When you catch the two of a kind, you must shout "Bra!"

When you draw the two of dots, you must shout "Bra!"
Do you know how to play mahjong? I've only played mahjong for a few years, so I wouldn't call myself a mahjong player, but I love playing, especially when there are women among the four players! It's not about winning or losing, but about how to conquer the women I play with
and get them into my bed! These days, I don't have time for mahjong anymore, since my girlfriend objects to it; in her eyes, any man who plays mahjong is a bad guy. To promote the sex forum and repay the administrators for their kindness, I'm continuing my story after "My Angel," writing about my life with another woman, our brief but passionate years, for all you guys to critique! My writing is absolutely original, not plagiarized, not reposted, and not abridged; please support my original work! I recently resigned from my position as a sex forum inspector. Some friends said that being an inspector was contributing to the sex forum, but does that mean I can't contribute? Not at all. I'm diligently writing my original work; isn't that also a contribution?
The incident occurred in late spring of 2002. That year, besides working at my company, I would occasionally visit "Fourth Brother's" house on weekends. "Fourth Brother" was laid off and had no source of income, but he was skilled at playing cards and mahjong. His daily expenses, including cigarettes, were basically covered by his skills. The rules of mahjong didn't allow discarding tiles that allowed you to win; you could only win by drawing the winning tile yourself. If you drew the first wild card, you had to "hold" it, which counted as 10 points. If you drew the second, you could either play it conservatively as a wild card or continue holding it to gamble on the double reward for a self-drawn win! To pass the time, I would play mahjong with Fourth Brother and a few of his friends. I'd lose some spare money, kill time, pay for my tuition, and pay for them playing mahjong with me.
I remember it was a day when you could only wear long-sleeved shirts. There was a woman at Fourth Brother's house; everyone called her "Third Sister." "Third Sister" was between 30 and 35 years old and looked a bit like Aoi Sora! Don't say I'm making this up; it's true! Her only flaw was that she had quite a few pimples on her face. Her hair was a trendy, long, dyed reddish-brown, draped over her shoulders. She wore a pure white woolen cape that reached her knees (I'd never seen this style before), and she wore silky, tight-fitting leggings that reached her ankles, with black pointed-toe low-heeled shoes. At 1.65 meters tall, perhaps because she appeared slender and upright, she always made me feel a little breathless. The first time I saw her, she was carrying a blanket into a room at my fourth brother's house. My fourth brother introduced her as "Third Sister," and I politely greeted her. She smiled back. I didn't understand why everyone treated this woman with such respect! My fourth brother, one of her friends, and I sat down. We were one player short, so I asked my fourth brother what to do. He said Third Sister would play too. After a while, Third Sister sat down to my left, holding a pack of Jinwan cigarettes and a Zippo lighter. A delicate fragrance wafted into my nostrils as she sat down, a scent mingled with the lingering smell of tobacco. She asked how we played, and my fourth brother replied, "Same rules as always, if there's a wild card, we'll play!" Finally, the cards were shuffled. Older men have a unique way of calling "two of circles" (a type of mahjong tile). In Brother Si's mahjong jargon, "two of circles" is a euphemism for "bra." Brother Si drew two "two of circles" in his first hand. When he discarded the first two, he was very composed, discarding almost simultaneously with drawing the tile. However, after a few rounds, when he drew the second two of circles, he slammed it down on the table, muttering, "Damn it! Hey, bra! I'm discarding it!" He probably made that comment because he had missed a good hand! But then, when I drew the two of dots, it was the first time a woman had joined a mahjong table. I shouted "bra" in Mandarin. My third sister laughed first and said, "Don't use Mandarin when playing mahjong." My fourth brother also laughed and said, "Don't shout 'bra' so loudly, it sounds like you're talking to a black person!" I was a little embarrassed and told her the truth: this was my first time playing mahjong with my third sister. She replied, "Oh, you're nervous!" Then she handed me a cigarette, lit it herself with the lighter in her right hand, and then lit it for me. Her smoking posture was very masculine, especially when she took a deep breath, exhaling all the smoke from her narrow nostrils. The smoke was slow and steady, which made me realize that she had been smoking for quite some time! *(I don't know who said it, but women who smoke are never without scars. I think a woman who hasn't been hurt wouldn't fall in love with cigarettes. Is it the taste of cigarettes, or the feeling they evoke? Smoking isn't a physiological need; it's a psychological one. The lifespan of cigarettes is short, just like all intoxicating things! Women who smoke don't cry easily, which is why they choose cigarettes, thus choosing a kind of poignant beauty. Most women who smoke are beautiful, but also melancholic.)* A strong exterior hides a fragile heart. That day, I continued to lose at mahjong. During the game, my third sister and fourth brother were talking about her housing situation, and I overheard a little bit of what they were saying. My third sister had moved out due to family reasons and was temporarily staying at my fourth brother's house. I knew nothing about her husband or family situation, and I was too embarrassed to ask my fourth brother. He only told me that he and my third sister weren't relatives, but old friends—friends, not lovers.
