They finally had sex.

This title made me hesitate for a while, mainly because of the term "wife." According to Chinese tradition, "wife" is more common. "Wife" sounds a bit Westernized, at least that's my opinion. But after thinking about it more deeply, I realized I should still call her "wife." Because my wife is not only "wife," but also "too"—a term that's both meaningful and somewhat meaningless.

My wife and I were college classmates. To put it simply, in college you're dear, after graduation you belong to someone else. My wife and I have been together since college graduation. "Since graduation" means it's been five years, and we're still living under the same roof, still sharing the same bed.

My wife is a freelancer. She studied Chinese literature and has a natural inclination to write short articles, hoping to cultivate my tastes, but without much success. So, after graduation, I went to work for an advertising company. Since

I didn't study design, working in an advertising company meant I had to do something else; for me, sales was the only way out. This was a principle I understood early on, so after a year and a half, I pulled out the original design director and, incidentally, the company's biggest clients. Then, like many of my peers starting their own businesses, I began my arduous entrepreneurial journey.

It was tough, but that's just an exaggeration. With clients in hand, big orders were no problem. After a few tentative small orders, my company became a small-scale full-service agency, charging monthly fees. Therefore, I quickly acquired my own office building, house, and car. The only thing missing was a child. But my wife said she didn't want to join the older generation so quickly and wanted a few more years of freedom. Although she was my college classmate, she's two years younger than me. I thought it wouldn't be too late for her to have two more years of freedom, so I agreed.

My wife originally worked in administration at a company, but she said it was boring and tedious, so she quit and stayed home. I had no objections. Subconsciously, I felt that besides her diploma, her appearance must have played a decisive role in getting her a job at that company.

My wife is beautiful. She was the most beautiful girl in her department in college. Because she wasn't tall, she had the nickname "petite beauty," and many suitors pursued her, but she ultimately chose me. I asked her why, and she said it was because I was tall and strong, which made her feel safe. I'm 1.82 meters tall, and my wife is only 1.52 meters. She's truly petite next to me. It seems liking someone doesn't require profound reasoning.

At home, besides fulfilling her duties as a wife, she basically spends her time online. She's become a full-time writer for several websites, contributing to the family income each month. With my wife settled, I naturally felt more relaxed.

I'm often away on business, so I don't fully understand what my wife is really doing. Sometimes when I ask, she just smiles and says, "Now that you're free, you have time to worry about me." I manage everything well, enjoying each day without causing my husband any worry.

I only realized my wife had a secret unintentionally.

Actually, everyone has secrets. I have mine too, but I don't let them become a problem between us.

And initially, I didn't realize it was my wife's secret either.

I stumbled upon a website on this topic. To be honest, before that, I rarely visited such websites—partly because I didn't have time, and partly because I was ignorant. I know there are many online writers, and my wife is one of them, but I didn't know about online novels.

Curiosity drove me to register and log in.

I browsed a few articles at random, many of which had good writing but lacked narrative and only focused on sensory experience. So after reading them, I felt nothing special. Then one article caught my eye. What attracted me was the author's name: Little Sugar Man. I couldn't help but smile because, at home, that's my wife's nickname.

As I mentioned before, my wife isn't tall, but she has a well-proportioned figure and fair, delicate skin. What I admire most about my wife is that her small body has a pair of breasts that are noticeably large compared to her size. My wife's breasts are naturally like that, and they don't look cumbersome because of their size. They are large and firm, with a standard and perfect bowl shape, like inflated balloons, full of elasticity. In college, we used to jokingly call my wife "White Rabbit Milk Candy," referring to her pair of breasts that were always standing high, proud and arrogant, coupled with her signature sweet smile, which kept many young men up at night. So after getting married, I used to laugh, wondering how many people would regret it, lamenting that they would never have the chance to see her breasts again. "Little Sugar Man" was referring to a wife whose sweetness was so profound, so irresistible.

Seeing an article on this website by someone named "Little Sugar Man" naturally piqued my interest. "

The Story of a Wife." That was the title.

The first paragraph already caught my eye.

"...I'm a stay-at-home wife. Does that mean I'm disconnected from the outside world? I don't think so. At least not in this respect. Don't misunderstand, I'm not the kind of wife who cheats on her husband. I can't dress up beautifully to please a man who isn't my husband.

I like the feeling of freedom and unrestraint, so while other wives have to rush to work early in the morning, I don't. In a sense, I want to thank my husband for giving me a living space I love.

In fact, my husband and I are very harmonious in bed. His sexual prowess often gives me the greatest satisfaction as a woman, whether it's caressing or passionate lovemaking, it always leaves me feeling intoxicated." I often sigh, thinking that being his woman is a blessing. Perhaps in this world, I am the most…

well, not necessarily. My little sugar baby often says that if this world exists, then she is the best example. Her petite body often trembles and spasms under my virility, screaming things like, "I can't take it anymore," "I'm going to die," "I'm going to melt," and other such insane ramblings.

…This doesn't mean I have a lot of sexual experience; quite the opposite, my husband is the first and only man to have my body…

Like my little sugar baby, my wife was a pure white sheet when she married me. To my shame, we only ever had hand-holding sex for several years during our college relationship; it wasn't until our wedding night that I truly tasted her flesh.

…The world is strange; when you think something is impossible, often many things are no longer under your control. I cheated. It happened at the most impossible time, and it all happened so fast, so fast that I couldn't breathe. Another man entered my body with a high and excited posture, a body that used to belong only to my husband, a place only my husband could dock in.

