Little butterfly

From a young age, I grew up watching my mother spread her legs.

My mother was a prostitute. Our family lived in an old apartment complex on the edge of a busy area, in a tiny two-bedroom apartment. It was so small that whenever guests came in, I could hear what they were saying and doing. My mother gave birth to me while she was dating a foreigner. Although she never let me know who the father was, I knew he was an irresponsible scoundrel who would run away after using me. Ironically, thanks to this scoundrel, I was born with a pretty, Western-looking face.

Around the time I was going from fourth to fifth grade, I started to have some understanding of these things and became quite curious. After all, my mother slept with different men every day, sometimes several in a single day, which was very unsettling. But as unsettling as it was, it was impossible for a child to change the situation. However, I learned not to touch the private parts of strange uncles and stopped being tricked by uncles and grandfathers into giving them blowjobs.

Those pointless insistences were only broken when I entered junior high school and had my first boyfriend. My first love was a complete scumbag. Despite only skipping classes, causing trouble, and acting like a hooligan, perhaps it was my good looks that made me desperately want to be with him. Gradually, my family received more and more notices, and I went from being an ordinary, insignificant classmate to a "problem girl" in everyone's eyes. But I hadn't done anything wrong. Wasn't it right to just want to be with him? Being blinded by love resulted in completely resisting the pressure from school and home, and, encouraged by my boyfriend, I went even further in my bad habits.

I started learning to dress up: applying powder, drawing eyebrows, and wearing lipstick. If I planned to skip class, I would even wear my boyfriend's favorite eyeshadow and false eyelashes. The first time I tried smoking was awful, but the third and fourth times were much better. Low-cut tops and miniskirts were things I never dared to dream of before, but now I always carried one in my bag when I went out. I would sneak into the school with my boyfriend's gang to smoke, and then climb over the wall to hang out in internet cafes or open spaces. The six of us would make a ruckus, as if we wanted everyone to know we were there. My boyfriend loves to show me off to strangers and his friends, so he always wants me to dress up nicely. He'll touch my butt in front of others, make me hug him tightly and press my breasts against him, or make me sit on him and imitate pornographic moves to satisfy his sense of superiority. As for me, I guess I'm also showing off a little. I have a great figure, very thin, but my breasts developed quickly; I was the first girl in my class to reach a C cup. So teasing guys like this is quite fun.

But soon I discovered that his friends were thinking lewd things when they looked at me. No matter what I wanted to say to them, they would only grope me when my boyfriend wasn't looking, which made me feel very uncomfortable. Several times when my boyfriend was away, they groped my breasts and touched my private parts, and someone even pulled my hand and put it inside his crotch. As for feeling uncomfortable... that was only the first few times. Although their actions were rough and didn't make me feel comfortable, just the thought of being touched without my boyfriend's knowledge actually gave me a kind of excitement. I don't know why I started doing this, engaging in lewd acts with my boyfriend while secretly touching him and his friends behind his back.

The first person to pin me down wasn't my boyfriend, but one of his somewhat muscular friends. We weren't doing what my mother often did; we were just playing a game of pretending to have sex, like my boyfriend does. That day, we were on the rooftop of a building, everyone was gathered there smoking and drinking. My boyfriend lost a game of rock-paper-scissors with a short guy, and the two went to buy food. They had barely left the roof when I was tackled by the guy with the stench of alcohol. His large face was buried in my cleavage, muttering things no one could understand. His genitals, pressed against my jeans, were very erect, repeatedly bumping against my private parts, which were only covered by my underwear after my skirt was lifted. Seeing this, instead of pulling him away, the others joined in touching me. Perhaps because of the alcohol, I became bolder and didn't resist them, even kissing one of them. When someone said they wanted to see my breasts, I only hesitated slightly before letting them see them. Someone wanted to have sex with me, so I grabbed him and we exchanged the smells of alcohol and cigarettes on our lips. They amused me so much that I even wanted to take off all my clothes, but I stopped myself because my boyfriend was about to come back. Watching those guys hurriedly help me put my shirt back on, pull the fat guy away, and pretend nothing was wrong in front of my boyfriend, while secretly wanting to have sex with me... I felt like a queen, controlling their lust. The one

who took my virginity was my good-for-nothing boyfriend, along with two pornographic videotapes he used for amusement at home. This guy, to put it simply, was the type who pretended to be a thug. His best skill was bluffing, but he couldn't do anything right in practice. Even though he acted like he'd slept with me many times in front of his friends, when I was in his parents' bed, spread my legs for him, he looked completely lost with a limp penis. He really liked my breasts, saying they were like those of women in porn movies, with big areolas and erect nipples, very sexy. When he touched my breasts and I sucked on them, my penis would get erect, and I would become very active. Actually, we get excited when we tongue-feed. Often, while we're tongue-feeding, I let his penis rub against my vulva, and it feels so good to enjoy both sides at the same time. But every time it's the crucial moment of penetration, he goes soft. This happened several times. When I asked him why, he wouldn't say, finally admitting that his vagina made him feel nauseous. I said, "You see that when you watch porn and masturbate, right?" He said, "They're all censored." No matter what I said, he wouldn't do it; he's really useless. One time, I decided to only tongue-feed him and let him play with my breasts. He was rock hard the whole time, making me really want him to penetrate me. So I tried different positions with him, finding the one most suitable for him to ambush me—I straddled his waist, supporting my body so his penis was against my vulva, then bent over and kissed him. When I couldn't hold on any longer, I took advantage of his glans pressing against my vaginal opening, relaxed all my strength, and collapsed on him while his entire penis slid into my wet vagina.

It felt a bit like squeezing a wound, but it pushed in about seven or eight centimeters in a very short time, stretching open the previously tight flesh walls. It wasn't very painful, nor was it comfortable, but there was quite a lot of blood, which made me a little scared. However, when I thought of my mother being pinned down on the bed by another man, moaning with apparent pleasure, I forced myself to moan like a slut. I leaned forward slightly, afraid that he would pull back if he saw the blood, and touched my breasts in front of him, drawing his gaze, which seemed both comfortable and uncomfortable, to my chest. I pinched my left breast with one hand and touched his face with the other, pouting and saying sweetly, "Father-in-law's rod is inside, it feels so good... please insert it into me, make my little sister feel good..." His face turned as red as an octopus, and he wrapped his arms around my waist, making my first thrust.

The feeling was so strange. I don't know how to describe it. Unlike the sex I was used to afterward, the first time felt very unique yet indescribable. To be honest—the physical pleasure was very subtle, even a tearing pain, constantly tormenting me vertically. But looking at his face, feeling him moving inside me, I felt so happy. I wanted to see him maintain that expression of suppressed pleasure, and I also wanted him to surrender inside me. The thrusting, which was initially a little painful, gradually became comfortable.

I lay on top of him, kissing him again and again, each time actively moving my hips, so that he, who was desperately trying to endure, would show an even more pitiful expression. He would frown, drool, pant, groan, pinch my waist or breasts, weakly telling me not to keep moving because he couldn't take it... On the other hand, I would frequently whisper in his ear, saying things he usually liked to hear, driving him almost crazy. I would say, "Father-in-law, I love you so much, and my sister loves your penis too..." He would hug me tightly for a moment, then stop moving with a troubled expression. I licked his ear, sucking on his earlobe, smearing saliva everywhere, and then, with a wet, watery voice, said, "Father-in-law, make me feel good...use your big cock to fuck me, fuck me..." He hesitated, but I already arched my back, using my still-bleeding vulva to stroke his penis. He let out another comfortable moan. But this time, his moan was long and broken, and after he finished, he didn't continue to fuck me, but just relaxed and breathed heavily.

He touched my breasts, looking dejected and not knowing what was wrong. The sensation inside my vagina gradually shrank, leaving me at a loss. After pressing him repeatedly, I learned that he had just been teased to the point of ejaculation... I touched his head, relaxed my body like him, and then kept kissing him, kept kissing him... I knew he had tried very hard, trying to wait until I felt good before ejaculating, but in the end, he couldn't help it. For the first time, I felt that this boy also had such a cute and earnest side. I loved him even more, loved him so much that I wanted him to fuck me again, loved him so much that I wanted him to ejaculate because of me again.