I saw my third sister again four days later in the afternoon. I went to my fourth brother's house, waiting to be called together for a mahjong game; only my third sister was home. When I went in, she was watching TV in her room. When she opened the door for me, she was wearing a completely black nightgown and slippers. The black nightgown contrasted sharply with her fair skin, making it appear even more like milky white. Last time, I hadn't seen her clearly because her white woolen cape was so bulky that I couldn't discern the best part of her curves. This time, the black nightgown was a feast for the eyes! All because of her large, firm breasts! "Women are great," ah! I glanced at her room; it was empty except for a large bed and a television. Both things were things I couldn't afford at the time: a deep red bed with some openwork details, which my third sister said was made of pear wood and bought from Yunnan for our wedding; and a television that I couldn't even tell the size of—I couldn't possibly move it! I sat down on the sofa outside in the living room to wait for my fourth brother to return. My third sister changed her clothes and came out to bring me a cup of tea. She was still wearing that black nightgown, and I could see a purplish-red bra underneath. She was wearing jeans, a very dark blue, a very true color. Her legs were slender, her belly completely flat, and her jeans were so tight she didn't need a belt. Turning around, a silver round hairpin adorned her long, flowing, reddish-brown hair, below which lay her slightly upturned buttocks. I offered her a cigarette; she put it in her mouth and gestured for a light. I lit it for her, and she took a deep drag, holding the cigarette between her slender fingers. A melancholy smile played on her delicate face. Without a word, she returned to her room. After a while, she asked if I knew where to repair the television. I countered by asking what was wrong with it. She said the remote was malfunctioning, and although she'd already replaced it, the problem persisted. I promised to look for it and ask friends. Later, I called my fourth brother to inquire about his situation. He said he wouldn't be back until later that evening, unable to leave to play cards. I said goodbye to my third sister, who asked for my phone number. I remembered she was using a Samsung T108, a newly popular color screen phone.
Helping others is in my nature, especially helping a woman who smokes, a young woman who smokes! If a non-smoking woman is like a touch of rouge, then a smoking woman is like a datura flower. I quickly contacted my friends, even though they didn't know how to repair it, I asked them to help me contact their friends. My friends are all good men; they share my integrity, helping each other out when one is in trouble. Soon, I had a clue how to repair the TV, but when I checked my phone, I hadn't saved my third sister's number—damn it! I could only wait for her to contact me. The next day, my third sister called, asking if I had found someone to repair the TV. I told her I had yesterday, making up a little lie. I said my phone had a software malfunction, it crashed, and after removing and putting the battery back in, I didn't know how I lost her number. She said it was okay and asked me to come and repair the TV for her that afternoon. That afternoon, I went to my fourth brother's house with a friend of a friend. I carried that huge TV out by myself, and my third sister praised me for being strong! My friend disassembled the TV's back cover and, after testing it with a multimeter, said the sensor was faulty and needed replacing. However, my third sister's TV was a Japanese Panasonic, and parts were hard to find. My friend, his friend, and I took taxis all over the city, searching door-to-door. Finally, at the fourth shop, we found the original part. I don't know why I helped my third sister then—was it her气质 (qi zhi, a combination of temperament, bearing, and inner beauty) or her allure? More than anything, I think it was her poignant beauty and loneliness. Back home, we successfully installed the part, and the remote control worked perfectly again. My third sister was very happy. She said she liked watching TV in bed, but always having to get up to change channels was a huge hassle. I had solved her "heartache." She made it sound so serious that I felt embarrassed. It was getting late, and she repeatedly insisted on treating us to dinner. We couldn't refuse, so we went to Little Sheep Cafe together. Eating with a group of strangers is boring. Only my friend and I chatted at the table. I could tell from the food vendor's politeness that my third sister was being overly polite, and the awkward formalities of the occasional drink revealed a palpable tension. When it was time to pay the bill, my third sister pulled out her wallet—a thick wad of cash, probably nine thousand if not ten thousand. This wealthy and generous sister added another layer of mystery to my impression of her!
