Hoshida

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

1. The Last Line of Blood "She's been gone for months," my sister said dejectedly after checking the refrigerator and kitchen. I put down my luggage, opened the windows in all the rooms to let in fresh air, poured myself a glass of water, and silently sat down in the living room. The furniture was still familiar; my father's beloved calligraphy and paintings adorned the walls; the old sofa chair creaked strangely; the worn-out little coffee table, which we often used as a dining table; a few lilies, my mother's favorite, were in a vase in the corner, probably picked and placed there the day she left, now withered. I knew clearly that my will had been carried out, and the destined change was about to arrive. The fresh air flowing in from the windows gradually dispelled the damp, gloomy atmosphere in the house. My sister was still searching frantically for clues. "She didn't even leave a note; she took the clothes." "We're her children; we should know where she went." "I'm an unfilial daughter. I haven't been home for six months since the New Year," my sister sobbed. "We just let her live alone." She suddenly looked up and asked me angrily, "What about you? When was the last time you came home? You didn't even come home for the New Year." I shrugged and turned away. I didn't tell my sister that we had a fierce argument last year, so I joined a basketball team and traveled to different places, taking the opportunity to improve myself.
"Maybe she went on a trip with friends. I can call her school teacher and ask." My sister was reluctant to accept this fact. "She went back to her hometown," I answered affirmatively. When I closed my eyes, I could already see her in her favorite clothes, strolling on her homeland. I was learning to accept this new feeling. My sister took two cans of beer from the refrigerator and sat down next to me. We each drank our beer. She knew I was right. We inherited the same blood. We were also part of this last bloodline. That part of our genetic material gave us the same calling. Last year, I repaired the windmill that draws water by wind and sowed some vegetable seeds in the fields by the mountain. I wasn't sure if those seeds would grow. Over the years, she had tended some orchards and vegetable gardens. A woman like her could probably stay there for several months, after all, it was her hometown. After a simple dinner, we sat on the grass outside. The night made the distant mountain silhouettes even more vivid, and the crescent moon on the mountaintop added a touch of mystery—all stemming from that forest. We gazed at that forest, and after a moment of silence, my sister turned to look at me. "I won't be going with you tomorrow." Perhaps she had already sensed it? Or was it instinct that made her afraid of that forest? "You have your own family to take care of, two children waiting for you." "It's not because of the children; perhaps she wants you to go alone." "Maybe!" In my sister's eyes, perhaps it was all just a game of love and lust. The truth was far more complex than she knew. I had spent seventeen years learning for this moment that was about to happen. A sparrow landed not far away. "It's tomorrow night." A very clear message. "Was that you speaking?" my sister asked beside me. "It was the wind." I waved the sparrow away. After drinking another can of beer, I lay back on the grass. The moonlight was bright. Neighbor children were chasing each other on the dirt road outside, just like we used to be. My sister opened another can of beer, took a big gulp, lay down beside me, and softly sang a song we both knew. ... ...The mountains and valleys are full of cattle and sheep, the sky and the earth are full of moonlight, let us all sing, thank heaven and earth, thank the sun, let us all sing, everyone sing, everyone sing, everyone sing, let us sing, counting the cattle and sheep, the moon is so round and so bright, let us not waste this good time... ...Everyone in my family is born with a good singing voice and a good capacity for alcohol. In the beautiful singing, it seems that all the childhood times have returned to my eyes. We sang one song after another. When my sister got tired of singing, she rested her head on my shoulder. "You are stronger than before." She rubbed her forehead against my shoulder muscles. "I practice baseball for six hours every day." After my military service ended last year, I temporarily joined a professional baseball team. If I hadn't deliberately refused, I would have participated in the Asian Intercontinental Baseball Championship. Sports used to be my profession, just as family is the center of my sister's life. My sister is as beautiful as my mother. Some people say they look like twins, but in fact, they are completely different. They both have deep, large eyes. My mother's eyes are gentle, always carrying a dreamlike brilliance; my sister's eyes are full of wild charm. Oh! Before she got married, how many men were driven mad by those eyes. Their lips are similar in shape, with perfect, bright red curves. My mother's lips were sweet, as if they might utter celestial music at any moment; my sister's lips were often upturned, as if always anticipating something interesting, ready to burst into a series of silvery laughs. And their kisses were always so sweet. Their noses were almost identical. I once sat between them, gently tracing their faces with my fingertips—how wondrous is nature! The same gesture, on my mother's face, conveyed deep affection and devotion; on my sister's cheeks, it was playful mischief. Their exquisite faces and bodies have all left their deep imprints on me. Countless events have occurred between my mother and sister over the years, and now it's time to bring them to a close. "You still don't have a girlfriend?" "I used to, but I'm not used to city girls. What about you? Have you been secretly dating anyone?" My sister chuckled. Her early marriage was always a topic of my teasing. She even married earlier than our mother, getting married right after graduating high school. Now she's 23 and a mother of two, but she still looks like a big kid. "Some feelings can only be understood by those who are married and have families." My sister stood up, and I noticed that she was fuller than last year. Her round, long legs were only covered by white shorts, and the lines of her thong were visible between her thighs. She wore a pink t-shirt, like a strip of cloth tied around her chest and abdomen, revealing most of her lower abdomen and navel. Her chest was loose, supported only by two white bra straps, revealing her armpit hair and most of her breasts. I was glad she hadn't been dressed so provocatively on the way here. She brushed the grass clippings off her clothes, looked down into my eyes, and asked, "I'm going to take a shower, do you want to come with me?" I carefully observed her expression, trying to find any trace of my influence. I was certain it had nothing to do with my abilities; her eyes only held fervent love. "We're all grown up now, that bathroom is too small for us." Although her body was so unforgettable, I still didn't want to involve her in this, at least not for now. I lay alone on the grass, trying to sort out all my thoughts. I am only half mountain dweller, yet I identify more with my maternal lineage than my paternal lineage. Civilized life and education have changed my speech and behavior, but they cannot change my heart. I love my people, even though they no longer live on the mountaintop, and even though their simplicity, passion, love of singing, and love of drinking seem incompatible with life on the plains, they have simply forgotten their superiority. I still love my people. The mountains still occasionally send me a call. I can completely understand my mother's feelings. As a proud "Buda" woman, how difficult it must have been for her to navigate between two tribes. Before high school, she still lived in the tribe, and then, for marriage and for her children, she forced herself to integrate into the plains. Now, her father passed away last year, and her children have left home to work. There is nothing left on the plains for her to cherish. Her suffering should finally end. Until a few days ago, because the phone at home went unanswered for several days, my sister hurriedly notified me to rush home from Taipei together. Now, my mother has returned to our hometown with that outfit, and in our shared past, I must make a choice about the future. Inside the brightly lit house, my sister has already finished showering and is making a phone call in the living room. She now has a beloved husband and children. Time and fate cycle through generations like this, and I don't want to interfere with her destiny. I quietly went into the house, took a shower, and lay down quietly in the small bedroom where I grew up. I heard the sound of doors and windows being locked outside, and lights being turned off one by one. In the darkness, my sister approached and sat on the edge of my bed, her warm hands gently stroking my bare chest and legs. "Your body has changed a lot. Now your legs are covered in hair, and um... some chest hair too." My "taku" has also grown more robust, as fierce as a black bear. "Taku" is a Buda word describing the sacred organ for male procreation. My sister laughed and pinched my crotch hard, then lay on top of me, licking and biting my chest, her hot lips gradually moving up to kiss mine. It was still so sweet; the love hadn't faded with time, just like when we were thirteen, secretly kissing by the mountain stream or in the bushes. We breathed heavily, our lips and tongues intertwining, our bodies pressed tightly together in the throes of passion, until we parted our lips from breathlessness. "You kiss much better than before," my sister said playfully wriggled against me. "Stop playing around! Your husband will divorce you." I knew the limit of my self-control. Four years ago, when my sister got married, I was nearing the end of my studies. So I stopped having sex with her, only occasionally hugging and kissing. Up to that point just now, it was still just casual banter. If it continued, I might have taken her into my dreams. My sister whispered in my ear, her lips nibbling on my earlobe, "I really want to do it today. I've always missed the feeling of making love with you." She stepped back and stood by the bed, quickly unbuttoning the small buttons of her t-shirt, letting it slide to the floor, revealing her large breasts, still perfectly stalactite-shaped. Then, she wiggled her hips and took off her white shorts, the thong surprisingly shimmering white. She turned her body, letting me see the shimmering fabric strip in her buttocks. "Does it look good?" she asked with a smile. Then she ripped off the shimmering fabric strip and stood before my bed, her naked body dazzlingly white in the dim moonlight. "I've been waiting for this day. No more hiding, afraid of being seen by others, unlike before when we were afraid of Mom and Dad checking our rooms. We can make love naked without worry." My sister walked to the window, drew the curtains, and then snapped the light on. "Take off your shorts quickly, let me see your 'taku'." Her voice trembled with excitement, her breasts bouncing with her movements. A voice in my head told me, "Make her your woman too." I shook my head. She was already my woman; we had so many joyful memories from the past ten years. Taking a deep breath, I gathered my chaotic thoughts and decided to indulge myself temporarily. I stood up and took off my only remaining garment, my shorts. My pent-up desires, long suppressed, sprang forth, standing erect. We smiled and gazed at each other naked. After years of growth and development, our bodies were more mature