My daughter's boyfriend flirted with me and went to bed with me.

"Auntie, the sun's shining on your bottom, you should wake up now." Xiao Xu stood by the bed, looking at me. Actually, I'd been awake for a while, but I was still lying on the bed, the sunlight shining on my bare bottom. I thought I should let the sun shine on my bottom and let it bask in the sunlight. I knew my daughter was dating when she was in her early twenties. She often came home late, sometimes not at all. Two or three years passed, and her figure changed. I could tell she'd had a history of sexual activity. I'm an open-minded mother and accept my daughter's past sexual behavior. In today's society, it's not shameful; sex is something she should try and experience. But what kind of man was her boyfriend? I wanted to ask, but I never did. Until this winter, on a very cold Saturday, my daughter happily brought her boyfriend home. Although my daughter had told me beforehand, I didn't dress up specially, just wore casual clothes. Meeting my daughter's boyfriend wasn't an important meeting. When they came in and saw my husband and me, my daughter introduced them: "Dad, Mom, this is Xiao Xu." That's how I met Xiao Xu for the first time. This boy was tall and quite strong. I think my daughter is quite tall, and their heights are well-matched. My daughter has fair skin like me, but his skin is dark. I looked at them closely; the contrasting skin tones of this couple made it hard to tell who was who. The boy had a broad, angular face, not handsome, but his bright, intelligent eyes gave him a manly air. When he first saw us, he looked awkward: "Uncle, Auntie!" I heard him slur his words and distort his pronunciation when he called me "Auntie." As his mother, I had to step in to smooth things over. I nodded to him and said, "Xiao Xu, it's hot in here, take off your coat. We have central heating here, it's very warm, a light coat is enough." Then, I chatted with him for a few more lighthearted, everyday things, and Xiao Xu seemed much more relaxed. I felt I didn't have much more to say to him, so I said, "Weekends are my busiest time. I have to do all the housework, washing and cleaning. You and her dad chat for a bit, I have to go get to work." Xiao Xu replied, "Auntie, let me help you, I can do all the housework." I said, "No, thank you, this is your first time here." I got up and went into the bathroom, where there was a pile of clothes to wash. Which ones to wash first? Which ones to wash later? Just as I was choosing, Xiao Xu came with me. He wanted to help me wash the clothes, but I didn't want him to come in because there were women's bras and underwear among them, which would be indecent for him to see. I blocked most of the doorway, but he didn't understand what I meant and insisted on helping me. I thought to myself, "This kid is attentive and sensible, so let him help me." But when he helped me, I felt uncomfortable. Working always involves bending over and standing up, and with a young man I was meeting for the first time beside me, I instinctively pulled up my collar when I bent over, afraid of exposing my breasts. Actually, my collar wasn't low; I just wanted to protect myself from him. Every time I bent over, to avoid his gaze on my chest, I turned my back to him, but my raised buttocks bumped into him several times. This made me very embarrassed; it's awkward for a woman's buttocks to bump into a strange man. This was the most embarrassing thing that happened when we first met. Later, I asked him, "Did he touch my buttocks on purpose?" He said, "I touched him with my buttocks, deliberately teasing him, which gave him the courage to do so later." Actually, I had no such thought at the time; it was an unintentional misunderstanding that led him to my bed. I still asked him to leave; that day, our whole family ate together. During dinner, my husband and I asked him, "What are your plans now that you have a family?" Xiao Xu told us about his future plans: he now runs a beauty salon, and the beauty business is very profitable. He also has connections with several foreign cosmetics companies, and could potentially collaborate with them on distribution or agency agreements. I didn't pay much attention to his story because we knew about his beauty salon and knew a little about his family. We wanted to observe whether he was just spouting empty promises. His tone was calm, his thinking was organized, he had a good sense of proportion, and his expression was understated yet sunny. I liked this man! A very nice young man. That evening, when my daughter and Xiao Xu went out, my daughter said, "Mom and Dad, I won't be back tonight. Don't wait for me." My husband and I didn't respond