Life in the village

Life in the village seemed to move at a slower pace. The old folks, leaning on their canes and puffing on their pipes, walked shakily along the blue flagstones.

Their foreheads were etched with wrinkles, and they seemed less strong. They would sit at the village entrance, some with their grandchildren in tow, others carrying small stools, watching the passersby.

The acting village head, who was also the accountant, had begun constructing water conservancy projects and building basic farmland infrastructure, as required by the town's Party committee and government. A construction team with out-of-town accents had joined the village, and what caught the attention of the village men was the out-of-town woman who cooked for the team (similar to someone in the food service industry). Her breasts swayed back and forth in front of everyone. She

bought groceries and cooked in the morning and evening, then went to the foreman's bed.

The foreman was a thin man; in Lao Jiu's opinion, "a thin man's penis, a fat man's vagina," he must be a rather strong man, while the plump woman was incredibly alluring. "

Tsk tsk," Lao Jiu smacked his lips, his mouth watering.

It seems Lao Jiu (Old Nine) has some talent for drinking.

I've even come up with an advertising slogan for him: "Lao Jiu Brand Xiao Zhen Wine, everyone who drinks it knows!"

The foreman is from Sichuan.

He also loves to drink, and once he starts, he launches into a long, rambling monologue: "I participated in the self-defense counterattack, and I even slept with a Vietnamese girl."

The first part is probably verifiable, judging by the scars on his left arm, the green military water bottle, and his veteran's certificate.

The second part is mostly fabricated, because my company has strict discipline, and such a thing is unlikely to happen.

However, boasting isn't illegal.

Several men gathered around the fire pit, discussing everything from society and economics to men and women, from the obedient wife of the Wang family in the east to the beautiful Chunhua from the big pillar and loudmouth family in the west—truly all-encompassing and full of wonders.

In many ways, being able to boast is a skill in itself.

The village has about a hundred households. Nestled against the mountains and beside the water, at dusk, wisps of smoke rise from the chimneys, shepherds return—a scene of peace and tranquility.

A water buffalo, dragging its lazy gait, nibbled at the roadside grass shoots, its body still thrashed by the whip, yet it didn't give up the chance to feast on the tender grass. "

Where can I find an inn?" the buffalo man asked, pointing to Daoxiang Village. Daoxiang Village—a name that would be perfect for a poet, evoking a certain poetic imagery. But for us, living here, it's simply a place to go home to eat when hungry, and to go home to warm up when cold.

The homemade baijiu, around 30 proof, its grayish-white liquid always ignites my passion, eventually releasing its own white liquid, then pulling out the tightly wrapped rubber sleeve.

Xiaozhen liquor, renowned far and wide.

The newly arrived county magistrate drank our Xiaozhen liquor and said one thing: "Pack it up, put it on the market."

Put it on the market? Just sell it in the market, in the small shops, not enter the capital market.

The liquor Lao Jiu drank was his own homemade Xiaozhen liquor.

Daoxiang Village could be the hometown of high-quality rice, or it could be the birthplace of Xiaozhen liquor. The county magistrate's secretary, in the dead of night, watched the moon rise from behind the mountains.

The people who had been chatting and boasting gradually dispersed.

Inside the foreman's tent, a naked man and woman appeared, their bodies colliding in a passionate embrace. The foreman was indeed powerful; the wooden plank bed, secured with nails in several places, began to shake rhythmically. Old Jiu's prediction was correct; the foreman continued for about 40 minutes.

The plump young woman, drenched in sweat, gripped the foreman's ribs tightly, using all her strength and coercion. In the rhythmic contractions and excitement, the foreman ejaculated. The young woman

gathered her clothes, tore off some paper, and wiped away the fluid from the foreman. She also spread her legs, gently wiping herself.

Her large genitals, sparse pubic hair, and thin labia were fully exposed.

The foreman was lost in his fantasies about the Vietnamese woman.

The whistling outside was a secret signal between young men and women; the older and middle-aged had washed up and gone to bed, but the young man's pleasure was just beginning.

In the woods behind the village, in the haystacks by the village, and by the stone mill at the village entrance, their figures could be seen, some whispering sweet nothings, others expressing their love.

These were their precious moments.

The rooster crowed, and the sky was already turning pale.

The diligent villagers had already fetched their day's water from the well under the banyan tree.

I turned around and smelled my wife's breast milk.

As the saying goes, "A good morning makes you feel refreshed."

Thinking about it, I felt a surge of desire. I pulled my penis out, my underwear between my legs, and it was already hard.

My wife lay on her side with her back to me, her plump buttocks and black bra straps making me unable to resist.

I didn't take off her underwear, but simply pulled it from one thigh to the other: easy to enter, easy to move.

Entering from behind was a bit dry, and the worst part was that my wife's underwear was constricting my penis, causing a slight pain with each movement.

My wife woke up and started wriggling her hips, letting me move her. Slowly, more fluid dripped out, providing excellent lubrication. With each in-and-out motion, dawn broke.

We changed positions: the traditional missionary position, my wife spreading her legs for easy penetration. My penis felt numb, a strange excitement and a wave of pleasure coursing through my body.

Undeniably, my wife was very skilled, constantly contracting and squeezing.

This was my first time having sex in a long time, and my wife was very excited.

That damned former village chief made me suffer for months before I could finally experience the pleasure of sex.

I always thought I would never touch my wife again, but that thought was like coaxing a child to get a shot—the sweet treat makes you forget the pain.

From Da Zhu Zi, I learned that the contractor's surname was Shi, and the chubby girl was named Yue Lan. The contractor's woman wasn't Yue Lan, but another woman from his hometown. Yue Lan was just a young woman from our neighboring village; in Lao Jiu's words, the chubby girl was just the contractor's mistress. When the former village chief found out, he understood the contractor's inherent flaws: he only knew how to prey on young girls from the local area.

The former village chief, whose real name was Yang Laohei,

was a powerful figure in the past, someone who commanded respect.

But now, he had completely lost his former charisma.

Laohei had always disliked the contractor, but out of respect for the acting village chief, he dared not show it.

One day, Yuelan went to the market to buy vegetables and suddenly screamed, feeling someone touch her breasts.

This Laohei, his lustful nature remained unchanged.

He even pretended to look around, then dragged the bastard out and beat him to death—for insulting a woman in broad daylight! His vicious words and exaggerated gestures reminded one of the scene in the movie *The Tricky Master* where Stephen Chow and his apprentice touched Shui Lianhua's buttocks and then nonchalantly played a drinking game.

Laohei was actually reenacting a scene from a movie in Daocun Village.

To thank Lao Hei for speaking up for him, Yue Lan pulled out a pack of cigarettes that the foreman smoked from the shed and handed it to him.

Although his wife had run off with the Sichuanese man,

Yang Lao Hei still kept in touch with his parents-in-law. His father-in-law said, "Yang Lao Hei, you will always be my son-in-law. It's just that that heartless girl is so disappointing."

Although Yue Fei outwardly displayed a magnanimous spirit of sacrificing family for righteousness in front of Lao Hei, secretly he used the money his daughter sent from afar to buy a couple of ounces of liquor at the village store, humming a tune, and telling everyone it was money from his daughter.

His face radiated boundless happiness.

Now, his sister-in-law, hearing that her brother-in-law's early rice harvest was complete, and that they had slaughtered a fat pig and bought DVDs, wanted to come and visit for a few days.

Lao Hei was overjoyed. He found

his brother-in-law and sister-in-law increasingly appealing.

Only Lao Jiu in the village was often drunk.

When drunk, he couldn't see his wife as beautiful as Yue Lan, and all he could remember were Yue Lan's swaying breasts.

Although he had used my herbal medicine to regain his virility, he could never completely seal the slit that Han Bao had used. That

damned Han Bao.

He downed a small cup of liquor, feeling warm in his stomach.

The day was sunny and breezy.

The banyan tree by the village and the old well beneath it peacefully enjoy every moment of rural life. The elderly and children sit under the banyan tree. The scorching sun is blocked by the thick leaves; in the off-season, everything is like the wind, free and directionless.

Daoxiang Village has a unique feature: a single tree can form a forest.

An old tree that started growing in the generation of one's great-great-great-grandfather, nourished by the old well, began to sprout, take root, and grow.

Thus, branches fell to the ground, and after being sculpted by wind, rain, and time, dozens of trunks formed a small grove.

The people of Daoxiang Village are very hospitable.

They kill a chicken, stew it with herbs, and after a few rounds of drinks, the aroma of the chicken wafts beyond the village; the unique flavor of the herbs makes you want to eat more after just one bite.

Boil a pot of beef with chili peppers, star anise, coriander, and cardamom. The villagers call it "niu pa hu" (pronounced with a first tone). It melts in your mouth, yet tastes delicious. The long cooking time removes the beef's gamey smell.