and perfect. "You've changed so much. Sometimes I feel like I don't recognize you at all." "I've become a complete Buda man, but I'm still your brother." My body, sculpted through extensive exercise, was lean and well-proportioned, without an ounce of excess fat. My sister had inherited deep…Deep eyes and snow-white, smooth skin; breasts larger from nurturing a baby; waistline unchanged by childbirth; hips larger emphasizing a slender waist and long legs; strong, long legs perfectly suited for trekking; tightly closed without a gap; pubic hair sparse, like a mother's. A song praises the beauty of mountain women, "Strong as a mountain, beautiful as water." We represent the last vestiges of the Buda people, bearing witness to the superiority of the Buda people in the high mountains. My sister approached me, her hand tracing my bulging muscles, finally resting on my large penis, fading into a sigh of surprise: "This is my 'Taku'." "She murmured to herself, "Oh! It hurt so much back then! Now it's even thicker and longer, has it slept with many women? It must have sown many Buda seeds inside women's bodies." She pressed her cheek against it, speaking softly to it, her fingers rubbing the glans, shaft, and testicles. I roughly pulled her up and laid her down on the bed, slapping her buttocks hard. "You're not like a Buda woman! You talk too much." My sister giggled, lying on the bed in an even more seductive pose, her smile still so wanton and wild. I grasped her large breasts and kneaded them hard. These were once tiny buds I curiously touched, now grown into large breasts capable of flowing with the fountain of life to nurture infants. Life is so miraculous! I tried to suckle, but no milk came out, only some sweet taste. "Does it look like your child? Or am I sucking it wrong?" "Your child is too big! You're the uncle." My sister laughed, cupping her breasts and twisting her body. "I'll let you suck it after I give birth next time." After sucking and licking her breasts for a while, I looked up and spread her legs to examine them carefully. Her labia parted slightly with her legs, and her pubic hair was sparser than before. "You're about to become a white tiger," I complained. The flesh inside her vagina was still the familiar tender pink color, and the slippery walls quickly sucked my fingers tightly. So my fingers wriggled with the sticky liquid, and I probed the vaginal walls lightly and heavily. The vaginal fluid made the vulva glisten, and the area around the labia turned purplish-red. I dipped some of the vaginal fluid in and put it in my mouth to taste it, but I couldn't tell the difference from before. "Do I look ugly? I can't see it myself." My sister asked worriedly, looking at my expression. "Your husband must have sex with you a lot." I didn't answer her, guiding my penis to the entrance of her vagina. "Don't be disgusted with me! I've already had two children." My sister spread her legs, straightening her back to await my entry, her favorite position. My penis slowly entered her warm vagina, which I hadn't touched in over four years. It was still very tight, or perhaps my penis had grown even larger. The tight embrace of her flesh sent waves of blissful pleasure through me. "Why haven't we made love in over four years? We've always been so intimate." I began to thrust, waves of pleasurable sensations washing over me. "Because you always kiss me, touch me, and then run away, hiding far away..."
…
Like a cowardly fawn. My sister's satisfied face wore a seductive smile, her body instinctively responding to my thrusts, craving pleasure. I ignored her complaints, thrusting quickly, her waist meeting mine perfectly each time, just like before. "Brother…
you're so good…
so good…
" The past four years seemed to have vanished; we were still so familiar with each other, perfectly complementing each other to create the peak of pleasure. "Crack!" "Crack!" Like a waterfall eroding the earth, like a black bear crashing into the bushes. I thrust my body powerfully, my penis pounding deep into her flesh again and again, her juices gushing out like a spring bursting open, flowing down my scrotum, soaking the sheets and my thighs. My sister shook her hips wildly in rhythm with my thrusts, one hand kneading her large breasts, letting out animalistic roars: "Oh
... oh...
oh
..." Our bodies were covered in sweat, the strong smell of our bodies and sweat filling the room—the unique scent of the Buda people. Coming from the same bloodline, our body odors were almost identical; only we—and our mother—could distinguish the difference. When my sister was aroused, her sweat carried the pungent, fishy smell of a deer in heat. "Am I better than your husband?" I couldn't help but ask her amidst my vigorous thrusting. "That's...
different
... you're different...
oh...
" My sister's cheeks flushed, her hair disheveled, she trembled beneath me—she had climaxed! Like two strong hunters wrestling, we exerted all our strength to subdue each other, yet our genitals remained pressed tightly together, continuing the same rhythm of intercourse. "Brother...
you're the best...
" she arched her body, her fingers tearing at my chest and arms like the claws of a wild beast, hissing as her body convulsed and writhed like a birch forest battered by a storm. Finally, my sister collapsed weakly onto the bed, her bright eyes wide as she watched my movements. "I'll have a...
child for you, okay? Let's create the fastest...
hunter." "No! You two just take care of your own child." I ejaculated inside my sister a few times, but after realizing my "original self," I stopped doing it. The night before my sister's wedding, she sneaked into my room, onto this very bed. She cried and made the same request, which I rejected with the same words. I'm sure my mother found out that night. She didn't disturb us; she just silently watched her children make love outside the door before quietly leaving. "Does your husband still love you? Does he often have sex with you?" "He loves me…
oh…
just like I love him
… oh…
" "Don't see any other men besides your husband…
I'll be very unhappy." My sister stopped talking, her breathing becoming heavier. She stared at me with wide eyes, her beautiful, clear eyes filled with expectation. "Shoot inside me...
Brother...
" Only after I pulled my penis out, ejaculating my hot semen like a fountain onto her white belly, did she let out a disappointed "Ugh!" After the surging excitement subsided, I stood by the bed, my turbulent desire calmed, and my sacred mission was only beginning. "The love from family is different. I really want to have your child." I bent down and caressed my sister's body, speaking to her in the gentlest tone, "If you truly want to be a Buda woman, I will let you carry my child." I didn't want to tell her at this moment how I would treat her husband and two children if she made a choice; that was unnecessary. The Buda people should accept this decision. "Can I sleep with you? We've never slept together even once since we grew up." "I've only been with two men, there won't be anyone else. Only when I make love with you will I not feel guilty towards my family, because you're my brother." Now, the family she's referring to is probably her husband and children! The seeds of error were sown many years ago. After intense sex and several moments of excitement, my sister seemed very sleepy. She curled up close to me, searching for the most comfortable sleeping position. "The first time you did it with me...
and
every time after that, there was actually a woman you loved more in your heart, right?" My sister asked me sleepily, leaning against my chest. "Yes!" I answered honestly, because I've only been with two women in my life. "Then, I'm relieved." My sister fell into a deep sleep beside me. After confirming she wouldn't wake up, I slowly got up and went to my sister's room. I carefully searched her purse and clothes, and finally found a piece of hair that wasn't hers. It was dark in color and smelled of tobacco. I pried open my finger, squeezed out a drop of blood, and then went to the window and opened it. An owl stood on the windowsill, staring at me with wide eyes, making "gurgle!" "gurgle!" sounds. I nodded to it, tossed the piece of hair, mixed with my blood, outside, and the cool night breeze quickly carried it away into the distance. In the darkness, the owl flapped its wings and flew away with a "whoosh! whoosh!" "Everything will happen as I wish," I murmured to myself, thinking that in three months, my sister might have to come up the mountain to live with us. I kept my promise; I didn't force anyone. I went back to bed. My sister was still fast asleep, leaving me to ponder how to face tomorrow. It all started long ago, that summer…
…---------------- ... In the innocent hearts of most students, she was the absolute first love. Her gentle and elegant face and graceful figure made every heart flutter with her singing and dancing. In the music room, she would sing with abandon, making other classes listen quietly; even walking in the school corridors, she would hum songs and stroll lightly; surrounded by children, she would lead them in singing with unrestrained laughter. After dinner, on the moonlit grass outside our house, she would tell my sister and me ancient legends with dreamy songs. Listening to her own legends was a strange experience, and I silently checked the fragmented memories hidden in my mind. Of course, there were also the lullabies after the bedtime hugs, lullabies I hadn't heard in many years, and I still miss them so much. I was surprised to find that even today, those impressions are still so vividly etched in my mind. My father's faint scent of tobacco, my mother's soft body fragrant with jasmine, my sister and I sitting between them. When the myths were finished, my father would use his strong arms to lift my sister and me to our crib, leaving my mother with us, and a series of beautiful notes would flow from her sweet lips, accompanying us into sweet dreams. It wasn't until my mother took us back to "Xingdaye" that I realized I had half Buda blood. Before that, I hadn't noticed any difference between me and other children. The Buda people are a minority among the mountain tribes, perhaps only a few dozen people! I guess. Since my grandfather's death, I haven't encountered any other Buda people; only that abandoned village proves they truly existed. From my fragmented memories and the legends my mother told, I can no longer deduce where they came from or when they began to exist. I tried searching through "Inka's" memories, but it only gave me a splitting headache. It will take considerable time for me to learn and absorb all the memories and experiences. Until then, I can only silently accumulate strength and piece together the whole truth on my own. The language of the Buda people is completely different from that of other common Taiwanese tribes like the Amis and Atayal, while their lifestyles and beliefs are largely similar, making it difficult to say whose culture influenced whose. The only clear evidence is that the Buda originally lived in the mountains, while most other ethnic groups were forced to migrate to the mountains due to the intrusion of Han Chinese. Therefore, I believe the Buda are the earliest and most primitive mountain tribes, whose lineage, according to legend, comes from the sky god who controls thunder and lightning. More than thirty years ago, my mother's family moved to the plains with other tribes. The reasons why the entire tribe left their ancestral home and then disappeared are now unknown. My mother's explanation is that an elder believed they should move so that the younger generation could receive a modern education. I don't entirely believe it; perhaps it was a wild animal, disease, or the weather
...
