Heart-Piercing Strike
“Ah… Mm? … Ma Jun… That feels so damn good…”
Zhang Li let out uncontrollable moans in an instant, her hands clutching the bedsheet beneath her with white-knuckled grip. Her two plump, snow-white thighs splayed wide to either side, laying bare her most sensitive, most exquisite womanly folds for Ma Jun. The massive, glorious tits on her chest jiggled endlessly, those two nipples—each as thick and firm as a red date—tracing tantalizing arcs through the air. Her once merely plush mature body now radiated an aura so intoxicating it stole the breath from the room.
Ma Jun’s tongue danced nimbly inside Zhang Li’s pussy, swirling and probing. He hadn’t always been a fan of this somewhat filthy move, but ever since Li Wen had guided him through his first time licking a woman’s slit, he’d grown addicted. Compared to fingers, the tongue was far more sensitive, far more precise—able to feel every twitch and quiver in her most responsive spots. Each time Zhang Li cried out in ecstasy under his assault, a surge of smug pride swelled in his chest.
He wasn’t that awkward kid anymore who’d freeze up at the sight of a naked woman. Baptized in the heated beds of Zhang Li, Cao Meng, and even Li Ting, he’d matured. Sex was no longer just grope tits, ram cock, blow load, and done. Now he catered to her pleasure, mastering teasing tricks and techniques that sent her crashing over the edge two or three times per session, leaving the sheets soaked through.
“Ma Jun… You lick so perfectly… Teacher’s gonna cum…”
Under his relentless onslaught, Zhang Li writhed like a slippery white fish, her pussy gushing sticky nectar. Those thick outer lips parted and pulsed, primed for the plunge.
Ma Jun flashed a sly grin and latched his lips onto the swollen pearl at her slit’s peak, sucking hard. Zhang Li jolted like she’d been electrocuted, her whole body shuddering. Her thighs clamped tight, her fat ass bucked up and down, and a hot squirt erupted from her hole—she’d climaxed hard under his tongue.
“Li-jie, I’m coming in.”
Seeing her collapse in panting bliss, Ma Jun couldn’t hold back. He stripped naked in a frenzy, crawled onto her soft, slick curves, cradled her head, and dove in for a deep kiss. Zhang Li instinctively parted her lips, sucking his tongue into her mouth, their saliva mingling in a passionate tangle.
“Ma Jun, come on… Fuck your teacher good.”
Zhang Li recovered swiftly from her peak, feeling his fat cockhead nudging her dripping entrance. She spread her thighs wider, urging his tip to part her meaty lips. Her pussy was flooded with fresh cum-juice, so with a single thrust, his scorching rod slid frictionless into her steaming depths.
Even after childbirth, Zhang Li’s cunt gripped like a vice. As his massive cock sank in, her walls clenched rhythmically, suckling him like a greedy mouth. The stimulation was intense, swelling his cockhead fatter, drawing every drop of blood southward.
Ma Jun sighed in bliss. That first plunge into her always felt surreal—a high school freshman balls-deep in his homeroom teacher, pounding a mature woman’s hole with his huge dick. The psychological high dwarfed the physical rush. This stern classroom goddess, now writhing under him, moaning at his whim. He could make her sob or laugh on command. It was intoxicating, like he owned her life.
“Move already! What, you dead or something?”
Zhang Li felt him hilt and go still, so she hiked her hips, engulfing him deeper with a playful scold. “Did you just cum? Don’t tell me you’re that useless.”
“No way in hell, Li-jie. Time to show you what I’ve got.”
Ma Jun wasn’t some quick-shot rookie anymore. He’d outgrown popping off at the mere sight of pussy. Sessions with her lasted ten minutes easy, no effort. Her taunt lit his fire—he hammered forward, slapping her pale ass cheeks with lewd pap-pap-paps. Her stifled moans filled the cozy office.
Meanwhile, out on the asphalt road beyond San Zhong’s gates, Liu Yan’s high heels clicked furiously against the pavement. She’d long suspected Ma Jun and Zhang Li were banging, but hearing their flirty banter through the door hit her like a gut punch.
Liu Yan had clung to her principles. Sure, her husband ditched her for southern jobs, but she’d never dreamed of cheating to ease the loneliness. Women who snuck wild men behind their man’s back? Sluts, all of them. She’d never stoop that low—hence her disgust for Li Wen. Yet straitlaced, iron-fisted Zhang Li had quietly cucked her husband with a student from her own class. It shattered Liu Yan’s worldview.
She didn’t peg Zhang Li as a natural-born whore like Li Wen. Knowing the mess with her husband only deepened her pity. From an outsider’s view, Zhang Li could’ve divorced the deadbeat and started fresh. Not betray vows for dirty flings.
