I am a rural teacher

A torrential downpour lasted all night, thunder and lightning threatening to shatter the entire hut into pieces… For the first time, I felt the power of nature, a trembling terror with nowhere to escape. In 24 years, it was truly the first time I had heard such thunder and seen such raging lightning. The rain continued to pour down.

A sleepless night. I reached for the desk lamp, but it wouldn't turn on; the power had probably been out for a while.

I could only continue to stare blankly at the rain, watching the lightning lash the hut, feeling the waves of trembling and fear rising within me. I've

been in Yishan for over two weeks now, and it's not as bad as I'd imagined. On the contrary, the scenery is beautiful, the mountains and rivers are picturesque, and the villagers are hospitable; my work and classes aren't too demanding, the children are quite lovable, and my colleagues are friendly. It seems I can't find anything to complain about, but I still feel uneasy, still shrouded in a sense of abandonment.

In 2001, I graduated from a branch of Sichuan University in Zigong, earning a college diploma in computer science. Afterwards, I drifted to Chengdu, then to Chongqing, and also stayed in some nearby small cities, but it was difficult to find work. I even considered trying further afield, but just a few days before I was about to leave, I received news from my family that the personnel bureau was recruiting a batch of public school teachers this year. There were two conditions: first, a local household registration, a full-time college diploma, and no job within three years of graduation; second, if accepted, I would have to teach in a mountainous area for two years before being officially assigned to a better-equipped town school. Wow, just for the public school teacher quota in my hometown's provincial capital, it was totally worth the exam, and two years of teaching in a mountainous area was entirely bearable.

And so, I was lucky enough to pass the exam and be assigned to a small town primary school near Zunyi, Guizhou Province.

Everything was just beginning; I had to endure it.

Just as I was lost in thought and sighing with self-pity, I heard a series of urgent and forceful knocks on the door. I sat up and listened intently; it was indeed someone knocking. Who could it be, so late? Although I hadn't checked the time, I figured it must be past ten o'clock at least. I was hesitant, unsure whether to open the door.

The knocking grew more urgent! A pale flash of lightning, a series of rumbles of thunder, and the frantic knocking filled me with a sense of fear. Just then, I heard someone calling, "Chen Li! Chen Li!" I breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing the voice; it was Sister Yang from next door. Actually, "next door" wasn't quite accurate. There was only one row of dormitories in the school, housing four families. I was assigned to the first room, which used to be the school broadcasting room, and still was, except now, a curtain had been drawn, and the inner room served as my bedroom and office. Next to me was the storage room, and beyond that was Sister Yang's house. She and the other two families each occupied two rooms, which served as a bedroom and a kitchen.

Hearing her urgent tone, I quickly put on my clothes. Just as I opened the door, a flash of lightning streaked across the room. Sister Yang, wearing a raincoat, had a few strands of hair dripping wet, and looked extremely anxious.

"What's wrong, Sister Yang?"

"Oh dear, I'm so angry! Your Brother Wang isn't home, and Teacher Zhang won't answer when I call him. I can't very well go and call Director Wu. The chicken coop in my backyard collapsed, and the chickens are flying everywhere..." Hearing her words, so crisp and decisive, I realized she wanted me to help her catch the chickens and bring them inside.

She handed me a raincoat without waiting for my reply. Sister Yang is such a straightforward person; even though she's only been here a short time, I could already sense it after just a few meetings.

Several families had fenced off a yard behind their houses to grow vegetables and raise chickens. For a while, Sister Yang and I were chasing each other through the thunder and lightning, which felt quite comical. Although the yard was small, because of the darkness and mud, it took quite a while to catch all nine chickens.

Sister Yang apologized for getting covered in mud, and then brought over a basin of hot water. Taking advantage of the fleeting moment after the lightning, I reached out to catch it, but instead touched something soft, round, and bulging. I was startled and quickly pulled my hand back. Sister Yang was also slightly surprised, but she swallowed the sound of her surprise.

We both knew it was because of the darkness.

"Thank you so much for your help today!" After the accidental intimate contact, it seemed as if she had just reminded us that we were in the same dark room. Sister Yang said this and went back inside.

After washing up, I lay in bed, but I no longer had the mood to recall my college days and dream about the future. My mind was filled with that touch, which was even more fleeting than lightning: her breasts were so soft, and seemed very elastic; the protrusion that my ring finger felt, was it a nipple? It was so prominent; why could I feel it so clearly in that instant when I pulled my hand back? Was she not wearing a bra? Why did I feel it so strongly today...? For a while, I was still immersed in the aftertaste of that breathtaking "touch," and my little brother was already incredibly hard.

To be honest, although I'm of average appearance, I did have a few so-called relationships in college, all of which involved sex, and I considered myself a man who had deeply experienced a woman's body. But why is it like this this time? I don't know. With my eyes closed, thinking of Sister Yang's appearance, I started stroking my penis.

