Sex and the City: School Chronicles

Principal

Zhao Zhen sat in his leather swivel chair, utterly bewildered by the official document in his hand. It was an announcement appointing a vice-
principal , but unexpectedly, it wasn't Wang Shen, whom he had painstakingly promoted, who was appointed; instead, it was Sun Qian.

Ever since this woman became involved with Zhang Qingshan, a well-known local entrepreneur, he had never made a move on her. Zhao Zhen was
self-aware enough to know that he couldn't compete with this old man in terms of money or prestige, so he turned his attention to Bai Jie.
Although she wasn't at the school, her husband was. To please her, he had petitioned higher authorities to promote a vice-principal, and
the candidate was directly Bai Jie's husband

, Wang Shen. But the appointed person was Sun Qian. He recalled the Education Bureau Director's helpless expression and couldn't help but
shake .

The news spread throughout the entire school in less than two or three hours. Sun Qian overheard the discussions inside the administration office during recess. One
voice said, "In today's society, it's easy for women, even easier for attractive women, and even easier for attractive women to be promiscuous.
" Then an indignant voice said, "It's pathetic that the personnel appointments of a prestigious key high school in the city are controlled by an illiterate country bumpkin
." Clearly, this person knew her too well. Another voice tried to appease her, saying, "Don't be angry, that's just how it is." Sun Qian quickly turned and
headed towards the school gate.

Actually, being the vice-principal of the high school meant a three-bedroom apartment and a chauffeur-driven car to work. But Sun Qian
had never considered pursuing a career in politics; that was a man's business. For her, a car, a house, and plenty of money—that was her entire
life. After a rollercoaster of joy and surprise at this unexpected good news, she calmed down and felt
uneasy.

She mentally sifted through the people who could help her, especially the men. Aside from her godfather, Zhang Qingshan, it seemed no one else had
the ability. But she knew her godfather wouldn't do it; the old man seemed to have seen through the backstabbing and deceit of officialdom.
He called it a mountain of knives and a sea of fire, and he would never push Sun Qian into that situation.

Sun Qian took office and sat in a separate office next to Zhao Zhen's. The office was beautifully decorated, entirely
with imported materials. This included a long and two short Italian sofas, a Spanish nanmu writing desk, a large Belgian lamp
, and an enamel vase with a bouquet of red and white roses from Japan. This was decorated according to Sun Qian's wishes
; working here gave one a sense of self-respect, self-confidence, self-love, self-satisfaction, and ambition—a feeling extremely important for a woman with a strong sense of responsibility and
vanity .

Having assumed a leadership position, Sun Qian abandoned her previous revealing and frivolous attire. She specially went to the mall and selected several suits, which, when
worn , made her appear dignified, exuding a different kind of charm. The loose-fitting clothes possessed a unique allure;
with each step, a tremor ran through her body, a subtle, ambiguous movement, a shimmering, mysterious dance . 　　Until that day, Sun Qian received a phone call from an unknown number. The mystery that had perplexed her for days suddenly cleared
. She vaguely sensed it was him, the man whose face she still couldn't quite see. His voice came through the phone, a slightly affected huskiness , a huskiness that she found incredibly sexy. His voice still felt so warm and familiar, like a loving father to his obedient daughter, lacking Zhang Qingshan's imperious and domineering manner. It was just a simple greeting call, yet it made Sun Qian's muscles tense inexplicably. 　　Sun 　　Qian was invited to a masquerade ball with many rules. During that time, she had indeed become much more restrained; there were no men and no sex. Her husband was having a great time with other women in the mountains, somewhat oblivious to his own situation, and she couldn't be bothered to inquire. 　　Having a date on that somewhat quiet weekend was truly something she longed for. She took a two-and-a-half-hour nap , took a shower, and then, as planned, meticulously prepared herself. Sun Qian always felt a pang of regret about her fair skin and was determined to get a tan to match the currently fashionable olive color. A set of tungsten post-bath lighting on the street cost tens of thousands of yuan, and she was considering whether to bring it home. 　　Sun Qian seemed impatient and arrived at the designated location very early, as arranged for a car to pick her up. After an unknown amount of time, a black Lincoln pulled up in front of her. A very elegant young man approached Sun Qian with his phone in hand. Just then , Sun Qian's phone rang. After confirming it was her, the man led her to the car. 　　The car was specifically for solo travelers. The young man reiterated the rules of the ball. Sun Qian took out a black and, as required, let down her long, scarf-like headband. On the headband, she cleverly fastened a tiny green spider, about the size of a fingernail, which shimmered in the dim light inside the car, crawling on her cheek, its light flickering . 　　The car stopped on the veranda of a large mansion halfway up the mountain. A waiter opened the door, and Sun Qian got out, gazing into the garden . Although she was from the city, she was quite unfamiliar with the luxurious mansion on the mountaintop. 　　The garden was merely a semi-circular lawn surrounded by a low white stone railing, beyond which lay a desolate mountain. In the garden , a row of neatly trimmed evergreen trees and two sparsely arranged flower beds filled with vibrant roses are arranged with meticulous precision and order. In the distance, the deep blue sea stretches out, with large white ships anchored within. It's not just the stark contrast of colors that creates an unreal dizzying effect; the various incongruous backgrounds and atmospheres of different eras are also forcibly blended together, creating a fantastical realm. 　　On the mountainside, a white house boasts a streamlined, geometric design, yet its roof is covered with antique-style turquoise glass tiles. Entering through glass doors in the corridor leads to the reception room, furnished in a three-dimensional Western style. 　　Inside, about twenty people are dancing to the soft strains of night-blooming jasmine, their heavily made-up bodies swaying. It's a masquerade ball; most are dressed in bizarre costumes, displaying a myriad of poses and freely expressing themselves. Sun Qian thought that Bai Jie, Mei Hong, Lin Li, and many other people she knew or didn't know might be among them, but what was most unusual was that they were all wearing masks, deliberately trying to prevent others from seeing their true faces. Sun Qian knew that there was a long-standing, secret rumor about a very sophisticated circle that would gather periodically to do things that were hard to believe. 　　Apart from the stairs and the door, three walls were lined with leather sofas, surrounded by pure wool carpets, with a small space in the middle serving as a dance floor . Velvet curtains decorated the windows with a romantic touch, and the noble purple hue stirred the soul with countless daydreams.

Her mind wandered. Beside the stairs stood a piano, and the woman playing it wore an eye mask, a
long, peach-pink dress that trailed across the dark green carpet. The fabric was so thin that her fair skin was clearly visible.

Sun Qian found a table in the corner, and a waiter immediately brought her a glass of wine—a crystal-clear red wine in a sparkling glass on
a gleaming table, surrounded by a few roses. Even a glass of wine seemed elegant and grand. The host seemed like a very capable
person, having managed to hold back the wheels of time, preserving the decadent atmosphere of China in the 1930s and 40s in this world.

