[Urban] Erotic Tales Series (Complete) - 5

page views:1 Publication date:2023-06-06

(26) Hammer, chainsaw, drill, fire, flood… Shinji tried everything, but he couldn't leave a single mark on the camera.

It was indeed a creation of the devil, he sadly confirmed, and dejectedly lowered his head.

Riko called to say her job application went smoothly; she and the shop owner were old acquaintances, and she could continue working that day. Shinji

forced himself to chat with her for a few minutes, then called a friend to ask for sick leave, intending to spend a day seriously dealing with the camera.

Throwing it away was probably out of the question; since it could suddenly appear outside the closet, it might just suddenly fly back under his pillow.

Destroying it was also a dead end; that terrifying camera was probably more durable than anything else in the world. Shinji even pessimistically thought that even if he attacked it with weapons powerful enough to destroy humanity, there would still be one camera left in the world.

Since that was the case, he had no choice but to satisfy it. After hesitating for more than ten minutes, Shinji finally put the camera in his backpack and left home.

An hour later, in a park in a neighboring city, Shinji identified his next target.

The park was quiet; due to the work hours, there were few tourists. Near the adjacent school, there was a grove of trees perfect for couples' trysts, where countless men and women would meet every night.

Shinji's target was likely a teacher from the nearby high school. She looked young, probably a newcomer, sitting on a stone bench with a stack of books, looking distressed. However, this troubled expression didn't detract from her beauty; she possessed striking features that could easily arouse the desires of high school boys. The tight-fitting shirt and narrow skirt didn't add much to her intellectual air; instead, her overly sexy figure gave her the feel of a female teacher from an AV series.

She was probably also troubled by not having the aura of a teacher. Shinji sighed, sticking his finger into the camera's small hole. "Thank me, you won't have to worry about students anymore,"

Shinji thought coldly, raising his camera.

(27) "Oh...oh! Hmm...good! So comfortable! Ah, ahh..."

Her long black hair swayed wildly, and the distressed female teacher's expression still carried a hint of anguish, but coupled with her seductive moans, everyone knew she was immersed in immense pleasure.

Shinji leaned against a tree, standing with his hands on the trunk, making no movement; the woman in front of him was bending over and swaying wildly.

Perhaps because she hadn't been satisfied for so long, the camera's effect had become much stronger. He led the woman deeper into the woods, and after showing her the photos, she quickly entered a slightly dazed state.

Shinji's desire wasn't strong; when the woman knelt before him and used her mouth to unzip his pants, he didn't even feel any erection. But she couldn't wait any longer. She pulled his penis out of her underwear and stuffed it into her mouth like a starving she-wolf seeing fresh meat. Every muscle in her mouth began to work in tantalize his desire with her tongue. Her bold action of letting his penis thrust straight to his throat without a care quickly made Shinji fully erect.

Then the woman turned around, lifted her skirt, secured it with a belt, and ripped off her stockings and underwear to her feet. She spread her buttocks and positioned them against Shinji's penis, leaning back without hesitation. As his penis entered, it made a soft, wet sound like bare feet stepping on mud.

Shinji suddenly thought of Riko's older sister, that gentle and intellectual woman, who had also entered a similar semi-frenzied state, shamelessly masturbating in the toilet.

Within ten minutes, the female teacher had already reached several orgasms. Her juices dripped down her plump thighs, her strength exhausted by the successive waves of climax. Finally, her legs gave way, and she knelt on the ground. She turned her head, crying and pleading, "Please...come quickly, come and fuck me, I want it...I'm going crazy with desire!"

Finally awakened by the woman's writhing, half-naked body, Shinji pressed down on her buttocks and squatted down, thrusting forcefully deep inside.

"Oh—ahhhhh...it hurts, there...no, but...but it feels so good..."

Blood immediately seeped from her newly penetrated anus, but the woman didn't seem to feel any pain. Instead, she actively swayed her buttocks, rubbing her rectum against Shinji's glans.

Not wanting to waste too much energy, Shinji deliberately suppressed the urge to ejaculate. By the time he began to ejaculate into the woman's writhing anus, she was already exhausted from her orgasm, collapsing onto the muddy ground, only her sweaty buttocks raised high, like Chie's that day.

He grabbed her hair, made her lick his penis clean, and then, after one last look at the poor woman, Shinji left the park.

This was the first time he had felt no pleasure after climaxing on a sexy, beautiful woman.

Only his limp penis twitched slightly with excitement.

That night, no more strange hallucinations occurred, and the camera remained obediently in the locked drawer.

Shinji and Riko finally completed their first sexual encounter. As he ejaculated inside Riko's tender body, Shinji felt a long-lost ecstasy, and Riko, after the initial discomfort subsided, joyfully enjoyed the greatest pleasure a woman can experience.

Their bodies were perfectly in sync, as if they were born to please each other.

Perhaps this was the meaning of being destined for each other. Looking at Riko's sleeping face with a faint blush, Shinji felt an indescribable sense of happiness.

He finally temporarily cast aside the shadow cast by the camera, faced Riko's serene face, and closed his eyes.

The nightmare returned as usual the following night.

In his dream, Shinji stood quietly on the edge of purgatory, watching countless tentacles fly towards him, forcefully dragging the trembling female teacher towards the enormous eye.

Semen gushed from the woman's genitals, endlessly pouring into the viscous tentacles.

Shinji calmly watched the erotic dream unfold before him, feeling no fear, nor waking up in terror.

Then he felt his body regain its mobility; several tentacles threw a woman in front of him—the policewoman who could only climax when handcuffed.

Without hesitation, Shinji straddled her, binding her hands, and raped her once more in the dream.

At the end of the dream, Shinji seemed to hear a long, deep laugh echoing from the depths of lava. He stood up in time with the laughter, ejaculating an unbelievably abundant amount of semen—his semen in the dream—on the woman before him for what felt like the umpteenth time.

Then he woke up.

The curtains fluttered in the wind, letting in a sliver of morning light that shone on Riko's alabaster cheek.

Finally, dawn broke.

