Visitor discovers Chinese mother and her daughter

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Remembering Ling, I peered over my shoulder. She had turned to watch us. But her eyes were closed now, and both bare legs were spread, exposing her panty covered crotch. A hand was inside her underwear and I could see the slight flicker of finger movement underneath. Suddenly I felt my own orgasm coming, I jammed my cock in and out a couple times and then let out a loud groan as I ejaculated, then another, growling, snarling grunt.

Everything got very quiet. I opened my eyes, my head still turned towards Ling. Her eyes were wide open. I glanced down at her crotch. When she saw me staring, she quickly pulled her hand out and turned away. Hua had become strangely still, too. I looked at her with a question on my face. Had I done something wrong? Of course I had. She tried to smile, not a very reassuring smile, nodded towards Ling, and moved to get up. She made a stop in the bathroom, then went over to sit by Ling, her arm around her daughter, consoling her. I sheepishly closed the bedroom door, to give them some privacy. And I needed some time to understand what had just happened.

I don’t know much about Chinese culture, nothing about Chinese family life or what goes on behind the doors of a Chinese home. I had heard all kinds of rumors, but nothing I thought I could believe. I had seen how whole extended families live in tiny homes in rural China. I had never seen more than one bed, and I’m sure the whole family got sex education on a regular basis. But did mothers really sleep with sons to prepare them for college, like I’d read about Japan? And did girls get pregnant at such early ages because a father, uncle, or grandfather had gotten friendly? Did children sleep in the same bed as their parents until age 35, when they moved in to a home of their own? If you got married before you had a home, were your parents there every time you made love? Did parents have certain visitation rights to compensate for housing sons- and daughters-in-laws?

All this was pouring through my brain when Hua came into the bedroom with Ling. I had to quickly do up my belt since they gave no warning, coming in without a knock, a custom I was still not accustomed to when Hua visited me in my own bathroom. Neither of them seemed to care or be concerned that I was undressed. I smiled, why should they care, Hua knows me inside out, and Ling just watched me fuck her mother.

Hua spoke first, giving Ling time to carefully translate. I could tell this was really important, so I cleared my head of everything that had just happened, and listened. It took about an hour, some very tricky translating, carefully confirmed with asking me if I understood and if this was okay with me. By the end, I was just nodding.

“Yes, I understand that it is impolite to stare at Ling when she is masturbating, and, yes, it is okay with me for Ling to watch us make love.”

I didn’t understand why it was impolite for me to watch Ling masturbate but not impolite for her to watch us make love, but I wasn’t going to try to understand right now. I just wanted everybody to calm down and move past this very confusing episode. That’s what I wanted to do, and based on the body language of Hua and Ling, it’s what they wanted, too. We was agreed that ‘okay’ would be our ‘tell’ signal. If Hua or Ling were worried that I was uncomfortable, they would ask, ‘Okay?’ And if I answered, ‘Okay,’ then everything would continue smoothly. Similarly, if I was uncomfortable, or thought Hua or Ling was uncomfortable, I could be the one to ask.

As an aside, looking back, I now know that their discomfort was only because of my discomfort. Nothing I had done had bothered Ling or Hua. It was the look on my face, which showed my confusion and discomfort, and their concern for me, that had disrupted everything.

By the time we were settled, and smiles were back on all faces, it was late. Hua told Ling to get ready for bed. She whined and moaned, until Hua looked over at me. Ling stopped short, bowed, and headed for the bathroom. She didn’t close the door, and I was hard pressed to keep my eyes on Hua. I caught glimpses of an arm, a leg. At the sound of pee in the toilet, I turned. Although I couldn’t see the toilet, Ling was leaning forward, peeking out the door at me, a head over a bundle of hands, knees, ankles and feet. She was smiling, and I wasn’t.

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