I confessed my love to my female colleague during an affair - she ended my virginity.

Ling's full name has three characters, with "Ling" in it. When we're together, we usually call her by her name, but when we're alone, we call her "you" or "your." I'll probably refer to her that way for now when writing this.

She's a beauty, more than three years older than me. Her father is from Shandong, and her mother is from Changsha, Hunan. Her father joined the Eighth Route Army to fight the Japanese when he was young, and after fighting with the Fourth Field Army to participate in the suppression of the Xiangxi rebellion, he stayed there until his retirement from the army. Her mother was also a student in Changsha, Hunan. Right after liberation, she joined the army before graduating and also came to Xiangxi. Both her parents were in the same unit; neither was married. After getting married, they settled in Xiangxi, where they had six children. My Ling is their youngest daughter.

Ling likes to perm her hair into small waves, leaving it medium-length and draped over her shoulders, sometimes also putting it up to reveal her slender neck. Ling resembled her mother, with a moderately high forehead, a straight nose, and a classic oval face. Her small, full lips, red lips and white teeth, were slightly upturned at the corners. Beneath her delicate, arched eyebrows were a pair of alluring, captivating eyes, like pools of autumn water, with long, upturned eyelashes supporting her double eyelids.

Ling was about 163 cm tall, with long, slender legs—slender calves and full, rounded thighs. Her slender, full waist accentuated her full breasts and pert, rounded buttocks. Her overall figure was graceful and voluptuous yet slender, her movements elegant and captivating. She herself said that she had trained in gymnastics at a sports school before the age of eight and usually wore tight-fitting clothing, so it was no surprise that she possessed a supple, slender, upright, and shapely figure. Her voice was soft and gentle, like a sweet, gentle whisper.

As our relationship deepened, my mental assessment of her could be summed up in sixteen characters: stunningly beautiful, captivatingly charming, alluring, and a natural beauty. However, she had one flaw: her skin wasn't as fair as her father's. But growing up in that picturesque place, she still possessed a smooth, delicate complexion. After we became acquainted, she often remarked on how my parents had given me such good skin—fair and smooth—and playfully begged to switch places with me.

We'd known each other for over ten years. At that time, I had just graduated from university and was assigned to work at the same company as her. We shared an office. She was already married with a child; her son had just started walking on his own. The first time I saw her was on a hot day. She was wearing a white, round-necked short-sleeved shirt and a bright green, knee-length skirt with small floral patterns that cinched her slender waist, making her full breasts stand out even more. Her long, slender legs were encased in sheer stockings. When someone introduced her to me, she smiled sweetly, her eyes bright and her teeth white, and said softly, "Welcome! We have a handsome young man in our office!"

I was quite confident in my looks. In school, the girls in my class would often chatter behind my back, and my mother's female colleagues would often talk about me, comparing me to certain movie stars. Plus, my father taught at a local vocational school, which was considered a prestigious position in the area. Influenced by my environment, I grew up surrounded by books, giving me a certain advantage in terms of demeanor compared to us wild kids.

She settled in this city a few years ago after graduating from high school and following her father's retirement. Therefore, she had no classmates or childhood friends, and little social life. After work, she went straight home, where she had a housekeeper and didn't have much housework to do. Coming from a privileged background, she had a bit of a spoiled, arrogant air about her and didn't interact much with her colleagues. Occasionally, a few men who were attracted to her looks would try to harass her, but she always managed to politely and calmly dismiss them without offending anyone. Every now and then, they would come over again, sometimes bringing food or other gifts. After getting rid of them, she would call me by my name sweetly and invite me over to share. In her free time, she liked to chat with me, and when we joked around, she liked to steer the conversation towards me. She also liked to ask me for help with anything, often saying she would thank me later and help me find a good girlfriend.

People were more innocent back then. I was a fresh graduate, a bit naive, and didn't quite understand some things. But in my heart, I thought Ling was a good person, kind-hearted and a little strange. Plus, I wasn't quite used to life in society yet, so I treated her like a trustworthy older sister. I liked to talk to her about anything, and I usually called her Sister X. One time, she went home after work. She lived in the building above our office. About half an hour later, her clothes were a little loose, and I glanced at her a few more times. Her full breasts were naturally quite eye-catching, and I noticed a wet patch on one side of her most prominent area. There were

only the two of us in the office at the time, so I pointed at her chest and exclaimed, "Sister X, you've got something wet there!" She looked down, immediately covered her chest with her hands, her face flushed like a peach blossom, and said shyly and slightly angrily, "Tsk tsk, why are you looking here, you little rascal!" She quickly covered her chest, went home to change her clothes, and her face turned red again.

