【Sao Xu】(01) Author: Erotic Young Woman

Author: Erotic Young Woman
Word Count: 6933

Chapter 1:

Illusion~ Strong~ jian~ Dream fell in love with illusion, and years later, the two gave birth to Sao Xu. Illusion is
my illusion, and dream is also my dream, so Sao Xu is unlikely to be a person, but a world, a world I created
myself . Perhaps there is sorrow, definitely there is joy, but Sao Xu has no worldly affairs, no morality,
and even human ethics are excluded. If you feel like calling me shameless,
immoral , regardless of gender, please go away. Whether you are silent or talkative,
Sao Xu is probably not a place you should come to.

In Sao Xu, what I most want to build, and what I will build first, is a brothel. In
ancient times were also called Qinglou, and now they have many names, such as hair salon, KTV, massage parlor, etc., all very euphemistic
names. Whether euphemistic or direct, they should all mean the same thing: men can come here to have sex with women,
of course, they need to pay. However, in my brothel, it's a completely different story.

There's only one woman in this brothel, and that's me. Men who come here have only
one to fuck me, to have sex, or more politely, to
insert their penis into my cunt and thrust, thrust, until they ejaculate. But I guarantee that after coming to this brothel
, besides simple fucking, they'll gain something else. As for what that is,
that depends on your own thoughts.

First of all, I'm different from prostitutes. Prostitutes, whether beautiful or ugly, young or
middle-aged , are only in it for the money. I, on the other hand, genuinely want you to gain something here. So
, coming to this brothel to fuck me is just a means, not the ultimate goal. Besides, there's no ultimate goal,
only something deeper.

To better achieve this goal, I need to learn so much more. I can't be
like an ordinary prostitute, just lying on the bed, spreading my legs, putting on a condom, closing my eyes, and making a few noises—
that's all. The first thing I need to learn is acting. I need to have the acting skills to play any role,
and unlike movie acting, where you can't just do a second take if you don't perform well, or sleep with the director to get away with it,
it has to be a one-take success. The reason is simple: different men want to sleep with different women, and even the same
man wants to sleep with different women at different times. So I have to play different women at different times
so that the man won't regret it after he inserts his penis into my vagina and ejaculates.

There are many other skills to master, knowledge to learn, and even degrees to obtain, but I won't go into
details here. I'll mention them later anyway. In any case, I doubt there's another prostitute besides myself
who wants to be a prostitute and also wants to learn all these things. Since

the construction of the brothel

is intended to be a brothel unlike any other before or since, a brothel that belongs to me personally
, I must design what it looks like myself. And to understand design, I'll probably need to
study architectural design myself. At the same time, simply knowing design isn't enough; you also need to understand
art and aesthetics. Because among the men who come to this slut market to fuck my cunt, there will be those who understand art and have taste. Even
those without much class, I sincerely hope that after they've finished fucking me,
besides , they'll retain some artistic flair.

And that's not all. Besides design and art, I also need to know some psychology.
This way, while adding an artistic touch to the slut market, I can also add some psychological suggestion and teasing,
making those men whose dicks aren't hard enough, or even those who can barely get hard, capable of fucking me. For
men with these problems, no matter where their problems come from, this slut will treat them all equally, hoping they'll fuck my cunt hard like
donkeys .

Design, art, and psychological suggestion—these are just the three most basic disciplines. Some people might
never master even one of them in their entire lives. While it's not impossible to master all three, it's unlikely to be someone like
a prostitute like me. Even if I were confident I could learn them, men wouldn't agree. Learning while being
fucked is unbearably boring. So, I decided not to learn myself, but
to build my slutty world using my best methods: fully utilizing my breasts and cunt.

Learning from others is always beneficial; it's
better need to find the best.

The designer was an old man. Someone told me he was very expensive, and I probably couldn't afford him. But I told him
my price was higher because I was priceless.

Upon meeting, the designer said he absolutely couldn't help me because he certainly had more money than me, and his
secretary was prettier than me. I had absolutely no assets to sway him. I didn't argue with him; I just hoped
he would accompany me for a walk.

I took the designer to a hotel, locked the door, and changed into a short, tight school uniform.
The designer burst into laughter, saying I was a complete idiot, that he'd done this kind of thing countless
times. To prove he wasn't really interested in students, he even took off his pants, spread his legs,
and showed me his completely limp penis. His laughter grew louder, and his voice became even hoarseer
. I felt sorry for him, not just because his penis wasn't big.

