My Aunt's Story

Time really flies; it seems like just yesterday that my annual leave was over.

Back in the city where I work, the past twenty-odd days felt like a dream… After settling everything and completing the new onboarding procedures, I can finally breathe a sigh of relief and start a new job.

With the pressure relieved, I can finally cherish and savor this period. It still feels somewhat unbelievable, like a dream, yet it makes you want to succumb, like drug addiction. Even knowing the path leads to darkness, with no future or resolution, the exhilarating pleasure and euphoria it brings are irresistible, making you want to succumb to its allure.

I'm turning thirty this year, unmarried, with a few casual sex partners, no girlfriend, and in that awkward middle ground. Before the new year, I quit my current job because I secured a new one that I could start next year, giving me an extra twenty days to return to my hometown, a small village in a certain province of China, earlier than usual.

The village is very small. Compared to large villages with over a hundred households, our village, with only twenty or thirty households, is undeniably small. Moreover, most residents share the same surname; in fact, you could say the entire village originated from one family.

Being a small village, there's not much entertainment. Most of the young people have gone to work in the cities, so you rarely see any young people. Those remaining are mostly middle-aged and older people farming, the elderly, children, and women. There's internet access, but it's only used when some young people return. So, the only thing those with free time can do is play cards and mahjong.

The village shop used to have an automatic mahjong machine, but it seems someone broke it last year. The shop owner, who didn't profit much from it anyway, has stopped repairing it and doesn't plan to buy a new one.

Because my father also enjoyed playing cards and mahjong, he bought an automatic mahjong machine a long time ago and put it at home. So, the only automatic mahjong machine left in the village was at my house. If someone wanted to play mahjong but didn't want to play by hand, they had to walk about a mile along the road leading out of the village to the main road to the town. There was a mahjong parlor at the shop there.

So, when people in the village wanted to play mahjong, they would usually come to my house first to see if we could play. If we could, we'd set up a game there.

Even in the village, there were always various things to do, and because of the uneven availability of free time, there were often situations where someone was short-handed and we didn't have enough players. When they saw someone available, they would ask me to fill in. So, within just a few days of returning to the village, I became familiar with those who frequently came to play mahjong.

These frequent players weren't a specific group; there were men and women, elderly people and middle-aged people, but one woman seemed to come more often than the others.

This woman and I are actually quite acquainted. She's the wife of one of our uncles, a close relative, a true aunt. We often visit each other's homes for meals and social gatherings during holidays (don't take "family" literally, it just refers to the entire extended family we're considered one due to close blood ties), so we're practically family. She's about 8 or 9 years older than us, maybe 11 or 12, and looks to be in her thirties or forties, I'm not sure exactly. Her husband, although technically our uncle, is only about ten years older than us.

She's from the next village, and in her youth, she was a fierce and beautiful woman. Our uncle was a bit of a troublemaker in his younger days. Unlike our generation, they didn't have the same educational opportunities. Their upbringing was more about hard work and fighting, and our uncle was known for being one of the toughest and most ruthless young men of his time. Perhaps that's why he won over the village beauty of their village, who is now my aunt.

However, with the changing times, a lack of education ultimately puts one at a disadvantage and makes life difficult. Farming also offers little hope for a better future. To support their family and children, this uncle and aunt eventually joined the vast army of migrant workers heading to Guangdong.

For many years, they only returned home briefly for a few days before the Lunar New Year, then quickly left again, never staying in the village for long. But last year, around the middle of the year, due to their child's studies (the child is a boy, thirteen or fourteen years old, about to start junior high), it might be inconvenient for him to study away from home, or perhaps there were other reasons we can't fully understand. Also, after years away from home, they felt physically and mentally exhausted. They reportedly had saved some money, so they planned to return home, build a house, and find some small business to run, then not leave again the following year.

Their house is already under construction, so the aunt returned early to supervise the construction and prepare meals for the workers. The uncle, seemingly because of the good job situation, plans to work a few more months until the Lunar New Year to earn more money before quitting and returning home. So now it's just the aunt and their child at home. All she needed to do was order some building materials and give the workers time to cook, leaving her with a considerable amount of free time each day.

Although the people here are known for their ruggedness, they are also quite simple and honest. Whether at the card table, the drinking table, or any other occasion, they would almost never make inappropriate or vulgar jokes about the women in the village. They are also very upright, and I've never heard of any instances of burning ashes in stoves. So, what happened later was something I truly never expected or even considered.

One day, it seemed like everyone had nothing to do the next day, so we all played mahjong until very late. When we finished, it was past midnight. After the other two had gone home, my aunt suddenly suggested going to the town street for a late-night snack. I believe my aunt simply wanted a late-night snack and simply suggested going to the street for one. Because my aunt didn't seem unusual at the time, and I didn't think much of it either. It must be said that my aunt, nearing forty, is still very beautiful. For a woman of that age, she is undoubtedly a stunning beauty, retaining her charm. Having experienced life outside the village, her clothing and style differ from the rustic simplicity of the village, displaying a fashionable urban flair. Coupled with her well-maintained and perfectly proportioned figure, her alluring physique further accentuates the captivating allure of a mature woman, possessing all the captivating qualities a mature woman should have. I'm not a monk who wouldn't be attracted to beautiful women, nor am I a fool who wouldn't be captivated by my aunt's beauty. We're human, not beasts. We've seen many beautiful women, but we don't immediately become aroused upon seeing one. Nor do we become aroused by every beautiful woman we see. I'm not a moralist claiming that just because she's my aunt, I shouldn't have such thoughts. Perhaps when impulses arise, we might fantasize about any beautiful woman we can imagine, but not now. Arousal isn't the only thing in life. So, whether my aunt made the suggestion or I accepted, at the time, it was just two people who weren't sleepy yet due to their schedules, and felt it was still early and wanted to find a place to kill some time.

So I backed out the car, picked up my aunt, and drove to town.

It was only a few miles from the village to town, a few minutes' drive. The town wasn't bustling, but its nightlife wasn't lacking. Even after midnight, besides some food stalls, there were still a few shops open.

We ordered a small hot pot and a few cans of beer.

Then my aunt and I started eating and chatting, talking about all sorts of trivial things at home and while we were out, and the interesting or eccentric people we'd met.

