"Are you crazy? Washing your hair with cold water?" Mom's startled voice came from outside the door. She hurried over, grabbed me, and pulled me up.
My hair was dripping wet, and I was panting heavily, my gaze unfocused as I looked at her. She had already taken off her stockings and changed into loose home clothes, but that long, wavy hair was just too alluring and sexy. I felt like I couldn't hold on any longer, so I quickly stuck my head back under the faucet and let the water rush over me again.
"Oh, you silly kid!"
Mom pulled me up again, looking at me with a mix of confusion and concern. "What are you doing? Aren't you afraid of catching a cold?"
"I..." I stared at her blankly, unsure how to explain.
"What's really going on? Did something upset you?" Mom pressed, her voice full of concern.
"Yes!" I shouted. "I am upset! It's all because of your new hairstyle—it's so ugly!"
"Huh?" Mom froze, instinctively smoothing her hair. "Ugly? Didn't you just say it looked good?"
"Good? What's good about it? You should change it back right now. It's hideous," I said, lying through my teeth.
Mom rolled her eyes and snorted. "Why should I? Just because you say it's ugly? I think it looks great. I like it."
"Fine, fine, you like it, you like it. Do whatever you want," I muttered under my breath as I hurried toward my bedroom. Behind me, I could hear Mom whispering, "What's wrong with you?"
After returning to my room, I was gasping for breath, unsure why I felt so restless and irrational.
I tried to calm down, but my mother's beautiful figure kept lingering in my mind.
Desire burned like wildfire inside me, growing stronger by the moment. I struggled to resist, but I knew it was futile—the hardness in my pants wouldn't go away. It needed release, urgently.
While my mother was cooking dinner in the kitchen, I finally gave in to temptation. I tiptoed into my parents' bedroom, searching for the stockings she had just taken off.
Her suit skirt was neatly hung up, but the stockings were nowhere to be found. Where could they be?
They weren't in the laundry basket, and it was too soon for her to have washed them. The only possibility was that she had hidden them somewhere.
I searched carefully, silently blaming my mother for treating her own son like a thief. Was I really so untrustworthy?
After searching everywhere, I finally found the sheer black stockings tucked under the mattress—hidden deep indeed.
I held them to my nose and took a deep breath, inhaling the distinct scent of a mature woman. The intense, almost dizzying sensation sent shivers down my spine.
I knew I was becoming more and more perverted. After a final internal struggle, I stuffed the stockings into my pocket and quietly left the room.
I was certain my mother would notice, but my mind was clouded with lust, and I no longer cared.
Back in my room, I didn't rush to masturbate. Dinner was about to be served, and time was short. I didn't want to rush through it—even self-pleasure required a sense of ritual and satisfaction.
My father wasn't coming home that night.
During dinner, I was distracted, my mind consumed with thoughts of what I would do later in my room. I felt restless and impatient, like a long-awaited holiday was finally approaching.
My mother kept glancing at me, understandably concerned about my erratic behavior earlier.
After finishing the meal, I returned to my room and sat at my desk to study. I had to keep holding back—waiting until my mother went to sleep, until no one would disturb me. Only then could I comfortably slip her stockings over myself and release all my pent-up desire.
Just as I was suppressing my urges, my mother entered the room, carrying the rich aroma of chicken soup. I frowned and groaned, "Do I really have to drink more?"
She placed the bowl in front of me and coaxed, "Of course you do. Senior year is mentally exhausting—you need all the nourishment you can get. Jiang Yiran's mother said she's been making him nutritional soups since last semester, and look how much his midterm grades improved."
"Jiang Yiran did well because he studied hard, not because of some soup. You mothers really… I can't even argue with you."
"What do you mean it's not related? What's wrong with us mothers? We're just looking out for you. Now drink it."
"This stuff is way too heaty."
"If you're feeling overheated, just drink more water."
I couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "You... you're being unreasonable." At this point, I was practically burning with desire, like a powder keg ready to explode. Drinking this stuff now would probably make me blow up on the spot.
Mom said unhappily, "I'm being unreasonable? I work myself to death at the company all day, come home and cook for you all, and after cooking, I still have to go through the trouble of making soup for you. And now I'm unreasonable?"
"I just said it casually, why are you getting so worked up? I'll drink it, I'll drink it, alright?" I took the chicken soup, pinched my nose, and downed it in one go. Not long after, I felt a warm sensation spreading throughout my body.
Mom wasn't just nourishing my brain—this was practically boosting my yin and tonifying my kidneys.
Mom didn't rush to leave. Instead, she sat down beside me and asked, "Have you been behaving lately? Haven't caused any trouble outside, have you?"
"I've been good, really good. Haven't caused any trouble at all." I didn't dare look her in the eye, especially since I had just stolen a pair of her worn pantyhose. I felt a bit guilty inside.
Mom reached out and gently stroked my head, saying softly, "Just hang in there a little longer. Grit your teeth, and senior year will be over soon."
Already burning with desire, I was now further intoxicated by the rich, mature fragrance unique to her as a woman. The erection in my pants stood tall and hard, aching painfully.
To keep Mom from noticing anything amiss, I grabbed a pen and jabbed it hard into the back of my hand. The pain helped me stay somewhat clear-headed for the moment.
"What are you doing?" Mom was startled.
"I'm trying to focus," I lied.
