[Urban] Must be fucked to death (complete) - 7-9

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-31

17: Tie me up! Tie me up!

Key hints for this episode: role-playing, climax, defecation, urination, KB, female masturbation, betrayal, 3P, finger rape, supernatural.

Warning: Same old rules. Press back if you have a sensitive stomach. Don't watch it and then feel disgusted. You've been warned.

Episode 17 begins with

me pinning him against the doorframe with one hand, staring into his eyes and asking, "Who are you?!"

He asks fearfully, "What do you want?" With

my other hand, I pull out my beloved steel baton: "I'll ask you your name one last time."

He stammers out with difficulty, "I'm Erguai."

I stare intently into his eyes.

His eyelids don't twitch, his pupils don't change.

Seemingly telling the truth.

I released his throat and pressed him, "Who exactly were you carrying on your back when you went into town?"

He rubbed his neck and said, "My sister. She passed out on the way."

I asked, "What did the doctor say at the hospital?"

He said, "The doctor said I didn't have enough money. The emergency room wouldn't admit her. I begged them to treat her first, and I went to borrow money. Nobody paid any attention to me. I sat on the emergency room floor with my sister in my arms, and her body stiffened. I held her for two days. Later, she started to smell. They came and insisted on separating us. A sweeper said, 'Let go, she's already dead.' So I let go."

His eyes were brimming with tears, about to fall, but he wouldn't.

It was clear that he had a very deep affection for his sister.

I asked, "Then why did you lie to me and say your mother died?"

He said, "My mother really did die."

I asked, "Do you have a wife or not?"

He said, "Sort of yes, sort of no."

I said, "What kind of talk is that?"

He awkwardly squeezed out, "My sister and I...we..."

I pretended to be clueless, "You what?"

He said, "We...we...she was pregnant...he had a massive hemorrhage...the blood wouldn't stop...it was gushing out..."

Tears streamed down his face. He broke down in tears. This time, it was out of shame. His shameful secret had been exposed.

My mother and Xiao Sao Sao'er came over when they heard the noise and gathered around the kitchen doorway.

I still interrogated him forcefully, "Because you have to cross two ridges and turn a corner to get to your house, is that why you're called Erguai?"

He cried and said, "Yes."

I asked, "Why does your house face northwest?"

He sobbed and said, "My surname is Yelü. It's none of your business which way my house faces."

Waaaaah.

I asked, "Why is your house so far from the village?"

He said, "It's an ancestral rule, to guard the windward side and not build houses into the village."

I asked, "How did your mother die?"

He said, "They all say my mother was a slut, that she slept with every man in the village. Some say she died of syphilis, some say she went mad, some say she became a vixen. I can't find her body. What else do you want to ask?"

I said, "I need to find out who I invited into my house."

He said, "I'm an honest man. There's no one left in my family now. I don't want to go back."

I said, "You still have to go back. That's your ancestral home."

He He said, "I'm not going back. I feel ashamed. I can't hold my head up in the village."

I asked, "Why?"

He said, "They're always pointing and whispering, they know everything..."

I asked, "Is your ancestral property ruined? Thrown away?"

He said, "Brother, if you don't mind, I'll sell it to you. You can use it as a summer retreat."

I said, "Stop it! I'm not surnamed Yelü. You think I'd guard that haunted house for you? How could you even think of that? I'm asking if you have anything else on your mind besides money?"

He said, "Yes."

I said, "What?"

He said, "I like serving older women. I just like it. I've told you everything. I'm telling the truth."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Only the distinct breathing of four people could be heard.

I looked at him.

He had cried his fill and looked up at me calmly.

The one who had been guarding the secret felt relieved now that the treasure had shattered.

My mother said, "Hmm, he is indeed quite capable. Why are we all standing in the kitchen chatting? Come on, let's go back to the living room."

The four of us snored back to the living room.

The little slut hurriedly made tea for everyone, breaking the thermos in her haste, which she quickly tidied up.

That little brat is utterly useless when it comes to housework. She's just a nuisance taking care of my mom.

Erguai seems honest and capable. Finding someone willing to care for the elderly these days is really difficult, but I always feel he exudes something I can't quite figure out, like the stench of a corpse, which I find rather unpleasant.

Erguai asked me, "Big brother, do you want me to leave?"

My mind raced.

Mom intervened, saying, "Look at what Erguai is saying. Nobody's kicking you out."

Everyone turned to look at me.

Should I keep him or not?

Sigh!

I said, "Since the old lady has spoken, then let's stay."

Erguai lowered his head and said, "I'll do my best. I'm not after money. I'm not greedy."

I said, "Brother, don't be ashamed. Your family situation is normal. Behind closed doors, we're all family."

My mother said, "Yes, who can be closer than family? As long as we don't commit sins, everything will be fine."

I said, "That's right. Now that we're here, it's like home. Taking care of my mother has made you suffer, brother."

Erguai got up to serve tea to everyone, but broke two teacups in the process.

What's going on? Is

the weather unfavorable?

What a sin!

The food and wine were served. Everyone sat down.

I took out some old wine and said, "Everyone's here today, let's drink to our hearts' content! I'll drink first as a sign of respect."

I happily finished a large bowl of wine.

I said to Erguai, "I'm sorry about earlier. You should understand."

My mom said, "Your older brother is always worried about me. I'm disabled, and life is inconvenient for me..."

Xiao Sao Sao said, "Yes, yes, my older brother didn't mean anything by it, don't take it to heart."

I said, "Erguai won't take it to heart, right, Erguai?"

Erguai gave a simple, honest smile.

I filled my glass again, stood up, and said, "I'd like to toast my brother Erguai. I won't say anything more, it's all in this drink."

At this moment, something even stranger happened.

I was holding the glass, and suddenly I lost my footing. It felt like my hand was filled with a thousand pounds of force, and I saw the glass smash down on his head.

He didn't dodge. Crack! My glass shattered on his temple, and the wine spilled all over his neck.

I felt like I hit a stone tablet; my hand went numb, and two of my fingers were cut.

His temple was completely fine.

What kind of head is that? It must be made of special materials!

Mom was terrified, her mouth agape as she stared at me, her heart pounding.

Little Sao Sao, still shaken, quickly got up to sweep and mop the floor, and found a band-aid to bandage my finger.

Erguai calmly stood up and said to me, "Brother, don't be so polite. I never drink. Thank you."

His facial muscles were strangely calm.

Mom asked, "You have that 'Iron Shield'? Have you trained?"

He said, "No, I haven't. But I've never been injured since I was little."

Mom asked, "You really don't drink?"

He said, "Auntie, I really don't drink. Alcohol is bad for you."

Mom said to me, "Look at him, learn from him."

He became proud, and unconsciously straightened his posture.

I realized something was off, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

I hugged him and laughed heartily, pulling him down to sit with me, saying, "Sorry, I slipped just now."

He said, "It's okay."

I laughed wildly, then suddenly changed my expression, becoming as unpredictable as the eunuch in *New Dragon Gate Inn*.

I deliberately bared my fangs and made a ferocious face at Erguai, saying, "Guess my past life!"

I used a sarcastic trick, intending to fight evil with evil, but it backfired, causing lifelong regret. But that's another story.

Erguai calmly looked at me coldly and said, "In the Qing Dynasty, you were a prison magistrate, and in the Ming Dynasty, you were a transport commissioner. A life of toil."

Just making conversation, anyway, I had nothing better to do. I continued, "Tell me about my present life."

This time, he didn't even look up, just kept eating his food.

My mother was anxious and urged, "What's wrong? Is it hard to tell?"

The little vixen asked, "Should I leave?"

Erguai said unhurriedly, "Brother, don't be upset when I tell you."

I said, "It's okay, it's okay. Tell me."

Erguai said, "You committed many evils, had a wicked heart, and committed adultery with other men's wives and daughters, who were also humiliated. You lived to be eighty-three, died in April, and were seen off by a daughter."

These words would be unpleasant to hear.

My mother and Xiao Sao Sao were both staring at me.

I tried to hide my panic with a sinister grin, but my facial muscles remained stiff.

Er Guai, seeing my ashen face, slowly smoothed things over: "It might not be accurate. This stuff, if you believe, it works."

I said, "Yes."

Er Guai added, "My master told me that heavenly secrets must not be revealed. If you hadn't taken me in, I wouldn't have said it. Saying it would shorten my lifespan, and I might even get struck by lightning."

As soon as he finished speaking, there was a sharp "crack" in the clear sky! A thunderclap on flat ground.

A large poplar tree outside the window snapped off with a "crack."

We were all stunned, looking at each other in disbelief.

Snow in June signifies injustice, but thunder in December is even more sinister.

I got goosebumps all over, and my hair stood on end.

(Later, the newspapers called the strange phenomenon that day "a rare blizzard accompanied by thunder, the likes of which are rare in seventy years.")

My mother forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood, and said, "Come on, eat your vegetables, eat your vegetables. My son is quite long-lived, isn't he?"

I said, "That's right. Good people don't live long, bad people live a thousand years."

Little Sao Sao and I sang loudly together, "We are pests, we are pests!"

I taught Er Guai how to feed my mother.

The tense atmosphere relaxed.

Little Sao Sao said, "Your village is so strange, it's terrifying."

Er Guai said, "Heizhuang Village used to be called Heizang Village, it was a large wasteland where people were buried."

My heart sank again!

Little Sao Sao asked in surprise, "Huh? A cemetery?"

Er Guai said, "Yes. The land where they build their houses now used to be grave mounds."

My mother asked, "Then why do they have to build houses and live in a cemetery?"

He said, "Maybe they think the feng shui of burial sites is good."

I said, "I don't think it's any better."

Little Sao Sao said, "No wonder it's always haunted."

I blurted out, "So your family built on the mountain? Your family guards the spirits, right?"

He said, "Yes. Big brother, you're quick-witted. I farm our land and don't usually go into the village."

Little Sao Sao asked, "Then why does your mother go into the village?"

He said, "Maybe she's been possessed by something. I just don't think that village is clean."

Well, I took her on a train to a huge cemetery for two days. What a mess!

I coldly asked, "Does wearing a red belt work?"

I deliberately used "red belt" to tease his mother, poking at his sore spot.

Er Guai's eyes twitched, and his black pupils stared at me.

I sketched out his psychological trajectory in my mind:

a recluse, severely Oedipus complex (possibly even incestuous).

After Mom's accident, he and his sister relied on each other, living in a de facto marriage.

Now that his sister is dead, his deep-seated infatuation with my mother has shifted.

Fine, let it shift. I'll keep my options open.

After a satisfying meal, Erguai and Xiao Saosao cleaned up the mess and went to the kitchen to clean.

I hugged Mom and asked, "Mom, what do you think of Erguai? Is he reliable?"

Mom said, "He's alright."

I said, "Be careful with everything."

Mom said, "Hmm. He can tell fortunes? Shall we have him take a good look at us later?"

I said, "Stop! Don't cause trouble."

The thought of "fate" sent chills down my spine. A huge sense of fear overwhelmed me.

Mom said, "What's wrong? I wanted him to do a fortune telling."

I said, "Don't ask about life and death, don't talk about lifespan, that's the rule. Don't believe him."

Mom said, "Then did he get your fortune telling right?"

I said, "Have I done many evil deeds?"

Mom said, "No."

I said, "Have I been wicked?"

Mom said, "No."

I said, "Have I committed adultery with other men's wives and daughters?"

Mom raised her leg and poked my nose with her toe: "You've committed many adultery, haven't you?"

I got up and hung that old, dirty pot on the front wall of the living room, directly above the TV.

Mom said, "It's filthy, why hang it? Take it down, take it down."

I said, "These days everyone likes to hang things like this. It's art."

Mom turned her head to look at her TV.

I whispered in her ear, "This is called 'hanging one's head from a gourd and pricking one's thigh with an awl,' and then putting it here with a crutch."

My mother said, "They're not bad people. You shouldn't doubt those you use, and you shouldn't use those you doubt."

I said, "I know. But it's not that simple."

I took a silver necklace from my mother's jewelry box, threaded the amulet through it, and put it on her, instructing her, "Don't take it off. Wear it with you at all times. This has been blessed; I got it for you with all my heart."

My mother looked down at it and said dismissively, "What kind of junk is this? A scam."

I said, "Watch your mouth. There are spirits watching from three feet above the ground."

I suddenly found myself yawning. One after another,

unstoppable. I felt my eyelids were about to close.

My little rascal came over after washing the dishes and started yawning with me, just as aggressively.

My mom said, "Look how sleepy you two are!"

Her voice held a hint of jealousy.

I said, "Why am I suddenly so sleepy?"

My mom said, "Go back and catch up on your sleep!"

I said, "I really need to go back and sleep for a while. I really can't stay awake any longer."

My mom said, "Go back. Don't drive when you're sleepy!"

I got up and put on my coat, saying, "Don't worry. I won't drive when I'm sleepy."

My little rascal got up with me and asked in surprise, "You have a car?"

I nodded, "Yes, I do."

She asked excitedly, "What brand?"

I countered, "Which one are you asking about?"

My little rascal opened her eyes wide and asked, "How many do you have?"

I reluctantly said, "Three."

My mom blurted out: "What's with that Jaguar? It gets 18 liters per 100 kilometers!"

I said. "What?! It gets 13 when there's no traffic."

Mom said, "No traffic jams during SARS. And it's like SARS every day?"

Little Sao Sao asked, "What's your Jaguar like? Is it better than a Xiali?"

I smiled wryly and said, "Yeah, better than a Xiali."

She asked, "Where do you park it? I've never seen you drive it."

I calmly said, "There are plenty you haven't seen."

My mom said, "He doesn't like driving. He hates traffic jams."

I said to Erguai, "Brother, you've been through a lot."

Erguai said, "Don't mention it, brother."

I pulled Little Sao Sao away.

The swaying subway made me even more drowsy.

She suddenly asked me, "Are you and your landlady alright?"

I pretended to be relaxed and said, "Of course I'm fine! What are you thinking!"

She said, "The old folks in our village say that being possessed by a female ghost is very unlucky."

I asked, "How so?"

She said, "It shortens your lifespan, it possesses you, and it's bad for your family. You haven't caused any trouble, have you?"

I tried to remain calm and said, "No. I couldn't possibly."

She said, "But you're already an old man. I'm really worried."

I still insisted, "Why are you worrying?! I'm not, I'm not."

She happily hugged my arm and shook it, saying, "I knew you wouldn't. My husband is so good!"

A chill ran down my spine, and I quickly muttered: Om Mani Padme Hum.

Please protect me from harm.

Please protect my mother from harm.

I returned to my apartment with the little rascal.

She said, "I'm addicted."

I saw her loosen her belt and busy her hands between her legs.

I asked her, "Aren't you sleepy?"

She bit her lip and moaned shamelessly, her eyes already starting to glaze over, "I'm so itchy inside."

I said, "Get in bed."

She agreed verbally, but didn't move.

I reached into her pants and touched her. Her crotch was already soaked.

I pressed her down on the bed, pulled her pants down halfway, and roughly rubbed her buttocks.

The half-pulled-down pants looked particularly lewd.

She suddenly said, "Let me get up."

I asked, "What?"

She said, "I need to poop."

I said, "Poop here."

I pressed her down on the bed to stop her from moving.

She couldn't believe her ears and asked, "Poop here?"

I said, "Yes. Poop here."

She asked again, "Poop on the bed?"

I said, "Yes."

She said sweetly, "You're such a pervert!"

I said, "That's how perverted I am. Go ahead and poop."

She lay flat on the bed, spread her legs, and strained.

I watched her.

She strained again, then sighed and gave up: "No, I can't poop."

I said, "Turn over. To your side."

She obediently turned over, face inward, her soft white buttocks facing me, her two big, fleshy legs crossed, curled up softly beside me.

I spread her buttocks, revealing her anus.

She strained. Her anus pushed out.

I felt a pang of pity watching her, so I knelt down and licked her there.

After a series of strange events recently, I seemed to have even less of a concept of cleanliness and dirtiness.

She groaned and continued to strain.

"Plop!" A fart landed in my mouth. A strong, pungent smell.

She laughed and said, "Sorry."

I said, "Thunder precedes rain, fart precedes poop. There's hope. Keep it up."

I sat on the chair by the bed, quietly admiring her bare buttocks.

She held her breath and strained for a long time, then said, "No. I'm nervous watching you."

I said, "Then just hold it in."

She said, "No, I feel uncomfortable."

I said, "If you feel uncomfortable, then poop."

She said, "I can't poop in this position."

I licked my finger wet and slowly probed into her anus. It was dry inside.

I said, "You need to eat more fruit, you know?"

She nodded, silently enjoying my finger's violation.

I said, "You need to drink more water, you know?"

She nodded.

I said, "Your poop is always so dry, it's bad for your hemorrhoids."

She asked, "Did you touch it?"

I said, "No. Should I force-feed you one?"

She said, "No! Your mom scared me to death last time." (See "Sluts Must Be Fucked to Death, Part Eleven: That Golf Ball")

I pulled out my finger. It was clean.

