Good luck

(1) By a stroke of luck, although I was a poor student during my university years, I lived in the most upscale villa area in Taipei. The old five-story house was just an ordinary birdcage-style rental for students, but with cherry blossoms all over the mountain and a gentle mountain breeze all day long, I really loved this cozy little nest that accompanied me for four years.
Because I was afraid of losing it, I made an extra set of keys, one big and one small. The big one was for the downstairs iron gate, and the small one was for the room door. I put them together with my car keys and carried them with me until I graduated from university. I did not return them to the landlord. In
the blink of an eye, more than a month has passed since graduation. Like many fresh graduates, I cut my long hair, which resembled Takuya Kimura, into a suit haircut. I changed my t-shirts and jeans into shirts and dress pants. My stubble was gone, and my decadent and roguish air was gone. Every day I was busy with the boring things of job interviews and self-recommendations.
After working for more than half a month, I still hadn't found a job. Was I being unrealistic and overconfident, or was the overall economic downturn really that bad? Every day, weaving through traffic and crowds, I started to miss the leisurely, carefree, and lucky days my little apartment in college had given me.
I always had the urge to go back to that apartment, especially after failing an interview and getting into an old, used car. The scorching summer heat always reminded me of countless summer days when I would lie shirtless in that apartment, lazily enjoying the cool mountain breeze.
Gradually, I started to think that my good fortune was left behind in that apartment, forgotten to be brought out with me.
Then, after another interview, I received the same "waiting for further notice" result. Frustrated, I drove through Shilin and unknowingly returned to my apartment building. Thinking I should try my luck, I took out my key and tried it. To my surprise, the familiar lock opened easily. I tiptoed back to my apartment, and luckily, it was exactly as I'd left it. The yellowed blanket on the bed was perfectly rolled up, and two cigarette butts on the floor hadn't been cleaned up.
I was glad the landlord hadn't rented it out yet, so I grabbed a broom in the hallway and cleaned the dust off the floor, and also found a towel to wipe the spring mattress. Finally, I went to the nearby 7-Eleven and bought a newspaper and two cans of Taiwan beer. That afternoon, I showered, read the newspaper, drank beer, and enjoyed the cool mountain breeze for over an hour in my apartment.
There's a certain peculiar interplay between people and their environment, like a peacock in full display. Put it in a zoo, and it's always sickly and lifeless; but once released into the forest, it's vibrant and colorful. Or like a tortoise, it always swims towards its ideal environment; if the environment is slightly less favorable, it won't even dare to stick its head out.
And my little nest is my blessed place.
That day, I made two phone calls from the job section of the newspaper. The second call was to a large leasing company applying for a sales position. When I clearly stated that I was a recent graduate with no work experience, he only asked me two questions: Did I graduate with a business degree? And could I drink alcohol? I was drinking beer at the time! The answer, of course, was yes. Without another word, he told me to bring my resume and report to work the next day.
It felt like I'd washed away all the bad luck in my little nest. Full of joy, I left my little nest and began my busy life as an office worker.
Because I was in the lending business, I had to navigate among many managers of small and medium-sized enterprises…! I collected credit information and understood the operational status of client companies. Because I held the power of life and death over lending, they went to great lengths to flatter me, using every means possible, from drug use to drinking parties. So, after two weeks at the company, I couldn't escape the days of drinking and revelry that started every noon.
Immersed in this distorted life of alcohol and money, I still longed for peace of mind. So, my little apartment became a haven for me to steal moments of leisure. During breaks from the tiring social engagements each day, whenever possible, I would drive to my quiet little apartment at the foot of the mountain, wash away the sweat and grime, drink a refreshing beer, and then lie on the spring mattress watching the smog-shrouded Taipei City.
I would always sneak over around two or three in the afternoon, and when no one was around, I would take out my key, open the iron gate, and slip into the apartment like a cat. I knew that most of the people living on the same floor were office workers and students. Around lunchtime, they were either sweating it out in class on the mountain or enjoying the air conditioning in their offices, so I didn't worry about being discovered.
I only encountered the landlady a few times in front of the apartment, but perhaps because my hair was shorter and I looked more presentable, she didn't recognize me. I pretended to be a stranger and walked past her, then went straight to the 7-Eleven at the end of the street.
Having a private space seemed to moderately ease my tense nerves. In my little apartment, I would turn off my phone, take off all my clothes, and then, naked, look down at the deafening metropolis. The wind blowing against me was cool and refreshing, completely different from the distorted, twisted, gray-white modern urban jungle stretching out before me.
Having successfully sneaked around like this several times, I was almost considering it my secret hideout when, one Friday, I opened the door as usual, only to find the room crammed full of things, filled with a heavy, perfumed scent. My little nest had a new owner, and a fragrant lady at that.