(Twenty-eight) The thought of giving up the camera resurfaced after Shinji and Riko's engagement party.

For the past six months, Shinji had offered a fresh sacrifice to the camera every ten days or so, as if it had become his mission. He numbly searched, pressed the shutter, and after enjoying the delicious flesh, he would watch the woman being dragged into hell in his dreams the next day.

He dared not tell anyone, including Riko, who had fallen deeply in love with him. The secret was like a poisonous insect, hiding deep within his heart, biting at something within him bit by bit.

With Riko's help, Shinji, a talented new photographer, began to make a name for himself in the world of photography.

Originally, Riko had only intended to try it out, but she used all her savings to buy him a set of equipment. Unexpectedly, his first set of photos made a new actress an overnight sensation.

The women he photographed always possessed a despairing yet profound beauty, capable of both arousing male desire and evoking inexplicable sadness.

Girls aspiring to fame were more numerous than the stars in the sky, and Shinji's wallet swelled rapidly, like the breasts of a developing girl.

By the time of his engagement, Shinji had risen to the top tier in the industry. Whenever he took out his camera, countless girls would undress, vying to display their most alluring sides.

But no one could see the hint of bitterness in Shinji's eyes behind the camera.

After the engagement, looking at Riko's blissful face, Shinji made his decision once again.

He drove to a remote suburb, dug a pit more than two meters deep, and buried the demonic camera locked in a small safe.

"Please… go find another owner. Don't bother me anymore. I've given you so many women already, please let me go!"

Shinji roared at the filled-in earth, turned, and drove away.

In a daze, he vaguely heard a mocking laugh coming from the open space behind him.

(29) In the days that followed, moving, decorating, booking a wedding venue, a series of matters related to the future filled Shinji's schedule. Everything seemed to have returned to normal, except that he would occasionally dream of the giant eyes in purgatory devouring women's flesh. Still relying on his hands? How can that be enjoyable? Forum reputation guaranteed! 3D male masturbator anime virgin physical famous instrument highly realistic genital shape! Swallowing and spitting, irresistible! Click to enter

What Shinji did not expect was that the fatal change had only just begun.

From the day he lost that camera, his photography could no longer find that kind of allure that penetrated the soul.

With the overwhelming questioning comments in newspapers and magazines, anxiety became the only dominant emotion in Shinji's heart.

"Honey, do you want to rest for a while? You must be too tired lately."

Riko held his hand worriedly and said softly. The girl, who seemed much more mature, became charming and gentle, but the stubbornness in her personality had not changed at all. She was convinced Shinji was troubled and began trying to help him in her own way.

The two left the psychologist's office; the fat, burly man had swindled tens of thousands of yen from him with a barrage of jargon and useless hypnotherapy, but it did nothing to ease Shinji's burden.

The mortgage on his new home and the rent for the photography studio finally replaced the tormented soul as Shinji's new worry.

That night, as he rocked back and forth on Riko, that enormous eye vaguely reappeared before him, its large mouth beneath the eyelids coldly smiling at him.

He screamed and collapsed to the side, his still-erect penis rapidly shrinking.

That night, Riko tried everything, but Shinji still couldn't get an erection. His surging lust seemed to be buried along with the darkness in his heart.

Forty-three days later, Shinji drove back to the place where he had buried the camera, declaring yet another surrender.

The moment he took the camera out of the safe, he clearly felt the blood flowing smoothly through his body to his groin.

Overjoyed, Riko didn't ask Shinji why he was recovering. She happily enjoyed the sweet intimacy between the engaged couple until she fell asleep after several exhausting blissful moments.

Shinji, however, remained wide awake. He sat quietly in the living room, looking at the painting on the wall. He could almost see the camera in the safe behind the painting, coldly mocking him.

He sat there until dawn.

(30) On their wedding day, Shinji fulfilled his promise and gave Riko a grand and lavish wedding.

News of the genius photographer's resurrection before the wedding occupied many pages of entertainment magazines.

As he slipped the wedding ring onto Riko's slender finger, Shinji looked somewhat unwillingly at the icon in the church beside him. "

Does a demon like me have the right to marry the woman I love here?"

Under the blinding sunlight, the huge stained-glass window shimmered with an eerie light. Shinji squinted and suddenly felt that the arched top was like a giant eye, staring at him menacingly.

As Riko tossed the bouquet, a symbol of happiness, behind her, Shinji suddenly realized he hadn't fed the camera in a long time.

(31) Natsuzawa Riko officially became Sudo Riko.

Exhausted from the wedding, the new wife quickly fell asleep after a bath. Shinji wasn't much better off; he was dragged into a dark dream as soon as his head hit the pillow.

But compared to the peaceful sweetness of Riko's dream, Shinji saw a completely different scene.

A huge eye, bloodshot and dangerously fixed on Shinji. The cracked earth around it was littered with the remains of women, like a female tribe attacked by a pack of beasts, a gruesome sight that made one want to vomit.

Flying tentacles still held the last intact woman, the entangled tentacles leaving only her face exposed.

That was Shinji's last offering, a middle school student who had run away from home to become an idol. Shinji had no interest in touching her, hadn't even shown her a photo, and that had happened a month ago.

The eye kept playing with the girl in the tentacles, and Shinji stared blankly. He didn't know how much time had passed when the eye glared angrily, suddenly shoving the girl into its mouth and chewing her with a crunching sound. The girl screamed twice, her internal organs mixed with blood spilling from the enormous mouth.

Shinji was almost in despair; he clenched his fists tightly, looking pleadingly at the eye.

The eye didn't respond to his gaze, but stared intently at his hand.

Shinji fearfully shifted his gaze to his hand, and then he saw the glittering wedding ring.

He frantically tried to put his hand behind his back, but suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his finger—not the finger with the ring, but his little finger.

Shinji woke up from the dream in a cold sweat, only to be plunged into an even more terrifying scene.

Riko frowned, holding the camera in her hand, muttering strangely, "Why can't my finger fit into such a big hole, but Shinji's can? This camera is so weird… it just suddenly popped out."

