Chapter 60 The Youngest Mother, Yoon Gaeul
Chapter 60 The Youngest Mother, Yoon Gaeul
The third mother, who had always watched me with wary eyes, was now staring at me intently.
And the youngest mother, who had been the secret object of my longing, was also looking in my direction.
In this situation, was I going to do that with the second mother again?
Of course, it was possible.
Just pull down my pants, take out my cock, and push it into her mouth.
If I didn't hold back, I could probably finish just from the second mother's blowjob—she had improved significantly after being trained by her son in such a short time.
"No, not anymore..."
But I pushed the second mother away and stood up.
The second mother's temptation was all the more enticing because it was risky and immoral, but I wasn't so lost in lust that I couldn't assess the situation.
What had just happened in the shower was unavoidable—she had suddenly walked in—and I had done it to teach her a lesson in my own way. But if I tangled with her again here, it would just be sex.
Plain and simple incest.
Because I was turned on by the face of a woman who, though she was my mother, carried an air of fragility.
Because she had skin so pale it was almost translucent, a waist so thin it looked like it might break, and yet, in contrast, large breasts and hips that made me want to push my cock into her—
"No."
I reached forward and grabbed my cock, giving the second mother a firm warning.
Like scolding a disobedient puppy, I spoke to my mother.
An act that, by the world's standards, would be seen as incomprehensible—an abnormal son's behavior.
"...I understand."
But even more abnormal was the second mother's behavior—still panting like she was in heat, yet obedient to her son's command despite what had just happened.
"Not today."
Seeing the second mother's sullen, dejected expression, I felt a pang of pity and left a sliver of hope.
The second mother's face brightened, and she asked me again eagerly.
"Not today? Then... you'll do it next time, right? Right, my son?"
I looked at her with mixed emotions—her gaze filled with the same depth of affection as when she called me "Your Holiness."
Eventually, I answered by pressing my lips to her forehead.
Then, I grabbed a blanket from the corner of the changing room and spread it on the floor.
After carefully lifting the second mother, I laid her down on it.
The second mother coughed violently—perhaps suffering from the aftermath of overexerting herself to serve my ass earlier.
I brought a fresh blanket and covered her, even wiping the cold sweat from her chest, then turned to leave without a goodbye.
But as I tried to go, the second mother grabbed my ankle.
Her grip was weak—I could have easily shaken her off with a single step forward.
But I couldn't.
I turned back.
I wanted to act cold and resolute, but family wasn't something so easily severed.
Especially not a sickly family member like the second mother.
"For today..."
I knelt beside her, slid my arm under her armpit, and cradled her back with my palm.
Pulling her halfway up, the second mother looked at me with a desperate expression, barely able to suppress her coughs, as if expecting something.
"Endure with this."
I kissed her—just as I had done with the fourth mother.
But, considering her fragile state, the kiss I gave the second mother was delicate and careful.
A kiss so soft it made no sound, my tongue moving as gently as if licking a feather.
But after countless sessions of refining my skills with my mothers, I could satisfy the second mother without being rough.
The tension between her brows, which had been furrowed in pain, eased.
The tightness in her jaw relaxed.
Her left arm, which had been wrapped around my neck, slid limply to the floor.
I laid the second mother, who had fallen asleep mid-kiss, back on the blanket and stood up.
Looking down at her with pity, I wondered—
How did things between us end up like this?
Had the second mother not been consumed by fanaticism, I was confident there would have been no mother and son more affectionate than us.
Back then, we had loved each other deeply—
"I thought you were unconscious..."
But the second mother, who I had assumed had passed out, weakly lifted her eyelids and smiled faintly.
"Just as I thought... it was you. That tender touch... the same one that saved me that day..."
My body stiffened.
I had choked her, spat on her, rammed my monstrous cock into her virgin ass, slapped her breasts, shoved my cock down her throat, spanked her, and done every other depraved thing imaginable.
I had tormented her with vulgar words and actions.
So why was the second mother finding something sacred in me?
"Lee Eunwoo. What are you doing there?"
The third mother's voice called out.
