Sexual intercourse with a young woman in Jinghong during the National Day holiday

[Author: Romantic Hunter]

The unforgettable year of 2011 has become history. In this extraordinary year, so many things in the world have become mere anecdotes.
In this great year, there were four great figures in the world.
The first was Osama bin Laden. Mr. bin Laden abandoned his vast wealth and a life of luxury, fearlessly fighting against imperialism, traversing mountains and hiding in forests, until his last drop of blood.
The second was President Gaddafi. With a weak army, President Gaddafi refused to submit to the great powers, preferring death to dishonor, fighting to the last moment of his life, dying a worthy and swift death.
The third was Chairman Kim Jong-il. The general was surrounded, seeking defeat alone, suffering from hunger and cold, yet his spirit remained strong despite poverty. For the sake of the military-first policy, for the Juche ideology, and for a strong and prosperous nation, he died working
tirelessly. The world lost a proud son, but heaven gained a great talent. These three heroes have passed away. On New Year's Day, I observed three minutes of silence for them.
The fourth, without a doubt, is me. In this society of high prices and low incomes, I can take all my money and a beautiful young woman to Yunnan for a one-night stand, as a gift to celebrate the 62nd anniversary of the Republic.
Besides, three great and important figures are dead, while I, a tiny and insignificant person, am still happily alive. Isn't that also great?
I'm just saying these three guys are commendable for their fearlessness of power; in reality, these three scoundrels aren't any better. They, like other ruling pigs, have a tendency to monopolize beautiful women. Whether it's Bin Laden, Gaddafi, or Kim Jong-il, they all shamelessly had numerous wives and concubines.
Foreign villains are like this, and what about the bastards in China? Throughout history, they've been even worse. Which of the emperors of the past didn't have three palaces and six courtyards, with thousands of beauties? Take Emperor Yang of Sui, for example; he was so bored with his pleasures that after killing his father and seizing power, he actually married his own mother, sister, and sister-in-law. How licentious and unrestrained these leaders of traitors were, yet they still shouted about propriety and shame.
Have the current officials shown any restraint? Almost every leader of the old Communist Party had several mistresses, and the bureaucrats of the new Communist Party have mistresses, second wives, and third wives... some even have double the number. Moreover, these guys have a double standard: officials are allowed to set fires, but ordinary people are forbidden even to light lamps.
As the saying goes, a gentleman who has been a thief for three years will confess without being questioned. The old Communist Party vividly portrays itself as incorruptible, but some television programs inadvertently reveal their shamelessness. Look at them: from the idiotic Shi Guangrong in "The Passionate Years,"
to the idiotic Gao Dashan in "The Loud Military Song"; from the foolish Jiang Daya in "The Sky of History," to the foolish Li Yunlong in "Bright Sword," and so on. Which one doesn't have officials embracing beautiful women while the soldiers remain untouched? Everyone says officers and soldiers are united, but while it's acceptable for officials to embrace beautiful women, it's considered a violation of discipline and a matter of personal conduct for soldiers to chase girls.
Even worse, sometimes they won't even let the soldiers have the easy prey that's offered to them. For example, according to a veteran of the Korean War, when the Chinese People's Volunteer Army entered Korea, most of the North Korean men had died in battle or were on the front lines. Women were everywhere, and many hadn't tasted meat for three months. North Korean women would try to rape any Chinese Volunteer Army soldier they saw, and initially, the soldiers enjoyed it. Later, the officers established rules: 1. If raped by one North Korean woman, the soldier would be executed on the spot. 2. If raped by two North Korean women, the soldier would be confined for seven days. 3. If raped by three or more North Korean women, the soldier would be pardoned.
In contrast, I once saw a film called *The Pacific* where an American officer gave a month's leave to American soldiers defending the Pacific islands, taking them to Australia. Upon disembarking, the general told his soldiers, "Brothers, get on board! There are plenty of beautiful prostitutes here. Go and have your way with them. Don't forget to return to your base later." The American officer was full of humanity!
Modern Chinese bureaucrats are the same. For example, a high-ranking official, in his third villa, with one arm around his mistress, picked up the phone and said, "Hello! Director Wang, according to instructions from higher authorities, I order you to conduct a thorough crackdown tonight on all saunas, bathhouses, foot massage parlors, massage parlors, and all other places of prostitution in the city. Arrest those who should be arrested, fine those who should be fined! No mercy!" See, they've already ruined their own lives, yet they won't allow ordinary people to complain.
Perhaps humans shouldn't even exist on Earth. In the ancient, primordial era, at the very beginning of humanity, there were two main designers. When they designed humans, they probably didn't consider that this product would have so many flaws.
The Western designer of humankind was male, and his name was God. His designs for men were relatively acceptable; Western men are generally tall, strong, brave, and adventurous. However, his designs for Western women were characterized by large pores and body odor—perhaps the male designer wasn't very familiar with women.
The Eastern designer of humankind was female, and her name was Nuwa. Her designs for women were relatively acceptable; Eastern women are petite, lovely, delicate, and have smooth skin—who wouldn't yearn for Eastern beauty? However, her designs for Eastern men were her biggest failure. Look at Chinese men—typical "sick men of East Asia," capable of beating their wives, scolding their children, and being bullied by foreign powers. Throughout history, Chinese men have never protected their women. The Eight-Nation Alliance invaded Beijing! The Nanjing Massacre!
Our lovely sisters were pinned under foreign men, suffering the ravages of beasts! Alas! Is the blood of dogs or pigs flowing through the veins of Chinese men?! Look at Chinese sports today. How many gold medals are won by men? Almost all of them are won by Chinese women. And those Japanese and Americans are always riding on our necks, and those spineless officials don't even dare to lift their heads. Chinese men, either die or act like men and have some dignity. Long live
the women of China! Looking back
on history, what has it all been about? The answer is: it's all about those trivial matters.
The world is inherently yin and yang, and the affairs of yin and yang are nothing more than these trivial matters.
Animals, plants, and humans exist to reproduce, and reproduce to exist; plant pollination and animal mating are all about these trivial matters.
Looking at human history and human society, affairs are complex and varied, but at their core, it's still about those trivial matters. Political, economic, and military affairs are all the same; when hungry, one seeks sustenance; when sustenance is achieved, one thinks of lust; when in turmoil, one seeks peace; when in peace, one still thinks of lust. Water flows a thousand times to the sea, and though it changes countless times, its essence remains the same. Ultimately, everything is driven by sex .

