Dangerous Game

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

In a cold, deserted office, I was hunched over my desk, miserably doing my homework. I kept touching my face; the slap I'd just received still stung. My mother's scolding echoed in my mind: "Zhuangzhuang! You're 15 years old! All you do all day is play! Look at the state you've become! You're a little rascal! If you don't behave, I'll lock you up myself one day!"
Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Zhang Zhuozhuang, the name I hate most in my life, given to me by my grandfather, a man from three generations of poor farmers. My parents argued several times because of this unfortunate name. I'm in the second year of junior high this year. I'm not tall or strong, but I inherited my highly educated father's sharp mind; I hardly study, and my grades are always above average.
My father, Zhang Weimin, is a high-ranking executive at a joint-venture high-tech company. At 40, he's fair-skinned, refined, and has a scholarly air. Perhaps it's true that young men are prone to infidelity, but six months ago, he divorced my mother for his mistress.
My mother, Lin Meiying, is the deputy director of the local police station. She's not just any ordinary police officer; she used to be a special policewoman, possessing exceptional fighting skills. Three or five thugs are no match for her. Having trained since childhood, she boasts a perfect 1.77-meter height. If it weren't for her strikingly beautiful and heroic face, you'd definitely mistake her for a model. Although she's 38, she shows no signs of aging, instead possessing a mature beauty with a slightly domineering air.
My classmates always envied me for having such a beautiful and capable mother, but only I know the hardships I've endured.
My mother is a very strong-willed person; she seems to have an innate, suffocating aura of pressure, which made me always cautious and timid in her presence. Even so, I still frequently got beaten. Since her divorce from my father, she's become even more aggressive, even once breaking my arm with a kick. Furthermore, she's conservative
and rigid in her thinking. All year round, she wears only her police uniform and sportswear; she never buys skirts or stockings, and never wears makeup. She only bought a computer a year ago because of my strong desire to "study."
Under her almost pathological obsession with cleanliness, every corner of the house, including the clothes she wore, was spotless. She couldn't tolerate anything dirty, and I got beaten a lot for it, which honed my housekeeping skills to a near-perfect level.
Now, I look forward to going to high school and living in the dorms, finally escaping my mother's clutches.
Lost in thought, the office door suddenly opened, startling me. I quickly sat up straight and started writing in my notebook. To my surprise, half a head peeked out from the doorway—a shifty-eyed blond guy. His expression froze when he saw me, then he grinned wickedly and said, "Officer Lin's not here? Zhuangzhuang's really diligent, doing your homework, huh?"
This guy, Huang Ming, was a local hoodlum, a petty thief who did all sorts of petty theft, but he never dared to do anything too serious. A few years ago, he was imprisoned for three years for theft and had only been released two months prior. Because the community has a support policy for released prisoners, he was assigned to my mother's support group. Huang Ming certainly got a lot of beatings from my extremely strict mother. Now he's incredibly well-behaved, coming to the police station every Tuesday for my mother's "educational support.
" "She's not here, she's in a meeting and might not be back for a while."
"Oh, okay, I'll go out for a walk and then come back for Officer Lin's lecture."
With that, Huang Ming bowed and scraped
as he left. I chuckled at his servile manner, thinking this guy must have been thoroughly disciplined by his mother. Of course, I was also surprised that he dared to push the door open without knocking; with my mother's fiery temper, he'd surely get a good scolding, if not a beating. But then I remembered my mother's stern face and the burning pain on my cheek, so I quickly composed myself and started doing my homework.
Just as I finished my homework and was packing my schoolbag, my mother came home. Seeing her stern expression and slightly angry almond-shaped eyes, I didn't dare to breathe and respectfully said, "Mom, I've finished my homework. Would you like to check it?"
My mother glanced at me and said, "No need to check. I have to work overtime tonight. Let's go home now. I have to come back to work after dinner."
After saying that, she told me to pack my things and took me away from the office to go home. When we reached the corner of the stairs, we ran into one of my mother's officers, Xiao Chen. Xiao Chen was holding a dirty purple strip of cloth with a small wooden stick. When he saw my mother, he said, "Chief Lin, look at this. I don't know who the bastard is who put trash on our reporting desk. They have no public spirit at all."
He was about to throw it into the trash can when my mother stared at the cloth for a moment, then actually picked it up with her hand, crumpled it in her hands, and said to Xiao Chen, "Give this to me. I'll go and find out who is so awful."
After saying that, she ignored the large white stain on the cloth and put it into her bag.
