[Showing off her mother's swaying breasts]

At the edge of my vision, I gaze upon this vast and melancholic expanse of memory.
I am a young writer living around 2800 AD. The "Asia-China Alliance" was
one of the world's superpowers at that time, also known as Greater China, encompassing most of Asia, with an area of 34.5
million square kilometers and a population of 1.245 trillion.
Ancient Central Asia was part of this alliance. Central Asia was primarily inhabited by two major ethnic groups: the Turks and the Central Asian
Aryans.
The Turks were of Mongoloid descent, while the Central Asian Aryans were Caucasoid. The Central Asian Aryans had deep-set eyes, high noses, and brownish-yellow
hair; many were known for their sensual women. Their history was far older than that of the Turks. The Turks arrived
in Central Asia only in the 6th century AD, while the Aryans had inhabited Central Asia since the 20th century BC. The Central Asian Aryans were
a nomadic people. The Central Asian Aryan region had grasslands, mountains, and numerous lakes.
Beijing was governed by the Social Democratic Party, a place of political stability and social harmony; life in Beijing was very comfortable, but for a freelance writer like myself,
it was rather dull. I was determined to travel to ancient and mysterious Central Asia to gather inspiration and write
a brilliant piece.
Lacking both organization and money, I obtained a fake letter of introduction, took a meager sum, and, with a backpack,
boarded a train from Beijing to the capital of the Central Asian Aryan region.
After more than a week's journey, I finally arrived in Central Asia's Aryan region. Then, I traveled by foot and car,
heading deeper into the Aryan steppes.
The car sped across the boundless grasslands, the last few clouds gliding across the distant mountain peaks,
revealing the vast and deep Lake Choyong. The lake reflected the blue sky, casting the sun-drenched snow-capped peaks upside down
in its waters, inspiring a desire to embrace them. In the distance lay the highway leading to Trans-Bactria.
Trans-Bactria, named in contrast to Pre-Bactria (before Christensen), is one of the Aryan
regions of Asia and my primary destination for this research trip.
I spent a month in Rash, the capital of Trans-Bactria, visiting all the ancient temples, especially the ancient priestly
temples, a sacred site for the Asian Aryans. Saints from all over continuously gathered there to pray for
a prosperous rebirth, free from suffering. For tourists, this sight satisfied their curiosity
.
I planned to try my luck in more remote parts of Trans-Bactria, hoping to witness the famous and mysterious
celestial union. As the car sped along the shore of Lake Choyong, I felt dizzy. I opened the car window; the lake
was flat, a gentle breeze blowing, not a speck of dust in sight.
It was August, the golden season on the plateau; the sky was so blue and clear you could hardly feel the air. I walked
to the lake, put down my backpack, and took out a towel to wash my face thoroughly. This place was called Qazi, a
small town of a hundred households. Herdsmen had built rows of houses at the foot of the mountains by the lake.
It was a beautiful place. There wasn't a speck of debris by the lake. The red, yellow, white, and blue rooftops along the shore, bathed in sunlight ,
hinted at the idyllic state of primitive religion.
There was a red-tiled house, probably the township office. I pulled out the fake letter of introduction stamped with a red seal, but upon closer
inspection, it didn't seem like a township office; it was just an ordinary bungalow.
A soldier came out; judging from his accent, he was from Hunan. He invited me inside, and I followed him.
This was a telephone company; he was stationed here, responsible for maintaining the telephone lines for this section. When the lines were working, he would
go fishing in the lake, and sometimes read magazines and martial arts novels. He was pleased that I asked to stay. He had been
here for four years, learned quite a few Asian Aryan languages, and often visited the local herders for drinks. A submachine gun
hung on the wall.
I asked him if there was a telegraph station nearby, and he said yes. I then asked if there had been any telegraphs recently, and he hesitated for a moment before
saying that a woman had recently experienced a difficult childbirth, and they were preparing to use a telegraph method to deliver her child. I got excited
and kept asking him, but he stammered that he was going to buy alcohol for dinner. I gave him the money, but he awkwardly pushed it
away and went out. My mind started racing; if I didn't see him here, it
would be too difficult to find another opportunity. What if I went somewhere and a pregnant woman had a difficult childbirth? I couldn't miss this chance.
That night, we drank and talked about news from other places. To build a good relationship with him, I started bragging
.
He liked fishing, so I fished too, and I promised to send him an imported stainless steel fishing rod when I got back to Beijing. I immediately wrote down
my address, claiming that at least two of the current leaders of the ruling Social Democratic Party were my neighbors. Of course, that address
would never be found in Beijing.
