Are all men lecherous?

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

She said, "Are all men lecherous?"

I said, "Of course, even the impotent ones are no exception. They have such ruthless eyes, they practically rip women out of them.

" She muttered to herself on the other end of the line, "Sigh, why is fate so cruel to me? All I'm good-looking
is..."

Hearing this, I thought she was incredibly beautiful.

She said, "Sometimes I really want to let loose, but I can't. I have a master's degree, and my current job
is prestigious and respectable. I'm awarded the title of outstanding researcher every year. My colleagues, neighbors, and friends all like me,
and everyone thinks I'm innocent and pure. My husband has a very strong sex drive; we've had sex every day for the past three years of marriage, but unfortunately
, the quality isn't very high.

" I asked, "How so?"

She said, "He's always too quick. I don't think I've ever truly orgasmed in all these years."

I asked, "Never even once?"

She said, "I've had it myself, but not with him. I mean the kind that's unforgettable. An occasional wet dream,
on the other hand, can make me savor it for a long time.

" I said, "What kind do you like?"

She said, "Hmm, do you guys do indecent assault where you're from?"

I said, "So, I'm going to rape you?"

She said, "Yes, just pretend you're going to rape me, okay?"

I said, "Sure. But we take health very seriously here. We have medical certificates, and we also
recommend that guests have a full medical check-up at a reputable hospital before coming.

" She said, "Sure. I require you to wear a condom."

I said, "Of course, we always use condoms. Here, the customer is king. We are dedicated to providing safe and
professional service. We require punctual service, not keeping guests waiting, not proactively contacting guests, not developing
feelings for guests, not soliciting tips, not pushing products, and not forcing guests to do anything against their will."

She said, "Oh, you guys are quite formal."

I said, "Of course."

The price was negotiated smoothly.

We established a password, finalized a security word, agreed on a date and time, and agreed that the game would start as soon as she walked in.

Time was approaching. I put my phone on vibrate and placed it on a folded clean towel to ensure the guest
would not be disturbed during the service period.

*** *** *** ***

As agreed, she would knock on the door in five minutes.

I did some preparation, found my wife's stockings, picked out the dark brown ones, and put them on my head.

There was a knock at the door. I checked the code on my phone through the door and opened it. She looked at
me with a hint of fear.

She was extremely ordinary-looking; you could easily lose her if you threw her in the subway.

I thought to myself: So narcissistic.

I kicked the door shut and shoved her to the floor. I heard a "thud," probably from her
skull hitting the ground.

She asked, "What are you doing?"

I ripped off her clothes and said menacingly, "I just got out of jail. I'm innocent!"

She said, her face filled with terror, "Let me go."

I said, "Want to leave? Wait until I've taken my revenge on this damn society."

I stripped her naked.

She had an oval face, delicate and smooth. I roughly rubbed her face, like a real rapist.

As I rubbed, a sadistic pleasure welled up inside me, a pleasure rising fiercely, like a bonfire, crackling
and popping. The fire burned brighter and brighter. My cock was getting harder and harder.

I put a mask on her, then pretended to be a criminal who had just had sex, touching her like I'd never seen a woman before.

I reached down and touched her cunt like a savage. Her cunt quickly became aroused and fully wet under my stimulation.

She was really into it. Sometimes, cleverly using props can have double the effect.

I took off my pants and showed her Transformer.

She whispered in the mask: "Fuck my belly button."

I didn't hear her clearly and asked: "Fuck where?"

She said again: "Fuck my belly button."

I was stunned: "Can you fuck a belly button?"

She said: "Yes. My belly button is really deep, and I can even suck on it."

I touched her belly button. It was damp. I aimed my cock at her belly button and slowly pushed
it in . It actually went in.

She started moaning. I'd heard of fucking the urethra, but today was the first time I knew you could fuck a belly button.

My cock was completely inside her belly button. I didn't care about anything else and started thrusting.

She was naked, wearing a mask, being fucked, her breasts bouncing. It made my blood boil.

She moaned through the mask, "Fuck me."

To this day, I don't know if she meant "fuck me," "pry me," or a slip of the tongue.
Anyway, I think she probably used a vulgar

word. If she really meant "qiao," in this context, I guess "qiao"
might mean something like "rely on," "fuck," "smother," "thief," or "strategy." (Just speculation. Don't try to be academic with me if you're just reading fluff
.)

Her face turned bright red. I fucked her belly button with my dick, but the angle was really uncomfortable for me. I pulled out and thrust
hard into her cunt.