This matter of the penis is the driving force behind the development of all things, the source of pleasure. Otherwise, how could sex forums be so
popular? Look at these male and female enthusiasts; they don't read the National People's Congress or government work reports, but they're writing posts and posting pictures on sex forums day and night. This enthusiasm originates from the crotch. Don't listen to those who shout for a few coins: "I will work hard to contribute to the development of sex forums. If men can't perform, or women go through menopause, I will no longer contribute."
So, in this regard, let's not pretend; let's be real. But some people take this pretense to an extreme. The biggest pretentious person in Chinese history is Confucius. This old fellow is the founder of Confucianism and the representative of Chinese civilization for thousands of years. He spends all his time talking about benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness, or the Three Cardinal Guides and Five Constant Virtues.
What right does this illegitimate son, born of a scoundrel, have to harm the Chinese people for over 2,500 years? I know some will accuse me of disrespecting sages and ancient worthies, but he truly brought us no benefit.
I'm not just making baseless accusations; there's evidence. Sima Qian wrote in the *Records of the Grand Historian*, "Confucius was born in Zouyi, Changping Township, Lu… Bo Xia begat Shuliang He. He had an illicit affair with a woman of the Yan family, and Confucius was born."
Confucius's father was Shuliang He, and his mother was Yan Zhengzai. Shuliang He first married a woman of the Shi family, who bore him a daughter but no sons. He then took a concubine, who bore him a son named Bo Ni, also known as Meng Pi. Meng Pi had a foot ailment, which Shuliang He disliked. At the age of seventy, Shuliang He had an illicit affair with the eighteen-year-old Yan Zhengzai, and Confucius was born.
It was this illicit union that produced Confucius, whose ideas have shackled the sexual attitudes of the Chinese people for over two thousand years, causing the deaths of countless innocent people. Because of his ideas, countless people in China throughout history have been unable to enjoy lovemaking and experience natural pleasure.
Reading the Romance of the Three Kingdoms makes me weep for the ancients, reading Journey to the West makes me worry for the immortals. I've rambled on about so much unnecessary stuff again, I apologize.
My Yunnan sex travelogue with the young woman was supposed to be written in one go, but I've been busy making a living all day and haven't had the time, please understand.
Things are a little easier around New Year's, so I'll continue writing about my Yunnan sex with the young woman; this is the sixth installment. Thanks for the encouragement, brothers.
【Part One】The day before we left
, the young woman and I made love in Guanyin Gorge, but I didn't ejaculate properly. Back in the room, as soon as we entered, I couldn't wait to roughly push her onto the bed and have sex with her, thrusting wildly until I ejaculated completely. Afterwards, the young woman said that women have a tendency towards violence, even though they verbally objected.
That afternoon, we prepared to leave Lijiang for Xishuangbanna. After inquiring around, we found there were no trains or direct buses from Lijiang to Xishuangbanna. We enjoy traveling by car. Firstly, modern cars are quite comfortable;
secondly, we can slowly appreciate the scenery along the way. Not having a car was a small regret, as the only way to get from Lijiang to Jinghong is by plane, mostly at night, with one flight at noon. We missed the noon flight that day, and the evening tickets were sold out, so we booked tickets for the 12:45 pm flight the next day. The flight from Lijiang to Jinghong was only an hour long and cost just over 200 yuan.
After finishing our business, we took a short stroll around the streets before returning to our hotel to rest. Lying in bed, we flipped through the boring TV channels. The quality of Chinese television production is simply appalling. With a little money and some skill in manipulating a camera, someone dares to become a director; loosen your belt, sleep with a so-called director, and you're the leading lady; hire a couple of hired reporters to spout nonsense, and you become a shameless famous director and a shameless famous actress.
I quickly skipped over TV dramas and domestic films. Animal documentaries and nature documentaries, on the other hand, were worth lingering over; at least they were realistic, unlike the affected and pretentious poses of those lousy protagonists. The young woman didn't want to watch these things; women prefer romance dramas, especially those tasteless Korean dramas.
China needs another rectification movement like the one during the Yan'an period, otherwise, look, television resources are almost entirely monopolized by those slutty actors and hosts. Is
the revitalization of the nation and the development of the people really dependent on these filthy bitches and scoundrels?
The real productive forces, the creators of national wealth, are the workers, farmers, artisans, researchers, and soldiers of the People's Liberation Army who are busy fighting on the front lines of production. Yet, they are rarely seen on television.
Modern China is simply a place where demons and monsters run rampant, a chaotic mess. If Chairman Mao could rise from his crystal coffin, he would surely turn the world upside down. "
A mother's heart is always with her child a thousand miles away," the young woman told me to turn the TV volume down, and she picked up the phone to call her child. I clearly remember this was the eighth time she had called her child. I simply turned the TV to mute and watched her make the call. Her mother-in-law probably answered first, then transferred the call to her child. The young woman on the phone, her face filled with longing, her voice brimming with loving tenderness and maternal gentleness.
Before her child, she spoke. All females and mothers in the world share the same loving and selfless nature; no wonder people sing praises of the greatness of maternal love—the purest, most selfless, and most sacred love.
The young woman repeatedly and incessantly reminded him to listen to his grandparents, to eat well, not to go out and play recklessly, and to sleep well. I listened quietly; even if she repeated herself ten times, I felt that not a single word was superfluous.
No matter where mothers go, no matter where children go, children are always in their mothers' hearts. The Creator endowed mothers with the innate nature to love their children, no matter how ugly, insignificant, promiscuous,
lowly, humble, beautiful, noble, or wealthy a woman may be, their maternal love is always the same—warm, kind, pure, rich, and weighty.
The young woman and her child talked, discussing things that might seem meaningless to outsiders with great interest. Seeing the happiness radiating from the young woman's face and hearing the joy in her voice, I suddenly felt that I should do something for her child during this trip. It wouldn't be right to bring the mother out for fun while neglecting the little one; that would be selfish, neither humane nor gentlemanly.
The phone call lasted for about thirty minutes—women can really talk a lot on the phone—before the young woman finally said, "Goodbye, baby! Give Mommy a kiss!" and hung up.
"Sister, is the child alright? Does he miss you?" I asked her with concern. “Yes, she keeps asking me, ‘Where did Mom go? I can’t see Mom. When is Mom coming to see me?’ I tell her, ‘Mom is away on a business trip. Mom misses her baby. Mom will be back soon. Mom will buy her delicious food and fun toys.’ Sigh, this child, I miss her even if I don’t see her for a day.” The young woman’s eyes were already moist as she spoke, and slowly, a tear overflowed and flowed down her pink cheek.
