Fishing, I caught a young woman with a child.

To win over a client, I started learning to fish. I'd fished before, but I was a complete novice and it wasn't a hobby. After securing the client, I really enjoyed it.
In my free time, I'd bring a parasol, a long fishing rod, lie on a small deck chair, enjoy the breeze, and find peace and quiet. It helps me escape work worries and even sparks new ideas. Whether I catch any fish or not doesn't matter; catching a young woman would definitely be a blessing from the god of love.
The river I frequent is part of the city's ring moat greenbelt, with a beach and lawns. There are no entertainment facilities or tourist attractions; it's far from roads and noise, making it a perfect place to relax.
One afternoon last autumn, after finishing a heavy workload at the company, I went fishing alone to unwind.
I arrived a bit late, and there were already many people fishing. It's crowded because fishing requires a quiet environment, and anglers generally maintain a distance of at least ten meters from each other; they don't sit together unless they're close friends or acquaintances. Since
I arrived late, I could only cast my line near the artificial beach, and as usual, I put on my umbrella, put on my headphones, and read a book to pass the time.
To make a long story short, I'm not going to write a novel here.
I was fishing when a two-year-old kid, bored from playing in the sand on the beach, wandered over to me. No matter how his mother tried to coax him, he wouldn't leave. I wasn't really interested in fishing, but I like kids, so I took him along. His mother was quite carefree, playing on her phone the whole time, until her child fell asleep on my deck chair. Only then did she put down her phone and take the child away.
That's how the first day went. I didn't intend to flirt with her then; she wasn't my type. She was 160cm tall (girls who insist they're 160cm are usually 150cm), and weighed around 90kg. Petite girls like that aren't my type, especially with her short hair, which significantly diminished her feminine charm.
After that, I went fishing a few more times, and coincidentally, I ran into this mother and son every time. The child wasn't shy and would always bother me. His mother and I met more often, and we became familiar.
During our conversation, I learned she was a stay-at-home mom, and her family was rife with conflict between her and her mother-in-law. She often brought her child out to relax. Her husband worked in another city and only came back once every month or two. After she became pregnant, she quit her job and stayed home to take care of the baby, feeling bored and lonely. Her mother-in-law helped look after the baby when it was first born, but now she basically doesn't care anymore.
At the time, I didn't intend to flirt with her; I just listened a few times out of boredom and offered some comfort. I advise reconciliation, not separation. Many mother-in-law/daughter-in-law conflicts stem from insufficient communication and a lack of mutual understanding. If neither party is difficult or demanding, they can resolve their own issues through communication. Divorce and finding another partner isn't a good solution; the same problems are likely to recur.
Perhaps she didn't want a divorce, or perhaps my words resonated with her, and she was receptive to my advice.
We met a few times but never asked each other's names or exchanged contact information, only knowing that we had attended university in the same city and both liked watching movies. Then her child damaged my recliner. She offered to pay for it, but I had bought it from a friend and thought it could be repaired, so I didn't ask her to pay. She gave me her WeChat and phone number and we arranged to go get it repaired together.
That's when I learned her name. Like Jiang Ziya fishing, I'll call her Fish.
It was a small matter; I took it in for repair myself without telling her. Yu'er asked about it a few times and even offered to treat me to a meal, but I was busy and declined.
As autumn turned to winter, I was constantly traveling for work, and the cold weather kept me from going fishing at the river. We chatted a few times on WeChat, but her tendency to complain was even stronger, and I didn't offer any helpful advice, so we gradually lost contact.
Then, after the New Year, I posted a photo of myself jogging in the morning on my WeChat Moments, taken at my usual fishing spot. She saw it and asked when I was going fishing again, saying she owed me a meal.
After the Qingming Festival, spring arrived, and a friend invited me fishing. My friend had to leave early, so I sent Yu'er the photo and my location. She quickly showed up alone.
That's when I learned she was divorced.
