My beautiful teacher

page views:1 Publication date:2023-06-12

My beautiful mentor:
I started working in the early 1990s. My first job was at a large state-owned bank.

As everyone knows, due to the impact of the 1989 Tiananmen Square protests, I, as one of the few graduates with a formal financial education at the time, was originally assigned to the provincial branch of this bank. However, because of this incident, it was stipulated that university graduates must go to the front line for practical experience, so I was assigned to a large branch under this bank. This branch was very large, with more than a hundred people, and the bank tellers had one thing in common: many women, and because of the nature of the work, there were especially many beautiful women. My story happened here.

I still remember the day I reported for duty; the person who greeted me was an elderly lady who was about to retire. What puzzled me was that she seemed annoyed with me from the first glance, and I was annoyed too. Her first words to me were, "You're okay with university theory, but when it comes to practical skills, you're not as good as a vocational high school student. Go work at the cash register." And so, the first and only university graduate from a finance-related university at this large branch received a notice to report to the cash register under those circumstances.

Arriving at the counter downstairs, I showed the security guard my newly issued work ID and reporting notice before entering the large bank's cash register. Back then, people preferred cash transactions, so the cash registers were generally quite large. Frankly speaking, other payment methods were limited. And the bank branches were also few and far between. As a fresh graduate with no experience of the world, I was still taken aback by the scene before me.

A dozen or so counters lined up in a row, each with a clerk at the front directly facing the customer, and a clerk at the back responsible for checking, keeping the cash drawer safe, counting the cash, matching payments, and stamping customer receipts. It was a bustling, lively scene. I had never seen so much cash before, bundles of it being tossed around.

Coming to my senses, I asked one of the older colleagues, "Who is Section Chief Yang?" She gestured towards an office nearby, and I saw a sign that read "Section Chief's Office," so I knocked and went inside.

With a crisp "Come in," I stepped into the office. I remembered the old lady upstairs telling me that the section chief's surname was Yang and his given name was Yi, but she hadn't told me whether it was a man or a woman. As I entered the office, I saw a mature woman with a very neat short haircut lift up from behind an old-fashioned, heavy desk. She was smiling at me, apparently having received a phone call from upstairs. I quickly greeted her, "Hello, Section Chief Yang!" She pointed to the wooden chair in front of her desk and said, "Xiao Xiao, right? Please sit down."

After I sat down, I looked up and carefully examined Section Chief Yang. I then realized that she was about 34 or 35 years old, but her skin was exceptionally fair and well-maintained, without a single wrinkle. She had

a small, straight nose, rosy but thin lips, and exceptionally bright eyes with long eyelashes. My first thought was, "Wow, she's beautiful!"

After I was settled, Section Chief Yang leaned forward slightly; I knew she probably had something to say.

Back then, when we were in college, we had to keep our relationships secret, let alone openly dating or living together. People were relatively innocent.

I didn't dare meet her eyes at the time, so I shifted my gaze slightly downwards. And just like that, I almost couldn't look away. Because it was summer, the section chief was wearing a shirt, and the first button was undone, revealing exceptionally fair and delicate skin, even showing part of her beautiful curves! And below that were her full, perky breasts, at least a 36D, and they were so proudly erect that I felt like they were pricking me! My head was buzzing, and I didn't hear a word the section chief said to me.

I'll let you in on a secret: my penis is rock hard! Luckily, the table is blocking it, or I'd be so embarrassed.

The section chief sensed something was wrong, so she stopped talking and looked at me quietly. I panicked and blurted out, "Section Chief, you're so beautiful." It was a completely unconscious remark, and after saying it, I became even more flustered. To my surprise, the section chief laughed so hard she nearly fell over. Her laughter was beautiful, like silver bells. As she laughed, her full breasts bounced incessantly. I secretly swallowed, thinking, "What a beauty!"

I quickly calmed down amidst the section chief's laughter and bravely smiled back at her. After the section chief stopped laughing, she said to me, "Xiao Xiao really knows how to talk." Then she started explaining some work-related precautions to me. After that, she told me, "I've arranged a tutor for you, but she's off today and will be back tomorrow. Today, get to know everyone and tidy up your dorm room."

Following the section chief, we arrived at the cash register. I watched from behind as the section chief's slender, supple waist swayed gently, followed by a beautiful curve connecting to her equally pert and bouncy hips. She exuded the sexiness and maturity of a mature woman. Her legs, visible beneath her knee-length skirt, were straight and accentuated by her high heels, her fair skin radiant.

When she introduced me to everyone, my mind was basically blank. Amidst the applause, I quickly glanced at my new colleagues. Wow, except for one old man, they were all beautiful women! And the section chief was the oldest here; the youngest, I guessed, was a recent vocational high school graduate, several years younger than me!

At that moment, I didn't resent the old lady upstairs at all. If I had been stuck in those dull departments upstairs, mostly filled with old men, I'd been thrown into a sea of beauties! And the following years certainly proved my good fortune with women!

In university, I was on the school basketball team. I'm not very tall, only 174cm, but that's acceptable in the south. My success on the basketball team came from my skillful technique, honed through practice. According to the coach, although it was self-taught, I was very adept at the game. So I played point guard, the team's playmaker position. My special skill on the court was my two 45-degree angle positions; you absolutely couldn't let me get the ball from those positions, my shooting percentage was incredibly high. The long-term benefits of this training were that I was in great shape back then—strong and well-proportioned, with amazing abs and chest muscles. Plus, I'm a pretty good person, and I'm very popular wherever I go.

The next day, I arrived at work early. Back then, new employees, regardless of their background, were all very well-behaved. They arrived earlier than the veteran employees and then did things like mopping the floor, wiping tables, and emptying the trash cans (bank trash couldn't be taken out on the same day, for fear that any account discrepancies might be related to the trash, so it had to wait until the day after the accounts were settled, and it had to be taken out in the designated trash can, and it wouldn't be emptied until the third day. I actually went through the trash cans a few times during my later work). They also had to fetch hot water. If you were thoughtful, you'd also make tea for your mentor and the section chief.

After I finished all the preparations that day, I made sure to wipe my mentor's desk until it shone. Just then, a soft laugh sounded behind me, followed by a cheerful "You're such a good apprentice." I quickly turned around and greeted her, "Hello, Master!"

To my surprise, my master was also a beauty. She wasn't tall, petite and delicate. In today's terms, her beauty was the "childlike face with large breasts" type. She looked young, but was actually two years older than me. Like Section Chief Yang, she had a 36D bust, only hers was round and full.

Later, I learned that my master was from Sichuan. She was originally from another province in the same system. She had come to this city for off-the-job training for a while, and became captivated by the city. She didn't want to go back, so she found a way to stay. At that time, she had just received her marriage certificate but hadn't held a wedding banquet yet. She was living in a unit-provided house and hadn't moved in with her husband yet.

She looked at me and said, "Not bad, not bad, young man, you're sunny and handsome. You'll definitely be doing a lot of physical work for your mentor in the future." I quickly replied, "Mentor, you're very beautiful too. Please

feel free to ask me anything." I soon became familiar with a group of beautiful female colleagues. I was especially close to my beautiful mentor, and we got along very well. I learned quickly and was able to work independently in a short time, and I never missed a single transaction.

The knowledge I gained in university became apparent at this time. Firstly, accounting was mostly done manually back then. If the accounts didn't balance at night, none of the counter staff could leave, and auditing was always a headache. However, based on the accounting knowledge I learned in university and my quick thinking, I quickly mastered the skills of auditing and soon grasped the principles of accounting. According to our chief accountant, my auditing ability was better than hers, who had been an accountant for decades. So, when the accounts didn't balance, everyone at the counter, including the chief accountant, would wait for me to audit them. And I lived up to expectations, always able to quickly find errors that others couldn't even fathom.

Secondly, I relied on my memory to get into good schools. I remember when I was in college, as long as I read the book through once, I could easily get an 80. So, not long after I arrived, I used my super memory to remember the details of the regular customers. At that time, the customers called me the "live ledger." They only needed to ask me about their overall inflows and outflows, and I could always give them a pretty accurate account. My popularity at the counter skyrocketed. The chief accountant (at the vice president level) and the section chief treated me differently. I no longer had to work at the counter but instead did back-office work. My status had already surpassed that of my mentor, but I still respected her very much. As long as she gave me a command, I would do any job, no matter how tiring or troublesome.

I gradually learned from my mentor that in order to stay in the city, she got to know a leader at the provincial bank and he helped her. The leader offered her a condition: she had to become his daughter-in-law. That's how she got her husband, whom she married, but she refused to share a bed with him, claiming that they weren't officially married until they had a wedding banquet.

Since I was the only out-of-towner in my workplace, they rented a room in a guesthouse next door for me as my dormitory. After I became familiar with my mentor, she told me that since my room had two beds, she could take a nap in my room. So, we each had our own bed for naps without any problems. I even gave her a copy of the room key so she could nap even when I wasn't there. But things changed.

To be honest, I wouldn't have any romantic feelings for my mentor who had a youthful face and large breasts, unless I weren't a man. Many nights, she'd appeared in my erotic dreams, and I'd wake up staring blankly at the wetness on her crotch. But that's how things are in this world; once you're too familiar with someone, it's hard to make a move, especially since I'd always considered her my mentor.

One afternoon, after lunch, I chatted with some colleagues for a while before heading to my dorm for a nap.

Back then, banks, like government offices, started work at 2:30 pm in the summer, giving me two hours to rest.

But when I opened the door, I found my mentor already asleep in bed. It was hot in the summer, and the guesthouse had no air conditioning. To sleep better, the ceiling fan was on, and the curtains were drawn tightly. Perhaps it was the heat, or perhaps the ceiling fan was blowing too strong, but the scene before me left me completely stunned.

