, flushed with arousal and shame at the moment of climax.
I sighed and reached into my pajama pants.
Damn.
Still had to take care of it myself.
...
The next morning, I got up exactly at six.
Mom was already in the living room, dressed neatly in loungewear, her hair impeccably combed, no discernible emotion on her face.
As if nothing had happened last night.
"Morning reading materials are on the table," she pointed at the dining table.
"Oh." I obediently sat down and opened the English book.
She sat across from me, holding her phone, not sure what she was looking at.
The atmosphere was a bit awkward.
I stole glances at her.
Her eyes were downcast, her eyelashes long, the tip of her nose slightly red—maybe from crying last night.
Her lips were pressed together, pale.
Looking at her, I remembered again how she came calling my name last night.
Fuck.
Can't think about that.
I quickly lowered my head, forcing myself to stare at the vocabulary words.
Morning reading ended, time for breakfast.
It was still that tonic soup, dark and murky, the smell even stronger.
I scrunched up my face and drank it.
After drinking, Mom took the bowl and walked towards the kitchen. She stopped at the doorway, didn't turn around.
"Lin An."
"Yeah?"
"Don't let me down."
With that, she went into the kitchen.
I sat at the dining table, watching her retreating back, a certain place in my heart twinging slightly.
"I won't, Mom," I said softly. "I won't."
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