Love lost can never be recovered.

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

After graduating from university, at the end of 1994, I went to the lakeside park with a group of classmates. One of them brought a girl, saying she was from his hometown and a sophomore at another university. He brought her out to see the scenery and take pictures. This girl was quite pretty and lively, and rather plump (not fat). We all liked her, and we took turns taking pictures with her as a memento. Afterwards, we forgot about her.

In the summer of 1995, some classmates went dancing at a dance hall near our alma mater. I took off my glasses and went to ask a pretty girl next to me to dance. To my surprise, she called out my name, which startled me. Upon closer inspection, it was indeed her. She was with several other beautiful girls, and everyone was delighted. In the end, we each rode our bicycles to take them back to school. After that, we planned to "marry" her off to one of our classmates who had never been in a relationship, and we often joked about it with him. However, that classmate was uncooperative and didn't make a move.

A few days later, the girl suddenly paged me, asking me to go out. I agreed, and that's how our little dog-love began—we just held hands and kissed. She told me that from the first moment she saw me, she felt something would happen between us, which is why she stood very close to me in our first photo. I checked photos of her with other classmates, and it was true. Towards the end of the year, I can't remember what it was, but we had a fight, and afterwards, we were both sulking and stopped contacting each other. We didn't tell any of our classmates about this relationship; only a few close colleagues knew. Later, I heard she joined the army, and we lost contact again, but I always thought about her, wondering what she was doing. Sometimes I even dreamed about her. I only occasionally heard some true or false news about her from her fellow villagers.

After hearing some of this information, I later dated someone else and got married. A year later, I heard she got married too.

Another year passed. I was on a business trip when I suddenly received a call from her. She told me she had transferred to civilian work and returned to our city, wanting to get together with us old friends. I immediately had a feeling something was about to happen. After she returned, we got together a few times. Our old friends all said she had become a "beautiful woman," and we often teased her, saying she couldn't even salute properly.

After each gathering, she would ask me to take her home. Although her husband and she lived apart, I restrained myself, knowing we were both married, and tried not to go into her house. Occasionally, I would just go in for a cup of tea and leave.

But fewer and fewer friends were invited to the gatherings, until eventually it was just the two of us.

Until one day, we were sitting in a bar when we suddenly ran into an old colleague we hadn't seen for years. After seeing us, he exclaimed, "You two are like characters in the movie 'Pearl Harbor,' a twist of fate. Now you each have your own families, it's such a pity. You just don't know how much he loves you?" That night, I still took her home as usual, acting as if nothing had happened. But we both had a strong premonition that something was about to happen between us, because I knew clearly that she was always my true love, and I had never forgotten her!

The more tempting something is, the more you restrain yourself; the more you restrain yourself, the more tempting it becomes.

A few months later, I received another call from her, saying that she had gotten divorced, bought a house, and moved out. Naturally, I went over to help her clean, and then we bought appliances together. Since my wife often travels for work, and she wanted me to keep her company, I occasionally stayed at her place, sleeping on the sofa, of course. Although I really wanted to hug her, and she often sat next to me in her nightgown after showering, and she would only draw the shower curtain while showering, and would always look at me and say coquettishly, "Don't peek." After she came out, her pink skin after the shower, her fragrant scent, her bare arms, neck and thighs, her perky breasts under her nightgown and the lines of her panties were simply tempting me to violate her. Although my penis was incredibly erect, propriety still made me restrain myself and I didn't touch her at all, but just slept on her sofa.

I spent several nights at her place like this. One night, when I said I had to go back, she suddenly said, "Could you stay and keep me company?" I had no choice but to stay, and I prepared to sleep on the sofa outside as usual. She went in to sleep first, while I stayed outside watching TV. Suddenly, I couldn't hold back any longer. I quietly went to open her bedroom door, but I still hesitated. As the door was half-open, she said, "I want some water." I quickly went to the living room, poured some water, and brought it in. She drank it, and I couldn't resist any longer. I picked her up and kissed her passionately. In the midst of our frenzied tongue battle, she pulled me close and then drew me into the bed.

