Age of Decay: Dawn

"No matter what clothes I put on, I always feel that this narrow earthly life is very depressing. If

you want to play games, you are too old.

If you want to be ashamed, you are too young..." It was late at night, and there was no one in Antipota city. There are only a few people who are still active, and there is only one person left on the empty street. An inconspicuous face, an inconspicuous hairstyle, an inconspicuous figure... All the adjectives in this world, no matter whether they are positive or derogatory, can be used to sum up this world by adding the word "no" in front of it. A man wandering the streets. No features! But it was just a pair of round glasses on his face, which made this humble person a little recognizable. He was wearing a standard pedantic black robe, which complemented the thick pair of glasses, making it obvious that he was a typical pedantic literati. His tall, thin figure made the voluminous robes on him look especially comical. He muttered, and from time to time he wrote something on the book clamped under his arm. He used a stick of charcoal to write on paper. No one else would do it but him--which was a point of his own self-satisfaction--and he was the first to do it. "What guarantee can the world give? You must live in poverty and keep your place, keep your share and live in poverty!" The poet sighed and continued to mutter. In fact, he didn't know what "poetry" was, and he had only seen the word "poetry" in the books in the school's ancient books library. After all, more than three hundred years ago, there was no such thing as poetry. I don't know what the world looked like more than three hundred years ago when the gate of the devil world had not been opened. He thinks about it now and then.

"This is the eternal song, which is heard in

everyone's ears, and it will be screamed at all times

throughout our lives ." Along the way, he has seen many people beaten by the church because they can't afford to pay taxes. blood poor man. He always felt that the Church was with those monsters. Whenever a city has any signs of rebelling against the church, it will definitely be attacked by a group of monsters as expected. Then amidst the wailing of the people, the people of the church "step forward", and those monsters will miraculously retreat back to their forest. Then, amidst people's praises, life has returned to its original starting point. Those innocent people who lost their lives in the tide of monsters were hastily buried, and the church started a new round of harvesting. "I woke up suddenly in the morning, and I couldn't help crying. I spent the day and didn't let me realize any wishes." He walked by a pile of gray and black ruins-this was once the only place in the city. church. Just this morning, the revolutionary army that was attacked into the city set it on fire. Although he has always maintained a neutral attitude towards the so-called revolution, he is still a bit gloating. it is good! Well done! damn it. He looked at the scar on his right leg. This was beaten by people from the church when he was still a student in the seminary. The reason for being beaten was that he wrote an article that was "disgraceful to the gods" - he just wrote flowers and plants - and the people in the church analyzed thousands of meanings and said that he was insinuating. Now no one from the church cares about him. This area is under the control of revolutionary forces. He can write whatever he wants now. I heard that apart from the east, the west was also almost occupied by the revolutionary army. He was in a good mood, humming, and couldn't help laughing at the sight of the faculty screaming in the burning church. "Even every happy presentiment is marred by obstinate criticism, and with a thousand hideous realities of life thwarts the creative zeal of my lively mind."

In fact, the group of people in the revolution said that it was for justice, but they were just fighting for interests. Of course, he is also a beneficiary, at least now there will be no curfew, and no one will care what he writes. Farmers are exempted from grain tax, chambers of commerce are exempted from toll tax, and there will be no one to point out the love between men and women. Those with vested interests all defend the revolution. He understands this. We are all selfish people. "When night fell, we had to go to bed with anxiety; then I was still restless, and was often haunted by nightmares. The god in me; who can deeply stimulate my square inch, the god who reigns over all powers, can not see the outside world . Things move a tiny bit. So I feel that existence is a burden . I would rather die than come back to life." He wrote the last word in the notebook and let out a long breath. All right! He was in high spirits, and he was preoccupied with wild thoughts. This poem can be handed over to those revolutionaries in exchange for money. The Revolutionary Army is now collecting some literary works that reflect the decadence of the old society. After the submitted works are adopted, they can get a few gold coins. He is still very confident in his work. At that time, my works will be exhibited in the revolutionary area, and then people will know myself, a genius hidden in the city! He trembled with excitement. For some reason, he felt that his steps were much lighter. Maybe it was affected by your own emotions? never mind. New era, come on! The air at night is drier and colder. A gust of wind blew, making the fragile poet's teeth chatter from the cold. Let's go back first. Trembling, he tightened his robe. He tried to go right—to no avail. The body is still moving forward. Eh? Walk through the first alley where you can go home, and turn right at the second alley with your feet. what happened? He was a little flustered, and he broke his foot that was slowly turning to the right with his hands. Crazy crazy crazy crazy! No matter how he broke his legs, his legs still turned to the right stubbornly. He wanted to yell, but only a faint ahh came out of his throat.

