He rekindles his romance with his flirtatious and promiscuous first love, and seduces her at work until she's completely infatuated.

Like women, men subconsciously compare their current women with their past women, not for any particular reason, it's just human nature. After I got together with Zhao Simin, this super slut, it broadened my understanding of how slutty women can be, and it also reminded me of a woman from my past, my first love, who was also incredibly slutty. Four years have passed since we broke up. She graduated from university and started working, and we lost contact after that. She probably had a new boyfriend then, or maybe she was just angry with me; anyway, she blocked me on QQ and with my phone number. These days, connections between people are really fragile, maintained by a string of numbers. Once the numbers are gone, the connection is broken. But I still remembered her number. After much hesitation, I called her with a new phone number. She seemed surprised when she answered, but thankfully she wasn't angry. We chatted for a while, and then I added her back on QQ. Her personality hadn't changed much; her first message on QQ was, "What's up? Get to the point. Are you trying to pick me up again?" I was at a loss for words; it seems first love is always a man's Achilles' heel. Fortunately, we were old acquaintances, and after the initial awkwardness, we started chatting normally again. We chatted on and off for about two weeks, getting a general idea of each other's lives. After graduating from university, she went to work for a state-owned enterprise, where work was sometimes busy and sometimes not. She had a boyfriend, but they broke up, and she's currently single. She asked me how many girls I'd messed up. I told her that after her, I found a girlfriend named Liu Ting, and nothing else. She insisted on seeing Liu Ting's picture, and when I finally showed it to her, she said it wasn't interesting and that Liu Ting was better. Women's minds are really strange.

Of course, I didn't contact her just to chat casually; after talking a lot, I started asking her out. But she kept refusing, saying it was fine as it was and there was no need to meet. Then one day, she posted a status on QQ saying she was working overtime alone at the company. I saw an opportunity and offered to bring her some food and keep her company while she worked overtime. She initially refused, but after my persistent pleading, she finally agreed. I quickly went out, hailed a taxi, bought her favorite rice noodles, and went straight to her company. Seeing my first love again after so long, I felt she had changed quite a bit, mainly in her more mature and professional attire. Her white shirt was stretched taut by her large breasts, revealing the outline of her bra, and she wore gray trousers and black high heels, giving her a somewhat office lady look. After the rice noodles arrived, she stopped working and chatted with me while eating. The reason she was working alone at her desk in the huge office today was because she had lost a document she had prepared and had to rush to make another one overnight. Fortunately, she had all the necessary information and should be finished soon. After she finished her noodles, she went back to work. Bored by myself, I moved closer to her, trying to touch her inappropriately. She didn't physically resist, but calmly told me to get lost, saying there were security cameras. I looked up and sure enough, there was a security camera in the corner of the ceiling. I had no choice but to stay put. While she was working, I wandered around her floor and noticed that state-owned enterprises were indeed different; the decor was quite nice. The restrooms, in particular, had a hotel-like feel, with excellent facilities and amenities. Next to the restrooms was a shower room with two showerheads and a changing room – state-owned enterprises certainly offered better treatment.

