Teachers who visited the homes of children aged 0

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

It's been a while since the rainy season started, with intermittent rain and sunshine. This time of year is the busiest time for us homeroom teachers. The students' entrance exams have just finished, and all the "cleaning up" work—calculating total scores, ranking students, filling out forms—has to be done within a few days. Of course, there are also the dreaded home visits.

This semester, due to SARS, we haven't had any parent-teacher conferences, so we have to report on the students' performance at school by visiting their homes. To be honest, many people think that being a teacher is a good job, but in reality, it's like being someone else's servant: if the students are doing well, it's none of our business; if they're doing poorly, we're responsible. And the media is always publishing negative reports about teachers. The hardship is bearable, but the injustices of this profession are unimaginable to others.

I work in a rural middle school. I'm fairly fair-skinned, which doesn't quite fit into the environment, so I attract attention. The village isn't small, but almost everyone in the village knows me, even if their children aren't my students.

I usually stay in my small room on the second floor of the dormitory. In the summer evenings, I'd smoke a few cigarettes by the window after dinner. Downstairs, there were always some housewives fanning themselves with palm-leaf fans, while the men would be playing mahjong shirtless, sweating profusely. Without their husbands' glares, these women seemed quite unrestrained. Occasionally, one of my students passing by would greet me, eliciting snickers from the women.

The students would be going on summer vacation in a few days, and there were still two or three families left to visit. These were students with poor behavior, from single-parent families or families where the parents were too busy making money to care for them. I didn't know what I could say to their parents.

I looked through their files. Li Xiuqing was the only girl among them, and also the one I worried about the most: boys' bad behavior was usually limited to smoking, fighting, and extorting small amounts of money, but girls' bad behavior was far more insidious and shameless. This girl used to have good grades, but her father was a gambling addict, and her mother couldn't stand it. Her parents divorced at the beginning of the year, which seemed to have a significant impact on her. She went with her mother; I heard her father went south intending to start from scratch, but I think I'm a bit late. Now, Li Xiuqing is the most stylish and the most argumentative person in the class, so I decided to go to her house first.

It was probably about to thunder and rain; the air was terribly stuffy. I rode my old bike to Li Xiuqing's house; the watercolor paintings of flowers and grass on the iron gate of that small courtyard were long gone. I wiped the sweat from my brow and rang the doorbell.

"Who is it?" came a voice from the second floor, probably Li Xiuqing's mother.

"Hello, I'm Li Xiuqing's homeroom teacher."

"Oh, Teacher Xu, right? Wait a moment… I'll be right there…"

"No rush," I replied. Just then, Old Mrs. Sun, who runs a grocery store, walked by and smiled at me; I smiled back, just as politely.

I shuffled from inside to outside in my slippers, and the iron gate opened. A middle-aged woman dressed simply stood before me. Actually, she didn't look old at all; in fact, you could say she was quite young and very attractive. But my reason told me she had an 18-year-old daughter, so she must be close to 40.

"You're Teacher Xu?"

I'd only ever met Li Xiuqing's father before, and frankly, I didn't think he was good enough for this woman. What surprised me even more was that someone in the village didn't recognize me.

"Yes, hello. And you are…" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"I'm Li Xiuqing's mother. I'd heard Teacher Xu was very young, and it's true. Please come in!" She led me into the living room.

"I'm so sorry, I was sleeping and made you wait so long at the door." She poured me a cup of tea, and seeing I was covered in sweat, she ran to the bathroom to get me water to wash my face. Only then did I have a chance to look around the house.

I was surprised by the luxurious decor of this single-parent family home. Even stranger, they had a small courtyard but didn't use it, instead hanging washed clothes to dry in the living room. I glimpsed two menstrual belts and a set of black lingerie hanging together, and couldn't help but chuckle to myself, "So vulgar, yet so elegant." I also saw Li Xiuqing's striped bra; I'd seen it through the inappropriate opening of her sleeveless shirt when she was being angry and acting out…

"Come on, Teacher Xu, wash your face!" The woman came out of the bathroom carrying a basin, squatted down, and placed the basin on the ground. I noticed her round, large buttocks suddenly protruding, even the deep cleft of her buttocks became so obvious. What were originally ordinary peasant women's shorts now looked like sexy thongs to me.

She remained squatting there, taking a towel out of the water and wringing it out. I quickly went over to do it myself, but she generously said, "Teacher Xu, you can just sit down."

But I reluctantly stayed there, peering through the loose neckline of her shirt—such large breasts. People say city girls dress revealingly, but really, it's just underwear. But rural women often don't wear bras in hot weather, so you can see everything if you get the chance. I had that opportunity.

I have no idea about sizes, I only know my hand couldn't completely cover those large, white breasts. With her arm swaying, a deep cleavage was sometimes pressed between her breasts. I wanted to keep staring, but my penis was already hard, so I quickly sat back on the sofa and crossed my legs. I

wiped my face, finally calming down, and realized it was time to get down to business. "Where's Li Xiuqing?" I asked.

"She went out, said she was going swimming at Houhu with classmates. That girl, she knew you'd come, didn't she? So inconsiderate."

"It's okay, it's easier to talk when there are two of you." Damn, I let it slip. I quickly added, "If I said it to her face, she might feel embarrassed. Girls aren't very resilient..."

She was now sitting opposite me, with a strange smile, seemingly unaware of my slip of the tongue. I always felt awkward seeing parents smiling when teachers reported problems, because I simply couldn't understand why they could smile so confidently when they heard their children had made mistakes.

