That year, I got a married colleague pregnant.

That year I was 21, having just been transferred back to Beijing from another city.

One of my colleagues was a woman of breathtaking beauty. She was 23 that year, and without exaggeration, she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen in real life. Her beauty was natural and pure, without any makeup or artificiality. She had beautiful, long, wavy hair, which made her even more alluring. Although she was only 153cm

tall , she had a bust size of nearly 90cm, definitely considered very large by Chinese standards.

At the beginning of the year, when I first saw her, I was deeply attracted to her and stunned by her beauty. I often thought that if I could sleep with a woman like that, I would gladly give up a few years of my life.

Who would have thought that my wish would become a reality at the end of the year?

That October, she got married. Her husband was a graduate student, very busy with work, and rarely took care of her. Because their workplace didn't provide them with housing, they could only stay together on weekends, which was very inconvenient. Therefore, she didn't go home during the week, living alone in the single

dormitory , only returning home on weekends.

In December, with all the work completed and the year drawing to a close, I felt quite relaxed. One evening, she called me and asked me to come play cards with her. Around 10 PM, we walked back to our single dormitory together. On the way, she said to me, "Didn't you want to see my photos? Do you want to come to my place to see them?" "Of course I do," I replied

happily. I really enjoy looking at other people's photos, especially photos of beautiful women; it's a real treat.

After we went inside, she took out two photo albums and placed them in front of me, saying, "They're not very good, don't laugh." I flipped through the albums, slowly admiring the beautiful pictures. She poured me a glass of water, sat down next to me, and leaned in to explain the photos: "This is a photo I took in elementary school. You see the boy behind me? He

really likes me, so he's standing behind me, so happy, his smile is almost unbearable. This one is of me..."

Her head was very close to mine, her breath sweet as orchids, her beautiful curly hair gently brushing against my face, tickling me. I turned to look at her; she didn't seem to realize any of this. I leaned slightly to the side, moving my face a little further away from hers. This close proximity made my heart flutter. In my

mind, she was a very beautiful and traditional woman; I never imagined she was doing this intentionally.

At midnight, after we'd mostly finished looking at the photos, I suddenly noticed a paper package at the back of the album. As I tried to take it out, she pressed her hands down on it, saying, "These photos aren't very good, don't look at them." "You think you can just say you won't look? That would be so embarrassing for me!" I joked, suddenly snatching the album and moving it away from her

. Before I could even open it, a pair of cold hands covered my eyes. She cried out, "I won't let you look! I won't let you look!" I felt a surge of impulse; I really wanted to turn around and hug her. But reason prevailed over impulse, and I didn't do that. I'm a very traditional man; I didn't want to take advantage of her.

I put down the album and said, "It's late, I'm going home." She was probably disappointed, but had no reason to keep me. She simply said, "Okay, go home and have sweet dreams." It was a double entendre, something I only realized later. Back home, lying in bed, I carefully recalled what had happened that

night

. I vaguely felt she seemed to like me, but then again, it seemed impossible, since she'd only been married for a little over a month! The next day, she met me and said, "I have some more photos. Are you interested?" "Of course," I replied. "Okay, come to my dorm tonight." With that, she smiled sweetly and gracefully left.

Around 8 PM, I arrived at her dorm. The door opened, and she stood before me. I was pleasantly surprised to find her even more beautiful than usual; she had applied light eyeshadow and lipstick.

"Oh, you're wearing makeup?" I asked.

"Does it look good?" She was pleased that I noticed her difference as soon as she entered.

"Beautiful, very pretty," I said truthfully.

"Really?" She smiled, very pleased. "I did my makeup especially for you." "

Come on, I'm not your lover," I teased.

"Ugh..." She smiled, quite alluringly. "Come in, don't always stand at the door talking." I went inside and closed the door. "

Actually, it's the same stuff as yesterday, just the ones I didn't show you," she said. "

You're not really interested in the pictures." I sat on her bed, no longer interested in looking at her photos. "

Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked.

"No." "Oh, you did, but you've been ditching her for over a year," I replied. "

You're 21 this year, right? Still young, no need to rush. A handsome young man like you, why worry about not finding a girlfriend?" she said.

"I really am worried. Why don't you introduce me to one?" I said.

"Sure, I'll take care of it," she said

. From that night on, for months afterward, my sexual needs were truly in her hands.

That night, we talked more and more, more and more about everything. From school to society, from romantic relationships to someone having an extramarital affair. Before we knew it, it was already one in the morning.

Suddenly she asked me: "I've told you so much, do you know why?"

I thought for a moment, then mustered my courage and said: "I think you like me a little."

I lowered my head, not daring to look at her. "Yes." She answered firmly, "I like you."

