Memories of May - A Slut's Confession

page views:1 Publication date:2013-07-13

Part 1: An Encounter
In May, Sichuan was bathed in bright sunshine. Flakes of catkins floated in the sky, carried by a gentle breeze into my supermarket. Annoyed, I closed the door, let out a long sigh, yawned, and a wave
of drowsiness washed over me. My long-standing habit of taking a nap was triggered. I shook my head vigorously, gave the clerk a few instructions, and lazily went upstairs to lie on the bed. I wanted to sleep, but for some reason, I was restless and couldn't fall asleep, tossing and turning. Sigh! This vexing May! For four years, every May has brought me unease and restlessness, filled with melancholy, sorrow, anticipation, and disappointment.
Closing my eyes, scenes from four years ago involuntarily flashed before my eyes. I didn't want to remember, I wanted to forget, but my thoughts involuntarily drifted back to four years ago.
I live in a small town with relatively convenient transportation. When I was twenty, I met my husband, Zhang Weishan, through an introduction. He was honest and simple, quick-witted, and while not exceptionally good, he wasn't particularly bad either. He wasn't one for sweet talk or romantic gestures, and we married quickly. Two years later, we had our first son, and my husband and I were overjoyed.
My husband and I discussed opening a supermarket to supplement our income. I wasn't particularly good at business, but I agreed, contributing all our savings. Our parents also helped out, and soon our supermarket opened. We lived in a two-story house; the supermarket was on the first floor, and we used the second floor for our living quarters. Although those days were tough, they were the happiest time of our lives.
Over the years, the supermarket business unexpectedly became very successful, especially on market days. We were almost overwhelmed with work and exhausted. My husband loved and cared for me, and after discussing it, we hired two employees, which made things much easier for me. When our eldest son was four, my husband and I decided to have another child. We had hoped for a woman, but it was another son. We were still very happy and content.
After giving birth, I was busy taking care of the baby, and my husband was even busier, with his business booming. For some reason, things between us became increasingly mundane, lacking passion, and we made love less often. But I admit, I'm a woman who can't stand loneliness; I crave that passionate sex. Looking at my tired husband every day, I felt an indescribable loneliness and isolation.
To ease my husband's burden, and with my mother-in-law helping with the children, I threw myself back into running the supermarket.
I thought life would be like this: the daily routine of buying and selling goods, washing clothes and cooking at night, taking care of my husband and two sons—I had no complaints; I felt happy.
But my heart was always restless, filled with a yearning, a strange impulse. Perhaps it was all destined. Four years ago, in May, something unexpected changed my peaceful and comfortable life, bringing me both joy and pain.
Our town isn't very big; most people know each other, many are related, and our lives were relatively good.
It was a sweltering afternoon in May, the shop was nearly empty, and I was half-asleep when that inexplicable impulse resurfaced.
Suddenly, a deep, unfamiliar baritone voice reached my ears: "Excuse me, do you have any good nutritional supplements? I need them for a patient." The voice jolted me awake. I opened my eyes to find a man about my age standing behind the counter. My eyes lit up; I'd never seen him before. He was handsome, with a masculine air about him.
A little flustered, I asked, "What do you need? What patient do you need?" The man smiled and said, "Oh, my father is sick and hospitalized at your town hospital. Could you help me pick out a few things, ma'am? I don't know much about medicine."
I still don't understand why my heart was racing, why I was so interested in him. I introduced a few items, and after he paid, he smiled and said, "Thank you!" My heart skipped a beat. I never expected to say to him, "You're very filial. What's your name?" "My name is Han Rui."
It was already wrong of me to casually ask a stranger for his name, but I actually told him mine. Perhaps this was fate.
He turned around, smiling, and said, "Han Rui, hmm, a nice name. My name is Song Xuefeng, just call me Xiaofeng. Goodbye, big sister." Watching him disappear, I suddenly felt so lost. That voice and smile were deeply imprinted in my mind. I couldn't rest all afternoon, constantly thinking about his voice and smile.