I wanted to avoid direct eye contact with this woman, but looking at any part of her body face-to-face could easily accuse me of being a "pervert." So, I had no choice but to pull out Li Xiuqing's report card and, staring at the little red book, rattle off all of the girl's "outrageous crimes." Meanwhile

, Li Xiuqing's mother sat on the armrest of the sofa I was sitting on and leaned over to look at her daughter's grades. I felt her large breasts pressing against my right shoulder, and her breath brushing against my ear. Although I tried hard to feel the location of her nipple, I didn't dare to move at all. Only after she had counted and understood her daughter's red light (a symbol of her pregnancy) and returned to the opposite stool did I bravely raise my head and meet her gaze fearlessly: "What do you think we should do with this child?"

She seemed lost in thought, or perhaps surprised by my courage, and paused for a moment: "Oh?...Oh, sigh..." She sighed, seemingly disappointed, "The child is grown up, I can't take care of her alone anymore. Let her be, anyway, I don't expect her to support me in the future. Let her be..." She shifted her gaze to the door.

I suddenly felt that my actions were somewhat shameless, and my evaluation of Li Xiuqing was too extreme, although now that I think about it, she really was that bad. It's not easy for a woman to support a family. So I said nothing more and turned to look outside. It really was going to be a thunderstorm; the wind picked up outside, stirring up dust from the yard.

"Wow!" The exhilarating voice that followed the silence really startled me. "I almost forgot, Ms. Xu, have you eaten yet?"

"No." "

Then why don't you just grab something to eat here?"

"No, thank you." I wanted to slap myself for the lie I was about to tell. "I'm having dinner with some colleagues, so please don't bother."

If she had heard that, the story would have ended there. Actually, I found her to be a very beautiful woman; her face and figure didn't show her age at all. How could I bear to leave? I regretted it as soon as I told the lie. Luckily, she insisted on keeping me:

"No trouble at all, it's just a simple meal, it'll be ready in a bit, please wait a moment... please sit down." She said as she walked towards the kitchen.

To cover up my lie, I pretended to be hesitant: "Ah, well... okay." I then pulled out my phone and said in a mock-sounding tone, "Ah... Xiao Zhang... I have something to do... I can't come to eat, I can't get away... Okay, goodbye." Afterwards, I also sneaked into the kitchen.

Although the kitchen equipment was the same as in the city, the layout was problematic; it was probably a converted old-style kitchen. The range hood was in the wrong place and wasn't working well, probably because it hadn't been cleaned in a long time. The whole kitchen reeked of a pungent smell. Watching her move around inside, I couldn't help but feel a little moved: not by her enthusiasm, but by her strength.

Suddenly, the range hood stopped working. I chuckled and said, "Let me help you, two people can cook faster." I went over.

She seemed to be talking to herself: "It's okay, I can do it myself. Do you have something urgent...?"

We both instinctively wanted to examine the range hood. She stood on tiptoe, and I reached for the switch. Our bodies were pressed together: she was in front, her back to me, and I was behind her, close to her. I felt her suddenly stick her butt out, bumping squarely against my already hardening penis. This sudden attack made me instinctively dodge to the side.

She didn't even turn her head, just kept pressing the buttons on the range hood. Like a child, the machine wouldn't behave unless disciplined; after a few random taps, it started spinning again.

Then, she turned to me and said, "Teacher Xu, it's too smoky here, you should go back to the living room." As if afraid I wouldn't listen, she leaned closer and whispered, "Go to the living room!" She then intentionally or unintentionally

touched , and that touch landed squarely on my penis. She laughed, turned back to cooking, and I obediently returned to the living room, a feeling of smug satisfaction rising within me.

The dishes were indeed simple, but she opened a bottle of baijiu (Chinese liquor). Initially, only I drank, but after some words of mutual understanding and encouragement, she also took out a small glass and we drank together. The conversation was mostly trivial, but the only important thing seemed to be: her surname was Chen. Then, she called me Xiao Xu, and I called her Sister Chen. I was very grateful for her self-introduction, which allowed me to stop referring to this woman who had captivated me as "that woman" in the following text. Every time I used this slightly insulting term for Chinese women, I felt a little ashamed.

While my alcohol tolerance wasn't the best among my colleagues, I could easily drink a bottle of 38-proof liquor. She didn't drink much, just kept pouring me more drinks…

And so, dinner ended. I can proudly swear that I had absolutely no intention of getting her drunk and then having sex with her or using alcohol as an excuse to assault her. Then, she served half a watermelon in a bowl as dessert, seemingly living a very structured life.

I sat on the sofa, hunched over, eating the watermelon, juice dripping from my chin into the bowl. I've eaten watermelon like this since I was a child, without a care for appearances. She then sat opposite me, eating properly, and soon juice dripped onto her clothes. She quickly pinched her clothes with three fingers and shook them vigorously, trying to shake off some of the juice before it completely soaked in. But how could I let this opportunity to feast my eyes pass by? I slowly sat up straight, my gaze drifting through her parted neckline.

She had a pair of softly sculpted collarbones, one of the essential features of a sexy beauty. Her snow-white skin was almost dazzling in the dim light; such a complexion is rare in our rural area. A prominent mole on her left breast further accentuated the delicate texture of her skin. Unfortunately, the neckline only allowed me to see her cleavage, which was already incredibly alluring.