But I wasn't satisfied. I felt the pain had gone from intense to pleasurable, and to have it interrupted like this was really frustrating. So, while he said it was time to clean up, I snuggled against his chest and said, "Father-in-law, I want to take a bath. Shall we bathe together today?" He said okay, but why the sudden urge to bathe? I thought for a moment, then sat up, exposing our genitals. There was a lot of blood, and after sex, it was completely red—honestly, a little scary. But compared to my feelings, my dear boyfriend was completely terrified. He anxiously asked if I was okay, if it hurt, if we should see a doctor… Even in such a tense atmosphere, I couldn't help but laugh. I pulled him into my arms, letting him rub against my breasts, and gently comforted him until he calmed down. However, although he had an erection during the bath, he didn't want to do it again.

After the bath and instant noodles, to change the mood, he invited friends over. I was a little unhappy because I thought today was our date, and after sex we could do something else together. Oh well, there's nothing I can do. Maybe it was the first time that scared him. I borrowed his mother's expensive cosmetics and wore underwear that was a little too small, and wandered around his house. He only wore a pair of briefs, and his genitals were bulging, making me blush and want to touch them every time I saw them. We teased each other in this way, and although I was very confident in my body and appearance, I always lost to him. Then we searched around his house, and when we didn't find anything, we snuggled together, smoked, and touched each other. He always touched or kissed my breasts, while my focus was on his genitals. Suddenly, he asked if I could give him a blowjob. I felt a little disgusted because I had been tricked into giving blowjobs to older men before, but I still obediently lay down on his lap. He couldn't wait to pull down his underwear, revealing his semi-erect penis, the light pink glans already wet. He kept urging me to give him a blowjob, and while I said we should do it after I finished smoking, I was also thinking about whether I could avoid it... Finally, he half-forced me to hold my head and pressed me against his genitals.

I gently took the tip of his penis into my mouth, pressed it with my lips, and slowly touched it with my tongue. He gently stroked my nipples, sometimes pinching, sometimes rubbing, coaxing me to suck his penis. I liked his coaxing far more than the disgust I felt when I was tricked as a child, so I did as he instructed. I thought his penis would taste disgusting, but surprisingly, it didn't have any particular smell. I think it might be because I had just showered; otherwise, it would have that fishy, pungent smell from when we made love. I slowed down, sometimes sucking with my lips clenched, sometimes rubbing my lips against the glans. His caresses slowed, and his moans gradually increased. Hearing his sounds of enjoyment and pleasure made me feel that giving him oral sex was a wonderful thing.

We didn't know anything when we first made love, but that also made this time progress much more pleasantly. I wanted him to feel good, not just ejaculate, but a long, sustained pleasure. If he showed signs of wanting more, I would stop stimulating him and let him catch his breath. Or, when his mouth got sore from sucking, I would let him rest for a few minutes. His penis was erect from start to finish, whether it was swirling in my mouth or trembling near my ear. During breaks, I nestled between his legs, letting him touch me with his hand or his penis. He liked watching me blowjob, saying I looked like a sexually frustrated slut when I did, making him want to fuck me, though he'd prefer I didn't smoke near his manhood. Later, I realized he was worried I'd accidentally burn it—how cute.

I was giving him my third blowjob when his gang rang the doorbell. The novelty was starting to wear off, so we decided to stop. We quickly cleaned each other's genitals, as his was practically covered in my saliva and his bodily fluids, and my private parts were incredibly wet even without being touched. After getting dressed, I followed him to the door, welcoming those lecherous guys who kept glancing at me inside. Even though it was only a few steps to the living room, one of the idiots grabbed my breast when my boyfriend wasn't looking. I should have called out, I should have made my boyfriend step in, that would have been the normal reaction, right? But I didn't. I knew my indifference would only embolden them. I love my boyfriend, but I also wanted a little excitement.

Everyone brought the barbecue and beer to the table, chattering about trivial things. My boyfriend and I sat together, the three of them sat together, and one person sat on the floor. As soon as we started eating the first skewer of chicken butts, my boyfriend started bragging to everyone that we'd just had sex, making me choke on my saliva. He was really into it, and everyone seemed to enjoy listening, except me, who shyly lowered my head. Suddenly, someone pinched my breast. I looked up in fright, and there was my boyfriend with a sly grin. He pulled me into his arms, grabbed my breast with one hand, and started kneading and squeezing it in front of everyone. I figured it was just bragging anyway, and it would make those perverts drool even more, so I occasionally played along, pretending to moan softly. Even though I didn't really feel anything from that touching, the act itself was very effective. I was in my boyfriend's arms, looking at his clumsy guy with a bulge between his legs, and I couldn't help but wonder what his penis looked like.

Later, we drank more and bought two more beers from the convenience store. Everyone wasn't as reserved as before, and they started making lewd jokes at me. One guy even asked me to touch him, which resulted in him getting into a fight with my boyfriend. But later, I don't know what my boyfriend was thinking, he actually told me to take off my top and skirt, and to show everyone what I was wearing, only my underwear. If you call that showing off, isn't that going too far? The more convincing excuse I could come up with was that he wanted to assert his dominance in front of everyone. I tried to refuse several times, but in the end, I couldn't resist my boyfriend's orders and the noisy guys, so I took my clothes off in front of them. My boyfriend noticed that I didn't look too good, so he poured me a beer and told me not to overthink it, and to sit on his lap after I finished drinking.

We'd done similar lewd things before, but it was always just for fun and we were always dressed properly. This time, he probably wanted to have some fun too, which is why he told me to sit on his lap in only my underwear and then slowly start moving my hips. But I was pretty sure he was drunk. His face was buried in his cleavage, whispering things I couldn't understand, things that probably meant nothing at all, and his reactions were slow. And he hadn't even considered that he wanted his drooling friends to see his girlfriend in her underwear while he hid in his cleavage, unable to see what was about to happen… So… even if I held him tightly while kissing his friends, he wouldn't know.

My heart was pounding so fast, so fast… I felt lightheaded and so hot. Whether it was my boyfriend in my arms or those people quietly approaching me, they all made me feel so good. Watching my boyfriend's voice grow softer and softer, watching them cautiously approach, the feeling of being sandwiched between them was so exciting... Someone touched my back, rubbed my butt, grabbed my hand and put it inside his stuffy crotch, touched my arm and kissed me... Just as my boyfriend was enjoying the warmth of my cleavage, his friends were also enjoying my body, my tongue... I took turns swallowing their saliva, they were kissing so passionately, the kissing felt like caressing, making my chest feel so hot and I wanted to be touched...

When my boyfriend made a sound, I was startled, afraid he would catch me doing this dirty thing, my heart pounded even faster. Fortunately, those guys were quick-witted, one by one quietly and quickly returning to their seats, and in the blink of an eye, my body was back under my boyfriend's control. He kept muttering indistinct words, and after a while, he patted my butt and told me to relax. He lifted his face, reddened from being pressed against my breasts, and asked me to kiss him, looking like he'd just woken up. But he didn't know I had another man's taste on my breath, and I was afraid he'd taste it… In the end, I only kissed his left cheek, then sat back down next to him, blushing as I picked up a cigarette. Just then, someone deliberately said that watching me smoke looked like I was playing a trumpet, and that my cheeks hollowed out when I smoked looked like I was sucking on a penis. I glared at him, then let my boyfriend hold me. He told me to take a few more puffs, his eyes… no, all ten eyes scrutinizing my face. I didn't really want to cater to those people, but if my boyfriend wanted to see, I couldn't resist. So I deliberately took a big puff, until my cheeks were hollowed out, then gave my boyfriend a blissful look and exhaled smoke. He seemed unable to bear it; just as he was about to do it a second time, he quickly patted my head and said, "That's enough, that's enough." I guessed his erection was even more pronounced than before, because the way he looked at me was like when he wanted me to give him oral sex—pure yet yearning.

