I love your scent.

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

I'm 28 years old and teach at a suburban high school. Because of my job, I'm still unmarried, and my parents are

worried about my marriage prospects. Six months ago, they bought me an 80-square-meter apartment in the city for me to live in alone (they don't want to be burdened by a mortgage

, so they're raising a daughter!). I only go home once a week on weekends. Coincidentally, a couple lives in the large apartment downstairs.

The woman is my high school classmate, Meng Xiang, the prettiest girl in our class back then. I hadn't seen her for eight or nine years, and now she's a married woman with a captivating figure and

mature charm. The first time I saw her in the neighborhood, I was speechless with amazement. Especially when I walked past her,

the faint fragrance I caught felt like a silken ribbon tied to my heart, haunting my dreams.

During our conversation, I learned that her husband was her college classmate, a pharmaceutical salesman who was often away from home for two or three

weeks . They got married three years ago, bought a house and a car, both registered in her name. I told her her husband

truly loved her, and she just smiled. I've met her husband twice, just exchanged greetings. I didn't like him much

. I often thought: "The high drug prices are all because of you and those unscrupulous doctors. You make so much money and are always out running around,

not even keeping your beautiful wives. Something's wrong with you..." Then I thought, "It's so damn good to be rich!" This is probably an inherent Chinese

resentment towards the rich. Perhaps it was fate, but Meng Xiang's husband did indeed have problems.

On the afternoon of April 30th, because of the May Day holiday, I returned to my neighborhood and met Meng Xiang downstairs

. She was unloading things from her car. I joked, "It's so different when things are going well at work! Need any help?"

"Sure, I was just wondering about that. You're back just in time. Help me carry this box of fruit up." She smoothed

a strand of hair near her eyebrow and smiled.

"Where's your husband? Isn't he home? I haven't seen him in a while."

She hesitated for a moment: "He... he's busy, he won't be back."

I sensed something was off and tactfully changed the subject. She lived on the third floor, not very high, but she

had a lot of , and it took her two trips to finish. I was already sweating. In return, she invited me inside. Although we were neighbors and

classmates, I had never been to her house before, so I gladly agreed. Once inside, she changed out of her coat, bent down to take off her leather shoes and put on slippers.

Through the neckline of her knitted sweater, I caught a glimpse of her delicate white cleavage and pink bra—a truly alluring sight. Especially striking was the

way her tight short skirt accentuated her rounded hips, causing my blood pressure to spike.

When she straightened up, I was still somewhat dazed. I don't know if it was because I had bent over, or because she

hadn't looked away from me—I think it was more the latter. She glanced at me, her face slightly flushed: "Sit wherever you like. I'll

wash you an apple."

"Oh," I replied awkwardly, sitting on the long sofa in the living room, involuntarily gazing at the beautiful

lines of her back.

She came over with a fruit platter and sat on the sofa next to me. Only then did I notice her

beautiful , which were like fine fishnets. Her knees were small, making her calves appear high and rounded, and

her ankles slender. Her feet weren't big, probably as long as my arm; I really wanted to pinch them. She peeled an apple

while chatting, asking why I wasn't married yet and if I had a girlfriend. I answered casually,

jokingly saying she hadn't given this bookworm a chance. I noticed she deliberately avoided mentioning her husband.

To avoid another awkward situation, I said I wanted to see her room. In the master bedroom, I noticed a nail

on the wall above but no photo was hanging there, only the remnants of a frame. The room seemed unoccupied for a long time

. The other bedroom seemed to be Meng Xiang's room. There was a full-body photo of her on the wall. I stopped to look

closely and pointed to the photo: "This room is best decorated because of her. So beautiful! I've never

seen you wear this outfit before?"

"It was taken two years ago; both the person and the clothes are worn now," she said sadly.

I looked at her. "Rodin said, 'Every woman's most beautiful time lasts only two months,' but it seems your

beauty isn't for two months, but for two years, ten years, and it will continue to be beautiful."

She giggled. "You're good at making girls happy. Tell me, how many girls have you fooled?"