because there was nothing more to say; we both knew about their private affairs. A long night passed. My husband was asleep, and I was watching TV. My phone rang. I picked it up and saw a text message. The message only had four words: "Are you asleep?" Who could it be? An unknown number. Perhaps it was an acquaintance whose number I didn't recognize. I replied, "Who is it?" The other person replied, "Someone who admires you." Seeing the reply, I thought, what is there to admire about me? There must be a mistake. I replied, "You've got the wrong person, haven't you?" The person replied, "No, it's you." I thought: There must be a mistake. I turned off my phone. But from then on, my phone received text messages like, "I love you, a very special kind of love," every day. The messages piled up, annoying me. Who was he? He sent the wrong number, busying himself with someone who wasn't his lover, neglecting his real lover. I should really remind him not to waste her time. I dialed the number: "Who is this?" The voice on the other end was familiar—it was Xiao Xu! He said on the phone, "What should I call you? Since the day I saw you, I've had hope in my heart, and I can't sleep at night." "What do you mean?" I asked. "You're a good woman," he replied. Before I could speak, he continued, "If I said, 'I love you,' would you be angry?" This sudden question left me speechless. There was a moment of silence on the phone, then he said, "I'll make you even more beautiful!" What did that mean? Love me, and make me more beautiful? My heart started pounding, pounding wildly. Could any woman with experience not understand? He was trying to flirt with me! My judgment was correct at the time, but I didn't reject him. I just thought, how dare he be so bold—dating his daughter and flirting with his mother? He's a mature man; he shouldn't be doing this. I went into the bedroom; my husband was fast asleep. I went out again, kicked off my slippers, and walked around barefoot. I thought: Fine, let's see what other tricks he has up his sleeve. If he wants to flirt with me, then so be it; I'm not afraid. I said to him, "You know what? I know who you are, but I shouldn't, you understand?" Would he understand what I meant? I wondered. He said, "I know, you don't know who I am. My unrequited love for you is beautiful in my heart, it shouldn't be a burden for you." He understood what I meant. If we both knew who I was dealing with, how could this continue? I hung up the phone and sat on the sofa, thinking: My daughter hasn't come back yet; are they together? Are they calling me from bed? Then I'd be so embarrassed. I hurriedly dialed my daughter's cell phone. She told me on the other end that she was at a party with her classmates. I could hear music and laughter coming from the receiver. This reassured me, and I told her, "Come home early." That night, I undressed and slept next to my husband. We'd been together for over twenty years; as a wife, I'd always been dutiful and never done anything out of line. The next day, as soon as I left the house, I rushed to check my phone. There was another text message: "I heard your voice, niniqu is looking forward to your arrival! So beautiful!" "With me, you can choose; with you, I can't escape." My phone was full of his texts, all mushy words. I wanted to reply, but my finger hovered over the keypad, unsure how to type. I thought: Wait a few days. Young people don't last forever. Besides, I can't reply rashly; he might use it against me and ruin my reputation. I didn't reply, just kept receiving his texts. He seemed determined not to stop. Like his text: "I love you, without expecting anything in return, because you're in my heart, and only then can flowers bloom in my heart." "Withered flower." That was my first reply to him. What? I'm a woman in my forties, not a flower anymore. "Flowers are those that are full, mature, and in full bloom in their season," he replied, but I didn't. Days passed, his texts didn't stop, and checking them gradually became a habit. Because of my daughter, although I felt uneasy and dared not reply to those texts, I had to admit: I was starting to like these flirtatious texts! Because a middle-aged woman was suddenly loved by a young man.Regardless of whether it was true or not, I wanted to experience it. The weather was getting warmer, and the messages he sent me, like the warmer weather, were becoming increasingly passionate. I still didn't reply, but I admit, his patience was truly remarkable. I didn't object to his messages, nor did I reply. We didn't have any real interaction; I only gained a little psychological comfort from his messages, and my behavior wasn't wrong! One day, near the end of the workday, a