Reprinted: Memory is like water flowing over the hem of a skirt – A Lone Flower

page views:1 Publication date:2017-11-15

I wonder how many people have heard of "One Flower Stands Alone," the policewoman whose story of partner swapping was all the rage back then. She was forced to resign and never appeared in public again. I blushed as I read that 3P story that made her an internet celebrity back then, but rereading it today feels incredibly comfortable; it so delicately captures all my feelings during the experience.
Life is a magnificent dress; a sudden gust of wind brings forth its myriad charms. Experiences are like water flowing over the hem, dampening the mood, leaving marks, until the dress is worn and faded… In truth, life is experience. That magnificent dress, through experience, gains a beautiful soul, a flavor to be savored.

Yesterday we arranged a 3P session today, and this upcoming experience felt especially significant because it was my first time, at least psychologically.

Without moral support and theoretical backing, all that remained was an attempt to understand and feel. I went to bed late last night and woke up too early this morning, turning on the lamp at six to read Mo Yan's novel, while Beijing Music Radio played songs… This visual and auditory overload did little to ease my mind.

Just after nine, my husband texted to say he had arrived.

He, WY, 28, 182cm, 80kg, a graduate student (I forget if it was a master's), was decent-looking, and at least seemed upright.

He was waiting at a nearby KFC.

We took a taxi there, and around 9:40, we saw him in a blue short-sleeved shirt.

There was a brief awkwardness when we approached, but thankfully, he was quite talkative. After explaining his thoughts, he introduced himself and kindly mentioned that he had prepared gifts for each of us.

What a thoughtful man.

I had never seen a single man in a threesome so particular about ambiance and atmosphere. He smiled shyly and said those gifts weren't appropriate to give here. My husband and I exchanged a knowing smile, each with our own guesses. He said he was a bit rushed in preparing the gift for me yesterday and hoped I would understand. I thanked him, but didn't really look at him.

He said I was even prettier than in the photos, which made me happy.

Today I wore my red Chinese-style top again, with hand-embroidered floral patterns on the lapel, my hair was down, and I looked quite well.

We sat down and started chatting, but we weren't particularly compatible because neither of us knew what to do next, or we couldn't yet establish the basic conditions for communication. However, we listened very carefully to his words and understood them well. Pure physical stimulation wasn't what we were both pursuing; it was a matter of life philosophy and lifestyle, and beyond that, a matter of morality and the institutional nature of marriage. Shakespeare also said that he didn't want his wife to appear in his night sky like the moon every day…

We talked about our respective marriages and relationships, and it was clear that he cherished his partner. This made us respect him. He also respected my wishes very much. He said, "If you are unwilling, forced, or even slightly reluctant, I will leave immediately, and we can still be friends." I laughed; I've always been quite reserved, like a lady (hehe), and said, "No, that won't happen."

Yes, how could that be? My husband loves me so much and is so accommodating.

He said that's good. Then he seemed very happy.

...We agreed that he would go to the hotel first to book a room, and we would follow. He said he valued the environment and conditions, and we agreed.

After he left, my husband and I strolled down the street. Under the midday sun, we embraced without a care in the world. I felt a deep, overwhelming love. He shielded me from the sun with his body, afraid I would get a tan. At that moment, I really wanted to hold his hand and go back to school. I really wanted to. I felt that everything was meaningless, all forced. A perfectly good life, yet we had to add extraneous things, making everything complicated.

But experiencing life requires courage. We had both taken the first step, so why not seriously try a different lifestyle? Especially when we began to question sex within the system. Especially when I had a strong craving for experience.

...We still went to buy Durex together.

Around 11:00, he texted to say he had arrived at a hotel, room 418.

The room was spacious, with two large windows, white sheer curtains hanging down, and a large, clean, white, and smooth bed.

We sat down, one on each of the two sofas.

He took out the gifts he had prepared and handed them to us one by one. He gave my husband a DVD containing a documentary about foreign pornography. He gave me a set of sexy lingerie: a black sheer skirt, a thong, and red stockings.

He added, "It was too rushed beforehand, so I just bought it according to your height. Try it on; I want to watch it."

He smiled as he said this.

I looked at my husband, seeking his support or acquiescence.

My husband nodded and said, "You don't need to ask me or seek my opinion on what you want to do."

Yes, when I first met WY, he also said, "I hope that at that time you don't think of yourself as anyone's wife; you are yourself, be yourself, you are the protagonist, just enjoy it to the fullest."

