Company manager's wife

This was the factory's last housing allocation after the housing reform, and as a key technical worker, I was confident I would win this final opportunity. However, I overlooked a crucial issue: lacking experience in networking, I ultimately missed out on housing due to a fabricated excuse from the workshop director. In a fit of anger, I submitted my resignation, ready to leave the position I had worked so hard for ten years.
Because of the technical nature of my work, the factory wouldn't let me leave, but my conflict with the workshop director was a fait accompli, and neither side would back down. Just when I was in this dilemma, a woman stepped in to resolve the stalemate.
She was the director's wife, and everyone in the factory called her Sister Zhao. It wasn't because of her age, nor was it out of respect for the director's power; on the contrary, Sister Zhao was not only young and beautiful, but also warm-hearted, highly educated, and one of the few college graduates in the factory. Everyone genuinely called her Sister Zhao.
But privately, everyone said they didn't know what good deeds the director had done in his past life—ugly and wicked—to have managed to win over such a good woman.
Indeed, less than two months after graduating from university and being assigned to the factory, Sister Zhao married the director, who was seven or eight years her senior and divorced. At first, everyone thought she was selling herself to curry favor with the leadership, but after getting to know her better, everyone concluded—Sister Zhao was too naive.
No wonder, given her lack of social experience after graduating from university, she readily believed any joke. In the end, everyone was certain that Sister Zhao had been tricked by the director.
Such a lovable woman, who in the factory wouldn't give her face? Even the most difficult internal problems became easily solved once she intervened.
I would get nervous whenever I saw her. From the moment she persuaded me until the end, it took less than five minutes, and I impulsively agreed to stay. Only after she left did I realize how fast my heart was pounding and how sweaty my palms were, secretly blaming myself for being so cowardly.
Of course, my feud with the workshop director didn't end there; instead, it escalated.
Ever since that "resolved" incident, rumors circulated in the factory that I was having an affair with Sister Zhao. The director held a grudge because of this and made things
even harder for me. When I heard everyone saying this, I pretended to be angry, but secretly I was overjoyed. It was as if I really was in love with Sister Zhao. Every night when I returned to the dormitory, I would start fantasizing about Sister Zhao's body. Although this made me feel guilty, I still couldn't suppress my countless lustful desires.
The rumors became more and more believable. The only thing Sister Zhao could do was to keep trying to find me a partner, but I didn't like any of them. One day during lunch break, I ran into Sister Zhao, and she started talking to me about introducing me to potential partners again. I wasn't listening at all; instead, I kept secretly observing her. Her loose, thin sweater occasionally betrayed her graceful waistline as she moved. Her wide, round hips and her shapely upper body complemented each other perfectly. Occasionally, her dimples, hidden on her cheeks, would shyly appear in her expressions, which were incredibly alluring.
When she asked me what kind of girl I would accept, I blurted out without thinking that I wanted someone like Sister Zhao. I saw her face immediately turn red, and then, whether out of anger or embarrassment, she hurriedly left. After that, she started avoiding me at every turn, and because of this, I finally left the factory.
Our generation didn't have the opportunity to study, and even at thirty, we couldn't find good jobs outside. Struggling to make ends meet, we had to shamelessly visit relatives and friends to borrow some capital to start small businesses to earn a living. Although it wasn't a big business, we lived a decent life, and compared to the two or three hundred yuan a month we earned at the factory, it was like a factory manager's salary.
The happiest thing for me was that half a year ago, to get revenge on the workshop director, I bought the apartment above his house from the factory at a high price, and from then on, I trampled him underfoot every day.
When I returned to the factory, it was a completely different scene. Most of the factory buildings were gone, the machines were still humming, the large factory with thousands of employees was deserted, and the once domineering director could only waste his days on alcohol.
I often heard the drunken director downstairs using my return as an excuse to harass Sister Zhao, followed by a torrent of vulgar abuse, sometimes even physical violence. It gave me a strange sense of satisfaction, like watching my enemy suffer.
