Nothing beats my sister-in-law in bed.

My sister-in-law isn't my actual sister-in-law; she's the wife of the eldest of my sworn brothers, and her name is Ping. Ping isn't particularly beautiful, though she resembles the singer Tsai Chin a bit, and has a mole on her lip that adds a touch of allure. In her youth, she was tall and curvaceous, with elegant manners and graceful movements. However, after having children and the demands of a busy life, like most women, she couldn't escape the marks of time. She gradually gained weight, and wrinkles appeared on her face. But as a regional manager selling cosmetics, she knew how to take care of herself and wear makeup, so she looked at least several years younger. Her figure wasn't considered fat by traditional standards, but rather voluptuous. And sometimes, a voluptuous woman is even more attractive; her full, rounded breasts and pert, round buttocks constantly drew the eyes of lustful men.
In all the years I've known Ping, I've never had any improper thoughts about her. Although sometimes seeing her dressed provocatively might have stirred a little excitement in me, I've never imagined having any intimate contact with her. After all, she's my brother's wife. Even if I had a few ulterior motives, I basically kept them to myself and forgot about them. Our usual interactions were limited to gatherings with my brothers—eating, singing karaoke, and then going home separately. We rarely contacted each other individually unless something really happened that my profession could help with, in which case she'd call or text me for a favor. And because she's my brother's wife, I've helped her out a few times, and on the phone or QQ, she'd simply say thank you and that was it; it never made me have any romantic feelings for her.
The turning point came at another of our gatherings. Because she was working late, I was on my way to the hotel when my boss called, asking me to pick up my sister-in-law. I hung up and went straight to Ping's studio. The lobby was empty. I went directly to her office and saw her working on her computer. I knocked, and she looked up, a little surprised, and asked, "What brings you here?" "I'm here to pick you up," she replied. "Oh," I said. "I'll be right there, just wait a little longer." I sat down in a chair nearby, lit a cigarette, and idly glanced at Ping working. Because she was a career woman, she was wearing a women's business suit and a short-sleeved shirt. Wearing a tight-fitting shirt and a gray short skirt, Ping's figure was quite voluptuous, which was even more pronounced as she sat down. Her large buttocks were encased in the skirt, making me worry that it might burst under the pressure. The top two buttons of her shirt were undone, and her full breasts stretched the neckline wide, revealing half of her right, snow-white breast from my angle. In the quiet office, suddenly seeing a woman's most alluring features stirred up all sorts of thoughts in my mind. Even though I knew the woman before me was my brother's wife, my sister-in-law, I still had a wicked physical reaction. Since I wasn't in a hurry and she was focused on her work, I quietly smoked, my eyes occasionally drifting to her most captivating parts. But then I noticed that Ping seemed a little flustered, her face flushed, and her chest heaving rapidly. Although most men are prone to misinterpreting things, at this moment I didn't think Ping was having any thoughts because we were together. I asked, "What's wrong?" Ping glanced at me, her eyes a little flustered, then quickly turned back to the computer, replying that she was fine. But I could clearly hear a slight tremor in her voice. Even now, I didn't have any other thoughts; after all, we rarely interacted. I quickly went to her side, bent down, and asked, "Are you alright?" I saw a blush on both cheeks. Knowing I was looking at her, her head was lowered, but her breathing was noticeably more rapid. Her hands were frantically tidying the papers on the table, turning them over and over, but she couldn't get them right. I reached out to touch her forehead to see if she had a fever. When my right hand touched her forehead, she froze as if electrocuted, then sat there stiffly. I felt her forehead; it was cold. I touched her face with the back of my hand, and this time I felt it was a little hot. I quickly asked, "
Sister-in-law, what's wrong? Have you had a cold these past few days?" Ping looked up at me, her large eyes suddenly filled with tears. The way she looked at me was completely different from before. I felt embarrassed by her gaze and couldn't help but wonder: Could it be that my sister-in-law really has feelings for me? That's impossible. I scratched my head involuntarily and said with a wry smile, "What's wrong with you? If you're not feeling well, let's go to the hospital, okay?" I don't know if it was just my feeling or not, but I sensed a hint of resentment and a touch of melancholy in Ping's eyes. She bit her lower lip tightly for a while before relaxing it, then suddenly stood up and said, "Let's go. I'll do what needs to be done here tomorrow." She then walked straight out the door. I continued scratching my head, completely baffled, utterly confused about what was wrong with Ping. I could only follow her out.
