Happy Little Farmer
Chapter 27 - 27 27 Comfort of Regret

27: Chapter 27 Comfort of Regret 27: Chapter 27 Comfort of Regret The bathroom curtain, which had been tightly drawn, was once again lifted by a gust of wind.

The dim light from the corridor, like a sneaky thief, suddenly seeped through the crack.

Just as Yang Fan’s hand reached into Little Mother’s buttocks, he was so startled that his body froze.

He quickly turned his head to look in his sister-in-law’s direction.

Perhaps heaven took pity on him, for the stark-naked sister-in-law was squatting on the ground, looking down at her urine, oblivious to her surroundings.

Yang Fan’s held breath was finally released quietly, as the excitement was overwhelming, but it nearly scared his heart out of his chest.

The fluttering curtain fell back down, and the bathroom was once again plunged into pitch darkness.

Emboldened by audacity, Yang Fan’s palm slid down Little Mother’s narrow buttocks with a single stroke, making a “plop” as he pulled out that fake thing and quickly replaced it with his own real deal, plunging in.

In an instant, a supremely moist warmth enveloped him, causing him to shiver uncontrollably.

Perhaps it was due to excessive nervousness, but the comfort he experienced in that moment was incomparable.

“Ah—”

Perhaps it was because Yang Fan was too forceful, but Zhou Wenhui suddenly let out a soft cry, her body trembling lightly as if it had been electrocuted.

Startled, Yang Fan quickly sped up, thrusting deeper and faster for a few times.

“Ah…

Ah…”

Zhou Wenhui cried out with extra effort, seemingly too overwhelmed to remember to stifle her voice.

“Keep it down, don’t wake Fanzi up,” Ye Tong’s voice emerged from the darkness.

Immersed in extreme pleasure, Yang Fan abruptly came to his senses, quickly withdrew, and groped his way down Little Mother’s buttocks to put that fake thing back in place.

“Hmm…” Zhou Wenhui moaned softly, beginning to breathe heavily.

Yang Fan’s heart raced nervously, slowly retreating toward the direction of the door.

Little Mother seemed unaware that the fake had been exchanged for the real just now.

Logically, she must have noticed something, but perhaps she was too engrossed, caught up in that sensation, and overlooked the change.

Although Yang Fan had impulsively acted on his urge just now, he now felt a chill upon regaining his composure.

Being discovered was almost certain; not being found was merely good luck.

Just then, Zhou Wenhui’s voice suddenly rose, “Xiao Tong, what did you just use?

Those few moments you made it feel so good, it was thick and hard, and warm, hitting my tender spot in just two or three moves.”

Ye Tong seemed to have fumbled her way back, “It’s that fake husband of yours, what else could it be?

Just now you must’ve been too excited yourself; even your voice seemed off to me.”

“Really?

It felt different to me, those few moments really felt great!” Zhou Wenhui muttered in confusion.

“Is that so?

I was practically using all my might, did it feel good?” Ye Tong playfully slapped Zhou Wenhui’s buttocks, teasing her with laughter.

“No, it still wasn’t as good as just now,” Zhou Wenhui said.

Ye Tong laughed, “Then it must be your imagination, probably right as you reached that peak.”

“Maybe…

but something still feels oddly off,” Zhou Wenhui murmured softly.

Yang Fan, positioned at the doorway, slowly began to slide the sliding door open.

He didn’t dare exert too much force, gently pushing with his palm, fearing making too much noise.

This was a partition door for the bathroom; there was another door outside, so he didn’t worry about light coming through when opening the door.

But he needed to hurry; the open window was always a risk.

Not being discovered the previous two times didn’t mean he would always be so lucky.

He opened the door just enough for half his body to slip through, quickly squeezed out, and silently closed the sliding door behind him.

The sound of water in the bathroom along with the voices of Little Mother and my sister-in-law were shut off inside.

Yang Fan stood behind the door, taking several deep breaths to steady his fluctuating heart.

Today, he truly acted on impulse.

Seeing sister-in-law and Little Mother like that, his reason seemed to have instantly plummeted into the Abyss, leaving him clueless as to what was left in his mind—just an urge to do something.

Although he rashly went in, and it was indeed pleasurable at the moment.

But now, aside from the discomfort of not having released, he was filled with endless regret.

He actually went as far as to… with Little Mother in a fit of impulsivity.…

It was utterly inexcusable.

Yang Fan immediately fell into deep regret and self-blame, consumed by the incident; he didn’t even realize how he had returned to his own room.

It wasn’t until he lay on the bed that the image of Little Mother’s naked back and the searing tightness there haunted him, stuck like a pause and replaying over and over in his mind.

People are strange sometimes; when you force yourself not to think about something, not only does it not fade away, but it becomes even clearer instead, to the point where you can even relive the sensations.

Yang Fan drifted off to sleep in such a daze.

It seemed someone came into his room at one point, he sensed someone beside him but couldn’t wake up.

The next day, Yang Fan got up from bed to the loud and clear crowing of the rooster.

Sitting on the bed and listening to the chirping birds outside the window for a while, he finally put on his clothes.

Although his mind was somewhat clearer after a night’s sleep, last night’s image remained vivid.

The memory had almost set in place.

He couldn’t help thinking of Little Mother’s charming back, and the thought brought self-reproach.

This damn vicious cycle made Yang Fan want to slap himself.

It was unfilial.

He opened the curtains and stepped out of his room, as the sunrise had just peeked out halfway over the mountain, fresh and invigorating air filtering through.

Yang Fan washed his face, groomed himself, and entered the kitchen.

Little Mother was already up, with a pink apron tied around her waist, bustling near the stove.

Her tight black pants outlined her pert buttocks almost to the point of revealing every curve, barely short of highlighting every crease.

Yang Fan pinched his forehead and hurriedly averted his eyes.

Last night’s affair leapt back into his mind involuntarily.

Seeing Little Mother’s figure from behind, he instantly remembered her plump form.

He was nearly driving himself mad.

“Awake, huh?” Little Mother turned her head and asked Yang casually.

Yang Fan, feeling guilty as a thief, avoided her gaze and answered in a muffled tone, ready to leave the kitchen.

Being around each other was becoming too suffocating for him.

“Wait a moment, could you pull up my pants for me?

My hands are greasy,” Zhou Wenhui called out, holding up her hands.

“Ah?

This… okay,” Yang Fan replied, head lowered, feeling his cheeks flush with heat.