She looked at me affectionately: "Do you like me?"

"Yes." Of course I like her. From the first moment I saw her, I was captivated by her. It's just that she has a boyfriend and is getting married soon, and my old-fashioned thinking prevented me from having any romantic feelings. "

Then why didn't you say it? Why did you make me, a girl, say it first?" She became somewhat agitated. "Yes, why didn't I say it first?" I regretted it a little. As a man, I was less courageous than a girl. I didn't have that kind of courage. "

I'm sorry, because you're already married, and it's only been a month. I didn't think of it... not that I didn't think of it, but that I didn't dare to think of it." "

I just like you!" Her voice choked, and her beautiful eyes were filled with tears. "

But I would break up your family." "That's my concern. Although I like her, I want her to be happy even more."

"No, I promise I won't." She became a little anxious.

I reached out my hand to her, took her small hand in mine, and pulled her into my arms. She let out a soft moan and sat down in my lap. Our lips met in a passionate kiss, our tongues locked in a passionate kiss. My hand slipped inside her blouse, caressing her large breasts, which I had longed for. She obediently raised her arm,

making room for my hand. My penis was erect, and I felt an urge to make love. My tongue lightly licked her earlobe. "

Can I do it with you?" I asked timidly. "

But I'll get pregnant." She seemed a little scared. "

You're married." "I mean, you can have an abortion."

She thought for a moment and then nodded. I was happy, yet a little nervous; my long-held wish was about to come true. My hand slid down from her beautiful breasts, across her flat, smooth stomach, unbuckled her belt, and reached for her mysterious vulva. It was already soaking wet. My middle finger slipped into

her vagina—the warm, moist, slippery feeling was something I hadn't experienced in a year and a half. She removed my clothes, and I was shirtless. "So strong." She gently stroked my well-developed pectoral muscles. I used to work out and enjoy sports; I'm confident in my body. I gently removed her top.

I removed her bra, revealing a pair of large, firm, and white breasts. I leaned down, my hands on her waist, my tongue circling her nipples, gently biting and sucking. Ah… she couldn't resist my teasing and let out a pleasurable moan. My hands moved down,

caressing her buttocks, and I pulled off all her underwear; she was now completely naked. I picked her up and placed her on the bed. She was a little embarrassed, covering her face with her hands. Admiring this perfect body before me, I quickly stripped off my own clothes, climbed on top of her, and passionately

kissed her lips, one hand caressing and kneading her breasts with fervor and excitement. She wrapped one arm around my waist, and the other reached down to my crotch, grasping my erect penis and stroking it up and down.

I parted her legs, my penis thrusting against her vulva twice, but both times it missed—I hadn't practiced in a long time, and I couldn't get it right. Silly girl. She laughed and cursed, grabbing my penis and pressing it against the entrance. "Okay." I applied slight pressure, and my penis slowly entered her vagina. The feeling was incredibly pleasurable. My penis

felt the warmth of her body, burning hot. "Uh..." she groaned as my penis penetrated.

"Are you a virgin?" she asked. "Yes." I lied to her. "I don't believe you," she said. "Why?" I asked. "Intuition, a woman's intuition." She added, "You're quite special; I'm sure many girls like you." I smiled, didn't answer, and focused on my work. Her vagina was tight, gripping my

penis firmly. I thrust quickly, and more and more fluid accumulated inside her vagina, gradually making a squelching sound. "So much water!" I said. "Is it slippery?" she asked. "Slippery. Very comfortable," I replied. The glans rubbed against the inner walls of her vagina, bringing me boundless pleasure. "

Why aren't you moaning?" I had been thrusting for five or six minutes, but I hadn't heard her moan. "Moan what?" she asked. "Moaning. Oh my god, she doesn't know that, does she? How do I moan? Teach me." She said. I was speechless. "Do you moan when you're with your husband? You know, the comfortable moans that you can't control." I asked. She

thought for a moment: No. Thank goodness, I thought it was because I wasn't good enough.

Personally, I think a woman moaning is actually a great encouragement for a man. The more pleasure a woman enjoys, the louder she moans, the more energetic the man will be, because his efforts are rewarded, and he enjoys the pleasure of sex with the woman.

After about ten minutes, I got a little tired and gradually slowed down the speed of my thrusting. "Actually, you don't necessarily have to thrust quickly to feel pleasure. Slow is good too." She said, "I feel that slow feels better than fast." "Okay, then I'll slowly thrust into you." I slowly thrust in and out, each time going all the way in

, and when I pulled out, the glans was exposed, and my pubic bone hit her clitoris with each thrust. After only thirty or forty thrusts, she suddenly let out a pleasurable moan, her body stiffening, her legs rigid, tightly clamping my body, her buttocks involuntarily thrusting upwards, pressing heavily against my toes, her fingers

gripping my back tightly, pressing my body firmly against her breasts. I felt her vagina contracting, sucking my penis tightly with each thrust, accompanied by gushes of vaginal fluid gushing from within. She had orgasmed.

