My mistress, my wife

First published on sis on March 31, 2016.

I'm 25 years old this year, three years out of university. Having experienced the initial high spirits of graduation, the harsh reality of working life, and several job changes, all I want now is a stable job. I don't know if I've been assimilated by society, or if I'll just fade into obscurity. I just want a quiet job.

I'm currently single. My girlfriend broke up with me with a text message three months after graduation, without reason, explanation, or even a word of explanation. I can understand, but I'm still resentful. That's when I truly realized that love is priceless, but maintaining love requires money.

Now I work in an office at a private company. The salary isn't high, but it's stable. Although I only get one day off a week, the work is easy, giving me extra time to slack off. During work hours, after finishing my tasks, I either read or daydream, entering an indescribable state.

Although I'm 1.8 meters tall and fairly handsome, the single women in the company are extremely pragmatic, maintaining a clear distance from me, not wanting to fall into my trap and live a life of poverty. However, after entering this state, I suddenly realized that not only were the single women who could have kept their distance from me paying attention to me, but even married women were gradually becoming more interested in me.

Could this be the charm that a man's inner self reveals after self-transcendence?

I wasn't sure, and I couldn't believe it. I continued my usual habit of reading, daydreaming, and spacing out.

I rented a small room in an urban village on the outskirts of the city; it was so cramped it could barely fit a bed. After working for three years without much socializing or any extraneous vices like smoking, drinking, or going to nightclubs, I had some savings and could easily rent a nicer place in a lower-end urban community. However, I knew I needed to save money for my wedding; my parents in the countryside were getting old, and I needed to send them money home regularly. Therefore, I had to spend a long time commuting by bus every day.

The urban village only had one bus stop, but there were many bus routes, so every morning there were hundreds of people waiting for the bus. Sometimes I had to squeeze in to avoid being late for work. So, buses are always packed during rush hour, like a mobile sardine can.

One day, I was getting off work, it was almost dusk, and although the bus was crowded, it was relatively quiet, perhaps because everyone was too tired to chat.

Suddenly, I heard a commotion behind me, followed by a soft, high-pitched female voice. Then, a soft, warm body squeezed behind me.

It was late spring, early summer, and people were wearing light clothing or even short-sleeved dresses. So, I could clearly feel the warmth of the body behind me.

Based on my extensive experience with crowded buses, I knew without turning around that it was a woman, not a young girl, but a middle-aged woman. Because her body didn't have the fresh scent of a young girl, nor the cheap cosmetic fragrance that young girls usually use. Most importantly, this body was indeed soft and warm, lacking the elasticity of a young girl.

I didn't turn around, but consciously moved aside to make way. But this body didn't squeeze past me; instead, it stopped on my right. I knew it was another case of using the height difference to make me a free shield for a while. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye and, sure enough, she was a middle-aged woman, though only in her early thirties—the prime of a woman's charm. I couldn't help but look at her a few more times.

Medium height, dressed in a standard gray business suit. Fair skin, round face, shoulder-length short hair.

Average looks. That was my assessment.

I've encountered many women like this on buses; they're not particularly attractive, at most offering

the pleasure of physical contact. So, I remained where I was, continuing to daydream. After a while, this woman suddenly squeezed in front of me. The cramped space forced me to move back slightly, placing her directly in front of me, enveloped by my outstretched arms gripping the handrail.

It seemed she wasn't afraid of being taken advantage of; to stand more comfortably, she was willing to squeeze alongside a young man like me, not afraid of sacrificing some of her charm. I thought to myself.

I wasn't particularly excited; my extensive experience with crowded buses had numbed me to this situation.

So, I ignored her, settled down, and continued daydreaming.

But just then, another person tried to squeeze in from behind me. I was instantly annoyed, because I realized the person behind me was a man, and a rather burly middle-aged man at that.

Damn it, did they think I was really that good-tempered? Back in my first year after graduation, I got into fights and ended up in the police station over a seat on the bus, didn't I? Now that I've cultivated my manners and stopped fighting for seats, they still want to take my place even while I'm standing.

So I stomped my feet, stopped, and turned around, glaring fiercely at the person behind me.

Sure enough, it was a middle-aged man of average height, with a roguish look on his face, thinking he was incredibly charming. He wore cheap, fashionable clothes, as if he were a millionaire.

However, my murderous glare missed its mark. Because this man's eyes were fixed on the woman in front of me, especially her two round, pert buttocks.