That night, I unusually snuggled into my husband's arms. The impulse in my heart excited me greatly, but why was my husband so unromantic? He simply lay on top of me, mechanically repeating the same action, ejaculating just as I felt I was about to climax. We finished quickly, and he collapsed beside me, exhausted, falling asleep. I was incredibly frustrated, tossing and turning for a long time before finally falling asleep.
Actually, my husband and I have a relatively harmonious sex life. Although I don't always have an orgasm, I'm often satisfied. I like to moan during sex; it really makes me happier and the pleasure more intense. But when Song Xuefeng's image appeared in my mind, why did I feel nothing at all with my husband? I couldn't find the answer.
The next day, I suddenly longed for him to appear again. My mind was in turmoil all morning, I was completely lost, my eyes constantly darting towards the door. Disappointment after disappointment, longing after longing, I drifted aimlessly until afternoon.
Just as I was about to give up, I heard those familiar footsteps. I jumped up nervously. Yes, it was him. He was here, smiling. My heart suddenly raced. His deep voice entered my mind again, "Hello. Han Rui, could you get me something?"
I carefully prepared his things and started chatting with him. I learned he was from a neighboring town. Because the hospital here was better, he sent his father here for treatment. He was witty and humorous, every word deeply touching my heart. Talking to him made me very excited and happy. Gradually, we became familiar. He would come to my shop every day to buy things. Each time, I would talk to him a lot, and I could read a certain light in his eyes.
Being with him, I suddenly realized this was what love felt like. My heart would race, my face would blush. Every time he left, I would... I'm incredibly disappointed. I don't want him to leave, I can't bear to. I don't know why I think about him at night; thinking about him makes my heart race and my face flush. At the same time, I feel deeply guilty towards my husband sleeping next to me. I hug him, but I just don't feel that connection. I've sighed countless times, felt sorry for my husband countless times, and told myself countless times, "I won't see him tomorrow, I'll go out and hide from him. He'll be gone in a few days, why bother?"
But I betray myself time and time again. The first thing I do when I wake up is check if he's come. I'll deliberately dress up, anxiously anticipating that familiar footsteps and that magical smile appearing before me, getting excited over it.
I have a feeling... I saw a burning light in his eyes, a heat hot enough to melt me. He must have seen the emotions in mine too. More than once, I've wondered, what might happen between us?
My husband is farsighted; he plans to buy a car, saving on shipping costs and expanding his business. Of course, I'm happy, but the driving school is too far from home. I need to go to the county town to learn.
So boring. My husband went to driving lessons again and won't be back tonight. Why isn't he coming? I feel so lost and lonely. I anxiously wait for his familiar footsteps, but he doesn't appear. Did his father go home from the hospital? Why didn't he tell me? Why do I have such a strong premonition? He'll definitely come. It's already dark, the shop assistants have all gone home, and I've closed the windows. Normally, I would have locked the door and gone upstairs to rest.
But why am I still staring blankly at the door, waiting for that familiar footstep? I don't know, I can't explain it. That impulse makes me restless, anticipating his arrival. My lower body is constantly wet and sticky—why is this happening?
The night is deep, the people in the town are already asleep, and I'm still there, staring blankly at the door. Disappointed, I feel like crying. Just as I'm about to get up and close the door, I hear rustling footsteps. It's him, it must be him! My heart leaps, and I almost run out to greet him with joy.
He came, he really came. He pushed open the door, his eyes still that smiling gaze, but today they were exceptionally bright, that intense look melting me once more. My face burned, my heart pounded, and another surge of passion welled up inside me.
His deep voice rang out, "Could you get me something?" My heart trembled. I was so excited I didn't know what to get, and I didn't even ask him what he wanted. I frantically grabbed a bunch of food, placed it on the counter, and handed him a plastic bag with trembling hands. He was staring at me, the fire in his eyes suffocating me, his hands shaking too.
