The slut cheated and got fucked until she was swollen.

The first time I saw him was during my night shift.
There weren't many patients that night, and I went to bed early. The nurse told me there was a patient coming in, and when I opened the door to my examination room, I saw him. He was about 180 cm tall, around 40 years old, with a full beard and slightly curly hair, looking somewhat European. Later, I learned that he had lived in the United States for five years. Does living abroad for a while mean you become assimilated?
I'm 29, married for three years, and at least past the age of screaming for some handsome guy. Plus, with my job, I sometimes feel quite uninterested, always lacking things or people that interest me. But this man actually gave me a sense of wonder.
His father was sick, suffering from insufficient blood supply to the brain. After explaining the condition, I sat down to write the medical record, while he stood beside me. Suddenly, he realized that his neckline seemed quite low (because it was summer, his clothes were simple; he usually wore a safety pin on his white coat to work), and the safety pin had fallen off. I never wear underwear to bed; I just wore a loose-fitting nightgown. I instinctively grabbed my collar, but didn't dare lift my head. It was so embarrassing! Not only was I exposed, but my patient, a handsome older man, had seen it all.
I smoothed my collar and casually glanced up at him. He actually winked at me. Did he come back from abroad and not know anything about modesty or restraint?
I said, a little annoyed, "Can you sit over there? You're blocking the light so close to me." "Okay... Song Ou? That name doesn't seem suitable for a doctor. And the appearance doesn't suit it either." He looked mocking. He was right. I've always wanted to change my name. For a doctor, appearance and age are paramount. I don't know how many times I've explained it to people. Does one have to be an old man with white hair to treat patients?
"I'm sorry, you can only see me now, or you can wait until tomorrow?" "Don't be angry, I just think it's cruel that your hospital makes such a pretty young girl work as a child laborer on the night shift! Haha." At 2 a.m., I was actually flirted with by an older, handsome guy. It was quite an interesting experience, and suddenly I didn't feel so upset anymore.
The day after my night shift, I went back to work (we usually work in the wards). As soon as I got to the department, a colleague told me that a patient in bed 3 had a handsome but slightly older family member. Could it be him?
Admittedly, it's rare for someone to be called handsome. I went on rounds with the head doctor, and sure enough, it was him accompanying the patient. It turned out he and our head doctor were childhood friends, he was 39, a journalist, and had just returned from abroad.
"Dr. Song, thank you for that night." His hands were very big.
"Let's have dinner together tonight, everyone come, Brother Li (our head doctor), give me a chance to have dinner with a beautiful woman, haha." So, after work, I called my husband to tell him I wouldn't be home for dinner. A bunch of people headed to the restaurant. Three women and four men actually drank three bottles of baijiu (Chinese liquor) and two bottles of red wine. Well, with the boss there, we couldn't lose face; everyone had to drink. That guy kept raising his glass to me, "Come on, toast to the beauties under Brother Li's command, especially Miss Song, thank you for your hospitality!" I said, "Okay, Brother Xiao (his surname is Xiao), you drink three glasses and I'll drink one, okay?" I really didn't expect him to agree so quickly. I should have just let him drink a bottle and I'd drink one. As a result, I drank almost half a bottle of red wine that day. I have to admit, it seems like I drank too much; I was really happy. My husband also likes me to drink; he always says that drinking makes sex more enjoyable. That night, everyone was very happy. I didn't feel like he was a complete stranger I'd only met twice. He was very good at joining in our conversations, or finding interesting topics to get us involved. A talkative, handsome man who could drink a lot, and with a beard—it's hard not to like him. He talked to me a lot, and I felt embarrassed, especially in front of so many colleagues. I'm a married woman, after all. However, I genuinely felt happy to be noticed by him; my vanity was satisfied. Whether he was trying to seduce me or not, I didn't care. Is it easy to stay vigilant? At least when I felt I was being bewitched by a handsome guy, it was hard to remain alert. I haven't lost my virginity yet! Whether I will in the future is another matter; anyway, I won't actively seek him out. I'm lazy!
We quickly became familiar friends. When I felt I had developed feelings for him that went beyond friendship, I planned to intentionally distance myself. After all, extramarital affairs require courage.