Shinji wanted to scream, but couldn't; he wanted to get up and stop his wife, but he couldn't move a single finger.

"How do you use it..."

Riko curiously held up the camera, pointing the lens at herself, striking a cute selfie pose.

Her finger gently pressed down.

"No!"

Shinji screamed, sitting up abruptly, drenched in sweat, almost completely exhausted.

Could it be... just that... was it a dream? Shinji looked around suspiciously. Riko wasn't in bed, but the sheets still held the warmth of her body; she must have gone to the bathroom.

The sound of slippers came from outside the door, and a sleepy-eyed Riko, wearing a loose bathrobe, walked in. Seeing Shinji awake, she happily threw herself into his arms, passionately kissing him.

The bathrobe slowly slipped down, revealing her hot, smooth body writhing in Shinji's arms. Riko breathed heavily, murmuring, "Honey, I want you. I suddenly want you so much..."

Shinji's pent-up desire was awakened by her passion. He was about to reach out to hug her when he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his little finger. He slowly raised his finger in front of his face, looking at the tiny, fresh wound, and suddenly felt dizzy, his vision going completely black...

(32) "Ah...uhhh! Husband...husband, you're so good, I...again...ahhh! I'm...I'm coming again...ahhh..."

As Shinji gradually regained his senses, the first thing he heard was his wife's wanton moans filled with pleasure.

His penis was hard and erect, surrounded by a constant stream of intoxicating, tingling pleasure. He struggled to open his eyes and saw Riko's naked back covered in sweat.

Her round buttocks moved up and down rapidly, and in the center of her fair mons pubis, her tender, pink vaginal opening quickly worked on Shinji's penis, splashing out copious amounts of love juice.

Riko squatted on top of him, one hand kneading her full breasts, the other playing with her clitoris, her supple waist swaying powerfully, her eyes gazing at Shinji with a dazed look, her fair skin glowing with an alluring pink.

Shinji turned his head in alarm and saw the photo on the pillow.

Instead of Riko's image, a huge eye stared at Shinji in the photograph, cold yet irresistibly alluring.

The camera sat on the nearby table, its lens pointed at the swaying bed, like a dark, menacing eye.

The moment he saw the eye in the photo, all his consciousness seemed trapped in a transparent bubble, outside which flowed boundless lust.

Shinji let out two hoarse roars, suddenly sat up, and forcefully pushed Riko onto the bed, viciously thrusting into her juicy secret place, pumping wildly.

Riko felt no pain, instead letting out cries of pleasure, her beautiful white feet tightly hooking around Shinji's buttocks.

Both seemed to have become beasts in heat, channeling all their energy into their intense intercourse.

A gentle breeze blew through the window, causing the photographs on the pillow to fall to the floor, separating the two stacked pieces.

One photo was a selfie of Riko posing, her face so blurry it vaguely resembled a giant eye. The other was Shinji's face in a horrifying nightmare…

(Thirty-three) “Hey! I’ve been waiting for you at my door for half an hour! Are you kidding me? You haven’t even left yet?”

The mature, beautiful woman, who had been trying to maintain an elegant demeanor, finally couldn’t contain her anger and yelled at her phone.

The woman was wearing a dress that perfectly accentuated her figure and had exquisite makeup, as if she were attending a banquet.

Beside her, a very luxurious manor was slowly opening its gates for her.

"Are you coming or not? They've already opened the door. If you come, I'll put in a good word for you and wait for you. You have no idea how much effort and how many days we waited to get this special appointment."

A somewhat timid voice finally came from the other end. "But...but my family all said not to go.

There are really bad rumors about that place, you know how accidents happen there..." She rolled her eyes rather ungracefully. "Are you still a child? Even the police determined it was an accident! They're just jealous of that couple's talent, secretly giving them this 'Death Photographer' nickname. How can you believe that? You've seen how beautiful their photos are. Being photographed like that, even if you die, it's worth it, right?"

"I...I don't want to die!"

"Coward!"

she yelled, slamming the phone shut. Muttering to herself as she hung up, "You believe all sorts of ridiculous rumors. No wonder you'll never take a beautiful photo."

She pulled a mirror from her bag, meticulously touching up her makeup before finally flashing what she considered a captivating smile and gracefully stepping through the gate.

The mansion was enormous, yet she saw very few servants. Only two maids, with strange expressions, led her inside with professional smiles.

Then, she saw a woman so beautiful she made her feel inferior, sitting elegantly on the sofa. Even in casual clothes and without makeup, the difference was undeniable.

It was like… a strange, magical power.

"Hello, please come this way,"

the woman said, standing up and smiling slightly.

She nodded involuntarily, as if she wouldn't refuse anything the woman said.

"This is the changing room. Please choose what you like to change into. I'll do your makeup myself in a bit, and then we can begin."

She opened the door with great joy, stepping into another dazzling world.

She had reason to believe that, like other women, she would have her picture taken in this house, embodying ultimate allure. It would be the best memento for a woman who would one day grow old.

She didn't meet the now-famous male owner; Mrs. Sudo became her photographer. However, she was still very satisfied; the couple's skills were truly comparable.

"Click, click, click..."

In the dazzling white light of the flash, she joyfully shifted between various seductive poses, ensuring her figure was captured as beautifully as possible in the dark lens.

Time flew by, and several hours passed before she finished shooting the number of photos she had booked.

She gratefully wiped the sweat from her brow, feeling for the first time in her nearly thirty years of life that she had experienced such a fortunate moment. She looked at the elegant lady, wanting to say a few words of thanks, as simply paying wasn't enough to express her overwhelming emotions.

At that moment, her vision seemed to blur slightly, and suddenly another shadow of the beautiful lady not far in front of her was projected onto the wall—pointed at both ends, rounded in the center, like…like a giant eye!

"Ah!"

she exclaimed in surprise, drawing a surprised look from the woman. She blinked, realizing it was just her imagination. She smiled awkwardly, "Sorry, I... I must have been mistaken. I was seeing things, and I thought I saw something shaped like an eye."