Yang Laohei was planning to use these dishes and a large DVD to keep his sister-in-law from calling him "brother-in-law."

Lao Jiu chuckled, "Who cares about your stuff?"

That day, the weather was fine and sunny.

The scenery was the same as described above, during the off-season for farming. Everyone sat under the banyan tree, chatting about this year's rain and next year's harvest.

A tractor approached from afar. Guo Erleng had gone to town. He usually only hauled fruit to resell to the villagers.

In his words, he was just trying to earn some diesel money. Actually, if he earned one yuan per jin (500 grams), he could make more than two hundred yuan per trip.

Guo Erleng parked the car under the banyan tree, and a young woman speaking with a regional accent jumped out, asking if Lao Hei was home.

It turned out she was probably Lao Hei's sister-in-law. No wonder Lao Hei had been so distracted lately; such a beautiful girl—I'd be just as distracted.

Lao Hei's sister-in-law was about 22 years old, wearing blue skinny jeans and a low-cut short-sleeved top—in my opinion, already quite fashionable.

Her breasts were firm, and she was tall; she was completely different from Lao Hei's wife, her sister.

What was most irresistible was that the tight jeans outlined her beautiful curves, her rounded buttocks, and the bulging vulva below her belly. I wondered what it would feel like to touch her.

So this is youth.

Everything is so real, laid out before you, but you can't have it; you can only watch helplessly, only feel a restless undercurrent in your lower abdomen.

Today, Yang Laohei deliberately wore his white shirt, which he hadn't worn in years. Although he no longer held the title of village chief, he still wanted to appear energetic.

He carried an umbrella.

It turned out that the damned Laohei was actually quite thoughtful.

As evening approached, the setting sun enveloped the entire village, the sunset painting the entire open space golden. Returning farmers always carried firewood, pig feed, or vegetables on their shoulders. Children played and ate fruit their mothers had bought from Zhang Erleng. A cool breeze rustled through the banyan trees.

Usually, a few passersby would scoop up a ladle of sweet well water, drink it, and continue on their way. Their gradually disappearing figures carried away the last golden rays of the evening. Dusk quietly arrived.

Every dusk in the village was almost the same: lights came on, and the village's video room began to broadcast the sounds of swords and spears through its loudspeakers.

The foreman turned on the TV. During the night, besides cuddling Yuelan to vent his anger, he would watch military dramas like "Bright Sword" and "Soldiers' Assault."

He often spoke proudly of Li Yunlong, saying he had risked his life like Li. As a veteran, he always spoke with such pride, much like Lao Hei, who grew up herding cattle with me and had a special affection for them.

As a topic of conversation, Bao Gutou often earned respect by recounting his extraordinary military experiences. Of course, behind the foreman's back, in everyone's eyes, he was just a foreman. He had left his hometown to make a living in the village.

That night, Yang Lao Hei felt he was a little late.

His sister-in-law was engrossed in a TV drama. The handsome men and beautiful women's performances captivated the young girl, much like my first time watching "Extraordinary."

Lao Hei sat opposite his sister-in-law, stealing glances at her intentionally or unintentionally. She had truly blossomed into a beautiful young woman. Back when I married her older sister, I was still a rather naive child. Lao Hei scanned every part of his sister-in-law's body with his peripheral vision.

Suddenly, he noticed that his sister-in-law's skirt wasn't fully covering her, revealing her snow-white thighs and black panties. Looking closer, he saw it was a mesh fabric. "My God, isn't that the kind of thing the prostitutes from the town used to wear?"

he thought. The smooth texture, the soft strands of hair caught in the mesh. The pleasure of tearing it open was even greater than the rapid penetration. "Brother-in-law, do you have brown sugar? I want to eat brown sugar boiled eggs."

"Yes, we have mesh."

Yang Laohei realized he'd let something slip and quickly got up, opening the drawer.

A man's thoughts, at certain times, are determined by his penis, and Yang Laohei's mesh answer was proof of that.

Less than a mile from the village, every August, the women and children of the village would go to Niutang Bay to bathe. The older generation believed that this could wash away some diseases, such as rheumatoid arthritis.

Niutang Bay was located in the middle reaches of the river. It was said to be named after the village's ancestors who grazed cattle there long ago. The riverbanks here are wide, with mountains rising gently just a few dozen meters beyond the riverbed. Niutang Bay is famous among the nearby villages, not because of the cattle herders from our village, but because of its hot springs. A jet of steaming hot water gushes forth from the rocks on the riverbank, then gathers into a pool above the riverbed, spreading across both sides of the river. The spring water, with its gunpowder-like smell, is a haven for the village women.

They strip naked and jump into the hot spring, washing away illness and worries. The women soak naked in the water, chatting and gossiping, without any sense of shame. The hands of men and the sculpting of time have caused their breasts to sag; everyone is "open" in their presence.

Ninth Sister is thirty years old. Even at thirty, she still adheres to her last line of conduct. Wearing a bra and underwear, she finds a slightly too-small bed and waits alone.

She knows Hanbao will come.

Ever since being taken home by Dazhuzi, Hanbao had been pent up for almost three months. Primal sexual desire can produce unexpected miracles.

Hanbao felt this way, as did I, Lao Jiu, Yang Laohei, and Zhang Erleng.

What Jiu's wife actually liked was Hanbao's penis—long like a cucumber, large like a radish—each penetration reaching her deepest point. This was something Lao Jiu couldn't match.

Hanbao quietly went to the pond where Jiu's wife was soaking, blindfolded her, and asked, "Guess who I am?" This was something Jiu's wife hadn't expected; a fool could be so witty.

This was Hanbao's miracle.

Then, they hid behind the rocks. Hanbao skillfully unhooked her bra, pulled off Jiu's multicolored panties, and entered her directly. The gentle breeze, the warm spring water, and the cool rocks gave Jiu's wife, pressed against the rock, a different kind of sensation.

Standing, leaning against the rock, she received the rain of penetration from someone other than her own man. The liquid flowing out enveloped Hanbao's thick member, a feeling of being filled shooting from his heels to his brain.

Niutang Bay remained bustling.

Amidst the children's noise and the women's laughter, no one paid attention to what was happening in the bathhouse next door. Ninth Sister gasped for breath, a warm, tingling sensation flowing down her lower abdomen. Hanbao's bright red glans and long penis throbbed incessantly, and Ninth Sister's slit could never be filled. Someone had taught Hanbao various techniques; Ninth Sister was no longer thinking. She trembled, an extraordinary pleasure causing her to contract incessantly. Hanbao lifted Ninth Sister, using her legs to encircle his waist, and began to slowly thrust in and out—once, twice, once, three times… While pleasure is often associated with rapid movement, slow entry and exit could also be incredibly pleasurable. Ninth Sister lowered her head, watching how Hanbao's member entered, both genitals fully visible—a unique kind of enjoyment.

A spasm ran through Hanbao's body, his buttocks twitched twice, and a stream of white liquid gushed out.

The sun scorched the land.

Many villagers sought refuge under the banyan trees, but the foreman and his men were still working feverishly, mixing sand and mortar and carrying bricks.

It turned out the foreman wasn't fighting alone!

After about three months of construction, the entire dam's paddy fields were now lined with cement embankments, resembling burlap sacks divided into sections from a distance.

Under the blazing sun, sweat seeped from his neck to his armpits as the foreman deftly smoothed the coarse cement slurry with a tin tool.

His body was soaked with sweat; his clothes were drenched.

Meanwhile, Yuelan was tidying herself in the tent, holding a basin of water, straddling it with her legs, one hand on the edge of the bed, the other rubbing her flesh. Perhaps the previous night's activity had been too strenuous; her inner walls were a little sore.

Yue Lan's large, fleshy vulva was something Lao Jiu had always dreamed of, and this time was no exception. He had already crawled under the tent, carefully observing Yue Lan's every move.

The foreman had a feeling that something was going to happen today because his right eyelid kept twitching. As the saying goes, "A twitching right eye means bad luck is coming."

Just as Yue Lan's hand touched a very sensitive spot, the foreman's hand was cut by a metal tool, and blood flowed out.

Lao Jiu was touching his penis, preparing to masturbate, enjoying the beauty he could see but couldn't touch. So she wasn't wrong; the plump girl's thing looked amazing, let alone being inside her.

Just as Lao Jiu was about to climax, the foreman walked in. Lao Jiu was startled, and his penis went limp.

The foreman saw Yue Lan washing herself, and the visual impact was strong. The foreman forgot the pain of his wound, directly pulled out his penis, pulled Yue Lan's pants down to her knees, put her on the bed, and began the traditional missionary position.