Later, I talked to him about women, and he seemed very interested, smoking continuously. I'm an expert on this topic; I've slept
with at least a hundred or two sexy women, young and old. So I exaggeratedly described the enlightenment of contemporary women
, even using a Hunan accent I'd picked up from movies to say that if he came to Beijing, I'd let him sleep with all my prostitutes,
and generously told him not to be shy. He touched the table and suddenly said to me, "That woman is only seventeen, but
she's very mature and sexy." Such a young and sexy girl, I like her.
"She had a difficult childbirth with severe bleeding, and it's been several days," he said, "The baby is still in her belly." I
suppressed my excitement and took out a cigarette.
We were silent for a while. There was a single bed against the wall in the room, a military-style wooden bed, painted yellow,
with the unit number printed on the headboard. There were many clippings of women's posters on the wall. Through the window, you
could see the sky: it had turned from deep blue to black. The sound of passing cars on the highway had long since disappeared.
The soldier stood up, leaned against the bed frame, and said to me, "As you can see, the people here don't care about any of that
stuff. Most people don't care, and Mima's two husbands care even less." "Who has two husbands?" I asked.
"The pregnant woman."
"How could she have two husbands?" I asked again.
"She married two brothers," he said softly.
I paused for a moment, then asked, "Why would she have to marry two husbands?"
He answered, "It's one of the customs of the Central Asian Aryan peoples. It's also possible for them to marry into the same family, father and sons.
If the man's family is poor, they share the bride." I felt this was something worth writing about, so I took out a pen and a diary
.
The soldier continued, "Her father was an alcoholic. When he was drunk, he would sing and want women. Sometimes he would grab
Mima and grope her. After his wife died, he became even more aggressive. Mima was a typical Asian Aryan beauty, with brownish-yellow
hair and fair skin, very alluring. How could this beautiful teenage girl resist such a strong man?"
"I'm going to curse! Such a beauty, deflowered by her father when she was only twelve!" His face turned from red
to purple, showing the stubbornness often seen in Hunan men.
He walked to the door, checked the wind direction, and the telephone line remained motionless. I finished my drink and walked around the house a few
times.
There were no mosquitoes here in the summer, and the dampness from the lake seeped into the room, making it feel refreshing.
"Can you take me to see it?" I said.
He didn't look up, grabbed the keys and flashlight from the table, and said, "Let's go."
We entered the village, which was spacious with many large and neat mud houses. The flashlight shone brightly,
and dogs barked incessantly. He pushed open the fence and shouted something in Asian Aryan towards a brightly lit house. We went
inside.
Several men sitting under the lamp turned to look at me, mouths agape. One of the older men stood up.
The soldier spoke to him in Central Asian Aryan, while the others stared at me.
I took out my lighter, lit a cigarette, and offered them some.
Among them, a naked woman was screaming in agony. The men were
groping her.
"This is her," the soldier said.
She must be able to sing; it's a characteristic of Central Asian ethnic minorities. I often heard them stop to sing on the grasslands,
in the forests, and along mountain paths. Even if you couldn't understand the language, the sound from the naked woman's voice
was quite soothing. They often took off their fur coats and tied them around their waists when it was hot, revealing their full
breasts.
The girl had a round face, a small nose, dark circles under her eyes, and fair skin on her neck and chest. The
dark indentation between her breasts trembled occasionally.
The men were squeezing her large belly hard; you could say they were helping her give birth, or you could
say they were toying with her. The girl in labor was screaming in agony.
Her two husbands, along with the priest, were pressing hard on her belly. The girl screamed shrilly. They put their hands
inside her vagina, and they even took turns sitting on her belly, grinding it violently.
What torture this must have been for the girl!
That night, I returned, turned on the light, and, expressionless, lit a cigarette and lay down. Neither of us could sleep.
He finally spoke: "Let me tell you, you're not from here anyway, you'll only stay for two days.
I feel really bad if I don't tell you." I sat up, propping a pillow up against my back, and listened to him.
He said, "Mima was also my mistress, which is why I didn't transfer. I first
met her on the grasslands. I was changing a telephone line, which required crossing two grasslands. She had let her sheep scatter. When I was changing the line, I was carrying a large
bundle of old wire, which was very heavy." "It was a rather hot afternoon. On the grasslands, this little beauty was
mating with a large male dog, and then with a ram. She knelt on the grass, calling out, and then kept looking at me, as if I wasn't a man
, so I pounced on her too." "After that, I often went to have sex with her. She would often wait for me, giving me
her roasted mutton jerky and sun-dried raisins, all of which had been warmed in her vagina. Central Asian Aryan women have
a habit of warming food for men with their vaginas. She would also give me dates that she had soaked in her vagina. I often stayed with her until dark.
Like most Asian Aryan women, she was very clean, and I loved the smell of her milk." "She
was the one I came into contact with ..." "She was my first woman. She was only fifteen that year, but her father had already made her very mature and sexy.
