An extremely powerful slut's self-narration

The saying goes , "
The son wishes to care for his parents, but they are no longer there." My mother had suffered her whole life, and just when she was about to enjoy her retirement, she suddenly passed away from a heart attack. At her funeral, I sobbed and
scolded my naughty son, while my father remained expressionless. Back home, he was also silent. After a long while, he got up to pack his clothes and murmured
, "Your mother is gone. It's meaningless now. I'm planning to travel around the country." He wasn't serious, was he? Yes, he was. Look, I've already bought the plane tickets. I panicked
, "Dad! You're over sixty! What if you get sick? Who will take care of you?" "I'll just go with the flow. If I really can't travel anywhere anymore
, I'll settle down there." I stared at him blankly, overwhelmed with grief, and hugged him tightly, bursting into tears.

(one)

I have no memory of my father whatsoever. My mother has offered various explanations for this, but I have never actually met him. My mother is very beautiful,
and because of this, ever since I can remember, people have pointed and whispered about me and my mother. Some children even said very nasty things to me. Every time, I would cry and run back
to my mother to ask for my father, and I would either get a beating or make my mother cry too.

I had always envied my classmates who could cuddle with their fathers and act spoiled. Finally, one day, my mother came to the school gate to pick me up, arm in arm with a refined-looking man, and said, "Nana,
greet Uncle He." That was the first time I met the old man. He was forty-two years old at the time, but he looked very young and handsome, with a charming demeanor. I was
very happy and greeted him warmly.

For the next month or two, I was incredibly happy. My classmates would all say to me, "Wow, your uncle is so handsome!" My mother also became very gentle with me, and
the old man would give me dolls, stationery, and other pretty little things every few days. One rainy night, my mother said to the old man, "It's raining so hard, why
don't you stay home?" That night, some strange noises came from my mother's room, making me blush.

(two)

Later, the old man came even more frequently, and I gradually got used to those sounds. It was a hot summer day, and the small town often experienced power outages. When
the air conditioner stopped, I would open the door a crack to let in some cool air. One night, the wind was probably a bit too strong and blew the door open completely
. When the old man went to the toilet, he saw my budding body and then climbed into my bed.

I resisted fiercely, but the old man had a deep understanding of undressing, especially since it was summer. In less than two minutes, he roughly penetrated me. I
was in so much pain that I almost fainted and couldn't help but cry out. My mother heard the noise and came over. She pounced on him, scratching and biting him, and chased him away. Then she hugged me and cried loudly.

Mom started taking sleeping pills again—that night, the old man thought Mom would definitely sleep soundly after taking the sleeping pills, but what he didn't expect was that during that time
, Mom could sleep very well without any medication at all.

(three)

I did well on my middle school entrance exam, and coincidentally, my mom's workplace organized a trip, so she decided to take me along. At the airport, we bumped into the old man. He
greeted us politely, but my mom ignored him. I calmly looked at him. The old man didn't seem embarrassed or guilty; he sat down opposite us with an air of
nonchalance, quietly conversing with his companion. Looking at his refined demeanor, I couldn't help but whisper to my mom, "Mom, that guy really does look like
a professor." My mom was a little confused; the old man was a doctor, not a teacher. I added fiercely, "A professor by day, a beast by night!" My mom
chuckled at my words, then immediately felt bad for me and quickly put on a stern face.

He was on the same flight as us! After boarding, I was busy looking at the scenery outside the window when the old man came over and greeted several people from my mother's workplace,
completely ignoring my mother's disapproving looks and resentment. He whispered something to the man next to my mother and we switched seats. He didn't rush to talk to my mother. I thought
he would apologize, but he didn't. He asked for an English copy of the *China Daily*, calmly started reading, and asked my mother for a few words,
only to receive cold looks and low reprimands in return, which he didn't seem to care about. After about half an hour of flying, the captain came over to greet the old man and invited him to the cockpit.
The old man casually said, "Nana, want to come and have a look?" I was tempted, but my mother hesitated. The captain enthusiastically said, "Little one, come on over
, the view from the cockpit is beautiful." Looking at the captain's uniform and upright demeanor, and seeing the envious glances from others, my mother agreed.

(Four)

It was only then that my mother's colleagues learned she had a top-tier boyfriend—a renowned doctor. They congratulated her profusely, and my mother was somewhat at a loss for words,
but she was certainly happy. Upon disembarking, the old man earnestly invited us to join him, saying he would provide food, drinks, and entertainment, and that the places would be
better than a group tour. My mother's supervisor enthusiastically acted as his accomplice, leaving my mother with no choice but to ask my opinion. "Fine," I said coldly.

