The old monk’s eyes gleamed with inner light as he fixed his gaze on Weiyangsheng and spoke with patient guidance: “It would be better, benefactor, to take advantage of your present youthful body while it remains that of a virgin, your vital essence undispersed and your yang energy abundant. With one stroke, sever that foul, sinful desire completely, and immediately take me as your master to enter the empty gate! This old monk is willing to be a mere stepping stone, a grindstone for your blade. If you dare make this great vow today, then after a hundred years when your stinking flesh has rotted away, looking upward you shall sit upon a lotus platform as a golden-bodied arhat; looking downward, your name shall never appear on the King of Hell’s register of oil cauldrons and seas of fire!” The old monk twirled his prayer beads, his eyes boring into Weiyangsheng as he asked coldly: “Benefactor, what is your decision?” Weiyangsheng slapped his thigh and burst into loud laughter: “Master, your discernment is clear! To tell the truth, the thought of taking refuge in the Buddhist order occurred to me even as a child; this stinking flesh of mine was always destined for the Dharma. What ruined it is that two immense wishes still remain unfulfilled in my heart, and I truly cannot bear to sever them with one stroke right now.” He leaned back, idly tapping his folding fan against his palm, a meaningful smile playing on his lips: “Besides, I have only just turned twenty this year, when my blood and energy are at their strongest and my body most robust. Better to let me descend the mountain first, fulfill the two fine matters that weigh on my heart, and thoroughly enjoy a few years in this flourishing world. When I have had my fill of pleasure and enjoyment, I shall naturally return to the mountain and allow you, Master, to perform the ordination on my head. That will not delay my attainment of enlightenment!” Hearing this, the old monk’s eyelids lifted, and two venomous, serpentine gazes sliced across Weiyangsheng’s face as he asked sinisterly: “May I ask, layman, just how great are the ambitions you harbor? Could it be that you wish to pass the imperial examinations with honors, rise rapidly in rank, and put your literary talents to use? Or do you intend to wield a three-foot sword at the frontier, earn a marquisate, and serve the court with loyalty?” Weiyangsheng shook his head like a rattle-drum and scoffed: “With my aspirations, I disdain such vulgar pursuits!” The old monk snorted heavily through his nostrils and asked gravely: “If you want neither fame nor office, then what do you seek?” Weiyangsheng suddenly straightened his back and declared proudly: “This wish of mine can be achieved with nothing but my own mortal body; it is no foolish daydream! To be frank, Master, my memory for study, my insight in meditation, and my inspiration in writing are all of the highest order in this vast world. The so-called literary luminaries of today are nothing but fame-seeking mediocrities! They rely on rote memorization and patchwork, stealing old essays and altering a few lines of stale poetry to dare proclaim themselves masters of a generation. In my eyes, they are all common frauds deceiving the world!” His interest aroused, he stood up, flicked his sleeve, and struck a dashing, romantic pose: “A true scholar who stands above the heavens and earth must read every rare book and miscellaneous learning under the sky, befriend every extraordinary person within the four seas, and visit every majestic mountain and great river! Then, retiring to his study’s warm chamber, he writes works that will be read and revered for generations. With good fortune, he may rank among the top three on the imperial list and handle a couple of great affairs for His Majesty; even if he dies of old age beneath a broken wall, he will have lived as an immortal romantic of the ages!” Carried away, he raised one finger and struck the table heavily: “Therefore, I have long inscribed half a couplet in my heart—the first line being: ‘To become the foremost talent in the world!’” The monk’s face twitched as he pressed: “And the second line?” Weiyangsheng’s lips moved, a bright spring-like flush appearing on his face, but he hesitated and did not reply at once. Seeing his expression, the old monk’s mouth curved in mockery: “Since you cannot bring yourself to speak it, why not allow this old monk to match the second line for