Seeing my puzzled look, she glanced at me sleepily, then looked away, and scolded me with a shy smile: "Silly thing, why are you shouting so loudly? Nobody's home! I didn't get wet from the water, I went up to breastfeed the little one and it leaked out."

"Oh, I see. Still breastfeeding at such a young age? Judging from Sister X's appearance, she has plenty of milk!"

Her cheeks flushed even more, and she gave me a shy glare. "I didn't realize you were so clever for your age, always looking at people like that! Don't look like that next time."

I thought to myself, "Where is that part of you that's so eye-catching?" Besides, I was just telling the truth and didn't mean to tease her at all. I was about to argue when she spoke first: "Don't say it again! Don't talk about it anymore!"

She didn't speak to me again that day. She sat there alone, blushing every now and then. I felt there was a strange atmosphere in the air. It was from that time that I learned she went up twice a day to breastfeed her baby. From then on, every time I went up, I would glance at her a few times, and she would immediately blush, giving me a shy smile and a couple of glares. Every time we met face to face and she noticed me looking at her, she would blush, intentionally or unintentionally straighten her back, and secretly glance at her chest.

Autumn passed, and winter arrived. Conditions were poor then; the office had no air conditioning, so we used charcoal fires for warmth. Every morning, the first thing I did upon arriving at work was light the charcoal fire. A brazier in the office made it cozy. After finishing our tasks, we'd all sit around the fire, chatting and reading the newspaper. After the Spring Festival, the supervisor reassigned me to handle external affairs within the department, frequently traveling to various business units. Before each trip, she would always seem very concerned, asking this and that, paying particular attention to when I would return. When I called from out of town to report, she was usually the one who answered. The phone wouldn't ring for long, and when she finally answered, I could tell from her tone that she was very happy, wanting to know how I was doing.

When I returned, she would be very excited to see me, asking about my experiences. She'd sit around the fire, wanting me to tell her about my sights and adventures. She'd laugh happily at interesting stories, and sometimes she'd show longing and regret, saying she was bored at home, doing the same repetitive tasks every day, and wanted to travel more.

Spring arrived, and my internship was nearing its end. The higher-ups were giving political and professional training to employees about to be officially hired, in the provincial capital for a month. When I told her this, her first reaction was one of melancholy and disappointment. She asked why it would take so long, and I said I didn't know, it was all arranged by my superiors. She was silent for a while, then told me to take care of myself and be careful about certain things. She also asked if I could call her when I had time, saying she didn't have much to talk about with others and would be bored if I wasn't in the office. From her expectant expression, I suddenly realized that our relationship had gone beyond colleagues, and there was definitely more to it.

During my training, I often thought of her, wondering what she was doing. I wanted to call her, but I felt flustered, as if afraid something might happen. Several times I picked up the phone, feeling like everyone around me was staring at me. I mustered the courage, but then lacked it, and I hung up and walked away. And so, I didn't call her until the training ended.

Back at work, my colleagues greeted me warmly whenever they saw me, but she was the only one who ignored me. I hadn't seen her for a month, and she seemed thinner and a little melancholy. She gave me a few indifferent glances, then went upstairs alone. About an hour later, she came down and sat at her desk, flipping through a newspaper. I hesitantly greeted her, but she replied dismissively, "Oh, you're back! Training must have been busy, you must have worked hard! You're popular, everyone's so happy to see you!" This made me very awkward, unsure how to respond. I knew she was probably angry with me for not calling her!

The next day, I went to work early, since she lived upstairs and was usually the first one there. Sure enough, I saw her sweeping the floor when I entered. She didn't acknowledge me. I quickly picked up the dustpan and went over, calling out warmly, "Sister X, let me do it, you can sit down and rest for a bit!" I snatched the broom from her hand. She didn't even glance up, turning to her chair to read the newspaper. As I swept, I walked over, looking at her face, and cautiously asked, "Sister X, you seem to have lost some weight lately. Are you alright?"

