The difficult account of the female police officer

When I got back to my dorm at 10:30, I went straight up to the sixth floor. The three numbers on the doorplate, 619, seemed to smile indifferently at me, as if scrutinizing my sudden visit. I shook my head helplessly and turned back downstairs. My dorm was on the fourth floor. I knew I was preoccupied. I'd been staring at the computer for two hours now, my mind overflowing with guilt. With nothing to do, I ate a snack and drank cola. Food made me simple, careless, and unable to articulate my feelings. But continuing might just lead to more spacing out, or meaningless writing and deleting, deleting and writing. The feelings building up inside me lacked the courage to openly and honestly confront them. I won't embellish, I won't mock, and I don't want to be a hopeful storyteller, adding a happy ending or touching plot to every story. I'm just wondering how to tell a story without hurting kind people. I cried for help late at night. A friend said: "Follow your heart. The truth will always leave regrets in your heart." I don't even understand myself. I think I'll just make a simple, difficult statement. Today is my partner's birthday, and I only just sent him a birthday message around 12:30. I've been thinking about how to record these past two days—whether to gloss over it or downplay it, but I need to leave myself some room for reflection. Many friends have found out about our whereabouts these past two days, and some are eagerly awaiting my account, I know. However, I might disappoint you all, because what you see won't be happiness, or rather, not pure happiness, or perhaps just a stroke of luck. We simply met a wonderful couple, a very simple, kind, warm, and loving couple. We met them (I will refer to Mr. C as C and his partner as Q) at a restaurant in Tianjin. Knowing we like spicy food, they thoughtfully treated us to hot pot. Seeing them wave, we sat down facing each other and started talking about the weather, the climate differences between Tianjin and Beijing. Later, the men's conversation shifted to cross-strait relations, while Q and I remained relatively silent. I didn't dare look at C; I felt I would reveal my expression or intentions. For a moment, I felt like I had fallen from a height of fantasy to the ground; the clear sense of falling brought clarity to my mind. To be honest, I felt we were better suited as friends than as having sex. Sure enough, when we went to karaoke after dinner, everyone relaxed and forgot what they were actually supposed to be doing. My husband was very happy, drinking beer and singing old songs from his memories, as if he were back in the season of love. He held the microphone in one hand, pointed at me with the other, and sang, "My favorite thing is your dreamy eyes that move me." They sang a duet intimately and were very happy. We both passed the time so casually; the dim lighting didn't create any feeling, and the love songs we sang were just beautiful notes. Neither of us knew what we should or shouldn't do. Around 11:30, we took a taxi to their place. It was a typical couple's home, simple and cozy inside. Stepping out of the living room, there was a large balcony. My crowded feeling suddenly eased for a moment; the night breeze was gentle. When C walked onto the balcony, his hand briefly lingered on my waist, and I suddenly tensed up. After sitting for a while, I took a shower. I showered thoroughly because I didn't know which part of my body he would be interested in. After showering, Q brought me one of her nightgowns. I repeatedly told my husband I wanted something modest, but when I came out, I still noticed half of my breast and my clearly visible areola. I covered my chest with my hands and sat next to my husband. Everyone took turns showering, and the rest of us were rather quiet. At that time, a channel was showing "The Legend of the Condor Heroes." Afterwards, we all sat obediently in the living room watching TV until after 1 a.m. the next morning. The lights were bright, and there was no hint of ambiguity between us, so the hostess turned off the living room lights. Everyone seemed to have been waiting for this, and they smiled knowingly. I was actually a little reluctant because C wasn't my type (I'm sorry). But with the lights off, the visual pressure lessened considerably, so we started to create an ambiguous atmosphere. When we were all sitting on the sofa, C put her arm around my shoulder, and her right hand went around my shoulder to gently caress my breast. I didn't refuse; at that moment, the situation controlled everything. I saw my husband sitting very properly, and I suddenly felt sorry for Q, so I encouraged my husband with my eyes. I was relaxed then; perhaps the brief physical pleasure gave me a rare sense of tolerance and acceptance. Soon, my husband reached his hand into Q's lower back, probably touching her buttocks. Q, like a soldier receiving a command, immediately