you?” Weiyangsheng was taken aback, then patted his chest and laughed: “This is a secret thought I have kept hidden in my heart, never spoken to anyone…” The old monk said coldly: “If I guess wrong, I accept punishment; if I hit the mark, do not try to deny it!” Weiyangsheng treated it as a bluff and laughed loudly: “If Master can truly divine it, then you are a living immortal reincarnated; I shall kowtow and worship you without a single false word!” The old monk gave a cold laugh, did not even lift his eyelids, and said offhandedly: “Then the second line must be: ‘To sleep with the foremost beauty in the world.’” Weiyangsheng’s mouth fell open, his eyeballs nearly popping out of their sockets! He stood frozen like a wooden chicken for a long moment, then suddenly slapped his thigh hard, gasping and crying out: “Divine monk! Truly a divine being! These two lines are exactly what I have been turning over in my belly day and night, muttering through clenched teeth even in dreams! How could Master guess them so precisely?” The old monk sneered mockingly: “Has the layman never heard the saying—‘In a dark room with a guilty conscience, the divine eye is like lightning; whispers in the human world are heard in heaven like thunder’?” Weiyangsheng simply tore off his scholar’s cap, casting aside all pretense of refinement, and shamelessly leaned forward to confess: “By rights, such lustful talk should never sully a master’s pure ears in a sacred Buddhist place. But since you have seen through me at a glance, I shall hide nothing—To be honest, my heart for cultivating Buddhism and saving the world is as thin as window paper, yet the evil fire of lust burns within me daily, fiercer than oil poured on flames! Since ancient times, the four words ‘talented man and beautiful woman’ must be welded tightly together, inseparable! A top-tier talent like myself is destined to be matched with a peerless beauty; otherwise, how could those nation-toppling, city-captivating looks be wasted on crude and vulgar fools?” His eyes grew brighter as he spoke, spittle flying in excitement: “Setting aside my heaven-shaking, ghost-weeping talent, just look at my appearance and bearing—facing the mirror daily, even if Pan An or Wei Jie were resurrected before me, I would not yield an inch! Since Heaven has produced such an outstanding figure as myself, how could it fail to produce a soul-stealing beauty to accompany me?” He clenched his fist tightly and declared fiercely: “It is precisely because this evil fire cannot be suppressed that I, past twenty, have refused to betroth or marry, fearing that wedding some ordinary woman would waste this romantic body of mine! After I descend the mountain this time to wander the rivers and lakes, find the world’s finest beauty and consummate the affair, enjoying the pleasures of fish and water to the fullest and continuing the family line, then—my lifelong desires fulfilled and my flesh thoroughly satisfied—I shall sever worldly ties. Not only will I return to shave my head and become a monk, but I shall also bring my lovely wife into the empty gate with me, ascending to the other shore together!” He caught his breath, chin slightly raised, and looked at the old monk with raised eyebrows: “Master, what do you think of this plan of mine?” The old monk’s eye twitched as he crushed the ebony prayer beads in his palm with a “crack,” and said expressionlessly: “From this, it seems the layman refuses to suffer the slightest loss and blames the blind, muddled Creator for giving birth to you! Had He granted you a crippled, ulcerous, pus-dripping monstrous body in the womb, your remaining spark of spirituality might more easily have attained enlightenment. Throughout history, those afflicted with leprosy, epilepsy, or paralysis—whose flesh endured Heaven’s great punishments—were instead able to forge indestructible immortal bodies. That is the principle.” The old monk leaned forward, his gaze like a bottomless dry well, his tone growing colder: “When you were conceived, Heaven must have indulged you to excess, like foolish parents spoiling a wastrel—never willing to touch a single hair or speak a harsh word. Once this unruly youth grew up, relying on his fair skin and strong bones, he thought even the Heavenly King could not control him, committing every kind of evil in the streets! Only when he committed a heinous crime, had his trousers stripped and his buttocks beaten to