Ecstasy (1)
(i)
She rolled over, her snow-white thighs pressed against the quilt and bent into a beautiful arc. The heat of Taipei had left her vaguely glistening. I walked over to her and pulled her up against my chest, carefully wiping her down before putting on her clothes.
There was a moment when I wished she would open her eyes, maybe a hug, maybe just a look, it’s always better than the present, but I didn’t dare. I was afraid I would lose her forever.
I kissed her soft, sweet lips again and said goodbye. Her head hung to one side, her long hair spread out on the pillow like a black sunflower. I opened the window, letting the faint sweetness of the rooster’s fifth night scent dissipate, and then ran off to the west.
(A little)
In a trance, it seemed as if the clothes were all gone, followed by a heavy weight pressing down on my body, which had happened many times, I imagined a ghost pressing down on me, and recited the Buddha’s name in my heart, hoping that the ghost would hurry up and pass away. But the pleasure coming from my chest made me think it was just a spring dream. Who was he in the dream? I couldn’t put together an image in my mind, as if I was having sex with a stranger wearing a mask.
His prick was thick, long and powerful, and it seemed to have pushed up against his heart, burrowing and grinding underneath it. I tried to raise my hips to meet it, but couldn’t, and could only anxiously anticipate him hitting the itch. His hands were groping under my buttocks, as if trying to get me closer, his calloused palms, stroking with a different flavor, squeezing and pinching seemed to be more powerful.
I could feel him rubbing me, from my breasts up to my lower parts, back and forth repeatedly. For a moment I must have fallen asleep, no, I would have fallen asleep, was it a dream or not? Was it a butterfly was it a Chuang Zhou? Or was this just the beast of my mind?
I opened my eyes, the dawn was showing, the birds hanging on the windowsill were singing loudly and joyfully, what a dream, I think I will have an energetic day.
(ii)
She came back with him. I haven’t seen him, and he doesn’t look like much. He took her by the waist and entered the house intimately. I hid in the balcony and watched them through a gap in the curtains. Watched him passionately rip off her clothes, watched him remove her bra and panties, watched them make love in the light with ease.
I stared at her. Her brow was furrowed at times, her teeth gritted, her face rich with varied expressions, and I remembered last night, when it was just a wooden face, like a plastic beauty. Her legs were wrapped around the man’s waist, rocking her hips hard, and the man gasped loudly as the muscles of her breasts erupted in his fingers, their bright red tips dangling before my eyes.
The man was unconscious when I entered, she seemed to be somewhat conscious, I don’t know. Maybe I should have waited a few more minutes, maybe I purposely made her slightly conscious, I don’t know. Anyway, her eyes slowly closed, would she remember me? Or will she be oblivious as usual?
Her lower body was wet and red, the man’s semen was still left in her vagina, I pressed my heart and struggled to drill into it, thrusting hard, her face was calm, she seemed to be completely unconscious, I continued to ravage her until the end of the night.
(Second Form)
I woke up, the room is full of the smell of semen, no wonder the old man dizziness, the original old man last night too much sperm. She was really slutty enough, hee hee, I will issue a personnel order today, to transfer her to be the Secretary of the machine of the old man good. You can see the teardrops on her face, it’s not fake, she must be so fucking happy.
‘Are you crying?’ I deliberately asked her, she only vegetarian faintly said ‘nothing’, fuck, women will pretend, obviously cool crooked still do not admit, Laozi next time will let you soul to the ultimate happiness, fucking feathered immortal.
(ii)
I don’t think it was a dream, was it? He came in at the last minute with a sad look on his face. What was he sad about? I was the one who was raped by him. The acquaintance is still playing out in my dream, only I realize that the stranger in the mask is him, which makes me feel a little better, at least he’s not as vulgar as the vice president.
His anger could be felt by his violent thrusts. What was he hating, hating me? I try to stay awake, but my senses are slowly blurring, I know he’s still ramming, tearing my hair out, I want him to stop and let me have a good dream, but, but he’s so big, I don’t want him to stop.
