With 45

That was five years ago. I was 23, and she was 45.

I was an intern at a company, and she was a lawyer, both very busy.

Meeting her was purely accidental. She added me on QQ; my QQ name was rather artsy, "Luo Luo Zi Jin" (落落子衿). Her verification message was "Dan Dan Qing Shan" (淡淡青衫).

I thought she was a friend and accepted. After adding her, I realized we didn't know each other, but I didn't feel uncomfortable chatting with her at all, so we continued.

I was interning at a company then, and my work wasn't busy. Our office was full of interns, and there wasn't much supervision, so chatting was easy.

She said she found me by searching my location, and since her name was nice, she added me to chat. Her name had the character "Ping" (萍) in it, so I always called her Sister Ping.

Later, I learned that Sister Ping was divorced and had an 18-year-old son who was about to take the college entrance exam. We talked a lot about her son, and she asked me how I prepared for the college entrance exam, wanting advice for her son.

Ping is very insightful, and her bumpy love life adds a unique charm to her speech.

Gradually, Ping really enjoyed chatting with me and often initiated conversations. But Ping is clever; she always manages to start a conversation with a clever opening line, like, "I saw a quote today that really resonated with me..." A mature woman's gentleness permeates her words.

My internship company was in a southern city, where summers were incredibly hot and humid. Our accommodations were poor, making it difficult to sleep at night. I invited Ping for a voice chat, and she agreed.

Ping's voice was soft and gentle, a little weathered, but incredibly evocative—perfectly described as tender and lingering. We talked a lot. Ping said she especially enjoyed chatting with me, as it made her feel younger. However, she wouldn't show me her photos, always saying we should get to know each other better. After

about half a month of chatting, Ping finally agreed to send me photos, but on the condition that she see me first. I suggested a video call, and we connected, but Ping's end was completely dark; she wouldn't let me see her video.

I swim every day and play tennis and basketball on weekends, so I'm in pretty good shape; my six-pack abs are starting to show. Sister Ping was pleasantly surprised, saying she hadn't expected me to be such a handsome young man.

The lighting wasn't great on my end, so after we ended the video call, Sister Ping sent me a photo. I was a very sophisticated middle-aged woman. She wore a light brown work skirt, knee-length, dark high heels, and flesh-colored stockings. She had a mole on her forehead, just like Xi Meijuan. Her smile was slightly pursed, which was particularly beautiful.

Later, after seeing more of Sister Ping's photos, I noticed that she mostly wore suits, all of which fit her perfectly. Although Sister Ping is 45 years old, she practices yoga regularly, resulting in a fantastic figure. Combined with her elegant demeanor, she's simply stunning.

Her hair is always styled in a neat bun, clean and professional, befitting her work.

Sister Ping has been divorced for almost a year. To escape the emotional void, she threw herself into her work, but it didn't alleviate her inner turmoil. Not wanting too many people in real life to know, she started chatting online, and that's how she met me.

We got along better and better, and soon the conversation turned to sex. Ping, who was initially shy and hesitant, gradually became more open about it. Ping's voice often trembled, and I could almost hear the moistness on the other end of the phone.

At that time, I was inexperienced and only had longing for my girlfriend in another city through phone calls. With Ping, I was undoubtedly entering a completely different world. The gentle charm of a mature woman made my girlfriend pale in comparison.

After my internship ended, I was going home to rest for a while.

Ping's home was in the provincial capital, and mine wasn't far away. When Ping knew I was going back, her voice was filled with undisguised joy. On the sleeper train back, Ping and I texted each other for most of the night.

After arriving in the provincial capital, I found a hotel and settled in before telling Ping I had arrived.

It happened to be a Saturday afternoon, and Ping told me over the phone to meet her at a coffee shop near the city center.

I was a little late on the way, and Ping was already there when I arrived.

Ping was wearing a denim skirt and her hair was still in a bun. She smiled gently at me, without the slightest shyness, like an old friend. The feeling of an intellectual woman is just different.

Sister Ping even brought a box of freshly made pastries, and we chatted in the café.

I kept praising her beauty; women all fall for that, and Sister Ping laughed heartily, becoming much closer to me.

I kept glancing at Sister Ping's beautiful legs; she was wearing flat sandals today, her fair feet peeking out, looking incredibly sexy. My leg kept brushing against Sister Ping's leg; she must have felt it, but didn't pull away, so I rubbed her beautiful leg even more freely. She kept smiling at me, her speech unchanged.

