Chinese boys, I think, are more repressed sexually from childhood. The influence of morality and social customs. I’m tired of reading the rough and clumsy sexual descriptions on the Internet, in my short life course, I have experienced countless sexual misery, but also many wonderful sexual experiences, I want to be the most authentic record, and share these secret gardens with you. Will you listen?
The first sleep over happened when I was 13 years old, in my first year of junior high school, and well it didn’t seem to phase me too much, just that I have been into the black secret desire of masturbation ever since, until now. For the first year or two I seemed to not let go of my growing cock night after night, and it was only after the milky semen splattered shamelessly on any wipe I could find that I was able to go to sleep contentedly with the momentary dizziness that followed ejaculation.
My tender little pink bamboo penis was always stubbornly erect all the time, no matter what the occasion was. I remember when we boys on the mainland did not have the opportunity to wear triangular underpants, we were wearing shorts made of thin fabric with a large open crotch, once an erection, the penis from the side of the leg of the pants, straight on top of the pants, holding up a side of a small tent, there is no place to hide, you have to use your hands to press it close to the thighs.
The direct consequence of this is that when I walk down the street, or talk to a woman of slight beauty I have to put my hand in my left pants pocket in a dashing manner to hide my throbbing manhood. And now I still keep my hand in my pants pocket when I talk to people and walk. Also, I was saddened to realize that nowadays, when I am fully engorged and hard, my penis actually slants to the upper left and is no longer straight. This is a common phenomenon in my generation, where we all have a strong “crooked machine gun”.
“Fantasy”, what a wonderful word, thank God for giving me the wings of indulgence to climb to the peak of orgasm again and again. My world was full of naked women with snow-white flesh, always so warm and submissive, playing all the roles I longed for them to play.
In the classroom, beautiful female students, how many times lying on the desk in the summer afternoon under the bright light, I unlocked their young clothes, such as opening a book of green temptation, their such as cherries, such as newly peeled chicken head, such as the young pearl fruit milk, such as the first bloom after the rain bamboo shoots as fresh, smooth, and a grasp of a small small breasts ah! How many times have my shivering hands twisted the tips of those tiny little nipples out of their reddish areolas, and how many times have I twisted them out of their watery, dreamy moans and passionate feelings? I miss the flurry of chalk dust that flooded our youthful bodies and helpless desires like snow, and once gone, we never looked back.
On the street brushing past the flamboyant, heavily made-up voluptuous young women, I so roughly from behind to hold you, as you wish to press on the roadside railings, street windows. I like to take your blouse off at the waist, freeing your slender bare arms, stretching out into the clear blue sky, as your beauty flows. I can’t wait to squeeze your full, heavy breasts from the bottom up until they pop out of your bra like rabbits, twisting and turning into flat pancakes of pleasure on the cold railings and smooth windows.
I like to lift your long skirts, short skirts at will, pants, panties down to the bend of the knee, that dazzling white, that upturned buttock mound, that enchanted buttock-side dimples full of sunshine, full of the tide of people raging and rushing lust. The endless long street, the endless plump breasts and beautiful buttocks, arranging my endless lance stroke, the blooming double mound buried in my endless sperm fountain gushing. Forgive me, embrace me, bear me, cater to me… my goddess!
The long green stone alley, the drizzle of Jiangnan, the murmuring swallows, my plain and gentle girl, your long braid hanging over your shoulder, your black cloth skirt, your small cloth shoes lightly stained with soft mud, your white socks, how fortunate to be able to gently caress your graceful ankle bend. Pavilion meandering under the oil-paper umbrella, bright eyes and white lips, I would like to be a swallow, only perched on your white shirt after the slightly rumbled breast country; I would like to be the wind, only to taste your fragrant virgin red lips; I would like to be a green whip, only to take over your soft and full of limbs. Throughout the ages, we have only walked hand in hand in the rain of Jiangnan, we have only pressed our skin against each other’s, we have only kissed each other’s cold, wet lips…
Youthful maiden, like a fire maiden, why do we always meet the noisy and wild dance floor. My eyes grow on your white, fleshy thighs under your sexy skirt, your plump ass under your rough jeans, and your breasts bumping all over the place under your tight short dress. Our young, ardent bodies tugged and fell into each other. In the wild dance, our chests pressed against each other, rubbing tightly, your youthful erect pointed nipples, through the thin shirt, knocking on my heart and soul; you must also be able to feel my youthful majesty, wildly hitting your forgetful uplifted pubic mound, passionate pubic mound, wet pubic mound, we can’t refuse the intercourse.