Ecstasy (2)
(Accounting I)
‘You say you can’t use it, but you must have used it, right?’ Master did not answer, turned his face to the window, outside is the verdant grass, a few nurses pushing the hospital bed from there hurried past, that is the direction of the morgue. Master’s mouth did not know what to chatter, the corner of his eyes appeared a trace of tears. This was how he had been these past few years, any time he could go back to every point in his memory, his profound martial arts skills did not allow him to avoid the erosion of the years.
In martial arts novels, the cock-crowing incense is the incense used by the lower class, is it possible that the master is the disciple of the thief Tuo?
Nowadays, it doesn’t matter which school or school, I’m afraid that these martial arts have long been lost, and there are still people practicing these kung fu that can’t stop a gun? Master is too worried. But this thing less use of incense is right, it seems that the master must have some painful experience.
Is learning martial arts really just about strengthening your body? No, I’m going to steal from a thousand men at night, and I’m going to fucking reject poverty. Probably no one believes in martial arts masters nowadays anyway.
(Accounting II)
‘Why can’t it work?’ He pressed one after the other. ‘You must have used it.’ He said. ‘Of course, how else could you have? But I can’t say, son. That’s why, son. If I said it, all the good would have to go down the drain, that’s why.
I turned my face away from the window to avoid his question. Which one of those unlucky allies favored with a call and pushed to the morgue by the nurse, I’ll be next, right? You didn’t come today, alas, do you know me? After all these years, you won’t even suspect?
Well, what I remember, you went from long hair to short hair, from black hair to gray hair. And yet you only knew me as a friendly neighbor, a good old boy who could help you with the kids. Do you know that I sat beside you every night, scrutinizing you?
Ah, I love to pull back your breasts and carefully lick the bright red buds, letting them stand before my eyes, which reminds me of my mother and the lost love of my mother, and the rich, juicy peach always draws me to savor it.
Well, yours is always sound asleep next to him. He can’t make you happy, can he? I can make you happy, really. I’ve practiced kung fu. Look, it’s almost dawn and it’s still strong and virile. Look at me, look at me. You’re always peaceful and enjoy my caresses, aren’t you? You like to receive my jabs in your dreams, don’t you? Don’t you?
(Accounting III)
‘It’s just a few days away.’ The young doctor said. ‘Twenty years, twenty years? I remember what he looked like twenty years ago, how is it that all of a sudden he’s already going to finish his journey? He doesn’t know his secret, I found out the first few times, does he? That’s embarrassing footage, I can’t proclaim it without shame.
That time, I stole a mouthful of cold water, incense did not happen effect, he sneaked in, I hurried to close my eyes, he really like a cat, in my body grinding, make me itchy, but I do not dare to make a sound, and do not dare to open their eyes, for fear that he suddenly took out the knife and weapon.
He’s a gentle man, isn’t he? He always puts his thing in gently and then moves slowly.
I have a lot of secretions, so he should know that I’m enjoying his tenderness too, right? But he pretends not to know, or maybe he really doesn’t know, I don’t know. Maybe it’s for the best, I don’t want to ruin what’s there.
Through my vagina, I knew how thick it was, but I could only mentally picture its shape, its color, imagine it dripping with my slutty juices and standing tall. I was slutty, I knew it. From him, I know.
Ecstasy (3)
(speaking from the top)
Why the fuck do we have to start with me? I don’t even play a supporting role in the story. Why do I have to show my face? I’m just using my fucking privilege to play with girls, it’s not a big deal, I’m not playing with you guys.
(speaking from the top)
I mean, as soon as you start something, you can’t stop like you’re on drugs. I waited anxiously for midnight to come every day, which was the happiest time of the day. I could show off my eight-step cicada-catching lightness to my heart’s content and run through the darkness of the night.
People are inferior, as soon as you start to walk you get impatient to crawl slowly and when you see a short wall you unconsciously jump over it.
That night should be something, I just scurried up, I glimpsed two watchful team members over. They wiped their eyes, probably thought they had blurred, after all, where in these days such a character as Tim Liao? I ambushed on the roof for a long time, and finally found a chance to flip to another dark alley.