When the three of us finally had time alone together, the old man solemnly apologized to my mother and me, saying that I was still a child and that his
behavior that night was incomprehensible and unforgivable. He assured me that such a thing would never happen again. "I treat Nana like my own daughter," he said seriously, which
was very convincing. "Or, how about Nana calls me Dad?" "Pah! It's not even close to happening yet," my mother said, a little shyly. I was a bit unhappy.

(five)

Actually, my mother was worried I would be unhappy, so she tried to comfort me, telling me good things about the old man. I was still cold towards him, but I wasn't
too opposed to their marriage. They got their marriage certificate when I was in my second year of high school. At that time, my mother was convinced that the old man was a completely good person and a good stepfather, and I thought so too
. But my mother forgot that I had been raped by the old man when I was in my first year of high school, and I forgot that one night in my second year of high school, the old man came over and secretly raped me again
. That time I was fast asleep, and the old man was gently thrusting in and out from behind. I felt extremely disgusted, but I still slept soundly.

The old man was very considerate. After secretly ejaculating on me, he didn't rush away. He cleaned me up gently, wiping me lightly. At that
moment, I even felt a little pleasure.

Throughout my second year of high school, because my mother kept a close eye on me and I was also very vigilant, he had absolutely no chance.

(six)

By my senior year of high school, my studies were becoming increasingly difficult.
Surprisingly, my father still remembered some of the material and could offer me some tutoring and explanations. He even went so far as to find a complete set of high school textbooks to study, which deeply moved my mother. When he stood behind me, pointing things out, I suddenly felt a
masculine warmth that had always been lacking in our family—a warmth that felt both loving and comforting. A few times, when he reached over to check my work, the back of his hand accidentally brushed against my breast;
it felt tingly and pleasant. My mother watched the backs of the father and daughter, feeling gratified. Perhaps encouraged, or perhaps the thrill of such clandestine actions under his nose made him
bolder, his actions grew increasingly aggressive when my mother turned away. Finally, one day, he simply grabbed my
breast, and my body trembled involuntarily.

I think it was around this time that I started learning the old man's composure as a doctor. I still calmly asked questions, and he answered them seriously.
My mother was very nervous about me, but she didn't notice anything. What I'm sure my mother didn't notice was that after that, the old man would always sneak up and rape me after I fell asleep
, about a dozen times, each time when I was sound asleep.

(seven)

One day, my mother was working overtime at her workplace, and my husband was tutoring me. He probably saw this as an opportunity and became very excited, his hands trembling. After a few light touches,
he finally couldn't resist. He plopped down next to me, then wrapped his arms around me and began to fondle my breasts. I tried to calmly accept
his fondling as usual, but I couldn't. He started going too far, putting his hands inside my clothes to touch my breasts. I felt disgusted, so I stopped and didn't say anything. He thought he
could still play around and reached for my genitals. I started to resist.

He ignored me, picked me up, and headed for the bed. I struggled free, slapped him hard, and said, "Dad," it was the first time I'd ever called him that.
I took a breath and said, "Dad, I want Mom to have a loving husband, and I want a kind father. I don't want you to ruin all of this again,
okay?"

The old man was very ashamed and behaved himself for many days afterward, not touching me during tutoring sessions, which I found a little strange. I found an opportunity to press my breasts tightly against
his arm, secretly rubbing them together, and I felt even more pleasure than when he had sex with me at night. The old man was incredibly clever; he quickly understood my bottom line:
the father-daughter relationship couldn't be broken, and if we were going to play around, we had to do it properly. So he resumed his carefree and nonchalant ways of playing with
my youth right under my mother's nose.

(eight)

Even walking at night for a long time can lead to encountering ghosts. When the old man and I started to get used to it, we inevitably let our guard down. A few days before the college entrance exam, the old man checked my…

Checking on my revision, it was very hot, and my breasts, covered by my bra, were starting to feel hot. My husband, very considerate of my feelings, took advantage of my mother's absence while she prepared food in the kitchen. He tossed aside my t-
shirt and bra, lightly touching my nipples. A cool breeze blew by, and my breasts tingled with goosebumps—it felt incredibly pleasurable. So
when he tried to put my clothes down, I stopped him, insisting he continue explaining the next problem. He was so pleased he was hard, and he continued explaining while playing with me. Soon, we were both engrossed in our "righteous cause
," discussing the problem and forgetting about my breasts and what his hands were doing, until my mother came into the room.

When my mother came into the room, he was gently pulling on my nipple, letting it go, letting it spring back, then pinching it again, letting it spring back again. He wanted to feel the rare elasticity of a young girl. Although
I was only eighteen at the time, I was fully mature, and my breasts were a size larger than my mother's, round and firm, white and tender.
What a visual shock it must have been for my mother to have a claw with bulging veins on such a breast!