Before we knew it, we were having a great time, talking more and more, and drinking more and more. In the end, I didn't know how much we'd drunk. When it was time to pay the bill, my head was already spinning, and my aunt's eyes were becoming increasingly unfocused… Yes, things had entered a very clichéd urban rhythm.

However, it's precisely because it's clichéd that this kind of thing happens most often and is most likely to happen.

After leaving the store, though my head was a little dizzy, I could still manage to walk straight. I helped my aunt, whose gait was already somewhat unsteady, towards the parking lot.

The light from the store illuminated her beautiful face, slightly flushed from the alcohol, making her look even more radiant. She was pressed close to me, almost half her body against mine; her warm, soft body was the only sensation I could think of at that moment. The genuine softness of her fragrant body stimulated me even more.

There might have been some stimulation from the alcohol, but I wasn't drunk.

Feeling the strange sensations triggered by the alcohol and my own impulses spreading through my body, I didn't think twice before grabbing my aunt and pulling her close. Looking at her face, I found her lips

and kissed her. My aunt seemed a little surprised by my sudden embrace and kiss. When my lips touched hers, her expression seemed somewhat astonished.

But she quickly recovered and responded passionately. She wrapped her arms around me, tilting her head back to meet my kiss.

My hands began to massage her body through her clothes, kneading her breasts.

Because we were still on the street, our movements weren't particularly vigorous, but even so, our breathing quickly became slightly rapid.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was the long night, but in any case, our emotions became somewhat heightened.

"...Don't go back, let's get a room at a hotel on the street," my aunt whispered in my ear.

I naturally didn't say a word.

I helped my aunt into the car and started the engine.

Neither of us said anything more. What was there to say? Should we? Could we? Perhaps these things were unnecessary. At that moment, I only knew that I was embracing a woman from my village, a woman who didn't want to sleep late, a woman looking for some kind of release during the long night.

And for my aunt, it was probably the same.

There was nothing more, just a very simple thing.

At that moment, I felt the same way I did on the streets of the city at midnight, so we embraced each other without any psychological burden.

As soon as we entered the hotel room, after closing and locking the door, I eagerly pulled my aunt into a tight embrace, then kissed her lips, embracing and kissing her while undressing her.

My aunt did the same, responding as she undressed me.

We made love in the hotel room.

We didn't use a condom; the hotel had condoms, but we didn't. My aunt said she had an IUD and there was no need to worry, so I ejaculated inside her.

This happened somewhat suddenly, yet also somewhat naturally.

It was sudden because neither of us had any particular intentions or deliberate thoughts about having sex with the other. Even now, having done it with my aunt—I don't deny that I enjoyed it, and after this happened, I still longed to have sex with her again—but before this, what I said about the simple and honest nature of our society was true. It's not that I hadn't had romantic thoughts; no man, including myself, is without them. But having thoughts doesn't necessarily mean having the intention to act on them.

Perhaps there were moments of fantasies, but those were just thoughts, a kind of hopeful daydreaming, not a strong desire to achieve them.

Naturally, for those who have experienced the dynamics of urban life (I emphasize "urban" not to criticize cities or urban life, but simply to state a reality, not to target any particular group), this pattern leading to the current situation is inevitable; it would be surprising if it hadn't happened.

However, my aunt and I haven't done it many times. I don't know about others, but for me, we've only done it three times, each time lasting about ten minutes, and that's after I haven't touched a woman since I came back. The rest of the time we just lie in bed after showering, cuddling and chatting.

Even though I've definitely had sex with my aunt, when I come back to the fact that we've done it, I still feel a great sense of surprise. I've known my aunt for almost twenty years. To be honest, since childhood, my beautiful aunt has always been the object of our generation's longing. After all, we were only 14 or 15 when she first married into the family, the age when we're most likely to have the most beautiful impressions of things that move us, especially after we learned about sex. My aunt was one of the women in our lives that we fantasized about the most.

Few of us from that generation haven't fantasized about having sex with my aunt.

I don't know about others, but I can confidently say, pointing to my family's household register, that I did indeed peep at my aunt while she was bathing and fantasize about having sex with her in my dreams when I was little.

Back then, the houses in the village were quite simple, making it easy to peep, so we remember seeing my aunt naked.

When we were lying naked in bed chatting, my aunt would laugh and mention that we'd been caught peeping, but she still remembered.

She also asked me how it felt to have sex with her.

I don't know how to describe those inexplicable, complex feelings; I just said it was unbelievable, but it felt amazing, fantastic.

She also asked if I'd wanted to have sex with her for a long time.

I smiled and nodded affirmatively, "Yes."

Then she smiled softly.

My aunt didn't seem like a promiscuous person. Her clothing, expressions, speech, and actions were all very measured. However, I knew she wasn't a naive person either.

Not necessarily promiscuous, but not necessarily naive either. This was perhaps a change and characteristic that many women who had experienced the hustle and bustle of city life would undergo.

The curves of my aunt's entire body and the shape of her lower body were very beautiful and alluring.

My aunt's vagina was very thick and full, very beautiful. It was very wet when she was in heat, and it felt very good to have sex with her. However, I didn't know if it was because of her age or because she had been used a lot, but it wasn't particularly tight anymore. Of course, it was still tight, but it couldn't compare to that of a younger woman.

The color of my aunt's labia was also a bit darker, probably because she had been used a lot.

Actually, seeing how skillfully my aunt went to a hotel with someone already said a lot. I directly asked my aunt if she had had sex with many other men besides my uncle.

My aunt frankly answered that she had indeed had many.

However, she also frankly admitted that she wanted to have fun, not sell herself. After so many years away from home, the pressure and frustration of life meant she would have collapsed long ago if she didn't have a chance to indulge and vent.

Then she expressed some regret. She said she shouldn't have had a relationship with me, not because I was family, but because I was someone close to her. Her uncle didn't know about her past, and she was afraid that having a relationship with someone close to her might accidentally expose her and cause unnecessary trouble.

She said that her uncle hadn't been back for too long, and she was lacking in men and wanted one, but she wouldn't just sleep with any man. Lately, the man she found most attractive was me, and after drinking some alcohol, she forgot about it for a moment.

But since it had already happened, she didn't seem to regret it or feel uneasy, only telling me to be more careful about my distance in front of others in the future.

I readily agreed.

I asked my aunt if I could still visit her before I left my hometown to go back to work.