That's when I realized that the woman in front of me, while of average looks, had a fantastic figure. Especially at her age, maintaining such a curvaceous figure and slender waist, she was quite a beauty. No wonder this lecherous man was so audacious as to act like a pervert on the bus.

After he tried to push forward again, but couldn't budge me, he finally looked up and glared at me fiercely with his chubby eyes. However, when he saw my even fiercer gaze, he suddenly became intimidated. This kind of seasoned thug knew very well that a young man like me was ready to fight at the slightest provocation, utterly unafraid of any code of honor or respect for elders. So, after

a moment of hesitation, the lecherous man greedily stared at the woman's shapely buttocks a few more times before reluctantly retreating and disappearing into the sea of people on the bus.

At this moment, the woman in front of me nervously looked up at me, her eyes filled with panic and fearful timidity. I knew that many women, when encountering a pervert on a bus, would choose to avoid and endure it. If they really couldn't avoid it, they'd yell and walk away, at most getting off the bus quickly, preferring to spend another dollar to take another bus.

So, I tactfully moved back a bit, allowing the woman leaning against me to stand up straight.

"Thank you!" The woman saw my movement, knowing I wasn't another bus pervert, and this time she felt a little relieved, giving me a slight smile and speaking softly.

I didn't speak, but returned the smile. And so, we rode the bus together, peacefully.

I thought this was the most insignificant of the many bus incidents I'd encountered, so I didn't think much of it and forgot about it after getting off the bus. However, the next day after work, while I was lost in thought, a soft, warm body suddenly squeezed next to me again. I didn't look down, but consciously moved aside, making a little space.

Then, as if an old horse knew the way well, this body slipped in front of me, pressing tightly against me sideways.

Hmm? So greedy?

I was furious, but I didn't budge, pinning the woman tightly against the carriage wall with my body.

Although I enjoy bus encounters, especially being pressed against by a woman's body, in the sweltering heat of rush hour, having a comfortable standing spot on a bus is far more important to me than enjoying an encounter with a woman.

So I lowered my head and glared at her. Then I froze. It was the same woman from yesterday. Instantly, my anger vanished, and I gave her a slightly apologetic smile, then moved back a little to make room for her.

The woman seemed to know my feelings, and returned a sincere smile, revealing two pearly white teeth. Her smile was so beautiful!

A ripple of emotion stirred within me. Having had one woman before, having done everything a man should do, I shouldn't be considered a virgin anymore, right? Add to that my three years of encounters with women on public transport, and I could be considered quite experienced.

Yet, at this moment, this woman's smile actually stirred my heart.

I've always believed that a woman's smile is the most beautiful flower in the world. And a woman's beauty isn't just her physical appearance; it's more about the beauty of her soul revealed in her smile.

At this moment, I truly felt this woman's soulful beauty. It was an experience I'd never had before.

Just then, someone squeezed past me from behind. I knew it was a man, so instinctively, I shifted my body to shield the woman in front of me. But at the same time, I suddenly noticed a look of panic and fear in the woman's eyes. I whirled around and saw it was that same lewd middle-aged man from yesterday.

This time, my fierce gaze didn't intimidate the lecherous man into leaving. Instead, he deliberately kept a distance from me, looking at me and then at the woman defiantly, indicating he wouldn't give up until he got what he wanted.

The woman was frightened and turned her back to me, seemingly playing the ostrich, out of sight, out of mind.

However, after she turned around, I couldn't help but groan. It turned out that the woman's two round, pert buttocks were pressed right between my legs. Only two layers of fabric separated us, and even with our underwear—four layers in total—it couldn't hide the warm, soft sensation from her buttocks.

My penis instantly hardened.

The woman seemed to realize the inappropriateness of her position and quickly shifted her body, trying to distance herself. But how could she possibly move in the crowded, immobile carriage? Her movement only further stimulated my penis, making it incredibly hard, and it instantly became erect, perfectly positioned between the woman's round buttocks.

Whoosh! The hard, erect penis, burning hot like a scorching iron rod, made the woman gasp softly. Then, she froze, her eyes filled with panicked pleading as she turned to me. A

woman her age was intimately familiar with men; how could she not recognize my reaction? Even her sudden stillness was an instinctive response to her familiarity with male erections, a reaction that prevented further stimulation.

"I'm sorry, I…" I was young, after all. Although I'd been a man before and had experienced arousal during a bus encounter, this was the first time I'd truly experienced the classic position of a bus pervert.