On the way to the hotel, she sat silently in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead without saying a word. I turned to look at her several times, but she remained in the same position. The atmosphere was too awkward, and I didn't dare to ask her anything. At the hotel, during dinner, I couldn't help but glance at her several times. Almost every time I looked at her, she looked at me too, then looked away with a slightly flustered expression. I knew something must have happened between us, but I was completely unaware.
I had no idea what was wrong with her reaction. Her behavior and the way she looked at me in the office—you could call it flirtatious, but I still didn't understand. Our interactions were limited to things like this dinner or karaoke; we almost never interacted or communicated otherwise. I didn't presume to think I was that charming. I thought I'd ask her another time. The gathering ended as usual; the guys got drunk and were taken home by their wives. But that scene in the office was etched in my mind, haunting me. I was a little confused, but also a little expectant, because a woman's reaction to a man, at least, wasn't one of disgust or hatred.
A few days later, I turned on my computer at work and opened QQ. Soon after, her QQ avatar lit up, and I immediately sent her a message: "Sister-in-law, what happened to you that day?" Several minutes passed before she replied: "You really don't know?" I started scratching my head again, carefully recalling my interactions with her, but there really wasn't anything memorable.
"I really don't know, can you tell me? If I did something wrong, I apologize." "Why did you treat me like that at the KTV that day?" I knew she wasn't referring to the last time. I tried to recall more carefully, but still couldn't remember anything. But from her words, at least I understood one thing: I must have done or said something to her. If that was true, I needed to apologize. After all, friends are for life, and I didn't want my unintentional mistake to affect our brotherly relationship. But I find it strange that we're always together as a group of brothers. With so many brothers around, would I dare do anything out of line?
"Sister-in-law, can we meet and talk?"
"Yes, at XX Teahouse."
I grabbed my bag and drove straight to the teahouse. She had already arrived before me, booked a private room, and sat quietly there, holding her tea and gazing out the window. I quickly sat down opposite her, ordered a cup of tea, and waited for the waiter to leave before eagerly asking, "Sister-in-law, what exactly did I do? I'm so sorry, so sorry." Ping turned to look at me, with that same look in her eyes again—good heavens, how could a man resist such a tender gaze? She stared at me intently, her face seemingly a little angry: "You really don't remember anything? So, what you did to me that time, what you said to me, was it all because you were drunk?" Although I still couldn't remember anything, I knew I had indeed done something inappropriate to her. At this moment, any answer could provoke anger and hurt in this woman. If I had indeed done those excessive things to her because I was drunk, it would be disrespectful to her and immoral to my brother. But women also have self-respect, and every woman has a bit of vanity, feeling that she is still attractive. There were only two possible answers. First, I was drunk, and my inappropriate behavior towards her was due to my intoxication, not her charm; I figured she'd be very angry about it. Second, I had feelings for her all along, so I used alcohol to embolden myself and did things I wouldn't normally dare to do. This would be disloyal to my friends, but at least the woman's charm had its effect. I quickly thought of an excuse. After all, I'm over 30; even a naive person like me understands a little about women. I had done something out of line, but she was still willing to talk to me about it, so at least she didn't dislike me. If she did, this would have been irreparable. I exhaled, already having a plan in mind: "Oh, so that's it. It was definitely my fault. I apologize." She shook her head: "I don't want an apology. I just want to know if you were drunk when you treated me like that, or if, as you said, you've always liked me." Drinking really does lead to trouble… Despite my inner sigh, this experience actually gave me insight into a woman's heart.
I knew her relationship with the eldest brother had always been good, even though he had his share of affairs. They were truly a loving couple. Yet, even in such a loving marriage, the wife's heart began to stir because of her husband's friend's unintentional actions and words after drinking. At that moment, I couldn't help but feel a smug, self-deluded thought, that I had managed to make this woman so conflicted and confused; it seemed I still possessed some attraction. Given this scene and this conversation, I could at least be smugly certain that she was somewhat attracted to me.
"So much time has passed, and you've acted as if nothing happened, so I haven't dared to bring it up. I always thought you were angry, how could I dare to bring up that incident?" I started making things up. At this moment, I had forgotten about brotherhood; all I could think about was how to seduce this voluptuous and alluring sister-in-law. Yes, I have to admit I was despicable, shameless, and immoral, but when it comes to women, who can control themselves? Especially married women, my friend's wife, just thinking about it is incredibly exciting and stimulating. I don't know if I can succeed, but as long as I write it well, even if I can't sleep with her, at least she will have a place for me in her heart, no matter how important it is.
