The Forests of Dongguan (Heading West)

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

After the selection was complete, all the technicians left first.

Finally, I chose my ideal technician, and while my heart settled, anticipation bred anxiety.

Manager Ze had already assigned rooms; he sent someone to take me to room 74, while James would be in room 12 near the lobby.

James and I parted ways in the corridor. At the last moment, he deliberately glanced at me, looking sentimental, like seeing off a friend on a long journey.

I understood what he was thinking, because he knew that the next time he saw me, I would be a completely different Frank, a mature man who had already been with four men.

If he were Wang Wei, he would surely recite: "I urge you to drink another cup of wine, for beyond Yangguan there will be no old friends."

A junior staff member led me to my room. The actual room was vastly different from the previous guest rooms. I had never seen such a huge bathroom. Besides the basic toilet and sink, there was a steam sauna, and of course, the legendary waterbed. I could see the bathroom clearly because the entire exterior wall was enclosed in glass. The use of glass broke down the boundaries between spaces; the bathroom and bedroom were clearly visible to each other, but their respective positions became more blurred.

The clerk closed the door and said the technician would be in the room in a few minutes.

I took off my coat and threw it on the bed, sitting silently on the edge. I didn't think about turning on the TV, hoping to enjoy a moment of peace. I was thinking about what identity and persona I should present.

James was usually serious, but he was experienced in hiring prostitutes and almost always took the initiative. As soon as the technician entered, he would try to pin her down on the bed, wanting her to feel that she was a demanding and experienced customer, so she wouldn't cut corners or do a sloppy job.

I thought his idea was good, but a novice using this strategy would definitely make many mistakes. I still hoped to be more passive, letting the technicians have the freedom to provide their own personalized service.

I heard two knocks on the door. She finally came!

I walked leisurely to the door, pretending to be a nonchalant customer. I slowly opened the door, and perhaps because I was moving so slowly, she couldn't wait and poked her head in first.

She hadn't been switched; what I saw was still the same Charlie Yeung.

"Hello, sir."

A very ordinary opening line, but she said it with a smile. While not as radiant as a magnolia in early spring, her smile felt completely natural and genuine, a hundred times better than the mechanical "Welcome!" of employees at Genki Senshima in Hong Kong.

She came in carrying her small red handbag, wearing a black halter-neck low-cut mini-dress. As she passed me, I noticed her figure was quite good. Her breasts weren't exaggeratedly large, but they were enough to fully support the dress's cut, clearly showing her curves and the creases in the neckline due to the tightness. Many women in Hong Kong like to wear this type of dress, but when they wear it, their upper bodies, like their heads, don't seem to be filled with any empirical observation or objective numerical descriptions of her 33C.

"You don't seem to have the air conditioning on yet?" I hadn't heard the word "air conditioning" in a long time, and I was momentarily unaccustomed to Mandarin.

Before I could react, she had already reached the bedside in the bedroom. "Why did you put your coat on the bed? We have a wardrobe."

She was very considerate, and seemed to need a tidy bed to serve her guest. Perhaps I had placed the coat too far away, as she had to bend down to pick it up. Her dress was very short, making this movement incredibly alluring. I vaguely thought I saw the edge of her black underwear... But at this moment, someone looking at underwear wouldn't have any taste, because what attracted my attention was her entire pair of legs, from thigh to calf, very straight and long. They looked absolutely stunning in high heels. She was petite, about 162cm tall, but her legs must have been 39-40 inches long. One inch equals 2.54cm, so her legs were about 100cm long. If her height-to-leg-length ratio was 162cm:100cm, it almost perfectly matched the golden ratio of 0.618. If she had been born in ancient Greece, she might very well have been used as a sacrifice to the gods!

People say the left brain governs thinking and logic, while the right brain governs behavior and intuition. Now I clearly understand the functions of both hemispheres, because while I was calculating the proportions of her legs, I also really wanted to immediately take her down from behind... *slap slap slap slap slap slap slap slap*!

That wasn't the sound of me thrusting into her, but a knocking on the door and the noise of the staff coming from outside!

I froze for a moment, and Yang Caini immediately turned around and said, "It might be the police, let me check."

This sentence scared me so much that my legs went weak and my penis went throbbing six times.

The police!? No way!?

Although James believed that no police would arrest a client, I had actually done my research before coming to the mainland.

You know what? In the mainland, if a prostitute is arrested by the police, it's an extremely serious matter!

The lightest punishment is a fine and immediate release. Strictly speaking, that's vigilante justice and extortion. Subsidies and double pay aren't common in the mainland, so this is a good opportunity for the police to make extra money and have a good year. The price will be even higher than seafood prices, usually depending on whether you're well-dressed and presentable—if the police recognize me wearing a Ted Baker long coat and Paul Smith shoes, my whole family will be wiped out!!!

Another situation, the most common one, and also the official regulation, is immediate administrative detention for fifteen days. During this time, the prisoner is likely to be completely cut off from all communication with the outside world, like they've vanished into thin air, and of course, they'll be fined again.

A few years ago, my uncle had a friend who wore a yellow shirt on official business in mainland China. Due to some misunderstandings, the police thought he was a Falun Gong member and detained him for fourteen days. But wearing such an ugly yellow shirt was actually quite reckless.

There's also a more severe punishment, but the chances are slim, usually only once a year, used as a show for the provincial government. It involves being paraded through the streets with other prostitutes and their clients. Rumor has it that the entire main street, normally used for driving, is closed off for the prisoner's parade. The police record it with a DV camera, and the streets are filled with onlookers eating peanuts. Foreign tourists might mistake it for a New Year's parade and applaud along… As Charlie Yeung slowly approached the door, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest: Should I take the opportunity before the police storm in to call my mother and say, "I'm sorry, Mom! I'm unfilial! I went to a prostitute and got arrested by the police! Please don't cook for me for the next fifteen days!"

Forget about Hong Kong, work is more important than family. I must call my boss to ask for leave. My boss is a man; he'll understand my need to hire a prostitute, but I know he'll say, "You're going to jail, aren't you? Remember to reply to emails and answer client calls!"

