Sleeping with the local shamans of the surrounding villages 1-5

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Chapter 1, My Boss Taught Me How to Live a House

My name is Little Master.

Why Little Master? Because I have a master called Old Master.

Don't ask me what Master means, I don't know either. Anyway, everyone calls us that. When I graduated,
I became Little Master, and my master was promoted from Master to Old Master.

I can tell you what a Master does: whenever someone in the surrounding villages dies
, gets married, or has a baby, they ask us to perform rituals.

We are not monks, we don't chant scriptures; we are not Taoists, we don't worship the Three Pure Ones, but
we ghosts. I've heard that monks and Taoists also exorcise ghosts, but I've never met a monk or Taoist who exorcises ghosts. Masters
really do exorcise ghosts. I

'm getting off-topic, but I can't tell my story clearly without digressing.

My original nickname was Dog Girl. Don't misunderstand, I'm a boy. Whenever the old people in the village said to give me a humble name so it would be easier
to raise, they would give me a girl's name like Flower Girl and Green Girl.

The story of how I went from being a "Dog Girl" to a "Little Master" begins with the death of my boss.

My boss wasn't my biological grandfather, not even my great-uncle, but in our mountain village, we were all from the large
Tian family, so we addressed each other by seniority.

My boss wasn't actually that old; he died before he was fifty. But because he was his mother's
posthumous child, even though he had a limp from childhood, he was of high seniority.

My boss hanged himself. Before he died, the He family from the other side of the mountain broke his other leg, and it's said that they
also cut off his penis. At the time, I didn't pay much attention to whether his thick, dark
penis was really cut off, but now I think it probably is.

Just thinking about my own penis makes it throb and hurt. Because when my old man was alive, he loved to suck my
penis . He would put it in his mouth, which had a lot of whiskers, and suck it hard.
He would also often play with my penis by rolling it with his tongue, making me feel like I needed to pee and he wouldn't let go.

There weren't many games to play in the mountains. Most of the adults went out to earn money and didn't come back for a long time. In the village, there were just a bunch of
us kids and my old man, the old bachelor

, who no one wanted. I don't know what games city people play, but the kids in our village all played house
. My old man taught us how to play house. To play house, you first had to be the dad, and then someone else had to be the mom. The rest of
us could only be the son and daughter. I was the main dad, and of course, there was my old man himself. The main moms were Hua Mei
and Qing Mei, two little girls who were about my age. The rest of the younger kids were always
our kids.

I still always try to find opportunities to play this game with others; it's really fun, especially when you're the dad. You can
direct the mom to start a fire and cook, or to take off her clothes, and you can even spank her and nipple
her your penis. The best part is that you can make them suck my penis.

At first, I didn't know how to play, so my boss let me be the dad and him be the mom. He taught me how to direct the mom, which meant he
would do whatever I said. So he started sucking my penis, making it swell up
like a pencil tip, and I felt like I needed to pee. Hua Mei and Qing Mei laughed so hard that snot dripped into their mouths, and they were clapping and shouting, "Daddy,
go!"

After he taught me, he let me be the dad and Hua Mei the mom, and he made Hua Mei suck my penis like he did.

Hua Mei always had two lines of yellow snot hanging from her nose, which she'd dangle to her mouth without wiping them, then swallow them with a "slurp."
I've always been a clean person, and I absolutely refused to let Hua Mei, with her mouth that had swallowed so much snot, eat my
penis. In the end, I had no choice but to let my boss play the role of the mother again. He ate until my little penis was so swollen that I peed a
stream that shot all the way to Tian Jiyuan before it was considered acceptable.

I've always wanted to be a father, but my boss said it wasn't possible; the children had to take turns. I
was very opposed to this. How could Hua Mei and Qing Mei be fathers when they didn't have penises? But my boss said it was fine;
he would be the mother and serve the father.

That snotty-nosed Hua Mei was incredibly proud of this, bossing my boss, who was acting as the mother, to cook for her, take
care of the children, and even eat my penis.

We found it hilarious at the time—how could you expect your mother to eat your penis when you don't even have one?

Unexpectedly, the boss actually climbed down and found a tiny, red bean-sized fleshy bump on Hua Mei's genitals,
sucking and licking it. This made Hua Mei's little white legs tremble uncontrollably, and her face turn as red as if she had
a fever. In the end, Hua Mei shamelessly peed, even getting into the boss's mouth, but he
didn't get angry.

