I can 'help' you

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

More and more students, doctors, teachers, bank employees, and even highly educated graduate
students and postdoctoral fellows are choosing to enter the sex industry with zero investment, enriching
the dreams of us lustful souls.

I, too, once reveled in the pleasures of sensual pleasures. Suddenly, I feel so tired. After each encounter, my mind is always
blank, leaving an indescribable sense of emptiness. Perhaps I want a change of pace. In any case, the urge to engage in sex is innate, and
I can't quit. What should I do? Go after a respectable woman? I'm married; I can't just divorce my innocent wife for no reason
. But I can't treat another woman like a fool either. No matter how horny I am, I still can't bring myself to do it. Keep a
mistress ? That would only make me slightly better off than those around me, not to mention how much money I could afford to spend on her
.

During a chat with friends, we talked about a colleague who had invested in the stock market last year and made a lot of money. In
his excitement, he resigned from his government job to become a full-time stock trader. However
, when the stock market crashed this May, he not only lost all his capital but also accumulated a mountain of debt. Concerned about his image, he stayed home, making his wife borrow money everywhere.

Taking advantage of the conversation, I boasted, "I've seen this kind of thing a lot. I've even helped
families like this before."

No one realized my ulterior motive and instead gathered around to ask how I helped them. I found it funny but
held back, saying seriously, "I made their wives sleep with me, and I gave them some
living expenses !"

Everyone burst into laughter.

I didn't think much of it after that, but about a month later, I received
a text message on my phone from an unknown number. The person claimed to be a colleague of my friend. I suspected it was someone I knew trying to mess with me, so I called
the number directly. However, I was rejected twice. I was even more certain that someone was trying to play a trick on me.
Just as I was about to hang up, the person sent another message saying they couldn't answer and that texting would suffice.
Without thinking, I typed a reply: "How can I prove you're not a scammer?"

The person mentioned a certain bureau, which was the workplace of several friends I had chatted with that day. This greatly narrowed down my
suspicions. Of course, I was still suspicious of this strange text message. I didn't know what the person wanted
. With this doubt in mind

, I pretended to believe his identity and asked him what he wanted while calling those friends.
However, they all said they didn't know the number. The text message came back quickly, saying that he had lost money in the stock market and heard that I could
help. The word "help" was even put in quotation marks.

When I saw the reply, I was both angry and amused. I was certain it was one of the people I'd been bragging to with my friends the other day. I'd just
finished shipping and had nothing else to do, so I thought I'd play along. I replied with "Yes," and
while waiting for a reply, I considered who was most likely. The other person must be impatient, because they replied so quickly. Before I could even
figure out what was going on, the text message notification sounded again, asking how much the "help" fee was. I
chuckled to myself and jokingly replied, "That depends on the value."

Nearly ten minutes passed without a reply, and I started to get anxious, eager to know
what . A few more minutes passed, and still no response. Just as I was about to urge them, a text message arrived. This time it was an
MMS. It contained a photo of a woman who looked to be around 31 or 32 years old. The image was small and blurry, probably taken with a phone
, but I could still make out her general outline. She wasn't exactly a beauty, but she was still quite attractive.

I thought to myself, this guy is really clever. He found pictures online to fool me, and even specifically chose photos
taken with a mobile phone. He's really thoughtful. He's making me feel like he's a challenger, and it'll be fun to keep playing along. Anyway, it's just
joking around. So I replied, "Yeah, these usually cost between five thousand and ten thousand, depending on the situation."

After sending it, I sat alone in the yard and laughed. After all, a prostitute outside only costs a little over three hundred yuan. What would
the other person say? Most likely, they'd see that there was nothing to say and reveal the answer, right? But the reply was: "Isn't
that a bit low? Can you consider it a little more?"

I was caught off guard by this move and didn't know how to reply. I was afraid of using the wrong move and losing the first round. I
had to think. Perhaps seeing that I didn't reply, the other person sent another message: "If you can't add me, give me time
to think about it." Then they added, "I'll contact you again." That should have been the end of it. Although it was a tie, I
was unwilling to accept it because in the end, I still didn't figure out who was playing this kind of joke on me.

After a few more days at work, I received another text message from the unknown number, saying they agreed to my conditions and asking
where to meet. I thought, "Goodness, is this ever going to end?" So I replied directly, "No time." But
the other person replied, "I need it urgently, can you help?"

