Where does the road lead?

In 2003, I was seconded from my previous job to a newly established management office. On my first day, I met Jing. Her hearty laughter and gentle voice captivated me. I was somewhat surprised by the coexistence of straightforwardness and gentleness, yet it was truly embodied in her. She wore glasses, had slightly curly hair, and a perpetually smiling face. I observed her closely; she had a well-proportioned figure, full breasts, and was about 165 cm tall. Compared to my other colleagues, she stood out even more.
Our interactions went much more smoothly than I had imagined. Her straightforwardness and cheerfulness, along with our shared love of reading, led to us seeing each other more and more frequently. These days, fewer and fewer people enjoy reading, making the connection between two people with a common interest all the more precious. My work was quite relaxed, so in my free time I would bring her books, and she would bring me books in return. For a while, I had two library cards, and we would read and talk together. She read very quickly; girls like her who read so fast are rare, which made me like her even more.
Her home was quite far from her workplace, so she lived in the company dormitory. The company had two dormitories; she and one other girl lived in the women's dormitory. The men's dormitory was empty, mostly occupied by married people, with two single men who lived nearby. Sometimes she would secretly bring me cigarettes; she knew I liked to smoke, and that I could easily smoke a pack a day.
I don't know if she bought it or stole it from her dad's house, but I'm happy to see her thoughtfulness.
Jing liked to confide in me, and I would often help her with things. She was very pure, completely untouched by the harsh realities of society. She didn't care much for dressing up; her casual clothes completely covered her body, making her appear elegant without being seductive. The saying "friends confide in each other" is absolutely true. Once you confide in someone, the relationship becomes quite extraordinary. By then, I was already married, and my son was in kindergarten, but she didn't distance herself from me; I could feel her sincerity.
I usually take my best friends out with her for drinks and drives. Since it's usually three or four of us together, everyone's pretty relaxed. My best friends all like her a lot, and besides, what man doesn't like a pretty and cheerful girl? Sometimes I'll entice her to drink a little bit of alcohol, and she drinks very heartily; sometimes I'll entice her to smoke a cigarette, and she smokes very coolly. It's just a little bit; we don't intend to lead her astray.
We went hiking, shopped in B city, and ate at the night market, always following her around. We teased her about why she didn't find a boyfriend. She said she didn't like looking for one, and that she couldn't find someone she liked anyway.
I sighed, "The person I love doesn't love me, and the person who loves me I don't love." She seemed to agree with my disappointment.
Until that day, I was on duty. I called my best friend out in the evening, but everyone was busy. She arrived as usual.
“What about them?” she asked me.
"We're both busy, it's just the two of us today. Come out for a drink with me."
I drove her to the night market, ordered some dishes and a few bottles of wine.
"You've drunk so much, and you're still driving?"
"I want to drink today, why don't you drink some for me?"
"You drink it yourself." She knew I liked to drink, but she didn't know that I was drinking today because I had a fight with my wife at home.
Seeing that I had drunk quite a bit, she seemed to sense something was wrong. "What's wrong? Are you unhappy? Did you have a fight with your sister-in-law?"
She hit the nail on the head.
After drinking more, I started talking more. I told her about my frustrations, the ease I could no longer find after getting married, the constraints of marriage, and the shackles of family.
At that time, she had just met a boyfriend, but she didn't like him, so she told me a lot of things.
"The person I love doesn't love me, and the person who loves me I don't love," I sighed again.
"Then who do you love?" She put down her chopsticks. "..." I was speechless.
"You should drink less..." She took my glass and downed it in one gulp. "You're driving later."
Back at work, she took me to her dormitory; the other girl had gone home. "Have some milk," she said, and actually made me a cup of milk.
I held it in my hand, and I almost laughed.
Don't you like drinking milk?
“I like to drink—milk.” My eyes were drawn to her prominent breasts today. She was dressed differently than usual; a pale yellow short-sleeved shirt outlined her body. I was surprised that I only noticed it now.
She seemed to understand what I meant and playfully hit me. "You're so annoying!" I grabbed her hand, pulled her into my arms, and felt an urge to kiss her.
She turned her head away, avoiding me. I lay on the bed, watching her, drinking my milk. And as I drank, desire arose within me.
