Speech: Slave
(Preface: This article was originally titled “The Testament”, but is now rewritten and renamed “Legends of the Mountain”.) （Are you lonely tonight?
I’m wondering, Mom, thousands of miles away, are you lonely tonight?
What is she doing alone? Why do I have this boring idea? Yes, because I’m alone and it’s so boring. But I’m sure she wouldn’t be any happier than I am, because she’s not too social a woman, lives in a narrow circle, and doesn’t have many deep friendships. We’re both at the end of the world, alone, bored and lonely. Wouldn’t it be a marvelous arrangement if we came together and depended on each other, negative and positive, each in our own way?
I have spent most of my life, are with her, until the end of high school, tired of the monotonous and boring life, left the town born in the city, alone on the road, wandering, looking for ideal, turn a few years. Did not return home, because I swore, if not a successful career, earn a lot of money, go home to build a big house, will not turn back.
Hanging around for a few years, accomplishing nothing. I left what I thought was a small town life and ended up in the middle of nowhere, high up in the mountains. I had a few jobs, none of which were satisfactory, but I found a job in a high mountain logging area. Nothing more, it was menial labor, but the pay was at a professional level, the best I could make with my education.
Stuck in the mountains all year round, with nowhere to spend the money he earned, the only place to spend it was in bars and drinking, which, over the years, left him with quite a sizable savings.
Living in a camp on a mountain was like a concentration camp, with all kinds of entertainment but no women. The exception was my family, but I was alone. Suddenly, I became lovesick and thought of my only relative, my mother, for no reason at all.
I feel that leaving her alone in her hometown town, going out for many years did not go back to see her a trip, there is a loss of filial piety, I’m not such a heartless and unsympathetic person ah!
Also, I’m this asshole, may be closed in the mountains, days long son, character isolation, more see the woods, less see women’s sake, the mind like a piece of paste, chaotic. In the daytime, the chainsaw swing, hand hugging a thick tree like a circle have fallen. At night, muscles and ribs ache, pillow cold lapel cold, but also nonsense, the words will be up without a head, do not know how to deal with. The room is plastered with Playboy centerfolds of nude women, see more than just that, there is no sense of reality. In my head, I couldn’t imagine the bodies and faces of the girls I knew in the real world. And so, Mom would make her appearance, guest starring as the girl of my dreams. I’ll be damned if I’m going to ask her to put on her sexiest lingerie and let me strip her naked, and I’m going to feel a little ashamed and guilty if I have to ask her to act like a Pan Jinlian and make all the most lascivious gestures and purring cries of pleasure. I realized that even if mom did come and was willing to have sex with me, she still wouldn’t make these lewd gestures that weren’t befitting of her status.
You can call a prostitute, right? I don’t care how much it costs, as long as I have a woman, I can solve the problem, so I don’t have to bother my mom to sacrifice her sex. However, if you go down the mountain to call a whore, it’s a four-hour drive, and you can’t go back and forth in a day. How can I resist the fire in my heart? So, holding a pillow, it as mom, sandwiched between the legs, and she lingered for a night.
The theory that masturbation hurts the body, which I heard a lot about in my hours, was confirmed to be nonsense. Self-masturbation is having sex with yourself. What difference does it make if the semen is ejaculated in a woman’s private parts or in your own hands? When semen is full, it has to overflow.
However, in my dreams and reveries, I often see my mom’s body lying on the floor, and I can’t help but feel a little guilty about it, which makes me feel bad.
However, when the libido is strong, even if it is a poisonous snake, I still want to fuck her, knowing that it is poisonous, can comfort my cock, will be swallowed in the stomach.
I sometimes think that it’s a little bit too weird to think of my mom as the object of my pursuit, and to think of all the wrong things to do to get her into bed. In retrospect, what boy hasn’t thought of his mom in a bad way? Mom was the closest woman to her, and she didn’t avoid her son. In her room, she would dress and undress, not always remembering to shut out the full color of the room. When bathing, unintentionally, often let her in the son’s eyes to eat ice cream. Mom her torso is still attractive to her grown son? No one can rule out that mom wants to test how much money she has left by taking advantage of her son’s physical reaction.