I wanted to cry. Why am I always so unlucky? The first time for anything is always a disaster: an economic cycle lasts ten years, and my first stock purchase happened during the 2008 financial crisis; the English Premier League has twenty teams, and my first big bet on Liverpool in Asian handicap betting was a reckless act; there are only about 300 days in a year, and Dongguan's actual crackdown on prostitution lasts less than ten days, and my first time hiring a prostitute coincided with a police crackdown!

And if I got arrested by the police at this point, it would be the worst possible outcome! I didn't even know Charlie Yeung's name or hometown, so I had no excuse to say she was my girlfriend, or that it was normal to book a room for the night; and most importantly, I wasn't even out of bed… Before I knew it, Charlie Yeung had opened the door. There was no one outside. She walked out into the hallway, seemed to say a few words to a staff member, and then came back to the room. She smiled and told me that some customers had been drinking at the karaoke bar and were causing a scene.

"I was just joking. The police have never been here before. You look ridiculous, your face is covered in cold sweat."

After hearing this, I mentally muttered in Mandarin, "Fuck your mother's ass!" This wasn't funny at all!

That's absolutely not funny!! Making this kind of joke at a customer's first time ordering a prostitute?! Is this Dongguan-style humor??

She seemed to know I was angry. She pouted and then took my sweaty left hand.
Her hand was soft, not like someone who did manual labor. Perhaps she wasn't doing the manual labor herself, but someone else was.

"Haha, were you scared just now?"

I knew my face had looked terrible, and lying wouldn't help, so I replied, "I was really worried. I didn't know this place was safe."

In my mind, "very worried" was actually a terrible adjective.

The Cantonese phrase "scared to the point of shrinking back" truly described my situation. My Mandarin isn't good, and I didn't want to translate it literally as "My penis shrank back from fright," because translating slang is the easiest way to create a distorted image; she might think my penis was actually broken.

She took my hand and led me to the bed, saying, "Lie down on the bed first."

I believe no normal man in the world could resist that.

If the mainland were to attack Taiwan, the ideal scenario would be to send a mass-produced team of actresses like Charlie Yeung, whispering in the ears of Taiwanese men, "You should lie down in bed first." Ma Ying-jeou would be the first to surrender, while Kim Jong-il would regret aligning himself with China so early on.

I obediently lay down slowly in the center of the large bed, knowing the crucial moment was approaching. I was indeed very nervous, my movements stiff, my arms and legs rigid.

She placed her handbag on the bedside table, then readily climbed onto the bed and lay down beside me. She brought her face close; I believe we were less than fifteen centimeters apart. She looked intently at me, but my gaze avoided hers, unable to meet her eyes directly.

This is a minor flaw of mine, or perhaps a habit: during conversations or exchanges, I can't keep staring at someone of the opposite sex whom I find attractive, because I don't want them to think I'm beautiful.

This is a habit I developed in the third grade of elementary school. Over the years, it has successfully dampened the spirits of countless Hong Kong girls, and as a result, I haven't received any advances from pretty girls since I was nine. Occasionally, some people would think I was gay, and I would often receive a few sarcastic remarks, thinking I was aloof and didn't judge a book by its cover, and then they would fall in love with me.

Unfortunately, they misunderstood.

She placed her hand on my chest, and although there was no caressing motion, it was enough to make me blush.

She was still looking at me, which made my eyes dart around even more, even more confused. She remained silent, so I had to break the awkward silence.

"What's your name?"

"My name is Xiao Si."

"Which 'Si'? Is it the 'Si' in 'Ten years have passed, life and death are separated by a vast distance, I don't think about it, yet I can't forget it'?" I don't know if it was because my Mandarin was too bad, or if reciting poetry was too exaggerated, but she laughed and then answered, "It's the 'Si' in 'thinking'." We fell silent again.

After about ten seconds, she broke the silence. What she said was somewhat unexpected: "I think you're a bit special."
This

statement was unexpected.

Before coming to Dongguan, I had read an article about novice prostitutes, titled "A Complete Guide to Common Dialogues Used by Women in the Motherland," which included Ms. Qi's adjectives and subtexts for praising customers.

The following is an excerpt from that article: "You're lucky (fat) / You have a mature air (bald) / You're very refined (wearing glasses) / You're a successful man (businessman) / You have a lot of charisma (gangster) / You're very handsome (anyone under 35) / You have a kind heart (How sad, you're useless)." I had assumed I was handsome and hoped the woman would praise my charisma, but instead, I received the comment, "You're a bit special."

Since the article didn't mention this, I didn't understand and asked her, "What's special about you? Is it that you're particularly ugly?" "Haha, not ugly, just special."

After saying that, she climbed all over me.

I felt her pressure, both physically and psychologically.

Aside from my daily subway rides, I hadn't experienced this kind of physical contact in a long time. Although it was her pressure, it wasn't meant negatively. Symbolically, by pressing down on a male, she was challenging China's patriarchal system and stimulating female self-awakening. But as a man, I paradoxically enjoyed it. I loved the feeling of being pressed down by a woman, feeling the curves of her breasts with my own, and letting her feel my own throbbing erection.

Our faces were closer this time, and my gaze involuntarily averted from her. I looked down and saw her breast fat, deformed from pressing down on me. Not all fat is superfluous, especially fat that looks like a work of art!

I wanted to touch it, but I couldn't do it in that position. So I raised my hands and gently stroked her waist. I couldn't feel much flesh, but I could experience the slenderness and curve of her waist from the side.

She didn't respond, so I continued to gently sweep my hand forward. I touched her buttocks; her skirt was thin, so I could feel the edge of her panties bulging due to the cut. I swept my hand down further, and finally, I was stimulated by the slight heat emanating from her buttocks. I couldn't help but pinch her round, firm buttocks with both hands, then press down, letting my own genitals feel the sensation of my hands enjoying her body.

It was this movement! She began to half-open her mouth, making increasingly clear breathing sounds. Her beauty, coupled with that alluring expression, made me want to kiss her.