That’s when she showed up. Judging by my professional eye, she probably wasn’t the one I was going to go for, but she was so pretty that my instincts reminded me of my unhappy mother. She was an unhappy office worker, wasn’t she? She went upstairs, and I waited for her to turn on the lights, then leapt onto her balcony.
She threw her torso into the sofa, straightened her legs, braced herself with both hands back, tilted her head back, and her long, shiny black hair poured down like a waterfall, a moment I don’t think I’ll ever forget. I remember the moment her hair fell, the little bell hanging on her ear, seemed to ring, of course, that was my illusion, but in the days to come, the sound it made in my dreams, but tightly clasped my heartstrings.
For a moment, Master’s words ‘not to be used’ surfaced in his mind, but wasn’t this the right time to use it?
I took out my incense and sprayed it into the room. The scent had a faintly sweet odor, like the dark scent of my mother’s hair. I rolled over and entered the room, and she was already unconscious.
It was a traditional style, sack-like nightgown with a corded white lace skirt and satin fabric that shimmered silver in the night. Bare arms went through the thin shoulder straps and rested across the top of the paddy. There were two cowpox scars on her arms; she was a country child, wasn’t she?
City life must have exhausted her, I think.
It took some effort to free her from her clothes, she had shiny black hair and of course thick and curly pubic hair on her lower body, I was reminded of the classic girls in PLAYBOY, shaving them in a 1-shape would have been a good choice, her man would have felt the same way.
Her eyes are rolling around under her eyelids, they are part of the slumber period, I don’t know if she is slumbering, or if she has been knocked out by the incense, the master said that its potency is two hours, that’s four hours, but I don’t know how long this stuff has been in there, maybe only an hour, who knows?
The lower abdomen has always been the center of a man’s attention, and I was certainly no exception, I parted her legs, the hairy hair extended all the way down to her labia and even further down, and the area where her legs met was a dark red color, she may have to wear a little make-up in a bikini, but it didn’t detract from her beauty.
I pressed down on her so that she and I were all pressed together, and maybe she would remember my body odor, and at some later date, perhaps the senses suddenly awakened, and she would subconsciously remember this aphrodisiacal dream?
(speaking from the top)
Since retreating to Taiwan, I’ve gotten rid of Palm’s pestering, and I should thank the communists for that shot, which happened to hit Palm’s heart, and he only had time to leave a sentence, which I didn’t hear clearly anyway, as I didn’t want to be a thief for the rest of my life anyway.
But fate has always been such a tormentor that it made me see her. I always wonder what I would be like today if I hadn’t seen her. Maybe I would have a lot of children and grandchildren around me now; ahem, I don’t know, maybe I would be in jail eating food!
Anyway, she just walked right into my heart, and the heart is the breasts, and she makes my heart ache night after night, so I’m going to make sure I pull her breasts apart and see if her heart is made of meat. I’m going to get her no matter what, and I’m going to volunteer.
I once told him never to use chicken incense, but my master told me that I should use it more often, ‘This is the way to get rich’ he said. It’s funny, isn’t it, a hundred and eighty degree turnaround in less than three generations.
Her man was lying on one side, naked, and so was she. They were cuddling, and it made me uncomfortable.
I raised my foot and kicked him aside, and he didn’t even dare to breathe, the only one under the ecstasy. She, on the other hand, slept as before. With trembling hands, I stroked over her body, expecting her to respond for me, but no. She just lay still, not even snoring. In fact, I knew that she couldn’t respond at all, it was just the wanting inside her.
(speaking from the top)
He didn’t come to the hospital that day, so I had to stay with him at his bedside. He wanted to pee, and the nurse couldn’t spare the time, so I had to take the urinal from under the bed for him. He was a little embarrassed, pulling his pants pockets tight and smiling at me, in fact, should not I be shy? Twenty years, he has seen all my body parts, in my inside also do not know in and out a few times, this time but shy people answer, really call people angry and funny.
In fact, I am also full of nervousness, twenty years of day and night portrayal of things, finally can personally touch, but also to give themselves an account.
