The young director's wife

The Young Director's Wife
This happened two years ago. At that time, I had just started learning about stocks, spending every day in front of the computer. Anyone who has traded stocks knows that it can be quite boring, especially when you've invested all your money in a stock, only to see it fail to rise for several days. Selling it seems risky, but holding on means watching other stocks hit their daily limit up, some of which you yourself had previously favored. So, after investing all my money in a stock, I prayed: "I hope the next few days won't be boring." However, things rarely go as planned.
One day, I invested all my money in a stock. Stocks bought that day couldn't be sold, and seeing no change in the market trend, boredom began to creep in. Often at times like this, leaving the computer is impossible, so I would often play online pool or cards to pass the time. But that day, I had no interest in playing. Bored, I clicked into a chat room, intending to just observe. The chat room was filled with names like "Light Dance," "Graceful Stem," "One-Night Stand," and "Passionate Telephone." Entering a boring chat room when you're bored isn't exactly fun. So I was about to leave when someone named "Let's Chat Honestly (Female)" appeared on the screen. —I think online chatting is about letting go of our real-life masks and having a genuine conversation. Since we don't know each other online, why not be more genuine? —So I clicked on "Let's Chat Honestly (Female)" and said, "Hello..."
She was 31 years old, from Hunan, and had moved to Guangzhou with her husband after his military service. She worked as a deputy director in an office and had a seven-year-old son. Since our first chance encounter in the chat room, we'd communicated through QQ. On QQ, she was called "Xiaoyu," and I was called "Net Fish." Her work wasn't very busy; her workplace provided her with a computer, so we could communicate anytime and talk about anything. When she achieved something at work, she'd share her joy with me immediately; when my stocks went up, we'd pray together for them to rise again the next day. Of course, there were also times when things didn't go well. She often complained that her husband was always out socializing, rarely having a proper conversation throughout the year, and that her son was very naughty and often disregarded her words. As for me, I often worried about China's capital market. When we were happy, sharing our joys made us even happier. When we were in a bad mood, we encouraged each other until we both believed that tomorrow would be better. Gradually, if one day the other didn't appear online, I would feel a little missed.
We communicated online for half a year like this. During that time, I often wanted to meet her, but then I thought, since we were getting along so well, why not maintain the status quo? If we met and found that she wasn't as good as I imagined, I might lose my initial enthusiasm. So, I decided it was better not to meet, after all, this online relationship was hard-won.
Later, I went to work for a decoration company. The boss was my classmate. He also liked to trade stocks, but he often didn't have time. So, we started working together. When the market was open, I would keep an eye on the market for him. He even bought a laptop so that we could work anytime, anywhere when we were out socializing or running errands. After spending too much time alone in front of the computer, I enjoy moving around a bit.
One day in May, a classmate's company completed a renovation project at a nearby building. On the day of the inspection, my classmate specially hosted a banquet with over a dozen tables, inviting everyone from the client company. To avoid any appearance of extravagance, the venue was the rooftop garden of the newly renovated building, and the meal was simply a buffet hot pot. As night fell, a bright moon slowly rose, a cool early summer breeze blew gently, and the newly planted flowers and plants emitted a delicate fragrance, creating a unique atmosphere. The ladies who arrived, the older ones, dressed elegantly and demurely, while the younger ones made the most of their youth, dressing up in their finest attire. A lady sitting at the next table, facing me, caught my attention. She looked a bit like Tao Hong from the TV series "Da Shi" (大师). Her long hair was pulled back, and she wore a white, thin suit skirt over a matching white silk blouse. She wore no makeup, only a light touch of lipstick. Wearing all white isn't usually a good combination, easily highlighting skin imperfections, but her skin was very fair, smooth, and delicate. The white clothes made her appear even more elegant and radiant. The banquet began, and of course, there was plenty of alcohol. My classmate pulled me along, and we went from the leaders' table to the staff's table, toasting each table. It turned out that this unit didn't have a director yet; the deputy director was the head, and the woman in white was the director's wife. This surprised me a bit. Usually, even if an official's wife isn't overbearing, she exudes a sense of superiority, but I didn't sense it at all from her words and actions. After a round of toasts, people began to eat and drink. Two seats were always the most lively: one was the bureau chief's seat, and the other was the bureau chief's wife's seat. For the sake of their careers and futures, subordinates generally wouldn't miss an opportunity to impress their superiors. In such occasions, the way to gain favor with the leader was, of course, to toast them. Besides the bureau chief, there was also his wife.
