Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Hi. I’m female, my name is Meigui, which is the Chinese name of the “Rosa rugosa”, and I’m now telling you how my son Caizi (“Gifted Scholar”) met his soulmate.
We’re of Chinese ancestry, but we live in Washington DC; I lost my husband Yingyong (“Gallant”) to the war in Iraq, and his pension allowed our son to be eventually admitted to the Center for the Study of Gender and Sexuality (CSGC) at New York University.
We have to be somewhat stingy, so I travel by Amtrak when visiting him, and I don’t object at taking the subway to his apartment; but once he went to the Penn Station to bring me home, and we had to ride an overcrowded subway coach.
While we were standing up, I felt a male body pressing against my butt – not just a body, but an erect penis. I turned aside to look the molester in the face – it was Caizi!
He said, “Beg your pardon,” but I was astonished anyway. He seemed genuinely sorry, but I wondered how could he be erotically interested in me. Worse, the coach was so crowded that he couldn’t help rubbing his private part against my body – and I feared that people would think that he was a pervert rapist.
So I took his right hand, and put it on my belly, as if I were his girlfriend, not his mom, and enjoyed the body contact until we got off at Union Station. He put my trolley on his shoulders, then he took my right hand and escorted me to his apartment in E 11th Street, near the CSGS.
When we were in, I confronted him, “How do you dare sexually approach your mother?”
“Mom … it was an accident.”
“But your penis was erect!”
“I can’t help that, mom. You’re so cute and busty that I can’t help feeling aroused whenever you are near me. It’s always been like this.”
“But you’ve had some girlfriends.”
“I’ve never been able to come with them. Sorry, mom, at the last moment I realized that they weren’t you, and I could not ejaculate, no matter how long and hard I thrust.”
“Gosh! That’s why you’ve eventually lost all them.”
His apartment had just one room and a king-size bed – I wanted him to buy it, hoping that he would soon fill it with a cute girl – and I had to sleep in it that night. I was afraid for a while, then I realized that he wouldn’t rape me, so I could sleep snugly.
I was wrong. He didn’t touch me, but he kept going to the john all night – once an hour, I reckoned; at first I thought he had eaten something rotten – but I ate the same food as him, and I felt fine; then I wondered if his diabetes was decompensating, and I realized at last that he was just masturbating, collecting his semen into his prepuce, and then trying to dispose of it in the commode.
Ok, a man is entitled to feel aroused when I’m near him; if he likes, he can jerk off over me – but compulsively masturbating near me, even though trying to be discreet, is beyond my conception of reasonable behavior.
So, when he was going to put his hands on his stiff cock again, I tried to stop him by putting my right hand under his palm in order to put it away – but before he could even notice my intrusion, he slapped my hand on his cock.
I felt so aroused that I couldn’t take my hand away, and he construed my gesture as if I wanted to share his pleasure – he was right by now!
When he was going to come, I repeated what he’s been doing for the whole evening – I took advantage of his being uncircumcised and folded his prepuce around his glans – so I could collect his semen and swallow it to the last drop.
In for a penny, in for a pound, I told myself. I silenced him as he muttered something about my apparent change of mind, opened my gown, so he could see the tits that arouse him so much, then I removed my panties, and sat on his still flaccid penis, rocking myself in order to have my labia and clit stimulated by his organ, until it became stiff enough to enter me.
While waiting for that, Caizi, my son, remembered that I had nursed him for more that two years, latched to my tits, and as he sucked them, I felt his cock getting stiffer, and my twat getting wetter. He nailed me without removing his mouth from my nipples, and I enjoyed that.
After sex, we hugged and cuddled – I felt refreshed, as I hadn’t had intercourse for years, and an orgasm for weeks; I kissed Caizi in the mouth, and then he asked me, “Mom …”
“My name is Meigui. You can’t call me ‘mom’ anymore, darling.”
“Ok, Meigui. Are you into anal sex?”
“Definitely no, Caizi. Forget about it with me. But you can ask it of another girl.”
“Does it mean that we won’t make love anymore?”
“No, Caizi, you’re damn good. I meant that you mustn’t be faithful to me. You have to make love with other women too.”
“Ok, Meigui – I’ll see to it.”
“But please, always wear a condom with them!”
“So I can have it in the nude with you, can’t I?”
“Yes. Buying them would be suspicious when the only people we’re going to meet are either you or me.”