Old Jiu crawled on his stomach, the tent against his back. The sun made the soil damp, and he was on the verge of collapse.

The last time he spied, he'd stood outside; aside from a few mosquitoes, he could tolerate it. Even the torture of prisoners in pig cages on TV wasn't this bad.

Over there, the foreman and Yue Lan were having a passionate encounter.

The foreman's long, thin member was incredibly powerful; his thick member was employing various techniques, its slight contractions and varying shades of color. His erection was at its peak, the fine veins alongside the thick vas deferens, swollen to an extreme.

The foreman grabbed Yue Lan's breasts, showing no tenderness whatsoever. Violence, power, softness, and stimulation were the focus of the process; everything else was irrelevant.

Old Jiu lay there for a full 50 minutes under the damp, sweltering tent, enduring the hardship while enjoying the stimulation created by others. Or perhaps, for Old Jiu, it wasn't even that bad.

He was probably addicted to voyeurism. Without voyeurism, there was no sex life.

On a sweltering afternoon, I went to the well to fetch water when a voice surprised me: "Uncle, there's a village meeting tomorrow, you have to attend, it'll be a way of supporting my work."

He even knew I was his uncle; I thought he'd call me by my first name.

I'm a liberal, being the only high school graduate in the village—back in the Wenge era, that was practically a college degree. (Of course, college graduates aren't rare in our village now, since the village's primary school teachers are all graduates of provincial normal universities.) So I consider myself someone special.

I completely disregard the previous village chief, Yang Laohei, so I rarely attend any village meetings, educational events, or lectures on the one-child policy.

After fetching water and feeding the pigs and chickens, I started cooking.

And what about my wife?

Well, after she sexually bribed the village chief, things spiraled out of control, so we decided to open a small grocery store in town.

In this matter, I also became a very passive victim because of that damned Yang Laohei. So I came to the conclusion: having power = having money + having women.

So the town mayor's secretary's black bra was basically taken off by the town mayor himself.

So my wife chose to escape, only coming home on the weekend for some lovemaking.

What is all this about? How did it all come together!

Life is like this: Hanbao hugs Ninth Sister-in-law, I had sex with Chunhua, the contractor and Yuelan Village started putting up slogans: "Actively participate in the election, promote socialist democracy~~ Every citizen has the right to vote and be elected." The acting village head has to drop the "acting" part and go through this formality, giving a passionate speech, then inviting everyone to eat. While eating, they start talking about writing his name on the ballot.

There's no such thing as a free lunch, and farmers know that too.

It's just for the sake of saving face for the villagers, after all, you see each other all the time.

The farmers' principle is: no one can touch my contracted land.

That's our bottom line.

I cooked a few cured pork ribs and added some salt.

I'm preparing dinner.

All that's missing is a cup of Xiaozhen liquor, pure corn liquor with a mellow flavor. What are fancy brews like? In the eyes of us farmers, they're just packaging, or even just manure.

The taste of our own brewed liquor is incomparable to any industrial product.

Chewing on cured pork ribs and sipping a sip of mellow Xiaozhen liquor, all I could say was: comfortable.

The accountant smoothly transitioned to village head, while the Party Secretary remained the same.

The Party Secretary spoke some official jargon, saying the town's Party Committee attached great importance to this election and believed the new village head would find ways to improve the village's economy.

The Party Secretary wore a large gold-inlaid jade ring on his ring finger, gleaming in the sunlight. It was supposedly a reward from the town government for attracting investment, but everyone knew it was a gift he received after he leased our village's collective land to an out-of-town businessman at a low price. Yang Laohei also had one, but he always kept it low-key.

Until he was removed from his post, he never wore it.

While the Party Secretary was speaking, everyone was only interested in his teeth, blackened by cigarette smoke; what he wore was of no concern to us.

The Party Secretary has a daughter who graduated from university this year.

A true prodigy, she often doesn't recognize her uncles or aunts in the village, and like the former accountant and current village head, she thinks she's very arrogant. But

let's turn to another story.

The village secretary was still outlining grand plans for our village's future, but Yang Laohei, of course, wasn't participating. At that moment, he and his sister-in-law were walking along the road at the village entrance, heading to the mango orchard to pick some mangoes.

In July, the village's vast mango and lychee trees exuded a ripe fragrance, like the scent of a virgin, as Lao Jiu would say. It was the joy of harvest, the freshness and excitement of pioneering.

Yang Laohei deliberately walked behind his sister-in-law, watching a mature woman swaying in front of him, and he actually felt a little aroused.

His sister-in-law had changed her skirt into denim shorts and her top into a backless blouse. Her slender thighs and snow-white back were all captivating to Yang Laohei.

Guo Erleng returned from town in his tractor and, seeing Yang Laohei's sister-in-law dressed like this, said, "Sister, there are a lot of bugs in the mango orchard, aren't you afraid of being bitten?" His sister-in-law

laughed and said, "My brother-in-law told me this is fine."

Guo Erleng smiled but didn't answer. Yang Laohei quickly offered him a cigarette, saying, "Come visit sometime."

Guo Erleng thought, "That damn Yang Laohei, he's really cunning."

Could it be true, as he said, "Do

n't let the good stuff go to outsiders!" With approval from higher authorities and the town mayor's leadership, Lao Jiu started mass-producing Xiaozhen liquor. It should be said that Lao Jiu instantly went from a farmer to a small-time farmer-business owner. Although the essence hadn't changed, his lifestyle was undergoing some transformation.

The contractor and his brothers will also complete the village's water conservancy infrastructure construction. After the village committee inspects and pays the project fees, they will move to another place to continue their lives.

However, many people in the village don't understand the crisis. Yuelan is a plump girl with large breasts that always seem to bounce before their eyes like little white rabbits.

Yang Laohei brought his sister-in-law to the mango orchard. The ripe mangoes swayed in the wind, as if a stronger gust would cause them to fall.

Sure enough, a ripe mango fell and hit him on the forehead. "Damn it, you hit me on the head!"

The younger sister-in-law found it hilarious. "Brother-in-law, who are you cursing?" she thought.

The naive sister-in-law genuinely didn't know who her brother-in-law was cursing.

But Yang Laohei thought she was testing him.

For an older man with social and sexual experience, if a girl was testing him, he should first try to be reserved, then find the right opportunity to make his move.

This was Yang Laohei's philosophy.

Guo Erleng wasn't wrong; there were caterpillars in the mango orchard.

Before they had picked even a few mangoes, the sister-in-law was covered in goosebumps. She scratched her back, her chest itched, and her thighs and buttocks itched. "

Brother-in-law, I'm itchy!"

Just like her sister, memories pulled him back ten years. It was the second month after their marriage. He and his wife were working in the fields. For some reason, his wife felt unsatisfied during their lovemaking the previous night, and today she wanted to have sex in broad daylight.

Yang Laohei was strong and could easily manage three or four rounds. He readily agreed, pulled down his underwear, placed his wife on the prepared plastic sheet, and then entered her.

At that time, Yang Laohei didn't have any technique; he just moved in and out repeatedly. His wife, however, seemed more experienced, constantly sucking and contracting, squeezing his fleshy glans.

As they did so, his wife cried out, "I'm itchy, I'm itchy, hurry up!"

It turned out that sounds could also arouse you during sex. Yang Laohei realized this at that moment. "

Brother-in-law, I'm itchy!"

In the situation of a lone man and woman, those four words greatly excited Yang Laohei, who had already climbed the tree. He leaped down from the branch, more than two meters high.

You have to understand, the bare soil below was very hard.

Just as Yang Laohei was about to hug his sister-in-law, he suddenly froze. Her thighs, arms, and back were covered in severe skin allergies.

Naturally, Yang Laohei's sister-in-law was taken to the village clinic.

The next day, Yang Laohei brought his sister-in-law to my house.

I've always been rather averse to Yang Laohei, even considering killing him. But a doctor's heart is compassionate, and seeing the once beautiful and slender girl swollen with patches of bumps made my heart ache.

I found some herbs, boiled them in a pot, and used them both internally and externally. I figured that within two days, the swelling would subside, and it would also build up immunity, so she would rarely have an allergic reaction again.

Old Hei's sister-in-law was indeed a virgin of exceptional beauty—fair skin, bright red nipples, sparse pubic hair… …but if I were to describe her any further, I would completely become a pervert. Every profession requires adherence to certain moral principles, and this applies to a herbalist like me. She was my patient, and I couldn't defile her body.

I set up a small shed in the yard, placed a large basin inside, and poured the medicinal solution into it, intending for Old Hei's sister-in-law to use it for fumigation.

I would occasionally add more solution.

Old Hei's sister-in-law was rather traditional; beneath her fashionable exterior lay traditional sexual values. I, an old man, blushed and felt hot upon seeing her snow-white body, my breathing becoming somewhat rapid.