A woman approached, wearing an easily recognizable wig and a fiery red, shimmering halter-
neck dress. Underneath the dress, her breasts, as if in a fit of pique, were visible. Sun Qian and the woman nodded trustingly to each other, and Sun Qian could sense the smile behind the mask. “My surname is Zhang.
I’m not from around here. I traveled hundreds of kilometers to get here.”

“This is my first time here, so I’m not very familiar with the place.” Seeing that the woman was no stranger to the area and was a seasoned pro, Sun Qian
told her the truth.

Sure enough, she said, “It’s okay
, you’ll get used to it after a few more times. The men here are all quite nice.” She then laughed lewdly. Although she couldn’t see her face clearly, Sun Qian was certain the woman was around forty-five years old, if not older. She

was watching the men and women on the dance floor with great interest, her shoulders swaying to the rhythm of the music. A man dressed as a Nazi officer came over and invited Sun Qian to dance. Sun Qian glanced at her shyly. The woman waved her hand and said, “Go ahead and have some fun. I hope you enjoy it.” 　　When the song ended and Sun Qian got off the dance floor, suddenly, the woman’s hand touched Sun Qian’s buttocks. She said in a very suggestive tone, “You have a charming little butt, I really like it.” Sun Qian smiled at her. This woman was driven almost mad . The Nazi came over again. He'd been kissing and groping Sun Qian while they were dancing. Sun Qian, quick-witted and tactful, said to him, "You should invite my friend too." She then led him towards Mrs. Zhang. 　　The two hit it off immediately, and within a few steps, their bodies were pressed together. Mrs. Zhang, like a hen that had unexpectedly found an insect , danced merrily and lightly, her pubic bone occasionally brushing against the man's thigh. 　　Hanging from the ceiling were round lights, square lights, long strips, triangular lights… and all of them were rotating. The lights shifted, changing red, blue, green, the incandescent white light sometimes flickering, sometimes like a lightning bolt blinding you. The light was mottled and colorful, sometimes changing color, making your clothes appear even whiter and blacker brighter. 　　Just then, a series of barely perceptible, chaotic notes escaped from the piano. Sun Qian, well-versed in music theory, couldn't help but glance towards the stage. A man sat on the floor beneath the woman playing the piano, caressing her thigh. Some were already impatiently kissing and groping behind the pillars, their thighs glistening beneath their lifted skirts. On the sofa, a woman's bra had been removed by a man, one breast protruding from her collar. 　　Faced with such a sensual and alluring scene, Sun Qian couldn't contain herself. Her eyes darted around like a hunter searching for prey. Mrs. Zhang was already deeply involved with the Nazi officer, the two laughing and talking as they walked towards a more distant corner. Fortunately, as Mrs. Zhang took his arm, she didn't forget to wave goodbye to Sun Qian from behind. 　　The living room was dimly lit; while not pitch black, it was still difficult to see clearly face . Darkness fueled passion, and darkness made people more brazen and arrogant. Small candles sat on each table, their flickering flames seeming to stir desires within. There was also fine wine, flowers, and various beverages, creating a romantic and intoxicating atmosphere. In this luxurious and indulgent setting , one could smell a variety of intoxicating and unique aromas—the scent of flowers and women's perfume. 　　Someone approached Sun Qian and asked her to dance. "Miss, would you do me the honor of dancing?" As he spoke, he extended , placing it on the back of the chair behind Sun Qian. Sun Qian glided onto the dance floor with him. She possessed an exceptionally voluptuous figure, especially beautiful were her deliberately exposed, smooth, white shoulders. As she swayed her long legs, her slender waist moved to the rhythm of her steps, exuding a vibrant and alluring charm. 　　The man wore a long gown and mandarin jacket, his hair slicked back, and sunglasses. Sun Qian tried desperately to find his eyes , but all she saw was her reflection—a shrunken, pale image. 　　His dance moves were steady and measured, his footwork simple, consisting of only forward and backward steps, devoid of any other flourishes. One could sense his advanced age; his forehead was broad and round, his nose straight, his mouth square, his brow bones prominent, and a slight hook on his chin hinted at a stubborn and tenacious character. Time had etched perfectly placed wrinkles, subtly and meticulously outlining the unique charm and allure of a mature man at the corners of his eyes and brows. And then there were his two handsome mustaches, the tips of which were glued straight up, trembling slightly in the wind, much like the whiskers of a tiger or cat, ready to take flight. 　　He then wrapped his arms around Sun Qian's waist, brazenly pinching and squeezing. Sun Qian pretended to dodge. He explained, "Otherwise, I wouldn't have known your waist was so supple." 　　Sun Qian ignored him, simply pushing him away with her arms. He reached for her hands, but they went behind her back, and he pressed his body against her chest. Though he was swaying intently with a furrowed brow, his face, reeking of alcohol, kept pressing closer to hers. Sun Qian turned her face away, giving him a sidelong glance and gesturing towards the surroundings. 　　"What's wrong with this place? It's just like this." A faint smile played on his lips, exuding a frivolous confidence. He kissed her passionately with his thick, supple, and soft lips. The feeling , that Sun Qian felt justified and indulged in the sensation. 　　He led her back to her seat, his large, hairy hands warm and moist. 　　They sat down, sipping fine wine, exchanging suggestive glances, feeling waves of desire rising in abdomens. In the lychee-red light, Sun Qian couldn't see the expression on his dark face, only noticing his unusual silence. He casually closed and reopened his folding fan, striking a dandy's pose, and then gently tapped the fan against his chin. 　　"The complete demeanor of a rogue," Sun Qian muttered. 　　He laughed loudly, "Spot on! Where did this cunning little girl come from? Her teeth are all sharp and pointed." 　　She stared blankly for a long time, then suddenly lowered her head. She knew this kind of person; in this kind of situation, if he was captivated by a woman's beauty, he wouldn't need any more romantic flirting or teasing, even if he posed with a cold expression on his face.

A cool, indifferent mood mingled with a heart pounding like a bear in a honey pot, yearning to burst open and feast.

At that moment, the lights in the hall slowly dimmed, while the music grew even more frantic and powerful
, like surging waves that shook the heart, making it restless and uneasy. The breathless rumba music made Sun Qian
involuntarily rise and sway, her black silk skirt fluttering and rustling, the hem rolled up
to her waist, revealing her black panties. Two diamond earrings
sparkled as if winking and smiling.

In the center of the living room, a young and beautiful woman raised her arms, writhing like a snake. She too wore a mask. Her
clothes fell away, followed by her bra, and finally, while swaying her hips, she pulled down her underwear as well.
Men rushed forward excitedly, only to be swept away in one arm by another and carried off to who-knows-where.