torrential downpour began. My colleagues and I looked out the window at the heavy rain, discussing how to get home; even getting a taxi would be difficult. I took out my phone and notified my husband that I might be home late. Just then, the text message arrived: "It's raining. There's a red taxi downstairs; the last three digits of the license plate are 521. That's the car I booked for you. You can go home right away. Fare paid!" I quickly looked around, as if he were right beside me. No, only my colleagues. I walked downstairs and read the message again: red taxi, license plate 521. As I read 521, it sounded like the homonym for "I love you." I was so moved I almost cried. When I got home, my husband was already back, sitting on the sofa flipping through the newspaper. Seeing me come in, he said, "It's raining so hard, you said you'd be late." He continued reading his newspaper.Hearing my husband's indifferent words, I said calmly, "I got a ride back with a colleague." I changed my clothes and went into the kitchen. I felt a pang of resentment: my own husband, whom I've lived with for over twenty years, when has he ever cared for or shown me any consideration? He's even stingy with a kind word. I accepted this favor behind my husband's and daughter's backs. Regardless of whether his thoughts about me are sordid or innocent, I accept his kindness. My daughter came home, and I asked her, "How did you get back?" She threw her bag aside and said, "How else could I get back? He picked me up and then brought me home." I asked again, "Where is he?" She said, "He dropped me off downstairs and left." Hearing this, I said, "Why didn't you ask him to come up? Honestly." My daughter hugged my waist and laughed, saying, "He's very busy; he doesn't have time to play with you." "This child, how can you say that?" "I did curse at her once. During dinner, I kept thinking about my phone; I felt there must be a text from him. I had a guilty conscience; a middle-aged woman secretly having an affair with her daughter's boyfriend should feel guilty, but texting had become a part of my daily life. I took my phone into the bathroom, and sure enough, there was a text: 'It's raining heavily, I'm wet. How about you?' The rain didn't stop that night, and listening to the rain in bed, I got wet too. Unable to suppress my sexual desire, I took off my clothes and said to my husband, 'I want it!' My husband said, 'We're an old married couple, why are you doing that?' I said, 'No, I want it. I don't want to waste the enjoyment I deserve. I'm a woman who needs a man.' I touched my husband's penis; it was soft and lifeless. But men at my husband's age have more experience, their emotions are more detached, and they have less of the vitality a man should have. But what woman doesn't love a man's penis? I held my husband's penis and said to him, 'Don't move, let me do it!'" I climbed on top of him, brushing my pubic hair against his legs, dropping my breasts to his chest, my nipples touching his breasts. My body craved a man. I used every trick in the book to get him hard. I kissed his entire body, took his penis in my mouth, uttered provocative words, and performed the most lewd actions. Finally, my husband's penis was hard. I said to him, "Look how beautiful your penis looks when it's hard, like a big boy, ready to be fucked." I kept rubbing his penis, and while it was still hard, I lifted my leg and straddled him. With a thud, his penis entered my vagina. Ah, I exclaimed, "How beautiful! Everything in the world has gaps where there is insertion, and the insertion of a man into a woman is a divine gift." I straddled my husband and said, "Beautiful, isn't it? Fuck this beautiful woman, isn't it beautiful?" "I twisted my hips to feel the pleasure of his penis entering me, but after only two or three twists, he went limp, as if he had ejaculated, but I didn't feel it; he had already withdrawn from my vagina. I sighed and said to my husband, 'Your thing is just an organ for urinating now.' My husband also sighed and said, 'Go to sleep, I don't have that ability anymore.' My husband turned away from me, ignoring me, but I needed a man. I put my hand on my vulva, my fingers pressing against my clitoris, and squeezed my legs together. I made myself imagine a man's penis inside my vagina; this was the only sexual pleasure I had received in many years. It's quite pathetic! In my hazy masturbation, I fantasized about a man, my daughter's boyfriend—Xiao Xu. 