My Sex Life with Mature Women

That day, I went to my great-aunt's house. I rode my Forever bicycle into the residential area. My great-aunt's building
was A-frame shaped, eighteen stories above ground and one story below. I pushed my Forever into the
basement went down the ramp. At the bottom, I found the first compartment was full.

I went further in. The second compartment was also full. I pushed my bicycle further in. The
basement was a completely underground structure, with dozens of load-bearing columns standing rigidly, made of poured concrete, all grayish-white.
I didn't count how many compartments there were in total, but it was extremely dark inside; without lights, you couldn't see anything. Each compartment had only one
light bulb, emitting a dim, yellowish light. The basement might have been designed for air defense or nuclear protection,
but it was always used for storing bicycles. It seemed like no one ever swept or mopped the basement; it was covered in old, dusty dirt.

Pushing my bicycle, I looked for an empty space, when suddenly I heard panting and groaning from the next compartment. I immediately stopped
, held my breath, and strained my ears. Sure enough, I heard more groans and gurgling sounds, a rapid rhythm,
seemingly mixed with the splattering of fists hitting soft flesh. The groans, the panting, the splattering—every sound was clear. Listening more closely,
I could discern a man and a woman, their moans and groans mingling with the wet sounds of flesh colliding, fists hitting flesh, gurgling,
slapping , and smacking. Were they having an affair inside? My nerves instantly went into overdrive, my vas deferens vibrating intensely.

Suddenly, I heard a woman's tearful plea: "Stop! I'm going to die!" It wasn't an affair;
a woman was being violated! I had to intervene! I had to protect the weak! Adrenaline surged through my veins.
The passion to protect the weak churned within me, a surge of personal heroism bursting within me. My blood boiled, and without
thinking, I dropped Yongjiu and rushed into the next cubicle. Upon entering the scene, I was stunned—the perpetrators were a large group.

There were probably seven or eight of them; some were squatting, some standing, some kneeling; some were bald, some had
tattoos; some were shirtless, some had their pants pulled down to their knees; each one had a ferocious expression, and they were all older than me.
I glimpsed a woman being surrounded and torn apart among them, naked, with fair skin,
curled up and shivering on the gray cement floor, her face streaked with tears. The men were engrossed in their act, and
suddenly turned to face me, their eyes fierce and venomous. Thick sweat swirled and vaporized in the air;
a massacre was imminent, and the outcome was already clear before it even began—I would be killed.

Simple-minded as I was, how could I have imagined facing so many wolves at once? I stood there, frozen, unsure what to do.
My instinct was to retreat, but instead, I uttered an incredibly authoritative question: "What are you doing?" Less than a second later, a heavy punch
landed on my face. It was a beastly straight punch, lightning fast and incredibly precise. It was so fast I didn't even see which
bastard threw it. The force was so great I felt like I wasn't being punched, but rather being hit by a truck.

With a loud "thud," my body flew backward. Teeth and tears flew everywhere, blood mingling with the sky.
I was like a teddy bear being flung through the air. Before landing, I felt someone slam my head hard from behind,
aiding and abetting the evildoer. Later I learned there was no one behind me. My head had hit a concrete pillar. The whole thing took
only half a second; there was no time to think, no time to make any self-defense movements, and I found myself sitting
on the concrete.

My head throbbed, my lips throbbed, my gums throbbed, my neck throbbed, and my mouth was filled with a metallic, salty substance.
The air around me seemed to freeze, emitting a peculiar, metallic smell. It was the smell of blood. Hot blood gushed out from different
parts of my body, and a lot of blood choked back into my throat. I tried to cough but couldn't.

A jumble of footsteps approached me rapidly. My vision was blurred, blood was everywhere, and I couldn't see anything else.
I barely managed to lift my buzzing head and realized that several dark figures were approaching me. None of them spoke,
and they didn't address each other. They were very tacit and seemed to be veterans.

I struggled to get up and run away, but found that my hair was being fiercely grabbed. A knife flashed before my eyes. The
knife was black and very practical. It didn't have any pretentious glitter, no extra fancy curves, and
no jewels. I knew that the butcher was about to dissect the ox, and my time was up.

At the critical moment, I heard the humiliated woman shout angrily. I was in so much pain that I was about to die. She
shouted very quickly, and I didn't hear what she said. I only heard a jumble of footsteps. Then it was quiet.
There was no sound at all.

