Chapter 10 Uncontrollable Passion in the Kitchen

The door to the dimly lit lounge was suddenly pushed open and slammed shut with a loud thud.

My mother’s thin, frail body stumbled and staggered into the innermost restroom of the card room, like a startled deer.

With a crisp “click” from the deadbolt, she seemed to have used up all the strength she had accumulated in her life, and slid down limply against the cold tile wall.

The chill of the marble floor tiles seeped into her spine through her flesh-colored stockings, soaked with sweat and already sticky, but it couldn’t suppress the surging, sweet-smelling heat within her body.

In the cramped cubicle, the air became damp from her panting.

Her head was lowered, her messy sideburns damp with sticky sweat, clinging tightly to her cheeks, which were still flushed from her intense orgasm.

That once dignified and elegant dress was now wrinkled like rotten vegetable leaves, not only draped diagonally over her rounded shoulders, but also violently torn in several places during the violent collision, revealing her fair and smooth chest covered with finger marks and bruises.

Her full breasts trembled uneasily along the edge of her tattered underwear with her rapid breathing, the nipples standing erect like two ripe red berries under the stimulation of the cold air.

What made her feel most ashamed was the sensation between her legs.

That sticky, warm, thick semen, carrying a strong scent of male hormones, was seeping out from the depths of her violently stretched and unable-to-close vagina.

Her son’s milky white, gelatinous semen mixed with her own gushing vaginal fluid, slowly sliding down the inside of her thighs, which were covered by stockings, like a slippery venomous snake, winding out several lewd dark marks under the semi-transparent nylon fabric.

Those jade feet that once spun proudly on the stage are now curled up without dignity in soaked flesh-colored stockings, with sticky sweat between the toes, exuding a dizzying, pungent odor of a mature woman caused by being trapped in shoes for a long time and experiencing intense sex.

”Waaah… How did I… become like this…” She bit her lower lip hard, almost drawing blood from her full lips. Tears streamed down her face, splashing onto the back of her hand.

Her well-maintained hands, with knuckles white from excessive force, gripped the torn corner of her clothes tightly.

She was terrified, not only of being discovered by her nominal husband outside the door, who found her body covered in marks of desecration, but also of the lingering, intense throbbing deep within her heart from the brutal penetration of her womb by her own son.

Occasionally, the sound of shuffling cards and the loud conversation between the father and his card-playing friends could be heard from the card room outside the door. Every laugh sounded like the sharpest mockery to the mother.

She waited a long time, making sure I wasn’t chasing after her with that monstrous penis, before trembling as she got up from the ground.

Her legs were weak and sore from excessive spasms and the aftereffects of repeated cervical thrusting. With each step she took, the semen inside her body would experience a very obvious downward sensation due to gravity, making a gurgling sound deep inside.

She stood in front of the sink, looking at the harlot in the mirror with red-rimmed eyes and disheveled hair, and a strong sense of guilt almost overwhelmed her.

But she couldn’t break down. She took a deep breath and kept splashing her burning cheeks with cold water, trying to wash away the nauseating yet addictive stench.

She even had to rub the soles of her feet vigorously through her stockings to try to relieve the itching caused by my prolonged handling.

When she pushed the door open again and saw her husband walking towards her, his face etched with exhaustion but his eyes sincere, her heart nearly skipped a beat.

”Honey, why did you stay in there for so long? Are you alright? You look so pale, are you feeling unwell? Why don’t we go back and rest?” The father reached out to put his arm around her shoulder, and the mother subconsciously shrank back an inch, that subtle movement hiding her deepest fear.

She felt the thick semen dripping down her thighs onto her ankles, the sticky sensation making her want to scream.

”No…it’s nothing! It’s just that the movie was too depressing, it was boring to watch. I’ll watch you guys play cards, I’ll just sit here for a bit.” She forced a stiff smile, her eyes darting away, avoiding eye contact with her husband.

She obediently sat down at the card table, her legs pressed tightly together, trying to suppress the surging evil within her.

In the shadows not far away, I was leisurely leaning against the door frame, playing Auto Chess on my phone, but my gaze, like a venomous snake, would occasionally sweep over her beautiful legs in stockings, which were soaked with sweat and shimmered with the nylon sheen under the light.

