Sister Ying

Several years ago, on a summer evening, I was working overtime at the company, only a few years out of college. The June heat in the south was stifling, almost scorching. The humidifier in the office was running at full blast, but it couldn't significantly alleviate the restlessness. Many colleagues were working overtime that day because the project was quite large, requiring teamwork to complete. However, one by one, many colleagues left for various reasons—caring for children, their wives being sick. In the end, only Ying and I were left. I was thinking of leaving too, since the overtime period was a month long, and there was no need to push myself so hard
on the first day. But Ying said she wanted to work a little longer and asked if I could stay with her. Because the demanding nature of my work was well-known, my company had a relatively lenient attendance policy. Working late meant you could come in a little later the next day, or even not at all. So, I wasn't worried about being docked pay or being late. I readily agreed to Ying's request. In return, Ying offered to buy me coffee. I went to the restroom, and then Ying came downstairs.
Because I drank a lot of water during overtime, I suddenly felt the urge to urinate after Sister Ying went downstairs. So I got up and went into the restroom. The company restrooms are separated by gender. But the women's restroom was closer to me. I was in such a hurry that I didn't care and rushed into the women's restroom. When I turned on the light, I saw a trash can full of sanitary napkins. I sighed for a moment, thinking that women really have it tough, having to work so hard even during their periods! Just as I was about to come out of the toilet, a pink, rod-shaped object caught my eye in the trash can. Back then, I was young and impetuous, and my media consumption consisted mostly of blockbusters and adult films. This pink thing looked so much like the vibrators in Japanese adult films. Could someone in our company be doing such shameful things in the office restroom? My fatigue suddenly vanished, and I boldly pulled out the pink rod. However, the rod wasn't separate; it was wrapped in sanitary napkin packaging paper. Besides the rod, there was a soft lump inside. I initially thought it was something disgusting, but after opening the packaging a little, I saw a piece of black cloth.
Just as I was about to take a closer look at what was inside the packaging, I suddenly heard the sound of high heels and keys. My heart jumped. I thought, "Why is Sister Ying back so soon?" Startled, I didn't even bother to see what it was before stuffing it into my pocket and quickly leaving the women's restroom. I rushed back to my seat, and a moment later, the door opened—it really was Sister Ying. As soon as she entered, she said, "Working overtime at night is great; the elevators are so much faster than during the day." "No wonder Sister Ying is back so quickly!" I thought to myself, continuing my work nonchalantly. Sister Ying came over and handed me a Starbucks coffee, saying she didn't know which one to get, so I just went with the regular one.
To be honest, from my school days until graduation, I'd never drunk Starbucks. It wasn't because I didn't have the money, but because I always felt that people who drank Starbucks were pretentious. Every time I passed by a Starbucks, I'd see those glamorous women sitting outside, ordering coffee and chatting with foreigners, or men and women elegantly playing on their laptops inside. It disgusts me. What's with all the pretense? They think they're high-class white-collar workers with financial freedom, but they're just ordinary wage earners, some even unemployed and sponging off their parents. They're just sitting there trying to put on a show.
Of course, the drink Yingjie gave me didn't evoke any negative feelings, and I gladly accepted it. We worked overtime, forgetting about time, and two hours passed in a flash, until it was already past midnight. Then Yingjie looked up and asked if I wanted to rest, looking at her tired eyes. I said okay, let's rest then! So we closed our laptops, packed our things, and left the company. When we got to the basement, Yingjie offered to take me home, but I said no, I could just take a taxi. Yingjie insisted on taking me home before leaving. I had no choice but to obey. There were hardly any cars on the way, so we chatted idly. We talked about work and life, and a few times I unintentionally turned my head and saw glimpses of Yingjie's chest. I should have pointed it out to her. But I didn't do that because I wanted to see. I usually masturbate every three days, but I'd been abstaining from sex this week due to intense overtime work. Now, with this unexpected glimpse, why not take advantage?
So, I intentionally or unintentionally peeked at Yingjie along the way. Her white blouse had a sizable gap at the chest, revealing her bra and breasts. I could tell she was wearing a black demi-cup bra, and the exposed areas revealed glimpses of her white breasts. Yingjie was focused on driving and didn't notice her exposed breasts. Each time we went over a speed bump, her breasts swayed with the car's movement. As I watched, I got an erection, but no matter how much I wanted it, I didn't dare to do anything.