She looked up from her newspaper, gave me a reproachful look, then turned away, replying somewhat resentfully, "Hey, have I lost weight? How would you know I've lost weight? I go to work and come home every day, what could possibly happen? Even if something did happen, it's none of your business!"

I answered timidly, "Sister X, don't be angry! I'm sorry, I know it's my fault for not calling you and making you angry. It's all my fault. Please don't be like this! Don't get sick from getting upset."

She turned back to me, looking at me standing awkwardly beside her. She quickly lowered her head and complained, "Don't you remember? Why didn't you call?"

I hurriedly argued, "Sister X, I didn't forget! I really wanted to call you, to hear your voice, to know what you were doing, I'm not lying to you, Sister X. But there's no phone in the dorm, so I have to go to the gatehouse or use a public phone. Every time I get to the gatehouse, the old man guarding it stares at me, and I don't dare go in. There are so many people at the public phone booth, and they keep staring at me, making me feel uneasy and nervous. When I finally manage to pick up the phone, I wonder what I should say to you? But instead, I feel empty inside, like I can't say anything. Sister X, it makes me so nervous when people see me calling you! Really!" After saying that, I glanced at her nervously, noticing that her expression seemed to have softened a bit.

She lowered her head and remained silent for a while, her long eyelashes fluttering twice. She looked up and saw that her eyes were a little red. She reached out and pinched my arm twice, saying, "Look at you, so timid and hesitant. A man should be bolder! Okay, I believe you, I know, I don't blame you anymore! Don't be like this, it won't be good if your colleagues see you!"

"Okay, I'm not afraid anymore since you're not angry with me, I know, I'll be bolder in the future, I won't be afraid even if others see me calling you!"

She chuckled, covering her mouth, and looked at me with tender eyes, saying, "What do you know? What do you mean you're not afraid of people seeing you making a phone call? You're still a cowardly fool!" After saying that, she shook her head a few times.

Seeing this, I hurriedly asked her, "Sister X, what's wrong? Did I say something wrong? Did I make you angry again?"

She shook her head disappointedly and said, "No, it's okay, I'm fine! Don't talk about it, it's not good if someone sees us! Don't overthink it."

Our relationship was the same as before, and our hearts seemed to be closer. I wanted to be with her every moment of every day. Boys in their adolescence often have some thoughts. Once I even had a dream in which we were naked and embracing each other, making love. I woke up in a fright at the crucial moment, my crotch was wet. The next morning, I saw that she was clean and beautiful, and I felt a heat in my crotch.

Some time passed, and it was late spring/early summer. That year, the weather got hot unusually early. People were already wearing only a thin shirt and trousers. Ling wore a rather tight, thin shirt that made her chest bulge, and I could see the bra mark on her back. Whenever I saw her, I wondered what kind of scenery was hidden under that thin shirt! Unlike before, she could accept my gaze naturally, but if I stared for too long, her cheeks would turn red, and she would glare at me shyly. Maybe men are naturally thicker-skinned, but I never blushed or felt embarrassed.

One afternoon, under the blazing sun, she received a call. Our warehouse needed a data sheet that needed to be delivered immediately. She found the data sheet, took it out, and hesitated, looking at the sun outside. I asked her, "Sister X, what's wrong?"

She replied, "With this much sun, I'll be sunburned to death if I deliver it to the warehouse. I'm already dark-skinned; I'll come back looking like an African!"

Our warehouse was about 3 kilometers away, not too far, not too close, and most women are afraid of the sun. I took the data sheet from her and said, "I'll deliver it; I'm free right now." Back then, the only mode of transportation was a bicycle. The round trip took about half an hour under the scorching sun, and I returned drenched in sweat. Ling looked at me with gratitude and affection in her eyes, stood up, and handed me my teacup, urging me to drink some to quench my thirst, saying it would help cool me down and prevent heatstroke. She

kept saying thank you, taking out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from my forehead and face. A scent of her body wafted into my nostrils, and my heart warmed as I stared at her, muttering to myself, "The sun is so strong, so hot! How are you going to thank me?" She stared into my eyes for a moment, glanced around, and seeing that it was just the two of us, quickly extended her full, red lips and planted a quick kiss on my cheek. She looked at me shyly, covered her mouth, and smiled, then wiped the spot with her handkerchief.