I immediately lowered the curtain and told her how to clean herself.

Old Hei stood silently to the side.

Although Old Hei, like me, longed to have sex with women, especially with a seductive woman like his sister-in-law, we both possessed the virtues of men from the mountains—we would never take advantage of a vulnerable woman, including her. You might ask, "Then what about my wife and Yang Laohei?" Well, my wife was the one who willingly accepted the situation.

The treatment lasted about half an hour. Yang Laohei's sister-in-law, wrapped in clothes and with her hair down, slowly walked out of the shed.

A beautiful woman, even a casual gesture can conjure up many images: for example, she resembled Kyoko Fukada, with full breasts and flowing long hair.

Kyoko's sister fully recovered on the second day after she came to my house. According to Yang Laohei's seniority in the village, she sweetly called me "Uncle."

I'll trouble you these next few days. When I get home, I'll have my father come and pay his respects to you. It's a village custom to bring pork ham, small bottles of wine, and a rooster to express gratitude.

I still only saw her two little white rabbits thumping on her chest.

Old Yang also symbolically expressed his thanks.

Chunhua, Dazhuzi's daughter. That is, the woman I slept with. During the holiday, the village chief sent her to the county's education system for training, saying it was to improve her quality, which was related to the future of the village's children. This is the third fire.

The village chief graduated from vocational school and studied in the provincial capital. No wonder, he has broad knowledge.

I harnessed the water buffalo and went to the field to prepare for planting: I planted the white plow into the dark soil, and clumps of black earth awoke from their slumber.

It is in this repeated cycle of slumber and awakening that the land nurtures every farmer in the village. The water buffalo diligently pulls the plow, slowly completing its mission in this season.

There's a saying in the village about oxen: "An old ox dies from carrying straw, an old cat dies from boredom from cooking rice." This is the wisdom of farmers, which can be compared to people: some work themselves to death for meager pay, while others live leisurely and enjoy excellent treatment.

The socialist principle of distribution is roughly like this: not more work, more pay, but speculation, more pay. As the village secretary's daughter said: at the top of the pyramid of capital accumulation, standing there doesn't mean looking down on everyone, but rather having a huge pile of money.

Anyway, farmers should just cultivate their land well, brew a small cup of liquor, tear off a piece of cured pork, hug their wives, and touch their breasts—that's enough.

The village secretary has been very busy lately, unable to work on his three major projects with the village head. His eldest daughter has graduated from university and needs a job.

So, the secretary has been going to the county for three days and the town for two, trying to find relatives and acquaintances to help his daughter settle down. Whether in the town or the county, he knows that there's no future in working in the village.

When visiting someone, according to etiquette, one should bring something; as the saying goes, "You can't catch a wolf without risking your cub."

Although Yang Laohei is lecherous, he's well-versed in officialdom and knows the habits of city dwellers. City people love wild game, wild vegetables, and the like. They're tired of lobsters and seafood. Also, when seeking help, one should look for someone who can pull strings; if you can find the mayor's wife, don't go to the mayor's secretary. It seems Yang Laohei is quite a talent. The Party Secretary thought to himself.

Speaking of wild game, he thought of Hanbao's father, a hunter from a family with three generations of ancestors. Hanbao's father, Ma Laonian, a hunter: although the government has banned hunting wild animals, weasels, otters, and wild cats often threaten the livestock raised by farmers, making Ma Laonian particularly important.

But these are things that high-ranking officials probably wouldn't like.

Speaking of good wine,

Lao Jiu's Xiaozhen wine, after being promoted by the town government, can be considered one of the best liquors in the area.

Thinking of all this, the village secretary smiled slightly. The fox's cunning lies in its intelligence, and so does the village secretary.

The village secretary's daughter, Mei Feng, is a very pretty girl. She's always dressed like a student, wearing Adidas, Nike, and Li-Ning, supposedly because she loves sports.

Occasionally, you'll see her in sportswear, swinging her breasts, doing morning exercises on the village road—she loves sports and life.

Her jeans always accentuate her youthful maturity: long legs, a firm and elastic bottom, and full breasts. Compared to Yang Lao Hei's sister-in-law, she's even better; after all, she's educated.

However, she's a little arrogant and often looks down on farmers.

Lao Jiu and I both agree that she's an unfilial daughter; her father is a farmer, and she despises him.

That day, Ma Laonian came down from the hilltop carrying a porcupine. The village secretary leaned closer. "Old Nian, there's a spot in the village for an exchange program to another town. I've thought about it, and you're the most suitable candidate. Come to my office tomorrow and fill out the form."

His eyes, however, were fixed on the porcupine in Old Nian's hand.

Normally, Old Nian would kill the porcupine, dry the meat, and sell it at a local agritourism restaurant. He'd then use the money to buy food and drinks, living a rather comfortable life.

When he wasn't in a hurry to sell, Old Nian would usually go to Lao Jiu's house for a pot of local liquor and a plate of fried game, enjoying it slowly. I think Han Bao's robust physique is probably related to this.

Faced with the secretary's favor, Old Nian became modest. "Secretary, if you want me to catch some wild game, I can. But that exchange program, I'm afraid I can't."

Damn it, if I say you can, you can. What are you afraid of?

The secretary's womanizing was well-known in the village.

But he had a rule: a rabbit doesn't eat the grass near its burrow. They specifically sought out women from the neighboring village. Of course, you can take off someone else's pants, but they might take your place in return.

A week ago, the moonlight shone.

At Widow Wang's house in the neighboring village, a passionate scene was unfolding. The protagonists were: our village secretary and Widow Wang.

The village secretary always insisted on the saying: "Homegrown flowers are never as fragrant as wild flowers." After penetrating Widow Wang, this was further confirmed. Before the secretary had even completely undressed, Widow Wang's skillful tongue was already roaming over his body, first his nipples, then licking down to his navel.

The feeling was like thousands of ants crawling, or like a thousand horses galloping. His penis rose rapidly, pushing his shorts high, hard, engorged, erect.

Widow Wang's skillful tongue didn't stop, continuing to move downwards. Just as the secretary hesitated whether to take off his shorts, his penis suddenly felt a warmth.

It was being taken in, already taken in.

For the first time, the secretary knew that women could do this; he had always thought that only the lower part could penetrate. The sensation was slightly tingling; the caress and stimulation of her tongue far surpassed that of her vagina.

The Party Secretary's penis was thick, large, and long. It possessed all the desirable characteristics, truly a combination of the best of many. Widow Wang desperately wanted to take it all in, but reality dictated that her skillful tongue could only linger on half of it.

The Party Secretary's hands were not idle either, gently grasping her breasts—black nipples, firm breasts, a slender waist; if she weren't in the village, who would guess she was a widow?

By the time he entered, Widow Wang was already wet.

The fluid created a series of soft, squelching sounds with each rhythm, sometimes drowned out by Widow Wang's moans.

The Party Secretary's penis was incredibly powerful and long.

A portion was still protruding, making it impossible to penetrate further, because Widow Wang's size was fixed; no amount of contraction or expansion could satisfy the Party Secretary's penis.

After countless rounds of fierce fighting, just as he was about to ejaculate, the village secretary pulled out his weapon and placed it on Widow Wang's navel. With a sharp crack, Widow Wang's chin throbbed with pain, and a powerful, viscous force erupted.

Two naked bodies, after their intense battle, were left alone. The village secretary put on his clothes and crept back to the village in the dark. He

gently pushed open the door and quietly lay down next to his wife. She was surprised, asking, "Why are you back so late? What have you been doing?"

He replied confidently, "I've been pulling strings for my daughter's job."

His wife, somewhat excited, pulled off her bra, panties, and pajamas, and climbed directly onto the village secretary. An erection requires a certain level of arousal, and besides, looking at his aging wife, he had completely lost his sexual desire.

The village secretary, impatient, lay down on his side, throwing his wife off his stomach. "I'm tired, I want to sleep." His wife didn't care and immediately started stroking his penis with her gloved hand.

It was limp, dry, and showed no signs of erection. But to get her man's thing inside her, it all seemed worthwhile.

For a middle-aged man, achieving an erection after an hour was difficult.

Soon, the secretary was snoring.

His wife cursed inwardly: "You son of a bitch, back then you traveled such a damn long way to marry me. You said all sorts of nice things to sleep with me. Now that I'm old, you still won't sleep with me!"

The next day, the secretary's wife went back to her parents' home.

The secretary began arranging his daughter's marriage: finding her a stable job.

So he went to Lao Jiu's house.

Sister-in-law Jiu told the secretary that Lao Jiu had arrived at his distillery early that morning.