Do you want to know what happened? How did it happen? And what happened afterward? What I want to know is why it happened to me. Deep down, I believe I truly care about my husband. Yet, when it came, why did my body betray me?

I often make up stories, fantasizing about princes and princesses. When these dreamlike, poetic images form in my mind, I often write them down out of emotion. However, once something actually happens in reality, I realize that writing down what happened to me isn't easy. I feel like I'm standing naked in a crowd…

If you love your husband, why did you allow another man into your life? This little sugar doll is really interesting.

I'll continue reading…

…I'm a freelancer with a very relaxed job, except for submitting manuscripts. That day was similar. Shortly after I got up, I discovered my computer wouldn't start. For someone who relies on a computer for work, that felt terrible. I made several familiar phone calls but couldn't get an appointment with a suitable engineer. I had to randomly pick one from my spare business cards, and thankfully, they agreed to send someone over within half an hour. I'd never done this before; my thought was just to give it a try.

Half an hour later, the person actually arrived. I thought to myself, "This company is pretty fast!"

The engineer who arrived was young, probably a recent college graduate, and quite tall, about my husband's height, just a bit thin—it seems everyone in this industry is on the thin side. He was dressed very neatly and cleanly, which is exactly what I like about clean-cut guys. He was shy. I learned that he had been nearby, which explained his quick arrival.

He went straight to the computer, which is also in my bedroom…

Seeing this, I couldn't help but smile knowingly; my wife is the same way. It seems working-from-home professionals all share a common trait

… He was very focused on fiddling with the computer. I knew nothing about it, but I didn't want to leave, so I politely stayed beside him and chatted. During our conversation, I learned that he had recently graduated from university. I casually asked him if he had a girlfriend, and he said no. I joked, "Such a handsome young man doesn't have a girlfriend? Are you seeing things?" He quickly shook his head, looking quite nervous. Seeing him like this, I found it a bit funny. There are still such innocent young men in university…

Right, I was like that in university too. Little Sugar Man said that in college I was always so honest and reserved, the kind of person who would blush even at the slightest glance at a girl, but after getting married I'm like a completely different person, all eager to devour her.

...We chatted like this, and the time didn't feel boring at all. After a while, he said he needed to reinstall the system, but he had already copied everything from my desktop for me. Pretty thoughtful!

Noticing the sweat on his forehead, I asked if he was hot and offered to get him a towel to wipe it off. He said no, no need. I still went to the bathroom to get a towel. Then, by chance, I saw myself in the mirror and suddenly realized. It turned out I had been wearing my pajamas since I woke up this morning. I had been so busy with the computer that I forgot to change.

These pajamas were very loose, with only two straps holding them up at the shoulders. Not only was my fair skin completely exposed, but half of my breasts were also visible, and my nipples were clearly visible through the thin fabric. Underneath the almost transparent pajamas, I could see my pink panties clinging to my buttocks. Oh my god, he saw everything! My face immediately felt hot.

I steadied myself in front of the mirror. Suddenly, I didn't feel ashamed at all. The image of that young engineer flashed through my mind. He was the one who was shy! ...

I almost burst out laughing when I read this. What a blunder!

...How could it be hot with the air conditioning on! He must be nervous because he can't stand my clothes. How funny! Maybe I should tease him a bit; teasing a young boy like that should be quite fun! I never imagined that I would want to play a prank on myself. But then I wondered if the outcome would be the same in a different situation. I didn't know.

I went to the living room and got a glass of juice. Then I took a towel back to the bedroom. He glanced at me, then quickly looked back at the screen. "

Here, wipe your sweat! Being a computer engineer doesn't seem like an easy job, huh?"

He nodded haphazardly and reached for the towel. I took it back. "Don't move. You focus on fixing my computer. I can handle these simple things."

I was so close that when I wiped his sweat, especially on his other side, he could definitely see my erection through the low, wide neckline of his nightgown. My husband loves this area, and I figured this young man couldn't possibly be indifferent. He really was looking, glancing twice before quickly looking away, afraid I'd notice. It wasn't uncomfortable being watched by a stranger for the first time; in fact, I found it quite amusing to make him so aroused.

He must have seen my nipples too, right? Pink and tender, so pretty, isn't it?

When I took the towel back, I noticed him slightly furrow his brow. My gaze fell on his waist; his dark suit pants had a noticeable bulge in the crotch area. This sight made my heart skip a beat. "

Thank you, ma'am," he said somewhat embarrassedly, adjusting his posture slightly. The bulge also subsided a bit.

I went back to the living room and brought in some juice. "Here, after all that work, have some juice."

"Ma'am…ma'am, could I use the bathroom?"

"Oh, sure, I'll take you." I put the juice on the table and got up to lead him there. As I walked ahead, I could feel his gaze burning into me. I could vaguely see what my tiny panties barely covered. I knew that the panties I was wearing barely covered anything in the back; they were actually a thong. I didn't know whether to thank my husband or hate him; I wore these to cater to his interests. He had said things about me dressing like this…

I have to say, those words have been captivating me so far.

…I went back to the bedroom and sat down at the computer. My heart was pounding. Not fear, not nervousness, but a strange excitement. I didn't understand why. Was it the thrill of successfully playing a trick on someone?

