Spring Comes and Goes in a Chaotic Tale

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

Spring Comes and Goes
, Spring Returns Again. The sun blazes fiercely, its rays lingering long in the west. Mulan sits on a chair by the door, waiting for Zeng Liangsheng to finish dinner. She smiles slightly; her son eats just like his father, always wolfing down his food.
As she leaves, the setting sun still casts its shimmering glow across the ground, lingering along the edge of Pingyang Street. Having finally finished his exams, he can finally relax from the long-standing tension and fatigue . Zeng Liangsheng suggests
going to a movie, and Mulan readily agrees. Deep down, she feels an increasing attachment to her son. He, on the other hand, always seems to find excuses to be with her, even when classmates invite him out, he declines. Although they both appear nonchalant, neither of them can suppress something awakened within them, something that intensifies their feelings and makes their lives more vibrant.
It's a fleeting feeling, a beautiful and subtle expression of self for both of them. He displayed his increasingly irresistible masculinity in her presence, while she, in turn, acted alluring and charming, becoming less like his mother and more like his little sister.
The town's only movie theater was located in the western suburbs. Watching a movie or video was usually the town's only cultural enjoyment. Compared to the sweltering summer outdoors, the theater was much cooler. Ceiling fans creaked and spun out cool air, and the windows were completely covered with black cloth, making it feel like a basement.
The theater wasn't crowded. They entered just as the documentary before the main feature finished. Three large, flamboyant characters flashed on the large screen: "Hibiscus Town." They had actually seen the film before, but for some reason, they still went to the theater.
Perhaps it was the ambiguous, almost obsessive, affair depicted in the film, containing a sense of limitation and melancholy, as if the human soul always yearns for the infinite within its limits. Now, this passion for understanding one's own limits intensified with each layer of the film.
Mulan, at this moment, was like a trembling flower in a dark room, exuding an alluring fragrance. Slowly, she rested her head on his shoulder, and he, at the opportune moment, took her hand. Cool, slightly damp, like velvet.
The panting, seductive sounds emanating from the loudspeakers shook her soul, adding a touch of wildness and untamed charm to this boundless spring. Mulan was uneasy. Deep down, she always knew she was playing a false game, accepting absurd passion for her own physical satisfaction—passion that came from her own son! Yet, she was already trapped in such confusion and chaos; how could she escape?
She hated herself, wanting to crush herself and destroy herself. Every day, her entire life revolved around imagining the sound of her son's heartbeat in his broad chest, longing to lie there. She was ashamed of her terrible soul, for using illusion to desecrate the sacred image of her mother.
He had come again last night. The window was open, night had fallen, and the shadows of the surrounding trees created a hazy, indistinct atmosphere. A towering figure approached her bedside, heavy and sinister, like a lurking monster, exuding a sense of unease.
A chaotic mix of illusion and the passion of everyday life washed over Mulan once more, cleansing her entire being. A burning desire, like a ripe fruit, eagerly sought to break free of its core, bursting forth in this fiery season.
She involuntarily spread her legs. The damp pubic hair between her thighs lay scattered across her mons pubis.
It was a scene of eroticism that could intoxicate any man! Especially a young man in the prime of his life, who had recently tasted the sweetness of forbidden fruit. He was no longer content with merely indulging in fantasies; he craved the real touch and caress of the vulva that haunted his dreams—the mysterious valley from which his soul had been born.
He knew he was becoming increasingly dependent on it; if he didn't have it for a day, he would suffer the torment of desire and longing.
He told himself he had to touch it with his own hands tonight. He couldn't bear this agonizing longing any longer. Especially after what Feng Peipei had said to him this afternoon at Wang Ze's house, after making love with him: "I wish I could do this with you every day, these days are so wonderful."
"What woman in the world doesn't want to make love, unless she's sick."
"Pah, I washed up this morning, otherwise it would be even more shameful..."
"...Good brother, you're really something. You don't know, actually a woman is just a piece of paper, you can easily pierce it with just a finger."
His mother's porcelain-white body lay naked in the crisp air, the neatly trimmed pubic hair on her mons pubis casting shadows like vines in the moonlight, finally freed from the constraints of the day in this midnight nightmare, smiling broadly, gently swaying her graceful figure.
She was so noble. Elegant as a concubine adorned with jewels in a palace, she stretched her graceful waist, her slightly upturned lips subtly awakening Zeng Liangsheng's bewildered heart. He was stunned. If he still harbored some hypocritical moral constraints, his mother's fragility and allure so directly shattered his defenses.