Several times during the day, when I encountered Sister Zhao in the hallway, she would always avoid me with a flustered expression, afraid of being seen by the director.
One night, I bought cigarettes outside the factory. Just as I reached the hallway entrance, I heard heavy banging on the door upstairs, followed by incessant knocking. I continued upstairs, and when I reached the director's door, I saw a woman wearing only a white bath towel, banging incessantly. A pungent smell of alcohol filled the hallway. Undoubtedly, Sister Zhao, who was taking a shower, had been kicked out.
Seeing me come upstairs, Sister Zhao stopped. I knew that staying would embarrass her, so I didn't linger and went back to my room. Seeing me go upstairs, Sister Zhao continued knocking, her voice choked with sobs, pleading with the director to open the door.
Thinking of the cold wind outside and how Sister Zhao was turned away, I was in a state of turmoil, especially after hearing her hoarse voice from crying. My heart softened; after all, I only hated the director.
So I opened the door, went downstairs, and said to Sister Zhao, whose back was to me, "Come to my place first, don't get cold." She didn't turn around, but shook her head.
I could only try a different approach: "The director must be completely drunk right now. If you stand here wrapped in a towel, he'll give you trouble when he wakes up." After saying that, I went back upstairs. Sure enough, this tactic worked. I heard her follow me upstairs. It seems Sister Zhao hasn't changed; she's still just as easy to deal with.
Even after several years of marriage, her life is confined to the factory and home. She's either busy at the factory or taking care of tedious housework at home. It's precisely this simple environment that preserves the purity in Sister Zhao that's so rare in modern society.
After entering the room, Sister Zhao stood far away from me. To appear as if I wouldn't bother her, I deliberately ignored her, jumping onto the bed and pretending to sleep, as if she didn't exist at all.
This was a problem for Sister Zhao, since I didn't plan to stay here long, the only place to sit in the room was my large bed.
I secretly observed Sister Zhao's every move. Her hair was wet; she must have been taking a shower. The director had come home drunk, I don't know how they argued, but she was probably in a hurry to leave, only wearing a white bath towel. I couldn't bear to look away. Her
fair skin, flushed from the hot water, and her long, beautiful legs extended from under the towel. I immediately became aroused. Since she had her back to me, looking at her shapely back, I quietly took off my clothes under the covers and started masturbating with my hand.
The room was deathly silent. After a while, perhaps tired of standing, Sister Zhao reluctantly sat down at the foot of the bed, still with her back to me. She kept turning back to see what I was doing, which startled me so much that I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep.
After another moment of silence, she finally couldn't help but speak, "Thank you for letting me in. I'm going downstairs."
Afraid she would just leave, and not wanting to show it, I pretended to be annoyed and said, "You can't get back in now."
Seeing that I was willing to speak, she quickly explained, "But I'm disturbing your rest."
I really wanted to get up immediately and tell her I wasn't actually sleeping, but my penis was erect and wouldn't go down, so I could only continue lying there. To prevent her from leaving, I had to goad her, saying, "You're afraid I'll bother you, aren't you?"
"No, no, no, that's not it. I never thought of that." She was clearly flustered by my urging and turned to explain.
I straightened up and continued to press her, "Then why did you avoid me before?"
"Well, that's because after listening to you, I didn't know what to do." Sister Zhao took my bait, her voice becoming somewhat agitated.
I escalated the questions further, "I made you hate me, didn't I?"
"No, no." Sister Zhao didn't know how to answer me at first, the words stuck in her throat.
"Do you know, to avoid you seeing the person I hate, I left a job and colleagues I'd had for ten years." That was truly how I felt back then, but I never had the chance to tell her.
"Why would I hate you? I'm actually very happy." Sister Zhao's thoughts had been overwhelmed by me, and she finally couldn't help but say what I wanted to hear.