On the sofa, someone was already making love; the man stood facing the woman, her legs raised high, thrusting forcefully
. On the stairs leading to the second floor, a woman sat on top of a man, enthusiastically manipulating him. The pianist
leaned against the piano, her legs spread wide without restraint, allowing a man to kiss and lick her from beneath her skirt.

Sun Qian walked to the table, staring intently at her under the light—her delicate features, long legs, and slender waist, beautiful beyond
reason, beautiful beyond comprehension. He tossed his cigarette into a pot of azaleas, stood up, and left. The azaleas bloomed densely, and
the cigarette, nestled among the petals, quickly turned a yellowish hue.

He dragged Sun Qian upstairs, opened a door, and found someone already inside. A man was straddling a woman, who was
panting, lying face down on the floor, her hands gripping the carpet, her long, slender legs flailing, enduring the man's lewd abuse.

They passed another room where several women were giggling and laughing, some even bending over with laughter. One
woman had a thin silk scarf around a man's neck, one end held to her hand, and was wildly twisting her hips and gesturing wildly.

He led Sun Qian into a small living room, furnished in an old-fashioned Chinese style: red brick flooring, white walls, bright
red silk chair cushions, and curtains all in the same antique style. A cloisonné vase, about half a person's height,
held tuberose. They didn't know how to turn on the lights, so they had to feel their way in the dark. Sun Qian tripped over something and
almost fell. A faint moonlight shone through the window, illuminating the mirror.

Sun Qian slowly removed the hairnet, tousled her hair, and the hairpins clattered to the ground. She held
the end tightly in her mouth, frowned, and squatted down to pick up the hairpins one by one.

He walked barefoot behind her, placed a hand on her head, turned her face upside down, and kissed her lips. A
scent, as fresh and sweet as roses, emanated from his hair, his armpits, and every inch of his skin. Sun Qian took a
deep breath , feeling as if she were a blue whale emerging from the sea.

The hairnet slipped to the ground. He was so tall and imposing. Sun Qian could only respond to him passionately on tiptoe. Sun Qian felt
herself spinning around and falling against the mirror, her vest pressed tightly against the cold surface. His lips never left hers.
He pushed Sun Qian further against the mirror, and they seemed to fall into the mirror, into another hazy world. Cool, hot,
a wildfire burning within them.

Their hands roamed over each other's bodies. Before she knew it, he had unzipped Sun Qian's skirt and pulled
the shoulder aside, exposing her breasts. His caresses were skillful and deft; his blatant kneading
didn't feel rough to her, but rather evoked a desire for more force. Under the pressure of his hands, her nipples stood erect helplessly.
He casually brushed his index finger against one nipple, a single touch sending shivers down Sun Qian's spine.

Then she felt her skirt slowly being pulled down. A hand moved from behind to her front, slowly descending from her flat
stomach . Sun Qian eagerly spread her legs, but the hand only hovered over her panties, occasionally brushing against her
curly pubic hair, completely ignoring her wetness.

Sun Qian turned around, her hands frantically searching his chest. The buttons on his white silk robe left her bewildered;
removing them would certainly require some effort. She deliberately lifted his long robe, her hand tracing the contours of his thigh. His hair
was thick, extending down his inner thighs and even to his buttocks, feeling soft and ticklish to the touch. She then touched his
erect penis.

His hand lingered on Sun Qian's vulva, kneading and rubbing with all his might. He was showing off in front of her, and Sun Qian
was also playing with his penis, her fingers lightly stroking and pressing against his urethra. She was showing off in front of him too. Sun Qian's
specialty was manipulating men, like a circus animal trainer, and she reciprocated with the same fervent devotion to her
love . Her challenge elicited a suitable response from him.

When he laid Sun Qian down on the recliner, she had abandoned all ladylike reserve, lying naked on her back, presenting her
slender body to him, as if every part of her was radiating an irresistible allure. Her legs were raised high,
revealing the bulge between them, yearning for his firm, erect member.

He knelt between Sun Qian's legs, gently stroking her mound with both hands, murmuring, "Darling,
you're so beautiful here, so tempting. Look how alluringly it's trembling now. Let me have it."

Sun Qian closed her eyes, two blushes slowly rising and spreading across her face, her entire cheeks flushed, her heart
burning with fiery desire. He leaned down, extending his tongue to kiss that spot, his movements both gentle and
graceful, without a trace of crudeness. This suddenly filled Sun Qian with pity; she cupped his head in her hands, lowering her face to kiss his
hair .

When Sun Qian's vulva was wet from his kisses, he finally raised his majestic penis, gently parted
the labia, and then thrust it in. Sun Qian let out a soft "Oh!" as a wave of blissful pleasure washed over her.

With each of his vigorous thrusts, Sun Qian arched her hips to meet him. She felt as if his chest was resounding with powerful, rhythmic breaths, his long,
heavy panting carrying him toward climax. It was as if a hundred trains were roaring and puffing out steam, all charging towards her at full speed.

Overwhelmed with ecstasy, Sun Qian couldn't help but hum softly, her heart overflowing with a profound, timeless sorrow, flowing into the very essence of music.
As it went on, it became utterly incoherent, like a composer who had lost their train of thought, seemingly going mad at the end of the piece. There was no melody left
, just individual notes clattering and tinkling as they were poured into a giant vat, churning with such ferocity that it seemed to shake the very heavens and earth.

Each of his thrusts was like a powerful punch, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoing endlessly, a brutal and savage
cacophony . Sun Qian felt her nerve endings tighten, twisted like a pretzel.

Sun Qian was usually like this; after only a few rounds of attacks from the men, she was already utterly defeated, reaching her climax in an instant.
A stream of blissful fluid gushed from her womb, her vaginal walls contracting and spasming, intimately embracing his penis.
The friction of the glans sent a wave of pleasure soaring her to the heavens, her bodies locked in a powerful, pulsating intertwining.

Two bodies lay sprawled on the dark floor, exhausted from the recent storm. He continued to caress Sun Qian's nipples and lips with
his fingers , his legs draped between hers.

Just then, the door opened, and a man, embracing a woman, peered in. He pressed his hand to Sun Qian's mouth, and they
moved behind the sofa in the darkness. By the faint moonlight streaming through the window, Sun Qian saw the familiar Nazi uniform and
Mrs. Zhang's bright red dress, now crumpled beyond recognition. The two women quickly embraced on the sofa.

"You can't get enough of me," came Mrs. Zhang's voice, sweet and coquettish, full of ambiguity and sensuality.
Their bodies, one strong and one gentle, clung to each other, inseparable. The woman's exaggerated moans of pleasure mingled with the man's heavy, labored breathing.

Sun Qian saw Mrs. Zhang's buttocks raised high on the edge of the sofa, allowing the Nazi officer to penetrate her from behind, while he
urging, "Baby, let's see how capable you are, show me, I'll keep you company to the end."

