A romantic encounter, a beautiful woman delivered to your door.

A beautiful encounter, delivered right to my door

. This July, my wife and sister-in-law went on a trip to Xinjiang. They'd been gone for three days, and just now on the phone they said they'd only returned from Kanas Lake and wanted to stay a few more days . I decided to let them enjoy themselves.

I sat alone on the sofa, drinking beer and watching TV. I'd wanted to go out, but it was too hot, and I'd only gotten back in the early hours of the morning after celebrating a successful business deal yesterday, so I was too lazy to move. Looking at the time, it was past ten, so I took a quick shower, put on shorts, and waited for my hair to dry before going to bed. Just as I was about to finish my cigarette and go to sleep, the doorbell rang. I wondered who could be coming so late, why they hadn't called? Maybe some drunk guy was bothering me. Reluctantly, I got up and opened the door without asking who it was. But what I saw stunned both me and the person outside.

Standing in the doorway was a woman in a sheer nightgown. Seeing her flushed face, I remembered helping her pick up some fruit that had spilled from a plastic bag on the stairs once—she was my neighbor across the hall.

Because it's an apartment building, the neighbors rarely interact. My contact with her was limited to the last time I helped her; we arrived at the same time and went our separate ways. Our conversation consisted mainly of her politely thanking me, to which I replied, "You're welcome." After that, if we met on the stairs, we'd just nod and smile

as a greeting. Seeing her attire now genuinely surprised me, especially since we were both dressed so lightly; it made us both feel a little awkward meeting. She seemed very anxious, saying, "Excuse me, could I use your phone?" She glanced worriedly at the stairs, afraid someone might come up.

My mind raced; as I answered, I wondered what might have happened to her—maybe she'd locked herself in. After I invited her in, she quickly came in, and the strong scent of shampoo and shower gel as she passed me told me she had just showered.

I closed the door and told her the location of the phone. As she walked towards the phone, she would pass the floor lamp I had left on. I had turned off the main light in the living room because I was getting ready for bed. At that moment, the light illuminated two long, slender legs under her sheer skirt, which was quite a visual shock to me. A surge of heat welled up in my lower abdomen, and without thinking, I turned the main light back on.

The living room suddenly became bright, which startled her. She said urgently, "Can you turn off the light?" I explained guiltily, "I was afraid you couldn't see clearly," and turned off the light. But in that short time, I had already seen her naked body under her sheer skirt.

Now I was certain that she had taken a shower and left the house. The reason couldn't be to see someone off, because no woman would dress like that to see someone off. Dressing like that meant she dressed like this at home. So she must have gone out to take out the trash. The garbage chute in this building is half a floor down; that must be it.

She frantically pressed the buttons, and I prayed in my heart that no one would answer, so I wouldn't be alone tonight. The thought made my blood boil, and my shorts couldn't hide my erection. My eyes were glued to the flickering screen, all my nerves focused on her.

A few minutes passed as she anxiously muttered to herself, and then she hung up in disappointment. I could only ask, "What's wrong? Did you lock yourself in?" She shifted into the shadows and said, "I went out to throw out the trash, and the door closed. I've done that before, without closing the door."

I'd had similar experiences, so I said confidently, "Did you turn on the range hood?" She was surprised, then realized why she was locked out. "Ah, that's it! What should I do? Who did you call?" I asked with concern. "My parents have a key, but no one answers the door. Where could you have gone so late?" She was anxious and helpless, her expression becoming very dejected. "Don't worry, call again later. Sit down for a bit," I comforted her.

She hesitated for a moment and said, "Could I borrow a piece of clothing?" I feigned ignorance and asked, "Are you cold?" I grabbed my coat from the door and handed it to her. She seemed more at ease after putting it on, then sat down on the sofa and suddenly said, "Could I borrow a coat? I'm going to get my keys." I chuckled inwardly. Her anxiety had severely impaired her judgment, and she blurted out, "Your parents aren't here, how can you get them?" She sighed dejectedly.

I started calculating in my mind, deciding to try and ask her to help me climb over from the balcony. I knew it was impossible, but I wanted to see her reaction. If she only considered herself and not my safety, I would give up, because it would cause trouble. If she worriedly tried to stop me, it would show her kindness, and even if it worked, there wouldn't be any problems.

Sure enough, I voiced my thoughts. We went to the balcony, and she immediately gave up, saying, "How can we get over here? No, it's too dangerous." I said, "I'll try," and climbed onto the windowsill. She grabbed me nervously, saying, "No, it's too dangerous! Come down!" I went back onto the balcony and said, "What should we do then? If it's too dangerous, you can sleep here. I'll make do in the living room."

She looked at me warily, seeing sincerity in my eyes, and said helplessly, "I'll make another call," as she walked over to make the call. I followed her back to the living room, where she sat back down on the sofa, disappointed. I poured her a glass of water.

