At that time, I was filled with regret.

I originally wanted to use "him" to recount this little experience, not because I wanted to escape any sense of guilt or feel remorse, but after thinking it over, I felt that "I" should tell you about my experience with this female university teacher.

I'm 28 years old, an assistant engineer, and my income is enviable for my city. I'm also quite handsome, and although I'm still single, I don't lack female companions, and I've even tried going to places of entertainment. However, I prefer to find suitable companions on QQ and am keen on joining various local singles groups or social groups. Le Yan, whom I know, comes from a QQ group that's like an artsy salon. In

this QQ group that I joined, which resembled an artsy salon, there were a group of guys who I found quite boring reciting poetry every day, and quite a few women showing off their supposed refinement, composing five- or seven-character poems that looked like archaeological artifacts. They seemed to be telling others about their elegance and unique taste, believing themselves to be unique and near-perfect. I remember reading in a book that the history of human civilization is essentially a history of sex, gradually moving away from barbarism and learning to conceal, disguise, and be secretive. I think that no matter where people are or how advanced civilization is, men still think about sleeping with women, sleeping, and more sleeping; I just don't know if women crave to be slept with, because I've never asked them.

This annoying QQ group finally held a split-the-bill party, which was exactly what I was looking forward to, and I decided that if I didn't gain anything, it would be the moment I said goodbye to this QQ group. The morning's small talk and meals were very mechanical and formulaic; I kept smiling and exchanging pleasantries because I didn't know anyone. Later in the afternoon, the karaoke session pushed this mechanical routine to its climax. I'm not a very good singer, so I became an audience member clapping and cheering until a pretty, quiet woman handed me a small bottle of beer and invited me to drink with her, at which point I finally stepped out of the audience. The karaoke was too loud; although the singers weren't off-key, I couldn't help but slip out of the karaoke room, and the pretty, quiet woman actually followed me out quietly.

"It's noisy, isn't it?" I asked her with a smile. "Yeah, I'm not used to it. It's my first time participating in an event like this," she replied politely. I continued, "I don't actually know anyone in the group, so I don't feel like fitting in." "Are you new to the group too?" "Me too." I then asked habitually, "What's your name in the group?" "Waiting for Godot." Neither of us insisted on going home after the party ended. I wanted to take her home first, but she insisted, so we went our separate ways. On the way, I started thinking about this delicate and quiet woman. She had a slender figure, about 1.63 meters tall, and seemed very delicate. I could only imagine what her body looked like under her red and white polka-dot dress.

I returned to my place, a two-bedroom apartment. I don't live with my parents; this apartment was bought by my family a long time ago, and I live alone now. I turned on my computer and logged into QQ, finding that "Waiting for Godot" was already online. It seemed she hadn't gone anywhere else and had gone straight home like me. I sent her a friend request, and she quickly accepted. Through our conversation, I learned that she was 31 years old, divorced for almost two years, a university art lecturer, and raising her four-year-old son alone. She asked my age, and I said I was 30 because I hadn't listed my real age in my QQ profile. She said incredulously, "How come you look so young?" I replied that a carefree guy like me would naturally look immature.

Our first chat left a good impression on her; she said I could call her Leyan. But she probably didn't realize I had thoughts of sleeping with her. A university teacher—she was still just a woman.

Men are probably like that; aside from newborn girls and withered old women, any woman with even a modicum of usability is a potential target for sexual exploitation, even the corpse of Empress Dowager Cixi in her coffin.

I started paying attention to Leyan and soon discovered some patterns. For example, she would always be online after 6 PM and log off at 10 PM, indicating she had virtually no social life. If it weren't for work, she was practically a hibernating animal. Although she owns her own house, her youngest son isn't often with her. Except for weekends and holidays, he almost always stays with Leyan's parents. More importantly, Leyan often expresses loneliness in our conversations and a strong desire for a good man to appear so she can start a new family. It takes great courage for a woman to raise a child alone after a divorce, and it also requires sufficient financial resources. Such women are usually very independent and shouldn't be weak, but Leyan presented a pitiful image. Of course, I comforted and encouraged her a lot, and I even tried to get to know her, telling her I didn't have a girlfriend and didn't mind that she was divorced. She subtly changed the subject.

As time went on, my friendship with Leyan deepened, and we began to talk about everything. She showed me some of her artwork, many of which featured the human body—men and women—often nude. While discussing art, we often talked about love and even sex. I said that true romantic relationships require physical intimacy and sublimation, and Leyan admitted that without penetration, one cannot reach a woman's heart.

