[Urban] Must be fucked to death (Complete) - 16-18

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

The First Chapter of "The Red Apricot Must Be Fucked to Death": My Beautiful 37-Year-Old Body

. My beautiful 37-year-old body is like a flame burning day and night in an oil field, a flower blooming wildly in the mountains during the height of summer, unseen and wasted. Like a pot of water, you boil it, but forget to turn off the heat; it boils wildly, frantically, desperately, intensely, the water about to boil dry.

For my happiness, I must do something, change the status quo.

Now, I sit in this restaurant, and across from me sits him.

His gaze is particularly delicate and gentle, but I know his mind is full of bold words. He is a strange combination of wildness and knowledge. Call him an intellectual? He was unrestrained and unconventional, lacking any scholarly air. Call him a rogue? Not quite. He was exceptionally considerate and respectful of women, with a rather delicate sensibility. After talking to him, you always gained some kind of insight. It's hard to explain, but I know, I understand, I can sense that every word he uttered was carefully considered. Behind his simple yet bold language lay something he wanted to express.

As he ate, he said, "I love abalone the most. I love all seafood, but I especially love oysters. Don't be afraid to make noise when eating these. The louder you suck, the better it tastes."

I watched him intently peel open the shells, sucking the tender, juicy clam meat. His hands were covered in juice, his eyes gleaming, his lips and tongue moving with undiminished pleasure. A sudden thought crossed my mind—for some reason, I wondered if he would do the same when licking my genitals.

Under the tablecloth, I quietly pulled my feet out of my shoes and stretched them to his inner thighs, gently rubbing them.

He was startled, stopped sucking on his clam, and looked up at me, his eyes filled with memories of the recent wildfires in Cangshan Scenic Area, Dali, Yunnan.

He glanced around the restaurant, feigning composure.

It was hot, and I wasn't wearing socks. Once my feet were off my shoes, I was free from all restraint and gently caressed his penis.

He was only wearing a pair of baggy, loose shorts. My bare feet slowly slipped under the legs of his shorts, and I actually touched his hot testicles and hard penis directly.

Good heavens! He came to the restaurant without underwear! What a pervert! Heh.

I smiled faintly, looking at him, my feet gently caressing his sensitive center.

He froze, staring blankly at me. His penis was rock hard, making his shorts bulge out.

After playing like that for a while, he pushed my legs away, called the waiter, paid the bill, and pulled me outside.

I asked, "Was that good?"

He blushed and breathed heavily, whispering, "Yes."

I said, "Then why are you in such a hurry to leave?"

He lowered his voice and said, "If we don't leave, I'll ejaculate on your feet!"

I laughed happily and asked, "Where are we going?"

He said, "My aunt went abroad, and her apartment is empty."

We went inside and closed the door. The passionate kiss in the dark was breathtaking. Kissing in the dark also made my sense of touch particularly sensitive.

He said, "Some people like to cover their eyes when they have sex."

I asked, "Why?"

He said, "Darkness gives people a sense of security, like going back to the womb. Covering your eyes gives you more freedom of imagination; you can imagine what the person you're having sex with is like."

I said, "So, shall we not turn on the lights tonight?"

He said, "Yeah, and I also want to..."

I asked, "What?"

He said, "Do something naughty, don't be afraid."

He grasped my breasts, massaged my clitoris, and kissed my neck, ears, and cheeks at the same time.

The teasing left me breathless. Before long, I was wet down there; I could feel my own fluids soaking through my underwear, making it slippery and sticky.

I said, "Let me go."

He said, "What's wrong with you?"

I said, "I want to take a shower."

He said, "You can shower after we're done."

I said, "No."

He said, "I like your scent."

I said, "What scent?"

He said, "The smell of meat."

I said, "How can you be so perverted? Huh? By the way, you bad boy, do you often go out like this?"

He said, "What's wrong with that? I haven't broken the law. Our constitution doesn't stipulate that citizens must wear underwear in public. It's so hot today, I can't let myself get too hot. We have to take care of ourselves, right?"

I said, "You're making excuses."

He said, "Oh, it's just a one-time thing. It's very exciting. Respectable women wouldn't understand."

He pulled me to the bedroom and said, "We'll play for a while, then take a nap, then I'll take you out to a fun place, see some fun things, and after that, I'll take you to eat something delicious, and then we'll come back and continue playing."

After saying that, he gave me a wicked smile.

I nodded and said, "Five trips in one day? That's ruthless. Trying to kill me with exhaustion?"

He said, "Yeah, Roman Holiday, let's make up for what we lost."

I said, "Okay, whatever you say."

He grinned mischievously, "You'll do whatever I say?"

I said, "Your evil plan is all-encompassing."

He said, "That's right. It'll make you happy for the rest of your life."

I said, "You're not going to make me go out like that, are you? No way."

He kissed me and said, "What? It's thirty-six degrees, are you cold?"

I said, "I'm afraid I

can't handle it." He said, "Follow me, it's okay, I promise you won't expose yourself."

He lowered his voice, smelling the "smell of flesh" near my ear, and said, "Let me tell you, the feeling of going out without underwear is... special..."

I said, "Special what?"

He said, "Just imagine it. Only you know this secret, but no one around you knows."

I said, "What if... what if we run into a pervert?"

He said, "You're not taking the bus."

He touched my swollen nipples. "

Besides, even if you're on a crowded bus, even if..."

I said, "Shut up. Want to know how wet I am?"

He nodded, "Mmm."

I led his hand down, his fingertips touching my wet pussy.

He said, "Beautiful, what's wrong with you? I haven't even done anything yet, and you've already leaked a nuclear substance?"

I lay on the bed, closed my eyes, enjoying the thrill of our secret tryst.

He took a silk scarf and blindfolded me, then started sniffing and touching me, making sucking noises.

If anyone were eavesdropping, just from the sounds, they would definitely think he was sucking on an oyster again.

I opened my legs for him, lifted my buttocks, and let him pull down my panties, shirt, bra...

He gently parted my tightly closed thighs and whispered in my ear, "

Don't be shy, you're so beautiful and alluring."

My heart was pounding.

His hot lips kissed mine; his large, warm hands caressed my breasts, kneading them with varying pressure, the force perfectly controlled, stimulating me to the point of frenzy. I couldn't help but writhe and twist on the bed… I wanted to moan, but I held back, because I thought a woman who moaned was a wanton woman.

He whispered in my ear, “Make a sound, it’s okay. At times like this, you have to revert to being an animal; only then can you be happier. Today, think about other things. Come on, follow your body.”

His fingers slid, kneaded, and teased my already wet labia, stimulating my most sensitive clitoris.

I released my lips, letting out an unbearable moan: “Ah… um… oh…”

I willingly opened my legs. This was a position and action I hadn't dared to imagine for years—opening my legs and exposing my vulva to a strange man.

He asked, “Shall I go in?”

I nodded. He deliberately pressed, "What should I put in?"

I said, "I'm embarrassed to say."

He said, "How many years have you been married?"

I said, "Sixteen years."

He said, "It's okay. Tell me. Say it quietly."

I said, "No."

He said, "I want to hear. Tell me. Tell me."

I mustered my courage and said, "Come in. Let your big cock go inside me."

My God! I can actually say such a thing!

He said, "What for?"

He kissed my burning cheeks and ears, his big cock grinding against my slippery opening, making me so itchy.

My voice was even lower: "Come in...fuck me..."

After saying that, my face turned red to my neck.

He stretched and thrust like a lion, penetrating my body, penetrating my burning, yearning flesh.

I finally felt that earth-shattering, intense vibration, penetrating the whole world, filling and filling my long-empty body.

On the vast wilderness, two wild wolves howled, panted, and writhed.

He conquered me, and I conquered him.

Next came an indescribable sensory stimulation, a raging torrent engulfing my entire body, ravaging everything within me.

His massive member relentlessly thrust into and withdrew from my burning flesh, thrusting in, withdrawing, thrusting in, withdrawing, thrusting in, withdrawing…

Ah… um… I kept secreting my woman's fluids.

It was a life-or-death struggle, a breathtaking, tearing apart, a sexual intercourse that drove me to utter madness.

An orgasm, like a volcanic eruption, suddenly arrived.

In an instant, everything shattered, everything exploded.

How many years of suppression!

My mouth was wide open, but I couldn't make a sound, nor could I hear anything.

My mind was blank, a tingling, burning sensation in the back of my head. I only remembered all my muscles contracting, contracting in unison, my flesh tightly enveloping his massive member.

I let go of everything, letting myself go, letting my body float and sink in the scorching torrent…

For a long, long time, I gradually awoke from the unbelievable orgasm, my entire body covered in sweat and fluids.

He removed the scarf covering my eyes and whispered, "Is it comfortable?"

I said, "Mmm...it's so, so comfortable..."

He said, "Where is it comfortable? How is it comfortable?"

I said, "Oh, don't ask anymore. I'm getting embarrassed..."

His penis, which I had tightly wrapped around, began to throb and pulsate again.

He brought me to orgasm, and he was still as hard as ever.

"Ah...I can't take it anymore...you...you're so horny...I like it..."

he whispered.

"Oh...you...mmm...um...ah oh...oh...good...oh...oh...oh...good...ah...so good...comfortable...mmm...oh...ah...you..."

He lay on his back on the bed, his erect penis standing straight up. He said, "Get on."

My face flushed, my heart pounded, but I wanted it so badly. I spread my legs, straddled his hard, thick penis, lowered my head, aimed at my wet, fleshy opening, and held his huge penis, rubbing and teasing the head between his wet, slippery labia.

"Oh, you look so beautiful right now!"

My buttocks sank down, and my entire wet vagina was instantly filled to the brim. He arched his body upwards, and his enormous penis plunged deep inside me. I was filled, incredibly full. "

Mmm...oh...good...oh...oh...oh..."

"You're so alluring..."

He grabbed my breasts with both hands, opened his mouth, and began to devour them, looking greedy.

"Oh...ooh...oh my god...it's so full...so good!"

He held my waist and began to thrust his body rhythmically, pumping up and down into my vagina. His cannon repeatedly pounded deep inside me, my stomach felt increasingly sore and swollen, and all my muscles relaxed as he thrust violently upwards. I began to feel a little dizzy. One of his hands went to my buttocks, his fingers touching my anus. Oh! So good! That feeling was indescribably good. Sweat and mucus had covered my anus, and his fingers rotated and kneaded it, gradually increasing the pressure before sliding in! In and out, in and out. "

Ouch! Oh...oh...oh...ooh...oh...ah...oh...oh...oh...ooh...oh...oh...oh...oh...oh...oh...ooh...oh...oh...oh...ooh...oh...ah...ooh...ohooh...ah oh...ooh..."

My moans seemed to turn into sobs. It was as if I was being tortured; yet my whole body felt so good. I was intoxicated. He looked at me intently, admiringly. At the same time, his fingers began to tease my erect nipples, driving me into a frenzy.

“Ah…so good…mmm…ah…oh…mmm…mmm…mmm…mmm…you…mmm…mmm…ha…mmm…mmm…ah…oh~mmm~mmm~ha…oh…oh…take your big hard cock…fuck me…fuck me hard…oh…oh…mmm…mmm…mmm…mmm…” As soon as

these “dirty words” came out, I felt relaxed, as if I had unloaded a burden that I had been carrying for a long time; at the same time, it made my body produce a more special and stronger sexual desire, wanting more and greater satisfaction. “

Oh…mmm…I love…I love your…big cock so much…oh…mmm…mmm…mmm…mmm…”

“I love you too…I love you to death…my good woman…”

He hugged my buttocks tightly and thrust into my body violently again, making me feel like my soul was flying away and my mind was in turmoil, only able to shout and scream. My throat was hoarse, but I still couldn’t help or stop the torrent of orgasm surging in my body again.

"Ah! Hmm... Oh... Hmm... Oh... Hmm... Come on... Hurry, I'm going to die! Ah, I'm dying, you've killed me... Ah, it's coming out again!"

A bottle of fine, intoxicating aged wine, once opened, becomes irresistible. Two greedy children, stealing a jar of honey, can't stop. We made love again and again, rolling and entwining on the bed, our lust raging. In my entire life, I've never been so intoxicated, so pleasurable, by a man. He ignited my passion, drove me mad. His alluring tongue licked my wet, tender petals until they were thick and swollen, unbearably itchy and thirsty, needing something inserted inside to relieve the itch.

I lay on my back on the bed, his nimble fingers pressing against my labia, his tongue teasing and licking my hard clitoris. I couldn't help but moan. He was like a highly skilled musician, and I was his instrument; with each pluck, I produced beautiful sounds.

He inserted two fingers into my vagina and anus, probing and thrusting, my entire genitals slick with fluid. I felt like I had become a huge clam, its tender flesh plump and delicious, overflowing with juice; my clitoris had become a pearl within the clam's flesh.

I let out intermittent moans from my throat: "Oh...oh...uh...ah...ouch...ah...hum...ya...hoo...uh...fuck me...uh..."

I writhed, leaking fluid and juice. Under his deadly, passionate kisses, I reached another climax, trembling beautifully as I died.

Awakening from the waves of my second orgasm, I told him about the feeling.

He was overjoyed, gently caressing my slippery anus while softly asking, "Was it good?"

I nodded. He said, "Many people don't know that the anus is actually a very sensitive area, densely packed with nerve endings."

I said, "But..."

He said, "But, since we were little, we've heard adults say that that place is bad, unclean, and so on, so we think that place can't be touched. Actually, why can't we touch any part of our body? Why can't we touch the parts that bring us pleasure? If it's clean, it's just as clean as the mouth and vagina."

I said, "But..."

He said, "Even if you go in and touch something, what's there to be afraid of? It's all inside your body. I love you, I accept everything about you. The way your hair looks, your eyebrows, the shape of your fingers, your eyes, your lips, your teeth, the way you walk..." Sitting or lying down. Everything, everything, I love to look at it, I can't get enough of it.

I said, "I need to go to the bathroom."

He said, "Don't go. Hold it in a bit and I'll let you go later."

I said, "What are you doing?"

He said, "You'll find out in a bit. You have to dare to try things you've never tried before."

I said, "No, I'll come out in a bit."

He said, "Come out then. It's okay. Let me tell you a little secret: if you hold something in your belly, the orgasm will feel different."

I said, "Huh? You want to do it again?"

He said, "What? You're sleepy already?"

I said, "Oh dear, I'm doomed, you've already killed me several times today."

He said, "Come on, lie down, let me lick you properly."

I really can't do anything with him. I lay face down on the bed, raising my buttocks high and sticking them up, showing him my anus.

He put two pillows under my belly, saying that it wouldn't be tiring that way, and that if I got sleepy, I could lie down and sleep for a while.

I said, "Huh? How long are you going to keep going?"

He said, "I'll lick for three hours first."

I said, "You bad boy."

He came behind me, carefully examining my buttocks, and said, "Look, both of your eyes down there are staring at me."

He said, "Your vagina and your anus. Actually, there's another little hole, your pee hole."

I said, "Oh God, how are you going to play with me?"

He said, "It's a long story, just enjoy it."

And so, in the dazzling midday sun, on the big bed by the window, I felt his hands begin to caress my buttocks.

He kept praising how beautiful and sexy my buttocks were as he touched them. I felt him part my buttocks, his fingers gently scraping my entire genital area, from the pubic hair to the clitoris to the flesh to my anus.

Those places weren't dry yet, they were full of my bodily fluids.

Suddenly I felt his hot tongue press against my anus. Oh! The feeling was indescribable. I'd never felt anything like it before. I involuntarily parted my lips, but it seemed I couldn't make a sound, only able to groan continuously, as if he were licking my throat. Oh, my anus was opened. I felt that the most shameful, most unspeakable place had been opened... Oh... Oh... Hmm... Ugh... Oh... Ah... Oh... Hmm... Ah... Ah... Ah... Ugh... Ah... Hmm... The feeling was so intense, extremely strange, his hard penis pushed into my vagina. I completely enveloped him, using a vaginal canal that had never been invaded before, tightly wrapping it around him.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!... Oh God... Oh God... Oh! Oh!"

I relaxed the muscles around my anus with all my might. I felt the penis slowly and steadily opening my rectum; a little stuffy and slippery, slowly and continuously pushing inward...

"Oh... Oh... Ahhh—"

For the first time, offering my anus to a man, I felt like I had become a virgin again. My moans were all connected, but his huge penis kept going in and in, deeper and deeper. My God, how could it be so long? I felt like it was half a meter long. Was it going to stick out of my mouth?

He said, "So comfortable! Your ass is so beautiful... What a pity."

I asked, "What's a pity?"

He said, "It's a pity you can't see it yourself."

I thought for a moment and said, "Use a big mirror!"

He said, "The old folks say, 'A mirror shouldn't be used in bed.' There must be some truth to old sayings, let's not offend the gods."

I said, "Old feudal. I don't care. I want to see."

He said, "Isn't that a bad idea?"

I said, "I want to see. Why should only you see?"

He said, "Okay, okay."

My excretory organs were filled with love, and I was extremely excited. My heart was beating unusually strong. I felt like I was doing something.

My heart suddenly warmed up. I rarely hear genuine praise. My husband... sigh, let's not talk about him.

His cannon started thrusting in and out. His cannon was so thick and long, and in my narrow passage, it actually slid in and out like during intercourse, as if it were moistened by some kind of fluid. His thrusting movements went from slow to fast, from gentle to increasingly powerful.

He thrust so deep, so very deep, and when he pulled out from inside my intestines, it felt like he was pulling my soul out!

"Mmm... um... um... ooh... ah..."

I was intoxicated. His fingers circled around to the front, rubbing my vulva from the front. His other hand caressed and kneaded my breasts and nipples. Simultaneously stimulated by multiple points, my lust was fully aroused, burning like a raging fire.

"Ah! Fuck me, fuck my ass... ah... um... ah... um... oh..."

I moaned like a madman. The melted fluid secreted from my body flowed down my inner thighs. The forbidden pleasure overwhelmed me.

He thrust while kneading my breasts, occasionally kneading my buttocks. "

Oh! You're so cute, so sexy!"

I said, "Mmm... do it... do it to me..."

I turned my buttocks back to meet his arrival, accepting his increasingly vigorous thrusts.

"Ah! Ah! Oh! Oh!"

he roared, like a wild beast. I braced my elbows on the bed, arching my backside higher and twisting more fiercely like a female dog; I moaned loudly in response to his roars, "Ugh... um... oh... ah..."

"Oh! You're so beautiful!"

“Go ahead and have fun,”

I replied. “

Play me to death!”

I didn’t care about anything anymore. We went at it like crazy, from my anus to my intestines, from my intestines to my bladder, to my uterus, to my stomach, and from my stomach to my heart, liver, lungs, gallbladder… all my internal organs were being pushed against by that big, long, hard, hot cock; it was an unprecedented sensory stimulation. I felt like my whole body had become a fleshy tube enveloping his cock, willingly. The sensory stimulation ignited a shock, stirring up endless lust. Body, spirit, desire, yours, mine, all intertwined and vibrated together; we became one, indistinguishable from one another. The only existence was endless greed, an insatiable thirst for liberation, for freedom.

Our orgasms finally collapsed simultaneously, erupting together! His scalding semen shot into my rectum.

We were both drenched in sweat, roaring wildly, celebrating our own liberation and also cheering for each other.

After showering, I returned to the bedroom naked and found him fast asleep. I sat on the recliner by the window screen, quietly watching his naked body.

He wasn't exactly handsome. But he had led me through several forbidden zones, bringing me such intense pleasure and satisfaction.

For so many years, I've been busy with home, work, taking care of the children, handling housework, and caring for the elderly. I've found myself reduced to a machine, a useful nanny, an anxious mother at parent-teacher conferences, a desireless wife sleeping in a separate bed—I've played multiple roles as mediator, washing machine, and rice cooker. But what about "me"?

Where do I stand in my life?

How much happiness that should have been mine has I missed all these years?

I felt a little wronged, but I didn't let the tears fall. I don't like self-pity, I don't like being melancholic.

I need to think about many important things.

It got dark. He woke up, took a shower, and came out, saying, "Come on, let's go to the street."

I said, "Look at the time."

He looked at his watch and said, "Isn't it just nine o'clock?"

I said, "Any decent people going out at nine at night?"

He said, "Hmm, not many, but we've been decent people for half our lives, can't we indulge ourselves a little?"

I said, "You have to tell me where you're taking me? What for?"

He said, "Come with me to review two films."

I said, "What films?"

He said, "I don't know what's showing today. We'll find out when we get there."

We arrived at a quiet, two-story building inside the Second Ring Road. There was no doorplate or company nameplate at the entrance. He seemed to know the doorman well, greeted him, and led me into the building. He led me through a maze of turns until we arrived at a room. He skillfully took out his key, opened the door, led me inside, and locked the door behind him. The room wasn't big, maybe eight or nine square meters. The wall opposite the door was a single pane of glass, offering a view of what appeared to be a large, dimly lit

hallway outside. He poured me tea, and we sat down on the large sofa. He dimmed the lights, just enough to see the teacups.

He pointed to the glass wall and said, "We'll be reviewing the film through here in a bit. This is one-way mirror, the kind commonly used in police pre-trial departments and psychology labs. But unlike regular ones where you can only see in from the outside, this one is specially made; it's reversed, so you can only see out from the inside, and no one outside can see into our room. It's soundproof."

I said, "What's that? So mysterious."

A pleasant ringtone sounded. It wasn't loud. He pointed outside the one-way mirror.

Outside, all the lights were off. He gestured for me to put on headphones like he did.

