Bright morning sunlight sliced through the half-closed blinds, spilling golden warmth across the wide bed in Mom’s room and painting the sheets in soft, inviting light.
I blinked awake, still half-lost in the haze of sleep, watching tree shadows dance across the ceiling. The moment I shifted, a silky, fever-hot body pressed against mine. Only then did reality crash over me—I was still in my mother’s bedroom, lying naked in the same bed where I had claimed her just hours earlier.
Memories of last night flooded back, sharp and intoxicating. It felt almost dreamlike, yet the thick, musky scent of sex still clung to the air, mingling with her signature feminine fragrance. The sheets beneath us carried the unmistakable dried traces of our passion—glistening evidence that it had all been real. Every deep thrust, every desperate position, every moan I drew from her lips remained burned into my mind. It had been the deepest, most satisfied sleep of my life.
Twenty-four years had passed since I reincarnated into this world. A freak accident in my previous life as a hardened assassin had cut everything short, only for me to awaken inside the womb of the woman now sleeping beside me. Born into extreme wealth, I had lived like a prince. Though fragments of my old memories remained, I had completely embraced this new existence.
I had always been drawn to intense experiences. University nights of wild parties and reckless fights had thrilled me, and once my body fully matured, my hunger turned toward women. Yet my standards were impossibly high. Almost no one met them.
Except her.
From the moment I opened my eyes in this life, I had been addicted to my mother. Her laughter felt like sunlight pouring straight into my chest. At forty-two she remained breathtaking—skin smooth as porcelain, body lush and toned, easily passing for a seductive woman in her late twenties. The gentle curve of her smile, the honeyed softness of her voice, and those tiny dimples that appeared when she laughed had completely bewitched me.
Living beside such a ripe, irresistibly feminine woman every single day had awakened a dark, pulsing desire I could never speak aloud. It was forbidden. It was dangerous. And with every passing year it grew stronger, until last night—my twenty-fourth birthday—alcohol burned away my final restraints. I had taken her. I had finally made love to my own mother.
Just remembering the velvet heat of her body tightening around me made fresh fire surge through my veins.
I turned my head. She lay on her back, dark hair spilled across the pillow, her exquisite face relaxed in apparent sleep. My cock throbbed painfully at the sight. Sliding closer, I let the heavy, burning length of my erection nestle against her smooth mound. The swollen head slipped naturally between her delicate folds, instantly coated in slick, welcoming wetness. The sensation was electric—hot, silky, obscene.
I rocked my hips, pressing deeper. A low, involuntary groan escaped me as pleasure licked up my spine.
That was when I noticed it—her cheeks were flushed deep rose, her breathing quick and shallow, nowhere near the slow rhythm of real sleep.
So you’re pretending, Mom…
A wicked smile curved my lips. I cupped her full, heavy breasts with both hands, savoring their incredible weight and the way they overflowed my palms. They were perfect—firm yet yielding, silky skin glowing in the morning light like warm porcelain. The nipples had already stiffened into tight, rosy peaks begging for attention.
I lowered my head and dragged my tongue slowly over one sensitive bud before drawing it fully into my mouth. I sucked gently, then harder, swirling my tongue around the stiff peak while my teeth grazed the sensitive flesh. Wet, obscene sucking sounds filled the quiet room.
“Ah…” The moment my tongue lashed her nipple, a soft, choked moan slipped from her throat. Her back arched involuntarily, pushing more of her breast into my greedy mouth. The nipple hardened further, swelling into a glistening, cherry-red pearl that I continued to devour.
“Mom… you taste so fucking sweet,” I whispered against her wet skin, voice rough with lust. I sucked harder, flicking the tip rapidly with my tongue while my other hand kneaded her opposite breast, rolling the nipple between my fingers.
“Mmm… you little devil…” The pretended sleep finally shattered. Her arms slid around my neck, fingers threading through my hair as she crushed my face tighter against her chest. Her voice was husky, trembling with both shame and unmistakable arousal.
I released her nipple with a wet pop and looked up. Her eyes were half-lidded, dark with need, cheeks burning crimson. Her full breasts rose and fell rapidly, glistening with my saliva, nipples stiff and shining.
I slid one hand down her smooth stomach, over the gentle curve of her waist, until my fingers brushed the soft, trimmed patch of hair above her pussy. She was soaked. My fingertips glided over her swollen outer lips, parting them easily to find the slick, molten heat within.
“Last night…” she breathed, voice shaky as she squirmed in my arms. “Xiao Zhe, how could you do that to Mom…”
I leaned in, lips brushing the delicate shell of her ear. “You knew I wanted you for years, didn’t you, Mom?”
She shivered. A complex mix of emotions flickered across her stunning face before she sighed and lightly tapped my forehead. “I just never thought you’d actually dare…”
“Because I love you,” I whispered, voice low and fervent. “I’ve always loved you like this.”
Her breath hitched. “What we did is incest… something society would despise us for.”
“I know,” I murmured, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair while my fingers continued their lazy exploration of her dripping sex. “But I couldn’t stop myself. Not anymore.”
She tried to close her thighs, but there was no real strength in it. “You knew it was wrong and still did it anyway?”
“I was drunk on love for you,” I answered, gently biting her earlobe as two fingers sank slowly into her scorching, velvety channel. Her inner walls immediately clenched around me, rippling with need. “Can you really blame me?”
“You’re my precious son…” Her voice cracked with reluctant tenderness. “How could I ever blame you? But if your father ever found out… I wouldn’t be able to face the world.”
“As long as we never tell him, no one will know,” I said, curling my fingers inside her while my thumb found her swollen clit and circled it with slow, deliberate pressure. More thick, creamy nectar spilled over my hand.
“Ah… don’t… not like this…” The sudden spike of pleasure made her gasp. She pushed weakly at my chest, trying to escape, but her hips betrayed her, rolling subtly against my invading fingers.
“Let me love you, Mom,” I growled, pulling her tight against me. My cock throbbed angrily between us, leaking against her thigh. I kissed her deeply, tasting her sweetness, breathing in her intoxicating scent. “Please.”
Her resistance crumbled. She stared at me for a long moment, eyes glistening with conflicted emotions—shame, love, overwhelming lust. Finally she let out a trembling sigh and looked away, cheeks burning.
“…Just this once more,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “You can be willful… just one more time.”
“Not once,” I answered, licking slowly along her plump lower lip. “Forever.”
I rolled her onto her back and rose above her. My gaze locked onto her glistening pussy—plump, flushed lips parted invitingly, revealing the slick pink interior that had given birth to me. Pearly strands of her arousal kept dripping slowly from her entrance, catching the morning light.
This was the place I had come from. And now I was going to worship it.
I spread her thighs wider, lowered my face between them, and dragged my tongue slowly up her soaked slit. The taste of her—sweet, tangy, addictive—exploded across my tongue. Mom cried out, hips jerking.
I sealed my mouth over her clit and sucked gently while sliding two thick fingers back inside her. The wet, filthy sounds of my fingers pumping into her drenched pussy filled the room, mixing with her helpless, broken moans. Her thighs trembled around my head as I devoured her, lost in the forbidden flavor of my own mother.
Her fingers tangled desperately in my hair, torn between pushing me away and pulling me deeper as the pleasure steadily dragged her toward the edge.