I don't remember what we talked about in the car that time, only two things: Yingjie's exposed breasts and her talking about premarital sex. Before I knew it, we were home. At the time, I was renting a 40-square-meter studio apartment. When we got downstairs, I politely invited Sister Ying up for a seat and a drink of water before leaving. I thought she would politely decline, but to my surprise, she said she needed to use the restroom. So, she came to my place, used the restroom, and before I could even boil water, she was in a hurry to leave. Before leaving, perhaps because her mascara had smudged, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror to fix it.
Because she was leaning forward and wearing high heels, she didn't notice the full-length mirror outside the bathroom. Her short A-line skirt rode up quite a bit, and standing outside the door, I could see everything under her skirt through the mirror. That day, Sister Ying was wearing black stockings with a thong, and a white patch in the crotch area was particularly conspicuous. Although I haven't had a girlfriend since graduation, not having eaten pork doesn't mean I haven't seen pigs run. We're all adults; one look and you know what it is—it's just a matter of distinguishing between daytime and nighttime use. Those ten-odd seconds felt like ten minutes to me. Sister Ying leaned forward, her buttocks sticking out, as she tidied herself. The sanitary napkin clung perfectly to her shapely bottom, stretching down to that forbidden zone for women and paradise for men. The sight instantly aroused me, but what good was it? I couldn't do anything; I'd only feast my eyes while my penis remained empty.
After Sister Ying finished, it was getting late, and she was in a hurry to leave. Before leaving, she turned back and smiled seductively at me, saying, "Thank you!" I was completely bewildered. It was supposed to be me saying that, but she was the one saying it. Seeing my stunned expression, Sister Ying explained that it was to thank me for keeping her company while she worked so late. At the time, I didn't think there was anything wrong with it, but thinking about it later, it felt incredibly ambiguous. We were both just trying to make a living; there was no question of who was keeping whom company. How did it become a strange expression of gratitude in Sister Ying's mouth? Could it be that Sister Ying was interested in me...? Actually, thinking about it later, I was just overthinking it. A woman who can easily say that to you can say it to anyone, especially a woman like her who doesn't even need underwear during her period. If one day I actually think someone is interested in me, then I shouldn't blame the world for its temptations, I should just blame myself for being too naive!
After Sister Ying left, I locked the door like a thief, took out the treasure I got from the women's restroom from my pocket, and slowly opened it. Only then did I see that the sanitary napkin packaging was ABC. After opening the packaging, what was inside made me excited. There were two items in total. The pink thing I thought was a vibrator was actually a pregnancy test. From the observation hole, a pink line was clearly visible. The woman who used this must have forgotten to use contraception during sex, or she liked to ejaculate inside for stimulation, but after the passion, she was worried about getting pregnant and had no choice but to find a way to conceive herself. Then, my gaze shifted to another item made of black fabric. Unfolding it completely, I realized it was a pair of ice silk panties, or more precisely, a black ice silk thong. The entire crotch area was covered in white stains. Clearly, the owner of these panties had discarded them for one of two reasons: either they had excessive vaginal discharge, making them too dirty to bear, or they had experienced a large amount of semen discharge after intercourse and were too afraid to wear them again. To prove this, I tentatively picked up the panties and sniffed them. A distinctly feminine scent wafted into my nostrils. Good heavens! This meant the panties' owner belonged to the former group—having excessive vaginal discharge.
Just as I was trying to guess whose it was, the image of Ying's exposed underwear flashed into my mind. Could it be Ying's? Plus, on the way back, Ying and I talked about premarital sex, and it was full of erotic content. Although I couldn't be 100% sure, based on these points, I felt there was a 95% chance it was Ying's. Therefore, I deduced that for a young woman like Ying, whose boyfriend is often away from home, the most likely thing she would do late at night, in a safe environment, is masturbation. And judging from the amount of discharge on her underwear, the intensity and frequency of masturbation were quite strong. Such a amount of discharge is unusual for most women unless it's from habitual, intense intercourse or masturbation; even if it is, it's almost certainly a gynecological problem. However, the probability of Ying having that kind of disease is too low. After all, a woman who dares to wear a thong must be healthy. I just didn't expect that someone who usually dresses so formally would be such a sensual and cunning fox in private.
