Having an affair with the neighbor's wife

page views:1 Publication date:2022-06-14

She's my neighbor's wife, several years older than me. Although my family and theirs don't keep in close contact, I've liked her since high school. Maybe it's because she's really beautiful, or maybe it's because I often heard moans coming from their house late at night. I always thought it was just a fantasy, but she actually came into my life. She is indeed a beautiful woman; although she's thirty-three, she exudes an allure that makes me want to bite her. Normally, I only greet her when we meet, though I have many fantasies afterward, this continued until I graduated from university. I work at an investment company, often not getting off work until seven or eight at night, so I often order an omelet rice at a Japanese restaurant near my company for dinner. Of course, this restaurant is also where I often bring online friends to eat; I can't even remember how many sweet words I've said there. I have a special feeling for this restaurant. But last Tuesday, the night before the APEC long holiday, I unexpectedly ran into her there. Her curly hair, her body—she looked so captivating. I completely forgot to say hello! She saw me too, and walked straight towards me with that smile that had captivated me for six years. She was there to buy clothes. We ate and chatted, and she kept asking me if the clothes looked good, because she said women's clothes are always for men to see. To be honest, I didn't know if her clothes looked good, because they were very revealing, with hardly any fabric. I could even see her red nipples in her bra when she looked down to eat. Although I couldn't see them very clearly, and although I didn't dare to look at someone so familiar like that, it definitely aroused my desire for her. It was also strange that a woman in her thirties would still have red nipples! My penis got hard! We talked so much for the first time, and I say so because it was the first time we talked so much about things other than everyday matters. I discovered that her interests weren't much different from people our age. She also liked to go clubbing after work, but I liked to go to "True Love," while she liked to go to "Roger's." I joked at the time, saying, "Let's go dancing today, your husband won't mind, will he?" She actually agreed, saying she'd go tonight, because her husband had gone to Hong Kong and wouldn't be back for a week; he'd just left today, and she'd just seen him off at the airport and gone shopping for clothes on Huaihai Road. We sat at the open-air bar in Xintiandi until 10:30, and she said she wanted to check out "True Love." We got there at 11:30. It was peak time, very crowded. I suggested we get something to drink first, and she said beer. Actually, I don't drink, but since she said beer, it wouldn't be right for me not to, so I ordered four bottles. I could already feel my face turning red; it was so hot. Finally, she couldn't resist going to dance, saying she couldn't stand it, no matter how crowded it was, and pulled me in. It was the first time she held my hand, and I touched her arm—it was so soft and warm. I felt a strong urge. To be honest, I really like "True Love" because the women there are really beautiful. For a long time, I came here just to see the women. Her outfit today was actually very suitable for the atmosphere—tight-fitting, low-cut, making her look very voluptuous, but she's always been a voluptuous woman. She started a head-shaking dance in front of me, her eyes closed, rhythmically swaying her long hair. I was surprised that someone her age would enjoy head-shaking; I'd always thought it was the domain of lively young girls. I was even more astonished that as she shook her head, her breasts swayed more rhythmically than her hair. I took a step closer to her, for some reason—perhaps I wanted to accidentally touch her incredibly alluring breasts. She shook her head really wildly, almost frantically. I sometimes dance like that, but I can only manage five minutes at most; I can't stand the dizziness. But she danced for a minute and a half, then suddenly burst into laughter and hugged me. I was genuinely startled. She laughed maniacally, saying she couldn't dance anymore and asked me to help her for a while. I held her, feeling a little overwhelmed and flattered. It wasn't that I'd never held a woman before, but she was truly special to me. It wasn't love; it was a different feeling altogether. Back in high school, I even considered her like an elder, but today, in this setting, I could actually hold her so tightly. Her scent made me dizzy. My shoulder pressed firmly against her left breast, feeling its softness and warmth. I wanted to bite it, but she was my neighbor, not some little sister from my online world! So, I held her and found a seat at the bar. She leaned on my shoulder for a while, seemed to sober up, and then, while teasing me for being so young yet not as good as her, ordered two more bottles of jazz, saying she was thirsty. Perhaps because I had been fantasizing about her too much, I was momentarily speechless! Just then, I saw a CLASS 1 girl in her early twenties haggling with a foreigner. One said he wanted two thousand, while the other, who considered himself an expert on China, said he'd only ask for fifteen hundred at most. They were talking loudly, and the girl probably thought she was speaking English, which the other Chinese people couldn't understand. The other guy, however, thought that letting his companion hear would prove he was a China expert. I couldn't help but laugh at