But not seeking him out didn't mean he wouldn't seek me out; just because a woman doesn't leave the wall doesn't mean no one will pull her out.
Even I realized he was indeed trying to seduce me, and I found myself increasingly unable to resist. At first, I thought he had a wife and family, but he was divorced. At first, I thought I had a husband, and I loved my husband very much, but at the most crucial moment, he went abroad, saying he was going for two months! Oh my god! Are you suggesting I tell my husband, "Don't go, someone's trying to seduce me, I'm afraid I won't be able to resist, so please don't leave?"
I've always been someone who goes with the flow; things are what they are. Since fate has arranged it this way, what can I do?
So, after having dinner with him and my colleagues three times and going to karaoke twice, I finally agreed to go out with him alone.
I bet he was really excited then, because every time he asked me to go out alone, I always brought a lot of my colleagues with him. When I agreed to go out alone with him this time, I could tell he was a little incoherent, which satisfied my vanity once again. I still have the ability to make a 39-year-old handsome man who has lived in the AIDS-ridden United States for five years become incoherent. I was excited.
With feelings of infidelity, excitement, and satisfaction, I even put on some makeup. I swear, I really didn't want to sleep with him that day; at least I felt the timing wasn't right, I still felt guilty, and I was still struggling with my moral bottom line. But I still changed into a sexy set of lingerie. I didn't want to stand next to him like his daughter, so I tried to appear more mature. And so, my first post-marital date began.
Like all extramarital affairs, the meeting place was always a secluded spot, a private club, safe and secure, not afraid of being seen.
We were both satisfied with each other's attire. I could feel the way he looked at me, as if he wanted to take my clothes off immediately. It seems even the most elegant man thinks with his lower body. Then we ate and chatted. I was somewhat absent-minded, which could be attributed to nervousness, anticipation, or fear. He was an experienced man, always able to accurately grasp my thoughts, so he suggested drinking. When I quickly finished half a bottle of red wine, I thought, "What's there to worry about? If he's capable, he'll get me into bed, whatever." But deep down, I always knew I was doomed. However, the books said that women often have affairs, and giving myself to him seemed like a good thing; this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
So I said to him, "I've thought it through." "Thought it through what?" "Don't you know? Didn't the books say so?" "Making love is when the man 'understands' and the woman 'comes to terms with it'!" "Have you figured it out too?" He was visibly stunned for a moment (regretting not saying this when he was drinking, otherwise he might have spat out his drink). Then he burst into laughter.
"I've never seen anyone like you before. So this is what intellectuals are like. It's so unusual to hear such rude words from such a pretty and cute young girl." "You bastard, you have no idea how much I've suffered these past few days. All you do is call, ask me out to dinner and karaoke. Do you know how difficult this is for me? I have my own family, do you think I'm cheap?!" Suddenly, she felt very wronged, her nose tingled, and tears welled up in her eyes.
He was startled and quickly stood up to sit on the sofa next to me, gently hugging me. "Okay, this isn't like you, you know? Although you're very cute, you give off a cold vibe. I thought you were a very calm person, someone who did things with great discretion, so I really didn't dare to be too hasty, afraid of scaring you away! I just wanted you to slowly understand and accept me. Yes, I really want to make love with you, but if the price is scaring you away, then I'd rather we just be good friends." "What do you know? You know and you still made me cry." Actually, I know myself, I'm not angry at him, I'm just venting, angry at myself for lacking self-control, surrendering so quickly, and even taking the initiative to suggest making love. It's really embarrassing.
"I was wrong. I'm a pig. Okay, I'll turn into a pig for you right now." After saying that, he pouted and pursed his lips, imitating a pig's squeals twice. I didn't realize a 39-year-old man could imitate a pig so well. I immediately laughed.