After that kiss, the barrier was broken, and things unfolded like flowing water. Whenever I had the chance, I would approach her, pointing to her face or lips, asking for a kiss. At first, she was a little hesitant and coy, but later she accepted everything. One time after work, everyone in the office had left, leaving only the two of us preparing to leave. I went over and asked her to kiss me. She stood up, leaned closer, and kissed me. I immediately wrapped

my arms around her waist, pressing my lips to hers. She prompted me to close and lock the door. We embraced, kissing passionately. Her two plump breasts pressed against my chest, her warm, soft body pressed tightly against my chest. My hands encircled her soft waist. At the height of our passion, my body felt like a balloon about to burst, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, I felt her tongue, like a snake, trying to burrow into my mouth. I opened my mouth to receive it, our tongues intertwining. The sensations grew stronger, and I could feel our breaths becoming rapid and hot. Her face flushed red, her eyes closed, her eyelashes fluttering.

My hands roamed her soft back, then slipped under her skirt, stroking and kneading her buttocks. My fingers slowly traveled down her thighs to her crotch, to that longed-for place I'd never seen before, now hot, wet, and slippery. Unfamiliar with women, I didn't know what to do, only that my hands lingered and writhed in that warm, wet swamp, making her moan softly in my arms. Suddenly, my fingers found a hole; I knew this was my final destination. Just as I was about to eagerly insert them,

she stopped me abruptly, pushing me away, saying repeatedly, "This isn't allowed! You can't do it like this!"

We were silent for a moment, calming our breaths. She said firmly, "You're not allowed to call me 'sister' anymore. I don't want to be your sister!"

I hurriedly asked her, "What's wrong? Are you angry? I didn't do anything to you!"

She looked at me, with only a calm smile and no other expression, and said, "You haven't done anything to me? What else do you want to do? I'm not angry. Let's find another opportunity next time. I'm afraid someone might come in here!" After saying that, she gave me a somewhat ambiguous and meaningful smile, and I vaguely understood what she meant. In the following days, I eagerly awaited the opportunity she mentioned! From that day on, I never called her Sister X again, and directly addressed her by her name.

A few days later, around lunchtime, when everyone else in the office was gone, she said to me, "Come to my house at noon. He won't be back. The nanny and the little one were sent to my mom's, and they won't be back either. I'll wait for you at home!" After saying this, seeing me looking at her, she blushed, smiled sweetly, and turned away, leaving a graceful silhouette as she went upstairs.

I ate something hastily outside, my mind preoccupied with my rendezvous at her house. I sat in the office for a while, then closed the door and went upstairs. The whole building was quiet; I could only hear my footsteps. Reaching the stairs, a sudden thought struck me: What if someone saw me go into her house? What if her family suddenly came home? What if they saw me coming and going after we did it? Fear gripped me, and I found myself walking towards the restroom next to the stairs, squeezing out a couple of drops of urine, and returning to the office.

Sitting there alone, wanting to go up but afraid, I mustered my courage, walked to the stairs, and then went back to the restroom. I went back and forth like this several times—it was driving me crazy! It was past 2 a.m. when people started coming to work in the office building. The sounds of people moving around made me less afraid, so I went upstairs to her door. I knocked gently, but no one answered. I gently pushed the door open; it wasn't locked. I went inside and closed the door. I heard her soft voice from the bedroom: "Why are you knocking? Are you afraid people won't hear you?"

I went into the bedroom. The curtains were drawn, making the room a little dark. The whole room was filled with her fragrance. The ceiling fan was running, making it much cooler than outside. She was lying on the bed, her permed, shoulder-length hair slightly disheveled. Her full lips were carefully painted with bright red lipstick. She wore a thin white t-shirt, and a thin blanket covered her lower body, revealing her full breasts, one nipple protruding and erect on each side. I could

n't help but swallow hard. She asked why I had taken so long to come up, if I was scared. I answered yes, and told her how I wanted to come up, but then got scared again at the bottom of the stairs, and how I kept going back and forth between the bathroom and the office. Seeing me standing awkwardly and fearfully by the bed, looking restless, she chuckled softly and said, "Look at you, so timid! Did I scare you? I've been waiting for you all afternoon! Do you want me? Tell me the truth."

I quickly replied, "Of course I do! Only a fool wouldn't want you. I've dreamt about you countless times."