Leyan started secretly going on blind dates, but to her dismay, either the dates were unsatisfactory or the dates were too desirable. Finally, one day, Leyan couldn't hold back any longer and revealed a secret to me: a divorced male professor from the same department was pursuing her ardently. He was very handsome and was also her superior. However, this man had some rumors of being a womanizer, and she didn't want to become his mistress, but she couldn't help but like him, so she was currently very conflicted and troubled. Knowing this secret made me feel extremely jealous and resentful, but I didn't show it on the surface.

Just when I was struggling with how to make a move, an unexpected turning point occurred. One afternoon, she suddenly called me, almost choking back tears, and told me that she had almost been raped by that male professor, and that she had fought to the death to escape unharmed. I said, "Leyan, if you're feeling down, I'll come and keep you company," and she said, "Okay." I treated her to dinner, and she even drank a few beers, which was unusual for her. She then told me some inside stories. It turned out that she had accepted the male professor's advances and was preparing to start a new life. The professor was very attentive and caring towards her, and she was very satisfied. However, only a few days into their relationship, the professor proposed having sex, which she refused. They often had cold wars because of this. But one day, the professor suddenly barged into her house, questioning her about her treatment of him and whether she was sincere in their relationship. He then forcibly undressed her. In a panic, she grabbed a pair of scissors and pointed them at herself, saying that if he forced himself on her, she wouldn't live either.

After dinner, Le Yan was still emotionally unstable. Her already fair face became even paler. I couldn't help but hold her cold hand tightly. "Let me take you home and stay with you a little longer." Le Yan actually hooked her arm around mine and said, "You're the best person here. I'm still scared. I'm scared." Her eyes were lifeless, as if she had lost her soul.

Arriving at Leyan's home—although I had only seen a glimpse of her through QQ videos—it still felt unfamiliar to me when I actually saw the whole place. This was my first time visiting Leyan's home, and the first time I felt like I was beginning to step into her world.

Le Yan's home consisted of only a living room, a bedroom with a closed door, and a small kitchen. The living room was simple and elegant, with a still life oil painting on the wall whose name I couldn't recall. Le Yan and I sat on the sofa in the living room, our hands still clasped tightly. I gently put my arm around Le Yan's waist, feeling her softness, and comforted her, saying, "Yan, it's okay, I'm here with you." After a while, Le Yan said to me, "I'm not pretty. When I was young, I was naive and didn't listen to my relatives and parents' objections to marry an irresponsible man. Later, he didn't even work and always asked me for money. If I didn't give it to him, he would scold and beat me. In the end, we divorced, but the child is innocent. I was afraid of suffering with him, so I raised the child myself. It's been two years, and he hasn't given me a single penny in child support." As she spoke, Le Yan started to cry. Following my arm around her waist, she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me back, resting her head against my chest. I couldn't interrupt her. Then, hesitantly, she said, "I'm not pretty, and I'm a divorced woman... I'm a divorced woman, so what's wrong with sleeping with men again? But, but I don't want to be a man's plaything, I don't want to... um..." I stopped her from continuing and sealed her red lips with mine. "...um...um..." Le Yan naturally stuck out her wet tongue, and I sucked on it as if I wanted to eagerly hold a piece of honey in my mouth. It was as if I had an indescribable thirst that I couldn't quench. Only our two tongues were intertwined. One of my hands was no longer holding her, but slipped under her clothes and slid up her chest. The feel of her skin was indescribably delicate, as if it could be broken with the touch, yet as tender as a baby's. I touched the edge of her silky bra and didn't stop, but continued to explore her breasts. Suddenly, I touched a gem, and I felt the gem harden from its softness.

"No, no!" Le Yan seemed to suddenly wake from a dream, breaking free from the lingering kiss, pulling away from me, and backing away until she was a distance away before stopping. A complex expression appeared on her face, but she couldn't say anything, or perhaps she didn't know how to say it. For a moment, there was only silence, a suppressed silence.

"Le Yan! You know I like you, I know you've always politely rejected me, but really, I don't think age is an obstacle between us, or that I can't accept you because you're a divorced woman. I've fallen in love with you, please accept me." After saying that, I actually knelt down before Le Yan. My expression was extremely serious, as if the passion that had just been there had vanished instantly.

"What are you doing?! Get up, get up!" Le Yan said, pulling me up. "Don't act like a child, get up, be good." Although I was pulled up, I firmly told Le Yan, "From now on, you are my wife, my woman." "Don't be like this," Le Yan seemed at a loss. "How can I put it? You're so handsome and outstanding, and I'm an old woman who's divorced. Don't joke around. I admit you've always been good to me, our friendship is precious..." Before she could finish, I reached out to hug her again. She quickly dodged and scolded, "Why are you like this too!" I was speechless and hung my head in dejection. I said goodbye and left Le Yan's house. She didn't try to stop me.

