Madness after parting

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

We've known each other for ten years; chatted online for five; been lovers for two; and now, due to a job transfer, she's been away for a month.
Actually, I knew she was transferring back to her husband a long time ago. She even gave me a very exquisite teacup, asking me inside, "Do you know why I gave you this teacup? It means you'll remember me for a lifetime. My teacup is red, and yours is blue; we're a couple's cup." I was so moved at the time, and knowing she was leaving, I couldn't say a word. A grown man couldn't hold back his tears in front of her. She hugged me and comforted me, saying, "It's not confirmed yet. You think transferring to headquarters is so easy? You think you can just transfer like that? You think the company is my home?" Thinking about it, it's true. Transferring out of headquarters is easy, but transferring back is harder than climbing to heaven; it requires the personal approval of the top executive. With the emperor far away, it's definitely not something an ordinary person can do. At the time, I really believed she couldn't possibly transfer, and I let it go. Then, three months later, she formally told me that all the formalities and documents were completed, and she was really leaving. When I heard this news on the phone, I remained silent for a long time. There were many people around, and to lose control in front of everyone, tears streaming down my face, was truly heartbreaking. Thankfully, I quickly covered my face to hide it. Some men often say, "A man doesn't easily shed tears." That's nonsense; it's only because they haven't experienced true love.
Later, in an online chat, I sent her the following: "
When we're not apart, I always think of separation as something incredibly distant, not cherishing the days we can spend together. But fate is cruel; just when everything was about to blossom, just as it was sprouting, separation arrived unexpectedly. The slowly growing bud withered away amidst my vibrant hope.
I lament my ill fate, always unable to keep up with its pace. I can only learn to numb my once deeply loving and affectionate heart, not thinking about you, not thinking about those sweet, genuine moments… It's not that I don't want to think about it, it's just that thinking about it is excruciatingly painful."
"It's best not to meet, so we won't be bound together." But in life, we often meet, we become bound together, we fall in love... We can only silently pray for divine mercy, that there will be fewer "so we won't be bound together..."
In truth, who hasn't experienced life and death, separation and reunion? It's a common occurrence, so there's no need to be overly saddened. After all, we are still alive, and being alive is a good thing. But what if we live with a hopeless future? Now I finally understand: living is difficult, dying is very simple. Living constantly in a hopeless future, that helpless sorrow seems even more despairing. Humans cannot live without hope; only with hope can there be happiness and joy. But when despair is ever-present, how much courage does it take to escape that despair?
In despair, I want to cry, I want to get drunk, I want to wallow in despair, I want my heart to become numb to everything... All of this is just to dilute the sorrow of despair. I lie in despair, afraid that if I rashly and bravely stand up, the beams of life will not be able to support the weight of despair.
Everything will eventually pass, life will go on, I understand that; but the one I deeply love can never come back, I understand that too. No matter how much we loved each other, how much we understood each other, how much our hearts were connected… in the face of reality, everything was so powerless, we could not escape our predetermined fate… life is sinking.
I once said that our lives were made beautiful because of this, our love was made eternal because of this, and in the days to come, I wished our lives would become richer because of our love for each other. I have to tell you: this is just a hypocritical excuse against my will.
Every drop of ink is a wound, but for everyone who sees it, our love will forever remain in their hearts and spread far and wide. Perhaps one day everything will be gone, but the legend of this love will still circulate, allowing our love to live on even longer. But who knows how much bitterness my heart cannot be described with just the word "bitter"!
Soon her call came. Amidst soft sobs on the other end, she weakly asked, "Why have I never heard you say this before? Aren't you usually so open-minded and optimistic? Maybe I should confront my husband. I'm not leaving." I couldn't help but smile bitterly. I knew this was just her way of comforting me. Faced with reality, even love can be powerless. Some might ask why? The reasons can't be explained in a single sentence. Those who have read *The Bridges of Madison County* will understand: the responsibilities and obligations of reality, all sorts of entanglements and constraints.
In the days of our separation, we acted out a crazy affair—an eleventh rendezvous, never before planned.
We agreed to meet on Saturday and Sunday. Everything was going according to plan when she called on Friday noon, saying, "I wasn't originally going home this weekend. However, because of handling transfer procedures and retrieving my personnel file, I haven't been home for two weeks. My husband insists on coming to reunite with me. No matter how much I try to persuade him not to come, he won't listen. He says he misses me and he'll come if I don't go home." Then, with some concern, she added, "Has he sensed something's wrong?" My previously bright mood, like the sky at that moment, turned gloomy, and my heart sank. After a long sigh on both ends of the phone, we hung up.
