If only the three of them could remain as they were at their first meeting (3P past)

page views:1 Publication date:2024-06-03老王不

Trying to calm myself, I attempted to recount this story in fluent language, as a record of my emotional and physical journey.
Let's refer to them as A and M for now. A was eight years older than M, a typical older man and younger woman couple. They lived a carefree life, a couple that others would envy.
I met A on a now-closed forum; looking back, we were probably both searching for each other. I first saw M when A and I were chatting comfortably on QQ. A sent me a photo. I clicked on it and froze. M used her delicate white index finger to part her breasts. Without any warning, her private parts filled my entire screen. They were pink, juicy, and incredibly alluring. I immediately got an erection and sent a long string of compliments. Shortly after, A video-called M and asked her to say hello. That night, she wore a spaghetti strap nightgown and smiled sweetly at the camera, a quiet and reserved kind of sexiness that captivated me. A was very generous and let me add M on QQ. After that, M and I chatted for about a month. We didn't deliberately avoid the topic, and our feelings for each other grew stronger.
A would occasionally ask how my conversations with M were going, and several times we got excited about the topics, so I invited him to my home. Back then, I was young and impetuous, feeling like I was going to have a heart-to-heart talk, so we agreed on a time, and I booked a flight to Shanghai, giving A the flight number. He replied that M would pick me up from the airport.
When M came to pick me up, she was wearing a red bodycon skirt and high-heeled sandals. Her red toenail polish was exquisite, making her feet look white and sexy, impossible to look away from.
I threw down my bag as I entered, greeted A in the kitchen, and it felt like we had just met yesterday. A was busy stirring a large ladle, and when he had a moment, he smiled at me, telling me not to be shy, to make myself at home, and that I must be tired from the journey. He then put his arm around M and went to take a shower. I followed instructions, and after washing up, I came out to find A had already prepared a table full of dishes, set out three pairs of chopsticks, a bottle of red wine, and in the center of the table was a plate of my favorite braised prawns.
A's Shanghainese cuisine was authentic, and the atmosphere while eating made me feel like I was visiting a neighbor. At first, it was a little awkward and quiet, but after A steered the conversation towards his desire for M, the conversation slowly warmed up. M put food in my bowl very slowly, clearly focused on listening to my rambling. I used the wine to describe to M my feelings when I first saw a photo of her private parts. Seeing her blush and become shy as she listened, I felt a surge of lust. A was very happy, clinking glasses with me every now and then, envying my smug success in winning M's favor, and grumbling about how the thought of me violating the places he had been in, right in front of him, made him jealous. His words made me a little embarrassed, but I could see the light in his eyes.
At A's urging, I pulled M into my arms, eagerly kissing her lips and reaching inside her clothes to rub her nipples and touch her private parts. I told her this was what I wanted to do the moment I saw her at the airport. After a while of haphazardly hugging and touching her, I finally calmed down and was about to compose myself when M knelt down in front of me, unzipped my pants, pulled out my hard penis, and took it into her mouth. The entire length was inside. Their dining table was white, and I leaned to the side, elbows propped on the table, feeling incredibly satisfied. A, watching, held up his glass and told me that M's oral skills often drove him crazy. M, his wife, was giving me oral sex in front of him—wtf!!! Although A pretended to be angry, I could see the kind of pride he felt when someone recognized his talent. So, after M took a moment to whine to him, A quickly gave her a fake, nonchalant expression.
A, holding his camera, muttered to himself as he took close-up shots from various angles. I saw some of the photos later, and those images, especially M's expression of sexual ecstasy, made me swollen. I was trying my best to hold back from ejaculating at that moment. A, seeing M's soaked panties, was obviously aroused as well, constantly urging M to take a shower, and nagging her to wash every orifice several times, just in case they were used later. M ran upstairs looking a bit disheveled; I could tell she was already aroused. A told me to help him clear the dishes and then come up later. Looking back now, the sight of two rough men clearing dishes with their penises must have been quite comical. I chatted with A casually, my mind preoccupied with the bathroom upstairs. After about the time it takes to smoke a cigarette or two, A gestured that I could go up first. I glanced at A, who was wiping the dishes and stove with his erect penis, and then impatiently went upstairs to enter.