He agreed, and we cuddled ourselves to sleep. In the morning I felt aroused, and when I opened my bahis firmaları eyes, I saw Caizi sucking my nipples. He stopped for a while, but I told him, “You can have them whenever you like, but, please, awake me before nursing, so I enjoy it more!”
When he was done with my breasts, he moved to my vulva and sucked my clit with equal prowess, and made me come twice before fucking me, and then felching me, as he loved cleaning the mess he had made.
We had a shower and then breakfast; he had to go to class, so he kissed me in the mouth (I enjoyed it!) and walked to University, while I sat on the couch and thought to what we had done.
I couldn’t tell anyone, and a few years earlier I sternly condemned a father who had committed incest with his daughter – ok, she was a minor, with neither a job nor a learning, so she couldn’t refuse his advances. It wasn’t definitely my son’s case.
I went shopping in order to distract myself from both guilt and arousal (although I had orgasmed a lot, I was still craving for more sex, and kept thinking to Caizi); I didn’t buy a lot of things, but among them there were a set of peek-a-boo bras, panties with a split crotch, and some beautiful stockings.
I still kept the revealing lingerie I wore when making love with my late husband, but it was in our Washington apartment – buying it anew was less expensive than having a round trip to there.
The bras were the thing I pained more over: it was crystal-clear that my son Caizi loved my tits, and I remembered nursing him upon request – and he requested my milk so often that I and my late hubby Yingyong had to find a way to make love while nursing.
Yingyong sat on an armchair, stark naked, but with an erect penis, and while Caizi was unwittingly arousing me while nursing, I slowly lowered my ass so that Yingyong could nail me.
Perhaps this made me associate nursing Caizi with reaching orgasm (à la Pavlov) – when I eventually weaned Caizi (at 6!), I had to ask Yingyong to kiss, lick and suck my nipples several times a day in order to arouse me in the evening – and he more often than not led me to orgasm by simply stroking my areolae.
Now Caizi was going to do the same to me – in a few days he could become as good as his father – and I was possessed by an insane fantasy: to be both his wet nurse and his lover.
Caizi once admitted to being aroused by wet nurses – and when my sisters and my sisters-in-law paid visits to our house and nursed their children, we didn’t prevent Caizi from watching, and he could often taste a few drops of milk. Other aunts bring sweets to their nephew – they soon learnt that all he wanted was between their arms, and gave it generously.
At the end of their studies, CSGS students have to perform field research, and Caizi proposed “Sardinia” to his tutor; “Why not China, our homeland?” I asked him, and he answered, “An Italian girlfriend told me that Sardinians are somewhat breast-obsessed: they teach modesty so early and effectively that it is nearly impossible to see a female of their own aged more than two in her birthday suit – but if a baby wants nursing, her mother instantly bares her breasts and fulfills its needs, wherever they may be.”
“Amusing. Don’t you think that in a country like ours there may be a national minority with the same customs worth studying?”
“If you can tell me the name, I’ll be more than glad to compare it with Sardinians.”
I didn’t know the name – I actually knew that the Beijing government was really worried because less than expected Chinese moms were exclusively breastfeeding their children, with unfortunate consequences.
My long breastfeeding Caizi was a fortunate exception, on a par with the case of the Chinese policewoman who breastfed all the infants she had rescued in the 2008 Sichuan earthquake – but I hoped, when proposing him to switch to China, that he would find a soulmate there. But now I had become his soulmate – and I was afraid that, if I fulfilled my fantasy of relactating, I would be the happiest mom in the world, but also the warden of his prison – a real milk trap.
My instinct was to buy some nursing bras, but they would have revealed my intent, and I thought that the peek-a-boo bras would wondefully frame my breasts, thus arousing him without prodding him to suckle them so much as to trigger relactation – but in my fantasies, I kept thinking to his mouth, lips and tongue around my breasts. My twat deserved much less attention, and after being so aroused by my nursing fantasies, even unwittingly skimming the supermarket trolley with it could make me come.
I had to feign an epileptic fit to conceal the real reason I squealed, but a couple girls might have seen thru it. They were my son’s age, and volunteered to bring me to his apartment. They knew him, as they asked me, “Madam, you are Caizi’s mom, aren’t you?”
They had already seen what I had bought, so I shamelessly lied, “No, I’m his girlfriend. His mom won’t come until summer.”
“Oh, is he engaged? Mazal tov!”
“In Chinese we say, ‘Wan fu’,” kaçak iddaa I told them, “but I thank you for the wish.”