He knocked a pack of cigarettes to the floor, and we both bent down to pick it up almost simultaneously. Our hands touched, whether intentionally or unintentionally, and a jolt of electricity shot through his hand. After a brief pause, he grabbed my hand. My mind went blank; all I could hear was the frantic pounding of our hearts. Instinctively, I tried to pull my hand away, but I was so weak; my entire arm wouldn't obey me.
I can't tell if he embraced me or I threw myself into his arms, we held each other tightly. His hot lips were kissing my face wildly, and I writhed in response. Our mouths were hungrily locked together, he sucked on my tongue, sucking it incessantly. My heart was leaving my body; it was a strange feeling. He was drinking the saliva from my mouth, and oh my god, the faint tobacco scent on his breath was so sweet.
His hand slipped inside my underwear, kneading my buttocks forcefully. Ah, his fingers touched, touched my most tender spot. I trembled, wriggling my buttocks to match his kneading. My buttocks were now completely exposed. With the relentless kneading, my desire surged, and I almost lost control, throwing off my pants and underwear that had fallen to my knees.
He lifted me up with strong hands and placed me on the counter, my private parts completely exposed before him. I felt no shame, only a burning desire. My hazy eyes watched him tremble as he unbuckled his belt and quickly pulled down his pants. Ah, his penis was already proudly erect, giving me a stern look. A glistening, clear fluid at the tip told me how much it needed me.
I had lost consciousness. He moved closer to me, closer and closer. Ah, his hot penis paused briefly at the entrance of my vagina. God, it went in! So hard, so powerful, so deep! Blood rushed to my brain. I groaned, my whole body trembling. My vaginal fluid gushed out, blocked inside by his hot penis. It felt so uncomfortable.
He slowly pulled his penis out. It felt so empty. My penis dripped as it was pulled out. Ah, no, don't pull it all out! He seemed to understand my inner cry, leaving only the head of his penis inside me. After a brief pause, with a "plop," he thrust into my vagina again. I couldn't help but let out a pleasurable moan, "Ah, so good!" He didn't stop, thrusting quickly and violently. Pleasure spread rapidly throughout my body from the rapid thrusts. This was a completely new pleasure, one I'd never experienced with my husband. This pleasure made me scream wildly. I no longer cared if anyone found out. Only one thought was running through my mind: harder, more intensely. I wanted it, I wanted it, I wanted this man to fuck me. He kept fucking me, and orgasms flooded me, suffocating me, making me scream wildly. The creaking of the counter beneath us was like an accompaniment.
The moment his hot semen shot into my body, we trembled and held each other tightly. He sucked on my tongue forcefully, and I sucked on his penis with my lower body, unwilling to separate for a long time.
II. Intoxicating Passion
After the pleasure, I was intoxicated by his tenderness. His sweet words made me lose myself. I don't know why I said, "My husband won't be home tonight." He excitedly kissed me again, and I was once again filled with passion. I couldn't wait to embrace him and go upstairs.
The bed that originally belonged to my husband and me was now occupied by him—no, not occupied by him, but offered up by my own hands, willingly. My husband had long been forgotten. In my heart, in my eyes, in my body, there was only him. I have to admit, I have truly fallen in love with him. I know this love will not have a happy ending. He has a wife and children, and I have a husband and son, but I don't want to be hypocritical. I have truly fallen in love with him.
Removing the constraints of clothing, we embraced naked, he sucked on my nipples, indulging in every inch of my skin. I was captivated by his kisses, his love, his powerful possession, his wild invasion of my body. With my husband, I passively received orgasms; with him, it was an active act of taking—a completely different feeling.
We changed positions constantly, experiencing different pleasures. He already knew where my erogenous zones were. My body trembled and quivered from his teasing; my heart was ruthlessly emptied, leaving only an empty shell. My cries were so melodious and wanton, stimulating him to a ferocious expression as he thrust wildly and forcefully.
His penis was so powerful, invading every part of my body, leaving traces of his love. I was wanton, writhing wildly, my body and soul completely possessed by him. It felt so real, so blissful. Every lewd word he uttered was so beautiful. "Rui, your pussy is so wet, I want to fuck you." I couldn't describe the feeling. My orgasms became so intense. I accepted everything about him, loved everything about him. He had taken control of my mind and body. I was intoxicated by him, indulging myself for him.