The masseuse's skirt was lifted, revealing her entire panty! The base of her fair, rounded thighs was covered by a small thong, with a few dark, glossy, curly hairs playfully peeking out from the edge, emitting a faint, sweet fragrance. The panty was slightly concave in the middle and a little damp. Her full breasts rose and fell gently with her breath; because of their size, she wasn't wearing a bra, and the nipples were clearly visible. Her mouth was slightly open, and her breath smelled sweet, sending a slight tingling sensation through me.

The room wasn't very bright because the curtains were drawn. In the days that followed, I learned that slightly dim lighting stimulates hormones even more!

I squatted by the bed, carefully observing my master in her sweet dreams, afraid of missing any detail. I even adjusted my angle so I could see most of her breasts through the collar of her shirt. A

fierce internal struggle raged within me—and this was twenty years ago. But my youthful vigor ultimately triumphed over reason. I wiped my sweaty hands on my clothes, then gently covered her rounded thighs with my trembling hands. The delicate touch sent a chill down my spine; my mouth went dry, and my head buzzed.

After touching her a few times and realizing she showed no signs of waking, I grew bolder and moved my hands to her breasts, which I had been longing for! Even through her clothes, the soft yet elastic feel made my whole body tremble slightly, and my heart pounded rapidly.

Human nature is inherently greedy, and the desire to take advantage is universal, especially when faced with beauty! I didn't care if the sky were falling at that moment. I lifted the hem of her loose work shirt and slipped my hands inside. To my surprise, she had unbuttoned her bra to make herself more comfortable! And just like that, my hands were directly on her breasts, which were so large that neither of my hands could fully enclose them. The smooth, elastic feel and perfect temperature of her breasts drove me almost insane, nearly causing this novice to explode on the spot!

Just then, I noticed that although her eyes were still closed, her eyeballs seemed to be moving rapidly, and her long eyelashes were trembling. At that moment, I didn't care about anything else, or whether she would wake up. My hands, while not very forceful, were definitely rubbing her breasts with considerable pressure. The tips of her nipples hardened in my palms, making them itch.

Later, during a conversation with her, I learned that she had actually woken up when I grabbed her breasts, but didn't know what to do, so she pretended to be asleep. But the intense turmoil within her betrayed her, though at that time my experience level was a pitiful zero, so she simply didn't know.

Gradually, I became dissatisfied with just the pleasure in my hands. I lifted the hem of her clothes, and her unbuttoned bra was pushed up as well. Thus, the master's full, delicate, white, hemispherical breasts, along with those proud pink cherries, were exposed to my view!

At this point, the instructor probably felt he couldn't keep up the act any longer. He pushed me away, breathing heavily, and softly said, "No, no."

But this gentle pushing and his moaning rejection acted like an aphrodisiac, driving me even more frenzied. I recklessly took one of the red cherries into my mouth, trying to suckle it as if I wanted to swallow the entire delicate flesh! My hands weren't idle either, kneading the other full breast! Just as I took that red cherry into my mouth, the instructor's struggle seemed to stop abruptly, and his body visibly softened!

My hands lingered on his chest for a moment before moving down, unsatisfied. Since summer work skirts at that time usually reached about the knees, my hands easily caressed his smooth, rounded thighs. But this was clearly not my destination. I gritted my teeth and placed my hand on that bulging mound!

The bulge was particularly prominent beneath my flat stomach. Even through the thin fabric, the warmth and moisture emanating from it made me feel like I was about to explode. Just as my hand covered that mound, my master's hand followed, pulling at mine, softly saying, "No, no."

But her strength was insufficient to pull my hand away from her mound.

So, she tried to cross her legs, resisting my intrusion, but after crossing, my hand was tightly trapped between her thighs, where the warmth and moisture were even more pronounced! Then she opened her legs again, but the instant she did, my hand landed squarely on her warmest, wetter spot!

At that moment, I looked at the woman beneath me, struggling slightly. Her face was flushed, her body temperature was rising, and her breathing was becoming more rapid, but her eyes remained closed. She tried to push me away with her hands, but the force she used made it feel like she was half-pushing and half-yielding. Sometimes she would hug me, releasing me the moment her body pressed against mine, and I could feel her inner turmoil. Looking at her red lips, her breath intoxicating me, I lowered my head and kissed her.

I had girlfriends in college, but it only went as far as kissing and touching. Back then, if the school found out, you could be expelled, and getting into college wasn't easy, so no one dared to take the risk.

So kissing was second nature to me. After we kissed, I quickly slipped my tongue inside her slightly parted mouth, her breath coming in ragged gasps, and sucked on her tender tongue, filling my mouth with sweetness! After a few more kisses, she changed her grip from pushing me away to hugging me tightly. We pressed together, her full breasts against my bare chest, the warmth soothing my skin.

Then, my hand felt something warm and moist down there, so I followed the edge of her underwear, slipping my fingers into her furry, wet area. The slippery, wet sensation was like entering a swamp!

The instant my fingers slipped into her wet, slippery flesh, she tensed up instantly, her breathing became more rapid, and she cried out "No! No!" for the third time! But this time, unlike before, she didn't try to pull my hand away; she just tensed up. But as soon as I moved my fingers, her tense body went limp. As my fingers slid, her body tensed and softened repeatedly, and gradually I heard her soft sobs. At

this point, my body was also on the verge of exploding; my groin was incredibly hard, and I instinctively wanted to find a place to penetrate. As her tension eased, I easily removed her already soaking wet underwear. Once it was off, I pressed my body against hers. In the process, I had already torn off my few remaining clothes. My hands guided my body towards that warmest, wetter place! Just then, realizing the situation, she cried out for the fourth time, "No! No!" This time, however, she not only hugged me tightly but also spread her legs, giving this novice a clear direction to proceed!

Guided by my erect penis, I pressed against that warm, moist place. I could clearly feel two tender labia enveloping my glans. I ran my hand along the slippery crevice a few times, my entire erection glistening with slippery spring fluid.

We both knew the final moment had arrived. I gradually pressed my hips down, feeling my glans slowly part the two elastic labia, gradually sinking in, but after a short distance, it seemed to be blocked by something. So, I moved back and forth gently in the crevice, feeling the two tender labia enveloping and rubbing against my glans—the ecstasy was indescribable! The master also pressed me tightly, with his little mouth open, making a sound that sounded like crying or laughing. His plump but elastic breasts felt so comfortable against my chest muscles!

Just when my little head once again resisted the obstacle, the master underneath me suddenly raised her buttocks, and her legs also wrapped around my legs. At that moment, I clearly felt that my little head had broken through something, and it suddenly hit a very deep position. The whole erection was tightly surrounded by warm tender flesh. The feeling it brought was really indescribable. I could only feel that like a thunderbolt in the clear sky, all the pores in my body suddenly opened! The therapist beneath me trembled violently the moment I penetrated her, quickly pulling away. Just before I was completely out, she lifted her buttocks again, jerking violently a few times before sobbing softly once more.

In the days that followed, when I discussed her feelings during penetration with the therapist, she said it was a little painful, making her want to escape. But just before withdrawal, she felt a huge emptiness there, needing something to fill it, so she would violently lift her buttocks and re-insert. In that repeated process, she experienced both the pain of the first penetration and an instinctive, uncontrollable urge to cry.

After the initial panic, we quickly found our rhythm. I could feel the indescribable, smooth pleasure of being enveloped by her tight, soft flesh as I thrust in and out. The therapist beneath me would quickly lift her buttocks to meet my thrusts, and I found that this meeting gave her a strange, pleasurable sensation—like being suddenly touched deep inside her, a sensation akin to a soft, tingling pleasure.

But after only a few dozen, maybe a hundred, thrusts, the therapist suddenly hugged me tightly, so tightly I could barely move. At the same time, her lower body writhed violently, her tiny mouth sucking on my erection like a baby's, her breasts rubbing against mine, and I could clearly feel her extremely firm nipples!

The sobs had turned into weeping. Fortunately, my room was the innermost one, and the old-style house had brick walls, stone cladding, and a heavy wooden door that provided good sound insulation. The simultaneous stimulation sent a wave of intense pleasure through my body, a sensation that tingled deep within my bones. My penis pressed tightly against the deepest part of the masseur's penis, and I began to ejaculate rapidly. At the moment of my ejaculation, the masseur's body jerked violently, and only after I finished did she slowly recover, her body still trembling.

After I finished spraying and the masseur calmed down, I pulled out of his body and lay down beside him, my arms still gently around him. Both of us were incredibly wet down there, but we lay there quietly, looking at each other, neither of us saying a word. Besides, we didn't know where to begin. We were both filled with mixed emotions. We couldn't be together anymore, because of his father-in-law. Otherwise, we would both have had to find jobs again—in those days, finding a job was practically impossible!

Although we had a good relationship before, it was always a mentor-student/friend relationship; neither of us expected it to go this far. We hadn't figured out how to get along in the future. Furthermore, I was a little scared. If my therapist had reported me, given the society at that time, even if I didn't go to jail, I would have lost my job, and my university education would have been practically wasted, even if she only told others that I had harassed her. I

felt a wet, uncomfortable sensation down there, so I got up, found some tissues, and gave a few to my therapist. After cleaning myself up, I noticed a faint reddish tinge on one of the tissues. Later, I found a pinkish tinge in one of the tissues my therapist had left behind, not a strong one, but not faint either. I had secretly kept one of those tissues, but after I got married, I don't know where I lost it.

Exhausted, I fell into a deep sleep. When the alarm clock woke me, my mentor was already gone. We always went to work separately to avoid gossip, so I arrived at work with a mix of trepidation and excitement. We exchanged glances at each other during work, but no words were spoken. Those glances held a complex mix of emotions.