But I couldn't stop now; I could only let her emotions deepen. "Don't comfort me. If you're happy, why are you avoiding me?"
"What could I do? I'm a married woman, I have a family. I was terrified of how I felt." This touched a raw nerve, and she began to sob uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face.
Her crying startled me. I couldn't find any tissues, so I grabbed a blanket and draped it over her. Then I gently held her shoulders, stroking them to help her relax while comforting her. "I wronged you. Cry it out; it'll make you feel better." Because we were so close, I felt her slightly warm body trembling rhythmically in my arms with each sob.
This caused my previously limp penis to rise again, and my hand, against my will, slid down to her waist, pulling her into my arms. She seemed oblivious to my actions, still sobbing uncontrollably. I tentatively brought my chin close to her ear, letting her sense my need through my breathing, and then casually kissed her flushed cheek.
At that moment, she gradually stopped crying, choking back tears as she looked up, wanting to say something, but then hesitated. In a split second, I made a risky move, pressing my lips to her slightly parted lips, my tongue quickly invading her mouth, greedily sipping her saliva. Everything happened so fast. Sister Zhao's entire upper body immediately stiffened in my arms; when she tried to struggle, she found herself firmly held in my embrace.
With one hand pressed against the towel, she pounded my chest a few times with the other before her fist gradually weakened, signaling the end of her brief, futile resistance. Our tongues finally intertwined, and her breathing became slightly rapid. Although her tongue wasn't quite cooperating with mine yet—I understood it was a woman's rationality at work—my adventure had been successful. But my hands couldn't be idle now; I had to completely shatter all her psychological defenses.
Her breasts were my primary target. My large hands traced the undulating lines of her skin through the towel, finally landing on them. Her previously stiff body trembled, then slumped into my arms, letting out soft moans of "Mmm, uh..."
I really didn't want to let go, because I was irregularly and gently kneading a pair of swollen breasts, which constantly resisted my every squeeze. Occasionally, I could touch two vibrant nipples, which were hard and pressing against my palms. Her body was twisting more and more obviously, her knees were tightly pressed together and rubbing against each other, her head was stretched back, and her originally low breathing turned into a soft and seductive moan. Her delicate body trembled as if in spasm.
My hand, which had been stimulating her breasts, swept across her lower abdomen, placed on her thigh, and then moved inward, preparing to probe between her legs. At this moment, she resisted more forcefully, grabbing my wrist with her hand. Her eyes, already somewhat dazed and confused, met mine, and she said weakly, "Don't do that, just stay like this, okay?"
How could I control myself now? Looking at her, who was already delirious in my arms, was this a woman's modesty? Confused, I could only make up some words to comfort her: "I'll just touch you once, okay? I've never touched a woman before, promise me, okay... just once..." As
soon as I said it, I regretted it. I felt that what I said was fake, but as I said before, Sister Zhao, who went straight home after work, didn't understand men's desires and actually believed me. Anyway, we had already had some physical contact, and as long as I didn't go too far, she would half-heartedly nod and agree, only repeatedly warning me that I could only touch her once.
As her hand loosened slightly, my hand immediately slipped down to her groin, my fingertips first touching the soft pubic hair between her legs. Exploring slightly downwards, my palm completely covered the entire fluffy triangular patch of pubic hair, and my fingers touched the cleft of her labia. As expected, it was already soaked in a sticky mess of fluid.
"Okay, you've touched it, you can take your hand out now," she said, sounding nervous. I couldn't tell if she trusted me or was afraid of her own sensations. She tried to immobilize me by squeezing her thighs together.
Seeing that I didn't withdraw, she began to plead with me to stop. "Let's stop, okay? That's enough, you promised me. Hmm…uh…" Judging
from the strength of her resistance, I realized this was the first time she'd been seen so vulnerable by a man other than her husband. So I changed tactics and said gently, "I know you're not a casual woman, and I respect that, but you're so attractive that I was really holding back and couldn't help myself."
