Outrageously tacky (01-15)

Author: luetong001 Word Count: 21489

A Taste of Vulgarity 1

It was on a bus returning to school after a part-time job. I was a little tired and dozed off. As the bus turned a corner, inertia pulled me from my dream. I realized the bus was like a square dumpling, stuffed full of human flesh. Of course, such scenes are commonplace in every big city in China.

My problem was that I noticed a woman in a yellow t-shirt and blue jeans squeezed in front of me. Her right hand was on the back of the seat in front of me, but her round, taut buttocks, stretched taut by her jeans, instantly banished my sleepiness. My already small eyes widened instantly, gleaming with delight.

However, what left a very deep impression on me was the man behind that taut blue buttocks—a somewhat thin and tall man—wearing black casual pants, tightly, tightly, tightly clung to her buttocks. These black casual pants clung tightly to the elastic blue jeans in the front. The black casual pants, following their owner's every whim, sometimes moved slowly up and down, sometimes swayed subtly from side to side, and sometimes seemed unwilling to give up their efforts to get closer.

I finally couldn't resist stealing a glance at the guy's face. He, on the other hand, had his head slightly raised, staring at the advertisement on the handrail. I couldn't tell if he was looking at it or thinking about something; I couldn't see his expression, but he seemed completely at ease. The blue jeans tried to sway, seemingly trying to escape the lecherous man's harassment, but surrounded by all sorts of pants—some big, some small, some new, some old, all brightly colored—it and its owner were simply helpless.

There was a section of road in bad condition (every time I passed by here before, I would think of Kawabata Yasunari, of "The Dancing Girl of Izu," of the Izu Peninsula, of a similarly potholed road on the island, of a tour guide apologetically saying the road was like a face full of pockmarks, and of another tour guide poetically describing this road as the famous, charming, dimpled road of Izu. Today, my entire brain was focused on supporting my terrified eyes), and the car swayed as if it were drunk.

That pair of black casual pants, which I found almost repulsive, danced wildly on the tight blue jeans—a dance that looked utterly obscene. Its owner's face, as if no longer belonging to its owner, glowed with an odd red light, a mixture of pain, ecstasy, and something indescribable.

This scene shocked my small, beady eyes. I stared at them with that typical, almost oblivious, look of intense concentration, until the person in front of me got up and got off the bus, the blue jeans settled down, and the black casual pants moved to the door.

My disgust hadn't lessened at all. But suddenly, I began to envy that hateful pair of black casual pants and its owner. They had used my favorite thing—a buttocks—directly and openly used those round, swaying buttocks right before my eyes. They had used the beautiful buttocks I had always imagined and fantasized about right in front of me, playing with them on the spot.

And in such an obscene way, in such a stimulating scene. A strange emotion made me want to use my remaining strength to completely split those black casual pants in two.

But I wasn't that brave. Another inexplicable emotion made me restless, making my little brother restless. My little brother awkwardly pushed up my pants, creating an embarrassing gap. I quickly put my hands on it, even if no one could see.

I glanced at the owner of the blue jeans in front of me. I thought, she had been insulted. In front of me (it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say in public, but there weren't many people who saw it; I wasn't sure if it was just me), her round, beautiful buttocks were insulted. Her full, round buttocks had been passively and inexplicably offered to a strange and bold, shameless man.

As for whether it was their first time, I had no idea. As for how many other pairs of blue, black, gray, or white jeans and casual pants that had been raped by those alluring, round, protruding, perky, thick, or bouncy buttocks, I had no idea.

Bus, bus—I've hated that name ever since. Some people have exploited its name; some people have shamelessly exploited its body.

"

I must have acted on impulse, or maybe I was bewitched. Anyway, I still can't figure out why I suddenly decided to follow that guy in black casual pants off the bus. This isn't where I should get off." I followed closely behind the man in black casual pants, who was hurrying along. It was almost dusk, and the evening breeze was a bit chilly.

Suddenly, the man in black casual pants stopped, turned around, and asked me, puzzled, "Why are you following me?" I was slightly taken aback and immediately retorted, "Who said I'm following you? Is this road your property?" He was even more blunt, "Are you fucking crazy?" I was completely enraged, my eyes wide with fury. "You guessed right, but I'm not as crazy as you, you scoundrel!"

I cursed, grabbing his collar. He hadn't expected my reaction to be so intense and my movements so swift. He instinctively tried to dodge, but I was too fast for him. "You idiot, what's it to you?" he shouted, continuing to hurl insults at me as he struggled.

At that moment, I simply shut my mouth and focused solely on physically assaulting him to vent my anger. However, as I fought, my mouth couldn't stay still. Panting, I unleashed my verbal barrage: "You idiot, you moron, you pervert, you filthy pervert, I'll fucking beat you to death! You beast! Taking advantage of someone in broad daylight! You're incredibly audacious! You're much bolder than me!"

He ultimately couldn't beat me. Perhaps out of fear, seeing a growing crowd, he used all his strength to break free and ran away. Watching his stumbling, disheveled appearance, I suddenly didn't want to chase him anymore. My anger completely gone, I straightened my clothes and wearily walked away from the clamor of voices.

I didn't care about any of that; I just wanted to get back to the No. 39 bus stop as quickly as possible. I wanted to get back to school as soon as possible; I was hungry. I'd only taken two steps when I felt a whooshing sound behind me, like someone was chasing me. My heart skipped a beat; I thought it was the woman in the black casual pants getting back at me again. I whirled around. Oh dear, I was genuinely surprised. It was that woman with the big, round butt in the jeans!

The bus was so crowded I hadn't even noticed when she got off. "You're amazing! Thank you for teaching that thug a lesson for me." I hadn't had a chance to see her clearly on the bus, but her smiling and generous thanks made me realize she was actually quite ordinary-looking. If it weren't for her round, bulging butt, I wouldn't have noticed her at all on the street. I felt a little embarrassed. "Don't thank me. I didn't beat him up for you, and besides, I'm a thug

myself." She laughed heartily, "Don't tease me. I'm not afraid of you, you thug." I was puzzled. I wasn't teasing you, not even in the first place. I stared at her, feeling genuinely sincere. "I really am a thug, believe it or not." She laughed even harder, panting, "I've never seen anyone constantly introduce themselves as a thug."

Her breasts and her laughter danced together once more. As if possessed, I thanked my lightning-fast speed, and suddenly reached out and pinched her bouncing breasts, asking her with a serious tone, head tilted back, "Am I a pervert?"

Her laughter finally stopped at my unexpected action, but she remained calm. "You little rascal, your hands are always wandering." "Considering you hit that scoundrel, I forgive you, you little rascal." "I'm leaving." The words had barely left her lips when she turned and walked away without looking back.

Under the streetlights, her hips swayed back and forth, drawing my gaze far, far away. Suddenly, I didn't feel hungry anymore. I wanted to catch up with her. I thanked myself again for my lightning-fast speed. I suddenly appeared, my long, slender body seemingly descending from the sky, blocking her view of her ample bosom, and asked her with a smile, "So, we're acquainted now?"

She laughed too—her laugh had a peculiar quality, as if masking the slight surprise I'd caused her. We're still a long way from truly knowing each other, aren't we?!

