【A Tale of a First-Class Hero】 - Against the Current (1)

(I)
In the most vibrant eighteen years of my life, I grew up fully amidst the swaying water plants. On the plains of my mother's hometown,
wisps of smoke rose and clams spat pearls.
********* *********** ********** ********** ************
That was the warmest little hand I've ever held in my life.
My mother leaned against the bronze glass wall, the receiver pressed to her ear, one small hand tightly clasped mine,
the other inside my loose casual pants, rubbing my erection.
"Great! Ask our son what he wants me to buy back home! This time I'll definitely reward
him properly!" My father shouted excitedly on the other end of the phone, like a child receiving New Year's money; I could imagine
his joy.
I did well on the college entrance exam this time, ranking third in the county for liberal arts. My mother jokingly called me "the third-ranked scholar."
I clearly remember the deep kiss my mother gave me then. Warm and smooth as jade, sweet as honey. Her delicate
allure instantly captivated me, my heart soaring, burning like the midday sun. And I, true to
my title of "the third-ranked scholar," diligently plucked the most beautiful blossoms from my mother's petals.
My mother hung up the phone, gently breathing into my ear. The ripples in her eyes
hinted at a primal desire. I didn't need to test her; I could feel the ripples beneath her skirt. Yet, I was still so impatient, blending
my masculinity with her femininity, using the fullness I felt in her hands to ride the waves.
"Qiao'er, close the curtains," my mother's voice carried a dreamlike, cool fragrance.
"No need, they can't see from outside!" I flirtatiously cupped her wave in my hand; this never-fading
wave must forever live in the ocean of my life. I secretly vowed.
"How annoying..." My mother lay on the square coffee table, her snow-white buttocks stimulating my eyes; I truly wished I
could be buried in this emerald wave day and night.
"Some loves
cannot escape the inescapable net of heaven;
they would rather cross the tracks of worldly conventions and 　　collapse
before you ." 　　I always peered at my mother's damp path, tirelessly and persistently, like Kuafu chasing the sun. In this clear summer day 　　, my plow cut into the vibrant field ridge. 　　My mother turned her head, her beautiful eyes brimming with grace and elegance. At this moment, my mother, with whom I share blood 　　, her three folds of flesh spurted, a few drops of amber liquid dripping down my large member onto the purple tea 　　table, like lantana lingering on the twilight shore, exceptionally wanton. 　　"Mom, I feel like you're getting tighter down there. Is it because of yoga?" I listened to her 　　voice, the delicate sounds of birds flying and fish leaping, the soft, emerald-like raindrops clashing together, her beautiful face and her soft, 　　sweet voice—all these sensations powerfully assaulted my sexual nerve endings, leaving me breathless and 　　aroused. 　　I regret that since the Gu brothers' chemical plant moved to town, 　　the wild joy of making love with my mother has vanished. In this increasingly modern industrial area, polluted rivers have replaced the clear streams, and 　　the sky is always gray, lacking the azure of the countryside. Especially on summer days like this, the cicadas' chirping, mingling with 　　the sound of our genitals fluttering like wings, would sweep away the 　　light melancholy that lingered between us like a raging torrent. Sadly, this scene is gone, this feeling is gone forever. 　　My mother didn't answer me, but instead, she let out soft moans, sweet as the night, gentle as water, like 　　a love song among the bamboo groves! Each line repeated three times, like silken threads, endlessly flowing with tender affection. Like the long-gone song of cicadas, sometimes 　　rapid, sometimes slow, its highest notes cascading with boundless elegance. More like a beautifully 　　written essay bound in bamboo, the sound of its threads breaking and scattering on the ground with a resounding clang, like the sound of metal striking stone. Then, desolation settles into sand, transforming 　　into fragments after the storm, leaving only a lingering sense of melancholy and sorrow after indulgence. 　　But isn't this also a part of life? The cicada song continues, its rhythmic cadence unchanged. 　　