I really didn't want to play along, but I didn't want to admit defeat first, so I came up with an idea and replied, "Then
come to my house at midnight tonight." Sure enough, the other person didn't reply again, but I felt uneasy. Even after getting home from work and having dinner, I kept
feeling regretful. Had I gone too far with the joke?

After dinner, around seven o'clock, I watched TV with my wife in the living room for a while. At nine-thirty, my wife went to the hospital
for her night shift , leaving me alone at home. The TV wasn't interesting, so I lay on the sofa and thought carefully about this
text message incident.

Time flies when you're thinking. When the doorbell rang, I was startled. I looked at the time and
it was midnight. I was really worried, but I told myself it was a friend and tiptoed to open the door.

I peeked through the peephole and saw a woman outside. Looking at her through the peephole, it really did look like
the woman in the phone photo. I hesitated—should I open the door or not? The doorbell rang again. It must be my friend calling
on purpose ! I reassured myself and finally mustered the courage to open the door. We both paused,
then nodded awkwardly in greeting. She had clearly been standing outside for a long time; her face was stiff from the night's chill
.

I didn't speak and stepped back to let her into the living room. From her gait, I could tell she was very reserved. I
glanced , but seeing no one hiding there, I closed the door.

We stood there in the living room, my mind racing, trying to piece together what had happened.
She spoke first, greeting me with a "hello." I felt a little embarrassed and quickly offered
her a seat, then poured her a cup of tea. She took the cup and warmed it in her hands; only then did I notice that her
hands were red and frozen. I really don't know what to say. Even if it was a prank, I have to
admit defeat. I don't know what to say or do next.

She spoke first again, mentioning the layout of my house. While speaking, she avoided eye contact
; was she feeling guilty? I took the opportunity to observe her. Her black, curly hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she looked to
be around thirty. Her skin seemed well-maintained; even with light makeup, her
natural Her lips were beautifully shaped, set in her oval face, and her smile was alluring.

She wore a black pullover and a white skirt with pink flowers—simple yet appropriate, suggesting
a decent level of education. Her chest seemed a size or two smaller than my wife's,
but a common concern for many married women. Just as I was about to look down, her voice suddenly disappeared. I
looked up and saw that she had probably noticed me staring and was embarrassed, clutching her
handbag tightly to her chest.

To smooth things over, and also to loosen my slightly aroused groin, I started to talk about relaxed topics,
beginning with my work and then the recent gossip. When she put her handbag back on the sofa, she
seemed to relax a bit and started chatting with me. As we talked, I gradually realized this wasn't
a joke; someone had taken it seriously.

To be honest, this woman had an inexplicable attraction to me, a
feeling I'd never experienced in all my years of romantic encounters. She didn't act like a frivolous woman, nor did she try to seduce me. But if it was real, I
was in a dilemma. After all, I'd only made a joke; who would spend so much money to play with a woman? Thinking this, I
started trying to figure out how to explain it was a misunderstanding.

But my several hints didn't seem to get her to understand. Perhaps she knew what was going to happen today,
so she seemed distracted. I changed tactics and started describing my miserable life,
how difficult it was. Suddenly, she got up to say goodbye. I quickly asked her what was wrong. She choked up a little and said that if she
wasn't satisfied, she could say so; she could accept it, but I shouldn't say things like that that would hurt her.

I realized I'd gone too far. Living in a house provided by the government, with a car parked outside, and still complaining about being poor. I quickly explained,
"I'm sorry, I saw you seemed a little nervous and wanted to tell you some jokes to help you relax."

Seeing she was still about to leave, I grabbed her wrist and said sincerely, "Please don't go, please forgive
me."

She stopped walking towards the door and pulled me back to the sofa. I'm usually very talkative with many
women , but at this moment, I didn't know what to choose. Letting go of her, I smelled
the scent left from my hand touching her body. It wasn't an expensive perfume, but it brought back many beautiful
memories felt a warm feeling.

I suddenly decided to do something I might regret, so I got up and pointed to a room behind me,
saying, "This is the bedroom."

She walked over very slowly, perhaps the longest and most difficult path she'd ever taken. I stepped aside
to let her in. She stopped in front of the bed, looked around, then put down her bag and sat on the edge of the bed, placing her hands
on her knees, head slightly bowed, sitting upright.