She quickly came to orgasm, her whole body tensing up like a dying shrimp.

I was filled with passion, turned her body to the side, grabbed her hair, and fucked her hard.

She cried out. I ejaculated.

*** *** ***

The rain had just stopped. She took off her mask, got up naked, and went to the bathroom.

I picked up my phone and saw a new message from my wife, asking me to go shopping with her after I was done.

I quickly replied: You're inhuman.

My wife quickly replied: Five o'clock, the usual place in Dongsi.

I got dressed and tidied myself up.

Xiao A paid the full amount.

She said: You're good. I'm very satisfied.

I said: As long as the customer is satisfied. Does your husband know what kind of service you prefer?

She said: No. I haven't told him.

I asked: Why don't you tell him? Your husband is the closest person to you.

She said: I have a shameful experience, I was raped.

I casually replied: Oh.

I heard her continue quickly: It was spring. I was seventeen that year. That morning, I suddenly had a sudden inspiration
I was feeling nauseous and wanted to go to the Xinhua Bookstore in town to buy a book. My dad didn't want me to go, but I wouldn't have it; I was like I was possessed
. My home is below Fuzhou in Jiangxi.

I checked my watch, then looked up at her and said, "I know, Fuzhou is now called Linchuan County."

She said, "Yes, that's right." Our house is quite remote. There are two routes from my house to town.
One is the flat road, which is a long detour, adding four miles. The other is the hillside, which is three miles shorter, but still
quite tiring , about 100 meters above sea level, narrow, less traveled, and has cemeteries. The sunny slope has good feng shui, with many burial sites,
densely packed. Which route is easier? I've been pondering this since I was little.

I said, "Later I realized that neither route is actually easier?"

She said, "Yeah, that's true." I've been afraid of ghosts since I was little. There are many trees on the hillside, and the dirt road is very narrow. The top of the hill is very
deserted ; even on a hot day, my back feels cold. In the past, when I went to the market with my mother, we would always walk quickly, her pulling me along and me
pulling her along. We were both nervous and didn't dare to look to either side.

I said, "Yeah, panic is contagious."

She continued, "I heard someone was robbed on the hill, and I'm so scared. If you

're so scared, why did you have to climb the hill? And alone? What book were you buying in such a hurry?" Was she telling the truth?

She continued seriously, "Around ten in the morning, I was hurrying along. I was almost at the top of the hill, and it was
very . The path was winding and sloping. Behind the trees on both sides of the path were several large earthen mounds, overgrown with weeds. I looked ahead and behind
, but there wasn't a soul in sight. I got a little nervous, my eyes kept glancing back, afraid that a ghost was following me and would reach out to touch
my shoulder. I looked back again and again to make sure there were no ghosts following me, and then...

I was about to reach the crucial point. At this moment, casually interrupting might disrupt her rhythm or even affect her
mood. To show respect, it was better to stare at her.

I raised my eyelids and stared at her.

Staring intently can feel aggressive, so I'm always very
careful , usually only using it at crucial moments.

Her eyes were very sincere, showing none of the panic often seen in liars.

She continued: "Then when I turned back to look at the road ahead, I suddenly noticed a man walking in front of
me . I was startled, and upon closer inspection, I saw he was short, wearing a shirt, walking quite slowly, swaying, occupying
the middle of the road. The road was narrow, after all. I was walking much faster than him. His speed made me very uncomfortable; I had to
overtake him. I was 17 then, and I was decent-looking, plus young.

" I listened intently, picking up on every contradiction. Over the years, cross-checking
had become part of my blood, an instinct.

She said: "I was getting closer and closer to him. He must have heard me coming up behind him, but he wouldn't move aside; he
just stood there, blocking the middle of the road. I felt he was doing it on purpose. I was terrified; I didn't know what he was going to do."
I was sideways, stepping on the edge of the road to pass him. Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed me, forcefully shoving me onto the grass. I
was knocked to the ground. I was terrified and tried to push him away. But he was very strong, and without saying a word, he
viciously kissed me while pulling down my pants. I struggled, trying to scream for help, but no sound came out.
Suddenly, he put his hand inside my pants and told me not to be afraid, not to scream.

I looked into her eyes, listening attentively, without rushing to ask questions. Willingness to listen is crucial.

Whether you can get someone to open up to you largely depends on your willingness to listen, your
attentiveness, and how much you absorb.