In the bathroom, M was quietly showering under the showerhead, her waist taut. I hugged her from behind, one hand sliding between her legs and slipping inside. That once vividly depicted cunt on my screen, its juices glistening and clinging to my fingers. I touched it for a while, then M turned, hooked her arm around my neck, and stood on tiptoe to deliver a passionate kiss, her other hand gripping my penis like a lever. I stood spread-eagled against the bathroom wall, the warm water from the showerhead washing over my back, my penis, glistening with shower gel, gently stroked by M's hand—everything felt incredibly comfortable. For a long time afterward, I often thought of that moment; it remained etched in my memory. At a traffic light, or in a moment of making tea alone, this image would suddenly pop up, distracting me.
A's bed was large and soft; I lay on my back with my eyes closed. M knelt between my legs, licking and sucking slowly, her tongue scraping against my penis and scrotum, evoking the image of a cat's fawning. M's soft, gentle whispers in my ear made a hundred people willing to die in this gentle embrace. In a daze, I saw A quietly standing by the bed, and I caught a glimpse of the light in his eyes. I imagined the scene before him was like this: I was lying on my back on the bed with my limbs spread wide, M was kneeling on the edge of the bed with her face buried between my legs, her hand holding my penis, accompanying her mouth movements. I wondered if he would glance at his wife's hands, so white and delicate, untouched by worldly affairs, or perhaps at her two sexy little feet dangling in the air, white as tender lotus roots, with a translucent sheen. Because of her bent-over position, M's vulva was upturned, revealing all its details and folds; her vagina must have been juicy and pink, while her anus was tight and blooming, just as I later saw when I examined it closely. That scene should have been arousing, because I saw A's body sink, and then M's waist bounced a few times, letting out a comfortable moan. A suppressed growl echoed in the room, accompanied by wet, squelching sounds. I glanced sideways and saw A burying his head between M's thighs. I imagined him sucking on his wife's vulva and anus, his tongue chasing through the opening and folds. At that moment, was A experiencing the same mix of emotions and lust as I was? Probably, but I had no interest in finding out. I only wanted to be with A, indulging in all the pleasures I could with M.
A, though kind-hearted, possessed a fearsome appearance. Heaven had blessed him with a formidable weapon. The women he slept with were either innocent or sexy, their beauty often rivaling M's. Young girls and women, initially hesitant at his fierce appearance, would inevitably feel resistance, but often, after being half-heartedly touched by A, they would become irresistibly drawn to his magnificent member, finding him increasingly handsome. Knowing my fascination with beautiful feet, A once introduced me to a young woman. My first impression of her was one of dignified virtue, graceful as a startled swan, almost otherworldly. The girl was also very generous. After we got to know each other, she would occasionally send me photos of her beautiful legs and feet to satisfy my cravings. She had beautiful calligraphy, which suggested she came from a very well-educated family. Sometimes I wondered, to the average person she seemed quiet, virtuous, and calmly composed, how could they know she was so open behind the scenes? During group sex, she revealed another side of herself, unlocking various positions. Perhaps my spiritual cultivation wasn't enough, or perhaps my sexual affinity wasn't there, but I never managed to have sex with her and lose her in the vast sea of people. Recently, Douyin's big data, through some ingenious algorithm, filtered out her videos and pushed them to me. Judging from the content, she seemed to have settled in Europe, living a carefree life. I thought of her former boyfriend, whom I didn't see in the videos, and I wondered if they had gotten married after all these years. Before visiting A's home in Shanghai, the girl had told me about her story with A. When she first met A, she was so frightened that her legs went weak, and she clung tightly to the bathroom door. But as Eileen Chang said, the vagina is a shortcut for women to connect emotionally. After a fierce battle, the cement sealing the girl's heart cracked. But A's heart remained with M, so the girl let go, focusing only on physical intimacy, not emotional connection.