Later, I rubbed her legs together, and also grabbed her hand. Her hand was still soft; it's so rare for a woman her age to maintain that.

Ping scolded me playfully, "Aren't you afraid others will see?"

I replied, "I look mature, and you look so young. To others, we'll look like a young couple." Ping seemed pleased with this, playfully slapping me and saying, "You're so disrespectful." Later, I sat down next to Ping, put my arm around her slender waist, and whispered in her ear.

Our seats were in a corner, next to several large potted plants, making it impossible to see what was happening inside from the outside.

Ping's body was very supple, like a young girl's. She was carrying a newly published yoga magazine, so it seems yoga really works. Although our actions were quite intimate, Ping was still shy about talking.

I whispered in her ear how long it had been since we had sex, and Ping blushed. When I asked her how she usually satisfied her desires, she told me not to be so direct. I asked Ping what color her underwear was, but she wouldn't answer. As I spoke, my right hand slipped under the hem of her skirt, touching her soft waist and buttocks.

Ping was practically slumped in the booth, looking at me with soft, alluring eyes. My left hand caressed between her legs, reaching her labia; a warm, moist sensation filled the air—Ping had been wanting this for a long time.

Our lips quickly met in a light kiss. I kissed Ping passionately, feeling like she was my girlfriend. The scent of a mature, beautiful woman was something a naive young girl could never compare to.

Not long after, a few men came in, ordered drinks at the table next to us, and started playing cards loudly. The people in the cafe were annoyed but helpless; that's how Chinese people are—they don't really consider other people's feelings. Ping and I left the cafe.

I suggested going to my hotel, but Ping didn't object, only saying, "It's not dinner time yet, let's talk about it after dinner." There was a nicely maintained botanical garden near the cafe, so we snuggled up on a bench and chatted.

There weren't many people there, and we were very close.

Ping grabbed my arm and said I was really strong, then gave me a light kiss on the cheek. I held her close, gently squeezing her breasts through her denim jacket.

Ping's breasts were still very firm; she was truly a mature woman. She turned slightly towards me so I could hold them more fully. I squeezed and released her breasts, while my other hand caressed her labia beneath her denim skirt, which were already wet.

Suddenly, a light rain began to fall. Luckily, I had brought an umbrella, and we became even more unrestrained under it. We kissed and caressed each other.

Ping's hand gently covered my pants, and she asked, "Is it okay?" I said, "Of course." Ping then stroked my penis through my pants. I released my penis from my underwear, and Ping caressed me with alternating tightness and looseness.

This was my first intimate encounter with a mature woman, and I suddenly ejaculated. Ping laughed at me, calling me a silly boy, and took out tissues to wipe me clean.

The rain was getting heavier, so we quickly moved to a nearby circular corridor to take shelter; there weren't many people there. I started getting hard again, so I hugged Ping from behind and rubbed her ample buttocks. Ping subtly rotated her hips, sending a shiver down my spine, almost making me ejaculate again.

At that moment, I was burning with desire and whispered in her ear, "Sister, I want it." Unexpectedly, Ping smiled gently and slightly raised her buttocks. This was clearly an indication that it was okay here too. I really didn't expect such a refined, intellectual woman to be so wild as to agree to have sex with me in the park at dusk.

I pulled up her denim midi skirt, dragged her white panties down to her knees, and then penetrated her from behind.

Ping's lower body was warm and moist, with a tight grip; it felt like heaven inside.

I thrust violently, and Ping bit her lip hard to keep quiet. Watching the occasional passerby in the distance was incredibly exciting.

After a while, I felt myself about to climax. I said, "Sister, I'm going to cum, can I cum inside?" Sister Ping turned her head and looked at me with seductive eyes, saying, "Go ahead, silly boy, it's okay." What man could resist such stimulation? I quickly climaxed. I pulled out, watching the thick semen slowly flow from Sister Ping's beautiful little hole. She used a tissue to wipe me clean first, then wiped herself.

Sister Ping lowered her skirt, revealing herself as a dignified, beautiful, and mature career woman. Women, when they want to be two-faced, are truly unmatched by men.

That night, because Sister Ping had something to do, she didn't go to the hotel with me. Before leaving, I coaxed and pleaded for Sister Ping's white, soaking wet lace panties. Sister Ping scolded me, calling me a troublesome little devil and silly boy.

When a beautiful woman stands up and lifts one leg to take off her panties, the sensuality makes me dizzy.

To this day, our relationship continues.

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With 45

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