(2)

Excruciating pain. Excruciating pain. I forced my eyes open and found that the deadly killers around me had all left. Now,
only the woman and I remained in the basement. I struggled to my feet, feeling dizzy and lightheaded
. My head was buzzing. I leaned against a concrete pillar, straining to keep my eyes half-open.

The woman was already sitting up, looking at me. She was naked, sitting on the concrete floor in
the same pose as the Little Mermaid statue in Copenhagen. The concrete floor beside her was covered with messy footprints. Her shoulders and thighs had smooth lines.
Upon closer inspection, her face and neck were marked with age rings, probably five or six, and she wasn't particularly attractive. She was covered in dust and tears, her
forehead was bruised, her eyes were swollen, her nose was bleeding, and her lips were swollen. Her hair was disheveled
and covered in dirt. She had multiple bruises and abrasions on her face, shoulders, and back, indicating that she had been badly injured. She
had many boot marks on her stomach and arms, indicating she'd been not only beaten but also kicked, or trampled on.
The hero-saves-the-damsel stories I've heard are always so romantic: the rescued woman is beautiful, then throws herself into his arms, then they pay respects to the elders, consummate the marriage, and
happily marry. Was it just their wishful thinking, or was I just unlucky?

"You shouldn't have been so reckless," I remembered. I'd seen her before at my aunt's house; she was my aunt's neighbor and
a mahjong partner. I wasn't familiar with her, only knowing her surname was Zheng, and that I'd met her once or twice, both times fully clothed, so I only
recognized . Facing a naked old woman, I didn't have time to think about anything else; my biggest worry was that the group of men would
come back. I struggled to stand up, trying three times to get up while holding onto a concrete pillar, but couldn't. She came over naked
and helped me up, asking, "Can you walk?"

At a time like this, I had to walk, no matter what. I'd only escaped with my life; if those guys came back, I'd definitely be
dead. Panting and shivering, I followed her out, glancing at the ground. There were only messy
footprints , no clothes. She said, "They took my clothes." I took off my jacket and gave it to her.
She took it and put it on; it was too big, wobbly, and her legs were bare. It would do.

She said, "Take me upstairs. I'll return your clothes when I get home." Okay. I'd help her all the way, see her home.
I nodded, cautiously scanning my surroundings as I moved out. Thankfully, there were only bicycles around.
Nobody was there. The real, excruciating pain came one after another, sawing and scraping at my nerve plexus.

I was soaked in sweat from the pain, and I was swaying more and more as I walked, barely managing to move my feet. She pulled me by the arm and helped me up. The ground
in front of was shaking, the bicycle was shaking, and my vision was blurred.

(3)

The excruciating pain tormented me to the point of almost fainting. On the eve of my collapse, I only remember that I was in pain all over my body,
so much so that my toes were trembling.

I followed her, staggering, into the building and climbed and climbed. I struggled to climb the stairs. The stairwell was dark. She pulled me by
the hand and led me forward. We finally arrived. The room number was 404. The door seemed to be unlocked. She pushed it open, and
a strange smell hit me. It was slightly pungent and slightly salty. In short, the air in the room was not fresh, as if the windows had never been
opened and there was expired smoked fish in the house. I followed her into the room and sure enough, I saw that all the windows were closed. The furnishings in the room were simple, and
the layout was different from my aunt's house. The water in the fish tank was murky, and seven or eight goldfish floated in it, all dead
.

She calmly said to me, "There's no one else at home. Have a seat. I'll take a shower first."

I was puzzled and blurted out, "Aren't you going to call the police?"

She seemed even more puzzled and asked me back, "Call the police? Call what? I'll take care of it for you in a bit."

I said, "I'm not calling the police. I'm saying you should call the police."

She said nonchalantly, "Me? Hey, this is no big deal. It's nothing."

Huh? She'd been gang-raped by seven or eight men, and she didn't even seem to care? What kind of person is this?

At this moment, she looked at me as she began to unbutton her shirt, her movements natural and her expression open.
The buttons on my shirt she was wearing were quickly undone. I saw her skin. She took off the shirt with both hands, placed it
on the stool next to her, looked at me again, and asked, "Are you eighteen?"

At the time, I didn't understand why she asked me that. I told her the truth: "I'm nineteen."

She smiled faintly, lightly poked my shoulder with her right index finger, and asked, "Do you have a girlfriend?" How
ambiguous ! My heart warmed, and I answered truthfully, "I've had four, but not now."