My friend and his friend took a taxi home, while I walked my third sister to my fourth brother's house. We spoke very little along the way; I was intent on observing this strange young woman. Where did she come from? Why was her husband nowhere to be seen? Why was she at my fourth brother's house? When would she leave? These were questions I could ask, but couldn't! I decided to boldly ask my fourth brother for answers! At ten o'clock that night, my fourth brother treated me to a late-night snack: my favorite stir-fried noodles and stir-fried snails, which were in season. I ordered two beers and asked Fourth Brother what Third Sister did for a living. He said her husband had gotten into trouble, she had a falling out with her family, and moved out. I jokingly asked Fourth Brother why Third Sister moved into his house. He replied that he and Third Sister's husband were old friends who had known each other for many years, and when friends are in trouble, you have to help! Anyway, there are plenty of rooms in the house, so it's no big deal for her to take one. Third Sister is also very good; she takes care of the family's living expenses every day. Over drinks, Fourth Brother even boasted to me about some of Third Sister's "glorious days" in the past. I like women like that, but should I get involved or not? My situation at the time was more than a month after leaving Angel. In the following days, due to the sudden increase in work at the company, I was completely swallowed up by the relentless work, with almost no time to think.
I remember it was a Friday noon, and while I was having lunch with a colleague, I received a text message from her. I was quite surprised; it read, "Want to come back to play mahjong tomorrow? We're one short!" The text message that left me completely bewildered started to make my head spin as I thought about it: "There's still one day left, and she already knows we're one short for mahjong? Is she really asking me to come back and play mahjong? If she really just wants to win a little money from me, she has so many bills in her wallet that it's a hassle to count them all! And she still thinks it's not enough? I always felt that 'something unusual would happen between us the first time I met her.' Haha, that's a phrase my colleague always uses when talking to girls on QQ! I didn't know how to reply. If I went back, I was afraid my department head at work wouldn't allow it; if I didn't go back, I was afraid my third sister would get angry. Torn between these feelings, I confided in my best friend and asked him to help me weigh the options. He said, 'No sex is bitter, no sex is boring, no sex is just listless; finding sex is hard, finding sex is annoying, finding a good sex isn't easy!' We both laughed at the same time, the implication being that he was definitely encouraging me to go back and see my third sister." I steeled myself and went to my supervisor, telling him I was sick. He pressed me to tell him what was wrong, and I said I was embarrassed to say, as he didn't know what was wrong with me. Because I usually respected him, he gave me face and gave me a day off. Of course, I wasn't sick; if I were, it would be lovesickness!
I rushed to my fourth brother's house by taxi, only to find, to my utter dismay, my third sister, my fourth brother, and the other two were playing mahjong. I was very disappointed. "Why is it that the greater the hope, the greater the disappointment?" I suppressed my boredom and stood behind my fourth brother watching his tiles. When he drew a two of dots and was considering, I exclaimed, "Bra!" My third sister glanced at me a few times, and I noticed. She said, "Not busy today? It's unfortunate we just had enough people." I replied, "I didn't come to play mahjong; I came to say goodbye to my fourth brother." (Just in time, I learned I was being transferred to another city in Anhui, as mentioned in the previous post, "My Angel"). I thought to myself, "Trying to provoke me? I'll provoke you back!" My fourth brother asked me where I was going, and I said I didn't know yet, I'd go wherever they assigned me. He casually added, even more melancholy, "Come back and visit your fourth brother often when you have time." I said okay, and then left them a message for my third sister: "Call me often," though I didn't name her. I returned to work angrily, looking listless and utterly dejected! Why is an old woman so obsessed? I stubbed out my cigarette, then lit another, just watching it burn quietly. I felt empty, like the cigarette itself, rising into the sky and disappearing. Watching it gradually fade away, I smelled a faint scent in the air. The ash I flicked away was so lonely. Lonely as I am. First it was Angel's betrayal, and now this old woman is provoking me again! Smoke swirls, burning quietly.
