Clouds and Rain

I heard the rustle of the Chujen's robes as he decorously approached with a pot of scented clouds and rain ointment and calmed the Hungmao long enough to convey that he was trying to aid the inevitable act. The Hungmao held me down on all fours with one arm wrapped around my chest as he crouched over me and invaded my tight and virginal anus with lubricated fingers as the Chujen worked ointment on the Hungmao's prodigious, throbbing yangchu.

I had the sense then of being in the embrace of a silken-pelted bear as the Chujen faded back to the entrance of the chamber and the Hungmao held the bulbous head of his yangchu to my back entrance in an encasing, directing fist.

The Hungmao panted hard as he worked himself inside me, and I panted even harder and suppressed my groans and moans as best I could as he did so. The groaning and moaning was meant to be saved for later, when the patron was fully saddled and was stroking and needed to hear that he was the master of the Central Kingdom.

But I could not help it. I cried out in pain and invasion, nothing like this having been part of what I had learned over the last four season cycles. Although, to rights, no one involved in my training could have been known that I was destined to lose my chenchieh to a monster horse foreign ghost yangchu.

"I must not faint," I kept repeating to myself. "I must pleasure him with my body for as long as possible." I gritted my teeth and took him inside me and clenched my entrance muscles as I had been taught and listened in triumph to him gasp in pleasure at that. And then, as he sank in and in and in, I tried, through the wall of pain, to conjure up all of the exercises I had learned to control the muscles inside me. To make them ripple around and across his yangchu, to make internal love to his manhood as I had been taught to do. The clouds, the important clouds before the rain—the beating of one cloud against the other, the friction that brought on the rain, with the greater the cloud beating the greater the rain.

He groaned and gasped in pleasure and his lips went to the hollow of my neck, where they ingested the enticement powder. He murmured and sighed and moaned and I felt the powder working in the impossible reality that he grew even larger inside me.

His horse yangchu slid back and forth, shallow and then deep, to the surface and then diving down, down, down and holding as my muscles contracted around him and worked on his yangchu.

I could hear Bao screaming out that he was being split asunder and that his insides were being flooded—again—from the other chamber, and I began to wiggle my hips, no longer in as much pain as at the beginning. Something else was moving inside me now. Wanting. Actually wanting this clouds and rain. I was working the clouds—the touching and the sighing and the moaning and the movement under him and back against him as he thrust, meeting him thrust for thrust now. Listening to his ragged breathing. Giving him the best clouds he had ever received. Living up to the reputation of the House of the Green Dragon.

Then the rains came. The Hungmao cried out in ecstasy and the rains came. Deep inside me. He collapsed on top of me, pushing me down on my belly on the red silk pallet, and I heard the rustling of the Chujen's robes as he left us, his official duties finished—back to his dark room and is vermilion ink and his triumphant collection of a favor from the Shengchang, a favor that could sustain the House of the Green Dragon for generations to come.

I heard Bao crying out from the other chamber. That his wrists had been tied and he was doubled over the rim of the unused tub and was being roughly entered again and again and again. That the golden Kueilo smelled vile and cruelly bit and had a yangchu thicker than the pillars in the Vermilion Pavilion. That his rains were a flood. But there was nothing I could do for Bao now. I had to delay the departure of the vessel. And I knew it would not leave without its captain. Perhaps if I could detain him even for a night.

The Hungmao rolled off me and he lay on his back, still panting. Gathering all of the resolve and resources I could, I sat up and moved my head over his heaving chest and started to lick his nipples and set his red chest hair aswirl. My hands danced over his torso and down to his yangchu, still huge but now in repose. I needed to coax him into clouds and rain again. I needed him to believe that only with me could he accomplish rapid recovery and multiple clouds and rain. Wanting to stay with me as long as possible. I knew this was vital to the pride of any man, Chungkuojen or Kueilo. All the same in the vanity realm. Entice three clouds and rain in an assignation, and the man is yours forever.

I put an arm around his neck and lifted his mouth to my nipple. He sucked and licked while I worked my other hand across his cheek. I moved his mouth around the nipple, coaxing him to ingest more of the enticement powder, which he did. This had the desired effect, in consort with my stroking, on his yangchu. He was regaining virility. I stroked the slit in the head of his yangchu with the tip of my finger and he gasped and began to writhe in pleasure, his life's fluid beginning to bubble up onto my finger. I would feel him trembling at the knowledge that there would be a second clouds and rain so soon after the first. He already was nearly mine.

After I'd heard the last gurgling cry from Bao from across the Vermilion Pavilion, followed by an ominous silence, I felt more than saw the presence of the golden Kueilo at the entrance to the eastern chamber. I could hear his ragged breathing. I knew he was watching the Hungmao and me deeply entering our second clouds and rain.