The bureau chief's wife seemed to be averse to alcohol; initially, she didn't drink at all, only consuming soda. However, she eventually succumbed to the enthusiasm of the crowd and began drinking small glasses of wine. After a few glasses, two rosy clouds rose on her fair face, her smile radiant, making her even more charming and alluring. One scene in particular remains unforgettable: after drinking, perhaps feeling a bit hot, she stood up as if to remove her clothing. The moment she pulled down her suit jacket, her breasts stood high and firm, the boundary between her breasts and bra clearly visible beneath the thin silk blouse.
The banquet lasted about two hours, and everyone was slightly tipsy and full. Then my classmate came over, handed me the car keys, and said, "After dinner, I'm going to karaoke and sauna with the director and the others. Looks like tonight's going to last until tomorrow morning. I'll ride with them; you take the director's wife home, and you can drive the car home tonight."
The lady was clearly quite drunk; she stood up and took a few steps before becoming unsteady. I sensed something was wrong. Tonight we were drinking imported liquor. Usually, when you drink too much imported liquor, you're not so bad while sitting, but once you stand up, the effects start to kick in, and the aftereffects get stronger. Fortunately, there was a row of flowers and trees blocking the view of the aisle we were walking through. It wouldn't be good for the director's wife to appear drunk in front of her husband and subordinates. I quickly called over a female employee to help the lady, but the employee wasn't much better off; the two of them were supporting each other, but it was hard to tell who was supporting whom. Luckily, their effects hadn't fully kicked in yet. After getting off the elevator and into the car, everything went smoothly for the rest of the journey. I had originally planned to have her sit in the back seat, but she said she gets carsick easily and prefers the front. In the car, I suggested that if she had drunk too much, perhaps a female employee could accompany her home, but she kept shaking her head, her tongue slurring, saying, "I'm fine, no need to trouble yourself." Hearing this, I couldn't help but chuckle inwardly: it seems women are the same; even when they're drunk, they'll say they're fine. Perhaps worried about carsickness, she even rolled down the window. I felt bad telling her again that it's not good to be out in the wind after drinking, so I asked for her address, thinking it best to get her home as soon as possible.
She didn't say another word the rest of the way. Twenty minutes later, the car arrived at her apartment building. It was a newly built residential complex; many houses were still under renovation, and very few had moved in. The car stopped, but she didn't move. Was she asleep? So I opened my car door, intending to go over and open hers so she could get out. Just as the car door opened, the interior lights came on, revealing a picture of a beautiful woman intoxicated on the seat to my right: she wore a white suit jacket, leaning back against the seat, her body tilted towards me, her head resting on the back of her seat next to me. Her short skirt had ridden up almost to her thighs as she leaned forward, revealing a large section of her left thigh, encased in white sheer stockings. Her eyes were closed, a few strands of hair clinging to her forehead, which was damp with a light sweat. Her chest rose and fell with her breath, and the top button of her silk blouse had been undone at some point, revealing the upper edge of her white bra and the upper part of her breast that was not covered by the bra through the slightly open neckline. I was stunned for a moment, an involuntary surge of heat rising from my lower abdomen, my groin swelling and bulging against my pants.
Just as I was at a loss, she suddenly opened her eyes, her right hand quickly fumbled for the car door switch, and she flung open the door, her body springing out like a bullet. Her sudden action startled me, and I rushed out of the car as well. I saw her squatting on the ground, her back heaving as she vomited with a loud "whoosh." Her body swayed uncontrollably as she vomited, and I quickly supported her shoulders. The terrifying vomiting continued for several minutes, and slowly even bile came up. I reached into the car and took out some tissues and bottled water, handing them to her. She wiped her face haphazardly and rinsed her mouth with water. Seeing that she had vomited enough, I closed the car door, helped her up, and headed towards the elevator in the lobby. She mumbled, "I'm sorry, I lost control." Her legs were still weak, so I had to put my right arm around her back, supporting her right armpit, letting her bear most of her weight on my right hand. We entered the elevator, pressed the button, and the elevator slowly rose. Suddenly, I felt something strange in my right hand. My right hand was under her armpit, my four fingers resting on the outside of her right breast, her warm, soft, and firm breast pressed against my fingertips. Her eyes were slightly closed, her head resting on my right shoulder, and she didn't speak.