'I was with him, he penetrated me, and I felt a young, powerful penis inside my vagina, transmitting pleasure to my heart.'" "Ah, ah, ah—" My body convulsed for a moment, the masturbation bringing me to orgasm. Reluctantly, I got up. My husband was asleep, and my daughter's bedroom door was closed. I stood naked in front of the living room's French windows. I saw my hazy reflection in the glass—what a beautiful woman! Full breasts, wide hips, long, white legs, and thick, dark pubic hair. I was a woman who could charm men, but unfortunately, he didn't know how to enjoy me. I picked up my phone and proactively sent my daughter's boyfriend my first text message: "What are you doing?" He replied immediately: "I'm so happy you're texting me." I felt a surge of relief; a man secretly loved me. I replied: "I won't reject you. Keep texting me, okay? Please!" I knelt on the floor, as if I could see a young penis right in front of this middle-aged woman. I expressed my gratitude and pleaded for his love. He replied again: "I'm grateful you accepted me. I'll kiss you! I'll kiss your whole body!" I replied, "Mmm—my whole body—ah—ah—come on!" I just wanted a man. After that, the nature of our text messages changed; love and affection faded, and sex became the focus. The ultimate point of love and affection between men and women is the union of sexual organs. The next day, I left home without checking his messages first, but sent one directly: "How was last night? Missing women?" He replied, "I thought about you all night." I replied, "Sex?" He replied, "Yes, I ejaculated a whole bed of semen for you." We had a close conversation when I had the office door locked. I still have it. "You're like a ripe peach, held in my hands, in my mouth." I replied, "Don't just hold it, you have to touch it too." "Your ripe body can dazzle men's eyes; they're looking at you, but I'm loving you." I replied, "Then you have to pick the ripe fruit." "You are the last drop of blood in my heart; as long as you live, I live." I replied, "Can you ejaculate the last drop of semen?" "Your rounded body, your plump buttocks just make me..." I replied, "Then you should enjoy me." One day, he texted: "Last night, I dreamt I was kissing you again, our tongues intertwined. I kissed your genitals, your pubic hair brushing against my lips, guess what happened?" This text immediately sent a surge of pleasure down my body. I closed my eyes, imagining my legs clamping his face, his lips pressed against my labia. I unbuckled my belt, reached inside, and masturbated until I reached orgasm. It seems texting can also provide comfort; I'm middle-aged but not outdated, I can still enjoy modern life. I replied, "You ejaculated." And so, our texts became increasingly passionate and explicit. One night, my daughter and husband weren't home, and we texted each other until late. He texted me: "I want to see your breasts." I hesitated. I knew that if I pressed the video button, pointing the phone at my breasts, he could see them, but I didn't. I replied: "I can't see, I can only describe, full and elastic, not sagging." "My nipples are purplish-red." I lifted my shirt and touched my breasts. He replied, "And your body?" I replied, "Round, white, and smooth, very womanly." I took off my pants and lay down on the sofa. He replied, "A very womanly body, I want to lie on my back in your place." I replied, "You always take off a piece of clothing when you reply to me, now I'm only wearing my underwear, come on." He replied, "Ah, so you're still hiding your pubic hair?" I replied, "Not hiding, but concealing, the last concealment." He replied, "When I go there, don't conceal, I want to find your passage and fuck you." I felt that texting like this was no longer enough for me, so I replied, "I've taken off my underwear, I'm disarmed and surrender, I can lead the way, come and fuck me." I took off my clothes and stretched out my body on the sofa, pressing a few times: "Ah-ah-ah-." I sent the message. It wasn't until we hung up that I realized he was the one asking me, not me. This was the development of my secret relationship with Xiao Xu over this period. It was somewhat lewd, but I didn't feel ashamed; after all, it was just a private emotional exchange, nothing physical had happened. —Part 2— My daughter told me she was bringing Xiao Xu home for the weekend. Hearing this, my heart pounded; I was both scared and uneasy. I was scared because texting wasn't like meeting in person, and I would feel awkward if we met. What about him? What if he couldn't control himself and gave himself away? How would I face people afterward? What made me uneasy was that my daughter's boyfriend and I were secretly flirting. It wasn't difficult to remain natural in front of them, but I didn't want my husband present. I was caught between two men; Xiao Xu wanted to sleep with my man, but my husband didn't know. How would Xiao Xu view my husband? I thought about