I withdrew my hand and put it back on her chest, continuing what I had been doing. Sure enough, this delaying tactic worked. I felt her relax a little in my arms, and I showered her fair neck and earlobes with kisses, uttering incoherent words of praise. Gradually, I heard her let out soft moans. When my hand touched above her chest, I casually pushed away the towel pressing against her chest and softly asked, "Is it okay?"
She hesitated, head bowed, and I took it as a yes. I grabbed her hand from her chest, and the towel naturally slipped to the floor. Sister Zhao leaned against me, completely naked, her face flushed. When our skin touched, her entire back felt as soft and smooth as jade. Looking down from her shoulders, the first thing that caught my eye was her pair of firm breasts, so round and full, with two brown nipples standing proudly atop her fair peaks.
This was probably the first time she had been naked in front of a second man, and an inexplicable nervousness made her body tremble slightly.
I gently breathed into her earlobe, whispering, "You're not only beautiful, but your body is so gorgeous too. Let me admire you." With that, I lifted her up and laid her flat on the bed. This was the body I had fantasized about for so many nights, and now it was finally laid bare before me, so real, so real that even the most intimate parts of her body were within my grasp.
A woman's body, about 1.63 meters tall, with a fair complexion like a lamb, mature and alluring. Her full, round breasts retained half their allure even lying down. I can't describe the joy I felt at that moment; this was far more captivating than any other body I could have imagined. Sister Zhao slightly opened her eyes, meeting mine. Perhaps it was the unbridled feeling of nakedness that stirred her emotions; her drowsy eyes revealed boundless tenderness.
I knelt beside her, leaning down and eagerly placing my lips on her breast, enveloping her nipple, my tongue swirling around it as I sucked. "Ah..." Sister Zhao's soft moans echoed throughout the room, her delicate body convulsing and trembling intermittently. Her slender waist, devoid of any fat, caused her fair and plump buttocks to rub against the bed. I tried to spread her legs, but at the crucial moment, she weakly used her hands to remind me not to do so, repeating "no" faintly in her rapid breathing.
In fact, before I even used my hands, her legs had already naturally parted slightly as her knees bent, though she herself didn't realize it. I suddenly had the urge to take a closer look, so I turned and leaned over. She warned me in a weak voice, "No, don't look there."
"So beautiful!" This wasn't a false compliment; it was indeed beautiful. The mons pubis below the pubic hair was higher, its color only slightly darker than the skin. Especially after the tightly closed slit was moistened with love juice, it appeared particularly crystal clear under the light. Anyone who saw it would instinctively reach out and touch it. My fingers rested on the upper part of her vulva, vibrating and stimulating her clitoris.
For her, everything happened so fast that she couldn't stop me with her hands. Her whole body was weak and powerless, and she could only helplessly beg me, "You've touched enough, please stop..." As she spoke, Sister Zhao's face and toes were burning hot, as if volcanic lava was flowing through every inch of her body. Her nose was far from enough to satisfy her need to breathe, and she had to use her mouth to breathe in more oxygen.
I could hear the rustling sound of pubic hair rubbing against my palm. Occasionally, I would gently rub the sides of her labia with four fingers from bottom to top. Soon, the two labia majora hidden in the slit, under my teasing, turned outward due to engorgement, revealing their pink color. In this small area between her buttocks, a warm fluid began to seep out in greater quantities.
Then I used my fingers to wander around her vagina, occasionally touching the edge of her already wet and hot labia, and teasing her clitoris. This stimulation made her arch her buttocks upward to better meet my caresses, and she gradually relaxed her guard against my movements.
The time was right. When my middle finger reached the lower opening of her vagina, I quickly inserted it into her warm and moist hole along the outlet of the fluid.
"Ah!" She immediately struggled to get up, and her expression became more clear-headed. "I realize I still can't do it. I have a husband. Please let me go." Seeing the tears welling up in her eyes, I knew this wasn't a woman's act, but something she was serious about.
