After being thoroughly “ravaged” by Anna’s pure white cotton socks, my desire was temporarily satisfied. This mischievous girl’s unpredictable behavior left me more curious about her than ever. Instead of leaving right away, I stayed while she immersed herself in her homework. I wandered around the house, quietly exploring.
The house felt like a typical family home from the 1990s. The living room was cramped, but the bedroom was surprisingly spacious. The furniture and appliances were all there, yet everything carried the distinct marks of that older era.
As I wandered, my eyes fell on a family portrait beside the TV in the living room. In the front row sat two elderly people. The old lady held a seven- or eight-year-old girl in her arms. I could see Anna’s features in the little girl’s eyebrows and eyes. In the back row stood two middle-aged couples and a teenager. The younger couple was likely her parents.
Anna’s mother was strikingly beautiful, sharing at least seven points of resemblance with her daughter. Her father wore gold-rimmed glasses and had a gentle, scholarly appearance, but the similarity between father and daughter was minimal in facial structure and features.
I picked up the photo for a closer look. Anno had mentioned that her father and my dad worked in the same unit, so I thought I might recognize him. After staring for a while, nothing came to mind. Then a memory surfaced: the time I saw my dad and Anno shopping together. Hadn’t my dad said he was going to her house to discuss the college entrance exam with her parents?
But the way Anna had spoken earlier made it sound as if her parents were no longer around. If that was true, then my dad must have lied.
Why would Dad be so secretive? There had to be something strange going on. Was he really her client? The thought hit me hard. If that was the case, my dad and I had both gotten close to the same girl. A strong wave of jealousy surged through my chest.
I was still lost in these thoughts when Anna walked out of her room. She had put on her shoes but was barefoot inside them. She must have cleaned her feet after removing the socks. Stepping on the floor and then slipping them into shoes like that couldn’t have been comfortable.
I quickly set the photo down, pretending nothing was wrong. I forced a dry laugh and asked awkwardly, “Have you finished your homework?”
The little witch ignored me. She opened the door, then turned to look at me, clearly waiting for me to leave. I played dumb. “What do you mean?”
“Are you planning to spend the night here?” she replied.
Truthfully, I didn’t want to leave. Even after she had stepped on me with her little feet in those cotton socks, I still wanted more. But seeing her expression, she had no intention of continuing our game. There was no point in forcing things and making myself look pathetic.
I picked up my schoolbag and walked toward the door. Just before stepping out, I glanced back and asked, “Do you live here alone?”
Anna blinked her large eyes at me but said nothing.
I said goodbye and started to leave, but after two steps, I turned around again. Grinning, I asked, “Didn’t you say last time that you wanted to sleep with me? When is that happening?”
The little witch smiled faintly. “I lied to you. You took it seriously?”
“No, you…” I grew anxious. “Why don’t you keep your word?”
“I never said I would keep my word,” she answered calmly.
I had met someone even thicker-skinned than me. I took two more steps, hesitated, then turned back once more. “Then… then name your price.”
I knew this was unfair to Lily, but an unreasonable urge toward Anna had taken hold of me, like a spell I couldn’t resist.
“The price is too high. You can’t afford it,” Anna said lightly.
“How do you know I can’t afford it? Tell me the amount first.”
“It has nothing to do with money.”
“Then what does it have to do with?”
“Feelings.”
“Feelings?”
“If you want to sleep with me, you have to be my boyfriend,” she said, leaning against the door frame with a smile.
I was stunned for a moment, then laughed. “Are you kidding me? What kind of feelings do we even have? Let’s just talk about money.”
She always spoke without logic, making it impossible to tell which words were true and which were false. Maybe she really did like me and was pursuing me in her own strange way? To be honest, I liked her a little too. She was a cute girl with a doll-like charm—who wouldn’t?
But her unpredictable behavior was genuinely unsettling.
“If you want to sleep with me, you have to be prepared to take responsibility. Otherwise, there’s nothing to discuss,” the little witch said. She looked down at her toes. Though her voice was soft, her tone was firm, as if she weren’t joking.
She leaned against the door with her hands behind her back, tilted her head, and smiled. “Alright, I won’t play with you anymore. But I haven’t figured out the conditions yet. You can owe it for now, until I decide.”
“Let’s talk about money directly. If you don’t make the conditions clear, I’ll feel uneasy.”