Before I could act, she uttered something even more irresistible than "You should lie down on the bed first!"

"Let me give you a blowjob first!"

Many women are unwilling to do this, but after only a few words, Xiao Si offered it!

Zhan Peizhong once said that ten out of ten women are prostitutes; if that's true, then it's not bad.

She got up, sat on my body, and slowly began to unbutton my shirt, one button at a time. I cooperated by sitting up so she could remove my shirt and we could sit face-to-face.

"I'll help you take off your pants, you should lie down first."

Basically, I let her do as she pleased from beginning to end, without any objection. Lying back down on the bed, my pants were a bit tight at the waistband and the buttons were also quite tight.

She found it difficult to unbutton them while sitting on my lap, so she simply leaned over me, her face pressed against my stomach, and skillfully unbuttoned them at close range. My trousers had barely been loosened when she unexpectedly slipped her fingers inside my waistband and even my underwear, and then forcefully pulled them off all at once.

The urgency of her actions made me glance at the wall clock. It turned out that only 5-10 minutes of the 120-minute full service had actually passed. I didn't know what her rush was. The way she pulled down my pants caused my already erect penis, which had been inside my tight underwear for three chapters and three sections, to be released.

She stared at the erect hardness and said, "Wow, it's so long!"

I'm not deliberately making this up because I have at least two thousand readers; as a normal Asian man, and not particularly tall, I would never dare boast about my length.

Being a gentleman, I found it difficult to ask her, "How's the vigor? You really want it, don't you?!" Instead, I asked in surprise, "What do you mean, 'so long'?" She replied, "It's just so long!" I don't know if this was a typical Dongguan polite expression or something else. I thought to myself, "long" is a relative adjective. You can't always say something is long, and it is long. Whether something is long or not depends on what you're comparing it to. For example, was she referring to me being longer than other customers, or longer than a toothpick?

But she didn't give me time to ask further. She reached out and touched my manhood, rubbed it a few times, then took a disinfectant wipe from her handbag, wiped it a few times, and then lay down again, opened her mouth, and without hesitation put my manhood into her mouth.

The feeling was so strange. While I was in the frigid, arid Guangdong, a small part of my body was contained within the humid, warm tropical rainforest. I didn't use a condom, so this is the legendary "eco-friendly blowjob." Its eco-friendliness lies not only in not consuming plastic bags, but also in tonight's realization that those who experience "eco-friendly blowjobs" can connect with nature without barriers or barriers. If you've experienced the beauty of nature, how can you bear to waste plastic bags that damage the environment time and time again?

Why doesn't that "eco-friendly taliculus," who's involved in everything, join forces with "Wisteria" to vigorously promote the "eco-friendly blowjob" movement and strengthen citizens' environmental awareness and sensitivity?

Xiao Si was actually very down-to-earth and unpretentious. With that thing in her mouth, she kept moving her head up and down, diligently working. Although the movements seemed a bit monotonous, doing it well was actually quite difficult. Some women always seem to have a grudge against you, grinding their teeth against your most vulnerable spot when you're most intoxicated. But Xiao Si didn't make that mistake. She wasn't just an idol with pretty faces; she was a talented woman with both inner and outer beauty.

Please don't randomly curse someone with "You're playing the flute!" Playing the flute is an art; there are good and bad, and there are qualifications.

Looking at her from my angle, her hair was hanging down, obscuring her face. I felt that if I couldn't see her face clearly, it would be a waste, just like when I saw some mainland classmates in England, singing karaoke, playing rock-paper-scissors, and gulping down 1982 Lafite. Actually, I wouldn't even drink a whole bottle of Ribena.

So I made a simple request: please get off the bed, kneel on the floor, and continue playing.

It is said that in ancient Rome, oral sex was seen as a symbol of power. People of high status could freely order slaves (even male slaves) to kneel and perform oral sex on them. Those who have seen "Spartacus: Blood and Sand" should understand. Of course, I'm not trying to show off in front of Xiaosi. I just thought that position would make it easier to see her. Besides, I think it's foolish to use oral sex to assert power. What if he resists fiercely when you put your most important part in a slave's mouth? It's like sending your penis into the tiger's den.

"No problem," she said easily, smiling, and climbed off the bed. I immediately sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. She, who was squatting on the ground, shifted slightly so that her face was directly facing my penis. Even though it was so close, she didn't feel the embarrassment that a normal woman would feel, but rather a kind of determination.

Xiao Si quickly repeated her old trick. She pressed her left hand against my thigh, and with her right hand, she gently rubbed the base of my penis. Then she took it into her mouth and sucked on the tip. Although it was inside her mouth, I could still feel the texture of her tongue licking it. With each back-and-forth movement of her head, my pleasure gradually increased.

Her movements remained the same, but my perspective and angle were completely different. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked down. It was indeed much clearer. I helped her tuck her disheveled hair behind her ear and stroked her fair face. The feeling was too unreal. She was so beautiful. What I saw before me was a young, innocent, and pure Charlie Yeung doing something filthy for me. To me, the scene was too perfect, as beautiful as a dream. "Did Zhou dream that he was a butterfly, or did the butterfly dream that he was Zhou?" The story of Zhuangzi dreaming of being a butterfly tells us that it is difficult to distinguish between reality and illusion because he woke up to find himself as Zhuangzi, not a butterfly in flight.

I was worried, worried that I might wake up at this crucial moment, realize the next stop was Admiralty, I was on the subway, and the pleasure in my lower body was just caused by the clattering of FedEx deliverymen carrying bags of packages.

Thankfully, there's Christopher Nolan's *Inception*, so we no longer need to slap ourselves to test if we're dreaming. I had everything ready, except for a small metal spinning top. If I had, I would have stopped Xiaosi, gone to the desk, and spun the top to see if it would stop. If

Xiaosi saw a customer playing with the top while she was engrossed in her work, she would definitely think I was the most perverted customer she'd ever had.