Thongs are a very rare thing for women, not just Chinese women, but even for most Asian women, except for prostitutes or sophisticated urbanites. Most women don't wear them regularly in their daily lives, let alone for work. The fact that Sister Ying wore them to work made me think she might be a real vixen, probably having frequent one-night stands or even casual sex with her boyfriend. That night, as I smelled Sister Ying's alluring thong and fantasized about her, recalling every moment of exposure, I began masturbating. Perhaps it was because I hadn't masturbated in a while, or perhaps I was too excited, but I ejaculated within minutes. I ejaculated a lot that night, all over Sister Ying's thong. The strange pleasure of this "virtual rape" made me feel incredibly good.
Although I was exhausted, I still got up early the next day and went to work. When I arrived at the office, Yingjie wasn't there yet. I assumed she'd worked too late last night and wouldn't be coming, so I didn't think much of it and continued working frantically on the project. Around 11 PM, I heard the sound of high heels outside the office. I looked up and saw it was Yingjie. After exchanging a few pleasantries with everyone, Yingjie also started working overtime. A little while later, I noticed my QQ flash. I clicked on it and saw it was a message from Yingjie. I thought it was about work, but
it turned out she was asking what would be a good birthday gift for her boyfriend. I guessed it was because her boyfriend's birthday was coming up, but I didn't know how to answer, so I just blurted out a lighter. A few days later, Yingjie told me how grateful she was for my suggestion; her boyfriend really liked the gift. I jokingly told her I should have just asked her to give him condoms. Yingjie asked why, and I said I was going to get married sooner or later anyway, so it was good to get to the crucial stage sooner. Yingjie pretended to be angry and hit me, saying I was too inappropriate. A month passed in the blink of an eye. With the project's draft completed, everyone could finally take a breather and rest for a while. During this month, due to the overlapping of projects, Ying and I had to work overtime together several times. However, considering that working overtime in the office would be too late, Ying offered to let me go to her house. For colleagues, it would indeed be a bit awkward for a man and a woman to be alone together, but in order to finish the project as soon as possible, I didn't think too much about it and went.
Whether it was a twist of fate or divine intervention, during the time I was working overtime at Ying's house, her boyfriend happened to be away negotiating a tourism project. He specializes in international tourism and happened to be on a triennial site visit. Thinking about it, Ying's boyfriend is really lucky; he's going away for over two months, and this year's focus is on Europe. Perhaps Ying considered this factor as well. First, no one at the company knows I'm working overtime at her place. Second, her boyfriend only contacts her during the day, since the time difference between Europe and Asia is significant. As Ying's boyfriend, he has to accommodate his girlfriend. This way, no one can see or know, and Ying herself feels very at ease. However, working overtime at Ying's house is definitely much better than in the office. Enjoying the air conditioning, drinking chilled juice, sleeping on a soft and comfortable Simmons mattress at night, and having Ying drive me directly to work in the morning—it feels like being at home, which makes me feel much more efficient at working overtime.
Although all of this is wonderful, what I truly remember most about Ying's house is her bathroom, or rather, the laundry basket in her bathroom. Yingjie is a very clean woman. She changes both her underwear and outerwear every day, which means the laundry basket is always full of her clothes, both outerwear and underwear. This is a huge advantage for me. Yingjie showers before me every day, and I go in around the same time she comes out. So I know exactly what style of outerwear, what kind of underwear, and what kind of high heels she wears every day. Sometimes I can even touch her underwear, still warm and fragrant, the first thing I see. Looking at those colorful and uniquely styled women's private items,
it's both heaven and hell for me. Yingjie's underwear style is mostly sexy. In terms of fabric, there are various types of transparent, semi-transparent, lace, and tie-up styles. In terms of style, there are all kinds of briefs, thongs, seamless panties, bikinis, and even C-strings. Her bras are even more dazzling: U-cup, V-cup, full cup, three-quarter cup, half cup, and various clasps, including no clasp, back clasp, side clasp, ring clasp, and front clasp. Seeing so many of her clothing secrets made me want to peek, but it also gave rise to some wicked thoughts. If given the chance, who wouldn't want to see how these lingeries look on someone? I'd say I wanted to see more than anyone else.
