[My wife and I's best friend's ONS?] (The End) Author: Unknown

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Author: Unknown
Word Count: 7112

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Actually, saying "ons" isn't quite accurate; "rekindling old flames" is more appropriate.

My wife's best friend (hereinafter referred to as Y) and I had a relationship that was more than just a one-night stand. Y
is said to be my wife's best friend, but I actually knew her long before my wife; we were
classmates in the same year but different departments at university.

To be honest, before university, I was a truly good kid, studying diligently and almost completely
oblivious to matters of love and relationships. My romantic history was truly pitiful; I only had one childhood sweetheart, a pure and innocent first love—if you could
call it love, it was the hazy, ambiguous kind. The most intimate contact we ever had was holding hands; back then, I was
a proper virgin.

It was precisely because of this that I almost fulfilled all the requirements of my parents, who were educators. After a fresh and tedious first year of university
, I started to change from my second year onwards. It wasn't that I stopped studying hard,
but rather that I became incredibly adept at relationships, and quite dramatically at that. Of course, this is just
a somewhat acceptable way of describing myself; to be honest, it boils down to two words: scumbag.

In the last three years of university, I ruined many girls, especially my first love. She's probably a permanent scar on my
heart , something I still regret to this day. Perhaps it's only as people get older
that they learn to reflect and repent.

My relationships during university were extremely messy and not suitable for detailed discussion, so I'll just talk about Y.

I met Y at a campus event, and we were immediately attracted to each other. Having become
adept at relationships, I naturally ended up dating Y as well. While Y wasn't my first love,
she and I were each other's first. In our second year, we said goodbye to being boys and girls and became men and
women .

Then I "actively" made my first love a woman. Later, due to a long-distance relationship (we
were at different universities), I lost interest in the relationship and decisively dumped her, throwing
myself wholeheartedly into my relationship with Y.

Y's relationship was my longest in college, though it only lasted about
eight months. During those eight months, we had what could be described as a frenzied sexual encounter; we did everything imaginable, and
occasionally even things we wouldn't normally dare to imagine.

Finally, we broke up because I "got it" again and fell for other girls. Y reacted strongly and firmly disagreed
, but I was young and impulsive, incredibly stubborn, and dumped Y, doing many wrong things, eventually turning
us into sworn enemies.

After ruining a few more girls, I finally graduated from university. I

then worked at my first company for a few years, during which time I was single and had a
brief .

I then moved to a second company, where I worked diligently and eventually rose through the ranks to manage a very important
department. A few years later, the company underwent a merger and restructuring, and my department absorbed the relevant departments of the acquired company.

The first time I appeared in the new department after the merger, I saw a familiar face—a former lover I hadn't spoken to in almost ten
years , the woman I finally understood and loved completely for the first time: Y.

During the self-introduction, Y embarrassed her direct supervisor—me—in front of everyone.
She ignored my outstretched hand, looking at me with the terrifying gaze of someone looking at a mortal enemy, leaving me no choice but
to find a way to save face.

At the time, I genuinely didn't care much. I was no longer the impulsive young person I once was. Besides, the
breakup was ultimately my fault; she was just a victim, and I had no right to blame her.

Later in my work, I found an opportunity to talk to Y alone. When I apologized for what happened back then
, there were tears in her eyes. However, her attitude towards me remained cold and aloof,
merely typical superior-subordinate relationship.

In the daily grind, I kept an eye on Y and discovered
a woman in another department of the merged company who was always very close to Y, eating and leaving work together—the woman who would later
become my boss at home.

Initially, I was just curious, so I used various means to learn more about my wife.

When Y joined the original company, my wife mentored her, so they gradually became
best friends.

I then began to subtly approach Y and my wife, resorting to shamelessness and
using work as a pretext. After a period of contact, I, who had been single for a long time, slowly
developed an interest in this woman, two years older and also single, and launched an intensive offensive.

Since I held a higher position than my wife, was shameless, and relatively humorous and attentive, she
gradually changed from reluctantly going through the motions to accepting it. Thus began our clandestine
relationship . At that time, foreign companies were very opposed to employee relationships.

