After a while, Mom suddenly spoke, her voice soft, as if talking to herself, yet also as if speaking for me to hear.
"When you were just born, you were only this big."
She gestured with her hands, indicating a tiny length, her fingertips tinged pink. "Holding you in my arms, you were so soft, like you had no bones. But your cries were especially loud. The nurses all said, 'This child has strong lungs.'"
I listened silently, my movements unconsciously growing even gentler.
"When you were little, you were especially clingy to me. Wherever I went, you followed. You had to hold my finger to fall asleep."
She let out a low laugh, a laugh filled with the tenderness of memory. "Once, I went out to stock up on goods and came back late. You cried your heart out. Your dad couldn't calm you down no matter how he tried. The moment I came back and held you, you stopped immediately, sniffling and sobbing as you fell asleep in my arms."
The warm air from the hairdryer slowly turned her fair nape pink.
"Later, you grew up. You went to elementary school, then middle school. You had your own friends, your own little world. You weren't as clingy to Mom as you were when you were little."
Her voice gradually lowered, carrying a trace of barely perceptible loneliness. "Mom's heart... actually felt a little lost. But watching you grow into a young man day by day, I felt especially proud."
My nose felt a bit sore.
"Then later, you entered your final year of high school. The pressure was so great. Watching you grow thinner day by day, your spirits low, Mom's heart was so anxious, it was like..."
She paused, her voice tinged with more complex emotions. "But Mom never thought... you would use that method... Mom even more never thought that I would... would agree to you, and... and time after time..."
Her shoulders trembled slightly.
"That's not something a mother should do to her son."
Her voice carried a sob, very quiet, yet it pierced my ears like a needle. "Mom knows... this is wrong, very, very wrong..."
I turned off the hairdryer.
The buzzing sound ceased abruptly. The room suddenly became terrifyingly quiet. Only the sound of her suppressed sobs came faintly.
"Mom..."
My throat tightened. I wanted to say something, but didn't know where to begin.
"Listen to Mom."
She interrupted me, not turning around, but her shoulders trembled even more violently. "But... seeing you... because of me... your spirits improved, your grades went up, the light returned to your eyes... Mom's heart... actually... actually felt... it was worth it."
She suddenly turned around, lifting her face to look at me.
I saw her face covered in tears, streaming down her smooth cheeks, washing away the post-shower flush, leaving only a fragile paleness.
Her eyes were red, brimming with moisture. They churned with extreme shame, pain, confusion, and a trace of something that startled me... something akin to despair.
"An An."
Her lips trembled, tears flowing into the corners of her mouth. "Has Mom... become a very, very bad woman? I actually... actually developed thoughts of wanting to... with my own son..."
"No!"
The word almost roared out from my chest.
I threw the hairdryer aside, abruptly bent down, and tightly pulled Mom, who was sitting on the chair, into my arms.
Her body stiffened at first, then softened. Her face buried itself in the T-shirt on my chest, her scalding tears quickly soaking a large patch.
"Mom, you're not!"
My voice was also trembling. My arms held her so tightly it hurt, as if she would shatter if I let go. "You'll always be my mom! The best, best mom in the world! You're... you're the person I love most!"
The person in my arms was quiet for a moment. Then, I felt her arms slowly, hesitantly, wrap around my waist, tightening more and more.
"An An."
She buried her face deeper, her muffled voice thick with a nasal tone. "You too... are the man Mom loves most... in this lifetime."
We held each other tightly like that, neither of us speaking again. Time seemed to stand still, yet also seemed to flow swiftly.
Her tears soaked my chest. Her body temperature transmitted through the thin red gauze. Her scent, mixed with the saltiness of tears, enveloped me.
I don't know how long it passed. Her crying gradually subsided, though her body still trembled with slight sobs.
After another while, she gently pushed me.
I loosened my arms. She leaned back slightly, her eyes still red, the tip of her nose also red. But there were no more tears on her face, only some damp traces remained.
She looked at me, her gaze so complex I couldn't decipher it. But something had settled within it, as if she had made some kind of decision.
She sniffled. Suddenly, the corners of her mouth curved up into an extremely faint, yet astonishingly seductive arc.
"An An."
Her voice was still a bit hoarse, yet soft like melted honey. "Do you want to know... what exactly the reward Mom promised you is?"
My heart skipped another beat. My mouth felt dry. "It's... what is it?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she raised her hand and gently wiped away the small damp spot on my T-shirt left by her tears with her fingertip.
Then, she slightly rose on her tiptoes. Her warm face, still damp with tear tracks, drew close to me. Her red lips almost touched my ear. In a breathy voice, enunciating each word clearly, she softly uttered:
"The reward is—Mom."