Anyway, with the evolution of the times, this rare ethnic group gradually faded away and disappeared into the vast sea of people. My mother chose to finish her teacher's college in this small city on the east coast, successfully became a primary school music teacher, and quickly fell in love with and married the school's academic director and Chinese teacher—my father—officially integrating into the lives of the plains people. That summer, we entered "Xingdaye" for the first time. I was seven years old, and Qingniao led me and my six-year-old sister towards the mountain peak. It was a hot summer day. We set off at 7:30 in the morning. After changing buses and walking, we headed up the mountain. After passing a long stretch of asphalt-paved mountain industrial road, next to a dense acacia forest, we turned onto a mountain path among the pampas grass. "In another hour, we will see 'Xingdaye'." "To encourage us," Bluebird announced loudly in her enthusiastic tone. She pulled the splinter from my calf, applied the cool juice of an unknown wild herb to the red and swollen area, and patted my head, saying, "From now on, you will call me Bluebird." The rugged mountain road had exhausted most of our energy. After an hour's drive and a stretch of mountain road, the initial excitement of seeing the mountains and fields had faded. The crowds and buildings outside the car window were gone, and the lush forests, the chirping of insects, the singing of birds, the blooming flowers, the streams, and the springs no longer felt new to us. There were only the three of us in the mountains. As a young child, I realized the loneliness of being far from people, and there was also a slight sense of unfamiliar fear. The little sister didn't want the bluebird; she started crying and wanted her mother back. The bluebird combed her hair, wiped her face clean, and placed a wreath of red, yellow, and blue wildflowers in her hair. After giving her a kiss, she smiled and said, "You will be the most beautiful little princess of the 'Buda tribe.'" The bluebird kissed the little sister's cheek again, then looked up at us earnestly and declared, "From now until we come down the mountain, you must call me the bluebird." The bluebird sang a familiar children's song and asked us to sing along. So, to the sound of the song, the three of us held hands again and walked into the deep mountains. The winding mountain path had been deserted for a long time. After rounding the peaks, there were no more houses on flat ground. Sometimes we had to step on stones to cross streams. The water was crystal clear, and the fish didn't care that we were crossing. The birds didn't seem to mind our intrusion either. A bright green dove remained perched on a branch, chirping, even as my sister approached. Only when I picked up a stone and threw it at it did it lazily spread its wings and fly away. The bluebird was angry with my behavior. She said, "You shouldn't have disturbed it." She angrily led us to a mountain spring, took out the food we had brought, and gave it to us. After washing her forehead with the spring water, she went to the side and whispered to the mountain spirit, begging for forgiveness. After the ceremony, she turned to us and said, "This is to avoid bad luck. When birds sing, the mountain spirits listen carefully, and you shouldn't disturb them." The spring water was sweet and the food was delicious, so I remained silent. I had heard the legends of the mountain spirits; they govern everything in the forest. The Buda people believe that everything has a "spirit," and I was naturally familiar with all these deities. The bluebird had already explained that they were a Gaoshan people, so they worshipped the mountain spirits; they believed in the wisdom and experience of their ancestors, so they respected their ancestral spirits; all of this was incorporated into many myths and legends and sung in songs. After a short rest, we set off again until we reached a wider stream with a pontoon bridge built by our ancestors. The water wasn't deep, and the pontoon bridge was laid on large rocks at the bottom of the stream. The stream had become shallow pools in several flat areas. Beside the stream stood a strangely shaped wooden windmill, no longer turning. On the opposite bank, some low stone houses surrounded by hedges formed a small village. "Why is nobody here?" the younger sister asked, looking at the empty village with a puzzled expression. "That's because the people who originally lived here forgot how beautiful it was, forgot how happy life was. They thought life on the plains was better, so they all moved there, and nobody lived here anymore." "Because they were too afraid of being reprimanded by their proud ancestors, they usually wear plains clothes, only daring to wear their original attire when they return home." "Is it the one in your backpack?" "That's the one!" "Embroidered with the undulations of mountains, the colors of the sky, patterns of clouds, the fragrance of flowers, and all sorts of sparkling sequins. Especially beautiful girls will adorn it with bells. When the Buda people wear it to sing and dance, even the mountain spirits will rejoice and bless them." "I don't think there's anything good about this place, and I'm a little hungry." I grumbled, rubbing my sore ankles. In the distance, a squirrel was peeking at me. After examining my ankles, the bluebird said, "We should wash ourselves clean now. Before returning to the village, the Buda people wash their bodies and souls in the pool in front, asking their ancestors to allow them to go home." "After we get back to the village, I'll roast some corn for you. I know there's plenty more in the back mountains." She led my sister and me to a shady spot by a stream, under the dense shade of acacia trees. Nearby were two towering cypress trees. She took off our clothes and hung them, along with her own, on the branches. "Now you can play around, but don't get your hair too wet and don't go into the deep water." After setting these rules for us, she took the soap and went into the pool herself. That was the first time I remember seeing the bluebird completely naked. She first splashed water on her face and head, then carefully washed her upper body. My sister and I clamored to grab her breasts, and she knelt down to let us hold them, playing with us in the water. Our laughter echoed through the deserted valley until I slipped on a rock and scraped my elbow. The bluebird dried us off and helped us put on our clothes. She then took out her backpack and changed into her prized short vest and open-front jacket. She abandoned her underwear, smiling at us as she simply wrapped her skirt around her waist. She happily twirled in front of us, striking various poses, making the hanging bells chime melodiously. My sister chased after her, jumping and shouting, "Bluebird! Bluebird!" She now loved the bluebird more than her mother. The bluebird, holding her younger sister, promised us, "When you grow up, I will sew you a garment so you can truly become members of the Buda tribe." Her gaze drifted to the village across the river: "On the summer solstice, all the tribespeople wear their most beautiful clothes to celebrate the harvest. They sing, dance, drink lots of wine, and have plenty of food on the table. They revel all day, even all night. Today is the summer solstice, so we will also cleanse ourselves." The bluebird solemnly announced, "Now we can enter the village." Under the sunlight, the village houses on the other side of the pontoon bridge appeared even more silent. In the shadows of the stone houses, it seemed as if hundreds of ancestral spirits were hiding there, spying on us. For some strange reason, I turned and looked around. A huge, dark shadow caught my eye to my right. The heavy, animalistic breathing from the hazy shadows sent chills down my spine. Its eerie green shimmered like the enormous, menacing eye of a demon in a dream, its black fur resembling that of a man-eating monster from legend. The air reeked of a foul stench. "Did you see that?" "Don't run around, there's nothing there." Whispers carried on the wind, and an inexplicable force compelled me to search. The shadow darted into the bushes, rustling through the leaves. I instinctively followed, quickly ignoring the bluebird's calls. It was a huge black bear, its heavy body running and turning onto a grassy dirt path. At the fork in the road, it paused for a moment, waiting for me, before running off to the left again. When the bear turned to look at me, its eyes seemed to possess a strange magic, conveying a message I couldn't understand. The dirt path led to a steep cliff, to its end. The bear seemed to vanish into thin air. Before me was a small mound, carefully surrounded by white stones, with scattered, weathered animal bones lying in front of it. The soft whispers gradually rose in intensity, finally becoming a deafening roar in my ears. My head throbbed with pain, and my muscles and bones felt as if they had shattered into countless pieces. I seemed to see my own blood splattering on the ground, turning into crimson patterns. A flash of white light pierced through my body. In an instant, a realization dawned on me. I traversed thousands of years of time and space, my spirit soaring into the sky, where I saw myself prostrate before a mound; I saw a bluebird frantically searching for its way through the trees, carrying its younger sister; before the mound, the great spiritual power was returning to my young body through dazzling light. I was about to return to being the "forerunner" of the Buda tribe, the "Inka" most favored by the Holy Spirit. I saw myself, thousands of years ago, leading my people across mountains and rivers to this blessed land designated by the Holy Spirit; I saw the joyful tears in the eyes of my people when I—the "Forerunner," the "Inka" worshipped by all—planted my authoritative staff on the mountain plain; I saw houses built; fields cultivated; and wild beasts tamed by my spiritual power. They called this place "Starfield," created by the "Forerunner." Then I was buried on this hill, and my mourners lined the mountain path, women wailing, men piercing their arms with sharp blades to express their grief. My body transformed into mountains, and my spiritual power, known as the "Mountain Spirit" and "Ancestral Spirit," protected my people. After countless years and thousands of reincarnations, I returned here, the fields desolate, the villages dilapidated. I felt the resentment of being forgotten, the sorrow of my people's extinction. A surge of spiritual energy flowed back into my body, a sharp, piercing pain shooting through my frail frame. "Inka!" My cry echoed through the heavens, birdsong filled the air, beasts trembled, trees shook, and streams sobbed. As the spiritual energy receded, my consciousness returned to my body. In the next instant, I saw a bluebird embracing me, kneeling before my tomb. After countless reincarnations, I have returned. The mountain spirits will remain silent. I need considerable time to learn and comprehend, until the time comes, my abilities...The power will be hidden by the entire mountain forest. I pulled up the trembling bluebird, then led my bewildered sister, my tone calm as if nothing had happened. "Let's go back to 'Xingdaye,' I want to hear that song about it again." ... Xingdaye, bountiful harvest, bountiful harvest, Xingdaye, vast forests, trees full of fruit, fragrant flowers, birds singing, a place I will surely return to after leaving. Mountain spirit, mountain spirit, why do you love this valley? Because the stream water is the sweetest, the stream water is the sweetest, the Buda warrior girls dance and sing for you... That was the first time we entered "Hoshidano" together...