That day, unusually, I was checking a not-so-complicated accounting error, but I couldn't find it for a long time. My section chief looked at me suspiciously and said, "This isn't my usual level. Have you lost your mind?" Fortunately, I rallied and quickly solved it. That day, I felt like a walking corpse. I felt nothing for my section chief's sexy figure, which was like a ripe peach, almost bursting with juice.

As I was leaving work, my section chief asked me with concern if I was too tired and looked listless. He suggested I rest if I was, but I declined. He then jokingly added, "You must be thinking about getting married. Tell me, which one have you got your eye on? I'll play matchmaker." In the past, when he said this, I would jokingly reply that I had my eye on her, but that day I was just not in the mood, so I gave a perfunctory answer and made an excuse about waiting for a classmate, practically running away.

At the office gate, I saw her carrying her bicycle back inside to catch the bus. I quickly went over and, as usual, said, "Sir, let me help you," and carried the bicycle back inside. When I came out, she was already gone. Normally, she would wait to thank me and chat about where we were going after work before leaving, and sometimes we'd even go out for dinner together.

Later, I learned that she actually couldn't ride her bicycle that day.

Three days passed in this oppressive atmosphere. During these three days, we had some work-related interactions, but that was it.

My colleagues were puzzled; the two of us, who usually had a good relationship, were suddenly silent. They even asked if I had upset my mentor. I could only reply, "Not at all," and everyone laughed it off. During those three days, my mentor didn't come to my dorm for a nap.

On the fourth day at noon, I returned to my dorm and opened the door. I sensed something was wrong; the curtains were drawn again. I looked at the bed, and the anxiety I had felt for the past few days finally subsided. It was my mentor in bed.

In that instant, it felt like the whole world had brightened! My teacher looked at me quietly, and I hesitantly moved to the edge of the bed and said, "I'm sorry!" To my surprise, she smiled gently and said, "So you're a novice too

. We're even now, nobody owes anyone anything!" At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms and kiss her passionately! She moved aside, and I naturally lay down beside her. That's how relationships between men and women are; once that threshold is crossed, everything else falls into place. Anyway, from then on, whenever my teacher came to my place for an afternoon nap, even though the bed was a bit small, we always slept on the same bed, leaving the other bed empty.

As soon as I lay down, my mentor playfully tapped my forehead with her finger and said, "You little rascal, you're so bold! You almost got me killed!" I chuckled. I knew then that a new chapter was beginning between us! So, I boldly pulled her into my arms. This time, she didn't struggle; instead, she found a comfortable position in my embrace, looked up at me, and I couldn't resist kissing her a few times.

From her story, I learned that she had been forced to marry the vice president's child, but she didn't like her husband. He wasn't her type, so she had been making excuses not to have sex with him. But by some twist of fate, I had managed to thwart her plans. Also, we had plenty of foreplay, and she was quite mature, so even though it was our first time, it didn't cause her much pain.

As she spoke of this, she reached out and pinched my little brother, saying it was terrible for her, because it hurt every time she touched it while riding her bicycle that day. I saw her not even bothering to greet him, but just standing there dumbly, only knowing to move her bicycle.

Her half-joking, half-coquettish pinch made my little brother instantly stand erect, and her face flushed. But that's the good thing about mature women; despite still being a little shy, she didn't give up, instead clumsily manipulating it.

Since you took the initiative to seduce me, you can't blame me for not letting you off the hook. For three days, I couldn't stop thinking about her sweet, tender tongue, her full breasts, her bright red cherries, her soft waist, her flat stomach, her pert, shapely buttocks, her rounded mound, and of course, the trickling flesh between her fingers. We started with a deep, long kiss, almost catching our breath. During the kiss, my hands had already traversed her mountains, climbed her peaks, explored her forests, and roamed in her flowing streams. I didn't neglect her pert buttocks either; their feel was in no way inferior to her breasts.

She was an extremely sensitive person, and under my caresses, the joyful flow quickly turned from a trickle into a surging river, her whole body as soft as if she had no bones.

Later, I learned that she had practiced dance and singing as a child. No wonder her singing was so good that everyone fell silent as soon as she opened her mouth in the karaoke craze. No wonder her waist was so incredibly elastic, without an ounce of excess fat on her body.

Under my teasing, the moans coming out of her mouth were like chants, pleasant to the ear. Finally, she couldn't help it any longer, and actually pushed me onto the bed. She pointed at the erect and erect penis that had already been stripped off and lubricated it with spring water, and slowly sat down on it, all the way down! A roar came from her mouth, a sound that was clearly extremely satisfying. And I, under the tight tug of her layers of tender flesh, also let out a long sigh of relief!

When I started to move, I discovered the benefits of practicing dance. Her waist undulated very gracefully, causing her tender flesh to rub against my little brother, which made me fascinated. And she can always move according to her own needs and angles, and the happiness it brings her is incomparable!

She's truly one of the most sensitive women I've ever been with. With just a little teasing, no matter the position, she can quickly reach climax. I think this has a lot to do with her dance training, because some angles aren't ideal for rubbing the sensitive spots, but her body can, making it easy for her to be satisfied.

Of course, she and I love the woman-on-top position the most. I can easily enjoy her breasts and buttocks, and take full advantage of her, while she can reach climax more easily, giving me both physical and psychological satisfaction! But every time she starts to climax, she always rolls over with me, wanting me to fuck her hard, while she cries and screams loudly.

"Fuck me! Fuck me now! Fuck me to death! Ah... I'm really dying!"

This time was no exception. She moved a few dozen times, then suddenly lunged forward, screaming and crying. I could feel my balls covered in her sticky fluid. Then she rolled over, turning into a missionary position.

I saw her desperately spreading her legs, sometimes hooking them around my hips, sometimes stretching them straight, but her hands firmly gripping my waist and pushing down hard, her buttocks thrusting upwards with all her might. My penis responded to her screams, pounding down like a pile driver, making loud squelching sounds, her juices splattering everywhere.
Then, with her loud cry of "I'm dying!", I, experiencing an immense psychological sense of conquest, thrust deep inside her and began to ejaculate wildly! Then, as I ejaculated, her body convulsed violently, like a large fish just pulled ashore! And during those convulsions, she absolutely wouldn't allow our connection to break; if we did, she would frantically grab and shove us back in!

Satisfied, we still didn't want to separate, lying intertwined on our sides, facing each other. Her eyes looked at me with a sweet, almost honeyed gaze. I knew we'd spilled a lot of fluid on each other, all over our bodies and the bed, but neither of us wanted to care.

After slowly calming down, she began to murmur in my arms. She said she understood reality and wouldn't bother me anymore. She was also afraid our entanglement would lead to a pregnancy, and her in-laws had been pressuring her many times. She was ready to accept her so-called husband, but only after two months, so that if problems arose, she could blame it on him. I felt a pang of jealousy. These two months would belong to each other.

She also said she'd been tormented these past few days. On the first day, she didn't want to talk to me and even harbored a slight resentment. On the second day, the resentment lessened, and she even began to forgive me. On the third day, however, her face flushed, her heart raced, and she couldn't help but become aroused, especially when she thought about me ejaculating inside her. It felt like a thousand ants were biting her down there, and she desperately wanted to be with me immediately. On the fourth day, she finally couldn't resist and came to my dorm to wait for me. She originally just wanted to talk things out, but it seems she can't hold back anymore!

That afternoon nap, of course, wasn't wasted on sleeping; instead, we spent it in constant mutual stimuli.

Her libido was incredibly strong, and I, being young and physically strong, readily obliged! That night, we went to her dorm again and continued our intimate encounter, thoroughly exploring each other's bodies. I explored every nook and cranny of her body with my eyes, hands, and even my mouth, and she did the same. We weren't worried at all about her husband visiting her dorm; if he were caught, we'd just go for it, it was all the same anyway. But he never came.

I still remember her body. Especially those plump protrusions—by today's standards, they definitely belong to the "steamed bun" type—tender and juicy, their grip on the little penis perfectly in place, the baby-like sucking during orgasm was intoxicating.

Back then, her vulva was still pink; not only did her face resemble a loli's, but her vulva also looked like a loli's. I once impulsively used a razor to carefully shave it clean, leaving it smooth, plump, and pink—just like a loli.
For the next two months, we cherished this brief time immensely, seizing every day, even when her period arrived. She sucked on my cherry-like lips, applied lubricant to her 36D breasts, and even made a frenzied move on me while wearing only her underwear, letting me ejaculate on her stomach, back, breasts, and even face! The most normal thing was going to my dorm or hers to experience the thrill of an illicit affair.

The most exciting time I went to her dorm was when her husband was there. She pretended I was a rare guest and had her husband cook some dishes in the hallway (back then, dormitories were all in the hallways). Taking advantage of this brief moment, we used the simplest method, exposing our most desired organs, and engaged in intercourse in the most primal way (doggy style).

She said she turned off the indoor lights to avoid attracting mosquitoes, so the bright hallway wouldn't see what was happening in the room. However, we were facing the door, so we could easily see what was happening in the hallway and escape immediately in case of an emergency. I was wearing athletic shorts, and she was in a lounge dress, which was very convenient.

That day, the environment was so exciting. Actually, we weren't afraid even if we were caught, we could just confront each other. But our outburst came like a tidal wave. Amidst the sizzling of cooking, she screamed. Her husband asked her what was wrong, and she replied that she saw a cockroach!

As her husband called out that dinner was ready, I ejaculated deep inside her. The moment I pulled out and put it back in, her husband brought in the dishes. She ate that meal with water from my mouth.