Ten minutes later, he appeared before me, his eyes back on the screen. I noticed a slight flush on his face. Could it be…? Many things can happen in ten minutes, and many things can happen within that time. My gaze fell on his crotch again; it seemed to have calmed down! In the bathroom, and then through satisfaction? While I was thinking about him, my mind raced with fantasies. Was he thinking about me? I felt a surge of heat. I should be angry, but I wasn't. I wanted to tease him a little. Men usually need time to get an erection again. So, is this young man like that too? My husband always seems to need some time. God, why am I thinking about this? Every time my husband finishes, I'm usually the one who's unconscious. My husband always has that ability.

Like a drug addict, I told myself to stop, but another voice inside me seemed to be urging me on. It's just testing his reaction, what's the big deal? This voice grew louder and louder in my mind.

Finally, I decided to give it a try.

I picked up a glass of juice and handed it to him. The moment he took the glass, I let go. Just as I expected, the glass tipped over, and the juice spilled all over him, right there.

Oh dear! What happened? "How did you spill it... I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..."

I yelled as I frantically tried to wipe it off for him. He seemed surprised too, letting me wipe it for a while before he reacted. I had already withdrawn my hand.

"No... it's okay..." His face showed a pained expression. "

I'm so sorry, I got you all over..." I went to the bathroom, feeling a triumphant sense of accomplishment. My mind, however, was in a different state. His thing got hard again after a few touches, feeling quite rough and hard. "

I'm so sorry, how are you going to work later?" I said loudly while washing my hands. "How about this, if you don't mind the trouble, I'll find you a set of my husband's clothes for you to wear first, and I'll wash your clothes." "

It's okay, ma'am, no need to trouble yourself...

What trouble!" "It's not trouble at all, it's just that you've gotten yourself all over like this, how are you going to see the next customer if you don't wash it clean?"

I quickly took a set of pajamas from the closet and handed it to him. "Here you go. You've come all this way to my house, and if you don't clean it up, no one will know what happened."

He then went to the bathroom, blushing. "

Give me your clothes first, so I don't waste time on either."

He changed quickly, rolling up his pants and handing them to me. I glanced at him and smiled, saying they fit quite well. "Where are your underwear?" I turned up the pants. "I'll wash them myself," he replied. "

Give them to me, you're a grown man, what's there to be shy about?" I washed them together, and they'll need ironed later.

I waited a while. The door opened a crack, and a pair of underwear was handed out. It was red. "Red? Is it your birth year?" He heard me but didn't answer. I smiled and shook my head, then went back to the master bathroom.

I turned on the water. I tossed my things into the sink. After a moment's thought, I reached into the basin, rummaged around, and picked something up.

It was red. I couldn't help but want to laugh.

I turned it over, and the residue in the middle confirmed my earlier thought, sending a shiver down my spine for no reason. I loosened my grip, letting it slip through my fingers.

I breathed a sigh of relief and looked up. Suddenly, I saw someone standing behind me in the mirror.

I cried out, but before I could turn around, I was tightly embraced from behind.

I didn't move. Not even a hint of panic or surprise. I should have shown even the slightest bit of panic, but I didn't; instead, I was very calm.

He was holding me. Holding me very tightly.

In the mirror, he looked tense, flustered, and anxious, his hot breath tickling my neck. I looked at the mirror, and at him. His strong arms encircled me, making me almost lose myself.

A little beast in heat. A bewildered yet vigorous young male. I found him both laughable and pitiful. I should be the one who's nervous.

Aren't you going to let go? Holding me like this makes me uncomfortable, let go. I looked at him quietly.

He definitely couldn't understand my reaction; I saw the confusion in his eyes. Did he think I should act panicked?

He reluctantly released his arms. I took a half-step back, finally able to turn around and face him. I immediately regretted it. The height difference forced me to look up at him. I'm petite, while he's tall and imposing. Suddenly, I realized I was at a disadvantage. And he, naked and aroused, was practically pressing against my chest. My face burned. This was maddening.

It's not a good thing, standing so erect. I deliberately pointed at the tip with my finger. It twitched. He shuddered.

Yes. He was so decisive. His voice was hoarse.

What is it? Do you do this to every girl?

No… I… I didn't…

nothing? Are you trying to tell me you didn't deliberately barge into the bathroom naked? "You didn't mean to hug me? You definitely didn't mean to? Do you know I can call the police and have you arrested?" I raised my head and questioned him loudly. Perhaps it was the poor ventilation in the bathroom, but I suddenly felt a bit stuffy.

His face was red and white in patches. Was he scared? I didn't mean to scare him. But he looked kind of cute when he was scared.

I thought… I really didn't mean to… I just thought… He must not be very talkative usually. I suppressed the urge to laugh, lowering my head to avoid looking at him; if I looked at his silly, innocent face, I would definitely laugh.

He wasn't the muscular type. But he must exercise a lot. The muscles under his skin were clearly defined and firm. A young man, with a dark, messy lower abdomen, his erect, smooth, strong, and vibrant genitals, fearless, with bluish veins encircling the shaft, the foreskin pulled back, the glans full and sensitive. This was only the second man's body I'd seen besides my husband. Similar yet different.

I quietly took a deep breath. I controlled the urge to touch it.

A strange feeling washed over me; I didn't seem to resist staring at him so closely, perhaps because of his embrace from behind earlier. It was sudden, but the solid feel of his body wasn't offensive. But for him to just barge in naked like that was really going too far. How should I punish him?

His rapid breathing between us seemed to remind me that, no matter what, there had to be a resolution. Was I going to have sex with him? No way. I just wanted to tease him; if this turned into something much worse…

Seeing this, I leaned back in my chair, lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag.

…I sensed a strong scent of lust emanating from him, and I felt a sense of disorientation, a feeling of panic for the first time. Once I realized it, things weren't as I'd imagined. Chaos ensued.