When the secretary met Lao Jiu, it was already 2 pm, when everyone in the village was preparing for lunch. Old Jiu squinted and greeted the Party Secretary.

"The Party Secretary's here to guide our work? What an honor!" he thought. His words were laced with sarcasm, because Old Jiu had planned to contract the collective fishpond with Yang Laohei, the village head from the upper reaches, but the Party Secretary had vetoed it. After receiving a bribe,

Yang had contracted it to someone from another village. Old Jiu harbored a deep resentment about this.

He was arrogant, relying on the town mayor's backing to build up his small Zhenjiu distillery to its current size. At the entrance to the distillery, there were photos of the county head and town mayor shaking hands with Old Jiu.

Old Jiu was a smart man; he almost knew the Party Secretary's purpose.

The Party Secretary glanced at Old Jiu—no pushover—and realized the methods used against Ma Laonian wouldn't work. So he spoke directly: "I'd like to take a few cases of your good wine to visit relatives in the county.

" Old Jiu called over Xiao Wang, who was in charge of marketing, and told him to take the Party Secretary to get a few cases of "tribute wine," and not to forget to get an invoice for reimbursement.

The last sentence was particularly grating. To the Party Secretary...

Ma Laonian was secretly pleased to be selected to participate in the town and village agricultural technology exchange, so he frequently sought out Guo Erleng for discussions. He truly took the exchange seriously; Ma Laonian was determined to gain some prestige in his lifetime.

One day, Ma Laonian was studying the planting density of soybeans in the field when the village secretary approached him, put his hand on his shoulder, and said, "Laonian, you absolutely have to produce something worthwhile! The village and town both value this exchange highly." It was a typical leader educating a subordinate, and Ma Laonian was incredibly excited, as if the secretary before him were the General Secretary.

"Laonian, what good game have you hunted lately?"

"Laonian, have you heard that? There's often the call of deer on the mountain across from the village."

Then he sighed, "I haven't eaten deer meat in years; it smells so good."

Ma Laonian caught the key point: the Party Secretary loved eating muntjac. This was a piece of cake for him; hunting a muntjac was a breeze.

Ma Laonian was an honest man. To paraphrase a line from a Feng Xiaogang movie: he was kind and honest. One rainy evening, he set off with his hunting gear. His destination was the mountains five miles from the village.

Only those mountains were frequented by muntjacs year-round.

In today's parlance, that was where his dream began.

The Party Secretary had bought Lao Jiu's good liquor; now all that was missing was Ma Laonian's dried muntjac. Leaders loved it, not only because it was rare, but also because it was prohibited by the Forestry Police—or rather, by law. The Forestry Police were law enforcement, but the Party Secretary knew that it was them who dealt with illegal hunting, and that was enough.

The dried muntjac might become the key to his eldest daughter, Mei Feng's, successful job.

He thought for a moment, then extinguished the burning Red Pagoda Mountain cigarette.

Mei Feng was always very proud of having a village secretary as her father. After graduating and returning home, she never looked for a job.

As a modern college student facing fierce competition, did she really naively believe that her father, the village secretary, could easily solve everything with a simple meal?

I guess I'm really out of touch. As a farmer, I should only be minding my own small plot of land, but instead, I witnessed this scene:

Mei Feng was walking out of a hotel in town

arm-in-arm with a handsome young man, and they were very intimate. Through Chunhua's father, Dazhu, I learned that this was the son of the county party secretary, and they had been dating for many years.

So, Mei Feng's disdain for farmers was not without reason. Mei

Feng was tired of the countryside she had lived in for 22 years, while the young man found everything before him poetic:

the flowing water, the fresh air, the simple and honest villagers.

As the two silently lost in thought, neither seemed willing to break the tranquility. Suddenly, the young man leaned in and kissed Mei Feng.

Instantly, the sound of their breath filled the small mill.

The young man, everything happened so quickly; in a few swift movements, he had stripped her clothes off. Her full breasts were instantly revealed to the young master.

He possessed a practiced skill: first a kiss, then a lick, his tongue roaming over Mei Feng's body, slowly moving downwards.

A uniquely feminine fragrance emanated from Mei Feng's lower body, further arousing his possessiveness. He sucked and licked, his tongue penetrating her already wet vulva.

Mei Feng's mature body, her firm breasts, full vulva, and slender waist—everything about her was intoxicating.

When the young master's head left her lower body, her face was flushed, and her breathing was uneven. He pulled out his penis and, without hesitation, placed it in Mei Feng's mouth.

Her sensual lips, each touch of his penis, brought a different kind of excitement, because Mei Feng's oral skills were truly excellent.

A long thing wriggling in her mouth—was it excitement, stimulation?

Mei Feng couldn't think of anything else; she could only suck and hold it with all her might.

If it weren't for the small mill, the young master might have already ejaculated. Seeing a woman with his own fluids on her lips and face was a stimulation unmatched by any other method.

He tried his best to control himself and enjoy it.

When he entered her body, her warm, narrow, and moist vagina was already impatient. He slowly thrust, constantly kneading Mei Feng's full, firm breasts. Hardness and softness were both functioning at this moment; the so-called yin and yang were interacting.

When the two bodies stopped writhing, the young master had already ejaculated. He didn't pull out, nor did he use a condom.

That night, Ma Laonian took Hanbao to the mountain.

Besides the calls of night birds, the only sound in the mountains was the rustling of leaves under their feet as they slowly climbed, parting the vines entwined in the trees.

About 50 meters from the trap, Ma Laonian heard a sound—the sound of the prey struggling. Based on his years of hunting experience, the prey was already trapped.

Ma Laonian brandished his machete, clearing away all obstacles. He was doing it for the sake of the muntjac and for the exchange of agricultural technology. He thought that as long as he could make the Party Secretary happy, everything would be easier.

Hanbao followed behind his father, taking cautious steps. The more careful he was, the more trouble he caused. With a splash, he fell into a ditch, his mouth full of mud.

Ma Laonian turned around and saw Hanbao was gone. "You son of a bitch, where have you been?"

he cursed. Just as he was about to unleash his fury, Hanbao scrambled to his feet. "Dad, I'm the one you gave birth to!"

Half a month later, Ma Laonian went to the village secretary and said a few words. The secretary understood immediately, grabbed a snakeskin bag, and came to Ma Laonian's house one dark night.

As the saying goes, walls have ears.

While Ma Laonian was secretly drying muntjac meat, Dazhuzi, the village's notorious gossip, smelled the muntjac meat at Ma Laonian's house.

The forest police had once told us that there would be a reward for reporting illegal hunting.

Dazhuzi was greedy for money, just like Lao Jiu's love of drinking. You could say that if ten thousand yuan were placed in front of him, he would sell his virginity for it.

Of course, I recently saw the news about a local Party secretary who, while hunting with a gun, killed a couple who were picking cotton. In an era where everyone is supposed to be equal before the law, for a Party secretary to be able to shoot and kill innocent civilians is truly shocking. Even

a farmer is concerned about current events?

Perhaps I, like Da Zhuzi, want to amplify things indefinitely, or like the contractor, I'm simply trying to improve my own status in the village.

Saying the Party secretary carried a gun is meant to convey the following: Da Zhuzi can sell his daughter for money, and we can only condemn him on a moral level; but Ma Laonian and the Party secretary are on the same side, both breaking the law, except Ma Laonian killed a muntjac, while the Party secretary shot and killed people.

That's just how the world is; there are so many things you can't imagine. While

I was discussing with Lao Jiu whether the Party secretary would be executed, the village chief—from the perspective of grassroots organization, he should be the director, but everyone in the village is used to calling him village chief, just like Yang Laohei, Yang Laohei's predecessor, and now the director.

The village chief said, "Uncle, there's a spot for an agricultural technology exchange meeting in the village. I've thought it would be best if you went, because the village is considering promoting your herbal medicine skills as well." He added that this was a case of the government setting the stage and the farmers performing.

Although Da Zhuzi was a big spender, he could also be opportunistic in certain situations—in layman's terms, a weather vane.

That day, the weather was fine and sunny. The Party Secretary came to Ma Laonian's house. Being concerned about the lives of the masses, the grassroots cadres of the Party cared about the people and sought development for them.

The Party Secretary's arrival made the observant Da Zhuzi notice something unusual. There was one reason: Ma Laonian had once touched the Party Secretary's wife's large breasts in front of the villagers during a sweltering summer day while watching an open-air movie.

That was five years ago. At that time, the Party Secretary had said, "As long as I'm the Party Secretary, you, Ma Laonian, will never have a good life."

The story was this: Ma Laonian had been parched for years, almost cracked, and the relentless summer sun had been scorching him, causing a long-suppressed desire to return to his lower abdomen.

