Of all evils, lust is the foremost

Wei Yangsheng’s lips curled into a cold smile. With a “shua” he snapped his folding fan shut and struck it heavily against his palm, his burning gaze meeting the old monk’s: “Master, your line of reasoning is indeed watertight. But this talk of karmic retribution is nothing more than a trick to frighten ignorant villagers. Only by painting it in blood and gloom can you cow those illiterate fools. Yet when you try to debate logic with a clear-minded scholar like myself, it falls apart completely!” His debating spirit ignited, he raised his chin with animated flair, his words growing ever sharper and more cutting: “Though the Way of Heaven is stern, it still shows tolerance toward all things in the world. True, many who indulge in lust and debauchery meet swift retribution, but look back at the timeless tales of talented scholars and beautiful ladies—every hero is dashing and unrestrained, every heroine tender and affectionate. If Heaven were truly busy every day tallying these romantic affairs and settling accounts for every liaison, how would it differ from a brothel pimp? Would that not be absurd!” At this clever point, Wei Yangsheng could not help clapping his hands and laughing, his face full of cunning and arrogance: “Heaven has its own rules. Those who murder and pillage, who commit atrocities against nature, will sooner or later suffer divine punishment—that is an iron fact. Using this principle to urge goodness and deter evil is more than sufficient. But you, Master, are still unsatisfied, insisting on dragging the pleasures of men and women into this karmic framework. Why go to such lengths?” The old monk, seeing his glib and eloquent manner, did not grow angry but let out a cold snort through his nostrils: “According to you, then, there truly exist cheap tricks where one can steal another’s wife or daughter and escape unscathed? Heaven’s net of karma has always been wide-meshed yet never lets a single fish slip through. Let me tell you plainly: from ancient times to the present, not one person who violated another’s wife or daughter has ever escaped retribution! The history books are filled with it in black and white, and common folk pass the tales down by the thousands upon thousands.” The old monk lowered his eyelids, his fingers spinning the prayer beads with a clicking sound, then suddenly chuckled and spoke slowly: “Patron, listen to this principle of mine.” “When men out there take advantage of others’ wives and concubines, they can’t wait to stretch their necks three feet long and boast to everyone of their skill and good fortune. They slap tables in taverns and cross their legs in teahouses, terrified the world might not know what a bargain they struck. Why? Because they are happy for people to know—it’s a fine way to gild their reputation.” The old monk paused, pressing the beads onto the table, his voice suddenly sinking: “But what if retribution falls upon their own heads? Their wife is seduced away, their daughter’s virtue stolen—do you see them beating gongs or drums? Do they go around telling everyone, ‘My wife ran off with another man’? Bah! They would rather sew their mouths shut and plug their ears, silencing every witness. Why? Because they cannot bear the shame! They can only swallow their broken teeth and, if they cannot stomach it, kill the offender and then slit their own throats.” The old monk narrowed his eyes and tapped the table with his bony fingers: “So, Patron—you only see those libertines strutting about, thinking Heaven is blind and retribution has failed. Little do they know, retribution has long arrived, only it strikes in secret, in their own inner chambers, upon their beloved daughters and dearest wives. They dare not speak of it, cannot speak of it; to speak would be stabbing themselves in the heart.” “And those adulterous women, those eloping daughters? They deceive their spineless husbands and foolish fathers, keeping the men in the dark like living cuckolds, while the men, after wine and meat, beat their chests and brag to their rascally friends: ‘In all my life of debauchery and plunder, have I ever seen the slightest