So incredibly tacky!

My enthusiasm surged. "Hehe, it's just the distance a monkey could roll around in, how far could it be! I'm a student at Xi'an Huaxia University nearby. What about you? What do you do?" "Really? You're a university student? What year are you in? I have absolutely no recollection of you." She rattled off four questions like a machine gun, leaving me unsure which to answer first.

I said, "I'm a sophomore. With so many students, how could you possibly remember me? I'm not handsome—are you from our school too?" I began to scrutinize her. To be honest, if someone isn't too old, it's difficult to tell from appearance alone whether they're a university student. There are just too many university students, like the saying goes, "A big forest has all kinds of birds." Sometimes, even if someone looks ugly and dresses sloppily, they might not only be a university student, but also attend a prestigious school.

There's no way around it; the old saying is true: you can't judge a book by its cover. "Sigh! How could I be from your school? I didn't even graduate high school before I started working." Her mood subtly shifted. "I work at a restaurant not far from your school, and I've even delivered lunchboxes to your school a few times."

"Oh," I nodded. "How many years have you been here? Do you know anyone here?" she asked. "I don't know anyone here, but a relative introduced me to this job. I've been here for almost three years." As she spoke, she tried to leave, and I panicked. To be honest, I was starting to have impure thoughts about her.

I couldn't stop my eyes from constantly glancing at her round buttocks, and I suspected she might have noticed my lewd gaze. In a moment of panic, I reached out and grabbed her plump arm. She looked at me warily. "What are you doing?" "Nothing, why are you in such a hurry to leave?" "Sigh, I have to go to work now. How can I compare to you college students?" She shook my hand off.

"Oh, let's go together then. I'll eat at your restaurant tonight, okay?" "Whatever you want, eat wherever you like." "Okay, it's settled then. Have you eaten? Do you want me to treat you?" I couldn't help but try to get closer to you.

"Forget it, no need. How could a poor student like you afford to treat me to dinner?" "I can't afford a fancy meal, but a simple meal is no problem." "We'll see. I usually eat dinner after work—don't you have classes tonight?" "I'm a sophomore now, I rarely have classes in the evening. What time do you get off work?" "I don't get off until 10 pm, that's late, isn't it?" Since it was only two or three stops away from the school, we decided to walk.

As the streetlights came on and the traffic picked up, we walked side by side, looking like we knew each other well. I couldn't help but voice the question that had been nagging at me for so long, "That time on the bus, that pervert was rubbing against your butt, didn't you know?"

"I'm not stupid, how could I not know? It wasn't the first time." "Really? Then why didn't you fight back?" I was surprised. "Fight back? What's the point? There were too many people, how could I move? It wasn't a big deal." She even seemed indifferent. "Oh, what's a big deal?"

"Not making money is the biggest problem." "You're obsessed with money, how old are you?" "23, so what?" "Not that old, how come you're so easygoing?" "My child is four years old, what's there to be upset about? I have to make money for my child." "I really didn't realize you looked like a young student."

"I'm not old to begin with." "That's right, that's right," I echoed, but in my mind I was thinking, no wonder she's already got big breasts and a big butt, she's a mother of many children. The

tacky

restaurant, No. 4, wasn't actually very big; it would be more accurate to call it a slightly larger restaurant. I stopped at the entrance, took out a cigarette, and said, "You go in first, I'll finish mine and then I'll come over." She said okay and opened the door to go in. I was actually afraid that if a familiar classmate saw me, my thoughts would be as sharp as my eyes. I admit, she was attractive to me now, but I knew the unease lurking deep inside me.

After all, years of orthodox education had, to varying degrees, influenced me. She might not know my wandering thoughts, or perhaps she hadn't even thought about it that way; it was just me indulging in wishful thinking. Her attraction to me was simply that her appearance perfectly matched my standards of sexiness.

Smoke rose before my eyes, but that didn't make it difficult for me to see my intentions clearly. When I went in, she was already busy, serving food to customers and cleaning up the leftovers on the tables, working very hard. But my eyes were fixed on her swaying, plump buttocks, drooling with desire.

Especially when she bent over and vigorously wiped the table, her big buttocks not only stuck out high but also swayed back and forth, making my eyes gleam with lust and my little brother feel unbearably aroused. I didn't even have the heart to wait for the dumplings I ordered to be served. Ah, it was truly an endless temptation and torment.

The food finally arrived, and I ate slowly. Every time she appeared, I would nervously glance at her buttocks, watching her ever-changing, exquisite curves. She went back to the cooking area, and I continued to eat at my own leisurely pace. I wanted to wait until there were fewer people so she could have a proper chat.

At 9:30, there was still a student-looking guy eating fried noodles like a wolf. I had already drunk every last drop, soup and all, and she had the opportunity to sit opposite me. "Hey, I still don't know your name?" I asked her teasingly. "And you? I don't know your name either, right?" she giggled back.

"My name is Wang Xiaozuo," I told her truthfully. "I'm telling the truth, you can see my ID card." I pretended to take out my wallet. She smiled broadly, waved her hand, and said, "Forget it, forget it, what does it matter if it's true or not? Just call me Sister Li!" "Understand? Hehe, I really do understand you!" I laughed and joked.

"Sister Li, why don't you order something you want to eat, and then you can go home after you finish eating? It's so convenient, it's on me." Sister Li smiled. "Why are you treating me?" I asked anxiously. "Didn't we agree that I would treat you to a simple meal?" She shook her head. "Forget it, I can't accept a free meal. I have dinner at home." I couldn't hold back any longer. "Where do you live? Is your husband here too?" "I don't have a home here. I rent a place nearby. There's another woman here too; she's cooking today." "

Your husband isn't here?" "He's back home taking care of the kids. He's not feeling well." "Oh," I sighed. "Do you miss him?" I smiled mischievously. "What good is missing him—why are you asking so many questions, you little brat!" She scolded me with a half-smile.

"I'm only three years younger than you, sister. I've been an adult for over two years, over 700 days, okay?" I dragged out the last two words. "Why are you in such a hurry? You child, just the fact that you got into a fight shows how immature you are." "Alright, sister, you'll have plenty of time to teach me a lesson later. Let's stop here for today! I want to take you home." Only a daring person would have the courage to stare intently into her eyes, as if I were speaking from the bottom of my heart. "

Oh, no need, no need. It's not far, we'll be there in a minute. Forget it." She seemed very determined. My frustration began to sprout. I'm just so weak, so incredibly fragile. Today, it was only because of my boundless audacity that I was able to be so resolute. "Sister Li, I have to see you off, I absolutely have to." After saying that, I turned my head to the side.

After a silence of about seven or eight seconds, Sister Li, probably unable to resist me, patted my shoulder and said, "Okay, okay, whatever you want." I turned my head back, my eyes practically disappearing from my smile.

In the gaudy

city of Xi'an at 5 or 10 pm, the crowds had thinned considerably, but the city was still brightly lit and dazzling. We walked on the other side of the same road. Perhaps it was because we had walked this road together before, or perhaps it was because she was off work and in a relaxed mood, or perhaps it was because we had spent more time together, but in any case, she seemed more relaxed and cheerful than before, her mood had improved remarkably.