I remained calm—the old man said that's when he discovered I was perfectly suited to be a doctor—I immediately stood up, straightened my clothes, and left the room with my head down.

My mother held back for a long time and finally didn't make a scene, probably because I was about to take the college entrance exam. I only noticed several obvious scratches on my father's face while we were eating
, and his ear was almost bleeding. My mother held back for a long time and finally didn't say anything to me.

(Nine)

I'm sure my mom was planning to settle accounts with my dad after my college entrance exam, but she didn't get the chance. My dad went on a business trip under some pretext and did
n't come back until after my results came out. As expected, I, the former top student, did terribly on the exam. Before
my mom could even ask my dad why, he was already busy running around. He dragged my mom along, swallowed his pride, and begged people everywhere. Finally, just over ten days before the start of the semester, he got me into a top medical university.

Then, Mom packed my bags. I'd never been away from Mom before, and this sudden trip so far made her very reluctant to let me
go. She cried several times, but didn't say a word of reproach. Only when she saw me off at the airport did she finally stammer, "Nana, now that you're in college, if
you meet a suitable boy, you can... give it a try." I smiled and hugged Mom affectionately, "Mom—I know." Mom hesitated, then said, "Mom, I know
what you mean, don't worry." Waving goodbye to my parents, tears welled up in Mom's eyes again.

(ten)

I don't know what kind of family battles occurred after I left, but the old man's skills in coaxing women were absolutely top-notch, and everything calmed down afterwards.

I didn't intentionally try to find a boyfriend, but as soon as I entered school, my husband took a liking to me. When he pursued me, I remembered my mother's words and didn't deliberately refuse
. Later, I married my husband. I always complained to him that I had never had a boyfriend before, and I never expected that one would lead to marriage; it was such a waste. My husband hugged me, as proud
as a child. But that's another story.

During my first winter break in college, one night before I went to sleep, my mother told me, "I have to work the night shift tonight. There's a pervert in the house, so I've locked the door for you." I did n't know
what to say. After that, my mother always locked my door, showing no trust in me whatsoever, which made me feel very disheartened and resentful. Then, before I even drifted off to sleep,
my father actually opened the door with his key. I don't know where he got the key, and he wouldn't tell me when I asked. After he came in, I pretended to be asleep again.
He got excited and reached into my pajamas to touch my breasts and genitals. I remembered my mother locking the door and found it somewhat amusing. My genitals were already soaking wet. He entered me hard
, thrusting in and out, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. I continued to pretend to be asleep. I didn't want to do anything inappropriate with him when I was awake; I couldn't handle that psychologically. When I was awake, I truly
treated him completely as my stepfather, so our interactions were very natural and comfortable. Even my mother couldn't see anything unusual because there was absolutely nothing between us
; it was a purely platonic father-daughter relationship.

(eleven)

He was thrusting when suddenly my pager went off. I ignored it, and then the phone on the bedside table rang again. The embarrassment was no less than when my mother
burst into my room during my senior year of high school. After four rings, I had no choice but to reach for the phone. It was my husband calling. I quickly turned around and warned the old man not to move. Apparently, my husband couldn't resist missing me
and had traveled a long way to see me. He had just gotten off the train. "Ugh, calling someone so late," I said to my husband playfully. Perhaps he wasn't too bothered, but
he aroused his penis, which was still inside my vagina, until it was rock hard. He started moving again. I turned around and glared at him, but it was too dark to see. I pinched him, which excited him even more, and he grabbed my breast...

He held me tightly, thrusting forcefully. I was furious, desperately trying to suppress my rage, but finally I couldn't hold back and started breathing heavily. My husband was talking incessantly about
how much he missed me when I sensed something was off: "Juan'er," Juan is my formal name, "What are you doing?"

I started sobbing; my quick thinking and resourcefulness were already evident at that moment.

The old man knew this wasn't the time to cause trouble, so he stopped and drew a character on my back, I think it was the character "高" (high). I was so angry I wanted to grind my teeth.

My husband comforted me with a bit of pride, saying he was in front of our apartment complex and asked me to come pick him up. I didn't want to go, and as I hesitated, the old man kept
writing "Down, down" behind me. I had no choice but to agree to my husband's request.

(twelve)

I straightened up and pulled out of the old man's penis, got up, turned on the light, and looked back at him. He looked at me quietly, and I looked at him quietly, not knowing what to say.
Gradually, his gaze softened, and he pulled me close, kissing my forehead. "Girl, hurry up and put on your clothes, don't catch a cold." I snuggled closer to him, muttering
, "I don't want to go pick him up, it's so cold!" The old man played with my breasts as he said, "You were so moved you almost cried just now, it's really
unfair not to go pick him up now." I thought about it and realized he was right, so I tried to get up, but he pressed me down again. "Wait a bit, be reserved, it's better to let him wait." I was about to laugh when he added,
"I'm almost done, let me come out first." I rolled my eyes in exasperation.