I panicked, forgetting the lecherous man behind me, forgetting the crowded people around me, and tried to back away, but couldn't move. Instead, the movement only made my erection between the woman's round buttocks even more pronounced. My face flushed red, and sweat beaded on my forehead.

"Pfft…" Seeing my reaction, the woman's panic subsided, and she couldn't help but chuckle softly.

"Fool, just stand there and don't move. It'll be fine in a bit," the woman gently scolded me, turning her head away from me and remaining still. My hard, erect penis remained firmly nestled between her warm, round buttocks, gradually sinking in with the swaying of the bus until my lower abdomen was pressed tightly against her soft buttocks.

Perhaps seeing the woman's intimate moment with me, the lecherous man glanced at me in surprise, but instead of the expected anger, he gave a strange, silent smirk, seemingly confirming that his target was so understanding, not making a scene even after being taken advantage of by this young man. The lecherous man seemed to see himself in my position, firmly trapping the woman, enjoying the classic position that bus perverts dream of. The

woman and I stood there intimately close, gradually becoming familiar with and deeply feeling the ecstasy of the woman's round buttocks swaying with the bus's movement. We didn't even realize when the lecherous man behind us had left.

After the website announced it, the woman turned her head away, avoiding my gaze, and whispered, "I've arrived at my stop." What had seemed like an incredibly long and boring bus ride to me suddenly felt so short.

I knew my moral compass wouldn't allow me to continue, so I tactfully and apologetically gave her my seat. She immediately pulled away, got off the bus, and disappeared into the crowd.

That night, I had a wet dream. Being someone who likes to sleep naked, I soaked my blanket with my semen.

When I woke up in the morning, I was utterly shocked to see the wet patch. Since I learned to masturbate at fourteen, I had never had a wet dream before, and now I had one?

The next day at work, I was in a daze all day, not knowing what I had done. When it was time to leave work, I felt an inexplicable sense of anticipation. Once on the bus, my usual composure vanished. I sat there lost in thought, glancing around absentmindedly. The girls who had been standing nearby, mistaking me for a naive, inexperienced bus pervert looking for a target, gradually moved away with disgust.

What should have been a short journey felt like several trips in a row. Only when I lost all hope did I continue to stand there, lost in a daze. After what seemed like

an eternity, a familiar scream suddenly rang out from the crowd nearby. My heart skipped a beat, and I pushed through the disapproving crowd. Sure enough

, the familiar figure of the woman appeared before me, but her eyes were filled with boundless terror. The lecherous middle-aged man had her pinned between a pillar and the back of the seat next to him, making it impossible for her to move. He was pressing his entire body against her. The people around her were indifferent; several girls, seemingly relieved not being targeted, looked on with schadenfreude as they watched the woman suffer.

I was instantly enraged. I pushed through the crowd, shoved the sleazy man aside, pulled the woman into my arms, and tried to leave with her. However, the sleazy man used his position to wed the woman's handbag against a pillar, glaring at me defiantly.

Normally, I would have punched him in the face. But now, I just glared at him fiercely and slowly reached into my pocket.

The sleazy man's face changed drastically; he even started to feel fear. I knew he was afraid I'd pull out a weapon. This is what people my age often do when provoked, especially by women, and I never consider the consequences.

So, I deliberately paused for a moment before reaching into my pocket, my fierce gaze seemingly hesitant, then shifted my position and slowly pulled out a hundred-yuan bill.

Seeing that I hadn't pulled out a weapon, the sleazy man breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes immediately filled with greed. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed the hundred-yuan bill I had placed in front of my chest, trying to snatch it.

But I didn't let go, still glaring at him fiercely. The sleazy man was taken aback, then realized my intention. He immediately moved his body, releasing the woman's handbag. Then he tugged at the hundred-yuan bill in my hand, thinking we had reached a deal, but I still didn't let go.

The sleazy man looked at me with some anger and embarrassment. I slowly put my left hand into my pocket. The sleazy man was stunned. He looked at me and then at the woman, finally understanding my meaning. He grinned lewdly, raised his hand, and lightly patted his cheek, then patted his chest. Only then did I release the hundred-yuan bill from my hand.

I knew that the sleazy guy wouldn't harass the woman in my arms anymore. This kind of scoundrel, though shameless, was surprisingly loyal to men who paid for their services. If he took my money and then went back on his word, not only would I teach him a lesson in the power of physical violence, but his thugs would also despise him. That's the classic scoundrel type—pride comes before a fall.