…From that summer onward, when we were alone with our mother, she was no longer our mother; we called her the Bluebird. “My people will return, the mountain paths will be sealed by lightning, the jungles and brambles will conceal their tracks, and outsiders will be unable to enter my territory. Birds and beasts will multiply; flowers and trees will grow; forests will flourish; streams will be sweet; my people will be blessed by the Holy Spirit, and everything will begin after my rebirth, with a woman chosen by destiny…
…
…
”
3. The Sacred Vow
I don’t know exactly when I fell in love with my mother; perhaps it was destined in my fate that I would become a partner with a woman of the Buda tribe. Since my first return to Xingdaye, my mother's gaze towards me held a newfound reverence. She didn't know exactly what had happened, but she was certain that something she didn't understand had occurred. She stopped interfering with my behavior and even began to indulge me. Sometimes she would gaze at me silently for a long time, her eyes conveying a complex mix of emotions, as if trying to discern what I was thinking. Then she would hold me tightly in her arms, reluctant to let go for a long time. Despite my father's strong opposition, we still returned to Xingdaye every year on the summer solstice. Some years, only my mother and I went up the mountain, leaving my sister and father to keep us company. I always spent a considerable amount of time lingering in front of the mausoleum, while my mother and sister would leave me and go into the village. They would plant flowers, play with small animals, or play hide-and-seek among the low stone houses. I let the spiritual energy return to my body little by little, and then spent a whole year learning, digesting, and absorbing it until the next summer. Thousands of years are, after all, a distant and unreachable span of time. In many failed reincarnations, too many vague and chaotic memories are mixed in, some negative emotions, painful pasts, often making me lose my way in disordered time and space. The memories of those lifetimes made me weep and my mind become confused. When I was ten, I became so weak that I couldn't move. My body would alternate between hot and cold. My mother stayed with me, who was still babbling incoherently, and spent the whole night in the stone house. We didn't return to the plains until the next day. My father was very angry, but neither my mother nor I offered any explanation. When I was twelve, I gradually filtered out those failed memories of reincarnation. I came into contact with the great soul of "Inka" from my first life. His soul was pure and expansive, which moved me to tears. I greedily absorbed everything that "Inka" knew and saw, and for the first time, I realized that human perception could reach far and wide. Through the mind of "Inka," I can see things far away that I care about; I can influence human minds and behaviors; I can sense the rhythm of heaven, earth, mountains, and forests, and the messages transmitted between birds, beasts, trees, and insects. I deeply feel the earth's resentment towards modern humanity; forests are being cut down, and streams are being polluted. Even as a child, I could sense the deep compassion and sorrow in "Inka's" heart—the beautiful homeland was completely desolate, and the people were on the verge of extinction. Then I became dizzy. When I awoke, I realized that this spiritual power was too immense; I could not use it endlessly. My body was still young, and perhaps it would take ten or twenty years to return to my "original self." Thousands of years have passed; I do not care about this short wait. I was officially named when I was thirteen. I couldn't call myself "Inka Reborn." Traditionally, Buda children are named by their mothers. I knew this, and I needed a tribal name. I didn't urge my mother; I just waited. That year, we were bathing in a stream. Soft, white bodies suddenly made me hot. My penis swelled up in front of my mother and sister's naked bodies. It was already fifteen centimeters long, and the glans was bright red like a wild mushroom after the rain. I stood in the pool, my penis erect and at a loss. My sister spread her legs and carefully washed her lower body. On her thin back, the protruding vertebrae and the shallow cleft of her buttocks formed a curved semi-circle. My mother splashed water on herself, the spray reflecting a silvery light onto her hair and face. Her breasts swayed beside her pale arms, their red nipples and lips standing out vividly against the green hills and water. Silvery water droplets trickled down her smooth abdomen to her legs, combing her pubic hair into a dripping, inverted triangle. I stared, mesmerized. This sudden change didn't escape my mother's notice. She exclaimed joyfully, "My son has grown into a man! He has a big, hard 'taku'!" She then invited my sister to come and admire it. My mother excitedly grasped my penis, cleaning the smegma that had accumulated on the foreskin over time, while encouraging my sister, "You can touch it." My mother's attitude quickly eased my embarrassment. As her warm hands held me and cleaned me, waves of unprecedented excitement made my whole body tremble, and when my sister joined in the touching with her smooth little hands, my penis swelled even thicker and longer. My mother looked at my penis thoughtfully, "It looks like a deer's antlers," she concluded. "From now on, we'll call you 'Deer Antlers.'" "What should I do with it now? It keeps getting bigger." The gradually intensifying excitement and the unfamiliar reactions in my body frightened me. "It won't hurt you, come on! We can take care of it." Mom laughed and pulled my sister and me to sit on the grass by the water. She let each of us sit on one of her laps, our heads resting on her breasts, so she could hug us with both arms at the same time. She gently swayed and sang songs to us. When she noticed that my penis was still swollen, she laughed and reached out a hand to hold it, moving it up and down in rhythm with the song. After a while, she also allowed my sister to join in. In the clear and beautiful singing, inhaling the warm and fragrant scent of her breasts, I lay drowsily in her arms. I don't know how much time passed before the excitement finally built up to an uncontrollable level. "Ah...
" My cry was cut short as my singing began. My penis, being fondled by two hands, ejaculated for the first time in my life, streams of white, cloudy fluid spraying onto the three of us. My mother's breasts and crotch were splattered with my semen. She smiled and gently pushed me away, a rare blush on her beautiful face. "Now, we need to cleanse ourselves again before we can return to the village." It was as if a long-dormant consciousness had been suddenly awakened. The excitement, the familiar allure of women's bodies, the release of long-suppressed desires—the latent lust within erupted like magma. A part of the "Inka" returned to my soul, and my penis throbbed and swelled in the bluebird's hands. "The antlers still want him, but now, the antlers want the bluebird." The bluebird froze completely for a moment. She looked down at me, seemingly confused between the antlers and her son. My sister had already run to the stream to wash her semen-stained body. The bluebird and I both looked towards the other side of the water, gazing at her slightly protruding breasts and her white, hairless crotch, before simultaneously looking away from each other. I remained nestled against the bluebird, feeling as if I were taller than before. I shifted slightly, firmly meeting her gaze. My cheek was still pressed against the bluebird's breast, my right hand on her leg, feeling the warm, moist breath emanating from her vulva. The bluebird's eyes were filled with terror. She abruptly released her grip on my penis, staring at me as if I were a stranger. She avoided my gaze, turning her eyes to the semen trickling down her smooth abdomen and between her legs. In my heart, I silently conveyed a message of comfort to her: "Don't be afraid. He's your most beloved son. You have a responsibility to satisfy his first time." "No!...
We can't be allowed..."
"...Your sister is too young," Bluebird's protest was weak. I stood up and led Bluebird to another patch of grass behind the rocks. "Now, Bluebird should teach me how to be a man." My voice was unusually calm, my erect penis close to Bluebird's legs, the red flesh visible through the sparse pubic hair. It was the first time I had studied Bluebird's body so intently. Being out of her sister's sight seemed to make Bluebird feel more at ease. She stood in the shadows of the rocks, observing my expression, assessing the seriousness of my gaze. "Don't call me Bluebird anymore, you bad boy! I'm your mother." Her urgent voice was tinged with anger. "You are Bluebird, and the antlers want Bluebird," I said firmly. The Buda people are very open-minded about sex; they don't care about exposing their bodies to each other, and the whole tribe traditionally bathes together in a pool. However, their sense of family is stronger than that of other ethnic groups, and incest has long been taught to be taboo. But I have no other choice; my tribe is about to become extinct, and I must learn and grow up as soon as possible. "I'm a school teacher, do you remember? We shouldn't do this kind of thing." Bluebird sobbed, remembering her other identity. "You are a woman of the Buda tribe." "Don't forget that I am also your mother, and you are only twelve years old." "I am thirteen years old, about to become a man, and you told us you are Bluebird." "I am now Antlers, and Antlers want Bluebird." I still resolutely repeated the same words. Bluebird sighed and looked down at my penis. A hint of confusion and excitement flickered in her eyes as she tried to squeeze her legs together to avoid my lewd gaze. I didn't urge her, but patiently waited for her decision. No one—not even the great "Inka"—could defy fate. When Bluebird finally made up her mind, she moved closer, cradling my head between her breasts. Before I was even taller than her shoulder, she crouched slightly, gripping my penis tightly, and tentatively inserted the glans into her vagina. She twisted her hips, allowing the glans to fully enter, and breathed softly in my ear. "Now, you naughty boy, move!" She still refused to call me by my tribal name, "Antler." Warm, moist flesh tightly enveloped my glans. Ignoring my protests, I thrust my hips, allowing my entire penis to slide smoothly deep into her vagina. A tingling, pleasurable sensation, like an electric current, quickly coursed through my body. "Mmm!" "Oh!" Bluebird cried out at the same time as me. "Now you should keep moving, like this...