She loosened her clothes and patted her hands, trying to brush away the sunflower seeds she had just picked up. This action made me feel the softness of her breasts again: with each pat, her ample breasts jiggled, a sensation I could clearly feel even through her clothes.

Afraid of this happening again, she simply hunched over, eating directly from the bowl, just like me. This way, I only needed to look up to get a full view of her chest. The two large, swaying breasts reminded me of the word "alluring" used to describe women—it was so fitting. I imagined those breasts nursing anyone, imagining the veins faintly visible around the areolas, imagining the thin, light hair growing on them…

"Whoosh!" Just as I was lost in my fantasy, a sound, perhaps not too loud, startled me awake. The wind outside was really strong; my beat-up car had been violently knocked over. I was so startled I choked, spitting out the half-chewed melon and coughing incessantly. When I stopped, I looked at Sister Chen; she was grinning foolishly at me, still in that seductive pose even without a melon in her hand.

I didn't need to think about whether she was sitting like that on purpose; the shame and anger stirred up by her mockery alone was enough to make me decide to sleep with her. I grabbed the half-eaten melon and tackled her, still laughing, to the ground. The bowl with the melon rind was overturned, and the stool she was sitting on tipped over. We rolled twice on the ground, my elbow aching from the concrete, the half-eaten melon crushed under her back. I imagine the fabric of her clothes must have been soaked through and turned pink.

I pressed my lips hard against hers, my tongue greedily plunging into her mouth like an earthworm. I tasted it, the taste of her mouth. A faint hint of alcohol, fresh watermelon juice, bits of melon flesh and seeds that hadn't been swallowed or spat out, mixed with her most genuine saliva, were repeatedly, meticulously collected by my tongue and swallowed unsatisfiedly.

I watched her cheeks bulge from time to time, the result of my tongue thoroughly stirring everything together. I probed so deep, licking her molars, then stretched towards her throat...

She abruptly turned her head, turning her face away, looking at me sideways. A thin strand of saliva, formed by our saliva, slowly thinned, then shortened and fell, leaving a glistening trail on her face.

I stood there, stunned, still holding her, but a wave of panic washed over me. What if she wasn't interested in me? This would be rape... My arms loosened noticeably.

Suddenly, she reached out and hugged me, flipping me over and pinning me beneath her. Then she extended her alluring tongue, licking my face wildly, like a bitch. My forehead, eyes, ears, lips, even my nostrils... my entire face. Like a giant mop, her tongue dragged across my face,

giving me no chance to breathe. Freshly secreted saliva flowed down my face.

This woman's proactive attack sent shivers down my spine; all my previous hesitation vanished. The saliva on my face kept wetting and drying, emitting a fishy stench. This crude smell made me feel even more like a wild beast. My penis was already throbbing painfully. I didn't want any caresses or oral sex; I just wanted to have real sex right away. So, I hurriedly unbuckled my belt, pulled out my penis, and ripped off her big shorts and panties, trying to insert it into her vagina.

Perhaps I was too hasty, because twice it slipped away from her fleshy opening. She didn't laugh; she didn't seem any more patient than me. She reached behind her buttocks, grabbed my penis, and quickly and forcefully stroked it a couple of times before finding her opening and inserting it. She let out a soft hum from her nose: "Mmm..." and moved up and down with satisfaction.

Her vagina wasn't too narrow, and it was very wet and slippery. My penis felt like it was being sucked in and then pulled out. For me, who was eager to reach orgasm and experience that convulsive pleasure, this was too lacking in stimulation. I should take the initiative. Yes. I started swaying my hips, quickly and intensely.

I felt her buttocks slapping against my inner thighs again and again; I heard the "slap, slap" sound of each thrust and each slap; I saw her expression as if she were about to die. My hands gripped her large, wildly swaying breasts tightly, one through her thin clothes, the other slipping inside to touch the fleshy mound directly. Both hands moved in the same way: squeezing her nipples with my index fingers, while the other was used to pinch and twist those huge, soft mounds of flesh, and the view I saw through her neckline flashed through my mind again…

I fucked her even harder.

Dark clouds recklessly invaded the sky above the entire village; the twilight, which should have been bathed in an ambiguous orange hue, was instead a chilling darkness.

Scattered on the ground were bits of half-eaten melon rinds, and I felt my feet constantly bumping into them. Of course, I wouldn't let such things distract me; I remained focused on thrusting into Sister Chen with such force and speed that my buttocks stung from the constant slapping against the concrete floor. I knew Sister Chen's legs were tired too; to make the thrusting smoother, she couldn't truly sit on me, she could only support herself with her legs, half-squatting.

"I'm coming... I'm coming!" I shouted, sprinting with my last bit of strength, "I'm going to cum inside you!" I imagined my semen flowing from Sister Chen's vagina, though in the extremely dim light, I couldn't really see the shape of her vagina clearly.

But Sister Chen jerked off me as if electrocuted, pulling up her pants that had fallen to her knees, spreading her legs, stumbling back to the wall, panting as she looked at me.

For men, the sudden cessation of thrusting just before reaching orgasm and ejaculation is incredibly painful. At that moment, like most men, I could only rely on my own two hands to finish the final blow. Semen spurted out with each thrust, landing on my hands, thighs, and dripping down my legs onto the cold cement floor. My pleasure vanished instantly. I sat up, looking at Sister Chen, uneasy about her sudden, perplexing action, trying to decipher her thoughts.

She leaned against the wall, coldly watching me reach orgasm through masturbation, still breathing heavily. Outside, rumbling thunder echoed, and occasional flashes of lightning made her face appear somewhat grotesque.

