harlots and children

Zeng Liangsheng was very perceptive. Noticing the worry in his mother's expression, he quickly asked, "Mom, is there a thief?" He worried that someone might be trying to steal something in the chaos. His family was poor, and everything was a necessity. If they ran out, they would have to buy more, adding to his widowed mother's burden. In his young mind, he had already thought that he was a man, and what kind of man wouldn't share his mother's worries?
"No, no. You might have misheard. Maybe it was a neighbor. Let's not cause trouble, okay?" Mulan pulled him into the room and closed the door.
Under the dim light, Mulan, dressed in plain white, had slightly furrowed brows. Her delicate hands were warm and her breath was sweet and fragrant, making her look pitiful. Zeng Liangsheng didn't dare to look closely, but the fragrance made the fourteen-year-old even more unbearable. He cursed himself inwardly for being shameless and immoral. How could he have such wicked thoughts about his own mother? It was truly an act of defiance against all moral principles.
"Mom, you rest first, I'm going to take a shower." Zeng Liangsheng hurriedly grabbed his spare clothes and tried to leave.
"No, Liangsheng, you can shower here. Mom will boil some water for you." Mulan suddenly felt scared for some reason and didn't want to be alone in the room. She took a hot water dispenser from the drawer and put it in the thermos, then opened a box of Lux soap. "Use this to wash yourself; it'll help you avoid mosquito bites."
Zeng Liangsheng said "Okay," looking at his mother's delicate face. "Mom, why don't you go to sleep first? I want to read some more after I shower."
Mulan nodded and stopped talking. She turned to make the bed. A slightly worn sheet embroidered with the words "Dragon and Phoenix Bring Auspiciousness" covered the ebony bed. She unfolded it, folded it into a square, and put it in the wooden box.
The weather was getting warmer, and even in the middle of the night, it was no longer chilly. One blanket was enough. She slowly took a new blanket from the wooden chest, held it in her hand, pondered for a long time, and then closed the chest lid.
Zeng Liangsheng stared intently at his mother's slender figure, knowing that this new blanket was for him. It was his mother's only dowry, which she had always been reluctant to use, often keeping it in the chest. Every year, she would take it out to air it in the sun before putting it back, saying it was to prevent it from getting moldy.
Raindrops pattered on the red banana leaves outside the window, making a metallic sound, intense and rich, adding a touch of life to the dark night. Mulan glanced at her son's bare upper body; though thin, it exuded a vibrant energy, brimming with hope and longing for the future.
Zeng Liangsheng knew his mother was watching him. He felt a strange current emanating from the pores of his skin, itchy and quite pleasant, like swimming in the gentlest waters, the joy of a fish! A hint of fleshy scent filled the air…
It was a subtle, keen stimulation, a bewitching allure beyond beauty, a vibrant assault.
Then, he heard his mother's soft sigh, gentle and tender like a flower's stamen. He slowly turned around, his eyes meeting hers, and he was instantly jolted, as if struck by a colorful dart. His vision blurred with a fiery red, a jet of black, like thick, inky liquid, or a cascade of golden honey, tinged with the color of cream…
Mulan gazed at her son's increasingly mature face, and sighed again, “Asheng, go to sleep after you've washed up. It's already late. A day or two won't matter if you miss a day of studying.”
His mother's voice—clear, elegant, and alluring—instantly made his mouth dry and his breath catch in his throat. He stood there, stunned, forgetting to put on his clothes, standing there in only his shorts. His mother's dark, loose hair fell over her shoulders, her beautiful dimples were red, and her eyes shone with a honeyed glow, vibrant and fiery, like an impressionistic painting of Olympia.
"Okay, I'll be right there," Zeng Liang replied hesitantly, his heart pounding like a frog in a pond, creating a huge ripple.
In truth, Mulan's heart was also churning with a beastly turmoil. Her uncle's rude teasing had stirred up the desires buried deep within her, violently shaking the reefs of her life. On the edge of her struggle between thought and desire, she seemed to be intentionally, unintentionally, waiting for the arrival of the god of joy… Her son
, like a magical ray of light, had dispelled her sleepiness, destined her to be unable to sleep tonight. But, but, but she couldn't! This growing shadow would forever accompany her to the end of her life. She was destined to live a life of quiet desolation, cloaked in the guise of morality, far removed from the joyous sounds and songs of celebration.
