My boyfriend and I's real experience

I met my current boyfriend

through other friends. I'm not someone who likes to wander around, so I rarely have the opportunity to meet new friends. Meeting him was a coincidence. Before that, I had a few boyfriends, but they were all just casual acquaintances. Maybe it was because I was young, or maybe I didn't like them that much. So, until I met my current boyfriend...

About half a year after we met, I went to his house for the first time to spend the night. No one said anything that day. I first crawled into bed to watch TV. I had just taken a shower and was only wearing a tank top and underwear. Although it was hot, I was inevitably a little nervous, so I took a thin blanket and put it on. He came in after showering, wearing only his underwear. I didn't know where to look, so I stared intently at the TV. I think I blushed. He sat on the edge of the bed, pinched my nose, and laughed, "What's there to be embarrassed about?"

I continued staring blankly at the TV, pretending not to notice anything. We chatted for a bit, but soon he moved closer, propped himself up on top of me, and started kissing me. My heart was pounding. Although I was mentally prepared, I was completely at a loss when it actually started.

He lifted my vest, exposing my entire chest to him. I closed my eyes, not daring to look at him or let him see my expression, so I turned my head to the side, my heart pounding wildly. He began to gently massage my breasts. Suddenly, I felt a warm, wet sensation on my nipples. In a panic, I glanced over and saw him licking them with his tongue. A feeling I had never experienced before began to spread through my body…

His hands roamed all over my body, from my cheeks to my neck, from my breasts to my lower abdomen. I dared not move, not knowing what he would do next. Under his caresses, I felt my body getting hotter and hotter, and I felt lightheaded. He lay on top of me, breathing heavily in my ear, and said, “Wife, you are so soft.” Then he hugged me tightly, almost making me breathless. Only then did I feel something hard pressing against my lower abdomen. I blushed and felt even more embarrassed.

He took off his underwear, then mine, and pressed himself against me again, sealing my lips with his. Our tongues intertwined, and we clung tightly to each other, suppressing moans, desperately trying not to cry out. He seemed to sense this and said, "If you want to moan, just moan, it's okay." As he spoke, he reached between my legs...

His fingers first moved outside, then tentatively pushed inside. I immediately tensed up, feeling like sand in my eyes. I desperately wanted to escape, but he was so strong, I could only endure it. His movements were gentle and slow, and gradually, the discomfort subsided, a heat radiating from my private parts. I finally couldn't hold back and let out a moan.

After a while, he struggled to get off me. I looked at him, bewildered. He touched my genitals, and I trembled, crying out, "Don't look, it's ugly!" He laughed, "Wife, you look very beautiful." As he spoke, he reached out to spread my legs. Whether from fear of my first time or shyness, I resisted. He leaned closer and whispered in my ear, "Don't be afraid, relax. Look, it's all wet." He held his fingers up to my face; they were indeed wet. I blushed so much I wanted to disappear.

He stopped, glanced at the head of the bed, and asked, "Honey, shall we skip the condom?" I looked at him, surprised, and hesitated. "But…," he continued, "because it's your first time, it's better not to use those things. Otherwise, how will you feel me?" I thought for a moment and remained silent, which was my tacit agreement.

I lay flat on the bed, legs spread, my heart pounding even harder. He pressed his chest against my breasts, and I could hear his rapid breathing, his warm breath on my ear. His hard penis pressed against my genitals, moving up and down. I closed my eyes, gripping his shoulders tightly. Perhaps because it was my first time, I couldn't find the right spot, and after struggling for a while, I couldn't get it in. He had to gently hold it with his hand and guide it to my vaginal opening, slowly inserting his penis into my vagina. I felt something warm beginning to pierce my body. He slowed his movements and asked, "Does it hurt?" I was too embarrassed to answer and just shook my head.

He continued thrusting forward. My vaginal opening felt prickly, and it felt so full and uncomfortable inside. With each step he took in, the feeling intensified, and I finally cried out in pain. He immediately stopped, saying with concern, "Does it hurt a lot? Then let's not do it anymore." Looking into his concerned eyes, I suddenly felt a warmth in my heart. I tried to smile and only said, "It's okay."

So he continued cautiously, not in a hurry to penetrate. One hand began to rub my clitoris again, sending waves of tingling sensations that caused me to leak fluids again. My painful moans were gradually replaced by pleasurable gasps. I was almost unconscious; although I still felt a throbbing pain, it was much better than before. Suddenly, he lowered his waist and thrust in with all his might. I was caught off guard, and the pain brought tears to my eyes.

For a long time, neither of us moved. He gently kissed me, "Wife, I'm going in." I didn't look at him, only letting out a faint hum. He began to slowly thrust in and out, my body swaying back and forth with his movements. His penis went in and out of my body, my vagina feeling full. I heard the sound of skin colliding, very gentle at first, gradually becoming faster and faster. I couldn't control my body; I didn't know if the feeling was pain or pleasure.

He increased the frequency of his thrusts, and I trembled all over, gripping his arm and moaning unconsciously. He responded with even more intense actions, each time pulling his penis out until only the glans remained inside, then plunging it in forcefully. "Wife, you're so tight inside," he said, my eyes blurry with tears, unable to speak, my lower body soaked.

This went on for countless thrusts until he suddenly said urgently, "Wife, I'm going to cum," grabbing my breasts and kneading them roughly, his movements becoming increasingly violent, almost unbearable. It was my first time, and the pain and discomfort persisted. I could only cry out, "Husband, no…," but each time, before I could finish, he thrust in forcefully, as if a lump in my throat, leaving me only able to scream "Ahhh!"

Finally, he stopped, forcefully burying his penis inside my vagina, thrusting forward. A moment later, with a low, satisfied moan, he collapsed on top of me, motionless.

I could feel his heart pounding, his entire weight on me, and my body going limp, especially my genitals, which were now throbbing with pain. After we both calmed down for a while, he propped himself up, deliberately looking me up and down. His gaze made me blush again, and I tried to escape his sight, but he held me tightly in his strong arms.

"You bad boy, let me go."
"How can I let go? My little penis is still being held by my wife." He laughed, bringing his face closer.
"Then take it out." I was both annoyed and amused.
"Hey, why is it still hard? We can do it again!"
I was both laughing and crying, and could only beg for mercy.

After a while, he finally pulled his "treasure" out and cleaned it up. "It looks a little red and swollen. I'm sorry, honey, I was too rough." He carefully checked me, gently wiping with a tissue he had prepared beforehand. On the clean white surface, I saw a patch of crimson spreading...
"It's okay, not much blood. Does it still hurt?"
I shook my head, snuggled into his arms, smelled his scent, and suddenly felt a strange emotion. I buried my head in his chest without saying a word.

"What's wrong?" He lifted my face, asking anxiously, "Still in pain?"
"No, it's just... a little embarrassing." I smiled shyly.
"Silly girl, what's there to be embarrassed about? You're mine." He said domineeringly in my ear.