I smeared the semen on my fingers onto the lining of my underwear, awkwardly stood up, and pulled up my pants. "It's getting late, I should go… a heavy rain later would be troublesome… why isn't Li Xiuqing back yet? Could something have happened to her…?"

I realized I was being too talkative, glancing at her furtively from time to time. She silently put on her underwear, walked over, turned the basin over, picked up the watermelon rinds from the ground one by one, and threw them into the basin with a "bang, bang" sound. I also wisely kept quiet, bent down to right the overturned stool, and stood aside. She carried the basin into the kitchen, and I heard her dump all the watermelon rinds into the large bucket filled with rotten vegetable leaves; it must have been time for her to leave.

I silently walked out of the house. Two large raindrops slipped through my collar and hit the back of my neck. I shivered violently, looked up, and saw that it was raining. I quickly ran to the broken-down car lying on the ground. By the time I picked it up, the rain was pouring down, kicking up a cloud of dust, which I then pressed down. My vision blurred, and I stumbled back into the house, my back and shoulders soaked through, and my trouser legs covered in what I couldn't tell was mud or rainwater. I shook my shirt, oblivious to Chen Jie's gaze.

"Got wet, huh?" she asked, a half-smile playing on her lips. "Go on, then!" she said, her tone slightly sarcastic.

Unable to decipher her thoughts, I stammered, "It's raining so hard… what happened to Li Xiuqing…?"

"She probably ran off to some classmate's again. It's not like it's the first time she's spent the night out."

"What?" I was startled by her words, especially her nonchalant tone. This mother seemed completely unconcerned about the potential trouble her daughter might face.

"How can a girl just wander around outside like that…?"

"You should worry about yourself." She interrupted me again. I could clearly sense she wasn't as polite to me as when I first arrived, but that was normal after that encounter.

She tiptoed and pulled a towel from the tangled clothesline above her head, tossing it to me with a smile. "Dry yourself off first," she said. The change in her attitude made me feel flattered.

I hesitated, drying my hair, while she plopped down on the sofa, staring at me, and slowly uttered, "Stay here tonight. There's a spare room; you can tidy it up. Anyway, it's raining so hard, and it's so dark. It's not safe for you to go back like this on this muddy road."

I knew that once I settled in, I would never sleep in that "spatial" room that I didn't even know existed. It was such a tempting idea, especially since it was the woman who suggested it. My heart was pounding wildly. As a man, I had no reason to leave, but I hesitated for no apparent reason, my gaze inexplicably drifting to my beat-up car outside, battered by the downpour.

She abruptly stood up, went out of the house, and walked slowly to my car. Letting the rain pelt her, she carried the car inside and put it down. Looking at me, she patted the car seat, as if to say, "The car's here, are you relieved?"

Her soaked hair hung down smoothly, raindrops trickling down her shoulders, chest, and probably back; her face was also covered in water, flowing at varying speeds across her skin, gathering at her chin. She pursed her lips, swallowing the rain. Her light-colored shirt was soaked through, clinging to her body and draping over her large breasts, revealing a distinct fleshy color, like transparent, elusive bubbles in water. Her two large nipples seemed about to burst from her clothes, forming two points on the two mounds of flesh, tinged with a purplish-brown.

I stared at her, then suddenly hugged her tightly. Moved, I almost cried because she insisted I stay…

I hugged Sister Chen, licking the raindrops from her hair and forehead, savoring the slightly salty, sweaty taste. I held her so tightly that her breasts were pressed between our bodies, forming thick, fleshy mounds. Her body heat, seeping through our soaked clothes, flowed into my ribs; the sensation was so clear.

“Are you going to wear these wet clothes?” she asked. “It’s sticky and uncomfortable.” As she spoke, she pushed me away. “Let’s take a shower first. I’ll go get some hot water. You go upstairs to the bathroom; it’ll be ready soon.”

A bath together? This woman had quite a few tricks up her sleeve, and every suggestion she made seemed to capture a man’s heart, making me lose myself and become impatient.

“It’s so hot; we don’t need hot water, cold water is fine!” I was a little impatient, afraid she would escape my sight.

"I can't stand cold water, and besides, I've been caught in the rain. I need hot water to feel comfortable. Stop nagging and go upstairs!" she said, going into the kitchen.

"The bathroom upstairs?" I asked, as I walked up to the second floor.

"It's on the left, upstairs, on the left," she called from the kitchen.

Actually, I didn't go up to the second floor first. Instead, I stood at the corner of the stairs between the two floors, where I could see the kitchen door. I was prepared for her to reappear in my sight.

A little while later, she came out carrying two thermos flasks and walked past me. She seemed not to see me, or perhaps she expected me to be there. She just walked past me quietly. This kind of nonchalant woman is most likely to arouse a man's desire.

I grabbed her from behind, licking her neck and shoulders with my tongue. My hands went up from her waist to her breasts, kneading them vigorously, feeling the elasticity of her large breasts. My hips were pressed against her buttocks, my penis rubbing against her buttocks through my pants. Caresses through clothing are sometimes more stimulating than naked sex.

She chuckled, then called out, "Watch out, watch out, watch out for the water bottle! Let me put it down first!"

To break free, she instinctively bent over, hunching her shoulders and sticking out her buttocks, trying to push me away, her hands outstretched forward to protect the thermos—a rather comical sight. How could a woman possibly escape like that unless she intended to cripple the man

holding that thrusting-back buttocks provided my penis with double the pleasure. If I hadn't let her go myself, who knows how long she would have struggled. Anyway, I had plenty of time; why rush things? Besides, what if the thermos broke and someone got burned? Wouldn't that ruin everything?

