I, a woman still possessing some charm in my middle age, flirted with my daughter's boyfriend and slept with him. [Full text]

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---Part 1---

"Auntie, the sun's shining on your bottom, you should wake up now." Xiao Xu stood by the bed looking at me.

Actually, I had woken up a while ago, but I was still lying on the bed, the sunlight shining on my smooth bottom. I thought, I should let the sun shine on my bottom and let it bask in the sunlight.

I knew my daughter was in a relationship when she was in her early twenties. She often came home late or even didn't come home all night. Two or three years passed, and her figure changed. I could tell that she had a history of sexual activity. I am an open-minded mother and approve of my daughter's sexual behavior. In today's society, such things are not shameful. Sex is a kind of experience and practice that she should have. But what kind of man is her boyfriend? I wanted to ask, but I never did.

Until this winter, on a very cold Saturday, my daughter happily brought her boyfriend home. Although my daughter had told me beforehand, I didn't dress up deliberately, just wore casual clothes. After all, meeting my daughter's boyfriend wasn't an important meeting. When they came in and saw my husband and me, my daughter introduced them, "Dad, Mom, this is Xiao Xu."

That's how I met Xiao Xu for the first time. The boy was tall and quite robust. I figured my daughter was tall enough that their heights were well-matched. My daughter had fair skin like mine, but his was dark. I looked them over; the contrasting skin tones of the two of them made it hard to tell who was who. The boy had a broad, unrefined face, not handsome, but his sharp, intelligent eyes gave him a manly air.

When he first saw us, he seemed a little awkward: "Uncle, Auntie!" I heard him slur his words and distort his pronunciation when he called me "Auntie."

As the mother, I had to step in and smooth things over. I nodded to him and said, "Xiao Xu, it's hot in here, take off your coat. We have central heating here, it's very warm, a light coat is enough."

Then, I chatted with him for a few more lighthearted, everyday things, and Xiao Xu seemed much more relaxed. I felt I didn't have much more to say to him, so I said, "Weekends are my busiest time. I have to do all the housework, washing and cleaning. You and her dad chat for a bit, I have to go get to work."

Xiao Xu replied, "Auntie, let me help you, I can do all the housework."

I said, "No, thank you, this is your first time here."

I got up and went into the bathroom, where there was a pile of clothes to wash. Which ones to wash first? Which ones to wash later? Just as I was choosing, Xiao Xu came with me. He wanted to help me wash the clothes, but I didn't want him to come in because there were women's bras and underwear among the clothes, which would be indecent for him to see. I blocked most of the doorway, but he didn't understand what I meant and insisted on helping me. I thought to myself, "This kid is attentive and sensible, so let him help me." But when

he helped me, I felt uncomfortable. Working always involves bending over and standing up, and with a young man I was meeting for the first time beside me, I instinctively pulled up my collar when I bent over, afraid of exposing my breasts. Actually, my collar wasn't low; I just wanted to protect myself from him. Every time I bent over, to avoid his gaze on my chest, I turned my back to him, but my raised buttocks bumped into him several times. This made me very embarrassed; it's awkward for a woman's buttocks to bump into a strange man.

This was the most embarrassing thing that happened when we first met. Later, I asked him, "Did he touch my buttocks on purpose?" He said, "I touched him with my buttocks, deliberately teasing him, which gave him the courage to do so later." Actually, I had no such thought at the time; it was an unintentional misunderstanding that led him to my bed.

I still asked him to leave; that day, our whole family ate together.

During dinner, my husband and I asked him, "What are your plans now that you have a family?"

Xiao Xu told us about his future plans: he now runs a beauty salon, and the beauty business is very profitable. He also has connections with several foreign cosmetics companies, and could potentially collaborate with them on distribution or agency agreements. I didn't pay much attention to his story because we knew about his beauty salon and knew a little about his family. We wanted to observe whether he was just spouting empty promises.

His tone was calm, his thinking was organized, he had a good sense of proportion, and his expression was understated yet sunny.

I liked this man! A very nice young man.

That evening, when my daughter and Xiao Xu went out, my daughter said, "Mom and Dad, I won't be back tonight, don't wait for me."