At that time, her husband hadn't actually had her yet. There were many other places where our overflowing spring water was left behind. Like our workplace. Back then, the workplace needed two people on duty on weekends, and since I was a guy and had nowhere else to go on weekends, I often filled in for others. Whenever she was on duty, I would quietly cover for her or cleverly manage to get on the same shift as her.

Then, we could lock the main door from the inside, and the whole building was ours.

(Back then, surveillance was only available in the cash area, and it was closed on weekends.) We did it on the sofa, and we used to worry about leaving watermarks on it, but thankfully, no one noticed. We also did it on our regular office desks. Once, I knocked over the stamp box and ended up covered in "attachments," "cleared," and other stamps—all her handiwork—which took me several hours to clean.

We did it on the waiting bench for the customers. She deliberately twisted and turned on me, refusing to let me penetrate her, claiming that she was an artist, not a prostitute. When I almost gave up, she plopped herself down and started grinding wildly, almost breaking the bench.

The craziest thing was that some of the glass counters at that time had round holes, partly for making calls and partly for ventilation. She suddenly had a whimsical idea: she asked me to climb onto the counter so I could just put my penis through the hole, while she climbed onto the other side of the counter, bent over, and inserted it. Although it was just a quick taste, it had a unique flavor, which she called "hitting a cow across the mountain"!

Happy days are always fleeting. Two months passed in the blink of an eye, and National Day arrived. Her wedding date was

approaching, a date that had already been postponed several times. It couldn't be postponed any further unless she was absolutely desperate. As two unsuccessful, city-dwelling newlyweds with no connections or stable backgrounds, we had to make a realistic choice. The wedding proceeded as scheduled. The day before the wedding, she claimed she needed some peace and quiet and spent almost the entire night with me. She wore her wedding dress and insisted that I bow to heaven and earth with her before consummating the marriage. We were almost inseparable all night. Eventually, my penis only twitched a couple of times to indicate that I had ejaculated; I was completely out of ammunition. At dawn, she resolutely left, and the moment she left, my clothes were soaked with tears.

After marriage, she seemed to transform into a devoted wife and mother. During that time, we didn't interact much; we lived our lives quietly, just like most of our other colleagues.

Around that time, I met a girl, and we had a casual, unambitious relationship. We did everything, but I just couldn't find passion. Logically, after two months and hundreds of encounters, I should have been an expert. With this girl, I was like a raw egg, needing her guidance.

But as a colleague, I still learned about her married life through other channels.

I heard she and her husband didn't get along, and she used a tissue she had saved to get through her wedding night.

(Back then, people were quite particular about this, but things were starting to loosen up.) Her husband was a very attentive person; he always felt he couldn't keep track of his beautiful wife, so he had to monitor her every move. At work, working overtime required the approval of several colleagues, from the department head to several other people, before I could leave.

Heaven knows she actually wanted to spend her life with him, because she never came to see me again. Sometimes, when we were alone, if I had any ideas, she would stop me with a resolute look.

Later, I heard that their sex life wasn't harmonious either, and they often argued. A few months later, one day I didn't see her at work. I asked the department head, and he said she had resolutely gone through divorce proceedings with her husband the day before, leaving with nothing, and then resigned. Apparently, she went to live with one of her classmates.

Eight years have passed. I'm now married with children, and I haven't had any contact with her in these eight years. Other colleagues don't know either; it's as if she never existed. Occasionally, when I think back to my first time, it all seems so distant. That year, I had already left that state-owned bank and started working for a large listed company. Due to work requirements, I was seconded to the city where the head office was located for two years. Because it was related to system development, I often worked overtime. Being

alone, separated from my wife and children, in a strange city was incredibly boring. Every day was the same routine: work-hotel, a monotonous commute. One evening after dinner, I was aimlessly browsing in a supermarket across from the hotel. I didn't really want to buy anything; I was just bored. At that moment, I saw a beautifully made-up baby lying in a stroller, about three or four months old. I missed my child a little, so I squatted down and played with the baby. The mother, who had been facing away, turned around when she sensed someone playing with her child. Just as our eyes met, coincidentally, it was her.

I still saw joy in her eyes. Eight years had passed, and she hadn't changed much, except for being slightly fuller after having a child. You couldn't even see the fine crow's feet on her face unless you looked very closely. She still had that youthful face and large breasts. Only now she had a faint, milky scent.

After we greeted each other, we started chatting, as if we had never been apart. We sat down in the hotel's café and told each other about our lives over the years. It was then that I learned that her classmate had switched jobs to become a senior executive at a joint-stock bank, so she had come to this city and to this bank to escape her husband.

At that time, she really wanted to come back to me, but firstly, she felt that she had lived with another man and didn't know if I would accept it; secondly, what would her colleagues think if she did that? What if she thinks we're having an affair and that's affecting her marriage? If that's the case, I'll be in serious trouble (even though we've actually been having an affair for a while). Thirdly, at that time I had a girlfriend who felt she had no place in my life, so she left.

Now she's married again, a full-time housewife, and her husband is a senior executive at a listed company, sent by headquarters to work in another city. I also introduced myself, we exchanged contact information, and parted on good terms.

About two days later, I was already in bed when I received a call from an unknown number. I answered it, and it was her calling. She said her child was asleep, and she wanted to play on the computer for a while, but it wouldn't turn on. Remembering I lived nearby and was a system developer, she figured I could probably fix it, so she called me.

I went downstairs, took a taxi, and quickly arrived at her apartment complex. When we got there, her house was huge, and I remarked on how big it was. She replied, "What's the use of a big house? It's a little scary being alone with a baby in such an empty place." Her husband had come back for a few days after the baby was born, hired a postpartum nanny, and then went out of town. Now the baby was over 100 days old, and the nanny had quit, so she was taking care of the baby herself. I quickly fixed the computer for her; it was just that the power cord was loose.
As I turned around after fixing the computer, I bumped into her. She had been standing behind me watching me fix it. My turn nearly knocked her over, and I instinctively caught her. She didn't flinch or dodge, but instead fell into my arms.
Seeing her look up at me, scenes from years ago flashed before my eyes, and in a moment of passion, I kissed her.
Unlike years ago, this time she took the initiative, slipping her tongue into my mouth, our tongues intertwining. We were both adults, soon naked together. As I plunged deep into her body once more, it felt like yesterday.
She was still as fresh and juicy as ever, and with a little teasing, she melted into a lump. When I suckled her nipple, its former bright red had turned a deep cherry color. Slightly fishy and sweet milk gushed into my mouth; it turned out she had so much milk that her baby couldn't keep up, and she had to express and discard a lot every day.

Her waist was slightly plump, and her flat stomach was now slightly bulging, the protrusion still as full and round as ever, seemingly even more prominent. The flesh of her buttocks felt even smoother to the touch; she had truly reached the stage of complete maturity. Without even reaching down, I knew it was already dripping. Without a word, I pulled out my erect penis and thrust it all the way in. The baby had been delivered via C-section, so when I entered, the passage still gripped me tightly, just as it had years ago, burning with passion, eager to squeeze out every last drop of my fluid. Only, the temperature of this passage seemed even higher, almost melting me inside. After only a few thrusts, she responded with pleasure.

With that same unspoken understanding, at her single glance, I flipped her over to become woman on top. She thrust wildly, each time penetrating fully, she would grind back and forth frantically to ensure her itchy area received thorough friction.

Not long after this frenzied thrusting, she suddenly screamed, clinging tightly to me, my body already soaked with her fluids. She rolled over, eagerly spreading her legs wide to wrap tightly around my waist, frantically rising to meet me, crying out again,

"Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me to death!"

So I thrust in and out dozens of times, ejaculating deep inside her! During my climax, she could only convulse, unable to speak at all!

I withdrew, my gaze falling on a photograph on the bedside table. It was a picture of her with a man; judging from his expression, it was probably her husband. When I saw the man's face clearly, my head buzzed. I thought, "What a small world!" It turned out her husband was the boss of our area, my direct superior!

But what's done is done; once is one thing, a hundred is another. That night was one of our wildest. Apparently, her husband hadn't touched her since she got pregnant, and after giving birth, he hadn't come home. Being a passionate person, she couldn't hold back any longer, and it erupted like a volcano!

For the next year or so, we released our desires while our spouses were away. She had an IUD after giving birth, and each time I reached my climax deep inside her, and she remained as sensitive as ever.

The greatest advantage of having sex with her was the complete satisfaction, both physically and psychologically. We usually met at her home or at my hotel. Several times during sex, her child was awake, watching us with wide, curious eyes.
During this time, we often took the child for walks and shopping, making them think we were a happy family of three.

We even made love on a park bench, sitting up together. Under her skirt, she thrust desperately, while I remained still, then ejaculated deeply inside her. Another time, at her house, just as I was about to reach climax, her husband came home. Startled, I ejaculated immediately, but because the house was large, we hid in another room.

Her husband, impatient, grabbed his wife and tried to mount her, but she had to say she needed to use the restroom and quickly wiped herself with tissues. As he penetrated her, he said, "Honey, you thought I was so amazing? You're all wet." I listened to a live sex show in another room.

Later, her husband fell asleep, and she quickly told me to come out. I was so aroused by the live sex show that I didn't care and grabbed her, thrusting into her. She had to bite down hard on the pillowcase to keep from making any noise, stubbornly holding it in. When I ejaculated the second time, her fluids gushed out along with her husband's. Later, she told me that it was the most powerful orgasm of her life, both with me and with her husband, making him incredibly proud!

A year later, my temporary assignment ended. Before returning home, we had another sleepless night. Soon after, her husband's assignment also ended. Life went back to normal. We deleted each other's contact information and hadn't been in touch for over ten years.

