The most enchanting night for my wife

After much deliberation, I've finally decided to truthfully record the joyful journey my wife and I have recently shared, preserving it for the future through written photography.
"Photography" is a term used to describe a type of photography, but photography isn't necessarily "photography." Personally, I think "photography" leans more towards recording, preserving, and showcasing beauty, while photography is less focused, less refined, and less general, including the production of adult films. This explanation already indicates my clear bias in the following description. The most common type of single men is like all kinds of water. The best are like mineral water—pure, rich, and full of minerals, like the Nongfu Spring slogan: "A slightly sweet aftertaste." Next are purified water, filtered water, Yangtze River water, and river and lake water. The worst are unsuitable for direct consumption; I won't even mention the polluted water.
Making friends in this area is a completely new thing, without any rules. Common sense tells us that nothing can be accomplished without rules, so isn't this a contradiction? The answer is no. It's precisely because there are no readily available, unified rules that everyone who wants to apply them naturally seeks out some self-righteous rules to use, which precisely reveals the original nature of the user. I'll elaborate further later in this article.
If there were rules, and a group of people all carried Type 56 assault rifles, it would be difficult to distinguish the characteristics and differences between Zhang San and Li Si. Now it's like an ancient battlefield: some people wield heavy weapons, relying on brute force; some carry light weapons, indicating agility; and some use concealed weapons, requiring extra caution. Although everyone is hiding behind a screen, the languages they use are vastly different, providing me with ample information for identification and analysis.
kk is the first person I'll be describing. I named him k after the first character of his surname in pinyin. We were on the same forum, but I was the one posting openly while he was a long-time lurker, so he should know quite a bit about us. After some time exchanging texts with k, we decided to meet somewhere. I've already detailed the location and method of the meeting in previous articles. So, we'll have tea first, without deciding what to do afterward, so both of us are free to do as we please. The only difference this time was that my wife and I went to that familiar teahouse first. We brewed a pot of tea ourselves, and in the elegant and quiet environment, we chatted quietly, and I teased my somewhat shy wife a little. In the past, people would call me from home after they arrived at the teahouse, but this time I had bought a cell phone, and for the first time, I was using mobile communication to make friends. While waiting for K to arrive, I introduced him to my wife, gleaning a basic outline of him from our conversations. K is 35
years old, married with one child, and works as an engineer at a large state-owned enterprise in Shanghai. He and his wife live apart; his wife works in their hometown and they live together. K graduated from a prestigious university in Shanghai with a master's degree. Because I had filled out college applications for my child, I knew this university was a key university directly under the Ministry of Education. Given K's age, and the fact that out-of-town students needed significantly higher scores to enter Shanghai universities compared to local students, it's clear that K had a good education. At least his high school and university years were spent in focused study, not aimlessly drifting through society
. Mrs. C asked me, "Then why doesn't he bring his wife to Shanghai to live with him?" I replied, "It's because of housing prices. Going to university and then graduate school means you're not young anymore. After graduation, you need to find a job, get married, and raise children. How much money do you think you have to afford a house?" I felt this wasn't the best direction, so I changed the subject and said to my wife, "You're amazing now." My wife didn't understand what I meant and stared at me. I said, "Now you date educated men; you don't even look at men with less than a high school education anymore.