Perhaps that's how it is between men and women; after their body heat touches, each has their own thoughts.
Part Two: Climax

Ever since my first time with my boyfriend, he stopped hiding his desires. After he took my virginity that day, I woke up in the middle of the night and did it again. Later, when I got up to shower, I felt strange down there and could barely take a step.

To be honest, at that time I didn't understand anything and didn't really understand what male sexual urges were all about. At home, he wanted me to wear only a tank top and underwear. Anyway, it was hot, so I didn't mind. But that really left me completely defenseless, giving him the opportunity to assault me at any time.

The next day, I was washing dishes in the kitchen when he suddenly hugged me from behind, cupping my breasts in his hands and gently squeezing them. At first, it was through my vest, but soon he skillfully slid his hands inside, teasing my nipples with his entire palm. I felt weak in the knees from his ministrations, and I could clearly feel his erect penis pressing against my crotch. "No, I'm washing dishes," I cried, squirming, unaware that this only aroused him more. He intensified his stimulation, thrusting his large penis against my buttocks repeatedly, saying, "Your nipples are sticking out too, does it feel good?" I felt dizzy and could only brace myself against the sink to keep from slipping down.

My face flushed again, and my breathing became rapid. He freed one hand and slid it down my abdomen to my underwear, while his other hand guided me to his penis. I immediately recoiled as if electrocuted. Although we had been intimate twice, I had never actually seen his penis, let alone touched it. He wouldn't let me escape, grabbing my hand and placing it back on my underwear. I don't know when, but he had somehow pulled down his underwear, allowing me to directly touch his engorged penis.

Facing the pool, I couldn't see anything, only feeling overwhelmed by his arousal. Holding his penis in my hand, it was so hot. Climbing up the thick, hard shaft, there was a soft ring around it. I'd heard that this was the most sensitive spot for a man, and I curiously pinched it with my fingers, gently rubbing and circling it with my fingertips, moving it up and down.

He wasn't idle either. One hand slipped inside my panties, tracing down my thighs to my vulva, rubbing inside and out, occasionally parting my labia to deliberately touch my clitoris. His other hand rested on my breasts, teasing my already erect nipples.

In the kitchen, our rapid breathing mingled. Suddenly, I felt something sticky on my fingers. His warm breath lingered in my ear as he said, "You little rascal, you've made your husband wet." I giggled. He pretended to be angry, "Don't laugh, you too," and then, without warning, he inserted a finger inside me. I couldn't help but scream, unable to support myself any longer, collapsing into his arms.

Even though it was just a finger, it was quite a stimulation for someone like me who was new to this.
"Not here, take... take it out," I pleaded.
He didn't speak, kissing my neck and shoulders, continuing to thrust his finger in and out, rhythmically vibrating as it went in.
"Honey, no...don't do this..." I struggled weakly, only able to gasp for breath.
"Want some?" His hard penis pressed against my buttocks through my underwear, teasing me relentlessly.
"No...ah...ahhh..." Some fluid kept gushing out from below, and I was gradually losing control.

Suddenly, just as things were reaching their peak, the doorbell rang loudly, completely ignoring me. He immediately stopped what he was doing, but still held me tightly, the ringing persisting. He muttered, "Damn it, who is it?" before reluctantly letting go and pulling up his pants.

I breathed a sigh of relief and quickly ran to my room. Since I usually wear very little at home, I usually stay in my bedroom watching TV or changing clothes before going out if someone comes over. I heard him open the door; it seemed to be a friend who lives nearby. Maybe they wanted to chat for a while. I didn't want to go out, so I curled up on the bed and turned on the TV.

Thinking back to what just happened, my face still flushes and my heart races. I lie on my pillow, trying to relax. Last night, I gave myself to him in this very bed. It's hard to describe the feeling in my heart. I truly love him. He's mature, strong, and considerate, treating me better than he treats himself. I can't find a reason to refuse him. I'm not a conservative woman; I feel that if two people truly love each other, these things are natural. Isn't true love just love plus sex?

But I've heard too many sad stories of women, and a sense of fear creeps into my heart. No one can guarantee that they'll be with the one they love forever. Forever is too far away, so far that no one dares to say it lightly. His life is so different from mine. If it weren't for that chance encounter, perhaps we would have continued our separate stories in two different worlds, never intersecting, never meeting. Is it really fate? I can only hope, God, that I won't be given a man I'm destined to be with but not with. That would be too cruel.

When I woke up this morning, I looked at him sleeping peacefully, breathing evenly. I nestled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, and felt so at ease. But how long could I stay in his life like this?

Thinking about it, my nose started to sting. Just then, a familiar arm encircled me, and a soft voice called, "Wife." I turned my head, responding with a smile, but I couldn't hide the tears welling up in my eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing," I quickly wiped away my tears and put on a bright smile.
"Did I do something wrong and make you angry?" he asked anxiously.
"No, you're fine. I was just overthinking… Is he gone?"
"Yes. What were you thinking about? Tell me." He shifted his position, half-lying on the bed, and held me against his chest.
"Nothing… it's just…" I didn't want to say, not wanting to ruin our happiness.
"Tell me what's wrong, don't worry about anything." He gently stroked my hair and lightly kissed my forehead.
"...I don't know how long we can be together." The words, once out of my mouth, felt like a curse, and I finally couldn't hold back my tears.
"I'll miss you so much..." I continued sobbing, hugging him tightly.

I felt him respond with an even stronger embrace, softly calling me "Silly girl."
He wiped away my tears, looked into my eyes, and said, word by word, "Shall we get married?"
I stood there, stunned, never expecting this answer.
He continued, "After you graduate, we'll get married, and then we'll never be apart again, okay?"

Forever, he was saying forever.
I didn't know, I didn't know if I should believe him. I cried, not because I was heartbroken, but because of the helpless doubt I felt about reality.
Husband, how much I wanted to believe you without reservation.

"Trust me," he seemed to sense my unease and pulled me into his arms.
I felt his warmth, his scent, the suffocating tenderness in his strong arms.
"From last night onwards, you should have completely trusted me." His tone was almost commanding.
I closed my eyes, only able to feel his breath.
"You're mine, understand? I won't allow anyone to touch you except me." He held me tightly, as if we were one.
I nodded, and for the first time, I kissed his lips.

Oh God, if I'm wrong, please give me a chance to continue being wrong.

He responded passionately, pulling me onto him. Perhaps it was the earlier caresses, but we quickly got into the mood. His penis hardened in no time, and I was wet. Our bodies intertwined, passionately kissing. He quickly pulled down his underwear, but only pulled my pants aside, just enough to reveal my vulva. He supported my waist and said, "Wife, come on, sit on me." I stole a glance at his penis, which was unceremoniously erect, almost level with his lower abdomen. It was the first time I had seen his erect penis so close, and my heart pounded even harder.

"I...I don't know how..." I stammered.
"It's okay, I'll teach you. Hold it."
I tremblingly reached out and grasped his penis. A warm sensation spread from my palm—his body temperature.
"Aim there, yes, like that."

