[A crazy experience]

Cheng Hui (pseudonym), the man who was legally my husband for three years, the man who snored beside me for three years, the man who once swore eternal love to me and promised never to leave me, brushed past me at that moment—we even mustered all our courage to buy pornographic films on the pedestrian overpass in Zhongguancun and boldly yet shyly imitate them, while he used another woman as his role model.
Everything is now a memory. Now, I am a divorced woman, possessing nothing but a respectable teacher's certificate. The house is left for Cheng Hui to continue paying off, while I received 100,000 yuan in savings.
Now, I am the owner of my own little apartment. It is located at the very back of an old-fashioned neighborhood, secluded and alluring. I don't know why my first reaction was to describe it with such words; in reality, it is very dilapidated and dirty, so much so that it took three hours of cleaning to reveal its true state. Then I went to the flower market and bought many flowers to decorate the room, all pure green and non-flowering.
For reasons I can't explain, I suddenly started to like flowers that don't bloom. It seemed a failed marriage had taught me that things too beautiful are always fleeting, destined to decay. It's better to appreciate the quiet, unassuming greenery slowly, for it to last a long time. At that time, I didn't know that those non-flowering green plants actually contained boundless vitality, and an almost frantic desire for sex.
A month passed peacefully. I spent my days surrounded by those green plants, reading and grading students' work. Life was dull and uninteresting. The desires that had been suppressed for so long began to rise again. I wanted to do something. But what could I do? What could a quiet, gentle teacher, in everyone's eyes, do? I was thirsting and expectant in my depression. I thought of the internet.
Before, I only went online to look up information; now it became a tool for killing time. Browsing here and there, intentionally or unintentionally, or perhaps following my physical desires, I started reading pornography. Those vulgar, shocking words stimulated my sexual desire, and I began to miss the feeling of orgasm.
How long had it been since I felt that way? For a few months, my little room smelled of food, essential oils, and the scents of CHNEAL and DIOR, but never of a man's body.
I'm not a promiscuous woman, nor do I want to become a vulnerable group for HIV; I'd rather satisfy myself through visual stimulation. I don't remember who said, "Those who can satisfy themselves are admirable." Now, I wholeheartedly agree with that view.
My "self-sufficiency" didn't last long; my desires grew increasingly intense, and I began to crave sensory stimulation. In chat rooms, many requested video sex, and I never imagined I'd become one of them.
My online name was "A Divorced Female Teacher," which aroused the "sexual interest" of many men. I knew they immediately thought of Japanese porn, which coincided with my real-life identity. I didn't intend to lie, but this real identity attracted a large number of men's attention.
I can't remember which boring night it started, but under a man's guidance, I installed a webcam and used text, sound, and images to achieve orgasm. The first time was cautious, a mix of fear and excitement. I was afraid of being discovered and laughed at; that contradictory feeling is funny to think about now. Before, when people talked about virtual sex, I laughed at their unfounded claims, but I never imagined I'd stooped to that level myself—it's a little pathetic. But then I felt happy; at least I'd made a bold attempt, gained another experience, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
During that time, I'd go to chat rooms every two or three days to play video games. Actually, the internet connects empty and helpless people; everyone presents a glamorous facade, but behind the screen, they revert to their primal nature. I had a few regular partners, and we all followed the rules, only talking about sex, nothing more. But one time, there was an exception, and that exception led me into another game.
The protagonist of the exception was a guy named "MAN." He seemed to be in a bad mood that day; no matter how I tried to provoke him verbally, it didn't work, and even physical intimacy didn't help much. So I teased him, saying he was impotent.
He was unconvinced and said, "Interested in something a little more exciting?" I asked, "What is it?" He said, "SM." I knew it was sadomasochistic sex. I'd seen it in porn before and found it very exciting, but I'd never shown any interest in it.
Back then, I was afraid Cheng Hui would call me abnormal, so I always kept my eyes wide open, feeling an endless pleasure, but I'd never tried it. Hearing "MAN" mention it today stirred something within me again, and I cautiously asked, "How do we play online?" Seeing my interest, he became even more enthusiastic. He said we could try it with words, voices, and physical intimacy first.
I was thus tempted, tentatively exploring, and experimenting. That night, when I reached climax, I felt a relaxation I'd never experienced before. Suddenly, I became addicted to the thrill of this game; two strangers, immersed in sensory stimulation, unable to extricate themselves.