I saw the title of the film projected on a screen thirty meters away: "Bedtime Erotic Moans and Humming." The movie had begun.

On the screen, in broad daylight, outside a luxurious villa, on a green lawn, a white dining table, champagne, fruit… several beautiful maids stood around.

Five elegantly dressed, dignified ladies and eight strong, muscular men were engaged in depraved acts, moaning incessantly and exchanging obscene and daring "vulgarities." Unbearable, panting dialogue came through my headphones.

"Ah…do you want to fuck my wet, horny cunt?"

"Mmm…fuck me, fuck me until I'm dying, fuck me properly…"

My face flushed instantly, my heart pounding!

I took off my headphones; the room was silent. He glanced back at me, considerately dimming the small lamp.

I put my headphones back on and watched the film with him.

I bit my lip tightly, silently chanting "Oh my god" repeatedly, my whole body tingling. On the screen, they struck all sorts of positions I'd never imagined, performing all sorts of actions that made my heart race and my ears burn.

I felt myself getting involuntarily wet down there, and my lower abdomen was tingling.

The different moans from the men and women were arousing me to the point of near unbearable arousal.

He asked, "How does it feel?"

I said, "Pretty...pretty clear."

He smiled and said, "None of the films sent here are unclear. I was asking what you thought of the film."

I said, "People these days really know how to have fun."

He said, "Never seen anything like this before?"

I said, "No. My face is burning hot."

He gently touched my face, tenderly and meticulously, like an art student touching Venus's face.

I rested my face in his large, rough palm and closed my eyes.

My blissful expression perfectly mirrored Fu Biao's "Thirteen, Louis's" from the movie *Endless*. He leaned closer and whispered in my ear, "Is your lower half hot too?"

I said, "You pervert, I want to go home."

He said, "No, no, there's still one more film. Let me touch it, just for a moment."

I said, "Then you might as well not touch it at all."

He said, "Hmm?"

I said, "I don't want to make my lower half even more uncomfortable."

He smiled and whispered, "I want to know women's opinions, I want to know if the film can move female viewers."

I said, "I won't tell you."

He said, "Okay. Then promise me another thing."

I said, "Tell me."

He said, "Take off your underwear and give it to me. I'll keep it for you."

I said, "No."

He said, "Please."

I said, "No way."

He said, "Please. Nobody can see us."

I said, "That's not good..."

My heart started racing again. I was seriously considering the feasibility of his suggestion.

He said, "Okay, whatever you want."

He turned to look at the screen. The music started. Another new film began.

I pinched him and whispered, "You jerk, why didn't you stick to it? I was already wavering. If you had… I might have…"

He said, "I won't force you. Take it off or not, it's up to you."

I hesitated for a moment, then turned around to make sure the door was locked. I gently lifted my buttocks and pulled down my underwear, which was already soaked with my own juices.

He went over, put it under his nose, and smelled it affectionately, moaning, "Oh, it smells so good…"

I whispered, "Pervert."

He said, "It smells so good, I'm not kidding, it smells like cream, lemon, wine, cheese, and apple."

I said, "Stop it."

He didn't say anything.

We started watching the movie.

Taking off my underwear felt really strange, like I suddenly felt so much lighter, both physically and mentally.

Underwear is like the golden headband on Sun Wukong, tightly binding not only the body but also the mind.

Now, in the dark room, I felt a completely new heartbeat, a wanton excitement.

Experiencing a completely new thrill. For myself. For the good times I've lost.

The second part of the film has begun. A voluptuous woman, topless, is touching her large, white breasts while speaking to the camera: "Many people don't know, but it's true that you can have sex while breastfeeding. I was still breastfeeding when I got divorced. I met a new boyfriend, and since I didn't have much milk, he told me that uterine contractions could accelerate milk production. He didn't want me to wean, so I've had plenty of milk for the past two years. It's very stimulating for him to suckle and express milk for me; it feels so good. Because I didn't wean, my breasts got bigger and bigger, and I was very happy to be fucked while breastfeeding. Especially when my breasts were most engorged, watching him suckle one breast and the other would be stimulated and flow out on its own, sometimes even ejaculating milk, it was quite stimulating..."

Then the scene fades out, and flashbacks begin showing how she had sex while breastfeeding... She's lying on her stomach, breastfeeding her son, while her boyfriend penetrates her from behind. She moans, her large breasts swaying. When she reaches orgasm, there's a close-up of her breasts, and the milk really gushes out, the snow-white milk spraying out like a fountain of pearls.

The next segment is of a gynecological clinic. A woman in her thirties walked in and said to the male doctor, "I saw your advertisement. I'd like to give it a try."

The doctor told her, "The purpose of our trial is to study the sexual arousal that gynecological examination procedures may cause in female patients, thereby avoiding doctor-patient harassment in future clinical work. The methods will be varied. Please take off your clothes and lie on the examination table."

The woman complied. The male doctor sat on the examination stool between her legs and began to gently separate her labia, slowly rubbing her clitoris. Close-up shot: A large, sensual, and beautiful flower, blooming freely, gradually oozing glistening dewdrops. The doctor slowly inserted a tubular, penis-sized lubrication collector into the woman's vagina.

She writhed and moaned. A female nurse reached over from behind and touched her breasts. The male doctor said to the woman, "Next, I'm going to say some so-called vulgar words to you, and combined with tactile stimulation, we'll record your reactions. Please forget your identity and status, completely let loose, and indulge yourself to the fullest. We will record the intensity of each of your orgasms."

The clinic door opened, and four or five more male and female doctors walked in. They surrounded her, intently observing her sweating, breathing, blood pressure, secretions, and contraction intensity, slowly beginning to join the "consultation"...

The woman moaned, "Put it in me... put it in until I'm dizzy with pleasure, until I'm in ecstasy."

The clinic was filled with moans... Finally, they took out the vaginal fluid collector, which was already full, filled with the woman's precious fluid.

As I watched, I slowly felt an urge, my nipples hardened, as if I had become that test subject, lying on the gynecological examination bed, undergoing all sorts of examinations by a room full of doctors and nurses, being gently and professionally pinched, teased, and ravaged by them. I imagined them inserting a speculum into my vagina, playing with my nipples, clitoris, and anus, carefully observing the trembling and throbbing of my cervix during orgasm… I thought, if they inserted a glass tube to collect my vaginal fluid, my secretions might exceed those of the actor in the film. In the darkness, I stretched out my legs, and my hands slowly began to move… My hands searched and pushed until my middle finger touched the moist, soft entrance at the center of my body. I transformed myself into water, and my hands into fish. The fish glided silently in the water. As long as I didn't make a sound, it was fine. This was an extremely pleasurable thing… Actually, even if I made any sound, he wouldn't hear it.

He could only hear the sound from the headphones. My cool hands touched the burning entrance. Smelling my own faint body fragrance, I felt wet inside and out, the spring deep within me seeping out continuously. I swallowed myself.

Film segment three: at sea. An endless expanse of sea. A wooden plank. A desperate young woman, her lips cracked, saw a ship approaching in the distance. She screamed and waved a red cloth. She was saved and boarded the ship, only to discover it was a pirate ship. While she focused on drinking and eating, she was repeatedly gang-raped by eighteen pirates in various positions. Her nipples swelled from the rough friction and squeezing, and her vagina and anus constantly oozed the pirates' thick semen.

I secretly fantasized that I was the heroine, stripped naked and tied to a stake, utterly played with by a group of lustful sailors. I imagined them probing my vagina, fucking my mouth, fucking every orifice on my body, my entire body covered in their semen that they had held back for half a year, smearing it all over my body, saying it would beautify my skin… I closed my eyes, sinking into the darkness, letting the fire of lust burn within my mature body. I wondered if other women had such lewd thoughts… I felt my vagina was already wet with fluid; I squeezed my thighs together, rubbing them together.

The movie ended. I felt my nipples throbbing, hard and erect, rubbing uncomfortably against my clothes; my vagina was also incredibly sore and swollen…

He took off my headphones and whispered, “Do you like it?”

I whispered, “I’m all wet inside.”

It was late at night when we came out. He took me to a 24-hour restaurant near Huguosi in Xinjiekou for a meal, and then we went back to his aunt’s house.

On the way, I asked, "Do you have a license?"

He said, "Yes, I've had it for six years."

I said, "Then why don't you buy a car?"

He said, "Buying a car is such a hassle. You pay so much tax to the government, then you have to get it inspected, repaired, and so on. You also have to take responsibility, and you can't drink and drive. It's like drinking and driving without drinking. The key is you're constantly on edge, watching the road, the cars, pedestrians, vehicles, road signs, and so on. You have to keep an eye on the police, one-way streets, no left turns, the dashboard, the rearview mirror, the side mirror. If something happens, you have to beg and plead with those bastards to buy cigarettes and meals to smooth things over. Why bother? I don't want to be so tired. Taking a taxi is fine."

I said, "Lazy person."

He said, "If I had a car, you could take a nap in the car if you're free, but I can't. When we get home, you're refreshed, but I'm exhausted. How can we get anything done?"

I said, "You rascal, who wants to get anything done with you? You're a scoundrel."

He said, "A scoundrel does what everyone wants to do but doesn't dare or has the opportunity to do." "You're such a busybody,"

I said. "Heh, look at you, you think you're so proud?"

He said, "Of course, I made you experience the happiness of being a woman, I made you truly become a woman. I'm proud of you."

I said, "Why do I always feel like what we're doing isn't quite right..."

He said, "That's from brainwashing education. Actually, the most unspeakable things are often the most beautiful."

I said, "I feel... I'm... falling into depravity with you..."

He said, "By falling into depravity, you can experience a kind of 'prostitute's pleasure.' Respectable women also have the right to be happy."

I said, "I once read a book that mentioned the conflict between a woman's 'maternal instinct' and 'prostitute's instinct,' but I didn't understand it at the time."

He said, "Many things don't need to be understood too clearly. What's the use of understanding? Sometimes understanding makes things more painful. Besides, what does understanding even mean? For example, someone said that the black hole in the universe leads to infinity, and the black hole in a woman's body is her vagina.

" I said, "That must have been written by a man."

He said, "What do you think he's trying to say? About women's beauty? Charm? Seduction? Attraction? Men's fear?"

I said, "I can't say."

He said, "I used to love debating, I loved data and tables, but now I'm tired of that. Arguing for ages is pointless, all empty talk."

I said, "So, what experts say is usually quite valuable, right?"

He said, "Not necessarily. For example, some time ago, someone published a paper saying that women who have just finished their periods have an uncontrollable desire for closeness with men, and their moral defenses are most easily broken. That bastard even claimed to be a clinician. Clinic it is, why play with morality? What is morality? Who can really define it?"

I said, "Hmm, that's true. But when I just finished... I think... it really is..."

He said, "I know, it's normal. The problem is, this kind of emotional thing is hard to quantify with laboratory data. Even if that guy announced, 'In my survey of 300,000 healthy women aged 25 to 35, 81.7% of the participants said their libido was stronger in the three days after their periods ended,' what information would the reader get? What does 'stronger libido' mean?" How are quantitative data presented? Number of sexual encounters? Number of masturbations? Number of orgasms? Amount of lubrication? How do you investigate these? Can you even investigate them? Ask? Sure. But what if some women don't have these conditions? No opportunity for sex, no opportunity for masturbation, no orgasms; they just silently endure their urges, their desires don't manifest in behavior, they don't even have sexual dreams—how do you explain this situation? Amount of lubrication? Let's not even talk about how you measure it; even if you really collect it with that 'lubrication collector,' some people just have low lubrication—what do you do then? And most importantly, it's a methodological issue: how did you get these answers? How can you be sure their answers are true?"

I said, "So, so-called scientific surveys, research, and data are all unreliable?"

He said, "I hope to propose these ways of thinking to help everyone think, and perhaps one day we can find truly objective research methods." I said, "Hmm, what if we combine it with a census?"

He said, "You mean, asking people about their orgasm during a census?"

I said, "Heh."

He said, "That's why I say, knowing the truth of life, the truth of facts, is almost always impossible."

I said, "So you're disgusted with research?"

He said, "Or rather, repulsed by it."

I said, "Heh."

He said, "You're laughing again."

I said, "I think if you had enough funding, you'd still do research."

He said, "How much funding is enough? It's a bottomless pit."

I said, "The lab is quite rigorous."

He said, "What's the use of rigor?"

I said, "Rigorousness makes you immortal. "

He said, "Wrong. Nothing is immortal. Immortality is just a naive fantasy."

I said, "There are some, like books, sculptures, architecture, pyramids, and so on."

He said, "A nuclear war, and everything's gone, all turned to ashes."

I said, "Why are you so pessimistic? You're only 33!"

He said, "You think disaster is far away from me ?" "Are they so far away? Think of those white-collar elites, dressed in suits and ties, entering the office, only to succumb to the scorching heat and jump off the roof in the blink of an eye."

I said, "Yeah, I remember those scenes too. It's tragic."

He said, "And the shadow of the crisis hasn't been lifted."

I said, "Yes. Even if Bin Laden is dead, there's still Kai Bin, Guan Bin."

He said, "Recently, Antarctic icebergs are collapsing on a massive scale. The shape and area of several continents are changing. Nothing is permanent. Nothing is immortal."

I said, "Yeah, everything is fleeting."

He said, "All we can get is happiness."

I said, "Happiness is rare, and fleeting."

He said, "That's right. But it's real."

I said, "Heh."

He said, "What else is reliable? Money? You can't take it with you when you die. You can't spend it in the bank, it's gone in a flash, and it depreciates so much. As for other things, even family isn't absolutely reliable. The elderly may be conservative and limited, with strange tempers; your spouse may be cold and heartless, hurting you the most."

I said, "What about children?"

He said... “Children? Who can guarantee that children will always be loyal to you? If you're not prepared for disappointment and anxiety, you'd better not have children.”

I said, “What about pets?”

He said, “Well, there are several types of pets: some are loyal, some are lazy and greedy, some are wise but foolish, and some are weak and frail. But generally speaking, as a rule, pets don't live as long as we do. Their lifespans are generally shorter than humans. Pets can be lost or die, so pets aren't reliable either. You'll be heartbroken sooner or later. I have personal experience.”

I said, “What about friends?”

He said, “Reliable, close, and truly worthy of being friends are extremely rare.”

I said, “Hmm… then you're left with yourself.”

He said, “Right. You are relatively the most reliable, but sometimes you make mistakes. When you make a mistake, there's nothing you can do. You can only wait for your moment of confusion to pass.”

I said, “What if you can't get over it?”

He said, “Then the person will break up with you.”

I said, “Hehe.”

He said, “Tell me how you touch yourself.”

I said, “Hey hey hey, just now…” " Let's get serious, why are you having another episode?"

he said. "Haha. How is talking about the body an episode? Don't you like your own body?"

I said, "Of course I do. I'm always tempted by my own body... I admire my body repeatedly, and when I touch and rub it, my gaze is always filled with narcissism and self-torture. During the long summers, I calmly look at my entire body while showering and touch it. I often close the doors and windows, stand in front of the mirror, and take off my clothes one by one. I love to hide in the back of the room, walking around naked, letting the curtains block the glaring sunlight outside, stretching my body, and enjoying a surge of pleasure. The body is my last home—that deep, warm, bright red, pulsating, fiery, throbbing, and wonderfully wondrous home. My deepest, pinkest, trembling, and most beautiful petals bloom shamelessly. My sexual needs are as natural, regular, and intense as eating when I'm hungry."

He said, "Oh."

He slowly touched my breasts, gently massaging them. I felt so good.

I continued, “Dangerous things always attract me; there’s a kind of allure that makes me tense and excited. In the long, dark nights, I’m always flushed and dreaming, my palms sweating, fantasizing about being chased and captured by bad guys, having my clothes torn off, being raped and gang-raped, being subjected to violence. I always fall into an abyss in a strange combination of pain and pleasure, flying and sinking in a black hole, unable to distinguish between joy and despair, unable to distinguish between the ugliness and beauty of this action.

My body is emptied and then filled with fingers, water splashing, and I finally lose control and let out a muffled groan, finally enjoying the satisfying fatigue and sweet softness after the exercise… Do these messy thoughts and bad habits suggest that I am a potential masochist?”

I slightly squeezed my legs together, my body rising and falling subtly. I felt my lower body getting wet. The fluids inside my body seeped out through the sweat glands of my skin and the secretory glands of my genitals, making my whole body glisten and drip with moisture when I was aroused.

Men's movements never quite suit my taste, never as nimble, supple, precise, controlled, nuanced, effortless, and intuitive as my own hands. Their already wet fingers lingered on my most sensitive spots, and an uncontrollable surge of desire welled up within me. I immediately felt my wetness turn into a leak.

I felt myself sinking to the bottom of the sea. I groaned, but I couldn't hear my own voice. I was ecstatically exhausted. Sometimes I longed to be savagely ravaged, played with, and tortured by men. I fantasized about a rapist brutally stripping off my outer clothes, tearing my underwear, grabbing my breasts, pinching, pressing, and sucking, all while uttering vulgarities. I needed to be raped. I was wanton in my fantasies. I craved the unfamiliar, the novelty and stimulation, the men surrounding me, covering me, oppressing me, crushing me, the extreme pleasure from all forms of extreme torture. Dozens of men's hands hungrily gripped my body, making me so comfortable I lost control of my bladder and bowels. Once, I saw a lot of sausages in the deli section of the supermarket, of varying lengths and thicknesses. I suddenly wondered why I hadn't realized this possibility before.

He kissed my neck and said, "You just picked a thick one and bought it?"

I said, "Yeah."

He said, "And then?"

I said, "I was afraid it would be too cold, so I boiled it in hot water for a while. When I took it out, the temperature was slightly higher than my body temperature."

He said, "That's right, your internal body temperature will be higher than your surface temperature. And then?"

I said, "And then I..."

He kissed my ear and said, "Tell me."

I said, "Oh, you can guess even if I don't tell you."

He said, "No, there are many possibilities for the sausage game, how would I know how you actually played it?"

I said, "You're so naughty. I just... put the sausage... inside."

He said, "Slow down, slow down, which opening?"

I said, "Oh, you pervert! Before we did that, I never played the back."

He said, "What a pity. Go on."

I said, "I... I just... I trembled and raped myself, letting myself find release in the cruelty."

He said, "What did it feel like?"

I said, "Mmm... tingling... excitement... extreme madness... frenzy... surging..."

I said all this to him while touching his big stick. His big meat stick had become big and hard.

I said, "Look at yourself, what a mess you've made of."

He said, "Do I even need to look? I knew what he was up to the moment he tilted his head. Like, if you're wet, do I need to take off my pants to see?"

I said, "Yeah, no need to look, I already know. Hey comrade, why are you so wet? Look at yourself, what a mess you've made of. You've spilled all over other people's hands."

He said, "Are you wet?"

I said, "Hehe, you can tell by touching yourself."

His hand reached over and gently touched my clitoris and the opening of my vagina. I was already soaking wet down there.

He said, "Oh~ I like you when you're wet."

I said, "I'm not a shameless woman."

He said, "I know. I understand. Please stop using such harsh moralistic language. You're a very, very good woman. I care about you. You know that?"

I said, "Mmm."

He gently touched my smooth labia and said, "You're so beautiful! Your body is so beautiful."

I said, "Thank you."

He said, "Why are you thanking me? I'm not just being glib, I'm not flattering you, I'm stating the facts, it's the real shock you've given me."

I said, "Oh."

Under the teasing of his fingers, I felt a thick fluid secreting from my lower area again. He must have felt it.

He said, “The body’s natural functions are beautiful. Happiness is beautiful. Nudity, the body, flesh, the body’s form, movement, and function can all be beautiful and moving.”

I said, “Hmm…”

He said, “Face yourself with a healthy attitude, get rid of anxiety, stress, hesitation, and inner struggle.”

I said, “Oh…”

He said, “The ethical and moral principles we are taught from childhood are always stronger than our ego. Their constraints on us are invisible yet powerful. Everyone has some kind of tight band around their head. People who suffer from the anxiety caused by moral pressure find it hard to relax. Now is the time to make a change.”

I said, “Shut up… Do you always talk so much after we get into bed?”

He smiled and said softly, “I’m sorry…”

I said, “It’s okay. Can you finish what you’re doing?”

He said, “I’d be happy to.”

In the darkness of the room, he used his nimble fingers to “play” my body again. His hands roamed all over my body, not missing an inch of my skin. I was extremely aroused and reached out to touch his penis. Two naked, hot bodies intertwined. His thick, long cannon stood there, its large head thrusting defiantly at me...

I said, "Hey, why are you always standing? Aren't you tired?"

He said, "Hehe, of course, that's why I sleep so much."

I said, "..." He said, "Body functions, use it or lose it. If you don't use it, it atrophies."

I said, "Nonsense."

He said, "Really, orgasms stimulate secretions, maintaining the elasticity of the vagina and surrounding muscles, preventing atrophy."

We indulged in our passion. He held me, his hands roaming over my body, making me incredibly excited. I moaned.

"Mmm...mmm...ah...so good! So good! Mmm...uh...mmm...ah...it's so wonderful, so comfortable!"

My body felt incredibly excited, a kind of willing surrender to pleasure. I became extremely aroused. All I could think about now was sensory stimulation, the ultimate pleasure, the most intoxicating unrestrained lust, and physical release. I didn't think about anything else. I became flirtatious, alluring, even a little lewd.

But I knew that with him, I was safe.