rolled into my husband's arms. A moment later, Q let out a pleasurable moan, and I, not to be outdone, started moaning and groaning in response. The two men exchanged a glance, and almost simultaneously, each grabbed us by the buttocks and rushed into their respective rooms… Later, we made love in separate rooms. Kissing, touching, penetration, thrusting—everything felt unfamiliar. C wasn't particularly large, but he was very capable. I could feel him controlling his desires, trying to give me as much pleasure and stimulation as possible. But because of different habits or other reasons, my pleasure wasn't as intense as I had hoped, until he couldn't hold back and ejaculated half an hour later. During our lovemaking, C kept thinking about his lover. I turned my head to one side and smiled understandingly. Later, Q came to see us. C and I were kissing, our lower bodies colliding and rubbing together rapidly and loudly. Q glanced at us only once and then ran out again. Q cried after she left, which reminded me of myself. Strangely, I didn't shed a single tear, nor could I find any trace of sadness. My husband, C, and I were all comforting her. Her crying was very infectious; her tears intensified the emotional element of the game. I felt that authenticity was good. If everyone were only indulging in pure physical pleasure, it would make us feel even more miserable, and we might even start to doubt our attitude towards love. Women are always somewhat sensitive, and I felt a deep tenderness for her, as if I were tenderly tender to myself. So I had my husband hold her, while I hugged him from behind. Actually, I needed him too at that moment, but I didn't say it. I rested my head against his back, feeling the warmth of his chest. I couldn't bear to leave that familiar, warm embrace. C hugged his wife from behind, gently stroking Q's back. It took a long time for her emotions to calm down, which I think was because of the simultaneous comfort from two men. Q and I both believed that men derived more pleasure from the game than women, and we were very friendly at that time. Her smile was captivating. After showering separately, we sat back down in the living room. We discussed how to sleep that night. Actually, while showering, I had clearly told my husband: I didn't want to spend the whole night with C. It's true, I didn't think at the time that I didn't want my husband to spend the night with another woman. I was just strongly insisting from my own perspective. So everyone tried to conceal their opinions during the discussion. Of course, expressing them explicitly would inevitably hurt some vulnerable souls. I smiled and said, "I'm still not used to sleeping with strangers." If the lights were on, everyone would see my honest, undisguised smile. They didn't really agree with me, because they were still discussing it. "You decide, I'm fine with whatever," all three of them said. I suddenly felt a deep sadness, yet I was also very stubborn. Perhaps all three of them were looking forward to a new feeling of sleep. I insisted, "Let's sleep with our own people, otherwise I really won't feel comfortable." They agreed, because my reasons sounded perfectly reasonable. My husband and I returned to the room, and naturally, a slight unpleasantness occurred. I am a selfish, willful, and unreasonable woman. I blame my husband for not considering my feelings, for not cherishing me, for not loving me as he said he did, and for the various tricky and strange questions I asked him that left him speechless. I hit him, pinched him, twisted him, and made him swear that he loved me. I turned my back, crossed my arms, and let my hair hang lonely on my chest. Tears streamed down my face, and my breathing became heavy. I felt that sex made everything fragile. I was sad, I was afraid, I was lonely. I thought of any man I could miss: I thought of Z, and I really wanted to text him at three in the morning to tell him that I missed him, to miss his pure and simple feelings. I knew he would say that the world was better when it was pure. So I missed the pure life of the past. I thought of Xiao Tang, I thought of WXY, I thought of WJ, I thought of the unfamiliar feelings. At that time, I thought that any man who had taken my body, any person who had shown me concern, could become my confidant. My tears had already soaked my temples. Just then, C pushed the door open and came in, telling my husband they could switch beds. I was extremely upset, but I didn't say a word. My breathing seemed to bother him, so he asked my husband what was wrong. My husband said he was crying. He asked why, and my husband said he didn't know. So he said, "Then you two go to sleep."After C left, I pretended to be calm and said, "Disappointed? Why don't you come over? I'm fine sleeping alone, I won't be angry, really." My husband laughed and hugged me tightly. I dodged, and he hugged me tighter; I dodged again, and he hugged me again. Finally, feeling wronged, I