I gently wiped away the glistening tear. “Sister, I know you miss your child. We’ll be back soon. When you called earlier, I was thinking that we should go shopping and buy some things for her to take back. She’s waiting for her mother to come home. We can’t let her wait in vain. Let’s pack up and go shopping in a bit.”

I kissed the young woman’s cheek and said sincerely to her. “Brother, thank you for your kindness, but it sounds like you’re asking me for something. I’m not going. I won’t buy her anything.” I knew that when she mentioned buying delicious food and fun toys for her baby on the phone, she was afraid I would think she was hinting at something. "Sister, that won't do. Buying some toys and treats that we don't have back home is for the child,
not for you. You can't not go; not going would be disrespecting your brother and letting him down," I advised her. "Alright, then I'll thank you on behalf of the child," the young woman said politely. "Hehe, what's with the formalities? I'm her uncle; buying her something is only right," I said, sitting up to wash my face, get dressed, and prepare to go shopping.
The young woman and I went to the street, entering toy stores, children's clothing stores, and specialty accessory stores. I told her, "Sister, buy whatever you like; I have plenty of money." "Hehe, if you like too many things, I'm afraid I'll bankrupt you. Besides, we can't carry too much. Just buy some things we don't have at home," she said practically. Why buy things we already have and carry them back?
You have to admire women's shopping skills; they are truly meticulous and compare prices from different stores. Faced with a dazzling array of toys, children's clothing, and food, the young woman touched this, looked at that, picked it up and put it down, picked it up again, carefully selecting each item. Once she chose something, she patiently and unceremoniously bargained, always managing to get a satisfactory price for her desired goods.
She went from store to store, selecting item after item, until finally, she had two large plastic bags full of things she was happy with. I then picked out a few more things for her that she liked but couldn't bear to buy—local specialty toys, ethnic-style clothing, dried goods, and vacuum-packed snacks. The two large bags were full
and heavy, costing me several hundred yuan. The young woman's face beamed with satisfaction and gratitude. Seeing her happy expression, I felt a surge of male pride. How could a woman not reciprocate with the gentlest and most sincere kindness? For a single woman with children, the best way to move her is to wholeheartedly love her children; this kind of love will have a wonderful, transformative effect.
After buying the items for her child, the young woman and I each carried a large plastic bag of goods and started snacking at various street stalls. We ate a pancake here, a couple of skewers of grilled meat there, bought some fruit, and ate some melon slices. We sampled the different snacks and fruits, finding them economical and delicious, and before we knew it, we were full – a satisfying and nutritious dinner.
Cars flowed like water, people surged like a tide, and the sun gradually lengthened people's shadows until they melted into the hard stone pavement. As darkness fell

, cars returned to their garages, people went home, and the crowds thinned out as people from all over went into their homes, restaurants, and hotels.
Animals dig burrows into the earth's crust, that's called a nest; birds weave a tangled mess of grass in a tree, that's called a nest; people build square boxes out of earth and stone, that's a house. Smoke rises from the chimney, a warm bed for lovemaking is placed inside, that's home. Home is a wonderful thing; it's a safe haven, a place to escape rain and snow, a shady retreat from the heat, a place for procreation and life. When one is away from home, the feeling of home is even stronger.
With a full belly and carrying heavy bags, the young woman and I returned to the hotel.
After taking a bath together, we lay naked on the bed. Lying on a bed in a foreign land with a plump, fair-skinned stranger, the feeling was truly better than stealing the elixir of immortality from Laozi and the peaches of immortality from the Queen Mother of the West. The
young woman writhed like a snake, her smooth, cool body twisting, her fleshy arms encircling my neck, giving me a deep, passionate kiss. "Little brother, thank you so much for caring for my child. I will repay you properly." Women are so easily moved by small favors.
"Sister, this is nothing, it's my duty. You're too kind." The young woman's words made me a little embarrassed. I rubbed her large breasts, enjoying the softness and the hardness of her nipples. The young woman's slender hands slid across my stomach, brushing my pubic hair and stroking my penis. "Little brother, would you like me to serve you?" The young woman wanted to serve me. "Sister, we've done it twice today. I need to conserve my energy. Let's save it." We've done it twice in one day. If I ejaculate again, it'll all be water. I don't want to do things that harm my health. "Sister, let
's watch some TV." Saying this, I picked up the remote, turned on the TV, and switched to CCTV-4. Yu Li was reporting the news: Gaddafi's whereabouts were unknown, North Korea agreed to unconditionally hold the Six-Party Talks, if Iran didn't abandon its nuclear program, the US would go to war, and Russia was supporting Syria.
The world is truly bustling. Humans, these tiny creatures, divide the earth into pieces—this piece is yours, that piece is mine—fighting and struggling, only to return to dust and dung in the end. They're always clamoring about justice and righteousness. One person killing another is a crime, but killing a group of people on behalf of a nation makes you a hero. Isn't it all murder? To hell with it, what does it have to do with me?
Commercials are playing on TV, featuring beautiful women—some with fiery red lips, some with bare breasts, some with curvaceous figures, some striking seductive poses. These sights do stir my emotions. I caress the young woman's breasts with one hand, and reach for her pubic mound with the other. I knead and stroke the fleshy mound, combing through that small patch, my palm feeling a little numb and tingling. Four legs intertwined, whispering sweet nothings, while away the lonely night.
As I rub and comb, a thin crack appears on the mound, and sticky fluid oozes out. My fingers parted the moist crevice, caressing the flesh, enjoying its warmth and smoothness. Slowly, I probed the sticky opening, inching my finger inside, feeling its tightness and gentle gripping.
"Sister, let me ask you something," I said, the setting perfect for intimate conversation. "Go ahead, there's nothing to be shy about," the young woman replied softly. "
Sister, in your opinion, can you tell if someone is a virgin?" I'd always been curious about this, but couldn't quite grasp the answer. "Of course you can tell! You can tell from their walk, from their expression, from their voice—basically, from everything. I can tell at a glance whether someone is a virgin, almost certainly," she said. I suspected most women had this ability; after all, they knew themselves, and they knew the difference before and after losing their virginity
. "Sister, so how exactly do you tell? Tell me," I said, kissing her breast and vigorously rotating my fingers inside her vagina.
"Oh, stop teasing me, it's making me all itchy!" The young woman, feeling uncomfortable, continued, "Women who have lost their virginity walk loosely, unlike virgins whose legs are so tightly and powerfully clenched." She squeezed her legs together, making my hand and fingers feel wonderfully close. I curled my fingers upwards and gently touched the folds of her vulva. The young woman gently wiggled her hips.
"Sister, what else?" I asked.