I looked at her with utmost sincerity and deep affection: "Although alcohol can cloud judgment, it also makes people speak the truth. If it weren't for the fact that I've always had you in my heart, I almost couldn't hold back anymore. Would I have done such a thing or said such a thing to you in that situation? I don't know why, I just miss you so much. I think about you every night. Even when I'm making love with her, I'm thinking about you, about making love with you. I imagine you've become my woman, that I have all of you. Just thinking like that makes me feel so happy and joyful." My heart was extremely uneasy. I couldn't imagine that my clumsy words could deceive this woman in her thirties who had already experienced the world. But heaven was so kind to her. Ping seemed to be intoxicated by something. Her face slowly turned rosy, and her breathing quickened. She glanced at me, then quickly turned her head away, revealing a shy demeanor. Sometimes what people say online is true: you need sweet talk to win over young girls, but not so much hypocrisy with mature women. They no longer believe in vows of eternal love; instead, more explicit language is more likely to stimulate their hormones. My sister-in-law was clearly aroused; her voice was barely audible: "But you're too bold." She quickly glanced at me: "If your wife had been there that day, you definitely wouldn't have dared to do that, right?" I deliberately chuckled foolishly: "Boss, you didn't notice, did you?" "Yeah. But you really are too bold. They had just helped the fourth brother out when you pounced on me, hugged me, kissed me, and...and touched me like that?" Damn, what's going on? I actually went to that extent? "Why didn't you slap me? Why didn't you push me away?" "You're so strong, how could I push you away? And I...I..." "You're getting a reaction, aren't you?" Suddenly, a cushion was thrown at me. She glared at me, pretending to be angry, her face flushed, her breathing becoming more and more rapid. I continued to grin: See, you're getting a reaction now.
She grabbed another cushion and threw it at me, suddenly starting to cry: You're bullying me like this, you're still bullying me like this. I was at a loss. This woman's mood was so unpredictable! One second she was flirting with me, the next she was bursting into tears. I quickly went to her side and, mustering my courage, put my arm around her shoulder. "Okay, okay, I was just kidding." She glared at me again. "Which part was a joke, and which part was true?" She wiped her tears and continued, "You know, after you treated me like that that day, I couldn't concentrate on work for days. I kept having all sorts of wild thoughts. Why did you do this to me? You bastard, why did you do this to me?" "?" I wiped away her tears and hugged her tightly. "I'm a bad guy, I'm a bad guy, but you don't hate me, right?" I supported her chin with my hand, making her look up at me. I looked at her intently, her face streaked with tears, a pitiful sight. A wave of tenderness immediately welled up in my heart. "You don't hate me, you won't reject me, you won't?" "If I hated you, I wouldn't be like this." She said it very seriously, as if we were going to grow old together. "What should we do? I feel so bad, I really don't know what to do.
I know this is definitely wrong, but I..."
I knew that the duck was almost in my mouth, but we were both mature at this age. Maybe she was just momentarily confused and moved by emotions, which was why we had come this far. But if we separated and calmed down for a few days, maybe nothing would happen, and nothing would ever happen again.
I stood up and told her to wait for my call. Ignoring her confusion, I walked out and found a hotel nearby. I booked a room and sent her a text message: "I'm at XX Hotel, room number X." I knew that if she received the message and came, I could have this woman today. If she could remain rational and not come under these circumstances, then our affair would be considered a thing of the past, and such a moment would never happen again.
Waiting for a woman in this state is very anxious and uneasy. Chicken from the "Young and Dangerous" movies once said: "
The most exciting and thrilling moment when calling a prostitute is the imagination before she arrives." This is also true now, especially for the first time. You don't know if the woman will come. Even if you are absolutely sure she will come, you will still feel some disappointment and anxiety before she arrives. What if she doesn't come? You
'll lose a golden opportunity. If she does come, how should I start? The first time must be done well so that there will be a second and a third time. How should I do it? How should I do foreplay? How beautiful was that alluring body after I slowly undressed her? What would it feel like to enter her body? I was like a cat on a hot tin roof, unable to calm down. I waited anxiously; the slightest sound outside made my heart pound as if it would leap out of my throat. I didn't dare call her; it would be pointless now. My eyes were fixed on the door, unmoving. Finally, I heard a knock. At that moment
, the monotonous knocking was more beautiful than the most exquisite music. All my strength seemed to vanish in an instant. I took a deep breath, slowly went over, and opened the door. An elegant and charming woman stood gracefully in the doorway, head bowed, her hand gripping her phone tightly, her knuckles white. At that moment, happiness filled my heart. I couldn't believe this happiness had come so suddenly, so quickly. My voice trembled with excitement: "You're here?" "Yes," Ping's voice was barely audible.