I went into the bathroom because I wasn't used to undressing in front of two men. I tried it on, but felt awkward because my temperament really wasn't suited for it. As I said, I'm a rather traditional and slightly shy woman. So, I came out dressed as usual and apologized to WY. He was very magnanimous and smiled.

I walked over to the two men sitting on the sofa and sat down next to my husband. At that moment, WY extended his right hand. I hesitated, glancing at my husband. He smiled and said, "Go ahead."

I turned to WY and obediently placed my hand in his. He pulled me close, embraced me, and kissed me gently, but with intense desire. He seemed oblivious to everyone else, but I kept opening my eyes to look for my husband. I desperately wanted to know what he was doing, what he was doing, and how he would look at me. I didn't want him to see me behaving "promiscuously" in another man's arms, so I was reserved. I cared about his feelings and didn't want him to feel uncomfortable.

Of course, I saw him. He got up, grabbed the remote control, and randomly pressed buttons, deliberately avoiding our gaze.

WY, panting, suddenly picked me up. My legs naturally wrapped around his waist. He strode to the bed, threw me onto it, and then pressed down on me… He unbuttoned my clothes. I kicked off my right shoe myself, and my husband gently took off my left shoe, neatly placing it aside—that's what I saw when I opened my eyes.

WY pays great attention to foreplay, much like my husband. I guess gentle men, men who know how to cherish women, are all like that. He kissed me, from top to bottom, very tenderly, his tongue forceful and rhythmic.

We kissed, and he seemed to enjoy it… He said, “You’re very good, especially with your mouth.” I smiled.
His body was as slender as my husband’s, which is why I like tall men. I like long, slender torsos and long, clean fingers…

My right hand held his, my left hand held my husband’s; he kissed my genitals, my husband kissed my breasts… The strangeness and familiarity, the tension and the security, all stirred my feelings equally, and I couldn’t help but make a sound… But at the same time, my tears flowed uncontrollably… I hugged my husband tightly, holding him close with my left arm, and whispered in his ear, “I love you!”

Yes, in that instant, I felt that all of this was meaningless. My love was right there in my arms, so why should I accept another man’s caresses? I felt guilty, sad, heartbroken, and remorseful… I was like a greedy little girl who had her own favorite toy but still wanted someone else’s… My husband noticed and asked me what was wrong. I remained silent because he was passionately kissing me, and I didn't want to disturb him, especially since he seemed so sincere and innocent.

Just then, WY thrust in, and though tears streamed down my face, I let out a soft "ah" of pleasure, wiping away the tears with my hand... My husband stepped aside.

He was quite good; his penis was thick and large, rhythmic and powerful. While he was doing it, he whispered softly in my ear, soothing me and saying some loving words, perfectly suited to the atmosphere. He was a considerate man.

After we finished, he was sweating profusely, saying he hadn't done this in a long time, so it was quick. Actually, he was quite good, I smiled understandingly, but tears welled up again. I turned and lay down, hugging the soft pillow, as if seeking support.

My husband was quite agitated; he couldn't bear to watch and went to the bathroom.

When he came out, he took out tissues to wipe my tears. He asked me what was wrong, but I was just crying, not wanting to say anything, not knowing how to accurately express what I was thinking. I simply asked him softly, "Did you hear me say I love you?" "Did you feel me holding you tightly?"

My husband stroked my back, saying of course he heard and felt. He added, "But once he goes in, you won't know anything anymore, haha. "

He grinned mischievously. I felt I should blush, but I didn't. I looked up at him; WY was already wearing shorts.

He said to my husband, "Sir, you come on."

I didn't like that, because at that moment he probably didn't realize he was no longer treating me as an independent individual... What were they offering each other? A delicious snack? A glass of wine that would make you drunk after just one sip? I felt a brief displeasure, but it was easy to understand, because we already had preconceived notions, even though his meaning might not have included that connotation. Moral codes and etiquette are deeply ingrained; they unconsciously control your thinking.

My husband is also a reserved man; he wasn't mentally prepared for this, and with me shedding a few tears, he was probably at a loss.

I kissed him, and he said, "I'll ejaculate quickly," and I nodded understandingly. Actually, he needed comfort the most; at this moment, he must have felt very empty, both physically and mentally. I love him, so I felt sorry for him.

WY said again, "Do it again, she's not full yet."

My husband said, "Okay."

I was by the bed, and my husband entered me; quickly, he ejaculated again.