I started working in the early 1990s; my first job was at a large state-owned bank.

As everyone knows, due to the impact of the 1989 Tiananmen Square protests, I, as one of the very few finance-related university graduates at the time, was originally assigned to the provincial branch of this bank. However, because of this incident, regulations at the time mandated that university graduates must gain practical experience in frontline positions, so I was assigned to a large branch under this bank. This branch was very large, with over a hundred employees, and the bank tellers all had one thing in common: many were women, and because of the nature of the work, there were especially many beautiful women. My story unfolded here.

I still remember the day I reported for duty; I was greeted by an elderly woman nearing retirement. What puzzled me was that she seemed annoyed with me from the first glance, and I was annoyed too. Her first words to me were, "You're okay with university theory, but when it comes to practical skills, you're not as good as a vocational high school student. Go work at the cash register." And so, the first and only university graduate from a finance-related university at this large branch received a notice to report to the cash register under those circumstances.

Arriving at the counter downstairs, I showed the security guard my newly issued work ID and reporting notice before entering the large bank's cash register. Back then, people preferred cash transactions, so the cash registers were generally quite large. Frankly speaking, other payment methods were limited. And the bank branches were also few and far between. As a fresh graduate with no experience of the world, I was still taken aback by the scene before me.

A dozen or so counters lined up in a row, each with a clerk at the front directly facing the customer, and a clerk at the back responsible for checking, keeping the cash drawer safe, counting the cash, matching payments, and stamping customer receipts. It was a bustling, lively scene. I had never seen so much cash before, bundles of it being tossed around.

Coming to my senses, I asked one of the older colleagues, "Who is Section Chief Yang?" She gestured towards an office nearby, and I saw a sign that read "Section Chief's Office," so I knocked and went inside.

With a crisp "Come in," I stepped into the office. I remembered the old lady upstairs telling me that the section chief's surname was Yang and his given name was Yi, but she hadn't told me whether it was a man or a woman. As I entered the office, I saw a mature woman with a very neat short haircut lift up from behind an old-fashioned, heavy desk. She was smiling at me, apparently having received a phone call from upstairs. I quickly greeted her, "Hello, Section Chief Yang!" She pointed to the wooden chair in front of her desk and said, "Xiao Xiao, right? Please sit down."

After I sat down, I looked up and carefully examined Section Chief Yang. I then realized that she was about 34 or 35 years old, but her skin was exceptionally fair and well-maintained, without a single wrinkle. She had

a small, straight nose, rosy but thin lips, and exceptionally bright eyes with long eyelashes. My first thought was, "Wow, she's beautiful!"

After I was settled, Section Chief Yang leaned forward slightly; I knew she probably had something to say.

Back then, when we were in college, we had to keep our relationships secret, let alone openly dating or living together. People were relatively innocent.

I didn't dare meet her eyes at the time, so I shifted my gaze slightly downwards. And just like that, I almost couldn't look away. Because it was summer, the section chief was wearing a shirt, and the first button was undone, revealing exceptionally fair and delicate skin, even showing part of her beautiful curves! And below that were her full, perky breasts, at least a 36D, and they were so proudly erect that I felt like they were pricking me! My head was buzzing, and I didn't hear a word the section chief said to me.

I'll let you in on a secret: my penis is completely erect! Luckily, the table is blocking it, or I'd be so embarrassed.

The section chief sensed something was wrong, so she stopped talking and looked at me quietly. I panicked and blurted out, "Section Chief, you're so beautiful." It was a completely unconscious remark, and after saying it, I became even more flustered. To my surprise, the section chief laughed so hard she was practically trembling. Her laughter was beautiful, like silver bells. As she laughed, her full breasts bounced incessantly. I secretly swallowed, thinking, "What a beauty!"

I quickly calmed down amidst the section chief's laughter and bravely smiled back at her. After she stopped laughing, she said to me, "Xiao Xiao, you're really good with words." Then she began explaining the work-related precautions to me. After finishing, she told me, "I've arranged a tutor for you, but she's off today and will be working tomorrow. Today, get to know everyone and tidy up your dorm room."

Following behind the section chief, we arrived at the cash register. I watched from behind as the section chief's slender and supple waist swayed gently, followed by a beautiful curve connecting to her equally perky and bouncy hips. She exuded the sexiness and maturity of a mature woman. Her legs, visible beneath her knee-length skirt, were straight and accentuated by her high heels, her fair skin radiant.

When she introduced me to everyone, my mind was basically blank. Amidst everyone's applause, I quickly glanced at my new colleagues. Wow, except for one old man, they were all beautiful women! And the section chief was the oldest here; I guessed the youngest was a recent vocational high school graduate, several years younger than me!

At that moment, I didn't resent the old lady upstairs at all. If I had been stuck in those dull departments upstairs, mostly filled with old men, I would have been thrown into a sea of beauties. And the following years certainly proved that I was quite lucky with women!

I was on the school basketball team in college, and I'm not very tall, only 174cm, but in the south, that height is acceptable. My success on the school basketball team stemmed from my skillful basketball techniques, honed through years of practice. Although, according to the coach, it was a self-taught approach, my ball handling was excellent. So, I played point guard, the team's playmaker position. My signature moves on the court were two 45-degree angles; you absolutely couldn't let me receive the ball from those positions, resulting in an incredibly high shooting percentage. The long-term benefits of this training included a fantastic physique—strong, well-proportioned, with impressive abs and pecs. Plus, I had a good personality and was well-liked wherever I went.

The next day, I arrived at work early. Back then, new employees, regardless of their background, were all very well-behaved. They arrived earlier than the veteran employees and then did things like mopping the floor, wiping tables, and emptying the trash cans (bank trash couldn't be taken out on the same day, for fear that any account discrepancies might be related to the trash, so it had to wait until the day after the accounts were settled, and it had to be taken out in the designated trash can, and it wouldn't be emptied until the third day. I actually went through the trash cans a few times during my later work). They also had to fetch hot water. If you were thoughtful, you'd also make tea for your mentor and the section chief.

After I finished all the preparations that day, I made sure to wipe my mentor's desk until it shone. Just then, a soft laugh sounded behind me, followed by a cheerful "You're such a good apprentice." I quickly turned around and greeted her, "Hello, Master!"

To my surprise, my master was also a beauty. She wasn't tall, petite and delicate. In today's terms, her beauty was the "childlike face with large breasts" type. She looked young, but was actually two years older than me. Like Section Chief Yang, she had a 36D bust, only hers was round and full.

Later, I learned that my master was from Sichuan. She was originally from another province in the same system. She had come to this city for off-the-job training for a while, and became captivated by the city. She didn't want to go back, so she found a way to stay. At that time, she had just received her marriage certificate but hadn't held a wedding banquet yet. She was living in a unit-provided house and hadn't moved in with her husband yet.

She looked at me and said, "Not bad, not bad, young man, you're sunny and handsome. You'll definitely be doing a lot of manual labor for your master in the future." I quickly replied, "Master, you're very beautiful too. Please feel

free to ask if you need anything." Soon I became familiar with a group of beautiful female colleagues. I was especially close to my beautiful master, and we got along very well. I picked things up quickly and was able to work independently in a short time, and I never missed a single transaction.

The knowledge I gained in university was evident at this time. Firstly, back then, accounting was mostly done manually. If the accounts didn't balance at night, all the counter staff couldn't leave, and checking the accounts was always a headache. However, based on the accounting knowledge I learned in college and my flexible mind, I quickly mastered the skills of checking accounts and soon figured out the principles of accounting. According to our chief accountant, my ability to check accounts was better than hers, who had been an accountant for decades. So, when the accounts were not balanced, everyone in the front desk was waiting for me to check the accounts, including the chief accountant. I lived up to expectations and could always quickly find out the errors that others had no clue about.

Secondly, I relied on my memory to get into good schools. I remember when I was in college, as long as I read the book through once, I could easily get an 80. So, not long after I arrived, I used my super memory to remember the details of the regular customers. At that time, the customers called me the "live ledger." They only needed to ask me about their overall inflows and outflows, and I could always give them a pretty accurate account. My popularity at the counter skyrocketed. The chief accountant (at the vice president level) and the section chief treated me differently. I no longer had to work at the counter but instead did back-office work. My status had already surpassed that of my mentor, but I still respected her very much. As long as she gave me a command, I would do any job, no matter how tiring or troublesome.

I gradually learned from my mentor that in order to stay in the city, she got to know a leader at the provincial bank and he helped her. The leader offered her a condition: she had to become his daughter-in-law. That's how she got her husband, whom she married, but she refused to share a bed with him, claiming that they weren't officially married until they had a wedding banquet.

Since I was the only out-of-towner in my workplace, they rented a room in a guesthouse next door for me as my dormitory. After I became familiar with my mentor, she told me that since my room had two beds, she could take a nap in my room. So, we each had our own bed for naps without any problems. I even gave her a copy of the room key so she could nap even when I wasn't there. But things changed.

To be honest, I wouldn't have any romantic feelings for my mentor who had a youthful face and large breasts, unless I weren't a man. Many nights, she'd appeared in my erotic dreams, and I'd wake up staring blankly at the wetness on her crotch. But that's how things are in this world; once you're too familiar with someone, it's hard to make a move, especially since I'd always considered her my mentor.

One afternoon, after lunch, I chatted with some colleagues for a while before heading to my dorm for a nap.

Back then, banks, like government offices, started work at 2:30 pm in the summer, giving me two hours to rest.

But when I opened the door, I found my mentor already asleep in bed. It was hot in the summer, and the guesthouse had no air conditioning. To sleep better, the ceiling fan was on, and the curtains were drawn tightly. Perhaps it was the heat, or perhaps the ceiling fan was blowing too strong, but the scene before me left me completely stunned.