But I knew I wasn't dreaming, because anyone who's had a wet dream knows that wet dreams never take half a day; you just suddenly see a girl undressing, and before you even start, or even before you do anything, you ejaculate in a hazy, dreamlike state.

Xiao Si probably noticed I was lost in thought, so she asked,

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing, please continue."

Xiao Si continued to swallow and spit the thing out, and I became more and more excited. I started pressing down on the back of her head with my other hand, while pressing down on her back with my other hand.

I didn't say anything, but she knew exactly what I needed. She cooperated by opening her mouth wider, and the back-and-forth movements became slower but much deeper than before. She could almost swallow the whole thing, giving me my first experience of "deep throat"!

My ex-girlfriends were superficial and lacked depth in their speech, and I used to be magnanimous and understanding towards them. But now I realized that their oral skills were just as lacking in talent and knowledge, completely devoid of substance and depth.

After about ten minutes, she realized that my self-control was pretty good, and she started to increase the pace. I didn't resist or try to hold back. Finally, I pressed down on her head and back with both hands, speeding up the rhythm of her swallowing and spitting. Finally, the pleasure accumulated to the point of explosion. Ah, every man knows that feeling, it's the feeling of ejaculating with all your might.

Unexpectedly, Xiaosi didn't spit it out immediately. Instead, she continued to work silently, draining the remaining fluids. I couldn't stand the sucking and told her to stop. Before stopping, she moved her mouth back and forth a few times. The whole interaction was so beautiful, a world apart from masturbation. The pleasure of masturbation lasts for a few seconds! A few seconds later, I was back to my loneliness.

Xiaosi finally spat it out. Although her mouth was full of that milky-white stuff, she still mumbled, "So much!" I didn't really care about that comment because I couldn't see or count it, and I didn't want to investigate whether praising customers was company policy. I only knew that I was a "somewhat special" customer, and that it was "very long" and "very much."

She carefully cleaned me up with a tissue and went to the bathroom to clean her mouth. A little while later, she called me from the bathroom to come in and shower with her. As soon as I entered, she casually began undressing in front of me. I hadn't seen a woman's naked body in a long time. Although my curiosity about the female form had gradually faded after my first encounter with it ten years ago, the way she removed her dress and the moment she took off her bra and panties still visually shocked me.

She noticed me staring at her body but didn't get angry. She simply asked calmly, "Isn't my figure a bit lacking?" "Your demeanor is elegant and refined, your skin is delicate and your figure is well-proportioned, very good, very good." She smiled sweetly after hearing this. I wasn't lying; her figure was truly excellent. Her buttocks were round and had a beautiful curve when they were lifted. Her breasts were full and firm. Most unexpectedly, her nipples were pink and very tender. This reflects that the color of genitals is not directly related to the number of sexual experiences. So stop mocking those celebrities who always appear in public for having dark skin. She was just naturally dark-skinned and, like the Virgin Mary, was still a virgin.

I watched her fill the waterbed with water. This was the first time I had ever seen a waterbed. It was filled with hot water, and the surface of the bed felt so warm to the touch.

She instructed me to lie down on the waterbed while she carefully adjusted the showerhead's water temperature. Soon after, she stood beside the bed, wetting my body and applying cheap, domestically made shower gel. This experience and feeling far exceeded my expectations. Since I was no longer a baby and had my first memories, I had never experienced lying down and being bathed without moving. Such treatment is rare, unless one is disabled.

I was covered in shower gel, and Xiaosi climbed on top of me. We were naked, face to face, bodies pressed tightly together. The shower gel mixed with water, making us both slippery. She started rubbing her whole body against me, and I held her body in my arms. This feeling of being intertwined was definitely no less than actual intercourse. I believe many people come to saunas to enjoy the "bath service," because you can't exactly have your wife do that on your own bed.

If the "bath service" is the selling point of saunas, then why are sauna centers called sauna centers instead of bathhouses?

Saunas originated in Northern Europe, and the definition is clearly to heat an indoor space so that the humid steam makes you sweat, which is therapeutic for the body. But nobody goes to a sauna center to sweat; they go to "fire up." Come on, apples aren't sold as fruit.

Although Xiaosi and I had met without any formalities, I still didn't know much about her. So, out of curiosity, I asked, "How many times have you taken a bath today?" She counted and said, "The fifth time." It turned out I was her fifth customer today!

At that moment, I felt a little sorry for her. Completing one service was already difficult enough, let alone doing it every day. If she needed to wash herself five times a day, should I say she was clean or filthy? I couldn't understand it. Apart from Jing'er and the chicken, no one in this world would bathe so frequently. (Jing'er: This should be Shizuka, the female protagonist of Doraemon.) It was my first time visiting such places, so I couldn't help but wonder about their experiences. I firmly believed there was always a reason they ended up in prostitution, so I patiently asked again, "Why do you do these jobs?" "I want to earn more money for myself and my family, but I'm not particularly special, so I can't find a good job. A friend introduced me to Dongguan, so I came to give it a try." When she answered, there was no hesitation whatsoever. Her tone when she said "give it a try" was as calm as if she were going to work as a cashier at Carrefour in Shenzhen. I always imagined they had some touching, tragic story behind them, like Du Shiniang, whose father died early and who was sent to a brothel by her family to pay off debts. Or perhaps like Chen Yuanyuan, who lost her mother as a child and was then sold to a brothel by her hateful uncle. But I was overthinking it.

She instructed me to turn over, and then began to rub and massage my back. The massage techniques, of course, lacked the strength and authentic style of a professional massage parlor, but on the slippery waterbed, it offered a different kind of experience. After a while, she came out of the bathroom. Through the transparent glass wall, I saw her take a purple, rod-shaped object from her handbag and walk towards me. The thing was quite large; I guessed it was a vibrator or something similar.

Before I could even catch my breath, Xiaosi was already eager to do it again. She came into the bathroom and gently pressed my buttocks, saying, "Relax a little." Relax a little?!

