The air in the mourning hall was thick with the scent of incense and the weight of grief, though the dim glow of the flickering candles did little to dispel the oppressive atmosphere. Miao Hong sat alone by the coffin, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, her body still trembling from the intense encounter she'd just experienced. Moments ago, she had been swept away in a whirlwind of raw, primal passion with Long Gen, a man whose reputation for recklessness was matched only by the sheer audacity of his actions. His dark, thick rod had worked wonders, plunging into her with a relentless rhythm that left her breathless and weak. It was as if it had a life of its own—long and short, soft and hard, bending and twisting with an almost supernatural precision, targeting her most sensitive spots until she thought she might shatter under the intensity.
Just as she adjusted her clothing, still catching her breath, the heavy wooden door creaked open. The Niu brothers, Da and Er, stepped into the mourning hall, their boots scuffing against the floor. "Ma, why're you keeping watch alone? Where's Yang Ying and the others?" Da asked, his voice rough as he tugged up his pants, oblivious to the charged atmosphere.
Miao Hong, still reeling from the ecstasy, forced a casual tone. "Who cares about them? Your pa wasn't exactly a saint—probably scared 'em off. They've gone back to the house." The dim light masked the flush on her face, and the brothers, preoccupied with their own thoughts, noticed nothing amiss. "I ain't exactly brave myself," She added, her voice trembling slightly, though not from fear. "If Long Gen weren't here, I wouldn't be sitting in this creepy place."
Long Gen stood by the coffin, his lanky frame casting a shadow across the room. He grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief as he glanced at the portrait of Wei Wenwu hanging on the wall. The old man's stern face stared back, frozen in time. 'Look at you, you smug bastard,' Long Gen thought, chuckling inwardly. 'Thought you were the big man, huh? Well, I just fucked your wife right under your nose. Got any complaints?' His grin widened as he scanned the room, feigning innocence.
Miao Hong, regaining her composure, shifted the conversation. "By the way, how's the funeral coming along? Did you get everyone lined up?"
Wei Wu, the elder brother, nodded curtly, his face cold. "All set. They'll be here before dawn. Grave's picked out too."
In the village, tradition dictated that a body be kept at home for seven days, the mourning hall open for respects. But Wei Wenwu's reputation had been tarnished long before his suicide. His name carried no honor, and the villagers had little reason to pay their respects. The family, bitter and resentful, saw no point in prolonging the ordeal. The summer heat of late July didn't help—leaving a body out too long would turn the courtyard into a stench-filled nightmare. After a quick discussion, they decided to bury him swiftly, skipping the usual feast. It was better to be done with it.
As the brothers busied themselves with preparations, Long Gen seized the moment. With Wei Wenwu's portrait looming overhead, he slipped his hand into Miao Hong's skirt, his fingers finding the damp warmth between her thighs. She gasped softly, her body still sensitive from their earlier tryst. His touch was bold, almost taunting, as if daring the dead man's spirit to object. With a satisfied smirk, Long Gen withdrew his hand, whistling a tune as he sauntered out of the courtyard.
Behind him, the brothers' voices carried through the still air. "Hey, what's this wet stuff on the floor?" Er muttered, crouching to inspect a slick patch. "Feels sticky…"
"Forget it," Da snapped, his voice heavy with disgust. "Just get through tonight. I'm done with this damn house. The old man was a piece of shit."
Long Gen stifled a laugh, his hand covering his mouth as he slipped into the darkness. 'Sticky, huh? That's me and your ma's little masterpiece, you dumbasses.'
The village was cloaked in an eerie silence, the weight of Wei Wenwu's death hanging over every household. Doors were bolted, windows shuttered, and even the toads in the rice paddies seemed too spooked to croak. The night was pitch-black, but Long Gen knew these paths like the back of his hand. His mood was buoyant, his body still buzzing from his conquest. Though his cock hadn't had its fill, he quickened his pace, eager to return home where three beautiful women awaited—each one a vision of desire, ready to satisfy his insatiable hunger.
As he passed by Chen Yunsong's house, a sudden burst of barking shattered the quiet. "Woof! Woof!" The sound came from the yard, where a large dog stood guard. Long Gen cursed under his breath, ready to move on, when a light flickered on inside the house. A woman's voice, sharp and irritated, cut through the night. "What's all that racket? Damn it, don't you know I'm trying to sleep? That bastard Wei Wenwu—dying now of all times, scaring the hell outta me!"
Long Gen paused, recognizing the voice. It was Yuan Xiang, Chen Yunsong's wife. Chen, the youngest and most successful of his family, was a teacher who was rarely home, leaving Yuan Xiang alone and frustrated. She was a voluptuous woman, her skin soft and unmarred by farm work, her curves generous and inviting. Her breasts, massive and swaying with every step, were the stuff of village legend. Men joked that fucking Yuan Xiang was worth losing a decade of life, their eyes fixed on her heaving chest. But her fiery temper and her brother-in-law Chen Tianming's protection kept most suitors at bay.