It turned out that the cold winter hadn't cooled down the conflict between her and her mother-in-law. Her mama's boy husband hadn't helped, her mother had a group of gossipy older women stirring things up, and she herself had a man she met on WeChat who wanted to seduce her. This scumbag was a married man who gave her advice completely opposite to mine. He kept telling her there would be better people after the divorce, adding fuel to the fire at a crucial moment. In the heat of the moment, she couldn't control herself and agreed to the divorce, now deeply regretting not listening to my advice and acting recklessly.
Now that scumbag is pursuing her, and she's hesitant, finding him somewhat despicable.
As a lecherous man, I responsibly analyzed the allure of her beautiful face, supple skin, full breasts, and curvaceous figure to men. This allure was enough to give any man enough patience and time to prepare enough sweet words and tactics to please her, just to sleep with her.
She was struggling with this man's invitation at the time, seeking my opinion while indecisive. I was very blunt and told the truth. This scumbag reminded me of my ex; she had someone like that by her side when we broke up.
Perhaps out of anger at her lack of self-control, I scolded both her and the scumbag. After scolding her, seeing her crying her eyes out, I felt pity and turned to comfort her.
Her tone changed, and she started yelling at me, saying I was rude to her, and even hit me twice. Those two slaps sparked something in me...
Before, I just thought of her as a mother of a mischievous child, someone else's wife—a married woman you couldn't just casually flirt with, or you'd get into trouble. But she was divorced, and coupled with the explicit hints I saw on her WeChat from that man, and her words about wanting to cheat, I lost my composure. I
'm grateful to that man; taking advantage of her divorce, he gave her plenty of comfort and stirred her heart.
Perhaps it was the warmth of spring and the revival of all things, that accelerated the secretion of hormones in our bodies; that day, I really wanted to seduce her, like a fly finding a cracked egg.
So, when she suggested drinking, I didn't refuse. I happened to have some wine and food in my car—red wine with salted duck—and we drank until it was pitch black, until late at night, when we realized it was already nine o'clock.
Fish hadn't finished venting; fueled by alcohol, she complained about her ex-mother-in-law, her ex-husband, that scumbag, and how I ignored her.
I directly confronted her, saying, "If you weren't such a resentful woman with designs on your husband, how could you have been seduced by that scumbag?"
Her words immediately brought her to tears. I had no choice but to apologize.
Wiping her tears and snot, she told me that after giving birth, she and her husband saw each other very little, and their sex life was practically nonexistent—once every month or two. She said her life was monotonous, and the lack of sex was incredibly painful.
Alcohol is a matchmaker, and under the cover of night, our conversation became quite open.
Finally, I said, "It's late at night, stop talking. If you keep talking, I can't take it anymore, and I'll kill you."
She said, seemingly resentfully, "I'm already wet."
A girl once said something similar to me; I was lying in bed with her then, and I felt like a beast. After she said that, I shamelessly tested her, and her underwear was indeed soaked. That day, I was out of my mind, pretending to be a gentleman, and only used my fingers to caress her.
This time, I pulled her over, laid her on my lap, and directly touched her genitals with one hand.
I was drunk, and through her jeans, I could only feel the softness and bulge of her vulva.
"Mmm," she moaned softly, letting out a few breaths, and said to me, "You can't even put your hand inside, you're just touching me from the outside."
I then realized what was happening, unbuttoned her pants, and slipped my hand inside her lower abdomen.
She pressed my hand down with one hand, saying, "Gently, slowly. Don't hurt me."
Seeing her bleary eyes, seemingly ready to be taken, I didn't hesitate and touched her directly.
Sure enough, it was already a wet mess; her panties were soaked, her love juices practically flowing like a river.
Her body was extremely sensitive; she trembled violently the moment I touched her, then curled up, her legs tightly clamping my hand. She buried her head under my armpit, panting, "Gently, don't be too rough."
I wasn't being rough at all. "Are you going to break my finger?"