I rummaged through the liquor cabinet and found a small bottle of moisturizing and hair-conditioning olive oil, and also an empty enema bottle she had used up. I sucked the olive oil into it and sprayed it into her anus.

She asked, "What are you doing to me?"

I said, "Just wait and see."

I sat next to her, rubbing her stomach, telling jokes, and singing vulgar songs.

She was very relaxed.

The olive oil slowly moistened her rectum.

Suddenly, she tensed up, her expression serious, and said, "Coming! At the door! Get out of the way!"

Why should I get out of the way?

I picked her up and laid her on the bed with her head facing inwards and her bottom towards my face.

I placed a t-shirt that needed washing between her knees, sat beside her, and watched her, waiting for good news.

I watched as her anus strained and strained, to an unbelievable degree, a deep red.

Her anus was bulging! Her internal hemorrhoids were protruding, a truly horrifying

sight. I saw a cluster of bright red, soft blisters, about the size of a cherry tomato, shiny, filled with swollen blood vessels. I was afraid they would burst.

Her hemorrhoids were serious. I'll have to take her to have them removed someday.

I encouraged her, saying, "Go, you little slut!"

She strained even harder. Her rectum strained out even more, bright red, thoroughly lubricated with olive oil, like a large, round mouth, thirstily open.

I said, "Go!"

She strained again. Her rectum strained out even more, the protruding part contracting and writhing.

Suddenly, I saw the head of poop.

Half of it hesitantly peeked out.

A stream of urine gushed from her urethra, staining her inner t-shirt.

Go! Go!

She kept straining, her hands gripping the sheets, her teeth clenched, snorting through her nose.

After a long and arduous struggle, the poop suddenly sprang out, half of its body protruding—eighteen centimeters long and five centimeters in diameter.

This half-body stood proudly, trembling, but refused to move any further, like being stuck in traffic.

A pungent, unpleasant odor began to permeate the apartment.

I continued to massage her belly, encouraging her.

"Wow, that's thick! Great! Keep going!"

She groaned like a woman in labor. The traffic jam eased slightly. The "car" slowly began to move.

Finally, it was all out, a full thirty-seven centimeters long—a truly awe-inspiring sight.

I carefully cradled it in my palm, admiring this work of art.

This thing was firm and stiff, with large knots and bumps, dark brown, thick at the head and thin at the tail, with a layer of olive oil on the surface, and a faint, pleasant smell.

I placed this treasure on a large plate on the dining table.

If aliens were peeking through the window, they certainly wouldn't understand what kind of ritual this was.

I asked, "Didn't you poop yesterday?"

She said, "No. I thought the toilets in Heizhuang Village were unclean."

She now looked every bit like a city woman.

She was breathing heavily, like after an orgasm.

I asked, "Anything else?"

She said, "No."

She wiped herself. The paper was clean, almost nothing.

Her pink, wrinkled anus was now tightly closed, but the cherry tomato was stuck at the entrance, not yet sucked in. She weakly said, "It hurts so much."

I held her soft, white buttocks and licked her anus, slightly bitter and salty.

She groaned that it felt good.

I tenderly licked her cherry tomato, the scene elegant and wholesome.

Slowly, I used my wet, slippery tongue to push the cherry tomato in.

She rolled over and hugged me, looking at me and asking, "Why are you so good to me? Hmm? Why?"

I said, "I don't know."

She said, "Don't do this again. I don't deserve it." When

a woman says something like that, there's always a story behind it that you don't want to know.

She licked my hand, her tongue soft.

She kissed me and asked, "Do you like my taste?"

I said softly, "You've asked that a hundred times."

"Say it. Say it again. I love hearing it."

I looked into her eyes and said, "I like it. I like your taste. I like a slut's cunt. I like a slut's stinky ass."

She moaned excitedly and said, "Want to fuck a slut?"

I panted as I took off my clothes and kissed her, saying, "I want to!"

She said, "Me too. Shall we take a bath first?"

I turned on the hot water, took off our clothes, and took a bath together, washing hard, trying to wash away the bad luck.

Can bad luck really be washed away?

I rubbed her back. I took a towel to dry her body.

We went back to bed naked and huddled together.

She shivered and said, "I'm afraid of winter~"

I suddenly asked, "Are you a snake?"

She said, "Yes. Hey, how did you know?"

I said, "Look how much you resemble a snake, lazy and beautiful, a beautiful snake."

She laughed happily and hugged me tightly.

I was silent. According to the I Ching, my zodiac sign is incompatible with the snake.

She said, "The fortune teller said a woman would see you off in your final days. Does that mean I'll be there?"

I said, "It probably means my daughter."

She said, "Huh? I won't be by your side when you die? What will I be doing then?"

I said, "You'll die before me, or maybe at some man's house."

She said, "That's terrifying. How old are you at eighty-three?"

I said, "Very old, all wrinkles, age spots, loose skin on my neck, and my penis just won't get hard."

She said, "What will I look like when I'm old?"

I said, "You won't be old. You'll look like this now."

She laughed, "Me, an old witch?"

I said, "Yes. You'll be a snake demon."

She asked, "Do you like snake demons?"

I noticed she used the word "like."

I said, "Yes."

She hesitated and whispered, "Then I'll tell you something, but you're not allowed to say anything about it, you're not allowed to curse me."

It couldn't be anything good. My tongue went numb and my mouth went limp.

I said firmly, "Don't tell."

She said, "I want to tell you. My mind is in turmoil."

I said, "I don't want to hear it."

She coldly said, "I was raped by that man."

I froze, staring into her eyes, a chill running down my spine. (Just down my central nervous system.)

Her pre-orgasmic sluttyness, her shameless moans, the peculiar smell of her genitals,

her throbbing spasms, her masochistic tendencies—few men could resist the stench emanating from her.

I slept with other men's wives, and my wife was slept with by another. I slept with other men's wives with glee. I slept with my wife and I felt aroused.

But this isn't ordinary lust; this is utterly immoral lust. Retribution in this life.

I was raped by a female ghost. She was raped by a male ghost.

No one would believe this.

She chuckled and said, "Look at you, what's wrong? Did you see a ghost?"

I suddenly sat up and yelled, "Tell me! How did the landlord sleep with you?"

She said, "I woke up in the middle and felt someone touching me. I thought it was you coming back, but when I looked, it was him."

I was excited, and my big cock slammed into her, interrogating her while I was fucking her: "And then? Tell me!"

She didn't speak.

I said, "Tell me! How did he fuck you?!"

She was silent.

I furiously fucked her cunt, cursing as I did so: "Slut, whore, bitch!"

She gradually became agitated and responded to me, "Mmm... oh... I'm a bitch..."

Hearing her say that, I felt a strange excitement.

I like sluts. I raped her fiercely.

She was about to climax. I suddenly pulled out.

She twisted her hips in distress, murmuring, "I'm a slut... I'm a slut... Why aren't you fucking me anymore?"

I said, "Listen to me, you've cheated on me twice with other people. I won't allow a third time."

She said, "I understand. I know I was wrong."

I said, "If you go to someone else again—"

She interrupted, "You can tie me up and tickle my feet."

I said sternly, "If you mess around again, get out of here."

Why was I angry?

Because I cared.

Why did I care?

Because I was serious.

Why was I serious?

Because I had feelings.

I was already indifferent. Indifferent to cars. Indifferent to women.

Indifferent to this damn world.

After the divorce, I was no longer easily moved, no longer able to feel my heart pounding.

I no longer talked about "love."

Losing innocence is a sad fact.

For a period of time, I enjoyed my indifference and coldness.

I thought indifference was good. Is getting emotional really that tiring?

Is it really worth it to grovel like a grandson to pursue a cunt?

"Just have some fun!" (—Theme song from "Yang Guang's Happy Life")

Just fuck her. Why get serious?

But lately, I've found myself going back to my old ways.

Now that I'm serious, this slut keeps betraying me.

Should I kick her out?

She urgently said to me, "Hurry up. Come in!"

She rubbed her long clitoris.

I said, "You little slut, look at you."

She excitedly said, "Oh...you're cursing me..."

I said, "Little slut, little bitch."

I rubbed her fleshy ass.

She was still masturbating intensely, her gaze starting to wander.

I gently slapped her mouth.

She became even more excited, saying, "Hmm! Hit me! Hit me!"

I slapped her mouth again.

She masturbated hysterically.

I noticed I had a problem: I went soft.

She looked at my limp penis, then stared at me blankly.

Was her slutty behavior not stimulating enough?

Or was my erection threshold increased?

I focused on playing with her, cruelly ravaging her nipples.

Her little nipples quickly hardened, defiantly resisting the torture.

She continued masturbating under the light, completely shameless.

I pinched her nipples and twisted them back and forth.

I gently slapped her mouth and asked, "Little bitch, masturbating, aren't you ashamed?"

She trembled, closed her eyes, and quickly rubbed her clitoris with her fingers.

I slapped her cheek: "Look at you, so horny. Aren't you ashamed?"

Her fingers were already covered in her secretions.

I asked, "Are you horny?"

She said, "Yes! I am."

She closed her eyes, silently enjoying my verbal abuse.

I pinched her chin and said, "You slut, you need to be fucked. You have a horny cunt."

She enjoyed this flirting, spreading her legs, and my fingers pressed harder and harder.

I lightly slapped her mouth and asked, "How old were you when you first masturbated?"

She hummed and said, "Fifth grade."

I slapped her mouth again and asked, "How often do you masturbate?"

She said, "Every day."

I slapped her mouth again and asked, "Are you a little slut?"

She said, "Yes. I am. Hit me..."

It seemed that being slapped excited her?

I couldn't bear to hit her hard.

She encouraged me, saying, "Hit me. Hit me."

I said, "Daddy really hit you?"

I saw her legs trembling.

She answered, "Oh, hit me!"

"Slap! Slap!"

"Harder!"

"Slap! Slap!"

"Harder!"

I took her underwear and covered her head.

It is said that covering a woman's eyes during sex helps her get into character faster.

It is also said that women don't want to see the person fucking them when they are being fucked, but prefer to immerse themselves in their imagination.

I gradually slapped her harder.

For a moment, the sound of slaps echoed in the apartment.

She cheered and slapped her cunt, her face red from my slaps, covered with dark red handprints.

Under my gaze, her whole body tensed, her buttocks raised, entering the climax of her masturbation.

She tried to squeeze her legs together, her face showing considerable discomfort.

People are strange.

I gripped her hands, aiding her, shaking them rapidly, and asked, "Does your little pussy feel good?"

She breathed out hot air and said, "It feels good... mmm... so good!"

I said, "Your little cunt is so hot."

She said, "My cunt is being naughty. Daddy, fuck me. Harder."

Every time I thought about her father having fucked her, to be honest, I always felt a pang of unease, like a jumble of soy sauce, vinegar, and chili oil.

I said, "You're naughty. You little slut, you masturbate. Daddy will spank you."

Saying this, I symbolically spanked her buttocks twice.

Her breathing immediately quickened, and she said incoherently, "Ugh! Hit me! Hit me harder!"

I knelt beside her and added force to her buttocks, the slaps resounding loudly.

Her buttocks trembled under my palm.

My hand went numb. Her buttocks turned red.

She moaned in a daze, her masturbation entering a frenzied stage close to orgasm.

I spanked her buttocks even harder.

As I spanked her, I said, "Daddy's going to punish you! Daddy's going to tie you up."

She trembled with excitement, saying, "Okay! Daddy, fuck me~~ Daddy, fuck my cunt~~"

It seemed that "Daddy" was a fatal trigger before her orgasm. She was immersed in the moment, her fingers rapidly rubbing her clitoris.

At this moment, I realized my penis was hard.

Humiliating a woman gave me pleasure and helped me get an erection.

I put my penis in her mouth.

I didn't want to hear her call "Daddy" anymore.

She sucked on my thick, hard penis, whimpering sadly.

I put on black leather gloves, cruelly pinching her nipple with my left hand, and spanking her buttocks even more severely with my right.

"Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!"

Suddenly, she released my penis, her body flipping violently to the side, simultaneously hunching her shoulders, shrinking her back, and curling her legs, her whole body convulsing violently, gasping for breath, like an electric shrimp.

She had orgasmed.

A long silence followed.

I took off my gloves, my breathing gradually calming down.

She'd definitely be thirsty soon.

I got out of bed to boil some water, then came back to examine the bed closely.

A girl, her body limp on my bed, her soul seemingly detached.

I roughly stroked her back.

She didn't react, as if she were dead.

Looking at her vulva, her fleshy anus exposed to me, like an invitation.

I reached out and touched it. Warm. Soft.

Her anus tensed immediately at the touch of my fingertip.

I touched her anus while simultaneously touching her vulva.

Her vulva was already wet, secreting a lot of mucus.

I rubbed her clitoris, touched her vaginal opening, and inserted myself to massage her vaginal canal, vaginal cavity, and vaginal walls.

She murmured, "Mmm! Mmm!"—a tacit agreement, a form of encouragement.

I rubbed her sticky labia, my middle finger ravaging her hot, post-orgasmic cunt.

The slippery cunt felt amazing.

I felt my cock get even harder.

I aimed my cock at her cunt and shoved it in like an ape.

She was in pain and pleasure at the same time, panting heavily.

I forcefully spread her cunt open, pulling my cock out completely with each thrust, then slowly pushing it back in.

I felt the head of my cock hit a soft little fleshy lump.

That must be her cervix.

She groaned, "Ouch! Daddy, you're hitting something!"

I said, "Really? What is it?"

She gasped, "I don't know..." I said

recklessly, "Whatever it is! Let's fuck it first!"

She got excited again, saying, "Oh! Daddy, fuck me!"

I fucked her hard, saying, "I'll fuck you! You slut, I'll fuck you to death!"

The kettle gurgled, fiercely announcing that the water was about to boil.

I pressed even harder, fueling her like a flame.

She cried out, "Oh! Daddy, don't fuck my ass! I have hemorrhoids!"

While touching the hemorrhoids in her anus, I said, "Daddy will fuck! Daddy will fuck!"

Back and forth like this, it quickly escalated again.

She was brought to another climax, her whole body trembling and contracting violently.

The female prisoner, reaching her limit of endurance, opened her distorted mouth, letting out an inhuman scream, her small round face contorted in agony.

"Ahhh..." A trembling, resonant voice rang out from the peak of pleasure.

This song should only exist in heaven. I love to hear it.

I especially love to hear it.

The sharp whistle of the kettle pierced my ears.

The water boiled.

My penis throbbed inside her vagina.

This time, she didn't recover for three minutes.

I picked up her bare feet, kissing and licking them.

I swung my penis wildly, fucking her three hundred times.

She didn't react at all. Her whole body was limp.

Feeling bored, I took off the diaper covering her head.

Her eyes were closed, truly unwilling to open them.

I got out of bed, filled the thermos, and dialed the phone: "Hey, where the hell are you?"

The little slut's eyelids twitched, and she opened them.

She must have guessed who I was calling.

A slut is a slut.

I said, "Come over here. Hurry up."

I hung up and ate the fries on the table.

She was naked, knelt up from the bed, and tried to grab the fries from me.

She asked softly, "Who is it? Pervert?"

I said, "Yeah."

She said, "Why did you call him over?"

I said, "To chat. Don't you like him?"

Her face flushed, her excitement escalating.

She asked in a confused whisper, "What you just said about not being able to..."

I said, "I know, anything is fine. Anyone in front of me is fine. But not behind my back."

Her face turned even redder, and she asked, "You really called him over?"

I said, "Yeah. He said he'd be there in twenty minutes."

The little slut put down her fries, pulled me onto the bed, hugged me, and trembled all over.

I said, "I thought you were asleep."

She said, "No. I'm just a little tired."

I said, "Then I'll tell him not to come. I'm going right away."

As I said this, I tried to get up.

She held me down, saying, "No! Don't prioritize your girlfriend over your friend. Hurry up."

She pulled my hand to touch her vagina.

I touched a wet, smelly pile of rotten flesh!

I pretended to be silly: "Why hurry up?"

She said, "It's only twenty minutes, there's still time."

I continued to tease her: "Still time for what?"

She said, "Hurry up...it's itchy inside."

I asked, "Are you itchy?"

She blushed and said, "My vagina is itchy...fuck me~~"

A fierce fucking ensued. The world turned upside down!

I made her feel wave after wave of blissful mort petit (French: a near-death experience. Is the orgasm close to a near-death experience?).

I teased her with words: "I'm going to tie you up in a bit!"

She nodded: "Mmm...tie me up!"

I said, "Tie me up and I'll fuck your asshole!"

She responded very sweetly: "Mmm...fuck my asshole!"

I said, "We'll both fuck you together!"

She said excitedly: "Mmm...fuck me together!"

She closed her eyes tightly again.

Even an idiot could guess that she was thinking of Old K right now. My cock was ravaging her cunt.

She screamed in agony, writhing and struggling under the torture of my cock, and came (thinking of my buddy).

Her slutness, her cheapness, burned fiercely within me, urging me to fuck her even harder.

Suddenly, a surge of excitement! A jolt

in my lower back! Semen gushed out uncontrollably.

I ejaculated inside her cunt.

I screamed in despair, ejaculating wildly.