A mysterious smile appeared on the woman's face as she softly said, "It's probably because of the bright light. Speaking of which, I think we're quite destined to meet. How about... I let my husband take another picture of you?"

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded immediately, and asked with some doubt, "One more?"

The woman smiled and nodded, "Yes, my husband rarely takes photos of people anymore. Only a beauty like you, who makes me feel comfortable, deserves to have him take a picture of you."

She suddenly became incredibly proud, straightening her slender waist, slightly raising her chin, and excitedly following the woman into another photography studio at the end of the hall.

The furnishings inside were surprisingly simple: a bed, a table, and nothing else, not even a bright light.

"This... I... don't I need to change my clothes?"

She hesitated, feeling something was off; even the pores of her arms felt cold.

"No need."

The woman smiled and slowly closed the door.

She walked to the man in the room, casually striking a pose to appear more natural. "Um... Mr. Sudo, I'm ready anytime."

The man sighed and slowly raised his camera—a small, silver one.

Before she could even question the camera's professional quality, she saw his fingers rapidly press the shutter button.

The next second, she felt a strange force grip her consciousness, and everything before her became wondrous. The only clear thing was an unseen force guiding her in a certain direction.

She took a step forward, as if searching for her lost soul.

Then, she saw her own photograph—a dark and obscure image. The only thing she could make out was a huge eye, a deep, unfathomable gaze fixed intently on her.

She stared blankly, an unbelievable surge of intense lust erupting from the darkest recesses of her heart. She suddenly understood something, but her body seemed to have lost control. Slowly, she raised her hands, removing her ornate clothes one by one.

The world before her was a void; the only thing remaining was the man before her…

*Thud*, the camera, gleaming with a chilling light, fell to the ground. The dark lens coldly pointed at the two bodies already violently intertwined beside them, like a cold and sinister eye.

【[pos] A Peeping Tom】

Something I wanted to write about a long time ago when I watched the Japanese drama series "Tales of the Unusual" but I'm too lazy to revise it , so I'll just leave it as it is .

**************** ... So, now, are you interested in opening this box—this entrance to a world of eroticism? (I) "Ah..." A long yawn escaped her lips. The pale, unkempt woman listlessly slumped onto the computer desk, closing the video window that was playing. Her expression, tinged with complaint, seemed empty and listless. The cramped Western-style apartment suite was filled with cluttered household items. The only thing that was relatively tidy was the double bed. However, only half of it was clean and organized; the other half was piled with photo frames, albums, and open novels. Picking up a small mirror, Nogami Miru reluctantly looked at her face. Her once pretty oval face was now too thin, her lips had lost all their rosy hue, her nose was greasy, and her eyes were bloodshot. Disgusted, she tossed the mirror aside, bent down, and pulled a packet of instant noodles from a cardboard box under the bed. She staggered to the table, only to realize that she hadn't made any hot water. After tilting her head and thinking for a few minutes, she picked up a glass of cold water and gulped down two or three mouthfuls. She gripped the instant noodle packet tightly, as if squeezing out her own dejected mood, and roughly crushed the noodles inside. As she sprinkled in the seasoning, some fine powder flew up. She wrinkled her nose and sneezed loudly. She must have bumped into something while trembling; the computer screen flickered, then went black with a buzzing sound. She pressed the power button twice, but the computer showed no sign of coming back to life. Usually, these kinds of problems… she could just leave it to him. Meilu's eyes welled up with tears, but she forced them back. She took out the dry noodles, stuffed them into her mouth, and chewed them without any taste. Heartbreak and unemployment, like the two brothers Death and Sleep, had come to visit her together. The former was clearly a bigger blow; after all, the money in her bank account was enough for her, who had no extravagant hobbies, to live until this time next year. Ever since that man callously shook off her hand and threw himself into another woman's arms, she hadn't left the house. Even her instant noodles were bought online. Meilu's place wasn't remote, but it wasn't lively either; like her, she wasn't particularly outgoing, nor was she exactly quiet. She angrily slapped the computer tower, the metal casing responding with a dull, emotionless sound. Bored, she sat on a stool by the window, too lazy to turn on the light, eating her dry noodles by the neon lights outside. The building was high up, and looking down, she couldn't see anything interesting. Her aimless gaze began to wander towards the building opposite. Across the street were much more upscale apartments, where well-dressed successful people could often be seen coming and going. Her eyes suddenly stopped, her gaze fixed on a window diagonally below. That room, like hers, was dark; only two blurry shadows could be seen entwined on the windowsill. She could roughly tell it was a man and a woman. Bored, her heart began to race with curiosity. She put the instant noodles aside, ran to the closet, and rummaged through it. The binoculars—something he'd left behind—were a cheap, ordinary pair of binoculars, crudely made, purely for access when wearing camouflage, something easier to obtain than a gun. But now, this little gadget might be her only entertainment tonight. She walked to the window, drew the curtains just in case, kicked aside the clutter on the floor, found a comfortable angle, and pointed the lens. (II) It was indeed a very low-end product; no matter how she adjusted it, the image didn't become much clearer, but it did zoom in considerably. Compared to the feeling of looking from hundreds of meters away, the distance was now only a few dozen meters. A man and a woman were indeed entangled by the window. The woman was wearing a bathrobe, looking like she had just showered. The man was wearing a blue uniform, a beanie pulled down to his chin, revealing his mouth and eyes through a cut hole. Rape? The word flashed through her mind. Meilu quickly picked up her phone and pressed a few buttons, but the screen stubbornly remained off. She then realized she hadn't charged it in a long time. Should she call the police? She took a few steps towards the door, the thought weakening with each step. Maybe… it was just their game? The woman hadn't screamed, hadn't she? Her mouth wasn't gagged, and she didn't seem to be resisting. Why get herself into trouble? If the police came, her peeping would be exposed. She quickly convinced herself to abandon the idea of calling the police. She sat in the room for a while, thinking, feeling inexplicably hot. She hesitated for a moment, then picked up the binoculars and returned to her previous spot. The zoomed-in view was erotic and realistic. The woman's bathrobe had been removed, revealing a pair of full breasts, her entire upper body pressed against the window by the man behind her. The window was a floor-to-ceiling window facing the balcony. You could vaguely see the woman's lower body arched backward, her hands helplessly gripping the glass above her head. The rape had clearly entered a crucial stage; the woman's half-naked body pressed against the glass swayed back and forth, the part of her breasts against the glass sometimes enlarging, sometimes shrinking.

