the incest story

Since my father was a professional soldier, moving in my growth process became a common occurrence.

Because of this, I hate making friends more and more, because it is very sad to say goodbye to the newly sprouted friendship.

What is even more frustrating is that I am an only child, and there are no brothers and sisters who can laugh and make noises. I became a very lonely child. I blamed my father on my responsibilities. I kept blaming him in my heart.

Many people yearn for traveling around the world. However, I must say that the world is no longer novel, and loneliness is still in its shadow. I really hate moving in different places.

I can't say that he is a bad father, and he can't agree that he is a good father. I think the children of the military can understand this feeling. When the father who always stays home, when they meet, they don't have the feeling of reunion for a long time, but the inexplicable and huge alienation.

There are only clear black and white and unquestionable right and wrong in his world. For him, there is only a proper and inappropriate distinction. For the elders, the father is always respectful; as for the woman, he does not think that he has to give too much respect; when it comes to children, including me, there is no need to be polite.

Although I did not mean to test all kinds of fathers in the process of growing up, however, I understand very well that I am very disgusted with my father. I am a child, behave in accordance with etiquette, the test always takes high scores, the homework is never late, the room is always clean, and it will never get into trouble.

However, as I practiced my father's repentance, my hatred was deeper and deeper. The identity of his soldiers, his sharp personality, his desire to show off his unrequited uniforms and even the stupid sailor's scarf all made me sick. He is not a good father in my heart, nor a good husband of my mother.

Mom is five years younger than Dad. When she compares her body, she looks too thin and she is about 150 centimeters tall. Hair color reddish brown, hair length and shoulders, pupil color dark black, nose bridge straight, cheekbones high and thin lips. Since the memory, the mother is the embodiment of the beautiful god. According to my side, my father's military friends who have seen his mother are also amazed at the beauty of the mother.

She treats me with a gentle and loving attitude. My relationship with me is like a close friend. I always give me hugs and kisses at the right time, and I will do my best to meet my needs. There is no doubt that I love her very much. What I don't understand is why Dad doesn't pity the jade. He is not too bad for his mother, however, in terms of his mother's performance, his father has paid too little. His indifferent attitude towards his mother is the reason why I hate him the most.

Dad's time at home is really very small. There are too many daily routines to complete, there are too many exercises to participate, and even a meticulous short-term task is required. Therefore, there is always only my mother and my mother relying on each other. This situation is exactly what I want. I always pray in my heart that a war will happen in a country, so that my father must leave many years instead of just a few months.

Unexpectedly, my wish came true!

Summer, 1990. I was twelve years old and lived in a two-story building in Washington. At that time, the madman Haishan attacked Kuwait. Dad's troops instantly entered the red alert state. One month later, the troops entered the war. When it will return, the answer is unknown.

At first, like other soldiers, the mother was worried about her father. Therefore, she began to participate in the gathering between the genus, and occasionally invited these people to dinner at home. However, after a few months, her level of concern also declined over time. She began to reduce her time as a volunteer, did not attend the party, and slowly no longer contacted these relatives. It seems that she seems to have forgotten her father's participation in the war.

In September, she decided to completely let go of these associations with these families, and she did not go out except to purchase daily supplies. When she was at home, she always dressed simple, not a pajamas or a big T-shirt, and her day activities became simple, not watching TV, sitting in the living room, drinking coffee, smoking, thinking or thinking Something.

I became her most effective assistant. Every time I go home from school, I will finish my homework first and see if she needs help. By the end of the week, I will follow her to purchase, and be a happy coolie. At night, I will accompany her on the sofa to watch the rented movie. And I am also her loyal listener, no matter what she wants to talk about, I always accompany the end, even if she is telling her father's thoughts.

Sometimes she will cry, especially when she sees news reports about the war. At this time, I will hold her lightly, touch her hair, and give her comfort words. In order to make her happy, I always emphasize my love for her, praise her beauty, or share the gossip of some schools. These topics have obviously played a role. My gentleness and care made her very grateful. Even later, my speech became the driving force of her life.

However, in other respects, she also began to rely on me. The activity we go out is very simple, that is, to buy a burger or other restaurant to buy fast food. The longest time I spent outside was the day of December, we went to pick up Christmas presents.