My head felt like a thousand fireworks had exploded simultaneously, a blinding white light.
Although I had fantasized countless times, although I had been pushing step by step, anticipating exactly this, when those two words truly came from her mouth, landing in my eardrum with her warm breath, I was still stunned.
All the blood in my body seemed to rush to my head instantly, then receded just as violently. My limbs turned cold, only my heart pounding wildly in my chest, pounding so hard my ribs ached.
It's real... she really...
But immediately afterward, a huge, unprecedented panic and nervousness seized me.
My throat went dry, my palms sweated, even my calves felt a bit weak.
Damn it... I'm a virgin!
Although I've secretly watched quite a few videos, although Mom and I have already had so many borderline intimate contacts... but the real thing... I... what should I do?
What's the first step?
Will I hurt her?
Will I... finish too quickly?
Countless messy thoughts and images crowded into my brain, leaving me frozen in place, my face burning fiercely, my eyes not knowing where to look.
Perhaps sensing my embarrassment and stiffness, that seductive curve on Mom's face deepened.
She didn't speak again, just slightly lifted her head and closed her eyes.
Her long eyelashes cast a small shadow under her eyes, still trembling slightly.
Her rosy lips parted just a tiny crack, like dew-kissed petals waiting to be plucked.
She only said two words, her voice light as a sigh, yet carrying an irresistible magic:
"Kiss me."
I... kiss her?
I leaned in, clumsy as a marionette.
My body was stiff, my arms didn't know how to position themselves.
My lips finally lightly touched hers.
An indescribable softness, carrying her unique, warm scent, and a slight saltiness from tears.
And then? What should I do next?
My mind went blank.
Is this kissing? On TV... they just seem to press together like this?
I maintained the lip-to-lip posture, not daring to move, holding my breath, like an idiot.
Probably only two or three seconds passed. Mom suddenly opened her eyes.
There was no laughter in her eyes, only a kind of near-resigned tenderness, and a trace of... understanding?
She looked at my face, so close, filled with helplessness and stiffness, and let out a soft sigh.
Then, she raised her hands and cupped my face.
The next moment, her lips covered mine again.
But this time, it wasn't a simple touch.
Her lips pressed slightly, taking my lower lip into her mouth, giving it a gentle suck.
My whole body trembled. An electric-like tingling sensation instantly shot from my lips down my spine.
Immediately after, something even softer, wetter, slicker, carrying a startling heat, tentatively, lightly licked the seam of my lips.
Is that... her tongue?
I flinched back in fright, instinctively parting my lips.
It was this tiny gap. Her tongue, like a nimble and cunning little fish, slipped in smoothly.
Warm, wet, carrying the sweet and ambiguous scent from her mouth, it touched my stiff tongue tip.
"Mmm..."
I let out a muffled groan, not from pain, but from a completely unfamiliar, indescribable stimulation.
My tongue clumsily tried to evade, but instead got caught by hers, winding around it.
She began to guide me gently, yet insistently. Her tongue tip licked the roof of my mouth, swept over my teeth, then curled around my tongue tip, gently sucking, intertwining.
My breathing completely fell apart. My nose seemed to forget how to work. I just felt like I was about to suffocate, my face turning red from holding my breath.
Mom seemed to notice. She finally pulled back a little, our lips still connected by a few silvery strands.
Looking at my stupid, nearly suffocated appearance, she suddenly let out a soft "pfft" laugh. The corners of her eyes still held undried tear tracks, but her smile was dazzlingly bright.
"Silly." Her voice carried laughter and panting. She tapped my nose with her finger. "Breathe through your nose."
Only then did I, like a dying fish, suddenly gasp for air in big gulps. Fresh air flooded my lungs, bringing a wave of dizziness.
Looking at her smiling face so close, I felt both embarrassed and annoyed, my face burning even hotter. I stammered, "I... I..."
I "I-ed" for a long time, unable to get anything out, only seeing the teasing laughter in her eyes grow stronger and stronger.
A nameless, youthful sense of defiance and the annoyance of being underestimated surged up, mixed with the longing that had long been boiling in my heart.
To hell with being clueless!
I abruptly reached out, tightly encircling her waist clad only in the thin red gauze, pulling her forcefully toward me. Then I lowered my head and fiercely, with a clumsy ferocity, kissed again those soft, crimson lips that had just been laughing at me.
"Mmm..."
Mom seemed unprepared for my sudden initiative. A short, light moan escaped her throat.
This time, I didn't wait for her to guide me.
I imitated what she had just done to me, sucking her lips forcefully, then eagerly prying open her teeth, my tongue barging in recklessly.