buried myself in his arms, listing all his faults, and cried uncontrollably. He started kissing my earlobe. We made love very well, trying every position we could think of. I was covered in sweat, but then I fell into a deep sleep. I was still in the same position, hugging him tightly from behind. Before, he would always put his legs on me, but since I became pregnant, my husband has maintained this sleeping position to avoid putting pressure on my abdomen. So, this position has become our best sleeping position now. When I woke up in the morning, it was already past ten o'clock. I kissed my husband, and he seemed a little excited. I urged him to go to the next room, but he said no. I knew he was just saying it for my benefit, but I was still quite happy. Women are silly like that. I don't know why my mood suddenly improved. After my repeated persuasion, he went over, and C came over. After touching and kissing me for a while and seeing that I didn't say anything, he made me turn over and kneel down. He then enthusiastically kneaded and played with my big, white buttocks, saying that he had always dreamed of having a policewoman's plump buttocks. I felt him smear the secretions from my front with his fingers onto my sensitive anus. I shuddered. Of course, I knew what he wanted to do. Men, really, none of them dislike this! I relaxed my anal muscles and let him insert his erect penis. Perhaps because the anus is tighter than the vagina, and also because even my husband doesn't use my anus very often, most men only try it once for novelty. Very few men actually request anal sex multiple times. He ejaculated in less than ten minutes. He kept apologizing, and I said I understood and it was okay, squatting down to expel what he had ejaculated inside me. Then he was very concerned about his wife and asked me, "Do you think they're done?" I said, "Go check." He asked if I was going to go, and I said I didn't have the courage. He went over and came back a little while later. I asked, "Are they done yet?" He said, "They seem to be done. Why don't you go check it out?" So, I put on my clothes, my heart pounding, but I bravely said, "I'll go check it out too." My husband was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Q was sitting too, a certain distance between them. They laughed when they saw me coming. I asked, "How was it? Did you have enough fun?" My husband said, "No, I feel pressured." I asked why, and he said, "I'm worried someone will come over." I said, "I didn't mean to come over. He said you guys were done, so I came." My explanation was correct, but the correct explanation perfectly masked my true feelings; I was still very selfish. So, we all got up and washed up. Then the men went downstairs to buy groceries, I watched TV in the living room, and she went online. Later, the men cooked, and she helped out, while I went online in the inner room. Seeing TT and Mood online felt like meeting family; an unspeakable wave of grievances washed over me. Both of them had slept with me and were very nice to me, but their skills in bed were lacking, which was intolerable to a perfectionist like me. After a few encounters, I knew they had run out of tricks, so I pushed them back to being just online chatters. This time, they comforted me, advised me, and even scolded me, but no matter what, they meant well. That was the best gift I received that day. My husband even called to offer to take a taxi over to comfort me and listen to my troubles. I knew he just wanted to take the opportunity to release his desires in my body one more time, so I politely declined. My husband saw me chatting and smiled tolerantly. He knew I was looking for comfort, something he couldn't provide. During dinner, C carefully served his wife rice, picked out dishes, and poured drinks, even cleaning up the dishes afterwards. He was a good husband, and Q was very happy. After lunch, Q and C made love in the room. Q was very skilled, using mouth, vagina, anus, breasts, legs, hands, and feet, employing many positions and postures I had never seen or tried before, which greatly impressed me. My husband was filming them, and I, with extreme leniency (now I realize I was being insincere, and I wonder if I can still be considered honest now, haha), said to my eager husband, "You three come on, I'll film you." My husband shook his head and told me to watch them. Only then did I feel a little less repressed. They were very intimate and absorbed, and it didn't feel like they were acting at all; it seemed like their relationship was genuine. Later, they suggested we do it too. The couple stood up and filmed us, and my husband, who had been holding back for a long time, pounced on me with his big dick. I was also very wet watching it. The moment my husband hugged me, my body went limp and I could barely stand. I quickly knelt down and hugged his buttocks to give him oral sex. The thing in my mouth looked especially thick and hard. After