My hand lingered on hers, then around her waist, and I pressed her down onto the bed.
"No...stop," she refused me, but couldn't resist my actions. Just as my lips touched hers, her glasses blocked my view. I took them off and put them aside. I kissed her until she responded, and she began to awkwardly reciprocate. I knew she liked me, I had known for a long time, and it was only because I knew that I dared to be so presumptuous.
Her breasts pressed against my chest, the soft sensation bringing me comfort and pleasure. I kissed her, the taste of milk and wine on my lips filling the air, the kisses sweet and moist. I kissed her until her body went limp, her hands even relaxing completely, gripping the sheets behind her.
My body pressed against hers, feeling the mounds of her breasts. My hands moved up her legs, carefully and precisely slipping inside her clothes so as not to disturb her. She let out a soft moan, biting her lip.
My hands touched a pair of full breasts, soft and smooth, the nipples erect inside, small yet hard. I grew unsatisfied and secretly unbuttoned her top. She noticed and tried to stop me, but failed. When her white bra was fully revealed, she completely gave up resisting, letting me strip her top off and ravage her full breasts. My mouth kissed this one and that one, sucking and licking, my hands kneading and caressing. She was aroused by me and wrapped her arms around my head.
I was busy doing my thing, but my hand quietly unbuttoned her pants. I quickly moved down her legs. She tried to struggle, but before she could, I had completely stripped her naked, her underwear and all, off her body.
Her alluring body shone under the light, her breasts rising and falling with her breath, her legs tightly pressed together. The pubic hair was soft and sparse, and I saw a slit in the center that was incredibly tempting. I sucked on her nipple, my hand reaching down to her crotch. Her legs were so tightly closed that I couldn't even insert my fingers. I grew impatient and forcefully parted her legs with my knees, then spread them wide. I saw her frown, her eyes opening briefly before quickly closing again. My fingers explored her there, slowly inserting a little; it felt so wet and tight.
I took off my clothes and eagerly tried to insert my hard penis, but I couldn't manage it even after several attempts, and it even hurt a little.
Her muscles were too tense. I immediately relaxed my nerves and continued to caress her, while my lower body gently thrust in and out, using the fluid she had produced. My hands slid across her body, gently kneading, to help her slowly relax.
I felt the head of my penis go in, and I suddenly exerted force—not a lot, but a rapid, impulsive thrust. She screamed, and although my penis was already quite a distance in, it was still pushed out by her sudden movement, leaving blood on it.
Is this your first time?
She nodded, but I felt a little dizzy, though thankfully my thoughts weren't distracted. My desire was still burning, so I inserted my penis a little more and then slowly moved it in and out. I could see she was really in pain; her brows were furrowed.
The stimulation grew increasingly intense for me, from the initial breakthrough I felt in the glans to my penis being completely enveloped by her vagina; my entire body was ignited with passion. I tried to recall the techniques I'd learned from books, thrusting slowly and gently, my whole being caressing her to soften her tense nerves. My penis moved slowly, forcefully, firmly, and precisely. She let out suppressed, seductive moans from her throat.
Her vagina grew increasingly wet; I couldn't tell if it was blood or her own fluids, making it easier for me to thrust. Her body gradually relaxed, though her vagina still felt incredibly tight. My penis throbbed, pounding against her flesh.
"It hurt so much just now," she said as I stopped. "It'll be fine in a bit," I said, gently wiping the sweat from her forehead.
Look down, my penis is covered in blood, and there's blood on the sheets and between her legs. I looked and laughed. "Still laughing? It's all your fault..." She arrogantly hit me and wiped herself with a tissue.
I stroked her body, feeling conflicted, but I decided to let it be.
That night, I held her full breasts, unwilling to let go for even a moment. We made love three more times that night, and I ejaculated twice, but I didn't dare ejaculate inside her, so I just sprayed my semen all over her body.
When it was my turn to be on duty again, I lay in bed lost in thought.
For the past few days, we've continued our usual interactions, laughing and joking, both in public and in private. I often think of her and reminisce about her when I'm alone. After that day, she took a day off, saying she was sick; only I know what happened. Seeing her struggling to walk, I felt a vain sense of satisfaction. But we still had to hide it; our relationship had to be concealed, and concealed very deeply.