I took the keys from her handbag, fumbled to open the door, helped her into the bedroom, took off her suit jacket, laid her on the bed, and removed her white high heels. After vomiting, her face was pale. I called out, "Sister," but there was no response; she was probably fast asleep. However, she had vomited, wetting a large area of her shirt and leaving a lot of stains on her skirt. Changing her clothes was necessary, but judging from her condition, she wouldn't wake up for the time being. Changing her clothes was out of the question; if she woke up and found out I had changed her, the consequences would be unimaginable. Suddenly, I wondered if there was a maid in the house. So I went to look around the other rooms, but there was no one there. I returned to the bedroom and saw her pajamas draped over the chair by the bed. Looking at her damp shirt, I didn't know what to do. Suddenly, I remembered that when I was drunk, I often couldn't remember what happened afterward. Seeing how soundly she was sleeping, I figured she'd think she changed her clothes herself when she woke up. That was the only way.
Her silk shirt was thin, and a large section of the front was wet, clinging to her bra and the skin of her abdomen. The wet shirt was transparent, clearly revealing the outline of her bra and the skin of her abdomen. I gently unbuttoned her shirt, and as each button was undone, her high breasts, clad in a bra, and her round, delicate navel were revealed before my eyes. I pulled the hem of her shirt out from under her skirt, then gently pushed her body into a side-lying position. I carefully pulled her left arm out of the sleeve and unzipped the back of her skirt. Then I turned her back to a supine position, gently lifting her waist and hips with my right hand, slowly pulling the skirt down to her calves, then lifting her feet and removing the skirt completely. I turned her back to a side-lying position, completely removing her shirt from her right arm, and finally gently pushed her back to a supine position. At this moment, in front of me, her upper body was only covered by a white strapless bra, the lower two-thirds of her breasts exposed outside the bra, her upper breasts like solidified cream or white jade, gleaming with a holy light under the soft lamplight. A slender waist, a flat stomach. Her lower body was encased in white sheer stockings that reached her waist, and inside the stockings was a small pair of panties covering her slightly protruding vulva. Through the stockings, a few curly hairs peeked out from the edge of the panties. Below were her shapely legs, her small toes neatly tucked into her stockings… Faced with such beauty, I knew I couldn't be a saint who could remain unmoved. My heart pounded like a deer's, my lower body hardened again, and I longed to unhook her bra, caress her breasts, kiss her lips, pull down her stockings and panties, and enter her body. But then I knew that there are many things in this world you can only admire, not touch. To be fortunate enough to see them is already a great blessing.
She was still fast asleep. I took her nightgown from the bedside and carefully changed her in it again, covering her with a blanket.
I picked up her soiled clothes and draped them over the chair beside the bed. Just as I was about to leave, I suddenly heard her groan deep in her throat, and she turned over, curling up in a ball, her brow furrowed. Perhaps the remaining alcohol was taking effect again. Being drunk and vomiting often leaves one feeling very uncomfortable, especially after drinking too much spirits. I remembered that whenever I got drunk, my mother would make me a bowl of pepper and egg soup, and I would feel better quickly after eating it. So, I went to the kitchen. Great! There was pepper! I found an empty bottle, crushed the pepper, took two eggs from the refrigerator, and turned on the gas stove. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the aroma of pepper and eggs.
