mark-peeping secrets

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

After a short rest, Da Chou got dressed and went outside. It was a dangerous place,

and he wanted to leave quickly. He calculated the bill: three hundred yuan. That three hundred yuan would have been enough for half a month's earnings while he was pedaling his rickshaw—he didn't know how many passengers he'd carried or how much sweat he'd shed. Therefore, he felt a slight pang of pain as he paid.

As he left, the woman gave him a flirtatious wink and said in a coquettish voice, "Brother, come again sometime!"

Da Chou didn't reply and quickly walked away.

Once on the street, he strode briskly until he could no longer see the bathhouse. Only then did he feel safe. If the police caught him, he'd be in deep trouble.

He needed to find a hotel. Da Chou inquired about prices at each place. The cheapest was fifteen yuan for a four-person room; a single room was thirty yuan. Da Chou hesitated for a moment, then chose the cheapest single room. He went inside, closed the door, and began to think about tomorrow. He decided to look around first.

That evening, he bought two boxed lunches nearby. As soon as it got dark, he lay down. In the middle of the night, someone knocked on the door, asking if he needed a prostitute.

Da Chou opened the door halfway and saw a woman in her mid-thirties, pretty and dressed provocatively.

Da Chou wanted to let her in, but thinking safety first, he closed the door again. He was unfamiliar with the area and didn't want to fall into a trap; being extorted wasn't worth it. The

next morning, he went to a street stall and ordered two bowls of soy milk and half a pound of fried dough sticks, eating until his mouth was shiny with oil. After wiping his mouth, he got on the bus and headed to Qiulin.

This time, he was much more careful with the bus. Last time, he'd boarded the wrong bus, and when the conductor asked him, he realized he'd been on the wrong bus, drawing mocking looks from everyone on the bus. This time, he carefully checked the route sign before boarding.

When he arrived at "Qiulin," he got off. Looking at "Qiulin," he saw it was across a wide road, with iron railings on both sides; he had to use an underpass to cross. As he descended the passageway, he carefully glanced at the famous shopping mall. It wasn't tall, a long, green building, with the two golden characters "Qiulin" standing out prominently in the sunlight.

He carefully positioned himself in the direction of "Qiulin" before stepping down the passageway.

But when he came back up, it wasn't "Qiulin" anymore; "Qiulin" had moved to the right across the passage. He had no choice but to turn around and go down the passageway again. After this ordeal twice more, he finally arrived at the entrance of "Qiulin."

The sidewalk in front of the entrance was teeming with pedestrians, a sea of heads; it seemed that family planning was truly necessary.

In the open space, there were beggars; some sat on the ground wrapped in cotton coats, with a piece of cloth in front of them bearing a tragic story; there were also children, their upper bodies bare and dark, kneeling on the hard paving stones, heads bowed, faces full of sorrow, a teacup in front of them. Many kind and compassionate people were there, occasionally throwing money at them.

Da Chou didn't join the fun; he had heard there were many swindlers these days, dressed in various disguises to cheat people out of money.

Da Chou wandered around Qiulin Park carefully, but he didn't remember the layout or the merchandise. The only thing he remembered was the abundance of beautiful young women among the waitresses, which made his penis erect, and he had probably sexually assaulted countless men with his eyes.

He had no destination, wandering aimlessly like a headless fly. On a small Jiefang truck, there was a poster announcing a martial arts and song and dance performance at Xiangfang Park. It even featured pictures of scantily clad women swaying their hips. Since he had nothing else to do, he decided to join the fun. He

entered the park, paying three yuan for admission. The martial arts performers were a group of monks. One monk held a spear to his throat, while several strong men gripped and pushed it forward. The monk's face turned serious, his body shifted forward, and suddenly he shouted. The spear had bent into an arc shape, and everyone applauded and cheered.

As for the singing and dancing, there was nothing particularly outstanding, but it received far more applause than the martial arts performance. This was because the actresses, dressed in bikinis, would sometimes lean forward, exposing most of their breasts, sometimes stick out their buttocks, their large buttocks taut as if about to burst out of their clothes. Sometimes they would lean back, their crotches bulging, making one want to protest that the fabric was too thick, obscuring the true view.

Da Chou's eyes were also burning with desire; his pants were digging painfully into his penis. Luckily, he was sitting; if he were standing, he probably wouldn't be able to straighten his back.