I tried to step aside to get past him. He pulled me into his arms.

He held me so tightly! I had absolutely no ability to resist.

My face was pressed against his. His chest, his strong muscles, were damp and hot, making my heart race.

"No…" I cried out instinctively.

He wouldn't let go.

He suddenly became stubborn. I struggled, but only within his arms. I suddenly realized he didn't want to control me anymore.

Let me go, this won't do!

It was so frustrating, being held so tightly, even my arm movements were restricted.

The result of struggling was that I was covered in sweat, and he held me even tighter. In the end, I found that even breathing freely became difficult. To make matters worse, the smell of sweat emanating from his young body wafted into my nose, making me want to go weak and lazy.

Finally, I helplessly gave up struggling. I had no strength left.

Let me go, okay? You scared me... I huffed and puffed, tilting my head back.

I want you. His tone became as hard as his body, with a hint of youthful stubbornness in his expression.

Don't be so fierce, okay? Anything is fine, just let me go, I can't breathe.

He smiled awkwardly, but still didn't let go. He just didn't hold me as tightly. But I'm already very grateful; at least I can catch my breath.

You're so clever, always bullying women.

I like you… really… really like you… My hasty words resulted in incoherent rambling.

Even if I am, so what? I said sternly, "What kind of 'steamed bun' is this? You like this kind of person? You've always had ill intentions, haven't you?

" He nodded and shook his head, "But isn't it because you're so beautiful and… dressed like this…

What did you say! What kind of nonsense is this?" I was furious. What I wear is my business. This is my own home. Who says I can't dress like this? Does dressing nicely mean I should be molested? It's all your fault, thinking such wicked things at such a young age. Look at yourself! I kindly asked you to take a shower, and I even washed and ironed your pants, and this is how you react?

I was thinking you were rubbing something in my stomach, making it hard to breathe."

He didn't dare look at me, his face flushed red. After a long pause, he finally managed to utter three words: "I'm sorry."

Sorry?! Ridiculous. Those three words left me speechless. What am I apologizing for? What does it even mean to be apologetic? Is this enough?

Looking at him, his face with its sharp features, his eyes boldly fixed on me, the slight timidity I felt just moments before transformed into a direct, transparent longing.

Good heavens! Where is the "apologetic" in this?

I lowered my eyelids and sighed softly. I reached out and placed my hand on his young body. My fingers traced circles on his skin, one after another. The veins beneath his skin trembled at my fingertips. My nails traced faint lines, disappearing before my eyes. Circle after circle, sometimes large, sometimes small. He shifted, seemingly unwilling to look away. I smiled involuntarily. I stole

a glance at him; his expression was strange, a pitiful look of wanting to hold back but unable to. Fine, I'll let you off the hook.

My hand slid down and caught him.

I surrendered, I told myself…

＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊

My fingers stung. I jumped in surprise. The cigarette had burned to the end. I stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, and a burnt smell filled the air.

Seeing this, I felt a strange unease. But in that short time, I couldn't give a definite answer. I could only continue watching…

**********

...

Humans have an innate tendency to pry into privacy, and I'm no exception. I wondered, if I encountered something similar, how would I react, especially if it were my little sugar doll? I felt incredibly bored. There's no comparison between these scenarios.

Back in reality, such temptations exist, and they're everywhere.

I gave up. The approach wasn't right. Reflecting on reality through words deviated from the simple desire to kill time.

**********************************

...Hey, can't you be a little more proactive? Don't make me feel awkward. It's too quiet. I don't like this kind of quiet, and I don't want it. Don't let this muffled silence be filled only with anxious breathing. Can you find encouragement in my silence? Or is my silence confusing you? What a silly guy.

He came towards me.

I found myself reflected in his bright, bewildered eyes. My heart pounded even harder, and I suddenly felt like I was suffocating.

He just kissed my forehead. A very light touch. It was timid, and a little clumsy. I stood still.

Is that all? I was a little confused. After a few seconds, he kissed me again. This time, his target was my lips. I instinctively turned my face

away. He kissed my cheek. The skin I touched felt a slight electric shock. I could n't help but let out a soft moan. "