"I'm telling the truth. I'm quite awkward and don't know how to express myself in love, otherwise I wouldn't be single anymore.

I just speak my mind, there's no need to hide anything," I said earnestly.

She looked at me, and my face gradually turned red. I asked myself, "These words don't sound like my usual self."

She seemed to be confirming something. "You've had a crush on me for ten years?"

"I...yes, oh no, that..." Sweat beaded on my forehead, and I reverted to my clumsy self.

"Hehe..." She laughed radiantly. "I believe you. You're awkward, but you know how to charm

girls . Have an apple, people change, don't they? Let's go back to the living room." Her smile gradually faded, and she

spoke quietly.

I sensed something in her words, but I didn't press the matter. "I'll wash my hands first." I didn't find

any .

Coming out of the bathroom, she looked at my hands and said, "Why didn't you dry your hands?"

"Oh, there's only one towel, it's for you. I'll just let them air dry."

"It's alright, use it. You should wash your face too."

In the bathroom, I took the opportunity to deeply inhale Meng Xiang's unique scent on the towel. This scent made

every cell in my body sensitive; I could hear my own heart pounding. It was a

feeling I had never experienced before—was it primal desire?

Back on the sofa, I looked at the apple Meng Xiang handed me: "Peel another one.

It's not good for me, a guest, to eat it all by myself. Let me serve you this once." As I spoke, I took the fruit knife from her.

"No need, I can't finish one." She looked at me meaningfully.

Taking the apple, I cut it in half and handed it to her, smiling, "It's fine like this."

Looking at the half apple, her eyes suddenly welled up with tears. This change left me bewildered:

"What's wrong? Are you unhappy? Let's not break up, okay?" A woman crying like this over sharing an apple? I

finally believed women were made of water.

"Sharing" an apple? A thought flashed through my mind, perhaps because—I tentatively asked her, "Are

you and him…?"

She raised her red eyes and said, "You can tell, we're… getting a divorce. I haven't

told anyone."

"What?" I feigned eagerness, secretly delighted, "Why?"

"His job, you know, for business, he provides those kinds of services when clients need them, sometimes he also…"

"He got involved, and one night he was arrested by the police. We're over. He's not here anymore." Her tears

rolled down her cheeks like broken pearls.

I remembered that I hadn't seen that bastard for two months, and a month ago, Meng Xiang had been very depressed for two weeks.

I took the opportunity to cup her face in my hands, wipe away her tears, and comfort her, saying, "Since that's the case, he's not

worth your love anymore, and he's not worth your sadness. Instead of clinging to him, you should find someone new. It hurts me to see you sad

."

Suddenly, Meng Xiang threw herself into my arms and sobbed violently. I held her, gently patting her

shoulders and back, my face pressed against her hair, smelling its fragrance, feeling the warmth of her breath in my arms. Strangely,

my heart was so calm, and I wished this feeling could last forever. A few minutes later, her breathing

gradually became steady. Was it going to be over? My emotions became tense, and I involuntarily tightened my arms around her.

"Can you hear that?" she looked up and asked me.

"What? Heartbeat?" Her question made me feel like I had grasped something.

"Yes, it's getting faster and faster." "Just as I expected.

" "That's because I'm afraid of losing you." I leaned down and kissed her lips, without resistance.

When our lips met, I felt a tear slide down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. I lightly licked it with the tip of my tongue, our

tongues touching. A current surged through us, making us tremble. "I want you to be happy," I whispered, holding

her tightly.

Everything happened so naturally. She asked for a kiss while pushing me against the armrest of the sofa,

straddling my waist. My hands kneaded her waist and hips through her clothes, sometimes lightly, sometimes heavily. Feeling a slight pain, she

frowned slightly and made a soft moan. We slipped our hands inside each other's clothes, her waist

swaying as if seeking greater stimulation. Her smooth skin slid through my hands, fine beads of sweat appeared on our noses

, and our breathing became heavy.