pulp by officials, and was dragged to the execution ground to have his head severed, did he weep bitterly and blame his parents for spoiling him too much—alas, too late for regret!” He pointed a bony finger at Weiyangsheng’s chest: “This fair, tender skin and this lawless, spoiled temperament of yours—is that a blessing? Clearly it is a soul-hook stretching from the fires of hell! You claim to be the foremost talent and thus seek the world’s foremost beauty—never mind whether you can find such a rarity; how will you prove the word ‘foremost’? If you later encounter an even more captivating woman, will you not tire of the old and crave the new?!” At this, the old monk’s voice suddenly rose like thunder cracking across a plain: “Even if we take ten thousand steps back, suppose this number-one beauty’s temperament matches yours exactly and refuses to marry just anyone, insisting on waiting for the world’s number-one talent—if you can marry her openly and honorably, well and good; but what if she is already married to another? What then, benefactor?” The old monk suddenly stood up, his kasaya billowing without wind, towering over Weiyangsheng: “Benefactor, do you wish to ascend to heaven or descend to hell?! If you are determined to leap into the boiling oil cauldron, then descend the mountain and seek your number-one beauty; if you wish to rise to heaven and become a Buddha, cast aside those wanton, filthy thoughts at once and follow this old monk into the empty gate!” Faced with the old monk’s aggressive questioning, Weiyangsheng was not intimidated; instead, he leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and sneered dismissively: “Master speaks of ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’ as if from some vulgar street tale—hardly the words of a transcendent monk! Zen cultivation lies in self-realization; as long as this disciple stands his flesh-and-blood body in this red-dust world, he himself becomes the living Buddha practicing amid the world!” He glanced sideways, flicked open his folding fan with a “swish,” and grew more smug: “Even if this disciple is licentious by nature and commits some watery sins upon women’s bellies, at worst he merely smashes the chastity arch of those fake Confucian sages—surely the netherworld does not truly have several boiling oil cauldrons waiting to cook me?! These are nothing but ghost stories to frighten three-year-old children!” The old monk was not angered by this frivolous speech; instead, a cold smile tugged at his lips: “‘The virtuous ascend to heaven, the wicked descend to hell’—it does sound like empty street-corner talk. Yet you self-proclaimed mad scholars think you can leap beyond the rules and laws of this world; only the iron law of cause and effect, of reaping what you sow, cannot be escaped even if you grew three heads and six arms! The distinction between heaven and hell is exact in the unseen realm. Even if there truly is no heaven, the gentleman must still use it as a ladder toward goodness; even if there truly is no hell, people must still use it as a cleaver to fear evil!” The old monk raised one hand before his chest, his tone shifting from measured to grave, each word striking like a heavy drumbeat: “Since you dismiss the underworld as illusory, this old monk will not speak of reincarnation or retribution, but only of the present-life consequences in the life you are living! The ancients said: ‘If I do not violate another’s wife, another will not violate my own.’ Has there ever been one throughout history who escaped the palm of this saying? Whoever, against his conscience, toys with another’s wife or daughter—his own wife or daughter will sooner or later lose her virtue to another man! To break this karmic retribution, you must restrain your lustful heart in this lifetime and stay far from all adulterous deeds; if you dare commit evil, this clichéd retribution will surely fall heavily upon you!” The old monk slammed both hands on the table, leaning forward and staring into Weiyangsheng’s eyes: “Layman, do you wish to escape this cause and effect? If you wish to fall into the trap and die, then go seek your world’s foremost beauty; if you wish to attain a pure life, immediately cast aside those filthy thoughts and follow this old monk to achieve enlightenment!” #ClassicNewTranslationOfTheCarnalPrayerMat <img src="https://static2.fansone.co/images/f2802c78-f436-497d-b089-ad1bb8162816.avif" />