I know she’s suffering every second right now, and I know her tightly closed cunt is still full of my seed that I just shot in, and it’s not even cold yet.

As night deepened, the 4:30 bell rang for the buffet. Amidst the noise, everyone hastily finished their dinner; alcohol and fatigue had dulled the father’s ability to observe.

On the way back, an eerie silence filled the carriage.

Sitting in the back seat, I could even smell the sweet, cloying scent of my mother’s body after it had been thoroughly played with, wafting from the front seats.

She remained silent the entire way, gripping the seatbelt tightly, her fingertips trembling slightly.

After I got home, I surprisingly didn’t bother her anymore.

Watching her disappear into the bathroom with a sigh of relief, and hearing the rushing water, a playful smile crept onto my lips.

I know that every cell in her body has memorized my shape, and the tranquility of this night is just the calm before the next storm.

The next morning, just as the first hint of dawn appeared on the horizon.

The late autumn fog enveloped the windowpanes, and Mom woke up with a start from a nightmare filled with carnal entanglements and the friction of stockings.

A fine layer of cold sweat seeped from her forehead, and the faint bluish shadow under her eyes looked particularly pitiful in the dim light.

As if she were escaping some invisible judgment, she hurriedly climbed out of bed and stepped barefoot onto the floor, the coldness of which made her slightly more awake.

She changed into a loose and conservative purple loungewear, trying to cover up her body, which I had already thoroughly explored.

Stepping into the kitchen, I skillfully turned on the stove, and the fried eggs sizzled in the pan. As the temperature rose, the edges gradually turned golden and crispy.

The bitter aroma of coffee filled the hall, and this everyday, bustling atmosphere brought her a moment of peace, as if as long as she kept busy, yesterday’s absurdity could truly be wiped away like dust.

She ladled out a bowl of steaming congee with preserved egg and lean pork, but her fingers were still a little weak from the long hours of pleasure she had endured the night before.

When she carried the porcelain bowl to the living room and handed it to her father, her fair fingertips involuntarily gripped the spoon handle tightly, her knuckles turning blue from the force.

”Eat early, so you won’t be late for work. Drink some porridge to warm your stomach.” Her voice sounded gentle and calm, but in that instant, she caught a glimpse of me yawning as I walked out of the room.

My gaze was fixed on her soft, white cleavage, which was faintly visible through the neckline of her loungewear as she bent over, and on her toes, which were slightly curled up on the floor and trembling slightly.

Her heart suddenly raced. The bowl of porridge trembled slightly in her hands, broth splashing onto the rim, mirroring her crumbling sanity. She put down the bowl of porridge and quickly disappeared into the kitchen.

I chuckled softly and, with steady, rhythmic steps, slowly entered this territory, a place brimming with life yet fraught with danger.

The father, who was sitting at the dining table in the living room eating porridge, looked up and a hint of concern appeared on his slightly aged and tired face.

”Binbin, you’re almost a senior in college. You can’t just think about playing all day. You need to prepare for your job after graduation. Look at your resume more often. Don’t end up like me, working hard your whole life and still just a junior staff member.” His father’s voice was deep and gentle, carrying the earnestness of an elder.

”Okay, I got it,” I said dismissively, then went into the kitchen.

The morning sunlight streamed weakly through the kitchen’s semi-transparent frosted glass window, casting hazy halos across the off-white tiled floor.

The air was filled with the aroma of fried dough sticks, the bitterness of coffee, and a very faint, sweet musky scent that only those with an extremely sensitive sense of smell could detect—the scent of a mature woman’s body after intense sexual intercourse.

My mother was looking down, her snow-white hands pressing laboriously on the cutting board, the heavy cleaver in her hand slowly slicing through the golden, crispy fried dough stick. The “snap-snap” sound of the cleaving was particularly jarring in the deathly quiet morning.

Because of the soreness and swelling caused by the repeated bumping of her cervix last night, her standing posture looked a bit strange. She had to slightly spread her long legs apart to relieve the lingering stickiness in the groin area.

As my footsteps approached, my mother’s muscles tensed instantly. Her hand holding the knife trembled so violently that the blade left a grimacing mark on the cutting board, nearly slicing her delicate fingertips.

She turned to the side in a panic, the hem of her slightly oversized purple loungewear swaying with her movements, vaguely outlining the contours of her exceptionally full breasts, which sagged slightly due to the lack of a bra.