While my wife and I were immersed in the sweetness of love, Y constantly spoke ill of me to her
in an attempt to break us up.

One day after work, she even cornered me in my office, wanting to have a serious talk. She wanted me to let go of my wife and
not hurt a good woman who was no longer young and longed for love, because she didn't want my wife to go through the same
experience as her.

When I calmly explained to her that I genuinely loved my wife and wanted to truly cherish
her , Y, like a madwoman, hysterically launched into a barrage of sarcastic remarks before slamming the door and leaving. Despite all the hardships, perseverance finally paid off, and I won her heart

after overcoming countless obstacles . Before the wedding, although Y emphasized that she wasn't satisfied with me as the groom and felt I wasn't good enough for my wife, she still offered us her blessings for the first time . She even specifically told me to love my wife well, otherwise she wouldn't let me off the hook, etc. In Y's eyes, I seemed to see the same tears I had seen years before. Y was very high at the wedding, behaving unusually. I caught a glimpse of her eyes, and I sensed a mixture of resentment and sadness. Y hadn't told her wife about my past relationship with her, and like her, I silently kept that secret until now.

Later, I left my company and joined a state-owned enterprise. A few months later, Y also resigned and went
to work for a Singaporean company, soon leaving China for Singapore.

Over the years, we maintained close contact with Y; either she returned to China or we visited
her in Singapore. Her attitude towards me changed a lot; she was no longer cold, and we mostly chatted and laughed.
Occasionally, she would even link arms with me, just like in college.

Y remained single, despite my wife's efforts to introduce her to potential partners, she always subtly resisted. Once,
my wife confronted her, and Y said she was deeply hurt in college and hadn't fully recovered.

When my wife told me about it at home, she kept cursing the jerk who hurt her, and I could only laugh it off and
change the subject.

This time with Y was purely accidental; I never imagined we'd have any physical contact again.

Actually, Y started acting strangely at the end of last year. After she returned to China, we had dinner together, and my wife
brought up Y's marriage prospects again. To my surprise, Y told my wife, "I'm not looking for a man anymore. Why don't you generously share
your husband with me, and we can both be his wives?" I almost choked when I heard that.

My heartless wife actually laughed and said, "Okay, that's a bargain for him!" They even joked around
for a while. Such a carefree guy!

Later, Y returned to Singapore. My wife was busy with work, so I naturally went to see Y off.
Before going through customs at the airport, Y asked if I could hug her, and I didn't refuse. And so, after more than ten years, we hugged again,
just like our sophomore year of college.

Just as I was hugging Y, reminiscing about those days, Y pushed me away, tears welling in her eyes, and said,
"I hate you." Then she turned and went into immigration, leaving me standing there, stunned.

In late May of this year, one evening I was working overtime, chatting with my "mother-in-law" when
the phone rang. It was an unfamiliar landline number. When I answered, I heard Y's voice, telling me to
go to Pudong Airport HMD immediately.

Since she always tells my wife in advance when she's going back to China, and there hadn't been any prior news of her return,
I suspected it might be a prank or something else. However, the person on the other end was
hysterically venting, alternating between crying and laughter.

Annoyed, I hung up and continued chatting with my "mother-in-law," but the phone rang
again immediately. I answered, and there was another fit of hysterical venting, then I hung up again. It rang again, I didn't answer. It rang again after being disconnected, and finally, I had no choice but to answer. After
a while the phone went silent, then hung up on its own.

I checked the number that called, and it really was the hotel Y had mentioned. Now I was worried
something had happened to Y. I told my wife I might be working late and wouldn't be home, and then
drove .

I arrived at the hotel, found the room, and knocked on the door. The door opened, and Y stood there wearing a t-shirt and incredibly short
shorts . Seeing me, she giggled and said, "You still came. You were worried

something might happen to me, weren't you?" "Are you crazy? Why are you up all night? If nothing's wrong, I'm going home."

Seeing that Y seemed mostly normal and there was nothing seriously wrong, I snapped at her without any patience.

"I am sick! My illness is all your fault! It's been over ten years, and it's incurable!"

