My husband is abroad, how should I face you this Dragon Boat Festival?

My husband and I met and fell in love in college. Later, because he wanted to go back to his hometown of Guangzhou to find a job, I
followed him to this bustling city without hesitation. Six months later, we got married and lived with his parents. Just
this May Day, he was sent by his company to Australia for a year of further study,
leaving me to live alone with his parents.
My father-in-law is 56 years old and hasn't retired yet. He works for a state-owned enterprise, is slightly overweight, 178 cm tall, stern-faced, and very
authoritative. He has a high alcohol tolerance and always expects us to drink with him at meals. My husband is allergic to alcohol, but being a dutiful son, he encouraged
me to drink with his father. I reluctantly agreed, but I can't hold my liquor. After drinking, I feel like I'm walking on cotton, my face
flushed , but I can't refuse. So, while my husband was abroad, I often used the excuse of being busy at work to avoid coming home for meals.
My mother-in-law is retired and spends her days dancing in the square with a group of other elderly women, living a leisurely life.
Because we live on opposite sides of the ocean, my husband and I mainly communicate through QQ. Whenever we have free time, we
spend entire days online chatting about the little things in life to ease our longing for each other.
I admit that I have watched Japanese adult films and various incestuous scenes with my husband, but I have always
firmly believed that such scenes are just gimmicks in educational films and
would with a dignified father-in-law like myself. Until I saw the person at the door, until I was completely flustered and
quickly closed my laptop, until I quickly covered myself with the blanket, I didn't know what to think or do. I
stared blankly at the person at the door...
At this moment, my father-in-law realized his blunder, turned his head, coughed twice, and left the doorway. Still shaken, I
quickly put on my clothes, thinking about my embarrassing moment, unsure whether I should go out or
stay in the room with the door closed. Just then, my father-in-law called me from the living room. My mind was filled with
images of myself licking my nipples with my tongue in front of the computer, moaning and writhing, wondering how much my father-in-law had seen, and
how long . I slowly moved towards the door.
My father-in-law went out for a business dinner tonight and will be back soon. I'm in a panic and can't continue writing about today's events
because I don't know what will happen when he comes back drunk... I'm home alone and don't know how to face this,
or how I'll spend this holiday. And what about my husband who's on the other side of the ocean? How am I supposed
to explain
law isn't back yet. Anyway: He called me out, and I moved from the bedroom to the living room.
My father-in-law looked me up and down, and the first thing that popped into my head was: like I'm naked!! Because I was in a rush to get dressed,
I wasn't wearing a bra, just a pink tank top and white hot pants. My breasts were very prominent, and my nipples
were clearly visible . I was regretting my carelessness when my father-in-law told me to go to the kitchen to make lunch. I quickly ran into the kitchen,
put on an apron, calmed myself down, and started cooking.
The entire meal was awkward and long. I finished quickly and was about to go back to the bedroom when my father-in-law suddenly told me
to stop . I didn't dare turn around, but I felt someone wrap their arms around my waist from behind. I tried desperately to break free, but they only tightened
around me. Then, he picked me up and put me on the bed, and I resisted with all my might.
He pressed me down on the bed. He weighed about 160 pounds, while I only weighed a little over 90 pounds, and nearly 10 pounds of my weight
was in my breasts. So, I could only afford to buy E-cup bras, the kind for older women. Every time I saw other
girls wearing colorful A and B cup bras, I was incredibly envious. In the past,
during long-distance running in PE class, I was always at the back because my breasts swayed so much that it made all the boys in the class
sigh. After that, whenever there was running in PE class, I would always find an excuse to skip it.
I couldn't resist, so I screamed. He kissed me, silencing me with a deep, lingering kiss
. It was the first time I'd ever been kissed like that. My husband is a germaphobe and never kisses me or performs oral sex. He went
straight to the point. How dramatic! I'd never kissed my husband, but I was kissing his father
. He kept kissing me like that. At first, I kept my mouth tightly shut, but then I slowly opened it, letting his
tongue touch me, letting his teeth gently nibble, letting him hold my tongue in his mouth. I slowly closed my eyes.
My father-in-law started kissing my face, lifting my chin, kissing my neck, ears, collarbone
, armpits. As the bra straps slipped down, he pulled off my pink tank top, kneading my breasts with his hands. Finally, he took
my nipples into his mouth, gently bringing my breasts together with both hands and biting down on them. I was immersed in unprecedented
stimulation, excited and anxious, waves of pleasure washing over me. I started moaning, my legs involuntarily
twisting. He kissed me all the way down, like raindrops, as if exploring virgin territory. My body
rose and fell with his kisses, like parched land receiving rain. He finally kissed my private parts, seemed to hesitate for a moment, but ultimately
kissed me anyway. He spread my thighs apart, his stubble pricking my genitals, his tongue lightly licking, step by step,
reaching towards that warm, moist place. I had already collapsed, my lower body was soaking wet, and I couldn't stop moaning,
as if yearning for what would happen next.