That evening, the Party Secretary's wife wore a short-sleeved shirt, her hair tied in a ponytail, her large breasts particularly eye-catching. At only thirty, she possessed an irresistible allure. Her plump vulva ignited Ma Laonian's lust, and his penis hardened. He unzipped his pants, feeling a cool sensation on his glans. In the dim light, everyone's attention was focused on Chen Zhen's debauchery with the Japanese man; no one noticed Ma Laonian's horse-like member was exposed.

Lustful courage is a combination of impulse and boldness.

Ma Laonian was a man of both lust and courage, so he began to fantasize about whether it would be pleasurable to have sex with the Party Secretary's wife, whether his long penis would stimulate her to the point of screaming.

With lightning speed, Ma Laonian grabbed the Party Secretary's wife's large breasts, and instantly ejaculated.

Those soft breasts, those hard nipples—he would only ever knead them once in his life. No regrets; the most beautiful breasts in the world were now in his hands.

Ma Laonian was enjoying himself, fantasizing once again.

"Who touched my breast?"

Everyone's eyes were on Ma Laonian's face, because a pool of semen betrayed him; the milky white liquid was so dazzling in the dim light.

As a result, Ma Laonian was severely beaten, and his manhood was completely ruined. He also thoroughly offended the Party Secretary.

Da Zhuzi knew the Party Secretary's character; would he be so magnanimous as to forgive and forget?

Only I, Da Zhuzi, could unravel the mystery here.

He kept pondering every word the Party Secretary and Ma Laonian exchanged, like a detective in charge of criminal investigation.

As for me, I was considering whether, as the village chief's uncle, I should attend the agricultural technology exchange or go find Chunhua and have sex with her.

Da Zhuzi was silently observing.

The Party Secretary smiled and talked about everyday matters, and Ma Laonian nodded repeatedly in agreement. According to the relevant directives, the Party Secretary represented the interests of the vast majority of the village people.

Ma Laonian understood this.

Thus, the hunt for muntjac came about, and more importantly, it allowed him to attend the agricultural technology exchange meeting.

This would undoubtedly enhance his prestige and reputation in the village.

After the Party Secretary left, Da Zhu Zi began to tease him, saying that Ma Laonian would soon become a well-known figure in their village.

Ma Laonian was secretly pleased, but his face showed no concern.

The village night was still filled with the chirping of a few night birds. The young people were still enjoying their happy time in the mill.

Suddenly, the Party Secretary slid out of his house. Was he going to visit Widow Wang in the next village again?

He was carrying a snakeskin bag in his hand; it turned out he was going to Ma Laonian's house to get dried muntjac.

Everything was done in darkness.

Heaven and earth knew, the Party Secretary knew, Ma Laonian knew, and one other person knew—Da Zhu Zi.

He was hiding behind a straw mat, watching this blatant transaction.

The next day, the Party Secretary, carrying the dried muntjac, found Guo Er Leng, and drove the tractor to town.

Just as I was about to go up the mountain to gather some medicinal herbs, Yang Laohei and his sister-in-law blocked my door. I thought they were there because of some lingering symptoms from their treatment and wanted to reason with me.

And you know what? While city dwellers were endlessly debating how to resolve doctor-patient disputes, I paid a heavy price for Zhang Dapang's lame leg in the next village—his son had taken away a live sow.

Judging by their appearance, Yang Laohei was there for revenge. As the saying goes, this bastard Yang Laohei seemed to be adhering to the truth that revenge is never too late.

Before I could even speak, "Gongzi" bowed, thanking me for completely curing her skin allergy, saying she was no longer afraid of moths and that it had boosted her confidence for the future.

It sounded like a disgusting commercial on TV.

My heart finally settled; they were there to thank me.

I quickly invited them in to sit down. Yang Laohei dodged, and his father-in-law emerged from behind, carrying eggs, candy, and liquor.

The old man had a buzz cut and dark purple lips, clearly a heavy drinker. His eyes were dark and gleaming, constantly darting around; experience suggested he was worldly-wise. He had a large nose, which, according to some forum members, indicated a large and long penis.

The old man put down his things, then took out cigarettes and offered them to me.

Yang Laohei's father-in-law, an old man, whose appearance I've already described above, is, in rural terms, a snobbish, mean-spirited fellow who's always nitpicking over trivial matters. He

brought some cheap cigarettes and liquor, but the only real thing was the cured meat—aged cured meat, emitting a musty smell, though supposedly the meat was still in excellent condition after being cut open. It was bright in color and rich in fat.

So, after inviting them in, I immediately told my wife to start cooking, and then asked my son to go to Lao Jiu's distillery and get some small bottles of liquor. For a miser like him, I wanted to teach him that life should be like this: seize the day, if you have food, don't hide it; if you have clothes, dress up generously; if you have days, work happily.

While we were talking, Lao Jiu himself brought over the liquor.

He mainly came to see "Gongzi's" pair of large, throbbing breasts, and incidentally, to freeload a meal at my house. Actually, Lao Jiu wouldn't care about our meal, because as a small business owner, he always has many social engagements, ordering fine food and drinks at restaurants to entertain his important clients. It's just that we haven't had a get-together for a while, and seeing his son getting the drinks for his father, he came directly over.

That day, the Party Secretary arrived in town on Guo Erleng's tractor. The town mayor was supposedly out in the countryside. The secretary on duty received him, and after learning his purpose, the secretary patted his chest and assured him, "This will definitely work, don't worry.

Our region is currently recruiting civil servants, and the town has already submitted a few extra applications. You just need to submit your daughter's information to the personnel department, and it will be easy."

The Party Secretary was so excited; he felt like he'd met a benefactor right outside his door.

So, he took out some good cigarettes and offered them to the secretary.

The secretary shook his head and waved his hand, refusing to smoke.

As the saying goes, courtesy is reciprocity, so the Party Secretary didn't think much of it and went to the toilet.

When he came back, he took out a crumpled envelope and stuffed it into the secretary's pocket.

The secretary initially pushed the envelope away, then tacitly accepted it. The village head finally felt relieved; the trip hadn't been in vain.

He glanced thoughtfully at the basket and bag beside him.

The secretary went into the office to pour him a glass of water, her gaze lingering on him.

The village head said, "Look, Secretary Wang, this is some local specialty from my hometown for the town head. I'd appreciate it if you could pass it on for me."

The secretary readily agreed, and the village head gripped her hand tightly, almost kneeling.

A decisive handshake between the people and their servant.

After seeing the village head off, the secretary opened the envelope; five hundred-yuan bills lay quietly inside. Opening the basket and bag, he found a bottle of local liquor and some extremely rare dried deer meat.

He smiled slightly, determined not to smoke, turned, and disappeared into the town government office.

Over here, after a few rounds of drinks, the old man started talking a lot, saying that his eldest daughter owned a big restaurant in Chengdu, Sichuan, describing it as a legendary tale, catering specifically to big business owners, making hundreds of yuan a month.

He forgot that Yang Laohei was still around, he forgot that he was now in Daoxiang Village, where a few hundred yuan was considered small change, and no one would be proud of it.

Old Jiu kept staring lecherously at "Gongzi's" breasts. With each breath, her pink nipples seemed to appear before my eyes again.

Years ago, Old Jiu and his father went to the neighboring village, and through an acquaintance, went directly to Ninth Sister's house. The strong and healthy Old Jiu didn't feel tired after walking all day on mountain paths, because he was captivated by the sight of Ninth Sister's full breasts behind her simple clothes. While

Old Jiu's father and his prospective in-laws were discussing crops and livestock, Old Jiu and Ninth Sister had already gone to the head of her cattle pen and begun their sexual encounter.

At that time, Ninth Sister wasn't wearing underwear.

That was also Old Jiu's second time visiting Ninth Sister's house. The father and son carried sugar, liquor, tobacco, and meat, preparing to give some money as a wedding gift and get the wedding done.

Old Jiu climbed to the second floor of the cattle pen, waiting for his wife's arrival. He was too late; he had already taken off his trousers. Seeing Old Jiu's long and large member for the first time, his wife was deeply ashamed and buried her head to one side.

Old Jiu didn't care; he directly pushed her down on the second floor and entered her, beginning to thrust.

Blood, red blood, flowed out, gradually enveloping Old Jiu's thick member.

As the saying goes, seeing blood means the wife will bring good fortune to her husband. Old Jiu was secretly pleased, having found a virgin.

Or perhaps it was because it was her first time; Old Jiu ejaculated after only a few thrusts.

Those breasts, that figure, that waistline—it was exactly the same as the "Gongzi" before him.

Yang Laohei's father-in-law was completely conquered by Old Jiu's liquor—no, it should be the small Zhen liquor from Daoxiang Village. His two large red ears and his thick, bulbous nose were now completely red.

The "Gongzi" finished eating and helped my wife clear the dishes.