"Darling, that was amazing." She hugged my head and kissed my cheek, perhaps too pleasurably, for she only made a "tsk" sound after her lips left my face. I said, "Why did you only make a 'tsk' sound after your lips left my face? Really?" She clearly hadn't noticed, and then laughed,

finding amusing—this was a special case for me. "I only kiss you like this, not even my husband. And even when you have a girlfriend, you're not allowed to kiss me like this!" Women will be women; sometimes they seem particularly childish. I reached out to hold her buttocks, trying to straighten her, but instead touched a slippery, sticky fluid—

her vaginal lubrication.

"So much! You've soaked the sheets, haven't you?" I said. "

What are you tired of?" I was a little indignant. "I've been the one doing all the moving, you just lie there and do nothing, just enjoy yourself." "

What? I'm still putting in effort down there, otherwise how could it be so tight?" she said.

"Really? Then try relaxing," I said. She relaxed her body, and suddenly, the tight grip on my penis disappeared. The difference was huge. I finally believed her; she had been exerting herself all along. Her vaginal muscles were very strong. I suddenly remembered something—a pornographic novel described

a woman's vagina as movable, called a 'living vagina.' I said to her, "Can you move it? Like when you're giving birth, pushing downwards." "Is that right?" I felt a force really building up inside her vagina, from the inside out. Little by little, starting from the glans and down to the base of the penis, it was very noticeable and

very pleasurable. I couldn't help but shout, "Great! Keep going!" My penis was almost squeezed out. She was also very happy, thrusting even harder, saying, "Get out! Get out!" Honestly, I wanted to stay on top of her like that forever, enjoying the pleasure she gave me. "

Let me serve you." She rolled over and straddled me, guiding my penis with her hand, then sat down heavily. Her warm, slippery vagina moved up and down on my penis, even more pleasurable than when I was the one initiating. Her hands were on either side of my ears, her beautiful breasts swaying in front of my face—a

sight I could look at for a lifetime. I could freely caress her breasts, or slightly lift my head so her breasts could hit my face. After five or six minutes, she suddenly lay on top of me and said, "I'm tired. Why haven't you ejaculated yet?" I said, "It's only been a few minutes, not even

half an hour yet. My husband only lasts five or six minutes each time, and after we did it more often, it only lasts ten minutes or so." She said. "Can you have an orgasm?" I asked. "Sure, medically speaking, about fifteen minutes of sex is the healthiest for both men and women," she said. "Fifteen minutes is enough.

Women are really different; some like it fast, some like it slow, some love to moan, some don't make a sound. Someone once said that you'll experience a hundred different feelings when you have sex with a hundred women.

Have you ever had an orgasm? It's a truly ecstatic feeling," she said. "Of course I can ejaculate." I had her lie face down on the bed, spread her legs, and entered her from behind. She cooperated by sticking her buttocks out, giving me the best angle to enter. The folds at the tip of her vagina directly rubbed against

the coronal sulcus , which was incredibly stimulating. Every thrust of my body created waves on her buttocks—soft yet very elastic. After more than ten minutes, I felt my orgasm coming. My penis swelled as if it were about to burst. "I'm coming!" I shouted. "Come on, let's do it together!" She

clearly felt it. My penis contracted violently, and a gush of semen spurted out. Ahhhhh, stimulated by the semen, she also reached orgasm. After a wave of pleasure, I suddenly felt very tired and leaned against her back. She turned her head and said to me, "Darling, you're amazing!" I smiled but didn't say anything.

The pleasure from my orgasm hadn't completely subsided yet. My penis, throbbing inside her vagina, slowly softened. Suddenly, her vagina moved, and I felt my penis about to be squeezed out. I quickly pushed it in and said, "No, it's about to fall out." She giggled and said, "I'm being naughty." She tore off some toilet paper

and placed it on her vulva. I pulled my penis out, and she quickly plugged it in, sitting on the bed and saying, "I have to squeeze out all the semen." After a while, she looked at the piece of paper in her hand and said, "Wow, so much!" She smelled it; it smelled fishy, like fresh semen.

After we cleaned up, we lay together in each other's arms. I asked her, "Why did you fall for me?" "Because you're a very nice young man from Beijing." "Very handsome!" she said. A woman in love is unreliable. Later I learned that she didn't actually love her husband that much; it was just that he was the one who insisted on it.

