Even though Mom forced me to study, my mind was completely occupied all afternoon with the image of Mom's beautiful butt wrapped in pantyhose and the scene of Dad strolling around with that pretty girl. How could I possibly focus on studying?
As evening approached and it was almost time for dinner, my sister, having played outside to her heart's content, came home humming a cheerful tune. She was in high spirits, but the moment she stepped through the door, Mom unleashed a torrent of harsh scolding on her.
My sister was left bewildered by the reprimand. After it was over, she dragged me to the balcony and whispered, asking why Mom had been so furious.
I figured Mom was probably still holding onto the anger from the morning incident. Since she had already taken it out on me, she couldn't bring it up again, so she had suppressed it all afternoon and ended up venting it all on my sister.
But I couldn't explain this to her directly, so I played dumb and casually said, "Who knows? Maybe it's something work-related. I've been tiptoeing around all day, and you just happened to walk right into it. Tough luck."
My sister pouted, muttered something under her breath, and turned to go back to her room.
I had been stewing over Dad's situation all day and was desperate to talk to someone about it, so I pulled her back. I told her everything that had happened during lunch.
Her first reaction after hearing it was to look at me in surprise. "What? You guys went out for steak at noon and didn't even invite me?"
Truly, a mother knows her daughter best—her reaction was exactly what Mom had predicted.
"You were the one who went out early in the morning. Mom definitely tried to reach you. It's your own fault for not coming back."
"She asked me to come eat, but she never said it was Western food! Besides, you're the one who tricked me into going out. No way, you owe me a steak!"
"That's not the point. Didn't you hear what I just said? Dad was walking arm-in-arm with a girl who looks about your age, and they seemed really happy."
Only then did my sister snap back to reality. After a moment of thought, she frowned and said, "No wonder he's been acting so mysterious lately. So he's secretly dating a young girl. Ah—!"
She suddenly let out a gasp, startling me. I quickly asked her what was wrong. She said, "If Mom finds out about this, it's going to be a huge disaster."
I rolled my eyes at her. "Obviously. Did you really need to say that?"
My sister furrowed her brows, her face full of worry. "But you can't hide something like this forever. Mom will find out sooner or later. When she does, their relationship will fall apart—first they'll argue, then they'll fight, and in the end, they might even get divorced."
She suddenly looked up at me, her expression serious. "If they really do get divorced, who would you live with? Let me make this clear—I'm definitely staying with Mom. You're the eldest son of the Ling family, so you have the duty to carry on the family line. That means you'll probably be assigned to Dad. And if Dad ends up marrying that young girl, you'll have to call her 'Mom'!"
I looked at her, torn between laughter and tears. "What on earth goes through that little head of yours all day? None of this has even happened yet. What if that girl is just the daughter of one of Dad's friends? What if she's some distant relative of ours? Think about it—if Dad really were having an affair, wouldn't he go for a woman closer to his own age? Why would he pick a high school girl? Sure, Dad's a little handsome, but he's not handsome enough to charm a high school girl, is he?"
"Maybe that girl is just after his money. Maybe she's being kept by Dad?"
"Even though Dad is successful in his career and earns a decent salary, keeping a high school girl would cost a fortune. Where would Dad get that kind of money?"
My sister shot me a sidelong glance. "You sound like you know all about it."
"Just guessing."
Right then, Mom suddenly appeared behind us, looking suspicious. "What are you two hiding here for? Whispering away—what can't I hear?"
We both jumped. I quickly put on an act, stretching out my hand and shouting, "Pay up! The money you borrowed last month, give it back now. Mom, Bei Bei is a deadbeat—she owes me money and won't pay."
My sister put her hands on her hips. "You're the deadbeat! When did I ever borrow money from you?"
Mom sighed. "Will you two ever stop? All you do is argue all day. Come out and eat."
We exchanged a glance and followed Mom to the dining table. I glanced around—only three sets of bowls and chopsticks.
Just as I was about to speak, my sister beat me to it. "Mom, where's Dad? Isn't he coming home for dinner?"
"Who knows where he went? He's not answering calls or messages."
My sister and I exchanged another look but said nothing, sitting down obediently to eat.
After dinner, Mom cleared the table herself and told us to go back to our rooms to study.
My mind was weighed down with thoughts—sometimes about Dad and that girl, sometimes about Lu Yiyi, sometimes about Mom's stocking-clad legs. My head was a tangled mess, and I had no interest in studying.
My phone, computer, and comics had all been confiscated by Mom. That afternoon, I was so bored I cleaned my room twice. With nothing else to do, I rummaged through my desk drawer and found an old radio. Luckily, it still had batteries, so I lay on the desk and listened to the radio broadcast.
