Chapter 53
The luxury car glided silently, a cocoon of metal and glass, completely isolated from the noisy world outside. We were entering an oasis of silence, a resort villa where the air was also purified.
Inside, the air was pleasant. The scent of artificial flowers and grass from the scented wax mixed with the gentle coolness of the air conditioner. A carefully crafted peace. Thang’s father sat in the passenger seat, occasionally pointing out like a child who had just been given a gift, his face relaxed in satisfaction. My mother, Ngoc My, and I sat in the back row. No one said a word to each other, but the silence was not peaceful. It was a background music as tense as a string, where each person was playing their part in a pantomime.
Mother was not looking glamorous today. She wore a cream-colored silk housedress, the fabric soft and flowing like a stream of milk. It was not flashy, but it accentuated the beauty of a woman in her prime.
The silk outlined her rounded shoulders, cinched at her slim waist, and then flared out at her strong hips. Her hair was tied up neatly, revealing her long neck and a permanent smile. A smile so perfect it was almost emotionless. On the outside, she was the picture of calm. Her eyes were fixed out the window, but I knew she saw nothing. She was calculating. Her long, slender hands, her fingers flawless, rested gently on her thighs. But I saw her fingertips tapping an invisible rhythm on the silk. She was not relaxing. She was waiting.
The happiest person was probably Dad. Huu Thang’s dad, in a simple white T-shirt and khaki shorts, had the calm, somewhat naive expression of someone who had just woken up from a long sleep. That impact had taken away his memories, but it also seemed to have washed away all his worries, turning Dad into a happy puppet.
As for me, Quang Huy, a seventeen-year-old boy, I was feeling a false happiness. I leaned my head against the glass door, smiling as I watched the scenery pass by. I was observing my mother through the blurry reflection on the glass, and I felt a sick anticipation. In this play, my mother was the director, my father was the puppet, and I was the audience member and the main actor about to take the stage.
“My, look!” Dad suddenly pointed out, his voice innocent. “That bird is so beautiful!”
Mom turned around, smiling brightly. This smile was perfectly performed, reaching all the way to her eyes. “Yes, it is really beautiful.”
A happy family. A vivid and false picture.
I cleared my throat and got into character. “It’s really fresh here, Mom. It would be nice to go for a walk at night.”
Mom turned to look at me, her eyes full of love, but also a reminder. “I guess so,” she replied. “So your dad can breathe fresh air.”
The car stopped. Mom got out, and immediately, her gentle wife role disappeared. Mom became the boss, gently directing the resort staff, every gesture exuding elegance. I carried Mom’s small suitcase behind me. When Mom bent down to arrange a bag, her silk shirt fell down.
And I saw it. The deep valley where two round, white breasts were pressed together. They were so big and perfect, like two peaches whispering a promise.
—
Mom’s bedroom door finally opened. She came out, looking refreshed after her nap. She had changed into a different t-shirt, a gray one, and a pair of soft cotton shorts. She looked healthy and energetic. She stood with her back to me, turning on the faucet to wash her hands, the sound of running water mixed with a soft song.
I had the perfect view. The gray t-shirt highlighted my wasp waist and the shape of a hard-working body. My attention slid down to where the elastic shorts were doing their job perfectly, hugging a round, firm ass.
*Vibration… Vibration… Vibration…*
The ringing of the phone on the marble table rang out, tearing apart the false peace.
Mom stopped humming. She turned off the faucet, dried her hands, and turned back to me, smiling. “It must be a text message from my friends,” she said, her voice suspiciously cheerful.
I shrugged, not taking my eyes off the book. “Probably.”
She walked over to the table, glanced at me again. Seeing that I was still “intently” reading, she gently picked up the phone.
Here it was. My chance.
I closed the book, stood up, and stretched naturally. “I’ll get a glass of water.”
I walked leisurely into the kitchen, passing behind my mother. As I passed her, I “accidentally” glanced down at the glowing phone screen in her hand.
A millisecond. But it was more than enough.
The sender’s name caught my eye first, a name I had saved in her contacts for a long time:
**”Hungry Disk”**
My heart skipped a beat. And right below the name, the preview message appeared in full, uncensored, raw and obscene:
> **”You hide so well. We miss your pussy so much.”**
**BOOM!**
A silent explosion rang out in my head. It was as if a high-voltage current had run down my spine. My vision was blurred. My ears were ringing. And down in my pants, my little brother, after a long day of lethargy, gave a jolt and stood up, hard as a hot iron bar.
**PAIN!** The sudden and intense erection sent a jolt of pain through me. But the pain was quickly replaced by an even more intense wave of pleasure.
**HERE IT IS! THE MEDICINE IS HERE!**
I saw my mother jump. She realized I had seen. She quickly grabbed the phone, pressing the screen to her chest, her hands shaking. She turned to look at me, her face red from her ears to her neck. Her eyes were wide, filled with shame, panic, and something like… resignation.
She stammered: “Huy… I… I see…”
I said nothing. I just looked at her, a deep look. Then I smiled, a soft smile. I walked to the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of water, and then calmly walked out of the kitchen, leaving my mother standing there, stunned, alone with her own nakedness.