Asian Aryan women develop early, and with her father's manipulation, she became even more mature." "I felt
she was waiting for me. But I was too naive. She also told me that her father often touched her genitals. She ran out in pain many times
. Everyone in the village knew that her father slept with her. The young men all had sex with her without restraint." "Last year,
around this time, she suddenly barged into my bed and touched me, saying she couldn't stand her father anymore. Ignoring her
pain, I had sex with her again. This time I was very strong, and we didn't stop all night. Before dawn, she pushed me away and said she had to go back
. I helped her put on her clothes and went to sleep. Before leaving, Mima put the gemstone necklace she had worn since childhood under my pillow
. The next day I found out that she had married those two brothers." The soldier took the necklace out of the drawer, and I
looked at it under the light. This was a necklace of agate stones, strung with rubies every few stones, and a large emerald hanging
in the middle, smooth and shiny, with the milky scent of a young woman. I remembered her screaming among the men.
"Did she come looking for you again?" I asked.
"No, after she got married, she stopped herding sheep and started working at home. The two brothers were both
strong men in their forties. I heard that the eldest and second eldest liked her. When the brothers drank in the evening, people could hear Mima
screaming loudly in the middle of the night." "Some people even saw the eldest and second eldest taking her to the market and doing it on horseback, and even
letting the stallion have sex with her. Mima was already pregnant at that time. These two brothers were both over forty, and after living most of their lives, they
finally married such a sexy wife, and they wouldn't let her go for even a moment." "She never came looking for you again after that?" I
asked again.
"She came a few times when she had the chance," the soldier stammered in a low voice, "I don't want to tell you everything."
Early the next morning, I climbed up to the celestial platform and saw the sun rising in the east. This is a hilly area
on an undulating grassland.
Fog began to rise over Lake Zhuoyong, the wisps of mist gently merging into a single sheet, obscuring the lake's surface. The fog grew thicker,
rising and falling like a woman's breath, drifting and ascending, obscuring the blood-red sun. The fog
clung silently to the lake's surface, then slowly drifted away towards the shore.
They gradually emerged from the fog. The men carried Mima, who was crying incessantly; she was still in difficult childbirth.
Among the men were the eldest and second eldest, and the village priest—I slowly recognized him as
one of the men who had violated Mima at her house the previous night. The grassland fog rose behind them.
They smiled at me and set her down. As soon as the ropes loosened, she fell onto the grass. They forced her to kneel
, her limbs restrained.
I first watched from afar, then slowly approached. Her skin was fair, her breasts even whiter and finer, hanging loosely
, with large, black nipples. Her abdomen was protruding, the unborn child nestled within.
I adjusted the aperture and distance of my camera, then squatted down to her right, ready to take a picture. The background was wisps of
rising mist, and the distant, pale snow-capped peaks were just being warmed by the sun. I thought of the time her father had
carried her here on horseback, ravaging her. Back then, she was also naked, silently gazing at the snow-capped
peaks.
In the lens, she continued to cry out, still suffering from a difficult childbirth. I moved the lens down: plump, white buttocks
, brown anal hair. I suddenly remembered the creaking wooden bed I used to sleep on in the army, and the two brothers drinking.
I focused on her feet; they were quite white, her toes tightly pressed together, small and sexy.
I moved back a little, adjusted the position of the frame, and pressed the shutter.
I slowly straightened up, surrounded by the piercing braying of donkeys. Then a gust of wind howled
past, and a wild donkey charged forward, thrusting into the little beauty forced to kneel from behind.
I returned to the men. The second brother gave me food. I ate voraciously; it contained raisins and mutton, still
warm, and I finished it all in one go. They also gave me a drink made from the blood Mima had lost during her difficult labor, which
I drank in one gulp. They told me that the mutton and raisins had been warmed inside Mima's vagina. I looked up
at her; her vaginal opening was facing me, parted, being brutally penetrated by the donkey's large member.
The two brothers smiled at me. I think I smiled too, but I was facing Mima's vagina, thanking
her for the food and drink that came from there. In the distance, the snow-capped mountain peaks were already reddened by the sun, and the fog
had vanished without a trace. The distant lake was as calm and clear as it had been yesterday, as deep as Mima's
emerald.
At this moment, the male wild donkeys stood in a dark mass around her, one after another,
inserting themselves between Mima's full buttocks. She knelt and lay prone, her large belly almost touching the ground, and sticky
fluid flowed from between her thighs. I picked up my camera, adjusted the distance, and pressed the shutter repeatedly. Mima let out a heart-wrenching cry
.
The male wild donkeys filled the area, dozens of them braying and vying for her. Around the perimeter stood a group of male wild
sheep, who considered themselves superior to the wild donkeys. None dared to approach; they watched from afar, sniffing, waiting
for the donkeys to finish.