I didn't say anything, but turned and turned on the computer. Immediately, a man and a woman appeared on the screen; the man was on
top of the woman, his buttocks bobbing. The designer laughed again, "
You're so shameless to show this stuff?"

But his laughter quickly faded. His eyes were fixed on the computer screen, his teeth grinding. "

Oh, your penis is so deep, it feels so good, big-dicked son, Mom loves you!!"

"Fuck you, you old slut! Tell me, is my dick more powerful, or is my dad's, your husband's, dick
more powerful ?!

Don't even mention that old geezer, he hasn't touched me in years, I'm starting to doubt if his dick is
even viable anymore! Ah! This is deep, my son's big dick is powerful, much more powerful than his dad's!!

The designer's neck swelled up, and he grabbed my neck with both hands, shouting, 'Where are those two bastards?'"
He was determined to kill them. Seeing his son having sex with his wife, I think many people would probably feel
the same way.

I glanced at his penis and said, "Your penis is about the same size as your son's when it's hard!" At this moment
, I was definitely not acting; I was telling the truth because his penis was indeed enormous, many times larger than when
it wasn't erect.

The designer himself realized this, releasing his grip on my neck, a hint of
shy . He stammered, unsure of what to do. Should he really kill that despicable
couple who were having sex with their son, or should he cherish this hard-won erection?

Then I spoke, my voice sweet, tender, and, more importantly, pure, completely devoid of any hint of vulgarity
, like a real high school student. I have to admit, at this moment, I was using my
acting skills, playing the role of a perfect high school student.

"Daddy, my pussy is itchy."

After I, a middle school student, said those words to the designer, he
pounced on me like a hungry tiger, ripped my school uniform to shreds, spanked my buttocks until they were red, and, of course, fucked my
cunt. However, I didn't let him touch my anus, not because I hadn't had an enema and my anus was dirty and smelly
, but because I told him it was the remaining payment, and I would give it to him after he finished designing my cunt.

To my surprise, the designer cried, hugging my feet and sobbing, his tears soaking a large patch of the sheet,
leaving a stain almost identical to the stains left by my vaginal fluid.

From then on, the designer became my friend, but he never fucked my cunt again, nor
touched my anus. He just lived happily with his son, daughter, daughter-in-law, son-in-law, and wife every day
. When I

finally

found the artist to help, he was painting his penis with paint, in front of him was a
huge oil painting of a large, golden penis covered in multicolored
hairs at the base.

Do you know what people call me behind my back? Before I could speak, the artist, without turning his head, said, "They
all call me a slut! Haha!" The

artist laughed so hard he was breathless, tears streaming down his face.

I walked closer to look at the huge penis in the painting, then at the artist, and said, "Isn't this painting
a self-portrait of you?"

The artist slapped his thigh, grabbed my hand with an adoring look, and said, "True friends are hard to find, Master,
where do you work? "

Although I was a little embarrassed, I still puffed out my ample breasts and said confidently, "I'm just
a woman, but everyone likes to call me a slut! I like being called a slut too! So I must be a
slut!"

When I said this, I was already mentally prepared to be despised and chased away by the artist. But
unexpectedly, the artist not only didn't do that, but instead gripped my hand even tighter.

A slut and a idiot, aren't they a match made in heaven? The artist didn't laugh; instead, his face was filled with seriousness and
piety. He knelt on one knee, his penis swaying, much larger than before. "Slut, marry this
idiot, and I'll make you happy!"

he roared. I neither agreed nor refused, opening my mouth to take his penis in. He panted as he
tore the oil painting in front of him to shreds. "

You'll never see an idiot again, because the idiot's always soaking in a slut's cunt!" the artist shouted excitedly
. "

I said, it might not just be in a slut's cunt," I said, "it might also be soaking in my slutty mouth, or it might be stuck in my
ass."

The artist didn't reply, because his tongue was moving back and forth between my cunt and ass, the slutty juices and
saliva mixing, making slurping sounds.

And so, with the help of the designer and the artist, the slutty market was quickly designed. However,
the two of them, who could have been fucking each other in my cunt together, had
a huge .

The designer demanded that the best construction team be hired; only the best technology and equipment could bring the slutty market to
its fullest potential. But the artist vehemently opposed it. He believed that cold, mechanical, and procedural engineering would only
destroy the artistic atmosphere of the entire market town, so he resolutely disagreed. The artist insisted on using the simplest construction
method —manual construction—because only in this way could the entire market town come alive. Neither of them
could convince the other, and neither showed any intention of yielding. They argued heatedly, their faces flushed, and for a moment, they forgot all about continuing to fuck my
pussy and asshole. They glared at each other, their huge cocks erect, looking like they wanted to strangle each other.