He stood there for a long time, his lips trembling, his hands outstretched timidly, yet he dared not move forward, hovering in mid-air, as if the air itself had frozen, the pendulum of life stopping with his breath.
Just then, his mother groaned, her white thighs spreading open in a star shape, the slit in the middle shrinking like a tiny pink flower, light and shadow falling on it like butterflies fluttering, her labia like twinkling stars in the sky.
Zeng Liangsheng's mind went blank, as if a demon had suddenly swept through. He could no longer restrain himself; his strong legs could not support the unbearable pain in his heart, and he knelt down. Before him lay a scarlet gardenia, its petals folded in wavy lines, its vibrant green both lovely and pitiful…
His throat tightened, a low, hoarse sound like the helpless cry of a trapped beast. His face flushed, then paled, then turned purple, shame and delight waging war on his soul, newly awakened to the fleeting pleasures of sex. His erection swelled like an iron rod, guided by a strange sensation within him, which transformed into a peculiar, ghostly energy that swiftly invaded the depths of his soul.
He gently parted the extraordinary beauty of his mother's petals with both hands. In this darkness, there was no restraint of daytime, only the unbridled freedom of the night. Everything felt so natural, despite the eerie air and the faint dampness in the room—a dampness absent in the height of summer. Clearly, this was due to the moisture contained within his mother's body.
He slowly, gently licking with his tongue, first lightly touching it a few times, then using it to part the two petals, pressing it against the dazzling bud at the tip of the flower. Slippery and moist, it was soft, sweet, and fragrant, with a unique flavor, unlike the spicy, fishy taste of Feng Peipei's.
His mother trembled slightly, but continued snoring, seemingly unaware of her son's intrusion. So, he became unrestrained again, sucking on her vulva while his hands gently caressed her hardening nipples. Having only recently entered the realm of sexual activity, he lacked experience; the hardening of her nipples was, in fact, a manifestation of his burgeoning lust. He didn't know that his mother, Mulan's, face was already flushed crimson, her once clear eyes now shrouded in a misty haze.
Mulan's body was already churning, but the joy deep within her heart was unspeakable. At this moment, even the most sensual pleasures, even the most devastating hell, could not extinguish the surging passion within her heart. It was just a dream, a dream in which the divine presence was faintly visible, with a gradually dimming golden light, like a field of bright red poppies in full bloom.
Originally, she was a lady-like woman who didn't particularly enjoy sex, but she didn't know when it started, she often had the same erotic dream, and when she woke up, her lower body was always wet, with a thick, white, sticky fluid like sauce.
After her husband's death, she felt an inexplicable restlessness that festered within her, like the stinking ditch beside the back house—gloomy and persistent, weighing on her mind and brow, impossible to escape. The timely arrival and growth of her son was undoubtedly a catalyst for her growing desire, stirring her burgeoning widowhood.
The summer night breeze gently caressed her, stirring her emotions. The thin moonlight, filtering through the intricately carved windowpanes, spilled onto Mulan's soft skin, its sparse, vibrant colors stimulating her son's eyes. She knew that this young man, taking advantage of the night's recklessness, was wantonly invading her territory. But she couldn't speak out. This game, like a thin green veil, could never be lifted; the naked game between mother and son could not be played in broad daylight.
Sometimes, the truth is the fuse of death.
Finally, he became increasingly audacious. His nimble fingers sometimes kneaded her already swollen clitoris, sometimes nibbled at its fullness with his teeth, making her body, which she had been trying to hide, defy her will. Her tense muscles fully exposed her desire. "Come in quickly!" she silently cried out in her heart. She felt as if she was about to be consumed by the raging flames within her, and then fall forever into the prison of this night.
Slowly, after he had finished sucking her jade-like vulva, he disappeared like a ghost. He left his almost exhausted mother, her limbs weakly trying to calm her agitated emotions. And in front of the bed, a pool of turbid fluid flowed onto the thin floor, shimmering alarmingly—this was what her son had left for her.
On the screen, Qin Shutian and Hu Yuyin were passionately entwined, their breaths heavy, their bodies intertwined. Zeng Liangsheng involuntarily held his breath, his heart pounding wildly, as if it would leap out of his chest. In the darkness, illuminated only by the flickering light of the screen, Mulan's body was stiff, seemingly not seeing anything, her beautiful eyes unfocused, her nostrils flaring, her breath carrying a rich, fragrant scent that even the suffocating stench of sweat in the cinema couldn't mask. He couldn't help but recall last night, the penetrating tenderness of his mother, and the alluring blush on her skin.