The male donkeys and sheep filled the hillside. One of Mima's husbands, Lao Er, continuously sprayed them with
the vaginal blood, vaginal fluid, and urine he had collected from beneath her. The air was filled with the pungent smell of a woman's crotch. I suddenly realized: yin
and yang attract each other; this was how the male donkeys and sheep became sexually attracted to this female.
After the donkeys finished, the rams charged. When Mima's child finally emerged from her vagina
, she had fainted several times. I checked my watch; over ten hours had passed. It was dark; 　　 I 　　 had to go back. The soldier was still waiting for me 　　.
He said he had already borrowed a boat. He said he would accompany me
fishing in the lake tomorrow. 　　 Mima
bore a son for the two old brothers and 　　 continued 　　to be their wife, 　　subject to their abuse. ********** ... 　　 Tonight I'll be camping out in the wild again. I stopped looking for human warmth and simply chose a well-ventilated spot on the hilltop 　　to sit down. 　　 The biscuits I bought in Bangor were finished. I took two pieces of curdled milk from my coat pocket; these 　　were made from the milk of Mima, who had just given birth. The two old brothers had given me quite a bit, and I'd been eating them the whole way. Asian Aryans 　　often use their women's milk to entertain guests; women are like ewes. These curdled milk pieces 　　softened in my mouth after a while, with a very strong milky flavor. 　　 It's a flavor men are born with. 　　 Before the evening breeze picked up, I spread out my sleeping bag, slipped in without taking off my shoes, and faced the sky, pondering that eternal 　　theme: life. The things I see in the Central Asian Aryan region are different from those in the interior. 　　 It's getting cold. Remembering my previous experiences camping out, I looked up. There was a river ahead, and then a grassland. The river 　　blocked the way; even if wolves smelled it, they couldn't get across. I took the dagger out of my bag, strapped it to my wrist, and prepared to sleep. My mind 　　raced with fear as I imagined a wild donkey trampling me, a wild dog dragging my backpack away, and a 　　wolf silently approaching and biting my emaciated neck. Then I thought of the women in Beijing, 　　the warm scent inside their bras, and the naked body of the little beauty struggling in childbirth. 　　 I saw a faint light to my left, in the direction I had come from, seemingly motionless. I quickly pulled out 　　my camera and examined it with the medium telephoto lens. The shape of the light resembled a ventilation window on the top of a tent. That meant there was a 　　place to sleep. I climbed out of my sleeping bag and groped my way down the mountain, taking over two hours to find the tent 　　. 　　 As I approached, I made a noise; no dogs jumped out, so I lifted the curtain. An old herdsman sat 　　motionless around a fire. 　　 I greeted him in Central Asian Aryan, and he turned to me. Perhaps because he was staring at the fire, he 　　didn't see me clearly at first. It wasn't until I sat down by the fire that he realized I was Han Chinese. He smiled and asked me in Chinese where I 　　was from. I told him I had come down from the mountain to photograph the sunset. He said he had seen photographers before; he 　　had worked on bronze statues at the temple in Lashi, where people from faraway Central China visited daily. He had learned to speak some 　　basic Chinese during those years. 　　 I put down my backpack, looked around the tent, and asked if there was anything to drink. He said yes. I put my hand over the fire 　　, and he began to milk the ewe's udder. He used a lot of force, and the ewe struggled fiercely. He held out a large bowl full of sheep's milk.

"Come in," he said. He went back to the old sheepskin, found a cigarette, lit it, and sucked
on the sheep's milk on his fingers.
Having drunk my fill, I didn't want to sleep, so I started chatting with him.
The old man's name was Sodro, a herdsman from the Jiva area. Half a year ago, he left for
Lash, the capital of Bactria. He sold half of all his cattle, horses, and sheep, donating the proceeds to the temple, saying he wanted to cleanse himself of the five
poisons. He said he also had a daughter. I asked him why his daughter didn't live with him, and he was speechless for a moment
, his eyes darting around. I knew he wanted a drink, so I took out a cigarette and tossed it to him.
After he finished telling his story, I suddenly remembered a girl I had once met.
He probably said something like this: (I've omitted some unimportant details)
"I donated the money from selling the livestock to the temple to protect my daughter. It's all my fault."
"I was breastfed until I was fourteen. My mother's milk never seemed to stop flowing. My father
died a long time ago. There aren't many houses on the pastures around here; you'll see if you go in. Although I go
to the market in Jiwa Township many times a year and see some women, I don't understand why, but I only love
my mother. I can't live without her." "I always slept with my mother;
I know every part of her body intimately. Sleeping with her, I felt an increasing urge to tease her. Fourteen
years old. "When I first entered my mother, I did so often after that. Sometimes she would cry, but there was nothing she could do; I was
the man she had raised from the ground up. Since my father died, she never spoke to any male herders passing by, except to take care of me
. The only man she ever spoke to was me." "I remember the first time I entered my mother very clearly
. That night we went to bed early, and I went to nurse from my mother's breast. Maybe I nursed too vigorously, because my mother was moaning.