However, it is difficult to go out and enter the door. Every time I have to step into the door or enter a room, my mother always wants me to turn on the lights first, otherwise she would rather stand the penalty. Her town day complained about the fear of darkness, fear of strange noises. In this situation, it seems that I am an adult, and she is a child.

In January, the mother's inexplicable phobia became more serious because the war officially started. She is very worried about her father's safety. She watches the news on TV before she has time. She always wants me to check the mailbox, several times a day, she expects to receive a word from her father, but also worried that she will receive the unfortunate news from the government.

In February, the local face-to-face war broke out, and she became nervous and could not sleep. Therefore, she asked me to share with him, don't let her stay alone in the room, care about her mother, of course, will not refuse this request. I thought that my mother's condition would improve in a few nights. However, when my mother's sense of security was so great, it's a habit to sleep. I don't need her to speak again. I became her guardian night. God.

Of course, I know that many children of the same age are resistant to sleeping with their mothers. However, for me, this is fun. I like to have her lying on her bed before going to sleep. I like to wake up in the middle of the night or wake up in the morning to see her face right away. Her body is warm and soft, and her smell is always fragrant.

In the two weeks before March, the official officially announced the end of the war (we still have not received news from my father), and my nightmare began, I am lying next to my mother, the erection of night can not be suppressed. Naturally, I learned masturbation at this time in adolescence. I used to sneak up in the middle of the night, sneak into the bathroom and take a few shots, then go to bed quietly.

I also started to have sexual fantasies, usually Marinda - my classmate, a cute brown-haired girl. She has a sweet smile and a developing carcass. I imagined that I kissed her with her hands and her hands were on her chest. I heard that some of my loved ones have begun to steal the forbidden fruit. However, I have never imagined that step.

For masturbation, I rarely feel guilty, just feel a little shy, and worry that it will be discovered by my mother, which will make her disappointed. The most fearful situation is that she not only caught my pistol, but even told me the illusion in my mind. Because, in the fantasy world, she began to become an indispensable object.

Don't say I am abnormal! After all, she is a beautiful woman, the most important woman in my life, she gives me care, encouragement, hugs and kisses. And she was around me almost all day, whether in a comfortable and safe home or even on the same bed.

In addition, she is always weak at home, she does not change her body. The pajamas change the style. These pajamas are highlighting her good figure. What's more, she sometimes even wears a transparent thin Yarn pajamas, swaying back and forth at home. I can't ignore her breasts that stretch her clothes, and I can't ignore the spurs on her chest.

I haven't seen her nakedness (when I was very young, but those pictures are long gone), but whenever I think about it, the thought I want to watch is even stronger. Fantasy of her content, basically, is as boring as imagining Marinda, kissing and stroking the chest. The only difference is that for the mother, I dare not have the idea of ​​getting lighter and worse. However, when March is about to end, something happens and everything changes.

That day, after school, when I opened the door, I heard the music of the saxophone fluttering in the house. Familiar with my mother's habits, it is easy to guess that the current music means that the mother needs a partner.

Go back to the room and put down the bag, then go downstairs and look for the mother's trace. Soon, I found out that she was in the kitchen, with a cup of coffee on the table, a cigarette burning on the ashtray, and an open magazine in front of her.

She wore hot pants and a bright red long-sleeved loose T-shirt. I also found that her hair was finished and her face had a light makeup. These signals indicated that she was in a good mood.

I stopped at the corridor, paying attention to her and admiring her charming appearance. Although the desire to appreciate her nakedness is always troublesome, I am still very fortunate to have such a beautiful, slim and moderately proportioned mother. Some students are also amazed at the beauty of their mother.

Like Tommy, he said to me a week ago that your mother is too beautiful. The correct sentence is: "Your mother is too beautiful, you are a lucky little bastard." At that time, I asked him to stop and even make a hands-on look, but my heart really agrees with him. .

Fortunately, my mom didn't find me looking at her silly, not even feeling the existence behind me. Finally, I am no longer silent, while walking towards the refrigerator, I greeted her with a mouthful. The mother responded with me but did not look up. Her eyes still stayed in the magazine, and when I held my hand, my fingertips didn't mean to cross my cross.