He reached out again, slipping his hand through the gap in the armrest, and touched his mother's thigh. Today, Mulan wore a dress she had designed and made herself, made from leftover wool from her wedding, a light gray fabric of decent quality.
When she was about to wear it out, her son's admiring and adoring gaze was filled with pride. What could be more important than her son's approval?
The hem of her dress was lifted, and her son's burning hand slowly reached out, touching her thigh, instantly searing her smooth, supple skin. Oh! No, not here. Mulan felt ashamed and instinctively shrank back. She was annoyed by her son's inconsiderate behavior, yet also somewhat admired his youthful audacity.
She glanced at him sideways, her eyes trembling slightly. Desire burned through her veins; she felt inexplicably agitated, her heart churning, her vulva contracting again, releasing a pool of tenderness.
It was inside! Her son's intrusive hand slipped into her loose panties, persistent and forceful, its purpose clear: to reach her vulva!
"Mom, you're all wet..." her son murmured smugly in her ear, making her angry, wanting to explode, but afraid to. Her whole body trembled and ached from this blatant violation. An overwhelming urge surged within her.
She abruptly stood up; she could no longer indulge his advances, and helplessly, she could only choose to retreat.
Zeng Liangsheng was stunned, watching helplessly as his angry mother walked out of the cinema. He hurriedly stood up and followed her. Had he misunderstood his mother's intentions? He kept blaming himself, angry at his own impatience.
Following a smooth alley, Mulan walked about half a mile before stopping. Her son, who had rushed over, grabbed her clothes, repeatedly saying, "Mom, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I, I..."
"You're too bold! Don't you know where you are?" Mulan turned around, not even looking at her sweating son. Before her stood a row of whitewashed walls, about six or seven feet high, with blue-tiled roof beams, and several jujube trees extending into the air above.
She suddenly realized that, without realizing it, they had walked to the barren slope behind the cinema.
Seeing that his mother was only scolding him for his rudeness and not angry at his intrusion, Zeng Liangsheng was overjoyed, his heart bursting with happiness. What a beautiful season this was!
He strode forward and embraced Mulan from behind, her body warm and trembling like a wildflower in a corner.
"Pah!" Mulan broke free from her son's embrace and slowly walked towards a rough farmhouse ahead, which was really just a shed built of a few wooden planks, extending haphazardly. Beyond the outermost wall was a duck pond, white feathers scattered on the earthen bank, the wind blowing the mud-covered, homeless feathers towards the grass and chaste bushes below the embankment.
The embankment was like a high wall right in front of them, blocking many views, with only the clouds floating in the sky shyly watching the two graceful figures on the ground.
As soon as Zeng Liangsheng entered, he hurriedly closed the rickety wooden door. When he turned around, his mother's slender figure was displayed in his burning eyes; the world was condensed into this small wooden hut.
A few clumps of withered grass lay haphazardly on the floor, the pale yellow sunlight filtering through them. Outside, cicadas chirped intermittently in the old trees, a stark contrast to the intense heat of the sky. Inside the farmhouse, however, silence reigned.
Mulan stood silently, her back to her son, her eyes tightly closed. She didn't know if what was about to happen would destroy her entire life, including her own and her son's. What would the future hold? She wasn't a god; she couldn't foresee the continuation of their lives.
Footsteps drew closer, and her tightly clenched fists relaxed, her heart crumbling into a loose heap. At this moment, Mulan had no will, no body; only her soul floated aimlessly in the straw-scented farmhouse.
Zeng Liang silently stepped forward, his arms encircling his mother's trembling body from behind. He knew that at this moment, actions spoke louder than words; his mother didn't need them, and neither did he.
He was grateful that his boldness today had overcome his past timidity, feeling as if he were being reborn, his will merging with his mother's, and a shared will being born. The silence of the moment, the anxious waiting of the past, were all as insignificant as smoke.
He tore open his shirt, revealing his increasingly firm chest, then reached one hand around to the front, slipping it into his mother's slender body, caressing her trembling fullness, while the other hand slipped inside her panties, his middle finger lightly touching her delicate clitoris.