Because his penis was almost touching my lower abdomen, I felt a little sleepy sitting down, so I leaned forward slightly and gently lifted it up, searching for the entrance. This position gave him the opportunity to kiss my breasts. He stuck out his tongue like a leech and sucked on my already engorged and erect nipples. I started to moan softly as he licked me, and my hands became completely disoriented. I couldn't penetrate even an inch after trying for a long time, and instead, my juices flowed everywhere, soaking my underwear.

He didn't seem to be in a hurry; on the contrary, he seemed to enjoy my helplessness and said, "Wife, you sound so good." I felt hot all over and unbearably itchy, so I could only look at him pleadingly. He immediately understood, guiding me to grasp his penis again. His other hand groped for my already wet opening. "Wife, it's here. Put it in, sit down," he said. I did as he instructed, squeezing his penis and inserting it into my vagina, slowly lowering my body. The throbbing pain returned, though not as intense as the previous two times. It wasn't so much that the pain had lessened, but rather that I was used to the pre-insertion discomfort.

I gritted my teeth, my face flushed red. He lovingly stroked my face, saying, "Is it uncomfortable? Let me do it, wife, relax." I nodded, supporting myself on his chest, panting softly.

He held my waist with both hands, slowly lowering me while lifting his hips, pushing me up. "Husband...husband..." I frantically grabbed his shoulders, my vagina instantly becoming incredibly full, as if accompanied by a surge of urination. His penis filled my entire vagina, burning hot. Strangely, this time, the pain disappeared the moment he fully entered me, leaving only excitement and desire.

"Ah..." I couldn't help but let out a satisfied groan from deep in my throat.

He held my body, moving up and down, my tender vagina, carrying the weight of my body, being attacked by his thick penis again and again. Each insertion was deep and heavy, and I was almost unable to balance myself from his thrusting, relying entirely on his strong arms for support. I looked down, seeing my vagina swallowing and spitting out his penis, my vaginal fluids flowing continuously from the opening, wetting our pubic hair. I followed his rhythm, my cries rising higher and higher. Suddenly, that strange feeling from before returned, like a surge of urination, but also accompanied by an irresistible tremor.

"Mmm... Ahh... Husband... Husband..." I breathed heavily, pressed tightly against his chest. For some reason, I felt like a flood had burst its banks, and his penis was thrusting in and out more and more smoothly.

"Wife, you're so wet, so slippery, so comfortable," he said, using the lubrication of my vaginal fluids to speed up. I started screaming hysterically, my legs clenching tightly around his penis. The sensation quickly built up inside my vagina, and suddenly, it exploded uncontrollably. A violent spasm ran through my vagina, as if something was gushing out, followed by waves of uncontrollable contractions. I almost fainted, my mouth open but unable to make a sound. Everything stopped abruptly.

He stopped just in time, gently stroking my back, as if comforting me. I felt weak all over, as if my heart was about to jump out of my chest. I felt an indescribable numbness from head to toe, utterly exhausted. It took me a while to catch my breath. I looked up and met his burning gaze.

"Wife, was the orgasm good?" he asked with a smile. I bit my lip and didn't answer, turning my face away shyly.

He didn't say anything more, but proved his words with his actions, starting a new round of attacks. This time the movements were obviously much more intense. His breathing became heavier and heavier, and the force became more and more brutal. Each time he lifted me off the bed, thrusting into me until I moaned continuously, my heart begging for mercy. But I knew he was about to ejaculate, so I endured the dull pain in my private parts and tried my best to cooperate with his movements.

"Wife, I'm going to ejaculate inside you." He panted, his breath coming out heavily through his nose. After a while, he let out a loud growl and finally shot all his hot semen into my body. My tender hole tightly gripped his penis, the sticky semen swirling wildly inside.

We just held each other like that, neither of us wanting to move, neither of us saying a word. Only when I felt his penis gradually soften inside my vagina, and his semen mixed with my vaginal fluid slowly slipped out, did we separate and clean ourselves up.

"Wife, you were moaning so loudly just now, I was brought to my senses by your moans," he said with a sly smile.
"I...I didn't..." I pushed him away and deliberately turned around to lie on the side.
He leaned in and hugged me from behind, whispering in my ear, "I like it, I didn't expect my wife to be so amazing."
"You're so annoying." I squirmed in his arms, trying to break free

. But he held me even tighter, and I could only nestle in his arms like a kitten, no longer struggling. I
think I'm addicted, his embrace, his scent, his domineering nature, his tenderness, his love, I can't quit. We slept like that, until the glaring afternoon sunlight streamed through the curtains, and I groggily opened my eyes, finding myself sticky and the room was stuffy. I tilted my head back and touched his chin. He had been holding me like this the whole time. I snuggled against his chest, feeling his gentle breath, and my heart felt warm. After a while, my head started to spin and I felt sleepy again, but then I suddenly heard him softly call my name. "Wife, wife." "Mmm..." I answered sleepily. "I'll go out and buy you some medicine. You get up, take a shower, and go back to sleep." "Buy medicine?" Then I remembered that we hadn't used a condom during sex, and he'd ejaculated inside me completely. "Yeah, what if we get pregnant?" "...Then I'll go too." "It's hot outside, you stay home and wait for me." "No." I puffed out my cheeks and clung to him, refusing to let go. "Or you can't go either." "Hehe, okay, okay, then let's take a shower together first, and then go out together." "Who wants to shower with you?" I pushed him away playfully. "You big pervert." "Perfect match, you're the little pervert. You were so wet down there, the neighbors could hear you." "Ah...you..." I blushed and quickly covered his mouth with my hand, making him laugh out loud. We snuggled together in bed for a while, and finally my husband gave in. In his own words, if we showered together, we wouldn't be able to leave the house. So, we went into the bathroom separately to clean ourselves up, feeling much refreshed and wide awake.

He held me close to the waist the whole way. In this sweltering heat, people must have thought we were crazy to be so

close together. But there's a song by Karen Mok called "Love is Truly Great," maybe that's what it means. I remember that day, we stood on a busy street, kissing without a care in the world, attracting stares from passersby. After buying the medicine, we went to the supermarket and went on a shopping spree, returning home laden with two huge bags of snacks. Back home, after taking my medicine, I nestled on the sofa, dumping out all the snacks and wondering which one to eat first. He was busy cutting a watermelon, and when he saw me hunched over the coffee table, looking around at the pile of snacks, he couldn't help but laugh.

"Wife, you're acting like a little kid," he said, pulling me out of the snack pile by hugging my waist.
I protested, clutching a bag of dried squid, feigning pitifulness, "How could you separate me from them?"
He laughed uncontrollably, giving me two hard kisses on the cheek, saying, "Wife, you're so cute."
We wrestled on the sofa, and suddenly, I felt his penis harden again.
"Ah, you…" I quickly blushed and pushed him away, "It's happened so many times since last night."
"Never mind it, it's a physiological phenomenon." He let me sit on his lap, simply holding me without making any inappropriate moves.