Not far from the park, a factory was recruiting workers, and several hundred people were gathered there, with a registration desk at the entrance.

Da Chou squeezed through the crowd and glanced at the advertisement. The gist was: This factory has invested heavily in producing a new product, sponge iron, and is currently short of one hundred male workers. The wages are generous, and room and board are free. Anyone young, strong, and healthy can apply.

Da Chou went to the registration desk and saw a long queue of people waiting to register. He thought to himself, "I've never worked a day in my life, and I really want to experience what it's like to work. Besides, there are no appearance restrictions, and if the job isn't good, I can easily leave." So, he joined the ranks of those who signed up.

Quickly, after the physical exam in the afternoon, he went to the dormitory. According to regulations, you have to bring your own luggage.

Da Chou didn't have any luggage, so he told the factory manager to see if they could help him. The factory manager asked him a few simple questions about his personal situation and then instructed a section chief to handle the matter.

The section chief led him to a warehouse and brought out a set of clothes. Of course, Da Chou had to pay a deposit of one hundred yuan.

Da Chou was surprised when he first saw the section chief. She was a woman, and very beautiful, about thirty years old, exuding a youthful yet mature charm; over 1.7 meters tall, with full breasts and hips, long flowing hair; large, bright eyes that sparkled; beautiful red lips that always wore a smile; a well-fitting suit dress that made her look like a career woman.

Da Chou mustered his courage to look at her a few more times, his heart pounding. The section chief glanced at him a couple more times; perhaps someone like him was a rare sight.

Along the way, Da Chou followed behind, staring at her alluringly swaying hips, inhaling the fragrance emanating from her, and letting his mind wander: "Just to hold a woman like that would be incredibly lucky; if I could actually penetrate her, it would be worth sacrificing ten years of my life. My husband is so damn lucky to enjoy such a beauty every day; his ancestors must be incredibly lucky."

The next day, at a meeting in the conference room, the factory director gave a passionate speech. The director was very refined, wearing glasses. The female section chief also spoke, her expressions vivid, her language elegant. All the men in the group focused their fiery gazes on her, as if they wanted to melt her. The female section chief remained calm, probably used to such stares. From the nameplate on the stage, Da Chou learned her name: Li Qianhui. The factory director's name was Ye Qiufan.

Soon, Da Chou started working; it turned out to be manual labor. Da Chou first worked for a few days removing slag from the boiler. The two of them pushed the cart down the sloping cement road to the furnace door. The work itself wasn't strenuous; once the furnace door was open, they used shovels to remove embers from inside and then shoveled them back onto the cart. This process was unbearable for Da Chou; it was too hot, his face burned, and he almost fainted. The room was already hot, and he couldn't stand it anymore, so he asked the workshop foreman for a transfer.

The foreman was kind enough to transfer him to sifting coal outdoors. Although it was dustier, Da Chou felt it was much better than the heat. However, another problem arose: the night shift was too much for him. He had a habit of being a light sleeper; he couldn't sleep if there was any noise in the room. When he returned to the dormitory in the morning, groggy from work, some people weren't sleeping; they were playing cards on their beds, making it impossible for him to rest. While

others snored loudly, he could only stare helplessly, asking them to be quiet. At first, they paid attention, but as they played, they forgot and started shouting again. As time went on, Da Chou lost weight. During the night shift, after working for a while, everyone else sat on the shovel handles, chatting and laughing, but Da Chou would lean against the coal pile and doze off, half-asleep.

What kind of life was this? Da Chou was furious. It was much more comfortable at home, riding a donkey. At least there was freedom, and he could sleep well. He could endure this for about half a month before deciding to leave. He wanted to see the factory manager, but after several visits to the manager's door, he hesitated.

That day, after much deliberation, he finally decided to leave. Looking at the date, he realized it was Saturday. A few of his roommates were still sleeping; most had gone out to have fun. Everyone called to Da Chou, but he didn't go. Da Chou went downstairs and paced around the courtyard. Unconsciously, he arrived at the building where the factory manager's office was located.

The building was on the far west side, and there was no one in front of it. He looked up and saw that the manager's window was still open. Had he forgotten to close it? Or was the manager inside? If so, that would be even better; he would go find him now.