"It just started like this?" I was taken aback and stood there dumbfounded for a moment. I quickly closed the door and sat
down next to her. Her body was burning hot, and I could clearly feel her heart beating fast. I wanted to say something because I
felt a little awkward, but seeing her expressionless silence as she sat obediently on the edge of the bed like a
lamb waiting to be slaughtered, my cerebral cortex was filled with unprecedented excitement and impulse. I wanted to enter her
body . Just as I was about to hug her, she suddenly asked if I could turn off the light.

I thought it would be boring in the dark, but I still got up and dimmed the light, asking her if it was okay. She nodded,
which meant she agreed.

I felt I was wasting my precious time, so I excitedly prepared to undress her. Perhaps because I'd
been with prostitutes too much, I was used to it – no foreplay, just stripping her naked and going at it. But she clearly wasn't into that. She politely declined
and told me she'd do it herself. She slowly stood up, her back to me, crossed her arms, grabbed the hem of her top, and pulled it
up , revealing a large expanse of her back. She then pulled her hands out of her sleeves, leaving her upper body
in only a milky-white bra.

Because we were sitting so close, I could see the bra had been worn for a long time; the edges showed
signs . I felt a pang of sadness. My wife only wore her bra once or twice before throwing it away. Her back was white and
smooth, without the heat rash my wife had. I really wanted to lick it, but I restrained myself,
feeling I should respect her, and continued to quietly admire the woman undressing.

Next, she unbuttoned her skirt, unzipped it, and took it off,
neatly and placing it on the bedside table. As she pulled down her long stockings, her fair thighs were gradually revealed
. Apart from her bra and panties, most of her body was now exposed in my bedroom. Her
smooth, jade-like skin and naturally undulating curves were breathtaking. I've seen countless women, but I've rarely encountered such a
perfectly proportioned figure!

I was more curious about what lay ahead. How could I still be dressed? I quickly removed
my clothes. She probably heard me and nervously tried to turn around to see what was going on, but
she didn't have the courage to do so. So she didn't know I was completely naked, and my penis was already throbbing between
my legs.

She seemed a little flustered by my actions and quickly crawled into the blankets spread out on her back,
closing her eyes . I
thought, it's not like I'm going to a prostitute. But then I thought, what's the difference between this and a prostitute if I have to pay?

My thoughts were conflicted, but my hands weren't idle. I slipped under the covers, gently turned her body over,
and reached out to her back, skillfully unfastening her upper body's defenses as if I were taking off my wife's bra.
Then, unable to resist, I lifted the covers to admire her. She initially tried to pull the covers back, but I thought, "I've paid
a fortune, why can't I look?"

So I didn't let go. She tugged a couple of times and then stopped. Sure enough, her breasts
were a size smaller than my wife's, but judging from the way they trembled when the bra came off, they must have been quite firm. The brown
nipples were still dormant, lying quietly in the center of the areola. The rounded shape of her breasts exuded
the infinite fullness of a mature woman.

Although I was already incredibly excited, I gently placed my palm on the highest point of her breasts. They were indeed a pair of
firm, beautiful breasts, bouncing and undulating with the pressure of my hand. When I held them, I could clearly feel
a series of tremors that started from her breasts and spread throughout my body. This kind of feminine charm is hard to find in
prostitutes ; even my wife doesn't feel this way anymore.

I reached deeper into the blankets, gliding over her elastic lower abdomen, and finally touched the edge of her panties.
My fingers untied the belt and slipped into the panties, moving down to her mons pubis, where I finally felt some sparse pubic hair.
It was difficult to go any further because her legs were stiffly pressed together. I gently chuckled and said, "
Don't be nervous, okay?"

She smiled awkwardly and nodded. I saw her cheeks flushed as if she were drunk. When I
reached out , she suddenly said, "I'll do it myself." She opened her eyes, looking apologetic,
and kept explaining that she felt a little uncomfortable and asked me not to mind.

After tossing and turning under the covers, she neatly placed her underwear beside the pillow, then closed her eyes
and remained lying flat.

I suddenly found this woman, though a bit strange, quite endearing. I could understand her odd
and complex feelings; even I, a lecherous man, felt uneasy and unable to exert my masculine charm. But considering
the woman under the covers was now completely exposed, I hesitated to act rashly. Following my usual routine, I leaned
down to kiss her lips, but she wasn't very cooperative, simply closing her mouth and responding with her lips as if applying
lipstick.

Having paid for women before, I'd never encountered this problem. Besides, prostitutes rarely kiss, so I figured
it didn't matter. After a couple of brief exchanges, I moved to another spot. My tongue left her lips, licking her cheek before
moving to her neck.