She slowly closed her eyes. At that moment, her son was washing his genitals, which shone like the morning sun. She could imagine how much his erect penis yearned for penetration and conquest. The room was dimly lit, and he appeared more imposing in the shadows than usual. The stark contrast between light and shadow, the somber light and the serene darkness, shimmered with an inexplicable allure.
Could I truly be a harlot? My husband had just passed away, and I inexplicably had these erotic thoughts, even directed at my own son.
Rainy days often weighed heavily on the mind. I remembered that day, on a similar day, my husband held me, his hard penis thrusting deeply into my vagina, the surging waves of his semen washing against the walls of my vulva. That night, there was sound.
True sorrow resided within my heart, difficult to confide in others. For years, Mulan had grown accustomed to silent contemplation in the still of the night. Her mother was a woman from a minority group, her delicate body carrying half the blood of an Oroqen woman, a primal wildness permeating her soul. Yet, she inherited more of her father's restraint and gentleness, lacking her mother's strong and straightforward personality.
Therefore, Mulan was sentimental. The falling autumn leaves, the snowflakes of the north, the buzzing of flies in the corner—all these things could fill her with sorrow.
Soon, Zeng Liangsheng finished his bath, picked up the basin, and splashed water out the window. Turning back, he saw his mother with her eyes closed, seemingly having passed away. Under the orange lamplight, his mother's peace was tinged with sadness; her slightly downturned lips shone with a poignant beauty, and her pristine face was etched with a silent weariness. She really needed to rest.
In the quiet night, the rain pattered like thunder, interspersed with the sounds of Zeng Liangsheng tossing and turning. The wooden plank beneath him creaked under his weight.
"Ah Sheng, can't sleep? The plank is hard. Why don't you come and sleep on the bed?" Mulan wasn't actually asleep. Her thoughts, like the raindrops drifting outside the window, were a continuous, drizzling rain, a painful curtain covering her entire world. How could she possibly sleep peacefully?
“Hmm, Mom…no need, I was just thinking about Dad, about the future…” Zeng Liang’s voice was hoarse, his eyes bloodshot. Insomnia made his mind wander. He felt a mix of frustration and inexplicable melancholy.
“Come on, this bed is bigger and warmer…” Mulan shifted her position, her soft body turning to her right, her slightly bent waist exuding a sensual charm.
Her son’s body was heavy; the ebony bed responded immediately, then the blanket covering him was partially lifted, and he slipped in.
“Why didn’t you bring the blanket?” Mulan chided.
“I’m more used to the old blanket,” Zeng Liang murmured. His mother’s body carried a tranquil fragrance, stirring his long-held youthful dreams.
He wasn’t lying; the new blanket lacked the warmth of the old one, and still carried a faint, musty smell from being stored away in a trunk. Besides, his mother had already permeated everything on the bed; being in her embraced a youthful, languid sweetness.
"Hmm, go to sleep, I'm tired today." Mulan lay motionless, quietly resting. Her son's heavy breathing and exhalations disturbed her usually peaceful dreams; it seemed she was destined to be sleepless tonight, Mulan thought.
Zeng Liang gave a muffled groan in response. This ebb and flow of spring passion, like ocean waves, one higher than the next. The faint fragrance emanating from her mother was reminiscent of oleander in the schoolyard. The fields were silent, broken only by the occasional croaking of bullfrogs, singing their eternal melody. These large-eyed, bloated beasts, who usually sang to the moon, now seemed bewitched, chanting incantations, conveying the spirit of an ancient tribe.
He took a deep breath. A primal and savage thought rose within him; this ambiguous scene, draped in a dark blue raincoat, silently assailed his maturing heart.
In his sleep, he unconsciously placed his hand on his mother's gentle chest.
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The next day, his uncle passed away first. A few days later, Mulan's mood brightened somewhat, though still tinged with melancholy, her previously furrowed brows had relaxed considerably. Zeng Liangsheng saw this and thought his mother had overcome her grief over her husband's death, and couldn't help but feel happy for her.
"Ah Sheng, I'll go to Granny Sun's later to buy some braised noodles and sausages; we'll make do for lunch." Mulan took out an iron basin from the kitchen. She thought that her father-in-law was weak and had a bland palate, so it would be better to buy something more substantial. Zeng Liangsheng nodded silently, only gazing intently at Mulan's slender figure, his eyes filled with melancholy and a hint of ambiguity.