I knew I couldn't give up at this moment, but I couldn't be forceful either. After all, women are soft-hearted, so I had to use my wits. I pleaded with her in a pained tone, "I know you're not a promiscuous woman, but what man can remain unmoved in your presence?"
"I was wrong, please, let me go." Although her attitude still showed no sign of backing down, her body remained still, telling me that my words had had some effect. I just needed to give her more reasons to stay.
At this point, I decided to use a two-pronged approach. My fingers, still inside her, began to gently and quietly move again, but I was very careful not to make her feel uncomfortable. I pleaded with her again with a pitiful look, "I'll only use my hands, you won't do anything wrong to anyone."
"But... um..." She only managed to say two words before being interrupted by her body's reaction.
I seized the opportunity to continue pleading with her, "I beg you too, just let me use my hands, I'm really suffering."
"Hands, hands won't do either..." She continued to resist the sensations in her body with only a sliver of remaining consciousness.
I supported her body with one hand, continuing to coax her with infinitely gentle words, "If you really can't accept it, just tell me to stop, and I will never force you."
"..." Her expression suddenly became strange, a mixture of hesitation and helplessness.
"I swear." I was very satisfied with this killer line. After saying that, I used the hand supporting her body to guide her to lie down again.
As for what she was still weakly saying, I pretended not to hear it. My mind was completely focused on the middle finger that was enjoying itself. Her vagina was very small, and I could actually feel my middle finger being tightly wrapped. However, with the help of the mucus, my finger could still move freely in and out of her vagina. Especially when it came into contact with the rows of tender flesh folds on the upper part of the vaginal wall, they writhed and contracted with the thrusting of my middle finger, like a human switch. The more intensely I stimulated it, the more Zhao Jie's whole body swayed, and the faster her breathing became.
And streams of fluid kept flowing down my middle finger, out of her vagina, down between her thighs, and finally forming a wet patch on the bed.
Sister Zhao had her eyes closed, almost completely out of consciousness. I pulled back the blanket covering my lower body, and my swollen, purplish-red penis immediately sprang out, a glistening drop of fluid clinging to the tip.
I chuckled to myself. Sister Zhao, why did you close your eyes? Can't you see I'm naked and ready to charge?
I used my knees to spread her legs wide. As I prepared to pull out my sticky, fluid-covered fingers and replace them with the real thing, Sister Zhao's physiological reaction naturally pushed her overflowing vulva upwards, trying to swallow my outstretched fingers. A game of substitution began. I grasped the middle of my hard penis, pushed the glans against her labia, smeared it with lubricating fluid, and finally stopped at the vaginal opening, slowly parting her full labia. Her pink vulva immediately blocked my way.
When Sister Zhao realized this wasn't a finger, she cried out in terror, "Stop..."
"Stop!" Before she could finish the sentence, with a "plop," my entire glans was already buried in her wet, hot vagina with lightning speed.
"Ah!" Sister Zhao and I cried out almost simultaneously.
"So tight!" Although the abundant lubrication provided some lubrication, each inch of penetration was still difficult; I couldn't fully insert it all at once. I had to praise it.
After a few seconds of stunned silence, Sister Zhao struggled and cried out as if waking from a nightmare, "No...come out!" Then her body began to resist me violently, her legs kicking on the bed. To prevent my inserted glans from slipping out, I pressed down on her, holding her tightly in my arms, and used my thighs to lift her kicking legs to prevent them from hitting me.
At this moment, Sister Zhao resisted most fiercely. Her resistance made it difficult for me to thrust in and out, and my glans, which had quickly entered, was in danger of slipping out. Without thinking, I used my waist strength to push hard, and my penis immediately entered her burning body completely.
"It hurts...don't...don't go in too far...inside." She stopped resisting, her brows furrowed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she sobbed and begged me.
I could tell she wasn't faking it, and I felt a pang of guilt. My movements had been too forceful, and I had felt pain myself when my glans hit her cervix. Worried about hurting her, I pulled my penis out slightly. Then I whispered, "Are you feeling better now?"