I pulled down his pants and stared at the thing that I had once desired, now hanging limply to the left, still huge but no longer virile. His pubic hair was a little grayer, so it seemed that he still hadn’t escaped the ravages of time.
I leaned over and held his prick, it bucket jumped, actually swelled up, I was a little bit of a trance, years of desire, it seems to be realized in this moment, I let it stay in the palm of my hand, by its slow expansion, until it is fully erect. He lowered his head without making a sound, tears appeared in the corners of his eyes, the corners of his mouth continued to twitch, I know he wanted to say sorry, but he did not say it after all.
(Speaking from the top)
The vice president had been drooling over me for a long time, but I didn’t think he would reach for me in the office. I’ve heard a lot of fancy words from men, what matters is whether or not they can live up to their promises. He’s not so bad, last time he groped my ass twice, he got an extra 2,000 on his paycheck this month, like today, when he pressed me to his desk and kissed me, so I’m afraid it won’t go up to 10,000?
What concerns me more is that lately I have been having a lot of sex dreams at night, and it’s not like I’m having sex dreams, my labia always feel bloated, and I shouldn’t be having them if I haven’t had sex lately. I don’t think so! Is not in the dream, their own poke and get, alas, really ashamed of death, all blame that dead ghost, to when he was discharged from the army?
Yesterday was so strange, how did I fall asleep like that? But that dream really made my soul fly up to the sky. If there is such a gifted man in the world, I can abandon everything and follow him.
Ecstasy (4)
(Woman with spread thighs I)
He entered the room already smelling of alcohol and not his usual svelte self, was this the man I knew? I began to wonder if I had made the right choice. He roughly tore off my clothes, then spread my legs and got down to watch my bottom. I shyly clench my thighs, but he pulls them apart even harder, as if he were a beast eager to feed.
I don’t know why he was so eager to view my lower parts, perhaps simply because they had been wrapped in the bottom of layers of clothing for so many years that it mystified him, or perhaps because he wanted to confirm whether I was a virgin or not, I don’t know.
I obediently let go of my reserve and let him look straight at me. He was panting heavily with excitement, his hot breath overflowing at the base of my legs, the kind of breath that stops you from tingling and steaming. I didn’t dare squirm because I wasn’t a slut, I was a virgin and I was only eighteen.
(Woman with spread thighs II)
I them put in a figure eight, she has little pubic hair, only concentrated near the pubic bone, the top of the labia is the most dense place. The vaginal opening was slightly open, wet and moist, I don’t know if it was natural secretion or the liquid left over from the sex I had just had, I was a little jealous, but there was nothing I could do about it.
There seemed to be endless suction there, luring me to ride inside. Her secretions were copious, and I had to wipe them off from time to time to keep them from leaking onto the sheets. He was still lying in the corner of the bed, his breathing was fine and long, this nasty guy, who married her into the family, but couldn’t give her a happy life, while I, the one who could give her a happy life, had to rely on this ecstasy to be close to her, God is really unfair.
I kick him in the side and he rolls over, still snoring loudly, and I make up for it by giving him another kick and he finally falls out of bed. You’re happy to be less of a nuisance, aren’t you? Today I’m going to shoot my passionate cum, full to the brim, into your womb, and then you’ll have a baby with my blood in it, that’s proof that I love you, do you feel it rolling?
That’s my passion for you.
(Woman with spread thighs III)
I hate it when he pulls my thighs apart, he is always sniffing there like a dog, as if there is some kind of delicacy there, and my legs are sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore, sore. But this is his favorite position, I have to please him, because the personnel office will close the books tomorrow, did not let him have enough, I’m afraid that the raise will have to be delayed for another month, I have to endure, endure, endure.
Why he doesn’t fondle my breasts, I don’t know. In fact, I think my breasts are the most beautiful part of me, as white as they should be, as red as they should be, and nipple licking and kissing pleases me even more, but men are strange, always focusing on that dark place, I don’t think it looks good there, and it tastes very heartfelt, but men are always the ones who are odorless, no exceptions.