I suddenly remembered how he always seemed, always leaving me in a daze, as if heaven was just around the corner…

WY was in bed again, me in the middle, my husband on my left, him on my right.

A large bed, light streaming in from behind the curtains, creating a warm and serene atmosphere. The room was extremely quiet, momentarily as peaceful as my own bedroom, tempting me to sleep.

I didn't know who to be closer to. Going to my husband would be natural, but I was afraid of neglecting him; going to him, I was afraid of neglecting my husband… So, with my back to WY, I rubbed against him, my hands and face towards my husband, speaking softly to him in our local dialect. I guessed WY was unhappy because he couldn't understand it, there was an unspoken sense of exclusion, though we weren't doing it intentionally, it was just a habit.

WY whispered in my ear, "I'm rested." His gentle voice touched my heartstrings.

We continued. My husband seized the opportunity to express my likes and dislikes, saying, "Your husband really understands you."

I took the upper hand, but didn't push hard; he moved gently, and I was almost dizzy. My hair was probably tossed around a bit, I don't know, I wasn't really conscious throughout the whole thing. Then he was on top, and I only remember the rhythmic sounds of our bodies colliding... He was on top of me, thrusting violently... I finally passed out... When I woke up, my hair was hanging to the floor, my whole body felt numb and weak...

He said, "Mine is too thick, are you alright? My girlfriend always says I hurt her..."

I found it hard to answer. I wasn't his girlfriend, and I didn't like him comparing me to her in his mind and asking those questions.

I just smiled and said, "It's okay. "

He then asked if there were any problems between me and my husband... Ha... I knew why he asked that, but it was hard to explain, I didn't know how to say it.

We lay there for a while. My husband was already dressed and sitting on the sofa watching TV, just as I was in a state of dizziness from passion.

WY said, "Why don't you try on the clothes I sold you? You should let me see the gift I gave you." I was hesitant, but I agreed anyway.

I wrapped myself in the blanket, putting on my clothes one by one. When I got to the thong, I was at a loss, unsure of the front and back. He came over to guide me… Haha, I'm really quite traditional; I'd never even tried wearing sexy lingerie to add some novelty for my husband before… We're both simple people, so our love and sex are simple too, right?

After I put it on, he asked me to come over. I awkwardly went over, and he pulled me onto his lap, with my husband opposite me. I was bare-chested and backless, being held in the arms of a strange man, being fondled by him… I felt very uncomfortable. He buried his head in my chest and said, "My wife smells like milk; you two smell different.

" I smiled, not wanting to say anything, especially not at the comparison between two strange women.

Being with a stranger wasn't very relaxing, so my husband and I decided to be alone for a while and said goodbye.

Stepping out of the hotel, the sunlight was blinding; everything felt like a dream.

The surrounding buildings were unfamiliar, making everything that had just happened feel even stranger in this unfamiliar environment. Uncertainties in my mind reinforced this impression.

After a very nice lunch with my husband, we went back to school.

Sitting in the magazine office watching a DVD, a gift from WY. It was a very good documentary, but there was a sense of helplessness in it, the challenges to morality and marital sex…

Because my husband was very depressed today, I wanted to cheer him up, so we went to the balcony, closed the window, and started making love. Someone was singing in the building across the street, and people were walking by outside… We lost ourselves in the moment… I gripped the railing with both hands, and he entered me from behind… He knows my habits well, so I quickly reached orgasm. Because I was standing, I couldn't faint, but I ejaculated!

How many times has this been? I don't know, but it's good, isn't it? Everything is good for us. I feel like this is the perfect ending to today.

…

That evening, I saw WY online and greeted him politely. He asked how it went, and my husband said, "Not bad."

Then we politely said goodbye.

My husband took me back to my dorm that night, and we were reluctant to part, very reluctant to leave.
So, a threesome won't cast a shadow on our relationship; we love each other as much as ever.

It's just a regret that this experience didn't reach the highest level of a threesome; I didn't completely let go, I didn't fully enjoy it. We are all emotional people, with concerns and pressures, and we weren't fully prepared. If there were fewer mental constraints, things would be much better.

Also, the fact that women can separate love and sex makes me believe, at least temporarily, that...
Perhaps there are other thoughts, but my mind is a mess. It's already 1:30 AM; I should go to sleep.

The night is peaceful. My dear men, are you all fast asleep? My skirt is soaked, drenching your broad chest; how much tenderness will you receive?

My own memories are thus imbued with the colors of a rainbow...

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