He fell in love with a lonely young woman

Six months ago, I bought an 80-square-meter apartment in the city for myself (I don't want to be a mortgage slave, so I'll raise a daughter!). I only go back home on weekends. Coincidentally, a couple lives in the larger apartment downstairs. The woman is my high school classmate, Meng Xiang, the prettiest girl in our class. Eight or nine years have passed, and she's now a married woman, with a captivating figure and mature charm. The first time I saw her in the neighborhood, I was speechless with amazement. Especially when I walked past her, the faint fragrance I caught felt like a delicate ribbon tied to my heart, haunting my dreams.

During our conversation, I learned that her husband was her college classmate, a pharmaceutical salesman who was often away from home for two or three weeks at a time. They got married three years ago, bought a house and a car, both registered in her name. I told her her husband truly loved her, and she just smiled. I've met her husband twice, just exchanged greetings.

I didn't like him much. I often thought: "The high drug prices are all because of you and those unscrupulous doctors. You make so much money and are always out running around, not even keeping your beautiful wives. Something's wrong with you..." Then I thought, "It's so damn good to be rich!" This is probably an inherent Chinese resentment towards the wealthy. Perhaps it was fate, but Meng Xiang's husband did indeed have problems.

On the afternoon of April 30th, because of the May Day holiday, I returned to my neighborhood and met Meng Xiang downstairs. She was unloading things from her car. I joked, "It's so different when things are going well at work! Need any help?"

"Sure, I was just having a problem. You're back just in time. Help me carry this box of fruit up." She smoothed a strand of hair near her eyebrow and smiled.

"Where's your husband? Isn't he home? I haven't seen him in a while."

She hesitated for a moment: "He... he's busy, he won't be back."

I sensed something was off and tactfully changed the subject. She lived on the third floor, not very high, but she had a lot of things, and it took her two trips to finish. I was already sweating. In return, she invited me inside. Although we were neighbors and classmates, I had never been to her house before, so I gladly agreed. Once inside, she changed out of her coat, bent down to take off her leather shoes and put on slippers. Through the neckline of her knitted sweater, I caught a glimpse of her delicate white cleavage and pink bra—a truly alluring sight. Especially

striking was the way her tight short skirt accentuated her rounded hips, causing my blood pressure to spike. When she straightened up, I was still somewhat dazed. I don't know if it was because I had bent over, or because she hadn't looked away from me—I think it was more the latter. She glanced at me, her face slightly flushed: "Sit wherever you like. I'll wash you an apple."

"Oh," I replied awkwardly, sitting on the long sofa in the living room, involuntarily gazing at the beautiful lines of her back.

She came over with a fruit platter and sat on the sofa next to me. Only then did I notice her beautiful calves and feet encased in black stockings, which were like fine fishnets. Her knees were small, making her calves appear high and rounded, and her ankles slender. Her feet weren't big, probably as long as my arm; I really wanted to pinch them.

She peeled an apple while chatting, asking why I wasn't married yet and if I had a girlfriend. I answered casually, jokingly saying she hadn't given this bookworm a chance. I noticed she deliberately avoided mentioning her husband.

To avoid another awkward situation, I said I wanted to see her room. In the master bedroom, I noticed a nail on the wall above the bed, but no photo was hanging there, only the remnants of a frame. The room seemed unoccupied for a long time. The other bedroom seemed to be Meng Xiang's room. There was a full-body photo of her on the wall. I stopped to look closely and pointed to the photo: "This room is best decorated because of her. So beautiful! I've never seen you wear this outfit before?"

"It was taken two years ago; both the person and the clothes are worn now," she said sadly.

I looked at her. "Rodin said, 'Every woman's most beautiful time lasts only two months,' but it seems your beauty isn't for two months, but for two years, ten years, and it will continue to be beautiful."

She giggled. "You're good at making girls happy. Tell me, how many girls have you fooled?"