Don't kiss me. " For a moment, I suddenly wanted to run away … ********** ... No need, nothing at all. I seemed to detect a hint of smugness in his eyes. But I didn't care anymore. Even if you win, so what! Thinking this, I gently closed my eyes. Idiot! You're so stupid, you can't even kiss properly. It's a kiss, not eating! So stupid, there's no romance at all. If it weren't for the feeling of being held in my arms, I would definitely kick you away. It took me a lot of effort to push you away. You're going to die, you starving monkey, haven't you eaten? You can't even breathe. He smiled sheepishly, his face flushed. What are you laughing at? Can't you be a little gentler with girls? I'm not food. Hungry wolf! Still laughing? Be serious. Let me ask you a question, do you have a girlfriend? No. He immediately leaned in again after answering. I reached out and blocked him. Really? Does the computer count? Go away, no joking around, I'm serious. I deliberately put on a stern face. "I'm serious," he mumbled innocently. "If we're talking about who has a girlfriend, then...you count, don't you?" Silly boy, of course not. I smiled faintly. Why should I care if he has a girlfriend or not? Do I really care that much? Regardless, his infatuation with me still made me happy. I reached out and gently stroked his face, not like before, you naughty boy. He didn't move, staring at me intently. That gaze convinced me that I was willing no matter what. I tilted my head back and leaned closer to him. His hot breath sprayed onto my face, chaotic and disordered. I kissed his lips. His trembling, clearly defined lips were moist and fiery. In that instant, he, me, this house, this bathroom, everything surrounding me, suddenly ceased to exist... ＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊I stopped, forced to think about a question. Although the question seemed ridiculously inappropriate, I couldn't help but think about it. It even stirred a vague unease within me. I'm not so foolish as to think that certain scenes from this story would appear before me. At least, I have the belief and confidence that this is merely an article, no matter how similar the female protagonist in the story is to my little sugar figurine in some way! This cannot be evidence of my foolishness. The reason for this association is mainly because my wife's environment and position are similar to the woman in the article. I cannot simply conclude their similarity by saying that their work environment and characteristics determine their similarity. That would be hasty, not my style. How does my wife spend her time outside of work? Does she get bored? I had thought about this question before and asked it. My wife is understanding. Although I sensed some dissatisfaction from her during our discussion on this issue, she ultimately gave me a sense of understanding. For this, I felt both helpless and guilty. After all, it's her who's home alone. This is also the second question I've thought about: Does my wife feel lonely? Needless to say, she does feel lonely. How does she cope with it, especially when I'm not around? Of course, when I'm home and not on business trips, I always try my best to make her happy in various ways, including online. However, I usually take the initiative in these situations. I believe that a harmonious and peaceful relationship will prolong and strengthen our marriage. Another reason is that my wife's charm and attraction to me haven't diminished in the slightest with time or the routine of life. The question is, when I'm not home, when I can't be with her, how does she manage her time and life? Shopping, writing, tidying up the house, and occasionally having tea with friends. That's my wife's answer. "Don't think the world will stop turning without you, huh!" That's true, the world will keep turning without me, but I won't be able to turn without you. I laughed at her, saying her life wasn't any easier than mine. My wife laughed and said, "It's easy to relax, but then we're destined to sleep in a pigsty." Although my wife was joking, it made me feel ashamed. I naturally hate doing housework. The only housework I do is occasionally cook a meal for my wife, and then I act like it's some great achievement. In fact, as I read this article, it wasn't until I got to this point that I suddenly realized I still didn't truly understand my wife's life, neither conceptually nor habitually. I thought I'd turn off the computer and call my wife. I only remembered that I had already called her when I was about to leave.

I couldn't help but chuckle. I laughed at myself for being a bit too paranoid. But I figured I'd keep watching; the main event was just around the corner, I had to see it all and see how it went. Even though I generally knew the following plot was getting R-rated, sometimes people just have that quirky tendency, don't they?

＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊

…My words had an effect. He became much gentler. I have to admit, he learned quickly, though sometimes it was a bit awkward. But I didn't care. He gave me a wonderful feeling. The problem was, teasing him also teased myself, and now the consequences were coming. My body went limp, forcing me to cling to his neck. That rascal even knew how to suck on my tongue. My body felt light, so I had to press even closer to him.

My legs were aching. I frowned and said to him in frustration.

He picked me up and put me on the sink counter. "That way it won't be like that," he said, a smug look on his face.

Idiot! "Your legs don't even get sore in bed, what an idiot! No wonder you're still single at your age, so stupid!" I thought angrily. He, however, didn't understand at all, only staring at me, his gaze moving up and back. "

Hey, that's very impolite.

You're so beautiful.

Your eyes are about to pop out." I rolled my eyes at him, secretly pleased. "Do you need to tell me if I'm beautiful or not, you idiot."

I said, deliberately puffing out my cheeks

. His eyes were fixed on me. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "

Still looking! Look at you, stop looking." "Hey...did you hear me? I said no looking, and that's it."

I raised my arms to my chest, hiding my precious bunny.

But his expression changed. The muscles in his face stiffened. His eyes held a hint of madness.

Oh no!

You... Before I could say anything more, he pounced on me. I instinctively tried to back away, but he grabbed me tightly. He pulled my arms away from my chest. Then, my waist tightened, and his face pressed against my chest.

The little beast in heat is about to transform into a wild animal. In an instant, it can become so aggressive.

"Fool...you're trying to scare me to death! Be gentle..." After calming down a bit, I couldn't help but hit him. He seemed even more excited, nuzzling against me like a puppy, sniffing and prodding. Like a thirsty baby seeking its mother's breast.

I chuckled to myself. Are all men like this? They all turn into children when they see a woman's breasts. My hand, which was originally meant to hit him, involuntarily fell to his head, stroking it, a sigh I could barely hear myself escape my lips.

His warm breath tickled my skin, making my heart itch too. Watching his frantic movements, afraid he might accidentally tear my nightgown, I reached out and pulled down one shoulder strap. He pounced on me like he'd found a treasure. My

snow-white, full breasts, round and firm, were exposed outside my nightgown, rising and falling gently with my breath, tender red nipples hanging atop them. In the boy's eyes, my pride had become his most delicious food at that moment. His tongue slid over it, not wanting to miss a single spot. My breath unconsciously quickened and intensified with his, a tingling sensation building up and gradually turning into a warm current, slowly flowing down from my breasts. Of course, I knew the consequences of this accumulation. As if joining in the fun, the hickeys standing atop them disobeyed and began to grow on their own.

My anxiety grew increasingly pronounced. Fortunately, he wasn't so hopelessly clumsy. He opened his mouth and carefully took my already restless fruit into his mouth. He hummed. My body jerked uncontrollably, the tingling sensation not even allowing me to savor it before my body wanted to completely betray me, the electric shock surging directly and undisguisedly between my legs.