The woman's face wasn't clearly visible; one could vaguely make out her tightly closed mouth and eyes, her expression one of pain. But experienced people know that during sex, a woman's expressions of pleasure and pain are virtually indistinguishable from a distance. Just like often, when a woman cries "no," a man can't clearly tell if she truly wants it.

This scene directly stimulated Meilu; her face began to burn, and a long-lost rosy hue returned to her cheeks. As if sensing her pain, her body began to sway slightly, her hips involuntarily thrusting forward. The height of the table by the window allowed her to press her pubic bone against it, and with the pressure, her underwear directly stimulated the muscles around her clitoris, like masturbation. Her brain began to receive signals of pleasure.

The man raping her had a strong physique, and the woman being raped was quickly pinned against the window, her toes raised, the back-and-forth rocking turning into an up-and-down motion as she was being penetrated.

She and he had done this by the window before. As the memory flashed through her mind, she lowered one hand, holding the binoculars with only one. The lowered hand wasn't for support, but rather, through her nightgown, she squeezed her own breast.

Compared to the first time her boyfriend touched her, her breasts were now much softer and fuller, but the hand kneading them felt like her own.

In her fantasy, the hard corner of the table gradually transformed into a man's penis, anxiously poking her clitoris, like a lustful virgin unable to find her way.

"Mmm...mmm..."

Meilu began to moan softly, pleasure building around her clitoris, tingling in waves.

In the scene she was intently watching, the woman seemed unable to stand, her mouth open as if she were saying something. Then, the burly man tightened his grip on the woman's waist, lifting her sharply upwards, creating an angled support with the window, leaving her straddling the air, the greatest point of support being his penis inside her.

The thrusting of his hips tossed the woman upwards, then she slammed back down due to gravity. In that position, the penis would penetrate very deeply. Her mouth grew increasingly dry, and with each rise and fall of the woman she watched, she felt her uterus contract, her legs involuntarily tightening together.

Finally, she could no longer bear the unsatisfying, stale table. She pulled back slightly, dragging her pajama bottoms and underwear down to her knees. Her fingers groped through the dark bush of pubic hair, gently pressing against the delicate skin above her clitoris.

It had been a long time since she'd bathed, and the area was sticky; it had also been a long time since she'd had any sexual desire, making it extremely sensitive. She pressed her fingertips against the clitoral foreskin, using the only method she knew, gently pulling off that tender skin, then releasing it and pushing it back up. The skin covering her clitoris rubbed against her sensitive clitoral glans, quickly providing an outlet for her sexual desire. The tingling, itchy sensation excited her so much that she arched her back. Finding her draped nightgown too cumbersome, she simply lifted the hem and bit it with her mouth. Her fingers moved faster and faster, and her legs clamped tighter and tighter, waves of weakness almost making her unable to stand.

Just as she was whimpering and masturbating to orgasm, the man on the other side of the window squeezed the woman's breasts hard, pulled her around, made her kneel on the ground, and ejaculated all over her face.

Afterward, the man dragged the woman by her hair into the house.

Whether she was raped again or something else, she could not see.

The last thing Meilu saw was a blurry tattoo on the arm on which the man dragged the woman, which seemed to be either a dragon or a snake.

(III) That voyeurism and the pleasurable masturbation strangely released some of Meilu's depression, and her mood strangely improved a bit.

In the following days, she began to frequently and greedily spy on the building across the street with that crude telescope. No matter what she saw, she felt a strange excitement, like the pleasure she once felt listening to a group of women gossiping in a corner of the office.

A bald, middle-aged man in a vest sitting on the bed clipping his toenails; an aging woman constantly seeking comfort on the phone; handsome young men constantly changing bed partners; a glamorous bar girl whose home was unbelievably simple… She observed all sorts of people and all sorts of trivial matters, deriving a tiny bit of pleasure from them. Then, she would lie on the bed, curled up in a ball, and masturbate intensely until the sheets were soaked with her own fluids, and she felt utterly exhausted.

After a few days of rest, the computer inexplicably returned to normal. Coincidentally, she received an advertisement in her emails from an unfamiliar address. The attached link led to a page for an incredibly cheap mini telescope, the kind used for stargazing.

Using that method, even if the person across the street—like that young master—draws the curtains, as long as there's light inside, she could still see their silhouette, right? And if the curtains aren't drawn, she could see everything happening in the house across the street, right?

The price wasn't even as much as a box of instant noodles, and she bought it without hesitation. She didn't need to use reason to judge whether she was being scammed; at that moment, she displayed the same boldness as someone on a massive sale.

Soon, the goods arrived.

The delivery time was strange, and the process was strange too.

In the middle of the night, Meilu was already asleep, planning which family's life she would spy on the next day, when she was awakened by a knock on the door. Looking through the peephole, no one was there. Pushing open the door, she saw a neatly packaged cardboard box outside.

The moment she held the box, she suddenly had a strange feeling, but couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was like Pandora holding a mysterious box of hope, a feeling that arose alongside the urgent urge to open it, but was concealed.

She carried the box into the entryway, not dwelling on the oddity of the final step in her shopping trip for too long, and quickly opened it.

Once assembled, it looked like a very ordinary small astronomical telescope, its silver-white tube protruding like a cannon barrel on its stand. She searched for a while but couldn't find an instruction manual or anything like that.

"How do I use this thing…?"

She didn't really want to use it to look at the stars, so after a moment's hesitation, she approached the eyepiece. This telescope was very strange, quite different from the ones she'd seen on television.

The field of view was pitch black; she realized she'd forgotten to remove the lens cap, and with the objective lens pointed at the ceiling, she probably couldn't see anything in the current darkness.