To change the mood, my boyfriend joined them at a table to play cards. Each game had four players; the loser switched, the winner took the money, and my boyfriend, regardless of winning or losing, would touch me and brag to others about having a beautiful and well-built girlfriend. Watching them play was boring. Except for the first few games where I'd share my joy or frustration, I'd just space out, occasionally act cute or comfort him, and check if anyone was secretly watching me. Suddenly, I found myself hoping that one of the idle players would sneak up behind me and harass me... but my craving for excitement didn't materialize; they only provoked me with their eyes. So when my boyfriend said he needed to use the restroom, I insisted on going with him, hoping those guys would be jealous of him with their lewd thoughts. After all, they wouldn't do what I wanted.

After losing my virginity, my boyfriend and I made love every day after school, and a few times we even did oral sex in the school restroom. One evening at home, I secretly pulled back a small section of my mom's bedroom curtains so I could see inside from the back balcony. I wanted to know how adults have sex, what the changes are, and the order of events. Although I knew my mom was a prostitute, seeing her sleep with strangers still made me uncomfortable. Anyway, I learned about things like breast sex and anal sex. Let's skip the sadomasochistic stuff. It's disgusting.

Even though I learned a lot of new things, we didn't actually try them until summer vacation, and even then, it was just breast sex. Even if I didn't care much about grades, getting expelled would be terrible. The teacher sternly warned us to be moderate, but we just let it go in one ear and out the other, turning back to kissing and having sex, only scrambling to catch up when disaster struck. My grades were already above average, and although I studied less after starting a relationship, I could catch up on my own. On the other hand, the only solution my boyfriend could think of was cheating. He thought he could get away with it by cheating. I said that doing that for a big exam was too risky, at least study a little, I'll teach you. He said he hated studying and didn't want to study. I pretended to be angry and said, "If my father-in-law doesn't study with me, I won't make love to you." He was a little angry and wanted to scold me, but his attitude softened after I hugged him tightly. So, before the final exams were over, we spent our time studying with a touch of sullenness, rather than doing boring things like gathering and making

noise. We flew into a carefree summer vacation, he was giving it his all, and I was deliberately slacking off. Being close in grades would make him happier, but it would also make my mother more worried. I can understand my mother's desire for me to study hard, but even so, I still can't accept her opposition to my dating. I really wanted to tell her, "You're always spreading your legs for men, why can't I have fun with my boyfriend?" I held back. I didn't want to ruin things with my mother. I can understand her prostitution, so why does she have to pretend to care so much about her child's studies? Besides, it's not like I can't study... Whenever I think about this, I feel a surge of unease. I really wanted to study hard for a month and get into the top five in my class to show my mom, but I was afraid my boyfriend would feel betrayed, so I had to give up. Mom, I'm in a relationship now. You know how girls in love will do anything for their partners, right?

At the beginning of July, we went to the city for tattoos. Six of us got different designs, and some even got words tattooed on their arms. Thinking about how summer clothes would show my arms, I, who had originally wanted a shoulder tattoo, immediately backed out. My boyfriend said we could get it in a hidden place, like my belly button, buttocks, or chest. I noticed he emphasized my chest, so I got a small butterfly tattooed on the inside of my left breast. That day I happened to be wearing a low-cut top, so everyone could see the little butterfly on my chest, giving my boyfriend a chance to show it off. Later, I also got my ears pierced, got a belly button piercing, got my nails painted (which guys don't usually care about), and picked out an expensive perfume that everyone chipped in for my birthday. Finally, we went to karaoke for two hours, ending the day with a great time. That night, I secretly went to a tattoo shop by myself again because I wanted to get it on my butt, but I was too embarrassed to let my boyfriend spend more money. The tattoo artist tattooed a very pretty flower for me, praised me for being cute, and even said he could give me a discount next time. Although it looked a bit scary, it was surprisingly friendly.

There were more regular customers than strangers coming to our house, and those people gradually started to greet me. Mom no longer just asked them to do things and leave; those she was more familiar with would have tea and chat, or do some trivial things together. At this point, those uncles started to gain some respect from me. Mom didn't hide anything and confessed to me that she was looking for a man, preferably rich, and secondly, a man who loved her. Lately, whenever she had free time, she would talk about the nursing care she had given up halfway through, and she also wanted to find someone to marry and live a good life. Looking at Mom's face and figure, which were older than before, I knew she was afraid that if she delayed any longer, she wouldn't be able to earn much money. So I cheered myself up, helping my mom entertain guests and showering her chosen men with attention, earning a daily allowance. The chasm between my mom and me was bridged by her words.

My tea tasted better, my pastries were tastier, my smile was sweeter, and my skills at charming men improved. Some men who came for the first time thought they could sleep with me, but my mom kicked them out. Of course, some of the regular customers were uncles who wanted me, and getting them to give up was difficult. They always tried to take me to hotels privately, and refusing might implicate my mom, so I always tried to appease them, though it wasn't very effective. They probably knew I was trying to keep my mom's guests, which is why I kept joking around with them while maintaining my distance. A few times I was really pushed to the limit, but I didn't want to have sex with anyone other than my boyfriend. Even if it was just intimate contact, I would only play with his friends. In the end, the compromise was that I would masturbate them and let them touch my breasts and buttocks to satisfy their fantasies.

What Mom didn't know was a secret between me and my uncles. At first, only one of us did it, and he promised not to tell anyone. But in less than a month, every regular customer wanted me to masturbate them. The first time I did it was awful; the adults had all sorts of penises, and many were bigger than my boyfriend's. The worst was when the glans was really dirty; every time I masturbated, it smelled like awful urine. But the first few times were the worst; after that, I got used to it. Just like learning to smoke from my boyfriend, masturbating my uncles became a daily routine.

Mom didn't like me hanging out with bad kids, but I behaved well at home and was good at dealing with my uncles, so she didn't scold me much for my tattoos. I started helping Mom with housework; when she was too busy, I would run errands to buy condoms and birth control pills, and I often prepared tea and cigarettes for customers in her brothel room. When I saw Mom naked having sex with a man, my heart pounded. Was Mom's body really that beautiful? Suddenly, I had an urge to have sex with a woman. Unfortunately, I don't have any female friends, and I don't know what to do.

Running errands for so long inevitably leads to frustrating unexpected situations. For example, I was caught red-handed by the school's discipline master at the pharmacy, and the condoms and birth control pills I was carrying had already been paid for. I was given a severe scolding for three hours. However, it was more like a lecture than a scolding. The discipline master kept wanting my mother to discipline me, but I didn't want him to contact her. The result was that I had to listen to his endless, pointless nagging in his office all night. Condoms, birth control pills, tattoos, miniskirts, low-cut tops, light makeup were all mentioned over and over again. Even my smoking and skipping classes at school were brought up, as if he wanted me to be so ashamed I'd want to bang my head against the wall. I felt so wronged. I was just buying them for my mother, why did I have to listen to his nagging? Besides, I've been taking birth control pills the last few times I slept with my boyfriend, isn't that enough?

After leaving school, I quickly called my mom and told her that I had been shopping and the teacher had seen me, and she was eager to come pick me up. I was honest with her and didn't want to bother her with these things, so I didn't mention her. The head of discipline naturally still thought my mom was a typical nine-to-five office worker. That day, I felt like we were closer. Although she still opposed my dating and hanging out with that group of people, she didn't bring it up unnecessarily.

My mother has an exceptionally keen intuition in certain areas, especially regarding the number of men in the family. Her principle is: only one customer at a time. If any uncle tries to sneak in with a friend, she'll kick him out. Because she's so sensitive about these things, once, when she couldn't resist her boyfriend and secretly brought him home, he was kicked out less than two minutes after entering. Even though he'd only met my mother once, my boyfriend developed fantasies about her and became interested in the fact that I was the daughter of a prostitute. I was furious and we had a huge fight. We were still giving each other the next day, and I gave him the cold shoulder. He told his friends that my mother was a prostitute and even deliberately told me he wanted to sleep with her. I was so angry my face turned bright red, and I turned and left without paying attention to them. When I got home, my mother was idly watching TV in the living room. I didn't say anything and just snuggled into her arms. She scolded me for dressing so provocatively and smoking outside, but her hand on my back was still so gentle.