My mother, flushed after her climax, is intoxicating. Between her parted legs, white reeds flutter, a scene of springtime beauty. I 　　gently placed her on the soft leather sofa. Her hair, styled in a bun, drifted loose like clouds. The saying "beauty is like a chrysanthemum, pear blossoms in 　　the rain" perfectly described her. 　　"Qiao'er, I'm thirsty," my mother said, licking her red lips with her tongue 　　. The lines were delicate and distinct, like the alluring beauty of her groin. I was momentarily lost in the pleasure of this secret saliva exchange, but what truly captivated me was my mother's 　　juicy, luscious vulva, like a crabapple in spring slumber, its fragrance intoxicating. 　　I knelt before her, sipping the vibrant color of that slender cherry blossom, beautiful and graceful, a poignant and unparalleled allure. "Mom, 　　it smells so good, so good." 　　"Hmm...you just keep bothering me..." My mother sighed softly, a cool summer breeze wafting through her. 　　Over the years, I've been fortunate to be my mother's greatest sharer; through every storm, she has never 　　hesitated to pour her richest essence into my cup. 　　Silence. 　　I touched the lush green grass, its color a vibrant blue, a tiny green bud shimmering among the branches. "Mom, 　　the feathers here are getting thinner and thinner." 　　"Yes. I've noticed it too." "You brat, you've been nagging me every day, you're almost worn out..." My mother's eyes were alluring 　　, languidly seductive. Her body was hot, in the summer of her life, radiant, mysterious and fiery 　　. 　　I once again rose up to her, for that blushing beauty after a spring rain in the empty mountains. 　　********* *********** ********** ********** ********* 　　My father has been transferred to the Provincial Paleontological Institute for over a month, right after my college entrance exams. So 　　, these beautiful mornings have been left for my mother and me to spend. Today, in this sweltering heat, I offer a ladle of my homemade pure 　　white wine to my mother, which is probably the most touching legend in the world! 　　Every inch of my mother's clear and beautiful body bears the imprint of my eighteen years of care. My dear mother, she is like 　　the waters of the Slender West Lake, still carrying the warm fragrance of freshly washed leaves, rescuing my lost soul. 　　"Qiao'er, I'll be leaving in a few days. But I can't go with you." My mother's words contained both...

It was a mixture of joy and sorrow. Originally, Mother was supposed to be transferred with Father, but things didn't go as planned.
The person in charge of the receiving unit changed, and they had to go through the whole process again.
"Mom, we'll meet soon. Didn't Uncle say he'd let you work at the theater on a loan
? With his abilities, it shouldn't be a problem, right?"
"Yes," Mother said softly, her reclining posture exceptionally alluring, like an untouched goddess.
I loved the way she spoke; her voice was soft and sweet, carrying the fragrance of May rice dumplings. Before me, a beauty's heart
was like a tear falling into a river, a feeling that faded and dissolved. Those bright eyes, like smoke, vanished without a trace.
"What should we eat today?"
"Assorted steamed buns, stir-fried noodles with shrimp topping, and some dried ham strips." I took a deep sip
of the red flesh between my mother's legs. "For dessert, nothing else, just this Huangqiao sesame seed cake with honey filling."
"You naughty boy! How dare you tease your old mother!" She, who loved to tease me in the bedroom, pinched the soft
flesh between my thighs angrily.
"Hey, don't call me old. Mom, you're still young." My mother, though in her forties, still possessed a captivating
beauty that stirred my youthful soul.
"You little rascal...aren't you going to visit your teachers? Why aren't you going yet?" My mother, unable to bear
my harassment, began to wet herself again, her skin flushed, as if layered with rouge.
Speaking of my teachers, I couldn't help but think of that woman with beautiful hair and sparkling eyes. She possesses
the delicate charm unique to women from Jiangnan, the beautiful woman in green robes gathering water chestnuts in the Book of Songs, and
the melancholic Lin Daiyu in Grand View Garden.
But to me, she is more like the You sisters from Dream of the Red Chamber. This woman who loved poetry
defied all conventions for me, engaging in a teacher-student relationship, cheating on her husband. Her myriad charms were for me, her tender heart
was also for me.
What could I do?