Slowly, he pulled down her panties, the creamy yellow ones with buttons, falling down her slender legs to her ankles. Compared to the sweltering summer heat, the cool, flowing skin of his mother felt so comfortable and soothing to his touch, especially the vibrant little grass beside her vulva, which stirred the restless heart of this young man. He inserted his middle finger into her vulva; its tightness and warmth were its defining characteristics, making it appear even more delicate and exquisite compared to Feng Peipei's loose and ample vagina.
Mulan let out a soft moan, a hint of shame flashing across her brows, mixed with a strange joy. Although her vulva had been touched by many men, only her son could bring her the greatest pleasure.
Forbidden pleasure, dark sex, was the most beautiful form of intimacy.
Her father never taught her any ethics or morality; it wasn't until after she married that she vaguely learned some of the principles from the conversations of her neighbors. However, having always stayed at home to be a wife and mother, she hadn't received much formal education from childhood, and even lacked basic physiological knowledge.
She remembered her first period; her father helped her change out of her blood-stained floral underwear and washed her genitals with a towel. From then on, her father would lick her vulva with his coated tongue every night, and often made her stroke his penis until he ejaculated pools of whitish fluid. As a child, she only knew that this was how to please her father. But after marrying into the Zeng family, she realized that all men were the same—her husband was like that, and so was her lustful father-in-law.
Now, her lustful son was the same, as if he wanted to merge into her body. His middle finger was digging into her, causing her a slight pain and a mild pleasure; her vulva was already wet. Just then, her hand touched his penis
, which surprised her. It was so big, erect, hard, and full. She immediately grasped it in her hand! "Mom, put it in!" Her son gently licked her earlobe, his tongue teasing her ear, giving her another wave of pleasure. When did this boy learn to flirt like this? Was it a gift from heaven? Mulan kept her eyes tightly closed, her flushed face now tinged with a more alluring blush. What would it feel like to have that enormous rod penetrate her? Perhaps it would hurt at first, like her first time? Mulan's mind wandered as she guided the massive member towards that enchanting opening.
Zeng Liang thrust in with a slight effort, penetrating that captivating valley, rich and fertile, lush and verdant. The moment it entered, there was a soft, wet sound, followed by the gliding sound of oars mingling—all sounds filled with eroticism. All of this made him even more intoxicated, and he could only thrust forward with all his might. Gradually, Mulan had to lean her forearm against the dilapidated wall to resist the surging tide.
As darkness fell, the slanting rays of sunlight turned leaden, casting a dim, half-light glow. Mulan gently squeezed her son's arm. "Sheng'er, Mom's tired, I want to lie down..."
"Hey, Mom, don't move. I'll do it."
As the bright, erect penis withdrew, Mulan felt a sudden sense of loss, followed by a sticky sensation flowing from her vagina. Her body trembled, somewhat frightened, like a lost child. She opened her eyes. All was silent
. Before her stood a pair of dark eyes, their gaze both excited and strange, fixed on her, as if searching for something. She, too, stood there, as if hypnotized, standing foolishly on a pile of weeds.
"Was that comfortable?" He laid her down on a haystack, causing her vagina to arch upwards, revealing a wanton sight. He seemed to see a rosy sunset reflected in the sky, a vast expanse of blue water.
"Mom, I'm coming..."
"Yes, Mom feels so good." Mulan murmured in her heart, a soft moan escaping her nostrils. She felt wave after wave of impact against the inner walls of her vagina, scraping and grinding against them. She felt dizzy, as if intoxicated by the swirling currents of color flowing through her body. This position was wonderful, like notes in perfect harmony with a melody. Her son was slowly rising and falling on her voluptuous body, wanton and unrestrained. The
scarlet labia and the iron rod that pierced through her were destined to spark, and the fire seemed to be spreading!
In a state of arousal, Mulan murmured incoherently. This was not delirium. Her beautiful face was radiant with a pearly glow, like a lychee with its purple shell peeled off, while beneath her, sparks flew.
An invisible fire of desire surged through her heart, instantly bringing a transcendent ease! Perhaps, from this moment on, she would no longer be herself. The old past had turned to ashes like butterflies in flight, and a new body had emerged from its pupa. Her son's vigorous thrusts, his heavy breathing, and the faint, shallow sounds of water emanating from their joined genitals, combined with Mulan's soft, dreamlike moans, filled the small farmhouse with a cacophony of silken whispers from the eaves to the haystacks.
In the silence, she seemed to hear the sound of musical notes biting through grass roots—her hometown, the land of her childhood, the land plowed by her father…
The setting sun, its dappled light filtering through the dilapidated window, only amplified the fervor, sending the mother and son, already at the peak of desire, to a state of near ecstasy. The familiar scents between them, the bonds of family blood, the mingling of their races, were etched between their intertwined bodies.
