What was destined to arrive eventually did so without delay. Liu Ruoxi’s composure returned in the span of a single breath, just as Yang Haoran clicked open the USB drive. It contained only a single folder, which he promptly opened as well.
The screen shifted, displaying row upon row of video thumbnails. The covers featured women in scantily clad poses—some with provocative expressions, others with mysterious objects in their mouths, or draped in semi-transparent white gauze skirts, their hands demurely folded over their lower abdomens in an air of refined elegance.
Yet those sheer white gauze skirts offered no real cover, exposing cherry-like nipples ripe and swollen with arousal, surrounded by a lush thicket of pubic hair…
The titles read:
High Schooler Ravages Busty Tutor
Ramen Shop Heir on Her Knees Swallowing Cock
Busty Housewife’s Shameless Gangbang
Saucy Office Vixen…
Yang Haoran’s mind blanked out in an instant. He stood there frozen, utterly unable to process what he was seeing.
He was stunned—completely and utterly stunned. These images and titles were all too familiar…
He had expected study materials, but nothing like this kind of “study materials.”
“M-M-Mom…” Yang Haoran’s lips quivered as his hand trembled faintly. “Th-this… this is… what?”
Liu Ruoxi was no ordinary woman; her mental fortitude was ironclad. Her face remained calm, her voice perfectly steady as she replied, “Your study materials.”
“Go on, click one.”
Yang Haoran’s brain felt waterlogged, his thoughts a foggy haze. Subconsciously obeying his mother’s command, his finger clicked on a video.
As the screen loaded, it revealed a living room. A voluptuous mature beauty with massive breasts and a plump rear stood clad in a semi-transparent white gauze skirt, her delicate hands folded neatly over her abdomen.
She resembled a product on display for buyers. Several men stood before her, their eyes roving shamelessly over every curve of her body.
The men appraised her like livestock, exchanging comments while the mature beauty flushed with humiliation, answering their questions when prompted.
At the sight of this, Yang Haoran finally snapped out of his daze. What had he just done? He’d opened porn right in front of his own mother?
Had he gotten too bold? Sprouted wings, perhaps?
His face drained of color. Convinced she was about to chew him out over his previous “study materials,” he tumbled from the computer chair with a miserable wail, scrambling on hands and knees to clutch his mother’s long, perfectly proportioned legs. Face crumpling in despair, he pleaded, “My beautiful and merciful Mother, this one’s sinned! I swear I won’t do it again!”
“With your boundless magnanimity, could you please spare this little one just this once?”
Yang Haoran clung to his mother’s legs for dear life, as if only forgiveness would pry him loose.
Yet the silken smoothness of her black stockings under his grasp was intoxicating—the subtle give of the fabric transmitting the creamy softness of her skin beneath, delicate and flawless as the finest jade. For a fleeting moment, he was lost in it, reluctant to release his hold.
This handfeel was incredible!
Sensing her son’s wandering paws groping and kneading without restraint, Liu Ruoxi’s composure finally fractured. She snapped, “Let go. Now.”
“I won’t! Not until you forgive me—I’ll never let go!”
With that, Yang Haoran amped up the pitiful act, rubbing his cheek against his mother’s shapely leg to tug at her heartstrings.
The warmth of his face pressed against the gossamer-thin black stockings, he could feel the cool, yielding softness of her leg beneath. His cheek rubbed gently, reveling in the exquisite silkiness.
His mind buzzed in that instant. Amid the tender sensation against his skin, Yang Haoran realized he’d not only grown bold and sprouted wings—he’d lost his mind entirely.
But that cool, plush resilience, with its delightful bounce, made parting so hard that he groped and squeezed on pure instinct, his brain entirely offline.
“Y-Yang… Hao… Ran…” Liu Ruoxi felt those impudent hands creeping higher, now pawing at her thighs. Her expression turned to ice as she bit out each syllable, her voice laced with chilling menace.
If she didn’t put a stop to this, the brat would truly think he could get away with murder.
Her mother’s terrifying, deliberate enunciation pierced Yang Haoran’s ears. He knew she was genuinely furious. Though his heart rebelled, he finally pried his hands free with deep reluctance.
Those impeccable jade legs hovered tantalizingly close, yet might as well have been a world away.
Her faint, elegant fragrance still lingered in his nostrils—like the aloof bloom of a mountain orchid, soul-refreshingly pure.
No more playfulness now; that would be asking for death.
Head drooping, Yang Haoran knelt before his mother like a chastened child, awaiting her pardon.
Now unshackled, Liu Ruoxi shuddered through several deep breaths, her majestic bosom surging and straining with each heave, on the verge of bursting free.
Those enormous, beautifully contoured peaks ground together in their deep cleft, roiling like ocean waves.
One figure loomed with a fearsome glare; the other knelt in abject defeat.
The air thickened into silence, so taut you could hear a pin drop.
The only sound was the lewd symphony from the nearby screen—the video had plunged into its climax.
After an eternity, an imperial decree reached Yang Haoran’s ears, granting him clemency.
“Get up.”
Her voice rang clear and melodic, like a nightingale’s song, cool but leveling toward neutral.
Yang Haoran rose on tiptoe, his customary grin creeping back. “Mother, you’re not angry anymore?”
“Mm.”
Liu Ruoxi flicked an indifferent glance at her son. “Not angry. Now take off your pants.”
What?
Joy turned to fresh dread before he could even savor it. Fearing a whipping, Yang Haoran wheedled, “Mother, whatever for?”
How on earth did I produce something like this?
Liu Ruoxi shut her eyes in weary defeat, steadying her breath. Not angry. Not angry. He’s my son… the responsibility’s mine.
Eyes opening, she stole a discreet peek at his shorts. Flat as a board between his legs.
She sighed to herself. “I said take them off. No more lip.”
Uncertain of her game, Yang Haoran proceeded meekly, sliding off his shorts.
“Underwear too.”
The command drifted faintly to his ears.
Strip or not?
After a moment’s hesitation, Yang Haoran grumbled under his breath and complied.
A flush of uncharacteristic shyness colored his face. His groin lay bare now, his manhood dangling limply in the open air under his mother’s scrutiny.
Liu Ruoxi’s eyes settled on her son’s penis. It hung soft and flaccid like a sluggish worm, yet measured seven or eight centimeters even in repose.
Erect, it would easily double in length.
She directed Yang Haoran to the computer chair and told him to watch the screen.
Bewildered but compliant, he turned his gaze to the display as ordered.
There sprawled the mature beauty’s lush, creamy body on all fours like a Bitch, her plump ass thrust high. A man clutched those generous cheeks, hammering away with guttural grunts. Sharp “Pa! Pa! Pa!” slaps reverberated through the room.
Her mouth fared no better—a man crouched before her, fisting her hair as his thick, glossy black shaft plunged deep into her throat. He bucked his hips, savagely face-fucking her to his blissed-out delight.
Her pendulous megatits swayed perilously. The third man, lying beneath, suckled one swollen nipple while his massive hand mauled the other—squashing the slick, yielding orb flat before molding it anew. His fingers sank deep into the pale breastflesh, which overflowed rebelliously through the gaps.
Pain and ecstasy warred on the mature beauty’s face amid her flying locks, her lewd cries filling the air.