Suddenly I realized he was still holding me, so I quickly moved further away. He pulled me close, holding me tightly. "Let me tell you, I've thought it through. If I'd known you were in such a hurry, I should have raped you the first time I saw you." "You old scoundrel! Trying to take advantage of a young girl!" I clenched my fist and punched his chest. He lowered his head and kissed me. This was the fourth time I'd ever kissed a man in my life—two boyfriends, one husband, and now him. His breath had a minty taste. I have to admit, as he's "older," his technique is quite good. I quickly realized I was aroused because my nipples became very sensitive. Even through my clothes, it was painful to move. So I quickly pushed him away. If this continued, I wouldn't be able to stop moaning right there.
"Can't stop?" He looked at me as if he knew everything. "You bastard!" I buried my head in his chest, not daring to let him see my cheeks burning with passion.
"So, do you think we should make love or go to bed?" This scoundrel had suddenly turned into an animal.
"No, let's go for a walk outside! Please!" His hand was already on my chest through my clothes, thankfully I was wearing a dress. He didn't seem to have the courage to put his hand under my skirt so quickly.
I kissed his cheek and jumped out of his arms when he wasn't looking. Luckily there weren't many people around, and luckily I don't have an exhibitionist streak, otherwise I really wouldn't have been able to resist. We got into his car and wandered aimlessly through the streets. There really wasn't anywhere to go at this time. I like karaoke, sometimes I play cards, I really don't know what to do. Anyway, my husband isn't home, I have plenty of time.
So he drove quietly, and I sat quietly, listening to soft music, almost falling asleep.
It's really strange, we've only known each other for less than two months, and we're already almost at the point of sleeping together.
It seems the passion after marriage has definitely diminished a lot compared to before; that's just how it is when you get older.
I used to be a rather "closet pervert" type (my husband's words, though I don't like them). I admire myself for that back then. I've been in all sorts of places—classrooms, parks, even hallways and rooftops—but in bed, I just never felt any passion or interest. The funniest thing is, after my second boyfriend and I made love in a classroom, he actually left his underwear in his desk. The next day, when he went to get it, someone was in class, and the whole classroom knew he'd lost his underwear! Haha, thinking about it now makes me laugh so hard. Later,
after I started working, I met my husband. The most we ever did was in the car; I really wouldn't dare go to places like parks.
But with him, even though we haven't actually had sex yet, I've been thinking about trying it again in those strange places, maybe because he came back from America. I also wonder, does he like BDSM? To be honest, I've never tried it. I always see a lot of that stuff in the porn my husband downloads, and I always refuse when he wants to try it. At most, I agree to let him use rope bondage, but I just don't have the courage to accept it. Then I suddenly really wanted to know if his penis was big. The books say that people with big noses also have big penises, and his nose doesn't look small, haha. I was
just letting my mind wander like that, almost turning into a pervert. Looking at myself, I'm so lewd. I keep saying I don't want to have sex, but my mind is full of these things. Even my underwear feels a little wet. I'm a very sensitive person. Before sex, my husband only needs to tease me a little, and I'm completely soaked. During sex, he moves a few times, and I orgasm, so I orgasm more than twice every time. Afterwards, I have no energy at all. It's like epilepsy in our professional knowledge—a sensitive cerebral cortex.
"What are you thinking about?" His words suddenly interrupted my reverie. "Thinking about you. Tell me, how many girls have you slept with?" "Huh? No way, I'm driving right now, my right hand and right foot are both occupied, my left hand and left foot aren't enough!" "Go to hell!" "To tell you the truth, I... I'm actually still a virgin." "Then let me tell you, I'm a saint, you can't touch me, or God will castrate you." ...Most of the time we were together, we talked nonsense like this. I didn't ask him why he got divorced, and he didn't ask about my family. I just let myself indulge for a while.
I looked at my watch, it was already 11 o'clock.
"Can you take me home? I have to work tomorrow." Actually, I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep even if I went home.
"Is this an invitation? Okay! What a brave girl!" "Inviting you to die." But was I really inviting him? Should I let him in later? Ugh, I'll just take it one step at a time. If he rapes me, I'll accept it; if he seduces me, I'll give in.
Prepared to make a sacrifice, I jumped out of the car as soon as he parked. I hurried home.
"Slow down! Are you in such a hurry? A girl should be more reserved. Although I know I'm very charming, and you're eager to invite me in, please don't fall!" This bastard, are all 39-year-old men this shameless?