My aunt said she'd do it whenever the opportunity arose. She laughed and said she was quite satisfied with what we did together; after all, we were young. Although I'm not young anymore, I'm still younger than her, and she seemed to enjoy it.

I'm an adult, and my parents generally don't care about me, so no one bothers me. At her house, only she and her child live there; her in-laws live with my uncle's older brother. She's the most powerful person there, and no one dares to interfere. We both have very free schedules, which gives us more time to spend together at our own pace.

So, before I left my hometown, I spent my time with my aunt in this strange, exciting, and pleasurable relationship, trying out various things together.

We never lacked the reasons for things to happen, only the conditions. When a woman is willing to cooperate, you'll find that things you thought were hard to understand, outrageous, and unbelievable are actually quite easy to happen. My aunt also knew that my stay in my hometown was only temporary, and I would eventually return to my workplace, so she wasn't worried about our relationship or our affairs. With a very optimistic attitude, she actively cooperated with my various attempts and requests.

As mentioned before, I was actually quite surprised to have a relationship with my aunt.

After all, I'd longed for it since I was little, but as I grew older, I was exposed to more things, and we didn't see each other often, so my feelings naturally faded. Also, with maturity, many things became more reserved and buried deep inside.

This incident rekindled some of that deep-seated excitement and longing.

I used all the little tricks I'd learned from forums and porn on her.

For example, when playing mahjong, if I didn't need to play, I'd pull up a stool and sit next to her, pretending to help her watch the tiles, but actually reaching behind her and touching her buttocks. Since I was her nephew, as long as it wasn't blatantly inappropriate, I didn't have to worry about what others would think.

Once a relationship crosses a line, many things that were previously difficult to tolerate or allow become immediately easy and permissible.

I like the thrill and the feeling of the forbidden.

So I liked to have her play some exhibitionist and stimulating games.

I often make her wear only pants or a skirt without underwear, so that I can expose her genitals by simply unzipping her pants or lifting her skirt. However, she doesn't always cooperate. Sometimes I have to drag her to my bathroom, and after much pleading and cajoling, she'll reluctantly comply.

When we're walking together and no one's around, I'll hug her and touch her vulva and rub her buttocks through her pants or skirt, unzipping her pants or lifting her skirt to expose her vulva and genitals. At this point, she's very careful. If she doesn't see anyone, she'll tolerate me for a few minutes. If someone is around, she'll quickly zip up her pants and skirt. If I dare to do anything excessive in front of others, she'll definitely hit me.

I also want to cultivate her interest in having sex in the village, but she's afraid of the consequences of being discovered and absolutely refuses. We've had sex in the countryside, but it's always deep in sugarcane fields or orchards far from the village.

The only truly exciting thing I did was have sex with her right under her husband's nose.

This was actually easier to do and more acceptable to her than anything else.

Because it was in her home, she could control the environment at any time and knew how to quickly hide and retreat, and how to tidy herself up before reappearing. Moreover, many times I went to her house when her uncle came home and invited everyone to dinner in the evening. The darkness and shadows made it easier for her to control the environment, giving her confidence and peace of mind.

Thanks to this, I had sex with her several times under her uncle's nose.

The night after her uncle returned home was the 5th of last month, the 27th of the lunar calendar, two days before the Lunar New Year. That day, we ate together in his living room. Her uncle's new house wasn't finished yet; they were still in the old house. After dinner, her aunt left a group of men drinking there and went to watch TV in the back room. After drinking for a while, I excused myself to go to the restroom and went around to the back window of the house. I had my aunt open the window and then had her stand in front of it so I could reach out and touch her vagina. Afterward, I had her sneak out of the room and come to the back of the house as well, and then I had sex with her there.

The feeling of having sex with her under my uncle's nose was incredibly exciting, so every time I ejaculated quickly, almost like premature ejaculation.

Because of my aunt, this holiday, which was originally filled with some depression and anxiety about the future, became full of excitement and anticipation. No matter how unwilling I was, the holiday eventually ended, and I had to come back to continue working hard for a living.

Thinking about how I invited my aunt out on the first day of the Lunar New Year under the pretense of going to the temple to burn incense, in front of my uncle, but instead of going to burn incense, we drove to the city, found a hotel, and then had sex in the room from noon until almost dinner time before going home, I still felt inexplicably impulsive. Considering my aunt's character and thoughts, to avoid future trouble... When I come back next year, my aunt will probably pretend nothing happened and won't let me do it again... Should I be a little more shameless then...? The only pity is that my aunt started resisting taking photos later, probably afraid that the photos would be seen or leaked. She simply refuses to take photos or cooperate with me anymore... Some brothers have opinions, but to say I'm not afraid of my uncle finding out is impossible. I am afraid, very afraid. My uncle was brave and aggressive when he was young, and even now, with a wife and children, he's not someone to be trifled with. If he finds out, don't try to explain it away with some accident or momentary impulse, or try to salvage the situation. He might even come to my city and kill me. So if he finds out, I could be beaten to death or maimed, and that's no exaggeration.

As for "a rabbit doesn't eat the grass near its burrow," that's certainly good advice, but dangerous and risky. If the villagers find out, my aunt will be too ashamed to face anyone and will have to stay away from the village forever. I'll also have to stop going back to the village, and my family will be shamed because of those gossips.

But many things are fine if they haven't started, but once they begin, even the most rational person will have impulses and voices that prevent them from stopping—even knowing the outcome might be death. The so-called tension and excitement arise under immense danger and pressure, a tension so intense it makes your skin tremble, your nerves completely taut yet suppressing and worrying, bringing a strange physiological and psychological pleasure. If this danger, tension, and fear weren't present, exposing your aunt and good aunt to each other in the village, having sex with your aunt under your uncle's nose, you probably wouldn't experience that stimulating, almost spasmodic feeling. It's truly a feeling like drinking drugs and forbidden foods, irresistible, like drinking poison, knowing you'll die, yet unwilling to stop.