It was on that misty night in the pavilion that the plump Wang Shan, in the flickering lamplight, her eyes shimmering,
softly asked me, "What can I do? You're gone, what can I do?"
I was speechless.
I had already begun a long period of wandering, love and desire had once confused me, and I didn't know if the ever-burning lamp was still burning
in the east at dawn. Who would remind me, guide me? And my beautiful homeroom teacher, Wang Shan, was once that person.
If the gears of time could turn back, and the flow of years reversed, and I were to return to that morning light, reliving those
passionate and tender years of my youth with Wang Shan, I would still not hesitate for a moment. It's a
process of spiritual connection. When we unleash immense energy of love within ourselves, we discard all complicated procedures, simplifying the
complex, carving out a unique path from what everyone considers irreversible difficulties. Isn't this
a kind of unforgettable experience?
"A phoenix is not afraid of fire, a diamond is not afraid of sharpening blades," she said. This was a sentence blurted out by
the young woman, who had groaned countless times beneath me, after a breathtaking trial of love with a boy a year younger than herself
, breaking through the barriers of age. I was heartbroken and ashamed. Because she had
elevated this illicit love, while deep down, I only felt a sadistic pleasure, or rather, I saw it as
an impromptu act in the process of my adolescent sexual development.
A phone rang, and my mother gestured for me to answer. I picked up the receiver, but before I could even ask
who it was, a hurried, rapid-fire voice came through: "Are you still sleeping, kid? Get up!
Didn't you say you were going to the teachers' house with Zhiyong and the others? Come out quickly, they're all waiting for you at my house.
"
It was Erleng. Still that impatient guy. Didn't we agree to go at three o'clock? I glanced at the clock,
smiled slightly, and hung up.
"Mom, I have to go out. Aren't you going to rehearsal this afternoon? Should I take you there first?"
"No need, I'm not in a hurry. I can walk there slowly, it's not a long walk. Just remember to pick me
up tonight." My mother smiled gently, her beauty ethereal. I was captivated by the misty, enigmatic aura surrounding her, and
my longing for her body grew stronger with each passing day.
********* *********** ********** ********** *********
Aunt Bai opened the door. It was obvious she had put on makeup; her long, arched eyebrows were meticulously drawn, each hair
carefully drawn. I liked her light makeup, especially after a passionate encounter. The remaining makeup, combined with her flushed
cheeks, gave her a unique, alluring charm. Aunt Bai knew this and always tried to please me.
"Lengzi and the others are in the backyard." Aunt Bai was wearing a maroon silk blouse, her hair slightly damp, like
July's damp clouds, carrying unfallen raindrops, hanging heavily. With each bow and tilt of her head, her nipples stimulated my eyes.
"Dressed like that, you slut!" I brought my mouth close to her ear, my tongue slipping into her ear canal, gently
licking it a few times. Every time I flirted like this, her tender lotus blossoms would release a red sap like a carefree flower,
soaking her garden.
"No, my family's here..." Aunt Bai quickly took a few steps back, turning her head to glance around, as if my
actions might have been seen. But I knew that, standing in the shade under the grape trellis,
we couldn't be seen from any angle.
I smiled, slipped my hand inside her, and stroked the bulge. "Did you miss me?" Her breath
whispered a desperate hope, and my heart understood her silence, just as the moon understood the loneliness of the night
.
"Go to hell..." Aunt Bai went limp, her body as soft as cotton, her cheeks flushed like a newlywed
bride, but her eyes gleamed with a cunning light.
She squeezed my erection hard, her gaze drifting to the corner of the room on the left. I understood what she meant; that corner was
where various medicinal herbs were stored, their strong scent deterring mosquitoes and flies. In the summer, Aunt Bai and I
had made love there several times, leaving behind many unforgettable memories.
"Isn't Uncle Li home?" I grinned wickedly, pinching the poppy petals, which trembled like raindrops,
carrying a sticky, muddy flow. "Did you just do it? It's still sticky..."
"Little thing, you're allowed to steal food, aren't you?" She bit her lip and gave me a reproachful look. "He's
looking at the ledgers during inventory today. Let's hurry, it'll be alright."