We didn't make up until halfway through summer vacation. Just as I was about to forgive him, he called and asked me to come to his house. He said he couldn't stand not being with me anymore, but he didn't apologize. Anyway, I'd already decided to forgive him. I just hoped he could mature and not take advantage of my clinginess. We made love again and again, using up half a dozen condoms, and made up, both of us breathless. However, the hurt he caused me during this time hadn't disappeared. My friends' opinions of me changed again; now they thought I'd be a prostitute in the future, so touching me wouldn't hurt me. I already enjoyed the thrill of sneaking around with them, so what they thought didn't really matter. Therefore, I didn't protest strongly, just accepted it.

Not long after we made up, my boyfriend started inexplicably ignoring me. He, who used to die if he didn't make love every day, suddenly went several days without calling, and when I called him, he'd just say he was busy and hang up. What could he be so busy with that he didn't want to think about his wife? It wasn't until the day I dressed up to surprise him that I saw him hugging and kissing another girl in his alley. Honestly… I really wanted to rush over and strangle that woman. Not only that, I wanted to punch her in the face, break her legs so she could never get close to my boyfriend again. But I held back. His friends were there too, which meant they all knew about that girl. If… if I were the one being ostracized, speaking out now would only make things more embarrassing. Staying silent wasn't an option either. I had to wait for the right opportunity, or let the opportunity come to me.

I secretly arranged to meet one of our mutual friends, a short guy, for dinner, wanting to ask why they hadn't contacted me lately. He either stammered or looked like he didn't want to talk, he was really tight-lipped. I sat down next to him, and when no one was paying attention, I put my hand under the table and touched his genitals. I whispered, "Tell me what you know, and I'll give you a handjob, how about that?" He got an erection, his ears turned completely red, and he pressed my hand down as an answer. We found a small alley, damp and smelly, but he didn't mind. He sat on some dusty wooden crates inside and told me to go with him first. I straddled his lap, hugged his back, and quickly kissed him. He was ugly, making me want to vomit, but since the kiss was only for a moment, giving him a handjob was the main thing.

He had touched me with other guys before, but he had never kissed me. The first time he did, my mouth smelled really bad and was covered in his saliva. Then he took off his jeans, revealing a small, phimotic penis that was only about seven or eight centimeters long. Some of the uncles I've held had phimosis, but they were thick and big, and the foreskin didn't look that thick. The short guy's was dark and wrinkled, which was annoying; it wasn't thick or long enough, making it harder to masturbate him. Fortunately, about half a minute into the act, he nuzzled my face and said he was going to cum, he was going to cum… I feigned a comfortable moan for him, saying, “Father-in-law is going to ejaculate… then shoot all your thick, smelly semen onto my hands…” He hugged me tightly, trembling all over. Semen spurted up about two or three centimeters from the opening of his foreskin, accumulating between my fingers and his half-exposed glans with its rapidly spreading, fishy stench. He breathed heavily on my shoulder, saying it was the first time he’d felt so good, and he wished he could be with me forever… I coaxed him sweetly, saying, “We can secretly be in-laws, just don’t let them know.” His face turned incredibly red, and without thinking, he said he absolutely had to do it, absolutely had to do it… He nestled in my arms, letting me slowly play with his half-erect penis, which was covered in dry, sticky semen, while saying with a pitiful tone that he was actually just a gofer, the one being ordered around. I verbally comforted my poor new husband, but I didn't fucking help him masturbate just to hear his bullshit… After dragging it out for a long time, he finally noticed my impatience and brought up the girl.

Last week, they saw her on the way to tutoring, and my boyfriend seemed instantly smitten. Yeah, he used the word "smitten." I cursed inwardly. But that girl wasn't a pushover like us, so her first attempt at talking to her naturally failed. He didn't give up, going back to her after tutoring, acting all innocent in front of her, and after a few days, she finally agreed to date him. What did she like about him? Probably, like me, his looks. He's my boyfriend. My boyfriend, my boyfriend, my… I leaned on his shoulder, tears streaming down my face.

We're so happy together, I've changed so much for you, why won't you stay by my side? I'm way prettier than that girl, and I have a better figure. I'm also quite good at my studies when I'm focused. What is it about me that I'm inferior to her in… I racked my brains but couldn't figure it out. I cried and sobbed in the short guy's arms, making him frantically try to comfort me. The boy stroked my back, but it didn't make me feel any better. I kept crying and crying, not caring that my eye makeup was ruined. My mind felt like it was blocked by a huge dark cloud, with constant thunder, lightning, and rain. Why? Why did I have to look at other girls? Am I not good enough? Don't you love me the most? We've made love so many times. All those idiots envy that you can hold me. So annoying. That girl. Damn it. Go to hell. She dares to steal my boyfriend. Just you wait. Damn your mother, you bitch.

I'm going to destroy her.

Once I made up my mind, a variety of revenge methods immediately came to mind. That's right. To protect my boyfriend from that slut's seduction, there were so many things I could do… My mind raced in the rain, and soon I found the most satisfying method. I stopped sobbing, but my face and eyes were still burning. The short guy stroked my hair, saying useless things. I secretly cursed in my heart, "What you say doesn't matter to me, you know that, damn it. You guys just need to obediently hold me and fantasize about me, don't try to act like some confidant or mature friend. Think about me. Think about my naked body. Let me know you're thinking about me…" I raised my head, tears still on my face, and smiled faintly at the worried, stupid boy, saying: "Father-in-law, let's date secretly."

We'd meet privately every day, flirt, chat, smoke, drink a little, and then I'd help him masturbate. Even when he wasn't with my boyfriend, he didn't seem to receive any attention; I never saw him answer a phone call. I pretended to care about him; that was something I was best at. For someone who had to put on a smiling face for my uncle every day, it was no difficult task at all. Spending time with him revealed that besides his many flaws, he also possessed a heart that could barely be considered gentle. I later understood that it was because he had nothing, he hadn't even grasped what he desired. Therefore, he poured all his energy into me, the girl who approached him, wanting to cherish me with all his tenderness. To be honest, I was genuinely happy at the time. After all, he was the kind of guy who would continue to appreciate butterflies, and I planned to show him my little flower soon.

On the fifth day of our secret relationship, we made love. That day, his grandmother passed away, and he was very sad. He called early in the morning, asking me to stay with him. I tried contacting my boyfriend to see if he would contact me that day, but the answer was that he was busy. So I put on makeup and went to find him. His house was a small detached house, very quiet and deserted; everyone except him was preparing for the funeral. I entered his musty-smelling room, smelling of perfume, and hugged him, who was crying and looking haggard. I stroked his back and whispered to him, "Jian, be good. It's okay. I'm here. Don't be afraid. I'll be with you." "Sweetie..." As I said this, my eyes welled up with tears. I couldn't bear it.

He lay down and held me tightly, as if afraid I would disappear from his life too. I kissed his dry lips and let him touch my little butterfly tattoo. He said he didn't want to do it on this day. But was it any of his business? I only gave it to you because I felt sorry for you, don't you even understand that? I took off my top, unhooked my bra, and showed him my breasts with the butterfly tattoo. He was stunned for a moment, then pounced on my chest like a madman, sucking and kissing my left breast, rubbing haphazardly for a long time before finally taking the nipple into his mouth correctly. I held his head and gently comforted him, the warm, wet feeling on my chest increasing with each passing second.

His penis was still so small, dripping with wet, lustful fluid, just as filthy as my own. I had originally planned to give him a blowjob, but he only wanted to fuck me. Okay. I slowly took off my shorts under his gaze. The way his penis trembled as he stared at me was kind of cute. Before I was completely naked, I took out a box of condoms from my bag, tossed him one, and told him to put it on before helping me take mine off. Was this his first time wearing one? I think so. His movements were slow and clumsy, far from the kind of man who was about to sleep with his mother. I imitated my mother's movements when putting on a condom, slowly putting it on the skinny guy, during which he trembled even more violently. Then he personally took off my underwear and touched my pubic area, where the pubic hair wasn't very noticeable yet. "Come on," I said. "Put your husband's big cock in, my little sister is so wet and wants you to fuck her..." I asked him for a kiss, and while kissing him, he brought his penis to the entrance of my vagina, then slowly pressed it in.