I still remember the shocking glimpse of my mom’s completely naked body back then, the seductive scene.
A million jets of water cascaded from the rosette head, pounding on a pair of her erect breasts. The water cascaded down, weaving a net around her naked body. A pair of her arms, stretching to the back of the shoulder, will be wet hair into a handful, it tangled dry, a pair of breasts with the upward pull, throwing up a wave after a wave of breast waves. Suddenly, turn a head, like a classic shot of a movie, slowly moving, looking toward me, the camera freeze, in the bath slit, and my peeping eyes met.
Is it my luck to see my mother’s beautiful and wonderful naked body, or is it her gift to me? O mother, at your age, your son still secretly adores you, you don’t take it as a compliment, nor should you judge me for offending you!
I’m an asshole. The more I think about it, the more I get into a corner. Thinking only about the hardness of my dick, I’ll lose my head. Why don’t you think about mom? Mom is also a flesh and blood body, I have sexual desire, she also has. I wondered if she wasn’t lonely on her own. Mom still has a little bit of beauty, maybe these years to someone who is lucky to get in the hands of the night, night and night, spring night, than I am more happy.
From what I know of her, probably not, she shouldn’t have any suitors, in that town the young ones have all gone out of town, and there are no suitable candidates for her age. If she’s looking for a boyfriend, I hope she’ll give me a chance. At the very least, I have the heart and the strength (financially and androgynously), and I’m sure that I can give her everything she needs.
I assumed that she would be as lonely tonight as I was! I’d like to write to the radio station and play a song by Elvis Presley: “Are you Lone some Tonight?” for my mom to listen to.
A sudden urge to find out if your mom’s sex life is as good as it should be? But how does one survey one’s mom about who she has slept with? Is the sex frequent? Is it satisfying? If allowed, ask her if she has ever thought of her son as a lover. Send her a questionnaire saying it’s a survey of the sex life of the psychology department of that university and ask her to answer it?
Ridiculous. Discussing her sex life with her mom can only be done on the side. God knows, will this one boring contraption and icky thought have unintended consequences? Miracles can happen in the world, and if you pray sincerely to the heavens, good things happen to good people.
But how can I say to my mom, “Mom, I want you to be my lover”?
If not, what means is there to lure mom into my arms?
Mom, have you ever heard of it? Many people who are in love with each other will call each other their relatives. We are the only ones in the world who are closest to each other. I live alone in the mountains and can’t find a wife, and you’ve been widowed for a long time and are lonely. Why don’t we do this? I’d like you to come and cook for me, wash my clothes, take care of the house, and take care of everything in the house, including… If we all have that need, you know what I mean, we might as well be open and give each other comfort because you’re the closest thing to me, my relative!
Please don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to be disrespectful, I’m definitely not using you as a tool for lust, and could swear that there’s absolutely no intention of taking advantage of you. Please understand me, I just want everyone to get what they want! I want you to be close to me so that I can take care of you and honor you.
And I’ll buy you whatever you want. You want a car? I’ll buy it for you. Want to travel the world? That’s easy. That’s what you’ve been trying to do for years. I’ll take you there right now. Want a diamond ring as a token of love? Just say the word and it’ll be delivered. As long as money can buy it, it’s not a problem, as long as you like it. You can have anything you want, including warming your feet in your bed. Assuming you don’t mind, and we all feel the need, we might as well get a little more intimate. I’m sure you’ve got my point. Just saying, please don’t rule it out, you might feel a little aggravated, but I won’t hide it from you, I really do have that intention and need.
That’s the most tactful and decent thing I can say in my power. No, you can’t say that.
It’s too abrupt. I’m sure I’ll scare Mom to death when I open my mouth.
I can win her heart and teach her to give herself to me by using the method of persuasion, or like courting my girlfriend, proving my love with time and showing my heart with my actions. However, this is an extremely difficult task, but I believe that God will not disappoint the person who has the heart. I will win her back with a spirit of perseverance and a love that will move heaven and earth. Even if there are thousands of mountains and tens of thousands of rivers separating us, love will bring us together again.