I wouldn't be hurt. Enjoying perfect wine and food, then going home to make love leisurely and flirt casually. Is this my life? Yes. I've always had the right to choose this, but I haven't made it.

He said, "Is it comfortable?"

I said, "Mmm."

He said, "Stop just 'mmm.' Tell me more about how you feel."

I said, "No. I'm embarrassed."

He said, "I love to hear it. The more explicit you are, the more exciting it is for me."

I whispered, "Pinch my clitoris... a little harder... mmm... mmm... mmm... oh... mmm... mmm... mmm..."

The unprecedented excitement in my brain led to a large secretion of vaginal fluid.

He said, "You're so sexy, I like you like this. Look how much juice you're leaking down there."

I said, "It's all for you."

He said, "I like it. Baby, I like it. I'm happy for you when you're happy."

I said, "Thank you. "

He said, "Here we go again. What are you thanking me for?"

I said, "You care so much about me. You care so much about a woman's feelings."

He said, “Nothing is more important than making a life happy. Baby, make yourself happy.”

As he spoke, he slowly inserted the vibrator into my wet vagina and turned it on. The vibrator began to vibrate inside my vagina. My vagina was already highly engorged. His fingers twisted and turned, and every spot he touched made me feel unbearable… An orgasm overwhelmed me, and I was submerged without realizing it.

He said, “Tell me how you feel right now.”

I said, “Itchy.”

He said, “Where does it itch?”

I said, “The entrance.”

He said, “What entrance?”

I said, “I’m embarrassed to say.”

He said, “Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

I said, “My vulva.”

He said, “Is it wet?”

I said, “Mmm…wet…”

He said, “Your vulva is wet?”

I said, “Yes, from the inside out, it’s wet.”

I groaned violently in his arms. I twisted my body, my clitoris slippery.

He thrust in, making continuous thrusts, wild lust igniting a raging fire. I was delirious, floating on air.

I was numb to the bone. I gradually felt the magma surging beneath the surface, witnessing the inevitable, irreversible eruption.

His face, pressed against mine, grew increasingly hot, like boiling water. He breathed heavily, continuing his frenzied, powerful thrusting, until finally, he convulsed and ejaculated within my tight, fleshy opening.

Hot semen sprayed violently into my cavity, separated from my cervix only by a thin condom.

The intense, satisfying lovemaking brought me immense pleasure. We fell asleep, holding each other tightly.

When I woke up, I didn't know what time it was. The bedroom was dimly lit. I couldn't tell if it was morning, dawn, or dusk.

The surrounding buildings were very quiet. Urination was urgent.

I got up to go to the bathroom, and when I returned to bed, he was awake, looking at me tenderly.

I said, "You rascal, you're really great, you made me feel so good."

He started touching my back again. I loved the feeling of his rough, large hands rubbing my back. But I was covered in sweat.

I said, "Don't do that."

He said, "What's wrong?"

I said, "It's all sweat."

He said, "I like it."

I said, "Don't..."

He said, "What's wrong with sweat? It's not dirty. I like it, don't be nervous."

I said, "Sweat is urine excreted through the skin, don't you know?"

He said, "So what? Is urine dirty?"

I said, "Hey, you..."

He said, "I reviewed a film where the husband and wife were showering together in the bathroom, standing up. Suddenly he said he needed to pee, and the wife said, 'Are you going to do something naughty again?' The husband said yes. The wife then parted her lower labia." Her lips parted, revealing her clitoris, and the husband urinated on it while simultaneously kneading her large, white breasts. The wife seemed quite comfortable, whispering to her husband, "Next time, save it up and pee inside me, let me see what it feels like..."

I said, "And then what happened?"

He said, "Then they got busy with other things, and only remembered it when the film was almost over."

I said, "And then?"

He said, "They did it."

I said, "She really let her husband do that?"

He said, "Yeah, but it wasn't very noticeable on camera."

I said, "Wouldn't her belly get bigger then? How..." "How can you not tell?"

he said. "You think her husband is some big shot?"

I said, "I think you're the big shot. The other day I heard you peeing in the bathroom, and you peed for so long. You must have peed two pounds."

He said, "No, I pee four pounds every time."

I laughed, "Nonsense."

He said, "Don't believe me? Let's have a contest sometime."

I said, "Hehe."

He said, "It's a deal."

I said, "Don't underestimate me. You might have heard a saying."

He said, "What saying?"

I said, "It says that men shouldn't compete with women when drinking. You might not be a match for them."

He laughed loudly, "Haha! I understand! " "I'm going to that medical equipment store in Wangfujing tomorrow to buy two large measuring cups."

I said, "You're really going?"

He said, "Yeah. I mean what I say. I'm capable of anything."

I said, "Aren't you afraid people will laugh at you?"

He said, "I'm happy for you, I don't care what the salespeople think!"

I said, "People will talk, didn't they? That guy just now, he's probably going back to water his flowers. Or maybe he's a farmer."

He said, "Seriously, I'm really going to buy two large measuring cups tomorrow, the 5000ml kind, and you can't back out when I get back."

I said, "What are you talking about? A bottle of Yanjing beer is only 640. " "Milliliters."

He said, "Let me practice first. I don't dare underestimate you, haha."

I said, "If you dare to buy, I'll play along. What will you say if the salesperson asks you what it's for?"

He said, "The customer is God, does she dare question God?"

I said, "Alright, how many times have you been God in Beijing?"

He said, "Just kidding. I've seen it all."

I said, "What have you seen all?"

He said, "The perverts. I'm nothing compared to the big shots, I'm a child."

I said, "Oh, really? If you're nothing, then what must the big shots be like? Haha."

He said, "Hehe."

I said, "Hey, seriously, do you really... think... think..."

He said, "What?"

I said, "...It's not dirty?"

He said, "It's like this... " We've all been brainwashed to some extent; we're all victims of brainwashing education. When we face anything natural, we feel tense, anxious, lost, and confused. The ethical and moral principles we've been taught since childhood are always stronger than our own selves; their constraints on us are invisible yet powerful. Each of us bears moral pressure while simultaneously being tormented by our own desires. Such anxious beings find it difficult to relax. Actually, our bodies are beautiful, and their natural functions aren't necessarily ugly. Happiness is beautiful. Nudity, the body, flesh, the body's form, movement, and function can all be beautiful and moving. Let's get back to our earlier topic. We talked about sweat and urine, and you asked if it was dirty.

I said, "Yes, it is."

He said, "First of all, I have to say I don't think they're that clean or pure. Even if a glass of urine is crystal clear, I wouldn't drink it. But if you say our bodily fluids are 'dirty,' I can't agree either. I mean, don't take it too seriously. Don't put pressure on yourself or feel anxious. If you don't have any, you don't have any; having sex dry and easy is fine too. If you do have any, you do have some; sweating a little, what's the big deal? It proves you're alive. At worst, you just wash the sheets afterwards. As for peeing, if you want to play around, go to the bathroom; it's easy to flush. Don't call me a pervert. The truly perverted ones are the ghosts that linger outside public toilets all day, the hearts that dare not look you in the eye." A scoundrel is someone who disrespects others' feelings and emotions, someone who finds pleasure in hurting and tormenting others. A truly perverted person is psychologically twisted, brutal, ruthless, and a liar. Now, let's talk about education. This is a big issue. For example, when a child asks their parents, "Where did I come from?" and the parents angrily rebuke, "Shut up! Don't ever ask that question again!" the child realizes, "Oh, this question is 'unacceptable,' it's 'bad.'" Another example: when parents discover a young child exploring and touching their own body, they scold the child... If a child is labeled a "rogue," they realize, "Oh, I'm a rogue, I'm a bad person..." These combined elements form a tight band around their neck, growing into their very being, causing distortion, torment, devastation, and pain in a child's heart that parents could never have imagined. Our attitude towards our own bodily secretions and excretions is a particularly typical reflection of the various negative values instilled and imposed upon us by our parents. Let's start with the concept of "dirtiness." From a very young age, parents instill in us concepts such as: "Pee is filthy," "Sweat is filthy," "Menstrual blood is filthy," and so on. "It's so dirty," "Semen is so dirty"... It seems that almost nothing our bodies secrete or excrete is considered clean by the elderly. In reality, as long as we are alive, our lives continue, our metabolism continues, and we inevitably secrete these normal substances. Women are very secretive about their menstrual flow (amount, color, odor). But is menstruation a disease? No. On the contrary, a normal menstrual cycle and a normal amount of menstrual flow are physiological markers of a healthy, mature, and non-pregnant woman. In the process of suggestion, this creates and reinforces a certain... The negative emotional experience is 'shame'. This constraint is very powerful, making you feel ashamed and unable to hold your head high. Some girls, instead of being taught relevant health knowledge by their parents, are kept silent or threatened with, "You must never let anyone see or know about that kind of thing." As a result, when the girl discovers she has started menstruating, she feels fear, worry, anxiety, panic, helplessness, loneliness, and confusion. She thinks she has a fatal disease, or she's afraid of getting her underwear and sheets 'stained' and being scolded, so she secretly gets up in the middle of the night to frantically wash herself with cold water. They know they shouldn't touch cold water at this time. Many boys who find themselves experiencing nocturnal emissions are also filled with anxiety, their only thought being that they are becoming 'dirty'. Another typical example is the issue of a pregnant woman's body image. For a long time, society (including parents) has been implying that pregnant women are sick, lack beauty, are shameful, and cause a lot of trouble... The concepts of shame and filth are inseparable. From a very young age, our parents instill in us concepts such as: Shame! So shameful! That's ugly! Don't show that. Don't do that! That's too... How disgusting! That's no good, only scoundrels think about that. This is no good, that's disgusting, that's perverted. Look how fat that person is! So ugly. Look at that pregnant woman, her belly is so big, so ugly. Look at that disabled person, so ugly. Or—look at those two, they're both in their fifties or sixties, still doing those things, how shameful! Or, masturbation is pathetic, incontinence during sex is wrong, telling dirty stories and using vulgar nicknames during sex is scoundrelly, fantasizing about same-sex love is perverted and terrible, feeling sexual pleasure during an enema is obscene, gynecological examinations or childbirth... During a medical examination, vaginal lubrication and arousal are considered promiscuous; during breastfeeding, sexual arousal and vaginal lubrication are improper; fantasizing about sex with animals is improper; using sex toys is perverted; liking specific body parts is pathological; relationships where the woman is older than the man are perverted; anal penetration is perverted; liking bondage games and fantasizing about rough sex scenes are promiscuous… Thus, according to traditional views, if we continue down this path, we will find that sex is only for healthy, beautiful, neither fat nor thin, women who are not menstruating, not pregnant, and aged 20-30. "A 20-year-old man who only knows how to penetrate the vagina and doesn't know how to caress any other part of his body, and who can't turn on the lights or make any noise while they're doing it... This is all prejudice, it's discrimination. I'll fuck their mothers the instigators and accomplices of this discrimination!"

I said, "So you think you can accept anything?"

He said, "Not really. I have many bottom lines. For example, there must be consideration and respect, that's the most important, the first priority. Secondly, there must be sufficient communication, that's a sign of civilization. Secondly, I don't like pain, violence, drug intervention, or things against one's will. Also, the use of so-called profanity must be extremely careful. Civilized, cultured people use those words in necessary situations to enhance the other person's pleasure, to help them relax further, to help them experience the pleasure of transgression, to make them more excited, and..." "It's not about insulting the other person."

I said, "Yes, I completely agree."

He said, "Actually, some harmless personal preferences, as long as they don't hurt others, don't need to be suppressed or hidden. When the most normal, natural, and simple emotions are suppressed (for a long time), they often manifest in a strong rebellious posture. Many of us lack an objective and open-minded state of mind. I saw a film about high school students. In class, the teacher held a banana and demonstrated to the students how to properly wear a condom, how to squeeze out the air at the tip, and even personally demonstrated how to use a speculum, flashlight, and hand mirror to examine their own cervix. The students all gathered around, learning a new game. As soon as the bell rang, the children all ran off, running and playing football in the sunshine and on the grass, while the girls danced fitness dances and swam. I particularly like a state of mind, which is also a way of life." It means being open and carefree, unperturbed by praise or criticism, content with one's lot, and going with the flow. It means being able to drink a little, or not, without feeling anxious. It means being able to associate with friends, or not. It means being able to go to the city when you want, or leave when you want. It means being able to go abroad when you want, or return when you want. It means being able to go online when you want, or not when you don't. It means being able to have sex when you want, or not when you don't. It means being without desire or ambition, neither arrogant nor humble. The law of no law is the ultimate law. If you can do these things, you can be at ease, you can be happy, you can experience a sense of relative freedom, because you are not easily controlled by others. Nothing matters, you can have anything or lack anything, just be proactive.”

I said, “Have you achieved this?”

He said, “I’m trying my best, but I don’t know how much I can achieve. I’m a serious and earnest person, but I’m not rigid. It’s a fact that excessive mental exertion leads to a heavy burden. We already have enough burdens, enough weight, and our lives are already dull enough.” "That's boring enough. Don't you agree?"

I said, "How harmful is negative education really? Have you only seen a part of the whole picture?"

He said, "Of course, what we can see is just the tip of the iceberg. We can't see most people's lives because most people are used to silence. But even the tip of the iceberg is still an iceberg; it lets you know that such ice exists. Just browse a few counseling sites, and all you'll see are questions like—'I want to ask, is my situation normal?' Am I normal? I like him to tie me up and whip me during sex… I fantasize about being gang-raped… Am I a pervert? I like to give him oral sex, am I normal? I'm very disgusted by my husband's requests for oral sex. What should I do? I don't like boys my own age; I like men much older than me, am I normal? She's more than ten years older than me, but I'm really infatuated with her, am I normal?" His scent excites and arouses me. Am I normal? I don't experience any pleasure during sex with my husband. I have a very close female friend, and we often masturbate each other… Why does she prefer masturbation to sex? She says she's not interested in me. Is she sick? She doesn't moan during sex. Is she normal? Do I have problems? Am I normal? Am I the only one that… I want to go down on my wife after she's had sex with another man? Am I normal?” I said, “So, many people care about other people's attitudes?”

He said, “Yes. Actually, we can’t please everyone, so we don’t need to care about how others treat us. The important thing is yourself. You need to take good care of yourself and cherish yourself. Generally speaking, the formation of a conditioned reflex requires repeated exposure, which means it takes time. But there are exceptions. You must have heard about the correlation between personal preferences and early experiences. I’ve read about a few examples abroad.”

I said, “Tell me.”

He said, “For example, there was a man living in a port city in Finland. His first sexual experience was with a woman who sold fish. The fishy smell naturally emanating from her accompanied his pleasant memories. Gradually, he came to think that the fishy smell was the most erotic smell in the world. So much so that in the years that followed, he particularly liked the smell of fish. Whenever he smelled fish, he couldn’t help but recall his most pleasant experience, which became a strange preference. Would you call this a comedy or a tragedy?”

I said, “Neither happy nor sad. Actually, the smell of fish is just a smell.”

He said, “Yes. The real deviation is actually…” I think it's about amplifying things that shouldn't be amplified, emphasizing isolated events and stimuli to an inappropriate level. For example, there was a man, I forget which country he was from, who witnessed a rape from behind bushes when he was a child and was deeply traumatized. As a result, he grew up always mixing sex with violent games, which became a kind of addiction. There was also a boy from New York (when he was thirteen, his sister brought two female classmates home when his parents were at work, and they played games with him, held him down, took off his clothes, and touched him, which led to his first ejaculation. His experience was very intense, and years later he developed a preference for older women and was rather passive with them. There was also a female office worker who was gang-raped as a child and experienced intense multiple orgasms. Later, after marriage, she couldn't reach orgasm unless she was tied up and fucked..."

I said, "You're saying that children are like blank sheets of paper; whatever is drawn on them, they remember it firmly, and the memory may be exceptionally deep. " "It won't be easy to erase later, right?"

He said, "Yes, this is the famous 'imprinting' theory in foreign education circles. Once any concept is formed, it is difficult to change, and reversing a concept is extremely difficult. The formation of a certain concept is not a matter of a single day; it takes a long time to form, and to reverse it, the effort required may be a hundred times that of the concept's formation. Once long-standing ingrained behavioral habits are broken and disrupted, the individual needs to readjust and adapt, and that process is equally painful. A few days ago, a friend from the procuratorate told me this true story: In prison, detainees must report before defecating and only go after receiving permission. One detainee, after serving his sentence and returning home, no longer needed to report before defecating. Guess what happened? This person suffered from severe constipation, was in great pain, and it took more than five months for him to gradually improve and slowly adapt to the procedure of not needing to report. This is the power of conditioned reflexes. In our growth and life, we naturally develop many kinds of concepts. At the beginning of their formation, can we form positive, healthy, and upward-looking concepts?" A beautiful ideal? Haven't there been reports that children raised on wolf's milk, growing up with wolves, often struggle to adapt to human society even after returning as adults? They are completely incompatible with human rules, language, logic, ethics, rules of the game, legal awareness, and behavioral norms. You could say, let them go back to the forest—that might be humane for a wolf child, but they would almost certainly lose the opportunity to enjoy all the other happinesses of human society. Keeping them in human society? Not only would they suffer, but they could also pose a threat to those with different values. In short, such wolf children are a tragedy for humanity. I didn't grow up with wolves. I didn't experience the suffering of wolf children. Yes, in a sense, I grew up in a different kind of "forest" or "desert," and I had my own suffering. The movies I watched as a child, the ones I still vaguely remember, were mostly things like *The Red Detachment of Women*, *Red Crag*, and *Bitter Herbs*. I didn't see any constructive, positive, healthy, or uplifting works of art as a child because you couldn't find them. What kind of healthy, positive, and uplifting literary and artistic works? Almost all the information from that era was distorted. I'm not saying that works like *The Red Detachment of Women*, *Red Crag*, and *Bitter Herbs* are inherently bad. The problem is that the educators and policymakers of that era probably never considered the potential and long-term impact these works would have on the minds and values of children whose brains were like blank slates. A lack of variety in food can lead to picky eating habits in children, potentially even developing addictions. They might also develop a lack of appreciation for other foods, reacting with alarm at the sight of them, easily tempted, overeating, or secretly craving them, feeling unbalanced. Then there's the issue of profanity. Sometimes, if it happens, swearing or using vulgar language can be a very stimulating experience, enhancing the stimulation we receive. For example, during intimacy, we generally avoid using clinical terminology, such as "vagina" or "penis," because it's too cold and impersonal (unless playing a doctor/nurse/patient game). This fosters a sense of excitement and a quiet, vengeful pleasure against conservative education. Speaking of... Ultimately, no matter how much you've been brainwashed, you still need to dare to tell your closest loved ones about your special preferences and hobbies. You need to learn to express yourself. Just like what you like to eat or use. Only by speaking out can others satisfy you. For example, a woman might particularly enjoy her husband stroking her back, find being tied up exciting, or have sensitive areas behind her ears, but if she doesn't say it, her partner generally won't think of it. Speaking out is a matter of self-respect.

I said, "But sometimes it feels awkward. Even couples can't always communicate about everything, right? The other person might feel..."

He said, "I understand, but everyone needs affirmation. What is normal? What's the difference between normal and abnormal? What's the dividing line? Who has the right to define it? If you say that behavior that most people do is normal, then what percentage is 'most'? And measuring the incidence of a certain behavior in the total population is almost impossible... For two people to maintain passion for a long time is fundamentally a challenge to themselves. If you analyze it from an evolutionary perspective, adhering to monogamy and..." To be completely unaffected by external temptations goes against the nature of most living beings. However, as humans, through the process of socialization and adaptation, and under the demands of society, we learn to restrain our nature and are forced to limit our desires. I think that after a certain period of time, the passion in a marriage will naturally fade. Let's put it this way, maintaining passion is impossible.”

I said, “Ha, that makes sense, but who can truly detach themselves from the outcome when doing things? I don't believe anyone can truly do something without considering the result. Every marriage is a gamble; when I don't want to play anymore, I leave. Or I find someone else to continue gambling.”

He said, “Actually, if you observe carefully, you'll find that everyone's words, actions, and thoughts contain certain contradictions. I guess you are. Me too. Sometimes I think, 'Forget it, let's give up, this is how my life is,' and sometimes I feel, 'No, I was born a rare wolf. Although I live in a sheepfold wearing sheep's clothing, if I were really treated like a lamb and eaten, wouldn't that be the tragedy of wolves?'” "

I said, 'Aren't you an intellectual?'

He said, 'Well... strictly speaking, I'm a rebel in academia...'

I said, 'How so?'

He said, 'I'm a marginal figure. I don't belong to any institution or authority. I've wandered in academic circles, and after knowing what it's like inside, I still choose to be a free person. Because my will is free.'

I said, 'Oh, I thought you were a wolf infiltrating the sheepfold.'

He said, 'Last night I had a dream.

' I said, 'Tell me about it.'

He said, 'I dreamt... it was midnight. I was standing in a huge airport waiting hall, in front of huge floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the boundless ocean. Many people were asleep in their chairs. I turned around and saw a young couple kissing goodbye in the other end of the hall, reluctant to part. They were hugging each other, whispering something. I seemed to suddenly recall the scene of parting with my woman years ago... or foresee the scene of parting with my woman here...'

I said, 'How do you think this dream is best interpreted?'"

He said, "I basically disagree with Freud's theory. It's well known that dreams are the result of brainwave activity. But I have another explanation—the signals in dreams are transmitted to us from past lives or future lives (souls, prophets). In other words, dreams are special signal transmission channels. It's just that some signals we don't understand, some we ignore, and some we forget when we wake up."