By the time she finished her work, it was almost 11 pm, and the entire floor was empty. She was packing up to leave, and I told her to wait a bit before pulling her towards the shower room. As soon as we reached the shower room door, she sensed my intention and resisted a little. But after some pulling and tugging, she came into the changing room with me. The changing room lights were dim; I didn't know if they were broken or intentionally designed that way. I sat on a bench by the wall in the changing room and pulled my first love to sit down too. She cursed me as a pervert but sat down next to me. What followed was simple. I naturally reached out my right hand to embrace my first love, and my left hand naturally reached for her breasts, caressing them again after more than three years. After a while, my first love also became aroused, reaching for my crotch, feeling the change in my penis through my pants. I unbuttoned her shirt, but not all the way up, just the top three, then pulled it to the sides, the shirt was stuck on her shoulders, freeing only her large breasts. Her large breasts, protected only by a bra, could not escape my ravaging. I didn't rush to unhook the bra, but pulled it down a little, only exposing her two nipples. In the dim light, I couldn't see if the nipples had darkened compared to three years ago, but I could see that they were erect. I pinched one nipple in each hand and began to rub and squeeze, because I knew that the nipples were her sensitive spots. My first love suddenly cried out softly, asking me to be gentler, but her expression showed even more enjoyment, and the hand touching my penis increased the pressure. To further stimulate her, I turned to the side, lowered my head, and took one nipple into my mouth, gently biting, sucking, licking, and stroking it, constantly stimulating it with my teeth and tongue. My other hand was also playing with the other nipple, sometimes grabbing the entire breast tightly, sometimes pinching the nipple and pulling it high. Under the intense stimulation, my first love's breathing became heavier and heavier, and she let out seductive moans. She tilted her head back, thrust her chest forward, leaned against the wall, her legs sometimes straight and sometimes clamped together, and her hand went directly into my crotch, grabbing my erect penis and stroking it. At this moment, I suddenly had a wicked idea. Instead of rushing to the next step, I maintained this position, continuing to stimulate my first love's breasts and nipples. We played for a very, very long time, much longer than any foreplay, I estimate at least thirty minutes. I only played with her breasts and nipples, not touching anywhere else. I kissed, licked, bit, pinched, rubbed, squeezed, and scraped—lightly, heavily, quickly, slowly, gently, roughly—using every method I could think of. My first love went from enjoying it at the beginning, to begging for mercy halfway through, and finally entering a state of frenzy. It was the first time I had ever seen a woman enter such a state of frenzy before even reaching orgasm, as if she had taken an aphrodisiac. Her eyes were filled with lust, her expression was alluring, her whole body was limp, and even her voice became incredibly gentle, charming, and seductive. My first love, in a state of frenzy, whispered in my ear in an extremely gentle and seductive voice, "Please, fuck me, fuck me quickly. If you don't fuck me, I'll go to the street and grab any man to fuck me right now." Hearing such a voice and words, I believe no man could remain rational. Without saying a word, I pulled my first love up, made her turn her back to me, hold onto the bench, and stick her butt out, ready to be fucked. Only then did I notice the wetness on her crotch and the seat. Upon closer inspection, her entire thighs and half her buttocks were soaked; the amount of vaginal fluid was so abundant it looked like she had urinated, completely soaking her underwear and outer pants. I ripped off her pants and underwear, and sure enough, her entire vulva was overflowing with vaginal fluid, her opening wide open. I pulled down my pants, my penis erect, and my first love, wearing high heels, wiggled her hips, waiting for my penetration. As soon as my penis reached the entrance, she thrust backward, and with a "plop," my entire penis slid in all the way, like entering a waterfall. I grabbed my first love's big buttocks and started pounding into her, while she thrust her hips backward with such force that I had to lean forward and push off the ground to avoid being pushed back. The collision of flesh was extremely intense, the slapping sounds mixed with the squelching sounds, probably audible in the corridor, and my first love's moans were unrestrained, completely disregarding whether anyone was outside. I was incredibly excited, slapping my first love's big ass while I was fucking her, cursing her as she did so, calling her a slut, a whore who let any man on the street fuck her. My first love's moans were now incoherent; sometimes she responded to my insults, sometimes she cursed herself, and sometimes she uttered nonsensical sentences. Perhaps because the foreplay had been so long, both of us were fully stimulated and excited, and with the intense fucking, my first love had orgasmed two or three times in just a few minutes, and I was starting to lose control myself. In that state of excitement and stimulation, I couldn't stop, nor did I intend to; I just unleashed my male instincts, fucking, fucking relentlessly, without any technique, just instinctively thrusting until I ejaculated all my semen inside her. I gripped my first love's ass, thrusting in with all my might, screaming continuously, ejaculating violently for at least ten seconds. I had never ejaculated so much or so intensely before, gushing out wave after wave, feeling like I was releasing everything. After the climax, the two collapsed onto the bench, panting as if they had just finished a marathon. The first love was half-squatting, half-kneeling beside the bench, her upper body slumped over it, her hair disheveled, her eyes glazed, breathing heavily. Her shirt was half-open, caught on her arm, her bra was pulled up, and her underwear and pants hung at her ankles, her bare buttocks exposed. Semen mixed with vaginal fluid flowed from her vagina, dripping down her thighs to the floor—she looked exactly like someone who had just been raped.

She rested for a while before recovering. Since we were in the shower, we both took off our clothes and rinsed off. Embarrassingly, after rinsing, we realized there were no towels in the shower. I had to run naked to the men's restroom to get a lot of toilet paper to dry myself off. After we finished, we got dressed and went back to the office. Looking at the clock, it was already past midnight, so we quickly packed up and took a taxi home. The next day, she told me on QQ that it was all my fault for being too rough; I had hurt her nipples and buttocks. Especially her nipples—even the slightest rubbing or touch hurt, and the pain stimulated her, causing her to become wet. It made her restless, and her colleagues were giving her strange looks. I asked her how it felt yesterday. She said it was too stimulating; she didn't know her nipples and breasts were so sensitive, and she had never been played with for so long before. She said that her vagina was constantly flowing, not the usual wet feeling, but a continuous flow, with a throbbing, clenching sensation. I said yes, even her outer pants were soaked through. She said, "Don't even mention it. When I got home, my mom was worried about me and waited for me the whole time. I didn't even dare go into the living room, afraid my mom would see me. I ran straight to the bedroom to change my pants and then washed them. My mom kept asking me what happened. I said I spilled something on my pants while eating, and that's how I got away with it.