I felt a current flowing through my body, and it surprised me to make a difference. The mother found that she accidentally touched my lower body and quickly adjusted the angle of the hand and gently held my palm. I squeezed her hand a little bit and asked her what book she was reading.

"Celebrity magazine," she said.

She let go of her hand, and my hand came to my waist, my head still didn't lift, just pulled me to her.

I let my arms around her neck, let the palms rest on her shoulders, then look down and look at the article she is reading. The protagonist of the article is a female actress who has starred in a film called "Marriage with a Child". There is also a photo of her on the article.

I tried to read the content, but the font was too small and too far away, so I had to give up. However, at the same time, I also found that I can look through the neckline of my mother's shirt from this angle. If the mother is dressed properly, I will not have the eye for it. Fortunately, she didn't have the habit of putting all the buttons on, so I was awkward. As usual, she did not wear a bra.

This is not a big room for ru, but it should not be small. The size is moderate, it is about my hand. Round and firm, the color is like snow, and the small ru head is a touch of pink. Perhaps it was because the first time I actually saw the teat (the first pair of chests I saw was in the Playboy magazine, the magazine borrowed from the students), and the pajamas no longer constitute a viewing barrier.

I really want to reach out through my mother's neckline and want to feel the feeling of touching the milk. Only then did I think of this. My second child immediately responded, and it was hard at the moment.

The sudden physiological reaction scared me, and I immediately took a step back. Fortunately, my mother did not notice my appearance. To be right, there is no such thing in her eyes at the moment, because she is focusing on the content of the magazine. After a while, I renewed my courage and stepped back to see the Twin Peaks.

I stared at my mother's tits in the blink of an eye, but in the end, because of the rising nervousness, I was afraid that she would have to leave the spring and the beautiful world.

I told her that she had to go back to the house to do her homework. This is the truth.

She replied, "Well, but write a little faster." Her eyes revealed the message of a companion.

Promised her, I went back to the room in three steps and two steps, locked the door, took off my pants and started to pistol. The thrill of the day was very strong, a realm that I had never reached before. After I finished, I had to sit on my feet and sit down. I remembered what I had just seen, thinking about what I did, and reflecting on my own mistakes.

I warned that I can't commit another crime. I must stop myself from looking at my mother with the love of men and women. Now I can't, and I can't do it in the future.

Of course, I can't do it.

Before, I was lying next to my mother (sometimes she would ask me to sleep with her), always squatting for half an hour or sixty minutes, after making sure she fell asleep, slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom and liberated.

A minute later, the aura was revealed. When she is asleep, how can she display salty pigs?

I stopped and turned to look at my mom. She didn't see her face, she saw her back, and the quilt was high with her neck. Animalism always shoots first than reason. I turn myself around, look at her back, slowly pull the quilt to her waist, and then carefully look for the location of the two peaks. Tonight, she was wearing a tulle pajamas. Although the light in the room was very weak, I could barely identify her chest position.

Be cautious and be the first to steal a dog. The speed of the hand is very slow. Finally, I touched her. The fullness of the hand is amazing, and the degree of softness is equal to what I imagined. I really want to force but I am afraid to wake her up.

Fortunately, I was wise to come up with an alternative. I let my hands move back and forth, and after a few minutes, change sides. that's it,,.

I don't know where the courage, I put my hand under her pajamas. The skin under the cold pajamas is very warm. After a minute of work, I let the hands on my chest calm down. In less than sixty seconds, the feeling of climax is coming.

Grasp the last time and sprint. ,break out. Knowing stupidity is always after the cool. My second child is facing the mother, and the distance between us is a few centimeters. The distance is too close,.

When the climax stopped, I immediately looked up at my mother's face and saw her eyes open or squat. I don't think she woke up. However, this speculation may be self-deception.

Quietly getting out of bed, slamming into the bathroom, taking a towel, I tried to wipe the stains on my pants. After cleaning, I slipped back to my bedroom and hid the towel at the bottom of the pile.