It was past 11 o'clock when I sent her a text: "Come keep me company, okay?" I waited for a long time without any response, and I became anxious and restless. Just when I was about to give up, I heard a soft knock on the door. I almost jumped up, opened the door, and there she was, standing in the doorway in her pajamas.
"Come in," I said, taking her hand.
"No, I'm going to go back to sleep now." She turned to leave.
That's how women are; I just grabbed her and dragged her into the room. If she didn't want to come in, what was the point?
I laid her on the bed, undressed her, and my penis was already itching to penetrate her. She was still nervous, but having learned from the first time, I didn't use much force this time. When my penis was fully inside, I touched her breasts, and with each thrust, she said to me, "Don't do this again, okay?" I didn't speak. "This is the last time, promise me," she said, grabbing my arm as if she would leave at any moment if I didn't agree. I could only nod.
In the darkness, our bodies finally opened up. I frantically thrust into her in one position, pounding inside her. No one spoke, we just enjoyed the movements. Her suppressed moans showed that she was getting more and more comfortable, and her body gradually responded.
I kept going, it was hard but pleasurable, the bed made soft, grimacing sounds. This time I lasted a very long time, and when I got a little tired, I kissed her, kissed her lips and her breasts, and touched and kneaded them. She was very aroused, which made my desire even stronger.
Until my semen uncontrollably shot into her body, wave after wave crashed into my brain, spreading outwards, it felt so good.
After holding her for a long time, she got up, put on her clothes, and went back to sleep. I couldn't stop her, but I lingered and touched her breasts again and again.
In the days that followed, I seized every opportunity to be with her, and she never said anything else or rejected me again.
She only said one sentence: "As long as the two of us are happy, that's enough." "So, will you still get married in the future?" I asked her.
"I want to live alone for the rest of my life, or I'll become a nun." I could almost see her suppressed urges. What could I say at that moment?
My best friends gradually found out about me and her, after all, it was hard to hide it so deeply, especially since we were best friends.
They all advised me to stop while I was ahead. I understood, but I couldn't resist the temptation.
It wasn't until my wife yelled at me with the phone bill in her hand that I realized it was time to end this. My wife yelled, cried, and was exhausted. I deliberately hid it, but truthfully told her that I liked Jing. My wife was at a loss, pressing me for what to do, asking if we had slept together. I said yes.
My wife called Jing, and I know what they said, but we reached a tacit understanding. The storm didn't come, even though my wife said she wanted a divorce and went back to her parents' house for a few days.
I hadn't seen Jing for several days. When I finally did, I found she hadn't changed at all, still treating me as I had hoped. But she had a boyfriend. He looked very honest, wore glasses, and was quite timid and shy.
"Let's not talk about the past." "Have you thought it through? Do you want to marry him?" I asked her, not knowing what she was thinking. Looking into her eyes through her glasses, I could both not know and guess what was in her heart.
That night, we slept together again. From talking about everything before, we had nothing to say to each other now. I felt very lost, but there was nothing I could do. When we made love, we let go of all our burdens and eliminated all our thoughts, and just made love.
That's enough. Having love is enough. Not long after our last time making love, she got married.
It was rushed and nerve-wracking. At the wedding banquet, I was drinking, but I didn't know what it tasted like. My best friend secretly laughed at me, so I could only pretend to be nonchalant and say "Cheers!" I drank a lot that day. I noticed her, in her wedding dress, glancing at me from time to time, and I drank even more recklessly. My best friend, being my best friend, knew what I was thinking and stayed with me until the very end. I drank a lot, but my mind was perfectly clear. I could only sigh.
I didn't see her for a month during my honeymoon, and she even changed her phone number. I saw her again a month and a half later; she seemed a bit depressed. She often avoided people. My colleagues were all saying she'd changed after getting married. I understood, yet I was also confused.
I called several times, just to say hello, and they replied casually, "Okay, nothing's wrong."
She was transferred to the publicity department, which made it much harder for me to even see her. When I heard her voice again, "I'm divorced from him, I just got my divorce papers," my heart was completely thrown into turmoil.

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Where does the road lead?

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