"
Bluebird used her hips to guide my penis in and out. I quickly learned how to move, my penis thrusting up and down rapidly. At the same time, driven by instinct, I randomly kissed and licked her breasts, or simply sucked on them to avoid her large breasts slapping my cheeks. This action excited the bluebird. She hugged my buttocks tightly, increasing the force of her penetration, and making intermittent moans. "Mmm...
" "Mmm
..." I imagined that these excited moans were caused by me, which made me even more aroused, and my penis moved more violently. My hands, which had initially only held the bluebird's back, moved to her breasts and buttocks, kneading them. "Don't be too rough...
mmm...
you can touch Mommy here...
" Oh! How much I love this soft touch! Why didn't I realize it before? My penis, my mouth, my hands, my body, could be so sensitive. This wonderful body that gives me such pleasure, it used to be by my side every day, letting me hug and kiss it. Why didn't I understand this feeling before! "That's it, child...
just
like this." Bluebird pressed my head down, her tone excited. All this new experience came so suddenly, the chaotic sensations made me feel like my body was about to explode. I violently thrust my lower body, using all my strength to complete this simple act of insertion and withdrawal. "Slap!" "Slap!" My abdominal muscles slammed against her. "Ah!" Responding to the impact of my penis, Bluebird forcefully pulled my hair, pressing my head between her huge breasts. I couldn't see Bluebird's face from my height. I couldn't speak, I couldn't even breathe. I could only increase the force of my penis while biting her breasts until her nipples were covered with teeth marks and bloodstains before she released her arms. "Huff!" "Huff!" I gasped for breath. The only response to my gasps was the violent pounding of Bluebird's heart. I pressed close to her sweaty chest. "Puh!" "Puh!" came the sound of my own heartbeat, and I began to thrust rapidly in rhythm. "Slow down...
you
bad boy, you'll make us...
both
fall!" Bluebird's warning came too late. Our connected bodies tumbled onto the grass as I violently pushed against each other. "I told you to go slower!" Bluebird snapped angrily. She quickly pushed aside the painful rocks behind her, lay on her back on the grass, and spread her legs wide open. When she saw me staring blankly at her bright red vulva, she yelled, "Put that thing in here!" That was the first time I had seen Bluebird's vulva up close. Sparse pubic hair grew between her legs, and the two labia were very thin. Inside the bright red, wet opening was the homeland that had given birth to me! Bluebird couldn't wait any longer. She lifted herself up and pulled me closer. After my penis entered her, she let out a satisfied sigh and said, "Now, if you're a good man, you should kiss me." My lower body instinctively moved, clumsily approaching her lips. Her lips were still so soft and fragrant, her sweaty body emitting a peculiar, fishy smell, just like my own. Bluebird cupped my face and kissed me, whispering, "Open your mouth." After sucking on my lips, she whispered again between my lips, "Open your mouth." Her tongue quickly entered my mouth, swirling and swallowing my saliva, while simultaneously enticing my tongue into her mouth to intertwine with hers. I quickly got used to and loved this game. I never imagined that the kiss before bed every day could become so sweet after adding a few variations. It was the intense physical pleasure emanating from the penis beneath me, combined with a deep spiritual connection; this simultaneous, intimate kiss represented absolute love. "The Bluebird loves me, and I love the Bluebird too," I silently cried out in my heart. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through me. I quickly withdrew my injured tongue. The Bluebird cupped my face and bit my lip hard again. I angrily pushed her hands away and slammed her head against the grass. Like a mad cat, the Bluebird jerked her head back and scratched at my face. I stopped my movements, struggling to restrain her hands; her claw marks were visible on my shoulders and chest. Qingniao's face was flushed, her eyes filled with an indistinguishable mix of lust and anger. She spat forcefully on my face: "Pah! You naughty child of your godmother." After a struggle, she seemed exhausted, and suddenly lay back lazily, relaxing her body. Her beautiful face twisted into a lewd smile as she said, "What are you looking at now that we've already done it? Haven't you ever seen your mother before? Hurry up and do it." At that time, I was young and only felt humiliated, and my masculinity and dignity were hurt. I couldn't understand the struggles and shifts in her emotions. I licked the blood from the corner of my mouth, letting saliva drip from between my brows, and thrust my penis forcefully, cursing, "You slut, I'm going to fuck Bluebird, I'm going to fuck Bluebird to death." My penis, disproportionately large for my age, moved rapidly in and out of her vagina, her juices flowing freely with it. At that moment, I felt like a fully mature man, possessing the power to control everything. "Mmm...
mmm
..." Bluebird hummed softly beneath me, letting her body respond to me on its own. Her beautiful face constantly shifted in expression; sometimes she turned her face away, suppressing her pleasure, unwilling to look me in the eye; sometimes her eyes were vacant, as if gazing into the distance, a foolish smile on her lips, her face completely immersed in carnal pleasure; most of the time, she simply stared at me, her mouth slightly open, panting. Looking at the bloodstains and teeth marks on Bluebird's chest, I felt a pang of guilt. My impulsiveness and anger had subsided, and I tentatively asked, "Bluebird, did I do the right thing? Do you feel comfortable?" As if suddenly awakened from a daze, she said sternly, "Don't call me Bluebird anymore. I'm your mother." She then switched to a gentle tone, "Son...
remember
that I'm your mother." She seemed to become excited again, supporting herself with both hands, half-lifting her upper body, and her buttocks more actively welcoming me. Gradually, her breathing became more rapid: "Come here, suckle Mommy's milk, yes, just like that...
You
're a good boy." "Mmm...
Oh
...
You
're a good son who knows how to do it to Mommy...
Oh
...
"
"Just like that, Mommy...
"
"It feels so good." The bluebird trembled, her body arched like a fully drawn bow, then gradually lowered herself, lying back on the grass, her eyes fixed on me with love and sorrow. Our body odor was stronger, and some insects gathered around us, some crawling onto our bodies. I suddenly couldn't look the bluebird in the eye. After brushing away a small insect that had boldly crawled onto her hair, I bent down and licked the blood from the wounds on her breasts. "Good boy...
you made Mommy come...
" Bluebird pulled up my head, which was buried between her breasts, cupped my face, and curiously looked into my eyes: "Aren't you afraid to look at Mommy?" She smiled charmingly: "Why haven't you ejaculated yet? You child...
ejaculate
inside Mommy's body...
hurry
up!" For a moment, I forgot that I was a deer, and the memory of Imka was ripped from my mind. I was just a child in my mother's arms. I awkwardly avoided her eyes and said shyly, "I don't know why." "You're pressing on me so hard, get up...
let
Mommy help you get it out." Bluebird flipped me over, straddled me, and carefully inserted her penis into my body. "This naughty thing is still so big, it really likes Mommy, huh?" Bluebird said with a smile, her breasts bouncing rhythmically as she moved up and down. Then she noticed the blood still trickling from the corner of my mouth: "Oh! It must have hurt a lot just now." She reached out and gently touched my lips, tears welling in her eyes: "Mommy's sorry...
Mommy
's sorry." She bent down: "Come on! Let Mommy kiss you again...
I
won't bite you again...
I
'm sorry for what happened earlier, I'll be gentle...
" She stuck out her tongue and lightly touched mine, licking my wound: "So much blood...
It
's all Mommy's fault." She gently licked my lips and teeth, her tongue flowing like a stream gently across a bend in the river. A passion hotter than flames was ignited, and I thrust my penis wildly, pumping in and out with a "plop!" "plop!" sound. "That's it, oh...
you
have to help too, right, oh...