Going back to my mother's room, I returned to bed with 007. Close your eyes, and in the torment of nervousness and anxiety, I slowly fell asleep.

(under)

The next day after the night attack on the mother, the fear is like a shadow. I even prepared myself, waiting for my mom to blame the last night. I feel that even if she doesn't wake her up, she should notice the stains left on my clothes. However, after a long time of observation, I got a definitive answer. It seems that I am a sorrowful person.

She did not say anything, and she did not see any abnormalities in her manners. At this point, I finally got rid of the nightmare of worry.

On the way to school, I made a secret decision and never let the last night happen again.

As a result, at night, I quickly repented.

In addition, in order to avoid getting into trouble with the bed, I took out the prepared wet wipes and went straight to the bed.

In the next few weeks, the above things will be repeated almost every night. As time goes by, my boldness is increasing at night, greatly extending the time to touch the milk, or teasing the ru head (to make the ru head of the sleeping mother harden), I even put my hand into it. On the inside of her thigh, let her hand enter her pajama pants through the panties and then stroke the honey pot.

I am more and more obsessed with my mom, and the nightly secret actions are no longer satisfying me. During the day, my mind is full of her shadow. When I was out of school, if the mother didn't need to be accompanied, I would go straight back to the house, lock the door, and masturbate her in fantasy.

After a week and a week, all kinds of fantasies have made guilt more and more important. However, at the same time, I also forced myself not to blame the night's misconduct.

I tried hard to control the situation, let the conscience overwhelm the desire, and avoid the situation where the gun was gone. However, on April 15th, on the mother's 35th birthday, things reborn tremendously.

That morning, she was in a good mood, even singing while doing breakfast. And when I handed the prepared gift to her, the smile on her face was even brighter. The gift bought from the department store is not special, but it is a cheap jade heart pendant. However, judging from the expression, she obviously likes the gift.

She immediately put on (I helped her wear it, it was an unexpected harvest), and the heart-shaped part happened to fall in the center of her double peak. Then, thanks to the table, she gave me a hug and a kiss.

It happened to be Saturday, and at noon, we decided to go out for dinner. We chose a famous fast food restaurant for dinner. After the meal, we strolled down the street and browsed the windows of each store to enjoy the good times. She laughed and jumped again, as if she had returned to the girlhood.

However, when we got home, we immediately found out that there was mail in the mailbox. Before my mom opened the reading, I suddenly felt bored in my chest. Sure enough, this letter comes from the hand of the father. Mom sat on the sofa and read it carefully. Her expression changed very obviously. At first, the frowning was confused, and then the whole face was filled with heartache and the body began to tremble. She covered her mouth, tears in her eyes, and she could see that she was trying to suppress the desire to cry.

"What did you write?" I asked, although I already guessed it.

"Your dad is not coming back," she said, her voice trembled. "At least I won't be back in a short time." I took the letter in her hand and I started reading. The content is only a few words but it is very ruthless. He said that he had to take on a new assignment and had to go to a military school in Georgia. He also said that he would not return to Washington. The letter has disappeared, and I did not mention that I hope that we will move around with him, and I will not say when I can step down. Let go of the letter, the letter paper landing, I looked at the mother's face shocked.

"Mom, it doesn't matter," I said. "We don't need him."

Mom did not answer, got up, walked upstairs slowly, and she looked back to the room. I followed her behind and watched her carefully. However, when she went to the bedroom, she closed the door and left me outside the room.

When I was alone, my hatred for my father grew infinitely. I hope that the accident will kill him. I hope that he will die in the war, don't go home, don't send a letter, don't break your mother's heart. This incident also illustrates the fact that the father does not love the mother, the world, the person who truly cares for the mother, who is it?

In addition to taking a bath, my mom never left the room. Do not eat or drink, ignore the sound of my voice outside the door. Finally, about 11 o'clock, I put on my pajamas and walked to her room. First, I gently knocked on the door and stepped forward. I asked, "Mom? Do you need me to sleep tonight?"

"Yes! Dear." The weak voice of the mother came from the darkness.

I moved and went to bed and lay beside her. My mom immediately turned around and held me in my arms. I hugged me and leaned against my shoulder and burst into tears. The cry finally stopped. She let go of her hand and a sigh of sadness, she said:

"Good night, baby."