Zeng Liangsheng was no longer the toddler who stumbled along, but a majestic possessor. He knew that his place of ruin was also his place of rebirth. The quiet process that unfolded was the obsessive act of mother and son's intercourse. In the mortal world, it seemed that nothing had ever happened; only sex was eternal, eternal in the moment when their souls were severed and their bodies broken.
His mother was filled with the fragrance of chrysanthemums, the aroma of breast milk, and the dripping scent of her vaginal fluids—the purest fragrance of heaven and earth.
He thrust, high and low, with a burning passion, wanting to burn himself onto this fertile land.
He was like a tank clad in iron armor, crushing his mother's delicate body. Though it was as beautiful as snow, glistening and translucent, at this moment, he could only watch helplessly as its beautiful petals were crushed one by one beneath his treads.
"Don't blame me, Mother!" He violently thrust into his mother's vulva, wildly, raining down, splashing a patch of pristine white, a patch of tender, watery affection.
Stirring, floating, surging.
This was the fierceness of her son; he gave her unwavering faith, he would be her entire sky, encompassing the storms of her future. He was so young, untouched by the ravages of life, his eyes clear as a mirror, yet his jade-colored pupils were unfathomable, telling her what eternity meant. She lovingly stroked her son, who lay limp on top of her, tears welling in her eyes. Her lower body was still burning with desire; the rough treatment they had just endured had transformed her delicate vulva into a blazing red poppy.
Her son's essence flowed into and merged with hers, forming a river of illicit love. It concealed the darkness of the world with a rich, fragrant aroma. When the monstrous demons of their hearts howled, sending the lost mother and son down a path of no return, it was already destined that this soul-stirring, bizarre, and tragic love would slip through the cracks of the stormy, mundane world.
**********
... He was usually taciturn, with a wooden expression, always looking defeated. Every time he drank, he would drink until he was completely drunk.
Once he started drinking his homemade strong liquor, he would often become pale-faced and his eyes would blaze with fire. Then, he would pin his wife down on the bed and have sex with her a few times, feeling that this was the most pleasurable thing in the world.
This day, he was leading his old donkey, which was carrying seeds, home,
his drunken eyes staring ahead. The hillside grew steeper and steeper, the load on the donkey's back clattering loudly. The mountain path wound its way along the riverbank and past the fence, revealing only a few meters ahead. At the steepest bend of the hill, his donkey was too tired to go any further. Then, he saw a woman approaching, dressed in black, with a slender figure. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was his daughter, Ximei.
"Heh heh, when did she grow up so big?" Liu Laogen patted his head. No wonder; he was always drunk, never really looking at his children.
"Dad, Mom was worried you hadn't come home yet, so she sent me to check on you." Liu Ximei's face was pale and clear, her eyebrows slightly dark, her pupils unusually bright in the night. Her father had rarely gone to the market today, but he hadn't returned for a long time. Her mother was worried he'd gotten drunk again and fallen asleep by the roadside, either freezing to death or getting sick.
"It's alright, it's alright. Your dad isn't a three-year-old; he can't get lost." For the first time, Liu Laogen gazed at his daughter in the clear moonlight. She was like a blooming flower, even the air seemed to carry her fragrance and vitality.
He looked around. Ahead was an abandoned rice paddy, a dim, yellowish half-moon sinking behind a dark maple tree at the far end. The moonlight cast a dark purple glow over the sky. He stopped in front of the white flower fence, where the flowers drooped loosely as if breathing heavily, instantly igniting the desire hidden in his heart.
"Come here, daughter!" Liu Laogen felt breathless. His daughter, bathed in moonlight, possessed a natural, rustic scent, mingled with the fragrance of the calamus blossoms nearby—a unique allure, far surpassing the half-ripened flower at home. Liu Ximei didn't know what her father wanted. She took a few steps forward, but her hand was gripped tightly by him. He held it so tightly that she cried out, "Dad, you're hurting me!"
Like an electric current coursing through his body, Liu Laogen caught the most alluring scent in the air—his daughter's faint fragrance. His engorged member instantly swelled, and he quickly pulled his daughter into his arms, his coarse mouth covering her thin lips.
Before Ximei could react, a slippery, foul-smelling tongue had already entered her mouth, eagerly sucking on it.