Just as I was drifting off to sleep, the door behind me suddenly swung open. Without turning around, I knew who it was. Startled, I quickly sat up straight, but I didn't manage to turn off the radio in time.
Mom strode over, slapped me on the head, and snatched the radio away, fuming. "Why is it so hard for you to study? Where do you get all these little gadgets? How many more things are you hiding?"
"None, none, they're all gone."
"Really, all gone?"
"If you don't believe me, search."
Mom stared at me for a moment, then said, "Study hard," and left the room with the confiscated radio.
With all the distractions gone, I should have been able to focus on studying—but I still couldn't.
I don't know what was wrong. Sitting there, I'd read for a while and then feel my head swelling and my eyelids drooping. In the end, I gave up and just lay on the desk, dozing off.
I don't know how long I was in that hazy state when suddenly I felt a smack on my head. Instinctively, I sat up, wiped the drool from the corner of my mouth, and turned to see Mom standing behind me, holding a cup of hot water, her face dark.
I quickly pretended to be working on a test paper, muttering, "So hard, this question is really tough."
"Don't play dumb with me," Mom said, slamming the cup of water onto the desk. "Is this how you study hard?"
"I really am studying hard. I just overused my brain and needed a break. I'd just laid down when you came in."
Mom didn't say a word, just turned and left the room. I was just starting to think something was off when she came back, carrying a chair in her hands. She placed it right beside me.
I quickly asked, "What... what's this for?"
Mom sat down, crossed her arms, leaned back in the chair, crossed her slender, beautiful legs, and looked at me expressionlessly. "To keep an eye on you, so you don't daydream again," she said coldly.
I grew anxious. "That's... that's a bit much. How am I supposed to study with you here?"
"You can't study with me here? What about when you're in the exam hall and the invigilator is standing right next to you? Can you kick them out?"
It seemed Mom was determined to monitor me here, so I had no choice but to reluctantly accept it.
With her sitting next to me, not only was daydreaming or dozing off out of the question, but even scratching an itch would earn me a warning. It was stricter than self-study sessions at school.
I tentatively asked, "Mom, are you planning to keep watching me like this from now on?"
"I don't have that much free time. Right now, I'm just correcting your habits. Once you can focus on studying, I'll step back."
"Great, then you'll be by my side for the rest of my life," I muttered under my breath.
"What did you say?"
"I said you're truly comparable to Mencius's mother, who moved three times for her son's education."
"Stop being cheeky and focus on your studies."
Just then, Mom's phone dinged with a message. She picked it up to check, and I lowered my head, pretending to study seriously, but my eyes couldn't help but glance sideways.
When Mom is at home, she changes out of her professional attire into a loose-knit long sweater that drapes over her hips like a dress. She swaps her stockings for leggings, which are similar to tights but slightly thicker, with less shine and transparency.
Maybe it's more comfortable—I've never worn them, so I don't know how they feel. Anyway, Mom always changes into them after coming home.
Sometimes her hair is still up in a bun, other times she lets it down into a loose ponytail, looking very casual.
Of course, this kind of home attire isn't entirely without merit in my eyes. Though it might lack a bit in visual appeal, it adds a touch of lazy charm.
Especially when Mom bends over to do chores, her round, plump bottom sticking out, I always feel an urge to hug her from behind and ask, "Ma'am, need any help?"
Today, Mom had her hair in a low side ponytail tied with a bow. She wore a black-and-white striped knit batwing sweater on top, flesh-colored leggings below, and panda-print cotton slippers on her feet.
The leggings looked a bit like the flesh-colored ones worn by female figure skaters—up close, they seemed thick, but from a distance, it almost looked like she wasn't wearing anything.
Mom looked down at her phone, a smile playing on her lips as she unconsciously bit the nail of her right thumb, looking somewhat playful.
My pen tapped lightly on the desk, one tap after another, as my mind wandered. Then, accidentally, I rolled the pen onto the floor.
I quickly bent down to pick it up, and as I straightened up, I instinctively reached out to steady myself by placing a hand on Mom's thigh.
Mom glanced up at me. I pretended not to care and continued writing on my test paper, but that brief touch lingered in my mind, leaving me unsettled for a long time.
Although the feel of leggings isn't as smooth as stockings, this unintentional touch felt particularly thrilling.
My attention was completely diverted now, and I had even less interest in reading.
Mom was still on her phone. After a while, I couldn't resist. Hesitating for a moment, I deliberately rolled my pen onto the floor and bent down to pick it up.
This time, I directly pressed my hand against Mom's thigh, letting out a meaningless groan as if struggling, searching back and forth on the floor.
It was a bit dark under the desk, but I could still clearly see Mom's calves wrapped in flesh-colored leggings and her cute feet in panda-patterned cotton slippers.
I really wanted to grab those slender, rounded ankles and give them a gentle squeeze. Unfortunately, I had the desire but not the courage—it could only remain a thought in my mind.
