My girlfriend is an AV actress.

page views:1 Publication date:2023-04-21 08:16:09

Regarding that farewell, I clearly remember its beginning, but I can't recall how it ended.

—Ang Lee, *Life of Pi*

"Reflected on my penis."

"No."

Anna grabbed my genitals, brought her nose close to mine, and said, "That's really good, it's hard to this extent."

"Why lie? Good children don't lie."

"No." I defended myself.
She squatted down, rubbing my genitals with her hands, gently nuzzling them with her nose, occasionally taking deep breaths. I looked into her eyes, and she looked into mine.

"When did you see it get this hard? Was it when you saw Ah-Lu eating other men's penises, or when you saw me eating other men's penises?" She pulled down the zipper on my genitals and deftly pulled out my penis. He held it in his hand, slowly stroking it up and down, occasionally rubbing it against her beautiful face. "Seeing your own woman sucking another man's cock makes you hard? How advanced! But I love it when you do this, are you happy? You must know how amazing Ah Lü's mouth is, right? Does she always lick you? So amazing, licking your big cock every day, no wonder her technique is so good, no wonder Mr. Spider Vine and the others love being licked by her..." She took me into her mouth, making exaggerated "ooh" sounds, full of pride.

Then she spat out my penis, making an exaggerated "pop" sound. I saw a thick, viscous fluid connecting my glans and her lips; her lips and chin were completely wet.

The woman in front of me, like a snake spirit, wrapped around my thighs and my penis. Her alluring eyes were adorned with exaggerated gray-black eyeshadow, a fine sheen of sweat glistened on the tip of her nose, and her lipstick, an exaggerated peach-pink, shone even brighter against the backdrop of semen. She breathed heavily, looking at me with an exaggerated, ambiguous gaze, as if she wanted to devour me whole. I smelled an uncontrollable, hormonal scent. She was in heat.
A beautiful, somewhat eccentric mother with a low level of education, and a dogmatic, unromantic, bookish father—they didn't seem like a good match at all. I could even imagine my mother, one afternoon before I came into this world, suddenly closing the book while reading "Love in a Fallen City," turning to my father who was about to feed her pigeon soup, and saying:
Her exaggerated breasts drooped low, they were snow-white, soft breasts.
What a beauty!

I thought.

She bent down, using her slender, white fingers to manipulate my penis, and began to lick my testicles. Her delicate nose pressed unreservedly against the base of my penis, swallowing my entire scrotum whole. It was shockingly exaggerated. In short, everything related to Anna was exaggerated sex. But this exaggeration was quite pleasing to me. I knew her sexual hunger and her past experiences of desperately seeking sexual pleasure: being bound, gang-raped in a pleasurable yet painful way, being abused, being humiliated. I looked over her head, my gaze passing over her brown hair and landing on her firm, snow-white buttocks. These exaggeratedly large buttocks, as symbols of uncontrollable lust, did they really have a shameful past, as they said? Had she been brutally pounded by that man named Saito, just like Midori was experiencing now?

"Handsome little brother, you're not putting in enough effort!" Anna's voice pulled me back to reality. At this moment, my entire lower body and inner thighs were wet, covered in a sticky liquid, indistinguishable between my own secretions and Anna's saliva. I didn't particularly like this sticky feeling; this untimely reserve and fastidiousness were perhaps what made A-Lu less than satisfied with me. But Anna didn't seem to mind. Ignoring my own discomfort and pain from my wet, throbbing lower body, she swallowed my entire penis again, deep into her throat. I felt enveloped in a warm, moist atmosphere. I saw Anna with her eyes closed, swallowing every last bit of my penis. She was clearly in pain, wanting to gag but strangely unable to. Yet she still didn't seem to mind. Tears began to stream from the corners of her eyes; her shoulders trembled, her beautiful buttocks trembled, involuntarily tightening. I felt as if her throat had suddenly constricted, an irresistible muscle spasm stimulating the most sensitive part of my glans.

My thigh muscles spasmed, and a thick stream of semen gushed out, shooting directly into Anna's throat. Anna struggled, making painful gurgling sounds in her throat, but she couldn't break free and instead swallowed all the semen.

"Don't teach them swear words!" Mom said, "Don't get fired for playing around."
"That felt so good!" Anna spat out my penis, letting the semen drip from the corner of her mouth fall, and breathed heavily. "I didn't expect you to last so long, it's really unexpected, really unexpected!"

She giggled, cheerful and direct, and to me, it was still mixed with exaggerated lust.

Then, she began to lick my still-erect penis exaggeratedly, like a gentle kitten, making lewd smacking sounds.

"You're really amazing to be able to do this much." She said in a seductive tone as she vigorously licked, starting to unbutton her skirt and caressing it as she pulled off the gray plaid skirt. "I want you to fuck me, fuck me hard, just like Mr. Saito and the others fuck Midori. You know, Midori is having fun right now. Don't you like hearing things like that? Don't you like hearing your woman do it with other men? You're so horny!

