Chapter 10: Lin Xiulan, the Beautiful Mature Woman
Lin Xiulan stands at the kitchen sink, a grease-stained plate in her hands as the faucet gushes over the suds. On the surface, her movements are mechanical, the picture of a dutiful housewife, but her mind is far from the task of dishwashing.
The rush of water drowns out the television's murmur from the living room—and her own breathing, growing heavier by the second. She closes her eyes, and the first image that floods her mind is what will happen when Li Ran returns from the company.
She pictures him bursting through the door, tossing his briefcase in the entryway, shoes barely kicked off, before he grabs her from behind. His hands slip under her apron, seizing her braless breasts, kneading them roughly, fingertips pinching her nipples and tugging them outward.
She'd feign a gasp—"Ranran... your dad's still in the living room"—but her voice would carry that trembling invitation. Then he'd spin her around, pin her against the sink's edge, hike up her house dress, and yank down her panties from behind.
With the fabric still tangled at her knees, he'd thrust right in, his thick, rigid tip parting her already soaked folds, burying himself to the hilt in one go. She'd bite her lower lip to stifle any cry, but her hips would buck back instinctively, meeting her son's savage impacts.
"Mom... you're so hot inside... still holding my cum from this morning?" he'd growl in her ear, voice hoarse like a beast's.
She'd nod, trembling: "Yes... Mom hasn't let a drop spill all day... Mom's womb... has been soaking in your scent the whole time..."
At the thought, Lin Xiulan's fingers tighten unconsciously on the plate's edge, knuckles whitening. The cool water splashes her hand, but it can't douse the intensifying heat pooling in her lower belly.
She squeezes her thighs together on instinct; the insides are already slick, her panties' crotch sticky and uncomfortable.
The fantasy presses on. Li Ran lifts her onto the counter, spreading her legs wide over his shoulders. He dips his head to her breast, tongue swirling around the nipple as he sucks, fingers meanwhile digging into her below, churning last night's and this morning's cum into wet, squelching sounds.
She'd throw her head back, muffled whimpers escaping her throat, fingers threading into his hair and shoving his face down harder.
"Ranran... lick Mom... Mom's pussy... it's all yours... lick it clean... Mom wants you to eat what you shot inside me..."
He'd obey like a starving wolf, burying himself between her thighs, tongue lapping at her labia, scooping up the milky mix of their fluids bit by bit before rising to kiss her, feeding her that salty, musky taste.
She'd swallow greedily, tongues tangling as if sharing the filthiest secret.
Then he'd plunge in again, deeper, harder, each thrust battering her cervix, pinning her to the counter. She'd scream, only for his hand to clamp over her mouth, her broken moans leaking through his fingers.
"Mom... I'm gonna cum again... deep inside you... so when you go back to your room tonight... it'll still be dripping out..."
She'd nod through tears, legs locking tighter: "Cum... cum in Mom... Mom wants your baby... Mom wants to carry your seed every day... let Dad watch Mom's belly swell... knowing it's his son's..."
The fantasy's climax hits like a tidal wave. Lin Xiulan's eyes snap open, the plate nearly slipping from her grip. She fumbles the faucet shut, hands braced on the sink, gasping for air.
Her belly clenches in spasms—she knows she's climaxed, just from the images in her head.
Her panties are soaked through, a warm trickle sliding down her inner thigh. She bites her lip, forces herself upright, but can't resist slipping a hand under her skirt. Her fingertips come away coated in slickness; she holds them to her eyes.
Traces of the morning linger there, blended with fresh arousal—milky white, faintly sweet and musky. She slips her fingers into her mouth, tongue curling around them just like last night with her son's cum, eyes glazing over.
A cough suddenly echoes from the living room—Li Jianguo.
Lin Xiulan startles, yanking her hand free and resuming the dishes as if nothing happened. Her heart pounds like a drum.
She knows her husband is there, knows he might have noticed the water stopping abruptly, might suspect what she's been thinking. But she says nothing, only the faintest smile curving her lips.