hurry
up and cum." We held each other tightly, our faces, smeared with grass, dirt, blood, saliva, and tears, pressed close together, foreheads touching, gently kissing each other. At that moment, the sunlight moved across the rock face and the shade of the trees, shining on us, brightening everything, golden rays bathing our bodies. A tearing, throbbing sensation surged through my body, my glans feeling as if it were about to melt into her wet, swollen vulva. Boundless pleasure erupted, and countless strange visions appeared before my eyes, surrounded by vibrant, multicolored light and shadow. Everything became blurry. I looked up at the shimmering golden sun above my mother's head, and the flowing white clouds. As if my violently convulsing body didn't belong to me, in the next instant, I returned to my trembling, groaning, fragile form. "Mom!" So familiar, so many names I'd never called before flowed from my lips. Yes! She was my mother. How could I forget that sweet voice, that gentle embrace? The thought of making love with my mother filled me with uncontrollable excitement. Oh! My beautiful mother, my penis returning to her body represents my love. Her vaginal opening is like a flower, drawing me in to inhale its fragrance. I offer my now-hard penis, entering her womb, the pleasure intensifying…
“Oh…
Mother…
I
…
”
“Are you going to cum? Oh…
that
’s good! Son…
come
quickly.” “Ah…
”
"I, the thirteen-year-old son, ejaculated for the first time inside my thirty-six-year-old beautiful mother. Like a gushing spring, it surged into the deepest part of the cavern, and together we cried out the most exciting and soaring notes, leaving an echo in the mountains and forests for our first and countless future pleasures. "That was good! Son, you finally came, you exhausted your mother." My mother gently stroked my cheek, slowly raising her body. The sunlight dyed her hair golden, and her rosy face, crystal-clear eyes, snow-white breasts, and perfectly healthy naked body looked like a fairy from heaven to me as I lay on my back." "Looks like we need to clean up properly; we're as dirty as a pair of mutts." Mother brushed the grass clippings off her body and swatted away a beetle crawling among her pubic hair, sucking at her vaginal fluids and semen. "I will always love you; I want you to be my woman forever." I lay on the grass, sincerely expressing my innermost desire. This was the vow Inka made, a sacred oath, one that would never be forgotten as long as the forest existed, and no one could break such a sacred vow. "Oh dear! That's not bad, ha! You naughty boy, you'll charm many women in the future." Mother straddled me absentmindedly, combing her disheveled hair. At the other end of the bushes, a figure in floral print flashed by; my sister quickly ran into the distance. "Damn it!" Mom's face darkened, her voice low and heavy. "This is a huge problem! We need to figure out how to explain this." "I love your father, you know that?" She stood up, semen dripping from her vulva onto her thighs. Her voice sounded like she was about to cry: "You can't do this again." She ran quickly to where the clothes were hanging, turning back halfway and shouting at me, "You can't do this to your sister either." She was already in tears: "Not even thinking about it." On the way home down the mountain, Bluebird seemed to have regained her good mood. She led us in singing and allowed me to call her Bluebird again. She reached out and touched my injured lip, then pulled up my collar to examine the wounds on my chest and back, laughing and saying, "Looks like you're badly injured, like you were scratched by a lynx. You should think of a good reason." My sister kept avoiding me, hiding on the other side of our mother's body. The Bluebird took my sister's hand and placed it in mine: "She's just a little angry. Let's sing the harvest song one more time; we'll be out of the mountains soon." So we happily returned to the plains. Many things remain so vivid in my memory today, and each time I recall that day, I gain a deeper understanding and appreciation of the Bluebird's feelings at the time. Since that day, even on the plains, in front of others, I still call her Bluebird. ---4. I woke up early, my naked sister still curled up asleep beside me. I got up and left the room. When I returned after washing up, she was already awake. "Do you want to do it again?" she asked, stretching her alluring body, traces of our lovemaking still visible between her legs. "Why do I have this strange feeling, like I'll never see you again?" I laughed. What's meant to happen will happen, and some future changes await. The most unpredictable thing in life is your own tomorrow. "I like the way you smile now, you know? There were years when you were very depressed, and Mom and I worried about you." Yes! I was indeed very depressed those years; I could go for days without speaking to anyone. I had to hide my abilities, never letting anyone discover how different I was. The heavy experiences and memories were like a huge burden, suffocating me. I had to hide my love for the bluebird, saving it for the summer solstice each year, so that I could indulge in pleasure with her. In ordinary days, I was just an ordinary-looking, quiet child. My sister got up and dressed with her back to me. She put away her thong and put on another pair of white panties, the same style as the one I tore when I took her virginity. That was the summer when I was fifteen, a whole month before the summer solstice. The inexplicable heat in my heart had already accumulated to the point of being uncontrollable. I ran dozens of laps around the campus; I roared in the open fields; I locked myself in my room and pounded the walls with my fists until my hands were raw and bleeding—none of these could quell the burning desire in my heart. The bloodstains on Qingniao's chest from our first time making love flashed through my mind again. I thirstily licked the blood from my lips and the back of my hands, fantasizing about suckling Qingniao's breasts again. "Virgin's blood!" I don't know if it was Inka's voice or my own. For the past few months, Inka's and my own consciousness seemed to have merged. I frantically stripped off my clothes and ran naked out of the room. My father wasn't home. I met Qingniao in the hallway. She grabbed my arm in alarm. I was almost as tall as her now, and her high breasts pressed against my chest through her thin summer shirt. I roughly pushed her away: "Get away! I want to find my sister." Bluebird stared at me, and when she finally understood my intentions, she broke down. She pleaded in a tearful voice, "No! Mommy can give it to you." I dragged her to crawl on the ground, but she still wouldn't let go: "Mommy will do it with you, do you remember how happy you were then? Let Mommy do it...
Why
do you want to find your sister?" I stopped and looked down at Bluebird, who was pleading on the floor, and said word by word, "Because you're not a virgin." Bluebird was shocked and let go of the arms that were holding my legs, and collapsed to the ground, crying weakly. I ignored Bluebird, pushed open my sister's bedroom door and went in. There was no air conditioning in the house, and my sister was taking a nap wearing a short-sleeved shirt and white panties. My sister woke up, her short, shoulder-length hair disheveled with sweat, her cheeks flushed from the pillow, her eyes half-closed, a row of tiny teeth peeking out from her small lips. Her pink pullover had a strange cartoon duck pattern and some English letters printed on the front. Her white panties, worn over her thin bottom, were yellowed from washing. The room smelled sweetly of sweat. Because of the struggle with Qingniao, my penis was even more swollen. I stood in front of my sister's bed and firmly said to her, "Suck it." Last summer in the stream, Qingniao had given me a blowjob; I knew that wonderful feeling. Later, I also tricked my sister into touching and kissing it, but only twice, both times interrupted in a hurry. My younger sister, startled awake, was terrified. She timidly kissed it, then licked it again, before bursting into tears. I angrily shoved her back onto the bed: "You don't know how!" I lifted her legs, intending to remove her white panties. My sister cried out, "Mommy! Mommy! Brother is bullying me!" She kicked wildly, hitting my head and chest hard. "Rip!" The panties tore in my hands. I parted her white legs, and amidst her crying, screaming, kicking, and hitting, I buried my face between her legs. Below her fair belly, between her smooth thighs, a vibrant vulva had begun to sprout sparse, yellowish-black pubic hair. Overwhelmed with shock, the labia opened and closed, releasing a few drops of golden urine that splashed onto my nose. My sister noticed, and for a moment she forgot to kick and cry. It wasn't until I buried my face in her tender vulva that she cried out, "Brother! No, I'll pee again!" She cried, "Mommy, save me! Mommy, save me!" My mother never came in for her. For some reason, I loved to lick and suck, and at the time, my sister's tender vulva particularly fascinated me. For many years afterward, I would often ask my sister to spread her legs so I could hide under her skirt and lick and suck. There was the unique pungent smell of a young girl's urine, a slightly fishy and greasy scent from her vaginal flesh, and slippery vaginal fluid. I licked it with abandon until another stream of golden urine gushed out, and I was forced to swallow a few mouthfuls. My sister was so shocked that she forgot to call for help. Her face, still streaked with tears, was flushed with shame. She looked at her wet lower body and whispered to me, "Brother, I'm sorry, I didn't know...
"
I stood up, shook off the urine from my hair and face, my penis still erect. I grasped it and tentatively placed it at the entrance of her vagina. Seemingly realizing she couldn't resist, or perhaps sharing the same lustful bloodline, my sister consciously spread her legs: "Try it, but don't hurt me, or I'll cry again." Her vaginal opening was a little wet. When I pushed half of my glans in, she still frowned, trying to hold back her cries. The tip of my glans had already touched the thin membrane that represented her virginity. I pushed in forcefully, and her vagina spasmed violently. My sister cried out, "Ouch!" "Mommy! It hurts...
No
!" I stopped, satisfied to see my entire penis inside. As I tried to pull it out, I smiled! There were a few streaks of bright red blood on the glans and the opening of her vagina, both so beautifully red. Following my sister's expectant gaze, I turned to look at the half-open door. Intermittent sobs told us she was outside, and I desperately hoped Bluebird would see me. My mother didn't come in for my sister. Nearly a year of pent-up desire surged within me; blood was my greatest stimulus, along with a strange hope that Bluebird would notice me more. I grabbed my sister, who was trying to escape the bed, lifted her legs again, and thrust my penis into her beautiful vagina. "It hurts so much…
Brother
, no…
"
"You come out first." My sister's vagina was so tight, much tighter than Qingniao's, it made my glans hurt a little. I couldn't compare it much to Qingniao's because I'd grown ten centimeters taller recently, and my penis was thicker and bigger than last year. I was sure my sister also had a good vagina that would produce vaginal fluid. After I thrust in and out dozens of times, her vaginal fluid became wet, making it easier for me to thrust. My sister gradually calmed down, resignedly no longer resisting, her eyes full of tears, sobbing softly intermittently, turning her head away, not daring to look at me, letting me ravage her childlike small body. The only sounds in the room were the strange noises from the bed as I moved it around, and the faint sobbing of a bluebird could be heard outside the door. After a while, my sister suddenly whispered, "You can...
touch
me." On her still-childlike face, a charming expression of shyness, joy, and a hint of resentment appeared, like that of a mature woman. She lifted her pink summer shirt, revealing her slightly raised mound of flesh, with two small, tender pink nipples: "I've grown a little bit this year...
you
can touch me
...
and you can kiss my lips like you did the other day
.