I turned to the side, and she stood there for a moment before slowly walking past me with her head down. She stopped by the bed, motionless. I closed the door, locked the chain, and turned back to look at the woman standing by the bed. She had her back to me, still wearing that same colored business suit. Her heart must be as restless as mine at that moment. I gazed at her back, her full buttocks, her long, white legs. Next, I would strip this woman of all her clothes, revealing her beautiful, white body, to be at my mercy. I could kiss her sensual lips, caress her firm breasts, and enter her paradise that could drive a man to ecstasy. In my heart, I proudly shouted to myself: This woman, from this moment on, belongs to me, her entire being belongs to me. My lower body was already erect. I slowly walked behind her, placed my hands on her shoulders, and gently turned her towards me.
Her face appeared before me, beautiful, with two rosy blushes. Her eyes were so clear, a little shy, a little expectant. At least I couldn't see any regret or helplessness in them. I had so much to say, but I couldn't utter a single word. At this moment, any words would be pale and powerless. Before she came, I had countless fantasies: to roughly embrace her, kiss her, tear off her clothes, and then immediately penetrate her. But at this moment, I felt how childish and ridiculous those fantasies were. The tranquility of the atmosphere and the surging emotions in my heart formed a stark contrast, yet I enjoyed the feeling of these two extreme expressions within me. My left hand rested on her shoulder, and my right index and middle fingers, bent slightly, gently slid across her smooth face. At this moment, I looked into her eyes, and the deep affection in them was genuine and unpretentious. Yes, suddenly, I realized how much I adored this woman before me. She met my gaze without flinching, and I think she saw my true intentions and expectations in my eyes as well. She gently bit her lower lip, slowly raised her hands, and unbuttoned the third button of her shirt. Then, she slowly moved down, unbuttoning each button one by one. I could clearly feel my breathing become heavy. When a woman slowly but resolutely unbuttons her shirt in front of you, this kind of suggestion is more suffocating and uncontrollable than if she spread her legs for you to penetrate. My eyes were fixed on her half-exposed breast. The white bra clearly couldn't conceal her full, firm breasts, and the deep cleavage hinted at my irresistible allure. The purple areolas peeked out playfully yet shyly. Her shirt had fallen to the floor, but my gaze was fixed on her soon-to-be-revealed beautiful breasts. Ping reached behind her back, and then I saw something that almost made my nose bleed: the white bra had loosened, and with the movement of her hands, it had finally completely slipped from her grasp, revealing her snow-white, full breasts. My God, I felt as if the world had suddenly fallen silent, and the world I was looking out at... Filled with those breasts, their cherry-like nipples proudly erect at their peaks, as if beckoning me. Yes, at this moment, I could no longer feign composure. My breathing became heavy, and like a lion in heat, I pounced on the woman before me, embracing her tightly, my lips pressed against her soft, warm lips. Ping let out a soft "hmm," the sound cut off as I kissed her lips. My tongue eagerly probed forward, and Ping had already opened her mouth to welcome this uninvited guest. When my tongue met Ping's soft, nimble tongue, I felt I had never experienced such a captivating kiss in my life. I knew I was being rough and frantic. Like a vampire, I sucked hard on Ping's tongue and lips, but Ping responded so cooperatively. Her breathing became heavy, her firm breasts pressing against my chest, and I could clearly feel her two lovely nipples touching me. I held Ping's head tightly with one hand, preventing her lips from leaving mine, while my other hand roamed over her smooth back, slowly moving to her waist, unzipping her skirt. The short skirt obediently slipped off her body, revealing the part of Ping's body I longed for most.
