Chapter 13
The following days were a repetition of the same sick drama. Mother, in the role of a sexy goddess, continued to perform on the school stage. She passed by the lustful eyes of students and male teachers, bestowing smiles and gentle flirtations. And I, in the role of a loyal audience, a hidden director, collected all those images, feeding the fire of desire within me. Every evening, she sat with me, recounting the “interesting stories” of the day, her voice sparkling with undisguised joy.
Then the midterms came. And as if by magic, Minh Khoi was in the top 50. Ranked 49th. Just right. That evening, my mother walked into my room, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “Tomorrow is the weekend. Minh Khoi wants to invite me to go for a walk and watch a movie.”
“Mom… you agree?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
“Guess what?” She giggled, a girlish smile.
“I guess Mom would have agreed.”
“But I can’t let him go completely,” she said, her voice full of calculation. “Besides… don’t we still have to help Huy get cured? When that time comes, you just follow behind us. If he acts too much, you can show up in time to stop him.”
A play within a play. She and Minh Khoi were dating, and I was the stalker. A thought that was both exciting and bitter. “Haha, you’re still the one who’s clever. It seems like you really like Minh Khoi.”
“Don’t forget this is just our game,” she said seriously, but her eyes were not serious at all.
The next morning, I was having breakfast when I heard the click of high heels. Mom walked out, and I froze. She wasn’t wearing her office clothes. She was wearing a white and pink dress that hugged every curve. A zipper ran from her neck to the hem, a promise of undress. The neckline was round and low, revealing her white swan neck and the hint of lace on her purple bra. Her slim waist, then her round, plump ass, swelled under the fabric, proud and inviting. The skirt was short, revealing almost all of her long, slender legs, wrapped in a layer of sheer, nude-colored stockings that sparkled in the light. Her long hair was loose, her face lightly made up, and she wore a pair of pink, gold-rimmed glasses. She didn’t look like a teacher. She looked like a high-class prostitute, a goddess of sensuality.
“What’s wrong?” she smiled, seeing me stunned. “Are you satisfied with what I’m dressed like this?”
I swallowed. “Satisfied! So sexy!”
“Thank you, son.” She smiled, smugly.
When she sat down to eat breakfast, her already short skirt rode up even more. I could clearly see the outline of her purple lace panties, a mysterious triangle between her plump thighs. She caught my eye and immediately crossed her legs, her voice reproachful: “Huy, what are you looking at? Hurry up and eat your breakfast!”
The damn car broke down again. We had to take the bus. On the way to the station, my mother was a walking magnet. Every sway of her hips in her tight dress attracted the eyes of the people around her. I heard the gulping sounds of men passing by, and a sick thought came to my mind: what a waste of such a sexy woman not to have sex with.
The bus arrived, packed. Rush hour. We missed a few, but finally, fearing we would be late, we had to squeeze on. I went first, Mom followed, and we were herded together at the door.
Next stop, a few more people got on. I was pushed further inside. Mom was still standing on the steps, and right behind her, a boy. He looked about my age, dyed blond hair, a bright face but a mischievous look in his eyes. A little wolf.
His eyes were fixed on my mother’s legs. Legs covered in sheer, alluring stockings. Due to the jostling, her skirt had been lifted up, almost exposing her round ass. And the boy, standing on the lower step, was eye level with my mother’s waist. He was in the perfect position to admire her.
He pressed himself against his mother, his eyes appraising her ass like an art appraiser. Her plump ass, tightly held by the skirt, outlined the shape of her tiny lace panties. Her legs were long and straight, her fair skin visible through the thin stockings. A mature, full, sexy woman stood right in front of him, exuding a scent of ripeness. No man could keep calm.
The boy started to make his move. I saw my mother frown, her body shifting slightly. She was not used to this closeness. But she did not move. Her face began to turn pink.
I pretended to step back, and in that moment, I saw his hand. His hand was on my mother’s butt, caressing it blatantly through her thin dress. He inhaled her perfume, her hair. Her elastic butt was being kneaded into all sorts of shapes by his hand, then quickly returned to its original state.
Mom turned her head. She and him, their eyes met. He smiled, a flirtatious smile, without a trace of fear. Mom looked at him for about three seconds, then quickly turned away, her face even redder. A tacit permission.
The boy became bold. His hand was no longer just caressing the outside. It slipped inside her skirt, sliding over the smooth pantyhose, gradually moving between her thighs. She gently clamped her legs together, a half-hearted action, as if to refuse, but also as if to tightly clamp down on his misbehaving hand. Her face was red, her eyes were a little hazy.
Excitement raced through my veins. My mother, right in front of me, was being molested by a strange boy. And my lower body, it was starting to heat up.