It overflowed.

Her cunt was like a swamp in Hunan in August.

Dust filled the apartment.

I lay on top of her, panting heavily.

She touched my face tenderly and asked, "Why didn't you fuck my ass?"

I understood she had hemorrhoids, but I didn't tell her.

I didn't want this slut to know how much I cared about her.

I cupped her face and asked, "Was that orgasm good?"

She nodded and said, "It was amazing...it felt like heaven..."

I said, "A handsome guy is coming later, so it must have been especially good, right?"

She buried her face in my armpit, embarrassed.

"Knock knock

knock!" A knock on the door.

We both jumped!

She said to me in terror, "My clothes!"

I ignored her, panting, pulled on my underwear, and asked, "Who is it?" "

Holy crap! I heard screaming and howling downstairs..."

I opened the door. It was Old K. I said, "You're driving so fast, buddy?"

He saw I was only wearing underwear and grinned, "Practicing your big job?"

I said, "Yeah, yeah. Going for a long shot."

He went straight to the window without any politeness, "It smells bad in here. Open the window, open the window."

I quickly stopped him, saying, "Don't. There's bird flu going around."

He looked at me carefully, surprised, and asked, "Oh! You're into Korean culture too? Dyed your hair white?"

I was too lazy to explain, so I just said, "Yeah."

Old K said, "White hair is good. White hair is cool."

The little slut, who had been huddled under the covers, blushed and greeted me softly, "Brother Wei, you're here?"

Old K bowed to the little slut on the bed and said, "Oh, still in bed? Get up, get up, I'll take you to a fun place!"

I said, "I'm not going out. It's too cold outside. There's plenty of alcohol at home, enough for everyone."

He opened the refrigerator and took out a can of beer. He doesn't even know his own house this well.

We two are too familiar, we grew up playing in the mud, we're like family.

I know exactly where that mole is on his butt.

Old K looked at the little slut and said, "I have to say, she's sexy with her hair down."

From her eyes to her mannerisms to the things she does, he's a total scoundrel.

The little slut looked at him, her eyes darting around, sensing what was about to happen, trembling nervously.

I touched her face and comforted her, "Don't be afraid. I'm a good guy. There's only one good guy left in this world, it's definitely him, not me."

Her body trembled even more violently under the covers.

Old K sipped his beer.

We used to have threesomes together all the time. I said, "It's chaotic. Sit down!"

Old K calmly sat down and said, "Chaos is good. We like chaos."

I asked him, "Why?"

He said, "Chaos is comfortable. Chaos is what makes it home, right?" He asked the little slut with a grin.

I lit a cigarette and looked at the little slut.

Her face was flushed, and she whispered to me, "I need to pee."

I said, "Get up and pee."

She whispered back, "Give me my clothes."

I said, "Why wear them? You'll have to take them off later."

Her face turned even redder, like she was drunk.

I knew that female dogs in heat would urinate on any male dog they saw.

She was really excited.

She shyly lifted the covers, got out of bed, and walked barefoot to the corner of the apartment, up the steps, and squatted on my Japanese-style squat toilet with her buttocks facing outwards.

I tossed Old K a pack of cigarettes, and he took one out, his eyes fixed on the little slut, his big eyes almost popping out.

The little slut stuck out her white buttocks, showing us her anus and vagina, and with a "squeak," a stream of yellow urine shot out, followed by a gushing sound.

Old K and I both clearly saw that her vagina was hanging with shiny, sticky strands.

That was the female dog's secretions and my semen.

To reinforce the female dog's humiliation, I asked her, "Aren't you ashamed to pee in front of guests?"

I couldn't see her face, but it wasn't hard to imagine that she'd never felt so embarrassed in her life.

Old K tried to smooth things over, saying, "Come on, who doesn't pee? The seven necessities of life: eating, drinking, pooping, and sleeping."

This guy has always copied me to pass math, and today he's even worse.

The little slut finally finished peeing and reached for toilet paper.

I said authoritatively, "Don't wipe! Save me some toilet paper."

It wasn't that I was stingy with toilet paper. I wanted her pussy to be wet. It felt good to touch.

She really didn't wipe, bounced her butt a couple of times, and went down the steps naked, turned back to the bed, covered herself with the blanket, and her face was bright red.

Old K stared at her greedily, his eyes blazing with desire.

I asked Old K, "It's very warm here. If you're hot, take your clothes off."

I had already given him a way out.

He didn't hold back, got up, took off his sweater, unbuckled his belt, and clattered down his jeans.

I saw a huge bulge in his underwear!

The little slut saw it too, and slightly stuck out her tongue to lick her lips.

I said to Old K, "Go wash your hands."

Old K said, "Okay, I will."

He got up to wash his hands.

When he came back, I turned off the light and said, "Keep quiet. "

The apartment was pitch black.

A chorus of panting.

The panting of the little slut and Old K.

I got into bed too, and touched her fleshy buttocks.

Soft.

It was the little slut's.

I heard the panting getting more and more intense.

I knew Old K was touching the little slut's hot body, touching her sensitive areas.

I heard the little slut's shameless moans.

My penis was hard again.

I guessed Old K had touched the little slut's private parts.

I said, "She hasn't washed."

Old K said, "We're like family, I don't mind the dirt."

The neighbor next door, infected by this, also started exercising vigorously.

I heard the sound of the metal bed next door slamming against the wall.

Ah, slap, slap, slap!

The sound seemed to be providing cover for them.

I heard the little slut's moans getting louder.

Worried, I reached out and touched her fleshy ass.

This time it was hard.

Old K's ass.

That hard ass was thrusting frantically.

The squelching sounds of fucking were incredibly grating.

In less than ten seconds, I heard the little slut groan violently in the darkness.

I knew, that slut had orgasmed.

So fast?! Much faster than with me!

The hard ass wouldn't give up, still poking my woman's wet cunt.

I heard Old K's praise: "...You're so wet..."

I heard Old K smacking his lips as he kissed my girl.

I heard Old K say to me, "Turn on the light, hey."

I asked, "Why are you turning on the light?"

Old K said, "I want to see how slutty she is."

I hesitated for a moment, then turned on the bedside lamp.

Under the orange light, I saw my little slut's face was flushed, her eyes were wet, as if she had just been crying?

Old K's ass was still thrusting fiercely, violently fucking my little slut, not only on top of her but also holding her head tightly with both hands.

The little slut hugged Old K passionately, desperately rushing towards orgasm, as if this was her last chance for orgasm in this life.

I didn't want her to hug Old K. I pulled her hands above her head and then gripped her wrists tightly.

She moaned even louder. The brutality gave her double the pleasure.

As soon as Old K saw the slut's armpits, he immediately pounced on her, panting and sniffing and licking, like a dog in heat.

The little slut twisted her body uncomfortably, trying to get away, but I held her down forcefully.

I said to Old K, "Fuck her! Just fuck her hard!"

Old K thrust hard with his head down. The little slut moaned and cried out.

I continued coldly, "Don't feel sorry for her. She likes being fucked hard by strangers!"

I slapped the little slut's face and asked her, "Am I right?"

She closed her eyes, moaned, and nodded shyly, saying, "Yes...yes!~~"

Old K picked up the little slut's ass and put it on his lap, then started fucking her hard. His thick penis slid in and out of the little slut's slippery cunt.

The panting in the apartment became heavier and faster.

The intervals between the slapping thrusts were noticeably shorter.

I pinched the little slut's face and said, "A flight attendant's body was found in the wreckage of a plane on 9/11, her hands and feet were tied with wires."

Hearing this, the little slut's moans became even more intense.

She said, "Oh! Tie me up! Tie me up!"

I took a piece of all-copper enameled wire from the bedside (we always have it on hand)

and tied the little slut's two wrists, which were raised above her head, together tightly. Finally, I twisted it twice and used the excess wire to tie her hands to the headboard railing.

She got into character, feeling like she was the heroine bound by wires.

Old K, watching me do this, his breathing quickly changed, and he hoisted the heroine's legs onto his shoulders, launching a fierce attack.

I pressed down hard on the heroine, took out the steel baton, and held it across her neck.

The heroine groaned, twisting her hips wildly, her breasts bobbing up and down as Old K fucked her.

I knew the heroine was approaching her climax.

Tick-tock! Tick-tock! The bomb countdown began: 10, 9, 8. Old K pinched her nipples, pressing his penis firmly against her vagina, rotating and grinding inside.

Tick-tock! 7. Tick-tock! 6. Tick-tock! 5. I kissed the heroine. Her lips grew cold.

Tick-tock! 4. Tick-tock! 3. Old K's penis pounded into her violently, his hand reaching down to cruelly pinch her clitoris.

Tick-tock! 2. Tick-tock! 1. Bang! ~~Atomic explosion.

The heroine stiffened, then fell silent, curling into a ball, her naked body trembling violently under the light, sweat beading on her forehead.

My penis throbbed, as if I could feel her pleasure.

The heroine and I simultaneously let out a string of farts. Had we formed a sympathesis?

I looked at the heroine's contorted face, seemingly able to sense the intense contractions of her uterus.

Old K said, "The little bitch peed again, spraying my belly."

The heroine was still immersed in the vortex of orgasm, perhaps not even hearing him.

Was this her eighth or ninth orgasm tonight?

I forgot to count.

Women are so lucky, able to enjoy so many orgasms in a row.

Men are just not so lucky.

Old K, his penis still inside her, turned her to the side, as agile as a monkey.

The heroine hadn't yet recovered from the torture she'd just endured; her hands were still tied to the bed railing with electrical wire.

Old K straddled her left thigh, lifted her right leg, added wine, relit the lamp, and resumed the feast.

Old K was really energetic, digging and pounding with all his might, sucking on her bare toes as he did so.

She recovered a little, letting out a pitiful scream.

I pinched her cheek hard.

Her face was distorted from my pinching, her mouth forced open.

I pinched her cheek and asked Old K, "Are you horny?"

Under the soft, warm light of the lamp, Old K said while fucking her, "Horny. Very horny!"

I deliberately provoked her, "Do you like it?"

Old K answered while fucking her, "I like it."

She was so intoxicated, like a thirteen-year-old Louis…

"You like it even though you're so horny?"

"The hornier, the more I like it!"

The little slut moaned happily, shameless, as the unfamiliar, powerful cock fucked her.

I moved behind Old K, touching his swollen testicles and asked, "Is your cunt slippery?"

Old K panted, "Slippery! You've really cummed a lot!"

The little slut opened her eyes to the light, looked at us, and immediately closed them shyly again.

Old K, panting, said, "If you touch my balls, my dick will get even harder!"

The little slut was being fucked to the point of ecstasy by Old K.

I suddenly couldn't bear to watch anymore.

I was jealous of him. I hated him. I

had never felt this way in a threesome before.

Suddenly, I grabbed one side of his penis.

His big dick was hard and erect, and it was indeed longer than before.

It was covered in sticky fluid, glistening under the light.

He yelled angrily, "What are you doing?! I'm done for!"

The little slut was also in the middle of it all, and suddenly without his dick, she turned her head anxiously to look at me, confused.

I gently touched Old K's asshole and said, "Let's play something new today."

To be continued~

06-01
18: Losing control after the threesome

Key hints for this episode: threesome, toys, feces, role-playing, uniforms, betrayal, mother-son affection, supernatural.

Warning: Same old rules. Press the back button if you have a weak stomach. Don't finish watching and then feel disgusted. You've been warned.

Episode 18 begins

with me gently touching Old K's anus, saying, "Let's try something new today."

Old K says, "I thought you were interested in her!"

Yes, I want to protect my woman.

But how can I protect her?

I put on a white coat and a mask, and have Old K wear a police uniform top and sunglasses, his lower body bare.

I know the woman is attracted to the security guard.

I take out the soft rubber toy snake I've kept for years; it's over a meter long, two fingers thick, and semi-transparent.

I push the snake's head against the little slut's sticky hole.

I twist the snake's body, three steps in, two steps out, grinding her nerves little by little.

The woman's hands are still tied to the bed railing.

She entered her new role, naked and coldly violated by a doctor and a policeman.

She gasped for breath, saying, "Mmm...fuck me...fuck my cunt...you two fuck me together..."

The snake's body was already more than ten centimeters inside.

I said to Old K, "Get the copper wire."

Old K understood, and gently wrapped a thin copper wire around her nipples, connecting it to the small generator.

The slut's nipples, receiving attention and care, became even erect and fuller.

After a while, a weak current was applied, which would surge between her nipples and uterus.

The slut would tremble with excitement.

There was a complex sympathetic connection between her nipples and uterus. Stimulating the nipples caused uterine contractions. (That's why doctors encourage breastfeeding.)

The slut watched my every move, her whole body tense.

While I continued to fuck the slut with the "snake," I had Old K turn on the small generator.

The hot current began to flow into the slut's breasts.

The slut spasmed, her lips and nipples trembling. Her nipples became even more prominent.

I intentionally or unintentionally played with her clitoris.

She moaned wildly, her body twisting even more violently.

I tightly bound her two bare feet together with pale yellow medical latex tubing.

The slut began to moan intensely.

I gently touched Old K's balls, teasingly stroking his penis, deliberately showing it to her.

I said to Old K, "All you know is how to advance. Actually, retreating is torture."

He said, "Are you torturing her or me?"

This guy's penis was as hard as a fossil, throbbing in my hand.

I touched his glans twice, scratched his balls twice, touched his ass three times, and rubbed his anus twice, the stimulation of each part of his body was not continuous.

The little slut's hands and feet were tied, her legs clamping his "snake," watching me touch Old K, her eyes almost spitting fire, helplessly twisting her buttocks.

Old K said to the bitch, "You slut, whore, slut!"

I cupped her face and touched her cheeks. Her cheek skin was delicate and smooth, like a boiled egg.

Old K pinched her cheeks, prying her mouth open into an "O" shape.

Her lips were red and soft. She obediently opened her mouth and waited.

Old K picked up the large, thick piece of feces she had just excreted from the white porcelain plate.

I touched her clitoris while watching Old K slowly, slowly insert the large piece of feces into her mouth.

She tilted her head back, her mouth filled with the thick, hard feces she had just excreted, her throat contracting.

I knew she wanted to vomit. I went over and stroked her neck.

I pinched the piece of feces and gently thrust it in and out.

It looked like the slut was giving oral sex to a black donkey.

Old K was deeply aroused, ran down and lifted her white, bound legs, spread her buttocks, and unceremoniously thrust into her again.

Under the light, the dark police uniform and white legs created a strange contrast.

Her legs were tied together and raised, reminding me of a mermaid.

The mermaid, with feces in her mouth, looked at me whimpering, the breathing from her nose distorted.

I took the piece of feces out.

The mermaid desperately gasped for breath, saying, "Ah, I can't take it anymore..."

I knew the mermaid was about to reach her climax.

Old K was having a great time.

*Slap slap*. Obscene sounds.

Since I couldn't stop Old K, I urged him to finish quickly.

I took the mermaid-sized shit stick and went behind Old K, spread his buttocks, pressed the shit stick against his anus, and pushed hard, shoving it in halfway.

This lewd act must be his "seventh bun."

His buttocks sped up, like a motor. He was finally about to ejaculate. Hurry up, hurry up. Let this all end.

The little slut screamed, her face contorted, even my orgasm wasn't this intense.

She howled, her mouth wide open, crying out sadly and regretfully, "Oh! I don't want to ejaculate!~~"

Her body stiffened, her face purple, staring at the pair of bound bare feet held up in front of her.

Old K finally relaxed completely, put down the woman's legs, and got up.

A splash of blood.

I was shocked to see his penis and pubic hair covered in blood.

The little slut was unlucky? Her time hadn't come yet.

I rushed over, pulled back her arm, and saw that her "cherry tomato" was turned inside out and torn. The blood was coming from there.

So this bastard had just been fucking her anus! I couldn't bear to fuck her there.

No wonder her moans were distorted.

I felt extremely sorry for her, and without saying a word, I knelt down and started licking, licking her anus, licking her torn "cherry tomato."

Hot blood mixed with thick semen gushed out.

Old K was untying the electrical wires, medical latex tubing, and copper wire binding her, saying in a sarcastic tone, "I opened her back door? You made a profit today."

My heart was breaking, and I didn't have time to pay attention to him.

He had no idea how terrible the sins he had committed were.

A ruptured hemorrhoid with massive bleeding can be fatal. I really shouldn't have called him here.

I licked for a long time, and the bleeding finally stopped a little.

I got up and hugged the woman, saying, "Get dressed, let's go to the hospital."

Old K said, "Look how scared you are! Is it really that serious? You weren't like this before. Don't be so concerned about women."

I felt that the woman's face had turned ashen. (Or maybe it was just my imagination.)

I cupped her face in my hands, kissing her eagerly, like I'd found a lost treasure.

Old K finally realized something and whispered, "Uh... why don't you guys keep going, I'll leave first."

I heard him getting dressed.

A while later, I heard the door open. The door close.

I was still kissing my darling.

Seeing her being violated, I suddenly felt an overwhelming tenderness.

What was wrong with me?

Why did I hand over such a beautiful girl to this scoundrel?