For a long, long time, we separated, gasping for breath like two people who had just experienced suffocation, yet our eyes remained locked, unwilling to part. My voice was no longer human, low and hoarse: "I want you." Ping didn't answer, just looked at me, but I clearly saw in her eyes that she wanted me too. I lifted her up and gently placed her on the bed. My right hand was still under her neck when my left hand eagerly reached for her breasts. They were full, soft, and elastic; one hand couldn't cover them all. Her nipples were hard against my palm. I moved my hand, gently responding to her erect nipples. Perhaps her nipples were a sensitive spot for Ping, because after only two touches, she let out soft moans. I kissed her gently—her forehead, her cheeks, her neck—and slowly moved to her chest. Her breasts were still proudly erect. When I took her other nipple into my mouth, I heard Ping let out a long moan. I used everything I knew—the descriptions in erotic novels, the depictions in AVs—to knead her breasts, suckle, and tease her nipples. Ping's moans grew shorter and shorter, her body slowly arching. I sucked on half of her breast, and Ping cried out, grabbing my head with both hands and shoving it against her chest, as if trying to shove her entire breast into my mouth. My left hand reached down to her genitals, pulling on her semi-transparent white panties. Ping obediently lifted her hips, allowing me to pull them off. I slowly moved my hand from her inner thighs to her vulva, which was already overflowing. My fingers traced her labia, directly touching her erect clitoris. Ping's body convulsed violently, her hands gripping my head even tighter. I was almost suffocating from the pressure of her breasts. I gently slid my middle finger across her clitoris twice, and Ping seemed to lose all strength, releasing my head and collapsing onto the bed, panting heavily. My mouth moved downwards, slowly reaching the place that drove me mad. Her pubic hair was quite thick, and because it was already soaked, a couple of clumps were tightly stuck together. I lay on top of her, my eyes fixed on this beautiful and lovely honey hole. My erect penis was about to enter this secluded little hole, to enjoy the most pleasurable and exciting sex in the world. I slowly approached, opened my mouth, and took her entire labia into my mouth. Ping let out another "Ah," and her hands went down, gently pushing my head away, saying weakly, "No, I haven't washed yet." At this moment, I didn't care about her. Even if she hadn't washed, her genitals were the best delicacy in the world to me. What's more, there was no odor there at all, just a faint fragrance of shower gel, and of course, a little bit of other smells, but the mixture of fragrances made this smell even more stimulating to my taste buds. I licked her a few times, looking at her genitals. I saw her vagina opening and closing, and her pale purple anus was also closed. I always have a bottom line when it comes to anus; I've never even given my wife oral sex. After all, it's where she urinates, and I can't get over it. But now, listening to Ping's moans and watching her two lovely holes slowly open and close, a strong feeling of love welled up inside me. Yes, this woman had opened everything to me without reservation. Why should I care about that little bit of bottom line? I didn't hesitate any longer. I stuck out my tongue and licked that budding anus. Ping was startled by my action. She cried out, "Hong, not there! Not there! It's too dirty!" I still ignored her. I wasn't pretending to be noble. At this moment, I only wanted to give the woman lying there the greatest pleasure, the most perfect orgasm. I firmly told myself that I could do anything for her. Like a greedy child, I kept licking and teasing, sometimes my tongue plunging deep into her anus, sometimes its tip sliding quickly across her clitoris, sometimes sucking on her entire labia. At this point, Ping was no longer trying to push me away; her legs were tightly wrapped around me, her hips rising higher and higher so I could penetrate deeper and give her stronger stimulation. Her moans were erratic; when I licked her vulva, she held her breath; when I teased her clitoris violently, she cried out "Ah ah" repeatedly, sounding like she was sobbing softly. Finally, at one point, her body arched violently, then trembled slightly, her moans mixed with sobs echoing rapidly in my ears. Yes, she had orgasmed.
