The expectation of having an affair

Springtime, a holiday, in the park.
A young girl, her youthful body nestled against a handsome young man, playfully wriggling and whimpering. The young man
felt her breasts tremble teasingly, a pleasant sensation spreading through his arm.
The warm spring breeze caressed his handsome face; he consciously ignored the beautiful girl beside him, glancing around at the envious glances cast his way, a hint of youthful arrogance playing on his cold lips. He had gradually become accustomed
to the flirtatious advances of girls, even the furtive glances from flirtatious young women. Suddenly, his smile froze, for he realized the girl beside him had stopped snuggling close. Her bright, expressive eyes, always gazing at him with longing, were now secretly glancing sideways at the man sitting on the bench. A group of girls were playing shuttlecock, while a little boy was kicking a rolling red ball and chasing after it. The abundant sunshine and joyful, vibrant scenes of life inspired me. I stopped my aimless scribbling in my notebook. I looked up and began to notice the various people passing by. A beautiful young woman, stretching out her long, slender legs, reclined on a grassy hillside, reading a book; her small nipples peeked out from under her thin shirt. A captivating short skirt, and the glimpses of spring revealed beneath it—did she not realize that her unrestrained behavior was tempting the swarms of suitors passing by? Oh well, being loved isn't my fault. I slowly wandered over, wishing I were still a young boy, wishing I could be bolder, thicker-skinned, so I could once again participate in that heart-pounding game of love. I comforted myself, telling myself I had been foolish and dissolute, but deep down, I knew it was just a bunch of pointless memories. Youth has left me ; I long, I long for time to turn back. Beautiful days, bright spring sunshine—how could they possibly highlight the depth of romance without a touch of melancholy? I walked to a bench and sat down. I took out my notebook and pen, using these two things to release the emotions and let the flood of emotions within me flow. I was immersed in the spring sunshine, and the warmth of the sun made me suddenly sleepy. I fell asleep without realizing it. In my dream, I heard myself sighing softly. Suddenly, I heard the melodious singing of birds. I opened my eyes, and a young woman stood smiling in front of me. "I'm sorry," she said. Her smile gave me a sense of friendship, and her beautiful eyes were unfocused. Was she testing me for something? I shook my head, trying to determine whether it was a dream or the real world. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said, still wearing her signature smile. “No, it’s alright,” I said, clearing my throat. “I wasn’t actually asleep, I was just resting with my eyes closed.” The young woman sat down on the other side of the bench, picked up the notebook that had fallen to the floor, and began to read it on her ample lap. “So you’re that Xiao Ping?” she asked. I was taken aback, then smiled weakly. “Yes, that’s one of my names.” “I thought you were much older?” “Ah, I’m thirty-two, isn’t that old?” “But you look no more than twenty-five?” Her eyes no longer avoided mine, looking straight into mine, piercing my heart. I could almost see my own reflection in her pupils—a face distorted by primal desire, filled with hope. "What's your name?" I asked, my voice trembling, desperately hoping her answer would be completely different from what I expected. "Xiao Qing," she replied in a feignedly dignified tone, her eyes more alluring than the spring air in a park. "How are you?" I asked politely, the dreamlike feeling of an affair, long gone for years, returning to my heart. "I'm fine, how should I put it? It's such an honor to meet you in person, brother." She extended her hand, almost touching my lips, as if expecting me to kiss it like a nobleman. I quickly took her hand and lowered my head to kiss it deeply. I considered whether to lick it with my tongue. "Last month, I read your article on Xiaoyuan's blog. Was the title 'The Climax of Virginity'?" Xiaoqing didn't pull her hand away, letting me hold it. "Something like that, it's 'The Virginity in Climax'." I gently corrected her, secretly sticking out my tongue to lick her soft little hand. "What are you doing? How do you feel?" Afraid of scaring her away, I stopped licking her hand. "I feel like I'm dreaming, a dream that can't possibly be real." "Brother Xiaoping, you know what? I always feel like the promiscuous woman you write about is me. Don't you think my thoughts are ridiculous? I realize that when I read your stories, I completely identify with the heroine." "I feel so embarrassed," I murmured. In the stories I read on Xiaoyuan, the heroines are always naked in bed, letting men take advantage of them. "I should be the one who's embarrassed..." she whispered, gently biting her bright red lower lip, looking like she wanted to say something but couldn't. We remained silent for a while, then she finally made up her mind and spoke: "However, I still feel a little dissatisfied. I feel your description of my beautiful body isn't detailed enough. Many of my sexy advantages weren't shown in your words. Also, you didn't write about some of my body's secret features that set me apart from other women." She continued to speak eloquently, and I was completely captivated by her charm: "I've written articles too, but I always felt that writing from a woman's perspective couldn't truly ignite that beastly desire in men to conquer women. The burning desire that has always lurked within me is to conquer all men. In reality, this might be a little difficult. To be frank, I don't want to cause the families of men who are obsessed with me to break apart because of my personal desires. Besides, if all the men who admire me could kiss my body, my wild, tender body, which is specifically designed to arouse men's lust, might not be able to withstand their subconscious tendency towards sadism and violence ." "Look, look! Isn't my skin so white and tender? Isn't it easy for me to be brutally ravaged by you men?" she said , lifting her skirt to reveal her dazzlingly white thighs. Whether intentionally or unintentionally, I also happened to see her lake-green underwear.

I admit they were incredibly beautiful and alluring legs, and the view beyond the top of the thighs was even more captivating. I nodded hastily in agreement with
her, and then, I couldn't resist taking the opportunity to reach out and touch them. Her thighs felt wonderfully smooth and silky to the touch.
She didn't care if I touched her, or rather, she enjoyed my caresses; in any case, she continued to elaborate on her brilliant ideas:
"So I had an idea. I think it's a very romantic thing to use the protagonist in your story to maximize
the irresistible . I want you to feast your eyes on my flesh, and let you..."
She stuck out her cute pink tongue, licked her lips, and continued:
"Then you faithfully describe it with your pen and publish it in your story, so that the men who read your story can share the pleasure you received from me
. They can then occupy my body in their own fantasies, tormenting and humiliating me to their heart's content..."
"Come on! Be a brave man!"
She suddenly grabbed my hand, and together we walked across the green hillside covered with lush grass, past the girl still reclining there reading,
and headed deeper into the woods. When I turned back, I saw the girl looking back at us.

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The expectation of having an affair

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