" I knew she wanted to laugh but was holding it in. I continued teasing her, saying, "Actually, university graduates these days aren't worth much (I mean real talent) and there are so many of them, like artificially bred turtles in the market. They have no nutritional value, and their taste is far inferior to fresh vegetables. But in the past, turtles were considered aphrodisiacs, and newlywed men had to eat them..." She finally couldn't help but laugh and insisted on asking if I had secretly eaten turtles when we got married. The lonely wait passed quickly
. My phone rang. K had arrived at the teahouse entrance. Since we hadn't video chatted, I told him to keep walking in until he reached the end, where he would see us. I had considered K's convenience when choosing our seats. My wife and I were sitting side-by-side in high-backed chairs facing outwards, so we knew it was him as soon as he appeared. I raised my hand to greet him. The waitress practically glued to K's backside and immediately followed. To save time, I told her, "Just one more cup, nothing else." Otherwise, she would have pulled out a tea manual with some information
. He arrived half an hour late, saying the traffic was terrible. I observed that he looked about what I'd imagined: a little over 1.7 meters tall, neither too thin nor too heavy, wearing glasses and looking like a refined, scholarly man. I casually asked him some questions about his work to ease any potential tension. While he was introducing himself, I nudged my wife with my right arm and whispered, "Do you think he's alright?" My wife blushed for a moment, then traced a line on my leg with her finger, indicating that he was fine. I lowered my voice and got to the point with K
, saying, "Actually, everyone has normal physiological needs. Your wife isn't around, so you need to take care of your needs. My wife and I understand that too. She also wants to try the pleasures of younger men. To borrow a phrase from Chairman Mao's 'Serve the People,' we come from all corners of the country, united by a common revolutionary goal. Of course, our goal isn't revolution; it's purely for enjoyment." K seemed to understand. I added, "But my wife is quite a bit older than you. If you think it's acceptable, then go get a room. Otherwise, we can continue drinking tea and chatting." K asked if there were any hotels nearby. I explained in detail, and K got up and left. My wife and I continued drinking our strong-smelling Longjing tea, waiting for the phone to ring with K's room number. We
figured it was about time, so we checked out at the front desk and strolled towards the familiar hotel. But we waited ages before K called – twice as long as usual. When we finally got to our room, we discovered the reason for the long wait: K had gone out and bought three boxes of instant noodles, preparing snacks for his late-night work. K was the first friend I'd ever met who insisted we stay overnight at the hotel during our conversation. I really didn't understand why he insisted; in my common sense, no one, especially no man, can work all night. Later, I realized K wanted to come back in the morning. I thought it was a normal request, so I agreed, even though I don't like working in the mornings. Since
we'd been here many times before, everything felt normal and natural. I told my wife to go take a shower first. She left her coat on the bed next to the bathroom and went in. Less than ten minutes later, the running water had been flowing for a while, and I told K to go in and shower with me. He hesitated a bit and politely said, "Why don't you go first, brother?" I replied, "Oh, we're husband and wife. Usually, when she showers, she asks me to scrub her back, but I'm too lazy to go." Hearing this, K took off his clothes and went in.
When I said "too lazy to go," I was absolutely telling the truth. Countless times, while I'm engrossed in chatting with friends on QQ, my wife asks me to scrub her back with a loofah while she's showering. I pretend not to hear her if I can, and if she keeps asking, I just quickly scrub the parts she can't reach with her bent hand to appease her. So I truly admire the first person who said, "Holding my wife's hand is like holding my left hand with my right." That honest and clever person acknowledged that visual fatigue does exist; denying it is just hypocrisy. I simply don't believe that couples married for a quarter of a century would still have their hearts pounding when they see each other.
My wife came out first, wearing only a bath towel, and made a funny face at me before immediately crawling into the larger bed in the middle. After K finished showering and lay down on the bed, I was the last to shower. When I finished and dried myself off, they were still covered with the blankets, probably engaged in foreplay. After I got under the covers, I noticed something interesting: I felt like the host, and the guests wouldn't dare to start eating until I did.
I pulled back the covers and whispered in my wife's ear, "Go and ask him to go first." My wife readily pulled him back. K said, "Your brother should go first; I need to use a condom." I said, "My wife doesn't use protection, and today is her fertile period. If you don't use a condom, don't ejaculate inside. If you can't control yourself, I'll use a steroid first, because then you can't use oral sex." K replied... “I think I should wear it for a bit longer.” While K
was preparing, I warmed up with my wife using the simplest “dance steps” to get her into the zone. My wife would occasionally turn her head to glance at K, her shy gaze revealing her obvious desire. Actually, I had been paying attention to K’s progress the whole time. When I asked K for the third time, “Are you ready?” K replied, “Yes.” I
then got up and put K on the other end to continue working.
I felt K's method was rather simple, a bit like sprinting at the start of a marathon. I reminded K, "You need to slow down, manage your energy properly. It takes time for her to tire, just like simmering bone broth requires a low flame and time; a few minutes of intense heat won't work." I had him stop and rest for a while while I continued to "warm" her up. When K took over for the second time, I still told him to slow down, wondering how many kilometers he could run at that fuel consumption. I said, "If you slow down, you'll be able to feel her contractions; I enjoy the subtle interaction." But
K continued running recklessly, and I doubted he could understand what I was saying yet. Not long after, K's first time ended. As he walked out with his things, I asked my wife, "Did you see that little bag of things?" My wife nodded. I don't know what women think when they see this scene, but I can only interpret it with the same feelings men have: seeing a woman achieve orgasm with his cooperation, and this orgasm wasn't something he estimated, but was double-confirmed by the woman's physical reaction and her own words. For a man, this double confirmation—if comparing it to a sense of accomplishment is too much of an exaggeration—is at least an acknowledgment of his hard work, so he should feel happy.
