An unsuccessful experience 6

Time flies. Before I knew it, I had known B for more than a month. It was the first Sunday of September. My wife was going to the provincial capital for business, and I happened to be free, so I offered to drive her there.
Things went smoothly, and we finished by noon. We grabbed a quick lunch at a small restaurant. Since it was still early, I suggested to my wife, "Let's go shopping!" She was delighted. Perhaps the joy shopping brings them is the same as the joy we men get from going out for drinks and karaoke with friends. We drove to *** Shopping Mall, the largest clothing wholesale and retail mall in our province. Although the streets weren't as bustling as they used to be due to the three-year pandemic and online shopping, it was still crowded, being the provincial capital and a Sunday. I told my wife to buy a few items if she liked them; there were many styles, and the prices weren't too high. Early September was still a bit warm, and the men and women were all dressed lightly. The shop owners seemed to prefer employing young, well-built girls as sales assistants. They wore the store's newest styles, some leaning against others, others sitting on the floor with their legs spread, bending over to organize orders placed by major clients. Some were even wearing only underwear, making no attempt to hide from us customers, trying on the latest arrivals right there in the store, then taking photos to post online. This is their job: to replace thousands of different styles of textiles with uniform printed materials. Seeing their open and generous way of working made me, a middle-aged man from a small, third-tier city, feel like an outsider.
When I got home that evening, I took a shower and sat on the sofa. I was a little tired but not sleepy. My wife, wrapped in a towel, came out of the bathroom and leaned against me, complaining of sore feet. I smiled and looked at the pile of clothes in front of me, saying, "My wife has good taste. The clothes she picked are nice; she can wear them when we go out this month." "You know, it's been years since I've gone shopping with someone," my wife said. "But you did a good job today." Actually, making a woman happy is really simple. At that moment, I casually put my arm around her shoulder and pressed her still-damp hair. She saw my familiar, already-stirred penis, shook her head dismissively, and joked, "Isn't it tired after running around all day?" I gently pressed it again, and her lips landed on my glans. I turned up the TV volume, and she closed her eyes slightly, her tongue tracing patterns on my glans, like a cat licking a sausage as a reward. She gently bit the slightly full glans with her teeth, then licked from the base of the penis to the glans with the tip of her tongue. Unable to resist such teasing, she thrust her hips forward, inserting her penis into her mouth. Perhaps the daytime's attentiveness had worked; she sucked with gusto, reminding me of a cartoon: a man kneeling before a woman with flowers in his hands during the day, and at night the woman kneeling before the man, giving him oral sex. Isn't this a true reflection of reality? If you treat her well, she'll do anything for you. So, you should treat your woman well, and occasionally give her little surprises; she'll always bring you a different experience. As she sucked vigorously, my penis felt the urge to ignite. I forced myself to turn off the safety, pushed her down onto the sofa, and removed the bathrobe from her body. Her snow-white body against the beige leather sofa fabric was quite beautiful. Her breasts were small enough to be grasped in one hand, her areolas were tiny, and her aroused nerves had made her nipples firm. Her penis, already aroused, didn't want much foreplay. I spread her legs; her pubic hair, which I'd shaved into a clean V-shape in the bathroom, was butterfly-shaped. Her small labia were already wet with her vaginal fluid, glistening with the lack of melanin. I kissed her directly on the vulva, teasing her sensitive clitoris with my tongue. As she twisted her hips, she gripped my hair tightly and moaned, her pink, slightly parted vulva seeming desperate to be filled. I stroked my slightly tired penis and thrust inside. By this time, she was completely wet, making the penetration very smooth. After a few vigorous thrusts, I saw some white fluid flowing from her vagina, telling me she was very aroused. I knew this didn't happen every time; only when she felt really good would her vagina produce enough fluid. After a few more thrusts, I put my penis, which was covered in her bodily fluids, to her mouth. She sucked on it without any hesitation. Looking at her wanton appearance, I thought she would be very happy to have another penis inserted into her at this moment. Sunny, handsome, gentle and refined, they are just the last thin strip of cloth covering her. As long as you give her enough trust and security, and of course, a little bit of affection, she will do anything for you.
I put a mask over her eyes from the sofa and said, "Wait a minute, I'm going to do something special for you today." She laughed and said, "What tricks are you up to now?" I ignored her and quickly set up the hammock between the two bedrooms across from each other. Then I pulled her along, feeling her way to it. When her hand touched the hammock, she understood my intention, laughed, and said, "I'm scared, I'm afraid I'll fall." I said, "It's okay, it's sturdy. There's a stool here for you to stand on." With my help, she lay down on the hammock like on a swing. I tied two straps around her ankles, threaded the straps through the hammock's rings, and pulled hard. Her legs were spread wide open in front of my crotch, and her vulva was completely exposed. I rubbed my penis against her wide-open vulva, and with a slight movement, the hammock began to sway. As the hammock swayed wider, I aimed my erect penis at her swinging vulva and naturally inserted it deep inside. With a gentle thrust, she swayed out again. Once or twice, this zero-gravity way of making love was very relaxing. As the hammock swayed rhythmically, her head seemed to be emptied, and her whole body welcomed my thrusts in a very relaxed posture.

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An unsuccessful experience 6

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