Actually, sometimes when I'm reminiscing, or even now, as I'm describing what happened, I suddenly feel confused. I can't even tell if I ever truly loved Le Yan anymore. After that incident, when I chatted with her on QQ or sent her text messages, I would always call her "wife" first before starting the conversation. This was a subtle psychological suggestion, allowing her to gradually accept me, get used to me, and even begin to depend on me without realizing it.

At first, Leyan was resistant to my way of addressing her, always retorting that I was "talking nonsense." Then she would say, "You're such a pest, I can't do anything with you." It wasn't until finally that she agreed to say "Mmm." I didn't just gradually win her over verbally; I was also very proactive in my actions. I would always buy some fruits and vegetables and wait for Leyan on her way home from work in the evening, then we would go back to her little apartment together to cook dinner and eat together. I didn't bother her on weekends, because that was her sweet time with her son. Leyan was becoming increasingly beautiful, her smile growing sweeter. Once, she even wore a super short black skirt, her thighs encased in light black stockings, paired with high heels. Her swaying gait was incredibly alluring. Although her legs couldn't be described as perfectly straight and long, they were undeniably seductive. I desperately wanted to possess the delicate flesh hidden beneath her clothes. Meanwhile, I unilaterally broke up with Mengjia. She had transformed from a docile lamb into a hysterical tigress, constantly coming to me crying and making a scene, much to my annoyance.

Life is sometimes full of drama. The first time I accompanied Leyan shopping, we bumped into Mengjia shopping with a strange man. Mengjia saw me, then glanced at Leyan beside me, and immediately stormed over to me, yelling, "You piece of trash, you dumped me for this old woman!" Then she roared at Leyan, "You shameless slut, you're so old and you're still stealing other people's men, you shameless bitch!" I said, "Shut up!" I tried to push Mengjia away, but she started throwing punches at me wildly. I got a hard punch to the nose, a sharp pain, and blood started flowing. By this time, a crowd had gathered to watch the commotion. The man next to Mengjia was pulling her away, seemingly trying to persuade her to leave. I looked at Leyan, whose face was burning red with nervousness, and said, "Let's go!" Then I grabbed her and quickly pushed through the crowd. I could almost hear Mengjia still cursing in the distance. Leyan held my hand tightly, asking with concern, "Are you alright?!" I took a deep breath, wiped my nose, and said, "I'm fine!" I don't know how I got back to Leyan's place. As soon as I entered, Leyan made me sit down and took out cotton swabs and alcohol to carefully wipe my nose. She gently asked if it hurt and if I needed a shot to prevent a cold or something. I laughed and said, "I'm not that fragile. It's not like I'm some child who never grows up in your life." After hearing that, she playfully stroked my cheek. She cooked dinner all by herself, saying it was to calm me down, and we drank a lot of beer together. After dinner, it was already past eight o'clock in the evening. Suddenly, neither of us spoke. We just sat there. I didn't leave, and she didn't try to get rid of me.

I broke the ice, pulling Leyan into my arms. I whispered in her ear, my fingers brushing against her hair,

"It's been two years, Yan. Don't you miss me at all? Even if you refuse today, I won't leave." Leyan seemed to tremble slightly in my arms. She pulled away from my embrace and suddenly pushed me away forcefully, saying, "Go home!

Go home! Go home now!" I said, "No! I won't!" "You're talking nonsense again. I'm going to teach you a lesson!" Leyan then began to punch and kick me, even more fiercely than Mengjia had been during the day. I didn't dodge, remaining motionless. After a while, Leyan stopped punching and kicking, panting heavily.

I seized this moment, quickly going over and holding her tightly, saying the same thing again: "Even if you refuse today, I won't leave." After hearing my words, Leyan seemed to become a complete loser, surrendering helplessly. If I hadn't been holding her, she might have collapsed immediately.

I removed Le Yan's top, and she blankly raised her arms to cooperate. I unbuttoned her skirt, removed her high heels, and took off her light black stockings. She was left only in a purple bra with white patterns and a small pair of matching purple and white-patterned panties. I swept Le Yan's nearly naked body into my arms and slowly carried her to her bedroom. Images flashed through my mind of the male professor I imagined who had also desired Le Yan, and the students she faced every day… Soon, she would no longer be a delicate, quiet, dignified, and elegant teacher, but a woman beneath me, melodious and eager for pleasure. I walked towards Le Yan's bedroom, where I would completely and utterly possess her; and therein lies the tragedy of men and women: Le Yan was ready to offer herself, but I saw it as a form of conquest.