retribution?’” At this, the old monk suddenly threw back his head and laughed, his laughter like an owl’s cry echoing through the empty meditation hall. “Retribution is never thunderbolts or flames striking on the spot. It is an account Heaven keeps for you. Today you take someone’s wife; tomorrow someone will take your daughter. Today you destroy someone’s family; tomorrow someone will destroy yours. Only you dare not settle this account, nor can you—until one day retribution knocks at your own door and you suddenly realize: Heaven has never been blind.” The old monk stopped laughing, resumed spinning his beads, and his voice returned to its earlier calm: “Not to mention that true physical adultery is not the only way to incur a debt of lust! The moment a man’s heart stirs with lecherous fire, his wife and daughters at home sense it in their spirits and unknowingly send their souls wandering!” The old monk lifted his eyelids slightly, his gaze slicing across Wei Yangsheng’s face like a knife: “For instance, some men marry wives who are coarse and heavy-featured. At night, rolling in bed, the man looks at that ugly flesh and feels no vigor at all, his mind desperately fantasizing about the pretty young woman he glimpsed on the street by day. Thus he treats the ugly wife beneath him as that wanton wench and seeks his pleasure.” The old monk paused, his voice dropping lower: “But this fool never imagines that the ugly wife beneath him likewise despises him as an impotent wretch. Eyes closed, her mind is replaying the fair-faced young man she dallied with by day, pretending the man atop her is someone else as she pleasures herself!” His beads struck the table with a sharp click, making the candle flames flicker: “Such filthy matters of sharing a bed yet dreaming separate dreams—how many households perform them nightly behind their bed curtains? Though the outer skin of chastity remains unbroken, in truth, where is there any chaste and loyal wife left?!” The old monk narrowed his eyes, a mocking curve at his lips: “Is this not the first worldly retribution visited upon a lecher? Before the body moves, the mind is already soiled; before the flesh is breached, the soul has already flown. This is retribution!” “If even a fleeting thought brings such sinister backlash, what if you truly break down the door?! Do you truly believe all the gods and Buddhas are blind, that the Creator will allow you to ravage at will while still protecting the chastity of your own wives and concubines, letting them uphold a lifelong memorial arch of virtue for you?! Every word I speak tears at your flesh—is this mere rhetoric?! Weigh it yourself, layman!” Stung by this venomous thrust, Wei Yangsheng’s face burned, yet he stubbornly retorted, laughing skyward with the slyness of a marketplace rogue: “Master, your logic sounds indeed cunning and ruthless, leaving no flaw to pick. But I still have one knot in my belly that requires the guidance of a high monk—” He paused, a trace of overbearing smugness in his eyes: “When a man with wife and daughter sleeps with another’s woman, Heaven can still send others to sleep with his wife and daughter in repayment. But what if he is a lone widower with neither roof nor land, not even a female dog at home? If he merrily beds every flower-like beauty he finds, where, pray tell, would Heaven borrow women to settle this debt of lust? Would not the heavenly law stall right there? Moreover, a man’s household can support only three or five wives, daughters, and maidens, yet peerless beauties under Heaven are as numerous as stars and inexhaustible! Suppose in this life I have but one wife and one daughter, yet I bed hundreds or thousands of exquisite noblewomen! Even if Heaven sends retribution and throws my wife and daughter to others for ravishment, I would still have traded two old ones for a thousand new conquests—a clear ‘tiny capital, boundless profit’ bargain! How, then, shall Heaven balance its books against such a greedy rogue?!” Upon hearing this, the old monk’s heart chilled to the marrow, as if a basin of ice water had been poured over him from head to toe. He saw through the man before him—a