Since we were taking turns being dads (excluding the little kids in open-crotch pants), it was soon the
boss's . It was supposed to be my turn to be mom, but the boss said I should be the eldest son taking care of the younger siblings,
so Hua Mei had to be the mom.

After the cooking, laundry, and childcare routines were finished, it was time for the "eating penis" part. When the boss pulled
out his little penis, we were all shocked. Wow, a little penis can be this big! The front looks
like a mushroom head, and the back has a little club to catch it. Hidden in the black, grassy fuzz are two bird eggs.

When Flower Girl saw how big her boss's penis was, she regretted it and said she didn't want to be a mother anymore and wanted me to be her.

How could that be? The game is fair. I'm the eldest son, so I'll listen to my dad and grab Flower Girl so
she can't leave.

Flower Girl had no choice but to open her little mouth and start eating her boss's penis. At first it
was after a few bites, her penis swelled to twice its original size in her mouth, making her choke and almost
roll her eyes back.

Seeing that this still wasn't enough, her boss made her hold his penis with both hands and play with it
like , until he peed a very smelly, white pee.

After playing this game, Grandpa told us not to tell our families. Of course, he would always manage to get
us some brown sugar or biscuits from who-knows-where.

Since we'd eaten his food, we, including Hua Mei, naturally wouldn't tell our families.

Later, Hua Mei and Qing Mei's parents reportedly got into trouble outside and didn't come back, taking them with them. So
the house game was over, but Grandpa would still sometimes give me a little nipple-like stimulation, making me feel so full I wanted to pee.

It's said that Grandpa died on the other side of the mountain, using a few colorful sugar grains to get the He family's little girls to play with him.
They were playing house, but that day he didn't bring enough candy. Four little girls played mothers to him, but he only got three pieces.
The little girl who had given him her penis but didn't get any candy was resentful and broke her promise, telling her
mother when she got home. As a result, the landlord's good leg was broken, and it's said that his
penis, which he often gave to the little girls, was also cut off.

After the landlord desperately crawled back, perhaps because of the pain or because he couldn't play house anymore,
he climbed onto the dining table and hanged himself with a bedsheet.

In our mountain village, the dead are respected, and no matter what the cause of death, the funeral must be held in a grand and lively manner.
So, although the landlord was a childless, old bachelor, the villagers pooled their money to make a coffin for him and even
invited the most famous shaman in the surrounding villages to perform a ritual for him.

I've told so many stories, and this is just the beginning. I don't know how many friends will still be willing to listen to me continue.

In the mountain village, death isn't always a sad event; sometimes it's
like . When the village head died, the whole village came, even relatives from next door joined in the fun, like
watching a grand opera. And the true star of this opera was none other than my future master, Master Shi. Hiring

Master Shi was expensive; you had to let him take the pig's head home after slaughtering a pig, and also a rooster.
The rice and flour used for the rituals were all his too. Even so, everyone still had to pay him a special visit. This was because Master Shi possessed
great abilities; he could not only chant like a song in the mourning hall, but also exorcise ghosts, pinpoint burial sites, and even solve problems for families struggling with
infertility .

The happiest of all, of course, were us children, because our shaman would wear a
hat adorned with jingling gold, silver, and bronze ornaments, and, holding a peach wood sword, would chant incantations as if singing. Sometimes he would spin around, sometimes
do somersaults , and might even perform feats like swallowing fireballs or climbing ladders of knives. But these weren't the most enticing
things. What terrified us most, and what we most wanted to know, was whether there were truly ghosts hidden in the wide sleeves of our shaman's large black robe!

Our shaman could catch ghosts, and the ghosts he caught were hidden in the sleeves of his robe—whether true or not, it
had been passed down through generations in our mountain village, and every generation of children, filled with immense fear and curiosity,
wanted to uncover this mystery.

Of course, not just anyone could look into the shaman's sleeves; it depended on his mood and how much wine he had drunk
.

I was both lucky and unlucky; I was actually allowed to stick my head into the shaman's wide sleeves to see for myself!

And there really were ghosts in the shaman's sleeves! Although I didn't know it was a ghost at the time!

I was trembling with fear, but to show that I was different, I sweated profusely and stuck my little head into
my master's dark, unwashed sleeve.