Before we knew it, we were both naked. She was truly an alluring beauty: an oval face, a pair of expressive eyes, a slightly upturned, straight nose, and a smiling mouth that seemed to be waiting for her lover's caresses and kisses at any moment; her body was voluptuous, her large breasts were erect even when she was lying down, and her buttocks were round and full, like a thick "cannon seat." I kissed her entire upper body, focusing my kisses on her breasts, centering on her nipples. Soon, her nipples swelled, standing erect like little fingers. I felt her crotch was already wet, and just as I was about to continue, she suddenly stopped me, saying, "No." I didn't force her, continuing our tongue battle, at most nudging her with my penis. Afterwards, we embraced, pouring out our longing for each other over the years. I realized she had also been watching me closely through others, which was why she married her ex-husband out of gratitude after my marriage.

Our misunderstandings and pride had cost us many opportunities to be together; if either of us had just spoken first, it would have naturally fallen into place. We slept like that all night, and the next morning I found her neck red from being held so tightly.

This period rekindled the feeling of first love for me. Actually, she was also waiting for me to divorce, but I'm a very traditional person and feel I can't abandon my family responsibilities, and I also love my wife at the same time.

A few days later, I went to see her. We hugged each other, watched TV, took a shower, and naturally went to bed. I kept teasing her, kissing her neck, ears, nipples, armpits, belly button, etc. She was very proactive, kissing my upper body repeatedly. When I touched her lower body, I found her panties were soaked, so I started to take them off. She still wouldn't let me. I whispered in her ear, "We're both adults, don't you want it?" Then I kissed her ear, and she asked me, "Do you really want it?" I nodded. She took off her panties herself and then took off mine. I made her hold my penis, and she was startled, saying, "It's too big." I touched her opening and found that her juices had soaked the sheets. I told her, "Women really are made of water." She was so ashamed that she buried her head in my chest.

Next, I spread her rounded thighs and let her hold my penis and rub it against her entrance for a while. Then I thrust in without any resistance, penetrating her vagina. Although her vagina wasn't as narrow as others', it felt like a hot water bottle inside—warm and comforting. Combined with her large breasts supporting my round buttocks, it was incredibly comfortable. During the thrusting, I could hear the splashing sounds and felt a lot of fluid coming out. I asked her what the sound was, but she ignored me, only slapping my buttocks. Then she used the flesh inside her vagina to tighten around my penis, sometimes tight, sometimes loose, asking me, "Is it okay?" After that, she started to moan softly. As

I pressed down on her, I could feel her large breasts supporting my upper body, and with the thrusting of my body, I could even feel the springs, and my whole body felt like I was lying on a pile of cotton.

I controlled the rhythm, and after a while, I pulled my glans back to the entrance to rest. But she wouldn't let me, calling out, "Faster, faster!" So I had no choice but to go all out. Seeing her with her eyes closed, brows slightly furrowed, face flushed, covered in fine sweat, and moaning softly, my penis thrust even faster in her "hot water." Thinking that we were mutually attracted, and that she had always been my dream angel, now beneath me with her legs spread wide to allow me to penetrate deeper and harder, I stopped using any techniques and just kept going. Several times I reached her clitoris—her cervix—feeling my glans touch the most tender, itchy flesh. She started to moan in a low, deep voice. Under these circumstances, I went on for a while longer and then wanted to ejaculate. Although she hinted that I could ejaculate inside, I regained my senses and pulled my penis out, ejaculating all over her lower abdomen. It was thick and plentiful, and my penis trembled for a long time before it stopped ejaculating. She wiped the semen off with her hand and said, "Why is there so much? It's too hot!" Then she asked me if I felt comfortable. I nodded and touched her vulva again, finding that her vaginal fluid had covered her thighs and the sheets. She cried out, "Dirty, don't touch me!" At that moment, I realized that my lower abdomen and pubic hair were also covered in her vaginal fluid.

I found some paper and helped her wipe away the semen, then dried myself off. At this time, she got up, went to the bathroom, fetched a basin of hot water, added some feminine wash or something, wiped herself off, and then came to wipe me off, starting from my lower abdomen. She carefully washed my penis and pubic hair, and asked me if I felt comfortable. I said of course I felt comfortable, and took the opportunity to massage her again.

I turned on the headlights and had her stand so I could look at her closely and caress her. Although she was over 30, she was very well-maintained. Her breasts were so large I couldn't even hold them in my hands, and they stood proudly upright whether she was standing or lying down. The only imperfection was that her nipples were a bit large, about the size of a bayberry, and a dark red. Her lower abdomen was slightly protruding, with a small tuft of shadow below it. She didn't have much body hair. There were some long, fine armpit hairs, but not many either. Her lower lip was full and stubbornly turned outwards just right. Her expressive eyes were still gazing at me affectionately.