A fragrant bowl of pepper and egg soup was ready, and I carried it to the bedroom. Finally, after much effort, I managed to wake her. She sat up, still sleepy. She looked around and said, "Huh? I'm home?" I said, "Yes, the director and the others had work to do after dinner tonight, so I brought you home. I noticed you weren't feeling well, so I took you straight to your bedroom to lie down." She hesitated for a moment, as if remembering something, and said, "I know you brought me home. I think I was drunk, and I even vomited." I said, "You weren't drunk, just probably drank a little too much, and you were a bit carsick on the way back, so it's normal to vomit." She seemed a little confused, and lowered her head as if trying to remember something. She saw her pajamas... Suddenly, she asked, "Did you change your clothes yourself after you came back?" Luckily, I was prepared, so I casually replied, "Yes, after I helped you into the bedroom, I saw you had vomited everything you ate. Your stomach must have been very empty. I saw pepper in the kitchen and eggs in the refrigerator. I heard that a little pepper and egg soup is best after drinking alcohol, so I made you a bowl. When you came in, I noticed you had already changed your clothes." She looked up at me. Perhaps she saw my sincere expression, or perhaps she believed she wasn't completely confused, her eyes gradually softened. I handed her the soup, which she took, her eyes filled with gratitude. She said, "I'm so sorry to have troubled you all night; I can't accept your cooking." She was truly hungry and began to eat, saying that she also made this soup for her husband when he came home drunk, and it worked very well. However, she had only tasted it and had never actually drunk it herself, and she was surprised at how delicious it was. Watching her eat so heartily, I felt very happy too. Soon, she finished the whole bowl of soup, and her complexion regained its rosy hue.
Just then, the phone by the bed rang, and she picked it up. The room was quiet, and I could hear the voice on the other end clearly. It was her husband calling; he was quite drunk and said he had something to do that night and couldn't come home. He told her to immediately turn on the computer and send some urgent document to someone online. Hearing that her husband wouldn't be coming home, a flicker of displeasure crossed her face, but she quickly regained her composure, perhaps used to this situation.
She muttered to herself, "What could be so urgent? Can't I send it tomorrow at work?" as she turned on the computer in the bedroom. The computer was running very slowly, almost like a Pentium 100 running Windows 98, but the machine itself looked quite new. I asked her what the computer's specs were, and she said she didn't know much about computers, only that it was a Pentium 4 and she'd only bought it six months ago. I said that didn't make sense; how could a Pentium 4 be so slow? She said it wasn't this slow at first, but it gradually got slower and slower, and she didn't know if she'd bought a fake. After a while, the file was finally sent. I said to her, "This computer problem is probably a software issue, not a machine problem. Can I take a look?" She said, "Sure, I'm so annoyed by how slow it is. I even talked to my husband about having the computer repair shop take it back for repairs, but he keeps putting it off." I took the mouse and checked the C drive. Good heavens! Only 30MB of space remained out of 10GB. No wonder it's so slow. I explained the situation to her, saying that moving some files to another drive would solve the problem. She asked if it was easy to fix. I said it was fine, it would only take about half an hour. She looked at her watch and said, "Thank you so much. Please fix it for me." So I started selecting files from the C drive that could be moved to another drive. She watched for a while and then said to me, "No rush, take your time fixing it. I'm going to take a shower first; I feel really uncomfortable being dirty."
After selecting everything, the files started moving. I didn't have much to do for the time being. Looking at the little QQ penguin on the screen, I suddenly remembered that I'd been busy setting up the banquet all day and hadn't contacted "Xiaoyu" at all. I wondered if she'd thought of me. So I went online, opened QQ, and immediately heard a "beep beep beep beep" sound from my speakers. "Xiaoyu" had indeed contacted me and left a message: "Where did you go today? I haven't seen you all day. I hope nothing happened to you! I'm going to a cocktail party after get off work today, and I probably won't be home until after 8 pm. I hope I can see you online then." Reading the message, my heart warmed. It was all my fault; I should have just sneaked a little internet access this afternoon. I checked the time; it was already past 9 pm, but "Xiaoyu" wasn't online. She probably logged off after getting home and seeing I wasn't there. I felt a little guilty and casually typed a reply to "Xiaoyu."