But in remote Gu County, divorce was rarer than hen’s teeth. No one split unless pushed to the brink—especially with kids in the mix. For her son’s sake, Zhang Li wouldn’t. So she slaked her thirst in secret shame.
Liu Yan got it, but didn’t endorse it. In her heart, it was wrong. She’d never do it. Zhang Li was just impulsive; regret loomed. Liu Yan endured lonely nights in stoic calm. But overhearing this? Zhang Li’s joy rang true. She savored the affair. And since hooking up with Ma Jun, she’d transformed—younger vibe, trendier style. No more frumpy hag; now a glowing mature vixen. Ma Jun’s doing, no doubt.
Liu Yan’s rigid stance suddenly felt ridiculous, foolish. A woman’s prime was fleeting. Wrinkles came, youth fled—no one mourned faded beauty but you, weeping before the mirror. Why risk ruin for student dick? Zhang Li refused a wasted life sans joy.
Her husband swore he’d return rich soon. But countless southern migrants dreamed big—few cashed in. Most slunk home broke, settling for steady gigs, ambitions dust. How long for Liu Yan? A year? Two? By then, she’d be faded goods.
Maybe she should seize the day like Zhang Li—fuck while young and hot, regret later. Her convictions wavered. Ma Jun’s thick, long cock flashed in her mind; her breath hitched, pussy tingling with unfamiliar ache. She craved a man’s rod splitting her. She fantasized storming the office, ass up like a bitch in heat, begging Ma Jun to pound her raw. But the thought sparked phantom jeers—slut, whore. She shook her head violently, banishing it. Yet the image lingered: them naked, rutting wildly. Her face burned under the noon sun; she’d rushed off sans parasol. Turn back? A black Santana pulled up. Feng Kun’s sleazy grin peered from the window.
“Liu Teacher, heading home? Need a ride?”
He beamed, eyes raking her curvaceous form, lingering shamelessly on those towering tits.
“Feng Kun, you disgusting pig.”
Liu Yan flushed, stepping back, arms crossing her chest. Memories of his gropes fueled her rage. “Harass me again, and I call the cops.”
Her threats bounced off him. He knew her type—big talk, no action. Prideful to a fault. Scandal would trash her rep, not his. That’s why he’d tried raping her drunk ass. Too bad he got clocked.
Recalling her stripped bare, tits in his hands like a lamb to slaughter—regret burned. Among his conquests, none boasted tits like hers. He’d guessed E-cups; hands-on confirmed F. Prime udders. He’d planned to fuck her senseless, then milk those jugs. But blackout before entry—thanks to that punk Ma Jun.
Morning sight of Ma Jun strolling schoolward with Liu Yan like lovers enraged him. Had to be the kid who bashed him. Why was he at her place? Family secret? Or did the brat lust after her too?
Either way, post-knockout: Ma Jun alone with aphrodisiac-fueled naked goddess. No way he resisted. He’d fucked her. Feng Kun’s long-plotted shot stolen. And Liu Yan acted resigned to it. A teacher outcharmed by a student? Infuriating.
“Liu Teacher, why so cold? Forgot our hot night?”
“I’ll never forget. Your body’s insanely hot—skin like silk, so soft. Your hubby’s an idiot, ditching a stunner like you for the south. Jiangnan girls know how to please, though. Bet some vixen’s got him hooked. Men tire of the old fast.”
“Shut your mouth, Feng Kun! My husband’s not like that—don’t spread lies.”
His words struck deep. She defended hotly, but doubt crept in. She’d griped about his absence, never fidelity. Monthly calls, cash deposits for clothes—small gestures, but proof of care. That’s why she held firm.
But if he cheated? Unthinkable. Yet men did stray, especially amid southern temptations. What recourse had she?
“Fine, forget I spoke.”
Feng Kun smirked inwardly—seed planted, no proof needed. Time and distance would fester it. Trust was fragile.
“Feng Kun, get lost. I never want to see you again.”
“Liu Yan, why hate me so? I’m no saint, but I’m honest—I wanted to fuck you on sight. Don’t you crave it? Hubby’s selfish prick, leaving you high and dry. I know you despise me, but one day you’ll beg for my cock. Clean up and wait. Ha!”
He floored it, vanishing.
Liu Yan’s mind reeled. His dogged tone promised pursuit—how to escape? And his barbs sowed unease. She trusted her husband implicitly, like her own fidelity. But lines blurred. Last night: stripping for another man, letting him fondle virgin territory, jerking him off. She rationalized—no penetration, no betrayal. But he could too.
Then her phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, she froze: Xu Zhipeng’s southern number. Odd—he’d called last weekend. Trouble?