This made me even more uneasy. I thought the vibrator was for me to use on herself. Before I could react, she had already put a rubber sleeve over the rod-shaped object, pressed it firmly against my buttocks, turned it on, and inserted it into my only opening with enough space. The Berlin Wall stood for twenty-eight years; I never imagined my back door's chastity arch would have an even shorter lifespan.

I didn't know the rotation frequency of that rod per minute, but the small thing made my whole body vibrate. To be honest, it was a little pleasurable, not painful, but using a mainland-made vibrator on a mainland-made waterbed made me uneasy. Would

n't it leak electricity? So I urged Xiaosi to complete this part of the service. She told me that the purpose of the stick with the rubber sleeve, besides making the customer feel comfortable, was also to clean my anus.

After she pulled it out and placed it aside, she gently stroked my buttocks with both hands, then brought her face close and licked my anus thoroughly with her tongue.

Every time her tongue brushed against my anus, my legs immediately straightened, as if an electric current was running through my body.

I will never know the level of stimulation a woman experiences during orgasm, but it's probably similar to this feeling.

I don't think I have a fetish for "dragon drilling," but after trying it, I understand why many people enjoy it. I can't help but wonder if the so-called "cloaking" of prisoners being examined in the anus is as terrifying as portrayed in the media.

When Amina was being "cloaked," did she actually feel very happy and shout, "I don't want to leave!"? So I think prisoners should be arranged to examine each other's anuses with their hands and mouths when they enter prison. Otherwise, why can Amina enjoy herself even though she committed a crime?

But I came all this way and still have to pay to complete this part.

How much love do you and your girlfriend have to be for her to go through the "dragon drill" with you? Have you ever let her enjoy it?

She continued to bathe me, and since I had nothing else to do behind her back, I asked her again,

"So what are your ambitions? To make some money and start a business?" But she didn't seem to react much, only saying, "Hmm... I don't know yet." Actually, I saw that she didn't seem very interested in this topic, and I planned to end the conversation after saying the last sentence, so I joked with her, "You want to gain more experience and then do some better work, right? Like working as a hostess at that KTV next door... haha..." Less than half a second after saying that, she stopped. At first, I didn't pay attention and thought she was going to do something, but after a while, I felt something was wrong, so I looked back at her and realized that the joke had gone too far. Her eyes were red, and she was wiping away tears.

The water droplets on Xiaosi's face were very scattered, and I couldn't tell which were tears and which were just water droplets splashed up from the bath.

"Actually, I used to work at a karaoke bar..."

She didn't sob, but the sadness on her face was undeniable. She told me that when she worked at the karaoke bar, she couldn't bear the life of being forced to drink every night, and customers often asked to stay overnight. She never got a proper rest.

Later, she met a customer who pursued her passionately. He often came to the karaoke bar specifically to see her, and she felt that he was a good person and probably not joking, so she decided to date him seriously.

At that time, even though she had to work, she felt that life was a little easier because she was in love. But not long after, he found someone else.

"I was always so dispensable..."

As she said this, she blinked, and a tear slowly fell from her eye. Xiao Si had become accustomed to selling her body.

She gave him the last bit of her soul, but the hateful one was the pleasure-seeker. He probably just treated that relationship as a monthly pass to a brothel.

I usually don't know how to comfort girls I've made cry, because I've encountered too many women crying for no reason. But Xiaosi's situation made me feel she had many reasons to cry.

I couldn't just stand there staring at her pitiful state, so I could only comfort her by saying, "Please don't cry, save your tears for when you're crying with joy." Actually, when this sentence came to mind, I already thought it was incredibly corny, but I didn't have time to polish it. As a result, saying it in Mandarin had a certain chemical effect, not as silly as I had imagined.

But after hearing this, tears kept streaming down her face, and I didn't want to say anything more.

I tried to wipe away her tears with my hand, and then gently stroked her face. She closed her eyes, then leaned against my shoulder, holding me tightly with both hands. She maintained this position for a long time; she seemed to really enjoy holding me like this. Perhaps hugging someone else is the best comfort.

But I was clearly there for pleasure, and the waterbed service was supposed to be a pleasurable experience. I had encountered a tragic figure here, and I had to comfort her on the waterbed—a serious mismatch between the environment and the action.

It's like attending a solemn funeral, where everyone is weeping bitterly, when suddenly several masters emerge and break through the mire of hell, and after the performance, the guests and family applaud together.

Time passed by, and she seemed to have no reaction. Although it's a bit of a conspiracy theory, capitalism in contemporary China is becoming increasingly prevalent, and where there is capitalism, there is commercial activity.

Where there's business, there's fraud. I couldn't help but wonder if she was stalling for time. Damn it, was she an Arsenal fan again, using the corner flag tactic before the second half even started? I regretted misunderstanding her.

After hugging her for a while, she said, "Thank you, I'm done crying." Chapter 3, Section 9 (II) "Thank you, I'm done crying." These words reminded me of a former girlfriend. After she finished crying, she said in a hoarse voice, "Try it again, and you'll know what the consequences will be."

She looked at me with extreme hatred, but she didn't make a sound. That was only because I forgot to type those happy emoticons when I said "bye-bye" to her on MSN the night before.

Damn! I didn't even type a period! How could I type emoticons?!

Compared to that, Xiao Si's apology was much gentler and more considerate. She kissed my cheek, then looked at me steadily and said, "Let's continue." After saying that, she immediately kissed my neck.

She seemed a little excited, her kisses becoming increasingly forceful and moving lower and lower. After kissing my neck, she began licking my chest and belly, finally attacking my penis with her mouth. Perhaps because she had just showered and was much cleaner, her mouth movements were unrestrained and bold. This time, she stretched her tongue out long, not swallowing it whole, but roaming around it and circling the tip.

Unlike before, she watched me almost the entire time, exchanging glances. Her expression was one of ecstasy; perhaps she wanted to thank me. Since I comforted her, she seemed more intimate and proactive. Seeing her like this, my half-erect penis became erect again in less than half a minute.

Seeing that I was getting ready, she turned on the shower, took a big gulp of warm water, and then put her mouth on my penis, vigorously moving her head up and down. The water was quite hot, making my penis even more aroused in her mouth.