(II) Mom, no one can take your place.
So I began to write to her, sitting in a cold bucket room, under a lonely lamp, writing letters.
I don’t have much ink in my belly, but I have a thousand words to tell her. Love is the inspiration of the literati, producing many poems and articles.
If her heart was like iron, it would be melted by my heartfelt love letters.
I said: “My mom…
My family…
My sister…
My love…
We’ve been in love for a long time, we just haven’t shown each other our hearts yet. Right?
Don’t you know how deeply I love you, and that you have a place in my heart that no one can replace. I simply can’t live without you.
I long for you, I need you, I want you, even if we are separated by thousands of mountains, we have to be silently and religiously united with your two hearts, this is my ideal life.
My good sister, allow me to call you so; I am an unattended child, and fly into your breast, and in your soft bosom I would rest there for ever and ever.
Mom, I love you, let this be the words I can spit out on earth. And you, too, need not hesitate, much less be timid; come, come, come to my depths and seek your happiness.
Perhaps, you have had too much experience, and I tell you that when it comes to love, there is no such thing as match or no match, equal or not equal, get up or sorry, and so on. Know that love is everywhere, whether it is God or the devil, whether it is a good man or a bad man, as long as they are once loved, they will be pulled together by that great and mysterious love, and they will become one, and what difference is there between them?
Beloved, let us be like the wind and the clouds. We will always sense each other and be in harmony with each other, and then, even if the world rejects us, we will be absolutely fulfilled and have absolutely no regrets.
Mom, I love you, let this be the words I can spit out on earth. And you, too, need not hesitate, much less be timid; come, come, come to my depths and seek your happiness.
Your beloved son.
Instead of waiting for a reply, I write one letter a day and send it out one letter at a time to my faraway love, hoping that one of them will strike her fancy.
The rainy season in the mountains came with continuous heavy rains that dumped mud on the mountains and blocked the roads, halting the logging work.
Stuck at home all day long, looking at the rain “dripping” on the window, feeling melancholy, meaning desolate. At this time, I can only think of one person, my only love.
I don’t know how many nights, whenever I’m lonely and alone, when my thoughts rise and fall, her silhouette will float in the bottom of my eyes.
I whispered her name, and what she heard, she answered the call.
Mom being Mom, she always came gently and quietly when I needed her most.
She was still wearing the same open-shouldered floral dress that she used to wear at home, with a pair of snow-white breasts and a deep cleavage hidden inside the neckline. Her cleavage, the bottom of which is the hiding place of spring, is the eternal focus of my eyes, and I can’t imagine where my eyes would fall if she changed into another dress without a plunging neckline.
The diamond ring I gave her really struck a chord with her true feelings, and she offered herself as a gift to thank me for my willingness to take care of her for the rest of her life.
If she shared her rights in bed with me, I need not hesitate, and to remove the clothes from her body with my own hands was to enjoy my rights.
I began to undo one button at a time for my mom, opening the bodice. I’m ashamed to say that I don’t have much experience with the whole undressing women thing. Prostitutes are already stripped naked as soon as they step in the front foot. Unless otherwise stated, the scope of the service does not include kissing and having the client undress her by hand. And around here, it’s hard to find a woman who will spread her thighs and let me fuck her.
In my mind, I had rehearsed every detail of how to undress my mom, what style of clothes she wore, and how I should undress her. There are different manners for taking off shirts, T-shirts, bras, panties, and silk pants, so I can’t just peel them all off like an orange peel, it’s inappropriate to undress my mom this way, and it’s rude to her.
Trembling and shaking, peeled off one by one, from outside to inside, from top to bottom, and hung on the rail of the bed, like a banner of love, my love triumphant.
However, her skirt was always the same style, having been taken off a thousand times. With her hands held straight upwards, I tugged on the train of the skirt, pulling it up before revealing what was inside. She would show off every angle of her fabulous body in a new everyday bra and tiny panties. Tonight, the one she’d put on especially for me and asked me to strip for her was a double babydoll straps seamless bra with three-quarter low-cut breast cups and velvet crushed floral embroidery. The open clasp design was so low in difficulty that it came undone in a flash, revealing the snow-white, voluptuous fruits.