I said, "Tell me about yourself. Can you? I want to hear about you."

He said, "Well, when I was a child, I didn't have any toys. I was particularly envious of a friend I knew who had a small toy car." Toy cars. Even now, every time I walk past the toy counter, I can't help but stop and look at this and that.

I said, "You're older now, you earn money, you can buy them yourself."

He said, "You think I haven't bought any? I've collected thousands of toy cars." I

said, "Aren't you done? Take them out and play with them whenever you want."

He said, "I do play. I always play with my cars. I lie on the floor and build parks, bus stations, dispatch rooms, intersections, and then push all my different cars around." Later I realized that I could never recapture the feeling I had when I was three, four, five, or six years old playing with toy cars. "I understand ..."

I said. "Some lessons can never be made up for."

He said, "That night, in the middle of the night, I went to the bedroom window, didn't turn on the light, drew back the curtains, and looked outside. A sky full of stars, flickering on and off. I had my glasses off, so the stars in the sky looked enormous, and the moon was plump. The soft light from outside illuminated the mess on the bed; the shadows of the folded blankets and sheets were like a painting. The starlight was brilliant, and I suddenly felt a sense of beauty, a stirring in my soul, a feeling of being moved. Being moved is being lost."

I said, "Are you still lost now?"

He said, "Yes, sometimes I am. " "Happy. I'm lost in a new forest now. Forests are for getting lost. I personally think that, regardless of Chongqing, forests, Norwegian woods, all carry this meaning, a metaphor for cities, emotions, and emotions within cities. Persistence is getting lost, and getting lost is closest to human nature."

I said, "Why?"

He said, "Because of confusion, because you can't recognize other possibilities. Everyone has been lost. A person is born like entering a vast forest, shrouded in mist, and you can get lost anytime, anywhere. Money, emotions, titles, housing… every glistening drop of dew could be an entrance that tempts you to get lost."

Silence.

I said, "Okay, I'm afraid I have to go home. Now, it's time to go back."

He took my hand.

He said, "Yes, home is home after all. But I really don't want you to leave."

I said, "There's no way."

He said, "When will we see each other again?"

I said, "I don't know… I haven't settled yet…"

Back to my familiar home. My own home. No one was home. I went into the bathroom, took off my clothes, and turned on the warm water. Water gently sprayed from the showerhead, hitting my head, flowing down my hair, across my face, nose, lips, neck, shoulders, down my breasts and cleavage, around my legs, meandering downwards. The water caressed my body. My hands casually washed the uneven surfaces of my skin, my mind thinking: Why didn't I meet him sooner? Ah, that's fate. That guy, where did all those bad ideas come from... But then again, I've been given decades, if I just lived them uneventfully, it would be so boring. I'd be letting myself down. I removed the showerhead, flipped the showerhead over, and changed the water spray to spray upwards. I spread my legs and placed the showerhead on my private parts, experiencing the warm water playfully hitting my sensitive center. Oh—oh… this—feels so good… I'm going to tingle… I almost immediately got excited… I washed myself

clean, dried myself off, and walked out of the bathroom. While drying my hair, I turned on the TV. On TV, a bunch of idiots were having a heated discussion about what the most adventurous thing for modern people is to do? A short, unattractive man in a suit said, "Mountain climbing is the most adventurous, the ultimate challenge to your physical strength and courage." A live band then strummed a tune in a sarcastic tone.

A secretary-like woman said, "I like paragliding, experiencing that graceful beauty." The live band then strummed a tune in a sarcastic tone. A young woman whispered, "I think the most exciting thing is taking a plane and then skydiving." The live band then made another sarcastic, cheesy sound. Then guests, hosts, and audience members all rushed to speak: horseback riding, swimming, diving, surfing, hiking, marathons, bungee jumping, rock climbing, motorcycling—the scene was complete chaos…

I turned off the TV. A bunch of idiots. Actually, relationships are the biggest adventure.

I poured myself a glass of water, sat down at the computer, but had no intention of turning it on. My mind was blank. I needed to enjoy some peace and quiet. I've been receiving too much information these past few days; I'm a little overwhelmed. I need to "organize the fragments," clearing out some old files. Everyone ages quickly, very quickly. When I'm old and frail, how will I look back on this time? Hmm, maybe that's it—this woman is unusual, bold and decisive, letting others judge her after her death, unafraid of gossip, endless grudges and grievances, why bother thinking about them…

Thinking this, I smiled slightly and drank the water I had poured for myself.

The door opened, and my husband came home. He changed his shoes, washed his hands, and we exchanged a few mundane words about everyday matters. My face was no longer flushed, but deep down, I was still worried he might notice the change in my complexion. At least it was rosier than before. But my worries were unnecessary. He didn't notice my subtle change. He didn't even glance at me once from the moment he entered until we ate. He didn't even bother to look at his wife properly.

I suddenly realized that this was how we had lived for years. He had always been like this, rarely making eye contact with me. Was he afraid to look into my eyes? Or was he disgusted? Annoyed? Or just too lazy to look? And I had slowly adapted to this kind of life. This bland, detached, nominal family life—I had just put the food on the table when he casually turned on the TV. Television programs are really boring. But what if we don't watch TV? It seems even more boring, like something's missing at home. Sigh, our lives are already being sustained and lubricated by these boring TV programs. News, news, most channels are broadcasting the news. A few channels are showing sports. Amidst the boring news and tennis, we finished dinner, and my husband got up and went back to his room.

I was still sitting at the dining table, remote control in hand, flipping through TV channels. Real estate ads, car ads, ads for the same song, sanitary napkin ads, beverage ads, cell phone ads… I kept changing channels until after nine o'clock.

Then, I accidentally saw a rural mainland drama on the screen.

Moonlight, on a heated kang bed, a man and a woman in their thirties, panting heavily.

The man lay flat on his back. Obviously, a passionate scene had just ended.

The man asked, "Do you regret it?"

The woman said, "No."

The man asked, "Why?"

The woman said, "Finally, I've had a good meal; it's a blessing."

The man said, "I'd better leave before nightfall, otherwise, the whole village will be full of people at dawn; how will I get there?"

The woman said, "Hold me a little longer. I eat coarse grains and pickled vegetables; I have no one to confide in, and I'm dying. You're a good person. I'm willing to share my heart with you, even if it's just for a little while, even for a moment; it's all worth it. Don't call me a bad woman..."

The man hugged the woman tightly and kissed her: "My good woman..."

Seeing this, my heart skipped a beat, as if someone had gently touched it.

The two people on the screen slowly fell asleep in each other's arms, and the small house fell silent, without a sound.

The entire village fell silent, without a sound.

The camera panned up, and under the moonlight, the village was bathed in silver light. The camera then pulled back, revealing countless such small villages beyond the mountains.

How many people are still alive? How many, like that woman and me, crave comfort and solace?

My husband's indifference is unbearable.

Thinking of my lover, a warmth rises in my heart, a surge of heat wells up within me. He is unassuming, yet he dispels my melancholy, makes my eyes sparkle, gives my complexion a rosy glow, lightens my steps, and gives me energy even for housework at home. He helps me see things more clearly.

06-01
Chapter Two: Truth is Crueler Than Imagination

I'm on a business trip. Where to? I forget. By train. Hard seat. Night train. A handsome man sits opposite me, exuding an air of importance, constantly glancing at me.

It's midnight. The main lights in the carriage are off, only the aisle lights remain, emitting a faint glow. All the other passengers are asleep. I, too, drift off to sleep and close my eyes.

As I was about to fall asleep, my legs felt swollen, so I took off my shoes and stretched them out on the opposite seat, next to the handsome man's buttocks.

He gave my feet a little space. I quickly fell asleep.

In the darkness, I felt him help me take off my white cotton socks.

He held my feet, taking one off, then the other. He gently held one of my feet and massaged it steadily and firmly.

My heart was pounding, and waves of tingling sensations spread through my body. I couldn't describe the feeling, only that it was so stimulating, so exciting. He patiently massaged the soles and toes of my bare feet, and I let him do as he pleased, without struggling.

Unconsciously, my sexual desire had been ignited.

I realized that the narrow fabric of my thong was digging between my labia, constantly rubbing against my clitoris.

I blushed, my mind racing, but I had to pretend to be asleep.

My legs are long, shapely, and white—the part of my body I'm most satisfied with.

My feet are fair with a rosy tint, smooth and delicate skin, high arches, and perfectly toed feet—the part of my body I find most sensual.

Unfortunately, my husband doesn't appreciate or cherish them.

A man is caressing my feet, and I can't help but openly touch my clitoris, masturbating with abandon…

In this dreamlike state, I ascend to my own paradise, finally waking slowly amidst azure and wetness.

I wake, still panting, my body burning. The orgasm is at 100.

I rarely feel this excited in my sleep. But it happened.

I really like him. Every time I think back to being with him, I get excited. This thing is addictive.

I'm addicted; I want to see him and hold him every day.

If I can't see him, I feel lost, devoid of emotion and motivation.

When I get home and into bed, I secretly recall the "bad" things he's done to me…

Thinking about it makes me unable to control myself, burning with desire. I touch myself. I play with myself. I tease myself, I play with myself.

In the moments before my masturbation climax, I imagine myself as a lowly female slave stripped naked in a slave market, publicly humiliated and played with by him.

Masturbation is addictive. Thinking of him leads me to masturbate. Masturbation makes me think of him even more.

I'm sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss of lust, sometimes even able to orgasm just by clamping my legs together without using my hands.

After my body is "developed" by my lover, I feel a surge of desire throughout my body.

For example, right now, after waking up, I lie in bed and continue to casually touch my genitals, easily reaching orgasm within a minute.

Masturbation is my secret life. I can't help myself, I'm not in control of myself. Masturbation feels so wonderful.

Masturbation has once again become an important part of my private life; I feel like I've returned to the two years before my marriage, masturbating fiercely day and night.

When I was seventeen, I first "humiliated" myself to orgasm.

I remember reading a serious novel at home, and some of the "humiliation" of women in it thrilled me to death.

I got into bed, my body burning with desire. I stripped naked, and without thinking, I touched my genitals. It was unbearably hot, my cheeks were numb, and all the blood rushed to my head.

An orgasm erupted. I felt like the sky had fallen.

I felt like I had become a woman, and I knew how to bring secret pleasure to my body.

Masturbation gave me an unprecedented pleasure, an almost euphoric feeling.

On our wedding night, I didn't find the thought of "becoming a woman" annoying at all!

My husband has almost never given me an orgasm; he's very gentle, and his time is very short. If I had known he was like that before we got married, I definitely wouldn't have married him. Now it's too late.

To be honest, after that first time when I was seventeen, I was quite worried. I worried that after we got married, my husband would find out I had done it myself, and I worried that it would be difficult for us to reach orgasm together.

Later, my worries all came true.

After we got married, before we separated, while he was asleep, on our bed, I would secretly touch my burning body countless times, biting my lip to keep quiet.

I even shed tears for it.

I've always felt guilty about masturbation. I think it's bad for women to masturbate.

Countless times I've asked myself: if I had never masturbated, would I be more compatible with my husband in bed?

But the craving is addictive. Itchy! An unbearable itch! An itch that masturbation can't kill! I miss him. I miss him terribly. A gentleman pursuing a lady takes time; a resentful woman seeking a bachelor can be done in half an hour. And so, a respectable wife met the "devil" again, sneaking around, furtively knocking on the door. He grabbed me and pulled me inside, kicking the door shut. As

soon as I entered, he brutally pinned me against the entryway wall, kissing me passionately, like he'd just been released from ten years in prison.

An electric shock coursed through my body.

My face was pressed against his, neither of us willing to budge. Our breathing was rapid, our heartbeats pounding.

His scent filled my nostrils. I panicked, completely bewildered.

He stared at me fiercely. I felt like I was facing a hungry wolf.

His eyes held nothing but the flames of desire. I could hear the crackling of dry tinder igniting a raging fire. Would this animalistic fire consume me?

For a moment, I couldn't think straight.

My mind was filled with hatred, resentment towards my husband, bitterness over his emotional abuse, and fury at all injustice. Hatred and lust burned within me.

Women must be liberated!

Today, I'm going to turn the tables!

I felt his erection. At that moment, my wanton reaction surged.

I found myself involuntarily clamping my legs together. A warm, half-familiar, half-strange sensation was spreading from between my legs.

He asked, "Missed me?"

I nodded.

He asked, "Missed what?"

I whispered, "Everything about you."

He said, "You're a fierce animal, don't mess with me!"

I said, "I will."

He said, "You'll face the consequences!"

With that, his wicked hand slipped under my skirt.

Dizzy, I felt like I was a high school girl again, a charming young woman who blushed easily.

I asked him, "Missed me?"

He snorted, dragged me into the bedroom, threw me on the bed, and stripped me naked in a few swift movements.

He stared into my eyes, a vicious glare, like an old wolf eyeing a naked lamb beneath its paws.

My face suddenly flushed, and my heart pounded frighteningly.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, tiny dust motes dancing in the air.

The dazzling light illuminated his face, and I was mesmerized.

I squinted at his rosy lips, bright and captivating in the sunlight. For a moment, my mind went blank, and I felt a surge of infatuation.

I carefully examined the old wolf's forehead, gently pinching his soft earlobe with my fingers.

I gazed at his handsome features, his long eyelashes, and his straight nose.

I gently stroked his lips with my fingers.

I greedily inhaled the faint, unique scent of youth emanating from him.

I slowly leaned in and gently kissed his face and lips.

He grabbed my shoulders tightly, his embrace like that of a bear.

At that moment, I couldn't move at all. His arms were so strong that I couldn't struggle at all.

Two pairs of dazed eyes!

My arms had just helplessly reached above my head when he immediately grabbed them with his iron clamps, causing a sharp pain. He pressed me down wildly, trying to conquer me.

I asked, "What are you going to do?"

He grinned and panted, saying, "I'm going to devour you whole!"

Hearing such crude words, I actually felt a sweet flutter in my heart, like I was falling in an elevator.

I asked, "How long are we going to last today?"

He kissed my face haphazardly and said, "Until you call it a day, until you can't take it anymore."

I pulled down his pants and said, "You're so bad..."

He groped my breasts haphazardly and continued, "...until you're completely weak..."

I said, "You filthy scoundrel, do you even have the ability?"

He continued to verbally vent, "...until you scream and howl!"

I said, "You're such a jerk! Stop talking nonsense~" He said, "One mouth, two hands, three dicks, take your time."

I said, "Vulgar."

He said, "I am vulgar!"

He pressed me down and roughly kneaded me, like kneading a large lump of dough.

I half-closed my eyes, focusing intently on the pleasure of being ravaged.

We were both drenched in sweat, our bodies flushed and hot, trembling, roasted by the flames of desire.

He climbed down on me. His hot, moist breath softly washed over my vulva.

All my muscles tensed, my body taut like a bow.

He said softly, "What's wrong?"

I said, "Nothing... I'm just really nervous..."

He said, "I'm not an executioner."

I relaxed a little.

He said slowly, like chanting a spell, "Relax, baby. You have to be really relaxed. Relax, relax..."

His voice had a hypnotic effect. I tried to relax my mind and body, but I just couldn't get used to it.

I kept thinking that my genitals looked ugly, smelly, and unhygienic.

I was afraid he would be disgusted.

As it turned out, my worries were unnecessary. He not only wasn't disgusted, but he seemed to have a great appetite.

He lay down on me, carefully smelling, looking, looking repeatedly, observing carefully, smelling repeatedly, teasing me gently with his fingertips and a small spoon, making my mouth "drool" continuously.

He sucked and nibbled at my genitals, licking and sucking, sucking on my clitoris and scraping my labia, making me gasp and tremble.

This guy was a gourmet, licking with such pleasure that he forgot all else, like an anteater patiently and instinctively playing with its inner tongue, like a little black bear hugging a honey pot.

After slowly getting used to it, I began to feel intoxicated, a warm, dizzy feeling in the back of my brain, like floating on a warm sea, floating on clouds. When

he licked me, I couldn't think of anything...

Waves of warmth surged from my genitals to my heart, spreading throughout my body. I couldn't help but let out a moan.

He said, "Your moan is the most beautiful sound in the world!"

Knowing that someone appreciated me, I was encouraged and let out two more moans.

Encouraged, he licked even more attentively, his neck moving with each lick. Of course, he was careful not to hurt my genitals with his teeth.

I asked, "Does it smell bad?"

He nodded, still sucking on my genitals, "Mmm! Mmm!"

I said, "Come on up!"

He shook his head, still sucking on my genitals, "Mmm~ Mmm~" I asked, "Still eating even though it smells bad?"

He stopped answering and focused solely on licking and sucking my clitoris, as if fulfilling his only mission in this world.

My clitoris swelled in his mouth. My clitoris stubbornly stood erect, erect, erect under the cruel torture of his tongue.

Suddenly, I felt a surge of excitement, an urge to "seize" it. I pressed him down hard, burying his head against my vulva, while frantically squeezing my thighs together.

Suddenly, I was struck by the Qiantang River tidal wave, a devastating blow.

My head throbbed!

My heart spasmed!

My vision went white, my ears went deaf, my lower back ached, blue arcs of electricity crackled, petals fell, sparks littered the bed.

Streams of heat gushed from my aching bladder, urethra, and vagina.

Lightning struck me. A raging flood engulfed me.

Like being struck by lightning, I instinctively arched my back, opened my mouth wide, and groaned uncontrollably, contracting my muscles as if fiercely protesting his torment and resisting his lewd temptations.

But in reality, I was shamelessly falling into depravity.

After being a respectable woman and a dutiful wife for so many years, the feeling of occasionally falling into depravity felt so good, the feeling of losing control felt so good.

I knew nothing more… After a solid ten or so seconds, my climax finally subsided.

My hair was soaking wet, my face and neck were soaking wet, my armpits were soaking wet, my arms and legs were soaking wet, I lay there motionless, looking like a female corpse just pulled from Yuyuantan Park.

My soul had already left my body, but my mind was trying to return.

Who am I? A virtuous wife and loving mother.

Why am I now completely naked, lying on a strange bed? And a man's head is tightly clamped between my thighs?

A sudden flash of rationality sent a shiver down my spine.

I quickly loosened my grip and took a deep breath to catch my breath, only then realizing how much effort I'd exerted; my arms and legs were stiff and cramped.

I looked at him. Thankfully, he was still alive. He was covered in sweat, panting, and serene, just like me.

I looked at him a little embarrassed and said guiltily, "Get on top of me!"

I pulled him up and hugged him. He hugged me back. In

the vast universe, two ants embracing warmly moved me.

I saw a blissful exhaustion in his eyes, his cheeks, chin, and nose glistening with the fluids I'd secreted.

For a moment, I was confused, wondering who had just had an orgasm.

I kissed him, his burning cheeks, his wet lips. His cheeks and lips were still tinged with the pungent smell of my own juices.

He was exhausted from the heat, panting heavily.

I said, "Why didn't you turn on the air conditioning?"

He said, "I don't turn on the air conditioning when I'm fucking."

I asked, "Why?"

He said, "If I turn on the air conditioning, I can't smell the flesh and the scent of sweat. When you're fucking, you should be drenched in sweat, you should be like a wild animal. Do wild animals have air conditioning?"

I chuckled.

He had a mischievous look, a hint of decadence in his eyes, and his every move was cynical—a complete beast.

He said softly, "I have to admit, you're very attractive, including your moans and your silly smile."

Hearing this, my whole heart was intoxicated, the world spun around me, and I almost lost my balance.

In mid-May, there's a lake called Bita Lake in Diqing. Every May, azaleas bloom in profusion along the lake's shores, showering the water with countless petals. Schools of fish swim by to feed. Azaleas contain neurotoxins; the fish become dizzy after eating them, floating belly-up on the surface, their drunken state quite endearing and charming—a sight known as "Azalea-Drunken Fish." I find it beautiful. The azalea petals fall, and the fish keep eating, becoming anesthetized. Countless fish, large and small, are completely intoxicated, floating on the surface, occasionally lazily shaking their heads and tails, looking quite content. At night, the lake is bathed in dazzling moonlight, shimmering on the water. Then, a large bear from the forest sneaks to the lake to catch and eat the poisonous azaleas.

He's the bear that ate me.

I hugged him, looked into his eyes, and whispered, "Why?"

He said, "Why what?"

I said, "Just now...why?"

He said contentedly, "Why what? No reason! Don't give me that intellectual nonsense! I just wanted to make you happy!"

I said, "How could you stay down for so long?"

He said, "I wanted to."

I said, "You know what? My husband has never sucked my genitals, he thinks it's dirty."

He said, "Doesn't he know women like to be sucked?"

I said, "Don't say that about him, ah~" He said, "Fuck! He's such an idiot!"

I said, "Don't be so rough."

He said, "I am rough! He's just a stupid idiot! He has such a good wife and he doesn't suck her, but his wife is out there for others to suck, suck her until he peees."

(He thought my uncontrollable squirting during my orgasm was urinary incontinence. Incontinence is incontinence, who cares what it is!~) He put his arms up and stopped hugging me.

I wiped the damp sweat from his armpits, and I even got up and kissed the sweat from his armpits.

After the climax, I didn't feel disgusted by anything. Humans are truly strange.

He lit a cigarette and smoked absentmindedly.

I said, "Okay, let's talk about something else. Are you thirsty? I'll get you a glass of water?"

He took a drag, looked at the ceiling, then at me, and blew the choking smoke hard in my face.

I didn't flinch, nor did I blame him. He gave me a wonderful climax; I was more than grateful.