"Dog Girl, you're here?" "Boss, what are you doing here?" Unexpectedly, after I crawled in, I didn't see
a ghost, but instead saw my boss, who should have been lying in a coffin, sitting in a pile of weeds talking to me.

"Come on, Dog Girl, quickly help me tear off that paper on my face. It's been a long time since we played house, Dog Girl. If you
tear it off I'll be your mom and eat your penis." Hearing my boss say this, I noticed
that there was a piece of yellow paper with red and green paint on my boss's forehead.

Play house and eat your penis?

Hearing my boss say this, my little penis inexplicably stood up, like a hard
pencil .

I didn't even consider how the landlady could be sitting there talking to me after he died, so without hesitation, I
went forward and tore off the yellow paper covering him.

After the paper was removed, the landlady straightened up and let out a long sigh, but his expression quickly changed. He
grabbed my little hand and said anxiously, "Dog Girl, we have to hurry! There are wild dogs coming!" In our
mountain village, wolves that look like dogs are called wild dogs. Hearing that wild dogs were coming, I was so scared that I quickly followed the
landlady and ran away.

At that time, I didn't think much about how the landlady, who was already a cripple and had his leg broken by the He family, could
suddenly run like the wind. Of course, even if I had understood then, it wouldn't have mattered. After all, I was just a child,
and a child possessed by a ghost. What use would it be to understand then?

The story goes that my soul left my body, dragged away by the ghost of my recently deceased landlady, but my body
collapsed to the ground with a thud, lifeless.

Someone quickly told my mother about this, and of course, she immediately held me in her arms.

The village elders and the barefoot doctor came, but they all shook their heads, indicating their inability to help.

"This child has been possessed by a ghost," the shaman, having finished his meal, said coldly after glancing at my eyes
.

Knowing the cause meant there was hope, and my mother, not being foolish, immediately
knelt before him, kowtowing repeatedly and pleading for her son's life.

My mother was a renowned beauty in the surrounding villages, because my father was a famous carpenter. The carpenters in the mountains
weren't like the carpenters in the city now. They possessed magical abilities, the most famous being the "Lu Ban magic," which many have
heard of.

My father, while working as a carpenter outside the mountains, took a liking to my mother's beauty and secretly used the Lu Ban magic to
infect her entire family with a strange illness. Starting from their faces, they developed prickly heat all over their bodies, suffering from unbearable itching day and night. No
herbal or Western medicine could cure it; the itching would cause festering sores, eventually preventing them from leaving the house. Finally,
they sent someone to my father, begging him to save their family, promising to marry their most beautiful daughter, my mother, to
him. Only then did my father cure them. And so, my mother came from a big city to this poor
mountain village with my father.

My mother was stunningly beautiful, but few of the old bachelors in the village dared to make a move on her, because my
father's Lu Ban magic was not something an ordinary family could easily tolerate. I heard that some reckless young man, while my dad was out,
got drunk and pinned my mom to the ground. Unfortunately, the door wasn't closed, and the neighbor saw them and ruined their tryst.

When my dad came back, he didn't pursue the matter. The young man went into hiding for six months, thinking he
was nothing special. He'd often get drunk and gossip about my mom, saying her body was as white as scallion roots, and especially her
pubic area—it was completely hairless, taut like a freshly steamed bun. He lamented, "What a pity! If the neighbor
had come even a minute later, his rock-hard penis could have gone in." He added, "If he'd actually gone in, he'd be willing to die!"

The story got a bunch of bachelors all dreaming about my mom, masturbating and yelling, "Huang Guiying, I'm going to fuck
your white tiger cunt to pieces!" The reckless guy never got a chance, but death satisfied his wish.
Not long after, when a family in the village was building a house, the reckless guy was setting up a beam on the roof when a piece of the wooden frame under his feet came loose, and he fell straight down from
the roof , dying instantly.

Of course, many villagers suspected my dad had used magic, but there was no evidence to prove it,
because my dad wasn't even there at the time; he was making furniture in the next room. From then on, the villagers
could only secretly masturbate to my mom, even if they secretly shouted, "Huang Guiying, I want to fuck you!" they didn't dare say it aloud. So,
even though my dad was away from home for years, no one dared to cuckold him.

But let's continue with the story of my mom begging the shaman to save me.