The Nazi's hat was askew, his imposing officer's uniform was open, and his trousers were rolled up to his ankles as he
vigorously thrust his hips. With his triumphant thrusts, the sofa moved inching forward, almost reaching Sun Qian and Mrs. Zhang
.

He lifted his leg to brace himself against the sofa, but the two on it suddenly stopped. Mrs. Zhang craned
her neck from the back of the sofa, seeing Sun Qian and Mrs. Zhang piled on the floor, and laughed wantonly, "So this is where my little darling is,
how many men have you enjoyed?"

Naked, Sun Qian felt a little embarrassed and looked around for clothes to cover herself. He, however, guessed first and took off his
long shirt , covering her with it. This provoked a burst of laughter from Mrs. Zhang and the others. Mrs. Zhang shook off the Nazi officer, pounced
on him, knelt down, and took his dangling penis into her mouth, sucking it with
relish , occasionally winking at Sun Qian.

He seemed restless and uneasy under Mrs. Zhang's teasing, as if he were being
punished willingly but not fully able to endure it. Sun Qian appeared completely submissive, her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him, her gaze filled with lust and
temptation, her expression even conveying a sense of delight and satisfaction.

Only then did Sun Qian notice his naked body; his muscles were somewhat relaxed, thankfully his belly wasn't protruding yet, and dense
body hair extended from his lower abdomen to his chest. He reached out and pulled Sun Qian into his arms. Their
lips firmly, his tongue slipping into his mouth just like before.
He, in turn, couldn't help but reciprocate, their kiss becoming a passionate, intoxicating experience.

Sun Qian broke free, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. Her body twisted and turned like a snake, and
with each movement, he could feel her full, firm breasts rolling against his chest—a sensation he found
indescribable .

The Nazi officer had left the room, leaving behind his military cap, which lay forlornly on the floor. They had
pulled him to the ground, and they themselves lay sprawled around him.

Mrs. Zhang held his head in her arms, chuckling as she looked at Sun Qian, occasionally
whispering flirtatious words in his ear. Sun Qian pressed one of her jade-like legs against his chest, playing with
his ear with her toes, then caressing his cheek. Seeing that he didn't show any aversion, she further ran her toes lightly back and forth across his lips
.

The muscles at the top of Sun Qian's thighs tightened, a boundless emptiness washing over her. At this moment, her eyes were bright, her face
radiant, like a cocaine addict, her mind caught between fantasy and reality, unsure whether to soar towards fantasy
or descend into reality. She had just been given a surge of energy, feeling an overwhelming urge to move mountains, yet unsure which direction to take.

He sat up, his already erect penis pointing straight to the sky like a towering iron tower. Mrs. Zhang, supporting his erection
with one hand, pushed Sun Qian's waist, bringing her in front of him. Sun Qian spread her legs, lowering herself between his thighs, and he obediently
clasped his hands under her round buttocks, effortlessly supporting her. Mrs. Zhang
used two fingers to pry open Sun Qian's labia, and with one hand guiding the penis, she inserted it. Immediately, a full, exhilarating pleasure
spread throughout her body from her lower abdomen. Sun Qian made a charming expression and smiled gratefully at Mrs. Zhang.

He sat up, his already erect penis pointing straight to the sky like a towering iron tower. Mrs. Zhang, holding the penis with
one hand, pushed Sun Qian's waist with the other, bringing her in front of him.

Sun Qian spread her legs, lowered her waist, and squatted down between his legs. He obediently clasped his hands
under her round buttocks, effortlessly and steadily supporting her. Mrs. Zhang used two fingers to pry open Sun Qian's labia, and with one hand guiding the
penis, she inserted it. Immediately, a full, exhilarating pleasure spread throughout her body from her lower abdomen. Sun Qian made
a charming expression and smiled gratefully at Mrs. Zhang.

Another thrilling thrusting ensued, Sun Qian bouncing on top of him like a galloping horse, while he arched his back,
desperately responding to her. Mrs. Zhang, ever so opportune, kissed him, sometimes pressing her large breasts against his
face .

Sun Qian unleashed all her skills, her buttocks grinding and squeezing against his penis. Soon he couldn't hold back any longer,
feeling penis grow thicker and longer inside her, as if it were about to pierce her abdomen. Knowing he was about to ejaculate, she took a deep
breath, clenching her legs tightly, locking her lower body in a whirlwind of release. For a moment,
the flower of ecstasy bloomed like a wheel, radiating seven-colored light, swaying and shimmering, endlessly pulsating

.

Sun Qian's voice trembled slightly as she spoke into the phone, "You broke the rules of the game. Tell me who you are."

"Want to know? Okay, you'll find out soon enough." The voice on the other end was still deep and pleasant. Seeing that Sun Qian didn't respond, he
continued, "You're the one who made me want to get close to you again, even if it kills me."

He coughed lightly, his raspy voice sending a strange
warmth
through her eardrums. Time had passed, and the annoying rules of the masquerade ball were gone. Sun Qian saw a black Toyota sedan driving towards the school gate from her office window. His voice came from the other end of the phone again: "See that black car? That's picking you up. Follow it." His attitude was somewhat indifferent,
but Sun Qian could tell that his leisure was a self-satisfied leisure; he had her firmly in his grasp.

Women like to be subdued, but only within certain limits. Sun Qian was purely conquered by his demeanor and charm.
Involuntarily, Sun Qian covered the phone, grabbed her handbag, and went downstairs.

The car took Sun Qian to the guesthouse again. Tall palm trees grew outside the stone railings, their wispy leaves
trembling slightly in the sunlight like shimmering fountains. There was a fountain beneath the trees, but it wasn't as grand. From afar, Sun Qian
sensed a familiar figure. He was also looking this way, pushing back a lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead,
revealing a gleaming light behind his glasses, even the edges of the lenses reflecting a shimmering glow.

Closer, closer, finally Sun Qian saw his face. He had a broad, purplish-brown face and a half-covered beard,
thick eyebrows like brooms, and piercing, self-assured eyes. He sat down silently, lighting a cigarette. To Sun Qian's astonishment
, this face was so familiar. His image was always on the local news every night, sometimes hosting some conference,
sometimes inspecting some project. Now, however, he sat down like an eagle, arms outstretched, as if about to take flight. Sun Qian couldn't help but
exclaim, "Mayor Yang!"

He smiled at her, a smile as gentle as moonlight, and reached out to touch her pale face.
When he smiled at her again, that indifferent yet tender smile made Sun Qian feel like she was floating on air. She felt as if she had been electrocuted and was about to faint.
Sun Qian thought she must have looked ridiculous then, calling him that out of the blue, and there must have been a
strange , because she believed that true love wouldn't arise from surging desire, even though she
felt something unusual in her body at that moment.

