Chapter 10: The Beautiful Mature Woman
Lin Xiulan stands before the kitchen sink, clutching a plate smeared with grease stains as the faucet gushes water over the suds.
On the surface, her movements are mechanical, the picture of a dutiful housewife, but her mind has long since wandered far from the dishes.
The rush of water drowns out the murmurs from the TV in 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 wrapping his arms around her from behind.
His hands slip under her apron, seizing her braless breasts in a rough grip, kneading them savagely, 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 her panties down from behind.
With the fabric still tangled at her knees, he'd thrust in, his rigid glans forcing apart 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 every brutal slam.
"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.
Cool water splashes her hand, but it does nothing to quench the rising heat pooling in her lower belly.
She squeezes her thighs together on instinct, the insides already slick, her panties' crotch sticky and uncomfortable.
The fantasy presses on.
Li Ran would hoist her up, perch her on the counter, legs splayed wide over his shoulders.
He'd lean down to engulf one nipple, tongue swirling around it, sucking hard while his fingers delve below, churning last night's and this morning's seed 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 mingled fluids—those pearly globs of their essence—before rising to kiss her, feeding her the salty tang.
She'd swallow greedily, tongues tangling as if sharing the filthiest secret.
Then he'd plunge in again, deeper, fiercer, each thrust battering her cervix, as if nailing her to the counter.
She'd scream, only for his hand to clamp over her mouth, her shattered 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 for 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 climax hits her fantasy like a tidal wave. Lin Xiulan's eyes snap open, the plate nearly slipping from her grasp. She fumbles the faucet shut, braces both hands on the sink, gasping for air.
Her belly clenches in spasms—she knows she's orgasmed, purely 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 musky and sweet.
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 her dishwashing pretense. Her heart hammers like a drum.
She knows her husband is there, knows he might have noticed the water stop, might suspect what she's been thinking. But she says nothing, only lets her lips curve upward ever so slightly.