eavesdropping in the toilet

After exiting the highway, the silver-gray Buick made a few turns along the quiet, tree-lined road until a large gate appeared before us. On a massive stone pillar beside the gate were several powerful characters: "XX Polymer Silicon Application Research Institute." As the car passed through the gate, the gatekeeper gave the middle-aged man driving a rather unprofessional military salute. This man was my father, Professor Yang Jianwei, the chief expert of this national-level research institute, a renowned figure in the field of polymer silicon research in China.
The car stopped at the garage entrance, and a boy who looked like a middle school student got out of the back seat. This thirteen or fourteen-year-old, fresh out of junior high, was me, Yang Fan. It was August, summer vacation, and I was bored at home. Plus, my father's research institute had moved to a modern, high-tech park in the suburbs, so I decided to come with him to see the newly completed institute.
After waiting a short while, Dad came out of the garage, smiling, and said to me, "Xiaofan, isn't Dad's new research institute great? It's a world of difference compared to that old, dilapidated place."
Dad surveyed the brand-new buildings around him, his face full of pride. Polymer silicon research used to be very backward in China, but thanks to the efforts of Dad's generation, it has made rapid progress, gradually catching up with international advanced levels. It has also been well applied in industrial production, and some domestic polymer silicon manufacturers have gained the strength to compete with international companies. The huge economic benefits generated by the combination of research and production have made scholars like Dad quite wealthy; our new car and that three-story villa are good evidence of this. However, the years of overworked research have greatly damaged Dad's health. He started balding in his early forties, and his frequent insomnia and weakness worried Mom and me a lot.
After resting briefly in his office, Dad took me straight to the laboratory. The laboratory was large and contained all sorts of instruments. Three graduate students are already working there. These three are all Black people from Africa—pure Black, not the American Black people you see on TV. Those aren't real Black people. These three international students are the new graduate students my dad is supervising this year. I'd heard him mention them before, but seeing them in person still surprised me. They were incredibly black, their pure black skin like freshly painted black paint, even shiny. They were definitely not the brown-skinned American Blacks in the NBA.
I thought to myself, if these guys took off their clothes and walked down an unlit street at night, you'd probably only see their eyes and a set of pearly white teeth. Thinking about this, I couldn't help but find it a little ridiculous. You might wonder: why are all the graduate students my dad supervises Black Africans? Aren't there any international students from other countries? Isn't that normal? Would Americans and Europeans be willing to study in China? Their own countries are several times more advanced than ours; what's there to learn in China? Of course, learning Chinese is another matter.
"This is David from South Africa, this is Lucas from Congo, and this is Sun, from Zimbabwe,"
Dad introduced his students to me. Then, pointing to me, he said to the three black students, "This is my son, Yangfan. He just graduated from junior high school and is visiting during his summer vacation. Please take care of him."
Knowing I was the teacher's son, the black students greeted me warmly in broken Chinese.
These three black international students were all very strong and tall. I estimated they were all over 1.8 meters tall, with broad shoulders and thick backs, and their pure black skin gave them a strong visual impact, like the majestic presence of lions on the African savanna. My already short father looked even smaller standing among them. But these black students treated my father with great respect.
Meeting three purebred black people for the first time was a novel experience for me. My curiosity led me to ask the three black graduate students questions that they found quite funny, but they were, after all, just over twenty years old, still childlike at heart, and were happy to answer my questions and even joke with me. We gradually became acquainted.
But they were busy, and I felt bad about bothering them. As a recent junior high graduate, I had absolutely no interest in their work. I quickly got bored. Unable to stay in the lab, I started wandering around the research institute building.
I looked out of the offices and labs, finding it all quite interesting. Suddenly, I felt the urge to urinate, so I found the nearest restroom. While washing my hands after urinating, I heard two women's voices from the women's restroom next door.
"Xiaoling, why do you seem so down lately? You look listless all the time, is your husband not satisfying you? Haha!" "Get lost! I think you're the one who's unsatisfied. It's because that new product has such a big error, no matter how I adjust it, it's unstable, it's driving me crazy! I finally got a new product, and this thing goes wrong, it's driving me crazy!"
This was clearly the woman named Xiaoling speaking.
"It's just an error problem, what's the big deal? If it really doesn't work, go ask Professor Yang. Hey, didn't Professor Yang just recruit three new black graduate students? I heard they're pretty capable. Hehe, three black guys coming... to help... you should be fine, right? Hehe."
"What do you mean? Pretty capable? Come on, let's fuck you! Look at you, you slut. I'm warning you, black guys' dicks are huge, thicker than your arm! Don't regret it if you break your dick! Haha." "You jerk! Hey, but seriously, Xiaoling, do you think black guys' dicks are all as big as those actors in porn?"
"Not that exaggerated, but at least several sizes bigger than Chinese men's. Do you think our dicks can fit a black guy's thing? It's so big, just thinking about it makes me scared."
"Scared? I think you're excited. You're wet." "Nonsense, you're the one who's wet. I think you should go back and change your underwear."
"What the hell are you talking about! You can joke around, but why are you sticking your ass up like that? Oh, you're fantasizing about being fucked from behind by a black guy, huh?"
"You're the one getting fucked from behind by a black guy. He's tying his shoelaces, okay? With such a foul mouth, you should really get those three graduate students to give you blowjobs, haha." "Fine, if you're so tough, call them all over. If you dare stick your ass up and let them fuck you, I'll suck their dicks for you. Who's afraid of who? You don't want all three dicks, do you? Haha..."
