Goldie Bo (her original Chinese name was Bo Er-zhua) was in her bedroom, admiring herself in her black lace brassiere, panties, stockings, and high heels before a mirror. She'd deliberately left her bedroom door ajar.
Her 18-year-old son, Ma Ke-ting (his English name was 'Good': it isn't infrequent for Chinese and Taiwanese people to have non-standard English names), was supposed to be in his bedroom studying for a seemingly endless series of crucial final tests. The results of these tests would determine the quality of university he'd be allowed to enter, which would ultimately affect how lucrative a future he'd have. Nonetheless, she was willing to let her son have a free peek at her body.
And she had a body to enjoy peeking at. She was short, curvaceous, and with unusually large breasts, which didn't at all sag. Giving birth to Good didn't do any damage to her hourglass figure. She had smooth, coffee-coloured skin, beautiful Asian eyes, and a cute pudgy nose; and her black hair was done up in a bun. Her face was heavily, brightly made up: red lipstick, pink blush, dark blue eye shadow, and thick mascara.
With such a delicious body...and she was only 34.
Her detested husband, Ma Ni-man (his English name was Rich), was 22 when he'd gotten a 15-year-old Goldie pregnant. The family scandal was too much for them to bear: he was obligated to marry her, for her family abominated abortions. After an intense shaming not only from their families but also their whole neighbourhood, the newlyweds left their native town of Chiayi, in south-western Taiwan, to live in Hsinchu, up in the northern part of the island, as soon as Rich had graduated from university with a business degree.
Rich was now on a business trip to China, visiting a factory in Shenzhen, where he often went. He also had a sexy young mistress there, and Goldie knew all about that; to make matters worse, Rich was in Shenzhen a lot more than he ever was at home. Suffering in silence from her husband's so frequent infidelities, Goldie was lonely; and having a son to look after all the time made it impossible for her to find a paramour of her own, however desirable she may have been, potentially, to lots of men.
Good, her sweet, quiet, shy little boy, was also adorably cute, with big, sad eyes; and she didn't have to be his mother to feel that way about him. She also knew he had Oedipal longings for her. Far from being shocked or disgusted at such desires, she considered them natural, and as long as nobody knew of her soon-to-be intimate relations with her son, why not take advantage of his urges to satisfy her needs?
She heard him open his bedroom door and walk out into the hall; he was heading for the bathroom, which meant he'd be passing by her room. She knew he'd want to look at her in her underwear: though she could see him, looking furtively through the door crack, from her mirror's reflection, she pretended not to know he was watching.
The one eye he had looking through the door crack devoured every inch of her body. Her black bra strap with its clip, which he so wanted to unhook, made him want her to turn around so he could see that ornately designed bra, with its pretty flower patterns, cupping her large breasts. He sighed and touched his crotch.
Then he looked down her back and at her perfectly round ass: not too big, not too bony, beautifully shaped. Again, those black panties with the flower pattern were hugging her ass in a way that made his hands envious.
Now his eyes looked down at her legs, and at the black panty hose that made her sexy legs look appetizingly elegant. Finally, his eyes travelled down to her black high heels, which aroused his foot fetish. He kept sighing quietly and fingering the hard prick in his pants, careful not to be audible to her...not that she needed to hear him to know he was watching.
After allowing Good to look at her for a minute or so, she quickly turned around to face the door. This was his cue to rush to the bathroom, him hoping she hadn't seen him. She snickered to herself when hearing him clumsily run away.
***********
A week later, she did the same thing, but this time she admired herself in the nude. The only thing covering her skin was that whorish bright makeup, and red nail polish on her finger- and toenails.
She had pointy, hard, small black nipples and wispy black pubic hair, some of which he could see through her mirror reflection. Again he'd left his room and been watching her through the door crack, admiring his mother's soft, round buttocks, and wishing he could get away with seeing her full frontal without the aid of the mirror. He softly sighed and touched his bulging groin.
Of course, she would have allowed him to see her frontal nudity directly, and she quickly turned around again so he could see for a split second or so before he sheepishly ran away and hid. She didn't know how to react to his sexual inhibitions: to find his shyness sweet and adorable, or to be disappointed at another delay in getting a lay from him.
***********
Several days later, she was wearing a sexy, tight black dress, hosiery, high heels, and her usual heavy, bright makeup. She also had on a most provocative fragrance. She walked by his bedroom, assuming he was studying for that mountain of tests. Instead, she heard grunting noises.
Not liking what she was hearing, she barged in on him suddenly. His pants and underwear were off, lying on the floor behind the chair he was sitting at. His erection was in his shaking hand, and the computer screen showed a picture of a naked thirty-something Asian woman, one who looked practically like a twin of Goldie! A box of Kleenex was by his computer keyboard.
