030｜(Twenty-nine) Say it out loud (slightly h)

“Shut up,” she couldn’t help but retort.

"Who are you telling to shut up?" Two fingers, accompanied by a gust of wind, lightly slapped into the crevice, cool and refreshing, landing with a soft thud. He controlled the force, feeling no pain, but enough shame.

"Hmph..." Xie Qingyan's face turned red, and she stubbornly bit her lip, but a sound still escaped from her lips.

Before she could react, he slapped her vulva several times in succession.

Su Xingmao dipped his finger in water, lowered it, and lifted it, splashing water as he did so.

It was noisy in the quiet night, a noise that made one's heart clench, and one was afraid that it would fall into someone's ears and invite ridicule.

Xie Qingyan's buttock muscles tensed, her lower abdomen spasmed slightly, and her labia folds trembled uncontrollably. In the narrow folds, less than the joint of a little finger, she contracted and gurgled, spitting out water droplets.

The air was thin, and my chest heaved with heavy breathing.

She didn't answer. Su Xingmao wasn't in a hurry. Xie Qingyan was stubborn and wouldn't shed a tear until he saw the coffin.

He reached out and cupped Xie Qingyan's flushed face in his hands, his fingertips gently stroking the sunset clouds cut from the distant sky. The blush, like a painting, became even more intense and vibrant with each rub.

He stared intently, then called her softly, "Yan..."

He stopped abruptly after uttering a sound, his lips tightening into a thin line, and instead said, "Little cat."

"If you're not willing to speak, then don't speak."

Xie Qingyan was puzzled.

Completely different from his gentle voice, the slaps were merciless, cold and hard, striking the opening of the acupoint repeatedly.

Under the lamplight, the full mons pubis swells into a rounded arc, much like the unopened magnolia buds under the eaves of my old home in late winter, the buds wrapped in thick, fuzzy scales, just waiting for the cold to end and spring to arrive before they bloom.

The ancients bestowed the elegant name "Xinyi" upon the magnolia buds. How could this red bud about to bloom not be considered a secluded Xinyi Valley?

But he insisted on using the force of his palm to strike, to destroy, to shatter the magnolia's peaceful slumber. His hand carried the warm spring breeze, urging the flower buds still dormant in winter to ripen and bloom prematurely.

Below, overlapping are labia majora resembling the opening and closing of a shellfish. Fingers not only stimulate the vaginal opening but also the urethra and the erect, swollen, and protruding clitoris.

Abundant fluid gushed from the acupoint, gradually thickening in the palm, and glistening water threads could be drawn out when the hand was raised.

The sensation of patting the clitoris is indescribable. First, you feel a tingling, numb sensation that creeps up from the tailbone.

All the tactile senses in my limbs and bones have gone on strike and become dull, as if only my body is still sensitive enough to exert its remaining heat. If you touch it, water will splash everywhere and it will be deadly.

That's so strange... there wasn't even any insertion.

I just patted it with my palm.

Why did her bladder also feel full, with too much liquid wanting to overflow? She was like a glass jar of soda, which Su Xingmao held in his hand and shook it frantically. The frothy soda bounced around in the bottle, and her body also tilted, unable to support herself. She tried to pull her legs together so that he wouldn't touch her anymore.

However, it was tightly blocked by the constellation Mao, and could not close.

My head was electrified, my hands and feet were soaked in water until they were soft, and my internal organs were being kneaded into a ball by Su Xingmao's hands. I was on the verge of dying.

It's unbearable.

He could only let out a low, guttural whine, almost like a small animal's whimper, from deep within his throat: "No...no more."

Xie Qingyan's vision blurred, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. Was it a tear of sorrow or a tear of relief? Who could tell? Her thick eyelashes were completely wet, like grass stalks covered in frost and dew in the early morning, drooping pitifully under their weight, each drop of water falling.

"Ah! Stop!" At the moment of near climax, Xie Qingyan let out a high-pitched scream. She was truly made of water; her physiological tears and the fluid from her lower body were uncontrollable, flowing in a torrent.

Su Xingmao looked at her, his eyebrows and eyes clear and bright. She was struggling in the throes of passion, but he seemed unaffected. How unfair!

The key point is... the hand movements continue, and the force is even greater. The palms are not clapping, but two fingers are bent together and dug into the tenderest flesh.

Water overflowed, flowing onto her plump buttocks, leaving a large, dark stain on the sheets.

That was so exhilarating, I'm going to die... Has my soul already left my body? Floating in the air, looking down at her?

"Stop filming..."

She had already climaxed and was still intoxicated by the lingering pleasure, as if she had drunk a glass of strong liquor, gulping it down, her whole body was red and hot, drunk and weak, unable to recover.

A small stimulus is enough to start a prairie fire.

I really can't stand it.

As if he hadn't heard, Su Xingmao refused to stop. Not only did he stop, but he also sped up the rhythm, as if he were playing a piano. It was far more than just patting or striking; he would sometimes pinch the flower bud. It was unclear whether he was massaging or patting an acupoint. He pressed a certain piano key and listened to her produce a long, trembling sound.

Her body was bent into a bow shape. The sound of running water, the splashing, and her heavy breathing all turned into a dizzying sensation before tinnitus, and her head was buzzing.

Countless birds flapped their wings around her ears, trying to grab the hem of her clothes, lift her up, and lift her up to the clouds, to the sky: "Oh, ah—no, no, it's really no good!"

In the spring when fallen petals drift on flowing water, the magnolias are in bloom.

Overlapping petals bloom on the branches, turning from tender pale pink to a breathtakingly vibrant red.

"The kitten isn't refusing to speak?" he wondered.

A layer of mist swirled before her eyes, veiling his face like a white gauze. She couldn't quite see what he was thinking, but she found it strange that Su Xingmao could still ask her so calmly when he was so confused and infatuated.

"Waaah, I was wrong..." The south wall was too hard to break through, so Xie Qingyan retreated in time, trying to shrink into his turtle shell. But two fingers pinched his vital point, and he couldn't retreat any further.

"Me?" The unsettling rising tone was incredibly oppressive.

She was alarmed, but decided to take the plunge: "It was... the kitten was wrong."

"So, who is the kitten calling for to stop?"

"Speak it out," Su Xingmao commanded, her tone calm in stark contrast to her own. She could faintly smell the earthy, pungent scent of an approaching storm, which filled her with unease. When would the downpour begin, and when would the thunder roar?

He gazed at her calmly, like a statue sculpted from cold jade, his eyes lowered, serene and expressionless. Yet, beneath that tranquil jade-like exterior, a gloomy, dark, and secretive emotion seemed to lurk, silently churning in the depths of his eyes, hidden behind his long eyelashes.

His knuckles sank into the wet, fleshy opening, his rough fingertips pressing into the plump, fleshy bead, like stamping a seal into red clay, pressing deeply as if trying to brand his mark.

Xie Qingyan couldn't tell if she was in a room or had been kidnapped onto a roller coaster or drop tower. One ride wasn't enough; her soul was about to be thrown out, flung high into the air and plummeting straight down as Su Xingmao struck her acupoints.

This process repeated itself until, at this moment, pleasure reached its peak once again.