Rural Bloodlust (Chapter 1: Widow's Whispers 'Part 1') Author: Seventh Heaven Demon King

Author: Seventh Day Demon King
Word Count: 3387

Chapter 1: Widow's Musings (Part 1)

My father-in-law is a scoundrel. That old bastard always talks behind my back about how I'm an unlucky woman, how I killed
my husband, how I caused him to lose his eldest son, and how I'm going to harm his second son. You old bastard, you wicked thing!
When you peeked at me taking a bath, why didn't you say I'd kill you?

I'm a woman
with a tragic fate. My husband and I had only been married for half a year when he got intestinal colic from drinking a bowl of cold, sticky porridge. He was in agony all night and died the next day in the town hospital. I cried my eyes out,
but his old bastard didn't shed a single tear. He just kept yelling and cursing, using incredibly vile language. He called
me a rotten cunt, said I killed my husband, said I seduced my brother-in-law, said I… You old bastard, in front of all the men and women
in the village , you cursed my cunt a hundred times, calling me a rotten cunt, a stinking cunt!

You old bastard, you've seen my cunt before, you know how rotten and smelly it is. You're like an old dog, peeping
at me while I shower through the crack in the door. I know you're watching, so I deliberately put my big white ass towards the crack in the door. Look, look at
my anus, look at my pubic hair, look at my wide-open cunt, let you see to your heart's content, let you
feast your eyes, let you suffer to death.

You old bastard, your wife died when you were young, and you've been a bachelor for so many years, yet your thing is always rock
hard. When I call you for breakfast in the morning, you hold the blanket up high. My husband's isn't as big as yours, and my brother-in-law's
isn't as long as yours.

My husband was a good man, he loved me, he cherished me, but good people don't live long, he just left like that, leaving me all
alone , being ridiculed by my old, dead father-in-law every day. I miss my husband. When he was alive, he
would cling to me every night, insisting on having sex with me until he was satisfied before letting me sleep. While I was asleep, he would always stroke my breasts, my
big white buttocks, and tease my wet opening.

Now that no one bothers me at night, I can't sleep peacefully.

The day my husband died, I cried so much I couldn't even get up, but I couldn't let him leave this world dirty. My
husband was an honest farmer, with dark skin, a broad chest, and thick shoulders. Lying in his
arms, I couldn't get enough of that feeling. His big hands would roam over my white body, making
my heart ache like a little mouse was tickling it.

My husband has a masculine scent. Everyone says he smells stinky, but I like it.
When he's on top of me, fucking me hard, his smell is as strong as vinegar,
filling Hearing that smell, I wriggle and sway with his big, dark buttocks. No one else
smells like that except my husband—not my brother-in-law, not the village chief, not my stepfather, and certainly not my old, unkempt father-in-law
.

I cried and ached, but I still cleaned my husband and dressed him in the work clothes my brother-in-law bought him from the county town—clothes he usually
couldn't bear to wear.

My husband lay naked on the kang (heated brick bed), his cold body stiff. "Are you still alive? You
always slept naked, why aren't you saying anything now?"

Husband, you shouldn't have left so soon. I hadn't had enough of you. I took a towel dampened with warm water and
wiped my husband's frozen body. His scent was still there; I loved it, but I knew it was
the last time I'd smell it.

His dark, limp penis hung there. I ran my hand over it. This was my precious thing, the thing that had brought me back to life,
brought me back to life, and brought me back to death. I wanted to take off my clothes, straddle it, and shake my
big, white buttocks. When you were alive, you liked me to ride on it, you liked to lie down beneath it, and
vigorously .

I dressed my husband in his cherished clothes, and I watched the men of the village carry him into the coffin. I watched
my husband's coffin being carried away. I felt utterly lost; I cried my heart out. I wanted to go to the cemetery with them, but my father-in-law,
that old bastard, said women like me couldn't go to the cemetery, that I would ruin his family's feng shui. Oh, you old bastard father-in-law
, your family's feng shui has never been good, and your ancestors were all farmers.

I cried my heart out. I vaguely saw the village chief smirking, I saw several women
pointing , I saw the village secretary come to help me up, and he took the opportunity to touch my breasts. I heard my brother-in-law
whisper in my ear, "Sister-in-law, don't cry, I'm here for you."

I blurred, I really blurred...

When I woke up, I was lying on my own kang (heated brick bed), with several neighbor women sitting beside me. I heard one of them
say, "Sister-in-law, don't cry yourself sick, don't do anything rash..."

I won't do anything rash. I'm a miserable person, my body is dirty. If I did something rash, even the King of Hell would send
his demons to punish me.

I lay on the kang, tears streaming down my face, unable to speak. I was just thinking... What terrible things did I do in my past life that
I have to suffer like this in this one?

I lost my father when I was little. When I was four, he went to the county to deliver reeds
. On his way back, he drank some soda in the county and sang his favorite Shandong opera, "Wang Xiao's Journey." As he was driving the mule cart near the village,
the mule got spooked and pulled the cart into the river. My father was good at everything except swimming. Poor man, with his beautiful
voice , he fell into the river with the mule cart. From then on, I never dared to listen to Shandong opera again; it made me think of my father.