I also thought, how great it would be if I could have a "gongzi" (a euphemism for a sexual act).

Yang Laohei also thought, this younger sister-in-law, just like his ex-wife, would eventually moan beneath me.

Men's fantasies are probably all the same: thinking with their penises, stimulating with touch. Me, Yang Laohei, and Lao Jiu are all the same.

I didn't care about the agricultural technology exchange meeting; what did it have to do with me? I was content just tending my small plot of land, so I remained indifferent.

But the village chief seemed to have a high opinion of his great-uncle—me.

On a clear, sunny day, after finishing my chores, I was preparing to go to the mountains to pick medicinal herbs when the village chief arrived. "Great-uncle, your green peppers and bok choy are growing very well! You should promote this technique to all the farmers in our town, laying the foundation for future experimental fields in the village." That damn village chief, actually, just wanted to boost his political achievements, because he also wanted to leave Daoxiang Village. Even if it was just to the township level.

That's human nature, that's society. Some people are the foundation, while others are destined to step on others. Now, the village chief wants to step on his great-uncle, an honest herbalist and farmer.

Farmers depend on the land for everything—this isn't my fault, but land is essential for farmers to have enough to drink and eat. What is the land? It's the land that provides food and clothing. Even if I wanted to build a pigsty, I still needed that damned village chief's approval. He'd tell me, "Great-uncle, you need approval from the township land management office before you can build."

So, I still have to bow down for the land for the pigsty, and I need a suitable excuse to attend the agricultural technology exchange meeting.

Rural stories are always uneventful, lacking the promises of "you are the wind, I am the sand," lacking the romance of roses and chocolates. That day, colorful clouds drifted over the eastern mountains.

Mei Feng looked at the empty village, her thoughts swirling.

She never liked this village; she only thought about rich young men, and then she left the village that had raised her. Women, at this point, are always proud of their "status." Chunhua was her childhood friend, but while Chunhua spoke enviously of the rich young men, Meifeng showed her boundless contempt.

She eagerly awaited the arrival of the off-road vehicle, a symbol of the rich young man's status, her long-cherished dream.

Meizi sat in the darkness; a group of young men saw an unusual woman, seizing the opportunity to hunt for her, or perhaps a whistle, and could feel the dampness and cunning.

This is simple fantasy. Just like the posts I read online, getting an erection from reading the text, excited through the screen.

Back home, the village secretary was delighted to see his father sipping wine, his face flushed, humming a tune. The town mayor was coming to inspect the work in a few days. The secretary preferred to believe the mayor was there to arrange a job for his daughter. So, officials were like small temples in the village; how could one show sincerity without burning incense? The dried deer had achieved its effect.

Mei Feng went into her room without greeting her father. She was in a terrible mood, especially seeing the group of young men whistling. In Mei Feng's eyes, they were nothing but scoundrels and hooligans. "Am I destined to never leave this rural life?" she thought.

She closed the window, locked the door, and shut herself in her room.

Life went on like this, rows of identical cement houses standing tall day and night for the villagers. With the doors closed, many sounds were trapped inside: Da Zhu Zi muttering to himself, "Ma Laonian's house has that wild smell!" Or, "I'm working on my wife's belly, no matter how much she moans and groans, Lao Jiu can't hear me anymore, probably because he doesn't need that kind of stimulation."

The door was closed.

After crying, Mei Feng felt an endless longing for the young master again. "

Zhao Wu, have you forgotten me?"

As Mei Feng thought about it, her body grew hot, and a desire slowly seeped into her. She couldn't forget Zhao Wu's length, his thick and powerful.

When she put it in her mouth, besides the salty taste, there was a warm flow, constantly flowing into her mouth and into every part of her body.

When the guy entered her body, it was completely filled, with a large part still outside. Filled and squeezed, her soft lower body began to expand infinitely. Even though it had penetrated to the very top, Zhao Wu didn't stop, continuing, continuing forward.

With each rapid movement, she wanted to scream.

Her soft breasts, the two nipples began to harden, from soft to hard—a process of desire sublimation. With Zhao Wu's kneading and skillful licking, pleasure and the desire to be entered spread throughout her body.

Mei Feng was alone, wet.

Fantasy is a beautiful thing, allowing you to enjoy yourself alone. Just after she inserted the cucumber, she convulsed and cried out. The cool cucumber melted under her burning body. This was Zhao Wu's thing—thick and long, powerful and skillful.

A lonely night, a mature unmarried woman, a cucumber, a pool of liquid, a sigh… … The county TV station's advertisements began to focus on Lao Jiu's Xiao Zhen wine, saying it was brewed from green grains, with a pure taste and a lingering fragrance. It's said that Lao Jiu spent nearly eight thousand yuan on this one sentence. The advertising company boss said, "Knowledge is power, it's gain." It seems Lao Jiu suffered from a lack of education.

That night, I held my wife and began to caress her.

Happiness in life lies in creating happiness.

No red wine, no candles, no gentle background music. I stripped my wife naked—her smooth body, soft breasts, dark pubic hair.

To have good skin, do it morning and night.

My wife was still as soft and skilled as ever, knowing what would follow after each step. Holding her nipple, my hand slowly explored that familiar, yet not mysterious, place.

I didn't rush in. Perhaps after reading a great writer's novel, I wanted to learn foreplay. To learn to love, to make love.

A 29-year-old woman—I often associated her with thirst, loneliness, and desire.

Perhaps my wife was just like that.

She held me tightly, constantly stroking my penis, that strong thing. I thought, she really wanted it.

Daoxiang Village.

Yang Laohei's aunt, Mei, nicknamed "Gongzi," was always associated with this quiet yet vibrant village.

After Yang Laohei's father-in-law visited, the old man with the red nose left a wish: that "Gongzi" would find a husband in our village.

Yang Laohei looked me up and down with disdain, seemingly filled with envy for this herbalist, because after his father-in-law had drunk some local liquor and chatted with me, he entrusted me with the matchmaking task.

To be honest, after a hearty meal, my first thought was to start kneading "Gongzi's" breasts, firm and full.

However, seeing the old man's determination to marry his daughter off to Daocun Village, I agreed.

This happened more than half a year later.

One evening at sunset, the sunset painted the mountains golden. Ma Laonian was fiddling with his hunting tools, preparing to catch some porcupines and pheasants that night, then exchange them for liquor money to enjoy some game—a carefree life indeed.

Hanbao, watching the sunset, began to babble and shout, probably out of joy, or perhaps because after the golden hue faded, Ninth Sister was already waiting behind some haystack.

Ma Laonian had no time to think about such things; he packed his tools and prepared to leave.

In just a minute or two, several uniformed men burst in, pulled out a piece of paper stamped with a large red seal, and said, "You are suspected of hunting nationally protected animals. Come with us to the bureau for investigation."

Just like that, Ma Laonian was taken away, along with his hunting tools.

Hanbao started shouting loudly; what he was shouting, only Ma Laonian would know.

Dazhuzi waited quietly; that substantial reward was his income from a year's rice harvest.

The Party Secretary hadn't been busy lately, except watching the county television station to keep track of the movements of various government leaders. What was the way of being an official? It was to grasp the major policies and directions, then follow your instincts, and perhaps accept some small gifts and bribes. The Party Secretary also had another purpose: to see if the dried deer could fulfill its intended purpose.

The new round of civil service recruitment had ended. Mei Feng failed the written exam but was eliminated in the interview. Zhao Wu was accepted.

The night before the interview.

The county town.

Bustling, neon lights flashing, tricycles everywhere.

Mei Feng and Zhao Wu walked aimlessly down the street.

Beautiful shop windows, a seemingly crowded scene, sparse music—everything was beautiful. This was the county town, a developing small town.

Because she loved him, she loved it.

Zhao Wu smiled and led her to the lobby of a hotel.

It seemed pre-arranged; after Mei Feng sat for a while, Zhao Wu led her to a room. Arranged, Mei Feng wanted it this way. Whether premeditated or planned, she accepted it, because she was hopelessly in love with him.

For lovers, the first step is an embrace, then to bed, underwear removed, and passionate caresses beginning. Little experience was needed, but the young body required indulgence and comfort.

The door was locked, and the curtains were drawn.

Two pristine white bodies intertwined.

Mei Feng was wet.

Zhao Wu carried her to the bathroom, which was already filled with warm water. "Let's take a shower first."

After the shower, the two sat in the bathtub, gazing at each other. A few seconds later, Zhao Wu pinched her two full nipples with both hands. They were already erect and very hard.

He rubbed, pinched, squeezed, and kneaded.

Mei Feng moaned repeatedly, "You're so naughty, so naughty! You're making me feel itchy and numb."