A wicked idea sparked in Long Gen's mind. 'Why not? Let's have some fun with her.' With a sly grin, he scaled the low wall, landing with a soft thud in the yard. The dog growled, baring its teeth, but Long Gen was undeterred. He deepened his voice, adopting a ghostly tone that sent a chill through the air. "Yuan Xiang, oh Yuan Xiang… do you know who I am? I died so unjustly… so unwillingly…"
A scream erupted from inside. "A ghost! Oh God, a ghost!" Yuan Xiang's voice quaked with terror.
Long Gen knocked on the door, his voice low and menacing. "Yuan Xiang, do you know why I'm not at peace? Why I can't rest?" He thumped his chest for effect, the sound echoing in the quiet night.
Yuan Xiang, huddled under her blanket, whimpered. "Uncle Wei, please, don't scare me! I'm not brave… What do you want? Tell me, I'll do it. I'll burn paper money for you, heaps of it, every festival. Just don't haunt me!" Her voice cracked, her fear palpable.
Long Gen bit back a laugh. 'These village women are too easy.' "Oh, Yuan Xiang," He continued, his voice dripping with mock sorrow, "My greatest regret is that I never got to fuck you. Those big tits of yours—they've haunted me every night. I couldn't rest, so I came straight to you. Let me have you, just once, and I'll be at peace."
"What?!" Yuan Xiang's voice shot up, her body trembling. "Fuck me? No, Uncle Wei, please! I'll burn you pictures of beautiful women, anything! Just don't… don't do that!"
"Hmph!" Long Gen growled, his tone turning icy. "If you won't let me, I'll drag you to hell with me. I'll fuck you there every day!" He pounded on the door, the wood rattling ominously.
"No! Don't take me!" Yuan Xiang sobbed, her resolve crumbling. "Fine, fine, you can do it. Just… don't take me away!" Her voice was desperate, her fear overriding her senses.
"Open the door," Long Gen commanded, barely containing his glee. "And turn off the light. I don't want my ugly corpse face scaring you."
With a creak, the door swung open, and a cool breeze swept in. Yuan Xiang, shivering in her nightgown, stood frozen as Long Gen stepped inside, his silhouette looming in the darkness. The dog, strangely silent now, retreated to its corner.
"Uncle Wei," Yuan Xiang whispered, her voice trembling, "How… how do you want to do it?"
Long Gen's eyes gleamed as he closed the distance. "Your tits, Yuan Xiang. I've heard they're massive. Sit still and let me feel them." He reached out, his hands finding her heavy breasts, their weight spilling over his palms. They were even better than he'd imagined—soft, pliant, and so large he couldn't hold them fully. His fingers sank into the warm flesh, kneading and squeezing as Yuan Xiang let out a soft moan, her fear mingling with unexpected pleasure.
"Oh, they're perfect," Long Gen murmured, his voice thick with lust. He tugged at her nightgown, exposing her breasts to the cool air, her nipples hardening under his touch. He pinched them gently, eliciting a gasp. "Careful, Uncle Wei," She whimpered, "Those are for my kids someday…"
But Long Gen was beyond restraint. He lowered his mouth, sucking greedily on one nipple while his hand worked the other, his tongue swirling in slow, deliberate circles. Yuan Xiang's protests melted into soft moans, her body responding despite her fear. The room filled with the sounds of his lips smacking against her skin, her breaths growing heavier with each passing second.
After minutes of teasing, Long Gen's cock strained against his pants, hard as iron. "Enough playing," He growled. "Take off your clothes and spread your legs. I don't have much time."
Yuan Xiang, caught in a haze of fear and arousal, obeyed. She stripped off her nightgown, her curves glowing faintly in the moonlight streaming through the window. Lying back on the bed, she parted her thighs, her body trembling as Long Gen positioned himself above her. With a swift thrust, he entered her, his thick shaft stretching her to the limit. She cried out, her eyes wide with shock and pleasure.
"Oh, Uncle Wei!" She gasped, her nails digging into the sheets as he began to move, his hips slamming against hers in a relentless rhythm. Her breasts bounced wildly with each thrust, the sight driving Long Gen wild. The bed creaked under their weight, the room filled with the sounds of their bodies colliding—wet, rhythmic slaps echoing in the stillness.
"Fuck, you're tight," Long Gen grunted, his hands gripping her hips as he pounded deeper. Yuan Xiang's moans grew louder, her fear giving way to ecstasy. "Uncle Wei… you're too much… I can't… I'm gonna…" Her words dissolved into a scream as her body convulsed, her climax washing over her in waves.
Long Gen didn't stop, his own release building as he drove into her, each thrust pushing him closer to the edge. With a final, guttural groan, he came, his body shuddering as he collapsed onto her, their sweat-slicked bodies entwined.
As he caught his breath, Long Gen smirked. "Thanks, Yuan Xiang. I'm at peace now." He slipped out of the house, leaving her panting and dazed, convinced she'd just been fucked by a ghost.
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