"Mom, good night."

It is a very contradictory thing for a sad mother to start even if she is not aware of it.

So I close my eyes and hope that I can fall asleep.

As a result, insomnia. I am lying in the dark, very painful. The curve of the mother's squatting and the towering chest are close at hand, but I have not moved, which is how tormenting. I was caught in the battle of heaven and man. I spent more than an hour fighting with the beast. Finally, I lost my mind. I tried to convince myself that it was not too bad for my mother to shoot.

The pleasure gradually got on the upper body, the pistol didn't work, and he turned flat and began to play. At this point, it is unbelievable that my mom posted to me. I was scared and prayed that she was just a sleepy sleeper. When she wakes up, if she finds that her shirt is pulled open, she can not be mad.

Just a few seconds, such as sitting on the needle felt, see the mother finally stopped the action, I could not help but breathe a sigh of relief.

My excitement is unprecedentedly high, at least, at the time. Usually, I am most likely to masturbate for more than five minutes to launch. However, my mother's skill has greatly shortened my climax. Less than sixty seconds.

Seeing my climax receding, my mom said: "Do you like this?"

"Well!" When I answered, I felt that I couldn't breathe.

I can feel her smile in the dark.

"I am very happy to hear you say this. I hope you feel comfortable, because you are a good boy and my dearest son." She kissed my cheek. "Now, let me clean it for you." She sat up straight, opened the night light on the bed, took a few wet wipes, and began to wipe my body.

"I should tell you," said Mom. "In the last few nights, when you stole me, I was awake."

"Really?" My tone rose because of surprise, and my tone was full of sorry. Then, I quickly took back my hand.

"Don't worry, dear. I am not angry. To be honest, I really like you to touch me. It feels great. You don't have to stop."

"Oh." This is the only word I can spit out.

After the mother wiped my body, I dropped the wet tissue into the trash can next to the bed. Then, she pretended to have the tops intact, turned off the lights, and finally, lay down. She hugged me, I immediately let her body close to her, let her hand around her waist, and buried her face in her chest. Just, I have fallen asleep.

The next day, I was like falling into the fog. Tension and anxiety, my mood.

What happened last night, I still have difficulty accepting it. I hope that everything is a dream, because if the story is revealed, God knows what kind of blame I will face. The mother did not have any strangeness, just as lazy. Her performance is like nothing happened last night, so let alone she will be saddened.

I began to suspect everything last night, after all, I was thinking about it. However, at night, on the eve of preparation for bedtime, my mom suddenly asked if I would mind sleeping naked. I said no, the expression on my face is looking forward to being shy.

I quickly took off my pajamas, and then I admired the mother's appearance of the cedar, and looked at her nakedness and went to bed next to me. She did not turn off the lights, and the quilt almost fell to the floor. She smiled and said, "If you want, you can touch it."

Caress her for about ten minutes, letting her hands move in the chest, belly and private parts in order. I am of course good at it.

When I am in love with my teat, Five minutes after the actual exercise, when her body began to tremble, I knew she had reached a climax.

After returning from heaven, Mom let me lie down and then began to reapply the technique of last night. However, this time, she leaned over, kissed my face, and raised the milk with her hand, so that I could touch it easily, under her considerate service. Mom didn't stop because of this, she let me harder to shoot again, this second time is far better than the talent.

Feeling tired, I fell asleep. And this night, all my doubts were swept away.

This way of getting along lasted for nearly half a month. Sleep naked every night, or kiss or caress, do safe sex with your hands. However, every time the daylight comes to light, we will return to normal mother-child relationship, pretending that everything is calm.

One night, after getting acquainted with each other by convention, we immediately launched a second intimate action. And she is serving my second child with her hands. Suddenly she stopped the action. After ten seconds, she lowered her mouth and licked her mouth. The movement started in one go, and her head began to go up and down, letting my meat stick go in and out of her mouth.

After returning to God, I think that this god is coming from the mouth of my mother, I feel awkward.

Then she removed her mouth from the meat stick, rubbed her lips, and coughed a few times. She smiled at me, but the smile was shallow but I still felt it.