Before, when I had sex with my boyfriend, sometimes I used a condom and sometimes I didn't. It felt like with a condom, both my boyfriend's and my boyfriend's penises looked different. I really wanted him to just penetrate me directly... but I was afraid he would ejaculate prematurely inside me, and that would be terrible. I stretched out my legs and hooked them around his lower back, our eyes meeting, watching the expression on his face as he thrust inside me. I was a little dazed, a little stupid, my face was red, and I couldn't see any tear tracks anymore. He went very slowly, as if afraid of hurting me, about once every 1.5 seconds. This was my boyfriend's initial speed, but it was the frequency he maintained from beginning to end. I could feel his glans, covered by the condom, parting my vaginal opening, stretching the wet and narrow flesh, creating a place for it inside me. Even when it was pulled out, the flesh immediately closed again, and it maintained its strength and speed, gently pushing the flesh inward again.

Such a subtle and comfortable feeling. It wasn't as passionate as sex, but more like a feeling of relieving pressure on the vagina. The pleasure came slowly and infrequently, accumulating gradually with each gentle thrust, taking a long time before I felt truly conquered. I... really enjoy the feeling of being dominated by a man. Imagining that penis eagerly seeking pleasure inside me, finally reaching orgasm, gives me a tremendous sense of superiority, making me happily part my flesh to welcome it. I thought the skinny guy would ejaculate prematurely the first time, like my boyfriend, but that wasn't the case. Perhaps it was because he maintained a pace that didn't put too much pressure on him, allowing him to persevere. On the contrary, I gradually couldn't handle the accumulating pleasure within me.

The moans that started as mere attempts to enhance the experience gradually transformed into genuine groans. Was the room really that hot? Why were we sweating so much, both of us panting for breath...? Every time he thrust in, I'd let out a sound. Sometimes it was just "uh-huh," "ah," "uh-huh," sometimes I'd say something suggestive on the spot. He liked me calling him "husband," liked touching my labia, liked kissing my somewhat foreign-looking face. I kept calling out "Husband, husband," and he whispered in my ear how beautiful I was, how comfortable it felt inside... Hearing these words made me so happy, and I called out to him even more frequently.

I really wanted to rub my clitoris, to unleash the pleasure in my lower body... But then I remembered that my boyfriend always made me focus on comforting him when he was about to climax, so I had to give up. I licked my lips and breathed on the skinny man whose expression had become tense. As if encouraged, he began to accelerate for the first time since penetration. I blinked my eyes, wet with hot sweat and tears, and murmured to him, "Husband, are you going to cum? Cum inside my sister, cum inside with your big cock..." He moved faster and harder, and I had to let go of my legs that were hooked around him because of the increased movement. I released all my strength, and the feeling of exhaustion from rolling around inside my vagina was still so heavy. I bit my lower lip and made moaning sounds, enjoying the rhythm of his desperate thrusts deep inside me, enjoying the slapping sounds of him hitting me hard.

He pressed his hot body against me. I saw his pitiful face as he rushed towards me, eagerly sucking on my lips. He sucked very hard, but his lower body suddenly stopped moving. I met his gaze, then closed my eyes, letting him think he had brought me to orgasm... and I had to let out a twisted moan. He did make me feel good, but that was all. If he had continued, maybe a few more touches to my clitoris would have brought me to orgasm... but in the end, I could only press myself tightly against him, letting him ejaculate into the condom. When his mouth gradually relaxed and his tongue stopped moving, it was finally over.

The skinny guy kissed me, panting. He loved kissing, even though his technique was terrible and he had bad breath, at least the sensation of our tongues licking felt good. If he hadn't held me so tightly, I would have touched my genitals while we were licking, and I could still feel a little hot now... but unfortunately, he held me so tightly until I cooled down. When I started to hate the stuffiness and the smell of sweat, he said in a very gentle tone, "Xiaoting, let me put my penis on you while you sleep... Poor guy, is losing your virginity this tiring?" I said, "You're making me uncomfortable, and you can't sleep well either. Let's switch positions so you can lie down." We switched positions, and I was on top of him, so the skinny guy covered in sweat could lie down comfortably and enjoy himself. I took off his condom, wiped his still erect but less hard penis with toilet paper, and then let him insert it directly... Ah... It's definitely the best to just go straight in. I moved a few times to tease him, and he looked like he wanted to do it again but also wanted to rest. In the end, he decided to close his eyes for a while first.

I whispered gently in his ear, "Sleep well, husband. I'll get up and do what you love to do with you when I get up..." After saying a few words, I took his earlobe into my mouth and gently sucked and licked it. After repeating this a few times, he fell asleep listening to my whispers. His penis was so small and soft, and it slipped out of my vagina with the slightest movement. Luckily, it wasn't too short when it shrunk, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to put it back in. Looking at his sleeping face, I actually felt a sense of satisfaction. It must feel good inside me... Hearing my voice must feel good too... Why is my boyfriend, the one who was as satisfied with me as you were the first time, still unsatisfied...?

I held the skinny guy, carefully preventing his pathetic penis from slipping out. Then I turned to one side, lit a cigarette, and picked up my phone. I found an unfamiliar number in the familiar phone book, still wondering whether I should dial, but my hand had already pressed the button. Ring, ring... The phone rang five times, and I dialed it while idly playing with the condom the skinny guy had used.

I took a deep drag of my cigarette, licked the tip of the condom with the thin layer of smoke on my tongue, and asked the fat guy who had pounced on me after drinking to come out.

During the days when the skinny guy and I saw each other every day, my boyfriend would only mention two things to me. Either his penis was itchy and he wanted to have sex, or he asked me when it would be convenient for him to come over to my house again. He didn't dare say it directly, and I didn't want to embarrass him, but we both knew he only wanted to sleep with my mom. It wasn't until the summer vacation was almost over that I heard him complaining that my mom was incredibly dismissive, ignoring him completely, even after he'd prepared the money, and he was furious. I wanted to slap him then and there, but seeing that he didn't seem to think it hurtful at all, I thought he was hopeless. Shouldn't you be worried I might have found out you were cheating? You can't even come up with an excuse for ignoring me, and you have the nerve to complain to me about my mom not letting you sleep with her? I'm your girlfriend! This is so humiliating… Seeing I wasn't happy, and wanting to take my clothes off, he just spouted a few repetitive and boring platitudes. I hugged him and asked what I meant to him. He said, "Why talk about that? Take off your clothes and let's do it first." It felt terrible. But I still wanted to do it with him. I wanted to prove to him that I was better than that girl, both normally and in bed.

Whether or not I should try to win him back, to be honest, I don't know... But I'm certain that if he abandons me so easily in the end, I'll make him regret it, and I'll make that damn bitch regret it too.

My uncles give me a lot of pocket money, so much that it's a little unsettling. It's like the more money I take, the more likely my mom will find out. And, I've gotten used to giving men handjobs, but lately, for some reason, I feel aroused when I touch their penises. Whether it's my uncle's, the skinny guy's, or my boyfriend's, they all easily arouse me. There's a guilty feeling, sweet and sour, it's delicious. But I can't keep the money hidden forever. I have over ten thousand yuan, and since I'm not working, I can't possibly save that much. I want to buy a ring, or a necklace, a bracelet, and clothes, and some high-end cosmetics. I feel very uncomfortable shopping alone, so the day I asked the fat guy out, I decided I had to pester him to go shopping with me no matter what.