She smiled, as if she saw through everything in the world, and suddenly reached out, grabbed my hand, and
shoved it between her legs. Caught off guard, I touched her vulva—wet, covered in sticky fluid, slippery, a complete mess. It was
the semen of those men. I felt a little nauseous and tried to pull my hand away, but I couldn't.
She was holding my hand. I was startled and quickly looked up at her, finding her half-smiling, looking into my eyes, asking,
"Do you like it?"

I completely fainted. I was beaten up for trying to be a hero, and ten minutes later, I was harassed by an old woman. I stood there shirtless,
my hand forced against her hot vulva.

My fingertips were forced to touch a dirty vulva that had just been violated. My face was hot, definitely red. She smiled
and said, "Don't be nervous, young man. Women are all the same."

As she spoke, she reached over and touched my crotch. Despite the pain from my head wound, my penis was still erect. At the same time,
she moved closer to me, her lips near my ear, and softly murmured to herself, "Tsk tsk, so hard, you're a good
young man ."

I tried to pull my hand away again, but I couldn't. She held my hand tightly. Her semen
kept flowing onto my hand. Her other hand touched my penis through my pants. I felt my penis getting even
harder, like a branding iron, and I wanted to do something stupid. Then I heard her whisper in my ear, "You know what? I had eight orgasms in
the basement . If you hadn't gone in and ruined my plans—"

My mind went blank, and I didn't understand what she meant by "plans." I clearly remembered her cries. Her
life was being threatened. How could I ruin her plans by rushing in?

Her eyes were on me, and she raised the hand that had been touching my penis, gently placing it to my lips. I stared into her
eyes and instinctively kissed her hand. It was weathered, with thin, raised lines on the back. Veins or bony veins? Who knew?

She pulled down my pants and underwear, pulled me into the cramped bathroom, and gave me a bath, washing away the blood.
My head throbbed, but I knew my penis was still erect. The tip of the iron rod inappropriately stuck out,
making me feel embarrassed. She also washed herself, her breasts swaying and making me dizzy;
the veins under her skin were pale blue-green, winding and twisting. Seeing me staring naked at her, she asked, "Never
bathed like this with your mother before?"

I answered truthfully, "No… I don't remember."

She comforted me, saying, "It's alright. Child, you're doing the right thing. Those who don't react are dead."

After the bath, standing by the table, she dried me off and then applied medicine to my naked body. The medicine residue was dark
, but it smelled wonderful. The pain lessened somewhat.

While applying medicine to my wounds, she chatted with me: "Were you just being brave or just curious?"

I said, "Of course, it was bravery."

She smiled slightly and blew out a breath: "It's okay to be curious."

Who exactly was she? Why didn't she care about being gang-raped? Why did she say I ruined her plans? Why
was it okay for me to be curious? More and more questions arose. I became increasingly confused by this old woman, completely bewildered. Suddenly,
she hugged me and kissed me. My heart raced, becoming severely arrhythmic. I had held hands,
kissed, and even had sex with my girlfriend before, but all of that was based on feelings. Today, suddenly being attacked by this old woman, I
was completely bewildered. I pushed her away and looked her up and down. Did she have a boyfriend? Was this a honey trap?

She smiled at me and said, "Young man, you're trembling so much. Relax. It's okay." I
tried to relax, but it didn't work.

Suddenly, I wanted to be aggressive, but I didn't know where to start, so I casually asked her how old she was. She replied that she was seventy-three.
My God! She was older than my great-aunt. I felt a bit resistant. It seemed I had underestimated her age. Women
are always deceptive. Women are always older than they look. What you see is just an illusion.

She asked me, "Have you ever had sex?" She seemed relaxed, but her cleavage was obvious. I didn't back down and nodded, saying,
"Of course."

She immediately said, "Then why are you so flustered? Is it really necessary? Do you think I'm too old?"

I said, "No...no."

She said, "What are you afraid of, you big guy? I won't get pregnant again, and I won't bother you. I just like
young guys, I like your bodies."

As she spoke, she touched my hot iron head. The hot iron head straightened even more. My blood was rushing, my whole body was hard, and I was about to get a little dizzy.
I tentatively asked her, "What did your husband do for a living?"

She replied, "He died of leukemia. Sigh, don't even mention it. His daughter-in-law slipped and fell while taking a bath..."
"He smashed a mirror and died. My son strained while pooping and died in the latrine. They say it's a stroke. Anyway
, my family is getting smaller and smaller, maybe I'm a jinx? Maybe this is all karma? Come on, have some pity
on this crazy old woman."