He held me, nestled in his arms, listening to his moving words of love. I only had a happy smile. I didn't know why I felt no shame in his arms, no shame towards my husband. All I felt was a blissful anticipation.
When I woke up in his arms the next day, I realized that he wasn't my husband. I felt a mix of nervousness and happiness. How could I so naturally kiss him and say, "You should go now, don't let my husband find out?" He left with a smile, and I watched him go with lingering reluctance.
In my lucid state, I suddenly felt guilty towards my husband and son. But the guilt only lasted a moment before I gave myself a reason: "It's okay, he won't know. We can just do it secretly." This reason, though not a reason, made me happy, my face flushed with happiness and sexual satisfaction. The shop assistant was surprised by my good complexion, which made me even happier.
My husband came back, still as kind and gentle as ever, still speaking to me with such love. I didn't dare look at him, giving him a few perfunctory replies before turning away. My mind was filled with his image, not my husband.
I silently warned myself that I shouldn't see him again; I really couldn't betray my husband who loved me so deeply. That night, when my husband climbed on top of me and kissed me, I wanted to reciprocate and make up for my guilt. But the smell of tobacco on his breath made me feel nauseous. I don't know why, but I could tolerate his smell. Why did his suddenly become disgusting? I turned my head away, holding my breath, wanting him to finish quickly.
I feel like I've changed. I've become more concerned with my appearance, more gentle, but it's a change for him, not for my husband. I've asked myself countless times, this shouldn't be happening, this isn't right, but I can't control myself. I miss him so much, I miss his kisses, his caresses, I miss his penis inside me. My body is unusually sensitive; this strange impulse makes me restless. I just want my husband to go learn to drive.
Just as I was desperately longing for him, my phone rang. Was it his number? I trembled slightly with excitement, nervously turning around to answer. His voice, which captivated me, came through the phone: "Hotel 301, waiting for you." Just those words made me feel like I was floating. My heart betrayed my husband once again. I no longer thought about whether I was being fair to him; instead, I was looking for an excuse to go out and have an affair with him.
My husband had no reason to suspect anything. I walked out of the supermarket, my feet light on the ground. To avoid being recognized by acquaintances, I took several turns, looking left and right. Seeing no one I knew, I quickly slipped into the hotel.
He grinned wickedly at me in the room. Without thinking, I threw myself into his arms, my tongue darting into his mouth, letting him suckle freely. His kisses covered my lips, my breasts, my buttocks. Ah! He kissed my genitals! Ah! He was licking there… I trembled, moaning softly. He was so naughty, teasing every sensitive spot, fueling my desire.
I couldn't take it anymore, almost begging him to penetrate me. He grinned wickedly, demanding I say filthy, obscene things:
"Fuck me, I need your cock, I need your cock to fuck my cunt." I felt no shame, only more excitement and stimulation. He entered me, penetrating my body once more, bringing me endless pleasure. I was willing to be possessed by him, to be violated by him, to let him fuck me. My heart, my body, at this moment, belonged entirely to him. My face
flushed, I returned to my home in the supermarket, feigning innocence, saying, "It's so hot." What a hypocritical excuse, yet I said it so naturally. My husband tenderly wiped away my sweat, his tender gaze making me lower my head again. Poor husband, your wife isn't hot, she's hot from being fucked! I secretly warned myself once more, "I shouldn't."
I changed, I became hypocritical. The simple, honest me had vanished. I used every opportunity to call him, immersed in the joy of passionate love and infidelity, unable to extricate myself.
My courage grew, and I even flirted with him in front of the shop assistant. I was so infatuated that I didn't notice the shop assistant's gaze had changed.
He came again, and I was so overjoyed that I almost threw myself into his arms in front of my husband. I bought a pack of cigarettes, greeted my husband, and quietly lingered in a corner.