the two guys, saying that a prostitute is a prostitute, no matter how pretty or high-class she is. She laughed and said yes, that you men like her, that with two thousand yuan you can play with a girl that most men would only glance at on the street. I said that no matter how lustful I am, I wouldn't touch a prostitute. It's not that I think she's dirty or cheap, but I'd despise myself. I don't believe I'd stoop to the point of needing a prostitute to find a woman. She actually thought my statement was insightful and asked what I would do if I wanted a woman. Perhaps because we'd had a few drinks, my neighbor and I ended up talking about this topic. I said that if I wanted a woman, I'd have a one-night stand but wouldn't go to a prostitute. Whether she had some insight or felt it wasn't appropriate to discuss this topic with her neighbor's younger brother, she paused for a moment and didn't delve deeper into the subject. So we squeezed back into the crowd and started jumping around again. The music was great, my favorite high note, and I danced with great enthusiasm. She, perhaps not used to this kind of dance, was a little out of rhythm. I don't know where the impulse came from, but I suddenly hugged her, placed my hands on her buttocks, pressed my chest against hers, and led her in this slow, heavy dance. I saw a hint of surprise in her eyes that made me hesitate, but she immediately responded with acceptance. So I pressed closer to her, more rhythmically, and I could tell she was enjoying it, because she placed her hands on my buttocks. Later, I even felt our lower abdomens rubbing together; her fingers gently kneaded my buttocks to the rhythm, and my lower abdomen was on fire! At 1:30, we decided to go home, but I could clearly feel the atmosphere between us was different from when we first arrived. Since that dance, she had become noticeably quieter. I wanted to say something, but nothing came out. We hailed a taxi waiting at the door, and the driver surprisingly enthusiastically introduced us to the hotel. I wasn't surprised by the driver's enthusiasm, but since he was talking to me and my neighbor, I felt a little awkward. I told him I was going to Guangling Road in Hongkou District and then fell silent. She didn't say anything either, and we didn't talk much the whole way. I felt the atmosphere wasn't very good. When we were almost home, I asked the driver to stop. I paid him and told him I felt a bit stuffy inside and needed some fresh air. She smiled and nodded; she knew it wouldn't be good if acquaintances saw us. When we got to her door, her light was on—her cute orange wall lamp. The light seemed very inviting. I couldn't help but start daydreaming again. But what could I do? I tiptoed into the living room, careful not to wake my parents. I turned on the lamp and found a note on the table. It was from my parents; they said they were going to Huangshan for the long holiday. Thinking about it, my parents really are like children—childish, playful, and prone to making impromptu decisions. I wondered what I had been doing these past few days. After taking my morning photos, I turned on the TV. It was "The Bridges of Madison County" on cable. The scene showed the male and female protagonists kissing in the kitchen before falling onto the bed. I'd seen the TV show and read the book before. I'd always found it uninteresting because it had nothing to do with my life, but watching it actually excited me—more than secretly watching porn. I even pulled down my pants to check on my unwitting member; it was red and erect, defiantly proud. Then I heard her slippers next door. I felt uncomfortable, and suddenly the thought of calling her came to mind. I stared at the phone for a long time, feeling that today had already been ridiculous enough, and I really couldn't muster the courage to pick up the phone. The elderly couple on TV were still kissing, seemingly engrossed. I could faintly hear her slippers, the light was dim, and my manhood was still throbbing. I finally picked up the phone and dialed her number. I always believed that if a man wants to do something, he should do it; overthinking is just bad. She wasn't surprised to receive my call, but simply asked why I wasn't asleep yet. I told her I'd just finished showering and felt very awake. I asked her why she wasn't asleep, and she said she was a little hungry and making something to eat. I casually chimed in, saying I was starving too, and that my parents weren't home and there was nothing to eat. She suggested I come over for a bite, but then seemed to hesitate...I must have said something wrong. I paused for a moment, then said okay. I was genuinely starving; I'd only eaten an omelet at 7 PM, how could I possibly stay awake until 2 AM? Her house was right across the street. I just threw on some trousers and headed over. As I walked out of my house, I had a feeling something might happen tonight. She opened the door with a smile, and I slipped inside like a thief. Even when I got to her house, I spoke a few decibels less than usual, afraid someone would hear me. Actually, tonight it was just the two of us on that floor. It wasn't my first time at her house. She also had a Golden Retriever. I hate those kinds of dogs, but the dog was actually quite nice to me. Every time I came home, if it saw me, it would wag its tail and greet me from behind the door, even happier than if it saw her husband. Sometimes it would even jump out and lick my feet. But I hate dogs, and I always kicked it away when it did that. The dog was probably tired today, lying on the floor, half-asleep