Not long after, she spat out the warm water, switched to ice-cold water from the showerhead, took a sip, and then swallowed my penis again. This time, I personally tested the temperature of the Dongjiang River water on a January night with the most sensitive part of my body. The icy cold was enough to give me a numbing sensation that stimulated my entire body.

She then switched to hot water for sucking. The temperature difference between hot and cold was incredibly exciting. I had often seen the term "ice and fire" when I was in elementary school reading erotic novels, but who exactly invented this great invention?

I'm not sure.

But I guess it was the Chinese who came up with it. The concept of Yin and Yang is part of traditional Chinese culture, concerning all opposing natural laws and concepts. The act of making love itself is already filled with the principles of Yin and Yang, such as male and female, upper and lower, concave and convex, genitals and penis, etc. Even oral sex uses "ice and fire." I believe only the Chinese, who applied the philosophy of the unity of heaven and man, could have invented this great thing.

"Shall we go back to bed?" she asked, the erection near her lips already a resolute answer: to do or not to do, that is the question.

She dried me with a towel, then wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me back to the bed from the bathroom.

I went to the bedside table, took out the "Durex Ultra Thin Condom" I had brought from my wallet—I actually thought the word "condom" was superfluous; could condoms really be so loose, so casually Japanese-style?

Xiaosi immediately snatched the unopened condom from my hand, tore open the small package, and knelt down by the bed to put it on me.

Although I didn't have much experience, her body language told me she craved pleasure even more than I did. I carried her to the bed, and she willingly rested her head on the soft white pillow. Her arms continued to embrace me, guiding me to climb on top of her, then she wrapped her legs around my waist.

She seemed to be a traditional woman, needing to start with a missionary position, the most typical missionary position.

She lifted her head and whispered in my ear, "Can you make me feel good?" "Yes." She pulled my hand to her chest, then guided my fingers to caress her snow-white breasts. Their size was close to the shape of my hand, and I could feel their smooth, elastic texture. From that distance, I could vaguely see some veins. As I touched her, her breathing became increasingly labored.

She took a deep breath and asked again in my ear, "Really? Will I feel good?" "I know you'll make me feel good. I want you to believe in me." She was so alluring that my answer was as firm as my erection. This was a significant milestone in my life. I reached behind her, hugged her tightly, and thrust my hips forward, leading my erection to its fourth territory.

The moment of penetration was so intense, it felt as if the whole world froze. It froze her expression of pleasure as she was penetrated, froze her breasts swaying with her movements, froze her moans of excitement, and it even seemed as if a beam of light shone from the point of our union. The feeling of being penetrated for the first time far exceeded my expectations. She made me feel the difference between the third and fourth dimensions, a transcendent difference that was not merely a quantitative one, but a revolution in my entire mindset. It was like breaking through from the theory of three-dimensional space to four-dimensional space, adding the concept of time to the space originally built on points, lines, planes, and volumes. Special relativity states that if one could traverse the timeline extended from four-dimensional space, one could distort the spacetime of the three-dimensional world. Now, I was penetrating the fourth dimension, which also distorted my values about my own world. In the world we had always lived in, it turned out that as long as you paid a little money and didn't have much communication with her, she would willingly and wholeheartedly offer her body to me.

I began to slowly thrust in and out. She held me tightly, her forehead buried deep in my face. I felt her hips swaying as if urging me to go further. I complied, spreading her thighs wider so I could penetrate her fully.

She seemed truly satisfied; her moans grew louder and smoother. I could feel her genitals becoming increasingly wet. I had already learned online that prostitutes often used lubricants, making "natural lubrication" scarce. I was determined to cherish this all-natural source of lubrication, free of methylparaben, sodium hydroxide, and other chemicals. The moisture made my movements more natural and rapid. I didn't stop until she said,

"Let me try on top."

This was the first time I'd heard a woman proactively suggest changing positions; it felt as rare as a woman who's never late.

My penis was temporarily separated from hers, finally giving me a chance to rest. We reversed positions; she pulled me onto the bed and then climbed on top of me.

She brought her mouth close to my face and whispered,

"Do you know where I live?"

I had forgotten to ask her where she was from, so of course I didn't know. She replied that her hometown was near Lijiang in Yunnan. I said,

"No wonder you're as serene and beautiful as a poem or a painting."

"Haha, but that's not the point."

"Then what is the point?"

"The point is that because I live there, I've been very good at riding horses since I was little." Chapter 3, verse 11 (I) I was a little slow to react on the bed and didn't understand what she meant by "riding a horse." She had already pressed down on my waist and sat up straight on me. Then she slightly lifted her lower body and used her hands to support my penis, guiding it into the right place. Seeing this smooth mounting motion, I suddenly realized that I was now a horse!

Xiao Si bent her upper body, stuck out her buttocks, and prepared to start. Perhaps because this was a 1000-meter race, she started very quickly as soon as the gate opened. Her buttocks swayed up and down, left and right, and her snow-white breasts bounced back and forth in rhythm with my face. I had never seen such an alluring riding posture.

Xiao Si's riding skills were truly superb. Her movements were expansive, yet her posture remained stable and composed. She was as light as a feather; when she sat on me, I felt no weight, only the pleasure of her ministrations. Only a seasoned jockey could achieve this. How many races had she won? Had she ridden me, this kind of dummy horse, more times than Wei Da had ridden a real horse?

Xiao Si herself seemed very excited. I lifted my head and licked her swaying breasts. She became agitated, letting out a few loud moans, then said,

"Can I go faster?"

She was a natural jockey, constantly seeking the thrill of speed. In fact, at that moment, she had already ridden me at high speed for 1800 meters. I wanted to tell her I was an "elite master," a champion horse, albeit a sprint champion.

Her movements became more and more intense, more and more exaggerated. I began to feel overwhelmed, but she said,

"It feels so good, can we last a little longer?"

I've seen many women with many demands, but this was the first time I'd seen a woman so demanding in bed.

It was a demanding situation—fast and enduring, like wanting the horse to be good but not feeding it.

