An Unforgettable Romantic Encounter: My Romantic Encounter with My Female Client (Part 3)

On the fourth day after arriving in City B, things were relatively relaxed since work was going smoothly. I hadn't rested for over a week on a business trip, so while I wasn't physically exhausted, I was feeling somewhat mentally fatigued. City B is relatively close to my hometown, so I took three days off, planning to visit some elderly people there in the afternoon. Unexpectedly, the client's general manager announced at noon that he was inviting a group of people out for a night out. He had visited our company many times and had a good relationship with my boss, so he insisted that I go along.
It's nothing more than eating and drinking, then karaoke, and maybe a glass of beer or liquor with ice. I don't like that, I don't go to karaoke. If someone invites me for drinks, I'm always "okay." I received a phone call from my hometown while I was away. The private room and the hallway were too noisy, so I went to the lobby on the first floor to call back. An elderly person asked when I would arrive, saying that they had prepared something for me to eat. Fueled by the alcohol, a wave of melancholy washed over me, and I couldn't help but cry… "When you have nothing and are in despair, don't forget that you still have family by your side." I firmly believe… However, it didn't quite reach that point. The earnest words on the other end of the phone still stirred up a sensitive nerve in me. I found a corner and vented my emotions until I cried a lot.
Without any tissues, I wiped my face with the back of my hand and rushed to the bathroom. There I ran into Ms. Y. She asked me in surprise what was wrong, and I quickly covered it up, saying I watched a tearjerker and got too emotional! This building has restaurants on the first and second floors, a cinema on the third, karaoke on the fourth to seventh floors, and guest rooms above that. [The last part is a nonsensical string of characters and doesn't translate directly.]
Ms. Y seemed confused, or perhaps my tearful sincerity touched her, for she seemed somewhat moved. "If you need anything, be sure to call me," she said. I watched her graceful departure through my tear-filled eyes. She was still wearing black stockings and a short skirt, poised yet sexy; in her youth,
she must have been a goddess, the center of attention. Her words echoed in my ears—not just clichéd modesty, but a hidden affection.
"I was thinking of calling you, what should I say? Say hello?" Unexpectedly, she called me the next morning. At that time, I was still worried about not being able to think of any reason why I could call her. Anyway, after venting my emotions, I felt a bit lost. The guest manager booked a room for me and another colleague who had arrived in B city earlier on the 10th floor.
Because I went to bed early, I woke up very early (by "very early" means before 8 am), took a nice shower, said goodbye to my colleague, and planned to have breakfast in the restaurant downstairs and then quickly buy train tickets. I received a call from Ms. Yi, or rather, a plea for help. "Where are you? Still at B mall?" "Yes, Ms. Yi, I'm having breakfast. What can I do for you?" Her voice was slower and weaker than usual. As I answered, I mentally calculated what it could be—was it going to be another drinking session…? "Take a taxi to the hotel where I met yesterday. Find me at 1212. Try to be as quick as possible." "Okay, sure." Then she hung up.
Strange, what happened? I patted my stomach; it was about 70% full. I put down my chopsticks and walked towards the elevator, pondering how to "try to be as quick as possible."
Ms. Y was clearly surprised by my arrival; she didn't open the door until half a minute later. I saw she was pale, barefoot, and without a condom. I thought, "Oh no, this is definitely not good." She was leaning against the door, clutching her lower body, with bloodstains on her back! I was terrified. "Ms. Y, are you feeling unwell? Should we go to the hospital?" "No need, just let me handle it." I helped her put on her coat and shoes, and was shocked to find something sticky on her ankles—the blood was from her genitals. Before leaving, I needed to urinate, so I went to the bathroom. There was also a pool of blood in the toilet. She didn't say anything, and I didn't ask, but a vague anger welled up inside me.
"Don't take the elevator, help me up the stairs." It seemed she didn't want anyone to see us. There was supposed to be a small direct elevator to the 12th-floor guest rooms, but it was password protected. Ms. Y and I didn't know the password, so we had to walk down.
"Room, clean it when you get back." She handed me the room key, and I nodded.
Before we even reached the 11th floor, Ms. Y's shoes fell off, and her legs seemed weak. "Ms. Y, please go down one floor, then you can walk on your own." I managed to get to the 3rd floor in one breath before I was panting heavily. I reached up and touched Ms. Y's buttocks, and found a large pool of blood. I thought to myself, is it because carrying her on my back is so bumpy that she bleeds easily? Without thinking, I turned around and picked her up. Holding her flat, my left arm supporting her buttocks could feel the dampness from her short skirt, mixed with her body heat. There were bloodstains on the left sleeve and left chest of her t-shirt.
"No need, get the car from the garage to JY Villa, you drive." I later learned that she had a private doctor and didn't need to go to the hospital. I carried Ms. Y and rushed to the underground parking lot, turning several times before finally finding the car.
"Take the XY tunnel, there are road signs, be careful." I'm a novice driver, never driven an automatic before, and I hit 60 mph as soon as I stepped on the gas. Ten intersections, several emergency stops, and I arrived at the address Ms. Y had given me, albeit without serious incident. Ms.
Y was lying on the living room sofa, pale and with no color in her lips. I have little experience, and the villa was empty. I went to the kitchen and made a strong cup of brown sugar water. She weakly took a sip, recovered, and then dialed a doctor's number.
"Someone will be here in two hours. You have other things to do, so go ahead and do them. Remember to clean the guest room." "It's okay, I'm going on vacation anyway, five days including the weekend."
