Old flame or one-night stand?

Actually, "online relationship" isn't quite accurate; "rekindling an old flame" is more fitting. My wife's best friend (hereinafter referred to as Y) and I had a relationship that was far more than just a one-night stand. Y is said to be my wife's best friend, but I actually knew her long before my wife; we were classmates in the same year but different departments at university. To be honest, before university, I was a genuinely good kid, diligent in my studies, almost completely oblivious to matters of the heart, and my romantic history was truly pitiful. I only had one childhood sweetheart, a pure and innocent first love—if you could call it love, it was the hazy, ambiguous kind, the closest we ever got was holding hands, and I was a bona fide virgin back then. Because of this, I almost perfectly met all the expectations of my parents, who were educators. But after the exciting yet tedious first year of university, I started to change from my second year onwards. It's not that I stopped studying hard, but rather that I suddenly became enlightened about relationships, and quite dramatically so. Of course, this is just a somewhat acceptable description I've given myself; to be honest, it's simple: two words sum it up: scumbag. During my last three years of university, I ruined many girls, especially my first love. She is perhaps a permanent scar in my heart, something I still regret to this day. It seems people only learn to reflect and repent as they grow older.

My relationships with men and women during university were extremely messy and not suitable for detailed discussion, so I'll just talk about Y. I met Y at a campus event, and we were immediately attracted to each other. Having become more sophisticated in relationships, I naturally ended up dating Y as well. Although Y wasn't my first love, we were each other's first. In our sophomore year, we said goodbye to being boys and girls and became men and women. Later, I "actively" made my first love a woman. However, due to long-distance relationships (my first love and I were at different universities), I lost interest in that relationship and decisively dumped her, throwing myself wholeheartedly into my relationship with Y. My relationship with Y was the longest I ever had in university, though it only lasted a total of eight months. For eight months, we had what could be described as a frenzied sexual relationship; we did everything imaginable, and occasionally even tried things we wouldn't normally dare to imagine. Ultimately, we broke up because I "got it" again and fell for other girls. Y reacted strongly and resolutely disagreed, but I was young and arrogant, incredibly determined to dump Y, doing many wrong things and eventually turning us into sworn enemies, never to speak to each other again. After ruining a few more girls, I finally graduated from university. I then worked at my first company for a few years, remaining single throughout, and had a brief close relationship with my distant cousin. I then moved to my second company, working diligently and eventually rising to management, overseeing a very important department. A few years later, the company underwent a merger and restructuring, and my department absorbed the relevant departments of the acquired company. The first time I appeared in the new merged department, I saw a familiar face—a former lover I hadn't spoken to for almost ten years, the woman I finally truly understood and possessed for the first time: Y. During the self-introduction, Y embarrassed me, her direct supervisor, in front of the entire department. She ignored my outstretched hand, looking at me with the terrifying gaze of someone looking at a mortal enemy. I had to find a way to save face. At the time, I genuinely didn't care much; I was no longer the impulsive young person I once was. Besides, the breakup was ultimately my fault; she was just a victim, and I had no right to blame her. Later at work, I found an opportunity to talk to Y alone. When I apologized for what happened back then, there were tears in her eyes. However, her attitude towards me remained cold and aloof, just a normal superior-subordinate relationship. In the daily grind, I kept an eye on Y and discovered that there was a woman in another department of the merged company who was very close to Y, eating and leaving get off work together—the woman who would later become my boss at home. Initially, I was just curious, so I learned about my wife through various means. My wife had mentored Y when she joined the original company, so the relationship gradually transformed from mentor to best friend. So I started to intentionally or unintentionally get closer to Y and her wife. Being shameless was inevitable, and using work as a pretext for personal relationships was also frequently employed. After a period of contact, I, who had been single for a long time, gradually developed an interest in this woman who was two years older than me and also single, and then launched an intensive offensive. After all, my position was higher than hers, and I was shameless, shameless, and also quite humorous and considerate, so she gradually changed from initially being reluctant and perfunctory to accepting. That's how we began our clandestine relationship. (Note: At that time, foreign companies were very opposed to internal employee relationships.) While my wife and I were immersed in the sweetness of love, Y constantly spoke ill of me to her in an attempt to break us up. One day after work, she even cornered me in my office, wanting to have a serious talk. She wanted me to let go of my wife and not hurt a good woman who was no longer young and longed for love, because she didn't want my wife to go through the same experience as her. When I calmly explained to her that I genuinely loved my wife and wanted to truly cherish her, Y, like a mental patient, hysterically launched into a tirade of sarcastic remarks before slamming the door and leaving. Despite all the hardships, perseverance finally paid off, and I won her heart after overcoming countless obstacles. Before the wedding, although Y emphasized that she wasn't satisfied with me as the groom and felt I wasn't good enough for my wife, she still offered us her blessings for the first time. She specifically told me to love my wife well, otherwise she wouldn't let me off the hook, etc. In Y's eyes, I seemed to see the same tears as before. At the wedding, Y was very high-spirited, behaving unusually. I occasionally caught a glimpse of her eyes, and I sensed a mixture of resentment and sadness. Y didn't tell her wife about our past relationship, and I, like her, silently kept that secret until now. Later, I left my company and joined a state-owned enterprise, while Y resigned a few months later and went to work for a Singaporean company, soon leaving China for Singapore. Over the years, we've maintained close contact with Y; either she returns to China or we visit her in Singapore. Her attitude towards me has changed a lot; at least she's no longer cold. Laughter and conversation have become the norm most of the time, and occasionally she'll link arms with me, just like in college, for some intimate contact. Y has remained single, despite my wife's efforts to introduce her to potential partners, she has always subtly resisted. Once, my wife confronted her, and Y said she was deeply hurt in college and hadn't fully recovered. When my wife told me about it, she kept cursing the jerk who hurt her, and I could only laugh it off and change the subject.