Perhaps because it tickled, she leaned her face against her raised shoulder, leaving me no space to explore her neck.
It seemed she hadn't experienced this kind of intimacy before and wasn't comfortable, or perhaps she didn't want to play around like this with a man other than her husband!
I stopped, my tongue lingering on the highest point of her chest, past her collarbone. Whether from increased tension or an inability to
resist the stimulation, her body trembled more and more noticeably, stiffening from her legs to her torso.

The attack began! I pursed my lips and sucked on her lazy nipple until it hardened and
stood erect in my mouth. At this moment, I could hear faint moans emanating from her mouth; she was clearly suppressing her
feelings. These intermittent, low moans, a mixture of suppressed pain and physical pleasure, were particularly
alluring.

I knew her morality and reason were beginning to battle her desires. I turned the tables, seeing her
furrowed brows, her helpless and slightly pained expression, and her slightly parted lips indicating that her nostrils could no longer
provide her with the scarce oxygen she craved. I couldn't let this opportunity slip by. As she opened her mouth to inhale, I
effortlessly conquered her lips.

She was stunned by the sudden attack and quickly begged me, "No kissing, okay?"

I asked her curiously why, and she stammered that she wasn't used to it. But I didn't give up and calmly
said to her, "I want us to be as perfect as possible. I don't want it to feel like a transaction."

This worked very well. She put her hand down, which had been trying to push me away, and my tongue easily pushed aside her
teeth. My hand caressed her firm breasts, and "Mmm...mmm..." As she let out
a low , I felt her begin to cooperate with my kiss, even though her tongue was only shyly
trying to touch me.

I waited patiently, like coaxing a rabbit out of its hole. As soon as her tongue peeked out, I
greedily entwined it with mine. My hand, which had been caressing her breasts, continued its journey, reaching her
genitals. The area below, close to her pubic hair, was already wet, and the sticky fluid made my fingers slippery. I pressed myself
against her body, my hand holding my penis, groping under the covers.

She naturally parted her legs, and my glans easily found that wet patch. At that moment, she slightly
opened . I wondered if she had changed her mind, so I quickly asked what was wrong. She stammered a few words,
and after thinking for a moment, I realized she was telling me to wear a condom. Who wanted to wear one at a time like this? I could only say I didn't have any, but she was
a hundred times unwilling. She struggled to get up and took one out of her bag.

I almost fell off the bed when I saw it. It was obviously one of those cheap, poorly packaged condoms distributed free of charge by the family planning office—thick and
unusable. It seemed her family's situation was really not good. Even the thinnest condoms on the market were difficult
to use, so I threatened her, saying, "This was given away for free by the family planning office, right?"

She nodded and tore it open, handing it to me. I quickly said, "You can't use this!"

"Wh...what's wrong?" She started to get anxious and wanted to know what was wrong.

"To save costs, these are all made from recycled plastic waste. Not only are they unhygienic, but many of them leak!"
I thought I made it sound quite plausible. She was stunned after hearing it; she seemed to be frightened by me. To
enhance the effect, I continued, "My friend happens to produce these, so you should use them less often in the future."

"But... I can't go without them," she insisted.

I had to persuade her earnestly and assure her that I wouldn't get it inside. She finally believed me; it seemed this
woman was relatively easy to fool. I laid her back down on the bed, and before I could even prepare myself, "plop..." a
muffled sound rang out as my glans entered a small, hot furnace. She began to breathe faster, letting
out soft moans of "mmm..." with each thrust.

Because of the earlier commotion, the blanket that had been covering us had fallen off the bed, and I could now
see her completely naked, white body, so white that even her small black moles seemed particularly glaring. I
thrust forward, my entire penis penetrating to its deepest point. She frowned, biting her lip; it seemed I had used
too much force and hurt her cervix.

Actually, my glans was also throbbing slightly. To relieve the impact, she pressed her hips down, and
my penis was tightly pressed against her vagina. Perhaps my wife's vagina is a bit loose, so I often make
rough thrusting movements. However, her vagina is short and the opening is small, so it can't withstand my strong thrusting. Therefore, I gently enter and rub her
by adjusting the movements and angles. Especially when I pull out, I deliberately use the largest part of my glans to touch
the nerve granules in the upper part of her vagina. Every time this happens, she will let out
a series of her body will tremble as if in spasm.

"Mmm, you're not only beautiful, but it feels even better down there," I couldn't help but praise her.