He'd had a crush on me for a long time, so less than half an hour after I approached him, we were locked in a passionate kiss in the nearby park restroom. He hadn't been very close to my boyfriend lately, and had been swooning over me for a long time, thinking I was pitiful because I was being neglected. I didn't want to be pitied by someone like him, so I had to endure it, pretending to be aggrieved and wanting to be hugged. This guy was chubby but very tall; I had to hunch over to kiss him, or I had to stand on tiptoe to kiss him properly. I showed him my "butterflies" and "flowers," and he couldn't contain himself, his two fat hands constantly groping my body. I wanted to take off his pants and finish quickly, otherwise this restroom was so smelly and disgusting, and old men would occasionally come to use the toilet outside the stalls. Unfortunately, he was stronger than me, and even though I wanted to finish quickly, I ended up letting him grope me for almost ten minutes.

I like hearing men compliment my body, whether it's serious or just plain dirty talk. As I waited for him to finish touching me, a cigarette dangling from my lips, I kept hearing him say how perky and sexy my breasts were, how nice my buttocks were to touch, how my labia were slightly upturned and lewd… Yes, I was excited by what he said, but I was so bored that I was smoking and playing on my phone… It was incredibly boring. Besides, even though I clearly wanted him to hurry up, he still slowly and methodically touched me and praised me at his own pace, not caring at all what I thought. Finally, he managed to take off his pants, sit on the toilet, and erect his penis, which was even bigger than my boyfriend's. Although it was a bit dirty and smelly, the glans felt so swollen that it seemed like it would make me feel really good… I bit through the condom packaging and put it on his penis with both hands. Then I put out my cigarette, smoothed my hair, and straddled his lap. The outer layer of the condom was only slightly greasy, but my vagina was already slightly wet. I held the base of his penis with one hand, our eyes met, and then I slowly sat down.

Compared to the skinny guy's small penis... it's definitely more comfortable when it's bigger. I was momentarily intoxicated by the sensation of my vagina being stretched open, my mouth watering. I was a few beats late before I started thrusting back and forth, stimulating the penis inside me. I had thought my boyfriend's size was a perfect match for mine, but the fat guy's penis completely shattered that notion. It was nestled inside me, almost reminding me of the satisfying sensation I felt when my boyfriend penetrated me. I couldn't help but wonder, is bigger always better, or is something like his just right? Halfway through my reverie, he suddenly started scratching near my anus. He asked, "Have you ever played anal sex with Ah Sheng?" For a moment, I wanted to say yes. What kind of time is this to be trying to save face for my boyfriend? How pathetic. I tightened my grip on his shoulder and shook my head, saying I hadn't. Then his fat finger started slowly probing my anus. It was a little itchy, so embarrassing. I pressed myself tightly against the fat guy.

I'd always wanted to try anal sex. I vaguely remember Mom saying in the room that she would clean it first, but I didn't know exactly how, so it felt disgusting to secretly use my fingers to dig. However, the feeling of my anus being stretched open by fingers had a different kind of pleasure than vaginal pleasure. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't figure out what kind of pleasure it was. Was it physical? It didn't seem so. Was it mental? Just average. In the end, the reason I used to convince myself was very simple. Whether it was the place where I gave birth or the place where I excreted... I wanted to be stretched open and filled.

Two knuckles of a fat finger shoved into my anus in one go, and I couldn't help but arch forward. My face turned even redder than before, and I accidentally let out a soft moan. I resisted him softly, my voice so weak, and my buttocks kept sucking in, as if I was afraid he wouldn't dig anymore. He knew I was being disingenuous and continued to dig into the dry, sticky intestinal wall. Soon we both knew what he had found. What should I do? It's so embarrassing and disgusting... But the feeling of being dug in is amazing. I tried not to think about the time I tried it myself; my heart was pounding so hard. Compared to the vagina quietly holding my penis, the feeling of my anus sucking on that finger that kept digging and probing was so intense. I want to fart. I feel like I need to poop. So disgusting. So disgusting. More. Keep digging. Damn. No. It's disgusting. Fuck you. But. What am I...? Dig. Dig. Dig over there. Dig that. Yes. Keep digging... No. No. I really need to poop. Damn. Damn. Damn...

I finally couldn't help but slap his shoulder hard and said anxiously that I needed to go to the toilet and to move aside. After saying that, I didn't care that his hand hadn't been pulled back and stood up. The moment my penis slid out of my vagina, my legs went a little weak, and the moment the finger was squeezed out of my anus, it made me want to poop even more. Seeing his lingering satisfaction, I really wanted to punch him, but I was only focused on clutching my stomach and begging him to move aside. The fat guy deliberately tormented me for a while before stopping because I completely changed my expression. He stood to the side, and the filthy toilet had barely appeared in front of me when I sat down, suppressing my nausea. Why did having my ass gouged out make me want to poop so badly… I couldn't figure it out and didn't want to care anymore. I was covered in sweat and looked so pathetic. As soon as I sat down, I made a horrible pooping sound, and clumps of stuff came out.

The fat guy pushed his erect penis in front of me, pressing my head down and forcing me to suck it. I took it in and was about to blow on it when my ass made another loud, stinky fart, followed by more pooping. So smelly. Ugh. So embarrassing. Don't look at me. It's all your fault. It's all your fault… I can't breathe through my mouth and can only smell the poop in the toilet; it's disgusting, I feel like throwing up. So, the fat guy made me suck his penis just to force me to smell it...? I regretted letting him dig into my ass. I glanced at the fingers he'd been using to dig into me, and he was actually wiping his hands with my penis... I was so angry I hit him, cursing but only making soft whimpering sounds. Normally I would have bitten him off... but my stomach was growling and I was having diarrhea, so I couldn't muster any strength... I looked away in frustration, my mouth still on his butt, but I stopped sucking, only wanting to finish quickly.

I wanted to go home. After no longer wanting to poop, I forcefully spat out his penis, saying this sternly. The fat guy probably realized he'd gone too far, and kept touching my shoulder, apologizing and saying he'd play with me a little longer. But I'd really had enough. I said I didn't want to play anymore, it was too perverted. Hearing that, his penis went limp, and he looked hurt. I said, shouldn't I be the one looking hurt? I can accept you digging into my ass, and wanting to poop is my problem, but forcing me to smell the toilet is one thing, but you fucking used my favorite clothes to wipe your poop-covered fingers? And it was a light pink one, the stain is super obvious, don't you know? I glared at him as he flushed, and only picked up toilet paper after it was clean. No, that's what I was going to do. But the toilet paper holder was empty. I told him to look in another stall, but there wasn't a single piece of toilet paper there either. Just as I was about to tell him to go buy some, a group of old men came into the toilet, and we quickly hid back in a stall.

Holding it in until they left shouldn't be too difficult... but those damn old men started chatting at the toilet door. That's when I really got angry. I didn't want to wait any longer. I didn't have any tissues, so I had to wipe my butt with a handkerchief, and then with Fatty's underwear. I warned him not to look lewd while I was doing this, but this time when I called him a pervert and sick, he seemed a little happy. I didn't want to care anymore. After wiping myself, I quickly put on my underwear and shorts. After hesitating for a moment, I could only grit my teeth and put back on the stained tank top. The fat guy, fearless as ever, said it looked sexier this way. Did he think praising me now would make me feel better? I suppressed the urge to slap him, lit two cigarettes, one for each of us, and told him to smoke faster, blowing smoke towards my chest. At least I had to cover up the very obvious smell of feces up close, otherwise I'd be mortified if I went out... He even touched my breasts, only stopping after I pushed him away. He called a taxi for me and took me home, then started harassing me again at the door. I fucking didn't want to hear any apologies; all I wanted was for him to stay away from me. But I didn't say that. I just pretended not to be so angry, touched his face, and said I was tired and could call me if I needed anything. Then he relentlessly dragged me out for another five minutes before I finally stumbled into the house. To make matters worse, my mom was watching TV in the living room, so I had to grit my teeth and rush straight to the bathroom. I just couldn't stand that kind of pervert. However, if he behaves himself next time, I might consider having sex with him again.