Classic New Translation of The Carnal Prayer Mat, Chapter 3

After bidding farewell to the Zen Master Gu Feng, Wei Yangsheng muttered incessantly along the way, grumbling nonstop: “What rotten luck! I’m just over twenty, with a fresh flower barely in bloom, yet he insists on urging people to shave their heads and cultivate, bringing misery upon themselves. How can there be such an unreasonable person in this world! Today I went to see him only because, as a renowned scholar turned monk, he must possess some extraordinary insights. I hoped to glean a bit of Zen wisdom to inspire my writing. Who would have thought he’d treat me with such cold disdain and even compose a turtle verse as a parting gift? How could I swallow this insult? I am a dignified seven-foot man; if I become an official in the future, I’ll govern the realm and rule over the people—how could I not even control my own wife? From now on, whenever I encounter a beautiful woman, I refuse to let the chance slip by. Even if I commit a few romantic indiscretions in secret, as long as I keep my household tightly sealed, what stray man could come to collect a debt? Besides, having married such a handsome husband, even if other men try to tempt her, she’ll likely turn a blind eye, and any affair of the red apricot leaning over the wall is surely impossible. That verse of his should by rights have been torn up and thrown in his face. Yet since we’ll meet again, without proof I couldn’t shut his foul mouth; I’ll keep it for now and, when I next embrace a beauty, go mock him thoroughly!” Having made up his mind, he took out the flowered paper with the verse from his sleeve, folded it into a square packet, and tucked it into his inner garment. Upon returning home, Wei Yangsheng immediately sent several servants to summon matchmakers from every quarter, proclaiming his desire for the finest beauty in the land. Born of a distinguished family and blessed with both talent and looks, every household wished to wed him, and every girl longed to be his wife. Once word spread, matchmakers arrived daily. For girls from ordinary families he could call in person; for those of respectable houses, to preserve reputation, meetings were arranged at temples during incense offerings or on outings to scenic spots, appearing as chance encounters while in truth allowing a clear appraisal. After viewing so many, countless young ladies and wives were left pining, yet none caught his eye. After days of fruitless effort, just as Wei Yangsheng grew disheartened, a familiar matchmaker approached and said, “From the looks of it, no ordinary girl is worthy of you. Only the daughter of Iron Door Daoist, named Yu Xiang, is a match made in heaven. Yet her father is exceedingly eccentric, refusing to let his daughter show her face or allow outsiders to view her; and you insist on seeing her in person—what can be done?” Wei Yangsheng asked curiously, “Why is he called ‘Iron Door Daoist’? And how do you know his daughter is beautiful? If she is, why forbid anyone to see her?” The matchmaker replied, “The old fellow is a renowned Confucian scholar, reclusive and aloof. With land and property, he needs nothing from others and has never made a single friend, shutting himself indoors to read all day. No matter who knocks, he never opens. Once a high official came to visit; after knocking for ages without even a response, the guest wrote a poem on the door and left in a huff. Two lines read: ‘Who knew the lofty scholar’s door was made of brushwood, yet the master’s door is of iron.’ Later, upon seeing these lines, the old man felt ‘Iron Door’ captured his spirit and adopted it as his sobriquet. He has no son, only this one daughter, beautiful as jade, peerless. She has read widely under her father’s personal tutelage and excels in poetry and prose. His household rules are strict: the young lady may neither visit temples to burn incense nor attend festivals; at sixteen she has never shown her face outside, and no matchmakers or gossiping women are allowed inside. Yesterday the old gentleman saw me passing and called out, ‘Are you a matchmaker?’ I answered yes. He invited me in, pointed to his daughter, and said, ‘This is my daughter. I wish to find a decent young man to marry her and care for me in old age. Help me find a good son-in-law.’ I mentioned your name. He replied, ‘I’ve heard of his literary reputation, but what of his character?’ I said, ‘The gentleman is mature beyond his years, flawless—save that he must see the lady in person before betrothal.’ At this the old man’s face darkened and he scolded, ‘Nonsense! Only the lean horses of Yangzhou are paraded for inspection; no proper maiden of a respectable house is displayed to strange men!’ Seeing his true anger, I dared not press further and withdrew. Thus I know this match cannot be made.” Wei Yangsheng pondered, “With no parents above or brothers below, once I marry, who will restrain me? Even if I watch her day and night, there will be times I must go out. This old man is so rigid—if I marry into his house, I need not worry; he will guard his daughter tightly. I could roam freely my whole life and the inner chambers would remain untroubled! Yet without seeing her myself, I cannot feel at ease; how trustworthy is a matchmaker’s tongue?” He then told the matchmaker, “By your account the match is excellent. Please find a way, even if only to let me glimpse her from afar; if she is passable, I’ll accept.” The matchmaker waved her hands. “That is quite impossible! If you cannot trust me, better to draw lots or consult an oracle; if the immortal says to marry, then marry; if not, let it be.” Wei Yangsheng said, “That is a plan. I have a friend skilled in spirit writing who is most accurate. I’ll ask him to divine, then reply.” The matchmaker