Afterwards, Zhao Wu stood up, and Mei Feng knew what to do next.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Zhao Wu stood by the bed, stroked Mei Feng's head, and made her kneel down, looking pitifully at him. Then, she stretched her head towards his ambitious member and began to

suckle while kneeling.

The act lasted quite a while, from the sun hanging over the mountains to the moon rising slightly, until Zhao Wu's fluid splashed onto Mei Feng's face.

Mei Feng smelled the slightly fishy liquid, slowly got up, and went into the bathroom.

At this time, Zhao Wu was already preparing to leave.

Da Zhuzi was a rule-abiding farmer.

For example, planting sugarcane and reporting Ma Laonian.

After no longer having to pay various agricultural taxes, Da Zhuzi quickly aligned himself with the Party, implementing policies and studying regulations. Da Zhuzi was a model representative in the village.

Naturally, the village chief arranged for him to attend the county's agricultural technology exchange meeting, with the village committee covering his round-trip tickets.

Ma Laonian went to the police station; he probably didn't know that this exchange slot wasn't decided solely by the Party Secretary.

The Party Secretary quietly smoked his cigarette. He used to enjoy listening to opera, its melodious and rhythmic singing seemingly capturing the graceful movements of the various characters. In the city, he could be considered an amateur. But now he needed peace and quiet. He had successfully sent Ma Laonian to the police station, avenging his wife's humiliation. He couldn't just grope that breast for free; it was the Party Secretary's exclusive property. Ma Laonian was nothing compared to that. He exhaled a puff of smoke, feeling completely satisfied.

This pleasure was like having intercourse with the widow Wang from the next village—unsatisfied.

It was time for the Village Chief to step in. Because of the need to build a harmonious society,

the Village Chief, always prioritizing the people, divided the construction of Daoxiang Village's moderately prosperous society into several steps, roughly three years from now, including the expansion of the village's row houses and simultaneous landscaping and lighting improvements.

A village chief with an accounting background began meticulous planning, wanting to use every penny of collective income effectively for development.

In short: Daoxiang Village has produced a good village chief.

Actually, these words weren't mine, but those of Ninth Sister-in-law.

Then came Dazhu's wife, and then Guo Erleng's wife. The

story reached the village chief's ears on a rainy night.

The village chief's wife, Qiaohua, wiped the few puddles of the village chief's semen from her genitals. Then she began repeating Ninth Sister-in-law's words. The village chief was secretly pleased. What's most important for a leader? Reputation.

What kind of leader am I? At least I'm the only one in the village who speaks my mind. What does that mean? Prestige, damn it, prestige! Looks like I'm still someone important in the village.

While he was still pondering, his penis was already severely erect. This was the second attack. Could Qiaohua resist? Enjoyment is the greatest resistance. Qiaohua was in her prime at thirty, and her greatest desire was three rounds of sex morning and night—of course, that was many years ago.

When the village chief first got married, he was always very sexually active. Qiaohua was only 22 then, and they would have sex six times a night, from bedtime to morning. She only felt something moving in her lower abdomen, without much pleasure.

Now it was different. As soon as his penis entered, her whole body would twitch and tingle, and she had begun to enjoy the rain-like stimulation.

So, the village chief started to fondle Qiaohua's not-yet-full breasts. He seemed to know that sex needed some foreplay, unlike Lao Jiu and Yang Laohei, who went straight in.

Qiaohua kept playing with the village chief's penis, that short, thick thing—shorter, but bigger, stronger, full, completely filled. Qiaohua knew how to be satisfied; she didn't care about length. In fact, her own size was just right for the village chief—shallow and full, shallow and moist.

Soon, his penis became hard.

He entered, she became wet, he thrust, stimulated, she trembled.

When the village chief finished, the last general store closed. Lao Jiu washed up and went to bed. The rain gradually intensified, seemingly intending to continue until dawn.

After the fierce battle, a chorus of snoring filled the air. Qiaohua, stroking her man's penis, fell asleep peacefully.

The rain continued in the morning.

The village secretary put on his raincoat, preparing to check on his family's vegetable garden and fishpond. Thanks to the good irrigation system, the lettuce in the garden hadn't been flooded. That damn village chief, at least he did the right thing with the irrigation ditch. Educational people are indeed powerful. Then he thought of his daughter, a college student—the only one in the village. What kind of person was he, the village chief? The small-farmer's mentality was: don't let others' success diminish your own.

On a rainy night, Meifeng stood blankly on the street.

Disappointment and despondency, like a persistent, throbbing pain in her lower body, constantly tormented her. The man who had been on her belly the night before had quickly forgotten her. The world

is cold and indifferent.

Life is perilous.

A "night owl," she was destined to spend the night there. She ordered a beer and drank it alone. Beer doesn't get you drunk, but it's enough to make a woman like Mei Feng faint.

The bar wasn't

crowded. A few men were scattered around. They were drinking and chatting, and a singer was diligently performing his own work—it was part of his life.

An hour later, Mei Feng would be embracing and caressing this singer.

Life is like a play; you can direct your own life however you want.

Mei Feng seemed to prefer this, living her life without a rhythm, without restraint. After waking up from the dream of Mrs. Zhao, she chose her ideal lifestyle: not being a stay-at-home mom, but having sex.

After the singer packed up his guitar, Mei Feng went up to him. "Handsome, you sang well. Can I buy you a drink?"

What is fate? It's all just idle poets fantasizing on countless lonely nights. I believe more in the collision of two naked bodies.

That's what Mei Feng thought.

In a hotel in the county town, in the same room Zhao Wuding had been in,

Mei Feng and another man began a wistful, passionate affair—love, not love, sex, and high.

The singer had a slender body, but a thick, muscular genital. Mei Feng, who had some knowledge of physiology, thought it was probably related to genetics; his father, or perhaps, had a similar build.

The singer seemed rather shy, still unfamiliar with matters of the heart, and hesitated to take off his underwear. Mei Feng grabbed his penis, and the singer lay down.

Mei Feng's body was petite and delicate.

Her snow-white breasts, sparsely covered with pubic hair, formed a dark forest—the already cultivated land, fertile and firm. Her pink nipples began to harden slowly.

If a man saw such a body and remained unmoved, he was just being pretentious. The singer wasn't pretentious; he was simply inexperienced and didn't know how to begin.

Mei Feng pressed his head down, her mouth aimed at his breasts.

Mei Feng enjoyed the feeling of licking.

Perhaps Mei Feng was a little too rough; the singer began to feel breathless and coughed rapidly.

Simple foreplay.

The singer began to slowly penetrate, his large member requiring careful insertion. The pleasure intensified with each thrust. Every part of the body is in a state of high excitement.

Mei Feng started humming.

Her voice rose and fell, a shout with each thrust, a cry with each pull.

It echoed throughout the small county town.

I've always thought the sunsets in Daoxiang Village were beautiful. Although the village doctor wasn't cultured, I might as well show off a little here, and I wrote a poem: "

The village sunset is round, a beautiful scene on earth.

Red clouds cover the hillside, cattle return to the fields."

Chunhua gave me a thumbs up after reading it, I don't know if it was for the poem or for my skills in bed. Just before I put down my pen, Chunhua and I made love again.

As they say, the doctor was in love, and Chunhua was willing.

That day, the weather was still fine and sunny. There were more elderly people and children under the banyan tree. Accompanied by the sound of a pop song, a white Foton truck drove up, its body plastered with huge advertisements: "Hurricane Concert Tour," "Super Hot and Passionate Performance," "The Ambiguity of a Pure Girl"... Then I saw the woman in the advertisement posing seductively, her large breasts half-hidden behind a veil.

Yang Laohei asked me, "What is 'ambiguity'?"

This is a bit hard to explain. Considering his comprehension level, I gave an analogy: I want to sleep with your sister-in-law, and she half-heartedly agrees—it's a case of mutual attraction.

Yang Laohei glared at me fiercely, "You son of a bitch!"

Yang Laohei hadn't really seen much of the world.

The car stopped under the banyan tree, and the recorded audio repeated itself over and over, talking about passion and love, then announcing the address, start time, and of course, the ticket price.

The children played marbles, their little hands measuring distances, one after another, until they landed in the pre-designed hole. Children's games are always simple and fun.

They completely ignored the blaring horn. Were the children less curious? No, because such low-class advertisements didn't attract them at all.

Guo Erleng's car was constantly plastered with different ads—from Lao Jiu brand Xiaozhen liquor to my traditional Chinese medicine supplements to Yang Laohei's farmhouse… The children were already tired of it, or perhaps aesthetically fatigued. Such horns weren't anything special to them anymore.

The spirited car roared for half an hour, then, seeing few people buying tickets, drove away.

Daocun Village remained immersed in its unique tranquility.

[The End]

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