"Don't wipe this paper with a wet tissue. Dear, do you like me to do this?" "Super love!" At the same time, I always felt that something was wrong...

"I like it too." Mom lay beside me, wrapped my arms around my chest and kissed my face. "I haven't helped men do this for a long time."

I immediately thought of my father and wondered if he was the man in the mother's mouth. After thinking deeply, I immediately realized that I had never thought that my mother had been better than other men. But is this really the case? I was confused when I thought about this, and even some anger came to my heart. Excuse me, I fell to sleep. The mother didn't say much, just hugged me, kissed me, and said good night.

Another week passed and time came to mid-May 1991. After counting, from the last time I received the letter, my father has never heard the news for a long time. Mom seems to have forgotten about this matter, at least, she does not seem to be as lost as she did at the beginning.

However, I am sure that she is still worried that her father is also waiting for the message from him. Mom may have tried to call her father, or she may try to get news from her father. However, I have never questioned her. I chose to believe her. "We just have to wait quietly." On Friday afternoon, the letter finally arrived. After school, I found a letter in the mailbox and immediately gave it to the mother who sat in the kitchen. After reading the letter, her expression did not change at all. After reading it, she handed the letter to me. It is also a very short letter. I only wrote half a piece of paper. When I read it, my thoughts were complicated with words. I felt very angry and accepted the facts described in the letter.

Dad will not come back, and will not write to go home again. He said that he met a woman and fell in love with her. He hopes to divorce his mother. I handed the letter back to my mother, repeating what I said before, and we don't need him. The mother barely smiled and smiled. She folded the letter and put it back in the envelope.

I thought things would get worse and worse, Mom might collapse completely because of this, or it would fall into a sad vortex, no one can save her. I am worried that she will even make self-harm. Although she did nothing, I still watched her every move.

That night, when I was at bedtime, I thought that my mom might be very depressed, hesitating whether to engage in comforting each other. Observing her for a whole day, I can't see the abnormalities at all. In fact, she even expressed the hope that it will be different tonight.

"I will come first," she said. Let me lie down, she holds my meat stick. "I will help you first, then you are helping me, can you?"

The instinctive reaction occurs at this time. Hips forward. Impressed by words, the heart seems to have a thousand words but can not express. Emotional face, happy and self-satisfied. However, the intellectual side is equally excited. At this moment, it is not a dream. I finally bid farewell to the nursery rhyme. And the object is not someone else, it is the mother who makes me fascinated.

My mother's body danced with me, and responded to my impact. She was awkward and kinky in my ear. For example, "Hey, yes, that's it!" or "Hey, dear, you make mom so cool!".

After this night, we were almost night and night. I feel incredible and have a sense of new life. Of course, many things remain the same. I still have to go to school, or look at the same soap opera, or contact with very few friends. The father still had no news, and he never appeared again. However, my relationship with my mother has changed since then, and there is no possibility of turning back.

During the day, she gave me more care, more maternal love and more appreciation, and the number of kisses I hugged me also increased significantly. Her happiness is the same as mine, and she is no longer closed. Now, we have two or three nights a week to go out to eat.

I like to go out with her, young and beautiful, she can always easily capture the eyes of men, and with her, I will have a feeling of really growing up.

When the same-age child is still hiding under the father's wings, I have already had my own wings, and I am the head of the family, I can fly freely. I replaced his position, my love for my mother is that he can never match.

Half a year later, the mother received the last letter from her father. She took a trip to the court and signed a divorce agreement. In a way, this is a sad page in her life. However, for me, this is just the beginning of a better future. Not only do I have to endure everything about my father's stupidity, but more importantly, I have a mother, not a body or a heart.

During adolescence, sleeping with the mother became a routine. Even when I went to college, this habit has not changed. Today, I am twenty-seven years old, have a wife and a son, and they both take up most of my time.

The mother has remarried and married a good person of her age. Forty-nine-year-old, her charm still exists, and every Sunday, I always take her out to eat, only the two of us, did not bother. After the meal, we will go to the hotel outside the city, open the house, and regain the amazing and beautiful time of the past.

Even now, my mother is always the best in the world.