agreed and left. The next day, after fasting and bathing, Wei Yangsheng welcomed his friend skilled in spirit writing. They burned incense, bowed, and he prayed silently: “I seek nothing else but the daughter of Iron Door Daoist, named Yu Xiang. Hearing she is peerlessly beautiful, I wish to take her as wife. Yet hearing is not seeing, so I ask the great immortal: if she is truly peerless in beauty, I shall wed her; if slightly lacking, I shall desist. I beg the immortal to reveal clearly, without ambiguous words that leave me guessing.” After four more bows he rose, grasped the planchette, and watched it move across the sand tray. Soon it wrote a quatrain: “First among powdered beauties, No need to doubt ghosts or gods. Only fear her allure teaches wantonness; At the crossroads of vice and virtue, seek carefully. Right, the first” Wei Yangsheng reflected, “The first two lines promise supreme beauty; yet the next plainly says ‘alluring countenance teaches lust’—has she already lost her virginity? Since it notes ‘the first,’ another verse must follow; let us see the rest.” The planchette paused, then wrote four more lines: “A woman’s chastity or wantonness cannot be altered, Yet it depends on the husband’s skill in managing the household. Shut the door against bluebottles, Whence would blemishes fly onto jade? Right, the second — inscribed by Hui Daoist” Recognizing “Hui Daoist” as the title of Lü Dongbin, Wei Yangsheng was overjoyed. Clapping his hands he laughed, “The Patriarch Lü is most experienced in wine and women; if he approves, she must be of the highest quality! The second verse clearly dispels my doubts, merely cautioning me to guard her well. With such a rigid father-in-law watching day and night, surely nothing can go amiss. The lines ‘Shut the door against bluebottles’ plainly mean the iron door is locked fast and no stray man can enter. I need doubt no longer!” He bowed in thanks to Patriarch Lü, then summoned the matchmaker and instructed, “The oracle verses are excellent. There is no need to steal a glimpse; simply go and propose on my behalf.” The matchmaker, delighted, hurried to Iron Door Daoist’s house and conveyed Wei Yangsheng’s sincere proposal. The Daoist frowned, “His initial insistence on seeing her shows he values beauty over virtue and is frivolous indeed! I seek a steady, upright son-in-law, not such a flighty fellow.” Determined to earn her fee, the matchmaker deployed her silver tongue: “The gentleman wished to view her not from lust, but fearing the girl might be frivolous or lack the fortune to be a proper wife. Now that he has learned of your strict household discipline and the young lady’s complete wifely virtues, he is fully reassured and has specially sent me to propose formally.” Convinced by her decorous words, the Daoist’s expression softened and he consented, choosing an auspicious day for the wedding. Though Wei Yangsheng trusted both the matchmaker and the oracle, never having seen the bride left him uneasy. Only on the wedding night, after the ceremony and being led to the bridal chamber, when he lifted the veil and beheld her clearly, did his anxious heart finally settle, overcome with joy beyond words. How to describe the bride’s ravishing beauty? A lyric bears witness: “Graceful she is, her whole face brimming with charm. Brimming with charm, her sorrowful look one could cup in the hands, her frown beyond imitation. Still fearing she is not bride material, how to embrace a waist so slender? How to embrace—soft as boneless, startling yet leaning close.” —To the tune “Recalling Qin E” And how to describe the nuptial bliss? Another lyric attests: “When starry eyes meet, shyness turns to longing; on the pillow peach blossoms open two petals. Though she tries to close fragrant lips, the tongue’s skill makes them bloom. When her coy cries cease, passion knows no bounds; her creamy breasts already glisten with amorous sweat. Opening four eyes to gaze at each other, two hearts hot as furnace coals.” —To the tune “Jade Tower Spring” Though Miss Yu Xiang’s beauty was matchless, she was sadly lacking in bedroom arts, inevitably disappointing her husband. Raised under strict family rules and with a prim, old-fashioned mother, she had never heard a single bawdy word nor seen any impropriety. The only books she read were Biographies of Exemplary Women and the Classic of Filial Piety for Women; every word she uttered ran counter to Wei Yangsheng’s romantic inclinations. Her every gesture and remark carried the air of an old pedant, so behind her back he dubbed her “Lady Pedant.” At the slightest flirtatious remark she blushed crimson and fled. Wei Yangsheng most enjoyed making love by daylight to clearly admire a woman’s private parts and heighten his lust. Several times he tried to pull down her trousers, but Yu Xiang shrieked and struggled as if being ravished, forcing him to desist in frustration. At night she complied reluctantly, lying passively as if resigned to fate, knowing nothing of amorous postures—only spreading her legs to receive him, refusing to move an inch. When he suggested “fire from across the mountain,” she protested it violated wifely duty; “pouring wax upside down” she called inverting the natural order. Even placing her legs over his shoulders required immense effort. At the height of pleasure she bit her lip, refusing to moan for his enjoyment; no matter how many times he called her “darling” or “precious,” she remained tight-lipped, mute as a statue. Seeing not a trace of wanton allure in her, Wei Yangsheng sighed inwardly, “It seems I must expend great effort to train her, transforming this jade maiden into a woman of desire.” #ClassicNewTranslationOfTheCarnalPrayerMat <img src="https://static2.fansone.co/images/3491be37-e25d-4860-aded-211d5ed7017a.avif" />