"I'm telling the truth. I'm quite awkward and don't know how to express myself in love, otherwise I wouldn't be single anymore. I just speak my mind, there's no need to hide anything," I said earnestly.

She looked at me, and my face gradually turned red. I asked myself, "These words don't sound like my usual self." She seemed to be confirming something. "You've had a crush on me for ten years?"

"I...yes, oh no, that..." Sweat beaded on my forehead, and I reverted to my clumsy self.

"Hehe..." She laughed radiantly. "I believe you. You're awkward, but you know how to charm girls. Have an apple, people change, don't they? Let's go back to the living room." Her smile gradually faded, and she spoke quietly.

I sensed something in her words, but I didn't press the matter. "I'll wash my hands first." I didn't find any men's toiletries in the bathroom.

Coming out of the bathroom, she looked at my hands and said, "Why didn't you dry your hands?"

"Oh, there's only one towel, it's for you. I'll just let them air dry."

"It's alright, use it. You should wash your face too."

In the bathroom, I took the opportunity to deeply inhale Meng Xiang's unique scent on the towel. This scent made every cell in my body sensitive; I could hear my own heart pounding. It was a feeling I had never experienced before—was it primal desire?

Back on the sofa, I looked at the apple Meng Xiang handed me: "Peel another one. It's not good for me, a guest, to eat it all by myself. Let me serve you this once." As I spoke, I took the fruit knife from her.

"No need, I can't finish one." She looked at me meaningfully.

Taking the apple, I cut it in half and handed it to her, smiling, "It's fine like this."

Looking at the half apple, her eyes suddenly welled up with tears. This change left me bewildered: "What's wrong? Are you unhappy? Let's not break up, okay?" A woman crying like this over sharing an apple? I finally believed women were made of water.

"Sharing" an apple? A thought flashed through my mind, perhaps because—I tentatively asked her, "Are you and him…?"

She raised her red eyes and said, "You can tell, we're… getting a divorce. I haven't told anyone."

"What?" I feigned eagerness, secretly pleased. "Why?"

"His job, you know, for business, he provides those kinds of services when clients need them, sometimes he even participates. One night he was arrested by the police.

I remembered I hadn't seen that bastard for two months. A month ago, Meng Xiang was very depressed for two weeks. I took the opportunity to cup her face in my hands, wipe away her tears, and comforted her, saying, 'Since that's the case, he's not worth your love anymore, and he's not worth your sadness. Instead of clinging to him, you should find someone new. Seeing you sad makes me very sad too.'" Suddenly, Meng Xiang threw herself into my arms and began to sob violently. I held her close, gently patting her shoulders and back, my face pressed against her hair, inhaling its fragrance, feeling the warmth of her breath in my arms. Strangely, my heart was so calm; I wished this feeling could last forever. After a few minutes, her breathing gradually became steady. Was it about to end? My emotions tightened, and I involuntarily tightened my arms around her.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, looking up at me.

"What? My heartbeat?" Her question seemed to give me a clue.

"Yes, it's getting faster and faster." Just as I expected.

"That's because I'm afraid of losing you." I leaned down and kissed her lips, without resistance.

As our lips met, I felt a tear slide down her cheek to the corner of her mouth, and I lightly licked it with the tip of my tongue, our tongues touching. A current surged through us, making us tremble. "I want you to be happy," I whispered, holding her tightly.

Everything happened so naturally. She pushed me against the sofa armrest, straddling my waist, while her hands kneaded her waist and hips through her clothes, sometimes lightly, sometimes firmly. Feeling a slight pain, she furrowed her brow and let out a soft moan. We slipped our hands inside each other's clothes, her hips swaying as if seeking greater stimulation. Her smooth skin slid under my hands, beads of sweat appeared on our noses, and our breathing became heavy.