I then leaned against him, enjoying his strong chest. We chatted and laughed, talking about everything, until somehow, the topic of pregnancy came up. He asked, "What if I get pregnant?" I shook my head helplessly; there was no other way but an abortion. He immediately said, "No, abortion is very harmful to the body for a first pregnancy, back then…" Suddenly, the air in the room froze. He realized his slip of the tongue and fell silent; we were both speechless.

This was the thorn in our side, like a thorn stuck in my heart.

A long time ago, he had a girl he truly loved. They dated for several years, and I don't know why they broke up, but he got her pregnant. I don't mind his extensive sexual experience, nor do I mind that his ex-girlfriends could fill two mahjong tables, but I really find it hard to let go that she once carried his child.

He exhaled, shifted slightly, and said, "I'll cook. You can watch TV for a while."
"Okay." I stood up, not wanting the awkward atmosphere to continue.

Watching him walk into the kitchen, I lost my appetite. A table full of snacks couldn't stimulate my appetite. Sigh... It's been so long, why bother so much? I don't know what's wrong with me, that I'm so bothered by it, even to the point that my brain cells automatically erased this memory. If he hadn't brought it up, I would never have remembered it again.

"You're just jealous." I suddenly remembered what my best friend blurted out when I told her about this.

Jealous? Why? Is it something to be jealous of to be pregnant with a child you can't have and then be forced to have an abortion? I don't think so; it's a nightmare! The only explanation I could come up with, after racking my brains, was that it was his child. He had been infatuated with that woman, driven mad by her, and he had made her suffer the greatest physical and psychological pain a woman can experience. He should feel guilty towards her, and she would remember this man for the rest of her life.

This thought almost drove me crazy. I didn't want to share him or his emotions with anyone in any way. Perhaps, in some ways, my possessiveness was just as terrifying as his.

Walking into the kitchen, I looked at his back, reached out, and tightly wrapped my arms around him from behind.
"Wife, what's wrong?"
I didn't speak, but simply rested my face against his broad back, letting his body heat slowly seep into my body.
He put down what he was doing, and as if time had stopped, the two of us just stood there, leaning against each other, frozen in place.
"Wife, do you think I'm good enough?" After a long silence, he finally broke it.
"Okay."
"Do you regret being with me?"
"No." I answered decisively.
I heard him take a deep breath, then turn around and pull me into his arms.
"I've never met a girl like you."
"You'll never meet anyone else who loves you as much as I do."

In the city, night fell, and countless stories were quietly unfolding.

After dinner, my mood had mostly recovered. I'm an emotional person by nature; things come and go quickly. If I say I don't remember something, I'll forget it immediately. After washing up, we leaned back on the sofa, watching an extremely boring Hong Kong movie. He put his hand around my shoulder, occasionally twirling a strand of hair. As the saying goes, food and sex are human nature; after a satisfying meal, neither of us was paying attention to the TV.

As expected, his hand soon began to move down, seemingly casually brushing against my chest. I leaned on his shoulder, pretending to be engrossed in watching TV. Seeing my lack of reaction, he suddenly swept up my vest, revealing my breasts in the dim light. I gasped and quickly pulled my clothes back up, completely unprepared for his move.

"You rascal," I said, biting my lip at his mischievous grin.
"I thought my wife was engrossed in TV."
"But you can't..."
"Can't what? If I can't, who can..." He wrapped his hands around my waist, placing them on my full buttocks.
"You're so annoying." I felt the heat of his hands roaming restlessly.
"Still annoying?" He gently bit my earlobe, rubbing his already erect penis against my pubic bone.

My cheeks flushed slightly, and my heart pounded faster. He kissed my lips, cheeks, breasts, and abdomen, but each kiss was fleeting, leaving me unable to scream or escape. I could only writhe restlessly beneath him, letting out uncontrollable moans. Perhaps my reaction aroused his desire; I saw the longing in his eyes, a burning desire swelling within me. He wanted me.

Sure enough, he impatiently pulled down my panties, took out his penis, and pressed it against the entrance of my wet vulva. I groaned softly, closing my eyes to await his penetration. Strangely, he didn't seem inclined to enter immediately, lingering at the entrance, merely rubbing the head of his penis against my labia and the slightly trembling clitoris. Soon, I felt a wetness below, as if a thousand ants were crawling inside my vagina, an unbearable itching. My moans almost turned into sobs; the emptiness within me was indescribable. I wanted him inside.

"No, wait a minute." He suddenly climbed off me and walked towards the room. When he came out, I saw a thin layer of something on his penis, and I finally understood. He climbed back onto me, and his weight and heat made me let out a satisfied sigh. I hugged him, slightly opening my legs, and he thrust in without hesitation. My vagina was already overflowing with lustful fluids, but probably because it was only recently that I lost my virginity, it was still a little awkward going in. I frowned and gritted my teeth to endure it.

As soon as my vagina swallowed his glans, I felt a strong burning sensation. With the slightest movement from him, this burning sensation spread to every part of my body. Pain! So much pain! It was even worse than the night I lost my virginity, several times worse! Apart from the pain, I couldn't feel anything else. I opened my eyes and looked at him in a panic. He seemed to notice something was wrong on my face and asked anxiously, "Wife, what's wrong? You look

terrible." "It hurts so much..." I answered him almost in tears.
"How could this happen?" He stopped thrusting, looked down at our joined parts, and slowly moved back and forth a couple of times.
"Ah...no...husband, it really hurts..." I screamed, this time the pain was so real that tears streamed down my face.
He was terrified and quickly comforted me, "Wife, bear with it, I'll take it out first."

I nodded in agreement, gripping his shoulders until several red marks appeared, before he finally withdrew from my body. The burning sensation in my vagina lessened considerably, but I was still shaken. He brought his head close to my crotch, using his fingers to spread my tightly closed vulva, examining it carefully. After a while, he reached down and removed the condom, saying, "I see, it's all because of this stuff. Your hymen just broke, there's still a wound inside, and the lubricant from this thing got inside, that's why it hurt so much."

I sighed, not knowing what to do in this situation. Seeing him remove the condom, I thought it would continue like this, but instead, he just sat on the sofa, helped me up, and I looked at him in confusion. He gently wiped away the tears from the corners of my eyes and said, "It's my fault, I hurt you. Let's rest for a few days, until it feels better inside."
"But..." I looked down at his penis, still proudly erect, showing no sign of weakening.
"It's okay, just bear with it." He patted my head.

A surge of warmth welled up inside me. I lowered my head, remaining silent. Perhaps it was gratitude for his tenderness, perhaps heartache for his patience, or perhaps the raw visual stimulation—whatever the reason, almost inexplicably, I reached out and grasped his burning penis.

"Wife?" His body trembled slightly as he looked at me in surprise.

I cradled his testicles in one hand and placed the other on the smooth, soft glans, gently rubbing and circling it with two fingers. At the same time, my other hand slowly moved from his testicles to his swollen shaft, carefully stroking it up and down. He didn't ask any more questions. I only heard his breathing gradually become heavier, and he softly murmured, "Wife...wife..."