diligently serving him for a while, I couldn't bear the emptiness and itching in my crotch anymore, so I begged, "Okay, Mr. Sturdy! Please, please put it in!" C held the camera very close, filming the part where our bodies were connected, and a close-up of my genitals being penetrated, which made me a little nervous. Later, my husband invited him and his wife to join him, saying they would record together. C set the camera to automatic and then started having sex with his wife. Our two families each did their own thing on the large bed, keeping to ourselves. Q seemed a little reserved, just blushing and silently enduring, but I felt very comfortable. Perhaps it was because my desire was fully aroused, and my equally excited husband's unusually large and vigorous penis was just what I needed. I bent over, head down, and endured for a while, experiencing two orgasms. He still showed no sign of stopping, so I rode on top of him, bouncing up and down – the best position for me to orgasm. Soon I felt dizzy with pleasure, the intense orgasms making me feel oxygen-deprived. I liked it this way; I loved my husband so much, and at that moment, I could only accept this kind of love. Later, everyone felt this went against our original intentions. Yes, what kind of 4P is this? Just doing your own thing? Q, blushing, said to C: "Why don't you switch with him?" So, the two men naturally switched. I smiled and looked up at my husband thrusting hard into Q's small buttocks, his hands kneading her not-so-large breasts. Q's moans were noticeably louder, clearly different from when her husband had been with her earlier. C asked, "Is it good to be fucked?" Q was panting heavily, too busy to answer and didn't need to. My husband was fucking Q fiercely, while C, while fucking me, asked his wife how she felt. I felt like a spectator in the audience; although C was thrusting vigorously above me, my mind and lower body were somewhat numb. After what seemed like a long time, my husband took off his condom and ejaculated into Q's mouth. Q had just spat out a little when both men simultaneously gestured for her to swallow it. She looked at me, and I immediately gave her an encouraging look as well. Q swallowed it with a gulp. C said he also wanted to ejaculate into my mouth, but I remembered the sticky, slippery feeling of semen going down my throat and said I couldn't stand it. So he spurted it all over my face. Q lay on the bed, seemingly exhausted from my husband's lovemaking, too weak to move for a long time. C gently stroked her and comforted her. For dinner, C had made porridge, which we ate well. Afterwards, Q had work to do and went to the inner room, while the three of us watched a DVD outside. It was "The Pianist." Although I had heard of it a long time ago, this was the first time I had seen it, and it was indeed very good. They have a lot of good movies; C has a hobby of collecting them. The scene was beautiful. I sat between them, next to my husband, with a slice of watermelon in front of me. There was no light, only the flickering light from the TV screen following the plot. We chatted happily. After a while, Q finished her work, came out, and plopped down on my husband. The two began kissing and caressing. Q crawled between my husband's legs and began sucking on him. My husband lovingly stroked her long hair and kneaded her little bottom, softly pleading for something. Q's little face was flushed by the TV light. She first shook her head with a slight smile, then nodded vigorously, seemingly agreeing. C hugged me and whispered in my ear: "I hope next time I can wear a police uniform and let him handcuff me and fuck my ass." I blushed and my heart raced as I imagined myself in a neat police uniform, handcuffed, kneeling on the ground with my fat ass sticking out, being sodomized by having my police pants pulled down. My husband mounted Q's fat ass and began thrusting rapidly. Judging from the point of connection between them, it seemed like he was inserting into her anus, but the movements were too fast for me to be sure.C's thick left fingers gently caressed my buttocks, moving very gently through my pajamas. It was stimulating, reminding me of the feeling of his large penis thrusting in and out of my anus. I arched my back and came. "The Pianist" was over. Then, my husband brought Q to orgasm. Q tensed up and ejaculated profusely, then collapsed on the sofa, panting heavily, like a sow that had just finished mating. After a while, she went to take a shower. C withdrew his wet hand from between my buttocks, wiped it with a tissue, and got up to put on another movie—a Japanese incest film, the gist of which was son and son-in-law taking turns having sex with their mother. My husband ripped off the condom, which was covered in yellow feces, and threw it in the trash. He then leaned in, grinning lewdly, and probed my body with his fingers. He looked at me in surprise; I knew he was asking why I was so wet