Having resolved the woman's crisis, I led her to a corner of the carriage. Neither of us spoke. This time

, the woman didn't turn to the side or back to me; instead, she gently leaned against my chest, her hands lightly around my waist, her entire weight pressing against me. This position allowed me to deeply feel how soft and large her firm breasts were. Like two warm hot water bottles placed on my chest.

And this position allowed her mature scent to easily enter my nostrils, letting me breathe in her unique aroma, along with the sexual information that excites every man.

I knew the woman was moved. Because I had repeatedly helped her escape the pervert on the bus, and even more so because I had permanently rid herself of the stalker who had been following her with a hundred-yuan bill.

Sometimes, women are that simple. Protect her when she needs it most, and she will be moved, moved by that man.

I knew my penis was hard again, slowly rising along the woman's lower abdomen. Because I was moved too. Protecting a woman is a man's instinct, and the thrill of that success is no less than the sexual pleasure between a man and a woman. Especially since the woman in my arms was a married woman, such a beautiful married woman.

A pleasure that transcended morality made my heart pound violently. As if knowing my feelings, my hard, large penis also throbbed powerfully with my heartbeat. And the woman in my arms hadn't moved since she nestled in my arms, not even an inch, even as my large penis was deeply embedded in the soft flesh of her lower abdomen.

I knew she knew my feelings at that moment. So, I gently stroked her back with both hands, then naturally placed them on her round buttocks, slowly but firmly grasping them.

"Hiss...be gentle."

Perhaps my pressure was too strong, the woman groaned softly, whispering in my arms. I immediately eased my grip, my desire calming down, leaving my large penis erect, merely holding the woman in my arms and gently stroking her back and buttocks.

For three years, my setbacks at work, my failures in love, my confusion about life, and my helplessness in the face of life had made me forget the taste of women.

At this moment, I suddenly felt real, felt like a real man.

Just then, when I heard the familiar announcement of the bus stop, I suddenly realized I had arrived at my stop, and the woman in my arms had already passed her stop. At this moment, the woman in my arms looked up at my surprised expression and smiled slightly.

"No one's home tonight, I don't need to go home."

My heart skipped a beat, and a surge of desire instantly appeared in my eyes. I didn't say anything, but instead pulled the woman off the bus, half-dragging, half-carrying her back to my cramped rented room.

Once inside, as soon as the door closed, the woman and I seemed to understand each other perfectly. Without a word, we embraced passionately, kissing each other wildly, tearing at each other's clothes.

Soon, her mysterious, alluring body, clad in a gray business suit, was revealed before me. Fair and flawless, warm and soft, with a captivating fragrance.

I buried my face in her large breasts, licking, sucking, and biting them greedily. The woman clenched her teeth, letting out seductive moans, her chest heaving understandingly, allowing me to savor her breasts even more thoroughly.

When I kissed between her legs, the sparse, feathery pubic hair and the slightly parted, pale pink labia instantly ignited all my desire.

I didn't even bother to savor this most mysterious part of the woman's body with my own mouth. I pushed her legs up to her breasts, knelt down on the bed, and slowly but firmly pressed my large, hard penis against the tips of her already moist, pale pink labia.

The slippery, warm sensation from the glans was intoxicating. I couldn't resist any longer. I leaned forward, thrusting my hips forward.

"Plop!"

"Ah..." With a suppressed scream from the woman, followed by a muffled splash like a fish leaping into water, my large, long penis was deeply inserted into her vagina.

This mysterious place was so hot and slippery. The slight contractions almost made me ejaculate prematurely.

This woman's vagina felt so good! It wasn't as tight as my ex-girlfriend's, but it had a softness I had never experienced before. It seemed that every fold of flesh inside her vagina brought indescribable pleasure to my hard penis.

My erect penis, seemingly larger and longer than any woman had ever seen, caused her delicate brows to furrow slightly as she eagerly responded to my advances.

That night, the woman and I skipped dinner; we made love passionately. I thrust deeply, and when she grew tired, she sat on me, vigorously arching her hips.

Perhaps it was the wet dream from the previous night that gave me the ability to last longer. Even after her orgasm, we held each other tightly and fell into a deep sleep. I still hadn't ejaculated; my penis remained erect inside her, and we drifted off to sleep together

. The next morning, we both woke up simultaneously, without speaking, and continued our passionate lovemaking until time forced us to go to work. I still hadn't ejaculated.

Although she seemed worried about my inability to ejaculate when we parted, I could see the admiration and deep affection in her eyes.

At work, I suddenly regretted not asking her name or her contact information. So, I anxiously awaited the end of the workday.