Grandma Sun's braised food shop is located on Changsheng Street, adjacent to Pingyang Street. Its central location ensures a thriving business. Furthermore, Grandma Sun's braised food is unique and uses exquisite ingredients, making it renowned in the area.
"Mulan's here. Please accept my condolences; you look so haggard..." Grandma Sun looked at her with pity, affectionately taking her hand and leading her into the preparation room.
"These are the sausages I just braised this morning, the freshest they're ever made." She said, filling a whole basin and then wrapping it in a plastic bag.
Mulan thanked her and reached for her pocket to take out money. Grandma Sun quickly pressed her hand down, "This time, please don't take the money, Mulan. Consider it a small token of my appreciation; you must accept it."
Just then, Grandma Sun's son, Zhong Wang, came down from upstairs. "Ah, Sister Mulan, you must accept this. It would be too much if you were too polite." As he spoke, his hands were also busy; during the polite exchange, he pinched Mulan's waist.
Mulan frowned. Zhong Wang had harassed her quite a bit before, and she had initially found it very annoying, but just now, that sudden shove had made her heart skip a beat.
She hurriedly took out some money, placed it on the table in the corner of the room, and ran out. Turning the corner, she was suddenly struck by a bicycle riding from the other side. Both of them screamed and rolled on the ground. Mulan endured the pain and looked closely; it was Wang Ze, Zeng Liangsheng's homeroom teacher.
Seeing Mulan, Wang Ze quickly got up to help her up, "I'm so sorry, look at me, so blind..."
Mulan picked up a pair of glasses from the ground and handed them to Wang Ze, "Teacher Wang, these are your glasses. I wonder if they're broken?"
Wang Ze and her husband, Zeng Liangsheng, had both graduated from teachers' college, though Wang Ze was two years younger. Their families often kept in touch. Wang Ze was more witty than Zeng Liangsheng, and Mulan had always remembered him well. Seeing him so suddenly today, and in such an awkward situation, her cheeks flushed, and she looked unusually charming in her simple clothes.
"Ah, this is your stuff, isn't it? Luckily it didn't fall out... Is it food?" Seeing Mulan's captivating beauty, Wang Ze's heart stirred. He picked up the basin Mulan had dropped and blew on it a few times.
"Teacher Wang, where are you going? Why are you in such a hurry?" Mulan's expression gradually calmed. Seeing Wang Ze's impeccable attire and handsome appearance, especially with his gold-rimmed enamel glasses, she looked even more dashing.
"Well, the school is about to evaluate senior professional titles, and I thought I'd visit the principal to deepen our relationship." Wang Ze deliberately feigned a pitiful look, one eye fixed on Mulan's ample chest. In the past, he hadn't dared to be too presumptuous out of respect for his senior, but now that Mulan was newly widowed, he could be unrestrained.
Mulan gave him a reproachful look. "Trying to flatter me again? No wonder you got promoted so quickly, so this is how it's done!"
Her own husband had only been promoted to intermediate professional title last year, yet Mulan was already close to senior. She couldn't help but feel indignant for her deceased husband. Wang Ze was usually sweet-talking and tactful, with an excellent reputation among his colleagues. Everyone said he was good at interpersonal relationships and had many friends.
"What good stuff did you buy, sister-in-law? Is it something delicious?" Wang Ze chuckled, one hand on the handlebars of his bicycle, striking a dashing pose. He, who always prided himself on his charm, had no wicked thoughts, but today, seeing Mulan so alluring, his mind was filled with fantasies, imagining how incredibly voluptuous she would be if he took off her underwear.
"Well, Old Zeng is making 'Sanqi' today, and I was too lazy to cook, so I just bought some random stuff to make do." Mentioning Old Zeng caused Mulan a pang of pain in her heart. This wound couldn't be easily touched; even a slight touch would aggravate it, causing her real torment. Her sorrowful expression, the faint melancholy between her brows, instantly shattered Wang Ze's previously frivolous thoughts.
He dropped his joking demeanor and comforted her, "Sister-in-law, the deceased is gone; you must grieve in moderation." He inwardly cursed himself, thinking, "What kind of person am I? If I can't offer help in times of need, at least I shouldn't kick someone when they're down!" He took the basin from Mulan and placed it in the basket on the front of his bicycle. "Sister-in-law, I'll go back with you.