He finally broke in and I had to change positions, yes, let him come in from behind so he would be satisfied and leave quickly, I was so tired and I wanted to get a good night’s sleep.
(Woman with spread thighs IV)
Her sleeping posture is very ugly, always like to spread her legs, like a plastic doll in a sex store, I like to see her bend her legs, lying on the plopping bear to sleep steadily, that will remind me of many warm little stories. Today she is wearing a black cut-out panties, like the kind sold in the love store, this must be her horny man to buy her, bastard guy, to a pure girl into what kind of bad.
I don’t like her lying there motionless, but what can I do? That’s the thing about ecstasy, it can’t make her unconscious and awake at the same time, just like you can’t make a woman demure and obscene at the same time, that’s what it means, isn’t it?
I took off the chaps and turned her onto her side, the curve from her waist to her hips was the most beautiful thing about her, it was a smooth line with not a flab or a wrinkle in it. Stroking them was like stroking a Ferrari, you could feel tasteful, classy and expensive.
Eventually I entered her, and I don’t know why. I didn’t necessarily want to fuck her, but I couldn’t help myself, as if that was my purpose, who knows? That might just really be my purpose, but deep down, there was a vague feeling that I was falling into a terrible trap, was this why Master had warned ‘not to use it’?
I don’t know.
(Woman with Spread Thighs V)
What the fuck do you care if I like to smell a woman’s pussy? I just fucking love to smell fucking women. I’ve smelled every woman in this office. Not that spinster, of course. Is she even a woman?
To be honest, I’ve always written wherever I’ve wrenched, without a plan, so please don’t expect too much from the story so you won’t be disappointed.
Hee! Brother Quasi is one of the disappointed ones, I can assert.
Ecstasy (5)
(False phase I)
She lay there like a wax statue, her crystalline nudity in the light, inciting my desire. Can a woman only attract a man with a physical handout, or does a man just expect a physical handout from a woman? I don’t know. All I know is that at this point in time, I must bend down to play with her, to appreciate her, to savor her, and through this ritual I can truly possess her.
But the sexual pleasure was after all only my unilateral fantasy, a false appearance that I had deliberately created. She kept her usual silence in response to my ravages, or perhaps it could be said that she was deprived of even the right to silence by the ecstasy. Her wooden face seemed to be protesting against my roughness, or hopeless indifference.
Is this my love? Is it the destiny of an ecstasy user to love a woman without a real soul?
Do I love the illusion I’ve created? Or can I not bear the harsh reality that follows the illusion? What is reality? Isn’t reality also an illusion?
I gently placed my prick into her moistened lower body, closing the distance between us inch by inch, and I held the warm female body close, but felt her soul growing farther and farther away from me.
(False phase II)
I can feel the energy pulling away from me in dribs and drabs, and I have to grip my palms tightly to feel alive. In fact, I know that even a tighter grip in my palm will no longer hold anything now, so maybe I’m just looking forward to it, to something that I don’t really know is going to happen? Maybe it’s the death that’s coming? I don’t know.
Her shadow turns over in her mind. I am the zither across your lap to the night to open my quite show waiting for the tenderness of your fingers. This is the poet’s experience, but I am not good, fantasy is just a kind of false appearance, I fantasize her curvilinear pleasure, fantasize her open clothing expect my caress, but those are, after all, a mirror. I can’t let her know the truth, but deep down, I long for her to know the truth, this is a great tragedy of the human sea, right?
My prick, no, my cock, puffed up slowly, fractionally, in her warm, long heart; it had never been so real in years, and she was finally holding it in her waking state, even though she didn’t know the truth, but, but, I was content.
In that moment, I wondered what she was thinking as she let it linger in her palm, staring at it as if she too was remembering something, she wouldn’t know, would she? Maybe she already knew? I don’t know. I didn’t dare to look up at her, I was afraid that my eyes would give away my secret, that’s my sadness, I could only let her see the everlasting falsehood, and for her, that’s happiness, right?
(Falsehood III)
How can you call me a spinster? The truth is hidden behind falsehoods. How can you know what’s the truth if you don’t take off my clothes?