I returned to my seat, my heart still pounding in my chest. I no longer felt disappointed. I was on the cusp of euphoria. This feeling… it was even better than watching a JAV movie myself. Because it was the truth. A dirty, sick, and strangely beautiful truth.
—
The atmosphere of the five-star resort began to become stifling. It was like a golden birdcage, beautiful but cramped. Dad, Huu Thang, was completely immersed in the intoxication of happiness and complacency. His presence, even if invisible, was a pressure. Our “contract”, the promise of the first “treatment”, hung in the air like an unpaid debt. The anticipation made my penis throb from time to time, an uncomfortable throbbing pain.
That afternoon, while Dad was in a conference call, Mom walked over to me. She was wearing a sheer, off-white linen strapless maxi dress. The dress looked modest, but Mom wasn’t wearing a bra.
Under the slanting afternoon sunlight, I could clearly see her erect nipples, clearly visible through the thin fabric. The sea breeze blew in from offshore, playfully pressing the dress against her body, revealing the curves of her plump buttocks.
“It’s getting boring in here,” Mom said, her voice light. “Do you want to go for a walk at the nearby fishing village market?”
I understood immediately. This was a disguised order.
The fish market was like a different world. The pungent smell of fresh fish, the salty smell of seawater, the smell of diesel fuel and the sweat of the hard-working fishermen. My mother, in her white dress, stood out in the market like a lotus flower lost in a muddy pond. She attracted all eyes. The fishermen, their skin black from the sun and wind, looked at her with undisguised desire. They stripped her with their eyes.
I walked beside my mother, feeling a sick pride. “That’s my mother,” I wanted to scream. “That woman you’re lusting after is mine.”
Mother seemed to be enjoying it. She walked calmly through the rows of fish, occasionally bending down, her deep cleavage showing in a silent invitation. She glanced at me, a small, sly wink. I understood. She was putting on a show.
“It’s too noisy here,” she suddenly said. “Let’s find a quiet place to sit and rest for a while.”
She pulled me into an alley between two stacks of nets as high as walls. The space was narrow, barely enough for the two of us. She let go of my hand, leaned against a basket boat, and looked straight into my eyes.
“You keep watch.” Her voice was a whisper, but it was an order.
My heart was pounding like a drum. I turned and walked to the end of the alley, my back to Mom. I heard the rustle of fabric. Then I felt Mom’s hand on my shoulder, pushing me gently. “Turn around.”
I turned slowly. Mom wasn’t kneeling. She was squatting, a position that felt instinctive and naked. Her maxi skirt was pulled up to her hips, revealing long, lean thighs and a contrasting black lace panties. She looked up at me, her gaze both maternal and doctorly.
She reached up and pulled down my shorts. My penis, limp and pitiful with hideous scars, was exposed. Mom looked at it without the slightest revulsion. She just frowned slightly, an expression of pity. Then, she bent down.
I held my breath. The first sensation was warmth, softness, and wetness that enveloped me. It was not sexual, but slow, careful, like an “examination”. Her tongue slid lightly along the shaft, then stopped at the scars, as if trying to “read” my injuries. I shivered.
“It… it reacted…” I stuttered.
Mom looked up, a clear liquid running down the corner of her mouth. She smiled. “I knew it.”
Then she leaned down again, faster this time, bolder. She began to suckle, making soft “slurping” sounds. Pleasure and fear mixed together, a cocktail so strong it made my head spin.
In another hidden corner, an old fisherman was mending his net. He felt the need to pee. As he approached the nets, he heard strange noises. Curious, he crept closer and peeked through a crack.
The sight before him stunned him. His mouth fell open, the cigarette from his lips fell to the ground. The beautiful city woman, like a fairy, was squatting, her head bobbing between the legs of her young son. He quickly retreated, hiding himself better, but his small eyes did not leave that sight for a second. They were glowing, a flame of curiosity, disgust, and sick desire.
I couldn’t take it anymore. “Mom… I… I’m going to…”
Mom looked up, she knew. She used one hand to hold the base of my cock, the other to caress my balls, and her mouth increased speed.
“Go ahead, son.”
**”Crack.”**
The sound was small, just the cracking of a dry seashell, but it rang out like a gunshot.
I jumped. The rising pleasure was instantly extinguished. I pushed my mother away and hurriedly pulled up my pants. I only had time to see a thin, dark figure quickly retreat into the darkness.
“Mom… someone…” My voice trailed off.
Mom had already stood up. She calmly pulled her dress back together and fixed her hair. She wasn’t panicking at all. She looked at the disappearing figure, then back at me, straight at my bewildered face.
And then, a slow, mysterious, calculating smile spread across her red lips.
She said nothing, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out of the alley. When we were alone on the deserted street, she leaned close to my ear, whispering but clearly saying each word, without any fear, only a cold excitement:
“The world always has unexpected audiences, my child. What matters is who is the director.”
I didn’t answer. Mother’s words, her smile, and the image of the old fisherman kept swirling in my head. The “therapy” had worked, but it had been tainted. My sacred privacy had been violated. A sickening jealousy and a vague fear began to creep in.