So I decided to create a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for myself. This story goes back to my university days. In university, every guy with a laptop had a collection of adult videos on his computer. And it wasn't just guys who liked to watch them; some girls were even more so. Back then, I racked my brains trying to find movie sources and download torrents. During that time, by chance, my roommate introduced me to a chat group. The stuff in there was bizarre: super-high-powered binoculars, quasi-military night vision goggles, and all sorts of pinhole cameras disguised in keychains, socket boxes, and coat hooks. These were practically top-tier contraband items. Unfortunately, I didn't have enough money for living expenses, so I could only keep them and didn't dare buy them. But I kept the chat group. After graduating from university, I got a job and had some spare money, so naturally, I started researching these things again.
Across from my apartment was another apartment building with a high occupancy rate, mostly occupied by young people who had just started working—couples and singles. I bought a high-powered binocular from the chat group and indeed saw many beautiful views. Many girls thought that since the two apartment buildings were far apart, the human eye couldn't possibly see what was happening on the other side. So, at night, many girls would leave the shower curtain open when they showered. Although the bathroom light was off, the light coming from the living room was enough for me to see everything. This time, what I wanted to do for Yingjie was install hidden cameras. To realize this dream, I bought five hidden cameras in one go. The first one was installed next to the socket near the entrance to Yingjie's bathroom, the second one was installed in the waterproof socket next to the toilet, the third and fourth were installed in the bathroom downlights, and the last one was embedded in the hardware under the bathroom glass door.
All five pinhole cameras are 4K ultra-high definition and have anti-fog function. After testing, the effect is like movie quality. After I finished installing them all, Yingjie was practically trapped. Every day after that, Yingjie would be completely exposed to me. At the same time, I felt guilty and my heart was pounding. The feeling of anticipation and worry tormented me... It's all because of that one unintentional glimpse Yingjie gave me. Since then, I've been obsessed with her. Now that I have such a rare opportunity, no one wants to give it up, because if I give it up, I might really regret it for the rest of my life.
The next morning, Ying's outfit caught my eye. She wore a form-fitting A-line mini skirt with a professional white shirt, and her stockings were exquisite—clearly high-end. Her eight-centimeter stilettos added a touch of elegance and sexiness. Thinking about the long-awaited sight that evening, I unexpectedly got an erection. Ying seemed to notice my embarrassment, and in the car, she asked if I was feeling unwell. I forced a smile and said I was fine, probably just hadn't slept well last night. I spent the entire day anxiously watching Ying, finally enduring the agonizing night. At 9:30, Ying promptly put down her work, told me she was going to shower. Sitting at my computer, I watched her enter the bathroom, then eagerly pulled up my monitoring program on my laptop.
At this moment, the five split screens on the screen were observing the entire bathroom from different angles and in all directions. I remembered that I had carefully observed it during the day, but I still couldn't find any panty lines under Sister Ying's A-line pencil skirt. Was Sister Ying wearing seamless panties, a thong, or just nothing? These mysteries full of doubts were about to be revealed. My heart was pounding with excitement. Just then, Yingjie's image appeared in the hidden camera's view. Entering the bathroom, Yingjie didn't rush to take off her clothes. Instead, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, carefully examining her makeup before slowly turning her back to the hidden camera and bending down to find her toiletries. However, the instant she bent over, her legs straightened dramatically, revealing long, slender, and beautiful legs comparable to an international supermodel. Her firm, perky buttocks were immediately displayed before my eyes, causing my heart to race with excitement. Yingjie's buttocks were directly facing one of the hidden cameras, her shapely buttocks incredibly alluring. Combined with the visual enhancement of her bodycon skirt, her large buttocks looked incredibly full and perfectly outlined. "So sexy!" I thought to myself.