That night, I received another text from her. "Are you angry?" I didn't reply. Her message was like salt rubbed into a wound, the pain still lingering in my heart. I mustered my courage and replied, "Why are you angry? I'm about to leave for another city." She asked where I was going. "I said I don't know yet." She asked a pivotal question: "I heard that your area produces a kind of sunflower seed that's especially delicious, is that true?" I understood what she meant and answered, "Yes, but the yield is very low, so it's rare and expensive." A man, a smoker, is almost completely indifferent to snacks. I only knew that the sunflower seeds were expensive, not that they tasted good. I texted, "Give me your address, I'll get you some to try." She said she didn't have an address. "Then what should I do?" "How far is it from Lao Si's house?" "Not far, but it's very late, it's dangerous." "Who said I'm going now? If it's not far, I'll go buy it myself." "Then I'll see if they have any tomorrow, and I'll let you know if they do." "Okay, goodnight." We exchanged many messages that night, but these are the only ones I can remember. The next morning, I rushed to my friend's shop, because he specializes in this business. He asked me strangely, "Do you want some?" I said a friend wanted me to buy some. When I asked the price, he said, "It's 25 yuan a jin (500g) to outsiders, but I'll sell it to you for 19!" I was shocked! What kind of nonsense is this? 25 yuan a jin for sunflower seeds? It's been several years since 2008, the night Shenzhou VII launched! For a woman's heart, spending a hundred or so yuan is worth it! I bought 5 jin at once—5 jin of sunflower seeds hurt me more than buying a pack of cigarettes! Back at work, I immediately messaged my third sister, "I bought the sunflower seeds for you, come pick them up if you have time." She asked where I was getting off, and I told her the location. She replied, "I'll be there soon." Although we're both in the city, there's a 90km straight-line distance between us. I sat in my office, completely preoccupied with the thought of seeing her. Two messages later, her message arrived: "I'm at the XX entrance." "I'm coming down." "Okay, sure." Carrying five pounds of sunflower seeds, I sprinted from the third floor of the company building to the first floor like a freefall, crossed the street, and arrived at the XX entrance. She was different from the previous times. The early summer sun clung to everything, carrying an unbearable gloom! She was holding a silver umbrella, under which she wore a peach-colored women's blazer, all three buttons undone, revealing a low-cut black round-neck t-shirt. Her ample cleavage was on full display, and I felt an urge to reach out and grab her. She wore very low-waisted white casual pants, so low that I could see her pelvis, and the black round-neck t-shirt couldn't conceal her navel and waist. I was instantly smitten! Unlike the previous day, she was wearing large sunglasses with agate frames, her acne hidden beneath foundation, a far cry from her usual "glamour"! I smiled and said to her, "You really came!" "Is that not allowed?" She blushed like a young girl. I asked her how she got here. "By taxi." "How much did that cost?" "No problem, it's faster than the bus anyway." I handed her some sunflower seeds. "So many! You're so generous." "Since you like them, I bought a lot." "Are you going back right away?" "What, you want to treat me to dinner?" "Then I'll treat you. Will you wait for me? I get off work at 6." "Are there any internet cafes nearby?" "Yes, there's a big one just 200 meters ahead." "Then I'll wait for you at the internet cafe. You're not working overtime, are you?" "I don't think so. I'll try to get off work early." "Okay, then." She turned and walked towards the internet cafe, her gait graceful, like a snake.