My father-in-law took off his shirt, loosened his belt, revealing his already swollen penis, the veins clearly visible,
longer than my husband's. My mind went blank; I just watched and felt it all, until he pressed his
member against my genitals and began to penetrate. Only then did I realize this wasn't an adult film; it was reality,
a reality I couldn't face once it happened. I pushed him away with all my might, tears streaming down my face. My father-in-law paused,
then stopped, covered me with the blanket, hugged me, and said, "I'm sorry, Luo Luo," before
getting dressed and leaving.
Around dinner time, he sent me a text message: "Luo Luo, I have a business dinner tonight and will be home late.
Don't wait for me." He had never texted me before; I thought he didn't know how.
I chatted haphazardly with my husband on QQ, not daring to say a word about what happened today. My body, however, was still
replaying the excitement of the day in my mind. The tingling, numbing sensation still lingered around me. His
rapid breathing seemed to still be in my ear. I waited anxiously. My father-in-law usually came home late for only one
reason : he had been out at a nightclub and was drunk. I waited anxiously for my father-in-law to return home drunk. He has a very high alcohol tolerance, but
for some reason, he still often gets drunk. He is a high-ranking executive in his company, a successful and influential
figure. Although he is old and overweight now, you can still see the handsome and dashing look he once had in his eyes.
And me, my name is Luo Luo. It seems there was once a very famous gay man also named Luo Luo, and that
Luo Luo was a boy, very handsome. I'm also named Luo Luo, a 25-year-old woman, married for less than six months.
My parents divorced when I was young, and I have a very timid and passive personality. In university, I was considered a campus beauty—busty, long-legged,
and fair-skinned. My husband's dream girl was Rosamund Kwan. When he first met me, he was so captivated that he mistook me
for her. Many boys pursued me, but they only wrote love letters or had others confess their feelings to them. My husband, however,
pulled me out of a karaoke bar—I can't sing—and onto the school's playground, where he hugged me, kissed me
without a word , and then roamed over my body. I didn't resist, and he took me directly to
the boys' dormitory. Everyone else had gone out to karaoke, and we had our first
intimate . Having never been touched by a man before, I easily gave him my virginity and became his
girlfriend.
It was almost midnight, and my father-in-law still hadn't returned. I imagined what might happen if he came,
whether I would have the strength to refuse him, yet I dared not imagine it. So I continued wandering on Tianya, typing so many words.
After venting my emotions for a long time by typing countless words on Tianya, my father-in-law still hadn't returned. I began
to drift into a half-asleep, half-awake state in bed, caught in a jumbled dream where even breathing felt suffocating, yet I craved
intrusion. My body was soaked in loneliness, my dreams flashing between my husband's face and my father-in-law's,
my whole body burning with .
Eventually, I woke up, my lower body soaked with sweat, unable to fall back asleep. I went to the bathroom to take a shower.
Wrapped in a towel, I opened the bedroom door to get some fresh air. The smell of alcohol mixed with cigarette smoke hit me from the living room. My father-in-law
had returned sometime earlier and was sitting in the living room smoking. I was startled, then went back to my room.
"Luo Luo," he called to me, asking me to sit on the sofa next to him. The room was filled with an air of ambiguity; I
could almost smell the hormones. I was wrapped in a large white bath towel, my long hair dripping wet and
tangled the scent of shower gel and shampoo adding to the ambiguous and erotic atmosphere.
I obediently sat down beside him. He opened a bottle of liquor, took out two glasses, and asked me to continue drinking with him. I
didn't refuse, and drank glass after glass until I was drunk. We were like actors in a silent movie, neither of us
speaking. We kept clinking glasses, tilting our heads back, and drinking.
I gradually became unable to hold my liquor, my face flushed, and my eyes glazed over (my pupils always dilate when I drink, and my eyes
look provocative and glazed, I don't know why). At that moment, I saw him staring at me, with a deep and
ambiguous gaze. That look was so familiar; I finally remembered that every time I drank with him, he looked at me like that.
I just hadn't noticed it before.
He pulled me up and made me sit on his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck, stroked my hair,
buried my head in my chest, and softly called my name: "Lolo, Lolo..."
Today is the Dragon Boat Festival. I just went out with my father-in-law for the afternoon and evening, and now I'm going to delve deeper into last night's
events :
he kept calling my name, and my heart melted with each call. It had been
so long since . Fueled by the alcohol, I started to let my mind wander in his arms.
Lolo, Lolo, that was my father's nickname for me when I was little. I only enjoyed this kind of family bliss for
less than five years, but I will always remember how my father would lift me high above his head and toss me up to catch me. I remember sitting on my father's
lap, letting him tickle my face with his stubble. I remember my father and I holding hands, strolling together on
a tree-lined path on a summer afternoon. I repeated after my father, line by line: "To see a thousand miles further, climb one more story."