Y yelled back without hesitation.

"I can't be bothered with you. Go to sleep!"

Faced with Y's reply, I felt guilty and couldn't argue, so I changed the subject. I turned
to leave the room.

"XXX, I hate you, I hate you so much, I'll hate you forever, but I can't forget you, I can't forget you!
Why did you have to appear again?"

Y cursed and then suddenly sat on the carpet, collapsed onto the bed, and burst into tears.

I was utterly embarrassed. If I left, I was afraid something might happen to her; if I stayed, I was afraid something
inappropriate might occur. So I just stood there, motionless.

After this awkward silence, Y finally stopped crying and leaned against the bed, sobbing softly. I
continued standing, having to observe Y's actions from the side.

"I thought I could completely forget you, but why did I have to run into you again? You even
married , my best friend! You even tried to steal her away! Why are you doing this to me? Why
are you doing this to me?" Y said loudly, looking at me with grief and anger.

I listened quietly without responding.

Seeing my lack of reaction, Y helped herself to her feet, walked to the table, picked up a can of beer, opened it, and started drinking
.

Only
then Y quickly finished the can, threw away the empty one, picked up another, opened it, and continued drinking.

Seeing Y drinking to drown her sorrows, I didn't care about anything else and went over to snatch
the beer . In the ensuing struggle, most of the beer spilled on me.

Y started hitting me repeatedly, crying as she did so.

I silently endured her hitting and crying, a pang of guilt rising in my heart. Finally, after Y had
vented her anger, I held her tightly in my arms and stroked her hair comfortingly.

After a long while, Y looked up and softly asked, "Don't go, stay with me, okay? I'm scared."

I nodded, helped her to the bed, and gently placed her on it. Just as I was about to cover her with a blanket, she
suddenly sat up and said, "I'm going to take a shower first. You promised you wouldn't leave."

"I won't leave, go ahead and shower."

When Y came out of the shower, she had changed into a bathrobe. Although she was over 30, Y was still so beautiful.
I sat on the sofa and just looked at her.

Y slowly walked up to me, held my head, and leaned her body against my lowered head,
stroking my hair as I had stroked hers before.

Y pulled me up, then pushed me onto the bed, slowly removing her robe. As the robe unhooked,
her familiar yet unfamiliar naked upper body was revealed, her slightly drooping breasts, though the nipples were still so tender
.

As the robe fell completely onto the carpet, a flesh-colored pair of panties came into view, the most intimate part
faintly revealing a dark glint, and obvious wet stains on the panties.

Y slowly walked to the soft bed, climbed on top of me, and pressed her beautiful lips to mine, holding my head
.

More than a decade later, I once again slipped my tongue into Y's mouth, our tongues intertwining tightly.
We exchanged saliva, my hands caressing her waist.

Leaving her lips, I moved my mouth to her breasts, which hung erect
like . With a moan from her, I took one nipple completely into my mouth,
teasing it with my tongue, eliciting waves of pleasure from her.

While her nipples were being sucked and teased, her hands weren't idle. She unzipped my pants
, reached inside, and grasped my already aroused penis, squeezing and stroking it a few times.

My hands weren't idle either, caressing her buttocks, occasionally slipping inside her panties
to touch her vagina. Each touch made her tremble, and her grip on my penis tightened.

After a while of this passionate embrace, I couldn't hold back any longer. I grabbed her, rolled over, and pinned her beneath me. I
quickly stripped naked, my penis, now red and throbbing from her
grip , ripped off her panties, lifted her legs, and, without even putting on my favorite
condom, aimed at her honeyed depths, which hadn't been penetrated in over a decade. Without hesitation or reservation, I thrust
my glans against her soft, sponge-like cervix.

Perhaps due to the force, she gripped my shoulders tightly, drawing blood, but
her vagina continued to clench and massage my intruding penis.

More than a decade later, we made love again.