A lot of vaginal fluid flowed from my pussy and asshole, dripping onto my buttocks and thighs, itchy and
uncomfortable , but I ignored it. Instead, I walked between them and knelt on the ground.

"Don't worry," I said, "I'm not trying to persuade you. I just think that if you two fight
to the death , neither of you will survive. Wouldn't that be a waste of your unreleased semen? So, can you please
ejaculate first, then fight?" Of course, it would
be even more perfect if you could wait for me to move a chair and put on a plate of sunflower seeds ! Hehe, I love watching people work so hard! Go for it!

The two of them roared in unison, their cocks pounding against my pussy and asshole, and finally they both
ejaculated , while I ejaculated my own juices.

Suddenly, my eyelids started to throb, opening and closing, until I climaxed and ejaculated, deeply
inside me and then stopped moving. In a daze, I felt like I was having a dream, a dream in which a group of migrant
workers came to me.

To be honest, at the time I didn't know I was dreaming; I only realized it was a dream
after .

There were at least twenty migrant workers in this group, each with a simple smile on their face. I immediately
understood ; they must have come to patronize me. Since the brothel wasn't finished yet, the price for patronizing me shouldn't be too high
, and they felt embarrassed to come alone, so they came in groups. Deep down, I
didn't ; in fact, I found their simple, honest smiles somewhat endearing, and their penises certainly must be
fascinating, especially after being away from home for so long without use, making them even more virile.

So, I immediately put on my most seductive smile, the kind of smile that streetwalkers would wear.
I didn't want to give them the impression of being superior, even though that might make them feel superior for having sex with a city
girl . But that would prevent them from fully unleashing
the power of their pent-up cocks. At the same time, I swayed my body, letting my large breasts bounce up and down and side to side
, lifting my skirt almost to reveal my vulva. Even though they couldn't see my vulva, they
could tell I wasn't wearing underwear. I tried to make myself as arousing as possible, while
secretly preparing silicone lubricant. Facing over twenty large, thirsty migrant workers
' cocks all at once, I was a little nervous, not because I was afraid I couldn't handle it, but because I worried I
wouldn't give them a good time. After all, it wasn't easy for these people to get a good fuck.

The migrant workers laughed again, their smiles filled with honesty and simple honesty, showing no
trace . Had my attempt at being a slut failed? This was a significant blow to my future career as a slut. It seemed I
needed to change my strategy…? Just as I was lost in thought, the lead migrant worker blew the whistle around his neck
. The sound reminded me of the same whistle my elementary school gym teacher used to blow; back then, he had just
graduated from university, and his penis was a cute pink when erect. *Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!* At the same time, more than twenty migrant workers
unbuckled their belts, their loose trousers falling to the ground under the force of gravity. They
took a step forward, kicking their trousers aside.

The moment I saw their penises, I suddenly understood why their smiles were only
innocent ; they wanted to kill me, not just fuck me. Their penises were not only large and hard,
but also possessed the characteristics of weapons—sharp and deadly, capable of killing me while fucking me. Normally, I should have realized at that
moment that it was all a dream, because no one's penis can look like
a sword or spear, but I didn't wake up; the word "death" still naturally came to mind.

In ancient times, there were those who died wrapped in horsehide; I, too, am torn apart by my own penis. So be it, I'll die. It's not a big deal. Although my
brothel isn't finished yet, and I haven't been a prostitute for long, at least I'll die like a prostitute. This is probably the most
spectacular to die; it's definitely a worthy death. Thinking this, I felt
incredibly relaxed. My body grew lighter and lighter, my nerves relaxed, and I felt like I was flying through the air, riding on a rainbow, giving the clouds oral sex
.

A long, long time passed—perhaps a blink of an eye, perhaps centuries—and when I awoke, I saw my
nipples red and erect, my cunt full of fluid. I hadn't died; it was all a dream.