Then, after gathering her toiletries, Yingjie, still with her back to me, straightened up, reached her hands behind her narrow skirt, and smoothly pulled the zipper down with a "whoosh!" With the sound of the zipper being pulled open, the tight skirt and stockings completely separated. Yingjie let go, and the
form-fitting skirt fell to the ground. Her graceful lower body was displayed before my eyes without reservation. The sight almost made me gasp; it was so beautiful! A lovely, heart-shaped bottom, like a peach, was vaguely revealed beneath the stockings. Her slender waist fit the stockings perfectly, unlike most women who appear thin but are actually flabby, with their stockings bunched up uncomfortably. The stockings had a long, darker crotch area, clearly a thong design. At the same time, my doubts were completely resolved. Yingjie was wearing a white thong, clearly visible under the black stockings. A small strip of fabric ran along Yingjie's buttocks, sinking into her cleft. So Yingjie was wearing a thong today; no wonder there were no visible panty lines.
Before I could even get my fill of looking, with a graceful turn of Ying's body, I got a full view of her lower body. The scene was even more shocking now. Although the thong wasn't adorned with any lace, the thin mesh in the front created a hazy yet clear, alluring effect, a seductive charm that was incredibly arousing. Perhaps it was because the panties were too tight, or perhaps Ying's pubic hair was too thick, or perhaps the thong had ridden up because she had been sitting all day, or perhaps Ying's vulva was very full. The mons pubis area between her legs was tightly bound, forming a full inverted triangle shape. The delicate little thong couldn't completely cover her private parts. She was so sexy! After seeing all this, I couldn't help but make an extremely disrespectful judgment of Ying in my mind.
At this moment, facing the camera, Ying reached into the sides of her stockings and slowly pulled them down. I thought Sister Ying would undress decisively, but to my surprise, when she pulled the stockings down to her thighs, she lifted one beautiful leg and slowly pulled the stockings down to her toes, then repeated the action on the other side. It was as if she was deliberately undressing for the men to see. The whole process made my mouth water. After taking off the stockings, Sister Ying crumpled them into a ball, picked up her pencil skirt from the floor, and threw it into the laundry basket. This was just the beginning of the excitement. When the white thong was clearly revealed before my eyes, I quickly switched the pinhole camera to a lower position. The view from below was simply insane. The narrow crotch area had a mesh design in the front, but the mesh part was not much. I could vaguely see a small patch of black pubic hair. The part without mesh then sank deep into Sister Ying's crotch. Probably due to her poor posture during the day, Sister Ying's thong was showing signs of being stretched.
A very obvious clitoral hood was visible right in the middle, and it was Sister Ying's crotch that made my lower body hard. A glistening wet patch caught my eye. Yingjie was so sexy; she was soaking wet down there. At first, I guessed she'd be in a hurry to take off her thong, but no, she slowly started to remove her shirt. I expected a bra under the shirt, but when she did, a white, anti-exposure strapless top appeared before my eyes. The top had transparent straps on both sides, revealing a deep cleavage. Before I could get a good look, Yingjie took it off. What she showed me was the outfit a fashionable woman would love: no bra under the strapless top, just a nude-colored front-fastening Velcro bra. No wonder Yingjie's cleavage was so deep; it was this that created that fullness.
Why are men so interested in women's things? It's because of women's inherently complex thinking. Wearing a strapless top is to prevent accidental exposure, but wearing nipple covers underneath is to make the breasts more sexy and alluring. This contradictory yet reasonable way of dressing—is it to please men's eyes or to present oneself as a lady? No one can understand, and there's no need to understand. This is the root of temptation; sexy isn't the same as being slutty, it's actually sophisticated slutty. At this moment, Sister Ying took out a pack of cigarettes from the cabinet. When she lit it and took a soulful drag, I realized that Sister Ying was also so vulgar and low-class in private. Sister Ying, wearing a thong and nipple covers, leaned against the washbasin, cigarette in hand, looking hazy, decadent, with a lonely and empty look in her eyes, puffing away. This look, more depraved than a prostitute's, tugged at my every nerve. A woman like Sister Ying is destined to have no shortage of men trying to seduce her, but whether she has other men besides her boyfriend, that remains unknown.