I've always believed that without the dark, flowing clouds of life, life is pale and weak. Ever since that year when I went through
the darkest period of my life with my mother, every stolen pleasure has been etched into my bones. Desire, as a treasure in my growth,
is the rich color painted on the canvas of life.
In fact, I have already reached the other shore, the path filled with the works of my life. Aunt Bai is one of them.
Aunt Bai's pubic hair is abundant, blooming around her mons pubis, the base color a dark purple, only her labia still retaining a rosy hue,
softly parted, revealing the misty entrance. I immediately sank into this entrance, savoring its fullness
and richness. Time waits for no one, we were all afraid someone would come, especially Uncle Li. Er Leng
rarely went to the pharmacy all year round, but Uncle Li was different, coming several times a day.
On this mature land, I wielded the pear-shaped knife with practiced ease. Every tremor, every
shake of hers carried a mixture of surprise and delight, so much so that I had to press my hand to her mouth, letting the sound linger in the small
space.
When my enormous member entered her vaginal walls, it was like an eagle dissolving into the sun-baked azure sky; my heart
desperately needed a downpour. And she would immediately respond, drawing my commotion into the vast emptiness. Her hair
was disheveled, her eyes tightly closed, and tears of excitement welled up from her eyes like overflowing water, dripping onto
her chest. In the midst of this strange and tense agitation, she kept moving her thin lips, murmuring:
"Hurry, hurry..."
Aunt Bai truly had something that made my heart flutter. Among all my women, she possessed
many of their virtues. She possessed both her mother's elegant refinement and Feng Ling's unrestrained and repressed passion, and in moments of passion, she also displayed a touch of Wang
Shan's gentle shyness. Aunt Bai was once a Yue Opera actress specializing in female roles; she was beautiful and graceful, and especially her
moans during ecstasy could ignite one's imagination, generously amplifying every fleeting glimpse of sex
and enveloping all my memories.
The graffiti I often saw on the walls of the school toilets when I was a child was often so daring as to be obscene, with
exaggerated and ridiculous depictions of naked female genitalia, accompanied by the words: "This is Li Yan's mother's cunt!" And this Li Yan
was Er Leng's name. I remember every time Er Leng saw it, he would fly into a rage, screaming:
"Damn it! Who drew this? Stand up, I'll fuck him to death!"
Later, of course, we learned that some young men just going through puberty were using Aunt Bai as a masturbation object. But
how could I have imagined that years later, I would actually enter this cave? Here, clouds and mist rise, a breathtaking spectacle,
far surpassing any toilet graffiti.
"Say it, you're a whore!" A surge of lust overwhelmed me, burning through a deep silhouette against her fair
skin—a beautiful, alluring body belonging to me, this naive young man.
Aunt Bai remained silent, her exquisite body suddenly convulsing, her face flushed crimson. I could
feel the exhaustion after extreme pleasure, like a river bursting forth, the instant pleasure ignited. I abruptly withdrew
, a thick, pure white fluid gushing from her vulva, shooting fiercely between my thighs, a springtime sensation, a summer's
heat.
I was stunned, watching this penetration and intensification, between eternity and fleeting moment,
between the mundane and the ideal, overshadowing all worldly noise, crashing before my eyes.
"Your Aunt Bai is dead...dead..." Her body was drenched in sweat, a mixture of semen and medicinal herbs
. I kept scraping her skin with my hands, from her chest, her navel, her mons pubis, down to her feet.
"Help me up quickly, Erleng and the others must be getting impatient." Aunt Bai, slumped on the ground, had a flushed face with a
languid allure, her voice light and airy, still carrying the afterglow of her orgasm.
"Hmm, it's alright. You can take your time getting ready, I'll go over first." Although I hadn't lost my strength, I was somewhat proud of having brought Aunt Bai to
such a state of ecstasy; after all, I had never made her so disheveled before.
Thinking back to the first time I made a woman ejaculate, it was on the night of last year's European Cup. The woman wasn't just anyone, but
my own mother.

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【A Tale of a First-Class Hero】 - Against the Current (1)

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