My mother was widowed and raised me until I was six. My maternal grandparents told her to find another husband. My mother was only 30 that year
, having lived as a widow for two years. I saw her crying while hugging a pillow, I saw her rubbing her crotch against the pillow,
I saw the rolling pin hidden under her bed.

One day, my second uncle came to our house in a donkey cart and loaded all our bedding and clothes onto it. My mother took
my hand and lifted me onto the cart; I didn't know what they were going to do. I only remember my grandmother, her bound feet trembling,
crying and calling from behind the donkey cart, "Daughter-in-law, don't go! Leave my granddaughter with me..."

My second uncle took my mother and me to a big village, far away from our old village. The villagers
gossiped about us. I didn't know why my uncle had sent us to that village. I asked my mother what we were going to
do, and she lowered her head, wiping away tears. I asked my uncle what we were going to do. He said, "My dear, I'm sending
you and your mother to live a better life."

"Sending me to a better life, Second Uncle! You heartless bastard! You didn't send my mother and me
to a better life , you ruined us! You let that filthy, pig-like stepfather rape me! You
brought my mother and me to a big courtyard and yelled in your donkey-like voice, 'Old Dong's family, I've
brought !' Instantly, three people ran out of the courtyard.

'Nephew, you've had a hard time. Oh my, your sister is so beautiful. Oh, this child
must be your niece…' The speaker was an extremely ugly old woman, and next to her stood a skinny old man
who looked like a skeleton from a comic book. Behind them followed a dirty, fat man—this fat man was
my stepfather, the one who ruined me. This ugly old woman and the skeleton-like old man were my future step-grandmother and step-
grandfather."

"Take your wife and daughter inside!" With the old woman's loud shout, the filthy fat man lifted
my mother and me from the car. Holding our hands, he chuckled foolishly and
led us into the house. This family was truly filthy.

My second uncle, my step-grandmother, and my step-grandfather unloaded their things from the car. My step-grandmother always
grinned , while my step-grandfather mechanically went about his work without saying a word. In the days that followed, I rarely
heard my step-grandfather speak; he was the only one who showed me any pity when I suffered.

This family had specially stewed meat for our visit. I hadn't eaten meat in a long time; it smelled delicious. Later,
when I wanted meat, my stepfather would buy it for me, but he also ate some of my meat. My second uncle and my stepfather drank
until late afternoon. I asked my mother, "Mom, let's go home. I don't want to stay here."

My mother just kept crying and wouldn't say anything to me. Later I found out that my mother
was given to my stepfather's family in exchange for 300 yuan and 1,000 kilos of wheat from my maternal grandmother's family. My mother,
from now on you'll be my stepfather's bitch.

The first night my mother and I arrived at my stepfather's house, my step-grandmother was coaxing me to sleep when I was woken up in the middle of the night
. I heard pig-like screams coming from my mother and stepfather's room next door, and I knew it was my mother's
voice. What's wrong with my mother? Is she sick? I asked my step-grandmother, and she said, "Girl, your mother is feeling better,
she's not sick, girl, go back to sleep." In the days that followed, I heard my mother screaming almost every day. I kept
wondering why my mother was always feeling better, and why I couldn't feel better.

I lived in this house until I was 12 years old. My stepfather was good to me, always buying me meat to eat, but he was always making
unwanted . That time, I went to gather pig feed. My stomach hurt, so I squatted in the grass pit to poop. Before I even finished and
pulled up my pants, someone grabbed me from behind and gagged me with a big, rough hand, preventing me from screaming. I
was like a dog, pinned down. I felt something pressing against my anus, and it
suddenly went in.

I bit my lip until it bled from the pain. The thing burrowed in and out of my anus, and it felt
like was on fire. A hot, wet thing sprayed inside. The person pinning me down shuddered a few times and
released their dirty hand from my mouth. I burst into tears. I called for my mother, but she couldn't hear me. I called for my stepfather, and
he was beside me, letting out a soft "Hey.

" My stepfather had fucked my anus—my stepfather had fucked the anus I'd forgotten to wipe. I cried and cried, and my stepfather comforted
me, saying he'd buy me meat that night. I stopped crying, but I was in so much pain I couldn't walk. My godfather carried me
home and told my mother I'd sprained my ankle.

Mother, I felt terrible, my butt hurt, my bitten lips hurt so much. I didn't dare tell my mother;
if I did, I wouldn't be able to eat meat anymore.

My first man was my stepfather, and he actually had sex with my butt for the first time. He only had sex with my
vagina the second time. My stepfather led me to the woodpile, held me in his arms, and said, "Little girl,
Dad loves you, do you love Dad too? Love Dad, let Dad have sex with you."

I loved my stepfather, and he loved me too. He really made me feel pain; he pressed down on me like a dead dog
, spreading my legs, and inserted his dark thing into my belly. He said this was
how he made my vagina feel good, that's how my mother felt good. Why couldn't I feel any pleasure?

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Rural Bloodlust (Chapter 1: Widow's Whispers 'Part 1') Author: Seventh Heaven Demon King

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