"When a virgin looks at you, she doesn't dare look you directly in the eye, but the gaze of a woman who has lost her virginity can leave two pits on your face!" We usually talk about 'a young girl's shyness,' and from the young woman's words, it really makes sense.
"Sister, go on, what you said makes sense, I understand." Discussing the issue of virginity from a woman's perspective is the best opportunity.
"A virgin isn't casual in her speech; she speaks cautiously, sometimes stopping halfway through a sentence. A woman who has lost her virginity speaks more carelessly and casually, caring less." This is quite true. A woman's most precious hymen is broken; why would she care about her words?
"Sister, is there anything else?" I pressed. "Silly brother, why ask that? There are many other aspects, but I can't say for sure. You can just tell from them." Indeed, a woman who has lost her virginity will show it in many ways; who can say for sure? "
Sister, let me ask you another question: who does a girl usually give her first time to?" This is a very important question. In my experience, no one seems to have done a specific survey on this.
"That's hard to say. Anyway, most of them don't give it to the man they marry, especially now. Most girls have slept with their first partner, but very few marry them." This is a problem!
"Ah! Sister, if a guy dates late these days, won't he be unable to sleep with a virgin? At least, the chances of sleeping with a virgin are slim." It seems that the early bird catches the worm. I was amazed by the young woman's answer.
"That's for sure. Now, almost half of the junior high school girls aren't virgins, and there are very few left in high school. And the few left are mostly ugly." The young woman answered with a mix of reality and humor. No wonder so many decent men lament that they can't sleep with virgins in this society; it turns out that the good cabbages have already been offered to pigs.
"Sister, under what circumstances do girls usually give up their virginity?" With such an excellent teacher answering my questions on the spot, I naturally wanted to ask more questions about virginity. As I spoke, I lowered my head and took a few bites of the young woman's large, plump breasts, my fingers thrusting in and out of her vagina a few times, the vaginal fluid making a "gurgling" sound.
The young woman thrust her vulva forward. "Little brother, behave yourself. If you're going to touch me, just touch me. Why are you moving around like that, deliberately making me itchy down there?" The young woman said with feigned resentment. "It's hard to say under what circumstances a girl loses her virginity. Sometimes it's when she's overjoyed,
sometimes when she's irrationally sad, sometimes when she's drunk and oblivious, sometimes when she's deeply in love. Basically, they all give themselves away in a daze. Afterwards, they regret it for a while, and then nothing else matters." This is very true. Only virtuous women of the old days cherished their first time and were certain to give it to the man they would entrust their lives to.
"Sister, let me ask you another question: Is a woman's first time comfortable? Does she have an orgasm?" I asked, knowing the answer to that question. "Come on, how could it be comfortable? It's incredibly conflicting, incredibly agonizing,
a tearing pain, a throbbing, numb, and painful feeling, like torture. After being tortured, you can't even walk properly for days." Actually, what the young woman said is basically true, but not all of them are. Some women, to give their virginity to their beloved or to achieve some other purpose, feel immense satisfaction and happiness even though their vaginas hurt.
The questions about virginity posed by the woman gave me a deeper understanding of the issue. I was truly grateful for the young woman's frankness. I pulled her onto my side, our arms wrapped around each other, legs intertwined, tongues entwined. Her large breasts pressed against my chest, and I slapped her large, white buttocks a few times as a sign of affection. My
penis rubbed against her pubic hair, becoming even harder. She grasped it tightly, saying, "My dear little brother, I love this big, oily hammer!" She held it, reluctant to let go
, caressing and stroking it gently. This quiet tenderness was like a slow-cooked soup, bubbling and simmering, growing richer and more fragrant with time
. Our tongues were almost numb from this tongue-to-tongue battle. I released her fragrant tongue and laid her down. Her hand continued to stroke my penis gently, slowly playing with it.

I continued, "Sister, what kind of penis do you women actually like? Is it thick and long?" The young woman squeezed my penis. "Not really. Women generally like short, thick penises. They feel full when it's inside the vagina, and it relieves the itch during thrusting."
No wonder the books say that women's erogenous zones are in the front of the vagina; it's true. "They generally don't like thin, long ones. Thin ones don't provide enough friction and can even hurt the cervix. Women aren't afraid of short, thick ones, they're afraid of thin, long ones." Truly golden words! Nothing ventured, nothing gained. These are profound truths; without first talking to women, foolish men
can't grasp them by just guessing. Time is always abundant for the lonely; for those in a state of happiness, time flies by mercilessly. And before I knew it, it was time for "If You Are the One" on TV.
The young woman told me that she disliked Le Jia the most. He always thought he was incredibly knowledgeable, always arrogantly believing he was right, always saying things like he was superior, and wouldn't allow anyone to contradict him. She also said Le Jia was the least cultured, didn't know how to be a guest, and often made the girls on stage cry. I
agreed with her comments. As a guest, you should just smooth things over; why be so condescending, acting like a godfather, always looking down on everyone? On the other hand, Huang Han was gentle and refined, neither too hot nor too cold, and had a friendly personality, making her quite popular with both
the male and female guests. Sato Ai was a female guest that both the young woman and I liked. This old Sato, already quite voluptuous, wore a low-cut dress, displaying her large breasts, creating a deep cleavage between them, like a million soldiers hidden within.
"Sister, look at Sato Ai's big breasts, that delicate cleavage, isn't it enough to be fake?" I asked with a smile, grabbing the young woman's large breasts. "Haha, does she even need to fake it? She's already way over the top!" the young woman replied with a slightly defiant tone.
Thinking about what it would feel like to touch Sato Ai's large breasts, I rolled over and grabbed her two large breasts, squeezing them together. The high peaks and deep valleys were incredibly alluring.
"Sister, look, yours is half a size smaller than Sato Ai's, but it's still quite something!" I praised her. "Hmph, enough for you to eat, how big is your mouth?" The young woman was naturally a little smug after receiving the praise.
I released her hands, buried my head between her two large breasts, and squeezed them back and forth with my hands, "slap slap slap" against my face. The soft, plump breasts hit my face, the nipples prickling, a pleasurable sensation.
The first male guest failed and left the stage, while the second male guest had two girls keeping their lights on. As the two girls walked out, accompanied by rhythmic music, four beautiful legs were shown off on stage. How wonderful, the girls on "If You Are the One" all used beautiful legs as bait.
Looking at the beautiful legs on the stage, I couldn't help but reach out and touch the young woman's fleshy legs. They were plump, smooth, and soft to the touch. I couldn't resist rubbing my leg against hers, my penis thrusting against the elastic flesh. Seeing what's in the pot while eating what's in the bowl—isn't this what bliss is?