I walked straight up to her and deliberately got very close, close enough that I could clearly smell the scent of shampoo emanating from her hair, as well as the slightly pungent smell of her sweaty feet that seeped from her pores due to extreme nervousness.

I looked down and casually picked up a slice of fried dough stick, but my gaze was like an aggressive flame, tracing down her porcelain-white nape and greedily sweeping over her buttocks that were taut from bending over.

Even in loose loungewear, her two buttocks, like ripe peaches, still stood out strikingly under the thin cotton fabric, round and perky, exuding a maternal allure that drove people wild.

I suddenly chuckled softly, a low, hoarse laugh filled with a playful sense of control.

Just as my mother was trying to hold her breath and escape from this cramped space, my large, rough hand, burning with body heat, unexpectedly and savagely pressed down on her plump left buttock, then squeezed it hard towards the center.

With a soft “plop,” I heard the sound of flesh colliding as my hand squeezed the soft flesh of her buttocks. My fingertips sank deep into that elastic, warm mass, and I could almost feel the subtle friction from the thin, cicada-wing-like stockings beneath her pajamas.

”Ah—!” Mom let out a short, sharp scream. Startled, she lunged forward and to the side, the kitchen knife slipping from her hand and crashing heavily onto the cutting board with a deafening clang.

She turned her head sharply, her once gentle almond-shaped eyes now wide open, her eye sockets flushed slightly red from extreme humiliation, and two bright red blushes quickly spread across her cheeks.

”What’s wrong, Meiru?” Her father’s hurried footsteps came from the living room.

The mother was so frightened that she almost lost her mind. She hurriedly turned around and pressed her delicate body against the kitchen counter, trying to calm her violently heaving chest with her hands behind her back.

A fine layer of sweat appeared on her forehead, her eyes darted around, and even her voice trembled slightly.

”N-nothing… I just saw a really big cockroach crawl out from behind the stove, it scared me.” She explained incoherently as she bent down to pick up the kitchen knife, her movements stiff with panic.

Her father walked up behind her and gently patted her shoulder; the tender scene seemed so ridiculous to me.

”Don’t be afraid, I’m here. Binbin, catch all the cockroaches in this house today, especially in these hard-to-reach corners.” I leaned against the cabinet, slowly chewing on the fried dough stick, my gaze brazenly sweeping from my mother’s sweat-soaked insteps down to her slightly parted vulva, which was open by fear, from an angle my father couldn’t see.

”Okay, let’s catch cockroaches. I’ll definitely catch that slyest, most elusive cockroach and give it a good beating.” I swallowed the bread, a cruel yet excited smile curving my lips.

My mother understood the deeper meaning in my words. She lowered her head even further, almost burying it in the steaming bowl of porridge. Fine beads of sweat on her slender neck were slowly sliding down her spine, finally disappearing into the unknown depths.

Back at the breakfast table, the atmosphere between the three of us became extremely awkward.

The father was still talking about the personnel changes at his workplace, while the mother was like a prisoner waiting to be sentenced, her chopsticks picking up a piece of pickled vegetable only to slip it down in dejection.

I ate very quickly, the clatter of bowls and plates echoing in the quiet restaurant.

I got up from my seat, casually tossed out a “I’m going to take a nap” message, and took the dishes and chopsticks into the kitchen sink.

But I didn’t leave as I had expected. Instead, like a cheetah lurking in the shadows, I quietly waited in the gloom of the kitchen doorway for my prey to walk into my trap.

Soon, the sound of Mom’s heavy sighs approached from afar.

She seemed to think I had already gone back to my room, and she looked dejected and exhausted.

As she stepped into the kitchen and was about to bend down to put down the bowls and chopsticks, I suddenly stepped out from the shadows behind her, wrapped my arms around her voluptuous waist like iron clamps, and held her tightly in my arms.

At the same time, my already hard, brand-hot penis, which was swollen inside my black pants, pressed hard against the center of her buttocks, which were covered by house pants and stockings, with amazing heat.

”Binbin… let me go! Your dad… he’s right outside!” Mom exclaimed, her back hitting my firm chest, the oppressive masculine aura instantly enveloping her.

She twisted her body wildly, her small feet, encased in stockings, rubbing haphazardly against the floor tiles, making a “sizzling” sound.