with its eyes open. She smiled and told me to sit down for a bit, saying it would be ready soon, and asked if I liked this or that, all while her back was to me as she prepared it. I sat behind her, watching her with admiration. She had just showered; her hair was wet, shiny, and looked beautiful, exuding a mixed scent of Vidal Sassoon and her own body. She was wearing a loose-fitting men's t-shirt, looking very casual, probably intending to sleep in it. Underneath, she wore a white gauze skirt that barely revealed a section of her thigh, through which I could see the rest of her thigh, but not her panties, as they were covered by the hem of her large t-shirt. This made me very tempted to lift up her t-shirt. Her legs were beautiful, white, with full calves that I imagined must be very firm. I could vaguely see the outline of her thigh muscles, but they weren't very prominent. She was wearing the latest trend of high-heeled flip-flops. I used to hate women wearing those kinds of shoes because I thought they were for lazy women, but she looked good in them. Because her feet were so white and the heels of the flip-flops were quite high, her beautiful feet were prominently displayed before my eyes. When she walked, her heels and the tops of her shoes moved up and down, and I actually felt excited about her feet. I even wanted to put my thing under her feet and let her move it up and down like that. Thinking this, my thin pants bulged. When she turned around, I realized this, which made me a little embarrassed. I remembered when I was in middle school, at the water park, seeing many girls in swimsuits who could only squat in the water, too afraid to come out. Luckily, I was sitting, so the unusual feeling wasn't very noticeable unless you were looking closely. She fried me some pumpkin pancakes and made me some oatmeal with milk. She only ate some apples. I asked how she could eat an apple when she was so hungry. She said it was a habit; she usually doesn't eat much at night, but she was really hungry today. I asked her how her day went, and she said she had a lot of fun and would go again sometime. She turned on the TV, and it was showing "The Woman Who Cheated on Herself." She said she loved watching it and had watched it many times. She thought the woman was very happy, and maybe if she went with the photographer, she wouldn't feel anything bad. I asked why. She said that woman had that one week, and that week would stay in her heart for the rest of her life, something she could remember happily anytime. If she went with that old man who was afraid of being photographed, do you think she would be as happy as she was during that week? I found her thinking strange. Maybe women's brains are structured differently from men's. Looking at her as she spoke, I noticed something unusual in her eyes. I felt that what she said wasn't just a spontaneous expression of feeling, but something she had thought about for a long time. In that unusual look, I clearly saw a longing. Of course, her longing might not be for me at all. Because I didn't think I could be as charming as that old man on TV. Perhaps encouraged by her gaze, I no longer felt embarrassed about my erection, and a desire to show it off arose within me. I stood up, pretending to wash my hands, which were oily from eating pumpkin pancakes. I saw a slightly surprised look on her face, because my little brother was bravely pressing against my crotch. The lights in her kitchen were dim because she had turned off the main light after making the pumpkin pancakes. The dim light made me feel comfortable, as if it could hide many things. I was washing my hands, but there was no soap, so I asked her for some. She bent down to get me the Safeguard soap from the cabinet under the sink. She was probably out of soap, because she was still bent over as she unpacked the large bag of Safeguard. Her head was very close to my erection, and her hair and body exuded a mixed and alluring scent. Her wide-necked t-shirt had a wide collar, revealing her pink neck, red earlobes, a deep cleavage, and a black lace bra that barely covered her two red nipples. Her full buttocks were sticking out, and her thighs were stretched taut by her posture, looking very elastic. I felt I couldn't resist anymore. I gently swayed my body, intentionally or unintentionally touching her hair with my erect penis. The first time, she didn't notice; she was about to open the bar of soap. The second and third time I touched her, she stopped and slowly raised her head. Actually, I think I should have been scared then, but I wasn't. I stared straight at her, my body still swaying. Several netizens told me my eyes were electrifying while we were eating at a restaurant. I didn't know it myself, but I think my eyes might have really been electrifying then, because I felt her eyes gradually becoming hazy. I went up and hugged her, and started kissing the roots of her hair! My hand rested on her chest, my lips brushing against her hair, nibbling at her rosy earlobe. I expected her to resist, but she didn't. She tried to push my hand away, but instead, she pressed it firmly against her breast. My hand practically sank in, because her breasts were indeed large. I touched her nipple and began rubbing it with my palm, my fingers moving rhythmically, trying to feel its softness. She made a "gurgling" sound in her throat, and she hugged me even tighter, so tightly that I could barely let go of my hand on her chest. I pulled my hand away, lifted the wide undershirt that had been making my heart race, and ran it up her back. Her back was smooth and textured, like the feel of fine Yixing purple clay, only warmer and softer. I began to kiss her neck, her snow-white skin smelling of milk. The skin on her neck was so soft that I could suck on it, savoring it slowly with my tongue. Her arms flared across my chest, I couldn't tell what she was trying to do, it seemed like a struggle, or perhaps she wanted to hold me tighter. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back, giving me plenty of space to kiss her neck, but her hands were definitely hindering my movements. I pulled my arms out of her t-shirt and wrapped them tightly around her, while my lips became even more frenzied, a desire to conquer burning within me. Her arms were held firmly against my chest, her hands crossed and resting on my crotch. I bit her left nipple through her clothes, feeling a hard, indistinct sensation, but she had already begun to moan. I felt her movements; her hands started trying to grasp my erection through my pants, but she couldn't quite manage it because the pants were too slippery, causing me to involuntarily twitch slightly. Perhaps stimulated by this, she began to kiss my ear, inserting her hot tongue into my ear canal, sending a tingling sensation through me. The clothes hindering our movements only fueled our excitement, and we began to go wild. Her room was next to the kitchen. The dog was still squatting at the door. I wanted to pick her up, but she was almost 170cm tall and very voluptuous; I was afraid I couldn't lift her. I let go of her, and she withdrew her hand. I noticed that the zipper on my pants had been unzipped without me noticing. I took her hand, gesturing for her to go to the bed. She was very obedient. I had never been to their room before, usually just peeking in from the living room. Today, I felt like the hostess, taking her hand and sitting down on the edge of her bed. I leaned over and kissed her lips. Her lips were thick, and she readily offered her tongue. I didn't dare suck too hard, afraid of hurting her. I just circled around her tongue, sucking the saliva that flowed from under it. The area under her tongue was soft, the warmest part of her mouth, and I couldn't help but lick it a few more times. I enveloped her tongue with mine, and she seemed to enjoy it, starting to play with my penis. This made all the veins in my penis throb, and I began to undress her. Her clothes came off easily, as did her skirt. Her skin was incredibly white, even with a hint of pink. She was such a well-maintained woman; I even felt a pang of jealousy. Human nature is truly complex. I remember watching "Paradise Lost," where they chose death at the height of their climax. The greatest pleasure and the greatest pain are so inextricably linked. Just like seeing such a flawless body, all I could think of was destruction and defilement—though that was just a feeling. As I undressed her, she had already pulled my trousers halfway down. I straightened up and took off my t-shirt, seeing her smiling slightly at me. I didn't know what that smile meant; perhaps she was laughing at herself. I smiled back, pulling down half of my trousers. She turned over, unhooked her bra, and pulled down her red panties, but didn't turn around—perhaps shyly, as if waiting for me to pounce on her. Suddenly, I felt a surge of reluctance to immediately...I pounced on her, and I felt a wonderful sensation. I knew that in a few minutes, the sounds I had heard for so many years would echo on their bed again, only with a different male protagonist. She curled up with her legs behind her, her snow-white buttocks like a cute face waiting for me; a gray-black slit between her buttocks led to another side I couldn't see; the silly dog at the door of the room stared at us with its big eyes and tongue lolling out. All of this excited me, but I wanted to savor the excitement slowly. I started rubbing my feet back and forth on her snow-white, pink soles and ankles. She liked this teasing, giggling and responding with her feet, trying to clamp my feet between them. Finally, she trapped me. I could have broken free, but I didn't want to. I pressed my body against hers, my chest against her back. She started to tremble slightly. I wrapped my arms around her, kneading her large breasts, my fingers gently flicking her nipples. It felt so real; she clearly felt good because she started to moan softly. My penis dragged back and forth on her buttocks, occasionally touching her slit, and she would moan loudly. Her hands grasped mine, kneading her breasts together. My movements became more and more intense—my chest, my belly—I wanted to rub every inch of my skin against her body. My penis began to throb aimlessly in her slit, and her moans grew louder. I felt all the veins in my body start to throb and throb, wanting to find a release. She couldn't help but start writhing her body, clearly wanting to increase the friction on her buttocks, which made me even more aroused. She cried out and finally couldn't resist turning over, grabbing me tightly. Lying on her breasts felt so good, or perhaps "good" isn't the right word. They were warm, and I could see the shape they had been squeezed into. I didn't kiss her mouth; instead, I bit her nipple, held it in my mouth, and wrapped it with my tongue. My mouth wanted to swallow her entire breast whole, but it was futile. Knowing it was impossible, I still tried again and again to open my mouth to take it in. This caused her to start convulsing in pain, holding my head tightly, trying to push me away. She pushed me away halfway, then pressed my head back into