Seeing her so cheerful, my already boundless lust swelled several times over. I walked closer and closer to her, pressing my shoulder against hers. She tensed up again, "What are you doing? Walk properly," she said, trying to avoid me. I forced a playful smile, feigning innocence, "Sister Li, can't you tell I like you?" "I can tell, so what? I'm married, we're not a good match." She retorted righteously. "Why aren't we a good match? I think we're great!" I persisted, almost on the verge of tears.

"Not a good match is not a good match." "But I think we're great, the important thing is I like you, Sister Li, you know that, right?" I burst out with unprecedented urgency. "You're a college student, I'm just a working person, how could we possibly be together?"

"I don't think it's a big deal, we're not getting married, why are you thinking so much, Sister Li?" Sister Li just pouted and shook her head, a thoughtful expression on her face, making me anxious. It's true what they say, you can't rush things, and that's when you get really impatient. "Sister Li, do you think I'm ugly?"

"No, no, I just feel it's not suitable." Sister Li said very confidently. I thought to myself, what's not suitable? I don't even feel like I'm losing out, so why are you so excited? It's really strange. You've been a mother for years, and I'm still a virgin, and I haven't thought that much about it. Why are you doing this? I've already openly decided to give my virginity to your curvaceous and sexy body.

Thinking of this, my masculine vigor finally managed to emerge, and I suddenly hugged her and kissed her chubby cheek. I was still a little hesitant to kiss her little mouth, wanting to see how she would react first. She was startled and quickly broke free from me, running a few steps forward.

I looked down and saw that she was just dodging; she wasn't hitting me or yelling, and she wasn't even completely dodging. My young heart pounded even harder. I caught up with her, grabbed her around the waist, and my hands roamed impatiently over her breasts. She struggled and gasped, "Stop it, don't do this, I'll get angry if you keep doing this!" I ignored her completely, or rather, I didn't care about her at all. I was itching with desire, and in a daze, I freed one hand to vigorously squeeze her plump buttocks that I had longed for. Before

I could savor the sensation, she almost savagely broke free. She gasped and cursed, "You're even more of a pervert than that guy on the bus! Are you even a college student?" To be honest, I felt a pang of sadness after being cursed at, my mood plummeted, and even my penis wasn't as proudly held high anymore.

I said hesitantly, "Sister Li, don't be angry! I really like you. You're so charming in my eyes. I think you're so beautiful and incredibly sexy, really. Sigh, didn't I tell you before? I'm a bit of a rogue, hehe. Of course I'm a college student, but I'm also a person, a man, a normal man."

"I already said we're not suitable. Why are you so stubborn?" "Aren't you stubborn, sister? I said I like you, nothing else matters. I don't ask for anything else, I just want to be with you. I won't ask about anything else. Why are you still so cruel to me?" I told her what I thought were her worries and concerns, hoping to gain her initial trust.

But she still seemed doubtful. "That's not quite right, you're a college student, and you look quite dashing. I'm afraid you'll look down on me..." "What are you saying? As long as we're both happy, what's wrong with that? How could I possibly look down on you? You have no idea how much I adore you, really." It was the first time someone had described me as dashing, and I was flattered, wondering if her unique aesthetic sense was truly genuine. But my little emotions still blossomed with delight. That

's just how I am; my emotional fluctuations are often triggered by a casual remark or even a glance from someone. She didn't say anything, just lowered her head and silently walked forward. I waited expectantly for a long time, but she just kept walking her own path, as if I didn't exist beside her.

Seeing this, my little yellow eyes darted around four or five times without blinking. If she kept walking like this, she'd be home soon, and then my second brother, who was poised to unleash his full potential tonight, would likely achieve nothing.

Shakespeare

said, "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women are but actors." Everyone plays a role, and everyone plays more than one role. What role am I playing now? I am now a frank, almost shameless, naked rogue. It has absolutely nothing to do with my school, absolutely nothing to do with my major, and absolutely nothing to do with the harmonious relationship with my dear classmates.

Augustine said, as if he were speaking for women: "I have not yet fallen in love with anyone, but I have fallen in love with love itself; I am looking for something I can love, since I have fallen in love with love." A woman's true love is "love" itself!

Balzac famously said something about this: You must never begin a marriage with rape. Similarly, you must never start a passionate extramarital affair with rape. If men desire eroticism, then women need flirting. Isn't flirting a kind of sensual eroticism? Of course, flirting requires patience, skill, energy, and investment. Therefore, flirting is a skill, and also a strength. Therefore, I believe rape is a sign of utter impotence, and I increasingly loathe this barbaric way of having sex.

But, but, the sexy woman you so eagerly anticipate, the sexy woman you so desperately crave, is right under your nose, less than two meters in front of you, constantly changing her alluring curves to attract you; yet you can't resort to the repulsive act of violence and force yourself on her. You've already forcibly taken a few bites of the cooked duck, and the lingering, unsatisfied feeling is even more unbearable than not having even gnawed on the bones—it's a true example of being caught in a dilemma.

What to do? Continue flirting? Continue seducing? Clearly, my flirting skills have considerable room for improvement. Seduction? What do I have to offer? What can I use to seduce? Such negative thoughts are disheartening. Men should be more assertive; weak men are never favored by women. That's practically a given.

I quickened my pace and caught up with Sister Li, who was also lost in thought. "Sister, what are you thinking about?" I gently placed my right hand on her soft waist. "What could I be thinking about? I'm wondering what delicious food my sis made for dinner." She giggled, as if she had already popped the delicious food into her slightly open mouth.

"Sis, are you hungry? How about I go to the nearby supermarket and buy you some snacks to tide you over? Come on, there's a Hualian Supermarket not far ahead." I hugged her slender waist tighter, and she struggled a few times—I felt reassured. Her actions conveyed to me that her resistance was more symbolic, just a woman's little bit of reserve. "

I can be home for dinner soon, do we really have to go shopping?" She clung to me, her eyes fixed on the direction of the supermarket. "You have to go, let's go!" My answer was very decisive. I practically dragged her step by step towards the supermarket. At this moment, my instincts came naturally and found an outlet.

My right arm was around her waist, and my left hand couldn't help but roughly rub her protruding breasts a few times. She pushed my hand away and complained, "What if someone sees us!" I said, "There's no one here!" I placed my right hand on her shoulder, took a couple of steps, and then stretched my hand down, my fingers landing precisely on her right breast.

I gently traced each finger along her breast. The feeling was wonderful. As she walked, she began to breathe heavily, a sound that made my penis suddenly grow larger, like Sun Wukong's golden cudgel. Her breath brushed against the back of my hand, tickling me.

I grabbed her left hand and placed it on my bulging crotch. Her hand trembled, and she abruptly turned her head, staring at me in surprise. "So big?" I nodded. "It's been this big for many years." She even tried to rub it a few more times, as if worried it wasn't real.

I whispered in her ear, "Only a big dick like that is worthy of your big ass." She shoved me away, "You pervert!" I quickly followed, letting my hands roam freely over her broad, undulating buttocks. She breathed heavily and hurried forward, trying to shake me off.