Back in the office, my mind was filled with her "peach-pink blazer," "black round-neck t-shirt," "revealing cleavage," "snake-like walk," and the way she used to call my penis "bra," and how she laughed! My little brother also got all swollen up, standing upright between my legs all afternoon. Unfortunately, I was notified that there would be a meeting after get off work. Damn it, how much time do so many Chinese people waste on meetings! Big meetings, small meetings, national meetings—not a single one is a proper meeting! Our company's big manager sat in the center of a large table, surrounded by junior managers and ordinary employees like swarms of idiots. I couldn't hear a word they were saying; I just hoped they would stop rambling and the meeting would end quickly. A while later, I checked my watch—damn, it was almost 6:30! The more this happened, the more enthusiastic our boss became, spitting as he talked, and he still wasn't satisfied. I silently cursed him in my mind, "Does it kill you to shut up? If you keep rambling, I'll kill you with a knife and fork!" Like a monk chanting sutras! Finally, the meeting ended. I called my third sister, who said, "You're done with your work?" I said, "I really couldn't continue the meeting." "Where are we going now?" "A new dog meat restaurant opened; it looks good." "Can you eat dog meat in the summer?" "Business is good; want to try it?" "Okay, come to the internet cafe quickly." I ran to the internet cafe, and she was already waiting for me at the entrance. We took a taxi straight to the dog meat restaurant, got a small private room, ordered a medium-sized dog meat hot pot, and of course, beer! My good friend "Shao Gou Gou" from the sex forum has the nickname "Wine flows through the intestines, love grows ever stronger..." Yeah! With wine comes love! Wine is absolutely essential; I bring wine to movies and novels! Even I, "Invincible General," need wine to woo women! The hot pot at the dog meat restaurant was indeed potent; it made this old woman sweat profusely. She had already taken off her peach-colored blazer, and her two large breasts accentuated her full and voluptuous figure, making me secretly aroused. My sexual nerves also began to throb, swelling, and surging to their limit! I dared not stare at her any longer, for fear that the stimulation would be too great and I would lose control and ejaculate prematurely. I shifted my focus and started drinking. I got a large beer mug, probably big enough to hold two and a half bottles of beer. I drank half a mug myself to cool down my craving, then tried to get her to drink, but it didn't work. Women get more cunning with age, especially beautiful ones! She didn't finish a single glass, while I'd already downed two. After we finished eating, I went to the bar to pay the bill. The owner said the woman in our private room had already paid. I looked around for Third Sister, but she was nowhere to be found. I walked to the street-facing side of the shop, lit a cigarette, and she appeared behind me, patted my shoulder, and said it was getting late and I should go home. She asked if I was going home too, and I said I was afraid I'd be late the next morning. (9693)
I climbed on top of her, holding her breasts in my hands and enjoying it. I said to her very seriously, "Your breasts are so big!" But she pushed me down with all her might. She sat up, put on her black pajamas, and took a roll of toilet paper from the box hanging behind the door. She first tore off a strip and threw it in front of me, then tore off another piece, folded it into a small piece, and inserted it into her underwear to pad her vagina. Finally, she tore off a lot more and held it in her hand. She went back to the head of the bed and carefully wiped away the fluids from our passionate lovemaking on the wet spot on the sheets. I told her to wash and change, but she said the weather had been bad these past few days and she would wash when it was sunny. Then she handed me a cigarette. We both leaned against the headboard, and the two bright cigarette butts looked particularly conspicuous in the dark room. She didn't say a word to me. I was thinking about her feelings. Her black pajamas were only buttoned up at the second button, and most of her breasts, which weren't covered, were faintly visible through the light as she smoked. I stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, turned halfway around, and stroked her protruding area with my right hand. At that moment, she was completely absorbed in smoking, oblivious to everything around her. She possessed a captivating beauty while smoking, a beauty I perhaps interpret as a weathered, world-weary beauty. She would occasionally exhale thin wisps of smoke, as if years of unhappiness had vanished with the smoke. But it seemed all her efforts were in vain; the present moment's carefree decadence and indulgence were far more appealing. After a long while, she said to me, "You can go now," and then turned to the other side, her hand instinctively grabbing a striped cotton blanket and covering herself. I felt bewildered; there are all kinds of women in the world! Women always say "heartless after pulling out the dick," but my experience was more like "the pussy is cold after the wetness, and you're kicked out of bed!" (Whether this is my original idea or not, you can figure it out for yourself!) I checked my watch, it was 2:45 AM, and my boyfriend should be asleep by now. So I got dressed and decided to leave immediately. As I opened the door, she said, "Hey, wait a minute." I didn't turn around. "Is there anything else?" She was holding a wad of cash and stuffed it into my shirt pocket. "What do you take me for? How could I do this!" "I didn't mean anything by it. Take a taxi home, be careful on the way." I slammed the money on the ground, scrambled out the door, and ran away. In the quiet night, I could only hear the crickets chirping incessantly beside me. I took a taxi back to the company. The rain fell intermittently along the way, and the raindrops on the windshield blurred my vision. I felt incredibly annoyed! "No words spoken, driving quietly, thinking back to the past, tears mixed with laughter, promising to spend every day with you, thinking of you again, I finally cried. So much sorrow in the car, I wish you to cherish your future from today onwards, no need to wait for me to come back one day, unable to break through the sorrow of the sky, it is two hearts in love that owe a future, even if I should not have abandoned you, the car drives away (my heart is even more broken), the past is covered by the sunrise!" Recalling the feelings at that time, I would like to use a climax of the lyrics "Let love end at sunrise" to describe it.