I braced my hands on either side of her, leaning over to look at her. A woman experiencing an orgasm was so sexy, so captivating, so adorable. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips slightly parted, and she was breathing rapidly. The flush on her face showed that she was enjoying the process of climax. She sensed me looking at her and opened her hazy, watery eyes to look at me. At that moment, I clearly saw deep love and gratitude in her eyes. I whispered:
"Ping, you're mine." Her right hand reached down to her genitals, grasping my penis and gently guiding it towards her vagina. Her left hand rose to stroke my face, and she said passionately, "Love me well." I thrust forward, my entire penis smoothly plunging into Ping's honeyed depths. The warm, moist vaginal walls enveloped me tightly, the pleasure indescribable. She held my back tightly with both hands, her legs spread wide, her hips gently undulating to meet my thrusts. So perfectly in sync, so harmonious, as if we had made love countless times before. I clearly felt that none of the many times my wife and I had made love over the years could compare to this exhilarating moment. Ping and I didn't need words, no vigorous movements, just the man on top, the woman on the bottom, thrusting. Thinking of my wife's countless rejections, her perfunctory responses, her cold reactions, I was suddenly filled with sorrow. But looking at the woman beneath me, writhing and enduring everything I was doing, a feeling of tenderness welled up within me. I never imagined that I would enjoy such wonderful sex on my sister-in-law's body. At that moment, I wished I had an extra mouth and an extra pair of hands. My kisses fell incessantly on Ping's lips, cheeks, ears, chest, and armpits. My hands were constantly gripping her breasts tightly one moment and her buttocks the next. Our breaths mingled together, mixed with her low moans. Our lovemaking didn't need any provocative words or deliberate seduction; everything felt so natural. And my performance had never been better. My penis remained as hard as iron, unlike when I was with my wife, where it would sometimes go soft. I don't know how long we had been in this position, or how many times I had thrust in and out. I only know that I was drenched in sweat, and the sweat dripped from my forehead and face onto Ping's face. Ping gently wiped away my sweat with her hands, and the flush on her face slowly returned. I increased the intensity and the pace. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. Ping had bitten my shoulder hard, her limbs clinging to me like an octopus. She had climaxed again. A surge of pride and a sense of conquest welled up within me. I held her tightly, feeling her breath. Her breasts pressed against my chest, soft and wet. We quietly savored the exquisite sensation of our climax.
Ping's voice whispered in my ear, "You're amazing. I'm so happy." I smiled slightly at her:
"Baby, I want you on top. I want to see you take the initiative." Ping nodded without hesitation or shyness:
"Okay, it's my turn." I rolled over, and Ping straddled me, guiding my penis into her vagina, her hips rubbing against my thighs as she swayed back and forth. During sex, I never really try any new positions. My wife and I always have missionary, which gives me complete control over the speed and intensity. I can stop whenever I want to last longer, or speed up when I want to ejaculate. But missionary is my favorite position. I always enjoy watching AVs with that position. Seeing a naked woman sitting on a man's lap, her waist gently twisting, her hips swaying slightly, her firm, full breasts jiggling, and then lifting her head, closing her eyes, and letting out seductive moans from her slightly open mouth—that scene really gets me excited. Ping, very experienced, moved against me, her hands caressing my chest, occasionally lightly touching my nipples, flicking them with her index finger, and sometimes leaning down to kiss me, asking her the same questions I had just asked. Although she had just had two orgasms, the woman-on-top position is said to make it easier for a man's penis to penetrate deeper into a woman's body. Gradually, Ping's hips swayed faster and faster, and I could clearly feel her vagina gently gripping my penis from time to time. The stimulation grew stronger, and my lower body slowly began to tingle. I knew I was about to ejaculate. I sat up and hugged Ping tightly. "Stop." "What's wrong?" For some reason, I suddenly felt a sense of loss. I suddenly seemed to foresee Ping leaving me, and that we would never make love again. The loss turned into sorrow. I couldn't quite believe my feelings. Wasn't I seducing the woman in my arms into bed to satisfy my desires? I had already gotten what I wanted, and there was no need for regret. But why did I feel such deep sadness when I thought about never being able to be with her again?