She carefully moved the device to the table, replaced the tube with a tripod, and aimed the dark lens at a hidden gap behind the curtains.

The excitement she felt was comparable to an aroused man aiming his penis at a beautiful virgin; it almost aroused her entire sexual desire.

She slowly leaned closer, and the sudden opening of her vision revealed a completely unexpected scene.

She looked up, confirming her target again—yes, it was the playboy's bedroom. But why…why was the scene showing a hotel room?

Confused, she continued watching. The camera wasn't fixed; it was constantly changing angles, like a video camera.

Even more perplexing, the digital clock clearly showed an hour later. After the camera rotated a few times, labels on items in the frame revealed the location:

a rather famous hotel some distance away.

"What…what's going on?"

she murmured to herself, unable to look away despite her bewilderment.

The bathroom door opened, and a voluptuous, beautiful, tall woman emerged, naked, drying her hair with a towel. She then walked to the bed, took out strange clothes from a black leather bag, and began to put them on.

A black mask, a black leather bra, black leather panties, black stockings, black leather high heels, and finally, a black leather cane—or rather, an S&M toy.

The woman excitedly rubbed her leather panties a couple of times, then, presumably hearing a knock, hurriedly stood up, went to the door, and welcomed a man in.

Upon seeing the middle-aged man, Meilu's eyes widened in surprise. That…that somewhat famous essayist who liked to appear on television and give interviews? This guy, who usually seemed so refined and even criticized adult literature as indecent, how…how could he like this kind of thing?

(IV) Although she disliked the male protagonist, it didn't stop Meilu from continuing to watch. She even moved a stool and sat down, placing one hand on her chest and the other on her crotch.

The other couple quickly got down to business. The middle-aged writer, who had taken off his clothes, revealed a body of flabby flesh from lack of exercise and a short, ugly penis. The woman dressed as a queen took out a dog leash and, as if filming an adult movie, directly tied it around the writer's neck.

The queen opened her mouth and said something, then leisurely sat down on the edge of the bed, crossed one of her long, shapely legs, and hooked the writer's chin, who was lying on the floor like a dog, with her toes.

The writer breathed heavily, trembling as he held that foot, lowered his head and kissed the leather boot on his foot, while one hand, like a thief breaking into someone's wallet, tried to subtly reach for the stockings on the boot shaft.

"Snap!"

Even though she couldn't hear any sound, she imagined it in her mind. The whip strike was so crisp, like the most despicable teacher punishing the most mischievous student. The thin, stick-like leather whip lashed hard across the writer's arm.

The middle-aged man's face immediately contorted, his hand obediently returning to its position, clutching his heel. It was a contorted expression of pain, but even a woman like her could clearly see the excitement written on his face—a excitement that required no comprehension to understand. The close-up of the man's throbbing penis confirmed the same thing.

She shook her head, looked around, and without this confirmation, she would have almost thought she was actually holding a camera, standing in this room, filming a silent SM movie.

The middle-aged man, like a tamed dog, held the queen's boots, licking the toe, then the sole, and then sucking on the slender heel as if it were a woman's nipple, drooling profusely.

Such a kiss provided the woman with no physical pleasure. The sexy queen frowned, then lowered her hand as if bestowing a favor, unzipped the side of her boot, and gave a command.

The obese middle-aged writer's face immediately lit up with excited red. He opened his mouth wide and bit down hard on the boot. The foot in the boot looked quite small, and his teeth could just barely hold it. He used his mouth to remove one of the queen's boots, staring madly at the exposed sole. The black stockings made the foot look like a beautiful work of art, its soft curves extending from the ankle to the toes, each part looking as smooth as silk, yet full of fleshy elasticity.

The foot slowly rose, slowly approached the man's face, and slowly stepped on it.

The flattened face showed no reluctance, but instead excitedly opened its mouth, its fat, bright red tongue greedily licking the sole of the other's foot.

Seemingly enjoying this service, the queen rotated her feet, letting every inch of them moisten with the man's saliva. Then, her instep arched in a sexy curve, and she sent her toes, hidden in her stockings, into the man's mouth.

Her thick lips unhesitatingly enveloped her toes, and her writhing mouth revealed her tongue diligently savoring the delicacy.

Her other foot, clad in a boot, unwilling to be left out, quickly found its target. The toe of her boot moved forward, aiming at the man's erect penis, and gave it a gentle kick.

The fat rod jerked, allowing her on the other end of the camera to clearly see the scrotum at the base already shrunken with lust.

That ugly penis wasn't her preference, but the whole scene ignited her desire. She stood up slightly from the stool, unbuttoned her top, and pulled her skirt and panties down to her buttocks. The center of her plump, white buttocks, the alluring valley below, glistened with moisture on her soft, lustful lips.

She undressed slowly, keeping her eyes constantly focused on the telescope lens. Once all her genitals were exposed, she twisted her waist, reaching a warm hand towards her even warmer, wetter genitals. Her hand, originally intended for her chest, inexplicably grasped the slender tube of the eyepiece. Compared to a man's genitals, the tube was much thicker and cold, its slightly frosted metallic surface completely lacking any fleshy softness.

Yet, she felt as if she were grasping a man's body, her entire being ablaze. Signals of lust traveled from around the tube to her palm, from her palm to her brain, finally mingling with the tingling sensation from the area being played with, merging into an intense, intoxicating pleasure.

She wasn't a BDSM enthusiast; the BDSM videos she'd watched with her boyfriend hadn't aroused any sexual desire in her, and had even made her feel awkward. But now, in this state of voyeuristic gaze upon an unbelievable scene, her lower body had become a vast expanse of fluid. Her fingers, which had been rubbing her clitoris, were aching, her lower lip was bitten painfully, and her nipples were hard and throbbing with waves of pain. Even touching the cold lens of her glasses brought a sensation akin to being penetrated.

