Author’s Note: A Literotica reader who had a rural upbringing and was a virgin bride herself supplied me with the plot for this story. Readers who are interested may wish to refer to her earlier story “Cai Xia’s Secret Longing” under the incest category.
My name is Cindy Tock. I have been happily married to my classmate Jim Wang for the last four years and I am the mother of a bouncy one year-old boy. We live in a luxurious home located next to the bungalow of Jim’s parents, Mil and Fil Wang. For most couples, having a baby is the normal consequence of marriage. In my case, it was the most important achievement of my married life. I would like to share with readers of Literotica my story. The first part of my story deals with events that happened prior to the tying of my nuptial knot. Of course, for the protection of the family, all names used in this story and important places have been changed to ensure anonymity.
I was a typical village girl who grew up in a small kampong some 10 miles from our state capital Ipoh. I had my primary education in a local school before moving on to a secondary school on the outskirts of Ipoh. My parents owned a small provision store supplying groceries to the local villagers and to workers of the palm oil estates fringing the village. I have two married sisters who are respectively ten and twelve years older them me. My mother, Bee, was 30 when she gave birth to me and I was the youngest child in the family.
My mother, Bee, was a village beauty when she married my father, Bin, at the age of 18. She was medium built standing at 5 feet 7 inches and weighed about 110 pounds. She carried a pair of 32B boobs on her slender frame. My father ten years older than Mum, was two inches taller, and weighed about 150 pounds.
When I was seven and about to enter school, I began to take an interest in my surroundings. Village life was simple and monotonous, but to a bubbly youngster like me, there was never a dull moment, as I spent a lot of time playing with neighborhood kids of the same age. I could often hear neighbors speaking enviously as they commented on my parent’s looks. Indeed, I began to notice that the ladies seemed to want my father to serve them when they came into the shop while most men would prefer to be served by my mother.
My best friend in school was a girl, Lynn Long, who was nine months older than me. She was plump and short like me and came from a wealthy family. She was an only child. Both her parents were short with ordinary looks. Her father, Pit Long, stood barely 5 feet tall and weighed perhaps 100 pounds. He had a face pock-marked by pimple scars from youth. However given his social standing, nobody ever commented that he was ugly. Her mother, Sin, was of the same height; weight around 130 pounds and well endowed with an oversized rump and a pair of 32D boobs. Pit was a trader dealing in local commodities and his family lived in a modern brick house about 400 meters from my parents’ shop. My parents bought some of their supplies from him and they seemed to be good friends.
As time passed, Lynn and I became inseparable. We were perhaps the ugly ducklings of the class, but we shared many things in common. I became a frequent visitor to her home and her parents treated me like another daughter. I found Pit a better person than my own father. I always felt that my father was partial, always doting on my two beautiful sisters who looked much like my mother, and giving me a wide berth at home. He was curt and never seemed happy with my scholastic achievements even though my sisters had both dropped out after their primary education. I never knew the reason why I was treated differently and suspected that it was because of my looks. Indeed, I had the feeling that I was really ugly and began to suspect that I could have been an adopted child. But my birth certificate confirmed that Bee and Bin Tock were my parents.
When I was in the last year of primary school, Lynn’s parents were extremely caring and kind. They would often buy me a new dress of the same type whenever they were purchasing one for Lynn. I felt grateful, as I often had to make do with carried down fashions from my two older sisters.
My sisters never were short of suitors because they were indeed as pretty as my mother. Both found mates at eighteen and were married off easily. I found myself living with my parents at home during the fifth year of my primary education.
I had to travel long distances for my secondary education. Fortunately Lynn was also able to get into the same secondary school and Mr. Long chauffeured us both-ways. He never collected a single cent from my parents for his effort.
It was in the second year of high school that I became a bit suspicious of my origin and background. During the medical check-ups for students, I found out that both Lynn and I had A+ type blood. I was puzzled because I knew my sisters all were in the O group and when I looked at the identity cards of my parents later, they also had O blood types. I was still ignorant of how blood groups were linked. I felt odd and suspected that either the tests were wrongly done or indeed I was an adopted child.
Lynn failed her second school year twice and had to drop out of school. Thereafter, I had to travel alone to school. Often, Mr. Long would offer me a ride when he was traveling the same route on business. I felt grateful for his kindness.
Living in the kampong away from big city influences, the social bond tended to be stronger amongst the villagers. People generally were more straightforward and trusting in their dealings and social interactions with each other. While the men who had more opportunity to travel were often more open-minded, the womenfolk tend to be conservative both in dressing and in their thoughts, living strictly by traditional moral values. Sex was a discrete and taboo subject not much in their mind and in their everyday conversations, although there was no shortage of gossips whenever someone in the area had behaved indiscreetly or had exposed a little bit more of their body when out in the streets.