her warm chest. She started rubbing my ear with her other breast. I think she was enjoying it. My hand slid down to her stomach, gently picking at her navel. She was at a loss, squeezing my red steel rod tightly with the inside of her snow-white, soft thighs, like the flesh under a fish's belly. We both started moving, and it became more and more rhythmic. My thing was already quite wet, but it was all smeared on her thighs. She started reaching down to caress the large fold under my thing. She felt it was very soft and rubbed it there, but I was afraid that she might accidentally damage the two little cherry balls inside. But it felt really good, like a steel rod thrusting forward, feeling a solid foundation in the back. My hand groped and explored to her bottom, which was a really wet crevice, very hot, hotter than any other part of her body. I pinched a labia majora with my fingers, slippery and warm, and gently twisted it between my fingers, which made her whole buttocks keep twisting. I was also very excited, as if I had learned to use a small force to move a great weight. After doing this for a while, I inserted my fingers inside. It felt very tender and smooth. I was very careful as I dug upwards, afraid that my nails would hurt her. It was very hot inside, and I even thought of a warm bed in winter. She didn't do anything, just kept moaning, her voice rising and falling. Indeed, she couldn't do anything, she could only enjoy it. My fingers moved upwards, touching something hard. Her moans were so loud they frightened me; it was probably her uterus. She was really stimulated. She released the large lump between my penis and gripped my shaft tightly, circling it vigorously up and down. Her actions made me cry out. Looking back, I saw the veins bulging, being squeezed and pounded in her hands. I finally couldn't take it anymore. I moved upwards, positioning my penis at the entrance of her moist, reddish labia. I started thrusting. Each thrust sent a tingling sensation through my glans. She grabbed it and shoved it inside, mumbling "In, in." My penis was really hard, so hard it was starting to bend upwards. I felt like I was going in. I intended to thrust all the way in; I think any man would act similarly at this point. However, because I was supported by her pelvis, I didn't feel myself going all the way in. The bones in my lower abdomen even ached slightly from the impact. She seemed a little surprised because I slowed down due to the pain. She seemed embarrassed and opened her eyes, suggesting I sit on her. I readily accepted this position; I privately considered it the most classic sex position, at least for men. She rolled onto my lower abdomen with her disheveled hair, reached behind her, stuck out her buttocks, picked up my penis, and slowly felt her way to the entrance, saying, "Come on." My thrust and her shrug were almost simultaneous. We both yelled at the same time as my glans slammed against her uterine wall. I heard the sound of that stupid dog running away, perhaps frightened by our shouts. I began to thrust, each thrust hitting her hard uterine wall. For me, the most stimulating part was this impact, not the friction I'd hoped for from inside, because she was so slippery inside, the friction was minimal. Her hips moved in perfect sync with my thrusts, gradually becoming rhythmic. I thought that if there were some high-pitched music playing at this moment, it would be even more sensual. I admired her; her long, messy hair cascaded down her chest, her full breasts undulated rhythmically with her hips. I couldn't resist reaching out to grasp them, savoring them. Her waist and hips displayed a sexy, perfect curve under the light, and her snow-white skin was glistening with tiny beads of sweat from excitement. Her lower abdomen was constantly undulating, and I was excited because there was a part of me inside her.I began to thrust, each thrust hitting her hard uterine wall. For me, the most stimulating part was this impact, not the friction I'd hoped for from inside, because she was so slippery inside, the friction was minimal. Her hips moved in perfect sync with my thrusts, gradually becoming rhythmic. I thought that if there were some high-pitched music playing at this moment, it would be even more sensual. I admired her; her long, messy hair cascaded down her chest, her full breasts undulated rhythmically with her hips. I couldn't resist reaching out to grasp them, savoring them. Her waist and hips displayed a sexy, perfect curve under the light, and her snow-white skin was glistening with tiny beads of sweat from excitement. Her lower abdomen was constantly undulating, and I was excited because there was a part of me inside her.I began to thrust, each thrust hitting her hard uterine wall. For me, the most stimulating part was this impact, not the friction I'd hoped for from inside, because she was so slippery inside, the friction was minimal. Her hips moved in perfect sync with my thrusts, gradually becoming rhythmic. I thought that if there were some high-pitched music playing at this moment, it would be even more sensual. I admired her; her long, messy hair cascaded down her chest, her full breasts undulated rhythmically with her hips. I couldn't resist reaching out to grasp them, savoring them. Her waist and hips displayed a sexy, perfect curve under the light, and her snow-white skin was glistening with tiny beads of sweat from excitement. Her lower abdomen was constantly undulating, and I was excited because there was a part of me inside her.

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