The relationship with my aunt (whom many people might call "auntie" in some places) is similar. Doing this kind of thing with my aunt is indeed very exciting. When I do this kind of thing with my aunt, just thinking that she is my aunt (although not my uncle's biological wife; if she were, to be honest, I really wouldn't dare, even if she were really beautiful, but we are not really beasts, there are some psychological barriers that I really can't overcome), thinking that she is my uncle's wife, when I'm having sex with her, I really feel an indescribable, strange, inexplicable yet extremely exciting stimulation, excitement and impulse. Playing with her under the noses of my uncle and other people was, as mentioned before, a thrill born from the immense risk and pressure, a thrill that was equally intense and exciting. It was truly captivating, especially in the darkness behind her house. I would have her face the wall, grab the iron bars of the window behind the house (many old rural houses have these simple windows, just a few iron bars forming a fence), and stick her buttocks out. Then I would enter her from behind, making her bend over facing the wall behind her house, grabbing the iron bars of the window, so I could fuck her hard from behind. I don't know if you understand what I mean by the old-style rural houses I'm talking about. They're the very simple layout of four square houses, two on each side, flanking a rectangular hall. The four windows of the four rooms are located on the front and back sides of the house. If you look through the windows at the back of the house, with the windows and doors open, you can see a large part of the main hall (what we call the living room). At that time, her room door was open; I deliberately told her not to close it. After we had sex, I had already planned and schemed a lot, and I had told her about it.

So, when I was having sex with her at the back of her house, we could see directly from the window into the main hall where my uncle and his family were drinking. If anyone had a good angle and happened to be looking over, they could probably see what was happening outside the window, though not clearly. Although the lights were on inside, it was pitch black outside. Even if they could barely make out what was moving, they probably wouldn't be able to make out what it was. And the countryside nights are very quiet; any movement could be easily detected. That's why we dared to be so bold and relatively carefree. If we were to play so recklessly, she wouldn't dare, and neither would I. It was a huge risk to our lives; neither she nor I could afford it.

So, although we played very boldly, we were actually very careful. So, some friends asked if my uncle didn't know? Of course, my uncle didn't know. How could he? In terms of seniority, my aunt is my aunt and I am her nephew; the relationship is clear. Unless someone deliberately showed something unusual or intentionally did something that would lead him to misunderstand, a normal person wouldn't think much of it, misunderstand, or even notice.

Because of the close kinship ties within the family, even before this incident, everyone regularly visited each other. This relationship, ironically, became an excellent cover. It's like the saying "the darkest place is under the lamp"—since the relationship hadn't suddenly become so close, no one thought much of it, and no one bothered to observe, be wary, or

take precautions. So, while I was making love to my aunt behind her house, she was bending over, gripping the window bars, her buttocks raised so I could penetrate her. We looked through the window at the main room, at my uncle, who was drinking happily with others, his face flushed. He had no idea that his wife and nephew were having a passionate affair right there in his house, so close to him, right before his eyes. His wife was giving her private parts to another man, his nephew, who was thrusting wildly into her vagina, enjoying her genitals.

While penetrating my aunt, these thoughts overwhelmed me. The physical and psychological tension, the surging urges and pleasure, were utterly indescribable. If it were daytime, looking out the window, I could clearly see my aunt's upper body swaying back and forth as I thrust into her, her large breasts swinging like pendulums behind the window bars. But it was nighttime, so they couldn't see anything. Doing this gave me unprecedented urges and orgasms. I'd never ejaculated so much semen before, a continuous stream lasting almost a minute. The feeling of almost collapsing in my legs after completely spraying semen into my aunt's uterus is still vivid in my memory.

This kind of relationship was undoubtedly dangerous, the risks were certainly high. Fortunately, my aunt and I lived our own lives and circumstances, and this kind of encounter only lasted for a short ten or twenty days a year.

Perhaps it's precisely because we both know this, and aren't worried about working day and night or living in the same environment for extended periods, that we can be more open. We understand that this is like a game, a dream—longer than usual, but not actually that long. We can quickly return to our normal lives, so we can accept and pursue it more readily. Like now, returning to my own city, those past days and nights of madness feel like a fleeting dream. Although the feelings were very real, being far away and constantly bombarded by the realities of life makes those feelings, no matter how exciting or beautiful, slowly erode and eventually vanish in the face of reality. Even with lingering affection and desire, it's gone. I

probably won't see her again until next Chinese New Year, and if I don't have my annual leave, the time we can spend together will be even shorter. Who knows what will happen then?

I told her I welcome her to visit the city where I work, and I'll treat her well. Of course, this "treating well" means treating her like family and also like a lover. I'll show her around the city, and I'll show her around the city.

Having a beautiful woman willing to cooperate, letting you do whatever you want in various situations, letting you touch her vagina at will—that feeling is really exciting and exhilarating, incredibly exciting and exhilarating. Brothers who have had this experience will understand. At my aunt's house, I often took advantage of my uncle and his son (who is basically my cousin) not paying attention, even when they were there, to reach out and touch my aunt's vagina. Sometimes through her pants or skirt, sometimes by unzipping her pants or reaching under her waistband or skirt. Basically, when a woman is willing to cooperate, you can always find an opportunity. So honestly, some of the more explicit scenes in AVs aren't exaggerated.

This feeling of secretly playing with someone else's wife and mother, right under their noses, is really exciting!

PS1: Some friends have questions about this. I just want to say, haha, everyone means no harm. I know some people are afraid of things that seem as unreal as bubbles.

But what can I say...? I can only say that what these brothers can think of, others can also think of. But I can't say much more. I can only say that when the cold wave doesn't hit, it's no different from summer here.

As for where we are, I won't say more.