Wherever the master goes, he receives what we now call VIP treatment. Especially at funeral parlors, a special room is set up
for his rituals. When he performs his rituals at night, everyone must leave the hall. Of course, if someone wants to ask the master
for a talisman or a prayer slip, only those whose names he calls can enter; everyone else must stay far away. This
is the meaning of "keep away, strangers." Aside from some elderly women and men who come to ask for talismans and offer
incense and money, the majority of those who come are young women seeking children, because the master's talismans for fertility are said to be very effective!

After my mother, with tears streaming down her face, kowtowed seven times, the master sighed,
reached under her arm to help her up, and softly said, "Take Gou Mei to my ritual room." Then he began to pack up his ritual implements.

Seeing that the master had agreed to save me and was going to the ritual room to get talismans and perform rituals, the villagers
all left the mourning hall without prior arrangement. Only my mother, the master, and myself—neither dead nor alive—remained in the

hall. Seeing that everyone had left, the master said to my mother with a serious expression, "Dog Girl's mother, tell me the truth,
what grudge did this ghost have against you? Why would he be willing to jump to the eighteenth level of hell to drag Dog Girl down with him?"

As he spoke, the master used a bamboo stick to light the oil lamp under the landlady's body.

"Ah, it's him? This beast has taken Dog Girl's soul?" My mother was both shocked and angry, pointing her delicate, white
index finger at the still-unsealed landlady's body.

"Hmm!" The master hummed and nodded heavily.

Under the urging and coercion of the shaman, my mother finally stammered out the whole story of her feud with my boss
.

At that time, I wasn't born yet, and my mother wasn't called "Dog Sister Mom" but "Guiying Sister." Although many men, young and old,
lusted , because my father had used magic to kill a reckless boy who tried to assault her, these men
only dared to masturbate at the back of my mother's swaying, plump buttocks; no one dared to actually push her
to the ground .

There's a saying, "lust knows no bounds." Most people wouldn't dare, but that doesn't mean everyone would. There are always some toads
who aren't afraid of trying to find a way to taste swan meat, and the most prominent one of them was my
boss!

It was a night when the moon was round and bright, like a huge breast swaying over the mountaintop. Logically, a dark night is a time for murder,
a windy night for arson; the moon illuminating the night like day wasn't the perfect
time for wicked deeds done in the shadows. Yet, someone defied convention and did the most inappropriate thing at the most inappropriate time
.

Whether it was because she ate an expired mooncake or something else, my mother actually
went out .

In the mountain village, there's no custom of installing a bathroom in the bedroom. Usually, there's a red-painted toilet in the corner of the room.
If you really need to urinate at night, you don't need to go outside; you just empty it the next morning. As for defecating,
you have to go to the outhouse built outside the main house. Of course, mountain people work from sunrise to sunset, and
some even skip dinner to save food, so naturally, they don't need to use the outhouse at night.

My mother was different. My father was the most famous carpenter in the surrounding villages, so although my mother never did farm work
, she still had to be fed three meals a day. However, she didn't go to the outhouse often at night. Although no other men were interested, it was still a little scary for a woman to go out alone
late at night

nature calls, especially when you have an upset stomach. No matter how scared you are, you have to go to the outhouse. My mother
ran into the outhouse, unbuckling her belt as she went, and squatted down.

Sure enough, she had an upset stomach, and as soon as she squatted down, she had a runny stool. Afterward,

my mother didn't dare get up immediately, because who knew if she would need to go again in a few minutes? Just then,
the urge to urinate came, so she lifted her buttocks slightly, and "whoosh," a stream of clear, white water gushed out from the Baiyushan Spring
.

The moon was truly round that night. Its light shone brightly through the sparse cracks in the roof tiles and through the leaves
of the outhouse, casting dappled
shadows landscape painting on her backside. If a certain short, stout man were present
, he would surely sway his head and exclaim, "This scene makes me want to compose a poem!"
Of course, this stout man on stage wasn't there, but squatting outside the outhouse was another short, stout man with a limp. He lacked
the man's literary flair; he simply strained his eyes to peer into the deliberately dug cracks in the brickwork. If
eyes could grow hands, I imagine they would have reached out and groped my mother's plump, white buttocks until they were completely disoriented
.