Beside the bed, A, perhaps feeling a pang of melancholy from his lust, rose from between his wife's legs and lay down beside M, gazing at the woman he deeply loved. M held my penis, sucking and swallowing, every movement intimately close. A watched closely, stroking M's hair, asking her with the most vicious words he could think of if she had enjoyed herself enough. A's voice was soft, with a slight tremor. I turned my head to look at him, seeing only tenderness and a touch of sorrow in his eyes.
M responded softly, freeing one hand to grasp and caress A's massive member. I watched as it, like a neglected lapdog, gradually hardened and shone under its master's comfort. My penis was still being swallowed and spit out in M's mouth, but at that moment, I suddenly felt like a prop in this room. They exchanged loving glances, oblivious to everyone else, while I, in my jealousy, felt a strange, self-satisfied urge. After a moment, perhaps realizing something, M looked up at me with a smile, leaned close to my ear, and said her mouth was sore, asking how I wanted to play with her, that she could give me every part of herself, any position.
My blood boiled again.
A was also aroused by his wife's actions. He gestured for me to stand by the bed, while he lay back on the bed, rubbing his head against the edge, then pulled M close. They assumed a 69 position before me, M proudly raising her buttocks high. Those two fleshy openings were clearly visible, exactly what I had craved day and night. Perhaps anticipating that these two places would be carefully savored and played with by two men tonight, it was clear that they had been meticulously groomed beforehand. The pubic hair was neither the cold geometric shape of an adult film actress nor the chaotic, overgrown hair reminiscent of a cold palace backyard; it resembled a small patch of lawn covering a hill, proclaiming sexual maturity. Perhaps knowing that her vulva was alluring, the trimmed pubic hair accentuated its delicate, proud bloom. The area around her anus was cleaned smooth and glossy, the pink, tight, and exquisitely detailed lines surrounding the stamen, inviting exploration. The vulva before her appeared slender and delicate under A's vulva's vulva-like, vulva swallowed whole with a single gulp. His rough, fleshy tongue, like barbs, licked the folds of her vulva until they glistened. I stroked her fair, fleshy buttocks, watching her pink anus, contracting and opening with the movements of her waist. I couldn't resist touching and playing with it, so I ran my thumb south along the crevice, the touch all warm and soft. When my fingertip covered the anus, I saw it proudly contract. This twitch aroused my sperm; I pressed slightly, the anus soft and slippery, my thumb half-submerged.
I thought A must have seen all of this; his muffled groan trembled, and I could hear the bittersweet pleasure he felt. He looked up at me, a hint of jealousy in his voice, and told me that M had thoroughly cleaned the anus beforehand, inside and out, afraid that something bad might spoil the fun when I wanted to play with it. Hearing this, I felt a surge of heat, my lust overflowing for this sultry lady before me, every pore of her body yearning for my pleasure. A, engrossed in licking, his muscles tensed, and he moved his head down, revealing the opening of the vagina, gesturing for me to insert. At that moment, I froze on the edge of the bed, my mind blank. I had imagined countless times the wantonness of a threesome with them, but bringing my penis so close to a man's nose still made me hesitate. A's tone was urgent and firm, revealing a fervent anticipation.
M's vaginal fluids, clear and glistening under the light, dripped in viscous strands onto A's nose. I took a breath, put on my Okamoto condom, and carefully inserted my penis. A warm, slippery sensation. Her vagina gripped my penis tightly, passionate like a lover's. I paused, savoring the sensation, before slowly beginning to thrust. I saw my pubic hair becoming wet with M's fluids, my anus glistening with moisture.
I was consumed by desire, thrusting forcefully. Her anus contracted and opened before my eyes. Suddenly, A cried out in pain; perhaps M had bitten his penis? I thought. M's waist trembled more and more violently, like a struggle under electric shocks. She had a huge object in her mouth, her clitoris being sucked by A, whose rough tongue must have been grinding against it repeatedly. Meanwhile, inside her vagina, a penis was forcefully thrusting in and out. I don't think any woman could remain calm and composed at this moment. M's moans gradually turned into sobs, sounding incredibly arousing. I recklessly increased my speed, each thrust reckless and fierce. My scrotum kept swaying in front of A's eyes, hitting his forehead; he saw M's fluids being squeezed out, blurring his vision.