She gave me a confident, perhaps even smug, smile and said, "Alright, you're quite the sweet talker! I have to go to work today, so I can't go now. We'll find another opportunity next time! It's all your fault for being so timid today, making me wait for you like an idiot all afternoon. I didn't even get a nap, and I didn't dare close my eyes."

I hurriedly said, "It's all my fault, it's all my fault. I didn't expect that even though I wanted you in my heart, I would change my mind at the last minute. " "I'm sorry I was so scared, it's all my fault. I'll go downstairs now, it wouldn't be good if someone saw me."

I was about to leave when she called out to me, "Hey, you're just leaving like this? I've waited all afternoon for nothing!"

I stood there, at a loss. She called me over, opened her arms, and asked me to hug her and kiss her. I took the opportunity to touch her breasts through her shirt a couple of times; they were soft, fleshy, and warm. She wasn't wearing a bra. The blanket had shifted slightly, revealing a section of her thigh, and she was wearing flesh-colored nylon shorts... Our first date ended like this. I didn't have the courage to linger by her bed in her bedroom, so I composed myself and went downstairs. She came to my office half an hour later as if nothing had happened. Two days

later, she asked if I was free that evening. She said her aunt was treating me to dinner, and if I was free, we could meet at the park entrance at 8 pm. Of course, I agreed. I remember that it rained intermittently that evening. After dinner, I took a shower and waited until dark. Around 7:30, I put on a raincoat and rode my bicycle to the park. When I arrived, I found her already waiting for me. We parked our bikes at the park entrance, where tickets were required to enter.

The weather was cool after the rain, and the air was particularly fresh. She had sprayed perfume on herself after her shower, and her curly hair was loose over her shoulders. She wore a short-sleeved, collarless, pale yellow shirt and a black business skirt that hugged her shapely hips. Her slender calves and rounded thighs, encased in flesh-colored stockings, were smooth and sexy. We parked our bikes at the entrance and walked side by side on the park path. At first, we kept a little distance, but after chatting and laughing and relaxing, I tried to hold her hand, and then I tried to put my arm around her waist. Her fragrance filled my nostrils and rushed to my brain. With such beauty in my arms, I was filled with desire.

We walked towards the densely wooded island in the middle of the lake without prior arrangement. The park wasn't crowded then; after 9 pm, apart from couples hiding in the woods for dates, there was practically no one around. We reached a small, flat area surrounded by bushes. She said she was tired and wanted to rest. I spread my raincoat on the ground and sat down first. She pulled up her tight skirt, revealing almost her entire thigh, before sitting down and leaning against me. I embraced her, pulling her back onto my lap, and pressed my lips to hers.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, her legs slightly parted, stretching out her body. Our lips met, our tongues intertwined, even our teeth touched, as if we wanted to become one, inseparable. My hands initially caressed her body through her clothes, then I pulled them up and slipped them inside, busily exploring her smooth skin. When I tried to unhook her bra, it was my first time taking it off, and I couldn't get the hang of it. In the end, she unhooked it herself. My hand climbed up her breasts, but I couldn't even grasp them all with one hand; they were soft and slippery.

Later, I thought I heard voices, and someone walked towards us. She said it was getting late, and we should go. She wiped my raincoat with a paper towel, folded it, and handed it to me. We walked arm in arm toward the park gate, got our bicycles, and went home. I walked her a short distance, but she insisted that I not walk too far, saying we shouldn't be seen by acquaintances.

That night, I took another shower when I got home and lay in bed, unable to fall asleep for a long time. I thought back to every moment since we met, every single time, savoring the first time we had just completed, becoming a real man. Although it happened with a married woman, her beautiful face, her graceful figure, her bright eyes, and her captivating charm were all unforgettable. Completing my first time with such a beautiful and alluring woman was smooth, exciting, and pleasurable; I felt it was all worth it. My penis was erect all night. If she were beside me, I would have pinned her down without hesitation, making her moan softly and writhe.

I kept the raincoat that bore witness to our first time for a long time, taking it with me with me when we moved several times. It had a stain from our lovemaking on it. My wife and I didn't take it with us after we got married; we left it at my parents' house. Later, I don't know where it got lost, and I regretted it for a long time!

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I confessed my love to my female colleague during an affair - she ended my virginity.

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