Suddenly, an inexplicable sense of satisfaction welled up inside me. Although he hadn't entered my body, or even touched any sensitive organs, I felt a pleasure coursing through my limbs. My cheeks burned, and in a daze of passion, I bent down and took his glans into my mouth.

"Ah..." he groaned softly, seemingly in great pleasure. At the same time, I felt a salty, wet sensation in my mouth—his semen. I was instantly encouraged and began teasing the indentation at the tip of his penis with my tongue, licking the sensitive glans. No one had ever taught me, and I had never done this before. I was simply doing my best to make the man I loved feel good. Perhaps, to some extent, satisfying a man is a woman's gift.

However, it was my first time, and my movements were clumsy. My teeth might have occasionally grazed his penis, and I couldn't get any further in. I felt my throat tighten before I had swallowed even half of it. So, I used my hands to stroke the remaining part of his shaft, occasionally letting my tongue, like a water snake, wrap around the base to the urethral opening. Gradually, I felt his intense reaction. I quickly wrapped my mouth tightly around his penis, swallowing and spitting rapidly, while my hands gently squeezed his testicles.

I watched his thick, engorged penis slide in and out of my mouth, glistening with saliva. My tongue moved nimbly in the moist, narrow space, stimulating his most tender spot and arousing his burgeoning desire.

Suddenly, he reached out and pressed my head down, seemingly wanting his penis to go in deeper, but hesitant to use too much force. I understood, and opened my mouth wide, pushing it in as hard as I could. Suddenly, he growled, "Wife, I'm going to cum." Before I could react, I felt several strong surges of heat rush deep into my throat. His penis throbbed slightly in my mouth before settling down. It

was the first time I'd made him cum with my mouth.

With my mouth full of semen, I looked up and saw his chest heaving violently. What to do next? My mind went blank. He quickly sat up, held the ashtray close to my face, and, supporting my chin, said, "Spit it out." I did as he said, watching the sticky white liquid drip down my lips. Good heavens, there was so much!

After cleaning up, he pulled me into his arms, gave me a tender, passionate kiss, and asked, "Don't you feel disgusted?"
"I haven't thought about it," I shook my head.
"Why?"
I stroked his angular chin and slowly said, "Because I love you."
"Wife..." He hugged me tightly, almost suffocating me.
"I love you too." His magnetic voice lingered in my ear. I couldn't think, only enjoying his almost rough embrace.

Through the window, I saw a bright, clear moon in the sky. They say a full moon signifies reunion, but my love, tell me, how much time do we have left? On the television, my favorite song played. Listening to it, my heart shattered like glass.

Why am I so heartbroken when I should be happy?
For

a whole month, we were inseparable. Every day, besides eating, sleeping, playing, and having fun, we made love like crazy. I loved his thrusting and swelling inside me, hearing his final satisfied growl, especially the moment his hot, hard penis entered my vagina—it was an indescribable, soul-stirring pleasure.

He said that sexual harmony affects the relationship between two people, and I think I can understand that a little better now. Making love, making love, only with love can you get the most pleasurable enjoyment. After each passionate encounter, I found myself increasingly inseparable from him, savoring his intense desire before, and the tenderness with which he held me in his arms, unwilling to let go. He loved me, and that was enough for me.

He had always lived alone. During the month we spent together, only his cousin Hai Zi, with whom he had a good relationship, would occasionally visit. I laughed at him for being stingy, but he seriously retorted, "Knowing you were coming to stay, I told those random friends not to bother me unless it's important. Otherwise, where would we find so much time for just the two of us?" I couldn't win an argument with him, but I was

secretly delighted. That evening after dinner, Hai Zi came over again, seemingly beaming and in high spirits. I greeted him and went back to my room to watch TV on my bed. I could vaguely hear their conversation. Curiosity dictated whether they mentioned me, so I turned off the TV and listened intently.

"Damn, that woman was amazing! It took me a month to get her, but it was totally worth it!" It was Hai Zi's voice, clearly excited beyond words. I pursed my lips; I hadn't expected this topic.
"You had your fun, kid."
"Haha, so-so. She always looks slutty, and she's even more of a slut in bed. She'll do anything."
"Tell me, tell me, look at you."
"Hehe, you know what? She doesn't have much hair down there. It's so good when we're fucking. You can see everything going in and out. She's so wet, and she moans so lewdly. When I put it in, her expression was like she hadn't been fucked in centuries. In the end, I made her swallow it all. It's just that her breasts aren't big. When she lies flat, she's like an airport runway. Sigh, that's the only downside."
"You're lucky you even have a cunt to fuck. You're being picky."
"Damn it, am I that bad?... Hey, how about you?"
"How about what?" "
Stop playing dumb. The one in your room? You hide her every day, afraid to see anyone."

Hearing them mention me, my heart skipped a beat. The previous conversation was so explicit. I really didn't know what they would say about me next.

"It's just like that, what else can you do?"
"Tsk, breasts, ass, tell me about it."
"A woman has a front, a right, and a back, what's there to say?"

There was a sudden silence in the living room. I leaned forward and continued to try to eavesdrop.

"Boss, are you serious?" Hai Zi's voice seemed to have lost its previous teasing tone. "We brothers used to talk endlessly about the women we'd slept with, but this time you're keeping your mouth shut. You can't bear to part with her? Don't tell me you want to marry her."
"She's a good girl. What's wrong with marrying her?"
"She is good, but you're not young anymore, and she's still a girl. What does someone so young know about marriage? She likes you now, but what about later? Girls her age change their minds easily. I'm afraid you'll waste your time and lose your wife." "
We'll talk about the future later."
"Brother, think it through. She can't be with you every day now. She'll have to go back in a few days. It's across mountains and seas. How will you know what she's doing? Even if she won't do anything to betray you, you'll be worried about her all alone out there. You'll be anxious every day. Besides, are you really going to remain chaste for her? Damn it."

Hearing this, I turned up the TV volume, deliberately drowning out his reply.
Everyone knows that reality is insurmountable. Since we are powerless to create miracles, escape may be the only way to find happiness.
As for his words, "Let's get married," while I was touched, I could only treat them as a poison to keep me indulging. I couldn't see the future, but at least we were together now, weren't we?

They talked for a long time afterward, but I didn't care what they were talking about anymore. About an hour later, he came in and said, "Honey, Hai Zi has plans with friends tonight. He asked if we wanted to go. We don't have anything to do at home, so why don't we go together?" Okay, maybe fresh air would be good for my chaotic mind. I quickly agreed, changed my clothes, and went out with them. Along the way, Hai Zi kept grinning at me mischievously and calling me "sister-in-law" incessantly, making me feel incredibly embarrassed.

Later, I found out that the so-called evening activities were just a bunch of grown men drinking at a pub owned by a friend.

A greasy, overweight man sat across from me, discussing the historical questions of human reproduction with Hai Zi. His chin jiggled occasionally, and his laughter rippled like waves. His beer cabinet was nearly empty. Beside Hai Zi, a heavily made-up woman quietly drank, occasionally offering her opinion, her right hand constantly resting on Hai Zi's thigh. Suddenly, I regretted my decision to come out for a walk. I glanced at him beside me, who was also chatting idly with his friend. "

Maybe this is how men entertain themselves," I thought. "He's been with me for a month; it's good he can go out and have some fun. Otherwise, his friends would think he'd vanished." Bored, I drank glass after glass of juice. The result of all that liquid was—constant trips to the toilet.