The masseuse's skirt was lifted, revealing her entire panty! The base of her fair, rounded thighs was covered by a small thong, with a few dark, glossy, curly hairs playfully peeking out from the edge, emitting a faint, sweet fragrance. The panty was slightly concave in the middle and a little damp. Her full breasts rose and fell gently with her breath; because of their size, she wasn't wearing a bra, and the nipples were clearly visible. Her mouth was slightly open, and her breath smelled sweet, sending a slight tingling sensation through me.

The room wasn't very bright because the curtains were drawn. In the days that followed, I learned that slightly dim lighting stimulates hormones even more!

I squatted by the bed, carefully observing my master in her sweet dreams, afraid of missing any detail. I even adjusted my angle so I could see most of her breasts through the collar of her shirt. A

fierce internal struggle raged within me—and this was twenty years ago. But my youthful vigor ultimately triumphed over reason. I wiped my sweaty hands on my clothes, then gently covered her rounded thighs with my trembling hands. The delicate touch sent a chill down my spine; my mouth went dry, and my head buzzed.

After touching him a few times, I realized that the master showed no signs of waking up, so I became bolder and moved my hands to his breasts, which I had been longing for! Even through his clothes, the soft yet elastic feeling made my whole body tremble slightly and my heart pound rapidly.

Human nature is inherently greedy; taking an inch and wanting a mile is a common trait, especially when faced with beauty! I didn't care if the sky were falling at that moment. I lifted the hem of my mentor's loose work shirt and reached inside. To my surprise, I discovered that she had unbuttoned her bra to make herself more comfortable! My hand landed directly on her breasts, which were large enough to be covered by both hands. The smoothness, elasticity, and perfect warmth of her breasts drove me almost insane, nearly causing this novice to ejaculate on the spot!

Just then, I noticed that although her eyes were still closed, they seemed to be moving rapidly, and her long eyelashes were trembling. At that point, I didn't care about anything else, or whether my master would wake up. My hands, though not very forceful, were definitely rubbing her breasts with considerable pressure. The tips of her breasts hardened in my palms, making them itch.

Later, during a conversation with my master, I learned that she had actually woken up when I grabbed her breasts, but didn't know what to do, so she pretended to be asleep. However, the intense turmoil within her betrayed her, though at that time my experience level was pitifully zero, so I was oblivious.

Gradually, I became dissatisfied with just the pleasure in my hands. I lifted the hem of her clothes, pushing up her unbuttoned bra, revealing her full, delicate, white, hemispherical breasts and proud pink cherries!

At this point, she probably felt she couldn't pretend any longer. She breathed heavily and pushed me away, softly saying, "No, no."

But this gentle push and her moaning rejection were like an aphrodisiac, driving me even more frenzied. I recklessly used my mouth to envelop one of the cherries, trying to suckle and swallow the entire delicate flesh! My hands weren't idle either, kneading the other full breast! Just as I took that red cherry into my mouth, the master's struggle seemed to stop abruptly, and his body visibly went limp!

My hand lingered on his chest for a moment before moving downwards, unsatisfied. Since summer work skirts at that time were usually about knee-length, my hand easily reached his smooth, rounded thigh. But this was clearly not my destination; I gritted my teeth and placed my hand on that bulging mound! Below

his flat stomach, this protrusion was particularly prominent. Even through the thin fabric, the warmth and moisture emanating from it made me feel like I was about to explode. Just as my hand covered the mound, my master's hand followed, pulling at mine while she softly whispered, "No, no."

But her strength was insufficient to pull my hand away from her mound.

She tried to cross her legs, resisting my intrusion, but my hand was tightly trapped between her thighs, the warmth and moisture there even more pronounced! She then opened her legs, but the instant they did, my hand landed squarely on her warmest, wetter spot!

At that moment, I looked at my master beneath me, struggling slightly, her face flushed, her body temperature rising, her breathing becoming increasingly rapid, but her eyes remained closed. She tried to push me away, but her efforts felt like a half-hearted resistance. Sometimes she would hug me, pressing her body against mine, then releasing me and pushing me away; I could feel her inner turmoil. Looking at her red lips, her breath intoxicating me, I lowered my head and kissed her.

I had girlfriends in college, but it was only to the point of kissing and touching. Back then, if the school found out, you'd be expelled, and getting into college wasn't easy, so no one dared to take the risk.

So, kissing was a piece of cake for me. After the kiss, taking advantage of her slightly open mouth due to her rapid breathing, I quickly slipped my tongue in and sucked on her tender tongue, filling my mouth with sweetness! After a few kisses, she changed her pushing hand to a hug, and we pressed tightly together. Her full breasts against my bare chest felt incredibly comfortable on my skin.

At this moment, I felt an even warmer, wetter sensation coming from below, so I slipped my fingers along the edge of her underwear into her furry, wet area. My hands were covered in a slippery, wet sensation, truly like entering a swamp!

The instant my fingers entered her wet, slippery cleft, she tensed up instantly, her breathing became more rapid, and she cried out "No! No!" for the third time! But this time, unlike before, she didn't try to pull my hand away; she simply tensed her body. But as soon as I slid my finger, her tense body went limp. As my finger moved, her body tensed and softened repeatedly, and gradually I heard her soft sobs.

At that moment, my body was also on the verge of exploding; my groin was incredibly hard, and I instinctively wanted to find a place to penetrate. As my therapist's tension eased, I easily pulled off her already soaked panties. After removing her panties, I pressed my body against hers. In the process, I had already torn off what little clothing I had left. My hands guided my body towards that warmest, wetter place! Just then, realizing the situation, she cried out "No! No!" for the fourth time. This time, however, she not only hugged me tightly but also spread her legs, giving this novice a clear direction to move forward!

Guided by my erect penis, I pressed against that warm, moist place. I could clearly feel two tender lips enveloping my head. I ran my hand along the slippery crevice a few times, and my entire erect penis was covered in slippery spring water.

We both knew the final moment had arrived. I gradually pressed my buttocks down, feeling my penis slowly part those two elastic, tender lips, gradually sinking in, but after going in a little, it seemed to be blocked by something. So, I moved back and forth lightly in the crevice, feeling those two tender lips encompassing and rubbing against my penis—the ecstasy was indescribable! My master pressed me tightly against her, her small mouth open, making sounds that were both crying and laughing, her full, elastic breasts pressed against my pectoral muscles—it felt incredibly comfortable!

Just when my little head once again resisted the obstacle, the master underneath me suddenly raised her buttocks, and her legs also wrapped around my legs. At that moment, I clearly felt that my little head had broken through something, and it suddenly hit a very deep position. The whole erection was tightly surrounded by warm tender flesh. The feeling it brought was really indescribable. I could only feel that like a thunderbolt in the clear sky, all the pores in my body suddenly opened! The master beneath him trembled violently at the moment of penetration, and quickly left. At the moment when he was about to escape, he raised his buttocks upwards, moved so sharply a few times, and began to sob again.

In the days that followed, when my master and I discussed her feelings during penetration, she said it was a little painful, making her want to escape. But just as I was about to withdraw, she felt a huge emptiness there that needed to be filled, so she would abruptly lift her buttocks and re-insert. In that repeated process, she experienced both the pain of the first penetration and an instinctive, uncontrollable urge to cry.

After the initial panic, we quickly found our rhythm. I could feel the indescribable, smooth pleasure of being enveloped by her tight, soft flesh as I thrust in and out. The therapist beneath me would quickly lift her buttocks to meet my thrusts, and I found that this meeting gave her a strange, pleasurable sensation—like being suddenly touched deep inside her, a sensation akin to a soft, tingling pleasure.

But after only a few dozen, maybe a hundred, thrusts, the therapist suddenly hugged me tightly, so tightly I could barely move. At the same time, her lower body writhed violently, her tiny mouth sucking on my erection like a baby's, her breasts rubbing against mine, and I could clearly feel her extremely firm nipples!

The sobs had turned into weeping. Fortunately, my room was the innermost one, and the old-style house had brick walls, stone cladding, and a heavy wooden door that provided good sound insulation. The simultaneous stimulation sent a wave of intense pleasure through my body, a sensation that tingled deep within my bones. My penis pressed tightly against the deepest part of the masseur's penis, and I began to ejaculate rapidly. At the moment of my ejaculation, the masseur's body jerked violently, and only after I finished did she slowly recover, her body still trembling.

After I finished spraying and the masseur calmed down, I pulled out of his body and lay down beside him, my arms still gently around him. Both of us were incredibly wet down there, but we lay there quietly, looking at each other, neither of us saying a word. Besides, we didn't know where to begin. We were both filled with mixed emotions. We couldn't be together anymore, because of his father-in-law. Otherwise, we would both have had to find jobs again—in those days, finding a job was practically impossible!

Although we had a good relationship before, it was always a mentor-student/friend relationship; neither of us expected it to go this far. We hadn't figured out how to get along in the future. Furthermore, I was a little scared. If my therapist had reported me, given the society at that time, even if I didn't go to jail, I would have lost my job, and my university education would have been practically wasted, even if she only told others that I had harassed her. I

felt a wet, uncomfortable sensation down there, so I got up, found some tissues, and gave a few to my therapist. After cleaning myself up, I noticed a faint reddish tinge on one of the tissues. Later, I found a pinkish tinge in one of the tissues my therapist had left behind, not a strong one, but not faint either. I had secretly kept one of those tissues, but after I got married, I don't know where I lost it.

Exhausted, I fell into a deep sleep. When the alarm clock woke me, my mentor was already gone. We always went to work separately to avoid gossip, so I arrived at work with a mix of trepidation and excitement. We exchanged glances at each other during work, but no words were spoken. Those glances held a complex mix of emotions.

