The real experience of a mature woman's first affair 2

The real experience of a mature woman's first affair 2

I'm a dutiful 33-year-old housewife. My child just finished their middle school entrance exam. They did very well and should have no problem getting into Maoming No. 1 Middle School, but I can't feel happy at all. Seeing my child and husband so excited fills me with indescribable guilt. Tomorrow they're going on a trip. Do they know what will happen to me after they leave? Watching my husband sleep so soundly reminds me of when he was courting me. He was outstanding, and in our classmates' eyes, we were a perfect match. We've been married for 10 years now. After marriage, my husband wanted me to be a good wife and mother at home, and to this day, I've been devoted to my husband and child. In other people's eyes, I'm a gentle wife and a beautiful mother—but what will tomorrow bring? I don't know—I'm in so much pain right now, filled with shame for myself! Sometimes, I feel conflicted. I want to be a docile woman, yet I also crave the thrill of wild abandon. I'm afraid of becoming a promiscuous woman and spiraling out of control, yet I often fantasize about the pleasures of indulgence... Before my child's exam, I went to a parent-teacher meeting at their school. Just as I was about to go home, someone stopped me. I stopped, and he asked me from inside his car, "Is your child taking the high school entrance exam?" I said yes. He said, "I'm from the Education Bureau, responsible for setting the exam questions. If you want the questions to help your child do well, come with me." Urged on by him, I hesitated for a moment before getting into his car. He kept trying to find topics to talk about along the way, and I felt uneasy. I saw this man in the rearview mirror; he looked to be over fifty, with a short, thick neck, smooth eyebrows, and small eyes. After a few blocks, he stopped in front of an old, detached house. He came over and opened the car door for me. I noticed he was very short, only reaching my shoulder. I saw that his fingers, used to open the door, were short and thick. He ushered me inside, saying, "Come in, there's no one else here." My heart pounded—suddenly, I felt a strange excitement; my legs and lower abdomen trembled spasmodically, a warm current quickly spreading throughout my body, making me dizzy and almost collapsing. I suppressed the urge, sitting weakly on the table. I desperately wanted to know what was wrong with me. It was a feeling of emptiness born of reality, so intense, so clear. Sitting there, I tried desperately to recall the feeling. What was wrong with me? Was it a sexual response? It was a feeling that could make me instantly abandon everything, disregard everything else. Was it release? This was a tremor my body had never experienced before. What was wrong with me? How could this happen to me? The room was hot. I smelled my sweat mixed with the scent of the fluid from my groin. My underwear was wet! He pulled out a printed document and said to me, "Madam, your child's high school entrance exam is no problem. I was in charge of setting the questions; all the exam questions for this year are here." I withdrew my outstretched hand. I thought about how our child's grades were excellent; in fact, he had already been admitted to a university through a special program. The high school entrance exam was just a formality for him; he didn't need this. But I remained seated, neither refusing nor intending to leave. He continued, "Madam, the high school entrance exam is a matter of life and death for our child. I understand the good intentions of parents like you, and I really want to help you." My mind went blank, and I nodded woodenly. I seemed to be waiting for things to continue. Finally, I heard him say that he had helped us, and we should thank him. I wanted to stop him, but I also wanted to hear him continue, to hear him say everything he was thinking. He asked me, "Why is your face so red? Is it too hot?" I nodded, and he made me hide my earlier embarrassment. I pretended to be calm and asked him how we should thank him. He stood there, his eyes fixed on my feet. I instinctively pulled my leg back; I was wearing white open-toe, low-heeled leather shoes that day. After a while, he said, "I'm not short of money at my age. Let me be frank, I'll give you the test questions, and you keep me company." I don't remember what he said next. My body suddenly became so sensitive in front of this man. My head felt dizzy, my breathing became heavy and rapid, and my heart pounded. The cold air from the air conditioner gradually cooled my emotions. I tugged at my skirt, trying my best to calm myself down. I asked him, feigning composure, how he would keep me company. He said, "We've both been through this. You look very young, like you're in your early thirties, but considering your child is already taking the high school entrance exam, you're almost forty. You should know what happens between a man and a woman alone. Think it over and give me an answer tomorrow." My heart trembled even more intensely. I don't know how much time passed, or how I left or got home. I love my husband and our child. I always thought my husband was the only man in my life, and I always thought I was very traditional and conservative. I never imagined that I would be so easily swayed by the demands of a strange, old, and ugly man. That night, I couldn't sleep. The next evening, almost inexplicably, I washed myself thoroughly and went to that old man's place again. He said calmly, "You can take the test paper, but don't leak it, otherwise it will affect your child." I thought he would be eager for me—I actually eagerly anticipated his fingers; I couldn't control myself. I imagined his fingers would pull off my skirt and show him my body—I lost myself again in trembling breaths—that day he didn't extend his fingers. He handed me the test paper and said, "Don't worry, the time will be based on when your child's high school entrance exam results come out. You can also change your mind." My hand holding the test paper trembled all the way home, a mixture of disappointment and longing after waiting. When I got home, I put the test paper in the shredder. Husband, I really wanted you to notice my recent changes, and I hoped you could bring me back, but you were so careless. You wanted me to go on the trip with you, but I made excuses like my mother wasn't well, the child's schooling required a lot of money, and the house couldn't be left unattended—I made up many reasons not to go, just to fulfill a promise that never existed. My husband and child are going on a trip tomorrow. Tonight, I didn't make love to my husband, not because I was worried about his health, but because of my anticipation for tomorrow. I feel ashamed of myself for rejecting my husband for a strange, old, and ugly man. These past few days have been incredibly painful; my body is restless—I hate myself for doing this, for being so capable. No one forced me; I know it's