I asked her, "Does it still hurt?"

She gasped, "I don't know..."

I repeated, "You don't know?"

She said, "It's all numb down there."

The little slut curled up into a ball, shivering.

I covered her with the blanket, tucked her in tightly, and gently stroked her hair.

The virtuous woman lay weakly and quietly.

My heart was breaking.

Suddenly she said, "Take me..."

I thought she meant I wanted to marry her, and asked, "You mean—"

She said, "Come and fuck me! Fuck me!"

I said, "You almost got fucked to death by him."

She said, "My pussy isn't broken."

I stiffened my neck, moved twenty centimeters away from her, and looked her over again.

What's wrong with her today? Is she

possessed by lust, courting death?

I said, "Shut up and go to sleep."

The mermaid finally quieted down a bit.

In the middle of the night, in the darkness, I felt the bed shaking.

I woke up, motionless and silent, listening to the suppressed breathing beside me.

I knew the little slut was masturbating next to me, her mind definitely on Old K. A little while later, I heard a faint, suppressed moan.

After a while, there was no more sound. Just

as I was about to go back to sleep, the bed suddenly started shaking again, this time bolder than before.

What did she eat? Wasn't she tired?

I couldn't stand it anymore, and hugged her, asking, "Does your back still hurt?"

She said, "Mmm. I'm taking care of myself, trying to distract myself."

She wasn't embarrassed at all at being caught masturbating; she even continued masturbating while talking to me.

So open, just like me.

Is it true that birds of a feather flock together?

Is this my destined partner?

I touched her thigh and whispered, "I'll help you."

In my arms, she confidently and boldly touched her wet clitoris, her fingers vibrating rapidly, immersed in unparalleled pleasure.

She quickly climaxed again.

After the climax, her body was covered in a fine layer of fragrant sweat, and her body felt even cooler.

A grown woman, homeless, motherless, and unloved—it's pitiful.

I held her and whispered, "Did your dad ever tie you up?"

She whispered, "Yes. He especially liked tying me up and messing with me. Sometimes he'd forget to untie me after he was done. I'd sleep tied up like that all night."

I whispered, "And then you liked being tied up?"

She whispered, "Yes. You know what? Being tied up feels really good."

I whispered, "I don't know. I can't understand it yet."

She whispered, "It feels really safe."

Did the bondage give her a sense of security?

I whispered, "It feels really safe?" (To elicit more information, repeat what she just said.)

She whispered, "Yeah, I can't run away. I'm tightly bound by the rope, I can only enjoy it there. Want to try it?"

I whispered, "Not today. Another day. Maybe I'll just have a sudden urge."

She whispered, "Okay. Tell me if you want to."

I whispered, "Sigh."

In the quiet of the dead of winter, in a snow-covered city, in this apartment building, a girl lay comfortably in my arms, whispering secrets to me.

Whispers only we could hear amplified the intimacy.

I whispered, "When he went in, why didn't you say anything when you were in pain?"

She whispered, "What could I say? You covered his mouth. You're so mean!"

I remembered, she really couldn't speak then.

Clearly, the "mouth-covering" game is risky; we should decide on a safe word in our body language.

She whispered, "It feels so good to have someone jealous of me."

I whispered, "Who's jealous?"

She whispered, "You."

I whispered, "I'm not!"

I must have been a duck in my past life, stubborn even when cooked.

She whispered, "I think you were about to turn on that pervert."

I whispered, "I wasn't!"

Actually, I was. But I was too stunned to care.

She whispered, "I don't want to see you ruin your relationship with your buddies because of me."

I whispered, "You really think you're a fairy? You're just a five-hundred-year-old green snake at best."

She whispered, "Don't you care about me?"

I whispered, "Why would I care about a snake demon?"

She whispered, "Fine. I'll go find him tomorrow."

I whispered, "You dare! You're going to deliver yourself to his door? Are you delivering pizza?"

She whispered, "I dare. I'll go."

A stubborn country girl can be quite frightening, I tell you.

I whispered, "Are you addicted?"

She whispered, "I like the way he fucks me."

I whispered, "You especially like being fucked from behind?"

She whispered, "Don't you like being fucked from behind too?"

I whispered, "I do like it. But I..."

She said relentlessly, "I'm afraid of everything."

I was furious.

Women are truly strange creatures. If you force yourself on her, she'll say you're rude. If you're considerate and caring, she'll say you're weak. I warned her, "You have to let me know if you go to see him. You can't do it behind my back! That's the rule."

She said quietly, "Okay."

She started yawning.

I was sleepy too, so I held her and drifted off to sleep.

I thought she would listen to my advice, but unexpectedly, she took a risky step the next day.

This was the third time she had cheated on me since we got together.

Her slutty nature was completely exposed.

The next day, I went to handle some company matters and sent her to my mother's.

As soon as I got to the office, the phone rang. It was Old K. He spoke very briefly, telling me to dump the little slut.

I asked what happened. He said the little slut had just come to him and was flirting with him. He hadn't responded to her.

I said I would think about it and then hung up.

That slut! She went to flirt with my buddy!

How am I supposed to face people now? Don't scoundrels have any dignity? Did she ever consider the feelings of scoundrels?

Then I thought: Could it be that they were having an affair?

I let go, he opened his mouth, and they flew side by side on the bed. How could they be so compatible?

At this moment, the assistant brought in tea and said, "Mr. A, please have some tea."

I swung it away.

The assistant was stunned.

I immediately realized my lapse in composure and quickly calmed myself down, saying in a low voice, "I told you to knock before coming in."

The assistant said, "I'm sorry, Mr. A. I'll definitely remember to knock first next time."

He then bent down to pick up the teacup.

The carpet was thick. The teacup didn't break.

But the laptop was spilled tea, and the screen went black.

The assistant quickly wiped the laptop dry. He tried to turn it

on.

It wouldn't turn on. Completely useless.

I was incredibly frustrated and said, "Call someone from the tech department up."

The assistant timidly walked away. I was completely distracted

throughout the morning.

After the finance department finished their report, they noticed my unease and said, "Mr. A, I just heard a few jokes here that we've never heard before."

I coldly said, "Oh, really? I have to go out for a bit. Meet a friend."

The finance department immediately said tactfully, "I'm disappearing."

I picked up the car keys from my desk, pressed the button, started the engine, and put on the heater.

I grabbed my leather jacket and went out the glass door.

I got into my Jaguar XJ8L and headed straight for Old K's Coffee.

He entered, lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and tried to appear calm.

He grabbed Old K and cut to the chase: "Where is she?"

Old K, grinning and sarcastically, said, "She's gone. Look how worried my brother is, all sweaty."

I asked, "What did she say?"

Old K looked at me calmly and lazily replied, "She told you everything on the phone. What does she mean? You can't let go?"

I said, "Letting go is easy, but I need to figure out what happened."

Old K wasn't nervous at all, looking at me like he was looking down at a trapped beast.

It was as if I was the one who had made a mistake.

My pride was completely gone.

Where did that sharp, ruthless, successful man go?

Can true feelings really make someone so passive?

Old K lit a cigarette and slowly said, "Women are just for playing around with, haven't you learned your lesson yet?"

I thought of my ex-wife, of the first girl in junior high who made my heart flutter. I thought of all the cunts I'd slept with.

The old rogue Julio Iglesias has a song called "To All the Girls I've Loved."

At this moment, all the cunts I've fucked flashed before my eyes, as faint as smoke, and I felt nothing. Only when I got to this little slut did my gaze linger and magnify.

I felt lust. It meant I was still alive, not a walking corpse like Old K.

That should have been a good thing. But was I destined to suffer for true love?

Old K said, "Let me tell you, just dump her, and everything will be okay. And the sooner the better. Clean and decisive. Listen to me, I won't hurt you."

I lit a cigarette and stared coldly at him.

Old K chuckled and said, "Don't worry, I have no feelings for her. Hey, you don't doubt me, do you? I'm doing this for your own good."

I was in agony, my brows furrowed: "I know."

Old K said, "To be honest, I think she has too much of a seductive aura. Hesitation will only lead to trouble. You decide for yourself."

Thinking about it today, not listening to him back then was truly a foolish move.

Back at my mom's, we drank tea, chatted, and read the newspaper, discussing all sorts of things, while I pondered how to confront the little female dog.

The little female dog was in the kitchen picking beans to prepare lunch.

Erguai was massaging my mom's feet nearby when he suddenly asked, "Brother, do you believe in reincarnation?"

I said I did.

Erguai said, "I dreamt of my sister yesterday."

I didn't think much of it and casually replied, "Oh. Did she speak?"

Erguai said, "Yes."

I said, "It's unlucky to speak to deceased relatives in a dream."

Erguai said, "Our clan's old customs are the opposite."

My mom asked, "Oh? Tell me about it."

Erguai said, "Our clan elders all say that if you dream of a deceased relative, you must go and greet them."

My mom said, "I think so too. They must have wanted to tell you something in the dream."

I asked Erguai, "What did your sister say to you?"

Erguai said, "My sister said that the family she was reincarnated into isn't far from where I am now, and that everything is fine, so I shouldn't worry." A

chill ran down my spine.

I quickly tucked my pants in. No, I didn't catch a cold.

I looked up and saw Erguai staring at me with a strange, hesitant look.

Sometimes I felt his gaze was filled with pity, especially desolate. Who was he in his past life?

I turned to look at the little slut. The little slut was looking at my mother.

My mother looked at me and said, "You're really good at pretending."

I looked at the three of them. All three were staring at me.

My mother laughed and said, "I'm going to be a grandma."

My head buzzed.

The little slut was pregnant? My own flesh and blood?

The little slut smiled and said, "I bought a pregnancy test. You're a 10/10."

I knew she was saving face for me, afraid my mother would worry.

I was also saving face for her; I hadn't had a falling out with her since I came in.

But I knew (and she knew too) that the child she was carrying was a ghost.

My whole body went numb.

I really shouldn't have gone to Heizhuang Village!

What a calamity.

I quickly went out and bought several red belts.

The vendor said, "Your forehead is dark. Be careful lately."

We're very close and often joke around.

I said, "Your grandpa's forehead is the one that's dark."

I felt incredibly guilty.

I turned and took two steps when I suddenly recognized the man walking ahead.

Who was he? Where had I seen him before? He was in

his fifties, with half a cigarette tucked behind his ear.

Could it be him?!

I quickly walked forward and turned back to look.

The man had several non-life-threatening injuries on his face; he had been badly beaten, his eyelids and cheekbones swollen high, his eyes squeezed into slits.

I couldn't believe he was the cattle driver.

I stared at him in horror.

He suddenly said coldly, "Watch your feet!"

and continued walking.

I was startled and quickly looked down, realizing I had almost stepped in dog poop.

Watch your feet. What a wise saying. This was another enlightenment for me.

I wanted to catch up and ask him for advice, but when I looked up again, the street was deserted, and the cattle driver was nowhere to be seen.

So it must be him.

But why was he beaten?

Was it because he revealed some heavenly secret to me?

I looked up at the sky; the leaden-gray air was filled with spirits, crammed together like sardine cans.

My life was completely thrown into chaos.

I'm facing a serious crisis.

An ominous premonition surrounds me, but I don't know how to get through it.

So many

questions. I'm tired. I'm not going to think about it anymore.

Getting on with the journey is the priority.

Just be careful with every step.

Perhaps the meaning of life lies in uncertainty.

What's the point of living if you know the ending?

I went straight to the bathroom and carefully examined my forehead in the mirror.

The skin between my eyebrows was indeed a bit dark. (Psychological? I'm easily influenced.)

After looking for a long time, I

came out of the bathroom

and my mother asked, "Did you flush?"

I said I didn't pee.

My mother asked, "Why did you go into the toilet if you didn't pee?"

Silence.

How am I supposed to tell my mom?

My mother suddenly smiled mischievously at me.

I knew what she was thinking.

I didn't care to explain. I opened my bag and distributed red belts to everyone, one for each person.

Erguai was teaching the little slut how to chop chicken pieces on the kitchen counter.

I bent down to tie my mother's red belt when I suddenly heard Erguai and the little slut scream simultaneously from six meters away.

The large cleaver slipped from her hand and fell, heading straight for her slipper-clad foot. She froze, terrified.

Note, from six meters away.

Mom raised her right leg, instantly extending it six meters, and kicked out with a whoosh.

I saw Mom catch the falling cleaver with her bare foot; the little slut's toes were spared.

Mom placed the cleaver on the cutting board with her foot, and her right leg swiftly returned to its original position.

Throughout the entire process, the rest of her body remained completely still.

I lifted Mom's woolen pants and touched her fleshy leg. Warm. Soft. Clearly a human leg.

Mom said, "What are you doing? Public lewdness in broad daylight? Showing off, huh?"

I stood up and looked at the rest of Mom's body; everything was fine.

At that moment, I clearly realized that an evil spirit had entered the house.

A chill ran down my spine.

It seems even the red belt couldn't ward off the evil spirit?

Tomorrow I'll have to go burn incense and get some talismans.

I, with a seemingly foolish yet profound wisdom, casually asked, "How did you train? Teach me."

My mother asked, "What did you train?"

I said, "Leg exercises."

My mother said, "I don't have arms, can't my legs be more flexible?"

I thought to myself, "You're incredibly flexible.

" I said, "Yes. The other day I read a report about a woman who was paralyzed from the waist down and couldn't have sex anymore. Guess what? Her breasts became more sensitive than her clitoris; just sucking on them made her orgasm. That's why they say God is fair."

My mother said, "What kind of rubbish reports do you read?"

I said, "I read top-tier academic journals; this was published by Masters and Johnson decades ago."

I took a comb and combed my mother's hair.

Mom said, "Stop talking. It's making me all aroused. I wish I had hands. You have no idea how much I want to touch you!"

I said, "Here we go again. You have to think of it this way: what woman is as perfect as me?"

Mom asked, "Do you think taking these arms of mine is God punishing us for what happened between us?"

I said, "Oh, I've told you so many times, no. It's just to make your rascal son notice that your feet are pretty sexy too." On

that winter afternoon, Mom smiled, her heart definitely soft.

At that moment, my vision slowly blurred.

I seemed to hear a faint "gurgling" sound again.

I seemed to be back in the darkness, sucking on Mom's nipple.

Heavy breathing…

large wet sheets…

Erguai and the little slut came over and said the chicken stew was on.

I told them to sit down and rest for a while.

I told my mom, "I don't want to leave today. The four of us can make a table!"

My mom said seriously, "You don't need to come with me. You're quite busy. Go on."

The little slut volunteered, "You go back. I'll stay here with you. Don't worry."

I noticed she omitted the word "Auntie."

Omitting "Auntie" carries a rather subtle meaning.

I thought for a moment and said, "Okay, I'll come again tomorrow."

My mom smiled and said, "Okay, I'll talk to you about this girl again tomorrow."

I knew my mom was planning to talk to me about my marriage to the little slut.

I nodded and went out, my scalp tingling, my mood terrible.

It started snowing heavily outside.

I went back to my apartment, washed up, and went to sleep.

Tomorrow I have to take the little slut to the hospital for a thorough checkup.

Can an ultrasound detect her condition?

This is definitely possession.

Can we get rid of it tomorrow?

Can she grow old with me?

Is she the kind of virtuous wife and loving mother at heart?

Where can I get her exorcised?

And is everything she said about her family background true?

What will I do if she keeps acting like this? I'm

so tired...

Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I felt a gentle breeze in the darkness, followed by a faint, sweet fragrance.

I opened my eyes and saw the curtains fluttering slightly.

I smelled the subtle, lingering scent.

The landlady from Heizhuang Village came over wearing only her underwear, got on the bed barefoot, lay down next to me, didn't look at me, and fell asleep immediately. Her movements were fluid, her expression relaxed and natural, just like an ordinary housewife, as if she were my wife who had just gotten up to pee.

She was truly beautiful, soft, ethereal, and submissive.

She had the kind of beauty that classical Chinese women possess.

Her breasts... her wet vagina...

suppressed moans... cool, wet kisses...

I was intoxicated... my penis got hard.

Suddenly, I remembered what the cattle herder had said: "This family was wiped out last year... they were all chopped into mincemeat..."

A chill ran down my spine, I woke up with a start, opened my eyes, and turned on the light. Strange.

The landlady wasn't in bed, but there was a cheap white cotton pair of underwear, the kind from some knitting factory.

The apartment windows and doors were all tightly shut; there was no sign anyone had been in.

I picked up the underwear; it was warm.

I smelled it—a

pungent, sour scent of a cunt. The crotch area was damp and slightly smelly; it was clearly freshly taken off.

What did this mean?

Was it telling me she was still thinking of me in the afterlife?

If I didn't wake up, would we have sex again?

One voice said: Be careful. Be rational. Watch your step.

Another voice said: To hell with caution and rationality! I'm being vulgar! I want lewd pleasure.

I covered my face with the white underwear, trying to inhale all the fishy, pungent smell that had seeped into it.

I put the underwear over my head.

Would I be punished by heaven for doing this?

Thinking of the landlady, I brutally abused the underwear, then threw it on top of the wardrobe. Feeling at ease, I went to sleep.