lust-obsessed libertine whose mind was wholly possessed by carnal desire. Even if the eighty-one precepts of Buddhism were turned into heavenly thunder to strike him, they could not shake his obsession in the slightest! The old monk fell silent, his profound gaze fixed on Wei Yangsheng for a long while before he said quietly: “Your iron teeth, copper teeth, and honeyed tongue, Patron, I truly cannot match. Yet this matter of karmic retribution cannot be settled by words alone; only when you personally take up the spear and act will the final outcome become clear.” He paused, a trace of helpless sigh in his voice: “After you descend the mountain, go seek your number-one beauty and fine wife. When the aphrodisiacs are exhausted, your yang essence depleted, and you are trapped upon the flesh prayer mat between a woman’s legs unable to free yourself, then from the bottom of your heart you may gradually comprehend this Buddhist truth and witness its bloody, actual consequences! I have observed you coldly; your bones hold the makings of a transcendent sage destined for the golden immortals—truly heaven-sent talent. I cannot bear to watch you fall shattered into the bottomless abyss of ten-thousand bones!” The old monk raised his eyes, his tone suddenly earnest and mournful: “Should you one day awaken from the great dream, suddenly enlightened, your body scorched by worldly karmic flames with nowhere left to turn, remember to return to Mount Kuocang and seek me. Together we shall discuss a path out of suffering and back to truth. From tomorrow’s dawn onward, I shall sit upon the straw-mat prayer cushion in this thatched hall, my old eyes polished bright, waiting day and night for your return.” With that, the old monk turned to the side table, smoothed a sheet of snow-white paper, took up a worn sheep-hair brush, dipped it in thick, lacquer-black ink, and with a flick of his wrist wrote a five-character quatrain in one flowing motion: “Cast off the leather sack, Go sit upon the flesh prayer mat. Repent while still alive, Do not sigh when the coffin is sealed!” The old monk set down the brush, pinched the still-wet inked paper between two fingers, and held it out to Wei Yangsheng, his face expressionless: “I am but a crude, unlettered ascetic monk who knows nothing of the flowery pretensions of officialdom and the literary world. Though these four lines of verse cut like knives into the heart and sting the ear, they are truly half my heart offered to you. Wronged patron, tuck them into your sleeve and take them away, to serve as a warning when great calamity strikes in the future.” At these words, the old monk flicked his robe sleeve and stepped back half a pace, standing facing the wall with eyes raised to heaven, assuming the posture of dismissing a guest and closing the door. Wei Yangsheng understood clearly that this old Zen master no longer found common ground with him. Yet mindful that the other was a renowned high monk and hermit of deep magnanimity, and that a scholar like himself ought not to turn hostile on the spot, he forced down the sullen anger in his heart, tucked his folding fan into his waist, bowed respectfully, and said in apology: “This humble one was born with a lowly, stubborn, and foolish nature. Though I have received Master’s head-on rebuke, I could not heed it—my crime is grave indeed. I beg Master’s Buddhist compassion not to hold it against such a madman as myself. Once I have fulfilled my worldly wishes amid the red dust, I shall return to this precious mountain one day. I hope then that Master will open wide the mountain gate and not shut me out.” With that, Wei Yangsheng straightened his robes and, following proper etiquette, performed four respectful bows toward the old monk. The lone-peak monk showed neither joy nor sorrow, likewise bowed deeply in return with four bows, then pressed his palms together in silence, watching wordlessly as the handsome scholar stepped over the threshold and descended the mountain beneath a carpet of rustling autumn leaves. #ClassicNewTranslationOfTheCarnalPrayerMat <img src="https://static2.fansone.co/images/ffa23477-2b3e-4b00-814b-eb41c883d76c.avif" />