Just then, the lady came in after her bath. She had changed into a peach-colored silk nightgown with a subtle floral pattern, a belt cinching her slender waist, highlighting her high, full breasts and making her appear even more graceful. Her long, flowing hair cascaded down like a waterfall, and she exuded a captivating post-bath fragrance. As she combed her hair, she asked me, "Is the computer alright?" I replied that the computer was automatically moving files and would be done soon; I had nothing to do, so I went online to reply to a message from a friend. She laughed and said, "The friend is a woman, right? Have you met her? Is she pretty?" She curiously leaned closer to look at the computer screen. As I typed, I replied, "I haven't met her yet, but I think she must be quite nice." Suddenly, I sensed something was off and looked up at her. I saw her eyes widen, her mouth agape, staring at the screen with a look of utter astonishment. Her hand, which had been combing her hair, stopped. A chill ran through me. Had something gone wrong? She looked at me, then at the screen, then back at me, and then pointed excitedly at "Xiaoyu's" avatar on the screen, exclaiming, "You're 'Net Fish'?! I'm 'Xiaoyu'!"—Suddenly, my mind went completely blank. I stood up, looked at her, and she looked at me. The person I had longed for was suddenly right in front of me! For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. When I came to my senses and confirmed it was real, my heart surged like a raging sea, like a stampede of horses. I couldn't help but reach out and pull her tightly into my arms…
The whole world ceased to exist; it was as if only the two of us remained. Her arms were around my waist, her chin resting on my shoulder. Our faces, our bodies, were pressed tightly together, our hearts pounding rapidly…
After a long while, we calmed down a little. I pulled her to sit on the bed next to us. She nestled in my arms, her head resting on my arm, her face still flushed with excitement, yet also filled with shyness. We both spontaneously recalled how we first met online and the funny things that happened during our QQ chats. When she talked about her husband, her eyes dimmed. She said that in the first few years of their marriage, her husband treated her well, but after he transferred to a different city, he gradually changed. He often didn't come home for dinner, and when he did, they rarely had a proper conversation. At first, she thought it was because he was too busy with work after his transfer, but later, he often didn't come home all night, and sometimes even when he did, he smelled of an unfamiliar perfume. They had argued about this several times, but each time, her husband had many excuses. She asked me, "Are all men like this? Once they're doing better, they start acting recklessly." This was an awkward question for me; it really does happen in today's society, but I couldn't very well say "yes" to her! I said, "Perhaps the director is really busy with work. If you try to understand him more, things might be better." To escape the awkwardness, I changed the subject: "Hey, didn't you say you have a son? Why don't I see him at home?" When she mentioned her son, her brows relaxed. She said her son was over seven years old and about to start second grade. Because the place had just been renovated, she hadn't had time to transfer him to a nearby school yet, so he was temporarily staying at their old house with his recently retired mother-in-law. She said her son was very naughty; he had slashed the sofa in their old house with a knife; he had drawn airplanes and cannons all over the walls with colored pens; he always did his homework while playing with toys; he would stare at the TV while eating; he would take a comic book into the bathroom and wouldn't come out for half an hour without being called. However, he was also very considerate at times. When his mother was unhappy, he would put the trash out the door himself; when his mother wasn't feeling well, he would pour her a glass of water and tell her to take her medicine. Last year, on his mother's birthday, her son gave her a painting of a villa with a garden, with the words, "For Mom, Happy Birthday!" At this point, her eyes reddened, and a single, crystal-clear tear slid down her cheek. Hearing her words, my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool, and I couldn't speak. I could only gently wipe away the tears from her eyes. She continued, saying that when she felt most lost and helpless, she met me online. Every time we talked on QQ, she felt much lighter. Gradually, whenever she was happy or unhappy, she liked to chat with me online. Finally, she gently hugged me and whispered, "Many times when we chat, I really want to tell you how much I want to see you."
Her hair and body exuded an intoxicating fragrance, and her eyes were like a clear pool shrouded in mist. A surge of tenderness welled up in my heart. I gazed at her tenderly, and she gazed back at me with equal affection. I reached out and gently stroked her cheek and ear with my entire palm, slowly combing the hair at her temples with my fingers. She closed her eyes, her long eyelashes trembling slightly. I lowered my head and gently kissed her smooth forehead, her arched eyebrows, her soft eyelids, and her small, straight nose. Her mouth was slightly open, and I kissed her from the left side of her upper lip, little by little, to the right side, and then from the right side of her lower lip, little by little, to the left side. Her lips were so soft, and I couldn't help but kiss them deeply, my tongue lightly touching her teeth. My tongue intertwined with hers in her mouth, our small, warm tongues locked in a passionate kiss. Her warm breath brushed against my face. My hands, through her thin silk nightgown, roamed over her shoulders, back, chest, and abdomen, slowly moving upwards to cup her full breasts in my palms, gently kneading them with my fingertips and palms. Even through the bra cups, I could feel the firmness, softness, and elasticity of her breasts.