The pub's lights were probably for cats. After a few tries, I finally found the women's restroom door with relative ease. Outside, the music was deafening, and the noise was deafening; perhaps the restroom was relatively quieter, at least the acrid smell of smoke was gone. I stood in front of the sink, fixing my hair, when suddenly, the door was flung open with a bang—or rather, it was slammed open by some enormous body. At the same time, a wave of alcohol fumes hit me—it was that fat man.

His eyes were half-open, half-closed, his hands gripping the doorknob to keep from falling to the floor, his face flushed red. What was he doing in the women's restroom? Looking at his dazed appearance, I figured he was completely drunk. I didn't remember his name, but we were friends, so I went over and tried to help him up, saying, "You've come to the wrong place. Go outside, or someone will come." He looked up, seemingly trying to make out my features, and after a long pause, he mumbled, "Oh... I'm sorry, I'm sorry... Hehe, little sister, don't mind me, hiccup..." I forced myself to stand up, enduring the pungent smell of alcohol. Actually, he probably got up on his own; with his size, I really couldn't manage it.

"Should I go call them?" I said, preparing to open the door and leave.
"Hiccup... um... okay... who's calling?" He suddenly grabbed my arm from behind, a sudden surge of vomit rising in his throat. I was terrified, but couldn't dodge in time, and a mouthful of vomit sprayed all over my neck. The sour, foul smell hit my nose, and I felt nauseous and almost threw up myself. I immediately shook off his hand in disgust and walked to the sink, bending down to try and clean the grime from my shirt. Little did I know that as I pulled at my collar, I was also revealing most of my underwear in the mirror.

Looking back, perhaps it all started from that moment.

Actually, recalling this now is quite difficult. It's not that I'm deliberately avoiding it or finding it hard to talk about; it's just that it had been selectively forgotten in my mind for a long time. Now, thinking about it, it all seems to have happened too fast, too unbelievable.

All I remember is him grabbing me and slamming me against the wall. I never knew a drunk man could be so strong. That slam left me speechless for a long time. By the time I could speak, he had my mouth clamped shut, almost suffocating me. It was the first time I truly experienced fear.

He pressed me down, stiff as a board against the wall, squeezing my chest haphazardly. I struggled desperately, but his weight and brute force held me still. All my screams were choked back. I could only tremble beneath him, tears welling up instantly, my mind blank. It wasn't me! How could it be me! This can't be! My man is out there laughing and joking with others. How could I be being bullied by his friends here?! I sobbed, desperately hoping it was all just my imagination, a nightmare. Someone save me! Let me wake up!

He grabbed my chin, brought his mouth close, and bit my lip, his breath reeking of stench. I kicked him, I scratched him, but all my efforts were in vain. At that moment, I was like a lamb to the slaughter, knowing nothing but to cry and tremble. He wasn't satisfied. One hand somehow slipped inside my shirt, lifted my bra, and began to shamelessly knead my breasts. The hairs on my back stood on end. In a daze, I remembered what my boyfriend had once said:

"You are mine, understand? I won't allow anyone to touch you except me."

I wished I could die immediately.

He roughly squeezed my breasts, pinching my nipples hard, as if treating me like a plaything. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't scream, my clothes were soaked with sweat from struggling. His movements became more violent, I could hear his breathing, like a wild beast panting in my ear. A greasy hand lifted my skirt, slid up my thigh, and stopped at my pubic bone. He wiped my sweat-soaked underwear hard, and every hair on my body stood on end.

Husband…

I tried with all my might to stop him, but all I got was a more brutal attack. He tore at my underwear, forcefully spread my legs with one foot, and groped and rubbed my vulva. I screamed in near despair. His mouth was pressed tightly against my lips, preventing me from making any sound; while his fingers began to awkwardly move in and out of my vagina. I trembled, trying to stand on tiptoe to avoid his hand, but he pressed it down. He attacked from both sides, the finger already inside me stirring wildly inside.

Someone help me, why is no one coming in? Anyone, please save me... Husband... Husband...

Tears streamed down my face. Pain and humiliation were the only things I could feel. I had almost lost my last bit of strength. In my weak breath, I realized he was aiming his ugly genitals at my vagina. My eyes widened, and I screamed inwardly, "No! Don't come in!" Perhaps he had been holding back for too long, or perhaps the stimulation of his penis had made him lose his senses. In any case, he suddenly opened his mouth and began to breathe heavily beside me.

The agonizing scream in my throat finally erupted, turning into a piercing scream. I don't remember what I screamed, how much time passed, or whether he actually penetrated me. I only know that he suddenly pulled away from me, and losing my balance, I slid down the wall to the ground, desperately curling myself up against the wall.

Everything around me seemed irrelevant. I closed my eyes, buried my head in my trembling arms, and shut out all sound.

Suddenly, a pair of hands climbed onto my shoulders again. I immediately reacted like a startled deer, screaming, dodging, kicking, and mumbling incoherently, "No, don't come any closer, don't..." The hands gripped me painfully, but they also brought me to my senses. Through my blurry vision, I saw a face contorted with rage, pale, with eyes filled with a heart-wrenching pain. I stood there dumbfounded for a long time before finally managing to squeeze out two words, "Husband."

That cry made me burst into tears, and I felt utterly ashamed. I wanted to throw myself into his arms, but I didn't dare. I didn't know if it was the filth on my body or the defilement in my heart, but I could only look at him, tears streaming down my face.

He stood up unsteadily, took off his only shirt, and wrapped it around my body. I didn't want him to see me in such a wretched state. I bit my lip, hid in the corner, and sobbed uncontrollably. "Don't look at me, please don't look at me!"

I didn't have the courage to face anyone's gaze, so I hid my face behind my curled-up legs. I could only hear some dull thuds, someone groaning, someone yelling, something breaking, something spilling all over the floor...

After that, I really didn't remember much.

The only thing I could firmly remember about that night was his bloodshot eyes and the tears I had never seen before.
Part Five: Gathering and Scattering.

I woke up early in the morning, struggling to open my eyes. For a few seconds, I really thought last night was just a dream. It wasn't until I saw him beside me, who hadn't slept all night and whose eyes were bloodshot, that I realized that it had all really happened.

I felt a slight itch on my back and reached up to scratch it, but he grabbed my hand and said, "Don't scratch, you'll hurt yourself." I paused, glancing at the back of his hand—scratches and cuts everywhere. He had bathed me last night, and these wounds had been soaked in water for a long time, red and swollen. I touched the dried blood, and a tear fell onto it.

"Don't cry, you've been crying all night, I..." He didn't finish, his hand trembling slightly as he held mine.

Actually, I didn't want to cry. I didn't even realize the tears were flowing; my mind was a jumble of thoughts. I looked up and saw his stubble-covered chin. For a moment, I racked my brains, not knowing what to say.