This time with Y was purely accidental; I never imagined having any physical contact with her again. Actually, Y started acting strangely at the end of last year. After she returned to China, we had dinner together, and my wife brought up Y's marriage prospects again. To my surprise, Y told my wife, "I'm not looking for a man anymore. Why don't you generously share your husband with me, and we can both be his wives?" I almost choked when I heard that. My heartless wife actually laughed and said, "Okay, that's a bargain for him!" They even joked around for a while. What a heartless girl! Later, Y returned to Singapore. My wife was busy with work, so I naturally went to see her off. Before going through customs at the airport, Y asked if I could hug her, and I didn't refuse. And so, after more than ten years, we hugged again, just like we did in our sophomore year of college. Just as I was hugging Y, reminiscing about those days, Y pushed me away, tears welling in her eyes, and said, "I hate you." Then she turned and went into immigration, leaving me standing there, stunned.

In late May of this year, one evening I was working overtime, chatting with my "mother-in-law" when the phone rang. It was an unfamiliar landline number. When I answered, I heard Y's voice, telling me to go to the Pudong Airport HMD immediately. Since she always tells my wife in advance when she's going back to China, and there hadn't been any prior news of her return, I suspected it might be a prank or something else. However, the person on the other end was hysterically venting, alternating between crying and laughter. Annoyed, I hung up and continued chatting with my "mother-in-law," but the phone rang again immediately. I answered, and there was another fit of hysteria, then I hung up again. It rang again, I didn't answer. It rang again after being disconnected, and finally, I had no choice but to answer. After a while of venting, the phone went silent, then hung up on its own. I checked and confirmed that the caller was indeed from the hotel Y had mentioned. Now I was worried something had happened to Y. I told my wife I might be working late and wouldn't be home, and then drove to the airport late at night. When I got to the hotel, I found the room and knocked. The door opened, and Y stood there wearing a t-shirt and incredibly short shorts. She giggled when she saw me and said, "You still came. You were worried something might happen to me

, weren't you?" "Are you crazy? Why are you up all night? If nothing's wrong, I'm going home." Seeing that Y seemed mostly normal and there was nothing seriously wrong, I snapped at her without any patience.

"I'm sick, and you caused it. It's been over ten years, and it's incurable!" Y yelled back at me without any politeness.

"I can't be bothered with you. Go to sleep." Faced with Y's reply, I felt guilty and couldn't argue, so I changed the subject. After saying that, I turned to leave the room.

"xxx, I hate you, I hate you so much, I'll hate you for the rest of my life, but I can't forget you, I can't forget you, why did you have to appear again?" Y cursed and then suddenly sat on the carpet, lay on the bed, and burst into tears.

I was completely embarrassed. If I left, I was afraid something might happen to her; if I didn't leave, I was afraid something inappropriate might happen, so I could only stand there.