The old man pressed down on me, flattening my breasts. This was only the second time we'd made love in the missionary position, including the first time he raped me; it felt very good.
The old man, knowing my boyfriend was down there, was excited and thrust rapidly for a full seven or eight minutes before ejaculating. This time, he didn't ejaculate on my buttocks
; he shot every last drop inside my vagina. As the hot semen hit my vaginal walls, I gripped the sheets tightly, tensed my body, and arched my back,
reaching my first orgasm in my life.

(Thirteen)

I got dressed, and as I was leaving, the old man told me not to bring anyone back, and not to go with him. He said my mother had locked the door, and I
should tell my boyfriend I snuck out, because my parents would be furious if they found out, and so on. He was long-winded, and although every word he said was correct, I found it very irritating. I suddenly felt he was repulsive and extremely annoying. Later, whenever
he gave me advice about my relationship with my husband, I felt disgusted. My husband is my own; if anyone should lie, it's me lying to him. The fact that he lied to my husband made me feel disgusted with him.

When I went downstairs and saw my husband, he was huddled up in a ball, shivering from the cold. I was so touched that
I rushed over and hugged him, giving him my first kiss. We were kissing passionately when suddenly… I felt a gush of fluid from my genitals. I was incredibly embarrassed. Luckily, my husband didn't know. After firmly rejecting his advances, I went back inside, complaining that
the old man hadn't cleaned me up properly. He said he probably ejaculated too deep inside.

(fourteen)

My husband made a very good first impression on my mother. She said he was a good person and worth getting to know; she said I have a good eye for people. I, however, have serious doubts. At least, my
mother didn't judge my father and stepfather correctly. But with my mother's encouragement, our relationship has developed quite well.

During my sophomore summer vacation, one day my mother suddenly asked me if my husband and I had done "that".

"No, no!" I denied it repeatedly.

"Really not?"

"Really, no!"

"If you have it, you have it; if you don't, you don't. What's there to be embarrassed about in front of Mom?"

"Mom, I told you there isn't any," I said seriously. "Really."

When Mom saw that I was telling the truth, her face darkened. After a long silence, she coldly asked, "Then whose semen is on your underwear?"

I was caught off guard, my face turned bright red, and I panicked a little. I stammered, "No, no—" before I remembered that I had forgotten to wash my underwear that morning.

I wanted to explain, but I couldn't find a good excuse. I wished I could disappear into a crack in the ground. My mother stared at me coldly for a long time, then began
to cry sadly.

When the old man came back, he insisted that he had masturbated with my underwear. I slapped him across the face, covered my face, and ran into the room. My mother watched coldly. My
panic just now had already said it all. No amount of acting would help.

(fifteen)

When I was a junior in college, my mother had an affair with an editor ten years her junior. She was head over heels in love with him, and probably transferred all her love for me to
that guy. One day, the old man came to visit me at school, and we went to a hotel. After he undressed me, he suddenly buried his head in my chest and...

She burst into tears: "Nana, your mom doesn't want me anymore."

That day, we didn't rush into sex. We hugged each other and listened to him talk about his mother. I then realized that the old man loved his mother very deeply.
I was quite moved when I heard it. In the end, I said, "Stop talking and just fuck me."

He did it three times, which is unprecedented for him. I seriously suspect he was on drugs. He swore he wasn't, and I laughed and said, "Why are you going to such lengths? Are you
saying goodbye to me?" He silently nodded. I hugged him and stopped talking, thinking that it wouldn't be so bad if this twisted relationship ended like this. As for
whether he and his mother break up, who cares? In the past year or two, my mother seems noticeably distant from me.

They eventually broke up.

(sixteen)

That kid is wicked, and undisguisedly so. The moment he saw me, he said, "Wow, what a beautiful pair of sisters! I'm so lucky!" A little while later, he
said, "If you two had finished your classes, life would be so wonderful." My mother scolded him and hit him, but it sounded more like flirting. Whenever this happened, I could only walk away coldly.

It just so happened that my husband and I had a fight during the holiday. I was very sad. The old man often told me some low-brow jokes, and gradually I felt that he wasn't so annoying anymore.
One night, he sneaked into my room. My mother was in another room. I really don't know what my mother was thinking. I felt like a dead body at that moment, and I saw through the meaning of life.