"Keep your voice down!" Luckily it was late, and thankfully the neighbors here are all quite polite and won't gossip. He followed me tiptoeing into the house.
I had finally let the wolf into the house.
After entering, before he could even take a step forward, I blocked him between the door and me. Being so close to him, I had to look up at him (I'm 160cm).
"Don't you want to get me a glass of water? Or at least let me go to the bathroom?" "Excuses! Did you agree to let me tour the bedroom and then lie in bed discussing life?" I stood my ground. He suddenly reached under my armpits and lifted me up. "I've wanted to hug you like this for a long time. I saw it the first time. You're small but perfectly formed, very voluptuous." That bastard, he really saw it that day.
"Ah! Put me down!" My chest was almost pressed against his face, I could even feel his warm breath. Then he actually buried his head in my chest.
"Mmm," I couldn't help but groan. I quickly pushed him away; it was safer to stay on solid ground.
"It's my first time here, and you won't let me rest!" "That's too cruel! It's dark outside, I'm scared." "Okay, let me kiss you and then I'll leave." ...Seeing that I kept ignoring him, he had to perform alone.
In fact, I really didn't know what to say. I wanted him to stay, but that felt too forward. I wanted him to leave, but I felt reluctant. I was really at a loss.
Thinking about how my usually rational and peaceful life had been disrupted by this bastard, I really regretted working the night shift that day. Why didn't I switch shifts with someone else?
The first time I faced a man who wasn't my husband in the quiet of my home late at night, I felt a mix of fear and anticipation.
"I've discovered you really do drift off into daydreams. Are you a fairy? Or should I kiss my Sleeping Beauty awake?" Before I could even say no, he grabbed me, turned me around, and pressed me against the door. "Being with you makes me feel like a beast, but if I don't do something, I feel like I'm even worse than a beast. Why do you always force me to use force? I don't like rape, but if you fantasize, I can cooperate." As he spoke, his mouth was close to my ear, intentionally or unintentionally biting my earlobe. Satisfied with hearing my murmurs, he kissed me again. His hands covered my buttocks, gently caressing them.
I completely surrendered; I couldn't make a sound except for moans. In a daze, I felt my legs getting cold. He actually lifted my skirt, and now all that was between his hands and my buttocks was that sheer, see-through panty.
Then his hands moved to my front, and I immediately tensed my legs. He sensed my tension and only gently rubbed my genitals through the panty.
"Little Lotus, do you want me to stop?" Although he said that, his hand had already slipped inside my underwear.
I had already leaned all my weight between him and the door, and my legs were already weak.
His hand finally touched me there, and I could feel his fingers gently sliding down my slit.
"Hmm?" I knew what he was surprised about, because my husband and I both liked smooth genitals. I hated getting pubic hair on them when I urinated or during my period, while my husband really liked shaved pubic hair. He always said that my genitals were very full, like the kind of vulva seen in AVs, so shaving pubic hair would look beautiful, and gradually I did think that smooth genitals looked very nice.
"Oh my god! You are truly a gift from God. I love shaved genitals the most. Let me admire you, okay?
I was thinking of persuading you to shave them later." He picked me up and carried me to the sofa, placing me
on it. He lifted my skirt.
"Let me take a good look at you." He slowly pulled down my underwear, occasionally exclaiming in admiration. I instinctively covered my genitals with my hands.
He gently removed my hands and said, "This is the most beautiful I've ever seen. I'm going to kiss her all night." Seeing his serious expression and thinking about what he said, I couldn't help but laugh, even though I was still in a daze.
"Really, very beautiful, perfect. Full labia majora, no labia minora showing at all, and the color is very vibrant." Although discussing whether my genitals were beautiful with a man seemed absurd, I knew it was true. I take great care of my genitals. I control the frequency of my husband's sex, and I use a nourishing solution after each time. Looking at the porn actresses on my hard drive, I can't stand seeing their genitals become unsightly because of frequent sex.
"Do you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to taste her." I do enjoy oral sex, of course, passively. Sometimes I don't even want to have sex because it can be painful.