" Her eyes, glistening with tears, and her red, tear-streaked nose revealed her adorable, slightly pouting, rosy lips, waiting for a kiss. "Mom said that if I let you ejaculate...
you
'll be quiet." So Qingniao had said those things too, I thought angrily. I was reluctant to do this, but my sister's innocent expression and her virgin body, untouched by any man, were an irresistible temptation. My sister proactively stuck out her little tongue in response to my sucking, her breath carrying a similar erotic scent to Qingniao's. With each thrust of my penis, I could feel a ripple of trembling emanating from her body. "Mmm...
do
n't be so rough," my sister gasped, pulling her mouth away from mine. I bent down and gently massaged her nipples, careful not to break them; they had indeed grown a little larger this summer. I took her small tongue into my mouth, slowly savoring its sweet, youthful fragrance. My pent-up sexual desire had gradually subsided, and I calmly moved my body, enjoying sex with my sister, who was close to my age. "You like being fucked by me just like Mom does," I deliberately said loudly, letting out the pent-up frustration of days of abstinence. At the same time, I intentionally made my abdomen slam, making "pop" sounds, and sure enough, the sobbing outside the door stopped immediately. My sister's breathing quickened, and her small, white hands, which had been gripping the sheets, now pressed tightly against my abdomen. "Brother...
um
...
be
gentler," my sister pushed against my stomach, trying to lessen the force of each thrust. Clearly, the depth of my large penis was still causing her tender, newly deflowered vagina unbearable pain. Compared to the Bluebird's body, my sister was a completely new experience for me. Her girlish charm was entirely different from the Bluebird's mature allure. "Brother, are you done yet...
?
Don't do it anymore." She always remembered her mother's teachings, struggling to support her aching body with her hands, hoping I would ejaculate soon. Although my sister didn't know how to cooperate, her vaginal muscles were very tight, and each thrust sent waves of pleasure through my body, constantly bringing me to the brink of ejaculation. "Please...
do
n't be so rough," my sister pleaded pitifully, "Give me another kiss, brother...
do
n't be so fierce." In my fifteen-year-old eyes, she was completely conquered. "Lift your legs up, yes, like that." I hoisted my sister's thin legs onto my shoulders, lifting her buttocks so she could see my penis going in and out of her vagina. "A few more strokes...
that
'll be enough." She passively allowed me to manipulate and control her, and what excited me most was the pained look on her face as she furrowed her brow. "Look for yourself, there's a lot of fluid coming out." I cupped her face, causing her body to arch back, her gaze suddenly meeting my large penis and the few conspicuous streaks of blood in the white, viscous fluid at the entrance of her vagina. "No...
"
My sister struggled and shook her head desperately as I thrust violently, whether from pain or shame. I realized for the first time that a man's penis could bring a woman pleasure, and also pain, and that both emotions could excite me immensely. "You like being fucked by me too...
Hmm
? You like being fucked by me?" I unconsciously sped up my thrusting. It was a little faster than usual, and I was already close to the peak of excitement. I thrust hard amidst my sister's painful moans, while staring intently at her ravaged expression. "Brother, it hurts so much...
Hmm
...
"
My sister's face was flushed, and she kicked her legs, her voice mixed with a hint of excited pleasure. "Oh..."
Just
before ejaculating, I hurriedly pulled out my penis and masturbated myself, then knelt down in my sister's vagina to find "virgin blood." I carefully scooped up the fine streaks of blood mixed with her vaginal fluid and dripping onto the sheets with the tip of my tongue and swallowed them. My sister simply stretched out her body as if relieved, lying on her back on the bed, panting, completely unaware that I was sucking her between her legs. After that, I never told her. Even now, thinking back, I still feel a sense of disorientation. Was it a long-suppressed bloodlust, or a conscious act of imprinting? I still can't find the answer. As I walked naked out of my sister's room, Bluebird was squatting in the hallway. "You beast!" Bluebird cursed fiercely. "Missing Mom?" My sister, now fully dressed, stood in front of me and asked, "We should leave." "I'm missing your first time," I said, picking up my backpack and leaving the room. "You naughty brother!" My sister playfully tapped my head, a long-lost blush spreading across her cheeks, as if the girl who used to follow me around so obsessively years ago had returned. I stared blankly at her smiling face, an urge to tell her everything, to take her away from this filthy civilized world. "What's wrong?" "Nothing, let's go." I ultimately didn't say anything. Many years ago, I made a promise to the bluebird about this, and I've always kept it. "If you ever want to find Mom and me, you must go to the mountain, because we'll be living in 'Hoshida' for a long time. If you can't find the way up, then shout my name loudly—Deer Antlers." "I tried to sound as joking as possible, saying, 'You'd like living with us.' 'I'm not going to see you, I only want to see Mom, and living in the mountains—how scary!' She stuck out her tongue cutely, then asked with a hint of worry, 'You really going to live in the mountains?' 'You'll see.' I shrugged easily. I hadn't broken my promise to Bluebird; I was just creating the situation, just as I had with her. After I violated my sister, Bluebird didn't speak to me for a long time. I optimistically assumed she was jealous of my relationship with my sister. Of course, I knew very well that wasn't the case. Bluebird loved my sister and me, and it would break her heart if either of us was hurt. She thought I had hurt my sister." On the summer solstice, only the bluebird and I went up the mountain. The bluebird insisted on leaving her younger sister behind. The bluebird remained silent the entire way until we undressed by the stream. I hugged her from behind, and the bluebird sighed, "You naughty child, what am I going to do with you!" I kissed her ears and neck, and the bluebird…
"Giggle! Giggle!" she laughed. "You're almost taller than Mommy now." She led me to the shade of a tree, letting me touch her breasts, and stared at me, asking, "Is Mommy's body better? Or is your sister's body better?" After thinking for a moment, I said, "They're just different." Bluebird laughed and slapped my face, "You're such a bad boy, Mommy doesn't know what to do with you." We made love tenderly under the tree, as if nothing had happened, leaving all the unpleasantness behind. I ejaculated twice inside Bluebird's body. That day, Bluebird formally addressed me by my tribal name for the first time: "Antlers, you must promise Bluebird, like a Buda man, you must keep your word." "You can no longer do to my sister, or force her to do things she doesn't want to do." "But my sister likes it." I didn't tell her that we had done it again last week, and that my sister had started to feel happy. "I will talk to that bad girl and make things clear." Bluebird pondered with distress: "Then promise me, don't force her to do things she doesn't want to do." She solemnly said the last sentence: "Don't force her to be a Buda woman." Perhaps Bluebird knew more than I thought? I answered her with the same seriousness, "Deer Antlers promised Bluebird; it's a promise made by Buda men." Bluebird muttered, "Luckily, she's not pregnant." She said sternly, "She absolutely cannot be pregnant." I asked curiously, "If you can't get pregnant, will you have my child?" Bluebird laughed, "Silly boy! Mom is taking her medicine. If she hadn't—" She played with my penis thoughtfully and said, "You would have gotten her pregnant long ago." After seeing my sister off, I spent some time at the market buying food and some daily necessities. I also bought a large canvas bag and packed everything on my back. The car could only go as far as the foot of the mountain, and carrying the large canvas bag would take me even longer, but I wasn't worried. In the past, we would set off at dawn and arrive in about three and a half hours, then stay until 3 PM to descend the mountain. This time, I wouldn't descend; my vow was about to be fulfilled. Having missed the early bus, I patiently waited for the bus that only ran three times a day. The people waiting with me and those on the bus were all strangers to me—a fragile group corrupted by civilization, shallow, arrogant, and ignorant. I was used to dealing with these people with indifference. No one dared to meet my piercing gaze. After getting off the bumpy, old bus, I walked up the mountain path without looking back, feeling no attachment to the civilized society behind me. "Hoshida-no," I'm back. After years of arduous practice, I have almost completely recovered the energy of Yinka, and also gained much practical modern knowledge, which I have painstakingly acquired. I will recreate the Buda tribe as a blessed land, so that our descendants may continue forever. I have been preparing for this day for sixteen years. Sixteen years! Since I came into contact with the residual memories of Yinka at the age of seven. My primary school years were spent in chaos. Even though my parents were both school teachers, they still couldn't ensure that I could complete my studies safely and smoothly. From the age of seven, I possessed some memories of Yinka, so I would often ridicule teachers, belittle classmates, or use spiritual power that I couldn't fully control without permission. My class was always full of incidents. By the time I learned to hide myself, I had lost all my friends and become silent and withdrawn. After the age of thirteen, I attended a secondary school not far from home. Without my parents' care, I felt more at ease. My spiritual intellect from past and present lives gradually matured, and the vast and boundless realm of knowledge attracted me. I thirstily read all the books I could get my hands on: sociology, religious beliefs, metaphysics, reincarnation, mysticism. I was curious about all knowledge, especially eager to explore the source of the mysterious power within me and its ultimate limits. An unexpected opportunity opened my understanding of male-female sexuality. I was very interested in women's bodies, but not particularly enthusiastic. I only sought release when my body and emotions required it. The pressure of studying was an unbearable burden. I was on the verge of a mental breakdown several times, which led me to take a year off from school and not take the university entrance exam. When I returned home after completing my military service, I had become a completely new man. I was