After finishing her cigarette, Yingjie started running the water to take a shower. She deftly pulled her thong down to her knees, revealing her pubic area. The milky-white stain at the crotch of the thong looked incredibly lewd. The pinhole camera clearly captured Yingjie's labia majora; although they appeared tightly closed, the wet, glistening discharge was almost unbearable. In the video, Yingjie looked down at the crotch of her thong, a sticky white discharge soaking it. Her long, white legs were spread wide apart—a vulgar gesture I'd never seen before. Then, Yingjie took out some wet wipes specifically for cleaning her private parts and wiped them. Her previously closed labia were suddenly parted. The exposed vulva was pink and tender… It made me want to rush into the bathroom and have sex with her. A twenty-six-year-old woman, fully developed, was like a juicy, tempting peach. This visual stimulation kept me glued to the screen!
Finally, Yingjie pulled down her thong, pinched the small, tight thong, looked at the crotch covered in white discharge, then brought it to her eyes, sniffed it, frowned slightly, shook her head, and disgustedly crumpled the thong into a ball and threw it into the laundry basket. I thought Yingjie was going to take a shower, but then her phone rang. I knew it was her boyfriend calling immediately. After a few words, she hung up; the conversation seemed like a mechanical exchange of pleasantries. I guessed her boyfriend was busy and didn't have much time for sweet moments with her. After hanging up, Yingjie sighed and started browsing her WeChat Moments. I was going to wait, but during the call, Yingjie mentioned something about an electronic diary, and I felt she must have some secret. So, taking advantage of this lull, I quickly went to Yingjie's laptop, searched for the electronic diary document, and sure enough, it was there. I tried the password several times but couldn't crack it, so I copied the file to my USB drive and then used it on my laptop to crack it. As for why my laptop could be cracked, I won't go into details, but simply put, a senior in college gave me a cracking package. Back then, he was very skilled with computers, and female classmates often asked him to fix their computers, and he also liked to spy on their secrets. I had some free time, so I prepared this software, and I never expected it to come in handy today. I thought it would take a long time, but I cracked it in less than a minute. There were more than ten electronic files inside; I'll look at the others later. I directly opened the file from the most recent period.
The diary entries were displayed inside. It read, "Honey, why aren't you back yet? Every time you go on a business trip, it's for months at a time. I'm so lonely. Today was the first time I tried wearing a thong to work. I thought it was to avoid embarrassing panty lines, but little did I know that while it avoided the embarrassment of clothing, it ignited the embarrassment of physical desire. Every time I walk, I feel that strip of fabric is slippery, and I keep sinking into it, forcing me to run to the toilet to adjust. I'm constantly wallowing in sexual desire. A house without a man is really impossible! All that 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' nonsense. I feel like I'm living a life of widowhood, and I'm really afraid I'll cheat on you one day."
Yingjie's self-confession in her diary made me instantly hard. Cheating… I never expected such a word to come from her mouth. I always thought Yingjie loved her boyfriend very much, but little did I know that under the torment of not being able to enjoy sexual desire for a long time, even the purest and most sincere love will change. I hadn't really noticed it until Ying mentioned it, but it brought back a flood of memories from my workday. Indeed, Ying had been going to the bathroom quite frequently today. I initially thought it was because she drank too much water, but it turns out she was wearing revealing underwear, and the constant rubbing was making her uncomfortable, hence the frequent trips to the restroom. But then again, it's understandable. After all, Ying is just a normal woman. Reaching twenty-six, a stage close to her prime, the desire for sensuality and pleasure is a characteristic of all women.
The timing was perfect. On the screen, I saw Sister Ying put down the phone and prepare to take a shower. I watched as she unfastened her front-clasp bra and tossed it into the laundry basket like a basketball shot. Then, naked, she walked to the shower and turned on the water. At that moment, Sister Ying's entire body was finally exposed to my view. Her full breasts were very firm, and I could vaguely see two alluring abs on her flat stomach. Her heart-shaped buttocks were perky but not fat, firm and tight, and her long, beautiful legs were model-worthy. Before I could get enough of looking, the water got hot. After Sister Ying entered the bathroom to start showering, I excitedly observed her every move inside.