down there, since C and I hadn't done anything. I smiled sheepishly, and his fingers became restless, touching my G-spot, grinning wickedly. I involuntarily writhed, leaning my upper body towards C, who had already sat back down. C embraced me and kissed me. My husband parted my buttocks and penetrated me from behind, also from behind. At that moment, I felt incredibly alluring, because I was simultaneously displaying myself freely in front of two men. I longed for C to take out his penis and put it in my mouth, and soon C stood up and satisfied my desire. My husband and C stood between me, one in front and one behind, bringing me to orgasm before ejaculating inside me. By the time Q came out, we were already sitting there watching TV properly. However, Q came over and asked C in surprise: "Where are your pants?" C awkwardly pointed to the condoms on the coffee table with her foot and said: "I gave them to them." Q didn't say anything. It was clear that C's irrelevant answer had angered her; she must have sensed something. I didn't say anything, pretending not to notice. At the same time, I noticed that my husband hadn't had time to put on his pants either. Q went into the bedroom, and C followed. I felt that Q needed comforting, so my husband and I went in together. Q was lying on the bed, and C was chatting, even video chatting with someone online. So we joined in. Later, my husband and I were chatting while they were making love in bed. Later, at a friend's request, we put on a show. But we were still just friends, even though we were in the same bed. Near the end, to prove to others the excitement and joy of partner swapping (at least that's what I thought), we switched again. While my husband was fucking her, Q was moaning with enjoyment. C, with one hand on my buttocks, thrusting hard while the other touched her shoulder, asking, "Does it feel good, baby?" He then kissed her hair repeatedly as it swung wildly. I, head down, being fucked, looked up and met my husband's gaze as he thrust rapidly from behind Q. He looked both happy and satisfied. I lowered my head, continuing to endure C's defilement, wondering if I also appeared exceptionally happy and joyful in my husband's eyes. Before I could figure it out, C pulled out and ejaculated deep inside my anus. Netizens said it looked exciting; I think anyone who saw it would say so. Sensory experiences often obscure many subtle details. I gave each of my online friends a shy smile; they only associated it with allure. That's just how it is, no one's to blame. That night, my husband and I slept together. We made love perfectly. My husband, with his large and thick penis, was incredibly vigorous, using over ten different positions. I, completely open in body and soul, experienced multiple orgasms, like a winged angel soaring in heaven. My husband said I was both crying and laughing, and my moans were extremely loud, but I truly felt incredibly liberated. I love him to death. We slept very late. We didn't get up until noon. After lunch, Q had to go out, so I shook hands with her to say goodbye. At my suggestion, my husband hugged her goodbye. After Q left, I thought my husband and C would bother me again, but they didn't, which left me somewhat disappointed. At two o'clock, my husband and I said goodbye to C. Beautiful Tianjin, we left in the afternoon shade. In the blink of an eye, we had experienced one of the most challenging things in our marriage. My mind is still filled with the unfamiliar street scenes of Tianjin, the strange yet warm home, and vivid images. I'm sitting in the study room again, nestled in the dim light of my computer, using memories to wake myself up. I remember later telling LN, who had just finished with me, "Seeing the scratches on my husband's back makes me very sad." But I was satisfied that while enjoying Q, my husband was still energetic and attentive to me. In comparison, C was terrible. Although he had satisfied me, his wife Q must have felt neglected, especially after she found out that the three of us had a threesome while she was showering. I really cared about that then, because Q's feminine side made my husband exceptionally strong and valiant, revealing a deep-seated masculinity that I hadn't been able to achieve before. But now I've forgiven everything, perhaps because I was the most satisfied of the four. I remember telling C before leaving that none of us were perfect. We should have treated the stranger like a new partner for those two days, but we were too attached to our own, which is why we were so reserved. C said, "It's a gradual process, and that makes it easier for everyone to accept things." I'm always a theoretical giant, but actually, I was the most fickle one throughout the whole process. I really wanted to, but I didn't have the courage, and I didn't know how to hide it. I even walked out of their house without thinking. Only then did I begin to regret not having a proper talk with Q. She's a