Of course, men don't need double confirmation from women, because men use physical evidence. That's why I asked my wife if she saw it; I wanted her to feel both physically and mentally satisfied.
Watching us being intimate, I asked him, "Can we continue?" He said, "Yes, but it will take a little time to recover." I quietly told my wife, "Go help him; that will speed up his recovery." My
wife understood and kissed K. I asked K, "Do you want to kiss her?" K replied, "Yes." Then he took off his glasses and leaned down to kiss my wife. I said, "You don't need to wear a condom the second time. Let me give her some medicine." I put a "Friend of Wife" pill in my wife's mouth. I put my watch on the bedside table to keep track of the time; it was already past 10 p.m.
When the pill reached the specified melting time according to the instructions, I gently did it for about ten minutes first. My purpose in doing it gently first was to allow the pill to fully achieve its intended effect. If it's done too early, before the pill has melted, the repeated impact of the still-clump pill can easily injure the delicate internal structure of a woman. Without a few minutes of gentle transition, the melted pill might concentrate in one spot, failing to cover the intended areas and thus affecting the contraceptive effect. It's been almost two hours since we entered the room, and my wife, exhausted from the time, is in peak condition. Shortly after K entered, he said, "The feeling of direct contact without a condom is completely different; it's incredibly comfortable."
Actually, even without K saying it, I knew what he felt, because my wife's physical reactions were extremely obvious, wave after wave. Her breathing became panting and rapid, and most noticeably, her toes were raised high, somewhat like someone wrongly accused and furious but unable to speak, only able to point trembling, stiff fingers excitedly at the other person. Her toes and arches were stretched to their limit. Almost simultaneously ,
K, as if discovering a new continent, excitedly exclaimed, "Wow, yes, she's biting me! The bites are very noticeable!" "Has your wife never bitten you like that before?" I asked. "Yes, my wife has never done that," K honestly replied. Now, with the internet, only a small number of people use it to exchange knowledge in this area. In the past, we risked so much, secretly watching adult films at home... Before I could think any further, K's second assault failed him again. K sighed
, and after the excitement subsided slightly, as if eager to confess something, he said, "Actually, I haven't had sex for almost three months. The last time was when I went home to visit relatives on October 1st." We all laughed. After saying this, K went to the bathroom. While K was taking a shower, I knew my wife's desire was still burning. Seizing the opportunity, I asked her a sensitive question she wouldn't normally answer: "Was it comfortable just now?" "Yes, it was." "Was it an orgasm?" "Yes, it was." "How comfortable was it?" To this question that required description, my wife hesitated for a moment and said, "It was just too short. How come this guy is so easily squeezed? I squeezed him and he came so quickly?" She asked me thoughtfully. She lowered her voice, afraid that K would hear her and feel embarrassed, yet also trying hard not to laugh at her awkward question. She was probably still savoring the wonderful sensations in her body; she was multitasking, her face flushed. At that moment, the distance between my wife and me, face to face, was no more than twenty centimeters. I noticed that my wife's complexion was wonderful, as if a healthy, youthful, and joyful blush was seeping from the thin layers of her facial skin. Actually ,
my wife's complexion is usually quite poor. Her skin wasn't fair to begin with; it was dark, and after fifty years of exposure to air, it's become yellowish. So, is it just my eyes playing tricks on me? I don't think so. This phenomenon should be explained by the laws of nature in the animal kingdom, which might make it easier to understand. In animal documentaries, the narrators can openly say, "After mating, the female animal's feathers become more lustrous." But humans, who claim to be the highest animals, can only cower in a corner and say, "Actually, sex is the best beauty product for women."
I don't know whether to call it tragic or ironic.