Due to the violent struggle, the dried semen that had accumulated inside her last night seemed to be stirred up again by my penis. The sticky, shameful liquid flowed towards her, making her inner thighs feel an unbearable burning sensation.

”Let go? You weren’t begging me like this yesterday when you were moaning under me.” I lowered my head and pressed my wet, hot lips tightly against her earlobe, which smelled faintly of sweat. Every breath I took was burning hot.

”Back then you begged me to fuck your uterus until it was rotten, begged me to fill your body with all my thick semen… What? You woke up one morning, pulled up your pants, and now you’re denying it?” My hand roughly slipped under the hem of her house dress and pressed directly onto her flat but tense lower abdomen, then pressed down onto the already soaked pubic hair.

”Waaah… Binbin, have some shame! You’re courting death… You’ll be found out…” The mother’s voice was already choked with sobs, and tears fell into the cold sink.

Her fingernails scratched frantically at the edge of the stainless steel sink in terror, making a screeching sound as she tried to counteract the extreme pleasure of being wantonly humiliated by her own son right under her father’s nose, a pleasure that was driving her to the brink of collapse.

The more she struggled, the deeper my penis penetrated. Through the thin fabric, I could even feel her tightly closed cunt twitching violently with her fear.

One of my hands gripped her slender waist like an iron hoop, while the other hand, with undeniable brute force, hooked its fingertips tightly around the elastic waistband of her purple loungewear.

”Rip—” That was the painful groan of cotton fabric being violently torn.

Without any hesitation, I pulled her down sharply, and her loose pants slid down her plump thighs and piled up at the back of her knees.

In that instant, two plump, white buttocks, as if carved from the finest mutton-fat jade, trembled and were exposed in the blinding morning sunlight.

Her narrow black lace panties, due to uneven pressure, dug deeply into her deep buttocks, squeezing her two round mounds of flesh outwards, presenting a blood-pumping, sensual curve.

My black shirt, soaked with sweat, was now clinging tightly to her vest, which was trembling with fear.

Through that thin layer of fabric, I could clearly feel the outline of each vertebra of her spine, as well as her full breasts that were constantly being squeezed and deformed against my chest because they were not wearing a bra.

The tight, warm, and slippery sensation sent waves of throbbing through my lower abdomen. My penis, tightly wrapped in black trousers, was now engorged and swollen to its limit. The menacing coronal sulcus, through the double layers of fabric, was precisely wedged between her thick, wet labia, creating intense friction as she struggled.

”Don’t move! Mom, I’m warning you, every time you twist, this thing of mine will thrust even harder into your cunt!” I whispered in her ear, using a humiliating and hoarse voice.

The scent, a mixture of tobacco and intense male hormones, was like highly corrosive sulfuric acid, instantly stripping away the last vestige of her dignity as an elder.

My mother’s bare hands, which had been frantically slapping my arms in fear, were now helplessly bracing themselves against the edge of the water-stained metal sink.

Her fingertips turned deathly white from the extreme force, her nails digging deep into the crevices of the sink rim, making a sickeningly metallic scraping sound as she writhed.

My large hand roughly covered her trembling left buttock like kneading dough, with large patches of soft, white flesh spilling out between my fingers.

With an almost cathartic pleasure, I left five clear and deep red finger marks on that soft, warm surface.

Immediately afterwards, I released her wrist, grabbed the poor pair of underwear with my other hand, and yanked it down sharply.

With a “snap,” that was the sound of elastic fibers breaking.

I pulled the cloth covering her body down to her ankles, binding her beautiful legs, which were clad in sheer flesh-colored stockings, together, forcing her to bend over in front of me in an extremely shameful position with her legs slightly apart.

That sacred, red-tinged land hidden deep in the jungle has completely lost its defenses.

Although her thick labia majora were tightly pressed together due to the tension of the morning, giving them a sickly pale purple color, anyone who got a little closer could smell the salty, fishy smell of the semen left over from last night, as well as the foul, sticky smell of the fluid that had just seeped out due to her fear.

That was the physiological stress produced by the mother’s body under extreme fear. A transparent, viscous liquid with a silky feel was slowly overflowing from the pink mucous membrane at the entrance of her vagina, shimmering with a lustful luster under the sunlight.