Maybe I should forget it all, from the beginning until now. I traveled thousands of miles to find you, not for this ending.

"Actually... it's nothing... you don't need to..." I actually tried to comfort him.

"What do you mean 'nothing'?!" He suddenly became agitated, violently shaking off my hand. The ashtray beside the bed was knocked to the floor with a loud crash, followed by an eerie silence in the room.

He was yelling at me. He had never yelled at me before. Why was he yelling at me now?! I looked at the cigarette butts scattered on the floor, met his bewildered gaze, and felt a sharp pain in my heart. I burst into tears, turning to run away. He panicked and quickly grabbed me, stammering, "No, I didn't mean that... I didn't mean to... I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

I couldn't hear anything. I pushed him away, dodged him like a madwoman. My eyes were swollen, my voice hoarse. I didn't know if it was to vent the pain of last night or to punish his anger. I knew all too well that at this moment, tears were the greatest torture for him, yet I stubbornly wailed. He didn't say a word, just held me tightly until I was exhausted and weary, then I lay weakly in his arms, sobbing softly.

"Why did you yell at me...why..." I murmured absently.
"No...you don't understand," his voice was full of pain, "...I'm right outside...right outside..."

He couldn't finish his sentence, one hand holding me tightly, the other stroking my head again and again, as if trying to soothe me, but even he couldn't calm down. I could hear his heavy, chaotic breathing.

"I'm leaving." I don't know what came over me, but I, the damned person, actually said those words at this moment.
He trembled, took a deep breath, "Four more days..."
"I'm leaving in four days, will you remember me?"
"I will...I will...Idiot, don't say it..." He buried his head in the back of my neck, not letting me see his expression.

Tears slid down my nose to my lips, a bitter taste spreading from my chest to my throat, it was so painful. Did everything that happened yesterday foreshadow our inevitable separation? Fate will show no mercy, there will be no miracles, right? My hands circled his waist and climbed to his shoulders, feeling his skin inch by inch, my nostrils filled with his scent.

Time, please stop?

That day, we didn't say anything. He made me breakfast and lunch, watching me eat each bite. As I drank my soup, he gently brushed my long hair behind my ear, softly stroking my cheek.

"Why aren't you eating?" I lowered my head even further, afraid he would see my reddened eyes.
"I'm not hungry, you eat first."
"Honey..."
"Hmm, what?"
"Don't be like this, okay? I'm fine now."
"Don't worry about me, you're the one who's worrying now."
"But how can I feel good if you're not happy... I haven't seen you smile all day."
"Give me some time, how can I possibly smile now..."
"How long?"
"I don't know... You don't understand, I'm a man." He withdrew his hand, his eyes filled with heartache and self-reproach as he looked at me.

Perhaps, I really don't understand... When I took a shower this morning, I saw an almost unfamiliar version of myself in the mirror. My eyes were swollen and red, almost unable to open, there were several not-too-deep marks on my breasts, a patch of bruises on my back, and some places still had traces of blood. I looked at myself, not understanding how I could be so indifferent, as if I were looking at someone else's body.

I turned on the tap, and the icy cold water poured from my head to my feet. I shivered. I didn't expect the air in July could be so cold. I patiently washed my skin, unconsciously repeating the same actions until he came in, snatched the cotton balls from my hand, and I noticed that the areas my hands could touch on my body were covered in a pale red stain, and his eyes were red too.

In my memory, the end of July seemed to be all red.

In the afternoon, Hai Zi came, bringing the things we'd left at the pub yesterday. He asked if I was alright. Because he was his friend, I felt somewhat responsible, though I hadn't thought about it. But he must have seen how disheveled I looked yesterday, and the atmosphere was very awkward. So I went back to my room and stayed quietly by myself.

"Brother, Fatty's mom called me this morning, asking what happened. I told her everything, and she didn't say anything."
"What else did she want to say? Does she want me to go and pay for the medical bills?"
"That's not what I meant. Her son went out fine last night, and came back lying in the hospital. It's normal for a mother to ask… He was drunk…"
"Damn it! A few bottles of cat pee and he's acting like this?! I don't believe he doesn't know what he's doing?!"
"You've already hit him, vented your anger. If it weren't for the few of us holding him back yesterday, he'd probably be in the hospital right now. I think you should..."
"Hai Zi, he's your friend... but you'd better not let me see that bastard again! I won't give you any guarantees now, you know my temper!"
"...I understand... I can tell this girl is nice, but... to be honest, as her brother, she's too young and too kind. Is she really suitable?"

No one answered. The conversation in the living room seemed to have ended, or perhaps they deliberately lowered their voices so I wouldn't hear. I couldn't help but look around the room I'd been in for a month, looking at the double bed that had endured desire and sweat. For a moment, I suddenly realized that I could never be that innocent and pure little girl again.

I think I won't regret it, and that's enough.

Later, the impact of this incident gradually faded with daily interactions. At least I wasn't actually penetrated by that disgusting thing that day, which was a stroke of luck. For me, this made it easier to recover. However, I could still occasionally sense his evasiveness in his words. Most obviously, aside from hugs and kisses, he no longer touched me.

This question kept swirling in my mind: Why? Could it be… that he was disgusted with me?

I couldn't understand, I really couldn't understand. If he was disgusted with me because of what happened that day, where did he place my feelings? Every time I wanted to ask, I would hesitate, because in other aspects, he was still so considerate. Every night he would still hold me and lull me to sleep. I just couldn't bring myself to ask. But why, why did he suddenly stop wanting me?

The nights became unbearable, especially with my departure imminent.

On my last night, I drifted into a hazy dream, desperately trying not to think about the beginnings, the endings, the joys and tears. I didn't know if this farewell meant the end of the story.

Until the middle of the night, I suddenly woke up.

I found his face so close to mine. It was too dark to see his expression, but I could feel his warm breath lingering on my brow. One hand was on my waist, and he seemed to be staring at me intently.

"Husband?"
"I'm here."
"What's wrong?"

He seemed to suddenly lose all his strength, collapsing against me, burying his head in my neck, breathing deeply. The hand that was on my waist slid into my vest, gently touching the edge of my breast, and he asked, "Wife... shall we do it?"

I was stunned. "...Why do you ask?...A few days ago, why did you..."

He seemed unable to restrain himself any longer. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me off the pillow. He always did this before when we made love, because he moved so much that he wanted to keep me as far away from the headboard as possible. Before I could react, he ripped off my vest in a flash, pressed himself against me, and said, "...I thought you'd be disgusted...so..."

Oh my god...you idiot, I cursed inwardly, he watches too many dramas.

I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck, found his lips by feel, and gave him a passionate kiss, as if to answer his question. He immediately understood and returned the kiss fiercely, our tongues intertwining, our wet lips rubbing and sucking. In the darkness, he fumbled to remove our underwear, and finally, we were naked and entwined together.