She bit me through her clothes, opening her legs to give me a gap.
I took the opportunity to part her labia and insert my index finger. I felt her tightness as soon as I inserted one knuckle; my finger almost stretched open her vagina.
"Ah!" Her cry startled me, and I looked around for a long time, afraid someone was watching.
She also paused, and after confirming no one was around, she moved her body and lay flat in my arms.
"Deeper, gently. I haven't done this in a long time," she panted, directing my finger.
Her vagina, which had been empty for so long, was not empty at all; it tightly gripped my finger, and without the lubrication of her abundant love juice, it would have been very difficult to insert. Her vagina trembled with my insertion, her vagina contracting in waves, greedily sucking on my finger.
As I inserted my entire finger and moved it in and out, she arched her hips and tried to pull her jeans down to give me enough room to move. Taking advantage of this opportunity, I inserted my middle finger as well.
"Ah, it hurts."
I immediately stopped and tried to pull out. She held my hand down to stop me from moving.
"Does it hurt?"
"It's swollen."
"Then I'll come out."
"Wait."
I didn't wait, but slowly went in and out. She moaned and tried to open her legs to cooperate, slowly emitting pleasurable groans. Her body, which had been lying flat, turned towards me, lifted my shirt, and began to lick, suck, and nibble at my abs.
I could feel her excitement, so I stopped going forward and used my fingers to explore the folds and erogenous zones inside her vagina.
With my movements, her breathing became heavier and heavier, so I had to cover her with my shirt to avoid making too much noise and attracting peeping.
She seemed to misunderstand me, turned her head down, pulled open my pants, stroked my aroused penis through my underwear, and then bit down on it.
At that moment, I found her erogenous zone. I gently massaged it a few times, and she suddenly raised her head, moaning softly, and said in a low voice, "Don't move, I want you inside."
I understood what she meant, and I wanted to too, but I didn't dare to do it by the river. If someone came, I wouldn't even have time to put on my pants, and if I got photographed, I'd be famous.
I massaged her even more vigorously, while stroking her clitoris with my palm: "Does it feel good?"
"It feels good, I'm dying."
"Then die of pleasure."
"I'm really being played to death by you." She gasped through gritted teeth, and after saying this, she reached into my underwear like a madwoman, pulled out my penis: "I want it. Ah, ah. I didn't expect this."
After saying this, she swallowed my penis whole without waiting for my reply. One of her hands tightly hugged my waist, and she kept moaning softly. Her body suddenly tensed up, and her legs clamped tightly around our entangled hands.
She climaxed and didn't move for a long time. I was extremely glad that she didn't bite off my penis in her excitement.
"Feeling good?"
I pulled my hand out after she caught her breath.
She spat out my penis but didn't leave, rubbing it against her face. "Feeling so good?"
"You've never experienced this before?" My vanity was greatly satisfied.
"No."
"Never tried it yourself?" A thought flashed through my mind; I wondered if this slender woman could masturbate.
"A few times." She immediately realized what I meant, but without shame or anger, she asked me in return, "You're so good at this, you must have messed with a lot of innocent girls."
I didn't answer; I would never tell her that someone said my hand was a million times better than my penis.
"I thought you were a good person." She rolled her eyes at me, lowered her head, bit my glans, and then swallowed it.
With someone in her mouth, I stopped stimulating her and silently enjoyed her sucking and licking.
With nothing else to do, I looked around while taking out a tissue to wipe her genitals. As my desire rose, I reached down again.
She didn't refuse; instead, she worked even harder, awkwardly sucking and licking, occasionally hurting me. Even so, my climax came slowly.
"Don't move." I didn't want to ejaculate; the real fun hadn't even started yet.
She completely ignored me.
"If you ejaculate now, you'll be exhausted after a while."
"Perfect for you to behave." She said slyly, then started licking my glans incessantly with her tongue. She felt my excitement.
I felt her excitement too, and increased the pressure of my hands.