very tolerant woman, much more mature than me, and I really like her. I'll always remember wearing her pajamas, sleeping in her wedding bed, and using her husband. We should actually be very close friends. A 4P is a very challenging game. I mustered up the courage to participate, and gained love and harmony with my husband, as well as a lingering sense of unease. Nothing can be perfect for all four people at the same time, without any flaws. So, regrets or happiness, what's past and what's experienced is what matters most. Everyone says the first step is the hardest, but once you take it, it's over. Sometimes, looking back, you feel a sense of being caught off guard. Looking back at threesomes, I think the woman was actually the happiest at that moment because she could be loved by two men simultaneously, experiencing far greater psychological and physical pleasure. Frankly, I look forward to it again, also because a threesome doesn't make another woman cry. Moving from one step to another, and looking back, understanding doesn't need words; everything falls into place naturally. This is how practice and theory are repeatedly proven. In just one month, we suddenly tried everything, feeling extremely uneasy, like a child who has stolen too much, filled with fear. Therefore, we hope for a period of quiet life, or rather, living with a contemplative attitude. We need to revisit love and cherish our family and children. A half-hidden moon peeked through the window, and in this cool early morning, I felt as if I were seeing a pair of eyes watching me, so clear and bright. I was deeply moved. I think my writing will disappear for a while, because it's obvious I don't know what to say anymore. I'm exhausted, both physically and mentally. I hope the men who have watched over me will still cherish me, offering me a shoulder to lean on and a chest to hold my tears. I also hope that every night, or when the world is asleep, I will see a pair of clear eyes that belong only to me, watching me from afar and offering me limited comfort.Q was lying in bed, while C was chatting and video chatting with someone online. So we joined in. Later, my husband and I were chatting while they were making out in bed. Later, at a friend's request, we put on a show. But we were still just doing it with each other, even though we were in the same bed. Near the end, to prove to others the excitement and joy of partner swapping (at least that's what I thought), we switched again. When my husband was fucking her, Q was moaning with enjoyment. C, with one hand pressing down on my buttocks and thrusting hard, touched her shoulder with the other, asking, "Does it feel good, baby?" He then kissed her hair repeatedly as it swung around. I, head down, was being fucked and looked up to meet my husband's gaze as he thrust rapidly from behind Q. He looked both happy and satisfied. I lowered my head and continued to endure C's defilement, wondering if I also appeared exceptionally happy and joyful in my husband's eyes. Before I could figure it out, C pulled out and ejaculated deep inside my anus. The online comments said it looked exciting, and I think anyone who saw it would say so. Sensory experiences often obscure many subtle details. I gave each of my online friends a shy smile; they only associated it with allure. That's just how it is, no one's to blame. That night, my husband and I slept together. We made love perfectly. My husband, with his large and thick penis, was incredibly vigorous, using over ten different positions. I, completely open in body and soul, experienced multiple orgasms, like a winged angel soaring in heaven. My husband said I was both crying and laughing, and my moans were extremely loud, but I truly felt incredibly liberated. I love him to death. We slept very late. We didn't get up until noon. After lunch, Q had to go out, so I shook hands with her to say goodbye. At my suggestion, my husband hugged her goodbye. After Q left, I thought my husband and C would bother me again, but they didn't, which left me somewhat disappointed. At two o'clock, my husband and I said goodbye to C. Beautiful Tianjin, we left in the afternoon shade. In the blink of an eye, we had experienced one of the most challenging things in our marriage. My mind is still filled with the unfamiliar street scenes of Tianjin, the strange yet warm home, and vivid images. I'm sitting in the study room again, nestled in the dim light of my computer, using memories to wake myself up. I remember later telling LN, who had just finished with me, "Seeing the scratches on my husband's back makes me very sad." But I was satisfied that while enjoying Q, my husband was still energetic and attentive to me. In comparison, C was terrible. Although he had satisfied me, his wife Q must have felt neglected, especially after she found out that the three of us had a threesome while she was showering. I really cared about that then, because Q's feminine side made my