dark-skinned and strong, exuding the aura of a mature and confident man. My father, who greeted me, looked old, while Qingniao had become even more beautiful and charming. My sister had married and moved to Taipei. When the news of her passionate and wild marriage spread, it broke the hearts of many men in the town. That summer solstice, when Qingniao and I made love on the mountain, she screamed wildly and entwined her body with mine. One of the greatest pleasures of being a mature man is being able to completely dominate the sexual process and lead a woman to the peak of pleasure. Now the bluebird is only up to my shoulder. I will embrace her, letting her pour out her love and desire. Holding my beloved woman, I feel a sense of control over the world. My mind merges with the heavens and the forests. The incarnation silently retreats, returning to eternal slumber in tranquility, and a new me is reborn. In this forest, I am the supreme ruler. Rain, dew, frost, snow, prosperity, and decay all reside in my every thought and emotion. I forcefully suppress my impulses and tell the bluebird everything. I need someone to share my joy. The bluebird and I will rule this forest together. We will be as free as the breeze, as strong as the mountains. We are the purest Buda people. We will live in peace in this paradise, raising our children together, so that the descendants of the Buda people may once again roam these mountains and forests. The bluebird was shocked and bewildered, and finally tears streamed down her face; she could not understand anything I was saying. "I cannot leave your father; I love him more than anything else," the bluebird said heavily. This reply made me let out a heart-wrenching roar, my angry howl echoing across the mountains. Birds and beasts cried out in sorrow and fled in response to my grief; the trees rustled wildly, letting the howling wind carry my lament to distant places. No one in the world can stop me from fulfilling my vow. I swore the most vicious curse, and as the blood-soaked incantation fell upon the earth, the ground trembled and the streams choked with sobs, knowing the vow was about to be fulfilled. Three weeks later, I watched with satisfaction as the Bluebird's beloved, on her deathbed, exhaled her last, putrid breath. I put down my bag and sat on a rock to rest; I had already traveled halfway. I could imagine the joy on the Bluebird's face when she saw me. She had no choice; she would become my woman. She also had no choice but to accept me as her man. I had waited so long for her to change her mind—eleven months and three days! For more than eight months of that, I endured my longing for her, wandering far from home. For the woman I loved, I was willing to wait in solitude for her to return to my embrace. The spirits of Xingdaye will witness everything. I arranged the funeral and, as a dutiful son, greeted relatives and friends. Qingniao didn't show much grief; most of the time she just sat there blankly, only occasionally speaking to her sister who had come home for a short stay. She ignored everyone else. I didn't immediately share a room with Qingniao, although I knew I had become her only man. According to the Buda people's custom of respecting the dead, a wife must wait thirty days after the burial before accepting another man's choice. A woman can only be chosen. I waited patiently. During these thirty-odd days, I served Qingniao everything, from food to daily life. Her body was noticeably thinner; each day she would only take the food I cooked, eating only a small amount necessary to sustain her life before putting down her chopsticks. She adopted some of the customs of the plains people; she set up a memorial tablet in the living room and offered incense to her father's tablet every day. "He was Han Chinese," Qingniao explained. Sometimes she would give me a bitter smile, and later she would say a few simple words to me. On the thirty-first day, after Qingniao offered the last stick of incense before her father's tablet, I picked her up and carried her into her room, fulfilling the duties of a Buda man. "Deer Antlers want Qingniao," I said firmly, just as I had said when she first satisfied me. Qingniao obediently let me undress her, accepting my entry without a word. The grief of many days had robbed her eyes of their former sparkle; she let me do as I pleased without any reaction, her expression unreadable—whether it was sorrow, grief, or helplessness and despair. Time will heal her, I comforted myself. At the same time, I quickened my thrusts, hoping to elicit an emotional response. Only when I ejaculated deep into her womb did she seem to awaken from a dream, her face showing surprise and anger. I left my penis inside her semen-filled vagina, gently stroking her glossy hair, and said to her, "Now Bluebird is the woman of the antlers, and we must return to 'Starry Night' to live...
"
"The bluebird interrupted me, spitting out each word through her teeth: 'Shut up! You beast!' She tilted her head back, looking at our still-connected genitals, and said angrily, 'Get out of my house!' Before leaving, I turned back to the bluebird and said, 'If one day you change your mind, then come back to Xingdaye and wait for me. On the summer solstice next year, I will come up the mountain again.' Now, there are still some days until the summer solstice, and I have already happily set off on the mountain path. 'He's back!' 'He's back!' Birds chirped, and the trees swayed, conveying the message of my return." From afar, I could see the windmill slowly turning. It was the result of nearly a month of painstaking work—collecting wood, climbing the tall wooden frame to repair the shaft and blades, and even buying plastic pipes from the plains to replace the rotten cypress planks in the irrigation ditches. Now, it must be the bluebird that started the windmill, making the blades turn. I wondered if the vegetable seeds would also grow. As dusk approached, I quickened my pace, winding past the colorful cliffs, through fragrant flowerbeds and orchards, and through the verdant shadows of the fruit trees, until I saw the houses of my hometown. There, the bluebird and I would make our love nest; my long-held wish would finally come true. I ran quickly across the pontoon bridge, calling out towards the beautiful village of "Starry Night." "Bluebird!" "Bluebird!" Excited, joyful, and loving voices echoed through the charming little village of low stone houses. Then, in the center of the large stone house, I saw Bluebird, whom I hadn't seen for nine months. She was pale, her hair disheveled and oily, lying on the muddy ground with her eyes closed. Blood still trickled from her bare belly, and she held a bloodied infant in her arms, the tiny body sleeping soundly between her large breasts. I collapsed to the ground and embraced her. "Mother!" It was a blood-soaked sorrow and regret. She wasn't just Bluebird; she was my mother who gave me life, raised me, and loved me. I would give anything to bring her back. I hated myself! Damn Inka! Damn the forest! I curse everything! Her wide-open vulva was stained with blood, still connected by a filthy umbilical cord—the place where I was born. The bluebird weakly opened her eyes, a faint smile appearing on her pale face. "Are those antlers? I can't see clearly." "It's me, Mom, I'm here!" "I am the bluebird. Here you should call me the bluebird, remember?" "Mom!" I was already sobbing uncontrollably. My mother slowly moved her body: "This is your daughter. She came half a month early." I numbly took the baby into my arms. The warm little body was still asleep, oblivious. Holding this newborn life, a glimmer of hope suddenly welled up in my heart. "Mom, I can save you, don't die!" I tried to channel the power within my body into hers. "Damn it! Don't give me that nonsense about the 'printing cards,' quickly carry me to the bed. I was just premature, I'm not going to die yet." "Cut the umbilical cord—I don't have the strength anymore. Take her to the ancestral spirit's stream to cleanse her body, so she can become a good woman of the Buda tribe." Looking at the baby, the mother's eyes regained their brightness. "There's an oil lamp on the table, go light it, I want to see the child." After doing all this and drinking a few sips of water, she laboriously turned her head and looked towards the dark corner of the room, where there was a wooden spinning wheel, hanging a brightly colored dress woven from coarse hemp thread. "I wove you a traditional Buda dress." The dress was embroidered with the shapes of mountains, the colors of the sky, patterns of clouds, and all sorts of flowers, sparkling sequins…
It was for the joyous occasion of the Bluebird giving birth to a newborn son for the Deer Antlers…
…
All
the Buda people would wear their most beautiful clothes to celebrate the newborn. They would sing, dance, drink lots of wine, and there would be plenty of food on the table. They would revel all day, and even all night…
…
…
Following the tribal custom of welcoming a newborn, I solemnly dressed in the dress and walked back to the Bluebird. An excited blush rose on the Bluebird's pale cheeks, and a glint of joy flashed in her eyes. "Oh! Deer Antlers, you're such a naughty boy," the Bluebird said, then leaned back on the bed and fell asleep wearily. I carried the baby to the stream and carefully washed away the blood from her body. "You are the daughter of the deer and the bluebird, you have been blessed and will become a good woman of the Buda tribe." The windmill by the stream turned slowly, the bright moonlight shimmering and shifting behind its leaves. My daughter woke up, stretching out her tiny hands and crying. I clumsily held her in my arms and rocked her, naturally singing the lullaby the bluebird loved to use to lull her to sleep. Spinning wheel, oh spinning wheel, red and green threads
are spun into beautiful garments. Why aren't they beautiful? Because you haven't woven moonlight into the fabric. Beautiful garments, fabric, beautiful garments. Where can you cut the bright moonlight? Bright moonlight, oh
moonlight, let the windmill spin it for you, spin it to weave the bright moonlight into beautiful garments... "My people will return again, the mountain paths will be sealed by lightning, the jungles and vines will hide their tracks, and outsiders will not be able to enter my territory. Birds and beasts will multiply; flowers and trees will grow; forests will flourish; streams will be sweet; my people will be blessed by the Holy Spirit, and everything will begin after my rebirth, with a woman chosen by destiny..."

URL 1:https://www.sex3p.com/htmlBlog/189638.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=189638&aspx=1

Last access time:

Previous Page : Erotic Otherworld 1-3

Next Page : Heroine Wife 2

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

Hoshida

comment Open a new window to view comments