My mother was extremely indulgent towards him, practically giving in to his every whim to keep him around. After that, I refused to let him touch me again, but he became increasingly unrestrained at home. One day, while
the family was watching TV, he suddenly said to my mother, "Sister, come sit here." My mother complied. Then he said to me, "Little sister, come sit over here." I
looked at him coldly and ignored him. Seeing that I wouldn't come over, he picked my mother up and placed her on his lap, saying, "If I can't hold the little beauty, I'll hold the big beauty." My mother said
to stop making a fuss, but he wouldn't listen. He reached out and touched my mother's breasts and genitals, leering at me as he did so. My mother resisted him, her whole body flushed with excitement. I couldn't bear to watch any
longer, so I got up, left, and slammed the door shut.

(17)

Before my mother could even discuss marriage with that guy, she was in a car accident. I rushed home to take care of her. When the doctor said she might be paralyzed,
that guy ran away in a flash. Just as I was planning to take a year off from school to take care of my mother, my father heard the news and came, telling me to go back to school and not let my studies suffer. He said he would
take care of my mother. My mother cried, and I cried too. "Dad," I called out from the bottom of my heart.

Over the next year or so, the old man invested a lot—time, energy, and money. I put money last because 300,000 yuan
might be a huge sum for my mother, but it wasn't financially crippling for him. My mother was very happy; she finally felt like a couple who had weathered hardships together. I
also believed that the old man genuinely loved my mother. If he only wanted my body, he could have come to me directly. But in fact, he never contacted me even once after breaking up with my mother
.

The old man took care of my mother with all his might, and finally, after more than a year, she was able to walk with the help of a cane. When I heard the news, I was overjoyed and couldn't wait
to fly back and hug and kiss him. My husband said I was extremely excited that day, and I said, "How could I not be happy when my mother is better?" Actually, I was thinking
about the old man the whole time we made love.

(eighteen)

After graduating, I went back home and ended up in the old man's hospital. My husband came with me because of love. The old man gave us his house to live in. What I found extremely shameful
was that when the old man asked us when we planned to get married, I actually thought about how I hadn't had sex with him for almost two years, and I kind of wanted to.

My mother has been sexually frigid since the car accident. At first, she could manage to appease my husband, but later she couldn't even be bothered with that anymore. She would tell him, "Old He,
a couple should be companions in old age. Having you as my companion is already my greatest blessing." After a while, my husband couldn't take it anymore. One day, my husband was on night shift, and
I was staying at his place. I was watching TV when I heard my mother's low moans of desire coming from her room. Just as I was thinking that my husband probably wouldn't have many opportunities, I suddenly heard my mother
blurt out, "Go find Nana!"

I was utterly shocked and immediately perked up my ears. The old man protested, "How could that be? Mom said you
've done it before." The old man said, "No, no." Mom said, "Stop pretending. Go ahead, I won't be angry, really." "So I'll go?" "Go ahead." "Really going?" "Go ahead." "Forget it, still no." "Get lost, Nana
's pussy has been fucked hundreds of times by you, and you're still pretending." The last sentence made me extremely unhappy. Actually, we haven't... for two years.

If she did it, and it wasn't her mother, she might have remained pure; it's entirely possible.

(nineteen)

The old man came out, gave me an awkward smile, and seemed a little embarrassed. I forced a smile back and gestured for him to sit down. To be honest, I didn't want to at all.
My husband and I were deeply in love at the time, and my mind couldn't accommodate any other thoughts, but I still tried my best to smile at him. I guess I considered this a kind of sacrifice.

I smiled as I watched him touch my vagina; it wasn't wet at all.

"How about we go wash up again?" I wanted to avoid letting him see my coldness.

He washed me, then kissed and licked me, but he didn't get much wet. He couldn't take it anymore and climbed on top of me, starting to penetrate me. I watched him move on me with pity, feeling
no passion whatsoever.

"Nana, are you unwilling?" he stopped and asked.

"No, there isn't."

"You seem a little unhappy?"

"No! Why think so much? Just get on with it."

"If you're not happy, then I won't have sex with you."

I was furious and yelled, "You old geezer, take it or leave it! If you don't want to, don't bother me!" Seeing I was angry, he said, "I really won't do it anymore, Nana, I won't force you."
I quickly wrapped my legs around him, pressing his buttocks down, and said, "Old man, you're getting old, you're getting worse with age. Why not do it? It's not
like I'm the one who has to take the initiative."

"Why can't you take the initiative? I'm so handsome."

"Go to hell."

(twenty)

"Am I feeling better? Is Chen Li feeling better?" I asked the old man. Chen Li was the nurse in his department. She was very pretty and extremely kind to him.

"I'm not very familiar with Chen Li," the old man said warily.

"Come on, everyone says you two are having an affair."

"Does she enjoy it more or do I enjoy it more?" I asked again, trying to find some excitement.

"A young lady like you, why are you using so much vulgar language?" He tried to change the subject, but I was annoyed and pouted, saying, "Your big cock is still inside my little pussy
, if I don't swear now, am I supposed to swear during dinner?"