Then the artist and architect ran over to congratulate me. The brothel was finally finished, perfectly complete! Neither the architect nor the artist, nor even myself, really knew who had built this brothel overnight, but its perfection was absolutely breathtaking and awe-inspiring. It seems that dream wasn't entirely untrue. I felt the construction of the brothel was definitely closely related to those honest migrant workers. To repay these selfless migrant worker brothers, I decided that for the first three days after the brothel opened , I would only serve migrant workers. No one else could touch my cunt, not even if they deliberately dressed as migrant workers, covered in sweat and dust. But I soon realized that this was just wishful thinking. I waited all morning and not a single person who looked like a real migrant worker came in. Instead, several well-dressed men rushed in and grabbed my big breasts. After all, I aspired to be a qualified prostitute. Basic ethics required me to never refuse someone when they were playing with my breasts, and I had to cooperate by moaning and touching their penises through their pants. If their penises weren't erect, it just meant I wasn't qualified to be a prostitute. So even though I was reluctant, I still smiled lewdly and touched their big penises, each one long and hard, disproportionate to their fat bodies. I reiterated to them my decision that only migrant workers could fuck my cunt. They all insisted they were indeed migrant workers; otherwise, how could they have such thick, hard cocks ? To prove they'd actually worked as migrant workers, they each showed off their skills: some ate squatting in a corner , others wiped their ass without toilet paper. Their performances didn't seem fake, but their clothes didn't resemble those of migrant more like businessmen, lawyers, doctors, etc. These people didn't object, but they had indeed worked as migrant workers before. The real migrant workers probably couldn't come at this time, as they were all working on construction sites. If they came out to fuck my cunt, they 'd likely get docked pay. So, how about tonight? I'll go to their construction site, then they can fuck my cunt however they want . "You've really gone to great lengths to get them to fuck your cunt!" said one of the bespectacled, fat guys who was vigorously fucking my ass. "Judging from this, you're definitely a very loyal prostitute." However, based on my experience as a laborer and my experience with you, if you did that, you'd probably make things even worse for them. Why is that? I didn't ask, even though I really wanted to know the reason, but I held back. Instead, I squeezed the fat man's big cock a few times, and when , I suddenly pulled my pussy off his cock and took it into my mouth. I pinched his nipples with one hand and put the other hand into his anus. If I had a third hand, I would definitely have rubbed his balls, but I didn't, so I couldn't rub his balls . Even so, he quickly lost control. His legs trembled, his cock throbbed, and he shouted excitedly, pressing my head down onto his cock with both hands. One spurt, two spurts... his semen rushed into my mouth like brave warriors, only to be mercilessly dissolved by my stomach acid . I think they must have been very unwilling. However, a small portion didn't reach my stomach, luckily nestled between my tongue and mouth. But this wasn't their permanent refuge. When I forcefully sucked on the fat man's tongue, the remaining semen was drowned out by our saliva and lewd moans. It felt so good to fuck you. If it weren't for your ambition to become a prostitute, I'd be with my wife right now...

"That cheap slut, an actress but essentially a prostitute, got divorced and married you." This man looked at me, his
bloodshot reminiscent of a fluorescent light filament. His hands, gripping mine, trembled slightly. His penis was red,
not very hard, but still quite large.

I didn't say anything, not because I had nothing to say, but because I didn't want to. Sex is sex;
anything else is superfluous.

Fortunately, he quickly regained his composure and consciously stepped aside, allowing me to continue enjoying other men's large
penises, while he could use the time to recover his strength for the next round of sex. Actually, I quickly
forgot about the fat man's existence and what he said. After these men's penises finally gave out
, they washed their penises, wiped their mouths, fastened their belts, some put on their glasses, some lit cigars, and
one by one, they walked out of my brothel with their chests puffed out. I didn't rush to wipe away the semen and vaginal fluid from my cunt; instead,
I watched their departing figures with a kind of fascination. Perhaps this was the moment I became a prostitute for, and I waited for it
tirelessly , even to the point of being obsessed with it.

But the fat man didn't leave, or at least not as quickly. He waited until almost everyone else had left before
coming back to me. The bloodshot in his eyes hadn't subsided; after confirming everyone else was gone, they became even redder and
brighter. "

You're probably thinking, why can't I go to their construction site at night and fuck them, right?"
I said, inserting my fingers into my cunt and quickly pulling them out, letting the white, foamy liquid
flow down to my anus.

The fat man shuddered, opened his mouth wide, and frantically sucked on my cunt with his tongue,
like , making loud smacking sounds.

He didn't tell me why I couldn't go to the migrant workers' construction site at night, just as he ultimately didn't mention
divorcing his actress wife and marrying me, a prostitute.

[To be continued]

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