After an awkward period of time, Y finally stopped crying and leaned against the bed, sobbing softly. I continued to stand there, having to observe Y's actions from the side.

"I thought I could forget you completely, but why did I have to run into you again? You even married xxx, my best friend, and you even tried to steal her away! Why are you doing this to me? Why are you doing this to me?" Y said loudly, looking at me with grief and indignation.

I listened quietly without responding. Seeing that I didn't react, Y stood up on her own, walked to the table, picked up a can of beer, opened it, and started drinking. Only then did I notice a pile of empty beer bottles on the table, some already discarded and lying haphazardly. Y quickly finished the can, threw away the empty one, picked up another, opened it, and continued drinking. Seeing Y drinking like that to drown her sorrows, I didn't care about anything else. I went over and snatched the beer from Y's hand. In the ensuing struggle, most of the beer spilled on me. Y started hitting me repeatedly, crying as she did so. I silently endured Y's crying and hitting, a pang of guilt rising in my heart. Finally, after Y vented her frustration, I held her tightly in my arms and stroked her hair soothingly. After a long while, Y raised her head and asked softly,

"Don't go, stay with me, okay? I'm scared."

I nodded, helped her to the bedside, and gently placed her on the bed. Just as I was about to cover her with a blanket, she suddenly sat up and said,

"I'm going to take a shower first. You promised you wouldn't leave."

"I won't leave, go ahead and shower."

When Y came out of the shower, she had changed into a bathrobe. Although she was over 30, Y was still so beautiful. I sat on the sofa and just watched Y. Y slowly walked up to me, held my head, and leaned her body against my lowered head, stroking my hair as I had stroked hers before. Y pulled me up and pushed me down onto the bed, then slowly took off her bathrobe. As the bathrobe was undone, her familiar yet unfamiliar naked upper body was revealed, her slightly drooping breasts, although her nipples were still so tender. As her robe fell completely onto the carpet, a pair of flesh-colored panties came into view, the most intimate part of which faintly reflected a dark hue. There were also obvious wet stains on the panties. Y slowly walked to the soft bed and climbed on top of me, holding my head and pressing her beautiful lips to mine. More than a decade later, I once again slipped my tongue into Y's mouth, our tongues intertwining tightly, exchanging saliva, while my hands caressed her waist. After leaving Y's lips, I moved my mouth to her breasts, which hung on my chest. Her nipples, like ripe grapes, stood erect on the mountainside. With a moan from Y, I took one nipple completely into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue, eliciting waves of pleasurable groans from her. While her nipples were being sucked and teased in my mouth, Y's hands weren't idle. She unzipped her pants, reached inside, and grasped my already aroused penis, squeezing it tightly and stroking it up and down a few times. My hands weren't idle either; I caressed her buttocks, occasionally slipping them under her panties to touch her vagina. Each touch made her tremble, and my grip on my penis tightened. After a while of this, I couldn't hold back any longer. I pulled her over, pinning her beneath me, and quickly stripped myself naked. My penis, red from her grip, ripped off her panties, lifted her legs, and, without even putting on my favorite Okamoto condom, aimed at that honeyed cave I hadn't entered in over a decade. Without hesitation or reservation, I thrust my glans against her soft, sponge-like cervix. Perhaps due to the force, she gripped my shoulders tightly, drawing blood, but her vagina continued to massage my intruding penis with each contraction. Over a decade later, we made love again. Her vagina felt a little looser than it had been a decade or so ago, no longer feeling tightly bound; she moaned more often than she had a decade ago, and knew better how to use her voice to stimulate a man's sexual desire; her body was more feminine than it had been a decade ago, her once small breasts had sagged a bit with the ravages of time, but were noticeably fuller, perhaps from being fondled and sucked by men countless times over the past decade. Thinking of this, a pang of sadness welled up inside me, and I couldn't help but quicken my thrusts, ramming my glans hard against her cervix, causing her to hold me even tighter. With a series of fierce and relentless thrusts, the sounds of slapping became noticeably more frequent, and when Simmons was almost "tortured" beyond recognition, I suppressed the urge to urinate, withdrew my penis, and let it drape over her pubic hair, letting it contract and throb as I ejaculated thin streams of semen onto her body. My output was too high during that period, with homework and school assignments, and my work wasn't easy either, so thick and viscous semen was unlikely. Lying sprawled on the bed, my penis, which had just exerted itself so vigorously, drooped limply on my legs, the glans and shaft covered in white, sticky fluid. I felt a mixture of pleasure and exhaustion, and I closed my eyes, comfortably resting. Y, after lying there for a while, sat up. Without even going to the bathroom to clean off the "glue," she unexpectedly grabbed my penis and opened her mouth, taking it in. Damn, this felt amazing! After more than a decade, Y was putting my penis in her mouth again. A decade ago, getting her to do it was a huge effort—washing and scrubbing. But now, after more than a decade, with my unwashed penis still covered in white glue, she grabbed it without a second thought and shoved it into her mouth. Women need to be explored. Watching my penis go in and out of Y's mouth, feeling her tongue rubbing and caressing the glans, occasionally her teeth leaving a painful memory, the stimulation of my scrotum, played with by her tender hands, sending waves of pleasure up my spine. And just like that, the limp penis gradually straightened again. I couldn't help but moan with pleasure. Hearing my cry, Y stopped all her movements, looked up at me, and then, with a wicked smile, lowered her head again to take my penis in her mouth. This time, her small mouth perfectly enveloped the glans, tightly closing below the coronal sulcus. Then, she moved downwards rapidly, thrusting upwards at a very fast pace, her tongue teasing and probing. I felt so good that I started doing a strange kind of sit-up, repeatedly thrusting forward to pull her head or hair. At that speed, I estimate it didn't even take a minute before I cried out and helplessly ejaculated in her mouth. Then, like someone who had been tortured, I collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Y spit the semen from her mouth onto a piece of paper, then crawl to my side, smiling at me. Before I could react, she suddenly kissed me, and then her tongue, like an alien, burrowed into my mouth, accompanied by a strong, fishy smell. I suddenly realized, damn it, it was my semen! A wave of nausea washed over me, and I quickly pushed Y away and ran to the bathroom to rinse my mouth. Behind me, Y was naked on the bed, laughing like a madman. After rinsing my mouth and cleaning myself up, I went to the outer room, sat on the sofa, lit a cigarette, and maliciously "praised" her sitting on the bed in the inner room while puffing out smoke:

"You've slept with a lot of men over the past ten years, haven't you? You've given men a lot of oral sex, haven't you? So skilled, you made me ejaculate in a minute."

I thought she would react strongly, but to my surprise, she was very calm. She got off the bed, came out, picked up a cigarette, lit it, sat on the coffee table, looked at me, took a puff, and said softly, "Slept with a lot of men, but you're the only one I've ever given oral sex to."

After saying that, she turned her head and stared blankly at the moon in the night sky outside the window. After listening, I silently finished my cigarette and put it in the ashtray. Then I picked up another cigarette and lit it. She stubbed out her cigarette and said to me softly,

"Smoke less. Smoking too much can cause impotence. You're not as hard as you used to be."

After saying that, she reached out and touched my penis, then got up, shaking her breasts and swaying her hips as she walked towards the bathroom. Then I heard the sound of running water in the shower.

I held her in my arms on the big bed. She talked a lot, and I listened quietly. She said that seeing me at the company that year brought back her old wounds. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She wanted nothing more than to expose all the things I had done at the company, to let everyone know that I was a scumbag who played with women's feelings. But seeing me every day, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Every time I took the initiative to talk to her, she endured it so much, pretending to ignore me and treat me as just a normal colleague. Later, when I set my sights on my wife, she was mostly driven by jealousy, so she tried everything to stop me. But I was so shameless and persistent that my wife's heart was eventually captured, and she finally gave up. Later, she also realized that although I was a scumbag, she just couldn't forget me. She was tired of pretending to be indifferent, and for the sake of my wife, she forgave me. Actually, she had a boyfriend in Singapore, but she hadn't told my wife. Last time I went back, after she hugged me at the airport, she cried for a long time. She still loved me, but it was impossible now. So after I went back, I discussed marriage with my boyfriend, and we were actually very happy together. But a few days ago, we had a disagreement over a small matter, and she couldn't find anyone to confide in. She happened to have a business trip back to attend a meeting, so she secretly came back. She was conflicted about wanting to see me but also not wanting to see me, so she stayed near the airport and drank to relieve her frustration. When she got drunk, she called me, and after I refused, she became even angrier. Fueled by alcohol, she started harassing me with the attitude that the more I didn't want to come, the more I wanted her to come. Since I actually came, she took the opportunity to vent her anger, and then I, that scumbag, did it to her. After listening to her for a long time, she flicked my nose and said,

"How can I not forget you, you scumbag?"