It's happening again, I subconsciously bit my lip and tilted my head back.

I can't explain it... What happened next, I can no longer describe rationally and clearly. I only know that the feeling, the desire to be unrestrained, became my most important craving.

Touch me. In a daze, I grabbed one of his hands and pressed it against my other breast. Hurry, touch me.

Both breasts were exposed before him. I didn't care, I was no longer shy. My body felt like it was on fire, and an uncontrollable heat began to flow from my vulva, wetting the counter. I wanted him in. Just his presence would quell the unbearable spasms, the unbearable emptiness.

My confusion infected him, or rather, my cries aroused him.

When my pajamas and thong, the only coverings of my modesty, were stripped from my sweaty body, when I began to face him naked, at that moment, I suddenly wasn't so anxious anymore.

I just spread my legs, looking at him, waiting for him. I knew that beneath the soft, damp pubic hair, my vulva was wet, glistening with a luster, my labia were shamelessly engorged and parted, and my clitoris was equally swollen, making no attempt to conceal my desire. I didn't think there was anything wrong with facing him like this.

He squatted down, what else did the cute boy want to do? Observe a woman's secrets, and then... he

covered himself with his hand. He looked up at me with a puzzled expression.

"Come in, I want you, right now..." I managed to say those words, but my breathing became erratic again.

He laughed and stood up. Head held high, he stood between my spread legs. His firm, rounded tip touched my soft labia. Even before entering, I could feel its heat and restlessness. I waited for his next move, but he just stood there. Why wasn't he moving? I was so confused. "

I...this is my first time...I..." he whispered, shy and embarrassed. "

Little one, I won't laugh at you. Whether it's your first time or not, it doesn't matter." I reached out and straightened his position, aligning it with my small, moist opening. "

Come in," I said, reminding him not to be so forceful.

He nodded, and forcefully, slowly, his hardness forced aside the slight resistance. I was filled. He was still looking, looking at the place where we were joined. Incredible, isn't it? His manhood penetrated deeply into me, and it felt quite good, full and tight, a perfect fit. I sighed, opened my arms and hugged him, hooking my arms around his neck, pressing my chest against his, and resting my face on his shoulder. "

Don't move yet, hold me like this for a while. "

He obediently hugged me tightly, his embrace filled with tenderness. "

Do you like it?" I asked him.

"Mmm..." he nodded frantically. I smiled faintly, thinking to myself, "Me too."

An image flashed in my mind: a young, beautiful woman sitting on the sink in her own bathroom, her legs spread wide, accepting the intrusion of a strange, strong man, and becoming immersed in it...

I noticed a physiological change in my body; I didn't realize when my man's shorts were bulging. Regardless of the moral implications of her writing, her infidelity had inevitably stimulated my senses.

From the image, I suddenly wondered what if this woman were my wife! Of course, thinking of my wife like that is unfair to her. But what if such a possibility existed? Such "what ifs" are meaningless, yet they are undeniably present.

I can only construct a picture of her through association in the article. However, my wife and I spend every day together, and I know every aspect of her, including her body parts and reactions. It

was our first time together. After the initial awkwardness of our wedding night, things gradually improved.

I've emphasized the importance of marriage. Personally, I'm not a rigid, dogmatic person; otherwise, I wouldn't have chosen advertising, a challenging and creative profession. Whenever I have time and energy, I try to design my life with my wife.

The initial training goes without saying, and I certainly benefited greatly from it. However, after trying almost every method, these methods proved insufficient. After all, imitation cannot replace genuine feelings between two people; it's more like role-playing.

There's a saying that only men can truly unlock a woman's potential. Regardless of how this statement is interpreted, I wholeheartedly agree.

After initially simply copying others, I tried to understand and explore it in my own way. The rewards exceeded my expectations. This is entirely evidenced by my wife's physical reactions; the melt-in-your-mouth sensation of her breasts finally began to show its true power.

Sex is an innate instinct. In the interaction between two people, traditional moral constraints and established habits seem very fragile. At least, my wife no longer sees sex as something passive or difficult for women to discuss.

For example,

sometimes she'll whisper in my ear, "I want to suck you," or say, "Boss, how many times are you planning to let me have sex tonight?" Or, while I'm engrossed in my computer, she'll come to me sweetly and say, "Honey, it's snack time," then gracefully lift her skirt. Often, what greets the eye is a completely naked, fragrant garden.

Teasing and flirting anytime, anywhere has become an indispensable part of our lives. And when the time is right, we'll even go a little too far. For example, we've tried late at night on our large balcony at home, or in the public restroom of a five-star hotel. Often, the physical discomfort and frustration my wife experiences bring a different kind of stimulation and satisfaction.

Imagine, what would it be like if a woman like my wife, with an outstanding figure and appearance, and who knows how to enjoy life, had a relationship with a man other than her husband? Whether it's real or not, even if it's just a sexual fantasy, the result would be shocking. Has

my darling wife ever had sexual fantasies? If so, is the object of her fantasies me? That's another question. Actually, I've asked her this kind of question before, and she always laughs shyly and says that dealing with you takes up at least half of my sleep time, so do you think I might have them? I

just laughed it off then, but now, thinking back, I realize that my wife didn't answer directly.

Either she didn't, or she did. In any case, my wife always cleverly rejected my question. Now, this question has resurfaced clearly in my mind.