Classic New Translation of The Carnal Prayer Mat, Chapter 4

The ancients said: A man's life is but one spring and autumn for grass and trees. Black hair cannot be retained, and a youthful face fades in the blink of an eye. Fame, fortune, and power are ultimately like a gust of wind scattering fallen flowers; only upon death does one regret not having enjoyed life to the fullest in youth! Filled with endless remorse. Yet those who seek pleasure in time often suffer in old age or die young due to unrestrained indulgence, as the saying goes: Born for the cunt, living for the cunt, and finally dying on the cunt. As a man tallying the world's greatest joys on his fingers, the first must be the carnal delights between the sheets. Who does not yearn for a life of endless tenderness day and night? Who does not crave embracing a naked, warm, soft body until the sun is high? And when you reach the point of seeing through society's true nature, you realize that all driving forces in this world arise from the opening and closing of a woman's legs! Ordinary people are born to suffer, toiling like oxen and horses daily for survival—what happiness is there in that? Precisely for this reason, the ancient gods who created heaven and earth designed procreation as an act of boundless pleasure through the union of man and woman, granting all beings the innate right to joy. Regardless of status, this one matter grants equal access. The old saying goes that the door between a woman's legs is the gate through which souls reincarnate and the gate that takes lives. To the wise, if this inch of pleasurable flesh between a woman's legs vanished from the world, men's lifespans would surely shorten! Look at those enlightened monks—how many reach forty or fifty without graying hair? How many remain robust at seventy or eighty? Some claim monks, despite renouncing the world, often fail to stay chaste and steal women like common men, depleting their vital essence and thus dying young. Then look at the eunuchs in the capital! Eunuchs neither consort with women nor engage in sodomy; their members are completely severed. By rights, they should live youthfully for centuries, yet their faces wrinkle deeper than anyone's, their hair turns white earliest, and bearing the title of "eunuch," they resemble withered old women! In the capital, only commoners receive longevity plaques; never has a centenarian archway been erected for a castrated man. Thus, the fleshly act of man and woman uniting harms no one. Yet regrettably, the Compendium of Materia Medica omits this, allowing people to spout nonsense for their own ends. Some call it nourishing yin and strengthening yang; others deem it a bone-scraping steel blade. In my view, this thing is not only greatly restorative but its medicinal properties rival precious ginseng and spiritual herbs! Both involve the mutual complement of yin and yang, acting in harmony. Ginseng and spiritual herbs are great tonics but cannot be consumed gluttonously like rice! Overindulgence without regard for dosage or timing can still kill. The same holds for carnal pleasures: only with measured, steady flow can yin and yang, water and fire, harmonize and nourish; ceaseless debauchery will quickly exhaust essence and blood, pitting water and fire against each other, harming both yin and yang. Sexual love, used to temper life, has miraculous effects in invigorating meridians and relieving boredom; but without restraint, it leads to depleting kidney essence and exhausting qi and blood. Men who treat women as medicine must master the measure: neither too distant nor too indulgent; do not withhold love, yet do not pounce like a starving ghost without care. Nor should one be bound by false moralists: "Man-woman love and fleshly desires are human nature—what shame is there?" Yet when truly stripping a woman bare and pinning her down, with your cock burning hot, remind yourself: "There is land that cannot be plowed fully, but no ox that cannot be worked to death! Having tasted the joy, know when to stop!" Thus, your vital essence will neither stagnate nor deplete. The Daoists say: Only what is both pleasurable and health-preserving is the true path! Though the pleasures of man and woman parallel ginseng and spiritual herbs, they are opposites: ginseng and herbs must be "wild" from deep mountains to be potent; those "cultivated" in pharmacies lack full efficacy. Yet this medicine called woman is most restorative when "cultivated"; the "wild" ones not only lack efficacy but may cost your life! What is "cultivated"? It means your own legitimate wife or concubine at home—no need to spend silver each time, nor scheme and cajole; you can pull her to bed whenever you wish! Lie, kneel, or stand as you please; no one cares how you indulge. Ignore knocks at the door; play freely on the bed without fear. A union leaves you thoroughly satisfied, harms no vital energy, allows ejaculation to beget sons and continue the lineage. Pleasure from scalp to toes, body relaxed and open—this is true nourishment for body and mind. Those "wild" ones differ. Whether the neighbor's beauty or the brothel's wanton. As the saying goes, "Home chicken lacks the flavor of wild pheasant"; seeing one's wife age, her flesh loosen, indeed cannot match the youthful, firm, juicy flesh outside. One inevitably craves a taste of the wild! Especially encountering top-tier sluts who make you toss sleepless at night, racking your mind to embrace and toy with them, to taste thrusting between their legs, to hear the lewd words and moans from their flirtatious eyes and faces. Thus you first flirt with glances, then throw real gold and silver, secretly arrange trysts, and commit adultery like a thief in hiding. No matter how bold your lust, when carrying your rock-hard cock to another's