She slowly bent down to put down the cumbersome bottle, and I took the opportunity to catch my breath. Unexpectedly, she suddenly sprang up, wrapped her arms around my neck, and pressed her slightly dry lips tightly against mine. Her tongue effortlessly pried open my teeth and penetrated deep into my mouth. Although I was startled by her sudden attack, I quickly regained my composure and fought back with all my might. This was undoubtedly a battle—a real "tongue war."

Our tongues used every possible way to engage in combat: stirring, alternating between clockwise and counterclockwise; rubbing and patting, constantly moving up and down and left and right; and even teasing each other with our tongues both outside our mouths. I didn't particularly like this method because it wasn't intense enough, but at this moment I could clearly see Sister Chen's expression, seeing her carefully watching my tongue and focusing intently on controlling her own, which I greatly admired.

My favorite way is to lure her tongue into my mouth, then suddenly withdraw my weapon and firmly suck her tongue with my lips. The more I suck, the more excited I get, until she frowns and feels pain before I release her, and then I do it again. Sister Chen has fallen for this trick many times. If my tongue is in her mouth, I try to burrow under it, where the taste is sweetest and there's plenty of saliva.

We're like a pair of musicians in perfect harmony, controlling the music's progression, fast or slow, intense or gentle.

How can you let your hands relax during such intense moments? My hands move constantly outside her shirt, from her chest to her hips, and then from her hips back to her chest. Every time I reach between her thighs and rub, she twists her waist in response, probably to experience even greater pleasure. Her hands aren't idle either; through my pants, she's stroking my penis quite forcefully. I feel my foreskin sometimes covering the glans, sometimes being pulled back to the base. Although it hurts a little, it's so stimulating that I actively move my hips in coordination with her hands.

Finally, I slipped my right hand inside her large shorts. Good heavens, her panties were gone! I clearly remembered she was wearing panties; she must have taken them off while getting hot water in the kitchen.

Without the elastic band of her panties, my hand could move more freely. I found her slit, straightened my middle finger, and pressed the entire fingertip against it, slowly but vigorously rubbing from her vulva to her anus. This way, my sensation of Chen Jie's vulva wouldn't just be limited to my fingertips.

Perhaps because we had just done it, her labia minora were still turned outwards, a little slippery, probably from the previous discharge, or perhaps from the current arousal. The feel of her vulva reminded me of the sashimi my classmate treated me to last year—so tender.

She had already pulled off my shirt and unbuckled my belt. It seemed the zipper on my pants was stuck; the buckle wouldn't come off. So, we had to temporarily stop touching each other's tongues, and I removed my hand from her vulva, focusing on unbuckle my pants.

Patience was a waste at a time like this, so I just pulled hard. The zipper broke, but at least my pants were loosened. Seeing this, she immediately pulled down both my underwear and my penis, which sprang out and swayed on her lower abdomen. She took off her pullover jacket, and I helped her pull down her shorts. The stairs were dark, without lights, and I couldn't see anything, nor could she. She picked up the thermos on the floor and pushed me upstairs into the bathroom.

I went in first. "Holy crap!" I muttered, quickly crouching down beside the bathtub.

This very private place had two huge flat-pane windows, and they weren't closed, nor were the curtains drawn, letting in the rain. Through the rain curtain, I could see a lit-up bungalow about ten meters away—that was Grandma Sun's tobacco and sundries shop.

Actually, there were many small buildings around; they were so close that they didn't even need binoculars to see clearly who was bathing or using the toilet.

She came in naked, carrying two thermos flasks. Seeing me like this, she seemed startled and asked nervously, "What's wrong? Why are you squatting here?"

I knew I looked ridiculous, but I was also angry. I loudly accused her, "Why didn't you close the big window?"

She understood what was going on and gave me a rather disdainful look. She put down the thermos flasks, slowly

walked to the window, and even leaned out for a moment before closing it. Turning back to me, she asked mockingly, "Should we close the curtains?"

I felt ashamed of my earlier panic, even more so than her righteous indignation. But I still hoped to close the curtains; after all, having an affair with a student's parent was something I had to keep to myself, and I couldn't let anyone find out.

Even so, I didn't want her to laugh at me again, so I didn't reply, just looked at her. She naturally closed the curtains, because although I hadn't said anything, I was still squatting there—everyone understood.

She came back and snapped the light on, saying, "Get up and help me adjust the water! Still squatting..."

Although we'd already done it once, the light was too dim then, and only now did I truly see Sister Chen's body.

I've said before, her face makes it hard to believe she's the mother of an eighteen-year-old daughter, but judging from her fully mature body, she certainly looks like a mother, though not the forty-year-old type, but a woman in her early thirties.

Her neck is snow-white and delicate, with a few parallel folds, just my type; I hate women with prominent veins on their necks. Her arms are straight, thin but not skinny. Below her perfect collarbone are those perfect breasts that I find so captivating, large, slightly drooping, swaying on both sides. The areolas are smaller than I imagined, light brown, with only the oily granules showing a faint milky white. The nipples are erect, pulling up a small ring of areolas around them...

These are truly naturally large breasts, unlike the ones girls do nowadays, no matter how big, they all stick their breasts up and forward, as if gravity doesn't affect them, stiff and unnatural. Her lower abdomen was slightly protruding; how could one expect a woman who had given birth to maintain a completely youthful figure? Moreover, a truly flat stomach often doesn't showcase feminine beauty.