Finally, it was time to leave work, and I rushed out of the company gate and squeezed onto the bus. I didn't know if I was at the right time; my only thought was to see that woman on the bus.

Time ticked by, and I kept looking around, as if time had stopped.

Finally, when the bus stopped at a bus stop, a familiar figure boarded. I could see clearly that the woman's eyes were filled with endless expectation and anxious searching. When she saw me, she smiled immediately, like a blooming rose.

The woman walked up to me, habitually standing in front of me, leaning against my chest and hugging my waist, like lovers reunited after a long separation.

My penis, as always, was hard, even harder and larger because of last night's frenzy without ejaculation.

As the rush hour crowd engulfed us and we squeezed into a corner of the carriage, the woman's right hand reached between my legs, slowly unzipped my pants, then pulled my underwear aside, and laboriously pulled out my large, hard penis.

Then, the woman lifted her head and gently kissed me, slowly turning around and using her round, pert buttocks to tightly hold my exposed penis.

Only then did I realize that the woman was wearing a very short skirt that barely covered her hips, though her coat and stockings had obscured it.

Instantly, I understood the woman's intentions. A clandestine affair on a public bus—this was the ultimate goal that countless perverts on public buses would pursue their entire lives but never achieve!

My heart pounded, and then a strange sense of guilt and shame washed over me. I glanced around furtively and saw that everyone was still absorbed in their own worlds, paying no attention to us. The lewd middle-aged man from yesterday wasn't there either, which put my mind at ease.

The next moment, I slowly lifted the woman's skirt, slipped my enormous penis inside, and covered it with the skirt. I reached between her legs, intending to pull down her panties, but suddenly discovered they were empty.

It turned out the woman had planned this all along—public transport intercourse with me. I was overjoyed! Such a lovely woman was truly rare.

So, I groped for my glans, pressing it against a moist spot, but because of the wrong position, I couldn't penetrate. After several attempts, almost attracting the attention of those around me, I remember being drenched in sweat.

"Fool, you're so stupid!"

The woman turned her head and gave me a flirtatious glare, then slightly lifted her hips and swayed her waist. With a soft "plop," my enormous glans, which I couldn't even insert with my hand, was firmly sucked in by her lift and sway.

This is what a married woman is like! Even if she's still as pure and shy as a young girl, in matters of sex, she's already a self-taught expert.

So, I thrust my hips forward, and the remaining length of my penis was completely inserted into the woman's wet and soft body.

After that, neither of us moved, relying only on the swaying of the bus to make our bodies rub against each other, creating unparalleled pleasure in our affair.

All the way, I felt like I was in a dream, almost groaning. The woman, on the other hand, kept her mouth covered and remained silent.

Finally, as we were about to reach our stop, I could no longer endure the waves of intense pleasure and violently ejaculated inside the woman.

One spurt, another, and another! I ejaculated more than a dozen times before stopping. However, my penis remained rock hard.

The woman, completely unconcerned that I had ejaculated inside her, didn't immediately let me pull out to wipe myself afterward. Instead, she continued to envelop my penis with her body until the pleasure subsided and it gradually softened and shrank. Only then did she stuff a pre-prepared tissue between her legs, slowly turning around and carefully wiping my muddy penis, using her loose top as cover.

"My husband is away on a business trip tomorrow, and my daughter is back in her dorm. Do you have time?" the woman asked gently, carefully wiping my penis clean before gently tucking it into my underwear and zipping up my pants.

"Yes," I replied softly. I understood what that meant. It meant that my relationship with the woman wasn't just a one-night stand, but something that could last.

"This is my phone number. We'll contact each other tomorrow." The woman handed me a tissue, turned, got out of the car, and left, leaving me tossing and turning all night.

The next day after work, I contacted the woman by phone and arrived at her home as agreed. This was an ordinary residential community. The woman's home had four bedrooms and two living rooms. Although the interior decoration was simple, it wasn't shabby.

The woman wore a pink, semi-transparent nightgown, which aroused my desire. Just as I was about to make a move, the woman angrily stopped me, saying, "Fool, eat first. We have time tonight." So, under the woman's endless allure, I ate the dinner she had carefully prepared for me without tasting it.

After dinner, ignoring the woman's insistence on clearing the dishes, I pushed her onto the messy table and fucked her hard.

This time, the woman didn't hold back; she moaned loudly, not caring if the neighbors heard.

After the passion subsided, the woman dragged her weak body to clean up the dining room, and then we took a bath together before embracing and going into their bedroom.