Pretending to exert great effort, I picked up the pen. As I stood up, I deliberately put more force into it, taking the chance to give Mom's leg a light pinch.
I have to say, Mom's beautiful legs were truly captivating. They looked slender and long, but touching them through the leggings, I could feel the soft, plump flesh. This wasn't the same as the loose, flabby flesh on middle-aged women. It was clear she exercised regularly—firm yet without the hardness of muscle. It felt really nice to touch.
Mom, holding her phone, looked up at me. I pretended to be embarrassed, gave a silly smile, and started working on my test paper. Mom didn't say anything and went back to looking at her phone.
After five or six minutes, my mind started itching again. Accidentally, the pen rolled onto the floor once more.
Just as I was about to place my hand on Mom's thigh and bend down to pick it up, she slapped my hand away and scolded, "What's wrong with you? The pen keeps falling." Then she bent down, picked up the pen, and slammed it heavily onto the desk, warning sternly, "If you drop the pen on the floor again, I'll kick you. Always causing trouble."
I didn't know if Mom had noticed my little scheme, but I really didn't dare try any more tricks. I obediently lowered my head and focused on my test paper.
But Mom's phone kept buzzing with messages, making me feel restless. Unable to hold back, I tapped the desk and said, "Hey, hey, hey, Ms. Zheng Yiyun, you're disturbing my studies. If you want to use your phone, please go to the living room, okay?"
Mom looked a bit embarrassed, got up, and left the room.
I thought she had left and was about to sigh in relief when, unexpectedly, she came back, sat down, and said, "It's my fault. I put my phone in the living room. You can focus on studying now."
I didn't expect Mom to be so persistent. There was nothing I could do but study seriously under her watchful eye.
Just as I was finally about to finish the test paper, the room suddenly went dark—the power had gone out.
Whenever the power went out in the classroom, everyone would start banging desks, stomping chairs, and shouting wildly, like liberated serfs singing their songs.
Out of habit from school, now that the power was out at home, I couldn't help but shout, "Power's out~!"
My sister's voice immediately came from the other room: "I know~!"
Right after, I got a smack on the head, followed by Mom's scolding: "The power's out, so what? Why are you screaming like a ghost?"
I have no idea how she managed to hit me so accurately in the dark, as if she had aimed beforehand. Rubbing my head, I stood up and said, "Mom, don't be scared. I'm here."
"You being here is what makes it dangerous. My phone is on the sofa. Go get it for me."
"Yes, ma'am. Wait right here."
Due to the sudden power outage, my eyes hadn't adjusted yet, and the room was pitch black. Instinctively, I reached out to feel my way forward, only for my right hand to land on Mom's body. Even through her knit sweater, I could still feel the plump, soft flesh, like freshly steamed white buns. I was certain it was Mom's breast, but I still instinctively gave it a squeeze—big, round, and springy.
"Where are you touching!" Mom scolded sharply, swatting my arm away.
I quickly apologized, "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to."
"If you did it on purpose, I'd chop your hand off," Mom reprimanded, then fell silent for a moment before adding, "Hurry up, what are you waiting for?"
I quickly fumbled my way around Mom to fetch the phone from the living room. Even though she told me to go, she ended up following right behind me.
In the darkness, I secretly sniffed my palm behind Mom's back. In a daze, it seemed like I caught a faint milky scent. My head felt dizzy, and I decided I would never wash this hand again.
Just as I stepped out of the bedroom, my sister came out with her phone, shining some light for me. I retrieved Mom's phone and found a flashlight along the way.
But just as I handed the phone to Mom and we were discussing what to do next, the power came back on. At the same time, the sound of the door unlocking echoed—Dad was home.
"Was there a power outage just now?" Dad asked while changing his shoes.
"Where have you been all day? You had the day off and didn't even stay home. Now you're back so late," Mom retorted, clearly annoyed.
"Well... a colleague's kid had some trouble, so I went to help out," Dad replied hesitantly.
My sister and I exchanged a glance.
Mom pressed further, "What kind of trouble takes a whole day?" As Dad walked past her, she sniffed and asked, "Have you been drinking?"
Dad explained, "My colleague's kid is also in high school, about to take the college entrance exam. Since Xiaodong is taking it this year too, they asked me over to discuss it. We had a couple of drinks in the evening."
Mom scoffed, "You don't even care about your own kid, but you're helping someone else's. You just wanted an excuse to go out and relax. Your son is about to fly off the handle, you know."
Dad turned to look at me. "What did you do now? Upset your mom?"
"Nothing, I've been good. I've been studying at home the whole time," I put on an innocent face. Mom shot me a glare, and the two of them headed back to their room together.