Thinking about it afterwards: the fact that I could tolerate such humiliating behavior shows that a woman in love has an IQ of only three; a woman after climax has an IQ of zero.

He seemed to want to say something, but his lips moved, and he ultimately didn't say anything. It probably wasn't anything nice.

I asked, "Hmm... is it good?"

He said, "Where?"

I said, "You're so annoying~" He pretended to be innocent and continued to ask, "Where is it good? What's good?"

I said, "My lower part."

He said, "Hey! It makes me feel sorry for you!"

I asked, "What's wrong now?"

He said, "No matter how I explain it to you, you won't understand. You'll never understand, you'll never experience it."

I said, "Try to describe it to me."

He said, "Hmm, your lower part has the most succulent abalone I've ever eaten in my life. It's pink, bright, and juicy. Licking it and sucking on it is soft, moist, plump, and slippery."

I said, Why does it sound like burnt pork slices?

He asked: "It's really pretty much the same." Have you ever licked any woman's pussy? "

I said: "No.

He asked: "Have you ever licked your own pussy?"

I smiled and said, "Am I enough for me?"

He said: "It's over, it's still true." "

I said: "What's still'?

He said: "I am not a fish, how can I know the joy of fish?" "

I said: "Okay, okay. Let me take a bite. "

He took a sip of the filter, then kissed me. When our lips touched, he spit the smoke into my mouth, then pinched my lips and ordered me: "Swallow! "

The invisible supernatural hand "held" me, and I sucked and swallowed it obediently. The spicy smoke came out of my nostrils, and at the same time I choked with tears.

I looked at the devil in front of me through hot tears.

After the climax, I felt like I was hypnotized, and I obeyed whatever he did to me.

The muscles on his face relaxed and he said: "Hey, let's be serious.

I said, "Hey, do you have anything serious to say?"

He asked: "That is." Were you comfortable just now? "

I nodded.

He said, "Speak."

I said, "Yes."

He said, "Express."

I said, "Comfortable."

He said, "Your expressive ability is really strong."

I could tell he was being sarcastic.

I said, "I really don't know how to say it. I've never summarized it."

He said, "Try using some other words to describe it."

I said, "Yes. My body feels light. It's so hot."

He said, "Where is it hot?"

I said, "My face is hot. My heart is beating really fast."

He said, "Haven't you talked to your husband about how you feel?"

I said, "No. He never asks me."

He said, "Tsk tsk, a lazy bum marrying a beautiful woman, what a waste. Such a beautiful flower, pfft! It's stuck in a big pile of hot dung."

I smiled, "Ugh, that's disgusting."

Although I said that, I was really indignant for myself.

I'm not bad looking, and I maintain a good figure, why did I have to hang myself on that deadbeat for the rest of my life?

He asked, "Have you ever been 'eaten' by someone before?"

I said, "No, never. I told you, my wife thinks it's dirty. I've never been with anyone else. With you, this is my first time..."

I couldn't find the right words for a moment.

He continued, “…Betrayal?”

I nodded, feeling a sharp pang from the harsh word. Yes. I had betrayed my sacred marriage.

I was talking about my husband with another man.

I was discussing my sexual experiences with my lover while completely naked.

This was 100% betrayal.

He comforted me, saying, "These days, there are very few men who haven't served in the military."

For a second, I didn't understand what was going on. When I did, I punched him.

He then grabbed my hand and kissed it.

He said, "Really. You have to believe it. What era are we living in? Not being a soldier is practically not being a real man!"

I said, "Alright, alright. What about you? Veteran or new recruit?"

He said, "I'm a veteran! I'm a seasoned veteran. I was only sixteen when I first joined the army, damn it! What kind of world is this!"

I asked, "Did your girlfriend run off with someone else?"

He said, "Yeah. It was her fault! For her, I got into a fight with a bunch of thugs and ended up in a brothel. I was convinced she was waiting for me outside. Hey! When I came out, I saw..."

I said, "Tell me! Don't keep me in suspense."

He said, "I went straight to her house. I missed her so much! I was dying to see her. When I got to her house, she was having sex with her teacher!"

I said, "That's not right. So what did you do?"

He said, "My eyes were bloodshot, I grabbed a baseball bat and rushed in."

I asked, "Did you get aroused?"

He said, "Yeah."

I said: "So you went back in again?"

He said, "Of course!"

I asked, "Was that your 'first time in the army'? How many times have you been in?"

He said, "Fuck! Many times!"

I said, "Just pick one and tell me about it."

He said, "My third girlfriend, to be honest, she was really beautiful, big ass, big breasts, all fleshy, felt amazing to touch. She just had terrible menstrual cramps. I even found her a job. She wanted to work in a hotel lobby, and I arranged it for her. Hey! Two days later she called me, moaning as she spoke. I said, 'What's wrong? Menstrual cramps again?' She said it was nothing, she just wanted to talk to me, she just wanted me to know that she was in a room with a supervisor, being fucked from behind, you hear it, you hear it, you hear it, ouch, ouch, can you hear it?' That time I was really heartbroken, so I got this tattoo."

He held out his right arm. I saw six big Chinese characters tattooed on it: "Sluts must be fucked to death!"

He didn't say anything.

I looked at him with heartache, touching his arm. He, too, was a man suffering under the same sky.

I looked into his eyes. He looked into mine, and we remained frozen, staring at each other. Suddenly, tears welled in our eyes, for our respective wounds.

He changed the subject: "You know what? The sounds you made just now were so beautiful."

He had given me my awakening, opened my eyes to the beauty of sex. He had made me feel the joy of being a woman. How could I possibly leave him?

I whispered, "It's so embarrassing to be eaten like this..."

He said, "No, you look beautiful being eaten, your face is flushed, and sweat is sticking to your forehead."

I said, "The wild feeling is really good."

He said, "It can get even better in the future. The best days are yet to come!"

I said, "Thank you for letting me have another feast. I will always remember it."

He said, "Damn, what kind of feast is this? My God! You've really been wronged in this life."

I said, "I also feel wronged. After meeting you, I feel like I wasted all those years before. I've let myself down."

He said, "You bet! It's good that you woke up. Never too late..."

In my ecstasy, I didn't realize that I had already taken the first step on the road to the underworld. By the way: I wrote this at the Bridge of Helplessness, before drinking the soup~~ I'll continue the story below~~ Sweat secreted layer after layer. The sticky sweat tightly bound me. It was so uncomfortable that I got out of bed and went to the bathroom to take a warm shower. It felt so good

when I came out! I was soaking wet, with water droplets hanging from my body.

He quickly grabbed a dry towel to dry me off, gently saying, "Be careful, don't get chilled. Catching a cold is awful."

He carefully shook out each strand of my long hair, meticulously drying it.

It all felt like a dream. Everything was so unreal—too good to be true! Being so attentive to him made me feel like a little princess. This was a completely new experience for me. I'd never enjoyed this kind of treatment since elementary school.

After we got married, it was always my husband showering, me preparing his change of clothes, him making phone calls, and me squatting beside him washing his dirty underwear.

My husband was absolutely waited on hand and foot.

I've endured it all these years! I feel terrible. I always try to understand him, thinking he's tired from work. I never realized I was living without any dignity!

After drying me off, he, naked, pulled me, also naked, back to bed.

I gazed at him tenderly.

He spread my legs again, his eyes wide, and thrust into my genitals once more.

I pulled him into a 69 position, sucking and licking his genitals greedily, like a refugee just escaped from a disaster zone grabbing a hot sausage.

The sausage was warm, but it just wouldn't get hard. At first, I didn't think much of it.

I teased him with words: "Hmm...you know what? I really want...I really want you..."

The lazy afternoon sun slanted in.

We lay on this sinful bed, completely naked, our four arms and four legs intertwined, like that painting of Fuxi and Nuwa mating. He peeled a piece of chocolate and put it in my vagina, then casually chatted with me, waiting for the heat inside me to melt the chocolate.

He said, "I love seafood. I can't get enough oysters. I love all kinds of delicious food."

I said, "You've given me so much happiness."

He said, "That's right!"

I said, "And temptation."

He said, "That's right!"

I said, "I've become bad."

He said, "That's right!"

I said, "It's all your fault."

He said, "That's right! I take full responsibility, haha~ Tell me, how did you become bad? How bad?"

I said, "I've become... sexually active."

He asked, "How so?"

I said, "Now I have to masturbate once a day. It's all your fault. You bad guy, you dragged me down with you."

He said, "I like women who masturbate."

I asked, "Why?"

He said, "No reason. I just like it."

I said, "I don't like doing it myself."

He said, "Why? Isn't it satisfying? "

I said, "Well... it's comfortable, but..."

He said, "But what?" I said, "

But... I feel really lonely afterwards, especially sad."

He said, "I know. After a woman has slept with someone, she really wants someone to hug her."

I hugged him and said, "You know what? I haven't had any sexual desires for a long time, but recently I have again."

He said, "Your body has returned to normal." I said, "

Yeah, and it seems pretty strong, really."

He said, "Congratulations."

I said, "This isn't a good thing."

He said, "Why isn't it a good thing? You're a normal person, you crave a normal life, and you have the right to enjoy a normal life."

I said, "My life with my husband isn't normal."

He said, "It's not complete either. Is he having an affair?"

I said, "No."

He said, "Don't be so sure. Anything is possible."

I said, "I can't be so sure about other things. He really hasn't done this. He leaves work on time and goes home. He goes to work on time, and I manage his salary. He doesn't have a secret stash. He simply doesn't have the opportunity to commit the crime."

He said, "Are you and your spouse separated?"

[email] [protected] I said, "Yes, it's been five years."

He asked, "How did things get so bad?"

I said, "Our relationship has always been tense. He doesn't talk to me. I don't really talk to him either. We live separately; he sleeps in the small room, and I sleep in the big room. We don't interfere with each other. I'm too lazy to waste my breath on him."

He said, "That's not right. You're wasting your precious youth."

I said, "I didn't want it to be like this either, but maybe he's just naturally introverted, unlike you, who has a silver tongue."

He said, "The key isn't introversion or extroversion. He's abroad; if you can't live together, you should divorce! Damn it! Why waste time? Who are you wasting time on? You're wasting time on yourself!"

Hearing this, my heart skipped a beat, and my whole body trembled, as if I'd been hit in the lower back.

I said, "I haven't talked to that bastard in five years as much as I've talked to you."

He said, "Doesn't he know women love to chat? Fuck! You piece of shit! Divorce him! I'll marry you!"

I said, "Okay, okay. Let's not talk about this anymore."

He said, "You'd rather live like this for the rest of your life, right?"

I said, "Heh, I'm not getting a divorce."

He said, "Why not? What's the point of living like this? Life is short! Fuck! If you're not happy, then get a divorce!"

[Emphasis on "then"] I said, "Hehe, it's impossible to get a divorce. It's not that simple."

He said, "Why? Will you die if you leave him?"

I said, "Sigh~ My parents' health isn't good, they can't take any more stress."

He said, "Here we go again. Are you living for your parents?"

I said, "No... Listen to me, since I met you, I've actually wavered..."

He said, "Waveds are good! I'll waver again!"

I groaned and said, "Oh... you're bad..."

He said, "A thirty-seven-year-old body is a beautiful body. You should dare to try new games."

I asked, "How do I try? What should I do?" He said

, "Just let nature take its course." I said

, "I'm conflicted. I want surprises, but I'm also afraid of becoming a slut."

He said, "We all need privacy and security; but if we don't let anything slip through, there's no chance for release. What do you think?"

I said, "Being completely defenseless is stupid."

He said, "Right. But if you close your door tightly like a seashell, there's no chance for development. It's a double-edged sword."

I said, "Now there's a married woman who looks forward to seeing a big bad guy every day, looking forward to being eaten by him, looking forward to being taken advantage of by him." " Don't you think this woman is stupid?"

He said, "Yes, but that bastard is stupid too. He can't do anything all day, all he thinks about is finding married women to eat abalone with."

I smiled and said, "You're all sweet talk? Huh?"

He said, "The juice on my lips is sweeter than honey! What is love in this world? Answer: Being a masochist."

I asked, "You think missing someone is being a masochist?"

He said, "Of course."

I asked, "You think eating my genitals is being a masochist?"

He said, "Of course. Missing me is being a masochist. Love is being a masochist. If you're a masochist and the other person doesn't reciprocate, you'll be sad and unbalanced."

I said, "People are really strange. Sometimes, I really want to lean on your shoulder and chat with you until dusk."

He said, "Be a masochist with me until dawn? Hehe~" I said, "Yes! My genitals are leaking again~" He picked me up, carried me to the dining room, laid me flat on the large dining table, and slapped my wet genitals, trying to suck out all the juice inside.

My sticky, aroused secretions mixed with chocolate juice, gushing out incessantly. [So, that stinky intellectual loves watching Baotu Spring?

He can never truly clean himself up.]

He casually grabbed the salad dressing bottle from the table, smeared it on my naked, fleshy "oyster," then knelt down on my vulva, greedily licking and sucking.

His wicked hands touched my breasts, my buttocks, rubbed my stomach, and massaged my vaginal opening.

The once calm still waters began to ripple again. A married woman, naked in broad daylight, lay on the table, being licked and touched by her lover.

The overhead light looked down with pity on this adulterous couple.

The overhead light was the gaze of a student, an intern, a stranger.

I saw myself standing barefoot on the empty stage, surrounded by darkness, with only a single light shining from above, illuminating my body. I was wearing a semi-transparent nightgown. The theater was packed, the red velvet chairs filled with socialites and dignitaries. A man appeared behind me, tall, strong, cold, his face indistinct, wearing a black leather jacket and black leather gloves. He slowly embraced me from behind, touching me. I slowly began to feel an impulse. All the audience members were intently watching my performance. I closed my eyes, tilted my head back slightly, feeling extremely exposed and embarrassed, but I couldn't move; my feet seemed nailed to the stage floor. I could only let him caress me. The theater was silent. The man inside started licking and teasing me.

I was excited. Hundreds of audience members watched the man inside constantly, gently, and mischievously touching, licking, and teasing me. I couldn't suppress my excitement...

Under the gaze of strangers, I climaxed.

My buttocks and lower back arched high, ten centimeters off the table, frozen in mid-air, trembling violently. I was a capsized, wrecked ship, a stranded, dying whale.

For a long, long time, the whale finally lay back down. This time, it was completely dead, lifeless.

He finally stopped, looked up, and asked, "Was it comfortable?"

He always cared so much about my feelings! Could it be that God sent him to make up for my husband's years of indifference and neglect? I answered in a trembling voice, "Comfortable... How about you? Did you feel anything?"

He said, "Of course."

I asked, "What did you feel?"

He said, "Excited."

Suddenly, I wanted so badly! I wanted his big cock to thrust hard into my vagina!

I smiled and said, "Did your cock move?"

As I spoke, I reached down to touch his genitals, and he instinctively dodged my hand. I thought he was playing a game with me, so I kept grabbing.

After a few quick grabs, I caught it, and my heart sank! His cock was still soft! Soft and lifeless.

How could this be? What happened to his huge cock?

Was it because he was overindulging in sex? Or was I not attractive enough to him? Could it be that he had just slept with another woman before our tryst?

He really understood my thoughts.

Our hearts were in such perfect harmony. But why wouldn't fate allow his manhood to flourish?

I looked at him questioningly.

His eyelids drooped, his eyes squinted, trying to avoid my gaze.

I asked, "What's wrong? Don't you feel anything?"

He seemed a little embarrassed and said, "No! I didn't sleep well last night, and I'm a little tired today."

I said, "Oh, it's okay."

Even as I said that, a thick gloom still hung over me. What was I after when I cheated on him? Purely for animalistic release, for sexual satisfaction.

If he had any physical problems, what was the point of all this scheming, anxiety, and sneaking around?

He added, "There's just too much going on at work..."

I said, "Oh, if you're tired, get some rest."

He said, "Okay."

I couldn't help but say, "At your age, you shouldn't be like this..."

These words probably hurt his pride.

He said, "You don't know how hard it is for men to live! Women have it so easy, they just lie here, spread their legs, and they're satisfied. But men? Men have to go out and work hard to earn money, then come back to lick, suck, penetrate, do sit-ups and push-ups with women. A pure fleshy stick, no bones inside, and they have to keep their head up all the time? Do you think I'm made of iron?"

I said, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, that's not what I meant. What I meant was... hey, I don't mean it!"

He said, "Everyone's arguing about 'women's promiscuity is hard'! That's all bullshit! Men's promiscuity is hard! Men are the vulnerable group."

I knew that if a man overindulged in sex, he would become impotent.

I knew he had other women besides me. He wasn't my husband, and I had no right to restrict his relationships.

Of course, what he just said made some sense. Men have it tough too.

I whispered, "Okay, okay, you vulnerable bad boy, hug me for a bit."

He hugged me and smelled my hair.

I silently savored the feeling of being held by my beloved, feeling his body temperature, his breath, the scent and warmth of his sweat.

I didn't know what to say, and I didn't want to open my mouth.

Just like that, we hugged quietly for a while, and I should be perfectly content, right?

Suddenly, tears welled up in my eyes again.

How many years has it been since I've been pampered? How many years has my body been neglected? I finally got out of the city, and this lover is now impotent! Why does God have to torment me like this?

He quickly noticed my tears. He kissed the corner of my eye, trying to kiss away my tears.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back to meet his lips. I found him. The kiss came naturally.

But the more I thought about it, the sadder I became, and the more I kissed, the more tears flowed. What

I was looking for was purely the contact of flesh against flesh, the friction of mucous membranes against mucous membranes, the satisfaction of lust.

But how could I, a respectable married woman, have fallen to this state?

He gently patted my back, like comforting a lost girl.

Actually, he couldn't comfort me.

He stroked my hair, gently scratching it, trying to relax me. Hmm, that felt quite comfortable.

He used his rough hands to massage my back and my feet.

I was completely relaxed, my whole body felt tingly and I felt like I was floating on air.

After enduring years of a cold marriage, I was actually fortunate enough to receive such top-notch treatment. I so wished he could be hard and erect and penetrate me, but he was impotent.

My beloved, whom I finally found!

You won't stay like this forever, will you?

When will you regain your strength?

When will you be able to get aroused with me?

He casually said, "By the way, I haven't asked yet, what does your husband do?"

I said, "He works at a meat processing plant."

He looked slightly nervous: "Huh?"

I said, "Are you scared? Hehe."

He said, "Scared? It's not that I'm scared. The thing is, I'm so dizzy! How could you marry someone who works at a meat processing plant?"

I said, "It's profitable. My family was a bit strapped for cash back then, and my parents weren't in good health either, going to the hospital every few days, so..."

He said, "So you ended up living with someone from the meat processing plant?"

I said, "Strip away the romantic veneer of marriage, strip away the underwear of sex, and the truth of life is more cruel than you imagine."

He said, "Like mixed hemorrhoids?"

I said, "Go away! Ugh~"

At dawn, the phone rang. I answered—it was Wan Rongrong.

What is a best friend?

A girl you go shopping with, go to and from school with, eat with, gossip with, and are inseparable from other girls, sharing secrets.

Who deserves to be called a best friend?

Someone who dares to call you at the crack of dawn with just four words: "I'm divorced!"

I said, "Oh my god~" I still remember her wedding. I was a bridesmaid that day. The groom knelt down and pulled out a ring to put on Wan Rongrong's finger, vowing, "I'll grow old with you, until the seas run dry and the rocks crumble."

Wan Rongrong was so moved that tears streamed down her face. As I pulled her into a small private room to touch up her makeup, she was trembling with happiness and sobbing softly…

It was just like yesterday.

She asked, "What do you mean by 'Oh my God'? Why aren't you congratulating me?"

I said, "I feel a little sorry for you two."

Wan Rongrong said, "Stop. Please."

I knew that once divorced, they were enemies, irreconcilable sworn enemies. Anyone who said they could remain "good friends" after a divorce was absolutely insanely delusional.

I asked, "Okay, congratulations on your freedom."

She laughed, "It really is! Unprecedented freedom! Relaxation! Those who haven't divorced will never understand."

I looked out the window. It was a hazy blue outside. The hazy blue of dawn, just before sunrise, is my favorite color.

The moment of dawn is my favorite time of day.

I remember the film *Tokyo Depravity* was hyped up to the skies, but after watching it, I found it quite mediocre. My favorite part was the opening credits—

the screen filled with pale blue. The morning light everywhere. Skyscrapers bathed in the blue morning light. Mirrored glass reflecting the blue morning light. That pure, clean, authentic, and breathtaking blue.

[PS: The female lead never really got into character; she was always awkward, especially the part where she went crazy in a small town in the second half. It was particularly baffling, a classic case of wanting to maintain a virtuous image while being a prostitute. It would have been better to just portray her utter depravity. I know the director wanted to express a prostitute's remaining conscience and inner struggle, but he didn't do it well. I hate all so-called "Category III films" that are so secretive, thinking they're art. That kind of secrecy and evasion is unnatural and unhealthy. Japanese culture is strange. I know Japanese people face a lot of pressure, which makes them distorted and perverse.] Nagisa Oshima's *In the Realm of the Senses* (a Japanese-French co-production) is passable, but quite distorted, especially the ending. It feels like it's difficult for Japanese people to truly enjoy sex in a relaxed and healthy way.

I asked, "Did you finish it yesterday?"

She said, "Yes, that's right."

I asked, "So how will you handle that in the future?"

She said, "There are many ways. Which one are you interested in?"

I said, "I care."

