The expectation of having an affair

Springtime, a holiday, in the park.

A young girl, her youthful body nestled against a handsome young man, playfully wriggling and softly complaining. The young man
felt her breasts tremble teasingly, a pleasant sensation spreading through his arm.

The warm spring breeze caressed his handsome face; he consciously ignored the beautiful girl beside him, glancing around at
the envious glances cast his way, a smug smile playing on his lips. He had grown accustomed to the girls' fawning over him, even the furtive glances from flirtatious young women. 　　Suddenly, his smile froze, for he noticed the girl beside him had moved away
. Her bright eyes, which had always gazed at him with longing, were now secretly glancing at the man sitting on the bench. 　　A group of girls were playing shuttlecock, while a little boy kicked a rolling red ball alone, chasing after it. The abundant sunshine and joyful, vibrant life inspired me, and I stopped my aimless scribbling in my notebook. I looked up and began to notice the various people passing by. 　　A beautiful young woman, her long, shapely legs outstretched, reclined on a grassy hillside, reading a book, her small nipples peeking out from under her thin shirt. Her alluring short skirt, and the glimpses of skin beneath it—didn't she realize that her unrestrained posture was tempting the swarms of men passing by? Oh well, being loved isn't my fault. 　　I slowly wandered over, wishing I were still a young man, wishing I could be bolder, more shameless, so I could once again participate in that thrilling game of love. 　　I comforted myself; I too had been foolish and dissolute, but deep down, I knew it was just a bunch of pointless memories. Youth had left me ; I longed, longed for time to turn back. 　　On a beautiful day, in the bright spring sunshine, how could the depth of romance be highlighted without a touch of melancholy? 　　I walked to a bench and sat down. I took out my notebook and pen, using these two things to release my emotions and let the flood of feelings within me flow. Immersed in the spring sunshine, the warmth of the sun made me suddenly sleepy, and I drifted off to sleep without realizing it. 　　In my dream, I heard myself sighing softly. Suddenly, I heard the melodious singing of birds. I opened my eyes, and a young woman stood smiling before me. 　　"I'm sorry," she said. Her smile gave a sense of friendship, but her beautiful eyes darted around, as if testing me for something. 　　I shook my head, trying to determine whether it was a dream or the real world. 　　"I didn't mean to disturb you," she said, still wearing her signature smile. 　　“No, it’s alright,” I said, clearing my throat. “I wasn’t actually asleep, I was just resting with my eyes closed.” 　　The young woman sat down on the other side of the bench, picked up the notebook that had fallen to the ground, and began to read it on her ample lap. 　　“So you’re that Xiao Ping?” she asked. 　　I was taken aback, then smiled weakly. 　　“Yes, that’s one of my names.” 　　“I thought you were much older?” 　　“Ah, I’m thirty-two, isn’t that old?” 　　“But you look no more than twenty-five?” 　　Her eyes no longer avoided mine, staring straight into mine, piercing my heart. I could almost see the reflection of my own face in her pupils—a face full of hope, twisted by primal desire. 　　“What’s your name?” I asked, my voice trembling, desperately hoping her answer would be completely different from what I expected. 　　“Xiao Qing,” she replied in a feignedly dignified tone, the allure in her eyes more intense than the spring air in the park. 　　"How are you?" I asked politely, the dreamlike feeling unique to extramarital affairs that had disappeared for many years flooding back into my heart. 　　"I'm fine, how should I put it? It's such an honor to meet you in person, brother." 　　She stretched out her hand, almost touching my lips, as if expecting me to kiss her hand like a nobleman. 　　I quickly grabbed her hand and lowered my head to kiss it deeply. I considered whether to lick it with my tongue. 　　"Last month, I read your article at Xiaoyuan's place, the title was 'The Climax of Virginity'?" 　　Xiaoqing didn't pull her hand away, letting me hold it. 　　"More or less, it's 'The Virginity in Climax'." 　　I gently corrected her, secretly sticking out my tongue to lick her soft little hand. 　　"What are you doing? How do you feel like this?" 　　I was afraid of scaring her away, so I stopped licking her hand: 　　"I feel like I'm dreaming, having a dream that can't possibly be real." 　　"Brother Xiaoping, do you know? I always feel like the wanton woman you wrote about in your article is me." "Don't you think my thoughts are ridiculous? I realize that when I read your story, I completely immersed myself in the female protagonist's shoes." 　　"I feel so embarrassed," I murmured. In the stories I read on Xiaoyuan, the female protagonists were always naked in bed, letting men do whatever they wanted to them. 　　"I should be the one who's embarrassed..." she whispered, gently biting her bright red lower lip, looking hesitant. We were silent for a while, then she finally made up her mind and spoke: 　　"But I still feel a little unsatisfied. I feel that your description of my beautiful body isn't detailed enough. There are so many of my sexy advantages that you haven't shown in your words. Also, you haven't written about some of the secret features of my body that are different from other women." 　　She continued to speak eloquently, and I was completely captivated by her charm: 　　"I've also written articles, but I always feel that things written from a female perspective can't truly arouse that beastly desire in men to conquer women. The burning desire that has always lurked in my heart is to conquer all men." In reality, this might be a bit difficult. To put it bluntly, I don't want to cause the families of men who are obsessed with me to break apart because of my personal desires. Besides, if all the men who admire me could have my touch, my wild, tender body, which is specifically designed to arouse men's lust, might not really be able to withstand their towards sadism and violence . 　　"Look, look! Isn't my skin so white and tender? Isn't it easy for it to be brutally ravaged by you men?" she said.

Then, she lifted her skirt, revealing her dazzlingly white thighs. Her lake-green panties, whether intentionally or unintentionally, were also visible to me.

I admit they were incredibly beautiful and alluring thighs, the tops of which were even more captivating. I nodded hastily in agreement
, and then, unable to resist, I reached out and touched her. Her thighs felt wonderfully smooth and silky.

She didn't care whether I touched her or she enjoyed it; whatever the reason, she continued to elaborate on her brilliant ideas:

"So I had an idea. I think it's a very romantic thing to use the protagonist in your story to maximize
the irresistible . I want you to feast your eyes on my flesh, and let you..."

She stuck out her cute pink tongue, licked her lips, and continued:

"Then you faithfully describe it in your writing, so that the men who read it can share
the pleasure you received from me. Then they can occupy my body in their own fantasies, bully me, and humiliate me to their heart's content..."

"Come on! Be brave, man!"

She suddenly grabbed my hand, and we walked together across the green hillside covered with lush grass, past the girl still reclining there reading,
and into the depths of the woods. When I turned around, I saw the girl looking at us too.

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The expectation of having an affair

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