(II)

Everything seemed so orderly and unhurried. When Sun Qian confirmed that the person in front of her was indeed Yang
Chengnan, the mayor of the city, she felt extremely apprehensive, as if she had missed a step while going down the stairs, her heart filled with unease.
Sun Qian heard her secretary behind her say into the phone, "Mayor Yang is meeting with an important foreign businessman. Yes, all activities for today
are canceled ."

Walking to the table, she could finally take a good look at the face of the city's highest-ranking official. He was one of those people who were
forever young, although a few strands of his disheveled hair were gray, and the sharp blade of time
had etched deep wrinkles on his firm forehead. Yet, his face still held the honesty and stubbornness of a child.
His thick eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his nose held a defiant air, and his noble lips were slightly downturned, as if born to issue commands
.

"Hey, you broke the rules of the game," Sun Qian began to complain in a coquettish tone, her voice drawn out.

He didn't get up, but pointed to the wicker chair beside him: "Then I'll accept the punishment, Miss Sun. What do you think the punishment should be?"

This was a sparsely wooded lawn, with two Western-style buildings further away on higher ground. Ever since that masquerade ball
, Yang Chengnan had been unable to forget her. This woman was neither like a gaudy, frivolous beauty, nor like a cold, aloof woman
. Her expression was always languid and noble, her demeanor always elegant and proper. No one could say what
type ; they only felt that she was beautiful and enigmatic, beautiful like a secluded cave worth exploring, enigmatic like
a mysterious riddle worth trying to solve.

He had to go to great lengths, even risking his life, to learn everything about this music teacher. Before him stood
a fashionable backless mini-dress, barely concealing her swaying breasts with just two narrow straps.
The dress was a vibrant yellow leopard-print, with bold black circles, giving her a lively yet slightly wild appearance.
Her fair, lively face and arms were exposed, like shimmering amber wine in a glass.

His secretary, ever so tactful, served them drinks and then quietly left.

"Ms. Sun, are you satisfied with your work?" he said, his eyes never leaving her.

"You've admitted your mistake and corrected it, why should I punish you?" she replied, tilting her head in the crook of her arm. Yang Chengnan's feeling
returned; countless small joys, like golden bells, swayed in every part of her body.

The leaves beside him resembled wind-blown grass; a gust of wind blew, and their slender black silhouettes trembled sparsely.
A faint, indistinct string of notes seemed to echo in my ears, like the clanging of iron horses on a lawn.

Yang Chengnan, holding a high-ranking position, had enjoyed a smooth career and a bright future for many years. However, as his position rose, his
sexual function gradually declined. Whether it was due to the exhaustion of his masculine energy from overwork or
some other , he suffered a significant sexual dysfunction. Once on top of his wife,
he would groan and tumble off as if seriously ill, barely needing a sip of water.

His wife, Wang Yuying, initially didn't mind his impotence, but as time passed, she, now mature, full, and beautiful, reaching
the age of primal desire, gradually became unhappy with his inability to perform, and a sense of unease began to grow within her. He, however,
remained unmoved , retreating after only a few rounds of intercourse, utterly disappointed in his own inability. For a man, sexual
function is as important as his life; any deficiency in this area is an unbearable pain.

He was resentful. He wasn't even sixty yet, and he was surrounded by beautiful women, all with the full
breasts , all waiting to throw themselves into his arms. He sought remedies everywhere, even
undergoing psychological therapy while traveling abroad. But whenever he was ambitious and eager to make his move, his manhood would go limp, and
an inexplicable fire would rise within him; even cotton wool would be harder and more durable than that.

Then, someone knowledgeable and eager to please arranged a lewd masquerade ball for him, and there he met Sun...
Qian, when he danced with her, holding her soft, silken waist, he felt she could bring him
pleasure that no other woman could.

Speaking to her, listening to her voice, looking into her eyes and lips, he suddenly felt a surge of heat in his lower abdomen;
in an instant, his manhood stirred. So, under everyone's gaze, he channeled a powerful surge of energy, causing his erection
to rise like a towering spire.

He spoke to Sun Qian with complete composure, as if giving a report, eloquent and fluent. After finishing, he raised
his glass and downed the remaining tea in one gulp, holding the glass high and gazing inside. A feeling of bliss washed
over Sun Qian. A gentle breeze caressed her face, kissing her bare arms like a thin tongue. She deliberately flaunted herself,
placing her hands on the table, leaning forward, revealing a deep cleavage beneath her collarless dress, further emphasizing the roundness of her breasts.

Lunch was moved inside the villa. As they entered the dining room hand in hand, the food was already neatly arranged on
the table . He opened a bottle of French red wine, Sun Qian's favorite. They looked at each other and drank, their desire resurfacing.

He carried the bottle over, patting her back, a faint, alluring smile playing on his lips. After filling her glass, he
pressed his face against her cheek. As Sun Qian watched him slowly lower himself, her eyes wide, she noticed the
air in the dining room was thick with a bluish-green hue, spacious and quiet.

He kissed Sun Qian's lips, slowly and deeply. Their kiss was comfortable, steady, and unhurried, making the desire rising within them
both even more urgent and alluring. Sun Qian couldn't help but open her lips, letting out a soft moan from deep within her chest.

He buried his face in Sun Qian's chest, his lips against her half-exposed breasts, using his teeth to loosen her bra straps and bra.
As he teased her tender, bean-like nipples with his wine-dipped tongue, the cool alcohol mingled with the warmth of his tongue,
sending a dizzying, tingling sensation through Sun Qian. Streams of fluid gushed from deep within her lower abdomen, soaking her panties.

He noticed Sun Qian's legs involuntarily writhing and opening and closing in the direction of pleasure. He placed his hands under her skirt,
lifting her panties as if digging for treasure, covering her most intimate area. Sun Qian's genitals trembled under his rough
caresses . Her eyes, moist with shame under the light, and her lips opened and closed in the throes of pleasure.

Sun Qian helped him take off his pants. Even as his pants were still wrapped around his calves, his penis was already erect and
throbbing menacingly . Sun Qian lightly touched the mound in the center of his pubic hair with her index finger and boasted, "Isn't it hard?"

He was on the verge of collapse before even entering her, and then he could no longer penetrate her. He looked at Sun Qian silently,
his whole body covered in cold sweat. This made Sun Qian feel a sense of emptiness and loss; a profound sense of dejection seemed to hang over the restaurant.

Sun Qian was experienced with men, and she suppressed her burgeoning desire, offering him a gentle smile:
"You're too tired. Let me take good care of you." She led him upstairs to the bedroom, then filled the bathroom with
water for him, letting him lie in the bathtub. She placed a towel under his head, making him comfortable, and gently wiped his body,
rubbing every inch of his skin. His skin was still firm; the muscles on his thighs were taut and covered in fine hair, giving him a
rugged masculine appearance.

Sun Qian also stripped off her clothes, and the bathtub began to churn with waves. She kissed her way down his chest,
finally The little thing drooped dejectedly, like a child who had done something wrong, sullen and unhappy.
Sun Qian had exerted all her strength on it, her cheeks aching slightly, but she couldn't get it to lift.