Although she didn't answer with her eyes closed, her hands were still gently stroking my back. Perhaps she
was dreaming of making love with her husband? Our bodies became increasingly in sync, and
she began to move her lower body in rhythm with my thrusts, which I found very pleasurable.

Watching her breasts, with their dark areolas swaying, move up and down beneath me further stimulated my
penis . It felt harder than ever before, as hard as a rock. I didn't know if she could withstand the impact of such a hard object, but
as her fluids flowed all over my legs, I felt that she wasn't making love with other men,
but rather truly offering herself to her husband.

Suddenly, I felt a bittersweet feeling, so I retaliated by pulling out my penis. She was now
completely unwilling; as soon as I withdrew, she looked at me sleepily. I
quickly into the crevice beneath my pubic hair. My wife usually forbids me from doing this, always saying there are too many bacteria in the crevices of my fingernails.
But this time was different; I was determined to give her husband a little "gift."

After my fingers entered that lubricated, warm space, I found the cluster of "millet grains" arranged above the vagina at the two knuckles.
This was the first time I had properly placed my fingers inside my vagina. I discovered that I hadn't felt anything when I was thrusting in and out;
it was actually quite rough inside, with many interconnected, undulating rings.

I started rapidly flicking those sensitive "little millet grains" with my fingers, while my other hand
gently massaged her lower abdomen. I sat up slightly and used my legs to press down on her legs, which were moving wildly due to unbearable excitement. Soon
, I saw that her oxygen deprivation was getting worse and worse, and her hips were twisting violently. I knew she was about to climax, so I
pulled out my fingers. She suddenly said something that she probably didn't expect herself: "Don't... don't go out!" She

probably realized that she had lost her composure after saying that, and immediately fell silent, only panting. When I heard that, I quickly
turned , and she crawled in front of me with her buttocks facing me. I looked at her snow-white, round buttocks, and saw that a tightly closed slit
was constantly oozing sticky fluid. The surrounding area had already been messed up by what had just happened.

I held my penis, still wet with her juices, in my hand. Having been exposed to the air for a while, the once-
clear fluid had turned white. I gently rubbed it against her vulva. She could no longer
resist my teasing and began to plead softly for me to give it to her. I immediately straightened my position, kneeling behind her, and
thrust my glans deep inside her, pumping mercilessly. I held her slender waist with both hands, pushing my penis as far as I could.

I don't know when, but suddenly I relaxed, and a surge of heat coursed through my penis,
exploding brain. I ejaculated inside her.

She probably sensed something and pleaded urgently, "Don't ejaculate inside, please..."

I ignored her. Because I was too excited, my penis didn't immediately soften, so I continued thrusting. Soon,
before she could finish speaking, her whole body began to convulse violently. She
gasped for breath, as if she had lost all her strength, and finally, she collapsed onto the bed, as if her bones had left her body.

I sat wearily at the foot of the bed, watching my thick, white semen mix with her love juices and slowly flow out of her
vagina. She remained lying still, breathing heavily, clearly exhausted.
I was in particularly good shape tonight, and we made love twice more,
sharing .

It turned out that after her husband heard about me from my friend, he had been tormenting her into doing this every day. But
her elderly parents were sick, her children needed money for school, and they desperately needed money. She started crying as she spoke. I asked her
if it was her first time.

She nodded, her face flushing red, looking very cute. I joked, "Did you
finish quickly because I'm still handsome?" She punched my chest a few times and leaned on my shoulder, finally responding with
a soft "Mmm."

I teased her further, "What about someone else?"

She didn't answer, and I felt a strange mix of emotions. If she answered yes, I would be truly sad; if she answered no...?
I figured I couldn't convince myself otherwise, so I didn't press her. Instead, I treated her like a lover and made love to her again
—it was perfect.

As dawn approached, my wife was about to leave work, and we reluctantly parted. Just before she left,
I remembered she hadn't taken the money, so I chased after her to the door.

When she took the money, I thought I saw she was about to cry; she didn't seem very willing to accept it. To be honest, I
didn't want , but I still forcefully stuffed it into her hand and turned to leave. If I stayed any longer
, I really wouldn't want to leave. Besides, giving her the money made me feel like I didn't owe anyone anything, and there wouldn't be any lingering feelings.

I don't know if she walked away, but I still turned back and asked, "Will we meet again?" As soon as I said it
, I regretted it. Where would I get so much money to throw around?! But she didn't seem to say anything, holding the envelope of money in her hand,
standing there for a while before turning and leaving.

[The End]

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