My husband was chatting with other customers, and the shop assistant was busy. My heart was pounding. I don't know where I got the courage, but I secretly gave him a signal. He understood and quietly slipped into the stairs, quickly disappearing from the store without attracting the attention of my husband and the shop assistant.
Excited and nervous, I pretended to be very tired: "Honey, I'm so tired. I want to go upstairs and rest for a while." My husband said lovingly, "Go and rest. It's okay, I'm here." I didn't feel guilty; I was secretly delighted. I turned the corner of the stairs, ran upstairs in a few steps, closed the door and locked it behind me, then jumped into his arms.
Without a word, we frantically tore off each other's clothes. He picked me up, sucking on my nipple. I straddled his waist, his erect penis deeply inserted into my vagina. I wanted to scream, but I was afraid my husband would hear. The tense excitement made me wriggle my hips, letting his penis thrust in and out of my vagina.
This thrilling infidelity brought me to orgasm quickly. I wanted more, I wanted more, I couldn't hold back anymore, letting out soft, low moans. He made me bend over, face the closed door, and penetrated me from behind. I had lost my mind, thinking lewdly as he fucked me, "Husband, I'm being fucked again, upstairs, right above your head. He's fucking your wife's cunt, making your wife's cunt wet, it feels so good, husband, my cunt wants him to fuck it, I love him, I love him..." "Ah, husband, your wife has already brought me to orgasm twice, I want more, I want him to fuck me again, my cunt..." The intense orgasms made me tremble uncontrollably, my legs were weak. He held me, fucking my cunt, sucking my tongue, sucking my nipples. I don't know if I'm slutty, I completely surrendered to him. I love him, I love him so deeply, I really don't want to leave him for a moment. When his semen entered my body, another orgasm made me lie softly in his arms.
Taking advantage of my husband's inattention, I secretly covered for him and sent him out. My face was still flushed with the afterglow of the orgasm when the shop assistant gently nudged me and whispered, "Han Rui, you need to be careful." My heart skipped a beat. She noticed. Did my husband notice too? I was terrified and panicked. The shop assistant helplessly indicated that my husband hadn't noticed, and only then did my heart relax.
The soaring phone bill made my husband frown. He didn't say anything, but I could sense his displeasure and suspicion. My heart was torn. Family, husband, marriage, love—I didn't know what to choose. My husband loved me so much, and our home was the best in the area, but I had truly fallen in love with him, a love etched deep in my heart.
My husband went to driving lessons again. As soon as the shop assistant left, I couldn't wait to call him over. On our bed, we made love passionately, letting him fuck me to his heart's content. We moaned, we climaxed, we talked about love, we were tender and affectionate. After the tenderness, passion returned. His semen flowed into my vagina. Exhausted, I nestled in his arms, whispering the most tender words. My heart belonged to him; for him, I could give up everything.
When I gently asked him, "Let's get a divorce. I want to marry you and be with you for life," his body stiffened. His hand holding my breast trembled slightly. He fell silent, speechless. I suddenly felt so disappointed, and tears streamed down my face.
He tenderly caressed me, comforted me. I knew the inevitable outcome, but I truly loved him and didn't want to lose him. I didn't know if my life would still have meaning or passion without him. He told me he was leaving soon; his father was about to be discharged from the hospital, and he was going to Beijing to work in the renovation industry. He asked me to stay with him. I tearfully agreed; I couldn't bear to part with him. He promised to be my lover forever, and I actually happily agreed.
III. Unending
Lost in this forbidden love and passionate sexual pleasure, I obliviously ignored my husband's eyes. The soaring phone bill made him frown. Ignorant, I would chat with him on QQ at night, thinking he was asleep. Endless sweet words intoxicated me. Foolishly, I didn't notice the changes in my husband.
He became silent, his melancholy eyes revealing a sorrowful loneliness. Physically satisfied, I forgot that we hadn't made love for a month. Sigh! My husband is too kind, kind to the point of being foolish. If you had beaten me up then, perhaps I wouldn't be in so much pain.