As she spoke, she pulled my hand and put it around her shoulder, letting me hug her. Her body was slightly cool, and
she wriggled . Suddenly having such a strange female body in my arms felt very uncomfortable. I still wanted to figure out who she was and
what she wanted. I asked, "You just said I ruined your plans? What plans?"

She said, "Oh, you don't know, actually, when they were doing that to me, I felt really good. I genuinely liked
it . Now I feel terrible! I really want a big dick to fuck me. It's so hard to find those strongmen, sigh
... you know what? It's normal for women my age to have sexual desires. They all say I'm sick, but I think
they're the ones who are sick." Women my age often have very strong desires, but it's rare for an old lady to talk
about it. Actually, I'm conflicted too. I know it's wrong, it's not good, but I can't stop. Sexual
satisfaction is the most important thing to me, the most important thing in my life.
I'd pay any price for sex. At first, I couldn't accept myself. I was so confused, how could there be
such ? Later, I calmed down and told myself, there really are sluts like me in the world.”

I asked, “You mean you actually like being gang-raped?”

She smiled at me frankly and said, “That's right, I like that feeling, I like that excitement. I
know I have a problem. I can't explain it clearly. Anyway, I just like many men taking turns with me, or having them do it to me at the same time.
Maybe I'm just a masochistic type of woman.” The old woman smiled, her face wrinkling even more. She pulled my hand
to touch her breasts. Under my fingertips, her nipples were swollen and erect.

I said, “After your husband left, didn't you look for someone else?” "

She said, 'Silly child, of course I looked, but it's not that easy. I'm sexually frustrated. When I can't get satisfaction, I
feel unbearable. Sometimes I go to the park in the evening and lift my skirt in front of strange men, letting them watch me touch myself. It's quite
exciting , really. If you cast aside all the hypocritical preaching, you'll find that you can get the most comfortable, most enjoyable, and
most beautiful feeling. I love watching porn, I love watching men's penises, I love watching men's fingers rubbing a woman's
clitoris .'

I stupidly said, 'That's not normal.'

She still calmly said, 'Tell me, who has the right to define whether I am 'normal' or '
abnormal '?'

That question stunned me.

She continued, 'When I was seventeen, I was gang-raped, and I ended up liking that feeling, that feeling of being rubbed and ravaged by many men
at the same time . I was embarrassed and couldn't hold my head up, but the feeling got stronger and stronger,
making you upset and unable to do anything. I didn't get into university because of this.'" Later, I went to the library to look
it up and learned that my condition is called "female promiscuity." I'm sick. But where did this illness come from? If
our society allowed women to have sex with men freely, allowed women to openly seek out men, and seek out many, many men, would
I still have this kind of "illness"? Is what I have really an "illness"? I don't know, but from
the words I can tell that the person who came up with this name is a man. I want to know, how can men have the right to give us women a
"disease" name? I looked down at her. She

was a clever and hardworking woman. Her lips were soft, clearly shaped, and beautiful, with
some fine vertical wrinkles, not very deep. Her eyes held a lot of emotions, clearly howling,
all . Her thighs were pale, her skin smooth. Her vagina was so slippery it made me hard. I had never noticed before
that an old woman could make me hard. Now, being held by this woman, she was older, but who cared? This was a vagina,
I was lustful to her; I was voluptuous to her; I was hard to her; she wanted me; she was wet to me. Could I have sex with her? Yes, I could. It was that
simple. I tried to shake off the brainwashing I had received and prepared to "be a beast for once."

She pulled my hand to touch her vagina again. The mucus on the surface of her vagina had been washed and dried, but it was still
soft.

She pressed her face against mine, breathing hot air into my ear and whispering, "Are you excited? Do you want to fuck me? Come on, fuck me.
Really. It's okay. Fuck me hard." "I'm so itchy down there, I want you to fuck my cunt. I really want to.
Fuck me now. It's so itchy!"

She lay naked on the table. I held her naked buttocks and licked her cunt, making her writhe on the table like
a hundred-pound fish that had come ashore, her plump breasts swaying back and forth. I licked her vulva, my tongue probing into her opening.
She moaned and pulled my hand up to her breasts, saying, "Rub me here!" I grasped her breasts,
slightly cool, soft, and moist.

She said, "Say dirty words to me! I love to hear them!"

I rubbed her breasts while saying, "Bitch!"

She excitedly said, "Yes, I really am a bitch. I've sold myself, it relieved my hornyness and made money."

I pinched her breasts while saying to her, "You're such a slut!"