7 y0 u9 g2 g; h- l9 @7 qq$ ak and I both ate instant noodles, and my wife took a shower. We turned off the lights and prepared for bed. The two of them cuddled together in the large bed, while I slept alone in the smaller bed next to them. But after a long time, neither of us fell asleep, and we started chatting about all sorts of things. I asked my wife if she was hungry. Since it was already past midnight, she said she was a little hungry and asked me to make her some instant noodles. I usually make instant noodles by soaking them in hot water twice. The first time, I don't add any seasoning and just let them soak in boiling water for five or six minutes, then I drain the water and add the seasoning before soaking them a second time. This way, they soak thoroughly and also remove the preservatives from the noodles.
1 t& o- s* p. c r2 b0 j After my wife finished eating her noodles, I lay down on her left, and k on her right. We turned off the lights again, and the only light coming through the crack in the bathroom door made it difficult for us to see each other's faces. We pulled the covers up, and it felt a bit like childhood hide-and-seek, a strange kind of excitement. I bombarded her with one embarrassing question after another, and as the questions became more pointed, all three of us started fidgeting.
I could feel she was still basking in the lingering warmth; everything that had just happened was like an iron that had been plugged in for a long time, temporarily switched off, and now the dim environment and my flirtatious words were like the switch being switched back on.
A woman's innate shyness allowed her to use silence as a facade of resistance, but the renewed surge of desire made her confess without warning. Neither of us kept our hands free. I asked her, "Do you like hands?" She nodded instead of answering. "So how do you like hands?" I asked again. "Anything," she said, her voice barely audible. It was a battle raging in the depths of our souls, a strategy woven into whispers. I clearly sensed the surging, magma-like heat deep within her heart.
I deliberately sought to cheer her up, slowing down the pace of my questions and circling around them to a dizzying angle. "Really, we can do whatever we want with our hands?" "Yes.
" "But hands and penises are different, you know?" "I know." "Hands don't have a time limit, unlike penises which finish as soon as they ejaculate, you know?" "I know." "Think about it carefully. It's not too late to say no now, otherwise if you say you can't take it, we won't stop." "I won't be unable to take it.
" "You said it yourself. If you beg for mercy later, we really won't listen to you." "I won't beg for mercy." "If we do this until dawn, you really won't beg for mercy?" "No." By
sheer coincidence, my wife and I's A-grade communication was like a carelessly thrown cigarette butt into an empty gasoline can, but the remaining gas was still ignited. K, excited, turned halfway around so his face was slightly closer to hers and asked, "Are you really okay with this? Can you still do it?" His wife answered a little shyly. "Do you really want more? I want you to say it aloud. Just say 'yes' and I'll give it to you right away." K was truly excited. "I do want more, are you still okay?" His wife, after saying this, anxiously checked with her hand to see if K was really still okay.
I knew his wife really wanted more because I had just touched the sweat on the soles of her feet. If her desires could be graded like a weather forecast, then sweaty feet would be the highest level. This was the result of my long-term observation while living together; she herself might not know it. I knew K's third time wouldn't be a rehearsal; it would definitely be a real, intense encounter. I asked his wife, "Do we need to put in another pill?" She replied, "No, I just washed the outside. The pill inside is still there." I really didn't know if she was afraid of the trouble or simply couldn't wait. All of this reaffirmed my belief in the power of language. If everyone agrees that Viagra reigns supreme in that field, then compared to the most appropriate ,
most incisive, and most soul-penetrating language, Viagra is far inferior. This is also a question many beautiful wives can't understand: why would their husbands abandon them and become infatuated with women less attractive than themselves?
Their third round ended quickly. I watched K's retreating figure as he went to the bathroom, vaguely sensing his exhaustion. He soon came out and lay down on the single bed. My wife and I fell asleep in each other's arms, and in my hazy sleep, I heard K snoring as he drifted off to sleep.
Because I wasn't used to the unfamiliar environment, I didn't sleep well that night and woke up before six in the morning. Although it was still early, I had no desire to sleep anymore, so I went to the bathroom alone to wash up. But I felt that waking my wife up so she could wash up and come home was a bit early, and it would wake up the rest of the family who were still fast asleep. So I went to test her reaction. If she was still very sleepy, I wouldn't bother her. As a result, she obediently let me spread one of her legs. When my hand caressed her smooth skin, even though she was still sleepy and her eyes were not open, she reflexively reached out an arm to wrap around my waist.