I chased after her again, repeating this over and over, having a great time. The moment we entered the supermarket, I noticed a doorway next to another aisle. My heart pounded. It was

getting late

, and the supermarket wasn't too crowded. I hoped there would be a relatively secluded space. I practically dragged her towards the doorway. She was a little dazed and confused, and I led her there. We opened the door and went inside. There was another door inside, leading to the stairwell, but this door couldn't be opened. It must have been locked, but there was no lock.

I thought the space was pretty good. Although there was a table and some messy clutter inside, it was still quite spacious—perfect for me. Thank goodness. I closed the door again and used the dirty, broken table to block it.

Sister Li seemed to have suddenly woken up and asked me anxiously, "What are you doing?" Seventy percent of me was no longer myself; I was completely out of control. I chuckled and said, "Sister, I really like you." As I said this, I hugged her tightly, my hands boldly making their way over her body, and then, as if catching a turtle in a jar, I took her sexy little mouth into my hungry mouth.

She offered another nonchalant resistance. "Aren't you afraid of being discovered?" I comforted myself with self-deception, "This isn't a passageway; no one will come. It's dark outside; even if someone pressed their face against the crack in the door, they couldn't see anything." The thrill of stealing her kiss had already aroused me. I made her lean over the table, her large, provocative buttocks sticking up. I touched and squeezed them, kneading and rubbing them, indulging in unrestrained pleasure.

She moaned incoherently. I pulled down her jeans—ah, her underwear was wet; her lower body was already awash. My little brother, full of fighting spirit, stood ready. "Sister, I'm going in." But she didn't react at all, just kept twisting and turning her plump buttocks, changing positions.

My little brother rubbed back and forth on her wet vulva a few times, then I thrust, and my little brother slid in. Twenty years, twenty years! This was the first time in my life that my little brother had witnessed the true face of a woman. This was truly like a fish in water. I hurriedly began my rapid, rhythmic thrusting.

My sister Li, who was also burning with desire from my arousal, couldn't help but scream the moment my penis entered her, then quickly covered her mouth. She turned her head and said, "Your thing is fucking huge!" I ignored her and continued to give her the most comforting pleasure through my actions.

I couldn't tell if it was because my penis was so robust, or because she hadn't done it in a long time, but it felt incredibly tight inside. Every movement brought us both boundless ecstasy. She seemed to be enjoying it even more than I was; her low moans fueled my passion. I didn't know if it was due to the heat and contraction, but I knew friction generated heat, and my penis grew increasingly tight. I couldn't help but increase the frequency of my thrusts.

I gripped Sister Li's plump buttocks tightly, and each "slap slap" of impact sent shivers of pleasure through my entire body. Suddenly, Sister Li began to tremble, shaking violently, which terrified me. I dared not move. Sister Li turned her head, and in the dim light, I saw that her expression was terrifying. She said urgently to me, "Little brother, don't stop! Hurry up, move faster! I can't take it anymore, hurry!"

Encouraged, I continued my close encounter with Sister Li. After a while, her big buttocks began to tremble violently again, and she made moaning sounds that were quite creepy. As time went on, my small, beady eyes adjusted to the light in the doorway, and I focused intently on Sister Li's white, plump buttocks, which were being shaped by my vigorous thrusts.

My penis was swelling, my desire was swelling, Sister Li's juices were flowing freely, and my passion was flowing freely. I was completely immersed in the pleasure of intercourse, throwing away all other human-related things, such as shame, embarrassment, and a sense of decency, as far away as possible.

It was so vulgar!

I figured Sister Li was about to reach her limit, suppressing some kind of overwhelming pleasure, and asked me in a low voice, "Brother, why aren't you finished yet? I can't take it anymore!" I, on the other hand, was itching all over and just wanted to laugh. I stopped and said, "What's wrong, Sister Li? Have you had enough? I haven't had enough yet, I'm feeling so good, why aren't you done?"

Sister Li shook her head vigorously, panting heavily, and said, "You're really fucking strong, you're killing me, I'm really done. Why are you taking so long?" I chuckled and said, "Alright, sister, I'll get to it." I started thrusting vigorously without stopping, and suddenly I felt like the world was suddenly leaving me, as if I... I was no longer myself. All I could see was Sister Li's plump, fleshy buttocks, heaving with my desire; all I could hear were Sister Li's breathtaking moans and the sound of my hands slapping her buttocks with abandon.

Suddenly, Sister Li stood up, panting, and said, "I really can't take it anymore! Let me rub it with my breasts..." Without another word, Sister Li squatted down between my legs, using her equally enormous breasts to clamp down on my trembling penis, squeezing it forcefully. This so-called thrilling experience gave my penis and me a fresh sensation, and so began my wonderful journey through Sister Li's cleavage.

Perhaps Sister Li was too tired from squeezing her large breasts; seeing that I still didn't seem to be about to ejaculate, she simply began to take my rock-hard penis into her soft, panting mouth without hesitation. The sensation here was different from the previous two times; it seemed Sister Li had a real knack for it, and my penis finally felt like it was going to vomit. Looking at Sister Li's unusual expression and her trembling breasts... I felt like there was nothing left to fight for in this world. It

was so exciting, so exhilarating! I felt like I was about to reach the edge of a cliff leading to paradise, just waiting to plunge down three thousand feet without hesitation. It was so thrilling, so incredibly exhilarating! This went on for who knows how long, until a hot stream, like a jet of water from a water gun, shot out. Sister Li instinctively tried to block it with her hand, but it was too late. She quickly wiped it haphazardly, cursing angrily, "You fucking had your fun, but I'm the one who's suffering! Nobody's ever touched my breasts, nobody's ever touched my mouth, and you've sprayed it all over my face! You've really gotten your money's worth! You've killed me..."

I quickly gestured for her to stop, saying, "Shh, shh, sister, can you keep your voice down? Where are we? Let's go outside and talk, okay? It was consensual, and I haven't wronged you. Tell me how many times you've orgasmed! I've given you my most precious first time, and what more do you want..."

I was trying to reason with Sister Li, politely and respectfully, when suddenly we heard someone push open the door. Sister Li and I instantly looked at each other speechlessly, holding our breath. *

Click

*, the light in the doorway came on. The shaking made me a little dizzy. Then I heard a woman's voice outside: "The door's unlocked! Why can't I open it?" I must say, I reacted quickly, snapping out of my daze and back to the urgent reality.

While hurriedly picking up my clothes, I said to the dazed Sister Li, "Sister Li, stop standing there, hurry up and put your clothes on! Quick!" Sister Li, snapping out of her daze, was surprisingly efficient, quickly and completely restoring her disheveled clothes.

Her extraordinary efficiency left me dumbfounded—my still-erect penis was hanging out of my pants, savoring the exhilarating battle—when the door was forcefully pushed open, the broken table stumbled, and fell towards Sister Li's feet, almost hitting her.

A woman in her thirties appeared abruptly in front of the stunned Sister Li and me with the sound of the table overturning. Judging from her attire, she was probably a supermarket cleaner; she was quite tall, with an undeniably delicate face. To be honest, she was much more stunning and alluring than Sister Li.

Like all lecherous men, I never forgot to fantasize about any woman with even a little bit of attractiveness, and I never forgot to carefully observe any strange woman who appeared before me. Her breasts… Suddenly, I was tugged and stumbled, then heard Sister Li's impatient voice: "What are you looking at? Put your dick away!"