I forced my stiff legs to move, slowly stepping out of the changing room as if nothing had happened.
I ignored the creaking sounds of the second mother masturbating under the blanket.
"Is something wrong?"
The youngest mother, walking toward the dining table, asked with concern in her voice.
I touched my face—my expression was stiff.
I rubbed my lips with my fingers, forcing the tension in my face to ease.
"Where's your sister? I sent you to look for her, so why are you alone? Honestly, can't you even do that much?"
The third mother scolded me, but I was too shocked to feel hurt.
Still, I didn't let my turbulent emotions show and sat naturally at the dining table.
"The second mother wasn't feeling well, so I laid her down with a blanket. She probably won't be able to eat."
"Hmph. She overdid it trying to feed her son since dawn."
Despite her words, the third mother, who was always attentive to her sister, grumbled and glanced at me.
Her gaze felt like it was piercing through me, so I quickly looked down at the food on the table.
Soon, the meal began with the two mothers.
I had no appetite, but I had to eat.
I was starving, and my body desperately needed energy.
After all, how many times had I already cum just tonight?
Fortunately (or unfortunately), my appetite returned quickly after forcing down a few bites, so eating wasn't a problem.
But my mind was still uneasy.
Even though there were eight chairs at the table, the two mothers sat right beside me.
"Is it good? Try this too."
The youngest mother, whose own bowl was still full, placed a piece of fish she had deboned onto my plate.
A woman only two years older than me—acting like a mother doting on her young son.
It didn't fit the societal norm where, in a young couple, the woman was supposed to be in charge.
Especially since the youngest mother was once called the Campus Goddess—it should have been the opposite.
But compared to the third mother's behavior, the youngest mother's doting was nothing.
"Stop eating vegetables and have some meat. If you don't eat it, I'll have to throw it away, so hurry up."
The third mother nagged, ordering me to eat this and that.
Unlike the youngest mother's affection, her attitude wasn't warm—but it still shocked me.
Because in the decade I had known her, this was the first time the third mother, Seo Ara, had ever acted this warmly toward me.
"What are you doing? I told you to eat this."
When I reached for the fish the youngest mother had prepared, the third mother flicked my chopsticks away and pushed my hand aside with her own.
Startled by the unfamiliar skin-ship, I looked at her.
The third mother met my gaze with a "What, you got a problem?" look and pushed my hand again.
My chopsticks moved to the meat she was pointing at.
With trembling eyes, I glanced at her once before obediently picking up the meat.
The third mother smiled.
Not a full grin, but for someone who rarely expressed emotions beyond annoyance, it was shocking.
Was this also my power affecting her?
Lost in thought, I mindlessly brought the meat to my mouth.
"Ugh."
The meat was unbearably salty—and sweet.
The second mother, an excellent cook—what had gone wrong?
"How is it? Good, right? Mom made it."
The third mother spoke with subtle pride.
My face stiffened at the overpowering flavors, but I nodded repeatedly.
Trying to cool my burning mouth, I reached for water—
The youngest mother quickly stood, placed a glass in front of me, and poured water.
"Here."
I glanced at her.
Her devotion was like that of a cultist worshiping the late cult leader—my father.
But the youngest mother's touch held affection, not servitude, so it wasn't unpleasant.
In fact, there was a strange pleasure in having a peerless beauty serving me so devotedly.
"...What's wrong? Eat. All of it."
The third mother ordered as soon as I drank.
I sighed, staring at the dark-colored meat—probably drenched in soy sauce.
"It's good, right?"
The third mother, who had hated me for no reason, had never cooked for me before.
So I had no choice but to agree.
Why is she acting like this?
Anxious, I studied the third mother.
Her behavior was so unfamiliar that I couldn't help but be wary.
Yet, I couldn't suppress the faint hope sprouting in my chest.
After all, even the mother who hated me was still my mother.
"You're leaving, aren't you?"
True to her role as the cult's accountant, the third mother was practical.
No slow explanations, no consideration for her son's feelings—she went straight to the point.
"Huh?"
"No? If not, are you just going to keep touching your mothers' bodies?"