For some reason, during those days, whenever I heard my mother moan, I would get an erection, and that day was no exception."
"I caressed my mother's white breasts and instinctively pressed myself against her. My mother was naked from the waist up, wearing only
shorts. Perhaps it was time for something to happen, because I involuntarily pulled off her shorts and thrust my erect penis
between her legs." "My mother parted her legs slightly; she was wet there. Every time I nursed from her, she would get wet.
I thrust in all at once, and my mother's moans grew louder." "We Bactrians have a long-standing
custom of mother-son intercourse, so this kind of thing seems quite natural." "My mother cried, tears streaming down her face. But
she didn't resist; she just passively endured my thrusting on top of her." "My mother wasn't proactive; she just
passively endured it. Only when I hurt her did she finally give in. " "She screamed." "I thrust
deep into my mother, deep inside her body, and at the same time, I didn't let go of my beloved mother's breasts, continuing to suckle her
nipples and drink her milk. My mother groaned loudly, and hearing that sound and seeing her somewhat painful
expression, I grew bigger and harder." "Soon, I ejaculated into my mother's body. I didn't
climb off her, but continued to press down on her, continuing to suckle my beloved mother's nipples. That feeling was just too good
." "Soon, I got hard again. That night, finally having fully tasted the deliciousness of my mother's body, I
entered her again and again, making her scream and make her cry. Until the next morning." The old man narrated deeply, while
his eyes flashed with excitement. I kept recording, my penis hard.
I already knew that the bodies of Asian Aryans were much stronger than our yellow race.
Old Man Sodro continued his narration.
"I slept with my mother for many years, and I always drank her milk. One year, I heard in Giva that the largest
temple in Rash was going to build a statue, so I went. Our daughter was nine years old then. What would she think if she knew that my mother
gave birth to her? But this is also one of the customs of our Central Asian Aryan people, and it's not
just my mother and me who do this." "Out there, I understood many things, but no one knew that I was a sinner
. Not because sleeping with my mother was sinful, but because I caused my mother pain and suffering countless times.
I felt sorry for my mother and felt guilty, but at the time I liked it, so I could only atone for it afterward. Every day after finishing
my work, I would kowtow at the temple gate to cleanse my soul. But I had developed a long-standing habit of sucking on her nipples, so for
those years I often went home to drink my mother's milk, often biting her nipples until they healed, then biting them again, then
healing them again, and then biting them again." I remembered the way he had just reached under the ewe to milk her, his eyes as greedy as a male wolf
. His face was frighteningly dark, with deep-set eyes, cloudy yellow pupils, a hooked nose, and a tangled mess
of brownish-yellow hair tied with a red string. Several veins bulged beside his temples, reddened by the firelight. And
as he spoke, his hands constantly twitched and flexed, a loose strand of hair hanging down, bobbing with his head
.
He looked like a typical Central Asian Aryan old man.
"Five years later, I felt completely absolved of my sins and returned home. My daughter, Majon, was thirteen. I
brought her clothes, stockings, and high heels." "Majon could sew her own clothes at thirteen. In less than two years, she grew
into a beautiful young woman. She looked exactly like her mother. You know, in the pastoral areas, women and men
go shirtless at midday." I said I knew. I asked him again, "What about your mother?"
"She died of lust the year after I returned. I was still nursing her," he said.
"When Majung and I herded cattle and sheep together on horseback, the way her breasts bounced around terrified me
. Once, I couldn't resist and grabbed a ewe, sucking on her breasts desperately, which Majung saw. From that day on,
she wore a shirt and wouldn't sleep next to me. I started drinking more often, knowing my old habit had returned." "Last
summer, a man named Tubul came to collect leopard skins and antiques. He was quite cultured and could speak Mandarin. He said he
had worked as a cadre in Lash, the capital of Bactria. He was actually a very bad guy. He carried with him many
aluminum pots, plastic wine jugs, and women's underwear commonly used in pastoral areas." "Did he fall in love with your daughter?"
I interrupted him.
"Yes, last year Majung turned sixteen, a particularly voluptuous and mature girl, looking like she was in her early twenties."