When she finally awoke from her shock, her father had forced her onto the grass, where the pungent scent of carnations mingled with the rich fragrance of lilies. Her pants were pulled down halfway, revealing half of her white, jade-like buttocks.
"Dad, what are you doing... I'm your daughter! Dad, no..." She tried to dodge her father's foul mouth, but his hand was already fondling her genitals. A strange sense of humiliation welled up inside her, and pain shot up her body. Was this really her father?
The world spun around her; she felt dizzy and disoriented. Everywhere was pitch black. The moon had set and disappeared behind the mountaintop. Before her eyes flickered chaotic fluff and dizzying light. She felt her body floating, then a searing pain shot through her vulva, and she let out a heart-wrenching scream…
Liu Laogen paid no heed to his daughter's feelings. Her fluctuating sobs and moans only fueled his lust. His heart burned like a torch in his chest, unleashing a vengeful flame. He couldn't bear to look at his daughter's clean, white body.
He thrust forcefully, kissing her tear-streaked face. Her face was wet, and their point of contact was sticky.
"Good daughter, be good. I'll cherish you more than I ever will."
Her body trembled, but this couldn't extinguish his demons. He wanted her, as if his veins were about to burst. He wanted to drown her in his blood, to cover her completely. After a while of thrusting, she seemed to calm down, lying limply, letting her father brutally destroy her. What could she do? Only submit; after all, she was his daughter.
Even as she was being violated, her face wore a sorrowful and moving expression. Her thoughts had already flown back to that twilight, to a boy who had also made the same request of her, but she had refused him, and she would never have the right to accept him again! At this moment, her heart ached terribly!
Her vulva ached terribly! Her father's enormous penis had forcibly stretched open her still-developing body, destroying her entire future. She knew she was no longer whole.
When taboos break through ethical constraints and grow rampant with the weeds of lust, amidst a scene of idyllic beauty, what can cool this primal, untamed passion?
Compared to most boys his age, Zeng Liangsheng was more passionate and imaginative emotionally, which once frustrated and confused him. His senses were also mature, and his intuition was more acute than other children's. His classmates, or even the neighborhood kids, seemed almost rigid in his presence. So, when his teacher's wife awakened the primal desires hidden within him, he only hesitated for a moment before accepting this unexpected gift with genius.
When his mother moaned beneath him, her lips slightly parted, the tense yet joyful light in her eyes often greatly encouraged him, making him even more energetic.
"My child, you're so wonderful..." Mulan's face was radiant, intensely seducing her own son. In a sense, she had been poisoned by a drug called "desire," hard and deadly, albeit slowly.
Zeng Liangsheng stubbornly believed that from then on, he could pluck the tireless six-stringed lyre, stir up tireless passion, dance with his mother amidst streams and bagpipes, and suckle her eternal breast milk. Mulan, too, was completely immersed in happiness. She had emerged from her indulgence, shedding the timid shadow of a young woman, and savoring the tender care her son offered.
The deep blue night sky reflected a dim, eerie light, and under the cascading moonlight, her son's figure, prostrate on her, was tall and powerful. This was the fourth time tonight. She was truly worried about his health, yet she couldn't resist his relentless, unwavering power. She yielded to him, letting his young, strong body ride upon her tenderness, allowing herself to release her warm semen again and again.
Faced with her son's strength, she felt small and weak; her willpower was shattered by his masculinity. She was like a trembling needle, drawn into the abyss of incest by her son's magnetic field.
His penis, soaked in her semen, gradually swelled and swelled, already hard and large after several ejaculations. He had tried to squeeze into his mother's anus, but she gently refused. Wasn't this place for excrement a desecration of the sacredness of her son's procreation? She wasn't worried about pregnancy; she had an IUD inserted years ago. Therefore, this beautiful vulva allowed him to fuck her to his heart's content, to bear countless offspring.
"Mom, you stay on top… I'm a little tired." After a long struggle, he pulled out his still-imposing penis, a drop of thick white fluid still clinging to the glans. He couldn't tell if it was his or his mother's. Perhaps, after his many arduous journeys, his mother's vulva was already muddy and swollen.
Mulan stroked the long, soft yet firm shaft—the tool for passing on the Zeng family line, the phallus that drove her wild. "You never know when to rest, you get tired too?"
She then manipulated it a few times, turned over, and sat on top. As his penis sank in, her vaginal walls felt an overwhelming fullness. A few thrusts later, she was overjoyed, a long-suppressed desire surging within her, accompanied by long, intermittent moans that echoed throughout the room.