I was fifteen when I had my first period. Although this would have been a very normal thing for most girls, I was a real square. My mother never told me that women would bleed. Even though many of my classmates had already reached puberty, I had never had been the curious type to ask them what it involved. In fact, I was under the impression that I was already a grown woman because I had a thatch of pubic hair to testify to my coming of age. I was terrified to discover menstrual blood and cried because I was afraid that I was sick and about to die. My mother was caring and taught me about ‘Eve’s curse’ and how to take care of my personal hygiene during those times. It was a lot later that I began to learn more about the female body from my mother.
As nature took its course, I began to notice changes in my body. My bust sprouted and began to grow and grow when I was sixteen. I felt shy to have a prominent bust line that obstructed the view of my feet. My weight increased to 130 pounds as my bum broadened and fattened to support the weight of my upper torso. However my height stopped increasing when I was 5 feet 2 inches. I also began to experience strange feelings whenever was I was soaping my boobs and the crack between my legs. I enjoyed the sensations that came with touching those areas, but as I was taught that good decent girls never to touch those areas unnecessarily, I felt ashamed and naughty whenever I washed those private areas of my body during my daily shower.
When I was seventeen, I began to harbor romantic feelings about my male schoolmates. I found that the boys were not longer childish or bad looking and began to lust for them. I dreamt of being kissed and hugged, especially by the handsome class monitor who stood as tall as my father. I felt a need to be near to be near him, but I could not compete with the more shapely girls in the school. He never took much notice of me, even when I held his hand during physical education classes. I tried to draw his attention to my bigger breast, but he was not a boobs man. I knew that I did not have the necessary physical attributes to attract the boy of my choice and ended up being the girlfriend of Jim.
Like me, he also had a hard time finding a suitable date because he was not exactly handsome. He stood at 5 feet two inches with a body weight of around 110 pounds. Although I had resumed growing by putting on two extra inches, my weight correspondingly soared to 135 pounds and I was very fat by local standards. I remembered being teased cruelly because of my jutting bum and my two melon sized boobs. My classmates often insensitively insinuated that my generous curvy measurements could only have been the result of constant massaging by older men. In reality I was as square, chaste, and innocent as any other kampong girl.
When I celebrated my 18th birthday, I was a full bodied woman with little knowledge of sex. Something happened during that period to add to the mystery of womanhood. It was a July weekend and my father had traveled to Penang for a week to source supplies and to visit a relative. The weather was then especially hot and we both slept in shorts and t-shirts without blankets. That night, I dozed off early. It was perhaps close to midnight when I heard a noise coming from my mother’s room. It seemed like a groaning sound that could be easily transmitted through the wood panels that separated her room from mine. It last for about two minutes and then it stopped. I got up of bed and decided to do what I had seen my older sisters did before me. There was a hole on the panel above the double bed which my sisters had used before and I had often seen them peeping into my parent’s room in the middle of the night when they were both still single.
I went over to the spare bed and standing on it, I could just see through the small hole at my eye level. A small 2-watt bedside lamp dimly lit her room. As my eyes adjusted to the lighting, I saw my mother sleeping face up on her bed at the opposite side of the room. I was shocked to see that she was wearing no clothes. What was even more unusual was that she was using both her hands to massage her two modest sized boobs. Her legs were spread wide and I could see her hairy pussy gaping obscenely in the quiet of the room. Mum seemed to be squeezing the fleshy mounds before moving her hand to her two chestnut sized nipples. As her fingers enveloped each teat, she was pressing and pulling them and but her eyes remained closed. Her moaning sound became louder as she stretched the knobs of her chest. Her hands soon left her two erect nipples moving downwards towards the crack of her vulva. I knew that my mother was not asleep and was doing something shameful to her own body. It was something that she had expressively told me never to do, not even during my daily shower. I had known that touching the nipples could give me nice feelings that made goose bumps erupt. I suspected that my mother was enjoying herself, as she moaned softly and sexily. I could see her right hand between her legs and she appeared to be digging and rubbing her pussy hard with her fingers. Her left hand returned on her right breast and she seemed to be squeezing her bust as she heaved and moved her buttocks up and down.
I could see her opening and closing her legs as she tried to force the fingers of her right hand into her the gap between her thighs. Mind you, at that time I was still ignorant about sex and the detailed structure of the female genitalia. I could hear her breathing heavily. For unknown reasons, I instinctively knew that mother was engaging in some sort of secret sexual activity. It looked obscene and lewd, for I had never before seen her in the nude. She was shameless, digging and pulling her fingers inside that area of the body that she had had always emphasized to me was the most private and secret part of a woman’s body. Instead of being embarrassed, I felt naughty and excited at the obscenity before me, and my heartbeat was beating faster with excitement. Mum seemed to be unable to control herself as she continued with to frig herself for another twenty minutes. It would seemed that she was never satisfied for she would grunt softly, resting for a minute, before beginning to poke herself again. Her groaning became more torturous and louder as time went on. I could see her left hand actively playing with her chest, ceaselessly touching and squeezing her nipples and her fleshy breasts. Suddenly she was grunting loudly as if she was in pain and then I heard her swearing lewdly as she squashed her breasts and bucked her backside upwards with her fingers inside her lower body. I felt a strange feeling developing inside my body and my pussy began to moisten with what I thought was urine.