The little panties and bra were matching, high-waisted, with two thin elastic bands at the outer edges of the two strands, holding the two triangular pieces of fabric together, the front one so small that it merely covered the slightly raised pubic mound. This was the limit of how sexy I would allow my mom to be, because she wasn’t that cheap AV heroine. I wanted her thighs to look slender.
Between the narrow waist and the concave solitude of her small buttocks, slipping her fingers into the double young elastic band of her panties, which were almost completely ironed to her skin, and removing them inch by inch, I wanted her to be so naked that she would expose her triangle, which was more mysterious than Bermuda.
So there she was, completely naked, but dignified, composed, and standing tall in front of me. Twin peaks thrust up toward me, hips thrust back. Undone, her hair fell under each shoulder, and with her hands she tossed the locks behind her head. Arms lifted in an unguarded display of armpit hair, an unintentional and most provocative gesture.
I took her hand and made her walk behind me, her breasts thrown up and down with each step, her nipples still standing out. I came to the bed and lifted the sheet. Mom stopped and lowered her eyes, as if she was a bit hesitant.
“Mom, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“It’s okay.”
“Are you scared?”
She shook her head.
“Regret you came? I won’t force you if you don’t want to.”
“If you want to, so do I.”
“That’s great mom, hold me.” I said as I pulled her towards me.
Her arms just quietly clasp around me, and I tighten my arms around her as she gathers her chest and belly to press against me, and I imagine how sensitive her aroused bosoms would be against my bare chest. Our mouths, open as they touch, enter a gentle, mellow dream. I let her lean back, resting my arms around her back. But never leaving her lips, kissing her. The faint taste of toothpaste in her mouth, a never-to-be-forgotten, fresh mark. And the scent of that brand of soap on her skin, reminding me that once upon a time, at home, those were the smells.
At that moment, she gently broke away from me, her cheeks flushed, and whispered in my ear, “Turn off the light.”
“Turn off the lights? What does it matter?”
“It’s not nice to have sex. You have to promise me you won’t see me having sex.”
“I’ll close my eyes and not look is all.”
“You wouldn’t. What man doesn’t like to see the look on a woman’s face when she’s having sex?”
I’m not going to argue with her. Springtime is worth a thousand dollars.
The whole world stands still in this moment to witness my love for my mom, from the beginning of the world to the end of the earth, it never ends. But who can teach me how to love my mom? No one can tell me, this is a mystery of the ages, only by experiencing it, can I realize the mystery.
So, I choose to love my mom lover in the most pristine way possible.
“Mom, the lights are off, let’s love, no one will see.”
She threw her full body weight over for me to catch, and with a smooth motion, collapsed with her onto our bed.
I grabbed her and kissed her, kissed her forehead, eyes, nose, lips and chin.
Suddenly I tasted a warm, wet, salty flavor, and traced it back to her eyes – it was her eyes. Mom, she’s crying, bending her head down to lick, yes, tears.
“Mom, are you crying? Why are you crying?”
“Nothing? Just a momentary feeling. Thought no one would ever love me again.”
“Mom, I love you, always have, always will. I have given my love, my soul, my body, my everything, it’s all, it’s all yours.”
“Then love me now.” I wrapped my arms around my love and rubbed her back, her breasts, her ass, and the weather she had weathered over the years.
My mouth sought out one of her nipples, firm and hard. It slipped gently into my mouth, allowing me to suck greedily on it, like it had once been swaddled.
She took my hand and pressed it under the small of her back, pressed it against the clump of curly hairs, and underneath the hairs was the protruding private part, which was already very wet.
The darkness of the room, can not hide mom’s shyness. A pair of half-open eyes, seemingly fearful, seemingly mesmerized, closed shyly as soon as they made contact with me. My two fingers, wrapped around a piece of tenderness, intruded into the wrinkled inner walls, sliding over the most sensitive parts, to find her priceless pearl.