husband exceptionally strong and valiant, revealing a deep-seated masculinity that I hadn't been able to achieve before. But now I've forgiven everything, perhaps because I was the most satisfied of the four. I remember telling C before leaving that none of us were perfect. We should have treated the stranger like a new partner for those two days, but we were too attached to our own, which is why we were so reserved. C said, "It's a gradual process, and that makes it easier for everyone to accept things." I'm always a theoretical giant, but actually, I was the most fickle one throughout the whole process. I really wanted to, but I didn't have the courage, and I didn't know how to hide it. I even walked out of their house without thinking. Only then did I begin to regret not having a proper talk with Q. She's a very tolerant woman, much more mature than me, and I really like her. I'll always remember wearing her pajamas, sleeping in her wedding bed, and using her husband. We should actually be very close friends. A 4P is a very challenging game. I mustered up the courage to participate, and gained love and harmony with my husband, as well as a lingering sense of unease. Nothing can be perfect for all four people at the same time, without any flaws. So, regrets or happiness, what's past and what's experienced is what matters most. Everyone says the first step is the hardest, but once you take it, it's over. Sometimes, looking back, you feel a sense of being caught off guard. Looking back at threesomes, I think the woman was actually the happiest at that moment because she could be loved by two men simultaneously, experiencing far greater psychological and physical pleasure. Frankly, I look forward to it again, also because a threesome doesn't make another woman cry. Moving from one step to another, and looking back, understanding doesn't need words; everything falls into place naturally. This is how practice and theory are repeatedly proven. In just one month, we suddenly tried everything, feeling extremely uneasy, like a child who has stolen too much, filled with fear. Therefore, we hope for a period of quiet life, or rather, living with a contemplative attitude. We need to revisit love and cherish our family and children. A half-hidden moon peeked through the window, and in this cool early morning, I felt as if I were seeing a pair of eyes watching me, so clear and bright. I was deeply moved. I think my writing will disappear for a while, because it's obvious I don't know what to say anymore. I'm exhausted, both physically and mentally. I hope the men who have watched over me will still cherish me, offering me a shoulder to lean on and a chest to hold my tears. I also hope that every night, or when the world is asleep, I will see a pair of clear eyes that belong only to me, watching me from afar and offering me limited comfort.Q was lying in bed, while C was chatting and video chatting with someone online. So we joined in. Later, my husband and I were chatting while they were making out in bed. Later, at a friend's request, we put on a show. But we were still just doing it with each other, even though we were in the same bed. Near the end, to prove to others the excitement and joy of partner swapping (at least that's what I thought), we switched again. When my husband was fucking her, Q was moaning with enjoyment. C, with one hand pressing down on my buttocks and thrusting hard, touched her shoulder with the other, asking, "Does it feel good, baby?" He then kissed her hair repeatedly as it swung around. I, head down, was being fucked and looked up to meet my husband's gaze as he thrust rapidly from behind Q. He looked both happy and satisfied. I lowered my head and continued to endure C's defilement, wondering if I also appeared exceptionally happy and joyful in my husband's eyes. Before I could figure it out, C pulled out and ejaculated deep inside my anus. The online comments said it looked exciting, and I think anyone who saw it would say so. Sensory experiences often obscure many subtle details. I gave each of my online friends a shy smile; they only associated it with allure. That's just how it is, no one's to blame. That night, my husband and I slept together. We made love perfectly. My husband, with his large and thick penis, was incredibly vigorous, using over ten different positions. I, completely open in body and soul, experienced multiple orgasms, like a winged angel soaring in heaven. My husband said I was both crying and laughing, and my moans were extremely loud, but I truly felt incredibly liberated. I love him to death. We slept very late. We didn't get up until noon. After lunch, Q had to go out, so I shook hands with her to say goodbye. At my suggestion, my husband hugged her goodbye. After Q left, I thought my husband and C would bother me again, but they didn't, which left me somewhat disappointed. At two o'clock, my husband and I said goodbye to C. Beautiful Tianjin, we left