High-end contrast toilet

Most people's love stories begin beautifully and end in a messy, hasty manner, but our love story was inevitably cliché from the very beginning.

My colleague and I, both married with children, were having an affair.

I was entering my thirties, my wife was gaining weight; she was in her prime, and my husband was short and impotent. We developed feelings for each other over time, as if it were predestined, a desperate, earth-shattering, life-or-death commitment. But now, looking back, pshaw! She just needed a sex toy.

The development of our relationship was exactly like most extramarital affairs. At first, we chatted about everything—our families, our pasts—they talked about our past relationships, from morning till night, from dark to light, until finally, we talked about sex. We both knew perfectly well that the person on the other end of the phone was the one we wanted to sleep with. She was graceful, fair-skinned, aloof, beautiful, refined, and gentle—the object of many men's desires, especially older, married men. She was sensible, safe, and extremely challenging.

Our first time was in a high-class hotel, a moment of passion. To be honest, I've never tasted such exquisite flesh. Nearly 40, yet so delicate, with a faint fragrance, pale skin, smooth as jade, flowing fluids, as tight as a young girl's, as passionate as a harlot's. She, who was always aloof, high-class at work, always dressed in expensive clothes, was now completely unfazed by any sexual activity—ice and fire, deep penetration, anal sex—the contrast was stark. Most importantly, it brought me immense pleasure. I gave that man, that "successful man," the ultimate humiliation. This made me unable to stop. Each thrust was met with her wailing and howling, my inner satisfaction reaching its peak.

She always refused to use a condom, so it was almost always withdrawal or penetration. She would also take a pill. Fortunately, over a year, due to my work location, we didn't see each other often, and the amount of sex was limited, so the harm to her body was minimal. Bah! Even now, she's still shamelessly thinking about her "health"... But what I'm proud of is that every time we finished, I made her "swollen," an experience her husband hadn't given her in over ten years... She said I was the tenth man she'd slept with, but guaranteed I was the first after marriage, and I still choose to believe her.

During our passionate courtship, I could feel that she loved me. Now, thinking back, maybe it was love based on sex? She would share her life with me constantly, she cared about my every move, and she would get jealous and upset because of my normal conversations with other female colleagues and classmates. I was sincere towards her too. Although we couldn't divorce, I gave her everything I could. An extramarital affair, isn't it just playing around? I never expected to meet such a temptress, to fall into her trap, and to be powerless to escape.

Good things in this world are fragile; fleeting clouds and brittle glass. Happiness is always short-lived in the dimension of time.

After the Chinese New Year this year, her attitude towards me gradually changed. Initially, she looked at me with unwavering optimism, but in conversations, she became critical and nitpicky. I became increasingly cautious and distressed, yet I couldn't withstand her irritability and sarcasm. Ultimately, she ended the relationship. She said the children were growing up, and she regretted betraying her husband and family. Now she wanted to return to her family, and we could no longer have physical intimacy. Those days weren't too difficult for me because I could sense she still had feelings for me, still couldn't let go. She would still think of me, miss me, share her daily life with me, still care, and still offer advice.

But a month ago, her feelings for me suddenly plummeted. She quickly stopped talking, stopped initiating contact, stopped sharing, stopped caring. We became two parallel worlds. I had long talks, tried to win her back, and made unprecedentedly humble gestures, but all of this only pushed her further away.

In relationships, the one who gets off last suffers the most, especially in extramarital affairs, because that vehicle is destined to crash and destroy.

These days, my pain is excruciating. She returned to her family, and I had nothing to say but offer my blessings. But if she gets a new vibrator, as a man, I truly cannot accept it.

Can that small, soft man win back her heart? I heard she's improved after treatment… Now, I have to hypnotize myself day and night, telling myself she's just a high-class, contrasting toilet for me; I don't need to use the toilet anymore, I've just changed people to pee into her three holes… But the more I think like this, the more excruciating the pain becomes.

[The End]

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