(Falsehood IV)
True or false, I can’t tell anything apart. Would I fall in love with him if he was real? No, I’d still be moving up, that’s my most important job right now, and I can’t let obstacles stand in my way. So everything is fake, even if he is real, I have to let go.
In my dream, he stokes my fire, I squirm restlessly but with no strength, and it’s as if there’s a monster scurrying in and out of my vagina, and I’m trying to pull at it, strangle it around the neck and neck, and make it lie still, but it still keeps on scurrying until it finally tires out, and withdraws of its own accord, like a rotting leaf.
And then I wake up and look out the window at the birds singing, excited and happy, and I think that maybe this is all really a dream, a pleasant and anxious dream, and I, I have to meet like tomorrow and face the reality, uh, maybe.
(Falsehood V)
That’s fine, I say to myself again and again, let’s all take our secrets to the grave, maybe that’s the best solution, I don’t know.
It’s hard enough for people to live, so why go after the truth or the phantom? Who can tell the difference between truth and falsehood? He’s tired of living, and I’m not easy either. This is the pain of the one who holds the truth. Maybe death is also a relief for him, why be obsessed?
It’s just that my dreams, which can only ever be dreams, can never be real again. Maybe the eternal dream is the eternal happiness?
Ecstasy (6)
(Love and Death I)
Holding down the longing that filled me, I sped in the opposite direction of her place. I had to find a place where I could calm myself and settle my thoughts down. I dragged her shadow with me as I ran through the darkness of the night, she showed a quiet face at times that darted through my mind, over roofs and jumped over ponds, she remained steadily calm, was that my love? Is that my love?
But can my love still exist without the ecstasy? Love is never more than a one-sided wish, the fragrance makes the illusion become real, but also makes the fact seem to become a fiction. Perhaps, it was a dream after all, an ecstasy-style dream, and I, too, was caught in the ecstasy, as she did.
(Love and Death II)
I took her hand and she didn’t shrink back. They were soft, delicate hands, I knew that. But at the moment they were cold, and the chill traveled from my fingertips, to her palm, and she shivered as if she had anticipated my death.
I wanted to tell her that I loved her, but I knew that the time was not right for me to do so, and God would never let me fulfill my wish, and I loved you became a long sigh. She fell down, listening carefully to my sigh, tears dripping on my left cheek, she whispered: I know, I know. What did she know? Did she know that I loved her, or did she just hear my sigh?
I closed my eyes, the faint sweet scent of her hair still seemed to linger, a burst of it flew back and forth through me, goodbye, my love, goodbye.
(Love and Death III)
I see him in my dreams, but he’s not in them, I know that. So the birds protest loudly on the windowsill and the hot sun shines hard on me.
I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe I should have gotten a security company or something to safeguard myself from the abuse, but then again, I was happy to accept his touch, maybe it was becoming a form of inertia too, or like an opiate that I was addicted to, I don’t know.
Does pleasure without passion produce love? I don’t know. But I do know that love can be made complete through sex, and that, perhaps, this is a biological necessity, a kindness and thoughtfulness on the part of the Creator.
I let myself lie flat on my back in the sunlight, and the searing light, through my thin nightgown, exploded into layers of heat inside me, rolling around my body, and I squinted, imagining that he was the peeking sunlight, raging gently and hotly over my body, and then the whole sky seemed to come down so heavily, pressing down into the wet swamp, that I couldn’t tell if it was me or him, deep, crawling through the swamp, struggling in the muck.
(Love and Death IV)
I know it, I know it. But I’m not sure you know. Your hands have loosened, those big, warm hands that once caressed your body, no longer able to lift them. Does love end in death? Or does love begin to unfold after death? I really don’t know.
But I know that in your sighs there is your love. You won’t be in your dreams, but you’ll come back to them, I know it.
This article doesn’t seem to be read much, is it time to stop?
I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to do that! Brother so-called short and exquisite place, I think it must be that a few lines of poetry, but it is a pity that it is picking up people’s teeth, and the rest of the big and inappropriate place, that is my failure, shame, shame, which reminds me of the story of Wang Xi Zhi.