A coincidence of being struck by lightning

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Ke'er lay beside me, her head resting on my chest, her slender, soft hands resting on my shoulders, revealing the boundless attachment and love a woman feels for her husband after making love. I felt an indescribable tenderness and affection, gently stroking her young but full breasts—pregnancy and breastfeeding had made her figure fuller.

Our gazes were tacitly fixed on the crib, watching the sweetly sleeping baby. He was our child, three months old.

Ke'er had given birth to my child; she was too young, and the delivery was a little difficult. The baby was fine, and Ke'er was alright too, so I breathed a sigh of relief. Three months later, we made love, giving her the womanly pleasure she had longed for. Providing her with sexual satisfaction was my responsibility as a husband, and her right as a wife.
Ke'er became a mother and wife so young, without her own mother by her side; she often didn't know if she was doing things right, such as how she should conduct herself in bed with her husband. What she didn't understand, and wouldn't understand, was the complex emotions that stirred within me every time I suggested making love. I used countless excuses to delay making love to her. Each time, she was disappointed and confused, and I blamed myself, unable to bear the conflicting emotions.
She thought I was disgusted with her, rejecting her. She saw that my penis was clearly erect, yet I refused to be intimate with her, only saying that we should wait until after the baby was born. Actually, there's nothing wrong with a pregnant woman having sex; it won't affect the fetus. I wanted to make love to her too, but I couldn't let go of some things. I'd do anything for her, but I hesitated when it came to sex.

I can't even remember how many women I've wronged, but I couldn't wrong her. We only had a one-night stand, and later I found out she was pregnant with my child. So, I let her stay with me and acknowledged that I was the father. Is this what they call shotgun wedding? No one forced me; no woman could force me to marry her. It was my own choice, for a secret I couldn't reveal to anyone.

I had repented for this, but I decided to make up for any shortcomings I had incurred in her life with my love. Ironically, even she didn't know what I had done to her; instead, she thought I was her benefactor.

I loved her, truly loved her, more than any woman I had ever toyed with or thought I loved before.

Ke'er believed she was the happiest and most joyful wife in the world. Because whatever she wanted, her husband would give her. She believed she would have a fulfilling sex life with me.

She asked me if I was satisfied with her? Satisfied with her performance in bed?

I said, satisfied, satisfied, I did very well; this was only our second time making love.

I feared I wasn't good enough to her. I wanted her to be completely satisfied, while I, on the other hand, felt guilty for the sexual pleasure I experienced while making love with her. This was the punishment! My

first encounter with Ke'er was an arrangement I consider almost absurd. A friend invited me back to the mainland to help set up a highly profitable international school.

This friend treated me in a special way: after the welcome-back dinner, a gift was delivered to my hotel room—it was her.

But she was just a young girl, plain-looking, yet clearly not a woman of the night. Although she tried to dress more maturely, the makeup couldn't mask her childishness and flustered expression.

He'd been given half a bottle of Louis XVI, seemingly drunk but not quite, yet his intellectual conscience still held sway. He'd had a wild and carefree youth, but had never frequented a brothel. But seeing that she was about the same age as my students, and knowing I couldn't sleep with an underage girl, I said, "Go back!"

Standing at the door, she seemed about to cry upon hearing this, bowing her head and pleading, "Sir, please don't send me away, please let me stay!"

"I'll pay you, you can go! How much?"

"I've received the money. If I leave now, they'll think I haven't served their esteemed guest well, they'll blame me, and they won't hire me anymore, then I won't have enough money for school."

"Is it a lot of money?"

"A lot. I agreed to work for them, and they're paying my tuition. You're my first customer; if you kick me out, my tuition will be gone. Sir, please have pity on me, let me stay, I'll make you happy, I'll do whatever you ask..."

"Good heavens, is this really true!"

Perhaps the alcohol clouded my judgment; or perhaps my intellectual conscience couldn't bear to abandon a poor little girl. She said it was for her education. I was skeptical, but how could I, someone who came to establish a school, turn her away?

I let her in, and she slipped into the bathroom, took off her clothes, put on the hotel's bathrobe, and sat down on the bed.

"How long have you been doing this?" I asked.

"First time. They insist on a virgin, sir, please tell them I'm a virgin," she said shyly.

What a beautiful young woman, bright eyes, white teeth, and flawless skin. I told myself she was too young, not suitable for me. Reality forced me to make her a gift to me.

This was her fate. Tonight, there were several of us traveling together, and each room had a girl as company. If she fell into someone else's hands, she wouldn't be cherished and would suffer even worse treatment. I won't sleep with her tonight, someone else will sleep with her tomorrow night and the night after (Taipei Erotic Website 757h)...

"Did you bring a condom?"

"They told me that even if the customer doesn't want to wear a condom, I have to do it. Sir, don't worry, I'm a virgin, clean."

"Then, did you bring one?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't. Nobody gave me one, and I didn't know I had to bring one. Please believe me, I'm clean, I don't have any STDs."

I felt extremely sad. This girl doesn't even know how to protect herself, how can I bear to defile her pure and innocent body? I hesitated.

Seeing that I still didn't make a move, she said, "Sir, do you want me to take off my clothes? Or would you like to undress me yourself?"

If she wanted me to see her naked body earlier, she wouldn't have gone into the bathroom to change clothes. A strange man, her customer, undressing her, seeing her still developing body, taking away her virginity, is too humiliating for a young girl.