" Mulan silently nodded and walked ahead. Sunlight filtered through the branches of the large fir trees, casting a melancholy shadow on her
solitary figure. Following the alleyway near the river, Wang Ze trailed behind Mulan. He knew that just a few dozen more steps and they would reach her home. It was a small, red-brick alleyway with almost no architectural style. Occasionally, a faint scent of roses would waft from the corners of the walls, but it couldn't wash away the stench emanating from the river. On the small body of water, vegetable scraps, filth, and animal excrement perpetually floated…
Wang Ze spat and muttered, "This filthy city!"
But in this filthy city lived her, this beautiful woman! A strange, passionate energy trembled throughout her body; her heaving chest and delicate lips radiated an alluring glow.
"She's like a beautiful, deep western forest, dark and profound. I long for our rendezvous, though I still have many miles to go..." He murmured Frost's lines, imagining the imagery and symbolism of the poem, his mind suddenly drifting away.
"Hey, we're here. Teacher Wang, what are you thinking about..." Mulan looked at him in surprise, a sudden thought striking her. His thoughtful expression somewhat resembled her deceased husband's—melancholy and refined. Perhaps this was a characteristic unique to teachers? Mulan smiled self-deprecatingly.
Wang Ze thought she was laughing at him, so he chuckled dryly and scratched the back of his head. "Sorry, I suddenly remembered I didn't buy any paper money for Teacher Zeng. I'm really embarrassed."
"Come on, we're not strangers." Mulan glanced at him sideways and opened the door herself. "Ah Sheng, look who's here?" Midterm exams were over, and graduation exams were coming up. Her son had been studying hard in the attic these past few days. Seeing her son so diligent, Mulan was overjoyed, knowing he would surely achieve great things in the future.
Zeng Liang called out "Hey!" and ran down from the attic. Seeing Wang Ze, he became a little reserved and timidly said, "Hello, Teacher Wang."
"Teacher Wang, please have a seat." Mulan invited him, taking off her apron from the cabinet and tucking it into her waistband.
"What are you standing there for? Go get Teacher Wang some water!"
Wang Ze said with a smile. "Okay, you go ahead with your work." He then took Zeng Liangsheng's hand and sat down on a long bench. "How's your homework review going? Tell me if there's anything you don't understand."
"Oh, Teacher Wang, it's nothing. I've done some problems, could you take a look?" Zeng Liangsheng rubbed his hands sheepishly, a little at a loss.
"Okay, I'll tutor you right away." Wang Ze nodded readily. He didn't care about Zeng Genmao's reputation, but he also had to consider Mulan's beauty. He pulled over a chair, gesturing for Zeng Liangsheng to sit down.
****************
Mulan was squatting in the kitchen washing water spinach, carrots, and cabbage. These were everyday foods, cheap but very fresh. Mulan always cooked them to her liking, and watching her son devour them was the happiest time of her day.
She had always enjoyed cooking. When she was little, she often made delicious dishes from the vegetables she picked from behind the house, so that her father, exhausted from a long day, could instantly forget the pain he felt. Back then, her father would affectionately embrace her small body and shower her with kisses, his rough beard always pricking her and making her cry out in a crisp voice. Whenever she thought of this, she would remember her father, still living alone on the Northwest Plateau.
It was time to bring him to live here. She thought to herself, if it weren't for her father's reluctance to leave that widowed Hu, she would have already brought her husband home. That vixen who brings misfortune to her husband! She spat, and the fire in the stove suddenly flared up.
"What's wrong? Did you choke?" Accompanied by a familiar cough, a hunched figure appeared behind her. Mulan didn't need to turn around to know it was her father-in-law, Zeng Wazi.
Since the day he fainted, after a period of rest and the adjustment of his diet with medicinal porridge, Zeng Wazi's originally pale complexion had gradually become rosy, and he didn't look like an old man who had recently lost his son. Zeng Wazi was a folk singer full of vulgar and obscene phrases. A television station once interviewed him and recorded a special program about him, though the lyrics were all changed to praise the Communist Party of China and the Reform and Opening Up. Mulan remembered that before she married into the family, she often heard her future father-in-law singing at the village entrance:
"Oh dear—
I've been to my sister's house,
there's a fat millstone there
; oh dear—
I slept in my little sister's arms,
there's a burning fire
on this barren land. There are songs like this, impromptu songs that can make you forget the hunger and thirst of today, and sink into sweet memories of the opposite sex." Mulan grew up listening to these vulgar songs. At first, she was vaguely aware of them, but as she grew older, she understood the meaning of the lyrics and felt a little shy, yet she loved the simple and genuine melody. She could only turn her head away or hide in the house to listen carefully.