That day, unusually, I was checking a not-so-complicated accounting error, but I couldn't find it for a long time. My section chief looked at me suspiciously and said, "This isn't my usual level. Have you lost your mind?" Fortunately, I rallied and quickly solved it. That day, I felt like a walking corpse. I felt nothing for my section chief's sexy figure, which was like a ripe peach, almost bursting with juice.

As I was leaving work, my section chief asked me with concern if I was too tired and looked listless. He suggested I rest if I was, but I declined. He then jokingly added, "You must be thinking about getting married. Tell me, which one have you got your eye on? I'll play matchmaker." In the past, when he said this, I would jokingly reply that I had my eye on her, but that day I was just not in the mood, so I gave a perfunctory answer and made an excuse about waiting for a classmate, practically running away.

At the office gate, I saw her carrying her bicycle back inside to catch the bus. I quickly went over and, as usual, said, "Sir, let me help you," and carried the bicycle back inside. When I came out, she was already gone. Normally, she would wait to thank me and chat about where we were going after work before leaving, and sometimes we'd even go out for dinner together.

Later, I learned that she actually couldn't ride her bicycle that day.

Three days passed in this oppressive atmosphere. During these three days, we exchanged work-related messages, but nothing more.

My colleagues were puzzled; the two of us, who usually had a good relationship, were suddenly silent. They even asked if I had upset my mentor. I could only reply, "Not at all," and everyone laughed it off. And during those three days, my mentor didn't come to my dorm for a nap.

On the fourth day at noon, I returned to my dorm and opened the door. I sensed something was wrong; the curtains were drawn again. I looked at the bed, and the anxiety I had felt for the past few days finally subsided. It was my mentor in bed.

In that instant, it felt like the whole world had been brightened! My teacher looked at me quietly. I hesitantly moved to the edge of the bed and said, "I'm sorry!" To my surprise, she smiled gently and said, "So you're a novice too. We're even now, neither of

us owes the other anything!" At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to hug her tightly and kiss her passionately! She moved aside, and I naturally lay down beside her. That's how relationships between men and women are; once that threshold is crossed, everything else falls into place. From then on, whenever my teacher came to my place for an afternoon nap, even though the bed was a bit small, we always slept on the same bed, leaving the other bed empty. As soon

as I lay down, she playfully tapped my forehead with her finger and said, "You little rascal, you're so bold! You almost got your teacher killed!" I chuckled. I knew then that a new chapter had begun between my teacher and me! So I boldly pulled my nanny into my arms. This time, she didn't struggle; instead, she found a comfortable position in my arms, looked up at me, and I couldn't help but kiss her a few times.

From her story, I learned that she had been forced to marry the vice president's child, but she didn't like her husband; he wasn't her type. So she had been making excuses not to have sex with him, but by some twist of fate, I had managed to thwart her plans. Also, we had plenty of foreplay, and she was quite mature, so even though it was our first time, it didn't cause much pain.

When she got to this part, she reached out and pinched my penis, saying it had ruined her life. It made it so painful every time she touched it while riding her bicycle that day. I saw her not even bothering to greet him but just standing there dumbly, only knowing how to move her bicycle.

She playfully twisted me, and my little brother instantly sprang to life, her face flushing red. But that's the beauty of mature women; despite a touch of shyness, she didn't give up, clumsily trying to manipulate me.

Since you've taken the initiative to seduce me, don't blame me for not letting you off the hook. For three days, I couldn't stop thinking about her sweet, tender tongue, her full breasts, her crimson nipples, her soft waist, her flat stomach, her pert, shapely buttocks, her rounded mound, and of course, the trickling flow of her flesh. We started with a deep, long kiss, almost catching our breath. During the kiss, my hands had already climbed over her mountains, reached her peaks, traversed her forest, and roamed in her flowing stream. I didn't miss her pert buttocks either; their feel was just as exquisite as her breasts.

She was an extremely sensitive person, and under my caresses, her pleasure quickly turned from a trickle into a surging river, her whole body as soft as if she had no bones.

Later, I learned that she had practiced dance and singing as a child, which explained why her singing was so captivating in the karaoke scene when it was just becoming popular—everyone would fall silent the moment she opened her mouth. It also explained why her waist was so incredibly elastic, without an ounce of excess fat.

Under my teasing, the moans she emitted were like singing, melodious and captivating. Finally, she couldn't help it any longer, and actually pushed me onto the bed. She pointed at the erect and erect penis that had already been stripped off and lubricated it with spring water, and slowly sat down on it, all the way down! A roar came from her mouth, a sound that was clearly extremely satisfying. And I, under the tight tug of her layers of tender flesh, also let out a long sigh of relief!

When I started to move, I discovered the benefits of practicing dance. Her waist undulated very gracefully, causing her tender flesh to rub against my little brother, which made me fascinated. And she can always move according to her own needs and angles, and the happiness it brings her is incomparable!

She's truly one of the most sensitive women I've ever been with. With just a little teasing, no matter the position, she could always quickly reach climax. I think this has a lot to do with her dance training, because some angles aren't ideal for rubbing her sensitive spots, but her body can, making it easy for her to be satisfied.

Of course, she and I love the woman-on-top position the most. I can easily enjoy her breasts and buttocks, and take full advantage of her, while she can reach climax more easily, giving me both physical and psychological satisfaction! But every time she starts to climax, she always rolls over with me, wanting me to fuck her hard, while she cries and screams loudly,

"Fuck me! Fuck me now! Fuck me to death! Ah... I'm really dying!"

This time was no exception. She moved a few dozen times, then suddenly lunged forward, screaming and crying. I could feel my testicles covered in her sticky fluid. Then she rolled over, becoming man on top.

I saw her desperately spreading her legs, sometimes hooking them around my hips, sometimes stretching them straight, but her hands firmly gripping my waist, pushing downwards with all her might, her buttocks thrusting upwards. My penis, responding to her screams, pounded downwards like a pile driver, making loud squelching sounds, and her juices splattered everywhere.
Then, with her loud cry of "I'm dying!", I, experiencing an immense psychological sense of conquest, thrust deeply into her, pressing tightly against her, and began to ejaculate wildly! Then, as I ejaculated, her body convulsed violently, like a large fish just pulled ashore! And during those convulsions, she absolutely wouldn't allow our connection to break; if we did, she would frantically grab and shove us back in!

Satisfied, we still didn't want to separate, lying intertwined on our sides, facing each other. Her eyes looked at me with a sweet, almost honeyed gaze. I knew we'd spilled a lot of fluid on each other, all over our bodies and the bed, but neither of us wanted to care.

After slowly calming down, she began to murmur in my arms. She said she understood reality and wouldn't bother me anymore. She was also afraid our entanglement would lead to a pregnancy, and her in-laws had been pressuring her many times. She was ready to accept her so-called husband, but only after two months, so that if problems arose, she could blame it on him. I felt a pang of jealousy. These two months would belong to each other.

She also said she'd been tormented these past few days. On the first day, she didn't want to talk to me and even harbored a slight resentment. On the second day, the resentment lessened, and she even began to forgive me. On the third day, however, her face flushed, her heart raced, and she couldn't help but become aroused, especially when she thought about me ejaculating inside her. It felt like a thousand ants were biting her down there, and she desperately wanted to be with me immediately. On the fourth day, she finally couldn't resist and came to my dorm to wait for me. She originally just wanted to talk things out, but it seems she can't hold back anymore!

That afternoon nap, of course, wasn't wasted on sleeping; instead, we spent it in constant mutual stimuli.

Her libido was incredibly strong, and I, being young and physically strong, readily obliged! That night, we went to her dorm again and continued our intimate encounter, thoroughly exploring each other's bodies. I explored every nook and cranny of her body with my eyes, hands, and even my mouth, and she did the same. We weren't worried at all about her husband visiting her dorm; if he were caught, we'd just go for it, it was all the same anyway. But he never came.

I still remember her body. Especially those plump protrusions—by today's standards, they definitely belong to the "steamed bun" type—tender and juicy, their grip on the little penis perfectly in place, the baby-like sucking during orgasm was intoxicating.

Back then, her vulva was still pink; not only did her face resemble a loli's, but her vulva also looked like a loli's. I once impulsively used a razor to carefully shave it clean, leaving it smooth, plump, and pink—just like a loli.
For the next two months, we cherished this brief time immensely, seizing every day, even when her period arrived. She sucked on my cherry-like lips, applied lubricant to her 36D breasts, and even made a frenzied move on me while wearing only her underwear, letting me ejaculate on her stomach, back, breasts, and even face! The most normal thing was going to my dorm or hers to experience the thrill of an illicit affair.

The most exciting time I went to her dorm was when her husband was there. She pretended I was a rare guest and had her husband cook some dishes in the hallway (back then, dormitories were all in the hallways). Taking advantage of this brief moment, we used the simplest method, exposing our most desired organs, and engaged in intercourse in the most primal way (doggy style).

She said she turned off the indoor lights to avoid attracting mosquitoes, so the bright hallway wouldn't see what was happening in the room. However, we were facing the door, so we could easily see what was happening in the hallway and escape immediately in case of an emergency. I was wearing athletic shorts, and she was in a lounge dress, which was very convenient.

That day, the environment was so exciting. Actually, we weren't afraid even if we were caught, we could just confront each other. But our outburst came like a tidal wave. Amidst the sizzling of cooking, she screamed. Her husband asked her what was wrong, and she replied that she saw a cockroach!

As her husband called out that dinner was ready, I ejaculated deep inside her. The moment I pulled out and put it back in, her husband brought in the dishes. She ate that meal with water from my mouth.