The young woman rubbed her legs together, her body beginning to curl up, her thighs already soaked with her juices. "Good brother, I'm uncomfortable, let your sister fuck you," she pleaded, almost begging for my opinion.
"Sister, look, your little brother has already ejaculated twice today. It's not like he'll only play for one day. How about tomorrow? Tomorrow morning or forenoon is fine. Your little brother will fuck your cunt properly." Seeing the young woman's slight disappointment, I couldn't pour cold water into a pot of boiling water. "Sister, I'll give you oral sex and fingering, that'll satisfy your cravings too." "Mmm, come on, I'm getting it." After more than two hours of caressing, it would be strange if she didn't get it.
I rolled over and straddled the young woman, pressing down on her smooth, jade-like body. I inserted my two index fingers into her ear canals and teased her, my lips pinched her protruding tongue and gently bit it, my chest massaged her round breasts, and my penis poked at her clitoris. With this, the young woman was already moaning softly, her mouth purring out happy moans.
On her body, my body slowly writhed downwards, my hands lifted her arms, and my tongue generously licked her armpits. With that lick, her liberated mouth cried out, "Oh, it's so itchy, so itchy! Little brother, you're really good, you've made your sister so itchy!"
Moving downwards, my tongue licked her navel, my hands flattening her large breasts, sometimes pressing hard, sometimes gently kneading them like grinding tofu. "Oh my god, so good! My pussy is all wet, all wet! Hurry up and scratch it for me!" The young woman's pussy couldn't take it anymore.
I continued downwards, sticking my nose into her vulva, scraping back and forth like Pigsy rooting in the ground. "Ah! Ahhh! My pussy, my pussy is about to fall apart because of you, it's so itchy, hurry up and scratch it, hurry up and scratch my little slutty pussy!" In
a 100-meter race, the young woman should be over 90 meters by now. I raised my head, my tongue focusing on her clitoris, licking, pointing, pressing, and rotating, while two fingers "plop" into her overflowing pussy, rotating, scratching, and thrusting—what woman could resist this?
Her body writhed like a snake, her buttocks began to bounce. "Ah! Ahhh! You're my little brother! My little brother! Fuck me to death! Fuck me to death!" the young woman cried out incoherently. She writhed and bounced, and I quickened my grinding and rotating, my tongue licking faster.
Finally, amidst her crying-like moans, I brought the young woman to her peak. As my fingers thrust in and out, she arched her genitals, her body forming an upward arch, a gush of hot fluid spraying onto my face. Ah, bliss! Another orgasm.
The young woman lowered her buttocks, "Ouch!" a soft moan escaped her lips, her body covered in sweat, and she went limp.
I withdrew my hand, raised my head, and looked at the beauty after her orgasm. "Slutty sister, you're limp now that your little fountain is finished," the young woman said, too weak to answer. This was the happiest moment for a woman. Although she was limp, everyone wanted to enjoy it.
The young woman fell asleep. It was almost 11 PM. I turned down the TV volume, didn't turn on the light, and lay down to sleep. Leaving the light on so that when I get up at night to pee, or occasionally wake up and look at the sleeping beauty beside me is a kind of enjoyment.
I don't know when or how long I slept, but in my hazy, dreamlike state, I dreamt of a fairy descending gracefully from colorful clouds. With a wave of her jade hand, she removed my clothes, and with a tremor, she removed her own veil, revealing her beautiful fairy body before me. Then, with a touch of her hand, my penis sprang to life. Her slender jade hand lovingly stroked it, while her other jade hand caressed her plump vulva and full breasts.
I could almost hear the splashing sound of her juices as she touched her vulva. She tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and enjoyed it, one hand stroking my penis, the other caressing her own vulva. Her juices soaked a small patch of the sheet, and she moaned softly,
half-dreaming, half-realizing. The fairy half-squatted and stood up, straddling my body with one leg. She squatted down, holding my penis with one hand, aiming it at her vulva, rubbing it a few times at the entrance. Then, she lowered her buttocks, and her vulva slipped onto my penis. It felt wonderful, like a fleshy ring encircling my penis.
The fairy's vulva enveloped my penis, and she moved it up and down, her vulva tightly gripping my penis. Her eyes were slightly closed, and she looked completely intoxicated.
Squatting, sitting, sitting, squatting. The fairy's white, tender buttocks bumped against my thighs, and my pubic hair was stuck together with her vaginal fluid.
The fairy got tired of squatting and lay on top of me, her soft, large breasts pressing down on me, making it hard for me to breathe. Her fragrant lips gently brushed against my lips. In a half-asleep state, I slightly opened my eyes. The young woman's almond-shaped eyes and rosy cheeks were very close. She looked at me silently, her face filled with tender affection.
"This is the first male guest today. Please choose your dream girl," came the voice of pimp Meng Fei from the television. I knew it was a rerun of "If You Are the One" the next morning.

Looking at the young woman, I remained silent, wrapped my arms around her smooth back, raised my head slightly, and kissed her passionately. My penis moved in sync with the clenching of her lower body, thrusting in and out in accordance with her hip movements.
The young woman didn't cry out, only panting heavily, her body already drenched in fragrant sweat. I held her, rolled over, and pressed myself against her beautiful body, slowly and steadily thrusting in and out.
She didn't cry out, her breathing became even heavier, and her hands began to scratch my back. I lifted myself up, knelt, and placed her legs on my shoulders, watching my large penis thrust in and out of her beautiful vagina. She
didn't cry out, her hands began to rub her clitoris, her face becoming even more flushed, like a beauty emerging from a bath. I turned her legs around, making her lie on her side, and I lay down, continuing to thrust into her beautiful vagina from behind. My genitals slammed against her buttocks with a sound, accompanied by the "plop! plop!" of thrusting.
The young woman didn't cry out, she began to thrust her buttocks back forcefully, her vagina gripping my penis even tighter. I thrust even more excitedly, and amidst the undulating, snake-like movements of her body and the contractions of her vagina, I uncontrollably ejaculated my hot semen into the young woman's beautiful vagina.
My penis was now inside her, pressing against her buttocks, and I embraced her from behind, grabbing her breasts. I asked gratefully, "Sister, why did you secretly sleep with me?" "I saw your big, erect penis this morning after I peed, and I was so drooling. I wanted to surprise you, so I sat on it," she replied. The young woman was indeed sexually horny. I rewarded her by grabbing her breasts, "You little slut! I love you to death."