If my mother hadn't insisted on eloping with that man, my beautiful childhood might have continued
indefinitely . Like all pampered little princesses, I would have been cheerful and lively, excellent and ambitious, capable of being spoiled,
mischievous, rebellious, and stubborn. I would have been my parents' darling, an outstanding class leader in elementary school,
perhaps even five-stripe class leader. But the reality was that my parents later had their own families, and I
lived with my grandmother and a dog until I went to university, after which my grandmother passed away, and the dog went
with .
I became melancholic, introverted, and sensitive, yet more submissive and resigned, lacking any
youthful vigor or confidence. My submissive demeanor reflected a helpless despair after being violated by life.
He ripped off my white bath towel, and once again I was naked before him. This time, I wasn't
as shy as I was during the day, trying to cover my body. I faced him honestly, my heart pounding wildly. He held
me tightly in his arms, pushed me down onto the sofa, and pressed his entire weight on me. I couldn't bear the weight and
tried to push him away. Thinking I was resisting, he used a silk scarf to tie my hands to the marble leg of the table next to the sofa
. I was in a strange position, naked, my long hair loose, my upper body leaning against the edge of the sofa.
The soft light in the living room shone on me and also on my father-in-law's face, which was filled with desire. My
skin was white, my breasts high and firm, radiating endless lust in the light.
I looked at this man in terror, pleading with him to spare me. I curled up my legs, shrinking into
the corner of the sofa. He clearly liked the way I was stretched out, and took another rope to tie my feet together,
one end to the table leg next to me. I lay like a lamb to the slaughter, on the sofa-turned-chopping board,
unaware of the torment I was about to face.
I was filled with unbearable regret. Why had things come to this? How could such a thing
actually happen in real life? How could my usually dignified father-in-law do such a thing
? Maybe it was the time I had sex with my husband earlier that day, maybe it was never wearing underwear when I met my father-in-law, maybe…
maybe I am just a slut, with a calm exterior hiding a heart yearning to be ravaged.
If that's , then why am I afraid? Why am I regretting it? Why am I crying
? He sat down, touched me, picked up a strand of my hair, and kissed the end. His hand moved across my
shoulder, across my breast, and squeezed my nipple. I trembled involuntarily, my eyes following his hand
. My nose twitched with grievance, and tears streamed down my face.
His hand moved to my lower abdomen and began to knead my most sensitive area. Through my teary eyes, I
murmured , "Daddy, Daddy…" He suddenly stopped, removed his hands from my body, slumped down, clutched his
head, slid off the sofa, and squatted on the floor.
I let out a soft breath, feeling I'd finally found a way in. I continued, "Dad, you've had too much to drink.
Look, it's me, Luo Luo, your daughter-in-law… Dad, please cover me with the blanket. Didn't you say you'd treat me
like your own daughter? Dad, I know I was wrong. I shouldn't have taken off my clothes in the bedroom in broad daylight,
and I especially shouldn't have let you see… Dad, please let me go, otherwise I'll forever carry the guilt I feel towards your son, and
I won't have the courage to go on living…"
My father-in-law listened blankly to my incessant pleas, then took a blanket from the bedroom and covered me with it.
My hands gestured for him to untie it, but he suddenly hugged me. "Luo Luo, I know I'm sorry to you, and even more sorry to Xiao Wei
(my husband), but you're just too tempting. I can't take my eyes off you. Before, I only knew
you were beautiful and innocent, that you were well-behaved and quiet, but I never imagined you were such a
beauty . But don't worry, you're my daughter-in-law, and I'm your father. I can't cross my own boundaries."
Then, as if making a great decision, he untied the ribbons from my hands and the ropes binding my feet,
wrapped me in a blanket, and carried me into the bedroom. Like a frightened rabbit, or a wounded child, I clung
tightly to his chest, feeling his pounding heart.
He gently placed me on the bed, looking at me intently. I stroked his arm tenderly and said, "
Dad, you've had too much to drink. Go and rest." He shook his head like a child and said, "No, I'll
sleep with you tonight."
Although I was extremely unwilling, after such a day of turmoil, plus the several sips of Moutai I'd just consumed,
I was truly powerless to resist anymore. What was coming would come; I had done my best. I shifted
wearily , tacitly agreeing to share a bed with my father-in-law that night.
And so, on the wedding bed where my husband and I had been married for less than six months, his father and I lay embraced.
My breasts pressed tightly against his chest, and he traced the curves of my back with his hand. I was exhausted, my body
aching all over. I leaned against his arms, feeling something hard pressing against my stomach, as if it might
invade .
I drifted off to sleep again, half-awake, feeling him tuck me in, kissing
my forehead, going to the bathroom to shower, and leaving my bedroom.