Zeng Liangsheng below wasn't idle. He watched his own penis move freely among the tangled weeds, his mother's pink labia often revealing patches of crimson under the pressure of his penis. His mind was filled not only with lewd fantasies, but also with vividly depicted erotic scenes! Imagining that this vagina had once held his father's strength and passion, and that in the years to come, it would flow with his own secretions and fervor, how could he not be aroused again? In that instant, he howled like a starving wolf, wanting to flip his mother off her.
Suddenly, feeling the surge from below, Mulan remained calm. Her legs braced firmly on the edge of the bed, letting her son's torrential passion dissipate within her. She simply closed her eyes, fully savoring the dream, letting her inherent timidity and shame crumble before the beast.
What more could she need? Perhaps it was that so-called mysterious thing. After sinking into the mire of trivialities and shame, she tried to rise, desperately wanting to recapture the feeling of a virtuous woman she once was. But she couldn't. So be it, let the most secret passion deep within her soul become complete and fulfilling.
Finally, her son released the last drop of semen and collapsed limply beside her. She nestled in his arms; his limbs and body seemed ablaze, burning hot, and her entire being burned within those flames. Then, they kissed passionately, their tongues mingling, seemingly glued together.
By then, the night was deep.
************
Xi Mei wasn't asleep. Her wide eyes stared blankly at the roof beam above her. Several spiderwebs looked eerily strange in the dim light. The spiders were gone; these were old webs, covered in dust. Her lower body ached terribly. Her genitals, still exquisitely beautiful after careful washing following the horrific trauma, were covered by two purplish-red labia, concealing the thin slit and, consequently, her father's sins. She dared not tell her mother; her fiercely independent mother would never forgive her father. Deep down,
she felt a desire to die, yet every morning when she awoke and saw the sunrise, she felt her blood flow, her body radiant like a purple nightingale blooming in the sunlight, and a strong, persistent desire would rise within her. She wanted to grow up well, to see this world clearly, after all, he was like that too.
What was he doing on nights like this? She remembered that path at dusk, his longing eyes, and his protective gaze… so many memories. Zeng Liang, what are you doing? She called out to him countless times in her heart.
Having studied together for so many years, she understood him, instinctively cared for him, yet impulsively wanted to reject him because of her shyness and inferiority complex. But instinct also drove her to approach him, to integrate herself into his life, which gave her a sense of security, a deep-rooted sense of security. Perhaps it was because of his youth, his freshness, or perhaps because of the composure and determination in his eyes.
For countless days, she had lingered at the entrance of his alley, wanting to find him but not daring to. And he, like a fleeting shadow, mysteriously disappeared during this summer vacation.
Actually, Zeng Liangsheng had spent all his time at his house, first because of his indulgence, and then because the arrival of his grandfather had disrupted his usual routine.
That day, the doorbell rang unusually, hurriedly and persistently.
Mulan helplessly parted the penis still lying inside her, revealing a trace of pale white flesh, and also her pleasure. Her son ignored her advice, spending all his time at home fucking her vagina, seemingly determined to extract every last drop of his barely produced semen.
She grew afraid—afraid of his increasingly haggard face, afraid that his growing limbs would be harmed by this indulgence. So, she made a long-distance call to her father. At first, he hesitated, seemingly reluctant, but Mulan kept saying she hadn't seen him in a long time and missed him, until he finally agreed.
Now, her father was here, and so quickly.
Mulan was stunned. At first, she thought it was just the neighbor's mother coming over, but it was her father! He really came so quickly? In the past, she had urged him countless times, but he never came. Today, just one phone call, and he was here?
"Quick, Dad's dying of thirst, Lan'er, why are you standing there like a dazed fool?" Her father was still as forthright, as impatient, his voice still as rough and loud. It had been so many years since she'd last seen him. He looked much stronger, no longer the frail man he once was.
"Oh, Dad, I didn't expect you to come so soon. I wasn't even prepared!" Mulan called to her son in the back room as she poured water, "Asheng, get up quickly, your grandpa's here."
Mulan was overjoyed at her father's good health. For a long time, father and daughter had depended on each other. Her father always saved the best for her, and even when he was starving, he would do everything he could to ensure his daughter didn't go hungry. She still remembered one snowy night when her father stole steamed buns from the village canteen for her. When he returned, his face and head were covered in blood, which terrified her and made her cry.