As soon as I touched it, her open legs closed tightly, and I wouldn’t let her. I wanted the most beautiful place in the world to be shyly exposed to me in return for my love for her. I decided to pick that precious pearl, and Mom whimpered, resisting her pleasure.
“Mom, come and love me, I need you.”
It was easy to find the path into her inside, the mother’s delicate hands leading her son, seeking his peach blossom. Fragrance gushed out of her like a spring. She unfolded herself to meet my thrusts into her.
She grabbed the railing of the bed with both hands and swayed uncontrollably. Her hips moved up and down in tandem.
The night, stooping down and listening to us, the darkness whispered around us and suggested to us that all the barriers of the world had been laid down at the bottom of the hill. On the mountain, in a little house away from the bustle and noise, we two people who needed each other, without pretense of outside pleasures, had a chance to make up for the thousands of lonely pillows and cold lapels of nights of love.
（Mom and I, me and Mom, can’t be separated anymore.
It would be nice to have a recent photo of mom at home, not only would it fill the room, but it would be easy to imagine what she looked like when she made love to me. If I could have a picture of her, preferably in a bathing suit, I would put it on my bedside to sleep with me and make love with me.
If she’s willing to reward me with her swim photo, I’ll have a better grasp of our future. Why ask her for a nude photo? I don’t dare to ask for it, it’s hard to do. But it’s just a swim photo, so I can’t say no. Unless she has no interest in me.
A frame dressed in a sexy bathing suit, preferably in a bikini, regardless of whether or not her body is fit to wear a three-point. Her body, good or ugly, will have to be shown to me sooner or later. Don’t spoil my fun, send it to me.
Considering, of course, all the excuses she would have for denying my request, such as saying that the legs weren’t long enough, that the waistline was a little chubby, and that it wouldn’t look good to show her belly button. What’s wrong with just showing me, her son? As long as you say yes, I will give you a string of black pearl necklace, wear it on your smooth and snow white neck, how nice it looks.
Mom, it doesn’t matter if your body is perfect. It doesn’t matter if your body is perfect. Some people like to see it. I’m a big fan of yours. Every part of your body is beautiful to my eyes.
But who would take this picture of my mom in that small, simple town? Even if someone knew how to take pictures, they wouldn’t understand that I like to admire her body from that angle. And she wouldn’t want to be photographed in her bathing suit in front of other people. I had to go there and pose for my beauty myself. She would naturally make all kinds of provocative gestures under my coaxing.
Well, I have to buy her a variety of bathing suits and, by the way, some bras and panties, which is my responsibility.
Help your mom dress up so that she can reveal as much of her beauty as possible. But I don’t know her size or breast cup numbers, I don’t dare ask her, and she would think it shameful to tell her son the number of her circumference, even if she knew how much her son adores her.
Today, this problem is easily solved by the fact that I can mail-order bathing suits and underwear of various brands, styles and sizes over the Internet without leaving my home. Every week, mail packages are shipped up from down the mountain. She comes and finds her closet full of these things that are personal to her and realizes how thoughtful and attentive her son is to her.
She came, I will no longer pay attention to her delicate girl do, want her in front of me, each bra try on, I will know her body, will also personally for her to measure the circumference, of course, to strip naked her to measure, to be accurate enough. When she comes, anything can happen between the two of us in our little house on the hill. So wait and see!
If you go online to buy something for your mom, you can also buy fashion, shoes, lipstick, eyelashes, powder…
The weather on the mountain was condensed cold and quite snowy. The logging area was closed after the winter, leaving only a few of the superintendent’s coworkers who hadn’t been down the mountain. When it snows, the roads up the mountain are closed, completely cut off from the mountain until next spring.
One day, going out to the post office to see if there was any mail, the janitor told me that a strange woman had come to my house, with a face like mine. Who would come to the mountains in winter? What’s so strange?
I’m not surprised, because I knew that one day, she would come.
I immediately darted home. The front door was wide open and the foyer was eastward, resting on a pair of red high heels.