I truly can't understand why I'm so infatuated. I have to admit, from emotional to physical, he has completely conquered me. I love his slightly mischievous smile, I'm intoxicated by his tender words, his passionate kisses suffocate me, his caresses are sometimes gentle, sometimes rough—gentle enough to melt me, rough enough to make me tremble. Every time his thick penis enters, it fuels my desire; every time it withdraws, I impatiently twist and split my legs, begging him to go deeper.
He lewdly asks if I'm a slut, and I shamelessly answer, "Yes, I'm his slut, the slut he fucks." I'm not disgusted at all; I'm so eager and responsive. In his presence, I'm like a bitch in heat. The excitement of being fucked by him makes me sink into orgasm, not wanting to wake up.
My husband is becoming increasingly sullen, and I seem to sense some unease. My heart is a little panicked. The shop assistant's sigh startles me. I suddenly feel as if I'm naked in front of everyone. Why don't I feel ashamed?
My husband is honest and kind, but not stupid. I've become alluring and seductive, my eyes sparkling with desire. Every time he comes to the supermarket, my excited cheers and the tender glances he gives me... Soon after he leaves, I sneak out, returning an hour later, radiant and glowing. How could my husband not know?
I can't understand what's wrong with me. A mother of two, with a gentle and considerate husband, a comfortable middle-class family—how could I be so infatuated with this affair?
When he told me he was leaving, I was heartbroken, reluctant to let him go, secretly shedding tears, and recklessly running out to have sex with him. While I'm sucking his penis like it's a lollipop, my husband is painfully pulling his hair out. While I'm like a bitch, sticking out my big white ass, letting his penis pound into my cunt, my husband is already in tears.
When I reluctantly returned home, having let him ejaculate inside me, I saw my husband's angry gaze. I realized he knew—he knew of my infidelity, knew I had just been raped. A sudden panic gripped me. My husband asked in a low voice, "What have you been doing? I know."
My mind went blank. I didn't know what to say, panicked and at a loss. Under my husband's authoritative gaze, I stopped trying to deny it, and I had no right to. I confessed, completely confessed. My husband looked at me with silent, helpless, and sorrowful eyes. Suddenly, I realized how much I had wronged him, the man who gave me a comfortable life, the man who made me carefree. Now he looked so sad and pitiful. My heart began to weep, my hands began to tremble.
Just one "I'm sorry," and my husband was already in tears. I wanted to disappear into the ground. My face was pale, my eyes lifeless, my heart in turmoil and heartbreak. What had I done? My poor husband, your wife's vagina still has another man's semen inside her. I'm not human.
That night, I tried to win my husband over with tenderness, but he rejected me for the first time. My fear intensified; I truly realized how serious the consequences would be. I begged for his forgiveness, repeatedly promising never to contact him again, to take good care of him and our son, and never to do anything to betray him again.
I don't remember how many words I said. My husband's numb, blank gaze only intensified my guilt and unease. I buried myself in his arms, and he held me stiffly. I felt so shameless. I began to hate my infidelity, to hate my promiscuity.
For the next few days, I was unusually gentle and obedient, constantly watching my husband's emotions. The shop assistant kept shaking her head. Why was I still thinking about him despite my outward gentleness? I had truly fallen in love with him. For a wife to fall in love with a man other than her husband was so unforgettable.
I couldn't refuse to call him. He had already gone to Beijing. Endless sweet words intoxicated me, making me feel guilty towards my husband time and time again.
Under my feigned gentleness and apologies, my husband slowly forgave me, making me both happy and guilty. Slowly, I realized he was intentionally distancing himself from me. I was so angry and so sad.
Life, seemingly peaceful on the surface, continued. He stopped talking on QQ, and when I called, he either didn't answer or said he was busy. I felt disappointed time and time again, hating myself each time. Why couldn't I let him go? Why was he so heartless?
Two years had passed, and he had grown increasingly indifferent. Countless times I told myself I would never see him again, that I would devote myself entirely to my husband and the children. My clever husband opened another chain store, and business became even busier, but I felt even more anxious and lonely. Finally, I couldn't resist and secretly dialed his number again at night.