On the weekend before school started, I met up with A-Jian in the morning and Pang-Kai in the afternoon. We spent the whole day shopping in the city, spending almost ten thousand dollars on clothes and shoes. They're easy to handle as long as you're gentle and give them timely caresses. The biggest challenge of shopping with them isn't actually being the only one choosing clothes, but being careful not to attract attention, go to the restroom one after the other, or even seek thrills in the stairwell. They both like to hug and cuddle, even in public. But I really wish they had some self-awareness… Don't they think it's incredibly presumptuous of a pretty girl like me to flirt with these kinds of guys in public? Anyway, the clothes I wore that day were for them, and the makeup was for them too. And the condoms in my bag were, of course, for their penises. Even though I didn't use them after shopping, I can't deny the sacrifices I made for those two pathetic guys.

I bought my mom perfume and a handkerchief, which only cost 800 yuan in total, but she was happy, and that was enough. She didn't ask me how I had money to buy so many clothes, only saying that I bought a bunch of low-cut tank tops, and that I smelled of smoke, so I wondered if I'd been to an internet cafe or a billiards hall with my friends again... I wanted to say that I'd just gone shopping with friends, but thinking of the condoms in my bag, I couldn't bring myself to say it. I snuggled up to my mom, let her hug me, and slowly closed my eyes, smelling her scent... With my eyes closed, I asked my mom, "Aren't you going to ask me how I had money to buy these things?" My mom patted my back and said, "As long as our Xiaoting hasn't gone astray, that's fine." I said, "Don't I look like I've gone astray?" She said, "Didn't you come home?" I wanted to cry, I wanted to tell her about how I was neglected, I wanted to tell her about the lewd things I'd done with boys. I wanted to be scolded by my mom, and then forgive her. But, until bedtime, I still couldn't say it.

My mom has to work at six in the morning, so our lights are usually turned off around ten. That day, I insisted on sleeping with Mom, and she couldn't resist. I rubbed against her chest, touched her back, wanting to do something more intimate, but I knew I couldn't. Mom didn't say it explicitly, but she hinted that I shouldn't do anything strange. "I know," I said. It's just that I don't have any female friends, and the only person who makes me feel that women smell good is Mom. The person who makes me feel that women are soft and comfortable is also Mom. Even though Mom is being fucked by different men every day, she still has a lot of feminine charm... Thinking about Mom moaning and groaning while being fucked, my body gets so hot... I half-jokingly said that I really wanted to suck Mom's breasts, but I was pinched on the back and it hurt so much that I kept begging for mercy. Mom said very seriously, "Don't confuse puberty with being in heat." Being in heat... that seems to be talking about me. I feel like Mom sees right through me. I hugged Mom tightly, didn't do any of the strange things she mentioned, and just fell asleep.

Mom made the rules of the game clear from the beginning, so even though there were several opportunities to cross the line, I didn't plan to take the risk. Why do I have these fantasies about my mom...? It's not a topic I can just talk about with anyone, and it's been bothering me for ages. Even though I don't overthink things when I'm not sexually aroused, I think about those things almost every day. I'm a lustful girl, and I dress up for boys every day.

After school started, my boyfriend finally thought of asking me out. He probably thought I'd feel neglected and wouldn't open up to him. Whatever. At least he's still my boyfriend. I put on makeup especially for him, wore my favorite dress and mini-skirt, and we strolled around the city. He said, "You seem cuter, and your clothes are different too." I said, "You too, you even cut your hair." He looked at my chest and said, "You used to look good, how come you've changed after just one vacation?" I smiled but didn't answer, and took his hand as we walked into the next shop. If two people change after a while apart, something must have gone wrong. A relationship isn't complete without experiencing each other's changes.

We had lunch at McDonald's. It was packed at lunchtime, and we waited for fifteen minutes to get a seat. I saw he had intended to wait until he got to a corner table, but since it was always empty, he just sat down wherever. He seemed a little anxious, perhaps not quite used to my outfit. We talked a lot during lunch, but every three sentences inevitably came back to what we wanted to do at his place later. He stopped talking about my mom, didn't mention where we'd go next, and most importantly, he didn't mention why he was ignoring me or why he was with other girls. I casually mentioned that we hadn't been going out much lately, and asked why. He said everyone was busy and it was hard to keep in touch, but things would naturally pick up again now that school was starting. "So that's why you asked me to go shopping, right..." I really wanted to add that.

Going to his place for business became completely uninteresting. He put on a pornographic video, hugged me, and watched while touching me, his penis erect but barely moving. He attributed this to the fact that I wasn't as horny or sexually active as before, so he wanted to touch my breasts but couldn't muster the energy to have sex with me. Yes, just as he said, I just can't get aroused in his arms. I no longer call him father-in-law or husband, and I rarely fake moan. My little butterfly is pressed against him, but it can't fly freely anymore. He holds me dejectedly, alternating between playing with my breasts, his penis sometimes hard and sometimes soft. I rarely respond to him, mostly watching porn where women are being fucked by men. The women in the movies are all beautiful, but compared to them, my mother's seductive manner in bed is more attractive to me. The scene of my mother having sex with a man is what I want to see most.

The air conditioning is humming, my boyfriend is asleep. I put on my underwear, turn off the TV and VCR, go to the living room to get his parents' cigarettes, and sit on the sofa to smoke. The smell is a bit strong, but it's still tolerable. It's terrible to smoke without any purpose; when I come to my senses, I already have several cigarette butts, my throat is sticky and itchy. How boring. It's my boyfriend's house, but it doesn't excite me at all. I remembered how many times we made love in this house, the first time I gave him a blowjob, the secret kissing with his friends after drinking… If that girl hadn’t appeared, I’d definitely be even more crazy and in love with him now.

A-Jian sent a text message, and Fat Kai sent two too, one from a friend at an internet cafe, the other asking if I wanted to go out. For some reason, just hearing the text messages made me a little impatient. I wanted to make those two annoying guys feel bad, so I deliberately called and said I was at my boyfriend’s house to see their reaction. The skinny guy seemed unhappy and wouldn’t hang up, constantly asking if we’d done anything. I gave him vague, ambiguous answers, and he thought I was just trying not to upset him, so he pretended to understand and hung up. The fat guy, on the other hand, was trying to find every excuse to come over; no matter how I tried to stop him, he’d come up with more reasons. It was only with great difficulty that I convinced him not to be so impulsive. Ah… it feels so good to be so anxiously watched.

I borrowed my boyfriend’s mother’s cosmetics and unexpectedly found my secret stash of money deep in the drawer. Although I didn’t intend to steal it, the surprise of finding it made me feel a little happy. His mother always wore bright red lipsticks, a very vibrant color that made her look old-fashioned and clashed with the photos on her vanity. She wasn't particularly beautiful, nor did she resemble an ordinary woman on the street; perhaps she looked like a middle-aged office lady? She had short hair, a natural smile, and a shrewd appearance. Even if her mother was prettier than her, she was still a mature woman. Using the cosmetics she had used made my heart race.

What does it feel like to have sex with a woman? In my fantasies, I would transform into a man and embrace my mother, but I couldn't imagine what it would be like to do it as a woman. Those adult women who captivated my gaze still unknowingly mesmerized. Looking at my boyfriend's mother's photo, remembering what he had said to me, I picked up the lipstick and went to his room. I gently sat on the bed, bringing my face close to his sleeping face, watching his unguarded sleeping posture as I applied the lipstick. The movements were slow and gentle, like caressing, more like tenderness. After a while, regardless of how well it was applied, my hand holding the lipstick had already slid down to my chest. I gently rubbed my nipples with the lipstick my aunt had given me… My breathing quickened, and my face felt hot. I suppressed my urge to take off my bra and panties. Naked, I saw my nipples, a mess of lipstick, and continued to rub them, including the areolas, until they were completely red. Finally, I painted a cute red heart on each nipple, including the areolas. Hey, you said to my face that you wanted to sleep with my mom, right? If you knew I wanted to sleep with your mom now, wanted to touch her breasts and suck her labia, what kind of expression would you make…? I bit the perfume-scented lipstick cap, pushing the unevenly rubbed lipstick towards my clitoris.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated. How could I not have thought to check his phone? I quietly slipped into the warm bed, rummaged around his body, and took out my phone. I opened it to find several unread text message notifications, and the default wallpaper that should have been our photo together. That girl had sent him nearly five text messages in one day. The messages they exchanged were disgusting things—wanting to see each other or encouraging one another—it made me want to vomit. So, did my boyfriend change for her? Want to be a better person? Did he corrupt me and then ignore me? Don't even think about it. I copied down the girl's phone number and name, carefully putting the phone back in its place. Then, I knelt down next to my boyfriend, covered his eyes with one hand, and grasped his limp penis with the other, bending down to suck on his mouth. He was startled awake, realizing I was kissing and teasing him. He didn't resist; his penis hardened, and his mouth slightly opened so I could lick inside. I pulled back the blanket, straddled him, still covering his eyes, until I was completely inside his hard, dry penis before letting go.