If anyone from Guangdong or Guangxi is interested, I can ask them what the temperature is like around Guangdong and Guangxi in the week before and after Lunar New Year's Eve, and excluding the period when it rains or snows, before the cold wave arrives. I can't say that I have to take a picture of myself wearing a down jacket to tell you it's winter. How about I find a picture of a down jacket and cover my face to convince everyone, okay... (laughs...) PS2: Regarding the issue of address, I didn't originally want to say much. I originally thought it wasn't a big problem. People who are used to it will get used to it, and those who aren't won't care. It's just a form of address. But for some reason, there are always some people who don't like this kind of address and make comments pointing out that it's almost like a Japanese term, as if others are brainless and they are very aloof. It's fine to call others brainless, but please understand the situation and be confident enough to look down on others before you do this... It's true that the term "aunt" is similar to Japanese, but there is no such term as "aunt" in formal Chinese writing. There is only "aunt" or "auntie," which is also correct. However, in addition to formal writing, there is also colloquialism and dialect. I don't know what the colloquialisms and dialects are like in other places, but at least in our local colloquialisms and dialects, "aunt" and "auntie," whether transliterated or translated, correspond to "aunt" and "auntie." It's laughable to think such a term is strange or nonexistent simply because you don't identify with it. And for those who find it strange and don't identify with it, and who constantly project themselves onto the image of the Japanese because of it, please don't do that. Otherwise, don't end up identifying as a Japanese person and then claim innocence, wisdom, and contempt for others—it's both boring and nauseating. Don't blame others for not warning you; at least I don't think it's unforgivable that I used such a near-Japanese term because of local context and customs without considering your feelings and emotions when you project it onto me. Actually, I went back home once during

the Mid -Autumn Festival. I can't quite pinpoint the reason. After graduating from university, I've always stayed in the city where I work, which is too far from my hometown. Except for the Spring Festival, I don't go back often, even for the Mid-Autumn Festival. But this time, I suddenly wanted to go back. It's unlikely I went back solely because of her; even I don't believe it. While the past events and feelings certainly sent shivers down my spine, life inevitably pulls us from youthful restlessness into a more pragmatic, realistic mind. The cost and pressure of life are enough to coldly repel any inappropriate thoughts or ideas. But this time, I suddenly wanted to go back. Like the old adage: to do something, besides whether we can or are willing, we probably only need a reason. If one reason isn't enough, then many reasons will suffice. So I went back. Although not solely because of her, it's undeniable that the lingering, poppy-like infatuation and longing were one of the reasons I convinced myself that even if it meant traveling thousands of miles, even if I went alone, it didn't matter—I should come back whenever I had the chance. Many people returned to the village for the Mid-Autumn Festival. For many, the Mid-Autumn Festival is perhaps the most important time of year besides the Spring Festival, and many who had the opportunity to return home did so without hesitation. The small village suddenly became more lively than usual. I saw her again by the river near the village. I didn't have much time back; including my days off, it was only five days, and I had to spend another day on the high-speed train. People were still coming over to play mahjong at home in the evenings, making it lively, but I didn't see her again. I heard from others that her house was finished, and she had recently held a wedding banquet and moved into her new home. She was planning to buy a truck with my uncle to haul stone for people. There are many quarries in the mountains around the village, and with the increasing number of self-built houses in recent years, the demand for stone is quite high; this should be a viable option. It's a good plan. Since my uncle is at home, she rarely comes over to play mahjong or shows up around here anymore. It was the third day since I returned, and the Mid-Autumn Festival had passed. Wearing white skinny jeans, she was washing clothes by the river with a bucket. As she squatted down to scrub the clothes, her large buttocks protruded, revealing the familiar, round, and alluring shape of her breasts. Her eyes inadvertently caught sight of me passing by the river. She seemed momentarily startled, then gave a cold smile before looking away. It was a brief exchange of glances, but I could still see a hint of unease and…defense in her eyes. Was she wary of me? And that deliberately distant coldness—what was she trying to tell me? For a moment, I felt incredibly angry. I had originally planned to visit a friend across the river, but a sudden, inexplicable anger filled me with a jumble of rage and thoughts, completely forgetting my initial purpose. I was offended, wanted to vent, and had no one else to vent on, so I could only turn away in a fit of inexplicable rage. On the way home, the more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt. What did she take me for?! I felt deeply humiliated. Well, although I'm unwilling to admit it, I'm more aware that something might be doomed or on its way to ruin, and it seems quite sudden to me. I'm very unwilling and dislike it, even somewhat afraid of it happening. That's why, when I keenly sensed these things, I displayed an uncharacteristic anger and embarrassment to hide my disappointment and panic. But after coming back from so far away, no matter how many excuses or reasons I use to cover it up or deceive myself, isn't it really because of that lingering desire and longing in my heart? The feeling of being filled with anticipation only to be disappointed after a few days of not having the chance was already inexplicably depressing and uncomfortable. That's why, after encountering this situation, I jumped up like a cat whose sore spot was stepped on. There are many things that, when we are intensely stimulated and confused, in a state of frenzy, we feel no fear. It's as if we can disregard everything, indulging and sinking into depravity, clinging to the momentary intoxication, disregarding even life and death, only thinking of continuing like this, even if surrounded by blades that could cut or pierce us. Because we can be like this, we don't care. Being able to do this, nothing else matters. We only think of continuing like this, even if we eventually die, smiling until death. However, when time gives us time, distance gives us space, allowing our hearts to slowly descend from the peak of euphoria, allowing us to settle, to reflect, allowing us to withdraw from the excessive novelty we crave, to slowly awaken from the intoxicating dream, and to take enough time to look back—to look back on our past recklessness, our past courage, our past moth-to-a-flame—we will then feel fear. I can understand this shift from emotional impulse to rational rejection, but I cannot tolerate this kind of self-doubt, as if guarding against a thief. Actually, several friends from my family and village had already invited me to go to her house, which is my uncle's house, for drinks tonight—it was my uncle's idea. As I mentioned before, when my uncle is home, it's common for a group of people to gather at his house for drinks; it's been like this since my student days, so it's nothing unusual. Originally, I wasn't planning to go. I hadn't expected to see her since I was back, so I didn't plan to go to her house. Firstly, I was concerned about appearances and didn't want to seem like I was desperate for her, like I was constantly thinking about her. Secondly, I genuinely intended to let things take their course; if there wasn't a chance to push things further, then it would be over. Everything would happen naturally, and everything would end naturally. However, because of her behavior, which angered me, I now had no choice but to go. Perhaps because I had prepared beforehand, her behavior at her house that evening was very natural; her words and actions were warm but not inappropriate, showing absolutely no abnormality. But it was precisely this that made me even angrier.

First, I was suspected; then, I was looked down upon! I was truly underestimated. My heart was heavy with

resentment. I played drinking games with gusto, downing my drinks in no time, and soon I was quite tipsy.

As the alcohol took effect, the resentment, depression, and inexplicable restlessness in my heart became increasingly pronounced. Seeing her sitting on the sofa beside me, smiling and not shying away from talking to me, yet with a polite but distant air, inexplicably fueled

my growing anger. Alcohol is a catalyst for lust, and also a source of audacity. While it doesn't completely cloud one's judgment, it certainly intensifies the inexplicable impulses within me.