"You don't need to hurt yourself to focus. Oh... you... don't move, don't move." Mid-sentence, Mom suddenly looked horrified, as if frightened, and said anxiously.
"What's wrong?" I was startled too.
"You have a nosebleed. Don't move. Tilt your head back, tilt it back."
"So, should I not move or tilt my head back?" I wiped my nose with my hand and realized I was indeed bleeding.
"You're still cracking jokes at a time like this? Hurry up and tilt your head back." Mom, both amused and exasperated, held my head and tilted it back forcefully.
Leaning forward, Mom held my head with one hand while reaching for a tissue with the other. Her loose-fitting home clothes revealed the yellow tight-fitting undershirt beneath her collar, which barely contained her plump breasts. Though I couldn't see her nipples, the sight of her ample, creamy flesh was overwhelming. Her round, full breasts pressed together, their skin smooth and fair, dazzlingly bright. My blood surged instantly, making me dizzy. I couldn't help but imagine burying my face in the deep valley of her cleavage.
"Oh no! Why is it bleeding even more now?" Mom stuffed a tissue into my nose, her expression fearful and clearly alarmed.
At this point, I couldn't care less about stopping the bleeding. My eyes were glued to the voluptuous curves inside her collar, not daring to blink even once.
Mom looked at me, puzzled. "Why is your face so red?" Seeing my dazed expression, she paused for a moment before understanding. She glanced down at her collar, her face instantly flushing red. She smacked my head and scolded, "What are you looking at?"
Covering my nose with one hand and rubbing the sore spot on my head with the other, I said casually, "I was just reminiscing about my childhood."
"What?" Mom clearly didn't understand.
"Remembering the time when I used to lie in my mother's arms nursing."
Seeing me like this, my mother didn't know whether to scold or hit me. In the end, she was so angry that she laughed: "You're such a mess... I really don't know who you take after."
"I take after Dad."
"Your dad isn't as shameless as you."
"How can this be called shameless? It's just a normal reaction for a healthy man."
"You call yourself a man?" My mother grabbed two more tissues and slapped them onto my face, both angry and amused. "Wipe the nosebleed first." She glanced at the soup bowl on the table and muttered quietly, "You really can't drink any more. You're a bit too heated."
I grumbled, "Eating lamb chops and drinking ginseng and black chicken soup—no wonder I'm so heated. I told you not to overdo it with the supplements. Now it's too much, and it's coming out."
"I think you're too weak to handle the supplements. Wait here." My mother turned and left the room, returning shortly with a first aid kit. After a simple treatment, the nosebleed finally stopped. She told me to stop studying for now and rest early.
I had reached my limit. As soon as my mother left, I took out the hidden pair of stockings I had kept. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pulled down my pants and underwear, not caring about any sense of ceremony. The images in my mind hadn't faded, and I hurriedly slipped the sheer stockings over my hard erection. The black silk rubbing against the tip of my cock brought an indescribable, smooth, and exquisite pleasure. My whole body trembled, and my cock twitched, almost making me cum right then and there.
I steadied myself, gripping the silk-wrapped cock with my right hand and stroking it. With my left hand, I picked up the other end of the stocking and brought the toe to my nose, taking a deep breath. The faintly sour scent mixed with the smell of leather instantly filled my nostrils. Recalling the earlier image—my mother's plump, round breasts—it was like a shot of adrenaline, driving me to stroke faster and faster. A heavenly pleasure surged from my back straight to my brain.
As I inhaled the scent of the stockings and stroked frantically, my mind involuntarily conjured images of my mother. I fantasized about her lying on my bed in her uniform, using her cute, black-stockinged feet to rhythmically stroke my hard cock. My hands gently caressed her slender, silk-clad legs, imagining the smooth, delicate texture.
After holding back for so long, I didn't want to savor it slowly as I usually did. I just wanted to release quickly. My strokes grew faster and faster. Just as I felt the urge to cum about to overwhelm me, the door suddenly swung open.
I jumped in fright, instinctively grabbing the school jacket beside me to cover my lower body. I cursed myself inwardly for being an idiot—I had forgotten to lock the door.
Since my back was to the door, my mother didn't see what I was doing. She walked toward me and asked, "Do you have any dirty clothes?"
"No," I replied blankly, my mind a total blank. I squeezed my legs together, my body stiff.
My mother looked around, picked up the school pants I had changed out of, and complained, "They're this dirty, and you say you don't have any?" She was about to leave when she suddenly noticed the school jacket covering my lower body and asked, "Is the jacket dirty?"
"No, not at all," I prayed silently, begging every god and Buddha I could think of, hoping my mother would leave quickly.
Perhaps sensing something was off about me, she eyed me suspiciously and asked, "What are you doing?"
"Nothing, I... I'm meditating, focusing my mind, I... I'm in deep thought." My voice trembled slightly.
Without another word, Mom grabbed the sleeve of my jacket and yanked it hard.
I couldn't stop her in time, and as the jacket lifted, my erect cock, sheathed in her worn black stockings, was laid bare before her eyes.
Overwhelmed by the excitement, my cock twitched and pulsed, shooting thick, white, pungent cum directly into the stockings. All of this unfolded right in front of Mom.
I couldn't bring myself to look at her face, but I could hear her heavy, ragged breaths. Moments later, she flung the soiled clothes at my face and stormed out of the room.
As the tingling pleasure of climax gradually faded, I tapped my head with my hand. Caught red-handed—this time, I was truly done for.
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