door, your heart tightens like a rat's! During the tryst, though knowing no one is around, you suspect eyes watching from behind, fearing exposure; the sweat of passion is scant, but cold sweat of fear soaks your crotch. Worse, it haunts your days and invades your dreams; your mind abandons proper business, your heroic spirit vanishes, replaced by a rat-like demeanor! Sooner or later, you'll leap naked into an abyss, inviting catastrophe! Secretly harming virtue, openly breaking the law. If caught in bed and hacked to death, no one to pay the price; your body severed, your wife left in the world to be toyed with by other men—such tragedies are countless! Thus, when lust rules, never forsake the near for the far or favor the new over the old! All this rambling aims to tell readers not to misunderstand this book's intent. It uses tales of carnal chaos to sound an alarm, urging restraint of wicked desires, not to teach wanton indulgence; it guards the threshold against lewdness, not to champion libertines and sluts! Some ask: If seeking to curb evil fire, why not write a proper Daoist text to uphold morals, instead of such explicit erotic fiction? You do not know! To change customs, one must lead by the donkey's temperament; only then do words enter the mind. In today's world, who cares for sage classics? All love wild histories and secrets! Even in wild histories, they tire of loyal ministers and filial sons' preachings, craving tales of adultery and exposed flesh. Society's rot runs to the bone! If one preaches great principles to urge virtue, not only will none spend to buy it—even giving it free as charity ends with it torn for pickling jars or wiping asses; none will read it closely! Better to use these lascivious tales of man-woman union to stir inner cravings! As you stare at two pale bodies, cock pounding, juices splashing, thrusting with relish, eyes glazed, suddenly jab a few sharp needles below, jolting you to gasp and inwardly cry: "This licentious pleasure is thrilling, yet if it costs this dog's life of joy, becoming a ghost under the peony, it is not worth it." Then, when depicting the thunderous retribution and grisly ends of adulterers, coldly hint: "Coveting others' wives and daughters brings such evil karma! Better to train one's own wanton wife at home. Why lose wife and army, trading life and fortune for the King's romantic debt!" Once the mind turns here, the evil path naturally ends. With the evil path severed, the man cherishes his wife, the woman respects her man; the righteous moral path of the Book of Songs lies entirely within the square inch of the marital bed! This is the supreme method of "addressing the matter at hand, curing desire with desire." Indeed, not only we writers of romantic histories use this; even the sages in the classics mastered it long ago. Recall the Warring States period, when King Xuan of Qi met Mencius. Mencius passionately preached the great way of benevolent rule; the King, a vulgar man obsessed with silver and women, had no interest in governance and merely humored him: "Good, yes! Teacher, you speak truly well…" Mencius pressed: "Since Your Majesty finds it good, why not act?" The King spread his hands: "I have a flaw—I love wealth and hate to spend!" Mencius immediately recounted how Duke Liu, also fond of wealth, filled granaries for those guarding homes and sacks for those campaigning afar… Hearing the endless chatter, the King cast aside decorum and blurted: "I have another flaw—I love women with ample breasts and slender waists! I have no mind for court affairs, only daily enjoyment of beauties!" At this, the King cared not for the infamy of tyrants like Jie of Xia or Zhou of Shang, clearly unwilling to hear more politically correct preachings. Had this been a false moralist, he would have glared and cursed: "Since antiquity, kings who loved women lost their realms; commoners who loved women died without intact corpses!" Hearing such farting words, the King would think: "I am terminally ill and incurable; no need for this pedant's farting—get lost!" Unexpectedly, hearing this, Mencius did not anger but began recounting gossip of how King Tai of Zhou fled with his wife Jiang on horseback. Mencius embellished vividly, leaving the King scratching his ears and unable to stop! Mencius said that though King Tai fled with his beloved wife in his arms, this lecherous ruler did not lose his state because he empathized—fleeing with his wife, he ordered all men to flee with theirs. While King Tai vigorously pleasured Jiang in his tent, the common folk in the camp did likewise in their straw beds! This is the true sage king spreading spring wind and equal dew! Who could slander such a ruler, who shares joys with the people equally, as lecherous? Hearing this, King Xuan of Qi felt utterly at ease, as if finding an idol and confidant; from then on, he willingly followed Mencius's advice, no longer seeing "I love women" as shameful. The author's purpose in writing this novel is the same! This book depicts the lascivious postures of men and women stripped for union, portraying the sensual eroticism within bed curtains, inevitably carrying a scent of lust and fleshly desire, yet all serves to lead you to the final bloody outcome, thus understanding retribution and awakening reverence! Otherwise, this book would be a dry, bitter olive; what use is any later sweetness? Bitter at first bite, who would keep chewing? These vivid depictions of fleshly desire are but a layer of cloyingly sweet candied date flesh wrapping the mind-awakening olive pit. Leading you to swallow it whole without spitting, only then can you slowly savor the "flavor" behind the words! #ClassicNewTranslationOfTheCarnalPrayerMat<img src="https://static2.fansone.co/images/200dccbb-cc33-4b2d-a140-1c456849a2c3.avif" />