Perhaps it was the abstinence of several days, or the thought of the distant future, but at this moment, we were both desperately taking from each other's bodies. His hands, like ghosts, explored me—shoulders, collarbone, chest, navel, vulva—no part of me escaped his kneading and caressing. Before long, I began to moan and gasp involuntarily, my erect nipples becoming increasingly sensitive, my consciousness slowly fading, only the area between my legs clearly feeling waves of tingling. His lips, after tracing my entire body, actually slid towards the entrance of my already dripping wet vulva.

I let out a soft cry, instinctively squeezing my legs together, repeatedly saying, "No, it's dirty..."

He didn't allow me to resist, almost forcibly spreading my legs. In the chaos, I suddenly felt something soft and warm press against my private parts. I groaned, and could only slump there helplessly.

My vagina was skillfully stretched open, and that thing plunged in, neither too deep nor too shallow, rotating nimbly like a water snake. My engorged clitoris was occasionally sucked and teased, making me unbearable. Waves of heat gushed from my vagina, and my labia seemed to open even without his fingers. The slight swelling sensation made me almost faint from pleasure.

My body burned like fire, and I felt extremely empty. "Husband, I want it, come in quickly."

I don't know if I actually said those words. At that moment, my brain and language were out of control. All I could do was murmur meaninglessly in response to his movements.

I craved his penis, so I twisted my waist and called out urgently, wanting our symmetrical parts to join. He immediately understood, pressing his hard penis against my honey hole, holding my body with both hands. I spread my legs as wide as possible, raised my buttocks, and nestled weakly in his arms, anticipating that most blissful moment.

He placed my legs on his shoulders, lowering my body downwards, while simultaneously thrusting forward. With a "plop," my wet, slippery vagina, aided by its own fluids, enveloped his thick, engorged penis. Two satisfied sighs filled the room, and I couldn't help but tremble. An uncontrollable contraction gripped his penis tightly.

He didn't move again, breathing heavily, before slowly beginning to thrust. I closed my eyes, feeling this man's primal power. He thrust and ravaged my body, frantically possessing everything, his hands climbing up my breasts, squeezing my soft breasts into various shapes. I felt my already erect nipples throbbing and trembling in his palms. We embraced, moving back and forth, both of us burning like fire.

That night, we made love to our hearts' content, releasing our pent-up desires, wishing we could become one with each other. Sweating profusely, my lust surging, I saw his face in the moonlight. His penis was still throbbing violently inside me. His face, sometimes blurry, sometimes clear, appeared before me. I suppressed the waves of pleasure surging from my vagina, trying to etch those features into my heart forever.

Husband, don't let me forget you…

Reason drifted further and further away from my body; all my senses were drawn to the overflowing organ between my legs. In the throes of orgasm, the rapid contractions of my vagina caused him to ejaculate prematurely. This was our most perfect lovemaking, both of us reaching our peak simultaneously.

I stroked his strong back, greedily inhaling his scent. How could I accept the reality of this moment? What if he wouldn't belong to me when I woke up? After extreme pleasure comes extreme pain; who could bear it? I truly wished I would never wake up, that we could just stay like this forever, okay?

Alas, as the ancients said, parting is fleeting and painful.

I let out a sigh of despair, a sense of resignation rising within me.
Part Six: Epilogue

Our time together was down to less than 24 hours. That morning, I could read the expression on his face—I couldn't find the words to describe the feeling. The person you love most is about to disappear from your reach, a part of you has left you. What's left?

"What do you want to eat? I'll go buy it for you," he said, getting up.
"Me too," I quickly sat up, afraid of being too late.
"Okay then, I'll take a shower first, and then…"
"Me too," I eagerly repeated before he could finish.

He knew I was reluctant to part with him, which was why I wanted to follow him like a shadow. The atmosphere became a little awkward again. He quickly forced a smile, pinched my nose, and said, "Little pervert, so you wanted to shower with your husband? Okay, you'll get your wish."

In the bathroom, I looked at his back. His muscles were strong and beautiful, with perfect curves from his shoulders to his elbows. I had only known he had a good physique before, but I had never realized he could be so sexy. I couldn't help but touch his body. My fingers gently traced his spine, wrapped around his waist, and pressed myself tightly against him. My heart was beating so steadily. I closed my eyes, feeling his strength and warmth, and didn't want to let go.

He let me hug him and slowly turned on the tap. The water was a little cool, and I couldn't help but shiver and let out a soft groan. "Are you cold?" he asked. I shook my head. I felt he seemed to want to turn around, so I loosened my arms slightly, and when he faced me, I hugged his waist again.

"You little clay, you're stuck again," he laughed.
I pouted. "I just love it, I love being stuck to you, don't you want that?"
"I do, I love it so much!" He pulled me forward, making me fall into his arms.
We hugged quietly, the only sound the rushing water.
"Can I still be stuck to you in the future?"
He didn't answer, kissing my forehead and calling me silly.
I felt like crying again, so I took a deep breath and swallowed it, burying myself in his arms.

After a while, he suddenly grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to an arm's length away. I was a little taken aback. He said, "Let me take a closer look." Then, he scanned my body from head to toe with an embarrassing gaze. I could only lower my head, staring at my toes, not daring to meet his eyes, my face turning red.

"Silly girl, you're still shy?" he laughed.
"How can you look at people like that?" I glanced up out of the corner of my eye and saw that his penis was erect again

. I protested, covering my chest with my hands, puffing out my cheeks, and turning my back to him. This time, he snuggled up to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and gently cupping my breasts. His penis was pressing against my crotch, growing even harder. His warm breath tickled my neck, and the swelling and heat in my lower body made me feel overwhelmed. But he didn't make any further moves, his hands only gently holding my breasts. "Let me give you a bath," he suddenly said.

I was a little confused, but I nodded anyway. He took out a bath sponge, poured on some shower gel, and began to slowly wash my body, his expression careful.

"When you get there, be careful not to stay up so late every night, eat on time, and keep a regular lifestyle."
"Don't eat instant noodles all the time, and don't wait until you run out to buy things; always keep some at home."
"Be careful on your way home at night."
"Try not to kick off the covers while you sleep; no one will get up in the middle of the night to cover you up."

He gave me these patient instructions as he helped me take a bath. As I listened, I finally couldn't hold back and burst into tears, throwing myself into his arms and shouting incoherently, "I won't go! I won't go! Don't make me go! Please keep me here, please keep me here!"

He quickly hugged me tightly, calling "wife" over and over again. I could feel his deep breaths and slight trembling. I kept crying and saying I wouldn't go, but I knew that no one had a choice but to leave. My shouting at this moment was just a pure venting, so humble, so helpless.

I suddenly remembered the plane ticket on the coffee table in the living room, lying there blatantly, silently mocking me.

Exhausted from crying, my mind was blank, strangely calm. I took the bath sponge from his hand and said, "I can do it myself. We're going out later, don't waste time." He didn't argue, and we both remained silent until we finally finished our showers.

The sunlight outside seemed soft, the summer morning still carrying a hint of coolness. As usual, I linked my arm with his, and we walked down that familiar, winding path...

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