Now, he is old, and the song is gone. But the stubborn Zeng Wazi refuses to accept old age.
"No, nothing. Dad, why aren't you lying in bed? What are you doing here?" Mulan didn't turn around, sensing her father-in-law had already walked behind her. Zeng Wazi hummed in response, but his steps didn't move forward; he simply stood quietly. Mulan's neck skin was alluringly white, with an amber hue, shimmering with a hazy, ambiguous glow. His daughter-in-law, now living in the city, had become fairer and more radiant than before, no longer possessing the bitterness and hardship she had felt when she first married into the family. Zeng Wazi took a deep breath, the thick phlegm in his throat swirling in his mouth before finally swallowing it.
"Good daughter-in-law, who is this guest? Do you want more dishes?" His breath almost touched hers. Her light body trembled slightly, but she didn't turn around, only uttering a soft "Oh, Dad, it's Asheng's teacher. Today is Genmao's Sanqi Festival, have you forgotten?"
"I wouldn't forget, how could I forget? Mulan... good daughter-in-law, you, you've been through so much these past few days." Zeng Wazi said, gently patting her fragrant shoulder. Seemingly unintentional, but actually deliberate, his hand lingered on her shoulder a little longer than usual.
Mulan was slightly startled, but if not paying attention, she wouldn't notice anything amiss. She muttered, "It's nothing, Dad. You're feeling better these days, you should go out and about, don't always stay cooped up at home." Her father-in-law's expression had been somewhat strange these past few days, could it be...?
Thinking of that day more than ten years ago, her face flushed crimson, even her neck turned red.
That was about a month after their marriage. The young couple were inseparable, constantly whispering sweet nothings in their room, followed by endless lovemaking. After a few days, Zeng Genmao grew increasingly thin, his eyes bloodshot, and he often dozed off during the day. Genmao's mother, being an experienced woman, naturally understood that this was the result of sleep deprivation and excessive indulgence. One day, she accidentally touched Mulan's breasts, and she cried out in pain, clearly from injuries sustained during their lovemaking.
Genmao's mother couldn't bear it any longer. One day, she pulled Zeng Wazi aside and said, "Actually, it's time to let Mulan come home and see her. Don't you see how our son has changed?"
Zeng Wazi chuckled dismissively, "Newlyweds, lovemaking, nothing to worry about. When I married you, wasn't it the same? Hehehe..." He then began to grope the old woman's body; though her vagina was dry, it still had some warmth.
"Go away, you old rascal!" Genmao's mother shook off Zeng Wazi's hand and opened the courtyard gate. "I'm going to Cuihua's house."
Zeng Wazi's heart skipped a beat. His new daughter-in-law was beautiful, a fact acknowledged by everyone in the village. He had watched this girl grow up since she was a child; she had always been a beauty. Otherwise, he wouldn't have taken the initiative to ask her to be his daughter-in-law. His
eldest daughter-in-law, Xiuqin, used to be quite tall, but after giving birth, her appetite increased, and her figure became distorted and bloated. She also loved garlic, and her breath reeked of garlic, which was utterly disgusting.
She hadn't eaten fresh vegetables in a long time. Since his eldest son had caught him in his eldest daughter-in-law's bed last year, Zeng Wazi had become much more restrained, but his long-dormant desires were stirred up by his wife's words today. He glanced around the yard; only a few chickens were pecking at the sand. Spiders were busy weaving webs and hunting among the jujube tree branches. He swallowed hard, tiptoed to the window behind Genmao's room.
A faint, intermittent groan escaped through the crack in the window, followed by Mulan's voice, "Alright, Genmao, save your energy. You should go out and help out tomorrow. Don't think about this all the time. Go look in the mirror and see what you've done to yourself!"
"It's alright. My dad told me to call him 'Big Brother' for the fields. I'll focus on teaching." Zeng Genmao was dismissive. He still resented being assigned to teach in his hometown after graduating from teachers' college. Everyone wanted to escape this poor, remote place, but he had come back after leaving. However, if he hadn't come back, he wouldn't have married such a beautiful wife. Thinking about it, it was truly a blessing in disguise.
"Alright, you've already thrown up, and you're still making a fuss. Ugh, I'm going to get some water to take a bath." After a while, there was a rustling sound from the bed, and Mulan, slipping on her slippers, went to open the door.