”Waaah… Binbin, please… not here… your dad… he’ll come in…” The mother’s voice was completely broken, tears welled up in her eyes, and slid down her flushed cheeks, dripping into the cold sink and mixing with the oily dish soap.

Even though her feet were tightly encased in stockings, her rounded toes were still fidgeting nervously inside her slippers, trying to find a foothold to escape this nightmare.

I sneered, and with cruel malice, I thrust two thick fingers directly into her slightly dry vaginal opening, which hadn’t had time to become fully wet.

With a soft “plop,” it was the muffled sound of fingers forcibly breaking through the tight flesh.

I could clearly feel the extremely sensitive folds inside her body tightening frantically, trying to repel the intruder. But as my fingers roughly stirred, the thin vaginal wall began to become congested and hot due to the intense friction. More warm, lustful fluid began to be drawn out from deep within, dripping down my fingers onto the floor tiles, forming dark water stains.

”What are you pretending to be so high and mighty for? Mom, feel for yourself how tight your cunt is right now. You’re saying no, but isn’t your uterus already trembling because it wants to be filled with my big cock?” As I thrust wildly into that slippery passage, I lowered my head, opened my mouth savagely, and fiercely imprinted a saliva-covered tooth mark between the two buttocks that were like ripe cherries, in that moist and hot crevice.

Just as she let out a short, mournful cry of pain and humiliation, I abruptly withdrew my finger, bringing with it a long, stringy, crystalline stream of sticky fluid.

I spread her round buttocks apart with both hands and buried my face in that triangle area that smelled of urine, sweat, and vaginal fluid.

My nimble tongue, with its barbed texture, mercilessly and ruthlessly swept across her swollen, engorged clitoris before plunging deep into her twitching vagina.

”Tsk tsk… glug…” The sound of the tongue hitting the mucous membrane was unusually loud in the quiet kitchen.

I greedily licked every inch of that tender fleshy bud covered with nerve endings, swallowing all the shame she had accumulated throughout the night.

At that moment, Mom’s beautiful legs, encased in stockings, suddenly straightened, her insteps arching like a full moon, her toes twisting into a strange curve inside the stockings.

Her brain completely shut down at that moment. The immoral feeling of being “oral” by her own son, who was just a step away from her father, turned into waves of scalding heat that directly broke down her last psychological defense. Her plump uterus began to contract wildly, spraying out streams of scalding love fluid that soaked my entire face, filling it with a decadent atmosphere.

The mother’s shapely legs, tightly encased in flesh-colored stockings, were trembling violently. The originally thin and transparent stockings, now soaked with sticky, lustful fluids that trickled down from the base of her thighs, clung tightly to her warm skin, creating an almost erotic, semi-transparent texture.

Her body was like a completely wrecked lump of mud, slumped undignifiedly beside the stainless steel sink. Her hands, gripping the metal edges with excessive force, had turned her fingernails bluish-white, leaving several blurry fingerprints on the hard surface due to the slippery cold sweat.

Her once neat and elegant updo was now mostly disheveled, with a few strands of her dark hair stuck to her flushed cheeks by tears and sweat.

Those eyes, which were usually filled with love and gentleness, were now filled with unfocused pupils and overflowing tears, their gaze filled with fragmented shame.

Her chest heaved violently, and her purple loungewear was wrinkled by my chest. The sweaty fabric of the sweatshirt created an extremely disgusting, sticky friction between it and the delicate skin of her back.

”Ugh… Ugh…” Soft sobs escaped from her lips, like a young animal whose spine had been broken.

I chuckled softly, feeling her buttocks convulsing from the dual torment of fear and pleasure.

My lips, glistening with saliva and warm bodily fluids, slowly moved upwards, gleaming with a nauseatingly moist sheen in the sunlight.

”Mom, can you feel it? Your cunt is like a leaky faucet right now.” My hoarse voice slithered into her ear like a venomous snake.

My fingers slowly slid down the swollen, red crevice that had been played with, and my fingertips precisely pressed against the clitoris, which looked like a ripe red bean.

With a “plop,” my two thick fingers, with cruel force, once again tore open the layers of tight, tender flesh, and half of my fingertips plunged deep into the warm, slippery, and constantly contracting and sucking passage.