Classic New Translation of The Carnal Prayer Mat Chapter 001

Watching my wife’s figure disappear through the hotel’s revolving door, her anxious heartbeat seemed to still echo inside the car. I got out, lit a cigarette, then walked into the hotel lobby. There was no trace of my wife left in the lobby. I found a corner seat at the lobby bar, from where I could clearly see both the main entrance and the elevators. “Are you there yet?” I sent her a message. “Yeah, no one’s here!” she replied quickly. I glanced at the front desk and the elevator area—still no guests. “Maybe he hasn’t arrived yet. I’m in the lobby, keep an eye on my messages,” I replied to my wife. More than ten minutes passed without any “suspicious” figures appearing. I stared at the lavishly decorated lobby, its marble floor gleaming, chandeliers casting an ambiguous glow, the air filled with a faint fragrance. I thought to myself, “Calling a prostitute in such a high-end place—her ‘client’ must be some rich guy! Hope she performs well tonight and brings back a big score!” Just as I was about to give up, at 11:50 my phone suddenly lit up with a message: “He’s here.” Only two words—clearly sent in a hurry. My heart clenched, my breathing quickened. I didn’t dare message her again, afraid she’d get in trouble if the client saw her on her phone. Calming myself, I got ready to head upstairs, only to remember that the only room card had already been taken by my wife—I couldn’t get up there! I turned back toward my seat and realized the lobby was now completely empty. Feeling uneasy, I lowered my head and quickly left the hotel. I didn’t dare linger at the entrance in case security questioned me, so I returned to the car, staring up at the lit windows on the 16th floor, my mind racing with images of my wife with a stranger. Inside room 1606, my wife was now kneeling half-naked before a middle-aged man, eagerly sucking his cock. The man reeked of alcohol. His eyes greedily roamed over my wife as he smirked, “Your body is something else. I’ve had plenty of women, but this is the first time I’ve had tits this big.” My wife bobbed her head vigorously, a strand of clear saliva dripping from the corner of her mouth onto the crimson carpet. “Fuck! That’s good! Stop sucking or I’ll cum!” The man grabbed her head to stop her, pulling his stiff cock from her mouth. He reached out and squeezed her breasts, kneading them roughly. No man could stay calm when faced with those huge tits—that was exactly why she had passed the “company” assessment and gotten the job. The man’s full attention was now fixed on those two mounds of flesh, squeezing and kneading them while muttering all sorts of filthy remarks. Although his grip was rough and painful, my wife’s anxious heart finally settled. It seemed the man was satisfied with her—tonight’s “job” was secured. Enduring the discomfort in her chest, she lightly trailed her fingers across his torso and said in a sticky voice, “As long as you like it, big brother. I’ll make sure you have a great time tonight.” The man pulled her onto the sofa, one hand still playing with her breasts while the other slid up her pale thigh beneath her skirt. She wrapped her arms around his neck, gently licking his earlobe with her tongue, and whispered breathily, “Big brother, fuck me~” The man was no amateur; he wasn’t about to be seduced so easily. With a wicked grin he squeezed harder, making her cry out. “Didn’t your boss teach you how to serve a man? All you know is ‘fuck me, fuck me’ the moment you walk in. Do you take me for a virgin? You love cock so much—want me to call a few guys to fuck you senseless?” Seeing his displeasure, my wife grew nervous. She forced a smile and leaned into his arms, teasingly unbuttoning his shirt. “Don’t worry, bro. I’m the best at taking care of people. Let’s take a shower first—I’ll wash you up,” she cooed, starting to undress him. The man let out a satisfied belch and, completely naked, led her into the bathroom. She turned on the shower; hot water cascaded down, instantly filling the room with steam. She slipped off her panties, revealing her full hips and thighs, and began washing him with her ample breasts swaying. Her nimble hands roamed over his body, drawing low moans from him. When her soapy hand reached his crotch and gently grasped his erect cock, he groaned in pleasure. She stroked him a few times, feeling it grow even harder and hotter in her hand. The man wasn’t very tall, so she could easily wrap her large breasts around his cock while kneeling. She rubbed him between them, occasionally lowering her head to lick his urethral opening with her slender tongue. Overstimulated by alcohol and lust, he soon shuddered and shot his load across her face. She tilted her head up, licking her sexy red lips clean with the tip of her tongue, then looked up at him with watery eyes, gazing seductively like a well-behaved pet waiting for praise. Biting her lower lip, she whispered, “Bro, it’s so thick… Do you like it when I do this?” “Shit, you made me cum already!” The man was a bit disappointed at finishing so fast, but he couldn’t blame her—the titjob had felt incredible, a perfect mix of physical and visual pleasure. That shot had been worth every penny. After carefully drying him off, my wife checked the time—it was already 12:30. The man was completely sober now. He led her to the bed and lay face down. She took out the essential oil she carried, warmed some in her hands, and began massaging his back and waist, pressing and kneading while murmuring, “Does that feel good, bro?” The man sighed in enjoyment. “You’re pretty good at this. Keep going.” Smiling seductively, she leaned down and pressed her full breasts against his back, slowly giving him a body slide. He let out a long breath. “Fuck! This is the real deal!” While he was enjoying himself, she glanced at her phone and said awkwardly, “Bro, time’s up…” #MyDeliveryIsMyWife <img src="https://static2.fansone.co/images/665236e3-819b-406c-b754-8c2d65cbfaff.avif" />