Fortunately, the new owner hadn't changed the locks. I strode in, searching through the newly arrived cabinets, furniture, and decorations, trying to glean clues about the new tenant and contemplate the possibility of a future coexisting harmoniously.
Undoubtedly, the new owner was a young woman; I could tell from the fashionable high heels by the door and the vibrant colors of the furniture. Opening the wardrobe that occupied an entire wall, I found it filled with trendy, form-fitting clothes: crop tops, mesh tank tops, tight mini skirts, low-waisted skinny jeans, fitted suits, and some low-cut dresses—further indicating that the new owner was a fashionable working woman.
Although I was an uninvited guest, I couldn't suppress my desire to see what the homeowner looked like. I wanted to find her photos, so I left the closet and rummaged through her desk and drawers.
I easily found a large photo album with at least a hundred pictures inside. Some were taken in Yangmingshan, Kenting, Alishan, and others abroad, like Austria or Belgium. In every photo, the woman had the same perfect figure, was as beautiful as a flower, with shoulder-length hair cascading down her back, and two small, bright white teeth. My favorite was a photo of her in a bikini, reclining on a deck chair, the azure pool water highlighting her crystal-clear skin, exuding a perfect, languid charm. Of course, I didn't love the charm itself, but rather the beautiful curves that seemed to burst forth from behind the bikini.
The swimsuit was a deadly pure white, shot from the toes forward, the small nylon fabric clinging to her triangle area seemingly becoming part of her body, faithfully displaying the alluring texture of her private parts. Thankfully, the scene was a private pool, otherwise, many men would surely have nosebleeds.
I felt like I had struck gold, all the blood rushing to my lower abdomen, the thrill of peeping into a woman's private parts making me extremely excited. However, I was covered in sweat and smelled terrible, so I took a shower first, and then continued searching for this beautiful woman's belongings.
I rummaged through the closets as much as I could, and finally found her underwear, lingerie, bras, stockings, pajamas, and slips. The panties alone were made of cotton, silk, Lycra, leather, PVC, and mesh. The sheer number and variety of styles were astounding. I checked the time and it was only a little past three in the afternoon, so I carefully took about ten pieces of underwear and pajamas that were made with very little fabric and had a very sexy style and sat on the edge of the bed.
Naked, I placed a photo of her in a bikini on my lap, imagining her alluring nakedness while sniffing each piece of her clothing in my hands. My other hand, without any restraint, began to masturbate.
What would it be like without the bikini? Would there be curly pubic hair covering a swirling, blooming mound? Would wisps of heat rise from within, releasing waves of desire? Would those clearly defined labia twitch with each thrust? And when I penetrated her completely, would the sensation be intoxicating and unforgettable?
I wonder if other men would be a bit perverted in situations like this? I was pounding my wits about, on the verge of collapse, and yet I actually put on her panties... a silver, shiny Lycra low-rise thong, yes! A woman's panties! Wearing it, my penis jutted out from the crotch, the red, shiny glans pointing skyward.
The feeling of the narrow crotch rubbing against my scrotum and anus, that incredibly erotic sensation, almost made me faint. I didn't dare touch my penis, and slowly walked to the full-length mirror to carefully observe my perverted appearance. Ha! I swear, that was the most perverted man I'd ever seen, it was me! A 22-year-old man wearing a tiny women's thong, tall and thin, naked except for a silver women's panty tucked into his hairy scrotum, the stretchy fabric clinging to his male genitalia.
The thought that this same pair of panties had once clung tightly to another beautiful woman's labia and anus, soaked with her bodily fluids and vaginal discharge, filled me with uncontrollable excitement. I rushed back to the photo and ejaculated all over her white bikini.
That day, I put all my clothes back in their places, including that Lycra low-rise thong that still smelled of me. I looked through her ID in her drawer and learned that her name was Lin Mingli and that she worked at an advertising company. Finally, I drank a can of Coca-Cola from her refrigerator, lay on her bed for thirty minutes, and then swaggered away with that bikini photo.
From that day on, I began to lose interest in my girlfriend. To be honest, my girlfriend wasn't bad-looking; she had a petite figure, fair skin, and rather large breasts. But I always felt she lacked something—femininity. Femininity is that kind of allure that makes a man instantly aroused. You see a woman like that and you immediately want to touch and squeeze her breasts; you see her buttocks and you immediately want to lift them; you see her thighs and you immediately want to spread them apart; you see her naked and you might ejaculate without even realizing it. My girlfriend wasn't that kind of woman, but Lin Mingli clearly was.