She pressed my head and said, "Yes! My cunt is so itchy~ it's all wet down there. I'm an old slut,
an old whore." "

I pressed the hard, thick branding iron tip against her slippery vulva and interrogated her: 'You shameless old woman, how much do you sell yourself for?'

She said, 'I've sold myself for fifty yuan, twenty yuan, I've sold myself before. The third time I sold myself, the buyer was a man in his thirties.
I was wet down there, slippery inside, and his big, thick penis slid right in. I didn't feel any pain. His penis was
so hard. He was very manly, he even made me dizzy. Later, after reading some reports about diseases, I was terrified and dared not
go out to sell myself anymore. But my vulva is so itchy! It's excruciatingly itchy. I feel uncomfortable all over.'" "

At this point, she got up, and I lay on the table. She started stroking my penis, giving me oral sex while she masturbated me.
I couldn't take it anymore. My penis became hard, throbbing. The bow was taut, the arrow on the string,
ready to be released . I got up, naked, and squatted on the table. She gave me handjobs with her left hand and scratched my anus with her right,
continuing to say, 'The less men I have, the more I think about men. My thoughts become weirder and scarier. I think about many men,
trying to do me in different ways, ravaging me, cursing me while fucking me, calling me a slut. I can only do it myself, playing with myself
in different ways. I want to be fucked, fucked, fucked by many dicks, gang
-raped by a group of men! I think about it every day!'

I pinched her pussy. She said, 'Oh, my pussy is so itchy and wet right now. I want you to
fuck me, fuck me hard~' I looked at her, thinking, how can a woman still be this slutty after menopause?"

I thrust the branding iron inside. Her vagina was slippery. The branding iron felt like a fish in water; she writhed even more wildly, and our swearing
became even more unrestrained. I increased the pace of my thrusts while slapping her soft ass and cursing her: "You filthy woman, you slut!"
Her moans began to sound like cries: "Mmm~ I like it!"

I watched her face contort in pain, watched her large breasts bounce up and down as I fucked her. As I
fucked her, I heard her crying and moaning, begging for mercy: "Ouch~ I'm going to die! Stop fucking me~ Ouch~" To
me, this pleas were pure moaning. This was my Achilles' heel. I'm very sensitive to sounds. That drawn-out, exaggerated
"Ouch~" triggered me, because to me, it was a provocation, a blatant moan of pleasure.

Suddenly, she pushed my shoulders with both hands, making me stop, and got up, asking, "How about we switch to doggy style?" I said yes.
She got up and knelt on the chair by the table, spreading her buttocks with her hands, revealing her small brown anus. That was her
anus for defecating. I thrust into her hot cunt from behind, using my hand to stimulate her anus while fucking her.

She panted, saying, "This position is more satisfying. It relieves the itch and the craving. It's easier for my cock to hit my
G-spot. I used to do this all the time when my son fucked me."

She knelt on the chair, naked with her legs bent, swaying her hips back and forth and side to side as she was being fucked,
eagerly and willingly responding to me. Her old cunt was lying like this, completely exposing her slutty pussy, which looked incredibly stimulating and felt
amazing to fuck. As I fucked her, I slapped her ass hard, a beastly sense of conquest churning within me. She sighed,
twisting her ass and clamping her cunt, going wild. Her slutness and her cheapness shocked me. I grabbed
her hair from behind, pulling it as I fucked her while cursing, "Slut! I'll fuck you to death!"

I think the real advantage of the "doggy style" for men is that if the woman's upper body isn't attractive, it's
more comfortable to fuck her while she's lying on her stomach, and it's even better if her back and ass are pleasing to the eye. Furthermore, the man could simultaneously penetrate
her vagina and stimulate her anus, even slapping her buttocks forcefully to enhance his sense of male dominance.

I had my thumb shoved deep into her anus. Suddenly, I felt a surge of heat in my testicles and thighs. She had urinated.
Her back muscles stiffened, her buttocks stiffened, her thighs stiffened. Her vagina had climaxed. I pressed my advantage, my
red-hot penis thrusting vigorously in her vaginal canal, making a gurgling, wet sound.

She said, "Deeper, deeper. Come on, fill me with your semen! I love semen, I love the fishy smell."

I wanted to see her face, to see her slutty appearance. I stopped and let her get on the bed. She obediently got on the bed, lying flat
and waiting for me. My steps felt light, I was so excited. Actually, there's only a thin veil between men and women.
Before doing that, it's very strict. After doing that, it's completely different. It's transparent. It's open. Her
face was rosy and glowing, truly, her cheekbones radiated a distinct light.