Leaving her mouth, my burning lips slid down her chin to her neck. Her head tilted back, and my lips lingered on her neck. My hands moved away from her breasts, gently caressing her flat stomach. As my hands moved lower and lower, reaching her mons pubis, her legs involuntarily closed. Perhaps it was the first time she had been so intimate with a man other than her husband, and she wasn't quite at ease yet. So, my hands slid to the side, stroking her thighs even more gently. My lips touched the back of her ear, the skin there slightly warmer than the neck. I kissed up and down her earlobe, gently biting it with my teeth, my warm breath slowly entering her ear canal. Her breathing quickened, she opened her mouth, letting out a soft sigh, her breath sweet as orchids. Her legs unconsciously parted, and I lifted the hem of her nightgown, lightly brushing my fingers along the inside of her thighs, slowly moving upwards until I reached the edge of her panties. I first ran my fingertips along the edge of her panties, then used my fingertips to gently trace her pubic hair and labia through the thin fabric. Finally, I covered her entire vulva with my palm, and from deep within her throat, she let out a suppressed moan. The warmth of her genitals radiated from my palm, and my middle finger felt the panties at the vaginal opening were slightly damp.
I untied the belt of her nightgown and lifted it up. She seemed to sense what was about to happen; she obediently raised her hand, allowing me to pull the nightgown over her head. She buried her face in my chest, avoiding my gaze. I gently laid her on the bed, stroking the smooth, satin-like skin of her back. Now, her body, clad only in a bra and panties, was once again before me. Her beautiful hair was spread across the pillow, and under the lamplight, her watery eyes were particularly captivating, her alluring breasts rising and falling with her breath. I removed my own clothes, leaving only my panties, my erect penis pushing them high. I lay down beside her, my right hand slipping under her body to pull her into my arms. Our naked bodies pressed tightly together. Her body was warm, soft, and boneless. I kissed her lips, my left hand unhooking her bra. Her breasts, freed from its restraints, sprang out, pressing against my chest. My lips moved from her cheeks, across her neck, up and down her cleavage, my nose and chin brushing against her breasts. Her nipples, erect with blood, resembled two rubies set in the center of her full, white breasts, the pink areolas around them dotted with tiny, millet-like bumps. I held one of her breasts in my hand, rubbing her nipple with my palm and massaging the area around the breast from the outside in with my fingertips. My tongue circled the areola of her other breast, occasionally teasing her nipple, which became even firmer with each movement. Her breathing quickened again, her breaths becoming heavy. My hand left her breasts and slipped inside her panties from the top edge. Her pubic hair was soft, with a small, sensitive spot in the center—I knew it was sensitive and dared not touch it with my rough fingers, only gently caressing it with my palm. My fingers touched her warm labia, so soft and delicate that I could only stroke them very lightly. The lower part of her labia, near the vaginal opening, became slippery. My middle finger tip easily sank into the opening without any effort, gently sliding in and out of the warm, wet opening. Above, I would sometimes use my lips to pinch her nipple, lightly sweeping it with my tongue, then taking her entire areola and nipple into my mouth, sucking greedily. Her body began to writhe, her breathing became more rapid, and she let out soft moans.