She was 18, and everyone who saw her wanted to have sex with her. She often went out to date and have sex with young men. Tubul rolled up his blankets and put them with
my daughter, and then slept with Majong that night. That night, I heard Majong moaning, and I felt terrible. But I
also wanted Tubul to marry her, otherwise I would commit another sin. That day, I started biting the ewe's teats again. "
Sleeping with one's mother is an ancient Bactrian custom, and many families still do it today, but
not many people would lay a hand on their daughters. It's not a fault for Bactrian men to sleep with their mothers; we have this custom
. Of course, there are people who sleep with their daughters, but it's not considered a Bactrian national custom; it's just
a private hobby for some people. I always felt I shouldn't lay a hand on my daughter. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to control myself. Every
time I couldn't control myself, I would lay a hand on the ewe." "Tubul stayed here for more than ten days." Every day, Maqiong
would roast meat and serve him wine, and he would give her women's stockings and the like. Those days, I herded livestock every day and made room for
two tents for him. But Tubul was getting worse and worse, tormenting Maqiong. If Maqiong hadn't liked him, I would have
fought him long ago.” “Tubul was taking Maqiong away; girls eventually get married. I got drunk the day they left;
I really shouldn't have drunk so much that day.” He became agitated, staring at me intently as he spoke, “I shouldn't have drunk so
much.” “It was all Tubul who made me drink.” He suddenly looked up at me.
I knew he was lying; I felt the glint of my knife flash across his face.
"Tubul was probably drunk too. At first, I told Tubul to take good care of my daughter, that raising her
wasn't easy, and he promised me he would treat her well." "Later, when he called me 'Father,' I laughed. Then
I told him that Majong was actually born to my mother. I remember Majong screamed in surprise, but Tubul
was quite happy and even poured me some wine. So I told him everything, asking Tubul to let
me sleep with Majong that night. Tubul agreed, but Majong refused. Tubul said, 'If you don't want to sleep with your...'" "I won't take you with me if Dad falls asleep,
" Maggie said, stunned. "Then, just as dawn broke, I sobered up. I found myself on top of Maggie, and I
released all the pent-up emotions of the past few years onto her. Maggie cried out all night, and
I bit her nipples almost raw. I even had bits of her brownish-yellow pubic hair in my mouth. At first, I thought I was dreaming, so I went out
to pee. When I was fully awake and crawled back into the tent, I saw Maggie. She covered her body with her clothes,
and seeing her voluptuous figure, I pounced on her again."
"Marjoon's breasts were exceptionally full, fuller than those of an average forty-year-old woman. How could I resist
? I grabbed her full breasts hard and continued biting her nipples. Her nipples were already bitten raw, and she
screamed in pain." "This little beauty was beneath me, and I was as hard as a stick. The little beauty's cunt was terribly swollen
. I don't know how many times I thrust in that night. At this point, I couldn't care less about anything else, and with a burst of strength,
I thrust in again." "Marjoon couldn't take it anymore, crying and cursing. She called me an old beast."
"She left with Tubul. After the frost on the pasture, I drove the livestock to Chara. I knew she
would never call me 'Father' again, but I still wanted to find her. I inquired in Chara, and later at the carriage shop, I learned that a few
months ago a fur trader had come with a woman, the trader's wife. The shopkeeper asked me
if the woman wore a large emerald in her hair, had deep-set eyes, blond hair, and slightly swollen eyes. He also said that the trader
was always tormenting his young wife." "When I arrived in the capital, Lashi, I didn't dare say I was looking for my daughter. I inquired about many people
named Tubul, and later I met a fur trader on the street who knew Tubul, but Tubul was out collecting
goods. In Lashi, I found Tubul's house. Majong wasn't there. I asked Tubul's mother, 'I'm
from Majong's place, I have a message for her.'" "The old woman said, 'You're looking for that slut, I wonder
where she's gone to sell her cunt again.'"
"Tubul's mother was in her forties or fifties, quite a slut. After hearing her talk about my daughter like that, I went after this
mother-in-law. I raped that old woman half to death." "While I was brutally fucking that old woman, I interrogated her
about how she treated her daughter-in-law, Majong. For every confession she made, I bit her nipple hard." "This old woman's
name was Tuila. I figured she must have been fucked by Tubul too, so I asked her about it. She wouldn't say,
so I bit her nipple hard. She couldn't bear the pain and confessed." "As I listened to the details of how her son had violated her
, I realized Tubul was a womanizer, a killer..." "I know, it was all from training on his mother. That
day I was especially fierce, I nearly killed Tuila." "Later I came to the Lashi Temple and wandered around for several days.
The people there said there was a woman, not even twenty years old, very voluptuous, who had already been defiled by all the men in the area
. I heard she came from the Jiwa pastoral area.
That woman was often dragged to their homes and raped naked in other people's houses. I felt really bad
.
At that time I kowtowed every day, begging the gods to have mercy and let me find my Majong, I missed her." "
At Tubul's house, at the temple, I couldn't find my Majong." He
talked about many things, but that's roughly what happened.
I lay down, thinking about the girl I saw on the streets of Rush: a pointed face, fair skin, and
curly blond hair.