Seeing A's body becoming increasingly stiff, he thrust upwards with force. His roars grew hoarse and desperate, finally turning into a long howl. I knew he was about to ejaculate, and I thrust even more recklessly. A desperate sob echoed in the room, carrying the despair of a woman finally collapsing after enduring torture and humiliation. I felt my blood boiling, a burning passion surging in my lower abdomen, crashing against my exit. Just as M was about to collapse from convulsions, I thrust into the depths of her vagina with all my might. Finally, I ejaculated, hot semen gushing forth, a feeling of complete release, an indescribable satisfaction.
My mind went blank, as if all reason and emotion had been injected into M's body at that moment; I felt a hollowed-out sense of disorientation. After a moment of stalemate, I pulled out my penis. M drifted down like an autumn leaf, landing beside A. Seeing his wife finally collapse, A sat up, gently stroking M's face, asking if she was comfortable. His voice was soft, full of love and tenderness. I saw M hum softly with her eyes closed, weakly placing her hand on his neck. I reached for some tissues on the bedside table, wrapped the condom and the clump of semen, pulled it off my penis, and threw it away. My penis had already shrunk into a small ball, looking as ugly as a discarded shoe. I knew I needed to leave now, giving them time and space.
Back downstairs, I lit a cigarette in the darkness, watching the cigarette butt flicker like a lonely firefly in a deserted night, mirroring my current state of mind.
After some time, M came downstairs fully clothed, sat in my lap, and softly told me to stop smoking. I asked her where A was. She said she'd finished with him and he was sleeping soundly now. Then M softly leaned in for a kiss, saying that the thought of me flying away tomorrow, not knowing when we'd see each other again, filled her with a thousand emotions of reluctance. A mix of feelings welled up inside me, and I hugged M tightly. She whispered in my ear that she had cleaned herself, and if I wanted, all her orifices were available for me to use again. She told me she wanted me to have my fill, asking if I could go without a condom, saying that the real, unadulterated touch made her feel at ease and would make her remember me longer. A hundred emotions surged within me, and I lifted M, kissing her body inch by inch. Her vagina and anus were things I longed for, and I licked them for a long time with my tongue. I savored each of her toes, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her arches. I consumed all my sexual desires in one night, relentlessly venting my desires in every possible orifice and groove on her body. M trembled, her vulva wide open, each orgasm an encouragement to my relentless pursuit.
We lay in each other's arms, drifting in and out of sleep, half-awake, unsure of where I was, whether in heaven or hell. I don't remember if I ejaculated twice or three times; my memory has blurred the numbers. I only remember that as dawn broke, I had emptied my chambers. Looking back, if I had brains to use as semen, I think I would have done it again without hesitation. I was captivated by her beautiful feet, their fragrance etched in my memory; I was intoxicated by her anus, its tightness always lingering in my memory. But all of this paled in comparison to the gentle smile she gave me as she turned back.
M took me to the airport. I sat in the passenger seat, glancing at her jade-like feet in strappy high-heeled sandals, smooth and lustrous like unpolished jade. Last night, the toes I was savoring kept lightly pressing the accelerator and then the brake, knowing she was reluctant to accelerate. But, all good things must come to an end. I gently hugged M, said goodbye, and left without looking back. My heart was filled with a thousand regrets.
As I write this, tears well up in my eyes, and a hundred emotions surge in my throat. I know I should stop writing, but several times I've tried to stop, unable to bring myself to finish. Because in these past few days of writing, M has slowly emerged from the depths of my memory, her soft Wu dialect lingering around my neck, always by my side.
And, after this period, she will once again disappear into the vast sea of people.

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If only the three of them could remain as they were at their first meeting (3P past)

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