While I hesitated, she loosened her belt herself, and her snow-white, pure shoulders slipped out of her bathrobe. She closed her eyes, ready to surrender herself to a transaction of flesh.

I loosened my tie, came to her side, and carefully lifted her bathrobe. She shivered
. A young girl's naked body couldn't escape my gaze, trembling incessantly. Her breasts were slightly full and firm, the nipples like flower buds, fresh and dewy; her armpits were hairless, her skin delicate and supple, full of flesh yet with soft bones. Her hands were placed on her thighs, as if wanting to cover her lower body but not daring to; her legs were slightly parted, her pubic hair fine and sparse, the triangle of her vulva completely exposed, even her two tender labia were visible to me. The lines of her body flowed from her waist down her legs to her toes, lying motionless, like a piece of uncut jade being sculpted.

I gently pressed my palm against her lower abdomen, feeling her body temperature, and she instinctively contracted her body.
"Are you scared?"

"No, I don't know..." she answered irrelevantly, still keeping her eyes closed. Well, perhaps it's a little more comfortable not to see the panic in her eyes.

A little girl whose name I don't even know wants me to have sex with her; kissing her is probably a sign of respect, making her feel like my little lover. Today (Taipei Erotic Website 757h), many women's sexual services in brothels don't include kissing.

My lips touched her bright red lips, a gentle kiss, a delicate fragrance. Every movement I made was extremely gentle, a gesture of tenderness.

I didn't care what her name was—Yu, Xiaoyu, Xiaoli, Xiaodie—it was probably a stage name made up for a client. Meeting her by chance, our physical intimacy tonight felt like brushing past each other in a sea of people.

I don't know if it was because she had no experience with sexual intercourse, or if her soul wasn't in her body, but she lay on my bed without resistance, her body completely open, yet seemingly closed, leaving this seasoned lover at a loss for where to begin.

I could only embrace her; her body was very light, and she curled up timidly in my arms. I gently stroked her back with my palm, sliding down her spine to support her firm buttocks. This unfamiliar and tender face pressed against my chest; she was smaller than when I had seen her clothed earlier, not even reaching my shoulder. She tried to remain calm, but her panicked expression revealed her childishness. I guessed she was only fourteen or fifteen, or perhaps only twelve or thirteen. I couldn't believe she was so young.

However, my mind was buried, following the excitement this naked little girl lying on my bed gave me, and the direction pointed to by the hard, iron-like spear within me.

A scene from the movie *Lolita* flashed through my mind—
the kind of scene from the black-and-white film era decades ago, with James Mason playing a professor seducing his young stepdaughter
, Lolita . What I was about to do was depict the illicit love affair in the hotel scene that wasn't shown in the movie; the censorship standards of that time wouldn't allow such scenes.

Some say you can feel the hymen with your fingers—that's boasting, you can't actually feel it. I could feel her clitoris but not her hymen, but I believed she was a virgin, inexperienced in sex. Judging by the tightness and lubrication of her vagina, I knew not many people had sex there.

I didn't want to grope her, but I needed to give her more stimulation to make her vagina more lubricated, so I teased her clitoris. Her brow furrowed, she bit her lip, as if she were about to endure something. Her hips began to roll, like a pair of beads in my palm. Her soft, small hands rested on my shoulders, so her bare breasts weren't completely exposed to me.

The slit gradually adapted to the exploration and guidance of my fingers, opening slightly. I felt her labia swell a little, still not wet enough; I feared she couldn't accommodate me inside.

I lifted her buttocks, and she thrust forward, allowing me to enter a little, just a little, before slipping out again. I tried again, entering a little more, inch by inch, slowly deepening until I couldn't go any deeper, perhaps reaching the very bottom. She could only accommodate a few inches of me.

I heard her cry out; in my experience, that wasn't pleasure, but a reaction to pain. Too deep! I believed that if I were her lover, she might relax a bit, accepting the penis more readily.

I thrust in and out, hoping she could share even the slightest pleasure. Her breasts were firm, her body temperature rising; her small breasts felt fuller to the touch. However, she didn't know how to produce those seductive moans to please her guests; all she made were soft, guttural groans and increasingly labored breathing. As for me, I thrust in and out, her firm breasts rubbing against me with each stroke, sending waves of pleasure through me, reaching my penis, then my spine, and finally the back of my head. Even after

ejaculating, I didn't want to stop, only stopping when I saw tears streaming down her face. I got out of bed, went to the bathroom to get a towel to dry myself. When I came out, she was covered naked with a sheet, her face flushed, watching my every move.

I took all the money out of my wallet and handed it to her, saying, "Here, that should be enough for your tuition, right? Go home and don't come out to solicit anymore."

"Sir, thank you. You're such a kind person. I'd like to ask you for a favor, is that alright?"
"What is it? Tell me."

"They said you're here to open an international school, is that right?"

"That's right."

"Please take me as a student at your school!"

"You became a prostitute just to raise money for an international school? Why would you want to attend the most expensive international school?"
"Before my mother died, she told me to find a way to go to America to find my father. I think attending an international school is a way to go abroad."

"Where is your father?"

"He's an overseas Chinese from America who taught in China. My mother and he were colleagues; you might know him."
"What's his name?"

When she said her father's English name, I almost had a heart attack. The person she was looking for wasn't just anyone, it was me…

[The End]

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A coincidence of being struck by lightning

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