"You, one day I'll die on your belly!" The civilized man couldn't stand the vulgar language. He thrust into me forcefully, as if he wanted to tear my vagina apart, wishing he could
burrow his whole body into my cunt.

(21)

One day, Mom suddenly noticed a red swelling on the old man's genitals and suspected he had a sexually transmitted disease. She interrogated him about whether he had visited a prostitute, but he insisted that he hadn't, saying that the redness
was nothing serious. Mom didn't believe him, so she pulled down the old man's shorts and asked me, "Nana, do you think there's something wrong with your dad's genitals?"

I went over to look. "Where?" Mom brushed aside the old man's pubic hair and pointed to his inner thigh, saying, "Here."

"Let me see." I reached out and brushed aside my pubic hair, examining it closely. "Nothing's wrong." It was just ordinary red, and looked like it had been scratched.

"Is that so?" Mom was a little unsure, half believing and half doubting.

"Let me take a closer look," I said, lifting the old man's limp penis and carefully stroking his genitals with my fingers, feeling like a professional urologist.

"Hmm. Pubic lice! Did you hire a prostitute?" I feigned anger.

"I'm innocent! How could I dare? There really was nothing there. I'm a doctor, after all."

"Or maybe Chen Li has pubic lice! She gave them to you." After I told my mother about Chen Li, we always used Chen Li to tease the old man.

"Honestly, if it was contagious, it was..." He wanted to say that I had infected him, but please, he wasn't going to make me take off my pants to confront him. But he immediately became alert and stopped talking
. Mom composed herself, smiled noncommittally, and turned to watch TV. I was holding his penis, feeling a bit awkward.

"It's disgusting! I'll shave your hair so you don't infect Mom." I said with disgust.

(22)

When the old man saw that I had actually taken out the razor, he covered his trousers and refused to comply.

"How dare you! You're not allowed to touch me until I shave—Mom!" I snapped, adding the word "Mom" out of the way, even though all three of us knew the truth, we still
couldn't bring ourselves to say it openly.

He still refused, saying, "It's nothing, how can I face people if you shave my head?"

"Damn, you see people there every day? You see Chen Li, huh?"

"No, I need to go to the toilet all the time. If others see me, they'll laugh me to death."

My mother was trying not to laugh, which encouraged me and made me even more excited. I sternly ordered the old man to sit down and then ordered him to take off his pants. He had no choice but to comply.

He was doing it, but he wouldn't let go of that thing. I reached over, forcefully inserted my hand, grabbed his penis, and with a slight pull, said, "Let go or not?"

He obediently let go, but his penis began to swell in my hand. He kept saying, "Don't joke around, Nana, don't joke around, Nana."

I figured he was a vice-dean, managing two or three thousand people, and I didn't want to embarrass him. Holding my penis, I hesitated, not immediately making a move.
But my penis grew bigger and harder. I reached out and slapped it, yelling, "You pervert! You old scoundrel! You shameless old man!" I glanced up at my mother and saw her ears
were red. I quickly whispered to my husband, "Mom's getting excited, hurry up!"

When Mom noticed the old man trying to hug her, she quickly pushed him away, saying, "Go away! Go find whoever bothered you!"

"Mom, don't worry, everything's fine there. I'm going out now. Have fun, Mom and Dad!"

"Nana, you brat, you're acting like a madwoman!"

I ran out of the house, feeling very sweet.

(23)

I'll continue writing today.

From then on, the memories grew sweeter, but it was definitely not like what the perverted sex maniac imagined—a daily, unrestrained celebration. In reality, our family was perfectly normal every day.
We did what we were supposed to do. No one has desires 24 hours a day, and even if you wanted to, it's impossible. So most of the time we were upright and proper. Even
when we sat casually or lay lazily, there was no immediate touching or physical intimacy. Not even 99.99% of the time.
Sometimes I was as lazy as a kitten, and my husband would just come over and pat me, "Girl, go to bed, don't get cold." Of course, sometimes he would be attracted or seduced by me
, whether intentionally or unintentionally. I've also read some erotic novels, hoping to add some excitement, but unfortunately, most of them, let alone being possible in real life,
don't even have the function of arousing female desire. It's unthinkable; they're too unrealistic. They're probably all just high school students fantasizing. For a while, I did some in-depth research on
high school boys and found that they fantasized quite a bit, haha.

We've gone off on a tangent.

I don't consider myself ugly. Women who look similar to me probably have a lot of sexual partners, right? A close friend told me that for women in our tier, five
or six is conservative, ten or so is normal, and twenty or thirty is considered bad. I said, "You're exaggerating. How many do you have?" She pursed her lips and sighed, "I can
count them on two hands." I said, "That's good, that's good. I only need to use two fingers." That was it! She insisted on knowing who the other finger was, who was so charming.
I regretted it so much; I should have said I couldn't even count them on two hands and two feet.

