The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight streamed into the room, a gentle breeze softly blew the curtains, making them flutter and dance along with the ornamental flowers on the windowsill.
Yang Haoran stretched lazily and glanced at the timeβ6:13 a.m. He had slept surprisingly well the previous night, and now he felt refreshed and invigorated, as if his entire spirit had been renewed.
Exiting his room, he noticed his younger sisterβs door was tightly shutβshe was likely still asleep. He went to the bathroom alone to wash up, then descended the spiral staircase to the first floor.
The spacious living room was empty, except for some faint rustling noises coming from the kitchen.
At this hour, Yang Haoran assumed it must be his mother preparing breakfast in the kitchen. Following the sound, he made his way over.
His mother stood in front of the counter, holding an egg and tapping it against the rim of a bowl until it cracked. She broke the egg and poured it into the bowl. A few broken eggshells lay scattered beside the counter. Engrossed in her task, she didnβt notice him.
From his perspective, her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her graceful figure was accentuated by a form-fitting black dress that hugged her voluptuous body, outlining a dramatic, undulating S-curve. From a distance, she resembled a human-hourglassβfull breasts, plump buttocks, ripe and irresistibly alluring.
Her slender waist was so narrow it seemed as if it could be encircled with just one hand, delicate and supple like a willow swaying in the wind.
Her round, ample buttocks were pert and prominent, straining against the tight fabric of her dress and imprinting the shape of a giant, luscious peach.
An overwhelming sense of carnal desire assaulted him, like two bombs of raw lust detonating before his eyes, stirring his deepest urges and making his blood boil!
Following the curve of her rounded buttocks downward, the tight skirt hem ended mid-thigh. Her long, shapely legs were sheathed in flesh-toned, transparent stockings, their subtle sheen glimmering faintly, presenting her legs as flawless masterpiecesβas if meticulously sculpted by natureβs own divine hands.
Her dainty feet were adorned with a pair of pink slippers, revealing her round, delicate heels through the sheer stockings.
Her fair, tender skin was faintly visible through the stockings, appearing both elusive and dreamy, every inch exuding an allure that stirred primal desires.
Early in the morning, when hormone levels were at their peak, Yang Haoran was utterly unprepared for such stimulation.
His greedy gaze, like that of a hungry wolf, roamed relentlessly over his motherβs enticing curves. The spark of desire within him, initially small, quickly grew into a raging flame. Emboldened, his audacity surged.
He glanced around and, not seeing his fatherβwho was likely still asleepβhe cautiously crept toward his mother. He controlled his footsteps, moving lightly and carefully to avoid making a sound, even holding his breath in nervous tension.
Like a thief, or a starved predator, he slowly closed in on his prey.
Liu Ruoxi was using chopsticks to beat the eggs, her thoughts wandering. Perhaps due to the telepathic bond between mother and son, her mind suddenly drifted to the events of the previous night. Reflecting on the wicked game that had led to this morally complex, taboo relationship between her and her son, a faint trace of distress surfaced on her stunningly beautiful face. Yet, she remained completely unaware of her son slowly approaching from behind.
“Mom!”
Unable to restrain his wicked thoughts any longer, Yang Haoran reached out and wrapped his arms around his motherβs slender waist, pressing his lower abdomen tightly against her firm, rounded peach-like buttocks.
The dragon hidden in his trousers had long since swollen, hard and feverish with need, standing rigid and upright. As he embraced his mother, it slid like a slick eel along the crevice of her plump buttocks, burrowing deep into the valley, its unruly tip seemingly brushing against the place he had always dreamed of, gently rubbing against the petal-like folds reminiscent of a clam.
The clam was tightly closed, yet the soft, plump lips of his motherβs most intimate place, even through the layers of clothing, sent a shudder through Yang Haoranβs heart, melting his bones and weakening his body. The intoxicating, soul-consuming sensation made him tighten his grip around her wasp-like waist, pressing his lower abdomen even more firmly against her buttocks, as if craving more.
Holding his mother, Yang Haoran felt a profound sense of satisfaction from within, as if embracing her meant embracing the entire world.
