[First Time]

page views:1 Publication date:2023-08-15红车厘

Yesterday, August 12th, was the weekend. As usual, around 6 pm, I called him again, saying it was the weekend and I wanted to have dinner with him, asking if he was free. He's been determined to win me over lately, so of course he wouldn't ask anyone else out. He drove to pick me up, and we went grocery shopping together. Maybe it was just psychological, but I felt like we were married, like living a carefree life. After shopping, we
went to my place. I live alone in a studio apartment with a kitchen and bathroom. The room isn't big, but it's very cozy, except the bed is a bit small—it's a single bed.
As usual, I cooked while he watched TV or browsed the internet. When the food was ready, we ate. I came prepared; I specifically bought a bottle of red wine at the supermarket. I didn't dare buy baijiu or beer. Baijiu is too strong, and I was afraid he'd drink too much and cause problems. Beer is too weak; he'd just be running to the bathroom afterward, which would be a downer.
So we ate and chatted, and soon the bottle of red wine was finished. You know, women's intuition is incredibly sharp. I sensed I was feeling a bit different today, so I drank about a third of the red wine. The bottle was empty, but for a wine lover like him, the last two-thirds was just enough to get him going. Seeing his unsatisfied expression, he pulled out another bottle from somewhere.
By this time, I was quite drunk, my face flushed. My skin is already fair, and this made me look like a ripe apple, even more alluring. Since I can't hold my liquor, I didn't join him and went to prepare the fruit salad for dinner.
He enjoyed the food alone, anticipating the beauty—what could be more blissful for him?
By the end of dinner, he had drunk nearly two bottles of red wine. They say drinking leads to trouble, and it was certainly true. His head was starting to ache; he'd been in high spirits and had accidentally exceeded his limit. Normally, a bottle of red wine would be just the right amount for him to boost his spirits and various abilities—I don't need to tell you what those abilities are, right?
But it was precisely this indulgence that created the perfect opportunity for him. He lay on the sofa, waiting for me to take a shower, watching TV while dozing off.
Half an hour later, I came out of the bathroom in my pajamas, my hair wrapped in a towel. They say a woman is most attractive after a bath, and his spirits immediately lifted. Seeing his gaze, I felt a little embarrassed and smiled slightly, saying, "What are you looking at? It's not like I haven't seen you in pajamas before!" He then snapped out of his reverie and said somewhat awkwardly, "Nothing, I just think you look very special today, very feminine, perfect wife material." Unexpectedly, his words made my expression suddenly dim. Perhaps it was because I'm a recently divorced woman, and his mention of the word "wife" reminded me of something. Seeing this, he seemed at a loss for words. He was so clumsy with words; he wanted to compliment me, but instead touched on a part I didn't want to talk about. For a moment, we were both a little embarrassed. I spoke first: "You've drunk so much, your head must hurt, right? Let me make you a cup of water and massage your head to help you relax." I hurriedly said, "Okay, okay, my head is a little dizzy, please massage it for me." I rearranged the sofa, sat down first, and said, "Sit properly, sit in front of me." He obediently sat down, and I crossed my legs. When he sat down, his lower back was directly against my knees. I could feel my skin, cool and smooth, like jade, giving a soft and supple feeling. I gently massaged his temples; my hands were small, but the pressure was just right, making him feel very relaxed. I massaged him like that for a while, then his neck and shoulders. He carefully felt my hands, and neither of us spoke, both enjoying this warm moment. Gradually, he felt my palms were slightly sweaty, and feeling a little reluctant for me to continue massaging him, he grabbed my hands and said, "Okay, I feel much better now." Just then, I leaned in, my full breasts pressed tightly against his back, kissing his shoulder with my soft lips, and wrapping my legs around him from behind. At this moment, even the most self-controlled man would melt. He gently stroked my already flushed cheeks, feeling a tear slide down my face. He turned to look into my eyes, eyes like a child's, with long eyelashes, clear black and white, yet moist. He kissed my forehead first, then my eyes, and finally his soft, hot lips, as if comforting a wronged child. His breathing became rapid, and he could feel my heart beating faster. Our tongues intertwined nimbly; strangely, mine was cool and slippery, intoxicating.

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