Had I fallen in love with her during our sex just now? But men are usually driven by their lower instincts. How could I possibly have such feelings? "What's wrong?" Ping asked again when I didn't speak. "I was about to ejaculate if you moved a couple more times." Ping smiled softly, "Then ejaculate inside me." I shook my head repeatedly, pressing against her breasts:
"No, I don't want to ejaculate. I don't want it to end so soon. I haven't had enough. I can't bear to leave your body. I'm afraid that after this, I'll never have you again. I can't take it." It was indeed a bit ridiculous and disgusting for a grown man to say such coquettish words, but in that state of mind, these words were truly my heartfelt feelings. I was truly so afraid of losing the woman in my arms, not for lust at that moment. But what exactly was it for? I couldn't say. My voice revealed a hint of sadness. Ping was silent for a long time. She sighed and whispered:
"Silly boy, you big fool. I gave myself to you completely today, without a second thought. Are you afraid I won't have this opportunity again?" She paused for a moment before saying, "Do you really think I can leave you?" I looked up at her, my heart filled with mixed emotions—gratitude, surprise, and happiness. "Really?" Ping nodded. "Really." She lowered her head and whispered in my ear, "Honey, from now on, whenever you want me, no matter when, I'll be yours." The word "honey" came from her lips... She exhaled softly, the sound incredibly beautiful to my ears. I held her buttocks in my hands, helping her to slowly sway up and down. She whispered "Silly boy" again. At that moment, I couldn't describe the joy in my heart. My lips kept kissing her trembling breasts. As the swaying became faster and faster, I could no longer hold back my desire. At the moment of ejaculation, I cried out "Ah!" and my semen shot into Ping's honey hole. Once, twice, three times. I had never ejaculated so much or so forcefully in recent years. At this moment, we were truly exhausted. We hugged each other tightly, motionless. Several minutes later, I gently laid Ping flat on the bed, took some tissues from the bedside table, and wiped Ping. I saw thick, white semen slowly flowing from Ping's slightly swollen vaginal opening, and my heart was filled with love. This woman just let me ejaculate inside her. I've heard it said that the greatest trust a woman can give a man is allowing him to ejaculate inside her. Looking at Ping lying on the bed, still breathing slightly, I felt both love and guilt. What's wrong with me today? It was just a casual hookup to release tension, yet I've become as sentimental as a woman. And her attitude towards me clearly showed affection. Could it be that we've unknowingly developed feelings for each other?
I wrung out a warm towel from the bathroom and wiped the sweat off Ping's body. Ping grabbed my hand:
"Lie down with me for a while." I lay down beside her, and Ping rested her head on my shoulder. After a while, she asked:
"Why did you kiss me there just now? Don't you...don't you think it's dirty?" I knew she was referring to her anus. Yes, I had never even licked my wife's anus, and I licked it the first time with her, and without her washing up: "Dirty? How could you think that? Every part of your body is the cleanest and most delicious to me. I don't know how to say nice things, I only know that this is the best way for me to express my love for you." She sat up, staring at me blankly, and tears suddenly welled up in her eyes. I was startled and quickly hugged her: "Don't do this, don't do this. We've given each other not only our bodies, but also our hearts. Why do you have to do this?" Ping hugged me tightly and nodded repeatedly.
We embraced, speechless for a long time. But holding this naked woman, my hands had already begun to wander. One hand kneaded Ping's breasts, the other stroked her thigh, and my previously limp penis was starting to regain its strength. Ping rolled her eyes at me: "You lecher, how come you're like this again after only a short while?"
I chuckled mischievously, my hand slowly moving from her thigh to her buttocks. My middle finger slid down her cleft and touched her anus again. Ping's buttocks tightened. I asked, "Has the boss ever fucked you here?" "Why do you men all like doing it here?" My heart skipped a beat. It seemed her anus had already been explored by the boss. I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy, even a sour feeling. "He's always wanted it, but I'm afraid of the pain, so I haven't given it to him." My heart leaped with joy, and I asked, "Really?" "Do you want it too?" I heard a hint of reluctance in her tone
, and my initial enthusiasm cooled. "Not really, but you're afraid of the pain, and I don't have much experience, so let's forget it. Don't mind me, just pretend I didn't say anything." After a while, she sat up and looked me in the eye. "Hong, no matter what happens in the future, I won't regret the decision I made today. I just said, I already belong to you. You want it so much, I'm willing to give it to you, I really am willing to give it to you, to give you my first time." Hearing those words, "give you my first time," I felt a surge of warmth and emotion. What had I done to deserve such devotion and favor from this woman? At that moment, I felt a mix of heartache, joy, and desire. I've never done this before: "I'll take it slow. If you really can't stand the pain, then I won't do it, okay?" Ping shook her head: "I can bear it." I cheered and jumped up. Ping looked at me with a smile. I picked her up and rushed into the bathroom. I turned on the shower and hugged her from behind, washing her together. My hands naturally held one breast