She seemed quite pleased with herself. She probably rarely receives this kind of attention at work or at home.

And as a listener, subtly analyzing and processing the other person's words can sometimes be a delightful experience.

She said: "When he touched my flesh, I was extremely nervous and scared; my heart was pounding. I already had no
strength , and I quickly went limp, completely at his mercy."

This whole thing makes sense.

I've seen zookeepers throw live hens to tigers as a snack at the zoo. The chickens immediately collapsed,
unable to even stand.

You're telling me to get a hen to fight back against a Siberian tiger? That's bullshit.

She was trembling slightly. Could a story really be this elaborate? She was probably just nervous, afraid her lies would be exposed.

She said, "I was so nervous at the time that I didn't really notice what his face looked like. I was completely exhausted
." (Pause) "The man unzipped my pants." (Silence) "That was one of the most humiliating things I've ever experienced. I
went home, took off all my clothes, and took a long, long shower." (Silence) "So after we got married, I
didn't let my husband touch my genitals. I thought it was dirty. I only let him touch my belly button.

" Maybe she had never actually experienced sexual harassment. Maybe the part after "the short man wouldn't move" was all her fantasy. Short men
are everywhere, but not all of them are so blind as to actually risk going to jail to rape her.

The rape might have been a figment of her imagination, but it brought her tension and excitement, later developing into paranoia. She
probably regretted it many times: "Why didn't it happen?"

Like many readers who see a erotic story abruptly ended and are filled with regret: "Damn it! Why didn't it continue?"

That's okay. Sometimes, telling fictional stories can release psychological tension. No one can accurately
recount history because memory is the most unreliable thing.

The storyteller will forget or add things to protect themselves or satisfy their fantasies, so what is told
will differ from what actually happened.

Fantasy and reality are mixed together, stirred into a pot of porridge. Over time, the fiction becomes reality.

Interesting.

*** *** *** ***

I checked my watch again. She was already past her time limit.

I said: "My next customer will be here soon."

She said: "I know. Talking to you makes me feel much better."

I said: "Confessing is like diarrhea, like vomiting; it detoxifies, really. I'm a rough person, but I mean it, please bear with me.

" She smiled. She relaxed twice after entering my room. The first time was during her climax; this is the second
.

I noticed that when she smiled, her eyes crinkled, watery, and sparkling; her lips were moist and rosy, her teeth
were straight and white, her gums were pink, and there was a layer of clear mucus on the surface of her teeth and gums.

Suddenly, I felt this woman was very alluring.

She said: "It must be fate that we can chat."

Once you realize the seed of infidelity has been planted, you must nip it in the bud without hesitation.

I quickly changed the subject: "Did you manage to buy the book you were going to the Xinhua Bookstore in town the other day?"

She said, "Yes. Later, when I went to Beijing, I happened to see that book in a small bookstore. I bought it and have
kept a prominent place on my bookshelf so I can see it every time I open it."

I said, "Oh."

She said, "Every time I see that book, oh my, the feeling..."

I stood up, pointed to my watch, and said to her, "I'd love to hear more from you, but your time is up for this time.
I'm sorry ."

She finally stood up, but pressed me: "Want to know what the book is called?"

I said, "Oh, maybe next time, okay?"

She said reluctantly, "Could you postpone the next time a little? I'll add an hour, I'll pay extra."

I said, "Thank you for your kindness, but it's too late. The next customer will be here soon. You know, I respect every
customer. When my next customer comes in, I want her to see the place clean and tidy."

She said regretfully, "Okay. I'll contact you again.

" I smiled politely and said to her, "Okay. Please forgive me, I won't see you out."

After Xiao A left, I locked the door, tidied the room, took a warm shower, dried myself off, and
sat down on the balcony.

I told her that a customer was coming downstairs, when actually no one was. But I like to emphasize the rules here, to make her
think that I have a long queue of customers and that A8 is in high demand.

Recalling her story, I suddenly thought that maybe what she said was true, that she really was raped, that maybe
the short man wasn't human, but a ghost that had just come out of the grave.

At the time, I told myself: Who knows? Damn it, who cares? Even if it really was a ghost, what does it have to do with me?

Later I learned that ghosts exist in the form of "qi (thought)". Once you hear a ghost story, the ghost
enters your heart. The so-called "inner demon" really exists.

Ever since she came to my place, there has been a demonic aura here. From that day on, strange things have been happening around me one after another.

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Are all men lecherous?

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