"Numbers 2 and 23, please come to the center of the stage," pimp Meng Fei announced on television. Sato Ai had left her light on again. Seeing Sato Ai, I couldn't help but think of the young woman beside me. Old Zuo is thirty-four years old, has an eight-year-old son, is rather short and overweight. She confidently came to "If
You Are the One" to find a husband, and her honesty and willingness to dedicate herself entirely to her husband won her many admirers and made her popular with some men. I patted the young woman's breast, "Sister, why don't you go on 'If You Are the One'? You'd definitely be in high demand!" "Come on, I'm a widow, a widow and her child, who would want me?" the young woman said, her face full of insecurity.
"Hehe, look at what you're saying, even someone like Sato Ai got on, what are you lacking? You're much better than her," I encouraged her. "At least she has a job," the young woman only considered her weakness.
"Sister, don't think like that. If you sit on the street for two hours with two bottles of mineral water, you're a freelancer, that counts as having a job," I said, speaking the truth. "Little brother, don't make your sister happy, there's no such thing as a job."
"Sister, look at those women on stage. There are beauty consultants, who are actually hairdressers; real estate sales assistants, who are actually saleswomen; and freelancers, who are actually unemployed. But as long as they meet the right person, they still get taken away by rich and powerful men, and they even go on trips to the Aegean Sea or Hawaii. Their fates change completely." I used examples to illustrate my point.
"Hehe, let's not talk about that now. I'll think about it later. It won't hurt to give it a try." It seems the young woman has come to her senses. With her looks, figure, and skin, if the TV station's makeup artist did her a makeover, she would definitely stun everyone on stage.
Chen Ai is happy. We washed up, packed our bags, and waited to take the plane to Jinghong at noon. [II] At 12:45 pm
in Jinghong , our plane took off from Lijiang.
Sayonara, dear Lijiang, wherever there are mountains and forests, seeds of love can be sown. No matter how beautiful your scenery is, for us, it's all fleeting.
The plane is still climbing, already above Jade Dragon Snow Mountain. Looking down from the window, all I see are snowdrifts, like a limp sheep, lacking the grandeur of "three million peaks rolling up Jade Dragon" seen from the ground. No wonder Chairman Mao wrote with disdain in "The Long March," "The Five Ridges undulate like waves, the Wumeng Mountains roll like mud balls." Greatness and smallness, baseness and nobility, truly must be viewed from different perspectives!
The plane has reached a stable altitude. There's no lunch; the flight attendant is pushing a cart to bring drinks.
In the sex forum, I once saw a post about how to grope a flight attendant when she comes to serve food or drinks on an airplane.
"What would you like to drink, sir and madam?" I was pondering the textbook when the flight attendant approached with a beaming smile. "Oh, a cup of coffee, please," I replied, snapping out of my reverie. "I'd like some orange juice, do you have any?" the young woman asked. "Yes, ma'am," the flight attendant replied softly, her face radiant.
Looking at such a gentle and lovely flight attendant, so eager to serve you, I thought no one could bring themselves to touch her.
My mind rehearsed how I would touch the flight attendant's stockinged legs standing next to me, and how I would reach upwards to explore that mysterious little mound. Looking around, I realized it was impossible. I don't know how that guy manages to touch flight attendants so often on airplanes; if he does, he's truly a genius. I admire him wholeheartedly, bowing in reverence.

The flight attendant went to the back, and the young woman and I sipped our drinks. Remembering how we made love in the airplane lavatory on the way here, the young woman jokingly said, "Little brother, going to the lavatory again?" Then she gave me a sly smile. "Haha, it's only an hour's journey, how am I supposed to go to the toilet? Unless I'm about to explode from being loaded with bullets!" I replied jokingly. "Hahaha! Hahaha!" "Cough cough! Cough cough!" The young woman laughed heartily, choking on her laughter. She covered her mouth with her hand while coughing and pinching my arm with her fingers.
The plane entered a sea of clouds, and the announcement came over the loudspeaker that there was turbulence and asked everyone to be quiet. My ears felt swollen and painful, as if a door had been closed inside them, and I had temporarily lost my hearing. I inserted my index fingers into my ears, lowered my head, and tried to resist the pain.
A soft, smooth hand grabbed my hand and gently pulled it out. I looked up and saw a flight attendant. She opened her mouth, gesturing for me to shout. I opened my mouth and shouted, "Ah--, ah! ah!" This trick really worked; I heard two "pop" sounds in my ears, as if all my senses had suddenly opened up, and
my hearing instantly became clear. The flight attendant asked, "Are you done, sir?" "Yes, it's all done now! Thank you!" I was truly grateful. "You're welcome. It'll be fine once the plane clears the turbulence," the flight attendant said, then walked away.
The young woman was also in pain; she leaned against me, her mouth open, making soft "ah ah" sounds.
Soon, the light brightened, the noise outside decreased, and we cleared the turbulence and clouds. The sky cleared, and my mood brightened considerably.
On a plane, it's easiest to grope women in window seats. Just put down the tray table, place a newspaper on the aisle table, half of it dangling under the table, completely blocking out everything underneath.

I had just finished in the morning and didn't want to touch the young woman, but I felt a tingling urge to touch her a few times. So, I followed the method above. My hand slid up the young woman's stockings, lifted her skirt, and slipped my hand over her panties to her vulva. My entire hand covered her genitals, playing with and caressing them.
The young woman opened her legs to cooperate, and slowly, her vulva began to secrete fluid, wetting my fingers. My middle finger probed down the cleft a few times, then bent and dug into the warm, wet opening. It was even more moist there, and because of the sitting position, it felt even tighter. I slowly teased her like this, killing time. The young woman was lying on the small table, pretending to sleep, but her face and neck were actually flushed. As
I was teasing her, I heard the gentle voice of a flight attendant two rows behind me, "Would you like any drinks?" She came to bring drinks again. I pulled my hand away and wiped it on the seat.
The flight attendant came to my side; I ordered coffee, and the young woman ordered a Sprite.
"Please fasten your seatbelts, passengers. The plane will be descending. At 1:45 PM, our plane will land at Jinghong Airport on time," the announcement said.
I felt the fuselage tilt, my blood rushing to my head. The scenery outside the window grew larger and clearer, indistinct, but I could feel a lush green...
A dull thud, and the plane landed. After a short taxi, it finally came to a stop.
Stepping off the plane and out of the airport, the tropical air rushed towards us, carrying a rich, vegetal scent—a smell unfamiliar to the locals.