Almost two days a week, I would go back to our apartment and masturbate, maybe on Lin Mingli's bed, maybe in front of her dressing table. Sometimes I would wear her pajamas, sometimes I would smell her unwashed underwear, and once I even wore a head full of her underwear and ejaculated into her drinking glass. I think I'm sick, and this sickness is a deadly sexual perversion.
(2)
You're bound to run into a ghost if you walk the dark road too often. I remember that day very clearly. It was a Monday in early autumn. I was being scolded by my boss at the morning business meeting. He asked me if I had been indulging in too much sex lately, because I always felt dizzy and lethargic. Damn it, boss! Everyone knows he was furious because two of his clients had gone bankrupt recently, and he couldn't collect a huge amount of debt. But those weren't loans I had made!
I was full of complaints and endured the whole morning. Finally, I managed to sneak back to my little apartment during a break from my business trip in the afternoon.
As I was whistling in the shower, I heard the sound of the bedroom door opening. I quickly shut up, tightened the faucet, and listened intently to what was happening inside. Through the door, I heard the sound of high heels stopping by the door. It must be Lin Mingli returning. She took off her shoes at the door, walked to the desk, and then, with a soft "ee," sat down at the desk and opened a drawer, anxiously searching for something.
I stood in the bathroom, holding my breath, when a wicked thought of raping her gradually surfaced in my mind. A battle raged within me between Satan and angel, until finally Satan plunged his sword into the angel's heart, and blood rushed to my head.
It's understandable, really. After fantasizing about her in photos for so long, now that she was right in front of me, how could I suppress the surging lust within me?
I first dried myself off, covering my face firmly with a cotton vest, leaving the rest of my body naked to avoid the discomfort of undressing later. As for tools, I grabbed a few towels, a hair tie, and a toilet brush, just in case.
Hearing Lin Mingli's voice behind the door, I gently pushed it open and glimpsed a petite figure sitting sideways at a desk, her beautiful right cheek slightly turned towards me. With lightning speed, I pounced on her.
"Wow! You are—"
Her face turned pale instantly, and she cried out in alarm. Before she could scream, I grabbed her upper body and desperately covered her mouth with my other hand.
"Hehe, quiet! If you disturb others, I won't let you have an easy time." She struggled violently in my arms, trying to kick my groin with her pink legs.
I clamped her pink legs between my legs and kicked her onto the bed. Then, with great effort, I gagged her with a towel, tied her hands to the bedposts, and bound her feet tightly together with the sheet.
After I was mostly done, I was panting heavily. It was the first time in my life that I had done something like this, and I was a little scared. But since I had already started, there was no intention of stopping.
She was like Jesus being nailed to the cross, her whole body spread out in a cross shape. But while Jesus faced death calmly, she had tears in her eyes, and her delicate body bounced and twitched like a shrimp.
I looked down to examine my prey closely. She was wearing a well-fitting gray suit—a tank top, a shirt, and a tight skirt—clutching her beautiful body. Her small face, with bright eyes and white teeth, and deep-set features, was even more stunning than in the photos. As she struggled, the skirt rode up to her thighs, revealing tiny silver panties beneath her light gray stockings—the very same ones I'd used to masturbate the first time I entered her.
Seeing her firm, supple thighs and smelling the musky scent emanating from her, my penis immediately hardened. At that moment, she knew what was about to happen to her; she stopped struggling and looked at me with pleading eyes.
I was almost stunned. Damn it! How could there be such a captivating woman? She was beautiful whether she smiled or cried. The more pitiful and helpless she appeared, the more it fueled the burning desire within me. I stared at her blankly for a long time, then a plan formed in my mind. I said to her, "You should know what I'm going to do to you! But as long as you don't make a fuss and behave, maybe I'll ejaculate before I even penetrate your little hole, and then you'll escape this ordeal!"
"Mmm," she nodded repeatedly, her nose making muffled sounds.
"Now I'm taking the stuff out of your mouth. If you scream, I'll shove it back in and immediately rape your cunt. No matter how many holes you have, I'll fuck them all hard." I said decisively.
Pulling the towel out of her mouth, she didn't scream loudly, only whispering, "I won't scream. As long as you don't rape me, I'll definitely listen to you. I'm getting married next month. Please, let me save my virginity for my husband, okay?" She looked at me earnestly.
"Pah! I don't believe you're still a virgin. I've already gone through all your things; your underwear is all sexy and provocative. How could you not have been with a man while wearing clothes like that?" I replied incredulously.
Hearing the words "been with a man," her face flushed, and she murmured, "It's true!"
"Then you must have seen a man's penis, right?" I asked, holding my penis in front of her.
She avoided looking at the enormous thing in front of her and nodded shyly.
"I didn't hear you! Have you seen it or not?" I pressed, pretending not to understand.
"I have!" Her voice was barely audible.

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