I spent the entire afternoon bored, alone in my office with the doors and windows tightly shut. I listlessly stretched my legs onto my desk, and, despite not usually smoking, chain-smoked, enveloping myself in smoke, feeling lost and disoriented. Ten minutes before the end of the workday, my phone suddenly rang.
I quickly answered, my heart in my throat. A bright, cheerful laugh came from the other end of the phone: "Do you know why I called you again? Guess if it's good news or bad news?" My heart pounded, and I replied, "An unexpected event happened at noon, and after an unexpected event comes a pleasant surprise." Her laughter grew even brighter, and she said, "How are you so clever? Your husband just called to say he can't come, that it's raining heavily where he is. He can't come, and he won't let me go back. Kid, it seems your husband is helping you too?" My heart leaped with joy; fate truly is kind. "Has anything changed where you are?" "No, no," I said repeatedly. "Then let's proceed as planned."
Within three hours, I experienced both extremes of excitement and despair. Overwhelmed with excitement, I closed the office door, didn't even use the company's main entrance, and instead, from a hidden spot, leaped over the wall and disappeared from the company in a flash. For
the past two years, most of our meetings had been accompanied by storms. That day was no exception, with rain and wind all the way. We agreed to meet the next day at the long-distance bus station waiting hall.
Before I arrived, she called to say she had already arrived and was waiting for me in the waiting hall.
I didn't drive. Driving would draw too much attention. If I drove to places I shouldn't be, if I broke traffic rules, or if I picked up people I shouldn't be carrying, many unexpected things could happen.
In the vast sea of people, a person is like a drop of water, easy to hide. Everyone in this society is busy; unless you're a celebrity or someone in a high position, no one will deliberately notice you.
I quickly hailed a taxi to the waiting hall, not daring to enter through the main entrance, but through a side door. I searched again and again, but still couldn't find her. Just as I was about to call her, I suddenly turned around: through the glass of the waiting hall, I saw her in a red dress, black skirt, white stockings, and burgundy high boots and sandals, holding a delicate off-white women's handbag in both hands in front of her legs, standing right at the bustling entrance of the waiting hall. I don't know who said, "Big breasts, no brains." She was standing in such a conspicuous place, so eye-catching! My goodness, how could an affair be so high-profile?
I quickly went over, waved to her, and then hurried to catch our bus to our destination. She followed behind me, repeatedly saying, "Wait for me, why are you walking so fast?" I ignored her, thinking, "Goddess, please, before we escape this familiar place, if we don't want to suffer a terrible fate, let's keep a low profile, okay?" Once on the bus, we sat separately, separated by an aisle. A few minutes later, she sat in an inner seat, patting the seat next to her, gesturing for me to sit next to her.
I checked to make sure there were no familiar faces on the bus before cautiously moving over.
We had never been so close in public before. This was the first time I was so close I could smell her faint fragrance, so close I could almost touch her.
Looking at her delicate, white hand, I touched it casually, examining it closely. I thought about the gift I wanted to give her; it was perfect for her. She blushed, and we smiled at each other. We
traveled through wind and rain, whispering sweet nothings. No one knew us, and no one knew us; no one knew our relationship, where we came from, or where we were going. In our own little world, our hearts were filled with sweetness.
In the pouring rain, we arrived in another city a thousand miles away. As soon as we got out of the car, she took a folding umbrella from her bag, opened it, and handed it to me, while affectionately linking her arm with mine. This girl, so flamboyant!
We found a place to eat something quick, hailed a taxi, and headed straight for the hotel. In the car, she proactively placed her hand in mine, which I quickly pulled away. I felt really embarrassed in public.
When we got out of the car, the driver said to us, "It's raining heavily; let your husband open the umbrella first, then you can get out." I glanced gratefully at the driver. We really seemed like a perfect match.
Holding the room key, we walked down the long, red-carpeted corridor of the hotel. She took my arm, pressing closer, as if we were heading not to a hotel room, but to our bridal chamber. A feeling of happiness and sacredness welled up inside me.
We opened the door, and as soon as we closed it, I pulled her into my arms. She held me tightly too, and we kissed passionately for a while. Then, still kissing her, I lifted her up and placed her on the bed, pinning her beneath me. I began to grope her: breasts, thighs, her pubic area… Finally, my hand touched her genitals, rubbing them a few times before stopping. My erection pressed hard against her body.