it, and Xiao Xu was supposed to come home anyway, so I made up an excuse to send my husband away. I didn't want these two men to meet. The day Xiao Xu came, I changed into a fitted shirt that accentuated my figure. I also cut my hair short beforehand; I thought my old updo made me look overly formal and stiff, while short hair made me look more energetic. It was my second time meeting him. He was as composed and confident as before, with no hint of anything amiss in his eyes. We knew each other well, but I was more sensitive, afraid of making a mistake. "Auntie," he said to me, "I brought something. Wenwen insisted I bring it, so I did." "What is it?""I asked. My daughter said, 'Cosmetics, you need them. A woman's life revolves around her face.' She turned to Xiao Xu and said, 'Give my mom a beauty treatment, make her look prettier.' I told them, 'How old am I? What beauty treatments do I need? Don't try to flatter me.' Hearing my words, my daughter became even more enthusiastic, pushing me into her room and making me sit in front of her dressing table. She said, 'Mom, just enjoy the pleasure of getting a beauty treatment! I'll go cook for you. Hey, Xiao Xu, I promise I won't come in until you're finished. Give me a surprise!' My daughter leaned on my shoulder: 'Mom, after you've done your makeup, you'll be a completely transformed beauty.' My daughter left the room and closed the door. It was the first time we were alone in a room. He looked a little embarrassed, and I felt the same way. This was a real face-to-face interaction, completely different from a virtual text message. Xiao Xu rubbed his palms in front of me, unsure how to start applying the makeup to my face. I said, 'You can start now, like you would a customer.'" He said, "Auntie, you're not your usual customer, that makes me nervous." I said, "What are you nervous about? Don't be afraid." Actually, he was standing in front of me, looking down at me; I should be the one feeling nervous. I had already described my body to him; I felt like I was naked. Why was he nervous? I took his hand and said, "Come on." I sat in front of the vanity mirror as his hand gently applied face cream to my face. His touch was so gentle; perhaps he didn't know it, but I felt it was real skin-to-skin contact. His legs were beside me, radiating youthful energy. I felt every pore on my body open, inhaling his youthful, masculine scent—a scent that intoxicated and tingled my heart. I squinted, savoring the moment. I thought to myself: if we were alone, and he tried to rape me, I would be too weak to resist. I love this young man so much. But it's not my fault; women have the freedom to pursue their own sexual pleasure. "Auntie," he leaned down and said, "your complexion is wonderful, your face is full and wrinkle-free. You only need light makeup to enhance your features." I said, "I've never worn makeup before." He whispered in my ear, "You're so beautiful, with such kind eyes. Auntie, I love women like you!" This "love" wasn't a text message; he whispered it in my ear. I felt a sweet warmth in my heart, enjoying a young man professing his love to me. I quietly said to Xiao Xu, "Don't tell me you love me. Women get jealous when they're two-timing, you know?" He rubbed my cheek and said, "Auntie, there are different kinds of love. You look like a loving mother, with graceful bearing, radiating maternal warmth—that's the image of a mother, so I love you!" "How nicely you put it, Mother? A fake mother! A mother of flesh! A mother with whom I can have sex! I am a woman. Actually, I've thought about it; it's ethically immoral to have flirted with him behind my daughter's back. But if I see sex as one plane, and love, marriage, and family as another, if they don't alternate or intersect, if they are both singular, then I'm not immoral. Sometimes I'm just a simple woman, pursuing what women should pursue. Sometimes I'm a mother, fulfilling the duties of a mother. I think: This child is even more outdated than me, still going around in circles in front of me. I touched his hand and asked, 'How are you?' 