He lifted my legs, placed a cushion under my buttocks, completely exposing my genitals. Being manipulated in such a shameful position by someone other than my husband was incredibly arousing. Before he even got close, my moans grew louder, and my genitals were already overflowing with desire.
It seems I really do have the potential to be a slut.
I could feel his tongue sliding down my calves to my thighs, then circling my buttocks. "Hurry up!" I couldn't help but tell him; the sensation of being teased was too intense.
Finally, his tongue reached my vulva, gently parting my labia and kissing my clitoris. He also gently bit it with his teeth from time to time. I quickly climaxed;
I could imagine his face was covered in my fluids.
After letting me rest for a moment, he resumed, this time adding his fingers, moving in and out of my vagina. "Ah—" It
was so stimulating; I couldn't help but moan loudly because he was touching my anus and then kissing it with his mouth. My husband had never done that, so I quickly climaxed again.
I don't know how long this went on, but before we even started having real sex, I was completely exhausted.
So when he penetrated me, I didn't have the strength to scream; only waves of pleasure surged through my brain.
That day, we didn't change positions or try any specific positions because I was too weak to move. Besides grabbing at him with my hands, I subconsciously screamed along with his movements. Tears were streaming down my face; if he did it again, I would have lost control of my bladder and bowels.
It was just too crazy. Only after it was over did I realize he hadn't used a condom and had ejaculated inside me. At that moment, I could only stand there, completely still, letting him do as he pleased. Afterwards, I angrily questioned him about why he ejaculated inside me, and he actually said it was because I consented.
That bastard! Was I even conscious at that moment? He took advantage of me!
He even told me he regretted not bringing a video camera, otherwise, recording the semen flowing from my vagina and my state would have driven all the men in the world to their deaths from ejaculation.
We only did it twice that night, but it took the whole night, and as a result, I had to take the next day's sick leave. My genitals were swollen, and I swore I'd never let him do that to me again.
I suspected he was a demon transformed from a male genital.
Everyone says the beginning is always the hardest, and it's true. Once is never enough.
After work on the third day, he invited me and a few of my colleagues to go to karaoke (because of the director's connections and his generous spending and witty conversation, he was an honorary member of our department, and everyone knew him well).
"Oh? You know how to be discreet now? And you even brought so many people? Looks like your lower half sometimes thinks about other things too,"
I whispered, mocking him when no one was looking. "Of course, even Ximen Qing needed Wang Po to find Pan Jinlian. You need to unite all the forces you can. Do you miss me?" He quickly pinched my breast, startling me so much I looked around.
"Pervert, delinquent middle-aged man!" When we got to the private room, I deliberately sat far away from him. Seeing his resentful eyes, I felt like I was getting a little revenge on him.
Singing is definitely my forte. I'm a woman with no particular talent, just good looks and a naturally beautiful voice. (I'm quite narcissistic.) My colleagues know I'm usually very reserved, but when it comes to singing, I become a total "karaoke hog." So, they try to sing songs I can't sing, and they also try to get me to drink. But I'm open to both men and women, so I sing along to everything, regardless of whether it's a male or female singer, and the more I drink, the more I sing, and the more I sing, the more I drink. They all say I have bad drinking manners. Although I never get drunk, it always makes a lot of people worry.
After I sang over twenty songs by Faye Wong and Fish Leong, they basically all became my fans.
(They could only listen, haha.) I also drank quite a bit of beer.
When I left the karaoke bar, I was a little ataxia. In my daze, I heard him say he would take me home. I couldn't help but wonder why my colleagues would agree to take a drunk girl home. Did they suspect something?
Luckily, another colleague got in the car with me, but he definitely took her home first. Would this scoundrel really pass up this opportunity?
After a while in the cool breeze, I felt less drunk. Sitting in the back seat, I could see his lewd smile in the rearview mirror whenever I looked up.
"Drive carefully, don't think about anything," he said. I knew I was doomed tonight.
"I finally understand what it means to feel like three autumns after just one day apart—it's been a whole night, and I'm practically bursting with pent-up desire!"
After a while, the car suddenly stopped.
Where was I? A street that wasn't too secluded or busy, with quite a few cars parked.
He opened the car door, and I was about to open mine to get out, but he pulled open the door and got in.