The next day I was late for work, still feeling annoyed from the night before! I got a severe scolding from my supervisor, since it was my fault. For the remaining two hours of the morning, I sat at my desk, lost in thought, hoping she would send me a text message explaining something, even just a greeting, but nothing came. In the afternoon, I called her, and she answered quickly. She told me we shouldn't be like this. I asked her why, but she remained silent. I sighed, was it just the age difference? I wasn't asking for a happy ending or a happy ending. She asked for my QQ number, saying we could chat on QQ sometime. I agreed. That evening, I went to an internet cafe early and asked her when she would come. She said I'd have to wait a while. I logged into my Legend of Mir account and went on a killing spree; all I wanted to do was kill. About an hour later, she finally messaged me. I logged off and onto QQ; her QQ number was "Tolerance." It was always me asking questions and her answering. The information I gathered was as follows: she got married at 21, in 1992. Damn it, I was only 13 when she got married. In 1995, she gave birth to her daughter at the age of 24. In 1998, her husband was sentenced to eight years in prison for assaulting someone with three other men and is currently serving his sentence in a prison in Anhui Province. She said her husband would be back in 2005. I asked her if she still loved her husband. She said that as long as her husband didn't betray her, she wouldn't leave him. Her family had assets worth millions in the early 1990s, and her husband's seafood business was now managed by his younger brother and was doing quite well. The reason she moved to her fourth brother's house was because her parents kept pressuring her to divorce, and she didn't want to. She really didn't want to live with her family anymore, so she moved out to avoid them and change her environment. She also told me that I was the only man in her life besides her husband. I was skeptical; I don't believe a woman would tell others that she had affairs with other men, except for prostitutes! I asked to video chat with her, but she refused.
A few days later, I was transferred to another city in Anhui. My work performance was unanimously praised within the company, and I, not yet 30, was appointed as the deputy manager. The work environment changed; my private office was equipped with broadband, and I could even log into "Spring Blossoms, Sex Bar with You" during work hours. One day in 2005, a user named "Purple Mood" sent a video request. It wasn't until I saw her that I remembered her! I had forgotten her for two years! Her first words were, "I'm divorced." I asked why. "He changed. After he left, he became a different person. He found prostitutes at karaoke bars and kept a sugar daddy." "What are you going to do?" "I want to see you." "When are you coming? You're welcome." "How about this Saturday?" "Okay, I'll wait for you." Smart women know that the best strategy for dealing with men is to make them think she is weak. So, the seemingly weakest woman may actually be much stronger than most men. Women's emotions are strange; if you don't gain their respect, you won't gain their love. Men may fall in love out of pity and sympathy, but women only love men they respect. If you see a woman fall in love with someone out of pity and sympathy, you can be certain that such love is not genuine and will never last. She arrived in my city by train on Saturday afternoon, and I picked her up. Her appearance needs no further description; she was still as radiant as ever. However, I was wearing a newly bought navy blue suit, a neatly styled buzz cut, and a burgundy tie, giving me a slightly more sophisticated air. At first glance, she gazed at me with deep affection. I led her straight to the hotel I had booked. As soon as we entered, she hugged me tightly, remaining silent for a long time. I could feel the strength of her embrace; she was crying. I wanted to see her cry, but I couldn't resist her pleas. I comforted her, saying, "It's alright, it'll all be alright." I reciprocated by hugging her waist tighter. She was wearing a dark green lace dress. She asked how I was doing, and I said, "So-so." He asked again if I missed her, and I replied, "I often dream of you, and your 'two pancakes'." "You heartless little thing, you haven't even asked about anyone else's well-being these days!" The deathly air in the room was pierced like lightning by my words "two pancakes," and the laughter of a man and a woman broke through. I picked her up and carried her to the bed. I grasped her breasts with both hands, and as my lips approached her red lips, I noticed she wasn't wearing heavy makeup; only one or two nipples remained on her face. Two frantic tongues intertwined repeatedly in the passage formed