My heart raced wildly as I took a deep breath and looked inside.
Bathroom door is not closed, the fog filled, there is a section of the woman’s bare thighs, the water column of the shower head “clatter, clatter, clatter” sprinkled down. A pair of breasts, in the waterfall running down the waterfall in the solemn upright, hunting to my eyes.
“Mom, is that you? You’re here?”
“It’s me.” Yes, it was her voice.
On the dining room table, between the cluttered cups and plates, was a large stack of love letters I had written to her.
“Mom, I write you so many letters, why don’t you open them and answer them?”
“I don’t have to open it to know that it’s all the same.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know, forget I’m your mom? Mom knows everything about you.”
“So, you’re here?”
“Yes, I’m coming, I know you’re up in the mountains, alone, and need me.”
“Mom, thank you.”
“Come in!”
She was in the mist, beckoning me. The jets of water knocked deafeningly against the glass door of the bath room, and my dress pants clung wetly to my body. She unbuttoned me, and in a daze, in the mist, I saw her, and she hadn’t aged, she was just like she used to be. In the narrow bath room, two naked bodies, inescapably opposite each other, this is our destiny, we are destined to be united, never separate.
I moved toward her, pressed closer, embraced her with open arms, my naked skin, pressed against the slippery tiled wall, my rod, unanticipated, rising in fury.
We have inexhaustible love for each other, and irrational love for each other.
She picked up my rod and stepped out of the shower and walked to my room to dry me off with a large bath towel.
She opened the closet, which was full of women’s lingerie and fashions. I picked out a well-fitting set of bra and panties for my mom and, with skill, put them on her. I had tried on each piece for her, familiarizing myself with every step of putting it on.
Mom, the curvature of these breast cups is supported by hidden steel wires and a shimmering gradient film pattern that accentuates the lines of the breasts. The double babydoll shoulder straps with triangular back buckle stabilize the straps and prevent them from slipping off. The small panties are cut with a high slit and are made of the same material as the bra. There’s only so much you need to wear in my bedroom, mom, so you can feel sexy in your own skin.
The cold hairs on my thighs are growing back and need to be trimmed first. Where the shaver runs through is the wonderful curve of the thigh.
Then I wanted mom to sit in front of me in the Sharon Stone style with her legs spread, so I could dry the curls on her head and fix her pubic hair. Her hair, like mine, was soft and fine but thick and drained of my favorite blonde color.
Then I sat her down in front of the mirror and watched as I traced her eyebrows, put on long false eyelashes, and put on phantom eyeliner.
Mom’s face is haggard. Is it because of the hard work of traveling, or is it because of her love for you? I’m going to put on a thick foundation to cover the deep bags under my eyes, and put on a reddish cream to bring out the elegance of a woman’s form in front of the mirror. And I’m going to put lipstick on your mouth, which is as soft as the braid of a red rose.
“Mom, you’re all made up for me and ready to make love to me. Come on, we’re finally together.” I took her hand and went back to the bed and lifted the sheet.
Mom lay back, legs spread and bent, her right hand reached under her bra and kneaded her breasts, which bulged in my palms, nipples hard as bullets. Her left hand probed into her panties and her legs came together tightly, letting the two pussy lips clamp down on me, squeezing uncontrollably as Mom let out a soft gasp.
“Mom, I’m coming, I’m coming.”
“I’m coming too.” Mom whispered in my ear.
Outside the window, goose feather-like snowflakes fluttering, they are so pure, so crystal, like my love for mom. The more the snowflakes drifted, the more they pressed on the vine branches in front of the window, a fine and complicated sound, as if Mom’s delicate chant.
On the mountain, it was just me, and my mom, mom and me, our flesh making love to each other, no longer distinguishable, me and mom, mom and me.
Snow flurries that cover the mountains in white.
In that quiet, saksha, bleak winter, my mother came and I became one with her, never to be separated, on this mountain.
[End]
Later words.
Having sex with someone who is connected by blood is a form of narcissism.
Masturbation is, in fact, making love to yourself.
The Legend of the Mountain is the story of a man who turns himself into the man he adores.