Her father comforted her, saying it was alright, that someone had hit him with bricks, and the scabs would heal by morning. Afterwards, Mulan recalled that incident and felt a deep gratitude towards her father. Her father truly loved her; he would give his own life for his daughter's—that was fatherly love! She believed that no one in the world could love her more than her father.
"My good daughter, it's been years since I last saw you, look how thin you've become!" The father stroked Mulan's arm, his eyes filled with boundless love. The transformation from a naive young girl to a mature woman didn't take long, especially the time after her marriage when she returned home for her family visit—the most fulfilling and happiest period of his life.
According to local custom, a bride had to return to her parents' home for five days after her marriage. He
remembered that evening when Mulan arrived home on a tractor, brought by her uncle, Genwang. What stirred the long-buried emotions within him was the bittersweet joy and shyness on his daughter's lips, so much like his deceased wife, so full of youthful passion, so captivating.
That night, he couldn't sleep a wink.
And that same night, Mulan quietly climbed into her father's bed. The old-fashioned bed creaked and groaned incessantly, a tender, lingering melody played by their ancestors for millennia.
"Dad, you've finally come... You don't know how much I've missed you all these years, Dad..." Mulan choked back tears, her eyes welling up with them. Her flushed face, still rosy from making love, looked even more pitiful with this longing.
Her father held her in his arms; his daughter's body temperature seemed even more unbearable than the sweltering summer heat outside the window. He felt something, and his lower body reacted involuntarily, inevitably touching his daughter's sensitive thighs beneath her thin shirt and trousers.
Mulan blushed instantly and pushed her father away playfully, "Dad, look at you..."
"Hehe..." Her father chuckled awkwardly, quickly picking up a glass of cold water from the table and drinking it. "Where's my grandson?"
"Grandpa, you're here. I'm here." Zeng Liang's voice came almost immediately. He leaned against the doorframe, looking at his grandfather, whom he hadn't seen for years. Actually, he wasn't very close to this grandfather, having spent too little time together. His memory of his grandfather was of the hardworking farmer his mother often talked about in the fields.
Grandpa wasn't very tall, his face covered in a thick, black and white beard, showing the marks of time. Zeng Liangsheng was surprised to find that he looked a lot like his grandfather, both in stature and appearance; it seemed he inherited more of his mother's genes.
"Come, let Grandpa see you. Hmm, you've grown up, grown up... Good, very good!" Grandpa carefully examined his grandson, and suddenly tears welled up in his eyes. "Like him, so much like him. Lan'er, look, his eyes are just like your late mother's."
"Dad, look at you, today is a happy day. Come wash your face, I still have some chilled lotus seed soup, have a bowl to cool down." Mulan knew how deeply her mother's death had affected her father, to the point that he never remarried.
"Grandpa, you and Mom chat, I'm going out for a walk." Zeng Liangsheng couldn't bear to see this scene; it made his nose sting.
"Alright, come back for dinner early, don't go too far playing." Mulan was pleased; it was the first time in days that her son had been so eager to go out. Although the sun was blazing outside, it was still better than him staying home all day indulging in his desires.
As soon as Zeng Liangsheng stepped outside, the blinding sunlight made him dizzy, and a feeling of exhaustion washed over him. He stood there for a moment, staring blankly at the shimmering yellow leaves at the doorway, then trembled and walked down a secluded path.
The images of the past few days flashed through his mind like a dream; the intense, passionate scenes with his mother repeatedly haunted him. Certain details and moments seared his young heart like a red-hot iron. He felt pain, and pleasure, again and again!
Unconsciously, he had arrived at the abandoned garden not far from home. On a path beside an oak tree by the high wall, a young girl stood there, gazing at him intently.
Xi Mei!
What was she doing here? Zeng Liangsheng stepped forward. Today, Xi Mei was wearing a thin, soft floral dress, smooth and flowing, its blue color resembling kingfisher feathers. "Xi Mei, what are you doing here?"
“I…I want to go to your house, but…I don’t dare…” Xi Mei stammered, her pearly white teeth biting her little finger, a hint of shyness, joy, worry, and helplessness flashing in her eyes.
Zeng Liangsheng’s eyes lit up, a surge of shame and delight welling up inside him. He grabbed Xi Mei’s hand abruptly. “Come on, Xi Mei, let’s go up ahead, it’s too hot here.”
They ran, crossing a wide wheat field, stepping over a small bridge, until they reached a desolate meadow, beyond which lay a lush, dark forest. They both knew that there was a simple farmhouse there; their class had camped there during last year’s summer camp.

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