Our clandestine actions eventually woke K, so I asked him, "Hey, can you still come?" In my mind, if a man had already done it three times four or five hours earlier, wanting to do it again would be somewhat harmful to his health. He might justify it by saying it was just a casual encounter, a rare treat. But at this moment, I was the host, treating my guests to dinner. I wouldn't necessarily tell them, "Eating too much meat is bad; it easily causes high blood sugar and high cholesterol. So please eat in moderation; eating until you're seven or eight tenths full is the most comfortable." So even though I knew overeating was indeed bad, I had to be polite as is customary because my role was different.
K got to our bed relatively quickly, but his energy was far less than yesterday. He barely managed for a while before returning to his own bed to rest. "Why can't you move?" I asked sincerely. "Brother, I can't," K answered truthfully. So I said to my wife, "Go wash up, we'll get dressed and chat, then we'll go home at 7:50."
Unexpectedly, shortly after my wife went into the bathroom, while the water was still running, K quickly got up and ran into the bathroom. The water stopped, then I could faintly hear the "slap slap" sounds of bodies colliding. Were they doing it again? If not, maybe I misheard? I was too lazy to check; I'd just ask my wife when she came out
. A few minutes later, my wife came out first. I noticed she was laughing so hard her eyebrows were twitching. She put her index finger to her lips, signaling me not to ask her anything. She walked to my bedside, leaned close to my ear, and said, "He relieved himself again." I could only laugh and shake my head, thinking, "He's young and has plenty of resources; he recovers really quickly."
But what surprised me was the bathroom environment. The shower area was less than one square meter, three walls were so slippery there wasn't even a handhold, and the fourth wall was empty. Obviously, you couldn't do anything in the shower area. Outside was a toilet, a washbasin, and a small marble slab. Sit on these three things? Seems impossible. Lie on the floor in front? No way. First, the space was small, and second, the floor tiles were cold. It was December, winter; lying on it would freeze you to death!
"How did you manage in such a small space?" I asked her curiously. "It's very convenient," she replied easily. "I still don't understand, how exactly did you do it? Tell me in more detail," I continued. "He went in after me," she answered. "Then there's no distance?" I was still a little confused, because the marble slab of the sink was less than a meter from the opposite wall. "I put one leg up on the marble slab," she finally explained. But I don't know if she deliberately hesitated, not wanting to say that she had put her thigh up that high.
Many people know the saying "A happy event makes one feel refreshed," but probably not many know that a woman's body softens during orgasm. Of course, this is a joke I made up, but the softness I'm referring to is a kind of relaxed and harmonious feeling, a gentle temper, gentle speech, and even the ligaments in the legs and knees soften. Blood pressure and pulse will also soften, and this is indeed a real phenomenon. The three of us lay on the bed ,
chatting easily, waiting for the moment of parting. I thanked K, sincerely thanking him for the happiness he brought to my wife. K corrected me, saying, "You should thank your wife for the happiness she brought him." To be fair, it should be that while giving each other happiness, we also received happiness in return.
Seeing that there was still time, I said to K, "In the past, I always thought that after my wife and I retired, our remaining task would be to travel around, but now we need to postpone the travel and prioritize enjoying sex. I estimate we still have a few years left, and if you don't mind, we can accompany each other for a few years."
K agreed. I added, "From now on, we'll each pay 50% of all expenses when we meet." K seemed a little embarrassed and said he should pay for the hotel room. So I explained why we should each pay 50%: "Among those who have discussed this topic, and on forums, there are two opinions. One is that single men get a discount, so they should bear the cost; the other is that older women get a discount, so couples should bear the cost. But I believe this is a mutually beneficial arrangement that we both understand, enjoy, and share. Paying 50% is our right and obligation, it's fair and respectful."
Time was up, and my wife and I told her to lie down and rest, and not to get up to see us off. We quietly closed the door and left. Once on the street, we felt the biting cold; compared to the warm room, it felt like a different season. The time was December 30, 2007, because the next day, the last day of 2007, I was going to visit a female online friend. This friend had invited my wife to come with me, but she couldn't make it, so I went alone the next day. Of course ,
that's a story for later; I need to explain this first, otherwise I'll forget this loose end as I continue narrating. This female netizen not only repeatedly told me in person not to write about our meeting, but also left me a message on QQ (the record has been deleted). The gist of it was: "I consider this my private garden; I won't allow you to open it to the public. When I'm physically and mentally exhausted, I need my own little garden where I can quietly breathe fresh air and enjoy the sunshine." Therefore, I kept my promise and didn't put it into words. Because of the special timing—we met on the last day of the year and parted on the first day of the new year—I believe she and I will remember this day forever.