'Hmm?'" He was taken aback, not understanding. Such a smart man, why was he acting so foolishly? Sometimes men are at a loss with women whose feelings they're unsure of. I thought: should I take the initiative and not waste my time? With that thought, I unbuttoned two buttons, revealing a glimpse of my breasts. This was different from when I first met him; back then I pulled up my collar, but now I was unbuttoning. He realized what I meant, and we smiled at each other in the mirror. Looking at my slightly exposed breasts, he playfully said, "Auntie, I can't see the whole picture." I said, "Don't worry, the outline is good enough." He winked at me and said, "Auntie, it's really hard work putting makeup on a woman like you." He cupped my face and stared at me. Was he going to kiss me? I wouldn't refuse; my tongue was ready to meet his. However, he didn't kiss me. His hands slipped inside my collar and touched my breasts. I took a deep breath, then exhaled. He said, "Auntie, I'm touching your breasts." I pulled his head down and whispered in his ear, "The word 'breast' is too elegant, Auntie doesn't like it. From now on, we'll say 'naizi' (乳子), 'puhu' (阴户) will be 'pui' (屄), and 'pigong' (大力) will be 'jiba' (鸡巴). It's colloquial, vulgar, but stimulating." He said, "Okay, I'll say those words without a problem, Auntie, are you sure you can do it?" He touched my breasts; it had been a long time since a man had touched me like that. I said to him, "Any word becomes a habit if you use it often enough. Auntie's breasts feel so good when you touch them!" He said, "Auntie, your nipples are hard." Yes, my nipples were hard; it's a woman's sexual physiological characteristic. I looked up at him and said, "Xiao Xu, don't just touch Auntie's breasts; you still have work to do. Don't forget there's another woman outside." He obeyed, pulled his hand away, knelt in front of me, lifted my chin, and used a paintbrush to draw my lips, but his elbow remained on my breasts. "I'll draw your lip liner now, a light lip liner, to suit your temperament." "As he drew my lips, he said, 'A woman's lip liner shouldn't be too thick, otherwise men will only see the sexiness of your lips and ignore your pretty face.' I said, 'I don't know anything about makeup. I've given you my face, so do whatever you want with it!' He quickly finished drawing my lip liner and stood up: 'Auntie, let me turn on the light for you. See, how is it different from before?' He stood up to turn on the light on the dressing table, his two legs standing in front of me. I didn't pay attention to how my lips would change at all; instead, I focused on his legs, and what was between them was right next to my mouth. Was it soft and hanging there? Or was it firm? I wondered. At this moment, my daughter called from outside: 'Are you done? I'll almost finish cooking.' Hearing my daughter's call, I hurriedly replied: 'We're almost done, we'll be out in a bit.' Then I whispered to Xiao Xu: 'Xiao Xu, what did you and I do?' Xiao Xu smiled and said to me: 'Auntie, what do you think? I did your face and touched your breasts.'" “Hmph, you’re really bold, there’s another woman outside the door.” I said aloud, thinking to myself, “How exciting.” I reached down to his crotch and grabbed something that was rapidly swelling. I glanced at him and said, “Your dick’s hard, I’m a woman, right?” He said, “Yes, Auntie, you’re a woman like my mom.” I whispered, “Your mom was like that too? She’s the woman you messed around with!” I didn’t even think about what his mom was like, I couldn’t wait to reach into his crotch and grab his penis, it was hard and big. I said, “I want this penis.” He put his arm around my waist, his hand on my breasts, and said to me, “Auntie, I want to—fuck you!” A stream of hot, sticky fluid flowed from my vagina. I grabbed his penis and started stroking it hard. I said, “Hmm, Xiao Xu, you should fuck me, fuck Auntie’s cunt.” His hand reached into my pants, I stopped him and said, “Xiao Xu, next time!” I glanced at the door: “She’s outside.” I pulled my hand out of his crotch, helped him fasten his belt, straightened his clothes, and we calmed ourselves before leaving the room together. My daughter was shocked to see me and hugged me, saying, "Mom, you've really changed! You're a beautiful woman now!" I pushed her away and said, "What? I'm old. I wouldn't dare go out looking like this." My daughter and Xiao Xu left the house. I looked in the mirror, not paying attention to the changes in my face; they didn't matter to me. I unbuttoned my shirt, revealing my breasts. My breasts had been touched by a man again, and a surge of joy welled up inside me, keeping me restless until the evening. This meeting with Xiao Xu had aroused our physical attraction, taking our relationship a big step forward. We wanted to move forward and longed to meet again. However, neither of us initiated the meeting. I wasn't in a hurry for my daughter to bring Xiao Xu home again, fearing that being too eager would arouse her suspicion and cause trouble. Xiao Xu wasn't in a rush to confess his feelings to my daughter or come to my house either. Our thoughts were perfectly aligned.

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My daughter's boyfriend flirted with me and went to bed with me.

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