I was almost at my limit, afraid she'd fall off, so I said, "Okay, but let's change positions." She probably knew I couldn't take it anymore, and reacted quickly, gracefully dismounting with beautiful movements; no one was more suited to play Mulan.

I could finally rest for a moment; catching my breath was crucial. But then she said again,

"I really like being on top of you; I want to feel comfortable for a little longer." Her desire flattered me; I'd never seen a worker so eager for work, voluntarily asking for overtime.

Her wantonness heated the atmosphere in the room, and I couldn't help but get excited. I forcefully pushed her down on the bed, picked up my penis, and thrust in again. Although it was man on top again, this time she proactively raised her legs high, placing them on my arms, seemingly wanting me to penetrate her completely.

Finally, I took the initiative again, thrusting wildly without reservation. She gripped my hand tightly, enjoying it loudly. I heard the sounds of slapping, our rapid breathing, the loud moans echoing in the room, the creaking of the bed legs shaking violently, and the gurgling of her clitoris from our friction. She was soaked, like the walls of a new building, seeping water, her buttocks and thighs wet from her own flow. Lugu Lake in Yunnan is famous for its tranquil, mirror-like water, but I never imagined that just a few hours' drive away in Lijiang, the girls' clitoris could be so turbulent!

Was it my rhythm that created the sound of the water, or did the sound of the water lead my rhythm? I don't know. I only know that the symphony of sound effects made me extremely excited, and I wanted to release completely.

Unexpectedly, she whispered in my ear, "It's been a long time since I've had an orgasm, I'm almost there." Even at this point, she was still only "almost there." Being late is indeed a woman's nature, but her behavior made it impossible for me to abandon her and selfishly enjoy an orgasm alone.

Normally, after a vigorous and high-quality process, I would have finished long ago. This time, I continued fighting, wanting to share the pleasure with her.

She held me tightly, making it impossible for me to pull out and rest. My penis was ready to climax, but she seemed to need a little more time. Not wanting to disappoint her, I had no choice but to resort to a difficult tactic in this desperate situation: distracting myself to increase my stamina.

Sex is a strange sport; the less focused you are, the longer you can last. However, with a pig like her, it must be a different story.

I started trying to look away from this stunning beauty, then I randomly picked something to stare at. I stared at the bedside lamp, the bag beside her bed, my coat that I had hung up—those inanimate objects. They allowed me to stall for a little longer, but while staring at those dull, lifeless things, my body was still moving violently. If I wasn't careful, I would be distracted by Xiaosi's moans. If my consciousness were to focus on her for even a second longer, something bad could happen. So, relying on those things alone couldn't last too long.

At that moment, she probably knew she was overly excited and tried to lower her voice. She grabbed several of my fingers and put them in her mouth, sucking hard to reduce her moans. This scene should have been quite suggestive, but my movements were too violent. Soon, she was no longer sucking or licking, but biting my fingers excitedly. It seemed like she was preparing to slowly devour me, starting from my fingertips. At that moment, I immediately thought of praying mantises during mating. The female praying mantis eats the male praying mantis during mating. It's not the kind of "eating" that happens when they go out to pick up girls; it's actually being eaten alive. In fact, it's not just insects. Humans also do many crazy things during sex. For example, many people in foreign countries like to strangle their partner to the point of near suffocation to increase pleasure. There's also a movie about protagonists having sex while driving and then using the moment of car crash and death to reach orgasm.

Thinking of this, my sexual desire greatly diminished, and I was so afraid that I moved my hand away from her mouth. Although I didn't go soft, the sensation in my penis was no longer as sensitive. Taking advantage of this situation, I grabbed her waist tightly and then kept thrusting into her deepest place. I don't know how to describe how deep it was. If those miners on the mainland were trapped in such deep mines, I'm sure they wouldn't be able to get out even by the Lunar New Year.

She seemed to be thoroughly enjoying my deep and relentless thrusting. As her climax approached, the pleasure made her somewhat lose her composure. I had never heard such loud moans before. Perhaps she was overly excited; even without my fingers sucking, she immediately let out a series of high-pitched cries, accompanied by an abnormal breathing rhythm. I thought this was her peak. Sure enough, I felt the powerful contractions of her muscles. This wasn't just a simple pleasure; it was an invisible and subtly nuanced body language, like a call for my member to lead me to climax. After nearly an hour of this long process, I thought it was time for a perfect ending. I focused my attention back on Xiaosi, looking at her flushed face, chest, hands, and feet, flushed with extreme excitement. In less than half a second, the sight had stimulated my visual nerves. I could no longer control myself, nor did I want to. I released everything I could into her through my member, and she felt the throbbing of my member.

"Great, let's do it together, it feels so good." I didn't say anything, I held her, closed my eyes, and enjoyed every twitch of that thing inside her. In those few seconds, I recalled the whole sexual process, and it felt so perfect, like a work of art. What kind of work of art? I think the most similar one is the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. The Sagrada Familia was designed by Gaudi, one of the greatest artists and architects in Spain. Gaudi's architectural inspiration mostly came from nature. Images of flowers, trees, and animals were used in the design of this magnificent Catholic church. This natural atmosphere coincided with my experience with environmental protection, ice and fire, and natural water. Moreover, after seeing the exterior of the Sagrada Familia, one cannot help but marvel at its dynamic spiral curves and those unique conical tops. Gaudi used a lot of the golden ratio and what he called the "curve of God" to design the exterior of this religious building, to bring the aesthetic beauty to the extreme. Xiao Si's beautiful legs also have the golden ratio, and her even breasts, delicate waist, and full hips form the "curve of God".

And another thing, the Sagrada Familia, construction began as early as 1882, but due to various reasons, it has been under construction for a full 129 years and is still not finished. Conversely, the world's tallest building, the Burj Khalifa in Dubai, is more than four times taller, yet it was completed in less than six years. Therefore, I believe the Sagrada Familia shares a similar significance with my long and passionate relationship with Xiaosi. Both could have been completed much faster, but the long and profound process has enhanced their epoch-making and historical significance, making their artistic value even more precious, and allowing them to write a longer and more important chapter in human history and in their own lives.