Yang Haoranβs sudden assault startled Liu Ruoxi, nearly causing her to knock over the bowl of beaten eggs. Hearing her sonβs voice, she instinctively relaxed.
But then she noticed his arms tightly encircling her waist, his behavior improperβespecially as she felt a thick, rod-like object pressing against her most private area, even subtly grinding and rubbing. Instantly, her face darkened.
“Let go.”
Liu Ruoxiβs voice was cold as she scolded him. Her anger surged uncontrollably; she was furious. She never expected her son to be so bold as to dare fondle her like this at home. Had her soft-heartedness last night, when she hadδΈ»ε¨ initiated that kind of act, only encouraged him to push his luck now?
“Mom, I missed you. Let me hold you for a bit.” Liu Ruoxi didnβt even want to spell out her sonβs filthy intentions. She said coldly, “Is that all youβre doing? Just holding?”
“Holding is holding. What else could it be?” Blinded by lust, Yang Haoran spoke without changing his expression, though his heart was pounding wildly, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead from nervousness.
Her sonβs unrepentant attitude made Liu Ruoxi lose all patience for his nonsense. His thick penis, wedged against her private parts and subtly rubbing, filled her with both shame and fury.
“Yang… Hao… ran.” Liu Ruoxi enunciated each word slowly, her tone icy, her expression as cold as eternal frost, piercingly frigid.
His motherβs freezing tone sent a jolt of fear through Yang Haoran, chilling his spine. The wild desire raging inside him came to an abrupt halt, as if drenched by a torrential downpour, leaving him thoroughly chilled to the core.
“Mom… if I let go now,” Yang Haoran stammered, his teeth chlightly chattering from fear, “will you promise not to hit me?”
He could tell his mother was angryβfurious, in fact. She likely wouldnβt calm down without giving him a severe punishment. He regretted his actions now, his insides twisting with remorse. Blinded by lust and audacious beyond measureβthat described him perfectly.
He really shouldnβt have done it. It was all the fault of his raging morning hormones.
“Ahβ Mom, you sneaked attacked me!”
He had still harbored hope that his mother might show mercy, or, unsurprisingly, refuse. At worst, he planned to stubbornly persist until she promised not to hit him. But unexpectedly, his lower abdomen was suddenly struck by his motherβs elbow. The pain made him double over instinctively, and he released his grip.
The moment he let go, he realizedβhe was doomed.
Looking up, he saw his motherβs stunning face cold as ice, her beautiful eyes glaring at him with a sharp, emotionless gaze that made his scalp prickle.
“Misunderstanding… Mother… purely a misunderstanding… If thereβs nothing else, Iβll be going now.”
Yang Haoran spoke while bowing and scraping, slowly backing away to distance himself from the furious witch before him.
However, Liu Ruoxi, truly enraged, had no intention of letting him off so easily.
Before her son could make his escape, her long legs moved swiftly, closing the distance as he retreated.
“Misunderstanding? Iβll give you a misunderstanding!”
Liu Ruoxi grabbed her sonβs hands and spoke fiercely, twisting them behind his back as if he were a criminal being subdued by a police officer. She forced Yang Haoran to stumble and kneel on the floor.
A large hand, whistling through the air, landed hard on Yang Haoranβs buttocks.
Smack! The sharp sound of the slap echoed through the air.
The force behind it was unlike that of a delicate woman. Even through his clothes, Yang Haoran felt a stinging, burning pain on his buttocks.
“Mom… you sneak attacked me, thatβs not fair…” Yang Haoran tried to talk back, but his buttocks ended up suffering the consequences for his hardest part.
Smack… smack, smack…
A continuous rain of over a dozen slaps fell relentlessly. Liu Ruoxiβs face was dark, and she showed no mercy as she struck.
“Mother, have mercy… It hurts… I wonβt dare again…” Yang Haoran endured the pain in his buttocks, restrained like a criminal on his knees, his face pressed against the smooth floor. Crucially, he didnβt dare cry out loudly for fear of attracting his father. How could he explain why he was being beaten?