"Are you crazy? Doing this here? No!"
I realized his intentions and struggled to run out of the car.
"It's okay, silly, don't you think it's exciting? Nobody can see outside."
I knew his car windows were the kind where people outside couldn't see in, but people inside could see out. But I was really scared in such a busy place. Although my husband and I had done it in the car before, we always found secluded and dark places, nothing like this.
But I was no match for him. Before long, my breasts were exposed to the air.
"Okay then—you're so annoying—lock the car—ah—"
His head was already buried between my legs, kissing and biting me through my underwear. I was extremely nervous, ignoring the waves of stimulation coming from my lower body, my eyes constantly looking out the window. It was
so bright outside. Even though it was almost eleven o'clock, there were still quite a few people on the street.
"Ah—"
He seemed to notice my distraction and bit my clitoris hard. He didn't care about the situation outside anymore; even if we were on the street, I didn't care. Only one thought occupied my mind: I wanted to release.
"No more—hurry up—come in—ah!" I moaned incessantly.
His tongue thrust in and out of my vagina, making me feel incredibly uncomfortable.
Finally, his penis entered, without even taking off his underwear. ———-
After another orgasm, he made me kneel on the seat and thrust deeply into me from behind. One hand continuously rubbed my breasts, while the other pressed my clitoris.
It felt so good, but also so painful. I was exhausted again, my buttocks raised high, enduring his repeated thrusts.
Luckily, he was driving a Land Cruiser, which was relatively stable; otherwise, even a fool would know what such a violently shaking car meant.
He ejaculated inside me again; I could feel the hot, surging flow of his semen.
My underwear was ruined, soaked with bodily fluids, semen, and his saliva. He put me down, took off my underwear, and wiped me clean with a tissue.
"I'll take it away and wash it for you before giving it back,"
he said, waving the underwear in his hand. "No, what am I supposed to wear then?"
"It's okay, it's so late, what's there to be afraid of? -- Come on, let's go outside for a drink."
He must be a pervert, and I actually agreed. Then I stood on the street wearing only these two pieces of clothing: a bra and a dress.
God, am I a pervert too? But why am I so excited? I imagine how serious my usual profession is, and now I'm standing on the street without underwear. Suddenly, I feel like everyone knows my secret, their eyes are all looking at my genitals, and I'm wet again.
All of this was brought about by the man beside me. He made me so lewd, and he made me realize how lewd my body is, giving me so much pleasure. Should I hate him, or thank him?
Sitting in the bar, he watched my awkwardness with interest, pulled me close, and whispered, "Look at you, who knew such a pure and pretty young woman wasn't wearing underwear? -- Do you know how alluring you look right now? I'm getting aroused again. Shall I take you here?"
Before I could protest, he suddenly pulled me onto his lap, his right hand stealthily slipping between my legs.
I was terrified and didn't dare move, afraid of being discovered. Luckily, the bar lights were dim.
"No, no -- please, don't touch me here, it's really not okay."
Although I had admitted my lewdness, I truly didn't have the courage to have sex here; it had crossed my line.
"Okay, then next time you have sex, you have to promise me you'll completely cooperate with me and listen to me,"
he said smugly, his hand still sliding back and forth between my legs.
Oh well, I'll just agree. Circumstances dictate my actions. Anyway, I can always break my promise; I'm not a man. But how does he want me to cooperate? What tricks will he come up with? I'm kind of looking forward to it.
"Look, what's this?"
He pulled his hand out of my body, showing me the glistening fluid between his index finger and thumb.
"Do you know what I'm going to do now? I'm going to tell everyone here that this is love fluid flowing from this beautiful lady's beautiful, hairless vulva. I'm going to auction off this drop of love fluid; it can sell for at least ten thousand yuan! Want to try?"
How could he be so wicked? Every time he says something, he can bring me close to orgasm.
"Ugh, you're so annoying, always making fun of me."
I bit him hard on the shoulder.
As a result, that night when we got home, he did it to me again.
My body became more and more sensitive because of him; even just thinking about him made me produce love fluid.

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The slut cheated and got fucked until she was swollen.

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