in the afternoon shade. In the blink of an eye, we had experienced one of the most challenging things in our marriage. My mind is still filled with the unfamiliar street scenes of Tianjin, the strange yet warm home, and vivid images. I'm sitting in the study room again, nestled in the dim light of my computer, using memories to wake myself up. I remember later telling LN, who had just finished with me, "Seeing the scratches on my husband's back makes me very sad." But I was satisfied that while enjoying Q, my husband was still energetic and attentive to me. In comparison, C was terrible. Although he had satisfied me, his wife Q must have felt neglected, especially after she found out that the three of us had a threesome while she was showering. I really cared about that then, because Q's feminine side made my husband exceptionally strong and valiant, revealing a deep-seated masculinity that I hadn't been able to achieve before. But now I've forgiven everything, perhaps because I was the most satisfied of the four. I remember telling C before leaving that none of us were perfect. We should have treated the stranger like a new partner for those two days, but we were too attached to our own, which is why we were so reserved. C said, "It's a gradual process, and that makes it easier for everyone to accept things." I'm always a theoretical giant, but actually, I was the most fickle one throughout the whole process. I really wanted to, but I didn't have the courage, and I didn't know how to hide it. I even walked out of their house without thinking. Only then did I begin to regret not having a proper talk with Q. She's a very tolerant woman, much more mature than me, and I really like her. I'll always remember wearing her pajamas, sleeping in her wedding bed, and using her husband. We should actually be very close friends. A 4P is a very challenging game. I mustered up the courage to participate, and gained love and harmony with my husband, as well as a lingering sense of unease. Nothing can be perfect for all four people at the same time, without any flaws. So, regrets or happiness, what's past and what's experienced is what matters most. Everyone says the first step is the hardest, but once you take it, it's over. Sometimes, looking back, you feel a sense of being caught off guard. Looking back at threesomes, I think the woman was actually the happiest at that moment because she could be loved by two men simultaneously, experiencing far greater psychological and physical pleasure. Frankly, I look forward to it again, also because a threesome doesn't make another woman cry. Moving from one step to another, and looking back, understanding doesn't need words; everything falls into place naturally. This is how practice and theory are repeatedly proven. In just one month, we suddenly tried everything, feeling extremely uneasy, like a child who has stolen too much, filled with fear. Therefore, we hope for a period of quiet life, or rather, living with a contemplative attitude. We need to revisit love and cherish our family and children. A half-hidden moon peeked through the window, and in this cool early morning, I felt as if I were seeing a pair of eyes watching me, so clear and bright. I was deeply moved. I think my writing will disappear for a while, because it's obvious I don't know what to say anymore. I'm exhausted, both physically and mentally. I hope the men who have watched over me will still cherish me, offering me a shoulder to lean on and a chest to hold my tears. I also hope that every night, or when the world is asleep, I will see a pair of clear eyes that belong only to me, watching me from afar and offering me limited comfort.A half-hidden moon peeked through the window, and in this cool early morning, I felt as if I were seeing a pair of eyes watching me, so clear and bright. I was deeply moved. I think my writing will disappear for a while, because it's obvious I don't know what to say anymore. I'm exhausted, both physically and mentally. I hope the men who have watched over me will still cherish me, offering me a shoulder to lean on and a chest to hold my tears. I also hope that every night, or when the world is asleep, I will see a pair of clear eyes that belong only to me, watching me from afar and offering me limited comfort.A half-hidden moon peeked through the window, and in this cool early morning, I felt as if I were seeing a pair of eyes watching me, so clear and bright. I was deeply moved. I think my writing will disappear for a while, because it's obvious I don't know what to say anymore. I'm exhausted, both physically and mentally. I hope the men who have watched over me will still cherish me, offering me a shoulder to lean on and a chest to hold my tears. I also hope that every night, or when the world is asleep, I will see a pair of clear eyes that belong only to me, watching me from afar and offering me limited comfort.

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