She said, "I have affairs, I masturbate, and maybe I'll sell myself. I've seen through a woman's life; it's all about selling yourself, no matter what."

I think newly divorced women are generally in a delirious state, their consciousness is blurred, accompanied by obvious agitation, restlessness, muttering to themselves, racing thoughts, and hallucinations.

I've seen it. I know. Nowadays, who doesn't have a few divorced friends? Divorce is a strong stimulus. It's kind of scary that someone who's still so calm right after a divorce. I tried to comfort her, so I said, "Don't be too sad. I'll introduce you to someone better in a couple of days."

She said, "No way! I never want to get married again. Marriage is like a used sanitary napkin; I feel disgusted just thinking about it!"

I was a little shocked. Her views on marriage, including her oral hygiene, weren't like this before.

I asked, "Aren't you upset?"

She said, "I told you, I don't lack men."

I said, "But... the feeling of a lover... it's different from having a husband, isn't it?"

She said, "Wake up. Men are all pigs." "Married men are all damn fat, castrated pigs with no ambition, vulgar and indifferent, deserving of death."

Every word hit home. I trembled with excitement.

I asked, "You really don't want to get married again?"

She laughed and asked me in return, "Do you want to put the handcuffs back on after you've taken them off?"

I said, "But a stable relationship gives you a sense of security."

She countered, "Why do you need stability?"

Like an "experienced person," she condescendingly advised me, "Live each day to the fullest. Live well, because you'll be dead for a long time."

I said, "Rongrong, why don't you come over to my place to relax? I'll keep you company..."

She interrupted me, quickly saying, "Me, come to your place? Where do I live? Just that tiny pigeonhole of yours?"

She left me speechless. My place was indeed cramped.

She said, "Why don't you come visit me? I'm free recently."

I said, "Sure. We'll see."

The call ended.

The rain outside the window intensified, countless raindrops mercilessly lashing the world like whipping a corpse, causing unbearable anxiety.

The rain stopped.

"Clang~" Pushing open the delicate pink-framed glass door, a hundred toys burst into view.

The saleswoman greeted me routinely, "Hello, welcome."

I replied, "Hello."

She then posed an open-ended question: "What type are you looking for?"

I thought to myself: I want something big and long.

I narrowed it down to four that met my requirements and quickly bought a black one, forty centimeters long. It was practically a donkey! I had already given it a nickname in my mind—Black Donkey. Just as I was about to leave after paying and taking the goods, a delicate

little aluminum box caught my eye. The box depicted six oval stainless steel balls. Opening the box, I saw six small balls strung together on a thin chain, a cordless remote control shaped like a dazzling corsage, petals that were solar receivers, and even a tube of KY jelly. A while ago, I thought all the design talent had died out. The female clerk led me to the back restroom, put on surgical gloves, unpacked the product, applied KY jelly to each of the small balls, and carefully inserted them into my vagina. Then she took off her gloves and pinned on my corsage. Everything was ready. With a gentle twist of the corsage's stamen, the stainless steel balls inside my vagina began to vibrate. It was truly wonderful, quite strong, making me both uncomfortable and high, so I didn't want to take it out. I paid and left, still vibrating, secretly enjoying myself. Looking up at the bright sunshine, watching the various people around me, I focused on experiencing the tingling, numbing sensation in my vagina. Every now and then, I would touch the corsage's stamen, adjusting the vibration intensity of the small steel balls. To the strangers around me, I looked like I was subtly adjusting my corsage. Who could tell that deep inside my body, I was being gently ravaged? The pleasure clearly crept onto my cheeks. Look, that woman selling ice cream, has she already seen through my little secret? Look, that melancholy, handsome young man, can he hear the sound of the little ball vibrating and colliding inside me? Entering the elevator at home, I was already panting, even a little high, and slightly sweaty. The girl watching the elevator seemed the same as usual, glancing at me and greeting me: "Back already? Hehe~" Wait! She looked at me for 0.1 seconds longer than usual today! What was the subtext behind her "hehe" laugh? Was my face too red? I must be feeling guilty. How could she possibly see what was inside my vagina? I relaxed, letting out a long breath, thinking everything was fine. Just then, the elevator ascended, causing my diaphragm to descend, and a sudden tightness and heat between my legs. I reached up to twist the stamen of my corsage, trying to turn off the vibration, but in my haste, I twisted in the opposite direction. The vibration instantly became the strongest. I completely involuntarily bent over. A large amount of secretion fell between my legs [sweat? vaginal fluid? The "third kind of water" Zhang Jingsheng mentioned, or simply urine?] It trickled down my legs like mercury spilling onto the ground, splashing and shattering on my feet, like glistening drops of sweat on the soil. The girl who watches the elevator is the most bored girl, eyeing everyone who rides it, since she has nothing better to do. Now, seeing me bend over and the "mercury shards" on my feet, she immediately looks up at my face, looking terrified. Did she understand everything? Did she see through my arousal? Or did she think I'd lost control of my bladder? Please! Elevator, don't stop! Don't stop! My face turned completely red! What you fear most is what happens. Halfway through, the elevator stopped. The doors opened, and two migrant workers entered, immediately giving me a furtive once-over. The elevator has been running for a year, stopping for a year, and the two doors opening for another year. Consciousness can be distorted. This is relativity, isn't it? I walked out of the elevator with my head held high, trying to appear normal, but my ears were constantly craning back, as if I could hear an ancient shout: "Hey! Milk spilled!" Once inside, my heart was beating even faster than in the hallway. The more I thought about it, the more frightened I became. The slight transgression of taboos sent my adrenaline soaring. I locked the door, changed into slippers, washed my hands, and just couldn't bear to take that precious string of beads out. I went into my room, took off my skirt and bra, and slumped onto the large sofa, my fingertips gently, lightly scraping my underwear. My fingertips were like thieves, like chipmunks, cautiously scanning my surroundings, trying to sniff out even a 1% chance of danger. My fingertips slipped inside my underwear, touching my vulva, soothing my clitoris, rubbing my labia, teasing and stimulating my hot, wet, embarrassing treasure. The little ball chain dangled at the opening. My heart hesitated, my hands wavered: a quickie before my husband came home? Damn it! I'll just have some fun! I ripped open the packaging, opened the box, and pulled out the black donkey. As soon as it appeared, it came to life, rubbing and stimulating the areas it wanted to stimulate. My libido surged, and a flood of pleasure washed over me. The black donkey started nibbling at my clitoris. I turned on the vibrator. Rapid, intense vibrations surrounded my clitoris. An unbelievable wave of pleasure enveloped me.

The room was dark at dusk. Everything was hazy and indistinct. The edges of objects in the room were not clearly defined. A woman lay half-reclined on a special leather treatment chair, like those in a dental clinic, her hands bound behind the chair with rope. That woman was me. He had unbuttoned my blouse, pulled up my bra, and my round breasts sprang out, purely naked before his eyes. He lowered his head and kissed my breasts, sucking and sucking on my nipples, his tongue rolling and swirling around them. He held me, showering my face and lips with tender kisses. "You're so beautiful. Baby, do you know how beautiful you are? You have no idea how beautiful you are. Your skin, your warmth, your texture, your slight trembling, your moans, your writhing—all gently teasing my most sensitive nerve centers." My buttocks instantly lifted. When I came to my senses, I realized that it was a little wanton for a respectable woman to lift her buttocks to meet a man's fingers. But he had spoken with such propriety for decades; couldn't I be a little wanton in front of him? It seemed that no matter how... It wasn't shameless at all... The

buzzing, vibrating black donkey stimulated my clitoris. Mucus gushed out. The black donkey, soaked in my mucus, became even more blatant in its humiliation. How much fluid was inside me?

I felt something like a copper rod pressing against my lower abdomen, hot and throbbing back and forth against my mons pubis, inner thighs, and vaginal opening. I was so itchy inside! I really wanted to reach down, spread my labia, and open my vagina as wide as possible so he could penetrate me. But my hands were tied behind my back; I couldn't move. This guy actually... He lingered at my entrance for half an hour! It was like him teasing you with a piece of braised pork, making your mouth water, but he just wouldn't put it in. It was like you were about to get a shot; he'd already applied rubbing alcohol and iodine, the needle was pointed at you, but he just wouldn't insert it. It was like the execution was decided, the gun was pointed at the back of your head, but he wouldn't fire. A full half hour! Later I thought, if he's going to come sooner or later, he might as well come sooner! Please stop teasing me! Let me drown! Let me choke to death! I lay on that strange leather chair, my hands tied behind my back. Behind me, her breasts were bare, her vulva glistening with a moist sheen. My eyes were still closed, so I couldn't see his expression, but I could feel his hot, greedy lips kissing my face and breasts, his hands kneading them incessantly. His thrusting was gentle, rhythmic, and unhurried; he gently withdrew his penis, then slowly and powerfully plunged it back in. His mouth slowly slid from my face to my breasts, his hands kneading them until my nipples hardened. Then he extended his burning tongue... He licked around my nipples, then gently sucked on them…

The black donkey intensified his stimulation of my clitoris. Almost there, almost there. I spread my legs, closed my eyes, and lifted my buttocks, grabbing the donkey with one hand and touching my breast with the other.

He sucked, licked, and thrust, making my whole body tingle with pleasure. Five minutes passed, ten minutes passed, twenty minutes passed, and his penis, inserted into my lower orifice, continued its slow, steady thrusting. Withdrawing, inserting, withdrawing again, inserting again. Each thrust was so gentle yet powerful, touching the deepest part of my soul, while his tongue… It entered my mouth and intertwined with my tongue. A series of pleasures traveled from my vagina and deep within my uterus to my brain. Indescribable waves of pleasure surged from my nipples into my uterus, and warm sensations spread from my lips to my cheeks and throat. My vagina became even wetter, slippery all over, and copious amounts of secretions gushed out uncontrollably. He felt my secretions and moved his hand from behind my buttocks to my perineum. His fingers, coated with my fluids, then moved to my anus, gently caressing the slippery surface he had made. His asshole was slippery. Now, not only were my lips and tongue being kissed, my vagina being penetrated, and my breasts being ravaged, but even my most private excretory parts were being touched, played with, and teased by him…

The tide was surging. I didn't want to come so soon.

I rolled over, lay face down on the sofa, my thighs clamping around the black donkey, pressing down with my belly, and twisting violently.

I touched my own face, imagining it was my lover's hand. I put my fingers in my mouth. The

black donkey was ravaging below. The six little vibrating balls were also restless. This gang, working together from the inside and outside, was ravaging their mistress.

I groaned and cried out as I reached a sexual climax.

Drunk!

I lingered at the peak for a long time and contracted hard. My eyelids were squeezed tightly together and I couldn't bear to open them.

I couldn't bear to return to earth.

Whoosh, whoosh. Breathing, heavy breathing.

The sound of a man breathing.

That's right. I heard the man's heavy breathing.

I opened my eyes and fell back from the psychedelic wonderland to the cold reality. I saw my husband standing in front of me, looking like he had just swallowed broken glass, looking like a victim.

Instantly, my heartbeat reached its peak. I really didn't hear him come in.

I jumped up and put on my clothes in a panic. While putting it on, I asked, "Why are you back?

" My husband said, "I'm off work." "

I shivered and put on my slippers, and asked nonchalantly: "Would you like a glass of wine? "

My husband said coldly: "I won't drink. I'm hungry. "

I said: "Okay, okay, I'll do it right now. "

My husband turned around silently and went back to his bedroom.

I stuffed the black donkey into the drawer and fled into the kitchen in panic.

My heartbeat slowly calmed down.

As I picked vegetables, I asked myself: Why am I panicking? What did I do wrong? This man and I are basically roommates now, what business is it of his if I masturbate?

Why does he have the right to enter my room without knocking?

At dinner, as usual, there was silence.

I hoped he would say something. But he didn't utter a single word.

He didn't speak first, and I didn't try to break the silence. I hate groveling to please him, but this silence felt like a dark cloud pressing down on my eyebrows. I felt suffocated.

This silence was abnormal.

This silence between husband and wife tormented me like a knife cutting into my flesh.

The television program, as usual, added to our pale dinner ritual.

After dinner, he got up and left without a word. I cleaned the table, washed the dishes, and washed the utensils.

I would rather explode, I would rather have a huge fight, even if everything collapsed tonight.

But nothing happened.

We both went to sleep. Peace remained.

He tormented my heart with this insidious and malicious behavior.

After showering, I locked my bedroom door, picked up the phone, dialed his number, and chatted idly.

I asked, "What are you doing?"

He said, "Just thinking about you."

I said, "You just blurt things out. It's not really true."

He said, "It's true

, it's true." Sometimes women love to hear lies even when they know they're false. Even though I knew he was just teasing me, I still felt a sweet warmth in my heart. He asked, "Hey, what did you look like when you were little?"

I said, "Prettier than you are now."

He said, "It's a pity I'm younger than you. If we had gone to the same elementary school, I definitely would have pursued you."

I asked, "You've always had pubic hair?"

He said, "Yes, I've always had a lot of it. I'm not kidding you. From fifth grade onwards, I noticed that all the boys wouldn't go to the bathroom with me."

I suddenly remembered what Ao Cao said to Empress Wu: "Your Majesty, I'm unfortunately too big, and I've wasted many years, content to remain a widow... Your Majesty's appearance might disturb your feelings, and I deserve to die ten thousand times..."

I asked, "Why wouldn't all the boys go to the bathroom with you?"

He said, "Think about it, if I stand there, and my big pubic hair is sticking out, who wouldn't feel inferior? We're all in the same class, and they don't even have pubic hair, how come the difference is so big?"

I said, "Old Yam's true colors revealed?"

He said, "Ha, yes. Hey, have you seen 'The True Colors Revealed'?"

I said, "Yes, it's a North Korean film, the ending was really creepy."

He said, "That's right, now I think those are what you call unsuitable for children."

I said, "But the one I remember most clearly is 'Red Boy'."

He asked, "Did you get praised by your teacher that day?"

I said, "No."

He said, "Did you run into a big bad guy?"

I said, "No."

He asked, "Then why?"

I said, "That day, while I was watching, I had bad luck. Suddenly, my period came. That was the first time I ever had my period."

He asked, "How old were you then?"

I said, "Twelve years old. I really wasn't prepared at all. Luckily, the movie theater was very dark, and everyone was focused on watching the movie. I bent down and ran to the restroom in the lounge, and when I looked, it was red, all blood."

He asked, "And then?" I said, "

I took off my sweater, wrapped it around my waist, tied it up, and went back to quietly tell my homeroom teacher I had an upset stomach and wanted to go home first."

He asked, "And then?"

I said, "She gave me several stern looks, very authoritative. The light from the screen flickered on her face. I think she actually knew what was going on."

He asked, "And then?"

I said, "Then I went home."

He asked, "And when you got home?"

I said, "I quickly changed my pants."

He asked, "And after changing your pants?"

I said, "I quickly took a shower."

He asked, "And after showering?"

I said, "I ate dinner."

He asked, "And then?" "

He's such a strange guy. Sometimes he's practically an idiot. Of course, he has his own system of questions, but he hides it quite well.

On TV, there are always those witty interviewers who are self-righteous, prejudiced, and pre-selective in their answers, trying to entice the interviewee.

But when asking questions, there's no need to pretend you know everything. Being a little idiotic makes everyone relax and also allows you to get more information.

He asked, 'Is your cow dung sleeping?'

I said, 'Yeah. In his room.'

He said, 'Go wash your hands.'

I asked, 'I just took a shower, my hair isn't completely dry yet. What?'

He said, 'Give me a pat.'

I whispered, 'You pervert, where do you want me to pat?'

He said, 'Your breasts.'

I said in an almost inaudible whisper, 'Okay…'

He said, 'Good girl.'" "

When he's coaxing me, teasing me, and controlling me, I don't even realize he's younger than me. He's like an older brother, a father, a complete scoundrel, and yet I'm bewitched.

I parted my pajamas and gently touched my nipples. My nipples have become especially sensitive these past few days; they harden and swell uncomfortably after just a few touches.

I slowly touched, rubbed, and caressed them, trying to soothe the deep itch within my breasts and nipples.

Having lived all these years, I've rarely paid attention to them, rarely caressed them. They receive so little care. I've been so busy with nothing.

What have I been busy with all these years? Making my own body so thirsty. Sigh…

He asked softly on the other end of the phone, 'Is it comfortable, sis?'

I nodded and said, 'Mmm…comfortable…but it doesn't relieve the itch.'

He asked, 'Why?'

I said, 'It seems the more I rub, the itchier it gets.'

He asked, 'Sis, are you horny? Is that right?' "

I whispered in response, "Mmm...yes..." His

words made my body burn. At that moment, I couldn't care less about shame. I couldn't care less about anything else.

What had morality and face ever given me? Nothing good. They gave me only shackles, a cage, restrictions, guilt, neglect of myself, and the suppression and numbness of my own desires.

I swore to change my ways.

He said, "Now touch the opening down there."

I said, "Mmm...okay."

I continued to knead my nipples with my left hand, and reached down with my right hand to gently scratch my pubic hair. A wave of tingling sensation shot through my vagina and then quickly spread throughout my body.

I spread my right fingers and gently stroked my vulva. It felt so good.

He said, "Touch the left side of the vaginal opening with your index and middle fingers, and the right side with your ring and little fingers, gently."

I said, "Mmm..."

Like someone who had been hypnotized, I obediently did as he suggested, touching wherever he said, slowly scraping my labia. Sure enough, it felt incredibly good.

He said, "Let me hear your moans." I made sounds for him: "

Oh...ah...um..."

Actually, the game is about mutual encouragement and role-playing. The more you get into the role, the more you gain.

I made sounds for myself: "Oh...oh...oh..."

He listened quietly for a while and said, "Sister, your moans are so beautiful, the most beautiful sound in the world."

I will always remember those words. Even after crossing the Bridge of Helplessness and drinking the Soup of Severance, I still kept moaning: "Ugh...um...ah..."

He said, "Imagine you touching yourself with your hand, it's so exciting."

I clearly heard DouDou's hoarse cries.

I said, "DouDou is so swollen and uncomfortable."

He said, "Now gently rub it three times."

Finally getting permission, I gently rubbed my poor DouDou with my thumb and forefinger.

He asked, "What does it feel like?"

I said, "A kind of...tingling feeling all over my body. It's swollen inside. It's swollen everywhere."

He said, "Keep rubbing."

I said, “Mmm… I’m rubbing… um… oh… When I make love with my husband, I’m never wet down there; but with you, just hearing your voice makes me wet. Why do you think that is?”

He said, “Because cow dung doesn’t flow as well as I do. Rub your pussy.”

I said, “Okay. Mmm… um… oh…”

He said, “Put your fingers a little more pressure and circle them on your nipples and clitoris.”

I said, “Mmm… it’s hot down there… oh… my whole body is hot… I’m so aroused.”

He said, “That’s how sluts are. Enjoy it.”

I said, “Mmm… my whole body is swelling… my inner thighs… my breasts… it’s quite uncomfortable… I’m so restless…”

He said, “Go on, slut.”

I said, “There’s a primal feeling coming back to me. The feeling of my heart pounding. The feeling of being young.”

He said, “How old are you?”

I said, “There’s a feeling like I’m about to explode. Like a bomb that’s on a countdown, ready to explode at any moment.”

He said, “Tell me how much water you have down there.”

I said, "I'm overflowing with desire. My hands are all over, every finger is covered in my fluid. I want..."

He asked, "Want what?"

I said, "I want a cock to poke me..."

He said, "Put your finger in."

I carefully inserted my right middle finger into my vagina. Dizziness!

In an instant, my vagina felt full! I screamed and groaned. Oh my god, it feels so good! Ah... um... oh... I don't care about anything anymore!

He said, "Rub your G-spot."

I asked, "Where is it?"

He said, "On the front wall of your vagina, in the middle, there's a slightly raised area."

I said, "Um... oh right, I found it, a bump, it's not so smooth, it seems a bit rough."

He said, "Rub that bump harder, see what happens."

I did as he said, rubbing my spot with a little more force. It felt better than ever before!

I said, "It's reacting. Just one touch and my whole body goes limp."

He said, "It's normal. Keep applying more force, like you're trying to lift yourself up by hooking there."

I said, "Oh... um... ah... you bad guy, you're seducing me."

He said, "I'm seducing you to seduce yourself. Does it feel good?

" I said, "Mmm, it feels so good."

He said, "Keep going."

I said, "Okay... why does this place feel so strong?"

He said, "Amazing, isn't it? You've never touched your G-spot before?"

I said, "No. Oh my~ oh my~ I've never been this wet. My hands are covered in..."

He said, "You're so sexy. I wish I could be by your side, watching you rub it, helping you rub it."

I said, "Let you rub it~ my nipples are even harder. They've never been this hard before."

He said, "Pleasure yourself. Take good care of yourself." "

I said, 'Hmm...'

I tilted my head, holding the phone between my fingers, listening to lewd talk, being remotely controlled by a young man, masturbating intensely, moaning as I raped myself with my eyes half-closed—a complete picture of a mentally unstable woman.

He said, 'Bring yourself to the edge of orgasm, then slow down temporarily, and then stimulate again.'

I was already at the threshold of orgasm. I could already hear the intense drumming. The wave was almost engulfing me.

I said, 'No, I feel uncomfortable. I thought of something!'

He said, 'Listen to me, that way the orgasm will be more intense and more satisfying.'

I said, 'Oh, okay.' " "

Following his instructions, I repeatedly and endlessly teased myself, delaying the final climax.