I realized then that my "little brother" was still out alone, unable to find his way home. I hurriedly and frantically pulled up my pants. The cleaning lady seemed completely taken aback by this unexpected turn of events, awkwardly disoriented, unsure whether to go out or come in. She stood there by the door, one hand still on the half-open door, motionless. Li Jie and I stood motionless.

For a moment, the two women and the man stood there, looking at each other, at a loss. Finally, the cleaning lady couldn't take it anymore. With an apologetic expression and attitude, she hurriedly picked up a mop from the corner of the doorway, left without a word, and turned away without looking back, as if she, not us, had done something shameful.

I felt like I was in a dream, and Li Jie and I hurriedly walked out of the doorway and out of the supermarket, looking disheveled. "It's all your fault, you scoundrel, making me look so embarrassed. Ugh, what a damn bad luck!" As soon as we stepped outside, Li Jie began her incessant complaints and accusations. Coming to my senses, I still tried to justify myself: "Man proposes, God disposes. Who could have predicted this accident? I didn't want it to happen either! She got to see my private parts for several minutes!" "Pah! What shameless things you're saying!"

For some reason, after having an affair with Sister Li, she became much ruder to me, as if she no longer treated me like an outsider. "Alright, sis, it's all in the past, let's not talk about it anymore! Anyway, nobody knows anyone, who'll even remember you in a few days! Stop thinking about it, it's just making trouble for yourself—by the way, shall I go buy you some snacks?"

"Forget it!" Sister Li sighed, "I'm fucking tired, I'm going home to eat something and go to sleep, your thing is too fucking big, it's too much for me—but I like it!" I watched as Sister Li's expression suddenly changed from an angry look to a slutty look of being immersed in some kind of reminiscence, and I couldn't help but pinch her constantly wriggling big butt again, and sighed that women's hearts are truly as unfathomable as the sea.

Sister Li pushed my hand away and cursed, "You fucking haven't had enough yet, you're really fucking slutty! How did you even finish college! Hurry up and go back to school! Come on, I'm going back too!" "Let me walk you a little further, sis, it's so late." I admit that at least 50% of my concern was fake. "Alright, alright, I'm fine. You should go back now. We'll see each other again later!" she said, quickening her pace.

"We'll see each other again later," I thought to myself. It seems I really pleased this slut; she's actually looking forward to more of me. I was overjoyed. I liked her plump, muscular body; that was a fact. My habit of knowing when to stop had never changed. I shouted, "Goodbye, Sister Li! Take care!" Then

I turned and left—my mind replaying all the exciting scenes from earlier, finally settling on the cleaning lady's pretty, mature face. The next morning's class was important, so I ate breakfast hastily to avoid being late. The old man who taught us economic law was quite interesting; although he spent almost half his lectures rambling, we all liked him. There are two main reasons. First, unlike younger teachers who like to simply read from the textbook or recite notes—which is incredibly boring—the old man's lectures are extremely effective at putting me to sleep. Second, the other half of his lectures are quite professional and impeccable. Because of my recent indulgences, I haven't been sleeping well, so I was a bit drowsy during class. I don't know when the old man started talking about Journey to the West, but coincidentally, some of my views were similar to his, even identical. I also believe that Tang Sanzang is a truly respectable man. Of the four most important characters in Journey to the West, I think Tang Sanzang is the one I genuinely admire. He is a truly mature man. Sun Wukong's overly flamboyant personality makes him, in my heart, forever a mischievous boy. As the saying goes, "A young man who isn't reckless is a wasted youth." His courage is blind and impulsive. And like you, I always thought impulsiveness was the devil. In the several disastrous events that affected Sun Wukong the most, impulsiveness and a lack of self-control were the culprits. For example, his expulsion from his master's school. Wearing the golden headband. Moreover, in many battles, Sun Wukong wasn't invincible. Therefore, in my mind, he's at most a brave man with a distinct personality. Zhu Bajie's promiscuity cannot be ignored, nor can it be distorted into sentimentality. His love and tenderness stemmed from his own needs, not the needs of the person he loved. Zhu Bajie's unwavering laziness, blatant gluttony, and constant complaining seem to leave us with a frank assumption. Anyone with discerning eyes knows that even the worst person has a little bit of endearing quality. His abilities and skills reveal him as nothing more than a comical clown in *Journey to the West*, serving only as a source of amusement amidst the difficulties of the journey. Therefore, in my mind, he's at most a frivolous, delinquent youth, not much better than me in terms of lust. Sha Wujing is almost a foolish monk. But I think he's endearingly foolish. His loyalty to Zhu Bajie shines like the full moon on the fifteenth of August. Although his abilities are no different from his second brother's, nothing particularly remarkable. But we can clearly feel Tang Sanzang's steadiness with him by his side. In life, we are all the same; we all like people like him. Therefore, in my heart, Sha Wujing is a reliable middle-aged man who is both low-key and unassuming. What touches me most about Tang Sanzang is his courage. Physical strength seems to more directly and conveniently demonstrate a person's extraordinary qualities. However, as modern people, we all know that the struggle with our own hearts is actually more difficult. Tang Sanzang's courage remained entirely within himself. Not everyone can see it. Facing clearly unpredictable and obvious difficulties, he set off alone, carrying only his courageous heart. That unwavering determination—if it were us, would we have it? And his strong perseverance is something I can only admire from afar. Extreme danger. Extreme temptation. Constant trials of ups and downs. Can you do it? I certainly can't. So, with a clear conscience, I forgive the brief panic that appeared on his face when he saw monsters and wild beasts. After all, he was just a young monk with a mortal body. I haven't found enough compelling evidence to prove that Tang Sanzang wasn't a sentimental person. He was a truly passionate man. Faced with true love, he uttered a heartfelt statement to the demon, "How can humans and demons be compared?!" True feelings often surface unexpectedly. As a master, how many would publicly apologize to their disciple when they are clearly wrong? Of those who apologize, how many would kneel and admit their mistake like Tang Sanzang? Even Liu Bei, known for his showmanship, would be humbled if he saw this, because he knew it wasn't just a performance. When it comes to the real thing, some people can't handle it. Tang Sanzang fulfilled his promise to the Tang Emperor with his unwavering sense of responsibility, quietly demonstrating his integrity and the precious sense of responsibility hidden beneath the dramatic scene. Being a man of flesh and blood is not easy. Being a man of deep affection and unwavering principles is even more difficult. Therefore, I respect such a man. Because all of Tang Sanzang's qualities are things I desperately lack. ( Vulgarity overload 11)

"Professor Alexander said that if a nude painting evokes certain thoughts or desires in the viewer regarding the physical object, it is pseudo-art, immoral." Upon first encountering this lofty theory, I was quite astonished. I recalled some classic portrait paintings from my junior high school art classes; many of those bold Western oil paintings featured famous nudes, nudes so daring and decisive, so unsettling, that they made me uneasy.

I did indeed experience some desire. At the time, I only felt I was being a bit excessive and almost shameless; now, I wonder, would those education experts really include pseudo-art, immoral things, in middle school textbooks? I was at a loss for words.