We started chatting. She told me her husband was away on a business trip. Because he was a sales manager, he traveled frequently, and she had no choice but to do so to make ends meet. She then mentioned me, and I told her my wife was on vacation. As we became more familiar, I jokingly said, "It seems we're destined to be together. My wife is on vacation, and your husband is on a business trip. Heaven has arranged for us two lonely people to be alone together."

She shyly agreed, saying, "Don't overthink it. It was an accident. But then again, I don't know what happened today. I usually go to bed early, but I couldn't fall asleep tonight, so I tidied up the room. I didn't expect this to happen. I'm really sorry to bother you so late." "It's nothing, it's fate, isn't it?" I thought. "When I opened the door, I thought one of my best friends was drunk. I didn't expect it to be a beautiful woman, and..." I paused, considering her reaction. If she was angry, I'd have no chance; if she wasn't angry, my chances were much better.

Sure enough, she asked, "And what?" A slightly lewd smile appeared on my face. Not wanting to miss this golden opportunity, I said, "Don't be angry." She nodded. I continued, "And you were dressed so sexily, it made me lose control." She naturally looked down at herself, pulled down the front of her draped shirt, and suddenly became embarrassed, saying, "Don't say that, it's so embarrassing." Her face flushed, but she looked at me with her eyes.

"Stop pulling! Why cover up such a pretty nightgown, especially your body underneath? Let me see again, okay?" I began to arouse her desire. She tensed up and said, "What did you see?" "No!" I didn't speak, just looked at her with eyes full of desire. She understood what I meant from my eyes, and stood up demurely, saying, "I'm leaving." I stood up and stopped her, saying, "How can you go out dressed like this? I'll call again; they might be back." She turned around nervously, and I grabbed her arms. She tried to pull away.

I didn't hold her tightly; she slumped onto the sofa. I moved closer, leaning over her, my hands on the armrests, preventing her from escaping. She looked up at me, her eyes showing tension, a fleeting hint of resistance, and said, "What are you doing? Don't do this."

I didn't speak, only looked at her with eyes full of love and desire, inching closer to her. She watched me approach, her eyes fixed on me, her mind racing with thoughts of rejection—give up—rejection—give up. Her eyes told me without reservation that her slender fingers, covered by her clothes, appeared even whiter.

When my head was close enough for her to feel my breath, she turned her head away, simultaneously releasing her grip on her clothes, pushing my shoulders away, preventing me from getting any closer, saying: "Please don't do this, I'm not a promiscuous woman, please don't." Her hands were weak and powerless as she pushed me away. Women can be so interesting sometimes; even after giving up resistance, they still make such confessions, wanting a man to acknowledge that she's not acting out of lust, taking the restraint they show when clothed to the extreme, but becoming completely uninhibited once naked.

I didn't continue because she let go of her clothes, revealing her breasts. I looked down closely at the two mounds beneath her nightgown and her chest heaving with tense, rapid breathing. Sensing my pause, she turned to look at me. Seeing my gaze, she let out a soft moan and returned her hands to her chest. I seized the opportunity to kiss her, simultaneously embracing her.

After being kissed on the lips, she immediately turned her head, her arms pressing against my shoulders again, urgently saying, "No, don't do this, I'm going to scream." I whispered in her ear, "Go ahead and scream. What will people think if you come to my house dressed like this? Even if you accuse me of rape, I'll accept it, because I love you." Without giving her a chance, I pulled one hand and grabbed her full breast.

She twisted, but not violently, her mouth still avoiding my kiss. I pressed my middle finger against the center of her breast, pushing it in and kneading it slowly, gradually increasing the speed. As I rapidly trembled my hand, a sound of utter surrender escaped her throat: "No!" Her hands, which had been pushing against me, now gripped my shoulders tightly. Breathless from being huddled on the sofa, she tilted her head back, opening her throat, letting me press my lips against hers.

I released her breasts, slipping my hand under her skirt to caress her smooth buttocks. My other hand slipped under the strap of her skirt to grasp her full, soft breasts. My other hand moved forward, tracing upwards along the smooth inner thighs. She tensed, squeezing her thighs together, and pleaded, "No, please." I ignored her weak, half-hearted pleas. My fingers persistently landed on her pubic mound, spreading her soft, tender flesh at the base of her thighs with my middle finger, rubbing her burning labia against the outside of her thin panties. She couldn't help but let out an unbearable moan, weakly grabbing my wrist to stop my movements.

I patiently peered through her delicate, barely concealed body, searching for the clitoris at the crevice that could subdue her. She knew my intentions, and tried to pull my hand away with increasing force. An internal struggle raged within her; lust clamored for her to surrender, to experience the thrill of this affair, while reason and morality demanded resistance, forbidding her from committing a crime. The

surging tide of passion within her told her to give up. Dressed like this, coming to a house with only one man so late at night—even if she accused him of rape, how many people would believe her? Give up, experience a passion she'd never felt before. Besides, her sex life with her husband had grown lukewarm from the initial passion of their marriage; his work made sex feel like a routine, and she had to suppress her desires. Giving up would bring satisfaction, and this one time wouldn't affect her family.