Classic New Translation of The Carnal Prayer Mat, Chapter Five

I was just being fucked hard by a rich second-gen on the hood of his Lamborghini. My husband was sitting in the driver's seat, thinking he was clever by trying to start the car to add some excitement for us. Unexpectedly, the engine roared with a loud bang, the car shook violently, and the second-gen lying on top of me got scared and came right on the spot… I was just starting to feel something when it suddenly stopped. My damn husband must have done it on purpose! The second-gen lost face and got furious, but he wasn't willing to let me go just like that. He pulled up his pants, stuffed me into the passenger seat, and insisted on taking me shopping at the mall. The engine roared, the Lamborghini sped off, and on the golden bull emblem on the hood, you could vaguely see a blob of white fluid… In the rearview mirror, my husband was left standing alone in the original spot, with a ball of toilet paper I had just used to wipe myself lying at his feet. Looking at the young and handsome face beside me, I thought to myself how hot-tempered young people are these days. Compared to him, his dad is much stronger. If it weren't for the three-pointed star emblem on the Mercedes hood being too uncomfortable last time, it wouldn't have been the son's turn to experience this real "car sex" first. In the rearview mirror, my husband was bending over to pick something up. He really "has manners"—even when leaving, he didn't forget to pick up the ball of toilet paper stuck with the second-gen's semen from the ground. The second-gen's dad is an old scoundrel who refuses to age in spirit. He usually likes to call his bootlickers around to drink and have fun with girls. My husband is one of those bootlickers. I heard they often play some game like "guess the object by smell". Do you think when the old guy smells this ball of toilet paper today, he'll be able to guess what it is? #SlutWifeDictatedDiary