all my fault, a mistake I don't want to make again, a mistake I can't undo. My husband left. I don't know how I got to that old man's place. He wasn't surprised or delighted; his reaction actually worried me—worried he'd send me home! He led me inside, so calmly, so calmly that it frightened me. My mind went numb from the excessive tension in my body. Looking at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but scrutinize my body. I felt unfamiliar with myself. In the mirror, a beautiful woman with snow-white skin, long legs, full, high breasts, a face flushed with shyness, and a pair of beautiful, clear eyes—I suddenly snapped out of it. What should I do? I can't do this. I have a husband, I have children. I suddenly wondered why I was wearing pants today. I hoped nothing would happen, nothing would ever happen—I sat there, motionless. He came over and said, "You promised me, from the moment I saw you, I liked you very much and wanted you. Think about it. You parents, for your children, use every possible connection, money, and even your own bodies." "Since you're here, everything you have has to be given to me!" he said, starting to unbutton my blouse. A shiver ran through me, and I instinctively tried to pull away. I watched him nervously; his eyes gleamed with greed. I was terrified. He was the first man besides my husband to undress me. I had remained chaste for him; I hated myself for agreeing to this, for coming here. I slowly closed my eyes. I knew what he meant: everything you have has to be given to me. I knew what he wanted; what else could he want besides my body? He undressed me, pushed me onto the bed, took off my shoes, and began to touch my feet. My toes, sensitive and tense, curled up in protest against his intrusion. He pulled my feet into his arms and took off my socks. Then he unzipped my pants. I desperately tried to pull at the waistband of my pants, knowing my struggles were futile, my resistance symbolic. He reached under my body, lifting my waist, and grabbed my waistband, pulling down my pants in one swift motion. My hands could only clutch my underwear tightly, trying to hide the wet stains on my crotch. He held my legs firmly with one hand, and squeezed my thighs with the other, saying my feet were delicate and fair, and my legs were long and shapely, that I was a beauty in the making. I could no longer hear what he was saying. He slipped his hand inside my bra, grasping my already swollen breasts. My erect nipples shamefully responded to his caresses. I closed my eyes helplessly. At that moment...I hoped this wasn't real. He forcefully ripped off my bra and began sucking on my breasts. His tongue and teeth licked and bit my nipples, and my consciousness went weak and empty—his hands left my breasts, and he lifted my legs. I was ready for him to vent his desires on me, but he wasn't in a hurry. He held my feet, sucking on my toes and heels, licking each one with his tongue—something my husband had never done to me. He swallowed my feet whole, his tongue licking the soles, his teeth chewing on my toes—I felt the warmth of his mouth and the saliva dripping down my feet—I even heard myself make a sound, no, a moan, something I'd never done with my husband. I bit my lip, unsure whether I wanted to endure it more or use the pain to resist the sensation. I don't know how his obese body managed to be on top of me. My breasts, held in his hands, were being forcefully sucked in his mouth, his greasy belly pressing powerfully against my hips. I tried to push him away, but he held one of my hands in his mouth and pressed the other against my breast. I was forced to touch my breasts in humiliation, my nipples erect shamefully beneath my fingers—my fingers, held in his mouth, helplessly endured his tongue's sucking; his tongue was so hot—at this moment, I didn't know how I could resist for my husband—I felt something hard on my leg beneath him, pressing it against my thigh— A spasm spread from my uterus throughout my body, my mouth was so dry. He held me in his arms like he did on our first night together. I pressed my lips tightly together to avoid his mouth, turning my head sharply to the side. He kissed my neck and chest, lifted my arms, and sniffed and licked my armpits. I couldn't take it anymore. I pressed my legs tightly together. He started kissing my vulva through my underwear. His tongue and teeth licked and bit my labia again and again, his saliva mingling with my love juice. "Husband, why haven't you ever wanted me like this?" The man in front of me took off his own clothes and pants, and then pulled down my last piece of clothing, my underwear. "Husband, your wife is now naked in front of another strange man. Husband," he said, touching my vulva. He placed a pillow under my buttocks, making me lie horizontally on the bed, my head drooping off the edge. I knew he was doing this so his penis could easily enter and penetrate deeper into me. He watched me bring his mouth close to my crotch, easily separating my tightly closed legs with his hands. He first took all my pubic hair into his mouth, gently tearing at it, then used his hands to part my labia. I knew my genitals were large, and he gently licked and kissed them with his tongue, then slowly took my labia into his mouth, gently biting and sucking with his teeth, while simultaneously inserting the tip of his tongue into my vagina. My labia were being chewed and torn little by little by his teeth—the fluid secreted from my vagina had already soaked the pillow beneath my buttocks. My vagina contracted under his sucking, and I twisted my waist, repeatedly lifting my hips, forcefully spreading my legs apart, my feet pressing against his back, my hands tightly pressing his head against my genitals. He squeezed my breast with one hand and touched my anus with the other. My head thrashed violently, and I heard myself making very unpleasant sounds— A suffocating surge of fluid spread rapidly from my vagina. After my limbs stiffened, I went limp. A deep breath made me aware of his presence; his mouth was still licking my fluids. I felt his tongue rapidly licking my clitoris—the numbness in my feet from before, pressing against his obese body, made me feel another man's warmth. His hands gripped my waist tightly, forcefully lifting my hips—he inserted his short, thick fingers into my vagina. I felt increasingly aroused stimulation around my clitoris, and I couldn't help but moan softly. My heart yearned for him to insert his penis into my body, into my vagina, just as you had done to me. I had always thought of myself as a woman indifferent to sex, but now I discovered my body's desires. I had constantly reminded myself to value my reputation, to be a good woman. I wouldn't do anything to betray my husband. But now I was submerged beneath this man's body. Now I only wanted to give my body to this man; at this moment, I was willing to give him everything. I wanted him to devour me, to tear me apart…

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