We tugged at each other's clothes, unable to distinguish our bodies. I only know that I ripped off her bra clasp,

leaving us both in our underwear. She was pinned to the glass

coffee table . I lifted her up, looking at her like a mermaid. Would she turn into sea foam?

Would she burst? I swore: I wouldn't let that happen. Seemingly sensing my thoughts, her eyes grew even more fervent.

Only one line of defense remained. What should I do? Suddenly,

a line from a movie (Terminator I) came to mind: Yes, that's what I'll do. I bent down and bit... Wearing panties the same color as her bra, I slowly slid them down.

A scent mixed with lavender, sweat, sandalwood, or perhaps musk rushed to my brain,

almost overwhelming me. My breath brushed against her navel, her lower abdomen, a gentle haven, and I felt her warm

breath mingling with her captivating whispers. She slightly raised her hips, responding to my movements, her pubic hair glistening with dew.

I suppressed my desire until I had pulled down her panties, held them to my nose in front of her, deeply

inhaling her scent, and kissed her again… feeling… Her eagerness finally brought us together.

Worried the coffee table couldn't support our weight, I knelt beside it, my hands supporting her hips,

adjusting the angle as I moved in and out. Her hair was spread across the table, her eyes slightly closed, her face flushed, radiating shyness. Her chest

rose and fell with her breath, her right hand gripping the edge of the table, her left hand grasping my right arm. She arched her back slightly, swaying gently in

rhythm , like a blooming daffodil swaying in the wind. My left hand sometimes kneaded her breasts,

sometimes glided across her groin, sometimes teased her pubic hair.

"Ah...no...let's go to bed...ah..." she gasped, offering no resistance.

This position was too exhausting, so I lowered my head and let her arms climb onto my neck, lifting her

delicate body . Instead of doing what she wanted, I sat back on the sofa. We embraced, our lips and tongues

locked in a passionate kiss until we were breathless. She seemed to have shed her earlier shyness and became even more proactive, her hips heaving, her

breasts undulating in strange waves. My right hand cupped her breast, my thumb and forefinger... He pinched one nipple between his fingers, took

the other , and licked and rubbed it with his tongue and upper teeth, while his left hand squeezed her buttocks hard.

Under the quadruple stimulation, she bit her lower lip tightly, tilted her head back, her body flushed, and scratched at my back with her fingers,

feeling the waves of stimulation rising higher and higher, suppressing "mmm, eh" sounds from her nose... Finally, unable to hold on

any longer , she put her hands on my shoulders, opened her mouth, and let out a long, trembling "Ah..."

as she reached orgasm. And I felt... Her nails dug deep into my muscle, and I couldn't help but let out a soft "uh..." in response

.

The passion had subsided, but the desire was even stronger.

Stroking her hair and skin as she lay on my chest, I knew the show was about to continue. The slow rhythm, the rapid

beats, the constant friction and thrusting—we moved in perfect harmony, from the coffee table to the sofa, then to the bed, the dressing table.

I carried her tirelessly, not knowing where the strength came from. Sweat mingled, and the scratches on my back, soaked with

sweat, throbbed with pain, forcing me to shift my position. My attention was sharper, and the pain was sweeter.

Sweat made her body even more slippery, and my senses heightened; even a touch on her breasts and ribs

elicited ecstatic moans.

Half an hour later, as I thrust rapidly, I ejaculated into Meng Xiang's body.

She, already experiencing several orgasms, could only gasp softly. I lay beside her, gently stroking her wet hair and back with one hand, and lightly pinching her

nipple with the other, adjusting my breathing.

She suddenly sobbed again, "Hold me tight."

I pulled her into my arms tightly, and looking at her, my love surged.

Before , Meng Xiang blinked at me and said, "How many days have you not showered?"

"Two days," I answered truthfully, bewildered.

"You're filthy. You need to shower next time. But I like your scent." Her little tongue licked my chest

, and she gave a sly smile.

My heart fluttered, and I held her tighter, watching her drift off to sleep with a smile on her lips.

And what about me?

(The End)

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