As I thrust in and out, streams of vaginal fluid, a mixture of the sweet scent of female hormones and the fishy smell of her private parts, flowed continuously from between my fingers—a physiological response caused by extreme excitement.

The transparent, stringy fluid radiated downwards along the fibers of her inner thigh stockings, staining the thin, flesh-colored nylon fabric a deep, dark hue.

My mother let out a near-collapse cry, her body jerking as she tried to escape the overwhelming pleasure that made her feel guilty. But my arms were like iron clamps, tightly gripping her slender waist and pressing her back hard against my chest, feeling the violent pounding of my heart.

”No… Binbin… please… stop… ah ha!” Her struggles became weak and powerless at this moment, and her jade feet in stockings helplessly scratched at the tile floor, making a faint “scratching” sound.

I lowered my head and bit her neck hard, which smelled faintly of milk. With my other hand, I fiercely pinched her bare, trembling buttocks, which were no longer covered by her pants, and my fingertips sank deep into the soft mound of flesh.

I forced her to continue to receive my assault in an extremely humiliating posture.

My tongue once again plunged into that sacred place soaked in lustful fluids, the granular texture of my tongue rubbing wantonly against the most sensitive clitoris, making disgusting sucking sounds like “tsk tsk – glug -“.

The mother was completely paralyzed; her consciousness was shattered at that moment by a giant wave called “second orgasm.”

Her body began to convulse wildly, her toes spasming and curling together inside her stockings from extreme pleasure. The warm liquid, accompanied by her scream, sprayed directly onto my face, dripping down my chin and onto the crumpled dishcloth in the sink.

At this extremely lewd moment, the sound of the father pulling out a chair came from the restaurant.

”Wife, I’m going to work.” It was the father’s voice, as steady as ever. To the mother, who was currently having her private parts licked by her son, that voice was nothing short of the cruelest form of torture.

She shuddered with fright, and the gushing fluids instantly tightened in fear, gripping my tongue and fingers tightly.

I could clearly feel the muscles inside her body contracting wildly, and the forbidden pleasure made the veins on my forehead throb.

It wasn’t until the security door made a dull thud, plunging the whole house back into deathly silence, that Mom seemed to have lost her last bit of soul, collapsing completely into my arms.

Her eyes still held glistening tears, her nose was red, and her lips were slightly parted as she breathed heavily. Her appearance, so ravaged, resembled that of a wanton female prisoner who had just crawled back from hell.

She didn’t know how much time had passed before she finally snapped out of her dazed state.

She didn’t bother to clean the warm liquid flowing from her body, nor did she bother to fix her stockings, which were soaked with her own fluids and smelled sweet and pungent. She almost frantically pulled up her pants and rushed back to the bedroom.

She didn’t dare turn around to look at me; her panicked back was filled with fear of me and disgust for her own wanton body.

Ten minutes later, the bedroom door reopened.

Mom had changed into a decent purple dress. She had stuffed her soaking wet stockings deep into the trash can and replaced them with a brand new pair of elegant, sheer black stockings.

She wore heavy makeup in an attempt to conceal the redness and swelling around her eyes, but her ankles, still trembling slightly beneath her stockings, betrayed the lingering fear deep within her.

She grabbed the expensive leather handbag and rushed out of the house without looking back, as if fleeing some deadly plague.

She walked quickly, her high heels making a crisp yet chaotic “tap-tap” sound in the stairwell. With each step, her long, alluring legs, accentuated by black stockings, flashed beneath her skirt.

Only she knew that beneath that thin layer of black fiber, deep within that tight little hole, there still lingered her son’s saliva and the warmth of his fingers, which, as she walked, were gradually moistening the brand-new crotch fabric.

That faint, pungent scent, mixed with bodily fluids, lingered, constantly reminding her that what had just happened in the kitchen was not a nightmare, but a real act of depravity.

She walked down the sun-drenched street, the stares of passersby making her feel ashamed like never before. It was as if everyone could see through her expensive dress and see her just now, stripped of her underwear, her vulva open to receive her son’s tongue, a despicable sight.

She gripped her handbag tightly, her knuckles turning white again. Her only thought was to see her best friend Su Yun as soon as possible and blend into the crowd. Only then could she pretend to be the dignified and pure mother she was, instead of the slutty mother who had been played with by her son until she lost control of her bladder.