I climbed on top of her, placed my hands on her ears, cupped her face, looked at her, kissed her lips,
touched her breasts, and stimulated her vulva. It felt so good. Was this what life was like for a goddess?

This old slut told me she liked being brutally humiliated by men. There were many electrical wires in the corners and on the floor of her house; apparently, she had a unique
taste . I picked up a copper wire from the floor and tied her hands behind her back. Then I picked up
a light bulb from the floor beside the bed and stuffed it into her mouth. Her mouth was small, and her jaw opening angle was relatively small, so inserting the bulb was a lot of effort; I almost
dislocated her jaw. As soon as it was in, her face immediately tightened and stretched. I turned on the switch. The bulb lit
up . She was extremely terrified, afraid to close her mouth, lest she bite the bulb and break it. At the same time, the heat from the bulb was scorching
the inside of her mouth. It was a chilling scene, performance art.

I spread her knees and slapped her wet vulva. She held the bulb in her mouth, sobbing and whimpering.
The more she cried, the harder my penis became. I shoved my right middle finger into her vagina. It was wet and hot inside. I had
nine orgasms in total. This was a slutty cunt, no mercy needed. I masturbated her harder, and she actually spread her
knees and thrust her cunt forward to meet my hand.

I inserted my index finger and, together with my middle finger, ravaged her G-spot. I stood in front of her, fucking her while
gazing at her tear-streaked face. How beautiful! A light bulb was stuck in her mouth, she couldn't swallow it or spit it out;
bright tears streamed down her face, falling horizontally, vertically, and diagonally; snot gushed from her nose,
but her hands were tied behind her back, so she couldn't wipe it and could only let the snot flow into her mouth. I tilted my head and listened to her
sobs and moans, the soft sounds stimulating me to secrete more adrenaline. I masturbated her even harder,
my fingers feeling her vaginal canal contracting with her sobs. My fingertips were already touching her soft cervix. The supple
little ball had a small hole in the middle, as if it were sucking my ravaging fingers deeper and deeper.

My outer hand gripped her breast, while my right middle and index fingers continued to ravage her vagina. Inadvertently,
my thumb swept between her clitoris and vulva, and I noticed her whole body shudder violently—
a tremor originating from deep within her spinal cord. That must be her urethra. It seems my old vagina has many erogenous zones. My thumb began to dig hard into her urethra
. She shuddered all over, and her nasal passages emitted louder moans.

I looked at her wet eyes while my thumb slowly kneaded her wet urethra.
More . My thumb slowly inserted into her loosened urethra. Her eyebrows rose, and her pupils began to dilate.
Beads of sweat covered her forehead. I vigorously masturbated her vagina and urethra while blowing air into her eyes.
Her nostrils flared violently, the large light bulb still dangling from her mouth, drool and snot flowing freely down her face— she
looked like a complete slut.

I made her kneel by the bed, and I held her, ravaging her. She
writhed subtly thrusting her hips and groping me, opening her gates to lure me in. I massaged her
smooth back with my left hand. Her back was slightly thin, and my left hand touched her ribs, spine, and shoulder blades. I pried the light bulb out of her mouth,
forcing her to utter obscene words as I did so.

I touched her mouth and asked, "What's this called?"

She replied, "This is my bread and butter."

I rubbed her cunt and asked, "What's this called?"

Tears streaming down her face, she replied, "This is my thing to be fucked."

She cried and repeated, as I instructed, "I'm a slutty cunt, I'm a stinky pussy." Her voice was full of desire,
her eyes filled with "Fuck me."

A large amount of watery, stringy fluid gushed from her cunt, clear and stretchy, like aloe vera juice. I masturbated her old cunt again. The old
woman moaned intensely, quickly reaching another climax.

I picked up a 60-centimeter Harbin red sausage and used it on her, imagining the sausage going in and out of my hand.
The thought of Harbin sausage pounding through her cunt and uterus made my blood boil. Looking down, I saw her
cunt tightly gripping the sausage, like a wrinkled, greedy, drooping mouth, with cloudy white fluid leaking from the corners,
flowing down the sausage and quickly onto my hand. The old cunt's vigorous slutness was evident.