My husband and I didn't respond because there was nothing more to say; we both knew about their private affairs.

A long night passed. My husband was asleep, and I was watching TV. My phone rang. I picked it up and saw a text message. The message only had four words: "Are you asleep?"

Who could it be? An unknown number. Perhaps it was an acquaintance whose number I didn't recognize. I replied, "Who is it?"

The other person replied, "Someone who admires you."

Seeing the reply, I thought, what is there to admire about me? There must be a mistake. I replied, "You've got the wrong person, haven't you?"

The person replied, "No, it's you." I thought: There must be a mistake. I turned off my phone.

But from then on, my phone received text messages like, "I love you, a very special kind of love," every day. The messages piled up, annoying me. Who was he? He sent the wrong number, busying himself with someone who wasn't his lover, neglecting his real lover.

I should really remind him not to waste her time.

I dialed the number: "Who is this?" The voice on the other end was familiar—it was Xiao Xu! He said on the phone, "What should I call you? Since the day I saw you, I've had hope in my heart, and I can't sleep at night."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You're a good woman," he replied.

Before I could speak, he continued, "If I said, 'I love you,' would you be angry?"

This sudden question left me speechless.

There was a moment of silence on the phone, then he said, "I'll make you even more beautiful!"

What did he mean? Love me, and make me more beautiful?

My heart started pounding, pounding wildly. Could any woman with experience not understand? He was trying to flirt with me! My judgment was correct then, but I didn't reject him. I just thought, how dare he be so bold—dating his daughter and flirting with his mother? He's a steady man; he shouldn't be like this.

I went into the bedroom; my husband was fast asleep. I went out again, kicked off my slippers, and walked around barefoot. I thought: Fine, let's see what else he has up his sleeve.

I said to him, "You know what? I know who you are, but I shouldn't, you understand?"

Would he understand what I meant? I wondered.

He said, "I know, you don't know who I am. My unrequited love for you is beautiful in my heart, it shouldn't be a burden for you."

He understood what I meant. If we both knew each other, how could things continue? I hung up the phone and sat on the sofa, thinking: My daughter hasn't come back yet; are they together? Was they calling me from bed? That would be so embarrassing.

I quickly dialed my daughter's number. She told me she was at a party with her classmates. I could hear music and laughter coming from the other end. That reassured me, and I told her, "Come home early."

That night, I slept naked next to my husband. We've been together for over twenty years, and as a wife, I've always been dutiful and never done anything out of line.

The next day, as soon as I left the house, I checked my phone. There was another text message: "I heard your voice, it's so beautiful!"

"You can choose with me, but I can't escape from you."

My phone was flooded with his texts, all filled with cheesy, sentimental words. I wanted to reply, but my finger hovered over the keypad, unsure how to type. I thought: Wait a few days. Young people don't last forever. Besides, I can't reply rashly; he might use it against me and ruin my reputation.

I didn't reply, just kept receiving his texts. He seemed determined not to stop. One text read: "I love you, without expecting anything in return, because you're in my heart, and only then can my heart bloom with flowers."

"Withered flower." That was my first reply to him. What? I'm a woman in my forties, not a flower anymore.

"Flowers are those that are full, mature, and in full bloom in their season," he replied, but I didn't.

Days passed, his texts continued, and checking them gradually became a habit. Because of my daughter, I felt uneasy and dared not reply, but I had to admit: I was starting to like these flirtatious texts! Because a middle-aged woman suddenly being loved by a young man, whether it was real or not, I wanted to experience it.

As the weather warmed, the messages he sent me, like the warmer weather, grew increasingly passionate.

I still didn't reply, but I admit, his patience was remarkable. I neither objected to nor replied to his messages. We didn't have any real interaction; I only gained a little psychological comfort from his messages, and my behavior wasn't wrong!

One day, near the end of the workday, a torrential downpour began. My colleagues and I looked out the window at the heavy rain, discussing how to get home; even getting a taxi would be difficult. I took out my phone and notified my husband that I might be home late. Just then, the text message arrived: "It's raining. There's a red taxi downstairs; the last three digits of the license plate are 521. That's the car I booked for you. You can go home right away. The fare has been paid!"