Perhaps to prevent my advances, she mostly stayed with us in the living room, sitting on the sofa not far from the dining table, watching TV, and occasionally tidying the table or adding food to our plates. Even when she needed to leave to do something else, she would quickly return, almost never giving me a chance.

When she went out to the kitchen on the side of the house to get something again, I pretended to be drunk and stagger to the bathroom, and followed her out.

Realizing I was following her, she became somewhat flustered and quickly walked towards the kitchen.

The new house was a two-and-a-half-story building on a separate plot of land some distance from the old house, with a small courtyard enclosed by a wall. The kitchen was a separate small house on the side of the main house. This was my first time here, and I wasn't very familiar with the area.

I followed her, and before she could decide whether to close the kitchen door, I followed her into the kitchen.

Perhaps knowing what I was planning to do, she didn't turn on the kitchen light after entering.

The mild intoxication from the alcohol grew stronger, and the surging restlessness within me made me increasingly uneasy. My desires, like an uncontrollable well, were about to burst forth, and a burning excitement coursed through my nerves. Before she could even stand still, I rushed forward and hugged her from behind, my hands reaching directly to her breasts through her clothes.

I turned her around, cupped her face in my hands, and kissed her on the lips.

"Ah Cheng, don't do this,"

she protested, her body subtly resisting.

"I've thought about it. We can't do this anymore,"

she said, wanting to settle down and live a peaceful life. The house was built, her uncle had returned, and they were planning to buy a truck for freight transport. The children's schooling was going smoothly; they had successfully entered junior high… Everything was moving in a positive direction. She said she was getting older and didn't want to waste her time anymore. For the sake of her family and her children, she just wanted to live a quiet and peaceful life.

And in the village, I was the only one she had ever had a entanglement with.

She said that when she got together with me, she thought that although I came from a village, I had been working outside for many years and no longer lived in my hometown. At the time, she wanted someone herself, so she thought I was a good match. She hadn't thought too much about it, just that after we had a while, things would calm down after I left.

Her tone was a little soft, and she rambled on and on. I was really drunk and didn't listen carefully, and I don't remember much. The gist of it was that she wanted me not to come looking for her anymore, and she even seemed to beg me to let her go.

The stimulation of alcohol and the drunkenness rushed to my brain, and I didn't listen to what she was saying or care about her resistance.

I roughly kissed her while pushing her body towards the back of the kitchen.

I pressed her body against the back wall of the kitchen, one hand forcefully kneading her breasts through her clothes, and the other hand lifting her hem, slipping down from her abdomen under her belt into her crotch, touching her furry hair.

I stroked her furry pubic hair and her vulva.

The unique rubbing sensation of the hair and the plumpness of her flesh filled my palms.

As if trying to show that she was serious, she grabbed my arm, which was stuck in her crotch, and pressed it down slightly, making her stance clear. But I ignored her completely, continuing to rub against her grip.

After just one rub, she became wet.

Perhaps finally realizing that there was nothing serious to say to a drunk person, she finally stopped talking. The strength in her hands also softened.

I roughly pulled her away from the wall again, turned her body around again, so that her back was facing me, and somewhat violently pushed her to the ground, then made her stand up straight, lean forward with her hands on the ground, and stick her buttocks out.

I had originally planned to play with her buttocks from behind, but she turned her head and looked at me with a mix of impatience, a sense of obligation, and a bit of anxiety and tension. She kept glancing out of the kitchen doorway, as if worried someone might suddenly jump out and see what was happening in the kitchen. She said

,

"Stop playing around! Didn't you want to fuck me? Hurry up, your uncle is waiting in the main room." I was slightly jolted awake; I'd completely forgotten I was in someone else's house.

Standing behind her, I quickly loosened her belt—not completely unbuckled, probably because I was a little worried and scared. If it were completely unbuckled, and something unexpected happened, I probably wouldn't be able to react quickly enough—I pulled her pants down to her knees, spread her legs from behind, and thrust my already engorged and erect penis deep into her vagina. Holding her buttocks, I started fucking her from behind.

Slightly drunk, I didn't bother with any fancy moves or rhythm; I just kept fucking her

, dry and stiff. The slapping sounds of my thrusts against her ass were quite loud. Anyone passing by would definitely hear.

The combined effects of alcohol and the act meant I felt myself nearing my climax after only a short while. It sounds like it took a long time, but in reality, only a few minutes had passed. Just as I was about to climax and ejaculate, my uncle called her from the main room and came out. Luckily, the kitchen lights weren't on. He wasn't coming out to the kitchen anyway; on the night of the 16th of August, the moonlight was bright. If he were coming to the kitchen, he wouldn't need to go inside. From the half-open doorway and open window, he could see his wife in the kitchen, her pants pulled down, her limbs on the ground, her ass sticking out like a bitch being fucked. The

unlit kitchen didn't make him think anyone was there. I was both nervous and excited, quite startled, and dared not continue my actions to make any sounds that might attract his attention. My aunt was also startled, looking slightly flustered, but she didn't dare to move too much, also afraid of attracting attention. She could only reflexively look around, anxiously and cautiously trying to find a place to hide.

Then two brothers from the village came out and walked with my uncle to the other side of the house—that was the toilet.

The kitchen was on this side of the new house, and the toilet was on the other side. Thankfully.

This rather sudden little fright really startled me, but it didn't make me go limp. Because I dared not move my penis, which was still inserted in her vagina, it became even more engorged and hard at that moment, as if stimulated by something incredible—filling the warm and moist place that enveloped my penis completely, stretching it to the limit.

Perhaps I had always been looking forward to this situation.

The uncontrollable gushing of her vaginal fluids soaked the area where our genitals met, leaving a large, wet patch. Even the slightest movement produced a sound like kicking in mud.

After estimating that they had completely moved to the other side of the new house, I grabbed my aunt's buttocks and thrust in and out quickly and forcefully a few times, then ejaculated my thick semen into her body like a cannonball.

My aunt and I quickly pulled up our pants and slipped out of the kitchen like thieves.

When my uncle returned from the bathroom, we were already back in the living room, looking presentable, and sat down in our original seats.