I withdrew my right hand from under her body and sat up. Her thin, flesh-colored silk panties were soaked near the vaginal opening, becoming transparent and clinging to her body. I pulled down her panties, knelt between her legs, and kissed her from the inside of her ankles, down her calves, knees, and inner thighs, inch by inch, until I reached the root of her thighs. My face was only an inch away from her vulva. On her raised mons pubis, thick, soft, and glossy black pubic hair grew. Her labia majora parted slightly, revealing pink labia minora. From her moist vaginal opening, vaginal fluid slowly trickled down to her perineum. At the point where her labia met, her clitoris, about the size of a soybean, broke through the folds of her labia, standing proudly erect. I extended my tongue, the tip pressing directly against her proud clitoris. Suddenly stimulated, she shuddered and couldn't help but let out a soft "Ah!" My tongue circled the base of her clitoris, sometimes teasing it quickly, sometimes taking it entirely into my mouth with my lips, sucking like a nursing infant. Her most sensitive spot was intensely stimulated; her whole body tensed, her eyes closed tightly, her head tilted back, her hands gripping the sheets, her chest arching upwards, and her legs bent in a tense motion. I ravaged her clitoris with a torrent of passion for a while, then my tongue moved down, tracing the labia majora and minora, occasionally licking them extensively. Her labia minora, engorged and purplish-red from engorgement, swelled up. Some of the vaginal fluid dripped down her perineum onto the sheets, while some was carried upwards by my tongue, leaving her entire vulva soaking wet. I pressed my face close to her vulva, gently touching her clitoris with the tip of my nose. I tensed my tongue muscles, inserting it into her vagina in a cylindrical shape, moving in and out, while simultaneously teasing the folds of her vaginal walls with the tip of my tongue. She was extremely aroused, her body twisting violently, her hips swaying from side to side, moaning incessantly.
Finally, she could no longer endure it, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me upwards forcefully. I was also ready to pounce. I pulled down my underwear, leaned against her, propped myself up with my right hand, and grasped my already throbbing penis with my left, pressing the engorged glans against her vaginal opening. She held her breath, and I thrust my hips forward, my entire penis plunging into her body, the glans reaching her very core! The unbearable emptiness was finally filled, and she let out a long moan, "Ah—". Her insides were warm and wet, my penis enveloped tightly by the vaginal walls. To let her fully experience the feeling of fullness, I paused for a moment before starting. I slowly withdrew to the vaginal opening, then quickly entered, gradually increasing the frequency and force, my pubic bone slapping against her mons pubis with a "slap, slap" sound. She closed her eyes, moaning "Oh my god—oh my god," her hands wrapped around my waist, her breasts trembling with each of my rapid thrusts. Suddenly, her whole body convulsed, her hands tightly gripping me, her vagina contracting rhythmically around my penis, a gush of hot fluid pouring onto my glans—she had reached orgasm. I almost lost control too, I quickly positioned myself, my glans pressed against her clitoris, motionless. I leaned down, pressing my body close to hers, my lips meeting hers. I extended my tongue, and she wrapped her arms around my neck, forcefully sucking my tongue deep into her mouth. Slowly, her vaginal contractions stopped, her body softened, and I kissed her while caressing her swollen breasts, my lower body beginning to move again. After her earlier orgasm, her vagina was warmer and smoother, I gently entered and exited, savoring the intoxicating comfort. Then I withdrew to the vaginal opening, my glans lightly rubbing against it, once, twice…
When I counted to nine, she was unbearably itchy, and I suddenly thrust deeply inside her, she couldn't help but let out a soft "Ah!" Deep inside, I paused briefly, then returned to the vaginal opening, eight shallow thrusts followed by one deep one, seven shallow thrusts
followed by one deep one… She became accustomed to my movements; each time I was about to penetrate, she would hold her breath and arch her hips to welcome my thrusts. After a few rounds, she began to get excited again, and her cervix deep inside her began to harden. I remained deep inside her, no longer withdrawing, my penis making circular motions within her, the glans massaging her clitoris in circles. I placed my hands under her buttocks, vigorously rubbing them, while my middle fingers massaged her wet perineum. She happily enjoyed the full, stimulating sensation within her. I stopped the grinding motion, spurred on the horse, and began a rapid, deep thrust, the "slap slap" of our bodies colliding echoing in the room once more. Her emotions grew increasingly heightened, her beautiful hair swaying from side to side with the movement of her head, her mouth uttering passionate cries, her body contorting like a snake. My pace quickened, my penis grew harder and harder, and my glans became increasingly hot. Finally, she held me tightly with both hands, her body arched again, and with the contraction of her vaginal muscles, her cervix gushed out hot fluid once more. My glans went numb, and with an immense pleasure, a gush of hot, thick semen erupted, repeatedly drenching her vulva…
Now, almost two years have passed. Due to my classmate's business dealings with her husband, we haven't seen each other since that night, only able to confide in each other online. Not long after, she and her son went to the United States, and she was too busy with work to go online often. Occasionally, we still contact each other online, but I know that the online feelings we shared before, and the passion of that night, can only remain deep in my memory.

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