The bedroom was filled with the scent of lavender. I gently placed Le Yan on the soft round bed, letting her body lean against me. My hands slid to the edges of her bra, lifting her two trembling breasts and kneading them. "Are your breasts comfortable?" I asked. "Comfortable," Le Yan replied softly, almost inaudibly. I kissed her lips again, our tongues entwining like two snakes mating, twisting and pressing together. I unhooked her bra, and her breasts seemed to spring out. "So big and beautiful, Yan. How big are yours?" "D cup." "I want to kiss them." I kissed her, taking turns sucking on her nipples, licking them with my tongue. Both nipples seemed to grow larger. "Yan, your nipples have gotten bigger. Does it hurt when I pinch them like this?" "No...it feels great." If I hadn't completely undressed Le Yan, how could anyone have guessed that such a slender woman could have such large breasts? My hand moved over her body, and every time I touched her inner thighs, brushing past her private parts, her thighs would naturally part to let me in.

My fingers, resting on her thin panties, gently traced small circles around her private area. "What's this called,

Ms. Yan?" — "The labia, I guess." "And what's this called, Ms. Yan?" — "Ugh." I pulled down Le Yan's panties. Le Yan was already very wet there, and now she was finally naked, her body lying there. Countless nights ago, I had only relied on my imagination, but now it had all become reality.

I took off my own clothes, and my penis was semi-erect. My penis was of average length, with a large glans. I remembered a prostitute putting a condom on me while saying, "What a big condom, it's hard to put on." I said to Le Yan, "Come kiss me, now I'm your man, and you're my woman." Le Yan lay on top of me, kissing me one after another, one hand involuntarily gripping my penis, as if she didn't want to let go. I said, "Honey, if I pierce your vagina, can I reach your heart?" "Why are you saying such things? It's so erotic." "Haha, what part of me are you unwilling to let go of?" "Here we go again, you're so annoying." I suddenly pulled her close and said, "Leyan! I'm going to fuck your cunt with my cock!" After saying that, I flipped her over and pinned her down. She immediately spread her legs and clamped them around my hips. "I'm going to fuck your cunt with my cock! Are you willing!? Answer me?!" Leyan's already flushed face turned even redder, and she mumbled "Yes" with a very embarrassed expression.

"I hope we can use a condom next time. I'm afraid of getting pregnant by accident. Tonight is our first time, and I don't want to spoil the fun, so I won't ask for anything more." After Leyan finished speaking, she closed her eyes. I held my penis and changed angles several times before finally penetrating Leyan's body. The warm vaginal walls tightly enveloped my penis. I couldn't believe that Leyan's vagina was unusually tight and felt very narrow. I even suspected that the head of my penis was touching her cervix. I slowly savored the feeling. Each time I pulled out, it felt like something was being sucked out of her lower body, her lower abdomen contracting in sync. Re-inserting felt like pushing everything back, her lower abdomen swelling again. Perhaps it was too wonderful; I felt incredibly comfortable. I have to admit that of all the women I've met, Le Yan's vagina is the one I'll never forget.

I started to increase my speed, letting my penis thrust into Le Yan's flower-like opening in every way imaginable. Her moans, "Ah...ah...ah," rose and fell. Just as I was about to ejaculate, I stopped, placed my hands on her slender waist, and pulled Le Yan up. I wanted her to see the opening where we were joined. Le Yan reluctantly opened her eyes. I laid Le Yan down again, lifted her buttocks, and inserted myself from behind. The brown anus, with its dense, fine folds extending outwards from just above her vagina, made me feel hot again. I pressed my thumb against it, feeling no disgust whatsoever. Le Yan's skin was so smooth and delicate; only by thrusting violently could I feel fully satisfied. Each thrust produced a "slap, slap" sound, and Le Yan's buttocks turned a deep red, as if whipped. With a tremor of my penis, semen spurted from her urethra, shooting deep into Le Yan's vagina. At the same time, we fell onto the soft bed together.

I asked Le Yan, "Was it good?"

"Very good!"

"Do you want more later?"

"Yes!"

If this sweet relationship continued, it might have a happy ending, but life isn't a TV series. My family introduced me to a girlfriend from a very wealthy family, which meant my relationship with Le Yan had to come to an end. Of course, I didn't love Le Yan; I only liked her body, and I understood that this kind of liking wasn't practical for me in reality. So, I cleverly arranged for Le Yan to meet my parents. Afterward, I told her that if she could give up her child and give the child to the man, my parents would consider our marriage. She said she could give up her love but not her child. Of course I knew she would make that choice. I reluctantly broke up with her, feeling helpless and heartbroken.

Later, I got married. We met again by chance. She greeted me with a smile, saying she still often thought of my handsome face. And I, that beastly man, ultimately made a shameful choice between her and profit for money. I've never understood, Yan—why there was no resentment towards me in your eyes?

[The End]

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At that time, I was filled with regret.

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