I gripped the Harbin sausage and pounded her even harder. She gasped and groaned, quickly escalating into screams. I slapped her
lower abdomen; her skin was covered in sweat, the sound crisp and clear. Looking at the old cunt
on the bed , her face changed drastically, her lips trembled, beads of sweat rolled down her face, her eyes half-open, half-closed, her face
half-crying, half-smiling. Only one sound remained: "Eek~". It's said that people in paradise or near death
behave this way. This scene felt somewhat supernatural to me. Her scream suddenly rose in pitch, then abruptly stopped. Her
body stiffened, her mouth opened, she neither breathed nor exhaled, her toes curled fiercely, drained of color, and turned ashen.

I continued to violate her cunt with the Harbin sausage while masturbating her clitoris, my lust brutal and
unrestrained , like a perverted butcher roughly rubbing a dead pig's nipples. A miracle occurred; the dead pig was brought back to life, her eyes gleaming,
her face flushed, biting her lower lip, and she began thrusting her hips upwards again. Her old cunt regained
its vitality. Like a parched land driven mad. It's said that famine refugees can eat themselves to death upon seeing relief buns. I pulled the Harbin sausage

from her cunt, seeing it completely coated in the sticky fluid secreted by her aroused state
. I swung the sausage at her face and at her nipples. I struck her cruelly. She trembled all over, the slapped
areas quickly turning red and swollen. She lay on the bed, spreading her legs towards me, like a female animal
flirting with a male on a grassy slope. I thrust into her. One thrust! And another! She groaned loudly and painfully, twisting
her waist, but her legs didn't close, clearly barefoot on a razor, ready to climax again at any moment. Her sensual pleasure continued.
She said she liked being tortured. Her favorite fantasy was that she was a female martyr who had been arrested.

I shoved that Harbin red sausage vertically into her vagina. She tilted her head back as if she were holding a penis in her mouth, looking up at the sky.
I inserted three fingers of my right hand into her vagina and immediately felt her swollen G-spot, bigger than a ping-pong ball, its surface
covered with small, bayberry-like bumps. I kneaded that tough, fleshy ping-pong ball hard. Another gush of hot urine
gushed from her urethra, heading straight for my face. She burst into tears.

Seeing her cunt squirting up close, I desperately pried open her vulva, my cock thrusting into her slippery opening,
penetrating her sticky cunt. The entrance was slippery, the inside wet and sticky, like a cave filled with snot. That was our
happy nest. Fluids were secreting. Organs were rubbing against each other. Here rubbing against there, mine against hers. Sticky and non-sticky
liquids, seeping from various parts. Clearly tired and wanting to ejaculate, yet stubbornly holding back. Should have ejaculated,
should have ejaculated, but gritted his teeth and wouldn't, just like Chinese football. Her cunt had clearly orgasmed multiple times, her organs
red and swollen from being fucked, yet she continued to beg for pleasure. An old car uses a lot of fuel, an old cunt uses a lot of men, that's true.

Her lips were trembling violently, looking particularly pleasing to the eye. That was her cunt about to contract, that was the female captive about
to "fall." What? What did she seem to be saying? I leaned down at her, pulled the Harbin
sausage , and pressed my ear close to her trembling old mouth. I vaguely heard her
moaning in a barely audible, hoarse low voice, "Fuck me! Torture me! Fuck my urethra~"

Without mercy, I shoved my penis into her urethra, into her gaping urethra, and began to brutally fuck her. The old
cunt went silent, her body limp, seemingly exhausted.

I withdrew my penis and looked down. Her urethra, which I had brutally abused, was still open, like a pink trumpet flower,
soft and wet. I was bewitched and inserted my fingers again. The old cunt awoke, trembling and crying. I
fucked her deeper, faster, and harder, like wielding a dagger.

She gasped and sighed, like a breeding animal. This beastly sound drove me mad, making me completely
addicted to the animal world. Her screams and cries suddenly stopped, white foam came out of her mouth, and she urinated again. I knew
she had reached her climax again. The old woman screamed, arched her back against the headboard, her limbs twitched, her eyes rolled back,
white foam and she lost control of her bladder. Anyone who didn't know better would be startled, thinking she had a seizure.

I inserted my penis into her urethra again, nine shallow thrusts followed by one deep one, fucking for a while and then resting. During the rest, I turned her
body to the side, pressing hard on her hips while picking at her navel. Every time I picked at it, she cried out. I
enjoyed the cries I made. Picking for a while, fucking for a while, fucking for a while, picking at it for a while.

When I increased the force, I gripped her hip joint tightly while moving, three circles to the left and three circles to the right, looking from a distance like someone
doing gymnastics on a pommel horse.