Above the large bed in the bedroom hung a wedding photo of the woman and her husband. Perhaps because it was quite old, it was a bit blurry, and I couldn't see it very clearly.

Holding the woman as we lay on her soft bed, I had a strange feeling, as if I were in my own home.

That night, we didn't make love. When my penis became hard and erect again, I simply penetrated her deeply. She lay on top of me, and we caressed each other, chatting softly.

That night, I learned her name, her past life, and her seemingly harmonious but unhappy family.

She too came from a rural background. After graduating from university, she broke up with her first love to stay in the city and married a colleague who owned this house and had been pursuing her relentlessly.

After marriage, her husband treated her well, but she always felt something was missing. Until one day, she overheard her husband drunkenly bragging to his friends, saying that even the most beautiful woman needs a house, and with a house, you can have a good sex life—look at my wife! At

that moment, she realized that her husband had only married her because she was beautiful, only because she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. Her kindness towards him after marriage was merely a man's obligation.

Later, the woman accidentally discovered a hard drive containing videos and photos of her husband having affairs with other women every time he went on a business trip.

The woman wasn't angry, nor resentful, and she didn't divorce him. She acted as if she knew nothing about it, continuing her seemingly harmonious but ultimately estranged life with her husband. The woman knew that, ultimately, she had no reason to blame her husband. If she hadn't wanted to stay in the city, if she hadn't so desperately wanted a house, she might not have broken up with her first love, might not have agreed to marry her current husband, and wouldn't be living the city life she dreamed of—seemingly happy, yet like a walking corpse.

Until she met me, the woman said she felt like she saw her first love again, or rather, felt a sense of her first love.

I possessed a unique allure that attracted women. So, when she encountered the lewd middle-aged man on the bus, she couldn't help but want to get closer to me.

Thus, after several encounters, our relationship developed, leading to the present moment in her home, in front of her wedding photo, where I, with my hard, thick penis, deeply penetrated her, lying on her large bed, and we had a heart-to-heart talk.

"Tell me, what should we do from now on? Should we keep looking for every opportunity to meet? Or should we enjoy tonight and then go back to our own lives, never to contact each other again?" After a long silence, the woman asked softly.

"I don't know. Can we just let things take their course? If we can meet, we can meet; if we must part, we can part. No forcing, no clinging. Just being the closest lovers," I said slowly after a long silence.

"I'm suddenly so afraid that I'll never see you again in this life."

Suddenly, the woman began to sob, her soft body trembling violently, making my penis, deeply inserted into her, even harder with pleasure.

So, I threw the woman onto the bed and pounced on her, fucking her hard. The woman moaned and cried, murmuring that she didn't want to leave me.

Just as I was about to ejaculate, the woman suddenly said, "I've thought of a way. We'll never be apart." Instantly, her words jolted me back to reality, and I lost all desire to ejaculate. Did the woman want to divorce her current husband and be with me? A sense of dread gripped me; I feared I might become the tragic figure of "picking up a girl only to end up with a husband."

Although I wasn't sure how I felt about this woman—perhaps it was just a way to alleviate my long-standing loneliness—I knew for certain that marriage was out of the question.

"You're not married yet, are you? My daughter is graduating high school soon. She's nine years younger than you, but not that old. She's not a good student, so why don't you marry her? That way we can be together forever." The woman's next words were like a bomb, leaving me stunned and speechless.

I don't believe women are the kind of people who commit incest. Perhaps, when she said those words, she never even considered it incest. She simply wanted to be with me forever, to enjoy the kind of unbridled sexual pleasure she would never experience again, and the unspoken, age-defying affection.

Then, I shamefully became hard. My heart trembled as if I were dying. But I responded to her proposal with even more frenzied thrusting.

I didn't answer, and she didn't ask. But we both knew that I agreed to her proposal.

So, in the days that followed, I made her moan and climax in every corner of her house, and during these climaxes, she told me about her daughter. Then, she tried every means to establish a relationship between us.

And I, as an older brother, gradually conquered this girl who was as gentle as she was, making her infatuated with me, determined to marry no one else.

Not long after, on her eighteenth birthday, as I graduated from high school, after gently but firmly breaking her hymen—which was as pink as her mother's—I knew I had fallen deeply in love with this girl, and that I would forever possess this pure and gentle girl. At the same time, I would also forever possess her mother.

Is this incest?

I don't think so, and neither does the woman. We simply found a way to happily accompany each other throughout the endless sea of life's suffering.

(Word count: 21203

) [The End]

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