As desire gradually took over her body, her resistance weakened, and I could sense the change in her mind. I quickened my teasing movements, trying to pull her completely from reason into the sea of desire. I intensified my teasing of her already hardened nipples. The pain stimulated her subconscious desire to be conquered, and she weakly said, "Gently, it hurts." I relaxed and used gentle caresses. My fingers had already parted her modesty, and using the constantly flowing, slippery fluid, I easily found her swollen clitoris. The rapid teasing of my fingers made her limp. I knew it was time, and then I suddenly picked her up. The sudden weightlessness made her tense up and she wrapped her arms around my neck. I held her tightly in the bedroom.

I placed her on the bed and, without giving her time to react, removed her skirt and panties. Then I stopped and looked at her with loving eyes, my hand on her full, soft breasts, making no move. Surprised and confused, she opened her eyes, which had been tightly closed in shyness. When she saw my gaze, she hurriedly turned her head away and closed her eyes again in panic and shame. I whispered in her ear, full of affection and seduction, "Open your eyes and look at me." She shook her head. I grasped the tip of her breast with my fingers, slowly increasing the pressure. She sensed my persistence and said, "No," but still opened her eyes and looked at me. As I slowly approached her tense, panting lips, she suddenly wrapped her arms around my neck, brought her mouth to my lips, and kissed me tightly. Her tongue licked her lips, searching for mine. I met her tongue, and we intertwined.

I knew she had completely given up resisting, so I began to caress her beautiful skin intensely. I reached between her legs, and she obediently parted them. I inserted my fingers into her wet, slippery vulva, pressing my thumb against her clitoris, digging into her hot flesh while vigorously rubbing her clitoris. She couldn't help but let out joyful moans.

I slowly withdrew from her body to between her legs. She knew I was looking at her already aroused and parted labia, and shamefully covered her genitals with her hands. I pulled her hands away, and she couldn't help but say, "Don't look." I used my hands to gently separate her small labia, which were wet and matted together with her bodily fluids. She looked up at me in confusion and said, "What are you doing?" I smiled mischievously and kissed her. She gasped in surprise, knowing she'd never experienced anything like this before. Her words after the gasp confirmed my suspicion: "No, it's dirty." I looked up and said, "How could it be? This is a sign that I like you." I then took her clitoris into my mouth and licked it with my hot tongue. She trembled all over from the stimulation, making uncontrollable noises.

Soon, she stiffened, grabbing my head with both hands, her hips responding to my licking, and letting out suppressed cries of pleasure. I knew she had orgasmed. To make sure she wouldn't forget it, I gently bit her clitoris with my teeth to prolong her orgasm. "Ah, I'm going to die! Ah!" After she calmed down a bit, I climbed on top of her, holding her head with both hands and asking, "Was it good?" She no longer avoided my gaze, looking at me with an incredulous yet infatuated look. She nodded, then turned her head away in shame, her hands pressing her smooth breasts against our chests.

I reached out and guided my already erect penis, sliding it between her labia, and softly asked, "Can I go in? Are you willing to give yourself to me?" She turned her head, looking at me with eyes full of desire and love, nodding and gently lifting her hips, signaling her welcome.

When I entered her, she no longer held back, embracing me with both hands, moaning softly, showering my face with kisses, her legs wrapped around mine, intelligently responding to my thrusts.

Twenty minutes later, after a climax of exhaustion, she clung to me, not letting me off, tears streaming down her face. Reason returned to her mind, and I gently asked as I wiped away her tears, "Was it good?" She softly murmured, "Mmm." We remained like that for a long time, then she pushed me away, got up, and went to the bathroom. I watched her beautiful back, the swaying of her hips as she walked, my groin rising again. I didn't follow her, but lit a cigarette, watching the bathroom doorway, waiting for her to emerge from the shower.

She hadn't come out for a long time, so I got up a little worried and went into the bathroom. I saw her sitting on the edge of the bathtub, her hands clutching her full breasts as I entered, one hand covering her crotch, looking at me with tear-reddened eyes, a pitiful and sorrowful expression. I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy as I went over and hugged her, saying, "Don't be like this, be careful not to catch a cold." I took a towel and wrapped it around her shoulders,

then helped her out of the tub. After we got into bed, she didn't say anything. When I hugged her, she obediently snuggled into my arms. After a long while, she gently pushed me away and said, "How can I face my husband after this?" I hugged her tighter, "You'll still be a good wife when we go back tomorrow. This is a blessing from our past lives. You don't need to feel guilty. Any man would be moved by a woman as outstanding as you." Women are always happy to accept praise.

The next day, she left wearing my shirt and jeans. I looked forward to our meeting when she returned the clothes.

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A romantic encounter, a beautiful woman delivered to your door.

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