Her mouth was warm and moist, with a sweet taste.
My tongue eagerly searched for hers. Finding it, I tightly wound around it, like vines around a tree, clumsy yet greedy, tangling, licking, sucking.
At first, she seemed somewhat taken aback by my intense movements. But soon, she responded to me.
Her arms wrapped around my neck. Her body pressed closer to me. Her tongue tip no longer just guided, but began to dance with mine—sometimes gently winding, sometimes deeply intertwining. The force of her sucking made my scalp tingle.
The wet, smacking sounds were clearly audible in the quiet room, mixed with our increasingly heavy, burning breaths.
I tasted her flavor, greedily drawing in the saliva from her mouth. The taste was sweeter than imagined, more addictive.
My hands unconsciously roamed over her smooth back. Through the layer of damp, sheer, cicada-wing-thin red gauze, I felt the fineness and warmth of her skin, the slight curve of her spine.
I don't know how long we kissed. Until we were both panting heavily, lungs feeling like they would burst, lips numb, did we finally, reluctantly, part.
Foreheads touching, we both breathed heavily, our exhaled hot breaths intertwining, indistinguishable from each other.
Her cheeks were flushed like rosy clouds. Her lips, kissed by me, were red and swollen, glistening with moisture. Her gaze was dazed and unfocused, veiled with a moving mist, looking at me wetly like that.
I wasn't much better. My heart felt like it would jump out of my throat. The hot blood in my entire body rushed and clamored.
"Mom..." I called her in a hoarse voice, the scalding desire within no longer concealable.
She didn't speak, just looked at me. Then, those swollen lips curved up again into an extremely faint, yet utterly intoxicating arc.
Her hand slowly slid down from my neck. She took one of my sweaty hands and guided it, gently pressing it onto the strap of her red nightgown.
My fingertips touched the smooth lace strap and the warm skin of her shoulder.
My fingers trembled violently, completely unlike my own. That thin strap felt like it could snap with a little force.
I looked at Mom. Her eyes were closed, eyelashes fluttering slightly. Her cheeks and neck were flushed red, like a ripe peach.
The two ample mounds on her chest rose and fell with her somewhat rapid breathing, straining the thin layer of red gauze almost to its limit.
My Adam's apple bobbed as I swallowed, my voice so hoarse I barely recognized it: "Mom... let me help you..."
Mom didn't open her eyes, only letting out a very soft, muffled "Mm..." through her nose. It was a sound of consent, tinged with a hint of resigned indulgence.
That response made the fire inside me burn even fiercer.
My fingers no longer hesitated. They hooked onto the thin lace strap and gently pulled it aside.
The strap slid from her rounded shoulder, resting on her arm.
The other side followed suit.
Without the support of the straps, the already short and flimsy red chiffon nightgown instantly lost its anchor. Like a feather soaked by rain, it slid slowly, silently down the smooth curves of her body.
It pooled at her slender waist, then continued its descent, finally collapsing onto the floor into a small, ambiguous heap of red.
With nothing left to conceal her, Mom's upper body was now completely, utterly exposed before my eyes.
My breath caught.
The light wasn't very bright—just the soft, yellowish glow from the desk lamp, as if coating everything in a warm, golden honey.
Yet it was this very light that made Mom's exposed skin appear even more... breathtaking.
So white. Like the finest mutton-fat jade, or like delicate, warm porcelain, seeming to emit a soft luster of its own under the light.
Her skin was so fine you could barely see any pores. Only on her shoulders and collarbones, from the earlier embrace and tension, did a thin, lovely layer of pink flush appear.
But what captured my entire gaze, what made my head buzz and my blood roar, was that pair of... massive mounds, rising and falling slightly with her breath.
They hung there, heavy and proud, on Mom's pale chest.
I never knew a woman's breasts could be so beautiful.
Not the youthful, petite curves of a girl, but the full, mature plumpness of a woman at her peak.
Like two perfectly ripe, juice-filled milk balls, heavy and pendulous, yet their tips still maintained an upturned curve.
Their shape was a perfect hemisphere, with a rounded, full lower edge. Under gravity, they pressed into a deep, enticing shadow at their base.
The flesh was extremely pale, so much so that you could see the faint blue-green veins beneath the skin, smooth and delicate like the finest silk.
At the tips, two small, crimson nipples were already standing stiffly erect, like two ripe cherries, centered within the slightly swollen, pinkish areolas.
The areolas weren't small—they were the fleshy, pale pink circles characteristic of a mature woman, now made even more prominent by arousal.
My eyes felt nailed in place, utterly unable to tear away from this sight.
My throat was parched, on fire. My heart felt like it was about to leap out of my throat.
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