Her vagina felt a little looser than it had been a decade or so ago, no longer feeling tightly bound; she moaned more often than she had a decade
ago , and knew better how to use her voice to stimulate a man's sexual desire; her body was more feminine than it had been a decade
ago, her once small breasts had sagged a bit with the ravages of time, but were noticeably fuller,
perhaps from being fondled and sucked by men countless times over the past decade. Thinking of this, a pang of sadness welled up inside me,
and I couldn't help but quicken my thrusts, ramming my glans hard against her cervix, causing her to hold
me even tighter.

With a series of fierce and relentless thrusts, the sounds of slapping became noticeably more frequent, and
when Simmons was almost unrecognizable from the torment, I suppressed the urge to urinate, withdrew my penis, and let it contract and
throb against her labia, ejaculating thin streams of semen onto her body. My output was too high during that period, with
homework and school assignments, and my work wasn't easy either, so thick and viscous semen was unlikely.

Lying sprawled on the bed, my penis, which had just exerted itself so vigorously, drooped limply on my legs, the glans and
shaft covered in white, sticky fluid. I felt a mixture of pleasure and exhaustion, and I closed my eyes, comfortably resting.

Y, after lying there for a while, sat up. Without even going to the bathroom to clean the "glue" off her body, she
unexpectedly grabbed my penis and opened her mouth, taking it in.

Damn, this felt amazing! After more than a decade, Y was putting my penis in her mouth again. A decade
ago getting her to do it was a huge effort—washing and scrubbing. But now, after more than a decade, with my unwashed
penis still covered in white glue, she grabbed it without hesitation and shoved it into her mouth. Women need to be explored.

Watching my penis go in and out of Y's mouth, feeling her tongue rubbing
and caressing the glans, occasionally her teeth leaving a painful memory, the stimulation of my scrotum, played with by her tender hands
, sending waves of pleasure up my spine. And just like that, the limp penis gradually straightened again. I couldn't help but
moan .

Hearing my cry, Y stopped all her movements, looked up at me, and then, with a wicked
smile , lowered her head again to take my penis in her mouth. This time, her small mouth perfectly enveloped the glans, tightly closing below the coronal sulcus.
Then, she moved downwards rapidly, thrusting upwards at a very fast pace, her tongue teasing me relentlessly
. I felt so good that I started doing a strange kind of sit-up, repeatedly thrusting forward to pull her head or hair.

At that speed, I estimate it didn't even take a minute before I cried out and helplessly
ejaculated . Then, like someone who had been tortured, I collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Y spit the semen from her mouth onto a piece of paper, then crawl to my side, smiling at me. Before I could
react, she suddenly kissed me, and then her tongue, like an alien, burrowed into my mouth, accompanied by
a strong, fishy smell.

I suddenly realized, damn it, it was my semen! A wave of nausea washed over me, and I quickly pushed
Y away and ran to the bathroom to rinse my mouth. Behind me, Y was naked on the bed, laughing like a madman.

After I finished rinsing my mouth and cleaning myself up, I went to the outer room, sat on the sofa, lit a cigarette, and
maliciously "praised" her sitting on the bed in the inner room while puffing out smoke: "You've slept with a lot of men over the past ten years, haven't you? You've given
men ? So skilled, you made me ejaculate in a minute."

I thought she would react strongly, but to my surprise, she was very calm. She got off the bed, came out, picked up a cigarette, lit it,
sat on the coffee table, looked at me, took a puff, and said softly, "I've slept with a lot of men, but you're the only
one I've ever given oral sex to..."

After saying that, she turned her head and stared blankly at the moon in the night sky outside the window.

After she finished speaking, I silently stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray, then lit another one. She
stubbed it out and said softly, "Smoke less. Smoking too much can cause erectile dysfunction. You're not as hard as you used to be
."

After saying that, she reached out and groped my penis, then got up, her breasts jiggling, and swayed her hips as she walked towards the bathroom,
followed by the sound of running water.

On the big bed, I held her close. She talked a lot, and I listened quietly.

She said that seeing me at the company that year had stirred up her old wounds. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She wanted nothing more than to
expose what I had done at the company, to let everyone know that I was a scumbag who played with women's feelings. But
seeing me every day, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Every time I took the initiative to talk to her, she endured it so much, pretending
to ignore keep our relationship as just ordinary colleagues.