Before I could finish, there was a loud bang. She slammed the door shut. I stood there stunned for a moment, then headed home with a wry smile.
For the next half month, the little witch didn’t come to bother me again. Between the heavy study load and daily life, I gradually stopped thinking about her as much.
Mom still teased Dad from time to time, but their relationship had clearly improved. To reassure him, she had even changed her bold, wavy hairstyle back to something more conservative. She still turned heads at work, but in a different way.
Yet I always felt that Dad’s jealousy wasn’t entirely genuine. Even though I knew Mom would never cheat. After so many years together, they understood each other deeply. Perhaps Dad’s anger was simply the frustration of a middle-aged man feeling stuck and helpless.
Men in his unit were often like that. Compared to Mom’s elegance and vitality, many of them seemed lost. At least Dad hadn’t started losing his hair yet. Several of his colleagues the same age were already half-bald.
That night, both Mom and Dad had work social events, and my sister was staying at school. I was home alone.
I ate a quick meal and planned to relax with some games while the house was empty. Just then, I received a text from Mom with a detailed address, asking me to pick her up at 9:30.
Mom’s job often involved heavy drinking at these events. It wasn’t the first time she had called me to help her escape when she felt unwell.
When the time came, I changed clothes and left for the location. The cash register counter was already closed when I arrived. Following Mom’s instructions, I called her. After she answered, she pretended to ask where I was, then told me to come up.
Inside the private room, a young couple was hugging while singing a passionate love song. More than a dozen other people sat around the table, playing dice and drinking beer.
When Mom saw me enter, she stood up quickly. She must have had too much to drink, because she swayed violently and nearly fell. A man beside her reached out to help, but she thanked him and gently pushed him away before waving me over.
I hurried to her side and held her arm. The man stood up with a smile. “Leaving so early?”
“There’s something at home, so we have to go,” Mom replied, her voice slightly slurred. She had clearly drunk quite a lot—that explained why she needed me to rescue her.
The man who had spoken was Mom’s old classmate, that annoying Mr. Lang. Another middle-aged man on the sofa looked familiar too—probably her boss, Mr. Brooks.
After Mom politely said goodbye to everyone, she took my arm and we left. As soon as we stepped outside, she leaned heavily against me, her body swaying as if she were walking on cotton.
“Son… why did you come so late? I…” Mom took a few deep breaths. “If you had come any later, they would have overwhelmed me.”
She was wearing a stylish gray professional suit with a narrow skirt, black velvet stockings, and shiny black pointed stiletto heels. The combination was incredibly sexy. The unique fragrance of her body, mixed with the scent of alcohol, washed over me. Her face was close to mine, and every word she spoke sent a warm breath against my ear. It made my heart itch with forbidden desire.
I lightly slapped my own cheeks to regain control and said as calmly as I could, “Didn’t I come right on time, according to the schedule you gave me?” After a pause, I added, “Mom, you always claim to be unbeatable at these things. How much did you drink? You can barely walk straight.”
“I signed a big contract today. The boss… was treating everyone.” She belched, then retched as if she might vomit.
I quickly said, “No, no—don’t throw up here!”
Mom reached out and playfully patted the back of my head. As I lowered my gaze, I noticed the top two buttons of her blouse had come undone. The neckline gaped open, revealing her full, snow-white breasts squeezed together. The fabric stretched tightly across them, displaying a deep, seductive cleavage.
Because of how she leaned on me, her right breast pressed softly against my arm. Even through the clothes, I could feel the incredible softness and warmth.
I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to control myself. I wanted to look but didn’t dare stare. I quickly helped her out of the Resturant and hailed a taxi.
Once we were outside in the fresh air, the alcohol hit her harder. Inside the car, Mom leaned against me weakly, as if she had melted. She had let down her long, coiled hair, and its fragrant strands wrapped around my neck, sending tingling sensations through my body.
Though I knew it was wrong, I couldn’t stop myself from glancing down. Her beautiful black-stockinged legs beneath the gray narrow skirt looked irresistibly sexy. If she weren’t my mother, I would have been tempted to reach out and touch them.
My mind wandered back to those forbidden stories I had read. In them, a drunk mother would be touched by her son. He would slowly strip her clothes away, one by one, then kneel between her legs, licking her wet pussy until her juices flowed freely, before sliding his hard cock inside her…
Just as these uncontrollable thoughts flooded my mind, Mom suddenly murmured in a dreamy voice, “Son… what should I do with you?”