Below her lower abdomen was a tuft of light pubic hair, a thin layer that couldn't cover the skin behind it. Against her fair skin, these hairs looked like tiny worms wriggling on a large block of cream. While her vulva wasn't fully visible, the slightly dark, full mons pubis and labia majora were incredibly alluring. From the front, Chen's thighs were a bit thick, but considering her plump buttocks, it all seemed so natural.

She bent over and slowly poured a bottle of water into the bathtub, her large breasts hanging there like two ripe eggplants. Then she squatted down and added cold water to the tub, occasionally dipping her hand in to test the temperature, her breasts rubbing against the edge of the tub, changing shape.

She seemed to think it was about time, so she handed me another bottle of water, pointed to the plastic tank for showering, and told me to add half a bottle of hot water. I stood shakily on the edge of the bathtub, held the bottle above my head, and added water to the tank. She stood below, supporting my thighs, guiding me through this rather dangerous task.

Although I was a little flustered, I managed to complete the task successfully without embarrassing myself. Afterwards, I looked at her with satisfaction, but she was only concerned with turning on the tap on the wall to add cold water to the tank, completely ignoring my performance.

"Okay, come on," she said, turning around and smiling, meaning she wanted me to get in the bathtub. I couldn't fathom this woman's mind, so right now I just wanted to get it over with.

"Wait, I need to pee first." I hadn't peed since I came to her house, and now I was getting a little impatient. To get a good time later, I decided to take care of it first.

I flipped open the toilet seat lid, only to find it was broken and fell to the floor with a clatter. Before I could even speak, she interrupted, "Hurry up, I need to pee too."

"Oh..." I stammered, telling myself to concentrate on peeing, but while the outside of the toilet looked clean, the inside was unexpectedly filthy. The flushing system must be broken; it was filled with nearly half yellow water, and the porcelain surface was covered in limescale. Never mind, I'll just pee first.

Because of the stimulation I'd just experienced, my penis was still hard, making it a bit difficult to urinate. I pressed it down hard with my hand, aiming it at the toilet bowl, but the water still sprayed everywhere, inside and out. A thin stream of water pierced through the yellowish water, creating a lot of white foam that wouldn't dissipate for a long time.

Just as I finished shaking my penis, she squeezed in front of me, plopped down on the toilet seat without a lid, and scolded me with a smile, "I told you to hurry up, are you trying to kill me?" As she spoke, her urine shot out, seemingly winding its way through the air, the sound more complex and melodious than a man's urination, like the whistling of a diabolo.

I wanted to laugh, not because of the noise, but because she was in such a hurry, sitting down without even looking, ending up on the urine I'd accidentally spilled on the toilet rim.

It seemed she'd been holding it in for a long time too; after the initial gush, it continued intermittently. I

sat on the edge of the bathtub, watching her white buttocks pressed against the white toilet bowl. The combined stench of their urine, along with the stagnant urine in the toilet, filled the entire bathroom, creating a pungent, foul smell. Coupled with the unusual time and place, and the presence of a naked couple, this created an atmosphere of debauchery.

She bent over, shook her buttocks a few times to shake off the remaining urine, then picked up the toilet lid and closed it properly. I noticed a red ring of marks on her buttocks from sitting on the toilet. My urine, which had been stuck to her buttocks, now flowed down her thighs. She must have felt itchy, because she scratched herself, adding a few more finger marks to her legs.

I pulled her into the bathtub. The water was a little too hot; perhaps she found it more comfortable this way. We sat facing each other, my penis lying on her mons pubis, below which lay her sparse pubic hair, soaking in the water. Her pubic hair floated upwards, gently caressing my penis with the ripples of the water—it felt wonderful. Now that we were so openly facing each other, I could play with her to my heart's content.

I grabbed her nipples, lifted her large breasts out of the water and shook them a couple of times, then suddenly let go, letting them fall naturally, splashing back into the water with a "plop." Every time I did this to her breasts, Sister Chen would just laugh, and when I let go, she would turn her face away and scream "Ah, ah..."

I manipulated the rise and fall of those breasts, suddenly wanting to find something new to spice up.

When I was in junior high, my precocious classmates had already started pairing up. A girl's looks and character weren't the most important things; if you were a girl, being decent-looking was enough, the key was to be well-developed, to have prominent breasts that made people drool.

So, the school's gang leaders were always accompanied by some rather voluptuous girls, making us little guys incredibly envious. Back then, almost all the boys in the school were infatuated with an English teacher, simply because she had a pair of breasts that were the envy of everyone, and even our principal liked to sit next to her during meals.

She wasn't our teacher, which made me a little disappointed. I really wanted to see her pacing around the classroom with her books. Finally, a teachers' jump rope competition gave me a glimpse. The

guy counting for her was none other than that gang leader! I was convinced he'd gotten the job through shady means, since the referees were assigned by student leaders. Most of the boys didn't dare crowd around her; middle schoolers had learned to hide their feelings, otherwise, there would have been a huge sea of faces in front of her.

We stood on the sidelines, stealing glances. Her large breasts bounced up and down in her white sweater with the rhythm of the jump rope, each bounce leaving the barely visible outline of her bra...

"Sister Chen, could you do me a little favor?" I asked.

"That depends on what you want to do first."

"Just jump a few times like this for me to see."