by two mouths, and four hands groped and groped wildly in a two-cubic-meter space. In this space, I could feel mountains, water, and caves. I began to take off her light green wool sweater, revealing a dark red long-sleeved bra and a purplish-red bra underneath. I couldn't resist kissing her hardened nipples. Her breasts were still smooth, but they had lost their elasticity and were a little saggy; I thought it might be due to a lack of male lubrication. She lay on the bed, her head raised, her eyes closed, enjoying the small amounts of caresses, hugs, and sexual contact. After kissing her breasts enough, I stretched my tongue down to her belly, which was perfect except for a few stretch marks. Suddenly, she sat up, kissing my lips passionately, quickly removing my coat and tie, and eagerly unbuttoning my shirt. She pulled it out from under my belt, her hands reaching under my back to caress me. We were having sex, but I sensed that this woman beside me, this animal, didn't need sex, she needed love! I remained stiff and motionless, letting her assault my body. She began unbuckling my belt, unzipping my pants, her left hand naturally reaching in to touch my penis, which she aroused into a three-dimensional "Tai" shape. It was my turn to perform. I reached down and removed her boots, heading straight for her genitals, my mouth entwined with her tongue. My hands moved inside and out, up and down, until, like a dam releasing its floodgates, a torrent of fluid gushed forth. The lubricating love juice moistened my fingers, and I could feel the clean, slippery sensation between them, with tiny, glistening droplets shimmering on my fingertips. I wanted to kiss her genitals, but she immediately objected. She said she really wanted it, and I shyly asked her to kiss my genitals, but she shook her head and refused. I knew that such a request required intimacy to succeed, so I didn't force her. Forcing it would be futile, so why bother? (8423)
I quickly ripped off her lower garments and her purplish-red panties. It was the first time I'd seen her pubic hair; it was thick, long, and spread widely. Her dark labia majora couldn't contain her long labia minora, and her pomegranate-red clitoris occasionally peeked out. I quickly took off my own clothes and climbed on top of her. She spread her legs, and I thrust into her vagina without aiming. Her inner thighs were wet, as if lubricated by our mechanical movements. "Ah!" she cried out, her mouth wide open. I thrust in and out forcefully, and she gripped my back tightly with both hands, so tightly that I could even feel the pain. I thrust left and right, up and down, grinding back and forth until she could barely breathe. Her mouth was wide open, and her moans were getting softer. It had only been 10 minutes, but I clearly remembered her favorite position. I pulled out my penis, spread her legs, and brought them together. She seemed to want to laugh, but also a little embarrassed. I told her I'd satisfy her properly today. I inserted my penis between her legs, but it wouldn't go in. She reached out her right hand, grasped my penis, and tried to push it inside. I felt it was in, and then I thrust harder. Before I'd even thrust ten times, I heard her familiar, strange sounds, "Mmm~~~" "Mmm~~~" "Mmm~~~" "Mmm~~~" "Mmm~~~" "Mmm~~~" "Mmm~~~" "Mmm~~~" "Mmm~~~" I was thrusting with all my might to make her climax, not because of my own feelings. I held this position for 20 minutes. She supported me with her shoulders and said, "Don't do this anymore, I can't take it!" I felt her vagina begin to contract rhythmically, faster and faster—this was the feeling I liked. She was so wet; our pubic hair was practically brushed clean, clumped together. Even my testicles were dripping wet, not to mention the sheets. I asked her if she liked it. She said, "Yes, but I can't take it now." I asked if she was tired. "How could I be tired?" I patted her shoulder and said, "You must be tired." She turned over and lay on the bed. I lifted her pelvis with both hands, guiding her to maintain the correct position. I touched her vaginal opening with my right index finger; it was still wet. I then lifted my penis, preparing it for penetration. With a thrust, my penis slid in. I began to thrust in and out with great force, pulling my penis to the vaginal opening each time before plunging it in. My magnificent testicles slapped against my third sister's perineum with a loud "slap, slap." My third sister's moans grew louder and her breathing heavier. "Oh~ oh~~!!" Each moan was accompanied by a long exhale. She gripped the sheets tightly with both hands. I could feel her vagina contracting in waves, and with each deep thrust, it felt like a small mouth was trying to engulf my glans. I paused for a moment, then pulled out my penis. I saw a thick layer of white discharge on