We were like in a competition, seeing who could bring the other to orgasm first.
In the end, I lost. Just as I was about to ejaculate, I pressed her head down. Caught off guard, she swallowed my penis. By the time she tried to spit it out, I had already ejaculated. I
ejaculated with great gusto. She wanted to spit it out but couldn't, and because of her moans, she couldn't swallow, so she swallowed half and spat out the other half, making a mess of my crotch.
"This is my first time doing this. You're disgusting."
At this moment, perhaps because her climax was approaching, she struggled to get off my body after saying this, lying on the grass and letting me do as I pleased.
At that moment, I looked at her like I was looking at my prey, a fish I had caught, ready to be ravaged.
I didn't disappoint her. I knelt beside her, covering her mouth with one hand to silence her, and using the other to stimulate her genitals, bringing her to a second orgasm.
After she finished, we were both exhausted. We rested for a while, packed our things, and left.
On the way back, we looked around carefully, thankfully not encountering anyone.
When we reached the parking lot, we realized the seriousness of the situation. We had both driven there, and even ignoring the possibility of DUI checks, we were so drunk we could easily have driven into a river.
We both knew we couldn't drive and didn't want to take each other home, so we went to a hotel together.
The nearest hotel was four kilometers away. After walking for a while, she asked me to carry her, saying her genitals were swollen from what I had done.
I carried her all the way to the hotel. Luckily, I have good stamina, otherwise I wouldn't have had the energy for the second half.
We showered together, and I was surprised to find that her petite frame had large breasts. She said she was a D cup, and after checking, I agreed.
While washing each other, our passion intensified, and we started right there. I finally experienced the pleasure of being enveloped by her exquisite vagina; her honey pot was tight, juicy, and elastic, a hidden paradise within.
Unfortunately, we were twenty centimeters apart in height, making various positions unsatisfying and forcing us to move to the bed.
Her moans were loud, as if I were stabbing her heart with a knife rather than penetrating her vagina, causing the neighboring room to bang on the walls.
Who cared? Having an audience made us even more excited; the alcohol's numbing effect made us crave the pleasure from each other's bodies.
I don't know how long we did it, just kept going and going.
Her vulva had been empty for so long, frantically demanding from me, even when she was too tired to move, she still gripped my penis. I was determined to defeat her; when my penis gave out, I switched hands, finally making her break down and beg for mercy, finally stopping
. We forgot how many times we did it that day; it was a mix of going and stopping, so we couldn't count.
I don't know how excited she was, but when I woke up, the sheets were still wet.
She later said she was very happy, feeling like all the orgasms she'd never experienced in her life were finally coming back to her. The next day, she wouldn't let me check out. When I brought her lunch in the afternoon, she was still asleep, and she opened the door for me naked, and then our passion continued.
Maybe it was because the place was too empty and old, maybe it was to release her pent-up emotions, or maybe she knew our relationship wouldn't last. She kept demanding more, even holding my fingers between her legs while sleeping. It made my wrists ache, and of course, she didn't get better either; the price was that her vagina was swollen and red for several days. When she sent me pictures, she even said she wanted more.
I was going crazy.
Once you taste the sweetness, you can't stop. She said she was obsessed with my fingers (how insulting!), and then we met up a few more times. She said she liked the feeling of me covering her mouth and torturing her vagina; this was a staple of our rendezvous, always standing, and always me ravaging her until her legs went weak.
Now she wants to remarry her ex-husband, and things are going well. For the sake of the children, her mother-in-law has also made concessions.
I don't know if she can change her mind. Last time we met, she was conflicted, feeling guilty for being so impulsive in seeking sexual thrills. We agreed to part amicably; we won't see each other again after I get a new partner, and we won't see each other again after she remarries.
I hope we can keep our word and leave each other with beautiful memories.
It was a memorable, passionate one-month affair. She was a very attractive young woman, which increased my attraction to short-haired women.

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Fishing, I caught a young woman with a child.

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