During this time, the alluring queen finally opened her crossed legs, allowing the impatient man to lick the top of her stockings. His tongue, as if possessed, tirelessly licked back and forth along the edge of her panties and the base of her thighs. Her

soft tongue began to thirstily lick her full, scarlet lips. The foreplay from the woman focused more on sadism. She straightened her long, shapely legs, the toes of her shoes precisely pressing against the man's most vulnerable spot. With a forceful upward flick, the glossy black, cone-shaped tip sank into the fleshy scrotum surrounding his testicles.

The writer abruptly jerked his head back, leaning back into a seated position, his legs trembling, yet spreading even wider, revealing his erect penis directly to his scrotum. Such a posture is far less convenient with the toe than the heel. The Queen raised her toes, kicked the dangling glans, and pressed the slender heel down hard on the scrotum.

For the next few minutes, all that could be seen was that small foot driving the hard leather boot, making the pointed heel twist and drill between the testicles.

She gripped the telescope, as if her fingers had turned into hard heels, and pressed her palm on the mons pubis, using it as a fulcrum, her index and middle fingers quickly thrusting in and out of the wet opening.

Just as her hand brought her the first intense orgasm that made her dizzy, the middle-aged writer on the other side ejaculated. The tormented scrotum must have transformed into some kind of pleasure for him, like a large thumb, his slightly bent genitals began to spurt, shooting all the white semen onto his hairy belly.

(V) For nearly fifty minutes, Meilu sat in front of the telescope, masturbating obliviously.

The couple in my field of vision were dutifully playing various tricks. The middle-aged writer had a very rare sexual fetish; his limp penis seemed to have no refractory period. The woman grabbed the boot she had taken off and used the heel to poke his anus. His penis seemed to be supported by the heel and became erect again.

Satisfied, the queen left the boots behind his buttocks, unzipped her leather pants, and revealed her full, mature female genitalia through the vertical slit. Turning around, the queen plopped down on the writer's face, as if his head was only fit to communicate with her buttocks.

The man, lying down, raised his legs high, assuming a position often adopted by women during sex, so that the boots behind his buttocks could find a suitable space, looking utterly comical. His hands cupped his plump buttocks on his face, and his tongue licked haphazardly along the open slit, messing up the wet pubic hair and light brown labia, before finally finding the rosy clitoris hidden inside.

The moment the most sensitive bud was sucked into the man's mouth, the proud queen frowned, opened her mouth in pleasure, as if rewarding an obedient slave, and her seemingly weak hands gripped the boots tightly, pressing the heels forcefully into the man's anus, slowly pulling them out, and then forcefully inserting them again.

This twisted 69 motion lasted for nearly fifteen minutes. Just as both were about to reach climax, the Queen suddenly stopped, gripping the base of his penis tightly. The pain stimulated the writer, who was performing oral sex on the woman. He thrust his head forward, burying his thick tongue deep into the saliva- and vaginal cavity, his lips pressed tightly against the perineum and clitoris, sucking with all his might, as if trying to absorb everything from the woman's mysterious cave.

The Queen, seemingly having reached orgasm, tilted her head back comfortably, but her grip on the writer's penis tightened even more. No matter how strong the urge to ejaculate was, it was powerless against such a powerful seal. The penis twitched twice, then calmed down. The Queen released her fingers and instead took a rubber band with a delicate iron buckle, like a miniature, exquisite belt.

She tightened the belt around the base of his penis, making it turn slightly purple, the veins bulging to their limit. Seemingly satisfied with the effect, the Queen removed her leather panties, her hand behind her back grasping the high heel inserted into the writer's anus, aiming at the purplish-black glans, and slowly sat down.

What should have been a painful experience was instead accompanied by a large dose of pleasure on the obese middle-aged man's contorted face.

Finally, in what seemed like her umpteenth orgasm, she saw an unbelievable scene through the binoculars.

The writer's entire body began to spasm violently, every muscle trembling as if being electrocuted, white phlegm constantly oozing from his slightly parted, swollen lips outside his tightly clenched teeth.

The leather-clad Queen panicked, frantically massaging the man's chest.

Meilu stared through the eyepiece, holding her breath, wanting to see the final result. Unexpectedly, at that moment, the lens shook twice, and suddenly everything went black.

"W-what's going on?"

She patted the lens barrel twice, then leaned closer; it was still pitch black. Not only was the previous scene gone, but the opposite bedroom, which should have been visible, was also missing.

The exhaustion after her orgasm left her with no energy to investigate this bizarre situation further. Perhaps it was some new, strange technology, like a playback device that looked like a telescope.

Thinking this, she climbed into bed naked, pulled the covers over herself, and went to sleep.

The next day, she realized the shock of what had happened.

Her chat tool always dutifully popped up news in the lower right corner, regardless of whether she wanted to see it, and one of the news items that popped up that day contained the name of the writer she had seen the previous night. She

immediately opened a search engine, searching through various censored news articles for related descriptions.

The most direct and clear part was that the writer had died suddenly in a hotel. The time was one hour after the time she had witnessed the death the previous night.

She stared blankly at the telescope still standing by the window.

(VI) For the next few days, Meilu would glance at the telescope every few minutes, but to no avail; on the other side of the lens was stubborn darkness.

She could only treat the incident as a nightmare, a very coincidental nightmare.

As night fell, she sat down in front of the telescope again; she was tired of the endless darkness. If she still couldn't see anything inside, she would unhesitatingly stuff the metal lump into the box, letting it gather dust under the bed forever.

As if to encourage the binoculars in front of her, she reached out and gently stroked the smooth lens barrel, as tenderly as if caressing a lover's arm. Then, she sighed softly and peered through it. It

was no longer pitch black inside, but a brightly lit rooftop.

The scene was glaringly bright, likely due to the lighting. Judging from the surrounding neon lights, it was probably the rooftop of a bar or dance hall, with dirty debris strewn everywhere, making it almost impossible to find a place to step.

Without warning, the tightly closed iron door suddenly flung open, bounced off the wall, and was kicked aside by a powerful foot.

A burly man entered, shirtless, wearing camouflage pants, huge sunglasses, and black leather gloves.

One hand was behind his back; only after he entered did it become clear that he was holding a woman's hair.