Mom let out a soft cry, then looked at me, her eyes pleading for help. But it was a false cry. I knew it. I put my index finger to my lips, signaling “Shhh.”
Mom was stunned. She understood. She wanted me to stop her, but I ordered her to endure. This was our game. She didn’t dare move, just stared blankly out the window, like a statue of resignation.
The boy, unaware of our exchange, was still enjoying himself. He lifted Mom’s skirt a little higher, fully exposing her plump ass and purple lace panties. He was panting, his cock already erect in his pants, pushing against Mom’s ass. He bit her earlobe lightly, whispering something. Mom shivered, then looked at me, a look that was both seductive and reproachful, before turning away.
“Slap!” A slap sounded. A red mark appeared on the fair skin. Mom let out a soft “Ah”, a coquettish sound. And then, the boy unzipped his pants. His cock jumped out. Big, long, and curved like a hook. I had read somewhere about this type of penis. It was made to drive women crazy.
He spread her ass cheeks apart and inserted his hard cock between them. The hot head rubbed against her lace panties, right at the entrance to heaven. She moaned softly, instinctively wanting to escape, but his hands were already holding her waist tightly. She looked at me again, her eyes helpless. I raised my index finger to my lips again, then glanced around. The crowd was crowded. She bit her lip, silent. She had surrendered.
It began to thrust. Its cock, only separated from its mother’s pussy by a thin layer of lace, rubbed frantically. With each thrust, the soft flesh of its mother’s thighs was squeezed out and wrapped around it. Mother, her hands gripping the handrail, her body softened in its arms, her ass unconsciously swaying with each beat. Her honey lips, pressed tightly against the hot head of its cock, contracted. Her heart was pounding wildly, her face was red, her breathing was rapid.
Seeing his mother so lustful, he became even more pleased. He began to kiss her neck, her ears. His left hand reached forward, squeezing his mother’s plump breasts. His right hand continued to caress her buttocks. His mother was completely under his control. She moaned, swayed, and bit her red lips. An image of extreme lust.
His right hand was no longer satisfied with just caressing the outside. It slipped into Mom’s panties. Mom’s face paled. Her private area, after being teased for so long, was definitely wet. I could see the pubic hairs peeking out, sticky with her juices.
Mother turned around, intending to say “no”. But when she turned back, her face was a picture of lust. Eyes half-closed, cheeks flushed, lips parted. The boy, instead of listening to her refusal, leaned down and kissed those lips.
Mom trembled. She tried to struggle, but it was useless. Her struggle only made the contact more intense. His tongue was in her mouth, entangling, exploring. My mother, a respectable teacher, was kissing a strange boy on the bus, his hand in her panties, his cock rubbing between her legs.
My cock was hard. Painfully hard. This game, it was working. I looked at Mom, and our eyes met. There was shame, uncertainty, but most of all, a fascination of desire. I nodded, an affirmation. She returned the look with a shy, reproachful look.
The boy was going faster and faster. His cum was soaking Mom’s socks. The bus was almost there. Mom whispered something in his ear. He listened and sped up. Mom knew what he wanted. She arched her back, accepting his penetration.
He suddenly pulled his hand out of his mother’s panties, his hand covered in her pussy juices. He quickly pulled the edge of her panties aside, and inserted his cock. Mother’s face paled. His thick, thick cock, curved upwards, thrusting straight into her wet pussy.
Mom opened her mouth, wanting to scream but couldn’t. Her ass was pressed tightly against his stomach. His cock, as if finding its place, began to thrust frantically. The hook-shaped head continuously rubbed against her G-spot. My mother, a woman who had not been loved for a long time, was being raped by a strange boy right on the bus. And I, her son, was standing there watching.
It thrust more than ten times, then roared. Its semen shot deep into its mother’s womb. Her body convulsed violently. She also climaxed. A hot stream of water gushed out from her body, mixing with its semen. Their bodies stuck together, trembling in orgasm.
It was still not satisfied, thrusting a few more times before pulling out its limp cock. A thick stream of liquid, a mixture of semen and vaginal fluid, flowed out of mother’s pussy, soaking her purple lace panties.
Mom went limp, leaning against him, her beautiful face all the more alluring with excitement. The bus arrived at the stop. He bent down, pulled Mom’s soaked panties off her legs, stuffed them into his pocket, and quickly adjusted her dress. He whispered something, and Mom, in her daze, responded.
We hurriedly got out of the car. “Hurry… hurry, help me cover up a bit,” she whispered, her voice panicked. I walked behind her, “escorting” her. From behind, I could clearly see the clear white liquid flowing down between her legs, wetting a large patch on her pantyhose. An undeniable proof of a hasty and sinful orgy.