Just as Mom put the strip of cloth into her bag, I thought I smelled a fishy, musty odor on it. I frowned, thinking how could someone as fastidious as Mom put something so dirty in her bag? It seemed she had a murderous intent towards the person who threw the trash away.
I couldn't help but feel a little smug for the person about to suffer. Xiao Chen responded with a surprised look and turned to leave. After he turned and went downstairs, I told Mom about Huang Ming reporting for education. Mom let out a sound of surprise and muttered a few words to herself indignantly, but I couldn't hear what she said because her voice was so low.
After returning home, Mom quickly cooked dinner. While eating, she asked me about my class and occasionally gave me a few pointers, which made me lose my appetite for dinner. I
finally managed to finish eating, and sure enough, Mom had to go to work overtime. Before leaving, she surprisingly spoke softly to me, saying that Mom was very busy with work and that she hadn't been able to care for me enough, hoping I could understand her.
Actually, I was already getting excited, thinking I couldn't wait for you to work overtime every day. Only when I'm home alone do I feel incredibly free and relaxed, and at those times I would loudly vent my frustrations towards my mother's room. Gradually, this dissatisfaction quietly turned into a hint of hatred, and sometimes I would unconsciously utter a few swear words and curses. Of course, I quickly realized that the object of my curses was my own mother. This complex mix of love, hate, and fear towards my mother made me very distressed.
Of course, I also had an even bigger secret I couldn't let her know: I was voraciously searching for pictures and videos on pornographic websites online. As my "experience" grew, my excitement level gradually rose. Eventually, even well-made Japanese adult films couldn't satisfy me. I began immersing myself in various original works and selfies. Whenever new works were released by various masters, I would watch them immediately. Of course, the ultimate act was to ejaculate a thick stream of semen.
I skillfully opened a paid selfie forum that I'd bookmarked for a long time, excitedly searching for new posts. Although the forum was paid, it had a lot of high-quality content and many talented users, so I didn't hesitate to register as a member with my allowance.
Luckily, although my mom is terrifyingly strict with me, she's quite generous with my allowance. If she knew I was using her generosity for this, would she kill me?
After browsing for a while, I realized there were no new posts from the experts today. Just as I was about to close the page, quite disappointed, my eyes caught a glimpse of an unknown newbie, "Conqueror," who had posted a thread titled "My new girlfriend, please give your opinions."
Normally, I ignore these newbie posts, but since there weren't any good ones today, I clicked on it casually.
As the webpage opened, oh my god, it was amazing! The pictures were high-definition, and very professionally taken. A tall woman, wearing a purple lingerie bra, a matching thong, and red stockings, with gold high-heeled sandals, was bending over, legs straight, giving oral sex to a man, as if to show off her long, beautiful legs. Unfortunately, the photo was taken from behind, so her face wasn't visible.
The second picture shows a woman squatting on the ground with her legs spread apart, her upper body naked. Her breasts aren't large, but they are firm and full. Most striking is the gold nipple ring on her left nipple. Her thighs are wide open, and her semi-transparent thong is wet—it's unclear whether it's saliva from oral sex or vaginal fluid. She's tilting her head, one hand holding a man's penis in her mouth, while the other hand makes a playful smile with two fingers across her face towards the camera. The woman has long, straight, fiery red hair with bangs, and heavy makeup. She's clearly a mature and alluring woman. Although the images aren't explicit, her perfect figure and sexy, mature appearance are combined with her lewdly making cute, innocent expressions—the kind of expressions only a young girl would make.
For some reason, despite having seen countless pictures, I felt a strong urge towards this woman. What really got my blood pumping was her beautiful eyes, which revealed a sharp, righteous indignation, as if she were wearing formal attire swearing an oath before the national flag or party flag, rather than dressed provocatively with a penis in her mouth. These seemingly incompatible yet perfectly combined elements within this woman created a powerful and exciting contrast that drove me to a frenzied climax. In the throes of impending ejaculation, a strange sense of familiarity washed over me from her beautiful eyes.
When I finally snapped out of my drowsiness, my eyes were met with the sight of my semen spraying onto the monitor. The image on the screen, my semen on the monitor, made it seem as if I had just ejaculated on that woman's face. For a moment, I felt a kind of euphoria, my eyes unable to leave her face.
I stared intently at the screen as if in a trance, though in reality, my mind was completely blank except for that woman who seemed to pierce the depths of my soul.
The sound of the key turning in the door startled me awake. I hurriedly cleaned up the mess, and just as I finished, my mother pushed open my bedroom door. Luckily, she seemed a little tired and didn't seem to notice anything amiss, only saying something like "go to sleep" before leaving. As she closed the door, she glanced at me, and that casual glance made my heart skip a beat. I noticed that my mother's eyes were somewhat similar to that woman's. I then understood why I had been so "out of control" today.