This is a dangerous sign. I must stop myself; I can't let similar things lead to unfounded suspicions. There's nothing inherently wrong in the world; it's just that fools create their own troubles. This is the most terrifying thing …

********** ... I didn't want to restrain myself. The intense feeling made me want to shout, to scream, I was melting. Had I infected him? He had become so energetic, inexhaustible. What a heartless guy! This pleasure-seeking pony didn't care about anyone's life or death. He was going to die, thrusting until I could hardly breathe and still not stopping. And he was watching. Watching himself occupy a woman's body seeking pleasure? Watching her melt away step by step in his youthful, naive impulses, was that it? Surprise, joy, fervor, excitement were written all over his face, the flame in his eyes both strange and familiar, making me feel pity. He was going faster and faster. Was he about to come? I suddenly felt a sense of panic. 'Don't go so fast!' a voice inside cried out, 'Wait, just a little while, okay?' 'No, it's unbearable, it's burning me.' My limbs clung to him against my will. He ejaculated, and time seemed to stand still. He gasped for breath, his member pulsating powerfully deep inside me. The young man sprayed and drenched me wantonly, leaving me dizzy, wanting more, wanting more unbearably. Damn it! A hint of resentment welled up in my heart…' ********************************** He ejaculated. This boy had completed the most beautiful act of his life, and would thus transform into a man. Perhaps there was still a long way to go before he became a real man, but at least his understanding of women was no longer a fantasy based on illusions. Young, passionate, impulsive, and energetic, I was glad I hadn't lost these qualities. Seeing this, I naturally thought of my first time. No one guided me, I completed my first time purely through intuition. Although I felt embarrassed afterward, it left an indelible and warm memory. But compared to this child, compared to this moment, I couldn't weigh which method was more valuable. Perhaps, there was no need for deep thought; when my hand unconsciously exerted force between my legs, such thoughts were meaningless… ＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊'You came inside?' I stared at him. 'Ah… oh…' He looked at me innocently. 'Fine, you almost killed me. Still not coming out?' His silly look made me want to laugh. How could I have given myself to this little fool! He quickly pulled out, feeling a sudden emptiness. I frowned slightly and hummed. He immediately showed tension. I ignored him, covered my genitals, and went to the showerhead, turning on the water. 'Hand me the shower gel, on the counter.' 'Hey…' I lathered myself up. I turned my head, and he was still standing there, looking pitiful, wanting to come closer but afraid to. I couldn't help but laugh, but my face remained serious. 'Come here. 'I waved and moved out of the way. He laughed and came over to stand next to me. I handed him the shower gel and said, 'Hey, you don't want me to help you. Be careful, don't get my hair wet. ' 'I...I can do it myself. ’ He took it in a panic, squeezed some in his hand, and wiped it on his body indiscriminately, but kept his eyes on me. 'My eyes will pop out when I look at it again. ’ Smiling, I glanced at him, then glanced down at him. 'Can you rub my back? ’ I said and turned around. He responded, his hands coming to his back. The movement is very light, and it feels itchy on the body. 'I'm not a doll. It won't break when touched. Just use some force. ' 'Hmm...' A clumsy guy needs to be taught every step of the way. 'You are so beautiful. ' 'Really? You just said it. ' 'I...' He hesitated, 'I mean I originally... But, I still feel that these three words can fully express what I want. ' "The best things come in small packages, right?" "Maybe, but you're really beautiful." "Want to hold me?" This time, he answered me with actions. He opened his arms and wrapped me up in them. I leaned against him, closed my eyes, and felt the warm water from the showerhead falling between us. I closed my eyes, quietly feeling the water flow down, the droplets hitting my skin. It felt so relaxing; I didn't have to do anything. It was actually quite nice. My hair was wet, but so be it. His member pressed against my waist. I instinctively reached behind me, touched it, and grasped it in my hand, sensing the beginning of an erection. I reached down, touched the 'ammunition' (referring to the area where the penis is inserted), and gently played with it with my fingers. The male anatomy is truly peculiar; in the same spot, hardness and vulnerability coexist. Does this mean that even the strongest man has a vulnerable side?

My arms tightened and loosened around my chest, then I placed my hands on my breasts, caressing them.

A comfortable sensation immediately spread from those two points throughout my body. My nipples tingled and hardened, and I couldn't help but moan softly, my mind racing again.

I heard his breath beside my ear, his warm breath on my cheek, then he kissed me. His hand, which had been holding my breast, gradually tightened, the caressing becoming a kneading, the passive becoming the active. I liked this feeling, being held in his large hands, gradually being led to that place I longed for, where I could lose myself again.

My breasts felt full, a pleasant, tingling sensation flowing down to my lower abdomen. I pressed his hands down and turned to face him.

His masculinity became more pronounced.

'So soon you're already showing your claws again,' I laughed. 'You naughty thing, you don't want to behave again.'

His eyes were full of desire, looking directly and undisguisedly into my heart. My heart pounded. What was I thinking? Did I not know what to do next?

"Want to shower again? Turn off the water."

"Oh..." He seemed to snap out of a daze. He

took a towel and quietly dried himself.

"Let me do it, let me dry you."

I straightened up and handed him the towel. He was very careful and attentive, his expression focused and serious.

I saw the tenderness in his eyes, as if he were not facing a stranger, but his most beloved treasure.

I liked his expression at this moment, and the signals in my body stirred my somewhat fragile nerves. I felt a slight swelling inside, and my skin became moist.

After drying the other parts, he left one spot untouched. Now, he was facing it. His breath sprayed on it, and I couldn't help but feel my legs go weak.

"No..." I cried out.