I quickly looked around, as if he were right beside me. No, only my colleagues. As I walked downstairs, I read the message again: red taxi, license plate 521. As I repeated 521, it sounded like the homonym for "I love you." I was moved, and tears welled up in my eyes.

When I got home, my husband was already back, sitting on the sofa flipping through the newspaper. Seeing me enter, he said, "It's raining so hard, you said you'd be late." He continued reading. Hearing his indifferent words, I said curtly, "I got a ride back with a colleague."

I changed my clothes and went into the kitchen. I felt a pang of resentment: my husband, whom I've lived with for over twenty years, when has he ever shown me any care or consideration? He's even stingy with a kind word. I accepted this favor behind my husband and daughter's back. Regardless of whether his thoughts about me are malicious or innocent, I accept his kindness.

My daughter came home, and I asked her, "How did you get back?"

She tossed her bag aside and said, "How else could I get back? He picked me up and brought me home."

I asked again, "Where is he?"

She said, "He dropped me off downstairs and left."

Hearing this, I said, "Why didn't you ask him to come up? Honestly!"

My daughter hugged my waist and laughed, saying, "He's very busy, he doesn't have time to play with you."

"This child, how can you talk like that?" I scolded her a bit.

During dinner, I kept thinking about my phone; I felt there must be a text from him. I had a guilty conscience. A middle-aged woman secretly having an affair with my daughter's boyfriend should feel guilty, but texting had become a part of my daily life.

I took my phone into the bathroom, and sure enough, there was a text message: "It's raining heavily, I'm wet. How about you?"

The rain didn't stop that night, and listening to the rain in bed, I got wet too. Unable to suppress my sexual desire, I took off my clothes and said to my husband, "I want it!"

My husband said, "We're an old married couple, why are you doing that?

" I said, "No, I want it. I don't want to waste the enjoyment I deserve. I'm a woman who needs a man."

I touched my husband's penis; it was soft and lifeless. But men at my husband's age have more experience, their emotions are more detached, and they have less of the vitality a man should have. But what woman doesn't love a man's penis?

I held my husband's penis and said to him, "Don't move, let me do it!"

I climbed on top of him, brushing his legs with my pubic hair, dropping my breasts in front of his chest, and touching his chest with my nipples. My body wanted a man. I used all my womanly skills to make him hard. I kissed his whole body, took his penis in my mouth, said all sorts of provocative words, and did all the most lewd things. My husband's penis finally became hard. I said to my husband, "Look how nice it looks with your hard penis, like a big boy, ready to fuck." I kept rubbing his penis, and while it was still hard, I straddled him, and with a thud, his penis entered my vagina.

Ah, I exclaimed, "How beautiful! Everything in the world has a gap, and there is something that can be inserted. A man's insertion into a woman is truly a divine gift." I straddled him and said, "Beautiful, isn't it? Fuck this beautiful woman, isn't it beautiful?" I twisted my hips, feeling the pleasure of his penis entering, but after only two or three twists, he went limp, as if he had ejaculated, but I didn't feel it; he had already withdrawn from my vagina.

I sighed and said to my husband, "Your thing is just an organ for urinating now." My

husband also sighed and said, "Go to sleep, I don't have that ability anymore."

My husband turned to the side, ignoring me, but I needed a man. I placed my hand on my vulva, my fingers pressing against my clitoris, and squeezed my legs together. I imagined a man's penis inside my vagina; this was the only sexual pleasure I had received in many years. How pathetic!

In my hazy, masturbating state, I fantasized about a man, my daughter's boyfriend—Xiao Xu. "I was with him, he penetrated me, and I felt a young, powerful penis inside my vagina, sending pleasure to my very core."

"Ah, ah, ah—" My body convulsed, and the masturbation brought me to orgasm. Reluctantly, I got up. My husband was asleep, and my daughter's bedroom door was closed. I stood naked in front of the living room's French windows. I saw my hazy reflection in the glass—what a beautiful woman! Full breasts, wide hips, two long, white legs, and thick, dark pubic hair. I was a woman who could captivate men, but unfortunately, he didn't know how to enjoy me. I picked up my phone and proactively texted my daughter's boyfriend for the first time, just three words: "What are you doing?"