I was so excited and nervous. When that familiar voice came through, I was overwhelmed with emotion. The voice was breathless, and I clearly heard a woman screaming, "Fuck my cunt! Such a big cock! Ah, ah, fuck me!" The screams were like a thunderbolt, so similar to my own submissive submission to him. I smashed my phone in tears. He wasn't human; he was fucking another woman. He was a bastard.
Having cried, I put on makeup, woke my husband, took his penis into my mouth, sucked hard, straddled his penis and writhed wildly, rolled over, stuck out my ass, and cried out in the most lewd voice: "Husband, fuck me, fuck your wife's cunt, I want my husband's ****, give it to me, fuck me, fuck me hard."
My husband heard my lewd cries for the first time, excitedly thrusting into my vagina, panting heavily, pumping forcefully. I writhed and cried out wildly, not knowing who I was crying for. At that moment, all I wanted was to be fucked. My cunt was moving, I wanted more after two orgasms, I didn't want to stop. The final orgasm made me lose control and spurt out, soaking a large patch of the sheets. My husband was limp and powerless on the bed, nestled in his arms. For whom were I crying?
A message appeared on QQ, and I opened it without thinking. It read, "You slut, fuck your mother's cunt, stop seducing my man. He won't want your cunt anymore. He fucks me every day, he's got some skills. You're just a stupid cunt." I was so angry I couldn't control myself. I called him and started yelling at a strange woman. The shop assistant snatched my phone and turned it off, sighing, "Sigh!" Why bother? You're blessed but don't know it. I'm heartbroken, my heart is dead. I deleted all my QQ friends. I won't trust any man anymore. I'm lonely, only my husband is still by my side. I feel even more guilty towards him, and I manage the business even harder, but I still think about him often, I really miss him.
It's May again, and he suddenly called. I didn't want to answer, but I couldn't control myself. He was so tender on the phone, and my heart fluttered for him again. When I heard him say that the woman ran off with his money, I was so happy. "Serves you right, you bastard, karma! Don't call me again, I don't want to hear your voice again," he said confidently. You can't escape my grasp. Only I want you to bend over and let me fuck you anytime. I angrily hung up the phone, my heart pounding. I'm such a complete slut.
That night, I frantically demanded my husband again. I believe that at that moment, I was more slutty than a whore. Everything was focused on my cunt. I wanted my husband to fuck me; he didn't need to love me. His penis was the best proof. My cunt needed to be fucked; I was a slutty cunt that needed to be fucked.
Four years have passed, and I hate myself again and again. How can I not forget him? How can I miss him? I've wronged my husband so much. I've thought about finding him a lover time and time again, but selfishly, I even forgot when he bought an MP4 player for an online friend. I'll be furious. How despicable and selfish I am!
May, you are truly my inescapable pain. Husband, how shameless and despicable your wife is! That familiar footsteps, I never want to hear them again, not even for a hundred lifetimes. There are countless reasons to refuse, but one reason—"I miss him"—just that one reason, and I'll still rush into his arms.
Everyone must be laughing at me, everyone must be calling me shameless. I have no right to reject anyone's insults and contempt. Perhaps, this is my fate. Husband, find a lover. Forgive my infidelity. I dare not say I love you; I know I am unworthy. Husband, when you see this, your wife truly wants you to be happy. Husband. You are such a good man. I've really thought it through. You should have a better lover than me. Forgive my selfishness and promiscuity, my husband. I will always be your wife.
Everyone must be laughing at me, everyone must be calling me shameless. I have no right to reject anyone's insults and contempt. Maybe this is my fate. Husband, find a lover. Forgive my infidelity. I dare not say I love you. I know I am not worthy. Husband, when you see this article, your wife truly wants you to be happy. Husband, you are such a good man. I've really thought it through. You should have a better lover than me. Forgive my selfishness and promiscuity, my husband. I will always be your wife.

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