I jumped, feeling as guilty as if I had been caught misbehaving as a child. I quickly pressed my legs together to hide my growing erection.
“I… what’s wrong with me?” I asked, pretending to sound slightly wronged.
Mom reached up and pinched my nose. “You’re naughty… so disobedient.”
Before I could finish, Mom slapped my face lightly and muttered, “You call that obedient? Talking back!”
I fell silent. There was no point arguing when she was like this.
After we got out of the taxi, I carried her bag on my arm and helped her walk home. Once inside, she didn’t bother changing her shoes. I supported her straight to the bedroom. She was so drunk that she collapsed onto the bed.
Dad still hadn’t come home. I stood by the bed, wiping sweat from my forehead, unsure what to do next.
Mom’s long black hair fanned out across the sheets. Her cheeks were flushed, and her red lips were slightly parted. At some point, more buttons on her blouse and suit jacket had come undone. Her chest was exposed, revealing her slender, snow-white neck. Her full breasts stood round and firm even while she lay flat, rising and falling with each breath. She still wore her pointed black high heels, and her beautiful black-stockinged legs were pressed together beneath the narrow gray skirt, curled slightly inward. The soft curves of her calves and the way the tight stockings hugged her skin were unbearably seductive.
My mouth went dry. I swallowed hard and stared at my drunk mother for a long moment. Remembering that people who drank often got thirsty, I hurried to pour her a glass of warm water and placed it beside the bed.
My eyes kept returning to the black high heels on her feet. My heart raced. I wanted to touch them, but I didn’t dare. When she had been walking, it felt easier to brush against her, but now that she was lying there, I hesitated.
After a long internal struggle, a thought came to me: if she slept with her shoes on, she would dirty the sheets. It was a weak excuse, but it eased my guilt enough.
I leaned over, carefully lifted one of her beautiful feet, and whispered, “Don’t dirty the bed,” as I gently removed the high heel.
I gazed at her cute, rounded foot still wrapped in the stocking, hesitating whether to touch it. Suddenly, Mom sat up and grabbed my ear. The sharp pain made me yelp. My heart sank—I thought she had been pretending to be drunk and had caught me. But then she swayed again, her eyes hazy. She was clearly still very intoxicated.
“What… what do you want to do?” Mom slurred, squinting as she shook her head.
I quickly explained, “I… I was just taking off your shoes. You can’t sleep with them on. Ouch… it hurts!”
Before I could say more, Mom yanked my ear and fell backward onto the bed, pulling me down with her.
We ended up face to face, bodies nearly pressed together. The mix of alcohol and her sweet scent clouded my mind even more.
She kept tugging my ear, her eyes half-closed in a daze, smiling with a blurry expression. “Don’t think I don’t know… what you’re thinking. You… are such a pervert.”
I wasn’t sure if she was truly drunk or pretending, but my ear really hurt. I begged, “Okay, I’m a pervert. I’m a pervert. Please let go… Ouch! Let go!”
Mom twisted harder, her eyes misty, the corners of her mouth curving into a strange smile. “You… stole my… stole my stockings. What did you do with them?”
“I didn’t do anything! I didn’t do anything!”
“You… think your mother… is stupid?” she continued. “What about… those novels… hidden in your phone?”
My heart sank. There were many erotic stories on my phone—many of them mother-son stories. I had forgotten to delete them after reading, and she must have found them.
“You tell me, are you an Oedipus complex? Yes or no do you like it when I wear stockings?”
I was shocked and a little stunned. She really said whatever came to mind when drunk. Questions I thought she would never ask were spilling out.
“I… yeah, a little. But it’s not just your stockings. I like other beautiful women’s stockings too.” Since she probably wouldn’t remember tomorrow, I decided to be honest. I had held it in for so long.
Mom released my ear, slapped my face, and scolded, “I’m your mother! You’re acting like a hooligan toward your own mother. What… what do you want to do?”
“I was just thinking about it. When did I ever act like a hooligan to you? Ah~!”
Before I could finish, another slap landed on my cheek.
“Still talking back!”
“No, I…”
Slap!
“Talking back again.”
I closed my mouth and didn’t dare say another word.