The next morning, I got up at dawn, bathed and changed, and went to the famous Taoist temple to offer incense and obtain talismans.

Back at my mother's, following the master's instructions, I pasted the talismans in the designated spots.

Erguai and the little slut made dumplings.

The family seemed very happy.

I massaged my mother's back.

My mother said, "I think this girl is alright. What do you think?"

I said, "Hmm, so-so."

My mother asked disapprovingly, "What do you mean by so-so?"

I said, "You know how troublesome this is?"

My mother said, "What's so troublesome? You don't plan to marry her, how can you ruin her life?!"

I said, "Oh, these things have to be taken slowly, it depends on fate, you can't rush it."

My mother said, "I have no objection to taking it slow, but you have to use a condom."

I glanced into the kitchen. The two were chatting happily.

I said, "Don't worry about this. I know what I'm doing."

Mom said, "What are your plans? Tell me. We can't hurt anyone!"

I said, "Oh, I know."

The dumplings were ready and on the table.

Erguai and Xiaosaohuo stood by the table, watching Mom and me eat first.

They tasted really good.

I had just eaten two dumplings when I suddenly remembered the horrific murder of the landlord's family, the four of them chopped into mincemeat, and my stomach started churning violently.

Mom looked at me with concern and asked, "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

I broke out in a cold sweat, and my vision blurred.

Suddenly, I heard Mom's voice change, turning into a hoarse old man's voice.

The old man said in a gloomy voice, "Don't let Bai Laosan set foot in our house again!" (The name is purely fictional - a8 note.)

What's wrong with Mom? Her voice has changed, and what she's saying makes no sense to me.

We don't know any Bai Laosan at all.

Watching Mom keep saying strange things in that terrifying voice, I felt a chill run down my spine!

Mom was possessed for a full ten minutes, then suddenly slumped onto the table and fell asleep, snoring loudly.

The three of us were terrified and didn't know what to do.

Just then, I suddenly heard my little slut's voice transform into that of an old man.

She said, "And that damn Sun Wangcai! He's borrowed my Nine-Toothed Rake for days and hasn't returned it?" (Fictional name. Don't take it personally! – a8 note.)

She said, "And that Li Fugui who stole our hen! Get me a shovel! I'm going out there and killing them!" (Fictional name. – a8 note.)

I pressed her firmly onto the sofa, staring at Erguai in horror.

Finally, my little slut also started snoring loudly.

Erguai and I put her and Mom on the big bed in the bedroom.

Mother and daughter snored at each other, and no one bothered to look for money.

I went outside and looked at the talismans pasted on the living room wall.

Were they words? Were they pictures? I couldn't quite understand them.

I silently offered a large bundle of incense, lit it, kowtowed, placed it in the incense burner, and made a grand offering.

The next day, I went to the street.

The street was bustling with activity, a constant flow of traffic.

I crossed the road. Suddenly, I saw the man from Heizhuang Village who herded cattle standing on the other side of the road. He looked haggard and waved to me, as if he had something important to tell me.

I happened to have many unanswered questions I wanted to ask, so I strode towards him.

(At this time, the road was bustling with traffic, please be aware.)

I ran and ran, heading towards the cattle herder, afraid he would disappear again.

The vehicles on both sides disappeared from my sight along with his voice.

My eyes were only on the cattle herder.

At this moment, I suddenly heard my mother calling my nickname from behind: "▅▅! Come back quickly!"

I didn't turn around and continued running towards the cattle herder.

"▅▅! Come back quickly! ▅▅! Come back quickly!" came the piercing cries.

I still didn't turn around, my eyes fixed straight ahead as I ran towards the cattle herder.

“Come back! Come back! Come back!” My mother’s voice rose.

I suddenly snapped out of my daze, stopped abruptly, and saw a large container truck screeching to a halt right in front of me.

A series of screeching brakes followed immediately.

I stood frozen in the middle of the road.

The truck driver jumped out of the cab and rushed over, throwing punches.

I felt nothing. I didn’t feel any pain.

I frantically searched for the cattle herders on the other side of the road, but I couldn’t find them anywhere.

A traffic policeman came over, pulled the container truck driver away, and said, “What’s wrong with you? Haven’t you had enough? Come with me. Look how many cars are stuck behind us!” The container truck driver

got back into his truck, cursing and spitting at me.

The traffic policeman muttered to himself, “Look at that brake slam! Twenty meters!”

I suddenly snapped out of my daze, recalling the near-death experience, and felt extremely frightened.

The traffic policeman asked me, “Hey! Should I take you back? Or will you go back yourself?”

The complex sentence was too much for me. I looked at him, unable to understand what he meant.

The onlookers burst into laughter.

I turned around, staring blankly, searching for my mother.

But I couldn't find her anywhere in sight.

I kept repeating, "I'm looking for my mother... my mother..."

The traffic police dragged me to the sidewalk and loudly questioned the onlookers, "Whose child is this?! Letting him out like this without watching him!"

The crowd burst into laughter and gradually dispersed.

I didn't feel embarrassed and continued to turn my head and mutter, "I'm looking for my mother... my mother..."

Screen went black.

I felt cold.

I suddenly opened my eyes.

A beggar was touching my thigh.

This beggar was a man, in his fifties or sixties, snotty-nosed, looking at me.

I sat up abruptly and realized I had just been lying next to the flower bed.

I quickly checked my pockets. My card was still there.

I glared at the beggar and angrily rebuked him, "What are you doing?!" The beggar,

like Dou E (a character from a Chinese folktale known for her tragic love), said aggrievedly, "I was afraid you'd freeze to death sleeping here, so I woke you up, you little brat, you don't know what's good for you!"

I looked around.

It was pitch black all around. It was dark.

A desolate rural-urban fringe area.

I didn't recognize it. I'd never been here before.

Where am I?

What am I doing here?

I don't remember anything.

Am I still the same strong person I used to be?

Did the car accident happen here?

Where's my mom?

The taxi driver's hoarse voice: "Where are you going, buddy?"

I quickly said, "Naihe Road."

"That place is dirty. I'm done for the day. You'll have to find another car."

"I'll give you double the fare."

The taxi smoothly accelerated.

Cars, boats, shops, and government offices.

That shout just now made me stop in time and turn back, giving me a new life.

If I hadn't stopped, that big container would have crushed me.

Was what I heard in the darkness my mother's shout, or a divine call?

Was the divine hinting that I should turn back?

Had I gone too far down the path of depravity? I

've arrived at Naihe Road.

I rushed into Old K's coffee shop, panting and still shaken.

Old K wasn't there.

The waiter was very polite, as usual bringing me my favorite Irish espresso.

I grabbed the phone next to the pillar and dialed with trembling hands.

It connected. Erguai answered.

I asked him to put the receiver on my mom's shoulder. He did as instructed.

Soon I heard my mother's voice: "Hello?"

I asked, "Mom, where did you go? Did you see me?"

My mother said, "What do you mean, 'see me'? I fell yesterday and haven't left the house since!"

I was shocked: "Huh? When did you fall?"

My mother said, "I went to take a shower, and somehow I fell."

I asked anxiously, "Where are you hurt?"

My mother said, "It's okay, I can still move."

I said, "I'll be right there."

My mother said, "It's almost eleven o'clock, don't come. You're busy too. I'm fine."

I said, "No, I won't feel at ease until I see you."

My mother calmly said, "What are you worried about? Erguai is here. Even if there's some emergency, he'll carry me out. You won't make it in time."

When I heard my mother was planning to have Erguai "carry" me, my head buzzed!

He carried his sister to the hospital, not knowing that he was actually carrying a corpse.

A chill ran up my spine!

I still feel that letting this guy stay at my mother's place was a mistake.

I said, "I won't go, but please don't let him carry me, okay?"

Mom said, "You're acting strange today. Is something wrong at work?"

I said, "Don't interrupt. You're still wearing that necklace I gave you, aren't you?"

Mom said, "You're one to talk! I asked Erguai to take it off for me before I took a shower yesterday, and as soon as I entered the bathroom, I slipped and fell flat on my face. I don't even know how I ended up sitting on the floor. It scared Erguai and me half to death."

Thinking of the scene of Erguai helping my naked mother, I took a deep breath.

I said, "It's a miracle you didn't break anything. Be careful next time. You can't take off your amulet when you shower; it's for warding off evil. You have to believe it."

Mom started to get impatient and said, "Oh, stop nagging. I believe it, I believe it, okay? I'm a disabled old lady, where would I get so much evil energy?"

My mom doesn't have any evil energy.

The problem is that evil energy comes in cycles, and this year it's come to my house, so I have to be careful.

Back at the apartment, the little slut brought me a glass of red wine.

I said, "Why aren't you asleep yet?"

She looked at me lustfully and turned on the stereo.

I heard an erotic rock guitar piece, I heard the virtuoso strumming.

She stood three or four meters away in the middle of the living room, swaying easily to the music, her eyes reminiscent of Demi Moore.

I felt dizzy.

The feeling of a plane crashing, plummeting rapidly from high altitude!

I was falling into an abyss. Falling hard.

She continued to sway easily to the music, her waist swaying gracefully, her hands behind her back, a picture of a bound martyr.

She was clearly seducing me.

At this point, this slut's masochistic nature was laid bare.

She liked being ravaged! She liked being raped!

Me? I'd rape her?

So be it.

She seduced me, which meant she wanted me to rape her.

I raped her, which meant I wanted to please her.

Love is compromise.

Since she liked being ravaged, and since I happened to "like" her, tonight I had no choice but to be a beast.

Tonight was tonight!

I held her.

From her, I smelled the unique scent of a female animal in heat.

Everyone knows that the old landlord's water dungeon had a tight wooden cage; once inside, you couldn't stand or sit properly, it was incredibly painful.

Now, my big cock was huddled aching in my underwear, feeling miserable.

She pulled down my underwear, rescuing my long-angry rod from the water dungeon.

There was a bulging, curved artery on the surface of my penis.

She gently ran a finger along this bulging vein.

I immediately went limp in her hand, all my former swagger vanished.

I'd spent the whole day rehearsing her flirtatious behavior, about how she seduced Old K; I'd read it aloud tomorrow.

The fireworks were dazzling.

After ejaculating, I felt completely weak, thinking: enough to eat and drink, having a girl is good enough. What more could I want? What more could I do?

The next morning, I woke up to find her already sitting at her dressing table, applying makeup.

I asked her, "Are you going out?"

She said, "Oh, I'm going to buy groceries."

She quickly finished speaking, put on her coat, and went out.

I recalled her words: "Going to buy groceries."

Does she need to put on makeup to buy groceries?

I lit a cigarette, got out of bed, and went to the window to look down.

Under the telephone pole across the street, Old K was standing there, his sports car with the door open, waiting for her.

I saw the little slut rush out of the building and excitedly run towards him.

(

To be continued...)

19: The Howling of the Rails

A8's Remarks:

Thank you all for your continued support and encouragement. Thank you to some friends for their insightful suggestions. I have benefited greatly.

Solid, realistic works, derived from a wealth of life experience, always move me more than light, wishful thinking (u 2?).

You will see that this book is full of imperfect beauty. This is what I intentionally wanted. I wanted to restore life. Real life is never perfect.

Regarding the main characters in this book, I'd like to briefly mention a few points: "Mom," deeply devoted to her son, but unable to care for herself due to being armless; a "little slut," excessively so, yet suffering from hemorrhoids.

"I," a powerful and influential figure, but unfortunately inherently suspicious and distrustful.

"Old K," handsome and dashing, but treacherous and extremely cold.

I'm currently quite satisfied with the plot. Why?

First, in the early chapters, I created an exceptionally powerful "I," pampered, proactive, carefree, and possessing a strong sense of superiority.

From my observation, sometimes readers crave to see an exceptionally powerful person, to see how wild and unrestrained they are, to see just how powerful they really are. This somewhat satisfies the fantasies of some oppressed white-collar workers.

Later, this protagonist falls into a predicament he cannot escape.

This arrangement is, of course, deliberate; almost no one enjoys watching an exceptionally powerful person remain exceptionally powerful from beginning to end.

Readers/viewers seem to always enjoy seeing others suffer more than themselves, so I had the protagonist gradually find himself trapped in layers of predicaments/passive situations, intricately intertwined, seemingly unsolvable.

Will the male lead, "I," be able to overcome these obstacles? What will become of the female leads? These are questions readers will naturally care about. Related supernatural events enhance the suspense.

Regarding the writing style of this book, to be honest, I rarely consider labels like realistic, supernatural, dark, or surreal. I prefer to spend more time crafting my bizarre plots and details.

I've repeatedly stated that I don't belong to any particular school. I create my own A8 school.

I only know that in the world of erotic fiction, my foundation is solid enough, and my writing style is distinctive enough.

These are the results of years of observation and accumulation, combined with creativity and imagination, a culmination of years of hard work.

The effort and hardship I've endured outside of writing are probably unimaginable to most.

I'm confident I have the skill to express my unique pursuits.

I focus on sexual minorities, attempting to reflect their struggles in social adaptation, their resistance and pain in the face of the "majority," and their helplessness.

I enjoy eerie contexts, suspense, and realistic descriptions that are chilling.

I like to carefully reveal the delicate and rich inner world of characters beneath a rough and unruly exterior.

I like to bury obscure truths behind characters' bold and subversive behaviors and language.

Perhaps you are a discerning person who can glean some inspiration after the "obscene smile" and enjoyment?

Key hints for this episode: breastfeeding orgasm, KB, mature women, public places, facial ejaculation, FFM (3P), lesbian, humiliation, mother-child affection, urination, foot fetish, defecating in special locations,

role-playing games, the supernatural.

As usual. Press the back button if you have a sensitive stomach. Don't finish reading only to feel disgusted. You've been warned.

Episode 19 begins.

Across the street, under the telephone pole, Old K stands there, his sports car door wide open, waiting for her.

The little slut rushes out of the building, excitedly running towards him.

She gets into the sports car. The sports car drives away.

I take out that translucent snake, smelling the lingering stench on it.

My roommate is fine.

Let's mind our own business.

But lying is bad.

I went to the company for a quick check-in and received devastating news: my laptop is completely ruined, beyond repair.

Oh well. I write a check and have my assistant buy another one.

Nothing else is happening; everyone in the departments is united, tense, serious, and not lively.

Thinking about last night's strange dream, I go to my mom's place, arrange for Erguai to wash the sheets and clothes, and then take my mom downstairs to the underground parking garage.

I ask, "Which car should we take today?"

Mom says, "How about an A8?"

What's wrong with an A8?

I get in, start the engine, shift gears, coast smoothly, tilt uphill, and exit the underground parking garage.

I asked, "Did you poop today?"

Mom said, "Yes."

I asked, "How much?"

Mom said, "Quite a bit."

I asked, "Does Erguai wipe you every time you go to the toilet?"

Mom said, "Yes."

I asked, "Is he honest with you?"

Mom said, "Yes."

I asked, "He didn't do anything inappropriate?"

Mom said, "Do you think everyone is like you?"

I said, "I didn't think that before."

Mom said, "Go ahead and poop." Snow was

falling heavily on the street.

The A8 slowly accelerated.

I asked, "Do you want to?"

Mom said, "Yes."

I asked, "What do you want to think about?"

Mom turned her face slightly to look at me, her eyes moist.

I quickly focused on the road conditions.

Mom turned her head to look at the scenery outside the window.

I said, "Was there a lot of snow this year?"

Mom said, "What are your plans with that girl? Tell me."

I said, "If you two hit it off, you can move in together, that's great."

Mom said, "No, marriage is more reassuring."

I chuckled and said disdainfully, "Who gets married these days? Why need reassurance!"

Mom asked, "Will the baby feel safe after it's born?"

The yellow light ahead was flashing. The light turned red.

I lightly hit the brakes.

I said, "I haven't thought about the child's situation yet."

Mom said, "You're not allowed to cause trouble!"

I said, "She's so unsophisticated, even more tacky than a Super Girl."

Mom said, "Can't you sit on the curb and eat a pancake with scallions?"

I said, "Let me put it this way, in terms of values, upbringing, and wealth, she's not in the same class as us!"

Mom said, "What class are you in?"

I said, "We're returnees from overseas, we're from the Jaguar class."

Mom said, "Alright, alright, everyone is equal. Be content, cherish what you have, like fate."

I said, "Fate? How much is fate worth?"

Mom said, "Alright, alright, I'm not going to argue with you anymore. What time does the movie start?"

The green light came on. I accelerated.

The car glided silently across the snow-covered road, the tire treads kicking up bits of fine, dry white snow, like the von Muhlen cheese crumbs that are always wiped on top of spaghetti.

I entered the movie theater and took my seat. The lights went out. The movie started.

The movie was terrible.

I held my mother close, feeding her creamy popcorn.

We sat among the "normal" people, laughing foolishly, sharing the joy of "ordinary people."

The movie theater was mostly filled with couples.

The darkness provided an excuse, an atmosphere for lovers.

In the darkness, I kissed my mother's cheek, her scent faint and soft. I felt dizzy, like I'd had too much to drink, and my hand slipped under her clothes , groping

her breasts. My mother seemed a little embarrassed, shifting uncomfortably, focused on the screen.