I showed him my breasts, which swayed as I twisted my waist, adorned with little butterflies and hearts, bouncing happily for the penis inside me. I pretended to be aroused, moaning every few twists, my moans becoming even more exaggerated as my boyfriend thrust into me. He loved it; his penis became even harder than when it first entered, almost at its full erection. I stuck out my tongue at him, licking my bright red upper lip, and took his hands, letting him hold my waist and touch my breasts. He said, "Why are your breasts painted like that?" I just wanted him to touch and rub me hard, without saying much. I hated him cheating, hated him so much I wanted to strangle that girl, hated him so much I wanted to dump him. But, perhaps because I was used to being with him, I always thought of him whenever I wanted to have sex. Even if he was just average to me in bed, it didn't matter.

He held my waist, thrusting upwards repeatedly. I'm very thin, so the woman-on-top position wasn't a burden for him, and I enjoyed the pleasure of being thrust upwards until I lost my balance. However, when I was getting a little overwhelmed by his thrusts, he unusually started touching my clitoris while he was doing it. He kept saying how tight and pleasurable my pussy was... while skillfully rubbing my clitoris. I was completely exhausted by his actions and could only let him hold me up, barely managing not to fall. But why did he only start touching me here after doing it for so long...? It must be because of that girl again. I was so jealous. The reason I was getting so good wasn't even because of myself. After I regained some strength, I lay on top of him and let him continue, kissing his face and saying sweetly, "Husband's penis is so big and hot... I'm almost dying from pleasure... Fuck me... Fuck me... Fuck me... Fuck me to death with your big cock..." Soon I couldn't say anything vulgar anymore because he was rubbing my clitoris until I was almost going crazy...

I was in a daze in front of him for a while, and the silent and rapid orgasm made my whole body tremble slightly, my mind blank and I didn't want to care about anything. Hearing him say, "Your cunt is sucking me in, it feels so good, honey..." I could definitely feel his penis even more than before. I leaned against his neck, panting. He stopped touching my genitals and instead held my back tightly, thrusting even harder. I was probably weak from the early orgasm, and every time he thrust in hard, I couldn't help but cry out, a wave of tingling pleasure washing over me. In his arms, I could only moan shortly, "Ah...ah...uh...ah..." unable to utter a single word. What should I do? I felt even better... Even though I was completely exhausted and couldn't moan with him, he still held me tightly, thrusting into me and making me suck on his cunt, continuing to let me enjoy the pleasure of his penis dominating my entire body.

Suddenly, he spun me around, and I lay down on the hot bed. He lay on top of me, his hands squeezing my breasts. I probably wore an expectant expression, thinking he was going to drive me crazy... but instead, I felt a brief wave of exhaustion in my vagina, followed by the chilling touch of cold air. My boyfriend let out an excited groan, brought his hard, hot penis to my chest, and ejaculated into the cleavage between his hands. *Gurgle, gurgle...* I mentally provided the sound effects for his ejaculation, involuntarily adopting an expression of pure enjoyment and pleasure. After ejaculating, my boyfriend continued to use my cleavage as a vagina, smearing semen everywhere. When he released his hands, my breasts, spread wide apart, were dry and sticky, with visible white foam, and the strong, fishy smell of semen lingered in the air.

I nestled in his arms, inhaling our combined scents and the fishy smell of semen. Sometimes, when he patted my head, I would lick his nipples in a little teasing. Most of the time, I lay quietly, enjoying the bliss of being held and caressed by him. Sigh, hadn't I already resolved not to endure it anymore? After being with him once, I turned back into his little woman... My heart softened so much, even knowing he was now paying attention to other girls, I was still willing to wait for him to look at me. But even this pathetic, self-degrading personality couldn't change my hatred for the other woman. Thinking of this, I slowly raised my head and asked my beloved husband for a kiss.

That day, I didn't understand the reason for my change. A few weeks later, after meeting three men and having sex many times, I finally understood.

I wanted to be the center of attention.

I wanted to be dominated by these stinky men.

I wanted to be conquered by their penises.

I thought... I was a gradually losing control of a wanton girl.

§

My mother once told me to study hard, not to end up like her, a failure after growing up, abandoned by the man who gave her his heart, and reduced to prostitution. I asked, is being a prostitute really that bad? My mother said that at twenty she felt inferior, at thirty she only cared about saving money, and now she's indifferent to the profession and tired of it. I asked, "Does Mom like sex?" My mom pinched my cheek and pulled me into her arms, asking, "Our Xiaoting's reached the age where she asks these kinds of questions?" The thought of having sex with boys and giving my uncle a handjob made my face flush red. I whispered, a little timidly, "I did." "Oh, with your boyfriend?" "Yes." "Did you use contraception?" "Almost." "It sounds like you did it a lot?" "Yeah, it felt really good." My mom pinched my back, saying with a mix of helplessness and wistfulness, "You definitely inherited it from me."

My mom said she lost her virginity at thirteen, by a senior on her track and field team. It wasn't exactly consensual; she felt a bit forced. Back then, school and home were very strict, which fueled their curiosity to try the forbidden fruit. But my mom and the senior weren't in love; they were just classmates, and he only occasionally invited her out for sex. This didn't reach the adults' ears, but it spread throughout the track and field team. I already guessed why the boys didn't tell anyone. Mom hugged me tightly, lit a cigarette, pushed away my hand that was about to take the cigarette, and told me to be a good daughter and listen to a story first. I said smoking isn't bad, and Mom was smoking in front of me. Mom said no, no, and threw the cigarette pack on another sofa. I realized I couldn't win against Mom with words, so I simply started to whine and fight for that one puff. Mom chuckled at my rubbing against her, and then said with a smile, "Okay, okay, stop moving." I looked up, pouted, and watched Mom smilingly put the cigarette she had smoked to my lips. I really wanted to close my eyes, slowly suck on the spot Mom had sucked, and do something that would make me happy... My heart was racing, but I could only take a quick puff before Mom took the cigarette away. Mom looked at my black camisole, the little butterfly, and my light makeup, and said she had dressed like this in high school, except she didn't have tattoos, and her chest wasn't this low. I wanted to touch the cigarette that Mom had touched on her lips again, but this time it wouldn't be so easy.

Mom was well aware of the role of sexual desire during puberty, so she knew what those boys wanted. Frankly, she didn't like having sex casually, but if she remained passive, she might be gang-raped. Mom proudly said she had decided to use a divide-and-conquer strategy to dismantle the sexual encirclement of those foolish boys. She didn't go into details. Even when I tried to ask what position she used the first time, whether she used a condom, or if it was comfortable, she ignored me. Mom skipped over the details, saying she felt she enjoyed sexual pleasure back then. I interjected, saying she just enjoyed having sex! Mom corrected me, saying sexual pleasure wasn't necessarily about sex. How so? Like helping someone masturbate. I was startled; it was obvious Mom knew I was wavering. Seeing Mom's knowing expression, could it be that she'd found out I was helping my uncles masturbate…? Mom stroked my hair, remained silent for an uncomfortable moment, and then stubbed out her cigarette.

Your Uncle Hao has confessed everything to me—Mom dropped a bombshell in the middle of everything, completely shattering my illusions. I'm so scared. So ashamed. My eyes instantly welled up with tears. I wanted to run away. Mom held me tightly, and...

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