I had subconsciously compared that woman to my mother, but I immediately realized that I must have been masturbating too hard and was in a daze. How could my mother resemble that woman? My mother would never do what that woman did.
A week passed in a daze, and I always had an inexplicable, strange feeling in my heart, as if I was bewitched by the woman in that photo. Every day I had to check if there were any new posts on that "Conqueror" forum.
But every day was spent in disappointment. Finally, one evening when his mother was working overtime again, he posted a new thread. As his fingers trembled with excitement, the picture opened. The stunningly beautiful woman who had haunted my dreams was there. She was holding her breasts in her hands, leaning slightly forward, her eyes half-closed, and pouting her alluring lips as if she were angry. The golden nipple ring on her left nipple gleamed with a lewd light. Her two long, slender legs, clad in pink stockings, were crossed, and her thong hung limply on her gold high-heeled sandals. The neatly trimmed pubic hair at the base of her thighs was already damp and clumped together. Unfortunately, because her legs were crossed, I couldn't see her most intimate parts.
The next picture showed the same pose, but her mouth slowly opened, and the beautiful woman's mouth was filled with thick, white semen. Finally, the beautiful woman bent over with her back turned, spread her legs, covered her genitals with her left hand, and gently pulled on the thong hanging on her ankle with her right hand. Her tender pink anus, nestled between those sexy, shapely legs, was completely exposed before my eyes. Watching her lower her head and give me a seductive smile, I felt a surge of heat, my mouth went dry, and with the frantic movements of my left hand, I couldn't help but ejaculate.
Although there were only two pictures this time, it still took my semen. I couldn't help but feel ashamed that, despite my countless experiences with women, I could so easily give in. Suppressing the weariness after the orgasm, I carefully looked at the posts this person had made. Disappointingly, there were only these two posts, and strangely, there weren't a single reply. This was unusual in this kind of forum, as almost all posts required a reply to view.
Had this person paid to register and never read any other posts? Just as my head was starting to ache from thinking about this, I felt the urge to urinate. So, I stopped thinking and got up to go to my mother's room. Normally, I wouldn't go into my mother's room because she's a germaphobe; going into her room meant I was likely to get a beating. But every time she worked overtime, I would use the bathroom in my mother's room. This gave me a vengeful pleasure of defiling my mother, but that was all—I was never so perverted as to want revenge against my own mother.
It was just a way for me to vent the pressure my mother put on me. Just as I was comfortably urinating, my eyes inadvertently glanced at the washing machine, and I suddenly had a wicked thought: I wanted to look at my mother's underwear. So, with my heart pounding in my chest, I quickly rummaged through the old clothes inside with trembling hands.
Unsurprisingly, I found a pair of white cotton underwear. This ordinary-looking pair of underwear surprised me greatly; there was a small damp stain in the crotch area. I smelled it; there was an indescribable fishy smell, but it wasn't disgusting; instead, it had a faint body fragrance mixed in. I sniffed it a few times, savoring the smell, and became somewhat mesmerized. Could it be that my mother, such a proud woman, would have vaginal discharge in broad daylight? And it was clearly something she had just taken off before going to work overtime. Why would she specifically change her underwear before going to work overtime?
In my heart, she was like a proud and aloof iceberg. Feeling my penis, engorged and throbbing from the smell, I quickly composed myself and tossed the underwear into the washing machine.
Just as I was about to turn away, I suddenly felt something was wrong. Looking closely, I saw something stuck in the gap between the washing machine and the wall.
I assumed it must have fallen out when Mom threw the clothes in, but when I pulled the wad of fabric out, I discovered it was a purple thong—the kind only adult film actresses wear. I was stunned. How could Mom have something like that?
Then, seeing the white stains on the thong, I remembered—it was trash that had been left on the police station's reporting counter a few days ago. I remembered Mom putting it in her bag; I never imagined it would be such disgusting underwear, and who knows if it had any STDs or anything.
I inwardly scolded Mom for being so careless, and wondered why someone as fastidious as her would take such a worn and filthy pair of underwear. Just as I was about to throw it away, I smelled that familiar, fishy odor.
My head spun. Could this be something Mom had worn? How could she wear such lewd lingerie, and how could she put this shameful thing on the police station?
Reason quickly suppressed the frantic thoughts in my mind. Although I've watched countless films, I've never actually been in contact with a woman. This scent must be a common scent for women, absolutely. Just like some book says that every man's semen smells the same.