It had been days since I'd done anything with her, and desire arose. I slipped my hand under her sweater, touching her breasts through her bra.

My mother shuddered slightly.

Perhaps my hand was too cold, or perhaps she was afraid of being seen.

I covered her with my down jacket, my hand roaming inside.

Actually, every couple was busy with their own things.

I could hear the moans from the theater seats blending together, a tacit understanding. Everyone here understood each other implicitly.

The movie suddenly fell silent, the groans from the audience abruptly stopped—interesting.

The film ended, and people jostled to leave. A large group of people, all with flushed faces, avoided eye contact.

It was the end of the year. I kept a close eye on my wallet.

Not much cash, mostly cards.

Outside the theater, I put my arm around my mom and asked, "Is there anything you want to buy? Shall we go to the super mall?"

Mom said, "Sure. It's been so long."

The mall was crowded. I saw two men ahead of me, in their thirties or forties, strolling hand-in-hand.

Most people around seemed unfazed.

Society is gradually becoming more tolerant.

I walked with my mom, giving her light, fleeting kisses. The aftertaste lingered. Comfortable! A few steps later, another kiss.

There was a thrill of openly breaking taboos.

Then I heard Gao Mingjun singing, rough, desolate, and fiercely, "That feeling of heartbeats!"

Will we run into acquaintances here?

Mom's lips twitched slightly, her expression complex.

This is, after all, a public place, and this is China.

We went into the women's shoe section and I accompanied Mom.

A girl came over and said, "Which pair do you like? You can try them on. I'll get them for you."

This girl was probably in her early twenties, quite pretty.

The mall was sweltering. She was wearing a short-sleeved open-front shirt.

Having big breasts is truly a sin, tempting good people to commit crimes. Hehe.

When she knelt in front of Mom to help her try on shoes, she sincerely exclaimed twice, "Wow, your feet are so beautiful."

I looked down at her, her cleavage deep, her breasts fair and smooth, her hands and face well-maintained.

I glanced at Mom unintentionally.

Mom was staring at me.

Mom said, "Let's go." I said, "Let's try this pair too." A little while later, I said, "Let's try that pair too."

Deliberately dragging out the time to admire that cleavage more, trying on and trying on, I finally swiped my card and bought two pairs.

Finally, unable to bear the heat any longer, we left.

Shoes = evil. Too many shoes at home attract evil spirits. Unfortunately, I only found out about this later.

I was carrying a shoebox, arm in arm with my mother, taking the elevator.

I pressed B3. The elevator began to descend steadily.

The fall always gave me a subtle thrill.

My mother asked, "Have you seen enough?"

I said, "No. She's a pretty girl, it's a pity she's selling shoes."

My mother said, "You're

so naughty." I said, "Bigger than yours."

My mother said, "I've been looking for a while too, she is quite pretty."

I said, "Same here, same here."

The elevator stopped.

The B3 light came on.

The door opened.

This was the underground parking garage of Super Mall.

I was carrying the shoebox, arm in arm with my mother, walking towards my parking space.

The garage was full of cars, but there were no people.

This was a dock for cars, and people seemed like intruders.

I finally found my parking space krw-2300 (the parking space number was fictitious), and was taking out my car keys when I suddenly heard moaning from the corner, the melody preceded the sound.

I saw behind my car, a woman kneeling in front of a man, giving him oral sex.

The man had his eyes closed, holding the woman's head tightly.

The excitement reached its peak; both women were lost in their moans, oblivious to the stranger's presence.

Hunter's rule number one: Don't attack an animal inside a cunt.

Mom was completely absorbed, her feet rooted to the spot.

I raised an eyebrow and asked her. Mom nodded.

I went over and patted the man.

He opened his eyes, staring in surprise at the stranger.

I said, "Hey buddy, how about sharing?"

The man looked at my mom and said shyly, "Sure. I have no objection."

Mom knelt in front of him, next to the woman.

The woman moved aside slightly, making room.

Mom examined the wet, hard penis.

I squatted between the two women, slightly behind them, embracing them from both sides, touching their waists and buttocks.

The two women were humming excitedly.

Both women had their mouths half-open, their tongues licking the torch-shaped ice cream.

Their lips and tongues almost touched.

The man pressed his mistress's head down with his left hand and my mother's head down with his right, acting like a total kingpin, enjoying the intense stimulation from both women.

Under this double stimulation, he quickly reached the point of near-explosion, groaning loudly.

There was reason to believe that his gun had misfired prematurely.

My mother's face was the worst affected.

I went to the car and got a bunch of tissues, then went back to give them to the two women.

Both women had already stood up.

The man wiped the thick semen off my mother's face, repeatedly saying "I'm sorry."

His mistress stood up, feeling neglected, and quietly wiped her face herself.

My mother and I got into the car, started the engine, and slowly drove towards the ground.

I asked, "Did you eat it?"

Mom replied, "Yes, a little."

I said, "Is it salty?"

Mom said, "Yes. Sometimes I just can't control myself."

I countered, "Why should you control yourself?"

Mom said, "Are you looking down on your mother?"

I said, "No! We haven't been bad people for many years! It's almost New Year's, so let's indulge a little."

Mom was silent for a moment, then asked, "Is it not far from here to your place?"

I said, "Not far, three blocks."

Mom asked, "Who's around now?"

I said, "Probably no one. What's wrong? Feeling stifled?"

Mom said softly, "Yes."

I said, "Come on. To my place."

Mom responded obediently, "Okay..."

I've always liked the submissive side of her nature.

I inherently dislike arrogant women.

The car drove towards my apartment.

On the way, Mom didn't say anything more.

I was concentrating on driving.

Mom was savoring the moment, thinking, or perhaps her mind was blank, not thinking about anything.

My head felt warm.

I felt like I was back on that summer night twenty years ago.

Dawn. Outside the window was a hazy blue morning mist.

I woke up needing to pee, got out of bed, and my penis was hard and throbbing.

Still half-asleep, I walked to the bathroom, my eyes barely open, my penis thrusting forward fiercely. You've seen tanks, right?

It was still dark inside. We never close the bathroom door when no one's there.

Seeing the door open and the light off, I assumed no one was there and walked straight in, eyes closed, following my memory to the toilet, pulling my hard penis out of my underwear.

Suddenly, I gasped!

I felt my hard penis being gently enveloped by a wet, warm mouth.

I quickly opened my eyes!

In the dim morning light, I could barely make out a mature woman sitting on the toilet, a woman I've known very, very well since childhood…

June 1st,
I arrived at my apartment.

My mother went straight up the steps as soon as she entered.

I followed and helped her take off her pants, as skillfully as if she were taking off my own.

Life is so mundane. Eating, drinking, defecating, and sleeping are pretty much the essence of life.

My mother squatted on the clean toilet, making "mmm" sounds.

I pursed my lips and whistled a urination-inducing whistle, "Shh—shh~~", to help her relax her nerves and urethra.

Soon, scalding hot urine gushed out under the high pressure in her pelvic cavity.

I heard the continuous, almost whistling "sizzle" of hot urine twisting and eagerly emerging from my mother's narrow urethra.

A faint, pungent smell

of urine, mixed with barley and coffee, quietly rose. Smelling the familiar fragrance of my mother's urine, listening to her loud urination, imagining the relief and pleasure she felt as she shamelessly released her taut bladder, my heart ached, softened, and tasted sweet.

So many years of socialization had passed; the harsh north wind had roughened the little boy's tender skin, responsibility and pressure had dulled his nerves, and the fierce, crude, and ruthless had clouded his eyes.

Few things in the world could move him to tears.

But with his mother, he always felt the warmest and safest.

The grown-up little boy fetched toilet paper, folded it neatly, and stood respectfully beside her, waiting.

Mom, panting, said between urination, "I'm going to burst."

I said, "Why didn't you tell me at the movie theater?"

Mom said, "What would have happened if I had? Would you have come into the women's restroom with me?"

I said, "It's not like I haven't gone in with you before."

Mom said, "Don't say it again!"

I didn't say it, but that part of my memory would always remain, that warm, fleshy scent...

Memories are treasures. Memories belong to me, and I can use and enjoy them at any time.

I reminisced about my youth, gently holding Mom's head, stroking her hair, and continuing to whistle for her.

Mom was still urinating.

I really didn't want anything weird to happen again.

Let's just let our mother and I fend for ourselves peacefully.

We didn't bother anyone, we didn't disturb anyone.

The "squeaking" sound of the urine lessened, lessened, and lessened until it finally stopped.

Mom slightly raised her bottom.

I bent down to wipe her dry, then helped her pull up her pants, and carried her down those steps.

I helped Mom sit on the sofa and busied myself making her tea. "Want some milk?" I asked.

"No, thank you," she replied.

The fragrant black tea was placed on the coffee table beside her, and I leaned back on the rug next to the sofa.

I knew Mom's feet were always cold, especially in winter.

"Are your feet cold?" I asked. "Would you like some hot water?"

I said. "No need," she said. "You should rest. It's been so long since you came in."

I said, "It's alright. I'm not tired."

I brought a large basin of hot water and helped Mom take off her shoes and socks.

Her bare feet emitted a faint scent of foot sweat. I loved that smell.

Mom tentatively dipped her bare feet, inch by inch, into the hot water, hissing softly.

I knelt beside the basin, pressed the damp sole of my freshly taken-off cotton socks to my nose, and inhaled deeply, greedily savoring the aroma.

Mom looked and smiled, saying, "Alright, that's enough. Have you smelled enough?"

I answered seriously, "No, I haven't. I'll never get enough in my life."

Mom, used to this, said lightly, "You rascal!" Her feet adjusted to the warm water, and her pretty toes began to wiggle playfully.

I asked, "Are you warmer now?"

Mom said, "Yes, I'm warm now. It feels so good!"

I lifted Mom's feet out of the basin one by one, carefully dried them with a towel, and gently massaged them while chatting.

I said, "Mom's feet are so pretty. So beautiful."

Mom smiled.

Women always love compliments.

Mom said, "What's so pretty about them! I'm getting old."

I said, "Not old at all. You're at the perfect age!"

Mom said, "What's so beautiful about stinky feet? Look at you, so crazy."

I said, "Feet are the sexiest part of a woman's body. Anyone who doesn't appreciate a woman's feet is a pervert!"

Mom laughed relaxedly.

Mom's feet were soft, white, and long. Her toes were neither dry nor brittle, nor greasy; they were quite pleasing to the eye. Her toenails were clear and bright, with a full shape.

I don't want to follow the crowd and use vulgar terms like "jade feet" or "long, slender legs." I'll just share my genuine feelings.

I put my mother's two bare feet together, brought my nose close to the soles and between her toes, and took a deep, emotional breath.

The delicate, ethereal scent of her feet, her sweat, and her flesh made me dizzy!

My mother laughed and jumped up, her toenails scratching my hand.

I pulled her feet closer again and examined them carefully under the light, saying, "Your toenails are long, you should trim them."

My mother said, "They are long, they'll scratch my socks. Trim them for me."

I placed my mother's warm, bare feet on my lap, picked up the Edinburgh Enasdaltford stainless steel scissors (brand fictional - a8 note),

and meticulously began trimming her toenails.

This task requires complete concentration, otherwise, it's easy to injure the skin and flesh of her toes.

My mother sat on the spacious sofa, tilting her head to look at me, enjoying this moment of warmth.

After I finished trimming, my mother's nimble bare feet started to get restless, reaching down to my crotch and teasing me.

My dick got really hard from all that teasing.

Just then, the door opened, and the little slut came in, empty-handed, her morning makeup ruined. She saw my mom, who was only wearing long johns, and paused, then awkwardly greeted her.

I asked her, "What groceries did you buy?"

She was confused: "Groceries? What groceries?"

I said, "You said you were going to buy groceries this morning."

That's when the little slut remembered the lie she told before leaving that morning.

So, don't lie.

One lie leads to a whole string of lies to cover it up and maintain the first one.

Seeing her standing there, her face flushed, trying to come up with an excuse, I suddenly felt really sorry for her. Oh well, why be so serious about a tenant?

My mom asked me, "Are you out of groceries?"

I smoothed things over for her: "There's still some. She's been working at Old K's place these past few days, she's exhausted."

This gave her a way out.

I'd exposed her whereabouts; she'd lost all face, her neck turning pink.

Mom said, "Oh, his work is really hard. It's snowing, isn't it cold outside? What are you standing at the door for? Hurry up and change into your slippers."

The little slut silently changed her slippers.

I stared at her, Old K's words echoing in my ears: "...Just kick her, and everything will be okay. The sooner the better..."

I helped Mom to bed, covered her with a thick blanket, and let her rest.

The little slut came over after washing her hands and sat on the sofa by the bed, a foot away from me.

I said to her, "Sit here."

She moved her butt closer.

I grabbed her waistband and ripped open the red belt around her waist.

She saw my mom watching and became a little nervous, her body stiffening.

Mom didn't expect her son to be so lewd in front of her, and sat up against the headboard to watch what was happening.

As I ripped off her clothes, I told my mother, "These are all family, it's okay. She grew up fucking her dad."

The little slut, having given up all hope, gradually went limp.

I pulled off her pants, underwear, and socks all at once.

I spread her legs and coldly scrutinized her vulva with my gaze.

Her cunt twitched, the opening glistening, semen flowing shamelessly from within.

Whose semen? Old K's?

This slut went out to meet men early in the morning and came back to the "inn" with her cum in the afternoon? Is she really staying here with me?!

I pulled out her red belt and used it to tightly tie her wrists together, then tied it to the radiator pipe above her head.

I took two steps back, lit a cigarette, and admired my performance art.

The girl's two fleshy legs were bare, her feet bare; her hands were raised high above her head, tied to the radiator pipe.

The wall behind her was snow-white. The color contrast was striking. Hmm, not a bad start.

I held a cigarette in my left hand and slipped my right hand inside her sweater, directly touching her smooth breasts.

This slut wasn't wearing a bra.

Her slutness knows no bounds.

I blew smoke in her face.

Her little cunt had now completely degenerated into two shameless pieces of flesh and several horny holes. (I'm starting to use "slut" and "horny" interchangeably now. —a8 note.)

She stared at me nervously, watching my every move.

Judging from her expression, she already sensed that I was in a bad mood today.

My mother was also watching me.

But neither of the two women could guess what I was going to do next.

I felt like I was standing in the center of a stage under everyone's gaze.

I opened the refrigerator, took out a bottle of chilled water and a thick, fat sausage, then kicked the refrigerator door shut.

I slapped the water and sausage onto the coffee table in front of the sofa, took a drag of my cigarette, and looked at the little slut again.

I stubbed out my cigarette and took out several red scarves.

Both women in the apartment were intently watching what I was doing.

I slowly and methodically tied two red scarves into a pair of open-bottomed panties (they only met at the acute angle, and the buckle was fastened to the outside of her buttocks, around her large trochanter), and used another scarf to tightly bind her feet.

Red belt. Red scarf. Red bondage~~ After tying them up, I forced her to look in the mirror, to watch me masturbate her wet pussy.

I touched her dripping pussy and kissed her burning neck.

Utter silence.

Not to mention a needle, you could hear even a drop of vaginal fluid.

The bed frame next door started creaking and groaning again.

Mom asked, "Is this building not soundproof?"

I replied, "The walls are thinner than paper, and thinner than human relationships."

I said this deliberately for the little slut to hear. I wanted to arouse her.

I inserted my fingers into the little slut's rotten pussy, brutally thrusting them in.

She moaned; her pussy was especially hot and slippery inside.

I took my finger out and examined it under the light, intensifying my humiliation of her.

My finger was glistening, covered in a thick, murky fluid.

I shoved it into my mother's mouth. She immediately and instinctively sucked on it.

I believed that with her age and experience, she could tell that the fluid contained other men's semen as well as her own vaginal discharge.

I asked my mother, "Is it itchy inside?"

She bit her lip and nodded.

I said, "Say it. Say it out loud."

She said, "It itches, it itches terribly."

I asked, "Does your cunt want it? If you do, say it out loud."

She said, "Yes... my cunt is so itchy inside... I want it so badly..."

I parted her wet, pink cunt and turned to my mother, saying, "Look at her labia! So big and so prominent, Mom, don't you think her cunt is naturally very horny?"

I couldn't tell whose face was redder, the cunt's or my mother's.

My mother's vagina was being gnawed at by countless ants. She struggled to stay awake, biting her lip as she pondered my question, searching for an answer.

Finally, she said, "Hmm...maybe..."

Looking at everything on the sofa, she shifted restlessly under the covers.

I reached under the covers and pulled off her long johns and underwear. Touching between her legs, I found her vagina sticky and full of vaginal fluid.

I asked, "Your old cunt wants it too, doesn't it?"

My mother blushed and nodded.

I pulled the semi-transparent silicone snake from under the pillow, inserted its head into her vagina, about ten centimeters in.

My mother immediately clamped the snake's body between her thighs.

I covered her with the blanket, tucked it in, and returned to the sofa, cuddling the little slut as we watched the bed squirm.