The girls brought me to Caizi’s apartment, and then told me: “We live in this building, a floor over yours. If you need something, please call us.”
As I was alone, I couldn’t help fingering myself and than having a shower; then I wore the lingerie I had bought, a transparent silk blouse (Yingyong loved fishnets, but I was younger, nulliparous, and my breasts were firmer) and a miniskirt. As I hate high-heels, I only put on slippers – but with small polished mirrors on the vamps; if Caizi looked at them, he wouldn’t be able to think to their hide, but to my skin!
When Caizi went home, he was somewhat angry – luckily, he wasn’t as short-tempered as Yingyong: he told me that the girls who had rescued me were worried about me.
“How kind of them!” I replied.
“Darling, Meigui, my friends, Eliza and Kate, had already seen our family’s photos – so they couldn’t be duped into thinking that you were my actual girlfriend.”
“Caizi, I can’t be your mother anymore. That’s why I asked you to always call me by my first name. I didn’t lie – I told them the actual truth.”
“You lied to conceal the real reason you bought this lingerie!”
“Don’t you like it, Caizi?” I told him while unbuttoning my blouse (sorry, I’m not Sharon Stone, I couldn’t replay the famous scene in “Basic Instinct”); Caizi stared at my bra and upright nipples which kept gushing out of the slits, and meekly suggested, “Meigui, you could have stood still. You’re a widow, you can have sex with whomever you like …”
“… especially you, Caizi.”
I hugged him, kissed him, and he told me, “Let me tell you something while I am having a shower.”
“Let me help you – these garments are an easy wash.”
I didn’t actually shower with him – he had his shower in the cabin, while I stood outside; but looking at him naked while having his shower made me horny, and he got ever hornier watching my tits and my cunt popping out of the garments which where supposed to rein them in.
When he was done, I took a towel and hugged him under the pretense of wiping him, and he hugged, kissed me in turn, and pressed his dick against my belly – I felt as if he had put a firebrand against it!
He didn’t dress – he undressed me instead, and chased me until his king size bed, where he grasped my heels, licked my twat, sucked my clit, fondled my tits, and nailed me while French kissing me.
After several orgasms of mine, he came, and after a bout of felching and snowballing, he at last managed to tell me that these girls had two secrets.
“They’re lesbians, aren’t they?” I asked him, “None of our business, anyway.”
“Not just lesbians – they’re also sisters!”
“So their secret is our secret,” I remarked, “They may not let the cat out of the sac.”
“No, they won’t. But you didn’t know that, and I was afraid that you could put us into trouble.”
“Caizi, we have to find a solution. These girls weren’t the first lesbians I had met in my life, and I know that their real pain in the ass is living in the closet. We’ve entered the closet tonight, and we have to find a place in which we can come out.”
“There is no place in the world in which mother-son or sister-sister incest is legal. But some countries may only prosecute those who make a scandal with their incestuous conduct.”
“So we would live in a demi-closet there. Which countries?”
“Sardinia. It belongs to Italy, and Italian law only punishes incest that makes a scandal. Moreover, the scandal must have been triggered by a lapse of the incestuous couple.”
“What do you mean?”
“That if somebody peeks into our bedroom, there is no fault of our own; if the police enters our house and catches us in the act, there is no fault of our own …”
“So, no Bowers v. Hardwick case there, I suppose.”
“Right, but if WE do something that lets people know what we’re doing, it’s our fault.”
“I make you pregnant …”
“Impossible. You know I was sterilized once I had given birth to you.”
“It was just a simple example; a more serious example would be claiming that we aren’t mother and son, but girlfriend and boyfriend. This would make the relationship officially known, and therefore scandalous due to our own fault.”
“Ok. I won’t tell anybody else that you’re my boyfriend. When are we going to Sardinia?”
“I should ask Eliza and Kate if they want you with us, since we’re partners in this research. By the way, it is financed by a grant, but your flight and staying in Sardinia won’t.”
“Can I use my credit card in Sardinia?”
“How long will your field research last?”
“A couple years. It takes time to study a cohort of nursing moms.”
“I know. I nursed you for six years. Aren’t you going to resume?”
He resumed – he sucked my tits for ten minutes each, and then my clit; even though I was somewhat tired, I let him fuck me again, and then felch kaçak bahis me.
The only thing I knew about Italy, except the incest law Caizi had explained me, was that Italian women used the “bidet” to wash their genitalia in it – I would never apparently ever need one, since I had such a willing slave!