Of course, simply touching that plump buttocks wouldn't satisfy his desires. His biggest wish was for
a little ,
on the pink and white little pussy that my mom had exposed to him after lifting her buttocks for easier urination. It was like a freshly steamed bun, pink and tender. This wasn't the dark, rough, and messy old black pussy of the old
women This was a
pure white pussy, clean and flawless like that of an underage girl, without a single black hair in sight!

My mom, of course, didn't know that there was a pair of eyes outside the outhouse, like eyes with little penises, staring unblinkingly at
her plump little pussy. After urinating, she habitually took out her riding cloth and wiped
the urine still dripping from her pussy.

People in the mountains don't have the concept of toilet paper. Every adult woman has a piece of cotton cloth folded into several layers
, which she uses as a sanitary napkin during menstruation and to wipe away urine residue when she's not menstruating.
After use, she just washes it and hangs it on a tree branch to dry, so it's reusable, clean, and environmentally friendly.

I don't know what my mother was thinking at the time. After wiping herself, instead of finding a branch to wipe her bottom and getting up, she actually
rolled up that riding cloth into a long strip, used her fingers to spread her fluffy, white, tender labia
apart a little, and then used her other hand to slowly insert the rolled-up thing into her pink, pink vulva, which
looked like a baby's mouth opening to suckle. As she did so, she couldn't help but moan.

I wanted to recite a poem in this situation. But that would be a miracle. I think even
the fat guy would be speechless and unable to utter a single line of poetry if he saw this scene, let alone
my boss's father, who had been a bachelor for half his life, lying outside the outhouse.

At first, my boss probably didn't intend to do anything to my mom. He was just masturbating while sucking on her
tempting little pussy, reaching down to his crotch to pull out his thick, dark penis and get a quick handjob.
After all, my dad's skills were deadly!

But my mom's moans and gasps, which were so ecstatic, grew louder and louder with the increasing frequency of her thrusting
. My boss's eyes turned red, and he roared, "I don't want to live anymore!" He
limped into the outhouse, not caring how dirty it was, and pressed my mom against the
wall
. He thrust his huge,

throbbing penis, like a python, into her plump, trembling buttocks. My mom, who was masturbating with her eyes half-closed, never expected this. She screamed and
collapsed to the ground.

At this point, there was no one to turn to for help. In the mountain village, incest and adultery were common occurrences, and no one would
bother with such

trivial matters in the dead of night. Whether my mother was lucky or the landlord was unlucky, this sure thing fell through.

The reason was simple: the landlord was too impatient. He was so focused on thrusting his large, throbbing penis into my mother's vagina
that he forgot about the cloth stick already inserted inside. Although the cloth stick wasn't as hard or
as hot as a penis, it had already established its place. Despite his best efforts, he could only rub against the soft crevice
of her buttocks and the cloth strip, unable to penetrate.

After the landlord's efforts, my mother, who had been limp and almost fainting on the ground, regained consciousness.
Once she was awake, she naturally resisted, grabbing and pushing at the landlord's penis.

If things continued like this, my mom would eventually be taken advantage of by the boss. Unfortunately, just as fate would have it, my mom's
diarrhea flared up again from the boss's antics, and he ended up spitting
out feces all over his old penis, pulling

her out with one hand and simultaneously soaking it. This sudden turn of events startled the boss, but after a moment's hesitation, he quickly wiped his stinking penis
on his clothes, forcefully turned my mom around, and tried to penetrate her directly. My mom, of course, wouldn't
give up so easily, and started scratching and clawing at the boss's body.

As fate would have it, the landlady was struggling to
pull the cloth stick that was sinking deeper between my mother's legs with one hand, his head pressed against her swollen breasts like two little white rabbits, trying to exert force. Unexpectedly,
my mother's hand, covered in smelly, runny poop, reached out and shoved into the landlady's wide-open, panting
mouth. Instantly, the incredibly foul-smelling runny poop that came out of his upset stomach shoved into the landlady's mouth.
At that moment, even the most lecherous landlady couldn't help but turn to the side and vomit violently. Taking advantage of this opportunity, my mother didn't even bother to wipe her bottom, pulled up her pants, and rushed out of the outhouse back to her room, locking the door

securely behind her.
My mom didn't mention it, and of course, the shopkeeper who had eaten a mouthful of stinky poop was even less likely to mention it. But the shopkeeper and my mom had a deep-seated grudge. Now that I think about it, I wonder if he was thinking of ways to get revenge on my mom
when he made me play house and eat his penis .

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