"What? What's so interesting about that? I'm not jumping. I'd rather take a shower first." To dissuade me, she started stroking my penis, which was soaking in the water.

I didn't reject her advances, enjoying her "gun" for me, but I still insisted she jump for me. She was probably annoyed by my fuss, so she shoved my penis away, climbed out of the bathtub, stood there, and impatiently asked, "How do you jump?" like a female soldier about to be tested.

"Just stand up straight and jump," I laughed, "like a zombie."

"Get lost!" She didn't like my analogy, but she did it anyway, jumping once and then standing still.

I begged her to jump a few more times, continuously, and she couldn't resist, so she jumped up and down, the water droplets on her body and hair shaking off with each jump, dripping onto the mosaic floor.

I stared intently at her breasts; they were probably no smaller than that English teacher's, just not as full and rounded as when she wore a bra, a bit loose, so naturally the up-and-down motion was more pronounced.

As she jumped, her breasts seemed reluctant to move, remaining stationary at first before being forcefully pulled up and swung upwards. As she landed, they were at their highest point, the curved boundary between her breasts and ribs, previously hidden by her large breasts, now fully visible to me. Only after she landed did her breasts finally settle, swaying restlessly a couple of times before the second round of the same movement began.

While carefully observing this, I replayed the scene in my mind in slow motion, fully appreciating its beauty, and my penis unconsciously hardened.

She began to understand why I had asked her to jump, looking down at her breasts as she jumped, and laughing at the intense swaying. Tired of jumping and laughing, she climbed back into the bathtub, sat

on top of , and began licking my lips.

Satisfied, I let her tongue into my mouth. This time, I deliberately remained lazy and still. To provoke a response, she frantically licked and prodded my mouth, exploring every inch of it, even the inside of my teeth. Her throat made occasional "gurgling" sounds, and she wiggled her hips, rubbing against my penis.

Perhaps due to the intense activity earlier, perhaps because of her own heightened desire, or perhaps to provoke my response, her breathing was heavy, accompanied by moaning sounds. Her warm breaths sprayed around my nose, and I was really starting to lose control, ready to make my move.

Suddenly, "Pfft!" I felt my penis vibrate, followed by the sound of bubbles rising and a faint, foul odor—she had farted. Perhaps feeling a little embarrassed, she moved her mouth away, looked at me, and we both laughed.

I lightly pinched her nipple, and she reflexively flinched. Taking advantage of the moment, my other hand reached for her buttocks, my middle finger circling her anus twice before shoving it in.

"Ah!" she screamed, startling me. I asked if it hurt, and she shook her head, sweetly calling me crazy. Reassured, I twisted my middle finger inside her rectum, the intestinal walls contracting and relaxing, seemingly a little tense. I pulled

her into my arms, rested my head against the edge of the bathtub, and stroked her face with my other hand. She leaned her head on my shoulder, and suddenly we were like lovers, our eyes filled with tenderness. Of course, my middle finger was still moving inside her anus, but she wasn't so tense anymore.

"You've played with all the students' parents, haven't you?" she said softly.

"No, it's you, you're too attractive," I thought she was joking.

"Stop pretending. I've heard it from others before. They say that Teacher Xu looks quite scholarly, but he's actually a lecher to the core. He's slept with every single mother among his students."

"Nonsense, utter nonsense!" I was a little nervous and a little angry. Honestly, the last time I had sex was three years ago with my girlfriend from university. Since coming here, I haven't even held a woman's hand. "Did Li Xiuqing say that?" I asked.

"How could it be her? She rarely talks about you, but when she does, it's always good things… She really has a good impression of you, saying you're the perfect teacher she's ever imagined. Your romantic escapades are always being talked about in the village. You know, secrets can't stay hidden forever. You did it and you don't want people to talk about it?"

As a teacher, I should have been surprised by Li Xiuqing's assessment of me, a student who was considered a late bloomer. But now I was even more terrified by these baseless rumors. Now I finally understood what those unruly women were laughing about.

As someone who graduated from a reputable university and was assigned to this small village, perhaps I initially felt out of place, perhaps my appearance was more like a playboy from a TV drama than the men in the village, but that couldn't just be fabricated. Luckily, I lived at the school; if I had lived outside, who knows what kind of strange rumors would have spread.

I told Sister Chen the truth and made a promise, but she didn't seem happy. I even thought she was a little disappointed. Afraid of making her angry, I slowly pulled my middle finger out.

After a while, she sat up straight and said, "Okay, lather up the soap, hurry up and wash, the water's getting cold."

Sister Chen gently held the slippery soap in her hands, moving it over my body until it was covered in white foam, releasing an alluring fragrance, like a woman's hair scent, easily relaxing a man and putting him in a state of bliss.

Gradually, she focused on my penis, repeatedly stroking it with both hands, fast and slow, leaving several new soap bubbles on my dark penis with each stroke. Playing with my testicles seemed to be her interest as well; sometimes she held the two small balls in her palms, kneading them with her fingers, sometimes she lifted them with her palms, rocking them from side to side, sometimes she gently patted them from bottom to top, feeling their elasticity. I suspected she was "getting revenge" for her breasts earlier. She still seemed distracted, as if she was really just lathering me. Of

course, I couldn't just sit idly by. I took the soap from her hand and started haphazardly lathering her body. Sister Chen's skin was already well-maintained, and with the addition of a thin layer of foam, it became exceptionally smooth. Especially her back; unlike the so-called "skinny beauties" of today with their prominent shoulder blades and obvious spinal contours, Sister Chen's back was quite voluptuous, reminding me of the women in those famous paintings from the Bible—full but not bloated.