Yes, we were naked, and in the midst of the maddening crowd, the maddening music, we were making love. Your fiery blooming vessel whacked my hundred-percent refined essence, the young air just smelled fishy and salty, our bodily fluids were everywhere, and we were like no one else. I swear that this rushing fountain of fluids will fill your womb and you will never be able to escape my prick.
Gorgeous women in movies, TV, magazines, innocent actresses, in the stories I direct, you are my indulgent catharsis as always, my abuse as always. Foaming round bathtubs, speeding sports cars, fragrant soft beds, unoccupied elevators, you are my playmates, my teachers, my slaves. You make me uncontrollably hard over and over again, my sword flying, splitting that ripe peach, the sticky juice drowning me topless. My semen endlessly irrigates your red lips, your slippery vagina, your hidden asshole.
(“Sword sharp from sharpening out”, my pink slender little strip of meat, in the furnace of countless meat, exercise friction into now such a sword body dark and thick, veins exposed, foreskin jerked up the glans red up huge, killing gas.
(My women have measured it with their hands, their mouths, their vaginas, in full erection, held in two folded hands, with the entire glans and a small section of the column still out; in their vaginas, my ferocious thrusts always touch their soft uterine walls, causing them to spasm and orgasm).
I am Fu Chai, I am Emperor Tang, I am Lu Bu, I am Wu Sangui, our love juices flow, our moans ebullient, our bodies flutter, O world of a thousand generations! You cannot be spared!
I actually spent my entire middle school years in a trance of sexual fantasies. I had an unprecedented desire for women, but I could only secretly fantasize about it. About love was limited to my crush on a pretty girl in my class, and I remember that my deep-seated love for her led me to always steal her class notes just to have her handwriting; to write some warm compositions and falsely ask her to critique them; and the most over-the-top behavior was that I always took advantage of the fact that no one was aware of it to find her bike in the school’s parking shed, obsessively sniffing and kissing the cushions to discover even a little bit of her scent.
Sexual repression and the spread of desire to make me day-to-day anxiety (but my academic performance has been very good, junior high school senior high school when my total score in the small southern city where I grew up ranked first, it is incredible), I can not avoid leaking on the peeping desire. I dare to peep into the women’s toilet, in fact, at most can only see half of the white patter of the buttocks, but the pattering sound of peeing and peeing, like the spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River haunts me, and always makes me happy to look for the best peeping toilets.
The women’s bathhouse was also my goal, but it was very difficult, around the public bathhouse of the unit where my parents worked, I racked my brains, climbed the wall over the eaves and went to the roof to peer down through the glass, because of the water and glass, I could only see the white silhouettes of the people below. The windows of the bathhouse were facing south, facing an open space, which I could only describe as lustful, and in the winter, when it got dark earlier, I lay on my back under the window edge, peeking out from time to time and looking in.
I lurked for many days, and finally, once the steam inside was probably too hot, someone lifted the window upward a crack, and I saw it. A row of faucets, the women were bathing sideways to the window, and because there were so many of them, they were sharing a faucet with two or three people. The sound of my heart beating then, I can still recall it clearly now.
Near the window was a woman of about thirty, who I still remember as having a decent figure, with thick pubic hair that, when wet with water, covered the roots of her thighs in darkness. The breasts were kind of shoot shaped, plump and bulging underneath, making the nipples strangely upturned and not very large.
She liked to wash with her back to everyone, facing the window, just so I could see the full picture clearly, but it also made me so scared that I was afraid she would find out that I only dared to look closely while she was bending over to wash her vagina, while I had to shrink back when she washed her upper body and breasts.
My vision was filled with clumps of wet, soggy pubic hair, as if they were water plants underwater, and pairs of jiggling breasts, whose faces I didn’t even bother to look at. Until I was spotted and someone screamed, I was terrified and fled home and worried the whole time, wondering if I had been recognized. But then I didn’t hear anyone mention it, but I’ve never dared to go back since.