He spastically reached for his pants in embarrassment.
"Ke-ting!" she shouted. Then, in Chinese, said, "You should be studying!"
"Mama," he said, almost crying in shame. "I'm sorry," he said in Chinese, "I won't do it again."
"I don't care that you look at porn," she said. "All men like sex, I understand. But you're wasting valuable study time." She went up to him, stopping him from putting on his clothes. She reached for his cock.
"Mama, what are you doing?" he asked in shock.
"Finishing what you started." She held his half-erect penis and began fondling it. "If I leave you still excited without having gotten release, you'll just go back to the porn and waste more time. But if I give you that release, you'll get back to studying faster. Now just let me finish you off." She undid three of the buttons on her dress, exposing her red bra and tasty cleavage. She brought his face between her soft, smooth, large breasts. Their softness, as well as the flowery smell of her perfume, were driving him wild.
He was now too busy being turned on to be scandalized by their incestuous behaviour. Her hand gently and lovingly slid up and down his now rock-hard shaft, its hardness complemented by the softness of his mother's breasts squeezing against and rubbing on his face.
As she continued jerking him off, she gave him gentle kisses on the head, ran the fingers of her free hand through his hair, and occasionally wiggled her breasts, making them slap against his cheeks. She felt his warm, sighing breath heat up her chest, and her pussy was getting wet from contemplating his pleasure.
After a few more minutes of this, he came. Anticipating his orgasm, she'd reached for some Kleenex and caught his wad before it stained the expensive light blue bedroom carpet. She wiped his spent dick dry, then led him to the bathroom. He still had only his shirt on.
"Mama, why do I have to take a shower?"
"You're dirty, from what you did."
"What I did? Me? It was you who did it."
"Don't talk back," she said, slapping him. "Now, take your shirt off and get in the shower." He did as he was told.
Now naked, he went in. She voyeuristically looked up and down at his body, admiring her son's tall, thin body, his soft buttocks, and his penis, surrounded in black pubic hair. Only desperation for sex, from having a husband who rarely fucked her after Good was born, could have driven her to incest.
She pulled the shower curtain half-way, still ogling his body as he turned on the water and let it splash on his torso.
"Why are you watching me, Mama?" His shock at her ogling eyes sent ripples of fear through his body.
"Because I'm going to help clean you," she said, reaching for the soap. "Turn around. I'm going to clean your dirty places."
Byen tai (Chinese for 'perverted'), he thought.
She lathered the soap well in her hands, then soaped up his dick and balls, his perineum, his buttocks, and his anus, her finger poking in an inch or so.
"Ah!" he groaned in discomfort. "Mama, I can clean myself."
"That's OK. You're my baby; I can clean you. I have to take care of you." She started rinsing the soap off his body.
"When will you think of me as a man? I'm 18 now."
"When you've finished university and have a well-paying job, that's when. Then you can take care of me."
"But what if I have a wife?"
"You don't want a wife," she said, always over-protective of him. "You never have crushes on any of your female classmates, and many of them are cute. You only want me, you know that."
Knowing she'd said the embarrassing truth, he stopped arguing.
He got out of the shower stall and she dried him with a towel. She handed him his shirt.
"Now, go back to your room, put your clothes back on, and resume studying. No more dirty pictures or fantasizing about me. If you get good grades on your test tomorrow, you can want me again, and I'll reward you. Now, hurry back in there." She gave his bare ass a spank as he walked out of the bathroom.
He turned off his computer after putting his pants and underwear back on, and sat at his desk with his biology textbook open. He shook with fear and guilt over what his mom had just done, not so much because it happened than because he'd enjoyed it so.
How could she return my perverted love like that? he thought, unable to focus on his biology textbook. I know she's lonely without Papa for such long stretches of time, but why use me, her son of all people, to satisfy her needs? The way she was looking at my body in the shower...it scares me, because it excites me. Does she know I watch her when she's undressed in her bedroom? Does she leave her door ajar on purpose? Why isn't she as ashamed as I am? How could she have been so emotionless about playing with my thing? Is she repressing her shame? She must be. Anyway, I'll have to repress mine, too, if I'm to ace this test; not acing it simply isn't an option.
Then, he closed his eyes, imagining a black void where his shameful memory had been stored; and with that healing repression, his guilt was lost in blessed oblivion...for the time being, anyway. Now he could focus on biology.
I'm a student, he thought. I have no feelings. I have no pain. I have no life.
With that finished, he started reviewing the first lesson.
**********
The next week, he received his test results: 98% on his biology test! What would he do in reaction to this great success?
Celebrate?