For a long time, they were relentlessly interrogating me, insisting I name the other finger. After much guessing, they came to the old man, saying, "Could it be your father?
Another friend said she once saw your father pinching your butt in the hallway." My face turned pale, because there was a real possibility she had seen it.
I vehemently denied it. They probably hadn't paid much attention at first, but the more I denied it, the more they believed me. I almost cried. Seeing that I couldn't back down, they
must have harbored doubts.

Later, one day I went to the old man's office to report on my work. He assigned me this ridiculous job as the secretary of the Youth League Committee. As I was talking, I suddenly remembered my girlfriends' suspicions
, and what I said came out like this: "Our unit needs to send two people to the Youth Forum. Secretary Zhang called this morning to ask about it. It seems he wants
his wife to go. Oh, right, and you're not allowed to touch my butt at work anymore." — My train of thought jumped too fast. The old man, who had been ignoring me and
acting cool, suddenly became interested. He looked up, his eyes lit up, and he got up and walked towards me.

"What did Secretary Zhang say again?"

"What are you doing?" I shrank back to the corner of the sofa in fear, but I couldn't escape his clutches. He grabbed my vulva. My vulva is quite
plump, shaped like a steamed bun, and he always managed to grab it accurately. That's my Achilles' heel, folks, that's my Achilles' heel. If you know the right method, you
can try grabbing it too, and I guarantee I'll immediately become 80% obedient. The remaining 20% depends on your luck. Haha, just kidding. I've only let a stranger
grab it once, on the bus. A pervert was groping and messing around behind me. Just as I was about to explode, that guy grabbed my vulva, and
I immediately calmed down. It was a strange experience, wasn't it? Of course, you perverts, that bastard immediately made a mistake...

If he had kept touching me outside my pants, I might have let him touch me until I got off the bus, until I was wet, or even gone to a hotel together—ugh
! Ugh! Forgive me, forgive me, that guy was so ugly, incredibly lewd, utterly disgusting. I just didn't turn around to look at him then. Ugh! Just thinking about it makes me sick! I
should have known better than to let him touch me—he got a huge advantage, but immediately made a mistake. He had only touched me a few times and wasn't satisfied yet, so he tried to put his hand
inside my pants. I'm a doctor! Heaven knows how dirty his hands were; I could even immediately imagine the filth under his fingernails! Good heavens!! I immediately turned around and
slapped him twice. Seeing how ugly he was, I was so angry that I kicked him so hard I crippled his martial arts skills. I conservatively estimate he won't be able to use them for at least thirty days.

Haha, I've gone off on a tangent again. We were just getting back to the old man pressing down on my vulva. My vulva is quite plump; even through my clothes, I can feel its
elasticity, like a breast. My labia majora are fleshy and pink, perfectly covering my labia minora. It's not like some women's vulvas are so thin they're practically just a hole, nor is it like some
sluts whose labia minora are brazenly turned outwards. It's shaped like a steamed bun—that's the old man
's professional definition after a long examination. He really enjoys touching my vulva and buttocks, saying it's pure pleasure. Of course! If touching a vulva isn't enjoyable, what is? You don't understand, do you? Touching some women's vulvas is purely fulfilling
an obligation, just a prelude for my little brother. But our Nana's vulva feels as good as sex, and of course, it's even better to fuck! I don't know
if the old man is telling the truth, but I'm very happy. However, when I asked my husband what he liked most about me, he said my breasts, which annoyed me.

Actually, what I'm most proud of is my buttocks and genitals, I can tell from the looks other men give me. I have full and perfect curves, which often make
the office lechers drool, especially when I wear tight pants. I look better in pants, especially tight pants, jeans or dress
pants, which make me look capable and sexy. When I'm standing, they show off my figure and my "tempting" buttocks. When I'm sitting, my male colleagues can
admire my genitals while picking something up, of course, they're well covered up! But one time, the old man fucked me in the office and confiscated my underwear.
When I returned to my office, I found the male doctor sitting opposite me bleeding. I immediately wondered if I looked like a hen that had just laid an egg, so I quickly looked in the mirror and found that I
was still quite dignified. Just as I was wondering, I saw that guy looking around at my crotch. I sat down and carefully peeked at myself. Oh my god,
the shape of my genitals was showing under the thin dress pants, and the slit was vaguely visible. I was so embarrassed.

Sigh, I've gone off on a tangent again. I'm so happy today, really happy! Why am I so happy? Hehe, I'm not telling you!