At that time, her husband hadn't actually had her yet. There were many other places where our overflowing spring water was left behind. Like our workplace. Back then, the workplace needed two people on duty on weekends, and since I was a guy and had nowhere else to go on weekends, I often filled in for others. Whenever she was on duty, I would quietly cover for her or cleverly manage to get on the same shift as her.

Then, we could lock the main door from the inside, and the whole building was ours.

(Back then, surveillance was only available in the cash area, and it was closed on weekends.) We did it on the sofa, and we used to worry about leaving watermarks on it, but thankfully, no one noticed. We also did it on our regular office desks. Once, I knocked over the stamp box and ended up covered in "attachments," "cleared," and other stamps—all her handiwork—which took me several hours to clean.

We did it on the waiting bench for the customers. She deliberately twisted and turned on me, refusing to let me penetrate her, claiming that she was an artist, not a prostitute. When I almost gave up, she plopped herself down and started grinding wildly, almost breaking the bench.

The craziest thing was that some of the glass counters at that time had round holes, partly for making calls and partly for ventilation. She suddenly had a whimsical idea: she asked me to climb onto the counter so I could just put my penis through the hole, while she climbed onto the other side of the counter, bent over, and inserted it. Although it was just a quick taste, it had a unique flavor, which she called "hitting a cow across the mountain"!

Happy days are always fleeting. Two months passed in the blink of an eye, and National Day arrived. Her wedding date was

approaching, a date that had already been postponed several times. It couldn't be postponed any further unless she was absolutely desperate. As two unsuccessful, city-dwelling newlyweds with no connections or stable backgrounds, we had to make a realistic choice. The wedding proceeded as scheduled. The day before the wedding, she claimed she needed some peace and quiet and spent almost the entire night with me. She wore her wedding dress and insisted that I bow to heaven and earth with her before consummating the marriage. We were almost inseparable all night. Eventually, my penis only twitched a couple of times to indicate that I had ejaculated; I was completely out of ammunition. At dawn, she resolutely left, and the moment she left, my clothes were soaked with tears.

After marriage, she seemed to transform into a devoted wife and mother. During that time, we didn't interact much; we lived our lives quietly, just like most of our other colleagues.

Around that time, I met a girl, and we had a casual, unambitious relationship. We did everything, but I just couldn't find passion. Logically, after two months and hundreds of encounters, I should have been an expert. With this girl, I was like a raw egg, needing her guidance.

But as a colleague, I still learned about her married life through other channels.

I heard she and her husband didn't get along, and she used a tissue she had saved to get through her wedding night.

(Back then, people were quite particular about this, but things were starting to loosen up.) Her husband was a very attentive person; he always felt he couldn't keep track of his beautiful wife, so he had to monitor her every move. At work, working overtime required the approval of several colleagues, including the department head, before one could leave.

Heaven knows she actually wanted to spend her life with him, because she never came to see me again. Sometimes, when we were alone, if I had any ideas, she would stop me with a resolute look.

Later, I heard that their sex life wasn't harmonious either, and they often argued. A few months later, one day I didn't see her at work. I asked the department head, and he said that she had resolutely gone through divorce proceedings with her husband the day before, leaving with nothing, and then resigned. Apparently, she went to live with one of her classmates.

Eight years have passed. I've gotten married and had children. I haven't contacted her in those eight years, and my colleagues don't know anything about her either; it's as if she never existed. Occasionally, I think back to my first time, my very first experience, and it all seems so distant. That year, I left that state-owned bank and started working for a large listed company. Due to work requirements, I was seconded to the city where the head office was located for two years. Because it involved system development, I often worked overtime. Being alone, separated from my wife and children, in a strange city was incredibly boring.

Every day was the same routine: work-hotel, a monotonous routine. One evening after dinner, I was aimlessly browsing in a supermarket across from the hotel. I didn't really want to buy anything; I was just bored. Then I saw a beautifully made-up baby lying in a stroller, about three or four months old. I was missing my child, so I knelt down and played with the little one. The child's mother, who had been facing away, turned around when she sensed someone playing with her child. The moment our eyes met, it was her.

I still saw joy in her eyes. Eight years had passed, and she hadn't changed much, except she was slightly fuller after having a child. You couldn't even see the fine crow's feet on her face unless you looked very closely. She still had that youthful face and large breasts. Only now she had a faint, milky scent.

We greeted each other and started chatting, as if we had never been apart. We sat down in the hotel's café and told each other about our lives over the years. It was only then that I learned that her classmate had switched jobs to become a senior executive at a joint-stock bank, so she came to this city and to this bank to escape her husband.

At that time, she really wanted to come back to me, but firstly, she felt that she had lived with another man and didn't know if I would accept it; secondly, what would her colleagues think if she did that? Would they think we were having an affair and that it affected her marriage? If that were the case, my job would be in serious trouble (even though we had already been having an affair). Thirdly, at that time, I had a girlfriend, and she felt there was no place for her there, so she chose to leave.

Now she is remarried, a full-time housewife, and her husband is a senior executive at a listed company, sent by the head office to work in another city. I also introduced my current situation, we exchanged contact information, and parted on good terms.

About two days later, I was already in bed when I received a call from an unfamiliar number. It was her. She said her baby was asleep, and she wanted to use the computer for a while, but it wouldn't turn on. Remembering that I lived nearby and was a system developer, she figured I could probably fix it, so she called me.

I went downstairs, took a taxi, and quickly arrived at her apartment complex. When we got there, her house was huge. I remarked on how big it was. She replied, "What's the use of a big house? It's a little scary being alone with a baby in such an empty place." Her husband had come back for a few days after the baby was born, hired a postpartum nanny, and then went out of town. Now the baby was over 100 days old, and the nanny had quit, so she was taking care of the baby herself. I quickly fixed the computer for her; basically, I just loosened the power cord.
The moment I turned around after fixing the computer, I bumped into her. She'd been standing behind me watching me fix it. This turn almost knocked her over; I instinctively caught her, and she didn't flinch or dodge, but instead fell into my arms.
Seeing her look up at me, scenes from years ago flashed before my eyes,
and in a moment of passion, I kissed her. Unlike years ago, this time she took the initiative, slipping her tongue into my mouth, our tongues intertwining. We were both adults, soon naked before each other. As I plunged deep into her body once more, it felt like yesterday.
She was still as fresh and juicy as ever, and with a little teasing, she went limp. When I sucked on her cherry, its former bright red had turned a deep cherry color. The slightly fishy and sweet milk gushed into my mouth. It turned out she had so much milk that the baby couldn't keep up, and she had to express and discard a lot every day.

Her waist was slightly plump, and her flat stomach was already slightly swollen, the protrusion still as full and round as ever, seemingly even more prominent. The flesh of her buttocks felt even smoother to the touch; she had truly reached full maturity. I didn't even need to reach down; I already knew it was dripping. Without a word, I pulled out my erection and thrust it in all the way. The baby had been delivered via C-section, so when I entered, the passage still gripped me tightly as it had years ago, burning with desire to squeeze every last drop of my fluids. Only, the temperature of this passage seemed even higher, almost melting me inside. I'd barely thrust a few times when she responded with pleasure.

With that same unspoken understanding, a single glance from her sent me rolling over to her superior position. She thrust wildly, each time penetrating fully, she'd grind back and forth frantically to ensure her sensitive spot received maximum friction.

After a short while of this frenzied thrusting, she suddenly cried out, clinging tightly to me, my body already soaked with her fluids. She rolled over, eagerly spreading her legs wide to wrap tightly around my waist, frantically rising to meet me, crying out again,

"Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me to death!"

And so I thrust in and out dozens of times, ejaculating deep inside her! When I erupted, she could only convulse; she was completely speechless!

I pulled away, my gaze falling on a photograph on the bedside table. It was a picture of her and a man; judging from their expressions, it was probably her husband. When I saw the man's face clearly, my head buzzed. I thought, what a small world! It turned out her husband was the boss of our area, my direct superior!

But what's done is done; once is one thing, a hundred is another. That night was one of our wildest. Apparently, her husband hadn't touched her since she became pregnant, and after giving birth, he hadn't come back. Being a passionate person, she couldn't hold back any longer, and erupted like a volcano!

For the next year or so, we indulged our desires while our spouses were away. She had a baby and an IUD, and every time I made love, I ejaculated deep inside her, and she remained as sensitive as ever.

The greatest advantage of having sex with her was the complete satisfaction, both physically and psychologically. We usually made love at her home or at my hotel. Several times, during sex, her child was awake, watching us with wide, curious eyes.
During this time, we often took the child for walks and shopping, and people thought we were a happy family of three.

We even made love on a park bench, sitting up, when the mood struck. Under her skirt, she moved desperately, and I remained still, then ejaculated deeply inside her. Another time, we were making love at her home, and just as I was about to reach my climax, her husband came home. I was startled and ejaculated immediately, but because the house was large, we hid in another room.

Her husband, impatient and eager, grabbed his wife and tried to mount her. She had to say she needed to use the restroom and quickly wiped herself with tissues. As he penetrated her, he said, "Honey, you thought I was so good? You're all wet." I was listening to the entire sex show from another room.

Later, her husband fell asleep, and she quickly told me to come out. I was burning with desire from the live sex show, and without thinking, I grabbed her and thrust into her. She had to bite down hard on the pillowcase to keep from making any noise, enduring it all. When I ejaculated a second time, her juices flowed out in a gush, mingling with her husband's. Later, she told me that it was the most powerful orgasm of her life, both with me and with her husband, making him incredibly proud!

A year later, my secondment ended. Before I returned home, we had another sleepless night. Soon after, her husband also ended his overseas assignment. Life went back to normal. We deleted each other's contact information and hadn't been in touch for over ten years.

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