"If a man isn't a scumbag, women won't love him, what else could it be?" I replied "contemptuously."

A sharp pain shot through my chest, and a delicate hand pinched and twisted a small patch of skin. "Shameless," Y said angrily, then reached down to my crotch, touching my limp penis, and said, "It was originally mine." "It

was yours just now. Go to sleep, you have to go to work," I said wearily.

"I want more," Y said, pressing closer and stroking myself.

"Queen, spare me! I've already ejaculated twice, I really can't take it anymore, I'll die from exhaustion if I keep going." I was genuinely tired and had no desire for more.

"Only twice and you can't take it anymore? I don't believe it. Are you saving it for when you get home? Fine, I'll let you off the hook," Y said playfully.

"It's true what they say, 'Only the ox dies from exhaustion, not the land is worn out from plowing,'" I muttered helplessly.

A few hours later, I got up and went to work with dark circles under my eyes. Before leaving, I kissed the still-sleeping Y, left her a note, and quietly left. In the afternoon, I received a call from my wife saying that Y had returned from Singapore and we could have dinner together after work. I agreed verbally, but in my heart, I was already having sex with Y last night and this morning. Y's behavior at dinner that night made me realize that women's acting skills are innate; her performance was absolutely perfect, but I still felt a chill in my heart. Later, this was confirmed again by my "in-law's mother"—you really need a strong heart. During dinner, Y told my wife about her boyfriend, and my wife was overjoyed, insisting that Y bring him over for her to "check out," saying she couldn't let her best friend go so easily. She even asked me to "check out" him too! Haha, quite funny—the first boyfriend checking if the current boyfriend is qualified. What to check? Who's harder? Who lasts longer?

During summer vacation, my wife took me and the kids on a grand trip to Singapore for the "check-out." Seeing Y nestled sweetly beside that person, radiating happiness, I admit I felt a little heartbroken, but mostly relieved and grateful, and a little guilty towards my wife. That day in Sentosa, my wife took the kids to buy ice cream, and I stayed with Y. I said to her,

"Seeing you happy, I'm truly relieved and at peace."

"You scumbag should feel guilty for the rest of your life," Y said with a smile.

"Come on, let that scumbag hug you again. It won't be so easy to get another hug later; who knows who'll approve it?" I said with a wicked grin.

"You're always taking advantage of me," Y said shyly, then let me pull her into my arms, holding her tightly.

Y is getting married this November, and that will be the end of our affair. I hope she'll be happy forever, and that no more scumbags will hurt her. I only chatted with her mother-in-law a few times this summer, had coffee with her once, but we didn't sleep together. Whether there will be any further developments depends on fate. For now, I'll stick to being the only scumbag I can harm.

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Today (October 19th), while I was at work, my wife called to tell me that Y is pregnant. Hearing her happy voice on the phone, to be honest, my first reaction was quite disappointment, just like when I saw Y nestled in her boyfriend's arms in Singapore this summer. After hanging up, I sat quietly for a while, then messaged Y on WeChat. Admittedly a little disappointed, I still had to congratulate her. I sent a text message, and after a long time, Y replied with two voice messages. Listening to them, I suddenly noticed my computer screen was blurry. Were they tears of joy or tears of sorrow? I don't know. After work, I went to the Blue Frog bar downstairs from the company building alone. That night, I drank five glasses of Salt Dog liquor and smoked two packs of cigarettes. I wasn't drunk from the alcohol, but I was a little nicotine-induced. I probably won't want to smoke for at least a week; it makes me nauseous. I remember the first time I saw this on the drink menu, I impulsively ordered a glass and found it okay. The salt rim was perfect for licking when I was in a bad mood, just like my mood tonight—perfect for salt. Before ordering my fifth glass, I went to the bar and told the bartender not to add juice, just a vodka with extra salt... Like I said before, Y and I are over. Letting her go and find happiness is the right thing to do, and I hope she'll always be happy. Although we've resented and hated each other, we've also loved each other.

[The End]

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Old flame or one-night stand?

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