I had a moment of disorientation, feeling that I'd lost all the reserve and shyness of a teacher, constantly demanding throughout the process. But "MAN" comforted me, saying that life is meant to be enjoyed, and I shouldn't waste God's gifts upon me. And so, I repeatedly entered the game, becoming a tool in his hands. Each time it ended, he was always satisfied, offering tenderness and consideration. Our conversations gradually broke through the rules of the internet, touching on personal matters such as profession, age, and hobbies.
After several months of this game, one day, the balance was broken. That night, I had just returned from a Mid-Autumn Festival party when "MAN" appeared. After the usual greetings and flirting, he suddenly changed the subject, asking, "How about we play for real? This isn't enough." I was startled. Within seconds, a flood of thoughts rushed through my mind. Meeting in person? No fun, right? With an internet connection and a webcam, I could disregard his age, profession, personality, and preferences, as long as our bodies could connect on screen.
But meeting in person, playing for real, my primary concern wasn't just those symbols, but the most crucial and practical safety. Was he clean? Although we'd been attracted to each other for a long time, this question mark remained huge and glaring.
And the safety that followed wasn't physical, but rather a matter of self-respect. We present a glamorous image to others, with respectable reputations. If this were exposed, oh my god! The consequences would be unimaginable. The divorce has already caused gossip among my colleagues in the office, and I've tolerated all of that. If this gets to their ears, wouldn't the sky fall? No way!
I've made my decision, but his persuasion is making me waver. That kind of real, face-to-face stimulation must be incredibly exciting, and he promised to wear a mask and use a condom. Oh… I'm starting to hesitate. Maybe, I can try? "MAN" is very excited. After agreeing on a time, place, and phone number, he went offline. That night, we didn't do it online.
I stared at the computer screen, feeling empty inside, a little scared and a little longing. Time passed slowly, and I got closer and closer to that line of defense, so I ran to the bathroom to shower. I could hear my own heartbeat in the sound of the running water. To go? Or not to go? The weights on both sides of the scale were swaying, the answer was wavering back and forth. Almost instinctively, I turned off the screen, put on my coat, stuffed the Halloween mask into my bag, and set off.
It was a well-known five-star hotel in the city. Before ringing the doorbell, I carefully put on the mask and checked it several times to make sure it wouldn't fall off. The door opened, and I saw that familiar body wrapped in a bathrobe, with a mask on its head.
Haha. It was like stepping into a fairy tale. I can't believe I could laugh at a time like that. Luckily, the mask hid my true expression; all he saw was a red-haired witch. He pulled me inside and asked if I wanted to take a shower. I said I had showered before coming. "Then we can begin. Let's see my gear." He led me into the room, and I saw new SM toys on the bed. He had clearly prepared.
Half-heartedly, with his guidance, my body slowly relaxed, and I gradually entered the game. Looking back now, that night was truly exhilarating, far more comfortable than virtual sex online. At the time, I didn't realize that I had become a prisoner of sex games, unable to extricate myself.
A few months later, one day, I went to the appointment again. Upon entering, I found another man in the room. "MAN" explained, "How about we play something more exciting today, adding another partner?" Meaning two against one? I was a little scared, yet inexplicably, I felt a strong urge. "MAN," noticing my hesitation, simply said, "Let's try it first, we'll see if it works." The other man patted my shoulder, offering comfort.
Changing back into my simple clothes, I became the proper female teacher at the school again. But behind that door, I was the wildly passionate female protagonist of the game. Unbeknownst to me, our love triangle continued for several months, the seasons changing from warm to cold.
Winter came, the plants in my room turned a dull green, and my passion gradually faded with time. I was bored, it was meaningless. A game is just a game; how long can passion last? I didn't want to play anymore.
From some point on, I stopped going online. I stayed home at night, reading, listening to music, and even preparing my lecture notes for the next day. Sometimes, when I look back on the first six months of my life, it feels like a dream. I've always had this illusion that it was just a past life or a future life, unrelated to this one. Much later, I occasionally went back to that chat room I used to frequent, but I didn't see "MAN" there; he had disappeared too. Had he not found the right person? Or had he, like me, had an epiphany?
It's all in the past. I'm still the quiet female teacher everyone knows, and that game is just a game.

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[A crazy experience]

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