(gù蝾, v., to wriggle or wiggle in place, generally used for mollusks. —a8 note.)

I asked the little slut, "Did a customer touch your breasts today?"

The little slut replied, "Yeah, he touched my belly too, and put his hand under my skirt to touch down there. He touched me really well, so we..."

I said, "Why do you let so many people touch your pussy?"

The little slut said, "Because I'm a slut."

I saw the gù蝾 on the bed wriggling even more.

I lifted the blanket covering my mother.

My mother's big white legs and big white buttocks were exposed.

The little slut and I both saw that my mother's thighs were tightly clamped together with a silicone snake.

My mother said, "You pervert!"

I hugged the little slut, pressed my fingers on her clitoris, and shook it fast and slow. I was a complete beast.

The little slut's vaginal fluid was comparable to—Baotu Spring.

The little slut groaned, like she was crying.

My mother watched me masturbate the little slut up close, her thighs clamping tightly around the silicone snake, trembling with pleasure, her eyes hazy and dreamy, her beautiful toes curling up and down.

The little slut choked out, "Ugh...so good..."

My mother responded with "Mmm! Mmm!" The two women's moans echoed each other, what could be more pleasurable? They seemed to be encouraging, acknowledging, and supporting each other.

The little slut climaxed. She came.

Her face was severely contorted. She screamed loudly, her voice trembling with tears, a mixture of gratitude and resentment towards me.

That dazzling beauty, a blend of good and evil, made my heart flutter.

I pulled out my big cock and thrust it hard into her cunt. It was very lubricated inside.

Her juices flowed freely.

Her waist swayed gracefully, like a fleshy flower snake.

I heard her panting, "Daddy, fuck me hard~"

I gripped her throat tightly, as if I had seized fate by the throat.

The mother grew increasingly excited, and gasped for breath from the bed next to her.

On the sofa, the little slut climaxed again. (How many times has she climaxed today? It's impossible to know.)

I felt her vagina contract sharply, tightly gripping my big cock.

She was in ecstasy, her whole body twisting and spasming, and urine gushed out, flowing in a large puddle. She looked down, and since it was already flowing, she just kept peeing.

The clear urine splashed hard onto the coffee table in front of the sofa.

What a pity about my newly opened pack of Hongtashan cigarettes!

I splashed the bottle of ice water hard on her face and body.

She shuddered, her lips trembling.

I pushed that big, thick sausage into her vagina.

I got on the bed and pulled out the wet silicone toy snake from inside my mother's vagina.

The background music was faint. I saw a fleshy, beautiful middle-aged flower, shyly blooming, glistening with dewdrops.

I shoved my angry big cock inside.

My mother's vagina was wet. It was so hot and wet inside!

Slightly looser than the little slut's cunt (time is merciless).

I used my steel gun to vigorously stimulate my mother's G-spot.

My mother and I were lost in the ecstasy of lovemaking.

The little slut had regained some strength and actually leaned over to passionately kiss my mother's face and lips. (Transfer? She lost her mother. - a8 note.)

In a state of frenzied intoxication, my mother obediently accepted and shyly returned the kiss.

The two women's lips gently touched.

The two women passionately kissed in front of me.

Lesbians always give me a warm feeling.

The way two women kiss always excites me.

I watched the two women kissing sweetly between my legs, and my big cock swelled up by one centimeter. (Lesbian scenes are one of the fatal flaws that cause me to lose control. - a8 note.)

The two women's intoxicated eyes.

The two women's flushed faces...

My mother's genitals were being fucked in and out by me, and fluids were flowing everywhere.

The squelching sounds of fucking made me dizzy.

I pinched my mother's cheeks hard, howling, "Does your old cunt feel good?! Does your old cunt feel good being fucked by a big male dog?"

Looking back on that moment now, I was as cruel as a demon, utterly wicked.

My mother nodded obediently, her cunt soon began to contract violently.

I heard "Mmm...uh...oh...ah...oh...oh!"

I knew my mother had also orgasmed.

Today, my mother's cries during her orgasm were especially loud.

I suddenly had an idea, I covered my mother's mouth with my hand to stop her from making a sound, but covering her mouth seemed to excite her even more.

Is my mother a masochist sub?

I sucked on my mother's nipples and grabbed her hair.

My mother caught her breath, opened her eyes with difficulty, and smiled at me. Having tasted the sweetness,

I fucked her again. A desperate counterattack.

My mother immediately cried out again, trembling all over, entering a state of stress again.

The little slut's eyes were glazed, tied up beside me, convulsing and moaning, a thick, large sausage stuck in her cunt.

I crumpled up the socks I'd pulled off and stuffed them into her mouth, then folded a red scarf and tied it around her mouth (behind her head). With

her mouth gagged, she made sounds like "dirty socks wa wu dirty socks wa wu ah wu dirty socks wa wu wa wu~," making no sense of what she was saying.

I took another red scarf, folded it, and blindfolded her.

Back on the bed, I went back to my old lady.

The little slut could only hear the creaking and groaning of the iron bed frame. She could only imagine the scene.

She writhed sadly on the sofa.

I felt a mix of love and hate for both of them. I loved. I hated. I was torn apart.

Finally, I entered a brief vacuum. I entered the cosmic void. I was experiencing a brief death!

I was ejaculating.

I was completely out of control.

I only remember my whole body contracting, contracting, contracting!

I only remember screaming, experiencing the ultimate sexual sensation.

It's said that morphine users seek this feeling.

Perhaps it's a near-death experience?

A white light flashed before my eyes, my soul soared into the air.

The ultimate orgasm is emptiness. After dying, she was reborn. (Latest unconventional interpretation of "Form is emptiness"! -- Absolutely exclusive copyright of a8.)

Afterwards, we went downstairs to find a restaurant to eat, and then drove Mom back to her place.

The next day, in the morning, the little slut sat in the passenger seat and asked me, "Where is this?"

I said, "This is called Panjiagang." (The place name is made up, don't take the annotation seriously.)

It was a hilly wasteland, rarely visited by people. The barren slopes undulated irregularly, with clumps of weeds growing here and there, like a bald patch.

I wanted to dig out the evil spirit hidden deep in her heart.

We stood by the railway tracks, listening to the howling northwest wind rushing from the other side of the barren slope.

I calmly took out a few ropes, weighed them, and swung them around, coldly watching her from behind my ski sunglasses.

The ropes were red and white, three long and two short.

As soon as she saw the ropes, her body went limp with excitement.

I tied her to a telephone pole with the ropes, and she struggled desperately.

I pulled down her pants and underwear, letting them fall automatically to her calves and feet.

Her white buttocks, thighs, and lower abdomen were exposed to the cold wind.

I pulled her hair and masturbated her.

She shamelessly moaned. The pleasure came quickly.

Her moans stimulated me. I fucked her even harder.

My escalating brutality further stimulated her. Her moans grew louder.

We teased each other in this open field, under the vast sky.

I fiercely masturbated her cunt, my fingers digging deep into her flesh, roughly digging into the flesh inside her, like a savage old farmer.

Her legs tensed, her buttocks thrusting forward and upward against me, meeting my hand.

At that moment, we both heard the whistle of a train in the wind.

We both felt both excited and scared.

We were only five or six meters away from the rails.

Her moans changed tone, becoming D-sharp major.

My hand movements became faster and faster.

My fingers were restricted in their movement inside her vagina, so I simply took them out and freely and rapidly rubbed her clitoris and labia, vibrating at a frequency of about six times per second.

Her vulva was sticky, incredibly wet, and terribly aroused.

I knew her cunt was more excited than I was. After all, she was the one exposing her genitals.

I wanted to intensify her stimulation, so while masturbating her, I said, "It's a bus. The passengers are all peering out the windows at you."

I continued masturbating her cunt with unwavering determination.

She said, "Ah... ooh... oh... ya..." She had an orgasm.

The vibrating frequency of six times per second quickly made my wrist ache.

Time to rest. Time to rest.

The sound of the train grinding against the rails grew louder.

We could already see it emerging from the distant curve. She tensed

up instantly, slamming her body against the telephone pole behind her with a "thud," her stomach arching back like a full moon.

Going all the way,

I'd take her home. I masturbated her again. The train roared closer. Her eyes were hazy , and she said, "Oh! No ..." I ignored her, focusing only on resuming my six thrusts per second. *Clatter, clatter ... I said, "Watch the train!" She said, "Mmm! Mmm!" I asked her, "Is your pussy feeling good?" She shouted, "My pussy feels good! I'm getting an electric shock, I'm floating, hold on tight!..." I didn't hear the rest of what she said because the train was already right in front of us. The huge roar was deafening, drowning out her cries. The locomotive roared and sped past us, yelling like a madman. The train driver not only saw us, but also deliberately blew his horn. Was he honking to encourage me? Or were they mocking my pussy? Whatever! I continued honking six times per second. The wind in my ears reached level eighteen, like the whistling wind of a black hole in space. The whole ground was shaking. A heart-pounding vibration came from under my feet. I grabbed her hair. She climaxed again, her whole body tense and spasming, her face tilted back and her mouth open, staring at the train rushing past us. The steel monster was still roaring, endlessly flashing past us. Countless passengers were fortunate enough to witness our game. The train finally sped away, like a joyful animal. Its triumphant neighing gradually faded into the sky. The wilderness returned to silence, leaving only the monotonous sound of the wind. I looked at her. She was still tied to the telephone pole, her pants pulled down to her ankles, her bare bottom and vulva exposed in the cold wind, her face flushed. I looked at her face and saw tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt humiliated. I asked, "Why are you crying? What are you crying about?" She replied, "No, I just got some sand in my eyes." I kissed her ear and asked, "Was that exciting?" She said, "Mmm." I exclaimed, "That was quite an intense climax." She said, "You pervert, you're so bad. I was terrified, my whole body went limp." There are many kinds of excitement, and thrillingness is one of them. The escape after the brawl in the tavern in *Roman Holiday*, the escape in the cabin before hitting the iceberg in *Titanic*, panting in the car (a cat-and-mouse game), and Michael Jackson's *Thriller* and its MTV (a haunted game) are all, in my opinion, enhanced games. The numerous used, sticky condoms scattered like wildflowers in the Baiyun Mountain parking lot, the excitement of having sex in the back seat of a car, the thrill of having an affair on the mountain, and the act of having sex —all these illustrate one point: unusual occasions and methods in daily life create extra tension. Extra tension leads to extra excitement. Extra excitement creates extra tension. Extra tension leads to unprecedented contraction. And unprecedented contraction is wonderful. I untied the ropes binding her and found a sunny, grassy slope next to the railway tracks to sit down. I noticed she hadn't rubbed the "sand" in her eyes. So there was no sand in her eyes. She was crying for something else! I interrogated her: "Tell me, why were you crying?" Another clear tear welled up, sliding down her smooth face to her chin, crystal clear, hanging there. She didn't speak. I grabbed her hair and asked, "Who were you thinking of?" Her lips twitched, but she still didn't speak. I asked again, "Who did you think of? Tell me." She asked me, "Do you think my dad might have been on the train just now?" I remembered her telling me upstairs in the library that her dad "ran away from home and hasn't come back. Nobody knows where he went..." I said, "Of course, it's very possible. Anything is possible in this world." I took out a meat-filled flatbread from my bag, one for her and one for me. She whispered, "He pulled my hair too." I held the meat-filled flatbread, swallowing it with difficulty in the cold wind. It was bitter and astringent. I grabbed a handful of snow from the snow next to me and put it in my mouth. She sat next to me, eating silently, not saying another word. After I finished eating, I picked up the rope again. She asked, "Are you going to tie me up again? What's wrong with you?" I didn't answer, but grabbed her wrist and started to tie it up, twisting it around. She was excited, she was nervous, looking around. There was no one in the wilderness; this was a no-man's-land. I knew this place well. I had arranged to fight here before. She looked at me expectantly. I dragged her onto the rails and laid her down, binding her body tightly to the I-beams in a spread-eagle position. (A8 Warning: This is purely fictional. Do not imitate.) I pulled down my pants and fucked her, fucking her cunt after her orgasmic spasms. She became excited again, shamelessly arching her back, her cunt thrusting upwards, greedily demanding more. Her eyes blinked rapidly, and suddenly I felt incredibly vulgar. I had just poured my hot semen into her cunt and immediately felt bored. All games are boring. Coming all this way here is incredibly boring. Her hands and feet were still tied to the rails. I got up, leaned over the rails, and listened intently, whispering seriously, "Coming. Coming. It's a freight train, fifty-three cars." Actually, I didn't hear anything. I just wanted to give her extra challenges, to test her nerves. She tensed up and said seriously, "Untie me quickly! Hurry up!" I pulled up my pants, lit a cigarette, and teased her, "Why do you need to untie me?" She got a little anxious and started struggling, her hair all messed up, but I had tied her up really tightly today, leaving deep marks. I said, "I'll take a couple more puffs of my cigarette and then I'll leave." Sometimes I feel like I don't even need to be possessed; I'm already a national A-level devil.

I squatted down beside her, writing numbers in the snow with a dry twig, muttering to myself, "Let me calculate this for you before we go. Let's say a freight train travels at 80 kilometers per hour, with 53 carriages, how many meters does it need to brake? 28. Three times eight is twenty-four. That's nine. Nine, add three hundred and twenty-four, then divide by..."

I pretended to be very serious while calculating. Creating a

dramatic scene out of nowhere is a skill.

Creating tension out of thin air can make an otherwise mundane life seem less vulgar.

She struggled desperately, but found all her struggles futile.

She panicked, raising her voice, "Let me go! I was wrong! I'm a whore! I shouldn't have gone to that pervert! I was wrong~~"

Her voice was hoarse from yelling at me.

I coldly said, "Go find whoever you want. I have nothing to do with you."

She gasped for breath, struggling even more desperately, her voice cracking from screaming. In despair.

Suddenly, I couldn't bear to torment this girl anymore.

Suddenly, half-crying and half-laughing, with snot running down her face, she cried, "Daddy! Untie Daddy for me!"

In her most critical moment, she thought of her father. Deep down, she was incredibly dependent on him.

We've hit the nail on the head.

The evil spirit hidden deep within her heart is her father.

That beastly father ruined this girl's youth, driving her to desperately seek solace in promiscuity and debauchery.

Incest inflicts deep, irreparable psychological trauma.

Memories and impulses of incest are like evil spirits, constantly infiltrating the deepest layers of your subconscious, lurking and waiting to wreak havoc on your endocrine, nervous, and lymphatic systems, completely disrupting your thoughts, body, and life.

Actually, I'm the same.

I'm so conflicted, so extreme now, not a single day is easy, and my mother is probably the same.

The psychological imprint is more terrifying than the golden mark on Lin Chong's face.

Even years later, when you think you're pure, that lingering ghost will resurface and sting your system again at any time.

(This sounds more and more like the latest computer virus. —a8 marginal note.)

She lay on the tracks, tears welling in her eyes, still struggling.

I said, "Okay, okay, Daddy will untie you, Daddy will untie you."

She relaxed.

I can untie the knot I tied, but can I untie the knot her father tied for her?

Only the one who tied the knot can untie it. Let's catch the one who tied the knot someday and let them untie it themselves.

Her eyes were brimming with tears, she wanted to cry but was holding it back, so wronged, so pitiful.

I said, "Don't hold it in. Cry it out."

I wanted to help her detox.

Incest can be beautiful, it can be "the union of body and soul." But incest is a toxin, a spiritual tumor. Once you're tainted by it, you're finished, you'll never be innocent again.

But she swallowed all her tears, looked at me with complete trust, her gaze seemed to begin to regain its innocence.

I impulsively touched her hair, looking at her intently.

She urged me, "Hurry up and untie it!"

I said, "Actually, this is just a game. There aren't that many trains on this route."

She said, "You're naughty."

I said, "Yes. I'm naughty."

The tension was released, and her whole body relaxed instantly.

Relaxation is best.

In life, heaviness is the most deadly.

I looked at my masterpiece. I really didn't want the game to end.

Which hand should I untie first?

Just then, I suddenly saw something standing in the distance, with grayish-white fur all over its body. It wasn't a dog, it wasn't a fox.

It was a wolf!

It was eyeing me. (Eye contact, also called staring, is when two parties use their eyes as weapons, glaring at each other, their gazes clashing and sparks flying. - a8 note.)

I was afraid I was seeing things, so I looked more closely, and it really was a wolf.

I quickly looked around. Luckily, there was only one.

This wild wolf was not to be trifled with; it was more ferocious than me, and it was also very organized, with large groups of them.

I quickly squatted down and started to untie her rope.

In my nervousness, I tied a huge knot. The busier I was, the more chaotic it became.

I said, "Wolf!"

She hadn't seen the wolf yet, and seemed quite reassured. Looking at my expression, she thought I was teasing her again, and smiled, saying, "You're just making things up. You're kidding!"

I forced myself to calm down and started untying the rope. (A lesson learned. Wilderness enthusiasts should take heed.)

I kept looking up for movement as I untied the rope. The wolf was no longer there.

I looked everywhere, but couldn't find it. The ghostly wolf vanished in an instant, and my clothes were completely soaked.