Just then, footsteps sounded at the door, and the two girls' banter ended. Although I'd only just graduated from junior high, I'd secretly watched quite a few porn movies. The conversation between these two girls still made my heart race, and I felt a hard-on. I have to admire the boldness of women these days; they were probably both mature women. I've always had a soft spot for mature women. In their thirties and forties, they're already well-versed in sex, and in their prime, they have a unique charm. Moreover, even the most dignified mature women are just as lustful in private, though men often express it openly, while women, bound by traditional morality, hide their desires. But if you compare them, their lust might not be any smaller than a man's. The two mature women chatting and joking in private are a good example. Their words were just as explicit as a man's.
After spending a morning at the research institute, the novelty wore off, and I couldn't stay still. My dad knew I was restless, so after lunch he told me to take a taxi home. Before I left, he mentioned that David and his group, the three black graduate students, would be coming to visit in a few days. I didn't think much of it at the time, but what happened later was something I never expected.
When I got home, my mother was mopping the floor. My mother's name is Chen Siying, and she's a high school teacher. Next semester, I'll be attending my mother's high school. Speaking of my mother, she is absolutely a beauty. In her youth, she was considered one of the most beautiful women in our county. She just turned thirty-six, and time hasn't left many marks on her. Instead, it has added a touch of mature charm, a quality only found in women her age, like the alluring aroma of a ripe banana—a slightly damp, yet unsettling fragrance.
Since we were at home, Mom was dressed casually in a semi-tight t-shirt and athletic capri pants. The all-white outfit accentuated her voluptuous figure, making her even more alluring. Mom's figure was enviable—full but without an ounce of excess fat, with curves in all the right places and a perfect proportion that made her short stature of just over 1.6 meters appear quite slender.
"Xiao Fan's back! Was it fun at Daddy's?"
Mom asked, looking up as she wiped the floor. Her breasts, nearly an E-cup, bounced rhythmically. The pink bra and the semi-tight t-shirt seemed a little tight around her ample bosom.
"It was alright, but it got boring after a while. Just a bunch of strange instruments and people buried in their work,"
I replied, sitting on the sofa to watch TV, my eyes wandering down Mom's neckline. The tight fabric against her full breasts created an amazing cleavage. So deep and tempting! Wait, what's that? I don't know if it was because the bra was too small, or because her breasts were too big, or just my imagination, but I vaguely saw my mother's pink areolas at the edge of the bra. This made my heart race.
"You can't sit still anywhere. Once the novelty wears off, nothing's interesting anymore. You're going to high school soon, and the homework will be much harder than in junior high. You need to calm down..."
My mother turned around and continued wiping the floor.
I always dealt with my mother's nagging by temporarily pausing my auditory system. But my eyes weren't idle. After glancing at my mother's breasts, they swept over her big buttocks.
My mother's waist was very thin, which made her already large buttocks look even more "magnificent." Using "magnificent" to describe my mother's buttocks is a bit of an exaggeration, but not an exaggeration. My mother often joked with her best friends that it was hard to buy pants because her buttocks were too big. Pants with large hips had large waists and legs, but my mother had a small waist and thin legs; pants with a proper waist and legs were usually too small for her hips. Perhaps Mom didn't know that this "great" bottom didn't detract from her beauty at all; on the contrary, it was a source of pride. Amidst the jokes, Mom's close friends all envied her large bottom. Men, in particular, drooled over her plump behind.
As she bent over to wipe the floor, her hips swayed naturally, tracing a long and graceful arc. Mom's bottom was not only large but also very perky, with a deep cleft extending from her back to that alluring bulge. Even under two layers of fabric, Mom's genitals appeared quite large. Since it wasn't a thong, the outline of her underwear was also unrulyly exposed. This scene was truly arousing; I felt a surge of blood rushing to my groin. But I managed to calm myself down for the time being, because she was, after all, my mother, and basic ethics had to be upheld.
I heard from my grandmother that Mom used to have a nickname, Jinlian, because her feet were very small, less than size 34, hence the nickname. But later, because the name always reminded people of the infamous courtesan Pan Jinlian, she stopped using it. My mother's feet are truly exquisite, with bright red nail polish making these golden lotuses exceptionally adorable. They evoke an irresistible urge to hold them in my hands and gently knead them. But I dare not use too much force, for if I did, my mother's little feet would drip water.
Around six o'clock in the evening, my father returned home. After dinner, my father went to his study to read, my mother sat in the living room watching that boring, idiotic South Korean drama, and I went back to my room to browse SIS online. Because I was quite tired from the trip to the research institute, I went to bed early. I had no idea when my parents turned off the lights.
I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and noticed a dim light still on in my parents' doorway. "Still awake? What time is it?"
I muttered to myself. After a few steps, I suddenly heard a strange panting sound. I quickly recognized it as my mother's soft moans. Were my parents making love? I instantly became alert, hesitated for a moment, but my wicked thoughts led me to press my ear against the bedroom door.
"Hey, why did Mom stop talking as soon as we put our ear to hers? Did she find out?" I broke out in a cold sweat.
"Honey, how come you're...so...already better? Are you feeling too weak lately? Should we see a doctor?"
My mother's concerned yet slightly resentful voice came from the bedroom.
"Oh...I see."
I couldn't help but let out a long sigh of relief. Thank goodness she hadn't been found out. But then a vague unease rose in my heart. I didn't know why this inexplicable unease was coming from. Was it worry about Dad's health? Or about my parents' relationship? I couldn't say for sure.
"Maybe she's just been a little tired lately, sigh, it's okay, go to sleep early," my father's pale voice came from inside.

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eavesdropping in the toilet

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