She often brushed the blond hair that fell over her forehead back with her hand. When she sensed someone was watching her, she would suddenly look up and
smile at the person passing by. She had deep-set eyes, the beautiful large eyes typical of Asian Aryan women,
with long blond eyelashes, and her eyes were the typical green of Asian Aryans, very captivating. Her lower eyelids
were a little puffy, but her eyes shone brightly when she smiled, giving off a gentle feeling. Her lips were red and full.
Her breasts were extremely full and white. Sometimes, she would cup her breasts, bend down, and suckle at
the large nipple, occasionally looking up and smiling at you. The nipple, constantly in her mouth, had become round and translucent.
This woman gave off an extremely gentle feeling. People said that whenever her husband went out on business, she would
leave the house and go out into the street, where men and male dogs would often pounce on her. When her husband returned, she would go back home and
scream in agony.
People said she was an extremely loving woman, using her full body to soothe the men within a radius of dozens of miles.
Their restless hearts.
Before parting, I told Sodro about the clue I had found his daughter, and the old herdsman immediately mounted
his horse and rode towards Lash to find her.
Later, I heard that he finally found his daughter, and she had given birth to another daughter for him.
************
Leaving the old herdsman and his daughter, I continued on my journey and arrived at Bamulun, another large
region in post-Bactria, where the Central Asian Aryan herdsmen are tall.
I sat at the street corner, panting. Several children and dogs slowly gathered around, some looking at my face and hair, others
at my clothes, beard, and camera. They all slowly squatted down, and I smiled at them in between breaths.
Later, I stood up, took the fake letter of introduction in my hand, and inquired about the location of the township government.
The township clerk had attended high school in the district. He smoked a cigarette, finished reading the letter of introduction, and slowly smiled at me
. I told him that I was there for an interview, sent by a major newspaper in the interior.
Bamulun is vast, its grasslands stretching for over a thousand miles, undulating and rolling. As dusk fell, I saw the vast grasslands,
infused with the blood of the setting sun, tremble like skin. But the sunset vanished from the grasslands in an instant, and
as the last ray of light lingered between heaven and earth, I began to get up, and then, smiling, I stood up and walked back to
the road.
It's all a writer's fault, a sudden burst of madness. Primitive religion permeates every inch of the grasslands; here,
humans and gods are indistinguishable, legends and myths are intertwined. Some suffering is entirely due to the lack of sexual understanding in modern civilized people. Today,
I write about this, perhaps it's the beginning of forgetting.
Xianyila was a sexy, mature woman raised in the Bamulun Temple. She had grown up in the temple since childhood and was a
priestess.
By the age of fifteen, Xianyila had finished reading the five great scriptures and was studying medicine. For the first
time in her life, she left the Bamulun Temple to see the outside world. Of course, she didn't go far from the temple; she naturally had to return at night
.
Now, the priestess, Sera, is a sexy, mature woman of forty-five. Tall and with brownish-yellow
hair, she often appears in the main hall opposite the temple's red walls, where a large group of male dogs frequently chase and
mate with her.
Further on, turning right leads to the main street.
This is the temple's closest gate to the street. On market days, it's packed with people; even on ordinary days, merchants have pitched
tents everywhere. Some merchants have built makeshift dwellings between their tents and huts using stones.
Sera often comes here to buy bracelets, earrings, and stockings brought by merchants from southern Central Asia.
Turning left from the fork in the road leads to a path through fields planted with buckwheat and peas,
with clumps of wild grass growing among the low willows. In the mornings, the scent of wild grass lingers. She often stands here,
looking back at the entire temple—tall and majestic. When the wind blew, the banners and
handkerchiefs on the rooftops would flutter, making a sound like tearing cloth. Further on was a sizable river.
Whenever Xianyila walked this path, she would first forget she was a temple maiden;
the scent of the fields captivated her. She also loved to stand by the river, watching the rushing water.
Tomorrow, she would undergo a solemn ceremony of offering herself to the vajra. Years ago, her virginity had been taken by male dogs
, but formally offering herself to the temple monks—that is, formally offering herself to a human man—
was a first in her forty-five years of life.
She remembered the temple murals, depicting the vajra pendant inserted into a woman's genitals. Tomorrow, she would be
the one with her legs raised. A raw, wet heat suddenly aroused her. She felt a heat within her body
; her nipples, buttocks, inner thighs, the backs of her legs, and the soles of her toes were all warm.
She felt hungry and ate some fish. Then she closed the door.
It was late at night. She imagined what she would look like the next day. The thought of lying
there naked in public filled her with unease and fear. She tried to banish this disrespectful thought,
but she couldn't sit still. This was the first time in years that she had been so distracted. She knew she had broken a vow, and her whole body tensed.
She awoke the next morning feeling utterly sensual, even though it was still dark.
She felt it before dawn. First came the blood, which seemed to be concentrated at her vaginal opening. Her breasts
bounced under her bra, and her thighs, mons pubis, and soft abdomen felt light and smooth. She sat up, her sensuality
awakening quietly with the arrival of morning. The thought of being publicly exposed naked made her
nervously hug her shoulders, her teeth chattering. She watched the sky outside gradually change from purplish-red to blue, then brighten.