Later, I don't know why, she wouldn't let me go with her when she was working overtime anymore, and she said it was best not to show up near her workplace. I asked her why, but she wouldn't say. Until winter, I invited her to a hot spring, and we stayed there one night. After our passionate encounter, she suddenly took out her phone and showed me a picture of a man, asking if he was handsome. The man in the picture looked to be about 30 years old, and to be honest, he was quite handsome. I asked who he was. She said he was her colleague. I said, 'You've got your eye on him?' She nodded. I said, 'Is he not married yet? He looks quite old.' She said no, he's 31, currently unmarried and not dating. He's handsome, very hardworking, and a good person. Lots of women at work have their eyes on him." I said, "So he's got high standards, he doesn't even like them?" She said she didn't know, there were rumors that he had someone he liked. I chuckled and said, "Handsome but no women, maybe he's gay." She shook her head first, then hesitated for a moment, and asked me, "Do you think gay men react to women?" I said, "What kind of reaction?" She said, "They get hard." I said, "How would I know? I'm not gay. You'll know if you try." She was quite generous, nodding, and said, "I tried, he got hard." I was shocked, feeling indescribably complicated, and said, "Holy crap, how did you try? Did he sleep with you?" She shook her head, a little helplessly, and said, "No, it's fine after he slept with me." I said, "What do you mean?" Apparently, she had her eye on this colleague from the moment she joined the company, and had tried all sorts of methods to attract his attention, so she could only resort to seduction, since she had done that before. At first, she flirted with him in various ways, occasionally showing cleavage and making physical contact. Unexpectedly, this guy didn't reciprocate; he'd look if she showed off, but never initiated any contact. As time went on, she became quite anxious. On one hand, she was increasingly attracted to him, and on the other hand, it was a blow to her self-confidence. One night, knowing he had to work overtime, she deliberately stayed behind as well, until all the other colleagues left. She then went to his work area, saying she saw he looked tired and offered to give him a massage. This time, she didn't care about the cameras. The guy was quite shameless; he let her massage him. Naturally, she continued to seduce him, massaging from his shoulders to his crotch, until he was aroused. He's a man after all; he reacted and had desires. For the first time, he took the initiative to touch her. She was quite happy; after all, he had taken the initiative, making her feel a sense of accomplishment. He then pulled her hand and tried to shove it into his crotch. My first love understood perfectly. She proactively unbuckled his belt, pulled down his underwear, and knelt in the workstation—right in a blind spot for the security camera—before giving him oral sex. Her oral sex skills were quite impressive; this guy probably hadn't experienced anything like it before. She said he couldn't take it after a few minutes, feeling like he wanted her to stop but also wanted her to keep going. He ejaculated after a few more strokes, all of it going into her mouth. Hearing this, I felt a surge of anxiety and said, "Isn't that shameless? You haven't even kissed his lips yet, and you're already kissing his penis! Won't men look down on you even more?" My first love, however, blamed me, saying, "What can I do? He's so popular." I inwardly cursed him as an idiot, but I didn't show it. My first love continued, saying that after that, this guy frequently asked her to lick his penis—in the toilet, in the car, in the park. But my first love found it strange that this guy never tried to have sex with her, never even touched her vagina; at most, he'd touch her breasts. Several times she got desperate and begged him to have sex with her, but he seemed uninterested, just saying it was fine as it was. Until recently, a few colleagues went on a business trip together, and the two of them happened to be there. My first love tried every means to get away from her colleagues and sneaked into his room, thinking that now that they were in the same room, they could finally consummate their relationship. But this guy yelled at her and told her to get out. My first love said she was heartbroken, ran away crying, and cried all night in her room. The next day, he didn't even offer her any comfort, acting like nothing had happened, which made her completely give up, and she hasn't spoken to him since.

I honestly don't understand what's wrong with this guy. Maybe he has psychological issues, or maybe he's gay, but one thing is certain: my first love is definitely a slutty, promiscuous woman.

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He rekindles his romance with his flirtatious and promiscuous first love, and seduces her at work until she's completely infatuated.

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