His face seemed contorted with pain, yet his breathing was excited and sweet. He lovingly gestured for Sun Qian to stop her futile
efforts, simply embracing her naked body and leading her to the bed. He lay down beside Sun Qian, his head resting on her long, loose hair, and
smoked, wrapped in the sheet, completely naked.

She was breathless, like an exhausted bird perched on the sheet, waiting for the man beside her
to attack her with his strong, thick penis. But he couldn't; his penis, like a frightened turtle, had retreated into its hard shell, refusing to
emerge . The sheet was as white as snow, the room as black as ink. She thought it might be due to some kind of suppressed desire.

They slept in each other's arms, he embraced Sun Qian from behind, his hands resting on her breasts. The countless fine hairs on his chest
nibbled passionately at her entire body, and Sun Qian's desire, unable to find an outlet, was restless and agitated. At that moment, she
worried whether their relationship could continue. He might be a man who was unrestrained by any woman; his passion could
extend any woman he deemed attractive enough, his desires coming and going quickly.

They didn't contact each other again for the next few days. Sun Qian called her husband, Jiaming, back home from the mountains. She never contacted her former
lovers again, not wanting to leave any more male marks on her body. Jiaming experienced his wife's
passion during those days; he was even surprised by Sun Qian's sexual prowess, as if she was never satisfied. Sun Qian also revealed
her relationship with Mayor Yang Chengnan to him, naturally, only revealing it, carefully omitting key details.

Those days, Yang Chengnan was also busy with a large-scale investment project, which only came to an end on the evening of the weekend. Naturally, it
was fruitful and the results remarkable; the amount of foreign investment attracted was enough to rebuild half the city—that was reflected in the written word and the media.
How it would be implemented was a matter for the future, and no one could say for sure. He returned home exhausted.

The lakeside villas where several city officials lived were indeed Yang Chengnan's masterpiece. Years ago, he defied public opinion and chose this desolate lakeside hillside,
far from the city center, to build dormitories for various government agencies.

His extraordinary courage truly astonished everyone. He traveled far and wide, lobbying for funding to
connect a highway
to Land prices skyrocketed at an unprecedented rate, and now it has become the city's most prestigious residential
area.

The Yang family home was on the hillside, everything under the moonlight exuding a cold mystery. Stepping into the courtyard, illuminated by a single lamp and surrounded by an
ornate wrought- iron railing, one is greeted by a three-room Western-style building. Stone steps wind up the east and south sides of the house, occupying such a spacious
and open area—a luxury in the city where land is incredibly valuable. Several century-old camphor and sycamore trees spread their lush, dense shade
, adorning the courtyard and building like lace trim on a skirt.

Entering through the glass doors in the corridor was the reception room, furnished in a three-dimensional Western style, but also featuring a few
Chinese ornaments that appealed to both refined and popular tastes: a jade snuff bottle and an ivory Guanyin statue; a small
bamboo small, white tuberose flowers—everything exuded a strong oriental flavor.

His wife, Wang Yuying, sat idly in a chaise lounge, watching television, one foot dangling precariously
, her toes dangling from a gold-embroidered slipper that had fallen to the floor with a thud sometime earlier. She wore a parrot-green headscarf
, presumably from washing her hair.

She wore a floor-length robe, a vibrant, damp green that seemed to stain anything it touched. She shifted slightly,
as if leaving a green stain in the air where she had just been. The clothes seemed a little small, with inch-long rips on both sides,
tied together with green ribbons in a crisscross pattern, revealing deep red underwear underneath. The glaring color made the red even more
alluring . His heart skipped a beat, and he felt a little dazed.

Yang Chengnan went to his room to wash up. When he came out, he heard piano music coming from the small living room on the second floor. He walked over from the balcony with his hands in
his pockets . Only one lamp was on by the piano, illuminating her face. He had never seen her face so
serene. He hummed along with her music, but she seemed not to hear him, continuing to play. She changed to another piece, but this time,
he didn't know the lyrics and couldn't hum along.

Yang Chengnan grew annoyed. He leaned against the piano, first placing one foot on the foot of the piano, then gradually and unintentionally kicking the piano bench. The
bench vibrated, causing her arm to twitch. He approached her, helping her flip through the sheet music, intentionally disrupting her playing, but she
ignored him . She didn't need the score; the melody was already memorized, flowing effortlessly from her hands.

He sat close to her on the piano bench, reaching out to grab her waist and turn her around. The music stopped abruptly, and she skillfully
turned her face away. He forcefully pressed her onto the keys, a series of chaotic thuds. One hand
slipped inside her robe, groping her inner thigh. She struggled desperately, resisting, accompanied by a cacophony of piano music.

"Don't arouse me. You're already impotent. How can I sleep?" she gasped. Yang Chengnan's
burning desire vanished instantly, the boisterous, sizzling pleasure of the flesh suddenly silenced, leaving only a desolate tranquility.
A defeated smile appeared on his face, his eyebrows and eyes drooping, his entire face slumped like a tattered rag on a mop.
Wang Yuying broke free and softly whistled. A white poodle ran out of the room, wagging its tail. She picked
it up and murmured to it.

He pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead, his eyes behind his glasses gleaming, even the edges of the lenses shimmering with
a iridescent light. He returned to his room, changed his clothes, and stormed out. With a roar from the garage below,
he drove off in her red sports car.

Wang Yuying stood on the second-floor balcony. Her hand, which had been supporting the dog's chin, suddenly tightened its grip.
The dog, unable to breathe, struggled violently, broke free of her arm, jumped to the ground, and ran into the house, yelping all the way.

A red Ferrari sped along the highway, darting like a nimble mouse to the other side of the city.
He dialed a number, saying angrily, "I don't know if I've bothered you, but I desperately want to see you."

Sun Qian knew he was calling from his car; the signal was weak due to interference. She hung up and
ran downstairs without any attempt at decoration.

A bright red, pure cotton nightgown, untied, its pale ink pattern revealing the outline of a body, bounced
towards her, as if every inch of her flesh was alive, hopping and leaping. The car lights cast a dim, yellow glow. He
opened the door and practically lifted her by the waist, placing her on the seat next to him.

"What are you doing?" Sun Qian looked at him, impeccably dressed in a suit, then at her own odd appearance—barefoot in slippers,
her pajamas crumpled from his caresses—and couldn't help but laugh, laughing so hard she almost fell over.

The night air was thick with a light breeze and white mist, the gentle touch on her face resembling a woman's makeup puff. The street was quiet except for
the lights from the food stalls on the lower level of the apartment building; the wind rustled two fallen leaves like worn-out shoes.