Until I had the opportunity to read the following famous quote from a philosopher: "Any nude painting, no matter how abstract, never fails to evoke even the slightest desire in the viewer. If it doesn't, it is inferior art, hypocritical morality."

I felt that it's better to be sincere, or at least genuine. I discovered that I am actually perfectly normal, or rather, infinitely close to normal. I don't have a problem (about sex and libido), the problem is normality itself (it seems my so-called normality isn't quite normal).

My strengths and weaknesses don't seem to differ much from those of humans, not as terrible or out of place as I initially imagined. My so-called problems are merely scattered copies or repetitions of the problems of my distant predecessors from various countries.

Looking at my body, I find it's alright: 178 cm tall, with well-proportioned and elastic muscles. It's just that the area above the neck lacks coordination, somewhat failing to live up to the youthful figure that supports it. However, while my face doesn't give me any face, my buttocks have quietly given me a lot of unexpected confidence from behind. These are two firm, full, smooth, and elastic buttocks.

They look pleasing to the eye (by twisting my neck to look directly or in the mirror), and feel comfortable to the touch (by touching them with both hands). Later, I learned from "Buttock Physiognomy" that such buttocks indicate good health, vitality, and perseverance for men. I'm very pleased. I'm very pleased.

Because of my intense interest in women's buttocks, my sexual desire has become increasingly inseparable from them. Therefore, I accept all images, texts, and videos related to buttocks without question. A woman's beautiful buttocks are the god of my penis. During my first semester of university, I was almost completely immersed in this, and the online resources were indeed abundant at the time; there was nothing I couldn't find, only things I couldn't imagine.

I was overwhelmed, losing all power to resist. Yes, could I even leap from the deep sea of desire into the azure sky? Alas, I don't possess any martial arts skills. It's said that the buttocks are like a history of rise and fall; throughout history, prosperous times have often been periods when "large buttocks" were prevalent.

Ancient Rome and the Tang Dynasty in China are good examples. American psychologists have even discovered that the size of the buttocks can affect a person's IQ. Cleopatra, Napoleon, and Washington were all considered to have "large buttocks," no wonder Hollywood star Jennifer Floppy insured her large buttocks for $250 million!

It was only later, with my slow and belated realization, that I suddenly discovered that large and small buttocks were everywhere, seemingly appearing overnight. Aside from the ensuing, unseemly, rampant lust, I paid no attention to or discovered the deeper socio-economic and political implications hidden within.

From my deepest, most honest perspective, my ideal woman's buttocks should be of moderate size. Everything has its limits. According to traditional Chinese physiognomy, women with overly large buttocks are prone to trouble; those with excessively large buttocks are lazy and unmotivated; those with overly thin buttocks lack substance and cannot shoulder responsibilities; those whose buttocks sway excessively when walking cannot be trusted; and those with overly pointed and perky buttocks are prone to infidelity.

Therefore, whether my ideal buttocks or my future wife's buttocks are round, protruding, perky, flat, wide, or narrow, it doesn't matter, as long as they are moderate. However, as the object of my desire, I helplessly hope it will be as big, as fat, as thick, as fleshy, as round, as protruding, as perky, as bouncy, as smooth, and as white as possible—let it develop to these extremes. The more extreme, the more fulfilling. The more I describe it, the more perverted and lewd I find myself. Alas.

The Western proverb, "Even the most beautiful peacock has a less-than-beautiful buttocks when viewed from behind," applies equally to the East. It also applies equally to Eastern women. Nowadays, no matter where I am or what my mind is on, I can always see countless enormous buttocks.

But a perfect buttock is as hard to find as a perfect person. This discovery frustrates me but doesn't make me despair. The Chinese buttock, which seemed to have no future, is being liberated like a storm in the streets and alleys, in various beauty pageants, and in all kinds of tight or revealing outfits.

In their silent war of liberation, my increasingly yellow, beady eyes, instead of being stung by the gunfire and shed tears, were so irritated that my eyeballs felt like they were about to pop out. The People's Republic of China is at the cusp of a great rejuvenation, its prosperous and beautiful land enriching the clothes of men and women, young and old.

On the streets and on campuses, women, beautiful or ugly, with their heavy hips, constantly rubbed and clashed with their underwear and jeans, as if they were about to break free, to break free of their shackles, to achieve liberation. The golden age of China's plump hips has arrived again, swaying back and forth, right before my eyes, only five meters away, my tiny, beady eyes already overwhelmed and very obvious.

Vulgarity is

overwhelming. In the animal kingdom, as someone once said, beauty is not in the females but rather in the males—the opposite of humans, for example, the peacock spreading its tail, bees and butterflies vying for attention, the lion's flowing and exaggerated mane. Since the saying "women adorn themselves for their lovers," women as a whole have become increasingly more beautiful than men.

Beauty has become a woman's most obvious advantage. Every normal man, upon seeing a real, beautiful woman, will feel his heart flutter. Aside from children, women are the most beautiful and lovable people. So-called love at first sight, infatuation at first sight, clearly refers to external appearance.

Every boy hopes his future wife or girlfriend will be beautiful, and even if he later reluctantly accepts a woman he doesn't truly love, his innate love of beauty will never be extinguished. We must admit that beauty is indeed an asset.

During the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, when Xi Shi, a woman from the Yue Kingdom, was washing silk by the river, her captivating beauty made the fish linger, unwilling to swim away. "Sinking Fish" is a later title for Xi Shi. Emperor Yuan of Han, to appease the northern Xiongnu, chose Wang Zhaojun to marry the Chanyu. During the journey, Wang Zhaojun played the zither, and the wild geese in the sky, attracted by the melodious music and captivated by her stunning beauty, all fell to the ground. "Falling Geese" became a synonym for Wang Zhaojun.

During the reign of Emperor Xian of Han, Wang Yun, a favorite minister, had a courtesan named Diao Chan. One night, Diao Chan was worshipping the moon in the garden when the moon had already hidden halfway behind the clouds. Wang Yun, witnessing this scene, exclaimed, "She is more beautiful than the moon." From then on, "Closing the Moon" became another name for Diao Chan. In the Tang Dynasty, Yang Yuhuan was selected to enter the palace because of her beauty. When the imperial concubine was admiring flowers with the palace maids, she touched the flowers, and the leaves curled up. The palace maids were amazed, feeling that the flowers were inferior to Yang Yuhuan's beauty. From then on, the imperial concubine became famous for "shaming the flowers."

In the Middle Ages, the Inquisition held supreme power. When a famous courtesan was accused of violating religious rules and tried, her death sentence seemed inevitable. All the jurors were furious, accusing her of "crimes" of being immoral and contrary to God's will.

This stunningly beautiful prostitute was fortunate to find a uniquely ingenious defense lawyer. The lawyer's most powerful defense was this: he silently approached the defendant and gently removed a black robe draped over her body. Instantly, the courtroom fell silent. Underneath the black robe, the defendant was not wearing any underwear, her slender, voluptuous, fair, and dazzling body now fully exposed. The jurors were dumbfounded, unable to conceal their astonishment and trembling—she was too beautiful!