The building was quiet, but when he reached the top floor, he faintly heard moans—a woman's. Da Chou tiptoed towards the sound, finally stopping in front of the factory manager's door. Yes, this was the source of the sound. At the door, the sound was clearer, captivating and mesmerizing.

Da Chou wasn't satisfied with just the auditory impact; he craved a "video." Because the hidden lock on the door had broken yesterday and hadn't been replaced, there was a small hole in the door, stuffed with a wad of paper. Da Chou reached in and slowly poked it, removing the paper. The beautiful scene inside was revealed:

a man and a woman making love, facing sideways to Da Chou. The woman gripped the table with both hands, her large breasts peeking out from under her bra, bouncing rapidly like big white rabbits; her skirt was rolled up, revealing her buttocks, which were sticking out high and dazzlingly white. A medium-sized penis was thrusting in and out of her from behind. With each movement, the woman cried out incessantly, "Fan...Fan...you're doing it so well...it feels so good...it feels so good...don't stop...faster...let me...go to heaven..." Her large buttocks thrust back forcefully.

The man thrust again with great force, and a large amount of vaginal fluid gushed out, making his penis wet and dripping onto the ground. The man panted heavily and laughed, "Qianmei...your cunt...is so tight...it makes me...always want to cum...I've been fucking...for so many years...but...I still...can't get enough..."

While fucking her, the man also occasionally harassed the woman's buttocks and breasts.

“My cunt…is…your…fuck me…fuck me to death…if you don’t fuck me…it’s always itchy…I can’t hold back…” the woman confessed in a wanton moan.

The man grabbed her buttocks, thrusting hard while saying, “Then I…I’ll…fuck you to death…”

The thrusting speed reached its maximum, and suddenly he trembled. The woman said, “Don’t…cum…I haven’t…satisfied…yet…”

The man couldn’t control himself and pulled out his penis, ejaculating on the ground in spurts.

The woman turned around, squatted down, and swallowed the penis into her mouth. Now, Da Chou could see who she was. Actually, he already knew from her voice. A beautiful face, affectionate eyes, elegant temperament. Even when giving a man oral sex, her eyes and movements were still elegant. The word “slut” did not apply to her.

Watching his dream goddess lick another man’s penis, Da Chou felt a pang of jealousy and wished he could immediately become the man who possessed that penis.

After playing the flute for a while, the dead snake still didn't raise its head, and the woman stood up in disappointment.

The man said apologetically, "Let me lick it for you."

The woman obediently sat on the table, spreading her two plump, jade-like legs, revealing her hairy, wet, and rosy little treasure to Da Chou.

Just as he got a clear look, the man blocked his view. He bent down and kissed her vulva with his mouth, making a few soft, sucking sounds, like a kiss, and then biting her clitoris.

The woman opened her mouth, let out an "ah," tilted her head back, squinted her eyes, and moaned softly, grabbing the man's head with both hands.

The man worked very hard, licking her labia with his tongue until they made a sound, and her juices flowed down from time to time, which he ate without any disgust.

The woman moaned, "Fan... I love... you so much... forever... I love you..."

A few minutes later, the woman screamed and then stopped.

The man sat down, pulled the woman into his arms, and teased, "Qianmei, you not only have a beautiful face, but also an absolutely gorgeous cunt. Any man who manages to fuck you even once should be shot on the spot."

The woman opened her eyes and smiled, "Then you'd be shot countless times already. I'll shoot you right now." Saying this, she tapped his head with her finger.

The woman got out of his arms and said, "Hurry up and put these on, don't let anyone see." Saying this, she went to find her underwear.

The ugly man outside the door, seeing that the show was over, turned around and left. If he didn't leave, he'd be caught.

As the woman straightened up to pull up her underwear, she suddenly noticed that the crumpled paper in the doorway had fallen to the ground. She quickly opened the door and looked into the corridor, but no one was there. She then ran to the window and looked down, just in time to see the ugly man leaving through the building entrance and running eastward.

Her heart sank, and she thought to herself, "Oh no, we've been exposed. I have to find a way to silence them. If word gets out, the consequences will be unimaginable."

Seeing that her underwear wasn't fully pulled up, the man came over to help and asked, "Did you find anything? Is anyone there?"

The woman kissed him on the cheek and said sweetly, "Darling, everything's normal." But her mind was in turmoil as she racked her brains for a solution.

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