As he drove, he reached out and put his arm around her shoulder, her face resting against his chest as they drove on
. He slipped his hand inside her cotton nightgown. Without the many cumbersome things a woman needs, her body seemed to
leap out of the garment. He touched her full breasts; holding them in his hand felt like holding a sleeping bird, as if they had their own faintly beating heart.
Her nipples, like sharp beaks, pecked at his hand, firm yet soft, the softness residing in his palm.

The car window was still shrouded in a light, damp mist, so ethereal that all his energy was wasted on the embrace. Sun Qian
clung tightly to his neck, constantly feeling something was amiss, shifting positions again and again, unsure how
to press closer, wishing she could be born from him, embedded in him.

Yang Chengnan drove the car onto the sidewalk and parked it under a large tree outside the wall. The reclined seats emitted a dry, acrid leather smell.
He lowered his head, pressing it against Sun Qian's chest. Through her thin nightgown, her nipples stood erect
shamelessly , like flowers quietly blooming in the night. A sweet saliva welled up on his tongue, and a warm sensation spread through his lower abdomen,
like a large hand cradling it. She simply responded to his hard-won, surging passion with her lips and teeth, simultaneously pleasing
the burning flame within herself.

He skillfully pulled off Sun Qian's panties, casually stuffing them into his back pocket. Then, he pulled out
his already hard and erect penis from his crotch, eagerly thrusting it inside. As Sun Qian swallowed the still-erect member
, she knew that she had captured this man. Among thousands of women, she was the only
goddess in his heart.

He let Sun Qian's warm, moist place embrace him, and immediately his penis grew large and thick rapidly. He showed no mercy,
thrusting incessantly. The cramped space in the carriage prevented Sun Qian from doing as she pleased; she could only accommodate him by raising her legs high. The slight
discomfort suddenly turned into ecstasy with his movements. His frenzied passion was no less than that of a young, strong man. His rhythmic
, measured thrusts allowed Sun Qian to experience the charm of a mature man's lovemaking—light as a gentle breeze and drizzle, yet
considerate and attentive in every aspect.

The bright moon shone high, casting dappled shadows on the low, pink wall through the branches of the osmanthus tree that hadn't yet blossomed.
When the night breeze stole a kiss, the leaves rustled occasionally, as if angry and resentful of this recklessness.

Sun Qian's leg cramped; the pain caused her facial muscles to twitch. She didn't say anything, letting the discomfort
linger until her inner thigh was covered in his passionate semen.

Yang Chengnan escorted Sun Qian home. Downstairs, as they kissed goodbye, he said, "The medicine bottle." Sun Qian didn't understand
what he meant, but he whispered in her ear, "You are the medicine for me." She blushed and glared at him.

Like Sun Qian, though young, she had already been with many men, so many that she was somewhat confused. She was like
a picking many violets, tying them into a bunch, and then carelessly tossing them aside. But this time was different. He was
a pillar of society, adept at handling complex problems and ruthless relationships. He
captivated .

This chance encounter was like finding an oasis in the desert for Sun Qian—a blissful, mysterious, and indescribable
joy. What would follow, she didn't want to know. But the reason was simple: why do flowers open their petals, why
do insects flutter their wings and buzz, why do birds build their nests?

All these things are unknown; only God knows. Whatever they asked, God gave satisfactory answers. Only Sun Qian asked: If I
follow the dictates of my heart, will I receive supreme happiness or eternal damnation?

God answered her: To be intoxicated by bright eyes is not a sin.

Thinking of those eyes, Sun Qian forgot the whole world; in those eyes, she saw another world, a
world full of joy, happiness, and bliss.

Sun Qian took a refreshing shower in the warm water. She was an excellent dancer; perhaps if she hadn't married so early
, she would have achieved more in dance. Her entire body was designed for dancers—soft and light, with well-proportioned bones and
no excess flesh. Even her breasts were small and delicate, yet her full hips and powerful legs could tell you
a thousand stories.

When she dried her wet hair and went to the living room, a chill ran through her. Her husband, Jia Ming, was sitting upright on the sofa,
smoking . His eyes, like those of a hungry wolf, were fixed on her scantily clad body. He was very thin now, his face as
dull as an old leather bag, his high skull like something hard stuffed inside. His long head, protruding from his mouth, was entangled in the smoke he exhaled,
like a mountain peak shrouded in mist. Sometimes, wisps of smoke would get into his short, brush-like hair, lingering for a long time.

"Who is he?" he asked.

Sun Qian's eyes flickered as she answered, "Who?"

"The man you got into his car," Jia Ming's voice rose slightly.

"Yang Chengnan," Sun Qian said simply, leaning her entire body against him.

"The mayor?" Sun Qian nodded. At that moment, Jia Ming's hand slipped inside her robe.

"You two made love," he said, his face still calm, but his hand had found where he wanted it.

Sun Qian spread her legs wide, shamelessly saying, "I wish, he can't."

"I don't believe it. What man wouldn't want you?" Jia Ming chuckled, lightly patting her soft, hairy area. "I'm not jealous of
that old man, so you can go ahead without worry. It's a rare opportunity, so you'd better seize it."

"You want something, don't you?" Sun Qian pulled his penis out of his pants, giggling.

"Make him feel good first, then you'll definitely need to ask him for a lot of favors later." He shifted his body, laying her flat on the sofa.
The thing in Sun Qian's hand was hardening and thickening, making Sun Qian appreciate the advantages of youth. "He needs some nourishment."

Jiaming turned Sun Qian's head, pressing her cheek against his penis. Sun Qian knew what he wanted to do, opened her mouth and swallowed it
, her tongue swirling and rolling around inside. Then, out of the blue, he said, "Forbidden love is like
the best ." Sun Qian couldn't help but stop what she was doing.

“A man like him, what kind of beautiful women haven’t he played with? He can only be led to do bizarre and exciting things.”

Sun Qian was startled. He seemed to have seen it all with his own eyes, understanding her so well, his thoughts perfectly aligned with hers, yet he
laughed lewdly, “It’s what you like, isn’t it?”

Jiaming rolled over and struggled to his feet, then took out some strips of cloth and ropes from the room. Sun Qian pretended to be afraid, saying,
“You’re going to torture me again.”

He didn’t answer, but blindfolded her with a wide strip of black cloth. Jiaming did this skillfully,
wrapping a rope around her neck, separating it on both sides, and then passing it under her armpits, tightly binding it to her white arms and wrists,
tying .

The rope clung tightly to Sun Qian’s skin, giving her a feeling of constricted and suppressed desire, her longing for release growing
stronger and stronger . Most deadly were the thin ropes wrapped horizontally around Sun Qian’s breasts, compressing and dividing them into several small pieces,
only the nipples remaining erect, sharp and hard. Unable to foresee his next move, she was gripped
by a restless tension and a hollow sense of loss.

A rope slung across her thighs, digging deep into her buttocks and labia. Jiaming, quite perceptively,
had
tied , wishing she could hold them tightly.