Sister Zhao turned her head, her lips trembling slightly. "If you really care about me, why did you do this to me?"
"I'm sorry, I..." I felt it was too late to apologize, but I didn't know what to say.
"Do you think I'm that kind of promiscuous woman? Have you thought about the consequences of doing this? Have you considered my feelings?" A series of questions revealed Sister Zhao's intense emotions.
"I...I thought you felt the same way about me." At this moment, I still wanted to justify my actions.
She gently shook her head, then looked at me with teary eyes: "I admit I have good feelings for you, but what you're doing only makes me hate you, and hate myself, you know that?"
Hearing this, a thousand guilt surged within me. I had hurt her because of my desires, and I felt not only selfish but also like a beast.
I thought all I could do now was withdraw my penis. Making such a decision was painful for a man. This was my first time inside her, and possibly the last. I withdrew very slowly, wanting to remember every second I felt inside.
Normally, with this kind of feeling, my penis should have softened long ago, but this was a perfect vagina. Every time the glans withdrew a little, the thick coronal shaft felt like a barb, rubbing against the tender folds of flesh inside the moist vagina to the maximum extent, stimulating the penis so it couldn't lower, instead becoming even thicker and harder than ever before, filling the already narrow vagina.
As Zhao Jie's vaginal walls contracted even tighter with her continuous sobs, the union of their genitals left no room for air. Withdrawing my penis felt like pulling out a piston; the vagina became a vacuum, creating a suction force that prevented the glans from exiting.
"Mmm..." This involuntary groan betrayed Zhao Jie's true physical sensations, though she couldn't admit it at the moment, immediately letting out a soft moan, "It hurts."
I withdrew my penis halfway and stopped. I wasn't worried about her, because I knew that although it was tight inside, the lubrication from the vaginal fluid wouldn't cause pain. I was worried about myself. That seductive groan from the woman earlier had sent a signal through my glans, and I sensed something was about to happen. My urethra twitched several times, and a warm gush was about to erupt. This time, I dared not move again.
After a moment's pause, her tear-streaked eyes glistened again, and she suddenly asked me in a hoarse voice, "You did this to get revenge on him, didn't you?"
I was surprised. I had thought about this before, but I wasn't sure now. At least tonight, I didn't have that thought at all. My impulse towards her was real. After a moment's thought, I solemnly told her, "It's true that I hate him, but my feelings for you are real."
"Hmph." She sneered and retorted, "Can I still trust you?"
"..." I felt I had no right to answer her, because I had told too many lies tonight.
Another silence followed. Perhaps seeing how truly disappointed I was, Sister Zhao sighed helplessly, "It's not entirely your fault that things have come to this. Whether it's revenge or genuine feelings, our family has indeed wronged you. After tonight, we're even." After saying this unexpected thing, she closed her eyes, her expression unreadable.
This seemed to mean something. I wanted to ask, but I knew it was best not to say anything at this moment. So I closed my eyes, gently lay on top of Sister Zhao, and poured my whole being into my penis, feeling the warm friction with her with each thrust. A large amount of her secreted love fluid flowed out with each withdrawal, soaking both of our genitals and making a "slapping" sound as our genitals collided.
Our sweat was indistinguishable. I felt it was time to properly reciprocate Sister Zhao's advances, but after several attempts to change positions, I found she wasn't very cooperative, seeming rather "clumsy." I didn't know how the director usually served this beauty, so I had to give up on changing the traditional position and silently continued our intercourse until my overflowing semen was completely released inside her vagina. Only then were we truly one.
I didn't immediately pull out my now limp penis, but instead gazed at Sister Zhao beneath me, stopping her movements. She didn't react, her eyes still closed, gently biting her lower lip, a look of lingering satisfaction on her face.
To be honest, I found that I didn't just have physical attraction to her; I started to like this woman.

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