Scroll up, where did we get to? Hmm, we were talking about the old man covering my pussy. That's his private territory, of course. He comes whenever he wants,
without even asking for permission, especially my husband! Ugh! But his touch was top-notch, like a master technician. A few strokes and
I was aroused. Then, I let him do something absolutely terrifying. He unbuttoned my pants, pulled down my trousers and underwear, revealing my snow-white
buttocks and my hairy, plump pussy (fine, soft, light-colored hair, the kind for a small, chubby pussy, hehe!). He exposed my snow- white buttocks and hairy, plump pussy to the sun. I couldn't breathe, my heart melted. You see, the door was wide open, and someone could come in
at any moment !

He quickly opened his briefcase, took out a pink vibrating egg (I later learned it was called a vibrating egg; he bought it during a business trip to Japan for
over ten thousand yuan—not Japanese yen, but RMB, how perverted, he was willing to spend so much!), and shoved it into my vagina. He quickly pulled up my
pants and immediately jumped up. I hurriedly zipped up and buttoned them. I had barely sat up straight when a doctor walked in! We were putting on our pants just by listening to his footsteps
. So fast! It was over in almost two seconds! What a close call!

I stood up and said goodbye to the old man: "Dean He, I'll head back now."

"Okay, okay."

I had just reached the doorway when my legs suddenly gave way, and I quickly squatted down.

"Nana! Nana! What's wrong?" The old man's serious, feigned concern made me want to kill him on the spot. Damn it, he was still using wireless telepathy.

Controlled! And wirelessly remote-controlled, damn it! I gritted my teeth in anger, but in front of others, I could only manage a pure smile, "It's okay, Dad, you
tripped and fell."

(24)

All day long, I endured the torment of that strange egg. It felt like I had a signal everywhere I went, and I was furious. That day, I was in the outpatient clinic, wearing a white coat, looking
calm, composed, young, and beautiful. Who would have thought that I had a testicle between my legs, a testicle that could go crazy at any moment? That day, in front of the patients, I kept
leaning on the table, my body trembling and my legs shaking. Once, an elderly woman couldn't bear it anymore and said, "Young lady, are you feeling unwell?" I couldn't take it anymore and rushed to the toilet,
trying to pry it out with two fingers. But I accidentally pushed it in,
right to the clitoris. My body shuddered, and I quickly stood up and jumped, as if I'd slipped on the entrance. I tried again, but it pushed in again. I jumped again, repeating this four times. On the fourth try, I finally managed to pinch the tip with
two fingers and slowly moved it out. But I accidentally used too much force, and my testicles slipped out between my fingers like a grenade, shooting straight in. At that very moment, my testicles
started moving wildly for a long time. My body slumped to the floor, completely paralyzed. It was the first time I'd ejaculated without having sex
. I finally caught my breath and, without caring about anything else, burst into tears.

"Juanzi! Juanzi! What's wrong?" My colleague was banging on the door from the outside. I snapped out of it, took a deep breath, forced myself to calm down, rinsed off
the water, quickly touched up my makeup in the mirror, put on my pants, and went out.

"It's nothing, I just had terrible menstrual cramps." I lowered my head, feeling weak and a bit groggy. I added unnecessarily, "Don't tell my husband."
Just as I reached the door, I overheard two people whispering behind me, "She probably miscarried. She was in there for quite a while."

I stopped at the handwashing station and slowly washed my hands, telling myself to hold on, I must hold on! I clenched my fists, aza! aza! Ah Juan, aza!
I silently chanted in my heart, and felt my strength return.

I called the old man's office, but no one answered. I tried his cell phone, but it was off; he was probably in a meeting. Dandan also calmed
down. I sent him a text message warning him not to cause any trouble, and only then did I feel a little relieved.

Around noon, I'd almost forgotten about my testicles. It was only when I crossed my legs that I became acutely aware of the foreign object inside my vagina. This somewhat aroused
a latent sense of arousal, so I chatted openly with the two male doctors. The conversation was going well when I suddenly stopped, squinted, frowned
, gripped the chair tightly, and squeezed my legs together. The two doctors stared at each other, mouths agape. Thankfully, it only lasted a minute. I could
easily handle two stinky men. I ignored them, kept clutching my chest, and muttered to myself, "Hold on, hold on!" I walked to my desk
to get some toilet paper, saying casually, "Damn it, I ate something bad, almost spilled it down my pants." The two men looked at each other and then burst into
laughter, doubled over with laughter. I pretended to be annoyed: "Get lost!"

That day I changed three pairs of paper underwear. I had originally come to work wearing pure cotton underwear, but I took a break and went home. When I got home, my pants were wet again, and I
was completely exhausted. I felt like I was about to die. I hated the old man for a long time.

【over】

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