The woman must have been in a lot of pain, flailing her arms wildly, her shoes nowhere to be seen, barely managing to keep her hair from being ripped off.

The burly man kicked the iron gate shut, expressionless, and lifted the struggling woman up, one hand gripping her hair, the other holding her shorts by the waistband. He flung her forward, sending her tumbling twice in the air before she crashed to the ground, clutching the back of her head, writhing in agony.

The man coldly released her, a handful of hair and her torn shorts falling to the ground.

She watched through the binoculars, barely daring to breathe, red warning signs flashing through her mind. She tried to determine the couple's location from the surroundings, but the lighting was too chaotic, and the unruly camera kept shifting angles like a pornographic film, only highlighting the couple in the center while the surroundings remained blurry.

Soon, the man forced the woman onto a dilapidated stool, repeatedly slapping her buttocks, which were only protected by her briefs and black pantyhose.

The woman's buttocks were very full; with each slap, the plump flesh rippled outwards like a water balloon. The man hit her hard, ruining her delicate makeup with tears and snot. Even without hearing the sound, she could imagine the hysterical screams in the mirror.

With just his bare hands, the woman's tight stockings tore open, revealing the flesh beneath her underwear, red and swollen like boiled shrimp.

Soon, her round buttocks became even larger and more swollen. The man bent down, taking a deep breath on her throbbing buttocks, as if smelling the woman's swollen, alluring flesh.

The subdued woman had completely lost the courage to resist. When the man pulled down his pants and stood naked before his conquered, the woman, her face streaked with tears and snot, obediently raised her head, placing her swollen buttocks on her heels, her eyes filled with fear. She knelt, her lipstick-smeared lips slowly bringing her face closer.

Only then could it be clearly seen that the woman in the picture was actually just a young girl, only her avant-garde and daring attire made her appear more mature. Equally incongruous with her age was her skillful oral sex; despite her shock, she still managed to directly locate the man's most sensitive spots, stimulating them as much as possible with her soft tongue and full lips.

The man took a half-step forward, grabbed the girl's curly hair, and forcefully pressed his massive member into her mouth. Coarse, dark pubic hair prickled around her lips, and his taut scrotum repeatedly struck her pointed chin.

Pale blue veins bulged on her slender neck, and a noticeable swelling appeared near her throat, indicating that the burly man's thick, long penis had undoubtedly squeezed into her narrow esophagus.

He continued thrusting until the girl's eyes rolled back, nearly fainting, before finally withdrawing his penis, reluctantly wiping away the saliva remaining on his glans with his fingers, and uttering something.

Meilu didn't understand lip reading and didn't comprehend what the man said, but the girl's actions immediately conveyed his instructions.

As if completely devoid of will to resist, the girl stood up shakily and began to undress, piece by piece. Then, obediently, she walked to the man's side, turned around, and presented her swollen, upturned buttocks to him, placing her hands on her knees. Her pale, naked body, trembling with sobs, was fully prepared for mating.

The tall man made no attempt to accommodate the girl's height; after spreading his legs, he grabbed her pubic bone and lifted her upwards. The delicate vulva, forced upwards by the pressure, her hands, unable to support her knees, instead gripped the rooftop railing. The girl stood on tiptoe, tilting her pinkish-red vulva upwards.

The tip of the glans rubbed back and forth in the saliva at the entrance of her vagina, drawing out a glistening silvery strand. The man curled his lip, as if mocking the woman's still-wet body despite such treatment. Then, his thick, brutal weapon mercilessly penetrated the girl's tender lower body…

A tightness gripped deep within her vagina, a warm current slowly spreading. Meilu abruptly turned her eyes away, so tense she felt a lack of oxygen in her lungs. She took several deep breaths. Even though she was witnessing a brutal rape, her body reacted honestly; even the hand holding the camera lens unconsciously made a gesture as if caressing the man's genitals.

She glanced at the time displayed on the computer screen; only twenty minutes had passed. She had already recognized the location of this rooftop; even if she watched for another twenty minutes, it would still be enough to stop it all. Comforting herself with this reason, she slightly parted her thighs, placed one hand on the warm, crossed legs, and, holding the lens, looked again.

The girl in the image was too weak to stand on her own; her full breasts rested against the low concrete wall of the rooftop, her hands gripping the railing tightly. Her legs were lifted by the man behind her, held firmly around her waist by strong hands. Her ravaged genitals had no chance of escape, hanging on his penis like it was being lifted up, helplessly enduring the fierce thrusting.

It was a monotonous, mechanical movement, brutal and simple, the rapid friction solely to satisfy the man's lust. It quickly caused the insufficiently lubricated vaginal opening to swell and redden, the pain causing the passage to tighten. The man, gripped tightly, roared as he opened his mouth, grabbing the girl's hair and pulling it like a knight reining in his horse.

Her legs, now loosened, frantically braced themselves. Her unbalanced body was pressed tightly against the railing by the powerful man. Her snow-white breasts peeked out from between the cold iron bars, becoming long and twisted. He pinched one nipple and began thrusting upwards like a pile driver, each thrust lifting the girl's lithe body.

Her toes left the ground, curling, and the girl, her eyes glazed over from orgasm, suddenly tensed. At the same time, the man pressed forward with all his might, his pubic bone pressing tightly against the muscles of her buttocks, his penis burying itself deep inside her vagina with the force of a penis trying to pierce her abdomen.

Meilu reached orgasm almost simultaneously, her muscles tensing with excitement, her legs uncontrollably clamping her fingers together, the tips of her fingers already soaked in the warm, sticky sensation through her cotton panties.

Intending to linger in the afterglow for a moment, she stiffened in the next minute, her rosy cheeks turning pale again, her slightly dazed expression twisting with terror.

On the other end of the telescope, the tall, muscular man slowly pulled up his trousers, lifted the old stool beside him, and slammed it down hard. Thick,

murky semen, a mixture of red and white, gushed from one side of his head. A similar, but much lighter and less abundant, fluid flowed from the entrance of his vagina. Between the two pools of fluid, the naked, wounded girl convulsed a few final times before losing all life…

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