The beauty surpassed their imagination, a beauty that any human being, a higher animal, could not help but marvel at. A soft gasp followed. When the gasps subsided, the lawyer's righteous voice rang out: "If my client is guilty, then what responsibility do those numerous clients bear? They are at least equal to my client in the sense of original sin. We have no reason to unjustly punish my client alone, and no one has any reason to destroy this exquisite masterpiece bestowed upon humanity by God!"

The jurors, who had been burning with anger, including the plaintiff, fell silent. The prostitute was declared innocent and released. We have already felt the power of beauty, a gentle power! But this power is not a knife, but a sword (I think swords are never single-edged)—easily wounding oneself.

Beauty never exists in isolation, and beautiful women are never alone (though they may inevitably feel melancholy). Once a woman's beauty exceeds her control, and the intricate connections to it become unbalanced, both beauty and the person who possesses it become guilty.

A stunningly beautiful Italian woman named Rosara Montaboni became the "culprit" behind a frenzied series of violent fights. The reason was that whenever she appeared on the streets of Florence, countless young men would vie for her hand in marriage, leading to fierce battles that escalated to the point of death. Some young men even committed suicide out of despair.

The parents of these young men, who died in the fights or by suicide, vented their anger on Rosara, filing lawsuits demanding her punishment. The judge, blaming her beauty, sentenced her to facial torture, intending to brand her face with a red-hot iron.

However, when the executioners raised the red-hot iron, they were all captivated and awestruck by her beauty; none dared to allow such exquisite beauty to be destroyed by their own hands. Therefore, the judge changed the sentence to her wearing a skull mask. For forty years, Rosara covered her face with a skull mask until she aged.

When people discover that simple beauty and happiness are rarely proportional, those with unassuming appearances begin to slowly regain their balance. Character and temperament, more enduring qualities, begin to show signs of resurgence as they withstand the test of time. But, at least I will not forget the cruel meaning of "the road ahead is long and arduous."

Everyone's feelings and understanding of beauty are as unique as their own, and this is naturally true for beautiful women as well. For example, although my views and appearance may not be mature, I sincerely believe that a woman without a good figure, even with a beautiful face, possesses a thin kind of beauty, with obvious flaws.

I might even stubbornly believe that a woman's true beauty lies in her figure and posture; if her face is also pretty, even alluring, then I might even go so far as to think I've discovered perfection. Undoubtedly, you've discovered my weakness; calling it a flaw isn't an exaggeration—I'm completely immune to perfection. If you call me a lecher, it means you truly understand me.

Vulgarity overload.

This year, I'm twenty. A virgin with fourteen years of orgasmic (physical and psychological) experiences. I think God sometimes seems quite amusing to others. He bestowed upon me an appearance that many consider almost absurd, yet it makes my libido rival that of the Five Gods of Chinese folklore.

I feel helpless about God's joke; what can I do? Even with superhuman willpower and endurance, I am still, and absolutely, no match for instinct. Primal things possess primal drive; primal drive is primal force, irresistible. This

might seem like an evasion, but consider this—although I am an adult, twenty years old is not allowed to marry in mainland China, and even if I had the ability and means to cohabitate, it would be illegal—besides, I've been trying to find a cohabiting partner since before university, and to no avail.

At this point, I can't help but feel melancholic and fearful, wondering: God is merciful, even friendly to the Chinese; He didn't intentionally target me with my appearance to make things difficult for me. He must have wanted to send me to Mars, but due to unpredictable misunderstandings like fate, I passively took a huge risk and set foot on this blue planet. So much so that now, my mood is always blue, and my life is shrouded in a hazy gray.

Saying this isn't to complain. I've lost all illusions and interest in any form of complaint. The fact that I've lived peacefully to twenty and am about to freely complete my ordinary freshman year of college proves that I truly coexist peacefully with my appearance—we've tolerated each other to the greatest extent possible.

What can I do? Existence is its own justification; this may sound a bit self-deceptive, but it's also practical. If you can't deceive others, comforting yourself is a form of training. Life's tests for me go far beyond this; sometimes, it even gives me the illusion that heaven is about to bestow a great responsibility upon me. Indeed, contrary to my expectations throughout high school, university life presented the most severe test of my sexuality in my life.

My university, though located in a remote western region of China, was not as backward in matters of sex as it was economically. This made me think that sex (if it is a thing) as a whole doesn't differ in time and space, but only in individual differences. I am a perfect example. The inverse relationship between appearance and sexual desire was an embarrassing discovery that made me incredibly ashamed for a considerable period.

Of my six roommates, four had girlfriends, and the other, in the same situation, was more focused and dedicated to his studies. His appearance clearly showed signs of being carefully planned, better than mine, unlike my overly casual appearance (I once overheard people gossiping behind my back about my recklessly long face).

Because we had some things in common, we got along quite well and talked a lot. Let me call him X. X once told me that he would resolutely not date during university; if things really got too bad, he could have sex, but without commitment or emotional investment. I thought to myself, this guy isn't as conservative at heart as he appears. Let's do it? How? An affair, a paid arrangement, or humiliating my own hands?

Speaking of my sexual desires, I don't think I should be sad, I should be sorrowful. It has had such a huge impact on me. It hypnotized the best years of my youth. I spent far more time on my penis than on myself, how much more, only heaven knows, even heaven might not really know.

Looking back now, it seems somewhat fateful. One summer when I was six, we were watching a movie called *New Dragon Gate Inn*. There was a slightly erotic scene that made my penis stand up. It wasn't exactly erect, but seeing a man grinning lewdly pick up a woman with exposed white thighs and about to do his thing, I was stunned for the first time. My mind wasn't stunned, nor was my penis; I just felt something superfluous, a deep unease.

But that awful scene froze, not continuing. My imagination was already quite developed back then, and this gave it the perfect opportunity to run wild. Looking back now, I must have seized that opportunity with wild fantasies. I imagined those fleeting glimpses of snow-white thighs, and I felt there was something I had to do, something I had to do to feel at peace, to find tranquility, to achieve inner peace. But

I truly didn't know what to do, how to do it. I felt terrible, so sad. Lying in bed, I tried to soothe my penis with my hand, but I was still unsatisfied, still unable to find a way to solve the problem, still a little annoyed, a little irritated. I wanted to watch TV a little longer, so I rolled over and lay face down on the bed. After about five seconds, I felt something pressing against my penis, a little uncomfortable, so I moved slightly back and forth. Who could have imagined that this movement would trigger my first ever pleasure; who could have imagined that this movement would so unknowingly give my first pleasure to a raised mattress on my bed in June?

Because of the slightest movement I made, my second brother eagerly told me it felt incredibly good, incredibly pleasurable. This feeling was unprecedented, truly unprecedented. So, urged on by my second brother, our back-and-forth movements continued until my mind was completely blank, only showing the image of snow-white thighs. We both felt exceptionally comfortable and relaxed before finally stopping.

At that moment, an invisible boulder weighing on my heart and body was unexpectedly lifted by this back-and-forth movement. And so, everything ended in a daze and hastily. More than a decade later, I tried my best to recall that moment very carefully and meticulously, and discovered that I hadn't ejaculated, but I definitely experienced the same pleasure.