My aunt smiled and gestured to my uncle, saying,

"This guy is so useless. He only drank a little and he just threw up like crazy. It took me so much effort to clean him up." "Hahaha," my uncle and the guys at the table laughed in unison.

I also put on a very embarrassed and ashamed expression. But when I looked down or turned my head to the side, my eyes quickly swept over my aunt's slightly parted legs, which were facing my uncle.

I wondered if my uncle noticed the slightly damp marks between his wife's legs?

In that sitting position, the exposed area was quite obvious. But did he know that the place his wife was wrapped in, her vagina, was currently overflowing with another man's semen?

Did he know, did he even consider, that his wife's vagina had just been used, right there in their kitchen, filled to the brim with another man's semen? The thick, thick semen had filled her uterus to overflowing, causing it to spill uncontrollably. The wetness was because her vagina was so full of semen that it couldn't contain it all, hence the overflow and wetting between her legs. Did he even smell

the stench of semen?

Looking at her, seemingly unaffected by anything, facing her husband, he couldn't believe that this was the same woman who, just a minute ago, had been as wanton as the lowest bitch, shamelessly spreading her legs in their kitchen and offering herself to her husband's nephew, allowing him to play with and penetrate her at will.

My gaze casually shifted between her and my uncle. I stared at my uncle, who noticed my strange expression. After a few glances, he seemed puzzled. I chuckled knowingly.

Only she understood the meaning behind my smile, especially when she realized my gaze kept, intentionally or unintentionally, lingering between her legs. She looked somewhat embarrassed and annoyed. Sensing the unusual feeling between her legs, she didn't consciously change her posture or try to clean herself, but instead lowered her arm and placed it in front of her, covering her private parts.

Startled and still somewhat sober from my recent pleasure, the effects of the alcohol had almost worn off.

I glanced at the woman beside me, deliberately but seemingly casually. Though more awake now, my desire hadn't diminished. The physical pleasure had rekindled my sensual memories, and my longing had only intensified.

Looking at my uncle, perhaps getting him drunk was a good option… My time back was limited; I was leaving the day after tomorrow, and I only had one day left. If he wasn't drunk, how could I possibly have a chance with her?

That's what I thought, and that's what I did.

Rejuvenated, I skillfully maneuvered, forming alliances and employing cunning tactics, carefully and strategically managing the situation. Finally, around 10 or 11 p.m., I managed to get everyone, including my uncle, under control.

Everyone went home, to their own mothers, while I, ostensibly the only one still somewhat in good condition, stayed behind to help with cleaning and tidying.

My uncle was so drunk he could barely keep his eyes open.

She brought him clothes to urge him to take a shower, but he pushed her aside, swaying and saying he wouldn't shower first; he'd spend the night in the room next to his bedroom and shower when he sobered up.

There were three rooms on the second floor. They and their child lived there. The first floor was unoccupied and used as a storage room. Her child had come back before, but being much younger than us, he hadn't played with us. Today, he had gone to school to play with his classmates.

So she asked me to help her support him. We each took one of his arms and helped him up to the second floor. While supporting him, my hand went around his back and landed on his wife's buttocks. I was kneading her buttocks as I supported him.

The lights weren't even on. I put my uncle on the bed in the room next to their bedroom. Before he could even stand up and turn around, I pulled her over, wrapped my arms around her waist, and then lifted her shirt, slipped my hand under her belt, and reached into her pants to touch her vulva.

My actions startled her, and she instinctively looked up to check on my uncle.

He was indeed very drunk and seemed to be sleeping soundly.

My actions panicked her. She nervously watched my uncle's condition while grabbing my hand and pressing it down forcefully, genuinely trying to resist my movements.

I was right next to my uncle's bed, one arm around her chest, kneading her breasts, the other hand inside her pants, probing her vulva. I did

this partly because I genuinely enjoyed it, seeking the thrill of this unusual state, and partly out of revenge—revenge for her attitude towards me today—"You're worried, aren't you? You're concerned, aren't you?

You're worried, right? I'll do it to you right here, right next to your husband, right under his nose."

I wanted to do it right here, right next to her husband, right under his nose.

I unbuckled her belt, pulled down her zipper, and ripped her pants and underwear down to her ankles, revealing her two bright thighs and hairy vulva. I pushed her closer, closer to where my uncle was, keeping an eye on him while I reached between her legs and played with her vulva.

After a while, I pulled down her pants completely and threw them on the ground, leaving her completely naked from the waist down. I patted her buttocks:

"Go, close your yard gate and front gate."

After everyone left, except for the owner who was already drunk and unconscious, this was my territory.

"Go like this?"

She hesitated and seemed reluctant.

If someone hadn't left yet, or if someone left and suddenly came back, they would be seen.

What would happen then...? "What are you afraid of? Go."

I touched her hairy vulva and patted her plump buttocks a few times. "It's okay if someone's there. Just ask him to fuck you too. Don't tell me you've never tried a threesome." "What are you talking about?" She rolled her eyes at me. Although she was still a little unaccustomed to it and half-covered up, she ultimately didn't refuse. She covered her vulva with her hands and went downstairs.

Following behind her, I watched her awkwardly walk through the lobby. The bright lights shone on her still fair and delicate skin, reflecting a crystalline glow. For a moment, she resembled a silhouette and a halo of light, a goddess statue full of texture.

Thankfully, nothing unexpected happened, and no melodramatic plot twists led to further complications.

After returning, I pulled her upstairs again and into the room where my uncle was lying.

She probably knew what I wanted to do and resisted somewhat, quite uneasy, but she couldn't resist me.

I pushed her to the edge of my uncle's bed, making her hold the edge of the bed with her hands, assuming a back-to-back position.

Her husband was right in front of her, yet she was completely naked from the waist down, her buttocks raised as if inviting another man to have sex with her.

She cautiously watched my uncle, seemingly terrified he might suddenly sit up.

Fortunately, my uncle had already rolled over and was now face down on the bed, so even if he were drunk, he couldn't see in our direction. This situation made me even less hesitant.

I held her buttocks and thrust my penis into her from behind.

To be honest, the feeling was incredibly stimulating. It's hard to truly understand the extreme excitement and stimulation brought about by this high-risk, high-tension feeling from words, porn, or imagination.

I held her buttocks and thrust forcefully, ejaculating after a few strokes, shooting my semen into her vagina.