Maybe it had already circled behind me?

At this moment, not seeing it made me uneasy.

It would have been better if I could see it.

In the snowy weather, beads of sweat dripped onto her face.

She lay there, watching me sweat nervously, and slowly realized the game of affection was over. Death was at her side.

She asked, "Really?"

I looked up again for the wolf. Still nothing.

Had it gone back to call its companions?

Perhaps two hundred would reappear in a flash?

These few seconds were crucial!

I shakily untied the rope for her.

Finally, I untied one hand.

I quickly glanced up. The wolf reappeared, in a different spot, even closer.

My hands scurried!

Another hand was untied. Then I went to untie the rope on her left ankle.

She quickly sat up and untied the rope on her right ankle.

Her face was pale.

I glanced up quickly. The wolf was walking towards us.

Hurry! Quick! Now it was a race against time.

Finally, both her ankles were untied. She scrambled to her feet, and I grabbed her and ran towards the car.

God! Please give me more time!

I ran while fumbling for my car keys.

I found them!

Just as I was about to press the auto-unlock button, I dropped them.

We'd already run out, and now I had to go back for the keys. Ugh!

Then I looked for the wolf again—it was gone.

Wolves are cunning; could it be waiting for us ahead?

I couldn't worry about anything else. I swung my arms and ran towards the car.

We finally got in, started the engine, and sped away, still shaken.

There was no wolf in sight.

All she could say was, "Hurry! Hurry!"

Did she even need to say it?

I frantically floored the gas pedal. My foot was practically kicking a hole in the chassis.

My heart was pounding faster than ever before, my temples were throbbing.

We drove quite a distance, but there were still no wolves in sight, not even in the rearview mirror.

Her face was pale with fright, stiff, and expressionless.

Me too.

I wanted to say something comforting, but my mind went blank; I couldn't think of anything.

We drove quite a distance before she said, "Actually, you still care about me, right?"

I nodded, having long forgotten to maintain my false pride.

Having just narrowly escaped collapse, my heart felt warm, and everything seemed beautiful.

The snow was beautiful.

The little vixen was pretty.

Being alive was good.

That wolf was strange; its pursuit wasn't resolute at all. Perhaps it was her father in disguise?

Looking back now, those were truly good times, pulling her along as we fled through the snow.

Our hands were tightly clasped together.

We faced the same threat.

Our hearts pounded wildly.

Pure and innocent, we only wanted to escape, with no time to consider anything else, like love.

Snow was falling heavily.

A quiet winter night.

I led the little vixen through the second-floor terrace and the third-floor platform into the museum, skillfully navigating among the ancient fossils.

Various plant and animal specimens coldly observed us.

She said, "You big hooligan."

I whispered, "How many times have I told you to keep your voice down when you call me by that nickname!"

She asked, "Hooligan, how come you know this place so well?"

I whispered, "My uncle is the curator here. I'm here to find out about your past life."

She asked, "Are there green snakes here?"

I said, "Shh, keep your voice down! There are many spirits here, don't disturb them."

She hunched her shoulders, lifted her legs high, and followed me cautiously into the dark.

She asked, "Is anyone on duty here?"

I said, "There are many security guards on the first floor."

Security guards again!

When we arrived at the 1:1 scale replica of prehistoric animals, as we passed the mammoth, she suddenly said, "I need to pee."

I said, "Come sit on the display stand. There's cat litter here."

I picked her up and put her on the stand.

She looked at the large, dark figures behind her and asked, "What are these?"

I said, "That's a saber-toothed tiger. That's a mammoth."

She stood on the white gravel of the display stand, pulled down her pants, squatted down, and peed as she said, "Am I being disrespectful to the gods?"

I said, "Yes."

She asked, "What should I do? Will it thunder?"

I said, "Yes. Are you done?"

She said, "I feel like I need to poop again."

I had no choice but to go with her and said, "Okay. Go ahead."

She asked, "When the visitors come in tomorrow, we'll have to find security and your uncle."

I said, "Why?"

She said, "They'll shout, 'Look! The saber-toothed tiger pooped!'"

I said, "Then my uncle will have to quickly find the curator to collect a specimen for DNA analysis."

She chuckled quietly in the darkness.

Actually, she can be quite cute sometimes.

But sometimes she's just too hateful.

She's a love-hate relationship, a complete devil, just like me.

After she finished pooping and pulled up her pants, I carried her off the display stand and continued to feel around.

We arrived at the Green Snake and White Snake display cases.

In the dim moonlight, I could vaguely see a white snake specimen in the large glass case, over six meters long.

But I couldn't find the green snake specimen.

Strange. Where did the green snake go?

She saw the white snake specimen and became agitated, fidgeting.

I said, "Fate has its ups and downs. When do you think our fate will end?"

She said, "Who knows? Maybe next year?"

I said, "I'll often go to Old K's."

She sensed the tension in my words, but her tone suddenly hardened: "Hey! You've never been my boyfriend. You said it yourself. I'm just staying here temporarily."

Every word made sense, leaving me speechless.

We're just roommates?

A country girl entering the city, her urbanization speed is faster than gasoline price increases—you can't even tell who's the country bumpkin.

I said, "That's right, you're just staying temporarily."

She said, "Of course. Once I find someone suitable, I won't bother you anymore. I know you care about me. But I'm not worthy. Really. You should find a girl who's more suitable for you."

I said, "Don't worry about that. By the way, I've booked an appointment with a specialist for you. Go to the maternity hospital tomorrow."

She said, "I'm not going! I won't go and embarrass myself!"

I asked, "Then what are your plans for this child?"

She calmly said, "I'll give birth to it."

I felt a shiver run down my spine: "This child is a curse. I don't want it!"

She said, "I didn't say you have to raise it. Wei Ge said he'll raise it. He's much more considerate than you."

Old K wasn't telling me the truth!

It was indeed the worst ending I guessed: these two were playing me behind my back.

They've both gone mad.

The pregnant woman has gone mad. Old K was so cruel to her, yet she remained devoted. Did she even understand Old K?

Old K has also gone mad. He stabbed me in the back! He abandoned his brotherhood for a girl.

I've gone mad too. In the heat of the moment, I said irrational things.

I said, "Fine, I'm going home now. You can go wherever you want."

I jumped out of the museum's tall window, seething with anger.

A flurry of snowflakes hit me!

I jumped from the third-floor platform to the second-floor terrace, then from the terrace to the ground, stomping angrily through the snow as I walked home.

I walked quite a distance, gritting my teeth, and looked back.

The winter night streets were a vast expanse of white, empty of cars and people, with only a trail of footprints behind me.

I slept soundly that night when I suddenly felt someone tap my shoulder.

I opened my eyes and turned around to see an old man sitting beside me, white-haired but with a youthful face.

He said, "Young man, you've been too arrogant lately. Let me give you a piece of my mind."

According to him, my ex-wife was a very wealthy woman in her past life, and I borrowed a huge sum from her, which I never repaid.

So, in this life, I was punished by having to marry her and give her a large sum of money as compensation during our divorce. (“Do you think it’s easy for me? I must have owed you something in my past life~” A chill ran down my spine.)

He advised me not to get too emotionally attached to that little slut, saying that the Green Snake was extremely lewd in her past life and had committed incest with her own father in this life, and the Heavenly Court was planning to take her back.

He said that the cattle herder in Black Village was my cousin in my past life, a ruthless man who once pushed me into a well for his own amusement, and in this life he was tasked with being my protector, appearing at crucial moments.

He said that Little Dragon Girl had an older sister named Pi Mi, who was even more beautiful than Little Dragon Girl. Little was known about her, and even less was it known that she was secretly buried in Wuwei, Gansu after her death.

He said that six million years ago, a dragon had nine sons and two daughters. One of the sons, Ya Zi, was originally a weak and frail young man who was deeply in love with his sister, Ling Nian. Their union was a shocking act, defying heavenly laws and angering the Heavenly Court. The Primordial Heavenly Lord ordered Ling Nian to die from a ruptured uterus and massive hemorrhage, and commanded the construction of the Dragon Gate Inn in Wuwei, intending for thousands to trample her.

Even after her death, Ling Nian could not find peace. As a result, Ya Zi's temperament changed drastically; he became belligerent, bloodthirsty, arrogant, and tyrannical, killing indiscriminately.

Later generations liked to carve his image on knife rings and hilts to enhance his murderous aura. (No wonder "New Dragon Gate Inn" is so violent.)

In popular parlance, sexual relations between blood relatives were jokingly called "chaotic dragons," later changed to "incest.

" Ya Zi and Ling Nian's posthumous son was named "Nie Zhang," who, having committed countless evil deeds, always sought revenge for his mother and sought to overthrow the Heavenly Court.

Through generations of oral tradition, "巕獐" is now pronounced "孽障".

(This is absolutely original content! A8 is quite the writer, isn't it? Do you know how hard I worked? Give me some applause.)

Strictly speaking, history is never verifiable. So, dear readers, please don't take it seriously.

The old man continued, "Erguai is the incarnation of Yazi.

Yazi was reincarnated in Heizhuangtun in this life, impoverished, guarding the souls of the many innocent people he killed in his previous life.

He was also arranged by fate to fall in love with his sister, and to relive the pain of losing her.

His entry into my family was also preordained, arranged by Heaven, causing him to suffer and reflect on his mistakes, toiling his whole life, and remaining penniless.

His next reincarnation is still unknown. Heavenly secrets cannot be revealed, otherwise, it will shorten his lifespan, disfigure him, and bring thunder."

I asked, "Who was my mother in her past life?"

He said, "In your past life, you and she were lovers. You pursued her for forty years, and she was devoted to you, but she married someone else first and remained faithful to her husband until her death, never agreeing to be with you.

Your true love moved the Primordial Celestial Lord, so in this life, he arranged for you two to be mother and son, and to secretly enjoy each other's company."

I asked, "Then why did you have to make my mother suffer such a terrible accident, losing her arm and making her suffer?"

The old immortal opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly looked out the window and said, "Dawn is breaking. You'd better take care of yourself."

He then got up.

I quickly jumped up to pull him back, and just as I reached him, I woke up and saw the sky outside the window was beginning to lighten.

The room beside me was empty; the little slut was gone.

The apartment was empty; the immortal was gone.

Was the Heavenly Court planning to "take back" the little slut? When would they do it? How much time did we have left together?

Then I thought, I couldn't completely disbelieve the old man's words, but I couldn't completely trust them either.

I was anxious. I had to do everything I could to change my fate!

The door opened, and the little slut came back. She didn't dare turn on the light, took off her shoes, tiptoed over, stripped naked, got into bed, lay down next to me, and crawled under the covers.

She was ice-cold! Colder than ice. I remained lying there, not moving.

The little slut, naked, groaned incoherently, "Daddy, hug me..."

I gave her a perfunctory hug.

She quickly fell into a deep sleep.

I turned to look at her.

In the hazy morning light, I was shocked to find injuries on her face: a cut near her eye with scabs, swollen and cracked lips, and multiple bruises on her face.

Where had she gone all alone in the snow after leaving the museum?

Who was so cruel as to injure a young girl's face?

Old K? That landlord? That security guard?

Did the landlord really sleep with her?

And did a security guard at the supermarket really arrest her and sleep with her?

Seeing is believing, hearing is deceiving.

Why couldn't the stories of "the security guard sleeping with her" and "the landlord sleeping with her" be fabrications?

Why couldn't her story with her dad be her sexual fantasy? Maybe she has paranoia?

She might even be better at making up stories than I am.

Suddenly, I felt incredibly sorry for her, like a petal drifting in the wind, like a stray dog.

No family in this city, no one to rely on, she met me by chance, and after I humiliated her in every way, I still doubted her, and even introduced her to my bad buddies so she could be violated.

I'm such a jerk!

(See? The more you're about to lose something, the more you cherish it. Humans are always perverse. —a8 comment.)

I was sleepy. I drifted off to sleep.

In my hazy state, I saw that old slut from Heizhuang Village, nicknamed "Niang."

I said, "Niang, I want to fuck you!"

She said, "Wait a minute. My breasts are swollen."

I said, "Rub them."

She said, "You rub them."

I rubbed her breasts through her shirt.

She asked, "Have you ever fucked a nursing baby's cunt?"

I said, "No. Does the cunt shrink?" ("Shrink": the lower body feels good, contractions during orgasm. —a8 note.)

She said, "You'll know once you fuck it."

Just then, an eight or nine-year-old boy, dressed in tattered clothes, came over and said to her, "Mom, I'm hungry."

The old slut unbuttoned her shirt, opened her chest, and pulled out her big white breasts to nurse the child.

The child was really unceremonious, sucking on one while holding the other.

I looked at her swollen nipples and felt like I needed to pee, so I pulled out

my penis. "Mom" touched my penis. Mom's hand was soft. My big black penis was hard.

"Mom" suddenly lost her arms.

I was shocked, looked up, and saw that I was holding my mother.

The nursing baby had grown up, his penis was erect, thrusting into her wet cunt.

I fucked her, while simultaneously pulling her hair hard.

My mother's nipples were huge, covered with bluish veins, winding and meandering like the Tuotuo River at the source of the Yangtze River in an aerial photograph.

Her nipples were red and swollen, wet, with white milk clinging to the tips.

I thrust hard. Her large nipples swayed, milk dripping down, filling her belly.

I calmly and viciously fucked her. My mother climaxed, milk gushing out.

Her old cunt opened its mouth, but made no sound; her face looked like she was about to cry, like she was being tortured.

After the climax, I wiped my mother's sweat.

My mother said, "I'm old, an old woman."

I said, "You're not old. Do breastfeeding women gush milk when they climax?"

My mother said, "Well, I am."

I woke up, not understanding the meaning of this dream.

The little slut was lying next to me, sleeping like a dead dog, mouth open, snoring intermittently; she seemed really exhausted.

I couldn't sleep anymore; it was already bright outside, so I got up.

While peeing, I suddenly noticed something strange about my body.

A large bulge appeared below my belly button, painless, dark red, with many densely packed blood vessels. You've seen dog testicles, right? Like that.

I stepped on the scale and saw I'd gained ten pounds.

But I hadn't gained weight anywhere else.

After washing up, I turned around and saw that little slut standing barefoot in front of me, completely naked except for her underwear.

She slowly rubbed the elastic band of her underwear down, sensually teasing me.

The underwear looked familiar. Cheap white cotton underwear, the kind from some knitting factory.

It was the underwear the landlady's wife had worn.

My thorax went numb! I

clearly threw it on top of the wardrobe. How did she find it?

Her face was covered in scars, and she was completely naked, the only thing she was wearing coming from the underworld—what a bizarre scene.

She asked with a half-smile, "Whose woman's is this?"

I asked, "Where did you go last night?"

She didn't answer me but continued interrogating me: "Tell me the truth, which woman gave this to you? Tell me now."

I said, "To bed! It's cold!"

She said, "If you don't tell me, I won't go to bed."

I felt it was very unlucky for her to wear underwear left behind by a female ghost, and I was afraid she would be tainted by evil spirits, but I didn't want to tell her directly.

She said, "It's okay! Look at you! I'm not your girlfriend. What can't you tell me?"

I hardened my heart and said, "It's my ex-girlfriend's. Take it off."

She backed away, backed onto the bed, burrowed under the covers, and asked me, "Was she prettier than me?"

I said, "Yeah, she was pretty. Take it off and give it back to me."

She said, "Why are you keeping your ex-girlfriend's underwear? You're a pervert!"

I said, "Yes, I'm a pervert. Where did you go yesterday after you came out of the museum?"

She said, "I...I forgot."

I asked, "What happened to the injury on your face?"

She said, "The road was slippery, I fell."

I almost fainted from anger!

My anger flared up again.

I'm not so confused that I can't distinguish between a fall injury and a beating. I've been fighting since I was a child, and I've never felt this frustrated before.

Such a liar is so annoying!

Last night I actually felt sorry for this kind of person.

Looks like you're not human if you don't act like a jerk!

I went to the hospital myself for an abdominal ultrasound.

The doctor said, puzzled, "I've never seen an abdominal cyst like this before. What could it be?" Who

was he asking? Me?

It reminded me of a movie where the female lead was on the operating table, her abdomen opened, and seven or eight doctors surrounded her, each frowning as they stared at the open abdominal cavity, chattering: "What's this pile? Hey, what's that?"

I paid money, had an ultrasound, and even the surgeons saw it, but I still couldn't figure out what this thing I had was.

I was even more frustrated.

After leaving the hospital, I went to my mom's.

The doctor opened the door, looking relaxed and natural, and said, "Big brother's here?"

Seeing my mother, I was horrified. A chill ran through me, from the soles of my feet to my brain.

Overnight, my mother's hair had turned completely white!

I smelled the scent of death.

My mother said, "Come here! I have something bad to tell you."

To be continued...

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/6706.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=6706&aspx=1

Last access time:

Previous Page : [Urban] Must be fucked to death (Complete) - 1-3

Next Page : [Urban] Must be fucked to death (complete) - 4-6

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

[Urban] Must be fucked to death (complete) - 7-9

comment Open a new window to view comments