We were hungry, so we made dinner, washed the dishes, and made love again; after making love, Caizi helped himself with my tits – and I was unable to stop him, since I loved his mouth on them so much.
I couldn’t just be his lover but not his wet nurse, so I asked him whether he would like me to relactate.
“It would be wonderful – moreover, Kate is also an LLL [La Leche League] consultant. She can help you with that.”
“So, are you telling me that our two couples are a marriage made in heaven?”
“Eliza, who’s Jewish, would say ‘basherte’; yes, it seems so.”
“So, when will we meet in order to discuss relactation and traveling to Sardinia?”
“What if we dine together next Saturday night?”
“Ok. Let’s now sleep now. You have to go to class tomorrow, haven’t you?”
We wanted to sleep, but mutual attraction woke us up at about midnight, and I reminded my son how wonderful was it to me to nurse him at that time – now that Caizi was grown up, he knew how to fuck me into sleep afterwards.
As Eliza and Kate answered that it was better to put the dinner off by a week, we spent the following days making love whenever possible, and we couldn’t simply get enough of it.
The day before the scheduled dinner, I had to go to an ob-gyn, who advised me to pause for a couple days and to use some lubricant – and I also had to buy new bras, as my boobs were growing.
The dinner was to be held in Eliza’s and Kate’s apartment, on the floor above ours; when Caizi dressed for it, I became suspicious, as he had bought a pair of wonderful boxer shorts and socks; then he asked me to wear the revealing lingerie I had bought for him and a blouse he had given me – beautiful, but more transparent than a window pane!
“What are we going to make with Eliza and Kate, Caizi?”
“They love swinging.”
“Their hobby, not mine.”
“They won’t rape you.”
“Have you had sex with either of them?”
“Actually with both.”
I was astonished – I thought that he had seduced me out of misery, not that he had a sex life and I just was one of his lovers!
“Meigui, they’re good friends, but you’re much dearer to me than them. Whatever will happen to me, I’ll love you more than any other woman,” he told me, and he was sincere.
I cried and he comforted me (no, he just cuddled me – he didn’t try to have sex with me); but I asked him, “What am I supposed to do tonight?”
“Just eating and talking. They know we’re lovers, and we know they’re lovers as well. If Kate asks you to bare your breasts, it isn’t just out of erotic interest, but …”
“… because she’s also a lactation consultant. I know – I won’t feel worse than when I met a straight male ob-gyn today.”
We went to the girls’ apartment, and I saw them dressed as sexy as me, although in no vulgar way: both Eliza and Kate wore shirts with a low-cut neckline, which highlighted their big breasts; but their shirts weren’t transparent, and they wore trousers in lieu of skirts.
They had no make-up – neither had I; it was as if we were all confident of our charme, and didn’t need any enhancement.
The food was good, the conversation pleasant, and we at last talked about our love life and the field research in Sardinia.
Eliza explained, “I and Kate are twenty years apart; since I and mom got pregnant nearly at the same time, and mom couldn’t nurse Kate, as she was HIV+, I nursed both her and my son.”
“Oh!” I said, “So you too have a son.”
“I had him. Elijah was among the 9/11 victims, together with his father Shimson, who worked there and wanted his son to visit his office and meet his workmates.”
I felt really sorry over that, and stroked, hugged and kissed Eliza. It was a display of empathy, not of attraction, but we felt closer nonetheless.
“I pulled myself together to help mom raise Kate. We apparently succeeded, but the relationship eventually went sexual, and we’re now lovers.”
“Does your mom know that?”
“We’ve never told her,” Kate answered, “But you can’t conceal anything from a mom.”
“But she isn’t apparently bothered,” Eliza remarked, “She’s always said that violence is the only perversion anybody should be ashamed of – and there is no violence between us.”
Kate asked me, “Your son …”
I corrected her, “I don’t think sex and filiation are compatible. Caizi is my lover now, not my son. By the way, our relationship is open, so I won’t be jealous of you.”
Kate blushed, Eliza feigned indifference, but said, “Caizi told us you’re going to relactate.”
“You’re right, Eliza.”
“It’s a good idea – nursing both Elijah and Kate made me come every time; and I enjoy these orgasms again when Caizi sucks my nipples together with Kate.”
The description instantaneously aroused me. My cunt opened and its scent could be smelled across the room. Caizi fondled my shoulder, and Eliza touched my hand telling me, “You’ve got a very good son. Don’t disown him.”
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32