Old A, my departed elder brother---by Old Wang who doesn't like cilantro

page views:1 Publication date:2024-06-06老王不

Memory slowly discards details it deems unimportant. In my mind, the image of A becomes increasingly fragmented, like a minimalist oil painting, filled with blank spaces. The remaining colors, however, are perfectly balanced in shade and intensity.
I tried to reduce the eroticism in my writing, but I found that many initial emotions and desires were tightly intertwined, difficult to separate. After much deliberation, I chose to give up the struggle.
Words have their own obsessive desire to express themselves; they carry emotions, sketching the hidden world they want to reveal to the world. Standing beside A, I was like a naive child gazing at his deeply furrowed forehead. I said I was ready, and he turned and pulled down the veil. The dazzling white light dissipated, revealing a grand erotic scene. A turned a kaleidoscope, and I saw vibrant, ever-changing colors. M lay in the center, her eyes filled with intoxication, welcoming each penis. She held it in her mouth and grasped it with her hands, opening her hips and thrusting her buttocks, experiencing wave after wave of climax in a state of complete ecstasy. I saw all three doors open, white fluid hanging from the entrance…
I asked him when his first lustful desire began to sprout. He fell into deep thought, his gaze focusing on the infinite distance. He told me that he was still young then, swept away by the tide of the rural migration to the most remote place with a group of older brothers and sisters of similar age. These city kids, faced with a strange world, naturally formed gangs. They stole villagers' dogs to eat, fought and brawled with the locals, carving out a bloody path to gain a foothold. After settling down, with nothing to do and hormones raging, the brothers' eyes began to scan inwards, scanning one by one the bulging breasts covered by clothes, and the fleshy buttocks under blue khaki fabric. A group of people, from the first stirrings of love, gradually descended into rampant lust.
The girl he loved gave him her body, and also took his virginity. He said he was lying on the meadow, the girl's eyes were shy, her pair of snow-white breasts trembled, and the two small nipples, with their delicate pink hue, made him dizzy. When the young woman climaxed, he felt the first pleasure from her vaginal contractions. In that blissful moment, he ejaculated his first load of semen, willingly and content. He said that at that moment, he would have died for her.
But ultimately, there were too many wolves and not enough meat; surrounded by enemies, how could the young woman remain unscathed? Moreover, the hormones ignited by her orgasm constantly aroused his lust. He wanted to protect her, wanted to desperately ejaculate to satisfy her, but two fists are no match for four hands. A stronger penis coveted her, waiting for an opportunity to penetrate her body; how could he stop it? He
was finally caught. He saw the young woman lying prone on the broken bed, her buttocks raised high. A grown man, with the front of his clothes in his mouth, knelt behind her, thrusting wildly. He saw his precious vagina, ravaged beyond recognition yet full and overflowing, splattered with fluid. The young woman lifted her head from the other penis she was holding, her face flushed as she looked at him. Shock shone through his tear-filled eyes.
A said that at that moment, his heart was surging with mixed emotions. He heard the crisp sound of shattering glass and saw the sharp shards scattered on the ground. Yet, at the same time, inexplicably, he felt an overwhelming surge of lust. This desire was intertwined with grievance, anger, bitterness, and other complex and indescribable emotions, surging through his body like strong liquor. Years later, when talking about that moment, A's voice still trembled slightly.
I remember that night, M nestled naked in my arms. His penis, now limp after ejaculating, was as docile as a licking dog under her gentle caresses. She talked about her first meeting with A, those initial moments. At that time, she was experiencing her first love, her smile as radiant as a flower. A, wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses, slowly approached on a sidecar motorcycle, so cool it made her dizzy. The first time her vagina was filled, the tingling sensation of thrusting overwhelmed her, she cupped A's face to wipe his sweat, her eyes filled with nothing but him. She recalled the resolute determination she felt the first time she unbuckled her belt with another man. "I must give my all for today's pleasure, just to fulfill A's wish." She said that afterwards, she hid in the bathroom, crying and washing the places the man had touched over and over again, unwilling to come out for a long time. She gave a bitter smile and said, "What else could I do?" I heard the trembling of her voice, and glancing at her, I saw two clear tears. "
Later, I let go," she said. That feeling of satisfaction from being sexually needed by multiple men simultaneously, the exhaustion from being repeatedly ravaged by orgasms—few women could ignore that magic. Her sex drive was insatiable; she felt like a small boat adrift in a raging sea of desire, rising and falling with the waves.
I felt a mix of emotions listening to her. Looking down, I saw her slender, white fingers gently caressing my genitals. She probed deep inside, kneading my anus. Seeing her grasp it deftly, moving it up and down, I was stirred by a hundred emotions, and once again became as hard as iron. Seeing what M saw, she smiled warmly, gently turned and straddled him, guiding the erect penis towards the spot she indicated.
Afterwards, I maintained a long-term connection with A, sometimes video chatting. I quietly watched her, suspended in mid-air by the penis, swaying. M's mouth was open, her eyes vacant from orgasm. I asked A if he was numb after experiencing so much. He said, "Brother, you're not a fish, how can you know the fish's joy?"
Years ago, they immigrated to America. His eldest sister must have felt deep guilt about her youngest brother's past experience of being abandoned in the mountains, and always wanted to give him her best. A was also happy to be free. Before leaving, he sent me a set of black and white photos. A said M knew I liked them, and specially grew her hair long to have them taken at a photo studio. I opened the album like I had the first time I opened photos of M's private parts. I quietly lit a cigarette. Before me, M's long hair flew, her half-naked breasts, her jade feet curving alluringly. Gazing at the screen filled with incredibly detailed images, my thoughts soared once more.
As we parted, I asked A if there was anything else he wanted to say. A smiled at the camera: "Brother, I introduced you to this world. Even the grandest feast must come to an end. Take care. The road ahead is long and arduous. I know you still have many questions. If you can't find the answers, go find them within yourself. And while you're at it, go see the world, turning every place you yearn for into a path you've walked."
I raised my glass to the screen: "From this moment on, we part after this drink. You ride your white horse westward, while I challenge the heavens. I firmly believe that we will both eventually see rivers and mountains, and the sun shining on golden mountains. Even if we never meet again, even if we don't see each other
year after year, may we both be safe and sound."

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Old A, my departed elder brother---by Old Wang who doesn't like cilantro

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