You should really see how wet Midori is normally. In the photo studio, in front of a bunch of men, she spreads her legs, uses her hands to spread her vulva for them to see, for them to lick. It's really embarrassing. Do you want to see it?

I'll take you next time, okay? As long as you fuck my vulva now..."

As she spoke, she spread her legs and sat on my penis with pleasure, penetrating it all the way in. She made a sound of pleasure. She proactively began to wriggle her hips. I saw my penis being gradually swallowed up, disappearing into Anna's mysterious garden. My glans was slowly heated and became erect again.
What a vixen!

I thought.

"How erotic, handsome little brother." Anna began to slowly increase her speed, no longer caring about my rhythm, and said vulgar things, "What Ah-Lu said is true, your penis is different from other men's. Are you happy?

Every time I say Ah-Lu is fucked by other men, you get especially hard, it makes me jealous...

You're so horny, next time, next time Ah-Lu and I will come together to make you feel good, okay?"

Anna began to moan softly, constantly emitting delicate and cheerful sounds, like a beautiful piece of music. Her up-and-down movements became faster and faster, her plump buttocks slapping against my legs. I felt another surge of heat in my glans, and the feeling of ejaculation was about to come again.

"Anna, I'm going to cum!" I shouted, trying to push her away.

"Cum inside! Cum inside me!" Anna became a little hysterical, her buttocks slamming down harder as if in a fit of pique. She suddenly let out a high-pitched cry, and I couldn't hold back for a moment, ejaculating streams of semen into her vagina.

Anna lay on top of me, twitching slightly. She closed her eyes, as if savoring the afterglow of sex. After a long while, her breathing gradually calmed down. She stroked my hair, smiling like a slick older sister, and asked,

"How was it, handsome little brother? Want to do it again?"

During her pregnancy, she was suddenly struck by the literature of the Republican era, which overwhelmed her. She must have imagined her ill-fated birth, her heart pounding, perhaps even eagerly anticipating a passionate extramarital affair. And then I had a woman's name. Then her passion quickly faded, receding like a tide after my birth. She was soon swallowed up by the heavy burden of housework. She closed the books, put them back on the shelf, shut the door, and, like in Ye Xuan's song, disappeared without a trace. She herself forgot that she had once been hopelessly in love with a woman from over half a century ago, and desperately wanted to find resonance in this ghost. Only by sheer chance, when someone asked again why I had such a feminine name, would her eyes flash for a moment, like she had suddenly woken up, but quickly dimmed again.
She slightly lifted her buttocks, causing my limp penis to slip out of her vagina, a drop of semen flowing out and dripping onto my abdomen.

"No more. I can't do it anymore," I said.

But she seemed not to hear me, kneeling before me and taking my penis into her mouth again, sending a shiver down my spine. "No more," I said,

a little flustered. This woman's sex drive was incredibly strong; if she didn't have a boyfriend, she would definitely drain me dry. But why was I thinking about whether she had a boyfriend at this moment? I found it strange myself; she wasn't my woman. My woman, I thought, was somewhere in this building right now, having sex with other men?

Anna looked up at me, continuing to suck on my glans. Her teeth intentionally brushed lightly against the most sensitive part of my glans, sending waves of uncontrollable tingling sensations through me. Although I couldn't get hard anymore, this uncontrollable feeling was really pleasurable, making me not want to escape for a moment. But at that moment, the office door suddenly opened.

"Anna! What are you doing!"
A slender figure opened the door.

Standing in the doorway was a surprised young girl, her shoulders bare, wrapped only in a gray-black synthetic towel, revealing her shapely thighs; her even arms and legs bore the marks of rope binding. Through her smooth, taut skin, her blushing face accentuated her healthy complexion, making her exceptionally beautiful. Her breasts, hidden within the towel, rose and fell defiantly. This was Midori, the Mizuno Midori that Anna had been constantly muttering about.

She was an AV actress.

She was also my girlfriend. At least until now, that was still the case.

II. Zhang Ailin

cherishes honor like she cherishes clothes
—Pushkin, "The Captain's Daughter" My name is Zhang