Watching Sister Ying wash her hair under the showerhead, her breasts jiggle as she scratched her scalp, my eyes widened. Especially when she held her head high and chest out while washing her head, her taut body was incredibly sexy; even the phrase "lotus emerging from water" couldn't fully capture her allure. As she lathered herself with shower gel and began washing, her movements—playing with her breasts, teasing her genitals—were far more captivating than any pornographic film. Then Sister Ying screamed, startling me half to death. I thought something had happened, but when I saw her swaying her hips and slapping her buttocks, I realized she was enjoying herself, indulging in self-gratification in the bathroom. It seems women are much more exciting in the bathroom than in real life. Especially when massaging her breasts, her thumbs slid across her nipples, muttering "touching big ones." These obscene and private scenes were unbearable; I was afraid I wouldn't be able to resist rushing in and raping Sister Ying. I eventually switched the monitoring to background operation, but the entire shower process was still recorded in the highest 4K format I had set, so I could rewatch it whenever and however I wanted. It was the first time in my life I'd seen a woman—no, it should be the first time I'd seen a woman I knew, and she was the goddess of my fantasies! After such a private and frank exposure in the bathroom, my desire to work overtime completely vanished. My blood was boiling, and my mind was filled with images of Ying's
naked body and those lewd actions I only did while showering. Finally, the bathroom door opened, and Ying, wearing a bathrobe, came out after her shower. When Ying told me she was going to sleep and said goodnight, I blushed and stammered, but feeling guilty, I didn't even have the courage to look at her. But Ying seemed completely oblivious to my strange behavior and went to rest alone in her bedroom. After calming myself down for a few minutes, I left my seat, my legs almost giving way, and tiptoed into the bathroom. The moment I opened the door, a jasmine-scented shower gel wafted out. Normally, this scent would be pleasant, but now it was downright pungent. I locked the bathroom door, stripped naked, lit a cigarette to calm myself, and then went to the laundry basket, rummaging through Ying's dirty clothes one by one.
First, I picked up the thong. When I unfolded it, the white discharge at the crotch had long since dried, but the thick secretions seemed to be crying out that the woman who owned the underwear hadn't had sex in a long time. After putting down the thong, I picked up the stockings. A perfume scent wafted out. From her slightly stiff toes, I could tell that Ying had a demanding day at work; her feet were sweatier than usual. I sniffed them; there was no foot odor, but rather a leathery, faintly sour smell—a truly exquisite scent among women.
By this time, I was completely obsessed with Yingjie's intimate items. Driven by unbearable lust, I wrapped the thong around my erect penis, held Yingjie's magic breast pads in my hands, pressed the toes and crotch of her stockings against my face, and frantically inhaled their scent. The eroticism of the stockings' crotch, combined with the fragrant sweat from her soles, and the soft breast pads at my mercy, all of this drove me wild. Before long, I felt the urge to ejaculate. Just then, a rapid knocking on the door startled me awake, nearly causing me to drop everything. Instinctively, I answered, "Yingjie, what's wrong?" I heard Yingjie's voice from outside: "Have you started showering? If not, open the door. I want to wash my clothes." I was incredibly annoyed. Usually, Yingjie's underwear was either washed the next day or, if she was busy, piled up for a week before washing. Why was she doing it so quickly today? What a disappointment! It almost scared me into impotence.
I initially wanted to tell Sister Ying that I had already started showering, but then I thought better of it. Women tend to overthink things, and if she overreacted, I might not be able to have any fun later. So I simply got dressed, opened the door, and let Sister Ying in to help me get ready. Sister Ying came in, didn't even glance at me, and dragged the laundry basket out. Disappointed, I finished my shower. When I came out, Sister Ying was already asleep. Apart from the hum of the washing machine, the room was completely silent. Although I really wanted to sleep, the most painful thing for a man is not ejaculating—wanting to sleep but unable to. So I went back to the computer, wanting to relive the exciting scene from earlier. I watched the half-hour video over and over again, my penis still rock hard. Each viewing gave me a different feeling. Like I was bewitched, I stared at it intently. Before I knew it, it was 2 a.m. A muffled groan came from Ying's room, making me quickly stop playing the music. I listened carefully again, and a moment later, I heard another groan. Then, I quietly walked to Ying's bedroom door…

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