This behavior was thrilling, but also incredibly tiring. Throughout the entire process, I was terrified that my uncle would suddenly wake up and witness this. In this situation, there was absolutely no room for cover or evasion. Fortunately, my uncle was really drunk, and the time from when I penetrated him to when I ejaculated wasn't very long, only a few minutes—if I hadn't seen how drunk he was, I really wouldn't have dared to do that.

Afterwards, neither of us dared to continue. Actually, it was clear that being fucked in that situation was extremely exciting for her; many times she couldn't help but want to scream, but out of fear, she could only cover her mouth with her hand or bite her arm to keep herself from making a sound. It

felt like fighting a war.

I ejaculated inside her vagina. After ejaculating, I didn't pull out, but kept it inside her vagina, letting her vagina envelop me. I hugged her tightly from behind, holding her genitals tightly against mine, maintaining contact with her genitals, like a four-legged creature, and pushed her out of the room.

Although we only managed to have sex twice more afterward, I spent the entire first half of the night completely naked with her, playing with her in various places in her house. Sometimes, even though I was exhausted and couldn't get an erection, I still wouldn't stop playing with her, as if I wanted to make up for all the times I hadn't been able to do in the past few months and all the times that might never happen again. On the stairs of her house, on the roof of her house, on her balcony, in her storage room, I was penetrating her while pushing her around, constantly changing locations, positions, and positions. Almost every corner of her house was stained with a mixture of her vaginal fluids and my semen, bearing the marks of my actions as I played with her. In her and my uncle's bedroom, on their bed, I sat cross-legged, her legs spread wide as she sat in my lap. I held her buttocks, my lips pressed against her lower abdomen, kissing my way down her body. I buried my face between her legs, deeply inhaling the scent of her vulva, nibbling at it. I parted her plump labia majora with my hands, pinching them, feeling their flesh and shape, marveling that I wondered who else besides my uncle would be fortunate enough to enjoy them so thoroughly.

I pushed her down onto their bed, as if using my last ounce of strength, fucking her with unprecedented brutality in various positions, until she was gushing with juices, soaking their bed in a large, wet puddle.

No matter what, things will eventually come to an end, whether tonight or in the future. No matter how much we want it to or not, we can't make something keep happening indefinitely without stopping or ending.

After my last ejaculation, I fell silent. I wanted a cigarette, but found none.

I slowly stood up, speechless.

I told her she didn't need to worry so much. If she really didn't want to, I would never bother her again. So she didn't need to be so wary of me. I don't know what kind of people she'd met before, but at least some of them always had their own sense of propriety. The reason she acted this way tonight was mostly because she looked down on her, and she used that as an excuse to get angry and vent.

If she didn't want to, then I really wouldn't come looking for her again.

The atmosphere was indeed inexplicably gloomy.

As Eileen Chang said, the fastest road to a woman's heart is the vulva.

In a mind that's not involved in money and seems complicated, how could there only be lust?

But whether you give up or not, whether you want to or not, reality will always make more choices for you than you can make yourself. That's the face of life.

With my back to her, I couldn't see her expression, but I could sense that she wasn't feeling well either.

She leaned in and hugged me from behind, her full breasts swaying against my back.

"I'll go out with you tomorrow..."

"Tomorrow's market day, I can find a reason to go out with you..." "From now on, unless I contact you, don't come looking for me..." I nodded silently.

I found my clothes, which I couldn't find anywhere, put them on, and left her house. I checked the time; it was past 2 a.m.

Yes, that's how it was. It was over, perhaps temporarily, perhaps permanently.

A day later, I boarded the high-speed train and returned to the city where I had settled down and where I worked. It was September 17th, the 17th day of the eighth lunar month.

PS.

Many people have brought up the issue of credibility. I want to say that everyone has their own upper limit on the possibilities that might occur in society. If something exceeds that upper limit, and you find it unbelievable, then I understand. I don't dwell on personal stances, nor do I have the right to. What I don't understand is, if you don't believe, you don't believe. But why do some people feel that I, or other brothers like me who post, are begging them to believe? Unless they can provide some kind of proof? Why do they feel we need to prove anything to them?

The person posting is just posting and saying things. Those who want to come and watch are welcome to come and watch. Whether you believe or not, everyone has seen, thought, and made their own judgment. Ultimately, what you see, think, and feel is your own personal matter. Does it have much to do with others? Neither the poster nor the reader asked me to post, and I didn't ask you to read. No one is superior to anyone else. Those who are willing to support are naturally good, because they generate buzz and at least bring attention and discussion. But even so, does that mean anyone needs anyone else, or who is superior to whom? I don't think so.

So what makes you feel so good about yourself, thinking you are important to the person who posted? Disbelief is fine, it's a personal opinion, and everyone has their own perspective. If you're here to support me, thank you. I reserve my opinion. No one can criticize or lecture others. However, I truly cannot understand why some people habitually hold themselves so high. What reasons make you hold yourself so high? What kind of thinking or tactics make you feel so good about yourself? Making you feel like others are begging you, that others should do this or that?

You haven't thought of proving anything to anyone, nor will you try to prove anything to anyone. To go to such lengths to prove something just because someone doesn't believe you—how shameless must this person be to make others do such a thing just to gain their trust? How despicable must someone be to actually try to prove something just because someone doesn't understand the meaning of that person's disbelief, to gain someone's trust for something that has little practical value? Even just having the thought of doing so is laughable.

Therefore, the original poster's stance is twofold:

1. The impossibility of one's own world does not equate to the impossibility of the entire world; the inability of one's own world to encompass something does not mean that the world does not exist. 2. Posting always has a purpose; without a purpose, one would not post. However, this purpose might simply be to share with those who are willing to read, or to resonate with those who are willing to believe. It should not include begging those who are unwilling to read, or begging those who are unwilling to believe, at least not the initial intention of this post. The long passage above might be considered criticism and rant, but the following two points are not; they are merely explanations. If there is any offense, please forgive me. Whether you hold a belief or not, I appreciate your support. However, if you are unbeliever yet feel that you are God and others should beg you to believe, that others are begging you to believe, and that you should have the proper attitude of asking for help, then please keep quiet. You are not superior to anyone to the point that others are begging you.

The day before returning, I went to a place in the county town called "Shuoshanzhuang," which was actually just a mountain ridge, and then went to the hotel inside.

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