She whispered in my ear, “Let me take a shower.” I lifted her skirt, pulling down her stockings and panties. Her most mysterious and precious parts, along with her long, white thighs, were revealed before me. My heart pounded. I took off her shoes, and she cooperated, removing her stockings and panties until her lower body was completely naked before me. Her face flushed. "Let me wash up." She tried to get up, but I pushed her back onto the bed. "I like you when you're all warm and comfortable." I quickly unbuckled my belt, took off my clothes, and, naked, I pulled her legs apart, exposing her vulva completely. I slowly inserted my penis. Because she hadn't been home for a long time and hadn't had sex in a long time, her vagina was tight. Little by little, my penis opened it, slowly penetrating deeper and deeper. A warm current flowed from her vagina, welcoming the head of my penis and enveloping it. Pleasure filled my entire body. Finally, I thrust all the way to the deepest part of her body, and she couldn't help but let out a soft moan. I began to thrust rapidly. She cooperated by spreading her legs even wider, and we were completely joined together. Watching her long, slender, white legs spread wide and raised high for me; watching my penis thrust in and out of her vagina wantonly; watching her labia close and open again; watching her vagina completely swallow and release my penis; watching her smooth, soft belly rise and fall... I pulled out, and she took off her top. I held her and unhooked her bra. Her jade-like body lay before me. I held her thighs and penetrated her again, starting with nine shallow thrusts followed by one deep one. Soon she couldn't stop moaning, and streams of vaginal fluid flowed out. Her legs were tightly wrapped around mine, and she quickly responded to me beneath me. Finally, she opened her arms, holding me tightly, pressing me completely against her body, not letting me move at all. She began to thrust rapidly and heavily beneath me. Suddenly, she cried out involuntarily, her vagina contracting and releasing gushes of hot, lustful fluid that drenched my penis and spurted out. She then clamped her legs around me even tighter, her arms gripping me even more tightly—all completely involuntary. Finally, panting heavily, she released her grip, stretching her legs and arms into a wide, open "X" shape, drenched in sweat, her eyes glazed, her face flushed, her breasts trembling… her whole body went limp.
A sense of pride rose within me. At this moment, the woman's body was at its most beautiful, at its peak. A man could now fully indulge himself, fully savoring this unparalleled feast of her exquisite body. I spread her thighs as wide as possible, accompanied by waves of wanton "Ahhh..."—a sound never before heard in reality, a complete loss of ladylike composure—as I began my relentless thrusting.
I gasped for breath, drenched in sweat, waves of pleasure washing over me. I asked, "Can I ejaculate inside?" She snapped out of her daze, "No, absolutely not..." Just as I was about to withdraw and ejaculate, she gripped my buttocks tightly with both hands, pressing her legs against mine. With each spurt of semen, I reached the deepest part of her body, and her lower body began to thrust upwards. She let out another cry before releasing me.
I snapped back to reality, embraced her, and pressed myself completely against her, covering her entirely. The stick moved a few more times, ejaculating the last drop of semen inside her vagina. She asked with concern, "What should we do?" She covered her face. "It's not your fault, I was too carried away. Thank you, you always give me unprecedented pleasure." She reached out to wipe my sweat, saying gently, "I'm sorry you had to go through all this for me, you're so good to me." "Will you get pregnant?" "Maybe, definitely not during my safe period. But, so be it. I'm leaving anyway, if I do get pregnant, I'll give birth." Before I could say anything, she hugged me and kissed me again. "Just now I felt a near-death pleasure. It was like walking through a long, dark path, reaching the end and seeing the light before returning to reality." Women who are carried away are more passionate than men. She tore off a piece of toilet paper and insisted on wiping me clean. After cleaning, she held my now limp penis in her soft, white hands and said, "Thank you, I'm sorry you had to go through all this." I couldn't help but laugh. She laughed too.
I tore off some paper, and she obediently let me wipe her. Her most intimate and precious place was a mess, her pubic hair soaked with vaginal fluid, lying flat and disheveled. Her labia were turned inside out and red; as I wiped, I could see milky white semen scattered on her tender, pink petals, like the flesh of a lychee…
For some reason, my heart suddenly trembled: We've been so crazy, will God forgive us? I dared not think further. I quickly held her in my arms, silently praying: If God must punish us, let me bear it alone. Forgive her. I love her and don't want her to suffer any harm. Hurting her would hurt me more than hurting myself. Extreme joy inevitably leads to sorrow; such is the way of Heaven.

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Madness after parting

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