[Springtime, Love from the Fields] (Full)

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

One morning, under the bright glass windows of the classroom, I sent a boy this text: "Baby, I

'll take you to my hometown, a quiet little village, with tall chimneys and fields of

blooming apple blossoms—a pale pink spring. I'll wake you to the sound of roosters crowing, and in the clean

morning air, I'll put a simple breakfast by your bedside. I'll take you through my family's orchard, pick

wildflowers glistening with dew along the roadside, greet the villagers with their farm tools, and watch the sunset in the gentle breeze..."

He replied indifferently: "And don't we have to make love?"

Ha, this wasn't a question; it was an accusation.

I kept this as a vivid dream, deep in my heart.

But I'm lucky—no, we're lucky—to be embarking on our pastoral journey with a couple.

I met them on QQ. The gentleman was elegant, and his calm demeanor resonated with me.

Our conversations were brief and didn't ignite any passion, but he subtly expressed an expectation. Perhaps this playful

intimacy was best, avoiding any sense of insecurity. His wife wasn't heavily involved, likely

due to her busy work schedule (she's a doctor). This was precisely why I chose to partner with them. I strongly disagreed with a

couple who once suggested, "Let's all four of us start dating."

I prefer this kind of relationship based on mutual understanding, without any emotional attachment (if any, it's

just a temporary intimacy after meeting). I'm afraid of getting hurt because I'm vulnerable and I

won't forget.

I shared my thoughts with the couple, expressing my longing for a trip to the countryside, my fascination with the cool

night skies and countless stars. They agreed, and my husband had no objections.

Lately, we've been very busy and haven't communicated much, feeling life had become rather dull. So, we considered

this exchange , because we need shared topics, shared excitement, shared memories, and shared experiences.

On March 2nd, my husband and I went back to our hometown.

A large courtyard, simple blue-brick and tile houses, and a two-story classical building with a slight Western influence. The hillside and garden

were full of fruit trees, but instead of pink blossoms, they bore large, green fruits, a truly abundant sight. We

spent half a day cleaning the house, laying out brand-new bedding that smelled of sunshine, and carefully pulling up some

weeds .

In the afternoon, they arrived as promised. The wife smiled subtly; it was clear they were

very satisfied with the environment, so peaceful.

The initial nervousness had subsided, and we happily drank tea in the yard, listening to the occasional chirping of birds.

The gentlemen talked about the Taiwan issue and the weather. The wife and I ate fruit, not saying much,

just occasionally exchanging smiles.

The sexual feelings had long since faded.

I cooked a simple dinner; fortunately, everyone's tastes were similar. Although the country food was simple, it

had its own unique flavor, and everyone enjoyed the meal.

Night fell gently and softly in the countryside. We both looked up at the sky, reminiscing about our distant childhoods.

Then, the stars gradually became clearer, and the air began to carry the coolness and dampness of the fields. We

looked at each other under the starlight, a beautiful distance devoid of light.

Around eleven o'clock, the air was already quite cool, so we went back inside.

The rooms in our hometown had a distinctly northern feel. A traditional kang (heated brick bed) in the room spoke of tradition and the past, with a

red cabinet placed on it against the wall. The kang occupied more than a third of the room, with clean sheets and

dim lighting. We didn't say anything; we all got onto the kang together, changed into the white pajamas we had brought,

and pulled open the clean towel blankets, each pulling them over ourselves. It was a very warm feeling. The towel blankets weren't big enough, so

we all had physical contact, mainly our legs. It was still very warm.

Finally, my partner's husband suddenly pulled me into his arms. In my panic, I glanced at my husband; he

was actually smiling. I closed my eyes. I knew that the next step would be my husband embracing his partner's wife.

I... I felt that closing my eyes was a blind impulse and a feeling of happiness.

Everything began, and as usual, my voice might have told everyone I was happy,

but my eyes told me I was running away. Even though it was the second time, I was still myself, stubbornly clinging

to my possessiveness of emotions.

Every action suggested that humans were increasingly seeking stimulation and pleasure, and I, along with everyone else, were enjoying

wonderful sex in different positions and postures. However, I refused any

physical , and even throughout the entire process, my eyes remained closed. Fortunately, everyone assumed I was

fully enjoying myself, which was fine.

We were relaxed because of the tranquility and openness of the countryside. We were both liberated, from our bodies to our voices. The

air was filled with the sweet scent of love…

The other man's hands were strong, so his embrace filled me with his entire chest, and I felt comfortable. I

like embracing, even during sex.

The other man's stubble was fresh, a sharp, delicate stubble etched on his face and body, which I loved.

Because of the cool weather, his body was smooth and supple, and the friction between us amplified this comfort infinitely.

I didn't pay much attention to my husband's actions, even though they were right next to me. I focused intently on closing my eyes,

feeling what I needed to feel.

The other woman's breathing was faint, but sweet and lingering, perhaps even weary—

a very feminine sound.

We switched places a few times, but I felt it was purely the men's choice. Perhaps

just would change our sexual partners… This passivity was helpless and

tragic. I suppose some gentlemen who claim the only prerequisite for swapping is the wife's satisfaction

are just acting out of pity and sympathy for their wives. Haha, wives really have so few choices…

My long, thick hair swung back and forth; my nipples began to turn a fresh pink; my

arms began to entwine…

Perhaps it was almost dawn; the light coming through the curtains told us it was getting late.

So , we each went to sleep. I lay in my husband's arms and fell asleep—it was my right, and I wouldn't

give it up, not ever.

I woke up around 11 a.m., and everyone felt slightly awkward in the bright light. We quickly

got dressed, washed up, and

strolled around the yard watching the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees… We ate breakfast and lunch at a restaurant in town; thankfully, it was quite clean. During the meal, the other woman's

husband gently brushed a strand of my hair away and casually stroked my head a few times. I looked up

and smiled back.

Actually, I was afraid of receiving such affection too easily; it would blur the lines between the game and reality.

After lunch, the other woman's wife received a call about an important surgery, so we said goodbye,

hugged, shared a light kiss, waved, and watched their car drive out of sight… The incessant chirping of cicadas filled the air

.

Back in my old home, I tidied and cleaned, savoring the simple, rustic

feeling of the countryside. We had spent the night in love, my body and mind wandering, every

movement .

We returned around 6 PM. Looking back at the courtyard of my old home, I was still filled with excitement and fulfillment.

What we gained from the exchange was far more superficial than I had imagined, but the result was fulfilling and thrilling.

We made love. Although, in the courtyard full of fruit trees, amidst the crowing of roosters and chirping of birds, and over a simple meal,

we experienced passion…

For the first time, I felt somewhat optimistic about the outcome of the exchange. I felt that the persistence of the heart and that

unbreakable romance, the passion of the exchange, lingered beyond the heart…

This is a true record of this experience, as a footnote, as a memory. May every friend reading this

also encounter a simple yet sincere romance.

[The End]

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