On the way home from the hotel, I told my wife a proud secret: if K and I took turns working the same number of times last night, I worked longer than K each time. And K collapsed from exhaustion four times, while I didn't collapse even once. I asked my wife how she felt: "Am I technically just as good as the younger competitors?" Her reply was: "You all have your strengths, but I like them both."
After returning home, I had many things to do in the morning, so I took a nap after lunch. I fell asleep as soon as I lay down and slept soundly for over two hours, finally catching up on the fatigue from not sleeping well the night before. My wife had made plans with friends, so she ate breakfast after arriving home and then went out on her bicycle. In the afternoon, I worried about her, wondering if she was also tired and if she had a place to nap. But she didn't return home until after 8 pm, and as soon as she got home, she turned on the TV to watch her favorite drama series.
I quietly asked her, "Do you have somewhere to rest this afternoon?" She countered, "Why do you need to rest?" I asked, "Are you tired?" She stared at me wide-eyed and shook her head vigorously, "No, I'm not tired." My concern and inquiry brought her thoughts back to yesterday's joy, and for the first time, she clearly told me that she was extremely happy last night. Before, she had always been evasive and never directly answered whether she was happy or not.
Later, when I met K on QQ, I asked him about his situation after we left. K told me that after we left, he slept until his phone alarm rang at 11:30 am, then checked out and went home. He continued sleeping after getting home, and when he woke up again it was pitch black. I felt he had truly exhausted himself. When I told my wife about K sleeping almost all day, I embellished the story a little, hoping to see her reaction to her husband's hard work. But instead of feeling guilty or grateful, she blamed everything on him. So
I deliberately joked with her, insisting that she was the one who harmed him. I explained both her objective and subjective reasons. After listening, she tried to justify herself with many arguments, but I used the methods the rebels used to persecute intellectuals during the Cultural Revolution to cover her up. At that moment, even if she had a thousand mouths, she couldn't explain herself clearly. I know this is wronging her, but I think she would also feel a sweet sense of injustice.
Excessive drinking leads to drunkenness, and K's drowsiness should also be considered a kind of drunkenness, but I don't know what to call it.
In the many activities I've attended with my wife, I've met many couples, lovers, and single men and women. In addition, over the years, I've had many heartfelt conversations with the female netizens I've met on QQ. I deeply feel that
, ideologically, the ropes binding Chinese women to enjoy their bodily instincts are thick, long, and tough; and in advocating the new concept of gender equality, the worst practice is in sex. "No man is a good thing." This seemingly condemnatory statement about men is also a phrase too often used by women, which is precisely a very unfair way of speaking in favor of men—a blatant double standard. Can you imagine what could be more tolerant, encouraging, and less punishing than "No man is without fault..."?
5 ]0 ], ?4 or* h/ b( t( n Just like how my husband and I have been completely transparent about each other, even after participating in more than ten real social events together, my wife is still hesitant to openly and definitively admit that she likes it. In the beginning, she always made me admit first that participating in these activities was to satisfy my desires and curiosity, putting herself in a coerced position, "I forced her to do it." Later, her physical reactions clearly proved that she liked it, but she still pretended to say that these things were okay once tried, "Eating more doesn't taste like anything." Later still, she would subtly hint to me, "It's been a long time since I've done it." But this time, after almost an all-night entertainment, she finally believed that the time was ripe for her to tell the truth. 4 x; i5 jd, }5 f6 i4 ]! n4 x3 _3 [6 According
to my original plan, I intended to record activities chronologically, pausing briefly after activity K to explain why I was involved in this activity and clarify my perspective. Then I would continue recording activities T, Y, TW, and Q. Indeed, I very much wanted to collect these unique and delightful activities, like stamps, in our life's album. However, I now feel that clarifying my own perspective is more important. Recording activities A, P, C, and D is merely about quantity, so I plan to leave those for later.

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The most enchanting night for my wife

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