it. I asked her, "Are you having discharge?" She kept her eyes closed and didn't react, still clutching the sheets. I thrust in again; my penis was thick and strong, filling my third sister's vagina completely, tightly gripping it. With each thrust, a wet, squelching sound came from inside her. I leaned down to grab her breasts, incredibly excited, and thrust fiercely. Just then, her phone on the bedside table rang. I stopped thrusting, and she grabbed the phone with her left hand, then hung up. Looking at my third sister from behind, her waist and hips were hourglass-shaped; she was drenched in sweat from my ministrations. I massaged her breasts again. "Ah! I can't take it anymore!" A sweet current surged through my body; her voice trembled. Seeing her sensitive reaction, I was incredibly excited. Finally, I couldn't hold back any longer and quickly pulled out my penis, letting out a series of hot ejaculations onto her back. I saw two of the streams shoot incredibly far, landing on her reddened neck. I was exhausted and collapsed like a limp rag. We both fell into a deep sleep and didn't wake up until 8 PM. I woke her up, kneading her breasts with one hand. She seemed half-asleep and asked me what time it was. I picked her up and took her to the bathroom. She stood in front of the sink, supporting herself with one arm. I adjusted the hot water, took her hand, and we showered together, washing away the lustful fluids that covered our bodies. After the shower, I took her to eat and buy her some lingerie. Everything was as harmonious as a couple's. Back in the room, we made love passionately for several hours. Except for not letting me kiss her genitals, her body was completely at my mercy, and I fucked her until I couldn't ejaculate anymore. The next day, we rested again and slept until 1 PM. She then talked to me about something. She lit a cigarette and said, "Some divorced women think that since they can't find love but still need a living, breathing man, they might as well have a one-night stand. So they seduce someone on QQ with a few words, go straight to a safe hotel after logging off, look at the strange man, feel empty inside, and actually do what animals do. Then they suddenly regretfully realize that they are still too traditional women." She asked me what I thought, and I said, "After having sex, if you don't exchange feelings and then separate and let each other disappear into the vast sea of people, then it's like you didn't have sex at all." She then asked me if I would be willing to live with her. I was stumped by this question! I couldn't say a word. At that time, I couldn't give an answer! I have a very honest woman, and there is definitely a distance between real life and true love! I like Third Sister, but I can't live with her. I can't face my honest woman, and I absolutely can't withstand the scolding from my family! Men's psychology is strange. Two years ago, when I met Third Sister, I always hoped that this woman of the night wouldn't be like a woman of the night, but rather like a girl from a good family, or a lady from a respectable family. But now I've met a perfectly decent, innocent woman, and yet I still desperately want my third sister to be like a prostitute. She told me, "I want a home." A woman doesn't need a reason to fall for a man, and men will never understand women's reasons anyway. I told her, "Give me time to think about it!" That afternoon, I saw my third sister off at the train station. I stood alone on the platform as the crowds dispersed, but I remained motionless, pondering and making a choice. My wife called to ask what I'd been doing the past few days, and I hadn't contacted her. I brushed her off with "busy with work." I compared the two women before me, and also considered the perspective of my parents. Before leaving, I made my decision: change my phone number! I didn't want to tell my third sister my decision in person. Since then, until today, the third day of Shenzhou VII's mission, I haven't contacted her. She no longer holds any allure for me. What I feel is that I can't face this woman who loves me, this weak woman; I have a deep fear of facing her. Because I cannot choose her!
"Sleeping with someone for love is frustrating, because you're not loving them; sleeping with someone not for love is also frustrating, because you're the one who's pathetic." Friends, what do you think? (The End)

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/129318.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=129318&aspx=1

Previous Page : I slept with the landlord's wife at the landlord's house.

Next Page : Urban Romance - Chapter 202: Jade Heart, Xu Qing's Family Tragedy

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

When you catch the two of a kind, you must shout "Bra!"

comment Open a new window to view comments