The Hungmao was kneeling, sitting back on his calves and facing out toward the sunset over the Xinzhou lagoon. He was holding me, like a small doll, in front of him, me facing the lagoon as well, my knees leveraging off the surface of the red-silk pallet, body arched out, and my anus sliding up and down on the Hungmao's rejuvenated yangchu. Up and down, endlessly. I no longer was in pain. I was enjoying the taking. I wondered if I would ever be swallowing a member this large ever again. Stretching for him. Perfecting the skills of internal muscle massage of a throbbing horse yangchu of impossible size and strength.

The Hungmao was sighing and groaning contentedly.

A shadow fell on me and I no longer could see the lagoon. What I saw now was a short, thick yangchu jutting out of a thick thatch of golden hair. I almost gagged at the thickness and smelliness of the second Kueilo's yangchu as he pushed it between my lips. But this was no time for niceties. I gave him quite satisfactory kiss of the yangchu attention too. I was determined to keep them here as long as possible. If Bao had failed, I could only try to succeed.

The golden Kueilo grabbed my pigtail and forced my head back and he pushed hard down inside my mouth with his yangchu. The Hungmao, between pants of his own spoke sharply at the golden one in that ugly guttural language of theirs, though, and the golden Kueilo released my pigtail.

The virile Hungmao was still sliding me up and down on his yangchu when the golden one released his seed inside my mouth. He brought his mouth down to mine and sucked his fluid from inside my mouth in a lips-on-lips invasion that we almost never performed between men at the House of the Green Dragon. But if it delayed their parting for even a moment, I would do it. I returned his kiss and stifled my surprise and pain when he bit me on the lip.

The golden one knelt down before me and I felt his fingers forcing their way inside my anus alongside the sliding yangchu of the Hungmao. He was stroking his own yangchu back to thickness with his other hand, and for a brief moment I panicked at the sure knowledge that he intended his yangchu to join that of the Hungmao's inside me.

But the Hungmao spoke gruffly to the golden one, and he pulled his fingers from me and stood and moved toward the door. I knew from what he was saying that he was telling the Hungmao it was time for them to return to the vessel in the lagoon.

I tightened my internal muscles on the Hungmao's yangchu inside me and turned his lips to mine and gave him lip-to-lip attention for the first time in our clouds and rain. He reacted with surprise and pleasure, and then I took his head and buried his lips into my shoulder, where there still was some enticement powder lingering. He was lost to me then.

He and the golden Kueilo exchanged hurried and angry words. As they spoke, I performed the fan movement of the clouds and rain. In one deft, lithe movement, I turned on the Hungmao's yangchu to where I was facing him and, at the same time, pushed him down onto his back, with his muscle-bulging hairy legs now stretched out toward the lagoon.

With the golden Kueilo still angrily talking and gesturing and the Hungmao groaning loudly in ecstasy and his pale-blue eyes revolving wildly in their sockets, I began to ride his yangchu hard with revolving hips and rippling internal muscles. The golden one gave up in disgust and departed, while his captain writhed in deep lust under me. The Hungmao flooded me with his essence soon thereafter.

He drifted off to sleep hours later after the third clouds and rain, in which I lay on my back, my hips raised by red silk pillows, my legs flared out wide, and the Hungmao on his knees on the red pallet between my legs, looking out at the now-furled sails of his vessel riding quietly in the lagoon and moving his hips back and forth, rhythmically and forever while I sighed and moaned for him, letting him know he was the most masterful jen in the Central Kingdom. Holding him enthralled with every trick I had learned.

I performed clouds and rain, each time in a different position and ever more intricately, holding the Hungmao's total attention between replenishment meals supplied by a delighted Chujen, for the next three days and nights.

When the Hungmao finally descended to his vessel, stiff legged and humming, on the fourth day, I was at the edge of the veranda of the Vermilion Pavilion, only slightly happy to see him go. He had a yangchu such as I would never again ride, a yangchu that the Chujen would have expertly measured in length and thickness in his mind and in his handling during the clouds and rain ointment application and would record on my record of capability. But it wasn't just the size of him, which enhanced my value to the House of the Green Dragon; as my clouds and rain became more inventive, he had become more and more gentle and lost to me. If the Shengchang had instructed that he be held here forever, I could have managed that—and would have been content doing it.

I could part from him with the knowledge that my fortune and legend was now made, not just in the house of the Green Dragon, but beyond the pleasure resort of Xinzhou—perhaps even beyond the province of Hainan. I could dream of being lionized to the emperor himself. Perhaps I could dream of serving the yangchu needs and desires of the son of heaven himself.

But as much as I had come to enjoy the Hungmao's horse yangchu churning inside me, I was Chungkuojen to the very fiber of me. I sensed that these Kueilo, these foreign ghosts, were devils to be avoided and kept away from the purity of my land. At least I could rest in the knowledge that my four days of delay had given the Shengchang the time he needed to devise plans to eradicate this threat—to ensure that no Kueilo ghost ships would enter Xinzhou's lagoon or the bays of any other city in the Central Kingdom ever again.