Absurd Class Reunion

Let me tell you about my ridiculous experiences. Everyone says class reunions are for men to fulfill their family dreams and for women to revisit their youthful memories. Or perhaps it's a subconscious desire to "keep the home fires burning while having affairs," with people coming from all directions prepared, either leaving happy or disappointed. At least I have this unhealthy but still somewhat human side to it. It's just that I've never actually gone before, whether that's a blessing or a curse is hard to say. Unexpectedly, it became a reality this year.
On March 18th, it was my high school reunion. As usual, it was eating, drinking, joking, telling dirty jokes, and about 30 people partying until 2 AM, just like before. Even when I was woken up by my alarm the next day, my head was still throbbing. In the afternoon, my boss arranged for me and another colleague to attend a bidding conference in Qingdao, which was another ordeal. On the train, as I fiddled with my phone, adding clients and scrolling through my contacts, LZ's name flashed by. She was also my classmate; I used to make her cry a lot back in school. She's a rather petite girl. I hadn't seen her at the annual reunions in the last couple of years. I heard she married well; her husband is a government employee. Her family lives in Qingdao, so I told her to do her part as a host. I called Lao Yu (the reunion contact person) to get his number, and my colleague said, "You're up to something, aren't you?" I said, "Yeah, right."
After getting off the train and settling in, I called LZ. We chatted for a bit, and I asked why she hadn't come to this year's reunion. LZ said her child was too young to leave. I said she'd taken on the role of a devoted wife and mother, and I'd come visit as her uncle. When I arrived at her neighborhood, the environment was nice; I guessed the housing prices wouldn't be cheap. I knocked on the door on the 15th floor. The woman was dressed in casual clothes, looking quite well, with a full, ample bust – I'd guess it was a C-cup, but I wondered if it was because she had a child (she wasn't always this attractive). After a few polite words, the baby started crying, and she quickly went to the bedroom to soothe him. I followed her in. In the center of the bedroom was a very cliché wedding photo; the boy looked like a penguin. The woman picked up the baby, who was very fair-skinned, just like her. I sincerely complimented him, and the woman was delighted. I said the baby's grandparents must dote on him. Unexpectedly, the woman's expression changed immediately, and her eyes even reddened. "They don't like girls!" I immediately retorted indignantly, "What era are we living in? Such outdated thinking! What's wrong with girls?" Perhaps influenced by me, the baby's crying, which had just subsided, started loud again. LZ said the baby was probably hungry, so she brought over some formula to feed the little one (she wasn't breastfeeding, her breasts were too big). I asked why she wasn't using breast milk, wouldn't that be better? Was she trying to maintain her figure? LZ said no, her mother-in-law said imported formula was more nutritionally complete. I could tell LZ was quite down. I changed the subject, talking about funny things from my school days, and LZ's mood improved quickly. Just as we were getting into the conversation, I glanced at my watch and said I had to leave. I could tell LZ was somewhat considerate when she saw me off.
The next day, I was busy with work, and around 5 pm, I called LZ to say I was almost done and would be leaving early the next morning. LZ said, "How can that be? You haven't even treated me to a meal yet, and I have a baby at home to take care of." I said, "If you want to show your sincerity, try my cooking." LZ said, "Okay." When I arrived at her house, she was tidying up in the kitchen. We chatted for a while. Her husband worked at a government office and often ate out at banquets. Since the birth of her child, her mother-in-law rarely came over. She was now a full-time housewife (she had a strong air of resentment). I offered a few words of comfort, and I helped her cook, praising her skills. I could tell she was happy, although she said she was clumsy and the food might not taste good. I said I loved everything she made. I moved closer to her from behind, describing the shapes of the vegetables, my breath brushing against her ear and neck. I could feel her chopping awkwardly. My hand slowly moved to her waist, and she flinched. "Don't...don't be so rough," she said. I hugged her, turned her face towards me, and kissed her lips. Even through her clothes, I could feel her body trembling slightly. Her breasts were soft and large, too big to be fully grasped in one hand.
She said, "No...no, we're outside, people will see." I didn't answer, but kissed and caressed her more firmly. When my hand slid along the curves of her body to her crotch, it was already wet. Perhaps it was the thrill of a clandestine encounter, or perhaps it was repressed sensitivity. From the kitchen to the dining table to the balcony, it started with me initiating, but later I found myself losing control. I ejaculated three times, and I can't even remember how many times she felt aroused. Especially in the bedroom, under their wedding photo, with her husband staring intently at me, and her fear of waking the children, her body reacted strongly, suppressed moans escaping her throat. When I left her house around 8 PM, I hadn't eaten a bite, and my legs were trembling.
In the two months since I returned from Qingdao, I've received frequent calls and texts from her. Fantasy has become reality, the wedding procession is in full swing, and for me, it's like starting all over again. I don't know whether to be happy or sad.

[The End]

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