SlutWifeDictatedDiary001

It was past 1 AM when I finally pushed open the door, carrying several heavy luxury shopping bags filled with today's spoils from shopping with “二代”. After entering, I didn't say much and went straight into the bathroom. The hot water washed away my fatigue and grime, but I lingered for a long time, lost in thought listening to the sound of the water. Outside the frosted glass, the bedroom light was still on. He was waiting for me, but I really had no energy to deal with him. “二代” had been messing with me in the nightclub restroom for a long time to make up for losing face in the afternoon. He must have taken something; his cock was as hard as a red-hot iron rod, pounding me until I cried out, and my lower belly still aches faintly. I just wanted to soak quietly by myself. After washing up and coming out, the bedroom was already dark, with only his phone screen glowing faintly. He seemed to be asleep, snoring lightly. I quietly climbed into bed, curled up with my back to him, and soon fell into a deep sleep. At 8 AM, the sunlight woke me. The space beside me was empty; I turned over and dozed off again. I finally woke up at noon. I got up slowly and went into the bathroom to sit on the toilet. The dirty laundry basket nearby was piled with last night's clothes, reeking of smoke and alcohol. That rose-red lace panties had been tossed on top, with visible traces of discharge on the crotch. That's strange; I distinctly remembered stuffing the panties at the very bottom last night. #SlutWifeOralDiary

Slut Wife's Dictated Diary Episode 002

In the morning, the soft flesh on my chest was being repeatedly kneaded by a pair of familiar big hands. I hummed drowsily, kicked my legs twice, annoyed that he was disturbing my sleep, and wanted to turn over and continue sleeping. The high-end silk quilt was kicked down to my ankles by me, and I habitually curled my white and tender toes. My husband's breathing suddenly grew heavy beside me. His eyes stared straight at my exposed feet as he flipped over and pressed down on me, sticking out his tongue to lick down my calf all the way to my toes. My husband is obsessed with women's feet. When we first met, he could get hard just by looking at my feet, and at every opportunity he would hold them in his arms to kiss and lick them endlessly. I am also skilled at using my feet to please men. Using my carefully maintained soft and tender feet to clamp a man's cock, sliding and stroking lightly, with flexibility no less than using hands. My husband praised me as a treasure all over, with my feet being the fifth sexual organ on my body. After licking my feet he started sucking my toes, making sounds of enjoyment from his mouth, making me feel like countless little bugs were crawling in my heart, and a wet, unbearable sensation began between my legs... #SlutWifeDictatedDiary

清晨，胸前那團軟肉被一雙熟悉的大手反復揉捏著。我迷迷糊糊地哼出聲，蹬了兩下腿，嫌他吵著我睡覺，想翻個身接著睡。 高檔真絲被子被我蹬到了腳踝，我習慣性地蜷了蜷白嫩的腳趾。 身旁的老公呼吸一下子粗了，他眼睛直勾勾盯著我露出來的雙腳，翻身壓倒我身上，伸出舌頭開始順著我的小腿往下舔，一直舔到我的腳丫。 老公對女人的腳痴迷得很。我們剛認識那會兒，他經常看著我的腳就能硬起來，一有機會就捧在懷裡又親又舔，愛得不行。 而我也很擅長用腳取悅男人。用過精心保養過的柔嫩腳丫夾住男人的雞巴，輕巧地滑動、撫摸，靈活勁兒不亞於用手。老公誇我渾身都是寶，腳更是身上的第五性器官。 他舔完我的腳又開始嗦我的腳趾，嘴裡還發出享受的聲音，搞得我心裡像有無數只小蟲子爬來爬去的，兩個腿之間就開始濕噠噠的感覺有些難耐…… #淫妻的口述日記

Slut Wife's Dictated Diary Episode 007

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Classic New Translation of The Carnal Prayer Mat, Chapter 3

Classic New Translation of The Carnal Prayer Mat, Chapter Five

SlutWifeDictatedDiary001

Slut Wife's Dictated Diary Episode 002

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