The poor poet watched uncontrollably as his body entered a territory he was completely unfamiliar with. One step, two steps, walked into a small dim door, walked up the stairs, and stood in front of a half-closed door in the corridor on the second floor, pulled away the stiff left hand, stepped in with the left foot, followed closely by the right foot Then, turn around and close the door. "Whoaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa... therefore, he regained control of his body, and finally expressed it through shouting. "Shut up!" A soft loli voice came from behind him. His mouth quickly closed uncontrollably. "Mmm! Mmmmm!" Only a few **** grunts came from his throat. He turned around tremblingly, only to see a little loli wearing a gothic skirt looking at him with disgust. The two slender pointed ears protruding from Lori's short pink hair clearly showed her ethnicity. His body of about 1.2 meters is less than half of his height, and his little face with a little baby fat has a look of disgust that doesn't match her cute appearance at all. In her hand was a huge staff that was about the same height as her, exuding a murderous aura, as if she would kill herself at any moment. She approached the poet unsteadily, taking long strides, as if unaware of how short her little fleshy legs were. "You, come here!" The majestic tone didn't match her soft voice at all, and her imposing manner only made her look more lovely. This loli--Cyril wearing cam skin was also puzzled at this time. Since he put on the leather, he has no memory of the leather itself. He also developed it many times, but he didn't get any memory. He recalled the first time he got the leather memory. Maybe you have to have sex with a man to get memories? He had no basis but thought it for granted. So the poor poet became the first victim. The poet watched "she" take off her clothes slowly. First unbutton the jacket, then swing the skirt from side to side. The underpants also came off slowly, but the white stockings on her legs were left on. The fair, pink and tender young girl's body was fully exposed in front of his eyes.

The poet's body moved uncontrollably again. He walked stiffly to the bed and lay down on the bed. There was a huge mirror on the head of the bed, obviously not for him. Cam got up on the bed too. A slender and soft hand gradually unbuttoned his robe, and then unbuttoned his trousers. The warm petite body exuding the milky smell exclusive to Lolita slowly rode on him. He regained control of his body, but had given up struggling. He, as an adult, had never experienced the pleasure between a man and a woman. Of course, it is inseparable from his conservative and pedantic character. No, I am a decent man! To be robbed of his virginity by a little girl without dignity is enough to make him feel ashamed! But... But, if it comes, let it be, forget it. That's fine too. "Ah, phimosis."

Cam showed her loss openly, but it was clear that she was not the most lost. The nerdy poet's face flushed. "Have you ever done it?" "No, no..." "Tsk, trash." Cam shook his head contemptuously. She teased the poet under the shrunken state, "It's ugly." "Are you impotent? As a man, it's okay to be incompetent in career, even in bed. The career is not as good as others." Cam She humiliated him softly and with a long voice, "You are such a big man, you have never done it once, it is really a waste." "Cut off the useless things as soon as possible, and don't keep them as shameful, okay?" Caressing the little clone of the poet who was slowly rising, "like that of an underdeveloped child." The poet finally proved himself amid Cam's insults. A naked beast with a fiery aura gradually stood up, held high in Loli's slender and sensitive hands. Transparent nails looped around his cock, moving up and down. The hairless pink white tiger gradually devoured the dragon, making the poet feel dizzy. The tight wrapping impacted his brain, and the hot and humid feeling came from below. "Hmm♡" She had already sat on the poet's body, swinging her waist slightly. Bit by bit, she appropriated it for herself with nuanced curiosity. "Is that all you can do? You can't even compare to a breeding pig~" "Bitch! Sow! Bitch!" The poet jumped up like crazy, completely letting go of the scholar's reserve. He got up like crazy and pushed the unsuspecting loli sitting on the bed, and squeezed Cam's small and exquisite breasts with both hands, and ravaged them. He buried his head on Loli's little belly, and licked her belly that smelled of milk almost madly. He grabbed Loli's hair and thrust it wildly. "Woo!" Little Lolita let out a lovely whine, which made him use up all his strength even more presumptuously. "Don't! Don't! Cam knows it's wrong!" He let the loli under his crotch howl in a crying voice, and he didn't slow down. The **** accumulated in the past 23 years has completely exploded at this moment.

"Wuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu." The hot liquid filled Loli's pussy, and the orgasm made Cam's eyes roll up, as if he had lost consciousness. The two finally separated. Five minutes, ten minutes, no words. Rationality returned to the poet's mind, and the ethics education of more than ten years made him feel endlessly ashamed. "Yes, I'm sorry... I couldn't control myself for a while..." Cam just looked at him with contemptuous eyes. "Trash." He lowered his head and did not speak. Still no memory... Cam sighed imperceptibly. Forget it, try to imitate it. As if suddenly remembering something, the poet hurriedly shouted at the back of Cam, who had already put on his clothes: "Don't go!" "Why? Calculated according to the age of our elves, Cam is already an adult Oh, you don't have to worry." - she lied. "No, I have something I want to show you." He picked up the clothes on his body and took out the book, "No." Cam walked over impatiently and caught the book that was handed over. "Here's a poem I wrote, what do you think?" "What the hell." She frowned, holding onto her staff. "Stupid." With a groan, the book burst into flames.