We took the airport bus to Jinghong city, asking for directions to our booked hotel along the way, while enjoying the tropical city scenery. Despite
the October tropical temperature, it didn't feel too hot. The streets weren't crowded; there were groups of tourists, and quite a few locals in traditional clothing, perhaps Dai or some other ethnic group. Tall coconut trees stood on both sides of the road, their tops laden with bunches of green coconuts; there were also palm trees, very thick, their trunks resembling beer bottles. It's hard to describe exactly, but this was our initial impression.
There were various fruit stalls along the roadside, many carrying tropical fruits we didn't recognize. The young woman and I each bought a coconut. The middle-aged man used a machete to chop it open twice, inserted a straw, and we drank from it to quench our thirst. The fresh, sweet taste was intoxicating. We
walked and drank, asking for directions along the way, and easily arrived at our booked hotel, a three-star hotel. Being in a tourist area, the conditions were decent. On the left side of the first floor, there was a corridor with a sign that read "Massage Service Center.
" After a quick shower in our room, we prepared to go out for lunch. We asked the receptionist, "What local specialties do you have?" The receptionist said, "Barbecue, of course! But if you're going to the bonfire party tonight, you
only need to buy tickets for all-you-can-eat barbecue. It's best to save room for lunch on the street." The receptionist was very helpful. "Oh, there's a party? Where is it? Is it far?" I asked. "Not far. If you don't have a tour group, you can take a taxi. It starts at 7:30," the receptionist explained. "What kind of activities are there?" I continued to ask. "Ethnic performances, food and drinks, bonfire parties, releasing river lanterns—it's so lively, definitely worth seeing!" the waiter recommended. "Oh, we'll definitely go then, thank you!
Everything on the street is so new and exciting; it's truly tropical, so different from our temperate home.
Take the fruit, for example: there are jujubes, star fruit, small pineapples, small bananas, jackfruit, durian, wax apples, and so on. These fruits aren't expensive here, whereas some are incredibly expensive back home, things we usually can't afford. This is great! The young woman and I ate our fill, trying a little of everything. The fruit here is picked when it's eight or nine tenths ripe, so of course it's delicious, with a pure, sweet and sour flavor. The fruit vendors said that
tropical fruits sold in the north are picked before they're seven tenths ripe, so of course they're not as good. No wonder there was a song from the 1980s that went, 'Come to the ends of the earth, where flowers and fruits grow everywhere. A hundred kinds of flowers and fruits, a hundred kinds of sweetness, sweetness that will take you a thousand miles away.'" The tangerines are red, bringing joy; the mangoes are yellow, pleasing to the eye; the bananas are ripe, ready to be picked; the pineapples are big, ready to be harvested. Come on, come on, come on! "
Eating various fruits, we didn't have room for a restaurant. We bought a small pancake, ate two rice balls, and nibbled on an ear of corn. That's how we had a nutritious and delicious lunch!
Traveling is all about unique food, beautiful scenery, and of course, beautiful women, but not everyone gets to
eat their fill. So we strolled leisurely through the streets, buying several tourist brochures and maps to plan our walking itinerary later.
After we'd had our fill, we returned to the hotel to rest. The tropical air was humid, and the room had a musty smell, so we opened the doors and windows to let the air out.
Unexpectedly, this attracted attention. Two short, slightly dark-skinned girls with waist-length hair walked straight into the room and sat down on the bedside table as if they knew each other well. They immediately asked, "Hello, we're from a massage and wellness center. We're both Dai girls. Would you like a massage?" "Oh, what massage?" I was curious. If the young woman were my wife, I would have just sent them away, but thankfully she wasn't, so asking wouldn't hurt."
"We have health massages, and we also have special massages, would you like one, sir?" the slightly chubby girl said in a heavy southern accent. "What are the prices?" I asked.
"Health massages are fifty yuan each, special massages are one hundred and fifty yuan. How about it, do one? It's very cheap, and very comfortable!" the slender girl said with a Cantonese accent; how could she dare call herself a Dai girl? "Sorry, we don't do that. You can leave now," I said, starting to ask them to leave.
The two girls didn't lift their butts. "Do one together, it's fun, relax on your trip," the chubby girl pleaded. "No, look, my wife is here, you can leave now," I continued to urge.
"It's okay, we've had couples doing it with us before, we have health massages, we have special massages, it's okay, having fun together is more fun," the slender girl continued to explain. "Sorry, definitely not, you can leave now, don't delay your business, go find someone else." "Saying this, I helped one of the girls up with each hand and started pushing them out.

The two girls reluctantly stood up and started walking out, saying as they went, "It's okay, if you need anything, just call the massage center. Our number is in the notebook on the table." "Okay! Go on, go." "I casually replied, and saw them out the door, closing it behind me and locking it.
I'd heard Jinghong was a city of sex, but I hadn't expected the girls here to be so overbearingly proactive. After
seeing the two butterflies off, the young woman and I washed up and lay in bed, looking at maps and tourist brochures, discussing our next steps. We decided to attend the bonfire party that evening, go to the tropical botanical garden the next day, and finally visit Myanmar.
At 6:30 pm, we took a taxi to the party venue.
When we arrived at the entrance, I was stunned—there were so many people! There was a long queue in front of the magnificent golden gate, and people kept pouring in. Finally, they started checking tickets and letting us in. The party was being held in a large courtyard. There were Dai girls and boys performing bamboo raft dances, and some tourists joined in and tried to dance along. However, it wasn't very common to get caught in the trap.
The first activity arranged by the evening party was a royal banquet. A large spread of food was laid out on the low, long table: barbecue, bamboo-leaf-wrapped rice cakes, rice noodles, coconut rice, Dai rice wine, fruit juice, and more—a truly sumptuous feast! Everyone
sat down according to their assigned seats and began to enjoy the abundant dinner, savoring the Dai-style cuisine, especially the grilled fish, which was incredibly delicious—fragrant, tender, and with a unique herbal flavor. However, since it had already been grilled, it lacked the freshness of being freshly grilled.
Seeing so many people gathered together eating in such an orderly manner evoked a sense of admiration. While enjoying the food, flashbulbs kept clicking, capturing many moments of this special gathering.
The party started at 7:30 PM; the stage lights flashed, and the party began. The first performance was "Lancang River." The program featured song and dance performances from the six countries along the Mekong River—China, Laos, Myanmar, Thailand, Vietnam, and Cambodia—as well as unique ethnic dances from Xishuangbanna. It also included dances from ethnic minorities such as the Dai, Aini, Bulang, Lahu, Yao,
and Jino, showcasing their most authentic customs and traditions. This truly allowed us to experience the cultural atmosphere and strong sense of ethnic identity of these minority groups. Interspersed throughout were minority wedding scenes, with the emcee inviting audience members to participate in interactive performances. Their humorous hosting style had us in stitches, and while the audience members were occasionally teased by the emcee, they were all incredibly happy.