Heng's pursuit moved her. She felt it didn't matter whether she loved her husband or not; the most important thing was that her lover would always love her. After marriage, her husband was busy with work and lacked care for her, making her feel lonely. She also thought I was a very good person—good-tempered, loving, very considerate, and

humorous she liked very much.

After that, we made love passionately, once for four consecutive nights, to the point that I fell asleep in the movie theater. We also talked a lot. From her, I learned that women's bra cup sizes are A, B, and C, and that a scoundrel once tried to rape her while she was drunk, but

ejaculated before even touching her body.

For a considerable period, we lived happily, like a couple deeply in love. We went to amusement parks, riding thrilling roller coasters; we went to a restaurant in Xidan, drinking expensive red wine; we went to Wangfujing snack street, enjoying Chinese cuisine. Seeing the envious glances from passersby,

I felt very satisfied.

One day, she said to me, "Yesterday, my husband and I went to karaoke. There was a song called 'Parting at the River,' and I cried. The lyrics were so beautiful; I copied them down for you. I hope that, like the song says, no matter how things end, I hope you'll remember me.

Okay, I promise. No matter what the future holds, you'll always be the most beautiful scenery on my life's journey. Whenever I look back, it will be filled with warm memories." We hugged each other and remained silent for a long time. She was beautiful, gentle, and considerate; I knew I had fallen deeply in love with her.

Two months passed quickly, and the Spring Festival was fast approaching. She said she and her husband were going home to visit her parents and might not see me for quite some time. I didn't want this departure to be the beginning of the end for our relationship.

One day after the Spring Festival, she called me and asked what my blood type was. My parents are both AB, so I am too. She asked if I had been tested. I said no, and she told me I should get tested. She also said she had something important to tell me and asked me to meet her at Xizhimen three days later. My heart was pounding with anxiety

. What could it be?

Three days later, I met her at Xizhimen as promised and we sat down at a restaurant. We chatted about this and that, but never got to the point. I was getting impatient and asked her what was wrong. Her smile vanished, and she said seriously, "I'm pregnant."

This news was like a bolt from the blue; my heart clenched. Dear readers, have you ever felt this way—like suddenly seeing your long-lost lover, only this time with shock, not joy.

Seeing my surprised expression, she sighed: "Is it that sudden? I thought you'd be prepared. Now I don't even know who the father is. Are you really blood type AB?" I nodded. Seeing my affirmative answer, she was disappointed: "If you were blood type A, I would have had the baby.

I'd love it no matter whose child it was." She and her husband were both blood type A; if the child was blood type AB, our affair would be exposed.

In the end, she decided to have an abortion. After the miscarriage, she took leave. For over a month, I had no news of her.

A month later, she found me and said, "Let's break up!"

I was surprised and didn't know why she did this.

I didn't want to continue like this, I didn't want to keep sneaking around anymore, and my colleagues were already gossiping about us. You know what? During this time, my husband was really good to me. The day after my surgery, when I couldn't walk, he carried me home. During those days when I was particularly weak, he cooked chicken for me every day and

fed me bite by bite. He still loves me very much, and I can't let my husband down again.

Can't we really continue? I'm in so much pain. If you're willing, I can be good to you, even... even marry you!

She was very surprised: "Don't scare me. That's impossible. You know how much pressure divorce puts on a woman. We have no future.

I finally realized that I was just a substitute. You only thought of me when your husband didn't love you; now that your husband loves you again, you're abandoning me? You're going back to him!" I choked up, shedding tears for the first time since I became an adult.

She cried too, but hardened her heart and said, "I'm sorry, it's my fault, I hurt you. But believe me, you're not a substitute, I love you. But we can't have a future together. It's better to end it now than to drag it out. Let's end it before our feelings deepen. I promise you, you're

the last , and this will never happen again.

" She was silent for a moment, then said, "Also, my workplace allocated us an apartment to help with my miscarriage, so I'll be going home every day from now on." I knew her personality and knew that trying to stop her was futile; I just wanted to see her again. "Can you

leave me two days a week?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"One day?

" Still a shake of the head.

"Two weeks, one day?" I looked at her pleadingly. "

Don't be so childish. We can't go on like this. Lingering on won't do either of us any good. I have to fully commit to my family. With a house, I'll have my own place, even if it's small, it's still my home!"

I argued with her for a long time, but ultimately I couldn't win against her. Let it go, let her be. I didn't want to break up her family; after all, she was the woman I once deeply loved. Her being able to live well was a consolation to me.

Six months later, she transferred jobs. From then on, I never saw her again. She only called me once during the 1998 World Cup, saying that watching the World Cup reminded her of my love for football.

My relationship ended just like that, but I know I won't regret it. She will always be the one I deeply love, and whenever I think of this past, my heart is filled with sweetness and warmth.

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That year, I got a married colleague pregnant.

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