I told her that her breasts were really well-developed, and I was afraid I would damage them by pressing on them. She proudly patted her breasts and said, "These aren't fake, what's there to be afraid of? They won't burst. You love them so much, doesn't your wife have them too?" She then told me how she usually took care of her breasts and asked me to tell my wife to take care of them too.

We embraced and snuggled together again. She thanked me for being so considerate of her at this time, for not ejaculating inside her. I caressed her breasts, pinching and sucking on her nipples, whispering sweet nothings. We made love all night. When I woke up the next day, I found her already washed and dressed, lying on the bed where we had made our lovemaking, watching me. I caressed her for a while longer before going to work.

After that, we were together frequently. I often went straight to her place after work. She would cook for me, peel fruit, and act like a little girl, trying to please me. She would snuggle against me, pressing her face close to mine, her long eyelashes brushing against my face. When my wife was home, I would only stay at her place until after 11 p.m. before going home. Almost every time, she would want to have sex with me, then let me sleep with her for a while before letting me go home. Occasionally, she would be in a bad mood and say she didn't want to be my mistress anymore, that she didn't want to do it anymore. I could only comfort her, but I couldn't promise her that I wanted a divorce. She didn't pressure me either. She only contacted me during the day, never calling me at night.

The second time we made love, we were both completely naked. Just as I was about to spread her legs and penetrate her, she suddenly asked if I had brought a condom. Of course, I didn't. She said no, then after thinking for a while, blushing, she rummaged through the closet and pulled out a bunch of condoms, saying, "Don't worry, these were issued by the family planning office when I was in the army. I'll put one on for you." I had no choice but to comply. From then on, she insisted that I always wear condoms. This time, I taught her to ride on top of me and thrust in and out. I looked at my little angel with my penis on her lower body and her large breasts bouncing up and down, it was truly a feast for the eyes. Squeezing her big breasts and letting her thrust wildly was incredibly pleasurable. But she never learned how to rub my vulva against me—that is, to deeply take my penis into her vagina and rub her hips around it, deeply rubbing her pubic hair, clitoris, and labia. I've taught a few girls to try it, and they can all have several orgasms—she only knows how to thrust, making lots of wet sounds. Every time I finish, my genitals are covered in her juices, and she has to help me wash up, then hold me and sleep for a while before letting me go home. The cutest thing is that once after we finished, she even took out a pack of cigarettes for me to smoke, saying it would help me stay alert so I could go home and be with my wife and report back to her.

I saw that she still had her lieutenant's uniform in her closet, and I really wanted her to wear it while we had sex, but every time the words were on the tip of my tongue, I held them back. Maybe it's because I've respected the People's Liberation Army since I was a child, and I didn't want to defile her uniform. Maybe it's psychological, but every time I have sex with her, excluding foreplay, it only lasts about ten minutes, while with my wife or other girls, it usually lasts almost half an hour. The biggest regret is that she never lets me kiss her or touch her vulva, never lets me "tongue over her vulva," and I haven't been able to enjoy my "oral skills." She always squeezes her legs together and says it's "dirty" when I try to kiss her vulva. At most, she only lets me kiss her and bite her pubic hair. I've never really explored her incredibly pleasurable genitals. I'm

conflicted; how can I find solace?

Lately, I've been very conflicted. On one hand, I want to be with her forever because I love her very much. But on the other hand, my wife is very good to me; she's a true "good wife," and I can't even mention the word "divorce." Although I felt relaxed with her, after each moment of pleasure, I was filled with deep remorse: I love her, and I love my wife too. I can't hurt my wife. I feel like I'm betraying two women who love me deeply. I can never give her a proper status, and she knows that too. The only way I can forget my troubles is to fuck her hard, amidst our moans, the sounds of water, the sweat, the clashing of our flesh, the entanglement and friction of our tongues, hands, skin, pubic hair, and genitals, between her wide-open or tightly closed thighs, on her elastic breasts and nipples, in her navel filled with semen, on her plump belly, in her vagina clenched with vaginal fluid, in her dazed eyes from lovemaking, in her slightly open mouth from panting—only at the peak of our sexual intercourse can I truly forget these worries.

[The End]

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Love lost can never be recovered.

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