One segment in particular I must mention was when the male emcee said that the Aini or some other ethnic group—I forget which—would say when entertaining guests, "Welcome everyone, raise your glasses, cheers!"—but to Han Chinese, their accent sounded like,
"Lots of dicks, hot dicks, raise your dicks, cheers!" The female emcee promptly chimed in, "Wow!" "What a big cock, you still have to carry it around to fuck it?" Huang's humor drew laughter from the entire audience.
The gala was grand, magnificent, and spectacular. Most of the performers were local ethnic minorities, and their ability to perform so well after only a little training was truly admirable.

The two-hour-plus party provided a feast for the eyes and ears. Then, we received water lanterns as gifts from the organizers. The red candlelight surged forward as the crowd held them high above their heads, creating a spectacular and moving scene in the night. As the lanterns were placed on the water, we silently made wishes, praying for our families' peace, health, and happiness.
When the bonfire was lit, everyone began to revel. We formed circles, three or four layers deep, holding hands and dancing. Everyone sang and laughed to the music, feeling a sense of warmth and familiarity even with strangers nearby.
Every few tourists, there was a minority girl arranged by the organizers, wearing a tight skirt that accentuated her buttocks. People eagerly reached out to touch or pinch her bottoms, and the girls smiled without a care. Everyone chanted wildly with the girls, "Sunbathe! Sunbathe! Sunbathe, sunbathe, sunbathe!" To this day, I still don't understand what "sunbathe" means.
What a charming night, filled with the romantic atmosphere of South Asia!
When we got back to the hotel, it was past 11:30.
As soon as the young woman and I reached our floor and stepped out of the elevator, we heard a woman's pig-like screams coming from a nearby room. It was hard to tell if the screams were from pain or pleasure.
What diligent laborers, starting work so early! The young woman glanced at me, made a face, and smiled knowingly without a word.
I guessed the guest in that room was at a massage parlor. These women, regardless of the guest's age, appearance, or gender, have only one principle: to find ways to get you to pay more, have less sex, and leave quickly!
Walking down the corridor, we heard a bed creaking in another room, accompanied by soft moans and heavy breathing.
Ugh! The soundproofing in this hotel is terrible; a typical shoddy construction project, perfect for those who like to eavesdrop.
We went into our room, quickly showered, and lay naked on the bed. Thinking of the smooth, beautiful legs and exposed breasts of the dancers on the stage, and the lewd moans I'd heard in the hallway, my penis involuntarily hardened.
"Sis, were those moans exciting?" I rubbed my knee against the young woman's pubic hair. "Of course, they made my lower body itch," the woman said, lifting her leg and tapping my erect penis twice.
"Beep beep beep, beep beep!" The phone rang. I answered, "Hi!" "Sorry to bother you, sir. Would you like a massage?" a sweet voice asked. "No, thank you," I replied. "If you need anything, contact me..." Before she could finish, I hung up.
"Another massage, huh?" the woman asked. "Of course, we have plenty of beautiful women, why would we need her?" I patted her breast. "Exactly, they're so filthy!" the woman said disdainfully.
We were both busy stroking each other's bodies and genitals.
This room was so poorly soundproofed; another moaning came from the hallway, this one was sharper and more stimulating. This is truly a den of iniquity, a place of bliss.
I heard the young woman rubbing my penis with her toes, gently squeezing it between her toes. My fingers also dug into the young woman's tender vagina, starting to rotate, causing her juices to flow like a river. As

we were stroking and stroking, there was a knock on the door next door, which opened and closed. After a while, I heard the creaking of the bed and the sounds of thrusting. They had started working over there. With each thrust, the woman began to scream, "Ahhh! Yaya! Ouch!" The sounds were so clear, it seemed like the battle was taking place right in our room.
The young woman's body trembled, clearly aroused. "Sir, would you like a massage?" she asked, flicking my penis twice. She couldn't resist the sounds of the other woman. "Yes! Yes! Miss, I'm coming!" I said, rolling over and pressing down on the young woman.
My penis probed her wet vulva a few times before finding the soft opening and plunging in with a sharp thrust. "Ah, that feels so good!" the young woman sighed softly. I whispered in her ear, "Sister, don't shout, people will laugh at us." "I won't, people will think I'm a prostitute too," the young woman said, digging her buttocks
deeper into my vagina. Pressing against her smooth body, I thrust in and out, one thrust, two thrusts, and more, as if trying to drain the juices from her honeyed depths.
The young woman wrapped her legs around my thighs, slapping my buttocks hard with her heels. Her hands scratched my back, leaving numerous finger marks—she was subtly challenging the woman next door.
"Beep beep! Beep beep!" The annoying phone rang again. I turned over and unplugged the phone, pulling my penis out of her vagina as well. Before I could even turn over, the young woman's hot, large breasts pressed against me. She suddenly pinned me down, saying, "Come on, let me give you a massage this time!" She rubbed her large breasts against my chest, then straightened up, squatted between my legs, held my penis with one hand, aimed at my vulva, and sat down. What a tight vulva! She was squeezing, working so hard.
The young woman squatted and rose, fell and squatted. Holding my stomach with both hands, she looked down, watching the piston move in and out of her cylinder.
She squatted for a while, probably tired, then lowered her upper body even further, her nipples brushing against my chest, making me incredibly itchy. I grabbed her large breasts, pushed them up, and sat up myself, giving her a lotus position.
This position was so enjoyable; as she moved her hips while I took turns sucking on her large breasts like a child, they were sweet and delicious, a real treat.
"They're here! They're here!" the young woman shouted,
as the man next door yelled "Ah! Ah! Ah ah!" The woman also screamed "Ah--! Ouch--!" They had arrived.
What a coincidence! I thought the young woman was calling out to the neighbor, but it turned out she was also experiencing vaginal contractions, her body trembling, and panting heavily—she had arrived too.
Without a word, I pushed the young woman down, took a kneeling position, lifted her legs, and began a series of vigorous thrusts. Just before ejaculation, I pulled out my penis, moved forward, and squeezed her large breasts together, my greasy penis plunging into the deep cleavage, beginning a breast-fucking session. One thrust, two thrusts, more than ten thrusts, and a stream of white, hot fluid spurted out, splashing onto the young woman's hair and face.
The moans of pleasure still echoed in the corridor. A captivating night, passionate men. My buddies who stayed all night will have another big battle tomorrow morning.
Tomorrow, the young woman and I will have another springtime story deep in the tropical jungle.
[The End]

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