My love is a goddess

After posting a "couple seeking partners" ad online, I received about a dozen emails, more than a dozen of which were from couples. Most expressed interest in making friends, but some inquired about genital size, and one even asked for nude photos, which shocked me. I was about to give up when an email a few days later turned things around.
This email didn't ask any questions, but simply sent an article expressing his views on couples seeking partners; it was quite long. I read it carefully several times, trying to glean some information about the couple. Finally, I felt a connection and replied, sending a photo of ourselves. They quickly responded with their own photo—a smiling couple amidst maple leaves, looking very energetic. The following day, we spoke on the phone. I think my purpose was twofold: first, to get to know each other better through their voices and conversation; second, to seduce each other. I knew my voice was sweet, and I was good at using that advantage.
The call went well. So, I took it upon myself to arrange the meeting for the following weekend. I didn't want to wait too long.
We were supposed to meet at 12 noon in Chinatown, and my husband and I arrived at 11 am. Standing on the street, looking at the endless stream of people, most of whom hung their heads and looked somewhat timid, I suddenly felt an urge to run away. I couldn't stand the thought of meeting someone like that. I told my husband how I felt, and he comforted me, saying it wasn't too late to run away after we met. Finally, we arrived at the appointed time and place, and my heart was pounding. First, I saw the man, and I breathed a sigh of relief—thank goodness! Then I saw the woman; compared to me, she seemed petite, and I was a little worried my husband would be unhappy. I secretly asked him, and he said, "As long as you're satisfied, I don't care." Later, it turned out my worries were unnecessary. Although the woman was of average appearance, she had a very likable personality, and my husband and she got along very well. After the meeting, we went to a karaoke bar together. I'm not a good singer, so of course I kept quiet, putting on a demure and shy act—playing to my strengths. So the lady and my husband sang enthusiastically, and the man took out his camera and started taking pictures. At first, I tried to avoid him, but later, feeling that he wanted to scrutinize me through the lens, I simply struck various poses and let him take as many pictures as he wanted.
We sang for four hours straight, and when the time came to a crucial moment to decide the matter, everyone fell silent. The man asked me, "What do you want to do next?" I said, "I want to drink. How about I invite you to my house for drinks?" Of course, they agreed; everyone knew what the unspoken meaning behind the drinks was. So, we split up. My husband took the lady to buy alcohol, and I went to buy groceries with the lady's husband.
Along the way, the man drove, and we chatted idly. I secretly hoped he would make some advances, but he was extremely proper, not even giving me a flirtatious glance, unlike my boyfriends back home, who, while not blatant, always secretly tried to make small moves. Perhaps he felt it was unnecessary; after all, he was practically his prey.
When we arrived at my house, my husband and his wife weren't home yet (we later learned they'd gone to a tourist attraction). We started cooking, and after they returned, we went inside to chat, which naturally led to a reunion. During dinner, we chatted about everything under the sun, domestic and international topics, without a hint of anything sexual. It's strange how people can be so raunchy in formal settings, yet so serious in real situations.
After dinner, we chatted for a while, but no one brought up the main topic. I suggested watching a video. I had told them to bring one if they had any, and they asked if I wanted one with a storyline, which I said yes. Well, the DVD they brought had a few nude scenes, less sexually explicit than even TV dramas—nothing exciting at all. But no one dared to speak first; everyone sat upright, fully dressed. I couldn't concentrate on the film at all, and I was too embarrassed to do anything. The two men, however, were acting like gentlemen. We just silently pretended to enjoy the film, and time passed slowly.
I finally couldn't take it anymore, so I asked them if they wanted to take off their outer clothes. They said they weren't wearing shirts. So, I found two sets of men's and two sets of women's pajamas, and we all changed. I pulled the woman onto the bed, and we lay down. The man remained sitting on the carpet. My husband said that wasn't fair, so he squeezed onto the bed and invited the man to come too.
I turned the lights down to the lowest setting, and the room instantly filled with an ambiguous atmosphere. I chose our home as the location because we had the space, but more importantly, I'm very particular about the atmosphere during sex. Any external interference or noisy environment makes me feel bored. I'm also not used to having sex in unfamiliar places, even with my husband, let alone with strangers. After the man squeezed onto the bed, he put his hand inside my pajamas and started rubbing my breasts. Strangely, I wasn't nervous or excited; I was calm, as if I were a seasoned veteran. A moment later, he took off my nightgown and started kissing me. This wasn't to my liking; I only felt ants crawling on my skin. He kissed my lower abdomen, and that's when I truly felt something. The best sensation was when he used three fingers to stir inside my vagina, making it feel like it was on fire—extremely pleasurable. I'll never forget that unique feeling I've never experienced before, and may never experience again. I was so glad I found the right person; he was truly a master of seduction. When he asked if I was ready, if he could enter me, I nodded.
Once he started penetrating me, my mind was elsewhere. With my eyes closed, I let him work hard, my mind unable to concentrate. My ex-boyfriends, my male confidants—all flashed through my mind. I began to regret being so heartless towards them, regretting never giving them a chance. They were so tender towards me, but I never paid them any attention. Now, with time gone and distance from them, I wanted to try different men, lying beneath a man I'd just met, with whom I had no feelings. Oh, people! I pinched him, and they got up and went to another room. The man on top of me was already drenched in sweat, but still showed no signs of ejaculating. He kept leaning down to ask how I felt. Although I felt great, I couldn't concentrate, so I couldn't reach orgasm. I was amazed by his stamina, but at the same time, I wondered if I wasn't attractive enough, so he couldn't reach orgasm either, thus preventing me from ejaculating. My husband, seeing that the other man was still going at it hard, got a little annoyed and told him to be gentler and not hurt me.
I opened my eyes and started looking at the man I was having sex with, smiling at him, my gaze wandering. He was probably afraid of not satisfying me, so he kept changing positions. To encourage him to ejaculate quickly, I also made noises, trying my best to cooperate with him. Finally, he ejaculated with a loud shout, gushing out powerfully, a real stud.
After he finished, he was covered in sweat, and I lovingly held him in my arms, wiping his sweat with a towel. We lay down and chatted. He said, "You beautiful women, when you're young, you're all so arrogant, but when you get older, you learn to appreciate others." He struck a nerve, and the atmosphere grew heavy again.
My thoughts drifted away. I felt dizzy. I didn't know if what I had done before was right, let alone if what I was doing now was right. Before, ethics and morality bound us, preventing us from indulging ourselves; but as time passed and youth faded, we panicked and despaired, desperately trying to hold onto the last vestiges of youth. When all was in vain, we wanted to indulge, to stray, to try things we might not have tried. Our beliefs were no longer controlled by morality; our minds were filled with crazy ideas, making excuses for ourselves: "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity." It was like a final burst of energy before death. After
resting for less than ten minutes, he sat up, looked at me, and said, "Such beautiful breasts." I knew he wanted to do it again. Although I was somewhat reluctant, I didn't want to disappoint him, so I let him and tried my best to cooperate. His sexual prowess completely exceeded my imagination of men, leaving an unforgettable impression.
Around ten o'clock, they said goodbye and went home. As he left, he hugged me.
After that, for various reasons, we never contacted each other again. However, this sexual encounter completely changed my views on sex. I no longer resented my husband's past infidelity and readily accepted his caresses. I even began to enjoy walking around the house naked and admiring myself in the mirror.
This game didn't make me feel guilty; instead, I felt fortunate to have gained another life experience. Of course, I reminded myself that this kind of game, like a beautiful peony, can relieve pain occasionally, but is harmful in the long run. Deepest gratitude to the couple who brought us that brief moment of joy.

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