Thinking of this, I suddenly understood. I quietly put the thong back in its place, turned and left my mother's room. Just as I was about to leave, I suddenly thought of something, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
Chapter 2:
Days without new posts are truly unbearable. Just when I thought another uneventful day was about to pass, my mother, unusually, got drunk at a colleague's gathering.
I heard the sound of the toilet flushing intermittently coming from my mother's room, so I went to the door and asked, "Mom, what's wrong? Are you sick?"
My mother's somewhat weary voice replied, "It's nothing, Zhuangzhuang. I probably ate something bad outside and have a bit of diarrhea. Don't worry."
Hearing her answer, I felt relieved; it seemed she had sobered up. "Oh, okay, Mom, remember to drink less alcohol in the future."
From the room came my mother's touched voice: "Thank you, Zhuangzhuang. You've really grown up; you know how to care for your mother."
As she spoke, the door opened, and I saw my mother's beautiful face was pale; she was weakly putting on her coat as she walked. I asked curiously, "You're drunk, why are you going out?"
After she finished dressing, she said to me, "It's okay, I'm sober now. I'm going back to work to get something, I'll be right back."
With a hint of anger in her eyes, she turned and left. I wondered who she was so angry at, going to confront someone even when she was so sick.
After Mom left, I immediately checked for new posts, and sure enough, that person had posted another one. It only contained pictures taken with a phone; it was still the same fiery red-haired woman, leaning against a window, being violated by a man. Below were the words, "Anal sex! Breakthrough!" I habitually copied the pictures to my computer so I could look at them more closely after logging off. But just as I copied the first picture, I discovered the post had been deleted.
What the hell? I hurriedly messaged him asking why the post was deleted. I waited a long time before receiving a reply. The message said, "She found out I posted the photos online. You can't post them anymore. Bye." I messaged her again, but there was no further reply.
Just as I was getting increasingly frustrated, Mom came home. She rushed into her room, and a moment later I heard the toilet flush. I thought Mom must be sick.
After that, there were no more posts from "Conqueror," and I was in a terrible mood. Strangely, I seemed to have suddenly become immune to any other pornographic material. No matter how many films I watched, I felt nothing. As long as I saw that red-haired woman who looked somewhat like my mother, I would unhesitatingly ejaculate.
Tonight was the same. I ejaculated again while looking at that picture I had masturbated to countless times. In the drowsy haze that followed, a thought suddenly struck me. I realized that the purple thong the woman in the picture was wearing looked very familiar. Could it be the one my mother brought back?
I carefully compared the features of the thong in each picture and finally confirmed that it was the same pair, because the white stain was always in the same place and the same shape. This discovery shocked me, and my father's brain started working at lightning speed.
I deduced that the owner of this underwear lived near my house, and the person who took the picture and posted it also lived here. So what was the point of this underwear being in the police station? And if this person lived here, wouldn't I have a chance to meet her in person?
Thinking this through, I started scrutinizing each picture, trying to find any clues. The house looked old, with simple furniture; it must be an old building. In the last picture on my phone, I found a crucial clue: outside the window the red-haired woman was climbing, there was a thick chimney. I recognized it; it was in an abandoned factory near my house. If I wasn't mistaken, the house was outside that factory. Excited, I couldn't sleep all night.
The next day, Saturday, I went out early to find the location in the picture and quickly found the chimney.
Using the steel frame of the chimney as a reference, I found an abandoned three-story studio apartment building. I used to play there often as a child. Each floor had six or seven rooms and a long corridor, and each floor had a door. If you locked the doors, you could have the whole floor to yourself—a perfect place for a tryst.
It seemed I'd found the right place this time. Just as I was about to go in, I suddenly saw Huang Ming coming down from upstairs. I was startled and quickly hid. Luckily, I reacted quickly, and there were many weeds around, so he didn't see me.
Watching Huang Ming's retreating figure, I thought, "Could it be him? How did that blond punk get so lucky to date such a goddess-level beauty?" I angrily went to the front of the building only to find the door locked. Relying on my memory, I went to the back of the building. There was a passage between the back of the building and the wall, which was filthy due to long-term neglect. Fortunately, the fire escape ladder was still there. I climbed up the ladder to the top floor. I knew that from the top floor, I could go down to any floor. Even if the floor doors were locked, it could only stop people coming up from below, but I was coming down from above.
I easily found the room on the third floor. It seemed that someone lived in this room, and only the area in front of the door was clean. The furnishings inside were exactly the same as in the picture. What made me happiest was that I found a small door next to this room. Although the door couldn't be opened, I could climb in through the window in the corridor.