The knots were already soaking wet from her squeezing. It felt as if countless ants were crawling on her chest, scratching her unbearably
. Her mind was filled with images of thick, hard, rod-like objects: purple eggplants, carrots, jagged corncobs, rolling
pins, long-necked bottles—but what truly thrilled her was the image of a thick, large penis and a strong, muscular
male body.

When Jiaming entered her, his penis felt like a winged bird, and an uncontrollable pleasure
surged through her body like a tide sweeping across a beach. The sensation of rotating thrusting penetrated to her very core, instantly striking the most
sensitive , and a wave of domination and masochistic climax arrived with her scream.

Yang Chengnan was presiding over a meeting of three thousand cadres in the city's auditorium. His subordinates noticed that the stern
mayor seemed much more amiable today, occasionally cracking a joke that brought smiles to the faces of those below, creating
a cheerful . At this moment, his secretary rushed onto the stage and whispered something in his ear. Everyone saw his serious expression...
He handed the meeting over to the vice mayor and left in a hurry.

Yang Chengnan had his driver drop him off at the intersection near Sun Qian's house, then strolled leisurely into Sun Qian's residential complex,
looking more like a retired senior cadre.

He was surprised when Sun Qian opened the door to greet him. Her lips were glistening with pink rouge, and a smear of it clung to her cheeks. She
wore thin shirt, which clung to her body like a thin film of milk, and there was a touch of red rouge on her shoulder. Her eager embrace caught him
off guard, and for a moment, he felt a surge of pleasure. He wanted to take things further, but Sun Qian darted away like a startled rabbit
. She turned back, flashing a smile: "Don't rush, there's a surprise, but you have to patiently listen to
my arrangements."

"Sun Qian, you seem to live in quite nice conditions," Yang Chengnan said, strutting around her apartment.

Sun Qian replied, "We bought this with our own savings, without taking a single penny from the government."

"You're eligible for government-provided housing now, didn't you say so?" he said. "Write a report."

"Alright, stop with the bureaucratic talk." Sun Qian took him from behind. Just then,
a burst of cheerful laughter and chatter came from downstairs. Sun Qian broke free from his embrace and said, "Oh no, those little dance students are at my
house." With that, she pulled Yang Chengnan into the bedroom and instructed, "No matter what's going on outside, you can't show your face."

Before he could say anything, the doorbell rang. He could only grumble in frustration. As someone in a high position, he was always
well taken care of by his subordinates. Even when he went out on inspections, he was always escorted by police cars and never encountered traffic jams. He had never experienced such boredom before.
His hard-lined face looked even more rugged and deep.

He put his hands behind his head and lay down dejectedly on Sun Qian's bed. Beside her pillow, he noticed a leather bra strap. He
lifted the pillow, revealing a leather bra and panties underneath. The glossy black leather felt smooth and soft to the touch,
a texture unlike cotton. His chest heaved, and for a moment, his body felt like it was floating on clouds,
a surge of excitement coursing through his lower abdomen as he felt his manhood rise. It was indescribable. He couldn't help but try to savor the
sensation .

Music played in the living room, its heat washing over the air in the room, blurring his vision and hearing
. He paced restlessly in her room, pressing his face against the crack in the door in frustration. But then he discovered Sun Qian instructing
her three girls on how to dance in the hall . Sun Qian pointed at one of the girls and said, "No, no, look at your skirt, it's all over your feet, take
it off. Take it off, all of you, and you too, can you even lift your leg in those tight jeans?"

The three girls each took off their clothes, leaving only their underwear and bras. One of them was wearing a bright
red thong , the narrow strip digging deep into her buttocks.

Right under Yang Chengnan's nose, they displayed their youthful and alluring bodies. With the tempo of the music, their
bodies moved in various alluring poses, like silkworms emerging from their cocoons, wriggling their white and crystalline bodies, like butterflies flitting and
leaping through flowers, twisting their waists and hips. They danced with great effort, a kind of posture different from pretentious or deliberately sexy. They danced
with exhaustion and authenticity, like a butterfly teetering on the edge of its seat through the surging music.

A surge of that trembling feeling rose in his chest again, and a fiery heat rose in his lower abdomen. This time, the duration of the encounter was surprisingly long
; his member stood erect and throbbing. This forbidden exposure effectively fueled his physical excitement. He stared intently at
the three young women's bodies outside the crack in the door. One already possessed a proud bust, and with a stretch of her arm, her breasts
trembled . Another had her waist arched, her slender waist curving, revealing her high, full, and firm buttocks
.

"Alright, alright. That's enough for today. You can go back now. Remember the techniques," Sun Qian said, clapping
her .

Yang Chengnan was still somewhat unsatisfied, but thinking that Sun Qian would be coming in soon, he even took off his clothes.
His breathing suddenly became heavy; it was the first time he had seen his member so magnificent.

When Sun Qian entered, he held it and waved it triumphantly at her. Sun Qian's eyes widened, her mouth pursed into exaggerated circles, and
she twisted her waist as she leaned forward, babbling incoherently as she called out "my baby," "my kitten," and "my puppy." She pounced on the bed and began to nibble and nibble at his erect penis,
her tongue following suit, licking it from top to bottom and bottom to top, sometimes even
sucking his testicles entirely into her mouth.

Yang Chengnan's hands were also busy; he had already removed Sun Qian's casual pajamas, his palms roaming over her full, white body
, touching her plump breasts above and a patch of glossy pubic hair below.

Sun Qian, shameless, once again witnessed the boundless desire within him, the fire of lust burning endlessly in her eyes.
One of her hands carefully stroked his thigh; his pubic hair was short and thick, like the stalks of freshly harvested crops,
tickling her palm. She arched her back and straddled his legs, her slender hands
gently guiding his throbbing, erect penis before it entered her intoxicating depths. The moment it entered, her face flushed, her eyes glazed, and she let
out soft moans.

Facing this woman on top of him, Yang Chengnan knew she could offer him everything other women couldn't. His hands gripped
her waist, and he rode her with each thrust, savoring the warm, moist embrace and soft
friction him. He was usually calm and composed in matters of the heart, but that day he was ignited,
a burning passion that lingered long afterward, leaving him with lingering excitement and endless aftertaste. He was completely absorbed in every
detail of the experience.

He pulled her into his arms, kissed her, and caressed her face. Then he set her down, his body swirling like a
hawk circling its prey before swiftly and confidently swooping down. Women are like this fertile land,
with rolling mountains, crisscrossing valleys, beautiful landscapes, birdsong and fragrant flowers, rising and falling, ever-changing. Men, on the other hand, are like
this powerful sky, from which arises all-pervasive winds and relentless rain,
filling every pore of a woman's body with their power. The sky is about to collapse, the sea is about to leak. A surge of intense climax, like a hurricane's crashing waves, thunders onto the beach, slamming him down

heavily.

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