in each hand, kneading them. Her breasts were bigger and softer than my wife's, and they felt so full in my hands. I didn't forget to play with her nipples with my fingers. Ping's desire was quickly aroused by me. She turned around, and we kissed. Ping suddenly squatted down slowly, put her hands on my waist, opened her mouth and took my penis in her mouth. "Ah!" Although I had thought about this before, I had not asked her for it. I never thought she would give me oral sex. Her movements were not unfamiliar. I guess she had done it for her own penis at home. She swallowed and spat my penis, her tongue swirling around the glans and licking the urethral opening. She did everything she should. Looking down at my penis going in and out of her mouth, my little brother was surprisingly hard and erect. Ping felt that my penis was already very hard, so she squeezed some shower gel from the side and rubbed it on my penis. This action clearly indicated that she was ready to open her anus to me. Then she poured some more shower gel and applied it to her genitals, stood up, smiled at me, then turned around, put her hands on the dressing table, slightly raised her buttocks, and looked at me affectionately in the mirror. I quietly walked behind her, looked at her, hugged her, gently held her breasts, and kissed her neck:
"Why are you so good to me?" At this moment, my hard penis was right in her buttocks. She moved slightly, didn't say anything, reached back, grasped my penis, and probed her anus. What should I say at this moment? Do I still need to doubt the love I just had for her? Yes, I've fallen in love with this woman, my sister-in-law. I didn't dare make any moves, afraid of hurting her. After she aimed my penis at her anus, her white buttocks slowly moved back. Because of the lubrication from the shower gel, the head of my penis easily pierced her anus. She took a deep breath, pursed her lips tightly, and leaned back little by little. Undeniably, when my penis slid into her anus, the pleasure of having my entire glans tightly enveloped was incredibly pleasurable. If I were still in the initial state of mind, just wanting to release my pent-up desire, I would have disregarded her pain and inserted myself completely. But in just over an hour, my feelings for Ping had actually risen from lust to tenderness and affection. Many people would probably scoff at this change and call me an idiot, but the feelings in my heart were so real. I looked at Ping in the mirror. She was clearly in excruciating pain, but she was still holding on for me. I couldn't care less about my own desires anymore. I pulled back abruptly, withdrawing my penis from her anus. Ping cried out, opened her eyes, and looked at me with a questioning expression in the mirror. I stepped forward and hugged her tightly, repeatedly saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't want it anymore, I'm sorry, I don't deserve you being so good to me." My nose stung, and my voice was trembling with tears. I really couldn't understand why Ping was so good to me. The guilt in my heart grew stronger and stronger. Ping turned around and cupped my face in her hands: "This is my own choice, I didn't force you at all, I really want to give it to you, really." I hugged her tightly, as if trying to merge her into my own body: "That's enough, you've given me enough. I can't bear to see you in so much pain." Ping gently pushed me away, looked at me steadily, and said something that both moved and surprised me:
"Today I must give you my first time."
The result was predictable; I took Ping's "first time." From her face, I could tell how much pain she was in. She was pale from the pain, grimacing and convulsing. To distract her from the pain, I kept stroking her nipples and clitoris, just to bring her a little pleasure amidst the pain. Because of the tightness of anal sex, I couldn't bear to watch her suffer, and I ejaculated quickly.
This sexual encounter left us both deeply engrossed and unable to extricate ourselves. At its peak, we met almost twice a week, making love two or three times each time. We tacitly avoided mentioning our families, and each meeting was consumed by sexual pleasure. Afterwards, instead of simply getting dressed and going our separate ways, we would embrace and whisper sweet nothings only to each other. Some might wonder, "What goes around comes around. Didn't your spouse notice anything amiss with our frequent meetings?" Here's how we arranged our hookups. Some might laugh and call us naive, but it was truly seamless. We were each other's WeChat friends. These days, many people post on WeChat Moments almost daily. Most people end a sentence with a period, but our secret code was to add an exclamation mark after the period. This was our agreement; without saying it, who would know its meaning? When I told her about this meeting method, she asked me curiously why I used those two punctuation marks. I smiled mischievously and said, "The period represents your hole, and the exclamation mark represents my stick. When you put these two punctuation marks on, you're implying to me that your hole needs my stick to poke it." She playfully hit me, "You rascal, who wants you to poke it?" As any man could probably guess, in the midst of their flirting, the exclamation mark unceremoniously poked the period.

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/196347.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=196347&aspx=1

Previous Page : Photo of my wife by Yang Dingtian 1-4

Next Page : My daughter is an AV actress (01-03) Author: chinjen

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

Nothing beats my sister-in-law in bed.

comment Open a new window to view comments