I slipped my hands under her armpits, around her back, starting from her shoulders, and slowly moved them down until my palms

were completely on her plump buttocks. Just like grabbing her breasts, I spread my hands wide and squeezed them hard. Then I moved my hands from her hips to the front, lifting them up to lift up her beloved large breasts.

Her two large breasts were almost touching her chin. The slippery soap bubbles made it impossible for me to hold them for long; they slowly slid down and fell back to their original position, with soapy water still clinging to her nipples. I opened my mouth and cupped her areola, sucking hard on her nipple. The soapy liquid was bitter and astringent, making my throat hard and almost vomiting.

My hand moved to her genitals, gently plucking her sparse pubic hair, twisting it into a small tuft, and then my hand followed her lower abdomen down to her vulva. The hair that had been standing upright now obediently lay down on her mons pubis.

My fingers and palm alternately rubbed her vulva, and her labia minora seemed to cooperate by opening, allowing my fingers to move on the tender flesh inside. Sister Chen closed her eyes, spread her legs, and bent them slightly, twisting her hips back and forth, as if she were intoxicated by it. I was very careful with the sensation of my fingers, secretly searching for her clitoris, but unfortunately it didn't seem to be swollen yet, so I decided to go straight into her vagina.

To add a bit of surprise, I slowly caressed her vulva, completely controlling the rhythm, which gradually relaxed her. Suddenly, I inserted my middle finger into her vagina; compared to the cool skin and soapy water on the outside, it was warm inside. As soon as I inserted it, she immediately released my penis, grabbed my wrist, and stared at me with her eyes open. Her hand was tightening, and I thought she was enjoying it, so I slowly pulled my middle finger out. She slowly released my wrist, and a breath came out of her nostrils.

To be honest, I don't think I went in very deep this time. When I tried to insert my fingers into that warm, fleshy hole again, she arched her back to avoid me, forcefully stopping me with her hands: "Alright, I'll wash myself here. You hurry up and rinse off the soapy water, the water's getting cold." With that, she turned on the water heater above her head, and water gushed down, washing away all the soap

suds from her body, which flowed into the already half-full bathtub. She squatted down, slipped one hand between my legs, and groped in the murky water to pull out the drain plug. The half-full tub of water gurgled and sank, eventually forming a whirlpool that disappeared into the drain, leaving only small bubbles and the shed hair from both of our bodies.

She stepped out of the bathtub, barefoot, pattering on the floor. She grabbed a towel from the rack and tossed it to me, telling me to dry myself. She then placed a basin on the floor, added cold water and the remaining half-bottle of hot water, and squatted over it, using the towel to wash her genitals.

I got out of the bathtub and stood beside her, drying myself as I watched her. She looked up at me with a strange expression.

Her hand moved from between her legs to her genitals, rubbing the towel along her vulva to her anus. I knew the water was hot, stimulating the sensitive nerves in her vulva and anus, causing them to itch and ache. Her buttocks twitched, as if she were flirting with the towel. Each time she scrubbed with a little force, water would trickle down her buttocks, labia, and between her fingers, dripping back into the basin. She would then soak the towel again, letting it absorb water before using it to wash her buttocks.

Observing women doing these everyday secrets often makes me feel like I see through them, that I understand their true privacy. This feeling surpasses the excitement of simple sexual intercourse. I'll be able to see Sister Chen's clean, freshly washed vulva soon, and thinking about it, my penis, which had just been resting, became hard again.

My mind was completely focused on her; no wonder I was drying myself slower and slower, and she was getting impatient: "Are you done? Come out and sit for a bit, then wait for me in the bedroom, hurry!" I

was used to her fluctuating moods, so I tossed the towel into the bathtub and, as she instructed, went into her bedroom.

"The light is on the wall to the right of the entrance," she said from the bathroom. Actually, I had already found the switch. I turned on the light and found it was a room that had been expensively decorated, but sparsely furnished and rather tacky: a large double bed big enough for three people, covered with brightly colored sheets, and a large dressing table next to it piled with a jumble of bottles and jars, probably cosmetics. The wall lamps all had pink bulbs, making the room look like a city hair salon.

I plopped down on the large bed, testing its springiness. It was probably a Simmons mattress, but the springs were worn out, creaking and limp, as if I could sit on it all at once. I lay down on the bed and gently

pulled her hair back. Chen Jie was already breathless from being fucked, and now with her head forced back, she couldn't scream; she could only vent her anger in her throat.

And so, I thrust my penis hard into Chen Jie, the only sound the slapping of flesh.

I ejaculated, inside Chen Jie's vagina.

I grabbed her big buttocks one last time, then pushed her away.

I frantically gathered my clothes scattered at the bottom of the stairs, hurriedly putting them on. My torn zipper was still open. I pushed out the old bicycle that Sister Chen had brought into the house to keep me there, and rushed out of the yard.

It was already dark. The rain was almost stopping, but my vision was blurry as I pedaled furiously on the bicycle. The lingering warmth of the summer night evaporated the moisture from the ground, and soon I was soaked through.

I woke up in my own bed. Sunlight streamed through the glass, casting distorted patterns on the floor. I was still wearing my pants with the broken zipper. I couldn't remember how I got back to my dorm last night, but I was sure it wasn't anything dramatic—like falling unconscious and being rescued. I just couldn't remember anything about the way…

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