She had to go to the kitchen to get water.
Zeng Wazi slipped into the westernmost kitchen from behind the house, hiding behind a pile of firewood, holding her breath, afraid to even breathe, as if Mulan would stop coming if she did.
It was dusk, and the kitchen was dimly lit, the light a pale gray, highlighting the swaying silhouette of the jujube tree outside. All was silent. Zeng Wazi could hear her heart pounding, as if it were about to leap out of her throat.
Soon after, Mulan came in. She quickly glanced around, and seeing no one was there, closed the door. These days, this was the only time she had time to be alone, so each bath took her a long time, a habit that continued into the days that followed.
She opened the pot lid, revealing a large pot of steaming hot water, its vapor rising and dissipating. Her hair, loose and flowing, swirled in the rising steam, making her appear like a fairy dancing alone. Mulan's beauty wasn't the kind of breathtaking, but her femininity possessed a captivating charm that could penetrate the soul. Her features and figure were perfectly suited to a man's sensibilities—beautiful yet gentle, with a touch of kindness and compassion that made one want to kiss and cherish her.
Before him, Mulan, now undressed, revealed a seductive shyness, her delicate, rounded breasts and soft, supple pubic hair covering her flat stomach, swaying like the shadows of flowers and vines. Zeng Wazi stared intently, afraid this alluring sight would vanish in an instant. Only when Mulan was washing her vulva did he awaken to the truth: now was the time to act.
"Ah..." Mulan cried out, but Zeng Wazi quickly silenced her with his hand.
Zeng Wazi hugged her from behind, one hand covering her mouth, the other already inside her vagina, which had been ravaged by his son countless times. "Don't scream, or someone will hear..."
Sure enough, Mulan was shocked. Seeing it was her father-in-law, she struggled frantically, but she was too weak to overcome Zeng Wazi's relentless force. "Dad, what are you doing? Don't you have any shame? I'm your daughter-in-law..."
Zeng Wazi stirred the murky fluid inside Mulan's vulva with his fingers, saying, "Good daughter-in-law, let Dad do it this once, and Dad will listen to you from now on." The stirring sound was muffled and seeping from Mulan's vulva.
"Good daughter-in-law, you are so beautiful..." He pressed Mulan down on the stove, took out his already swollen member, shook it in his hand, and thrust it in from behind.
Mulan, already stunned and frozen in shock, hadn't even come to her senses when a scalding hot iron rod was already inserted into her exquisite vulva. This iron rod was no less hard than her husband's, and its length was even slightly greater.
She immediately cried out "Ah..." but her father-in-law covered her mouth, and her lower body was pressed down tightly by him. She couldn't struggle free, and her vulva was slightly painful, after all, it had been constantly occupied for many days.
Mulan suddenly felt that the god of darkness was enveloping her, and for a moment, she was completely disoriented. She wanted to scream, but dared not; she wanted to cry, but could not. Her father-in-law was relentlessly thrusting into her, and she felt no pleasure, only a feeling of being worse than dead. She thought of her pure, innocent body, defiled by her father-in-law—who could she turn to for solace?
The pain of losing her virginity overshadowed the pleasure of intercourse, though her vagina felt numb and tingling, a bittersweet sensation. After days of her husband's labors, she had long since tasted the pleasure, experiencing unparalleled joy and delight. But now, she was being fucked by her own father-in-law—this was incest! Her tears flowed like rain.
Zeng Wazi was simply immersed in this world of desire. He hadn't tasted such a tight, beautiful vagina in a long time, back when Xiuqin had just married into the family. However, the current Mulan was far superior to the Xiuqin of the past; that tightness, that sweetness—even just being inside her without moving was incredibly pleasurable. At this moment, even if a celestial being asked him to do it, he wouldn't want to.
He slowly and leisurely inserted himself, savoring the pleasure. Mulan's suppressed cries and moans were even more arousing. He no longer covered her mouth, one hand pinching her full breasts, the other reaching around to caress her clitoris. Her clitoris trembled, moist and sticky, a surge of passion, a wave of desire.
The sounds of sexual intercourse echoed in the kitchen, dust swirling in the air like a dance. At this moment, the owners were an incestuous couple. When resistance turned into helplessness, the dense, tingling sensation in her vagina merged into a dark, obscure torrent, and Mulan instantly forgot their identities. It wasn't until footsteps sounded outside the door that she suddenly awoke.

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