I looked around the room. Calling it a room was a bit of a stretch; it was basically a small tool shed for the cleaners, only three or four square meters. Besides some old tools, there wasn't much else in the space. Luckily, there was a hole where the wall met the ceiling, probably where an exhaust fan or something had been installed. I climbed a broken ladder and peered through the hole. Surprisingly, the view was excellent. Inside, besides a large bed, a dressing table, a coat rack, and a shoe cabinet, there was a large bed, a dressing table, and a variety of cosmetics. A gold pendant and two thin gold chains caught my eye. I hadn't expected Huang Ming to have gold jewelry.
Because the building was old and poorly lit, the hole looked completely dark from a distance, and I couldn't see anyone peeping inside, haha. Having figured everything out, I quietly left, thinking that this was a live broadcast, much more exciting than seeing pictures.
Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned. For several days, there was no movement. Huang Ming came home alone every night; no one else entered the building. Since I can't stay out too late, I figured the woman might come in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, I can't go out that late unless my mom is working overtime.
Finally, my mom, who was washing dishes, said she might be late because of overtime. I was so excited I could hardly contain myself. After watching her leave, I quickly changed into a black tracksuit and rushed to Huang
Ming's house. To my surprise, when I arrived, I saw my mom's red Mazda 3 parked downstairs. Damn it! What's with my mom here? Is she doing some kind of "educational support" for Huang Ming? I'm so incredibly unlucky! I considered climbing up to check, but I didn't have the courage to risk being discovered by my mom. So I just waited downstairs to see if she would leave.
I waited for almost two hours, nearly falling asleep, before I saw Mom open the building door. To my surprise, she was walking with a limp, stopping every few steps to twist her ankle. She was also rubbing her bottom with one hand. It seemed she had twisted her ankle and fallen while going downstairs. Given her agility, the stairwell must have been very dark for her to fall.
Mom walked to the car, opened the door, but didn't get in immediately. Instead, she slowly sat down, holding onto the seat cushion, as if her bottom hurt. Seeing Mom start the car, I quickly ran home.
When I got home, I sat down on the sofa and turned on the TV. My mother came in just as I entered. She seemed a little stunned when she saw me. That's when I noticed several red marks on her neck. Seeing me, she unconsciously tightened her collar and said sternly, "Watching TV so late? Turn it off and go to sleep right now."
I nodded and turned off the TV. Watching my mother trying to walk normally, I asked, "What happened? Did you fall?"
"No, I'm fine. How did you know I fell?"
Looking at my mother's feigned composure, a strange feeling welled up in my mind. Why was my mother lying? It seemed illogical for her to go to Huang Ming's house in the middle of the night for "educational assistance." I deliberately said, "Mom, has that troublemaker Huang Ming you were helping turned over a new leaf?"
My mother turned around abruptly and coughed lightly, saying, "Of course he's turned over a new leaf. Huh, why did you think of asking about him?"
Although she spoke calmly, the surprise in her eyes didn't escape my notice, which made me feel that something was wrong with my mother. I wanted to ask about the thong, but I was afraid my mother would find out I suspected her, so I made up an excuse. Luckily, my mother didn't seem to care and hurried back to her room.
Back in my room, the more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt. The deeper I thought, the more cold sweat broke out. What could my mother and Huang Ming possibly have? They were from completely different worlds. One was a perfect, successful, and beautiful businesswoman; the other a cowardly, petty ex-convict. One was a cold, dignified police chief; the other a timid, useless blond-haired punk.
No words could possibly connect these two. If I had to say something, the red-haired beauty and my mother shared some similarities in eyes and figure, but it was only a slight resemblance. Their demeanor and overall presence were completely different. They couldn't possibly be the same person. And most importantly, if it really was my mother, why would she take those photos? Why would she let such a scoundrel manipulate her? What was the truth?! No! I had to find out.
When I looked at my mother again with doubts in my heart, I noticed many things were off about her. Although she was still dressed in her police uniform and without makeup, I always felt that she exuded an alluring aura from within. Sometimes her tone was cold, but I could hear a different meaning in it.
Especially when she came home from working overtime, she would rub her beautiful feet on the sofa, as if her feet were in great pain. I asked her about it, and she just replied that her shoes were too small and hurt her feet, but they were clearly old shoes, so how could they be too small?
In my confusion, I finally got the chance to find out the truth. The school had organized a rare trip to the countryside to experience rural life, and just as we were about to board the bus to leave, I was told that I didn't have to go; they already had enough people.

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