Li Fei also believed that I probably didn't have semen at that time. I had no objection. It's no wonder that after tasting such a delicious and unique apple for the first time, I always wanted to eat another one. But the pleasure my hidden second brother brought me was also difficult to see in the open at that time. This pleasure obtained secretly made me even happier. I was clearly becoming somewhat addicted to it.

My actions, though not exactly what they seemed, ultimately led to the same goal: I enjoyed them, even becoming addicted to them that winter. The long winters of my hometown provided the objective inducement. On long mornings, I lingered in my warm bed, tirelessly making love with my bedding.

Of course, it was a bit unfair; it probably felt nothing, but I appreciated its silent dedication. Unlike others, my first pleasure wasn't given to my left or right hand, but to the mattress. Thus, my deep affection for the mattress was also unique.

I liked to lie on it, so that my heart could be intimately connected with it, and in this way, my younger brother also had physical contact with it. This was true sexual pleasure. In this way, my younger brother had countless relationships with different mattresses, and until the summer I was ten years old, I didn't feel anything was wrong.

Because during this time, my second brother coexisted peacefully with all the mattresses he had been with, peacefully with me and all my organs; peacefully with all my relatives and friends, peacefully with my four years of life.

But one day, a gentle breeze blew, the sun blazed, and not a single white cloud could be seen in the distance. I picked up a magazine without a cover, trying to distract myself from the heat. Unconsciously, I saw an advertisement about the dangers of masturbation. At first, I was puzzled. What is masturbation? How does one masturbate? What is masturbation? I was astonished, very astonished.

But after reading it, I was shocked. I almost jumped up. But when I calmed down, I wondered if what I had done counted as masturbation. I had never used my own hands, neither my left nor my right, let alone anyone else's.

But the thought of the indulgence of the past few days, of that milky white liquid that had first come out of my younger brother's mouth and stuck to his thighs, feeling surprisingly cool even in the sweltering summer heat, made my young heart race. At the time, I didn't know what this milk-like substance was, and panic was natural.

But I didn't have the courage to ask anyone, and I spent several days in that anxious state. During those days, I dared not let my younger brother do as he pleased. I used a nameless fear to control myself and my burgeoning desire. However, in the following days, neither my younger brother nor I experienced any obvious discomfort; our arms and legs moved freely, and we walked as usual.

Even our appetites remained strong, and we accepted whatever came our way. My long-awaited, restless penis began to stir. After four years of diligent cultivation, it had become a habit, even an addiction. Sometimes it was limp and exhausted, yet an invisible magic seemed to drive it, allowing it to reach peak pleasure even without an erection, seemingly never experiencing the pain of wanting but being unable to.

This led to unbridled and uncontrolled behavior from both me and my penis. Until that day, until I saw that horrible advertisement, I realized not only the harm that excessive indulgence could cause to my body, but also the damage that such physical harm would inflict on my reputation. Looking at it this way, I felt this matter was truly serious and could no longer be ignored.

I began to try to control myself and my penis. However, I later discovered that this thing was like a spring; the more you compress it, the stronger the rebound. My penis was truly a remarkable creature, not only flexible but also incredibly resilient, never forgetting its mission. After each intense internal struggle, it was always the one who had the last laugh.

From then on, my brother and I were banished from the land by those annoying advertisements; we reluctantly entered a new and helpless era—a life of bittersweet pleasure. Venting, regret, pain, endurance, more venting, more regret, more pain, more endurance, until we could bear it no more, repeating endlessly.

Sometimes I think this is punishment for my four years of pure pleasure, it's God's jealousy. And yes, I think I've had far too much of this meaningless pleasure, utterly unrestrained. My brother has given me fourteen years of orgasms, and I'm only twenty.

I worry I'll drown in my own semen sooner or later. Of course, I've also learned to comfort myself, it's no big deal, it's human nature, like urination and defecation, it's just excretion; besides, I haven't hurt anyone, it's just that my brother has suffered, but it's okay, I'll treat him well, reward him to prevent him from going on strike.

Perhaps it has adapted to this frequency of work, and suddenly slowing down would be bad for it. Pay more attention to physical exercise, let it happen naturally, and don't go from one extreme to another. I silently murmured to myself. Yes,

in

this respect, I have indeed shown my advantage, but this is not what I pursue, yet our God gave it to me without hesitation. The price I paid for it was becoming addicted to it, thus losing countless opportunities to gain meaning in life, making my ten years seem so pale, dull, and even empty.

Thinking about it, perhaps X has a point. Opportunities have been lost, but we still have plenty of time to contend with the future, and we seem to still have plenty of opportunities to face the opportunities you desire. I don't deny the blind optimism of this, but it's enough to comfort the delicate heart hidden beneath my rough exterior. There's no other way; I need spiritual comfort, even if it's only a tenth of a pinhead, even if it's completely unrelated to my spiritual needs.

Shortly after starting university, I pondered the abstract yet deeply troubling concept of sexual desire. I've discovered that my sexual desire isn't just physiological; its psychological importance is becoming increasingly unshakeable.

Often, I feel no physical reaction, no need, but psychologically I'm constantly preoccupied, unable to forget, always thinking about the stimulating image, feeling uneasy, always wanting to do it, always wanting to... This superficial realization came at a considerable cost.

If my sexual desire weren't so strong, I might have gotten into Xi'an Jiaotong University instead of Xixia (Xi'an Huaxia University). Of course, such hypotheticals are often meaningless and seem like mere excuses. But I've truly come to this realization, a product of long-term reflection. Whether right or wrong, appropriate or not, a little effort will reveal a torrent of genuine sincerity.

I sincerely want to dedicate my most precious youth to the most valuable causes of truth, goodness, and beauty in society. However, this persistent, treacherous sexual desire always manages to lure my vigorous youth into its seductive embrace.

Even now, those shameful scenes are still vividly imprinted in my mind. Although others may not know, a heart capable of discerning right from wrong cannot deceive itself. How can one deceive oneself as easily as one deceives others? Which self-deceiving person doesn't end in failure?

After that night in June, my second brother developed a deep fondness for that inexplicable thrill. So, what was even the smallest spark in my already small eyes became a raging fire in his. My elementary school math teacher wasn't pretty, but she was quite voluptuous, with a large, almost overflowing chest that seemed to squeeze my already small, beady eyes shut.

My second brother, unusually brave, would raise his head in class, seemingly wanting to feast his eyes on those unusually large "water balloons" (please forgive my poor analogy, but at the time I genuinely thought they looked like water balloons because they kept bouncing around in front of me, like two water balloons bobbing on the waves).

My brother and I were dizzy and disoriented by these two "water balloons," dazedly accumulating energy, and finally, when he saw the "water balloons" trembling in the teacher's inertia as she turned, my second brother unhesitatingly poured out his essence.

Soon after, my younger brother and I both lowered our tired heads and began an endless battle against drowsiness until class ended. We had no heart to listen to her lecture, nor the energy or interest to observe the still-active water balloons drifting along their paths.

I was somewhat confused, even utterly baffled. Why was I so oblivious to the pretty and cute girls around me at such a young age? Why was my mind filled with the teachers' voluptuous and graceful figures? Was I maturing way too early?

Would precocious maturation lead to premature aging? I was afraid. That bastard of lust.

(The End)

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