The Takeout I Delivered Is My Wife Season 1 Episode 6

結婚後我的主要身份，就是個家庭主婦。老公是一家金融公司的業務經理，收入呢，算得上頗豐。 但在我這種在豪門闊少圈里廝混慣了的女人看來，他的經濟條件，也只能算將就。 即使這樣我的生活也已經衣食無憂，可我也不會退出“模特”這個圈子，多年來早就適應了燈紅酒綠、醉生夢死的日子，怎麼受得了平淡？ 我還是會給熟悉的老闆們兼職做公關，陪他們參加商宴、接待他們的重要客戶。憑借我天生討男人喜歡的那些天賦，那些VIP裡頭，又有不少成了我的新歡。 跟這些權貴們出席活動，用我這張千嬌百媚的臉，給他們充充門面。嘴上說的都是友情出場、不收錢，可那些有錢人們有的自稱我“乾爹”，有的要做我“大哥”，對我這個“乾女兒、乾妹妹”，那可真是無不疼愛有加…… #淫妻的口述日記

淫妻的口述日記005集

ผลงานอื่นของผู้สร้าง

Of all evils, lust is the foremost

Classic New Translation of The Carnal Prayer Mat, Chapter 4

Classic New Translation of The Carnal Prayer Mat Chapter 001

The Takeout I Delivered Is My Wife Season 1 Episode 6

การแนะนำสุ่มผลงาน

🐰Mimi ✦ October ✦ Exposure🐰

Sex Advisor Taotao will help you with sex education! You can have blowjob, footjob, and even creampie~ (Paid subscription preview)

青春期總是有很多煩惱老師知道

Japanese Trap N Family Selected Classics (6)

淫妻的口述日記005集

ผลงานอื่นของผู้สร้าง

Of all evils, lust is the foremost

Classic New Translation of The Carnal Prayer Mat, Chapter 4

Classic New Translation of The Carnal Prayer Mat Chapter 001

The Takeout I Delivered Is My Wife Season 1 Episode 6

การแนะนำสุ่มผลงาน

🐰Mimi ✦ October ✦ Exposure🐰

Sex Advisor Taotao will help you with sex education! You can have blowjob, footjob, and even creampie~ (Paid subscription preview)

青春期總是有很多煩惱 老師知道

Japanese Trap N Family Selected Classics (6)

青春期總是有很多煩惱老師知道