We tugged at each other's clothes, unable to tell who had undressed whom; I only knew that I had broken the clasp of her bra. Now we were both only wearing underwear, and she was pressed against the glass coffee table in front of the sofa. I lifted myself up, looking at her like a mermaid. Would she turn into sea foam? Would she shatter? I swore: I wouldn't let that happen. Seemingly sensing my inner turmoil, her eyes grew even more fervent.

Only one line of defense remained. What to do? Suddenly, a line from a movie (Terminator 1) came to mind. Yes, that's what I'll do. I bent down and used my teeth to bite down on her panties, the same color as her bra, slowly sliding them down. A scent mixed with lavender, sweat, sandalwood, or perhaps musk rushed through my olfactory cells to my cerebral cortex, making me almost lose control. My breath swept over her navel, her lower abdomen, her gentle embrace, and I felt her slightly warm breath uttering mesmerizing murmurs. She slightly raised her hips, matching my movements, and her pubic hair glistened with dew. I suppressed my desire until I pulled down her panties, held them to my nose in front of her, deeply inhaling her scent, and kissed her again… Feeling her urgency, we finally became one.

Worried that the coffee table couldn't support our weight, I knelt on one knee beside it, my hands supporting her hips, adjusting the angle as I entered and exited.

Her beautiful hair was spread out on the table, her eyes slightly closed, her face flushed, shy and radiant. Her chest and abdomen rose and fell with her breath, her right hand gripping the edge of the coffee table, her left hand holding my right arm. She arched her back slightly, swaying her body gently in rhythm with me, like a blooming narcissus swaying in the wind. My left hand sometimes kneaded her breasts, sometimes glided across her groin, sometimes teased her pubic hair.

"Ah...no...let's go to bed...ah..." she gasped, unable to resist.

This position was too exhausting, so I lowered my head and let her arms climb onto my neck, taking the opportunity to lift her body. I didn't do as she wished, but instead sat back on the sofa. We embraced face to face, our lips and tongues intertwined, until we couldn't breathe before parting. She seemed to have shed her previous shyness and became more proactive, her hips swaying, her breasts creating strange waves. I cupped her breast with my right hand, my thumb and forefinger pinching her nipple, while I took the other breast into my mouth, licking and rubbing it with my tongue and upper teeth. My left hand squeezed her buttocks hard. Under this quadruple stimulation, she bit her lower lip, tilted her head back, her body flushed, and scratched at my back with her fingers, feeling wave after wave of stimulation, suppressing soft moans from her nose… Finally, unable to hold on any longer, she put her hands on my shoulders, opened her mouth, and let out a long, trembling “Ah…” as she reached her climax. I felt her nails digging deep into my muscles and couldn’t help but respond with a soft “Uh…”.

The passion subsided, but the desire intensified.

Stroking her hair and skin as she lay on my chest, I knew the show was about to continue. The slow rhythm and the rapid beats complemented each other in the constant friction and collision, from the coffee table to the sofa, then to the bed, the dressing table. I carried her around tirelessly, not knowing where the strength came from. Sweat mingled, and the scratches on my back, soaked with sweat, throbbed with a dull ache, forcing me to shift my attention and thrust even faster, resulting in a sweeter pain. The sweat also made my body more slippery, my senses heightened; even a touch on her breasts and ribs elicited ecstatic moans.

Half an hour later, as I ejaculated into Meng Xiang's body with a series of rapid thrusts, she, already experiencing several orgasms, could only gasp softly. I lay on my side beside her, gently stroking her wet hair and back with one hand, and lightly pinching her nipple with the other, adjusting my breathing.

Suddenly, she sobbed again: "Hold me tight."

I pulled her tightly into my arms, and looking at her, my love surged. Before I could say "I love you!", Meng Xiang blinked at me and said, "How many days have you not showered?" "Two days," I answered truthfully, bewildered.

"You're filthy. You need to shower next time. But I like your scent." Her little tongue licked my chest, and she smiled slyly.

My heart skipped a beat, and I held her even tighter, watching her drift off to sleep with a smile on her lips.

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He fell in love with a lonely young woman

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