With each approach to orgasm, my body's desire for climax accumulated, my flesh fully prepared for the final climax.

It was like a large reservoir, already full of water, but the dam wouldn't be released, stubbornly holding it in.

Energy accumulated more and more within my body. I was like a balloon filled with water, already beyond my limit of endurance, yet still being filled in.

My breasts swelled, round and plump; my nipples became more sensitive, any slight touch or stimulation made them even more agitated.

My whole body was burning hot, drenched in sweat, my buttocks soaked with both vaginal fluid and sweat.

My entire body was arched on the guillotine, every muscle taut, waiting for that final, fatal blow. But the sharp axe just wouldn't fall. I didn't know how much longer I could endure this sweet torment.

He asked, 'Is it comfortable?'

I said, 'Comfortable yet uncomfortable. Both sensations are extremely intense.'

He said, 'Let me listen to the best music again. '" I said, "

Ugh... um... ah, I really can't take it anymore..."

He said, "You can. Hold on a little longer. Focus on your pleasure."

I said, "Um, okay. But I can't hold on much longer... I um... oh I..."

It was almost boiling point. It was almost a white-hot frenzy.

I said, "I bought a toy today."

He asked, "What kind?"

I said, "I won't tell you."

He said, "Find it and put it in."

I said, "Okay, wait a minute."

I temporarily pulled my fingers out, opened the drawer, took out the black donkey, and slowly inserted it into my wet pussy. He asked, "How long?"

I said, "More than a foot long, about the same length as your old yam."

He asked, "What do you call it?"

I said, "Black donkey."

I didn't tell him about the embarrassing thing my husband found out about.

He said, "Let the black donkey fuck you!"

I said, "It's already in. Oh~~" He said, "Your fingers are rubbing your clit outside."

I said, "Sigh." He said, "

Straighten your thighs forcefully. Muscle tension can enhance pleasure."

I said, "Okay." "

The black donkey's head was pounding against my G-spot, against my cervix. My fingers were kneading my clitoris.

I was a lamb that had fallen into a raging river, rising and falling with the waves, half-submerged, half-up, half-down, on the verge of suffocating.

I trembled and groaned. My toes twisted. My eyes were glazed. I was lost in a daze. I was full of energy. I was carefree.

I was completely intoxicated by the intense, real physical pleasure. I was going crazy with happiness, I couldn't remember ever being this happy before. It had been almost an hour, my body receiving continuous stimulation of pleasure, building up again and again. My nipples and clitoris were red and swollen. My sheets were damp. I was deeply immersed in a simple, primal state, like a mother beast, covered in sweat, twisting and trembling, panting and groaning.

I realized that the past ten years of adult life had been tasteless and completely wasted. My husband was a mere figurehead, my pleasure cruelly taken away. Now, I was compensating myself, compensating with something as simple as pleasure.

He said, 'Fiercely knead your clitoris.'" "

My body felt suspended, my blood surging, full of power, a raging, surging flame intensely engulfing everything, exquisitely beautiful, an almost unbearable, overwhelming ecstasy. I felt extremely excited. My breathing was rapid. My head became light, as if in a dream world, my own panting and moaning coming and going. The pendulum had stopped, time had frozen. With the continuous stimulation of my clitoris, vagina, cervix, and nipples, every cell danced and frolicked with extreme pleasure, the ecstasy radiating from my clitoris and nipples, crashing wildly within me, sparking joyful fireworks.

He said, 'Let the black donkey rape you, rape your cunt.'"

*Splashing sounds*. *Splashing sounds*. I heard the clear sound of a black donkey ravaging my wet cunt. Tonight I am so depraved. The more depraved, the happier. Almost there…almost there…I can feel it coming, it's approaching me. I can't scream, I can only hold my breath and listen to my heartbeat…it's that amplified feeling of excitement. It's like I'm swimming alone in the sea late at night, and suddenly a strong wind rises, howling and whipping up huge waves tens of meters high, crashing down on me. I'm about to be submerged, I watch helplessly as those towering waves crash down on me, I have nowhere to hide, I'm powerless, I have no choice, I wait to be submerged…I'm a little scared, but also strangely hopeful: if it's destined to happen, let it come quickly…I really don't want to endure this sweet torment anymore…it's pleasure, it's pain, it's painful pleasure.

Suddenly, it comes! My whole body stiffens. My blood pressure, blood concentration, body temperature, metabolism, secretions, all physiological functions reach their limits. Then I froze. I forgot everything around me, didn't even know where I was; my vision blurred and dimmed. Powerful spasms coursed through my muscles. The black donkey finally propelled me to the "crest of the wave." I convulsed, like a wounded, hot-blooded doe, like an electrocuted pink jellyfish, my whole body helplessly convulsing, convulsing, convulsing, convulsing… a fiery white explosion. My mouth gaped open, wanting to scream, wanting to roar with unrestrained passion, but no sound came out. I lay on the bed, silently convulsing and twitching. After the climax, I completely relaxed, a momentary loss of consciousness. I couldn't remember anything. I didn't want anything. I had no strength left. Not a single ounce of strength. I was left only panting. Rapid panting, like a doe giving birth on the verge of death… I had reached the most intense climax of my life.

Long after the climax, I regained my hearing, regained focus, and discovered my cordless phone had fallen onto the pillow.

I picked up the phone and heard him ask on the other end, "Sis, what's wrong?"

I managed a few broken, trembling sounds: "Um... ah..."

He said, "Are you alright?"

I said, "I'm fine. I just couldn't help it just now~" He sincerely said, "Congratulations. I'm so happy for you."

I said, "Thank you."

He asked, "How do you feel now?"

I said, "Dead. And then I came back to life."

He said, "That's called rebirth."

I asked, "Do you feel anything?"

He said, "How could I not feel anything? The old soldier ejaculated into the teacup."

I hung up the phone, put away my black donkey, and some old memories, like annoying little insects, began to gnaw at my bones again.

I haven't had any good times. My memories are mostly bitter. My adolescence was leaden gray.

It wasn't as open as it is now.

After I started menstruating, I began to vaguely feel that kind of desire. Doing homework and making bulletin boards with boys was especially enjoyable, and a strange impulse gradually arose in my body.

Like every silly girl, I started weaving my dreams in broad daylight, dreaming of a tall, handsome, gentle, and incredibly rich prince charming as my life partner, living happily ever after. Later, however, I reluctantly married my current husband. He's not tall, handsome, gentle, or particularly rich.

Sexual desire needs to be gradually aroused, growing stronger, yet I'm never satisfied.

We rarely have sex. When we do, it's always a brief, almost imperceptible affair, lasting no more than ten seconds. Just as

I start to feel something, he's already finished, turned over, and fallen asleep, snoring away.

I couldn't stand it anymore, I was thoroughly fed up. Once, in the heat of the moment, I brought it up with him, and he actually got annoyed, scoffing, "Why do you think about this all the time?"

I'm tongue-tied, lying there unsure what to say, as if I were the one in the wrong. After that, I never mentioned it to him again.

Gradually, as time went on, it faded, and I really didn't think about it anymore. Then he said I was frigid. I'm caught in the middle, caught between two evils!

Night has fallen. I can't sleep.

My longing for that scoundrel surges fiercely in the midnight air, gently tormenting my heart. A

gentle breeze drifts through the window screen. In the misty night air, my empty mind hears Faye Wong's song: "Longing is a mysterious thing, like a shadow, silent and still, appearing in the depths of my heart, instantly engulfing me in loneliness. I am powerless to resist, especially at night, thinking of you makes it hard to breathe. I wish I could run to you immediately, and tell you loudly, I'm willing to forget my name for you, I'm willing to forget my name for you, even if it's just for one more second in your arms, I'm willing to be banished to the ends of the earth for you..."

I know this song well, I've heard it hundreds of times, but I've never felt anything for it. Today, suddenly, I feel the lyrics are better than the melody.

Without the relevant experience, listening a thousand times is useless. Only

when you're heartbroken and in excruciating pain can you understand.

The next afternoon, on a street corner, a woman gestured to me with the DVD in her hand, her movements discreet, her eyes wandering, probing.

I asked her, "Anything fun?"

She said, "I have all sorts of fun things here. What kind do you like?"

I blushed and said, "Um, something new."

She said, "Loli?"

I said, "No, not that kind."

She said, "Gay?" I said,

"No."

She said, "Lesbian?"

I said, "No."

She said, "Doc?"

I said, "No."

She said, "Scat?"

I said, "No."

She said, "Nazi Tor?"

I said, "No."

She said, "Toy?"

I said, "No."

She said, "Animal?" I said, "

No." She said, "ampu?"

I said, "Oh no~" She said, "gang?"

I said, "Um...um."

She said, "European?"

I said, "Um...um."

She said, "Ancient costume? Modern? Sci-fi? Alien? Older? Pregnant woman? Police? War? Torture and interrogation?"

I suddenly got impatient and said, "I want clear ones."

She said, "Don't worry, I have clear ones here, clearer than CCTV. If you don't understand, come find me." I said

, "Okay. Let's talk about the price. How much is one?"

She said, "Clear ones are naturally more expensive. You get what you pay for, we have a clear conscience. If you want to be cheap, go over there, find those guys, see them? Those guys, but they all have pirated copies, you can't even watch them. If you want to watch them, watch them clearly, right?"

I said, "Why are you so talkative? How much is one?"

I followed her from the main street into the alley, and from the alley into a slum that was half demolished.

This was a cluster of low, dilapidated houses, none taller than 1.5 meters, like those built by cavemen when they first came to the city.

The woman took the "goods," accepted my money, and vanished as swiftly as a cockroach.

I hadn't walked far when, just as I passed a dark little door, a basin of laundry water splashed out horizontally.

I could vaguely see a disheveled woman inside.

She must have done it unintentionally. I held back, said nothing, and walked forward. Suddenly, I heard the woman hesitantly call my name. I turned to look at her; her age was unclear. She called my name? Did she recognize me?

The disheveled woman from inside the door emerged and said to me, "I'm Xu Yan'er! Your elementary school classmate! Don't you remember?"

My lips parted. Good heavens! Time waits for no one!

She put down the washbasin, wiped her wet hands on her apron, and grabbed my hand, saying, "Look at this mess! Come inside, I'll get you some clothes! You haven't changed much. Oh, what a coincidence!"

I followed her inside, and bumped my forehead against the doorframe, it hurt.

Xu Yan hurriedly said, "The door's low, the door's low, hehe, be careful."

The room was low-lying, dark, narrow, and damp, barely eight meters in size, and reeked of a musty stench.

Xu Yan enthusiastically rummaged through her trunk and pulled out a clean set of clothes, handing it to me, saying, "Sit down, sit down. Change quickly. How many years has it been since we last met?"

I didn't change.

I had just sat down on the edge of the bed when I felt the blanket under my hands move.

I was startled, and as my pupils gradually adjusted to the dim light, I looked closer and saw that there was a child under the blanket.

Xu Yan said, "My son. Eleven years old. He can't get out of bed."

Xu Yan brought me a cup of hot tea.

The cup was made of the cheapest kind of glass, with more than twenty air bubbles inside, and the outside was printed with rough, glaring bright green bamboo and pink peony flowers.

Those kinds of cups cost three for a dime at the free market, or you could get eight for two dime if you bargained them down.

Of course, I remember a girl named Xu Yan! I had a carefree classmate named Xu Yan, tall, beautiful, and clean. She was the head of the school's drum band, from a good family, a good student, and popular. I clearly remember one afternoon during recess, Xu Yan stood in the dazzling sunlight, slowly putting on her thin, white cotton gloves before playing jump rope with us. Yes, she was very clean, came from a well-off family, and in my eyes she was like an aristocrat, high and mighty, every move she made exuding a sense of superiority. I knew her father later became the director of the district tax bureau. Now, she lives in this low-lying, dark, cramped, and damp house.

I asked, "Where is your husband?"

She said, "Dead."

I said, "Oh, I'm sorry."

She said, "It's okay, it's been six years."

She didn't elaborate on the cause of death. Having just met, I didn't want to press her further, but I had to talk.

I asked, "Are your parents doing well?"

She said, "Don't mention it. My dad got arrested. My mom was devastated; she cried herself blind, lost all her hair, and then soon... Come, have some tea."

I asked, "Why was your dad arrested?"

She said, "Sigh! He chose the wrong side. The sentence was quite heavy."

She didn't explain in detail which side her father had chosen.

I asked, "How's your dad's health now?"

She said, "Not so good. I visited him the other day, and he said there's no air conditioning inside, and lots of mosquitoes."

I asked, "What about medical parole?"

She said, "I've begged so many people for that, but it's no use. All the people they've been close to have gone in, and now those outside are just watching the show. The people in charge are all newbies; who's going to take the risk for him? It's all retribution." She said, "

What a coincidence! Running into you today."

I said, "Hey! It really is! ...What a coincidence."

I didn't dare ask about her son's illness, so I remained silent.

She was also embarrassed, so she offered me a way out, saying, "Oh, you must be quite busy?"

I stood up and sincerely replied, "Ah! Yes!" "You're really busy~" After saying that, I thought: Wasn't her dad busier than me back then? Is being busy a good thing? What am I busy with here?

Suddenly, I felt a loosening in my lower abdomen, and my soul left my body.

In an instant, I saw myself naked, falling slowly down a cliff to the bottom of a valley. The mountain wind blew my long hair, making my eyelids itchy and my eyes sting.

She said, "Then if you need any help in the future, just let me know."

What could I possibly need her help with? But it's hard to say. Life is like that, full of ups and downs, unpredictable.

She said, "These past few years I've been studying the I Ching and learning the Eight Trigrams."

I casually asked her, "Oh. Do you think there will be an end of the world?

" She said, "Yes. Everything is born and dies, that's the law of nature. Besides, humans have pretty much ruined the earth."

I said, "Well, if, hypothetically, if tomorrow were the end of the world, what would you do?"

She smiled and said, "I'd withdraw my last thousand or so dollars from the bank, and then take my son out for a Peking duck dinner. What about you?"

Me? I hadn't thought about it. My mind was a little blank; I didn't know what to say.

Seeing it up close, I realized how insignificant people are, how worthless their lives are.

In these low, dilapidated houses, many people spend their entire lives, only to die of old age. Reaching the door of the shack, I said goodbye and quickly walked away.

Would things change for her? Would I face a crisis? Who knows?

To be honest, I'm quite afraid of things like the I Ching, divination, prophecy, and death. I worship Buddha whenever I encounter him, and I respect the gods.

I always feel that, in the unseen realm, God has a scale in His heart; if you have this, you lose that. Or if something is lacking too much, it will be made up for later.

Will He compensate me? Like my relationships these past few years? How much happiness have I missed? How do I settle this score? Nobody likes pressure; nobody wants to live under pressure. Has

my true love appeared? I hope that when a turning point comes, I'll be prepared and won't miss it again.

I'm only thirty-seven, in the prime of my life. When I'm forty-seven, that's when it's all set in stone, everything is irreversible, and no change will be possible.

At forty-seven, my heart will surely be dead, and I won't have the strength to struggle anymore. Change won't come on its own. If I don't fight for it, no one will give it to me—the same applies to happiness.

But how easy is it to change? One move, and everything moves.

If I don't move, will I just endure it? The price will be my own health.

Sigh, why is life so imperfect?

I don't want to think about such complicated things anymore. I want a simple life. I want to go home and watch TV. I want to see that "old soldier" who truly cares about me. I've started thinking about him again, that considerate, caring, and cherishing bad man.

I recall some of the things I said to him, some of the things he said to me, his kindness, his unconditional goodwill and care, and the incredible indulgence a few days ago, the ease, comfort, fluidity, and ethereal feeling afterward, that slightly tipsy, soft, pleasant feeling, that long-lost feeling of complete satisfaction.

I was so excited that day, and even after the climax, I talked to him for so long, so many things…

Thinking about it, I felt my underwear was already wet.

I went home. It was empty. My husband wasn't home yet.

I turned on my computer, put in the first disc, and clicked play. A simple, weathered old courtyard gate [the kind you see everywhere in Shanxi]. No background music.

The gate creaked open. The courtyard wasn't big, but it was quite clean. If Xu Yan could live in this courtyard, she wouldn't have to do anything else, just grin all day.

The north-facing room sat calmly in the sunlight. A faint sound began to rise. Growing louder, it was the sound of groans.

The door to the north room opened, revealing a man and a woman on the large bed. Sao Sao was kneeling, and Ba Ba was penetrating her from behind, the woman thrusting her hips in as he entered. Sex was like playing badminton, right? They were hitting each other. The more they hit, the more energetic they became.

Their hair was disheveled, their faces flushed, they were panting heavily, moaning incessantly, completely absorbed in their pleasure. The

man who entered the room, Jiji and Pipi, sat on the edge of the bed, both naked, calmly watching the two.

Sao Sao said, "Mmm... harder, Ba Ba, mmm..."

Ba Ba said, "Sao Sao, you're so beautiful, it's a pity you can't see how beautiful your back is."

Ba Ba's left hand reached around and began to knead Sao Sao's breasts. Sao Sao's nipples stood erect.

Her soft, white breasts were being ravaged and deformed in Ba Ba's large hands.

Ba Ba's right hand reached around and began to pinch Sao Sao's swollen clitoris.

Sao Sao had shaved her pubic hair, so her vagina and clitoris were clearly exposed.

A close-up of Sao Sao's face: pink cheeks, dreamy eyes, and disheveled long hair.

Her loosened lips emitted pleasant breaths, punctuated by indistinct moans, words breaking into fragmented "uh-huhs" and "ohs." A close

-up of her nipples: magnified dozens of times, their delicate wrinkles supple and soft, every detail vividly displayed, filling the screen. Between Baba's index finger and thumb, they are caressed and twisted, constantly growing larger and swollen.

Bibi stands up, kneeling on the bed behind Baba, gently touching his swaying penis, moving it in front of Sao Sao, and tenderly stroking her beautiful face. Sao Sao lets him touch her. The penis kneels before Sao Sao, legs spread, the robust, fleshy banana brought to Sao Sao's lips.

Sao Sao begins to suckle. The penis's large Venezuelan banana is fully inserted into Sao Sao's mouth.

The penis rubs Sao Sao's back. Bibi kisses Baba.

The penis said to the clitoris, "Let's switch."

The clitoris pulled its wet, thick penis out of the clitoris's hole and switched places with the penis.

The penis's large, banana-like penis was inserted into the clitoris's throbbing opening.

The clitoris's dripping penis was aimed at the clitoris's beautiful lips.

The clitoris said to the clitoris, "The juice on this is all your own. Accept yourself."

The clitoris hesitated, smelled it, and didn't open its mouth.

The clitoris said to the clitoris, "It's okay. You're not dirty."

The penis was pulled out of the clitoris's hole and began to insert it into her anus.

The vagina was next to her; she touched this one and kissed that one. Looking closely at the vagina, it seemed even prettier and more voluptuous than the clitoris...

My pulse quickened, my face flushed, and a surge of intense emotion rose in my chest. I thought about it. Suddenly, I really, really wanted to.

I need to take good care of myself. I need to cherish myself.

I put my hand inside my skirt. Luckily, it was summer. Convenient. My fingers lightly traced patterns on the outside of my underwear, teasing my sensitive spots.

It was stimulating even through the fabric, but the main reason I didn't take them off was that it was already 6:30, and my husband would be home soon.

I should turn off the computer now, but I didn't. I wanted to use my sedative, but it was too late. I'd just have to do it.

My husband could walk in at any moment; he might even hear me moaning.

I remained seated, continuing to watch my new DVDs and touch the bottom of my underwear. My heart pounded!

Did I want to be discovered again? Did I want to torment him? I couldn't tell.

I only knew that the threat of being discovered intensified the stimulation I was experiencing.

I was a reckless criminal, a pure carnal individual, struggling to masturbate in court before sentencing.

I was a foolish moth, single-mindedly seeking rebirth, desperately drawn to the raging fire.

Now, my mind was blank except for climax and release. I heard the pounding drums. Louder and louder! That was my heartbeat. My heart was racing to its limit, it couldn't beat any faster.

My lips parted, letting out an uncontrollable moan. My lover said my moans were the most beautiful, gentle, and melodious sounds in the world.

That wicked guy. What would it feel like if his hand were teasing me down there?

Maybe he'd be eager to slip into my panties, maybe he'd already stripped me naked?

Maybe he'd be even more patient than me, giving me a blissful orgasm right outside my panties? I found myself thinking about him more and more intensely. My mind was replaying everything about him more and more frequently.

He was another adventure, another gamble in my life. He had many things that attracted me, like his wildness, his knowledge.

At that moment, my fingers had become his fingers, exploring, wandering, dancing, and ravaging my body. I knew the climax was almost here, almost there! But

just then, the door lock clicked. My damn husband had come home.

Utter grief and despair! I shut down the computer and silently screamed in my heart: Fuck!

Before falling asleep that night, I thought of Xu Yan again. Life is full of uncertainties. Today I revel in the moment, tomorrow I'll plummet to the bottom.

Right now, my body is burning with desire, hot blood is surging through my veins, and my 37-year-old heart is pounding wildly. The climax has been lingering for hours, leaving my whole body throbbing and aching.

It seems I won't be able to sleep without releasing my pent-up energy.

So be it!

I take off my nightgown, my left hand gently caressing my nipple, which immediately responds. My own body is my most loyal companion.

Then, my right hand naturally slips inside my underwear, gently stroking my pubic hair.

At that moment, I think again: my beautiful 37-year-old body is like a flame burning day and night in an oil field, a flower blooming alone in the summer mountains, unseen, blooming in vain.