He replied immediately: "I'm so happy you texted me first."

I felt a surge of relief; a man secretly loved me. I replied: "I won't reject you, keep texting me, okay? Please!" I knelt on the ground, as if I could see a young penis right in front of me, a middle-aged woman, expressing my gratitude and pleading for his love.

He replied again: "I'm grateful you accepted me, I'll kiss you! Kiss your whole body!"

I replied: "Mmm—my whole body—ah—ah—come on!" I just wanted a man.

After that, the nature of our texts changed, less about love and affection, more about sex. The ultimate point of love and affection between men and women is the union of sexual organs.

The next day, I left home without checking his texts first, but sent one directly: "How was last night? Missing women?"

He replied: "Thinking about you all night."

I replied: "Sex?"

He replied: "Yes, I ejaculated all over the bed for you."

We had a close conversation when I locked the door in my office. I still have it.

"You're like a ripe peach, held in my hands, in my mouth."

I replied, "Don't just hold it, touch it too."

"Your ripe body dazzles men; they're looking at you, but I'm loving you."

I replied, "Then you should pick the ripe fruit."

"You are the last drop of blood in my heart; as long as you live, I live."

I replied, "Can you ejaculate the last drop of semen?"

"Your rounded flesh, your plump buttocks make me..."

I replied, "Then you should enjoy me."

One day, his text message: "Last night, I dreamt I kissed you again, our tongues intertwined. I kissed your genitals, your pubic hair brushing against my lips, guess what happened?"

This text message immediately sent a surge of pleasure down my body. I closed my eyes, imagining my legs clamping his face, his lips pressed against my labia. I unbuckled my belt, reached inside, and masturbated until I reached orgasm.

It seems text messages can also provide comfort; I'm middle-aged but not outdated, I can still enjoy modern life.

I replied, "You ejaculated."

And that's how our texts became increasingly passionate and explicit. One night, when my daughter and husband weren't home, we texted each other until late. He texted me, "I want to see your breasts."

I hesitated. I knew that if I pressed the video button and pointed the phone at my breasts, he could see them, but I didn't.

I replied, "I can't see, I can only describe. Full and elastic, not sagging. Nipples purplish-red." I lifted my shirt and touched my breasts.

He replied, "And your body?"

I replied, "Round, white, and smooth, very womanly." I took off my pants and lay down on the sofa.

He replied, "A very womanly body, I want to lie down in your place."

I replied, "You always take off a piece of clothing when you reply to me, now I'm only wearing my underwear, come on."

He replied, "Ah, so you're still hiding your pubic hair?"

I replied, "Not hiding, but concealing, the last concealment."

He replied, "When I go there, don't conceal yourself, I want to find your passage and fuck you."

I felt that texting like this was no longer enough for me, so I replied, "I've taken off my underwear, I'm disarmed and surrender, I can show you the way, come fuck me." I took off my clothes and stretched out my body on the sofa, typing a few "Ah--ah--ah--" and sending it. It wasn't

until we hung up that I realized he was always the one asking me, and I hadn't asked him. This is how my relationship with Xiao Xu has developed behind closed doors over this period of time. It's a bit lewd, but I don't feel ashamed, after all, it's just a private emotional exchange, nothing physical has happened.

---Part 2

--- My daughter told me that she's bringing Xiao Xu home this weekend. When I heard about this, my heart started pounding. I was a little scared and a little uneasy. I was scared because texting isn't like talking to someone in person. If we met, I would feel awkward, and what about him? What if he couldn't control himself and gave himself away? How would I face people after that? What made me uneasy was that my daughter's boyfriend and I were secretly flirting. It wasn't difficult for me to act naturally in front of them, but I didn't want my husband to be there. I felt so awkward. I was afraid he would see me like that ...

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I, a woman still possessing some charm in my middle age, flirted with my daughter's boyfriend and slept with him. [Full text]

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