I often hear people describe women like this: not exactly beautiful, but very attractive. Sister Yang is somewhat of that type of woman. Before, I never understood why someone could be attractive if they weren't beautiful, but now, thinking carefully about her everyday gestures, her hair-flipping smiles, her gaze, and the subtle nuances of her demeanor, I think it could be categorized as something called charm. But as for what charm is, I really can't put my finger on it. Besides, in just a few minutes, I felt my penis couldn't hold back any longer—oh! A gush of thick liquid sprayed out, accompanied by a thunderclap… The air was instantly filled with the smell of semen. I gasped for breath, my slightly parted lips whispering, as if making a vow, “Yang Jingqiu, I want you! I want you!” Yang Jingqiu was Sister Yang, the head of the school's general affairs office, around 30 years old. She was the one who received me and arranged my accommodation when I first arrived. My first impression of her was that she spoke decisively and acted efficiently. After just a few words, we addressed each other as brother and sister. I don't know if this was the straightforwardness of people from the mountains or her way of handling things. Because we lived next door, and I was new to the area, she often came over to check on me, addressing me as her older sister or as her superior,

and she took good care of me. Her husband, whom I called Brother Wang, worked in the county, I think he drove a private car for some company boss. He came back irregularly, and he was an easy person to get along with. I liked to have a few drinks with him, chat, and share cigarettes. After that fleeting encounter with Sister Yang on that stormy night, I especially looked forward to getting closer to her in the days that followed. She didn't seem to notice anything amiss, still asking if I'd eaten, bringing over dishes to share, and inviting me for a walk in the evenings. I enjoyed these small moments of joy every day, and without realizing it, I'd gotten used to thinking about her at night, each time intensely. In those brief few minutes or ten minutes, her words, her fingers, the ring on her finger, her faint scent, became vivid in my mind, only to blur and fade away in the instant of climax… What was wrong with me? Had I fallen in love with her? Absolutely not! Don't mention her family and ten-year-old child; don't mention that I'd only stay for two years before returning to the city with a stable job; her age of over 30, the mindset shaped by her mountainous environment, even her straightforward personality—none of these things could make me fall in love with her. Back

then, I didn't know that loneliness truly existed, and wasn't just something sung about in songs. Perhaps you still often feel genuine joy and happiness in crowds, but your soul has no solace or support; your heart is like a galloping or wandering horse on the grassland, and your home is just an empty room behind a fence. I must have been lonely back then, but I was controlled by the playfulness and curiosity of youth, and neither noticed nor wanted to think about it.

Half a semester passed in the blink of an eye. After the mid-term exams, I went to Principal Zhao to ask for leave to go home. Principal Zhao, who was nearing retirement, listened to my explanation, pondered for a moment, and said, "Oh, is that so? I was planning to have you go to the county town to buy some consumables for the school these few days. Since that's the case, then..." Hearing Principal Zhao say this, I thought of how I had just arrived and should focus on building a good relationship with the principal, so I quickly interrupted, "Since you have something to do, then I'll wait until the summer vacation to go home! The vacation is only three days anyway, just enough time to spend on the road." Principal Zhao looked up at me and smiled.

"Yeah, young people, already homesick after only two months, hahaha, they need to toughen up here." I spent two days buying a ton of stuff in the county town and also strolled around this ancient town, treating it as a paid tour of a folk town. After returning to school, I rushed to Sister Yang's place to submit my accounts, put things into inventory, and get signatures. But she wasn't there; she probably went to her husband's for the holidays. I didn't see her until the afternoon of the next day. After dinner, Sister Yang and I went to the office to handle these matters, and before we knew it, it was already quite dark when we finished. She yawned and said she was exhausted. Just as we were about to leave the office, suddenly everything went dark. "The power's out again!" Power outages are really frequent in this small town. Sister Yang calmly said, "Hehe, you'll get used to it." My eyes couldn't adjust to the sudden darkness, so we groped our way forward. As she said, "Turn off the lights to save electricity," she was probably standing at the door fumbling for the switch when I bumped into her. "Uh—" she gasped softly. It was that familiar gasp that jolted me back to the memory of that brief touch of her breasts over a month ago, and instantly brought to mind my longing for her over the past few days. In that instant, I could no longer suppress my desire and, taking advantage of the situation, grabbed her body tightly.

This sudden turn of events startled Sister Yang. It wasn't until my hands were firmly around her waist that she realized this was no longer an accident. Her first reaction was to quickly push her hands against my chest, "Chen Li, what are you doing? Let go!" Her voice was tinged with panic. I drew courage from her suppressed voice, and with a forceful pull, I dragged her back to the inner part of the room, pushed her against the wall, and pressed my lower body against hers to control her. In front of a 24-year-old man, her so-called resistance was negligible. It was nothing more than a ridiculous attempt to tear me apart by grabbing my collar, repeatedly growling, "Don't do this, Chen Li! Chen Li, don't do this!" I searched her twisting neck with my mouth, while simultaneously using one hand to roughly caress her waist and buttocks.