I was so tired that I finally lay down, looking at her contentedly. After she cleaned me up with a towel, she put her clothes back on, then hugged me in bed and said:

"You're a very nice person. I was very happy and comfortable just now." Perhaps she had been feeling down for a long time, and my comforting words made her feel that I was a good person, which made her much happier. Perhaps if I hadn't comforted her, she wouldn't have felt so comfortable and at ease. Her thanks made her seem very endearing, and I felt happy too.

"I should be leaving soon."

Yes, she reminded me that my two-hour service was almost over. I looked at her and felt a little sad because she had just had a happy time with me, and now she was about to leave. At that moment, I didn't know what to say, so I said,

"Then see you next time."

"Sure, but you'll forget me soon." She touched my face as she said this, her expression also carrying a hint of sadness. I understood, but I also felt strange. Why was she so afraid of being forgotten? Shouldn't she be used to the short-lived relationship between a waiter and a customer? Was it because she had just been abandoned? Or did she really not want to be forgotten by me? Before I could answer, she said,

"I'll leave you my QQ number."

I didn't actually have a QQ account. I told her that after I installed and registered, she would be my first QQ friend. But because I hadn't given her my QQ number, Xiaosi seemed a little disappointed. She left her QQ number and email address. After chatting for a few more minutes, she said,

"Goodbye. I think you're really special. I'll remember you." Xiaosi kissed my cheek, and I said goodbye to her too. Then I got up and walked to the door with her, gazing at her as she turned and left the room.

She was really beautiful, but I didn't think about taking pictures. These days, many people think they're like Nobuyoshi Araki, the Japanese erotic art master, photographing whoever they're interested in. Her appearance is enough to remain in my heart. But this might be the first and last time I see her.

Exhausted, I didn't think much and just turned off the light and fell asleep.

I was awakened by some crisp percussion—it was my phone alarm. I looked at the clock; it was already 11 a.m.

I called James to see if he was up. Turns out, he had gastroenteritis and had gone home early. I didn't feel unwell at all. We ate the same things last night, except for those women.

I ignored him.

I hung up, then washed up in the bathroom, preparing to leave. The moment I turned off the tap, all sound disappeared, leaving an unbearable silence. I stared blankly around, realizing the room was large, yet so empty when I was alone. I looked at the waterbed beside me, recalling last night's events, and instinctively touched it. The warm water it once held had cooled down considerably; waterbeds were usually so cold. At that moment, I inexplicably felt like crying.

I'd said men should take care of themselves, enjoying the moment before returning to loneliness, but loneliness wasn't so bad—at least I still had myself. I realized then that after the pleasure, it was like being sucked into a black hole, everything in the space drained away, even myself ceased to exist.

I changed my clothes listlessly and left the Washington sauna center.

I, 25, sat upright in the Harmony Express carriage. Outside the window, the sky was a gloomy gray, and all around me were those typical, ugly bungalows. This is what mainland China looks like, I thought.

I listened to random music through my headphones. Suddenly, it played that song. The melody, as always, overwhelmed me—no, it shook me even more violently than before. It was "Norwegian Wood," not the Beatles' version, but Wu Bai's. The

opening guitar solo was so melancholic and adrift. Wu Bai's weathered and sorrowful voice seemed to be singing for me, speechless with despair.

I felt dizzy and bent over, covering my face with my hands. A train attendant came over and asked in Mandarin if I wasn't feeling well. I replied that I was fine, just a little dizzy.

Perhaps it was psychological, but after leaving that place, I felt adrift and helpless. It turns out that happiness and pleasure can, to some extent, be bought with money. A fair transaction of buying and selling might actually be better than some deceitful love games.

There were no promises of eternal love, promises of forever, or vows of unwavering devotion. A woman I'd known for less than two hours could still passionately and enthusiastically engage in sex with me, and the quality of the experience could only be described as perfect.

Having lived for over twenty years, I've realized that some loves, like those that happened to me, are less worth the depravity than soliciting prostitutes. The waitress came over again, asking if I needed help.

"Yes, thank you, I'm just a little sad."

Yes, I was indeed downcast and sad, perhaps because last night's experience was too unforgettable. Forgetting someone you'd only known for two hours is easy; forgetting someone you'd had an intimate relationship with is difficult.

She was truly lovely, more lovely than any girl I'd ever met or dated, inside and out. I often hear people say that when you hire a prostitute, you should find someone who feels like a girlfriend. If every prostitute were like Xiaosi, I'd rather have a girlfriend who's truly "chicken-like."

She was so charming, but even if I could, I wouldn't want to be with her. I never truly understood her, nor did I understand myself. I might very well become the other person who abandons her.

But it's precisely because she's so indistinct that she's so perfect in my mind. She's like a shooting star that suddenly illuminates the sky, its brilliance fleeting before it's even fully appreciated.

Unfortunately, the shooting star doesn't know it's a shooting star, and it can't possibly understand how special I find it:

"I'm always so dispensable."

I remember her words. Her biggest misconception was that she felt like a commodity, always replaceable and easily forgotten. But I didn't tell her that wasn't true. At this moment, I regret it deeply. Last night's hasty farewell left me without any expression of affection.

While the memory is still clear, before it fades into oblivion, I want to write about her, as a memorial to myself, and as compensation, to tell Xiaosi that she's not dispensable; she definitely holds an important place in someone else's heart. At least she had a profound impact on me.

The final section of *Norwegian Wood*, another guitar solo, finally finished playing, finally shaking my soul. After calming down, I thought about it and made up my mind to return to Hong Kong and write a novella, which is what you see now, "The Forest of Dongguan."

For three weeks, she gave me nearly 30,000 words of inspiration, and I proved her right. Perhaps I really am a special person; perhaps no one would actually write 20,000 or 30,000 words after indulging in pleasure. On New Year's Eve, I finally finished writing "The Forest of Dongguan" completely and dedicated it to the novella via email.

The End

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