Ah, how wonderful it would be if my lover were here right now?

My fingers once again transform into his. His scalding words echo in my ears.

My breathing quickens. A kettle of water, boiling, bubbling and gurgling, a desperate kettle of water, about to boil dry—so be it, boil dry.

A dizzying spasm. I climaxed.

Finally, the electricity was released, my whole body limp. Hot, a layer of sweat instantly covering my forehead.

I turned over, closed my eyes, waiting for my heartbeat to slowly calm down, waiting to drift into a deep sleep. An hour passed, and I still couldn't sleep. Was I still not completely discharged?

I opened the drawer and took out the black donkey.

Touching its smooth head and body, I remembered the pleasure it had given me, but the shame it had inflicted on me was equally suffocating.

Never mind my damn husband. I slowly led the black donkey down to my lower body, letting it drink its sweet spring.

The black donkey tormented me until I was drenched in sweat, releasing all the electricity in my body thoroughly, completely.

The unforgettable, repeated contractions made me feel like I was on a cloud. I was so depraved that I actually fell asleep with the black donkey between my legs.

The next few nights were spent like this. I was happy, reveling and enjoying myself.

Like someone who had just emerged from the Sahara Desert drinking from a sweet spring, like a child from an equatorial country rolling around on the vast snowfields of Siberia. At

my lover's house

, he held me and asked, "Did you miss me?"

I answered truthfully, "Yes. I missed you so much!" He asked, "Where did you miss me?"

I hesitated for a long time, unable to say it.

He encouraged me, saying, "It's okay. Just say it."

I said, "I'll blush if I say it out loud~" He said, "You look good when you blush."

I asked, "Why does blushing look good?"

He said, "Blushing means you're secretly horny. I especially like messing with this kind of pussy."

His tone was flat, like he was saying, "I especially like eating steamed fish." My face really turned red, red all the way to my neck. My heart was pounding with excitement, and my vagina was dripping wet, like a cavern.

Why am I like this? Why do I love hearing dirty words? Why do I get a reaction down there as soon as I hear dirty words? Is this a conditioned reflex? Can I go back to him? He kissed my cheek and asked, "Are you okay?"

I said, "No..."

He asked, "Is there any word you can't accept?"

I said, "I can accept anything, I can accept anything..."

He said, "Then tell me those words."

I said, "Huh? Tell me? I'm afraid..."

He said, "You want to be human again, huh? Always holding back, huh? Always reluctant to let go of being an animal."

I asked, "What animal?"

He said, "Many, like dogs. I'm a male dog. What about you?"

I hesitated for a second, gritted my teeth, and whispered, "Female dog..."

He happily said, "That's right! Male dogs like sexy female dogs!"

In that instant, I felt he was full of energy, lively and cute, especially innocent and sunny.

He said, "Come on, let's practice. Say it with me, yin, yin, the yin of vagina. Say it loudly!"

I timidly followed along, "...yin, yin, the yin of vagina..."

He took a sip of cola and said, "Nice! Say it with me, pui, pui, the pui of fucking pui."

I looked at him, and my heart suddenly turned from sunny to gloomy. I felt that he was still a devil inside and out.

He urged me, "Hey, just say it! What is it? Will you lose a piece of your flesh if you tell me?"

I said in a trembling voice, "...b~~~~i~~~~bi~~~~~" He grinned, the sun shining brightly, and took another sip of Coke.

I laughed too, but with a miserable expression, my brows furrowed in many wrinkles, like the kind of laughter that Xiao Cui has—as Benshan said, "like crying." Seeing my tragically beautiful "crying-laugh," he lost control of his breathing, the Coke swirling in his trachea and nasal cavity. He coughed desperately.

Was he playing with me or developing me?

Was he training me or humiliating me?

He asked, "Is the kind of life you have with your husband really the life you want?"

I said, "Of course not. He's my enemy, my foe. He's wasting my youth, devouring my life. Why am I so unlucky?"

He said, "Before you meet a good man, you must first suffer mentally and physically."

I asked, "Why?"

He said, "That way, when a good man comes along, you'll cherish him and won't miss him."

I asked, "Really? Does this good man have a tattoo on his right arm?"

He hugged me tightly and said, "Yes. Sister, spend the rest of your life with me. I'll treat you well."

I said, "Let's forget about feelings."

He said, "The problem is, he doesn't care about you and doesn't appreciate you."

I said, "Can appreciation put food on the table?"

He said, "Damn! There are plenty of men who can support you besides the meatpacking plant guy."

I said, "Okay, I'll think about it."

He got up and went out to buy fast food.

I took a warm shower, washing away my sinful body while asking myself: Is he really my soulmate? Do we have a future?

Can he love me wholeheartedly? Can he keep me from cheating? Our sex life is becoming increasingly compatible. But how do we maintain the passion? Life is extremely mundane and tedious.

Trivial matters can extinguish passion.

After we've tried all the sexual tricks and the passion fades, what will we use to maintain our relationship?

Will he also give me the silent treatment and ignore my existence like my current husband?

He bought some food. We wolfed it down.

He stripped me naked again right after we finished eating and said, "Let's go to bed."

I asked, "What for?"

He said, "We need to talk about something important."

I said, "What's so important? Can't we talk while we're dressed?"

He said, "What do you do when you masturbate?"

I said, "Um... right in bed..."

He said, "I'm asking you specifically how."

I said, "Just rubbing my clitoris..."

He asked, "Have you ever looked in a mirror when you masturbate?"

I said, "No."

He asked, "Why not?"

I said, "I'm too embarrassed..."

He asked, "You've never looked in a mirror when you masturbate?"

I said, "Yeah, never."

He said, "Oh, you don't know how beautiful you are when you masturbate! That breathtaking beauty! I can't describe it."

What he said made me want to look in a mirror myself, haha. Women all have narcissistic tendencies, and I think I have them too.

I really have never looked in a mirror when I masturbate. Subconsciously, I feel that when people masturbate, they're possessed by a lustful spirit.

He brought over a small hand mirror, then knelt between my legs again, stroking my pubic hair upwards, and said, "Look! Look down!"

In the mirror, my vulva was so ugly.

The labia were pale pink, pale ochre, and a little bluish-purple. The two "slippery fleshy plates" drooped softly, listlessly, half-concealing the opening.

He parted my labia. Inside, it was pink, wet, and glistening with an obscene light.

He asked, "Is it pretty?"

I said, "Hmph~ It's really shabby."

He said, "Shabby is beautiful!"

His values are really strange. It seems he's determined to overturn all rules.

I asked, "Are other women like this down there too?"

He said, "They vary greatly, never the same, but they're all pretty 'shabby'."

I said, "'Shabby' and you're still craving it?"

He said, "The shabby it is, the more craving it is! Do you like it?"

I said, "So-so. As long as you like it. "

He said, "Of course I love it to death, but I want you to love it too! Look! How beautiful and alluring your little cunt is!"

I said, "I don't think so."

He massaged my clitoris and said, "Look! Look at your little bean. How beautiful! How delicate! Can you see it?"

He pulled back the foreskin of my clitoris. I saw it indeed. The little bean was like a tiny yellow bean, shyly hiding deep in the folds.

He asked, "What do you call it?"

I said, "Little clitoris, little bean, little dot, little pearl..."

He bent down and licked my bean until it was wet, then gently touched it with his fingertips. So comfortable!

With a soft rustling, he took off my shirt.

I said, "What?"

He said, "Take off your extra burdens!"

After lightening my load, my naked body rubbed against the dry sheets, and I really felt a sense of childhood ease.

He pulled my hand to my vulva and pressed it there.

I said, "What?"

He said, "Touch yourself."

I said, "No."

He said, "Hurry up.

" I said, "No. You're touching me quite well."

He said, "I want you to touch yourself."

I said, "Oh, why are you doing this? It's so embarrassing~" He said, "I just want to dispel your shame."

I listened to him and masturbated in front of him.

My heart was racing. I'm really not used to masturbating in front of someone. But my little hole quickly became wet.

He sat behind me, hugged me, and caressed my ears, neck, shoulders, breasts, and nipples.

I masturbated naked against his chest. I saw my clean, naked body.

His pubic hair was pressed against my buttocks.

I could feel his penis wasn't hard yet. Maybe he thought that having me masturbate in front of him would stimulate him? If that's really the case, I might as well give it a try. I licked my fingers wet and pinched, kneaded, pulled, and circled my nipples.

My nipples quickly hardened. My right nipple was even more sensitive.

I used my left hand to separate my labia, and my right hand to stimulate my clitoris. My opening became even wetter.

I used my right hand, dipped in nectar, to touch my clitoris. Suddenly, he pushed me down onto the bed, lifted my thigh with his left hand,

and used his right hand, dipped in my nectar, to touch my anus. I felt itchy, my mouth was dry, and I was restless. I used my left index and middle fingers to forcefully separate my labia and move them up and down, while my right hand circled and rubbed my clitoris. My moans sounded like sighs.

I never thought I could masturbate in this way.

My body is mine. Why use only one position for a lifetime? For only one man?

He said, "Put it in."

I asked, "How many fingers?"

He said, "Two."

I obediently inserted two fingers. The familiar pleasure was almost drowning me.

He said, "Touch your G-spot."

I said, "It hurts~" He said, "Push against your cervix!"

I touched it; the cervix was warm, soft, and slippery.

He said, "Fuck your own vagina."

I said, "I'm fucking... I'm fucking my own vagina with my fingers."

I grabbed his old yam with my other hand. The old yam turned into a steel gun. I was secretly delighted. I gently stroked the steel gun.

His penis finally got hard! He was back to normal! That's good.

While watching me masturbate, he touched my anus and said, "There was a woman, naked, who was taken to the Xidan intersection. Everyone gathered around and raped her."

Involuntarily, I imagined that this woman was 37 years old and had a cold-hearted bastard husband.

He continued, "This woman was in heat, had just been fucked, and her vagina was full of semen. A foreman reached out and touched her genitals, which were full of sticky fluid. He pulled out his big gun and thrust it in hard."

I listened to the story while masturbating myself and masturbating him. He told the story while masturbating my anus and being masturbated by me.

He said, "The foreman asked, 'Do you like me to penetrate you?' The woman said—"

He stopped, not continuing.

I got into character and said, "...Yes."

He said, "There are eight more porters behind the foreman, all wanting to fuck you. Will you let them?"

I had become that woman from Xidan. I nodded while licking my wet vagina with my fingers, saying, "I'll let them, I'll let them..."

He said, "Everyone can't wait in line because you're too horny. They'll all crowd around, eager to touch you, kiss you, lick you."

I said, "Oh..."

He said, "A hooligan said that this woman has another hole that's not open. Saying that, he came behind you, forcefully spread your buttocks, guess what he's going to do?"

I said, "Oh...he's going to penetrate me?"

He said, "Yes. Two men holding her, roughly penetrating her."

I felt incredibly good inside. I twisted my buttocks and moaned, cooperating, indulging my lustful soul, while also stimulating him.

He pulled out my fingers, and thrust his steel rod in to the hilt. Scalding hot!

I cried out. A cry from the bottom of my heart. My man is no longer impotent! He's fucking me again!

I said, "Foreman, how come you're so hard?"

His cock was so hard, so hot. We made love wildly, urgently, and passionately.

He licked me like a male dog, licking my face, licking the sweat on my face. I obediently accepted being fucked like a female dog. He said, "The foreman only gets this hard when he sees a slut. Come on, say something exciting to the brothers."

Awkward silence.

I'm a well-mannered, respectable woman.

He encouraged me, saying, "Say it. Saying it feels different."

I said, "Fuck me...fuck my cunt...fuck my cunt..."

I felt the "foreman" fucking even harder. His hard steel gun pounded hard against my aroused uterus.

He said as he thrust, “There were thousands of onlookers. Traffic was paralyzed. A professor came over and said, ‘You guys are torturing her way too much. Look, her face is so red. What are you trying to do?’”

I improvised a line with him: “Are you trying to play her to death?”

He said, “The foreman said, ‘You don’t understand, she likes it like this, she likes people playing with her! You can ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.’ The professor asked the woman, ‘Girl, is what he said true?’”

I nodded and said, “Yes! It’s true~ I’ve been in heat these past few days, I just want men to penetrate me, stab me, fuck me, play with me, fuck me~ the more the better~” Then I heard the familiar, rousing drumbeats. I started to accelerate. My breathing became higher and more forceful.

He said, "The professor showed off his stiff old yam and started fucking this slut too~" I said, "Okay~ fuck my horny cunt... fuck me hard... be rough... fuck me to pieces! Don't be gentle with me..."

He gritted his teeth and fucked me viciously, it looked like I was really going to be torn to shreds and fucked to pieces today.

I said, "I'm sweating~" He asked, "Where are you sweating, slut?"

I said, "My ass, my cunt, my whole body."

He said, "Slut, I'll fuck you to death!"

I heard the train coming towards me.

I shouted arrogantly and ferociously, "Kill me! Fuck me to death!"

These words were like the firing pin of a revolver, hitting me. After saying these words, the train crashed in. The tide came in.

Bullets shot in.

I arrived. He shot. I went crazy. He screamed. Everything was so exhilarating.

My vision blurred, my consciousness faded.

I finally knew nothing more.

I'm so tired, I need to rest. The dust has settled, everything is calm.

We're both drenched in sweat, our ears burning red. If you walked in now, you'd think you'd entered a sauna.

I'm dizzy and drunk, unwilling to wake up.

He asked knowingly, "Sister, what's wrong?"

I said, "You rascal—you bad guy!"

He asked, "Did you climax, sis?"

I said, "Yeah. You're so naughty, always coming up with bad ideas."

He asked, "How did it feel just now?"

I said, "Quick, look for it! Under the bed!"

He asked, "Look for what?"

I said, "My heart just jumped out of my chest."

He looked at me with a smile.

I said, "The feeling was... fulfilling, intoxicated, floating, high, all sweaty. Feel it! Sweat's dripping down my legs. How can I be sweating so much?"

He touched my wet legs and said, "Because you were fucked so hard."

I said, "That sounds awful."

He said, "You were moaning even better just now.

" I asked, "Was I too easily tempted?"

He said, "No, this satisfaction is what you deserve. You've suffered so much, so much injustice~" My palms were hot, my soles were sweaty, and I lay naked next to him.

He said, "Don't catch a cold. It's easiest to catch a cold at this time. Put on some clothes."

I said, "It's okay, I'll just cool off first~" He said, "Put your hands up here and smell them."

I asked, "Why?" "

He said, 'Just smell it.'

I asked, 'Why?'

He said, 'Accept yourself, starting with your scent.'

I looked into his eyes and smelled my hand, which I had just masturbated.

He asked, 'Does it smell good?

' I said, 'Smelly~' He said, 'Smelly smells good. Even male dogs love this smell.'

I touched my genitals. My genitals were a swamp, overflowing with all sorts of sticky fluid. I ejaculated a lot, and he ejaculated a lot. "

I said, "You pervert, you just shot in someone's house? Didn't you even ask if it was safe for them today?" He said, "I was going to ask my boss for permission. But it was too late."

I said, "You pervert! What if I get pregnant?"

He said, "If you get pregnant, just have the baby!"

I asked, "Have the baby? What will we call you then?"

He said, "Isn't that obvious? Call me Dad!"

I asked, "What will we call my husband then?"

He said, "I'll be your husband! Go back and get a divorce, hurry up!"

I laughed and got up, saying, "Okay, okay, let me go downstairs and wash up first."

He asked, "Wash where?"

I said, "Down there."

He said, "Wash what? Beijing is short of water, we need to conserve water."

I laughed and asked, "What about the semen inside?"

He said, "I'll absorb it."

In my dream, I felt him slowly touching my whole body, his tender hands caressing my entire body. I opened my eyes and saw that he was already awake, sitting cross-legged next to me, touching me.

I said, "You're really something, you rascal."

He said, "Yeah, right."

I said, "Please let me sleep until I naturally wake up, okay?"

He said, "Hurry up and play. You can catch up on sleep after you die."

I said, "Shut up. Don't be so unlucky."

He said, "I want to lick you."

I asked, "Where will you lick me?"

He said, "I'll lick your whole body, lick all your mouths!"

My heart raced again.

Just thinking about his warm, agile tongue teasing my nipples and vagina sent a surge of pleasure rushing down my spine to the back of my head, then down to my breasts and lower abdomen.

He asked, "Will you let me, sis?"

I said, "Yes, I will."

He started licking my nipples and sucking on my breasts.

I said, "Mmm~ That's so good. It feels so good~" While sucking on my breasts, his hand moved down, gently rubbing my belly button.

I said, "Oh~" Now he was past my belly button, touching my pubic hair. He gently combed my pubic hair, gently shaving it upwards, stimulating my super sensitive flesh.

I said, "Mmm~" I was on the bed, and involuntarily wiggled my hips.

He asked, "Do you like it?"

I said, "Mmm~ You know what? I feel really empty down there."

He asked, "How so?"

I said, "Mmm, I want your fingers or your big cock to go in and poke around, that would feel good."

He whispered, "I'm going down now."

Like a diver saying goodbye to his crew. I suddenly remembered the intense sex we'd just had, and him ejaculating inside me.

I said, "No! I haven't washed yet~" He said, "I'm licking the unwashed."

Then he went straight for my crotch…

his hot tongue was driving me wild! Killing me softly…

melting me. Making me powerless. Making me scream… that rogue's tongue seemed to be sucking my marrow, my soul clean. The excruciating happiness confused me.

Is God really compensating me? First, giving me a husband who never goes down, then giving me such a passionate, cunning rogue.

Now I'm finally experiencing the happiness a woman should have, but I'm already 37. How tragic! Why didn't I meet him sooner?

The rogue's large hands, gentle and skillful, were everywhere. In a daze, I felt he had more than two hands. He was an octopus, a giant squid, holding me tightly, refusing to let go.

I tilted my head and saw his penis hard again, nodding majestically at me.

I was shy, I was wild, unable to stop moaning sadly in the throes of pleasure. I wanted to shout out all the pain in my chest, and then die happily.

Truly, I wanted to die in his arms, die at the peak of sexual experience, far away from all worldly troubles.

I climaxed again, tears streaming down my face. I cried as I climaxed, crying for the precious time I had wasted.

When the climax subsided and everything calmed down, my lover looked at me with admiring eyes and said, "Your body is so alluring! Oh my god, you're so lovely!"

This praise intoxicated me. My husband had never said such things to me.

His affection and appreciation transformed me into another person; in that moment, I was so happy.

He got up to take a shower, leaving me alone in bed.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over my heart. Trouble swarmed in like millions of locusts, blotting out the

sky. Suddenly, I was so annoyed, annoyed that my body had betrayed me, annoyed that a perfectly respectable woman had turned into an adulterer.

I hate women who betray their marriages, but now I had betrayed mine, my mind filled only with thoughts of being fucked. I had utterly degenerated into a shameless bitch.

I was sad, I hated myself for betraying my lover. At the same time, I was also sorrowful, because I realized that what I had desperately defended for decades was wrong, and the life I had wasted was not worth it. I was

utterly confused and lost: I had found a lover, but I didn't want to indulge myself; I wanted to quit, but I couldn't let go of the past.

He came back from the shower, drying himself as he smiled at me, a smile that was bright and sunny, simple and unpretentious, full of vitality.

He sat on the edge of the bed and said to me, "I think fucking you is a very, very beautiful thing."

I said, "How can you be so vulgar?"

He said, "Being vulgar every now and then helps detox. Whatever the position, whatever the method, as long as you're comfortable, it's beautiful. Your happiness is supreme."

I said, "When you're gentle, you're considerate and delicate like a gentleman; when you're a rogue, you're ruthless and unscrupulous. In short, you're a devil. Case closed."

He said, "True assessment. The devil wants to travel around lately. Interested in coming?"

I asked, "Where to? Back the same day?"

He said, "No specific destination, but I consulted a fortune teller yesterday, and he said a thousand or two kilometers would be better."

I said, "Huh? How do we get there?"

He said, "Easy, just get a car and go."

Driving away with my sweetheart has been a dream I've woven since my teenage years.

I said, "Can you let me think about it?"

He said, "Of course. No rush."

Back in my own home, everything immediately became dull, lifeless, and devoid of vitality.

After dinner, my husband suddenly became very attentive to me. He prepared hot water for my feet, knelt down in front of me, lifted my feet, put them in the foot basin, and massaged and washed them, cleaning between each toe.

I asked, "What's wrong with you?"

He said, "Nothing much."

I asked, "What wicked thing have you been doing outside?"

He said, "We don't do underhanded things; if we're going to do something, we do something ruthless."

I became wary and asked, "What do you mean?"

His eyes flashed with malice, and he said, "If my wife is having an affair, I'll definitely kill that man and then kill you." My feet were soaking in hot water, but I could clearly feel the coldness in the soles.

I pretended to be relaxed and said, "Killing someone isn't easy. Do you think just anyone would dare?"

He said listlessly, "Hey, a quiet person can be a leopard. Don't underestimate me." "

The hot water in the foot bath was now as cold as a mountain spring. The icy sensation felt like a thin, winding snake, coiling up my feet and shooting straight to my thighs.

I said, 'Okay, okay, my husband's a leopard, a tiger. But what a mess you'll leave behind afterward, won't it?'

He said, 'Our factory has plenty of equipment. I've already thought it through. The meat, we'll grind it into minced meat and mix it into ground pork for the supermarket; the bones, we'll chop them up and feed them to the dogs.'"

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