To be honest, she struggled quite fiercely, perhaps because she was quite strong. Although I had no experience with forcing, I knew this wasn't a battle to be won quickly. During this ordeal, my penis was rock hard, mischievously thrusting between her legs. Even through her pants, I could feel her trembling each time, as if trying to gradually break down her resistance. I moved my mouth to her ear and said urgently and earnestly, "Sister Yang, I want you, give it to me, give it to me!" Another round of searching with my hands, "Give it to me, Sister Yang, you don't know how much I think about you every day, how much I want you!" In retrospect, this was more moving to a woman than any sweet talk—it expressed my desire for her, especially my physical desire (which indirectly shows that her body is attractive to men, satisfying the vanity that women have like menstruation), without descending into the vulgarity and filth of blatant sexual acts. I admire one aspect of traditional Chinese culture—the word "want" is so timely and crucial here, transforming lust into elegance!

The reason I came to this conclusion is that Sister Yang gave up her last stand after these few impassioned declarations. Her hands stopped on my collar, and I stopped my roughness, transforming my desire into gentleness, beginning to tease her little by little, inch by inch, layer by layer.

I started with her waist, massaging her like a hand. My hands gradually snaked to her belly, finding a little bit of fat, but that only enhanced the sensuality. I slowly covered her bra with my hand (but found it wasn't enough), not with the disrespectful, forceful kneading like a Japanese person, but with a gentle, caressing touch—brothers, at that moment I was surprised to find her breathing erratic. Then I moved my hand around to her back, where it was also incredibly fleshy, yet tender and smooth. "Click—" At that moment, I even heard the sound of the bra clasp and buttonholes releasing each other—was the room too quiet, or was I just being overly sensitive and hallucinating? To this day, that "click—" is still one of my effective fantasies for arousing my desire when I'm tired.

"Click—" With that sound, accompanied by a deep breath from her, I knew she had given me her consent. Two bowls of released breast flesh flowed gently in my hands, and a moist mouth busily passed between her neck and breasts like a postman, conveying evidence of our growing excitement.

Her nipples hardened, the size of cherries, whether from breastfeeding or frequent caresses. Each time I licked them with my tongue, her breathing intensified.

The book says that at thirty one is like a wolf, and at forty like a tiger. Between the wolves and tigers in Sister Yang's life, I didn't want to, and dared not, disappoint her. After a period of gradual stimulation, she whispered, "Someone will come." This could actually be interpreted as urging me to actually enter. I remained silent and slipped my hand between her legs from her jeans. It was incredibly wet there. When my fingers touched her genitals, she even let out a soft moan. I didn't know the difference between this moan and her previous screams, nor did I want to think about it anymore. I stripped her clothes off one by one and laid her down on the table.

I was more like a patient hunter, rubbing my already rock-hard penis against her genitals, both to pre-wet it and to tease it. Sister Yang couldn't resist any longer. She leaned forward, took my shoulder, and said, "Come on!" In the darkness of the night, accustomed to the darkness, I thrust my penis into Yang Jingqiu's lower body. "Mmm..." How can I describe the exquisite sensation of that entry? I think only this muffled, soft moan can express it. It felt so good. Her tender flesh enveloped my penis, wet and slippery, making each thrust effortless.

Please don't laugh at my ignorance about moaning during sex. I used to think the moans in porn were just for the sake of the film, because the classmates I shared a bed with only endured the pain. Then I learned that there really is such a thing as moaning in pain from pleasure. Yang Jie was like that at that moment: in the dim moonlight, her slightly parted lips emitted soft, weak moans, sometimes tight, sometimes slow, in sync with the rhythm and force of my thrusts; her eyes were closed, her expression one of helplessness; her hands searched for my shoulders like a blind person… Afterwards, I asked her about it several times. When she got impatient, she said, "Do you think I wanted to moan?" I was astonished at the time, and gradually increased my force, the sound of flesh colliding echoing in the office—a "slap slap slap." Her initially casually placed hands gradually gripped the edge of the table, then slowly took hold of my arm, before stiffening and waving in the air like a great man bidding farewell. I knew she was enjoying herself, at least her body was.

After a series of blind but rhythmic thrusts, I felt her legs and hands exert force simultaneously, and a stream of what was undoubtedly thick semen sprayed deep into her body. "Whoosh—" Like the temporary stillness after lightning, I breathed heavily, and she trembled slightly. Below, the space tightly enveloping my penis was rhythmically spasming, and her hands slowly slid down my shoulders.

"Ah—" It felt like centuries had passed before her carefree sigh made me peek my sweaty head out from behind her neck.

She didn't say anything more, and I quickly withdrew my penis. After a quick clean-up, we disappeared into the dark doors of different rooms.

It was a day in May 2003. When I got home, I instinctively caressed my penis again, because it was too intense!

[The End]

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