My voice was so soft that he could easily ignore it, and he pretended not to hear me.

Being stared at so intensely, a strong sense of shyness welled up inside me, but I also felt a strange thrill. I knew it was wet.

"He didn't dry it there earlier, he did it on purpose, how awful. Does he think I was born like this?!" Thinking of this, my little cutie throbbed restlessly, a damp feeling spreading through me, my body heating up, my breathing quickening unconsciously.

"Is it pretty?"

"So beautiful," he smiled, revealing his snow-white, even teeth, his expression joyful and satisfied.

"Will he lick me?" I hoped he would. Just thinking about it for a moment made me feel a little overwhelmed.

"I can…"

I stammered, "What's so hard to say!" My heart pounded.

"What?"

"I…I want to kiss you…" he said, as if he'd mustered a lot of courage.

Damn it… how could he even think of asking such a question? My body is right here! You've already done this to me, what do you want to do? Can I stop you?

"Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot…" I cursed him a thousand times in my mind.

Finally understanding that my silence was a form of consent, he pressed closer. The fine hairs tingled a thousand nerves, his breath sprayed on me, his lips gently caressing my skin. So itchy! His hands rested on my hips, his lips teased my private parts, his tongue warmly landed on my sensitive skin, drawing ever closer to my thirsty core. It

was almost unbearable; I felt like I was melting even before I reached it. The contact was so exquisite, making me willingly lose myself, my heart trembling, my skin quivering.

As he wandered, I parted my legs, my belly, burning with pleasure, automatically responding, wanting to chase after his tongue.

Wet, sensitive labia were licked, again and again, quickly finding that spot.

I cried out.

I'm sure for a moment, I was in a daze. I found myself supporting myself on his shoulders, my whole body leaning on him. How ridiculous I was, yet I knew that was the feeling I wanted.

Here we go again!

He knew, knew the best way to torment me. Finally, he understood! Making a woman happy is really simple.

It's like this, I love it like this, I'm flowing, do you like it! I can hear your sucking sounds, you're so lustful.

There was no skill involved, just relentless demanding, crude and impatient, yet irresistible.

No, please, stop darting in there! How much more do you want?! My body went limp.

I couldn't help but scream, want to cry, want to laugh all at once.

'Take me to bed, not here…' I clung to him tightly, unwilling to let go for even a moment.

Only against the soft bed did I feel at ease.

Wet lips, wet face, wet body, wet flames. Do you like this kind of food?! I'll die, I'm already dead, understand?! I stretched out my soft arms and encircled him.

Damn it, I'm so happy I want to cry.

No need for words, I was firmly pressed down by his young body, kissed. The pungent smell, mine. I couldn't care less, only thinking of kissing, enjoying the waves of pleasure that seeped into my bones as our lips and tongues intertwined.

His large hands pinched and kneaded my breasts, my tender nipples trembling with pleasure under his ministrations. I went to him, and there he was, hard and hot against my thick pubic hair, which he held and stroked repeatedly.

Was it pleasurable? He answered me with his anxious breath.

Not to be outdone, he moved his hand to the hidden place between my legs, searching for the entrance to my overflowing garden. I naturally parted my legs. Clumsy fingers parted my engorged labia, yet deftly slipped inside.

I couldn't imagine the scene, young, slender fingers teasing my thirsty garden, the lewdness and obscenity driving me mad.

He was like a poorly trained pianist, and I was a key under his fingers. He could never quite find the right spot, the right note, but once he did, I would produce a seductive, alluring sound. And with each casual pluck of his fingers, my body would defy his will, pulsating with a heart-pounding rhythm.

I am more than just an etude, no, ecstasy shouldn't be just for you. My delicate, sensitive nerves were being teased to the point of breaking. Come in before they do; I need that blissful feeling of being filled.

'Come in,' I called to him. I couldn't stand him, and I couldn't stand myself.

'Do you want me?'

'Mmm…yes…I really want it…' His eyes were bright, looking up at me. Looking at him like that made me dizzy.

He aimed and thrust in. I was instantly penetrated by his thick member. In that instant, a feeling of relief washed over me …

********** ...

"I betrayed him, my husband. From a traditional, rational perspective, that's how it can be understood. No matter how much I tried to uphold my principles, my body played a cruel joke on me.

I can't explain it, really. What I once thought and believed could be called truth was shattered so easily in an instant. I was more fragile than I imagined; it's ironic. I don't want to laugh at myself like this; it's admitting my falsehood and pretense.

Yes, I enjoyed the happiness of being a woman during that moment. Yes, at that moment, my heart was only filled with that timid boy and his powerful penetration.

I thought I would cry, but I didn't; I was just confused.

For that boy, and for my husband, it was just about two people I had relationships with simultaneously; it had nothing to do with love, nothing to compare.

That boy, I believe it was just a dream. After that day, we never contacted each other again. It's impossible to have two identical dreams; that's abnormal. What's done is done, what's over is over. I can't care about what happens to others…"

**********

... However, I immediately wondered what the point of doing this was! Did I even need to do this? What was I trying to prove? Was there a necessary connection between her and her? Even if I found out, what then?

Questions piled up, one after another, occupying my mind. I began to feel confused and bewildered.

Did I really need to find her address? The mouse hovered over her name, finally stopping at "Little Sugar Man's" name.

"The End"

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/175021.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=175021&aspx=1

Previous Page : Betrayal - Chapter 11 - The Virgin's Maiden Voyage

Next Page : Treat Minfu arbitrarily

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

They finally had sex.

comment Open a new window to view comments