Ailin. I was born in the new era and grew up under the red flag. Logically, I should be a good young person with sound morals and high standards. My mother gave me such a feminine name, supposedly purely because she admired Eileen Chang at the time. When she was pregnant with me, my mother, whose education wasn't particularly outstanding, suddenly became the most pampered person in the family, instead of the least influential. From the fifth month of her pregnancy—it's said—her daily routine consisted of lying in bed, waiting for food and drink, and reading books and newspapers. In those days, there were no smartphones, so she… She had no choice but to spend a lot of her boring time reading the books in the house. She read through all the books in the house over and over again. Among a pile of mechanical engineering books that were like gibberish and self-help books on stock trading that offered no real benefit, she found a collection of short stories by Eileen Chang and fell irrevocably in love with this woman's sharp and witty writing. My father, on the other hand, had absolutely no literary passion for her. He remained a rigid, seemingly unapproachable science guy. He had a bachelor's degree, was a genuine high achiever, and I don't know why he would have fallen for a woman who was an apprentice at a hair salon back then. My mother. Perhaps she was truly beautiful in her youth, her smile pure and innocent, her two dimples particularly captivating. I'm proud to say I inherited some of her excellent features, which led to me being mistaken for a girl for a long time during my childhood. Of course, this was partly due to my feminine name. In my opinion, my parents' marriage was flawed, and in my childhood memories, they were always arguing—making the family seem sickly and not very harmonious.

"Let's name the child Zhang Ailin!"
And so, most of my happy childhood was ruined, destroyed by my mother's unspoken literary dream.

She might explain to people that she liked Eileen Chang's novels, but she would never mention how crazy she was about them. She would only casually mention that she had a little bit of interest. Not much, just a little. And her handling of naming me, in my opinion, was flawed. Just because you like something doesn't mean you have to name your child after it. For example, I know a TV host who named his child Batistuta because he liked Batistuta. That's ridiculous. And then there's my dad, who, although seemingly dull, also had his idols. He admired Hitler—of course, he never dared to say it in public—he even read *Mein Kampf*, which was practically a banned book at the time. But he would never think of naming me Zhang Hitler. And me? I was once obsessed with Hamtaro for a time. Should I name my future child Zhang Hamtaro, or Zhang Taro?

The first three months of my study abroad life were rigid. I lived in the private student dormitory of Naito Ittōgi in Kokubunji. I woke up at 6:30 every morning to make breakfast and lunch myself. I walked 15 minutes to Nishikokubunji Station, then took the Chuo Line all the way to Shinjuku, and finally walked another 10 minutes to Yanagi Language School. The whole process took an hour. Thanks to my father's rote learning and intensive teaching, my Japanese was better than other foreign students. Although my grammar was sometimes quite bad—that was probably due to my father's self-taught nature. Before finishing my courses at the language school, I passed the entrance exam for international students and had the last interview opportunity before winter. In the spring, I entered the University of Foreign Studies as a candidate. I majored in English Literature and became a full-time student two months later. I moved into the newly built dormitory for international students in Sakamachi, less than a ten-minute walk from the Ministry of Defense. I went from being a villager in the far west to a resident of the greater Tokyo area. To pay for the expensive dormitory and food fees, I worked part-time. Initially, I worked as a takeout delivery person at a Chinese restaurant, three nights a week, four hours each night. The restaurant was called Ruby, located in Yotsuya, next to the Shinjuku History Museum, primarily serving the surrounding working-class and international student population. The head chef, surnamed Fu, was an immigrant from Fujian; everyone called him Old Tian. He was an honest man with a face full of wrinkles when he smiled, his eyes barely visible. Aside from sometimes deducting wages, paying less than 700 yen per hour, everything else was good. Business was average; only on windy or rainy days did takeout orders increase slightly, while on ordinary days, even on the last day of the week, customers were scarce. Because of this, I was quite content.
"How can you call your own child Taro? That's outrageous! He's Japanese!" One day, when I told my mother about this idea, she said this. "Japanese people are all bad!"

My mother's hatred for the Japanese seemed innate, perhaps merely a propaganda tactic, an outlet for a nationalist sentiment casually stirred up. Or perhaps, she simply disliked my father's affinity for Japan. Because their relationship was so crucial most of the time, if my father thought something was good, my mother had to find a convincing reason to object. My father, in his youth, caught the tail end of the honeymoon period following the establishment of diplomatic relations with Japan, taught himself Japanese, and taught me to sing "Star" and "The Wind Continues to Blow" when I was very young. At that time, in official propaganda, Japan was still a close neighbor, an important strategic partner in the Far East. Cherry blossoms remained a symbol of beauty, the kimono a lost gem of Chinese culture overseas, and the image that young people yearned for surpassed the mature masculinity of a strong man and the poignant love amidst snow. Now, these have all evolved into "cultural invasion" and mutual political slander and hatred between pornography and related products, anime and related products, and otaku culture and related products. Perhaps, and I mean perhaps, for this reason, even my mother, who wasn't very attentive before, began to hate Japan, secretly demanding that Japan settle our historical issues with her far-sighted housewife. Ironically, I still came to Japan to study.

Shortly after the start of the semester, through the work-study opportunity center organized by the school, I found a part-time job teaching English to elementary school students. It was called a part-time job, but it was actually a small private English tutoring school, with 5 to 10 students per class. I taught two afternoons a week and earned a considerable salary. I told my parents the news and expressed my happiness.

And so, my indescribably brutal life in Japan officially began.

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My girlfriend is an AV actress.

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