I grabbed her right ankle, held it firmly, and licked her toes and soles while fucking her. The places I licked were
slightly salty, from the salt in her sweat. Her toes weren't ordinary long; each toe was almost the length of a finger.
She cried and said to me, "I can't take it anymore! Just fuck me to death!" I said, "Okay, I'll grant your wish!" I fucked
her fiercely. In my eyes, the person being fucked beneath me was the person I hated most. This shameless slut exposed
her secret hole to me; she was being wanton, horny, and aroused.

She was bound, turning her head to look at me, her eyes wet, filled with deep sorrow. I tickled the soles of her bare feet. Her soles were damp
, covered in sweat. Every time I tickled her soles, her whole body trembled, and her urethra tightened.

I fucked her urethra—that horny sac—with my cock. Her moans were heart-wrenching. I didn't care.
I controlled the rhythm, using slow, drawn-out movements to fuck her chafed, swollen urethra, while simultaneously masturbating her clitoris.
That clitoris was taut and erect, supple and unyielding, using softness to overcome hardness, like a nipple wanting to be a cock. Her body,
from head to toe, glistened with a wet sheen. She was soaked in sweat. Every pore on her body was now
oozing moisture.

She cried and moaned with her eyes closed, "It's torn inside! You've ruined me~" I gritted my teeth and thrust harder into her
. She was so wet, and I was using too much force, that my penis slipped out. I pressed against her clitoris. My penis was wet, hot,
and twitching, pressed tightly against her slutty scrotum. The piston was burning hot at both ends. We were both panting, as if we were about to die.

I thrust back in, and her old cunt immediately came back to life, like a toy that had suddenly been electrified. Her panting and moaning
resumed instantly, the trembling even more intense. My testicular cells were aroused and violent, and my testosterone levels skyrocketed
. Looking at this horny old cunt beneath me, a sudden impulse welled up inside me—I just didn't want to be human anymore. I grabbed her neck with one hand
, my thumb pressing down on her trachea and esophagus. She began thrusting her hips wildly, excitedly responding to me. I
looked her. Her expression gradually changed, her moans altered, and the bladder neck gripping my penis began to spasm and contract.
She was thoroughly enjoying it. She hissed sharply through her throat, "Just strangle me already!" These words stirred her soft-hearted
pity , excited Sade, and fueled the perverted piston's rage.

The piston was now burning hot, relentlessly pounding her wet, sticky crotch. The more I fucked, the more frantically I squeezed her throat,
the sensation like squeezing a washing machine hose. My penis felt her bladder sphincter spasming wildly. Suddenly, I felt a tingling, numb sensation
in my penis , spine, and even the back of my head—the irreversible process had begun. My penis, like a raging cobra,
repeatedly rammed into that horny, fleshy orifice. She cried even harder, her voice hoarse, the last syllable heart-wrenching, mournful, and
devastating .

I ejaculated into her horny scrotum. In that furious moment, it felt like I wasn't shooting semen, but bullets.
Bullets whistled, hurtling towards this damned world. Only after I finished did I realize I had almost strangled her. Her face was bluish-purple,
her body convulsing—a pitiful sight, evoking sympathy.

After ejaculating, I withdrew. As I pulled my penis out, I noticed she seemed dazed, exhibiting a pathological lethargy. Her
urethra had been widened further, revealing pink abrasions; the inner wall of her urethra was turned inside out, wet and
glistening , and the urethra was still contracting, with my yellowish-white pus oozing from its center.

I untied the wire binding her wrists. Her old cunt relaxed completely, lying there motionless, utterly paralyzed,
like a broken toy. Her body was covered in sweat. The sweat formed a thin layer of water on her skin.
Two bodies lay across the bed; the ejaculation was over, and she was completely at ease. I noticed her face was even pinker and redder, glowing with a sly
light. I was surprised to find that almost all the wrinkles on her face had disappeared, her eyes were bigger, and she looked
twenty years younger.

Actually, every woman is the same; she has several cavities, and you want to penetrate them. You painstakingly penetrate and
ejaculate inside, feeling incredibly powerful, elated, and blissfully happy. But all you've really done is fuck a fleshy tube. You've
merely discharged a tiny bit of your filth into some woman's tube. For millions of years, men have been so infatuated with women,
with the folds and creases of their bodies, with the mucous membranes deep within those folds. To penetrate that particular
tube , men scheme and plot, some driven to madness, some bankrupted; some imprisoned, some
forever infamous—all miracles of self-destruction in the animal kingdom.

[The End]

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