Instinctively, I reached out to touch the side—no one there! After confirming, I finally fell into a deep sleep!
A dreamless night!
In the early morning, still half-asleep, I vaguely heard him tell me he was going to the BMW dealership to get his car
serviced, that he had prepared breakfast, and asked me to wait for him to return. His tone was like that of a couple. I nodded, then drifted back to sleep
.
I woke up naturally again, and yesterday's events played out in my mind like a movie. Although it
was something that should never have happened, it
did so dramatically on this small holiday, in this 200-square-meter room in Guangzhou, between two completely incompatible people… Thankfully, at least I didn't cross the final
line. Perhaps I should be thankful
that I went to Tianya (a Chinese online forum) and scribbled something down, but my writing skills were once again inadequate. Even though
it just happened, I couldn't express myself clearly, or rather, I didn't know how to write it down. Seeing
those , I deeply feel that being a writer is a very difficult profession. I admire their perseverance and tireless dedication to writing.
Before, I was just a lurker, but once you actually start writing, you realize how painful it is to carefully craft every single word
… Fortunately, I was just casually writing about my experiences, not seeking readership or clicks,
just seeking to vent! Even so, writing was still very hard and painful.
Eating the breakfast my father-in-law made filled me with happiness. It
's I remember when I was very young, my father would get up early every day to make me breakfast. He would watch me eat it,
reminding me to eat breakfast on time, or I wouldn't grow tall. My father, the father I remember, is now just
an empty shell, worn down by life and women. He has long lost his former warmth, even his
passion . He didn't even come to my wedding.
In the morning's fragrant coffee aroma, I felt like my father-in-law's kept mistress, enjoying his
exclusive pampering. If he weren't my husband's father, or if I could truly be his family, I could pout and ask him for
this and that, and he would spoil me like his daughter, and treat me like his first love. I
could be spoiled, willful, and unreasonable. In front of others, he would be cold, serious, and rigid, but only towards me would he gaze at me
with deep affection, holding me in his palm and cherishing me in his heart. I could find the fatherly love I lacked in the past from him.
I fantasized like this, laughing at myself for watching too much "Dwelling Narrowness," always trying to emulate the character Hai Zao.
I wandered online until noon, leisurely enjoying the blissful aftermath of our ambiguous relationship. Reading
the comments on Tianya, even I felt pathetic. But why was my guilt towards my husband far less intense than my desire for
my father-in-law Deep down, I'm a slut, just like you all said.
Around noon, my father-in-law returned after finishing his car maintenance. I opened the door, wearing an apricot-yellow spaghetti-strap nightgown,
my skin as smooth as jade, my figure perfectly displayed, yet my eyes held an innocent look like a little rabbit's. My father-in-law saw me, clearly startled,
then his eyes filled with a deep, ambiguous tenderness. I knew perfectly well that I was seducing him, yet I couldn't suppress
the desire within me.
He patted my cheek, asking if I slept well last night. I nodded, standing face to face with him. I
could hear his breathing and heartbeat. He pressed down on my shoulders, saying, "Lolo, don't do this. You know how much you can
hurt me."
I smiled, not pulling away, but instead hugging him and pushing him against the wall. He turned around, pinning me against
the wall . I was pressed against the wall like that, my breasts touching his, my back pressed against the wall, my feet off the ground, struggling to breathe,
yet happily enjoying this real pleasure of being pressed down.
He picked me up and placed me on the sofa. "Lolo," he said, "tomorrow's the Dragon Boat Festival. Let's go out for a walk today.
You've been cooped up at home for so long; you should get some fresh air." I curled up, nestled in his arms, and could
feel his muscles. He held me like that, like a father and daughter, or perhaps lovers.
Looking down said, "Lolo, you have a great figure! I bet any man would want to pin you down. I've been holding back
for so long." The words "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" actually popped into my head. I don't know what I was thinking.
"So active," he said. "Lolo, how come you have an angelic face, yet a devilish figure and allure?"
I happily accepted his compliment, watching his increasingly erect tent, feeling incredibly satisfied.
Getting a man in his twenties to erect for you is easy, because they are full of vigor and
have inexhaustible energy. But getting a man in his fifties, who has weathered countless storms, to still
surrender to you at times is something a woman can be very proud of. As for someone like Yang Zhenning, he should be considered
an exception . If Weng Fan really has the ability to make him raise his gun, I can only express my admiration for Weng Wudi.
Immersed in this pride, since he said he wouldn't cross the line, I wasn't afraid anymore, freely displaying
my devilish nature, constantly plucking at his heartstrings.
He struggled painfully, his face showing a mixture of enjoyment and anxiety, but ultimately he carried me into the bedroom, threw me on
the bed , and shouted, "You naughty girl, change your clothes, let's go out!" Then he closed the door.

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