Later, when I set my sights on my wife, she was mostly driven by jealousy, so she tried everything to stop me.
But I was so shameless and persistent that my wife's heart was eventually captured, and she finally gave up.

Later, she came to her senses. I was indeed a scumbag, but she just couldn't forget me. She was tired of pretending to be indifferent,
and for the sake of her wife, she forgave me.

Actually, she has a boyfriend in Singapore, but she hasn't told her wife. Last time I went back, after she hugged me at the airport
, she cried for a long time. She still loves me, but it's impossible now.

So after I went back, I discussed marriage with my boyfriend, and we were actually very happy together. But
a few days ago, we had a disagreement over a small matter, and she couldn't find anyone to confide in. She happened to have a business trip back to attend a meeting
, so she secretly came back. She was conflicted about wanting to see me but also not wanting to see me, so she stayed near the airport and
drank , she called me
, and after I refused, she became even angrier. Taking advantage of her drunkenness, she harassed me with the attitude that the more I didn't want to come, the more I wanted her to come. Since I actually came, she took
the to her.

After listening to her for a long time, she flicked my nose and said, "How can I not forget you, you
scumbag ?"

"Women don't love bad men, what else could it be?" I replied 'contemptuously'.

A sharp pain shot through my chest, and a delicate hand pinched and twisted a small patch of skin. "Shameless," Y
said angrily, then reached down to my crotch, touching my limp penis, and said, "It was originally
mine." " It

was yours just now. Go to sleep, you have to go to work," I said wearily.

"I want more," Y said, pressing closer and stroking myself.

"Queen, have mercy on me, I've already ejaculated twice, I really can't take it anymore, I'll die from exhaustion if I keep going."
I was genuinely tired and had no desire for more.

"Only twice and you can't take it anymore? I don't believe it. Are you saving it for when you get home? Fine,
I'll let you off today. You can give it back to me next time..." Y said playfully.

"It's true what they say, there's no such thing as a land that's been over-plowed, only oxen that die from exhaustion," I muttered helplessly.

A few hours later, I got up and went to work with dark circles under my eyes. Before leaving, I kissed the still-sleeping Y, left
her a note, and quietly departed.

In the afternoon, I received a call from my wife saying that Y had returned from Singapore and we would have dinner together after work. I verbally agreed, but inwardly I was
thinking I'd been eating Y's food last night and this morning.

Y's behavior at dinner that evening made me realize that women's acting skills are innate; her performance was absolutely perfect, but
I still felt a chill run down my spine. Later, this was confirmed again by my "mother-in-law"—you
really need a strong heart.

During dinner, Y told my wife about her boyfriend, and my wife was overjoyed, insisting that Y
bring for her to "check out," saying she couldn't let her best friend go so easily. She even asked me to "check out" him too! Haha, quite
funny—the first boyfriend checking if the current boyfriend is qualified. What should we check? Who's harder? Who lasts longer?

During summer vacation, my wife took me and the kids on a grand trip to Singapore for the "check-out."

Seeing Y nestled sweetly beside that person, radiating happiness, I admit I felt a little heartbroken, but
mostly I felt relieved and grateful, and a little guilty towards my wife.

That day in Sentosa, my wife took the kids to buy ice cream. Y and I were together, and I said to her, "
Seeing you happy makes me truly relieved and at peace."

"Happiness? That should make a scumbag like you feel guilty for the rest of your life," Y said, shaking her head and laughing.

"Come on, let this scumbag hug you again. It won't be so easy to hug you again later; who knows who
might approve my application?" I said with a wicked grin.

"Not necessarily…you'll take advantage of me. Remember, you still owe me…you
'll have to …" Y said shyly, then let me hug her tightly.

Y is getting married this November, but my affair with her isn't over yet…

I only chatted with her a few times during the summer, had coffee with her once, and this scumbag of mine
also repaid her debt in bed while we were traveling for work.

For now, this scumbag of mine is still prioritizing his wife and one troublemaker.

[The End]

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