I whispered to my sister, "See? I told you it was a misunderstanding. Good thing we didn't tell Mom."
My sister gave me a sidelong glance. "It's all because of you."
"You were the one being suspicious first, making me all jumpy," I retorted, recalling the scene from earlier that day. "That girl was actually quite pretty. I wonder whose daughter she is. Maybe Dad can introduce us sometime."
"Pervert, little lecher." My sister rolled her eyes at me and turned to walk toward the bedroom. I chased after her, protesting, "Hey, hey, hey! You can call me a pervert, and you can call me a lecher, but you can't call me a dead pervert or a little lecher. What do you mean 'little'?" In the end, she shut the door in my face.
School started on Monday. I had planned to apologize to Yiyi, but she kept avoiding me, saying she'd been scolded by her mom and needed to stay away from me until after the college entrance exams.
I knew both our mothers had teamed up to play the villain, trying to keep us apart. There was nothing I could do about it. After a lot of coaxing and persuasion, I managed to salvage our relationship, but it went from being out in the open to undercover. As for anything happening in bed—that was completely out of the question.
But I was, after all, a young man full of vigor and vitality, and now that I'd had a taste, I was hooked. Having a girlfriend but not being allowed to do anything—not even hold hands or kiss—who could stand that?
I could endure it for a day or two, but over time, it became unbearable. My mind was filled with nothing but those kinds of thoughts. Even when I saw my Chinese teacher, nicknamed "the old witch," I'd start fantasizing about her in my head.
What was even more terrifying was that I found myself paying more and more attention to my mom—what she was wearing that day, whether her makeup looked good. Every time I saw her wearing stockings, a nameless desire would surge through my body, rising from my sides.
When I couldn't hold back anymore, I'd even take the risk of stealing my mom's stockings to put over my dick and jerk off.
The absolute worst was when I had a dream one night. In the dream, my mom was using her sexy little mouth to wrap around my dick, sucking and slurping, occasionally licking the coronal ridge of the glans with the tip of her tongue. It felt so good that I came uncontrollably.
When I woke up the next day, I had actually had a wet dream, leaving my pajama pants all sticky. I didn't dare tell my mom and could only hide them away secretly.
This situation started to scare me. Before, I would occasionally take advantage of my mom, cop a feel, but I knew very well that she was my mother. I was just satisfying my urges.
Recently, I realized I was starting to see her more and more as a woman—a sexy, mature, beautiful woman. I even fantasized about having wild sex with my mom in every corner of the house.
I knew this was crazy, this was wrong, but the more I tried to suppress it, the stronger the desire in my heart became. To relieve this desire, I often secretly took advantage of my mom. While enjoying the thrill, I felt incredibly guilty deep down.
No matter how much I fooled around, she was still my beloved mother.
As for my dad's suspected affair, I thought about it carefully afterward and felt it was unlikely.
My dad is such an honest person, not the scheming type, and he's afraid of his wife. How could he possibly have an affair? And with a high school girl, no less—it sounded like something out of a fantasy.
I was fighting a two-front battle—dealing with the college entrance exams and my desires—and muddled through for about a month.
One afternoon after school, as I walked out of the school gate with a few buddies, I accidentally spotted a pretty girl standing not far away. She wasn't particularly short, but she gave off a petite vibe, maybe because of her small, palm-sized face.
She had big eyes and a small mouth, with two boxer braids in her hair. She wore a red and white baseball jacket on top, loose cropped pants, and canvas shoes—very street-style, cool and neat, full of youthful energy.
The girl stared straight at us, and I felt she looked somewhat familiar, as if I had seen her somewhere before. My good friend Lin Zifan whispered to us, "That girl is quite pretty. Haven'tt seen her before."
"She's not from our school," another classmate murmured quietly.
"Why is she staring at us? Does anyone know her?"
Her gaze indeed followed the few of us as we moved, but none of us recognized her, so we didn't pay it much mind.
The next day, the girl came again, standing at the school gate after classes ended, still staring intently at our group.
Lin Zifan chuckled, "Could she have a crush on one of us?"
"A crush on who?"
"Who's the best-looking among us?"
"Definitely not you."
"And not you either."
I always felt that girl looked somewhat familiar, but I just couldn't place her.
By the fourth day, she was still standing there, staring at us expressionlessly.
Lin Zifan couldn't take it anymore and suggested sending someone over to strike up a conversation.
Everyone unanimously decided it should be me, on the grounds that I was smooth-talking, thick-skinned, and shameless.
I wasn't sure if I was thick-skinned or shameless, but they pushed me out anyway. Since I was a bit curious myself, I went over.
The girl watched me approach her without any expression. Just as I got close, she suddenly turned and walked away.
When I saw her back, it hit me—she was the little girl I'd seen that day, arm in arm with my dad, shopping together.
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