Hundreds of priests filled the temple, and incense was lit.
The priestess, Sera, walked naked onto the platform at the front. A tall, fair-skinned, 45-year-old sexy
mature woman, completely naked, walked onto the stage and slowly lay down like a large white lamb.
Her mind was unsettled; her hands trembled occasionally, and her delicate toes curled up in shyness and nervousness.
This tall, mature woman of forty-five was very attractive, with fair skin like other Asian Aryan women,
brownish-yellow hair, and green eyes. The gazes of the male priests in their twenties and thirties below the stage
shot like arrows, focusing on this older woman, or perhaps an aunt. This was an
aunt who had never been with a man. The male priests' vajras were all raised.
It was too late. She opened her eyes and saw the male priest, Rela Qiangzuo, undressing and walking towards her.
A pleading look flashed in her eyes, and she was terrified as Rela Qiangzuo pressed her onto the mat. She quickly became
dizzy from the swelling and pain between her thighs and the weight of the man's body above her. She felt her body being torn apart by Relaqiangzuo
, a sensation unlike that of being penetrated by a male dog. Relaqiangzuo's vajra was
thicker and larger than the penises of male dogs, brutally entering her body.
What began to arouse her was the sweat on her back and neck. Although her lower body was still throbbing with pain,
she began to writhe naturally with the movements of the body above her. She felt herself
drifting into a black hole, with occasional itching sensations spreading upwards from her thighs. She was alone in that hole, which brought her
a moment of tranquility.
She suddenly realized she was offering herself to God, and calmed down, but a series of violent thrusts from Rerajangzo
made her forget her composure.
Rerajangzo pounded into the depths of her body like a hammer.
She collapsed, helplessly at Rerajangzo's mercy, letting out cries of both pain and pleasure
.
Rerajangzo was a strong man in his early forties, and this sexy woman, like an older sister, aroused him greatly
, making him exceptionally vigorous. Of course, there was also the power of religion.
Xianyila seemed to be about to fall apart from the impact.
For a full hour and a half, Rerajangzo finally ejaculated deep into Xianyila's body.
When another priest, Deir, sat cross-legged and pressed her against his body, she squatted down like the Dakini in the murals
, her legs skillfully hooked around Deir's back. She saw her breasts, newly sprouting that morning
, drooping large like an old woman's, like a wanton woman. The aching in her lower abdomen and
the sensation that made her breath quicken began to move from her pubic bone to her pelvis, rising along her tailbone and spine. She couldn't help but let out lascivious moans.
Dale's vajra rubbed deep inside Sanila's body, making her weak all over, warm
liquid constantly gushing from beneath her. She embraced the thirty-something Dale, crying out desperately.
The sacrificial ceremony continued until noon. Priests went up one by one to the platform and entered Sanila's body
.
When Sanila regained consciousness, she found herself lying on the large mat with her legs bent like a bitch, her body still convulsing
and soaking in her own juices. She suddenly remembered a mare about to give birth.
Two priestesses came and used golden bowls to wash the bloody sweat from her body. She could no longer move;
her legs had long since lost all feeling.
She waited for the grand ceremony to end, her legs trembling. But the gang rape continued, and the men made Senna cry
out again.
Senna accepted the men's penetration in various positions. Later, not only the priests, but
also the stallions, to show their sincerity to the gods, allowed them to enjoy Senna.
She felt her body sinking little by little.
According to the ritual, this tall, sexy mature woman was raped continuously for three days.
They found that she had become calm, no longer screaming, and her genitals were covered in blood from the impacts. Her
eyes were slightly open.
On the fourth day, just before dawn, the priests found her motionless, her eyes still slightly open,
like her usual expression during meditation, but her breathing seemed to have stopped.
I have a large tuft of brownish-yellow pubic hair and armpit hair that Senna had cut off. The seller offered a thousand dollars, and I
bought it. Anyone with dollars they don't know what to do with should contact me; the price should be enough for my travel expenses across the Bactrian steppe
.
I traveled north, leaving Bactria, continuing north, leaving Central Asia, crossing the border, and entering
the territory of my northern neighbor, Democratic Russia. It's a second-tier country, with an area of nine million square kilometers and a population of over seventy billion,
smaller than China in both population and area. Its western part is influenced by Germany, its central part by China, and its eastern part by Japan
.
I continued my journey westward through Russia. I've been exposed to too much stimulation these past few days; I need a change of
scenery to organize my notes. But I know I'll be back soon. Bactria—I can no
longer leave that mysterious steppe.
The first thing I'll do upon my return is find out whether the priestess, Sanira, was raped to death or is still alive.
[The End
]

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