"You should still go to the hospital to get checked out."
On the fourth day, she received an IV drip in the morning and left the other bottle for the afternoon, because she was going to participate in a trip in the development zone that night. We set off at 4 pm, and I happened to hitch a ride with her to pick up her luggage.
"Help me upstairs, I have no strength." The bedroom was large and clean, but deserted, clearly uninhabited for a long time. But with blood all over my lower body, I couldn't lie down.
"Help me, rinse off in the bathroom first. I've seen everything, there's nothing to be embarrassed about." I thought to myself, she's no longer an innocent boy.
In the square double bathtub, I undressed first, then adjusted the shower temperature. I helped her sit down, and after taking off her coat, I hesitated whether to take off her top or her skirt first. From this perspective, my feelings for Mr. Y are first respect, then admiration. Anyway, I'd be naked anyway, so it didn't matter. Once her upper body was down to her bra, I didn't care about the "stocking temptation" anymore. I lifted her thigh with one hand and started to get hard with the other. I pulled it off. The panties were slightly askew, and the inner lining, covered in a sanitary pad, was completely stained red.
I gently removed the panties, revealing that most of the pubic hair was red. Finally, I removed the bra. I admit, women like Ms. Y, with their stockings, beautiful legs, and alluring views, are objects of my fantasies. I knelt down and slowly unhooked the bra. It must be a C-cup; I never thought breasts at 40 could look so good! The luster, shape, and feel were comparable to Ah Jun's. There was no obvious shrinkage or sagging, perhaps due to proper breast augmentation.
I first used a towel dampened with water to wash my vulva; the menstrual bleeding had stopped. Her pubic hair was sparse, and when clean, it lay flat on either side of her vulva. Her vulva was full, like a large apricot kernel. Her labia majora resembled butterfly wings, slightly curled inwards at the edges, and were a dark red color without obvious pigmentation. Her vulva was gurgling and glistening, very alluring. It was my first time washing a woman's genitals, and I felt quite professional!
After rinsing her thoroughly, I helped her lie on the bed, placing four layers of towels under her buttocks. It's worth mentioning that her wardrobe contained many bras of various kinds, demonstrating the owner's confidence and fondness for her breasts. Strangely, there were no bras... I bought some clothes for my son. I went out and bought some hot porridge and snacks for Mr. Y's breakfast.
Thinking that the burden of providing food and nutrition would fall on my shoulders that day, I looked in the refrigerator; all I had was a can of nearly expired beverage. I went to the market and bought some seasonal vegetables, meat, eggs, and ribs, and picked up a half-finished hot pot, ready to learn how to cook it step by step according to a recipe. I lifted the pot; it was incredibly heavy, and realized this was a Western-style kitchen. Oh well, I'll just have the property management order takeout.
The doctor arrived shortly after, but I didn't go into the room.
I asked the doctor, and he said there was nothing seriously wrong; the bleeding had stopped. Ms. Y's blood sugar was a little low, so she shouldn't eat too much for lunch. Her assistant was here during the day; she'd be giving her an IV tonight, and I needed to stay with her. The assistant would bring the prepared medication at noon and even taught me how to change the IV and remove the needle. He also specifically mentioned a foreign medication Ms. Y was using, and that she should stop taking it if she felt unwell and resume once she recovered.
After lunch, I called home to say I had something urgent to attend to and wouldn't be returning. The elderly woman was still very happy to hear from me. On the way to the hotel, I suddenly realized my driver's license was in the trunk, and the trunk was at Ms. Y's factory.
When I got to the room, I checked the sheets first and found only the blankets were stained with blood. I then searched everywhere, using the trash can, tabletops, sticky notes, and even used newspapers and magazines to wrap the bloodstains in the blankets. After cleaning the bathroom, I came across the hotel kitchen and, when no one was looking, grabbed a large black garbage bag and threw the blanket inside. I hesitated for a moment, then took out a stack of sticky notes and examined them carefully, but couldn't see any handwriting. Both the S and D newspapers had marks indicating salaries, suggesting readers had a habit of underlining while browsing. The keywords in those marks all revolved around "listing"—could it be him? Outwardly serious and unsmiling, but inwardly a thief and a servant—it seems absurd. Perhaps subconsciously, he believes that Ke Yi is always the victim? He's a cunning and calculating person, but also a ruthless and cunning one. He's so greedy and calculating, spending so much on things like a bottle of foreign liquor costing over 2000 yuan—it's rotten! To improve my meals, I found a nearby hotel, got a menu, and ordered a variety of dishes. (The last part is a separate, unrelated sentence: "Dede...") _Go to kekepa-c0m-Inherit the culture of masturbation, watch movies here!
On the afternoon of the second day, Ms. Y felt she had recovered and began to request the factory management to report on orders and production status.
On the third day, Ms. Y cooked a fish, and it was clear that she was in a good mood. She declined a social engagement, and we went to a small mountain in the area to pick tea leaves. The dosage of medicine that day was reduced by half, and the dosage for the fourth day was cancelled.
There was a small white plastic bottle next to Ms. Y's handbag, covered in English. I took a look, and it should be a foreign medicine that Ms. Y was taking. My chemical vocabulary is limited, but from the general description, it should be related to human behavior and the nervous system. I told Ms. Y that I wanted to see what foreign medicine looked like, and she replied that she shouldn't take it randomly or for too long. I unscrewed the cap and poured out a small white round tablet, nothing special. After I finished looking at it, Ms. Y took the tablet from the cap and swallowed it, then began to change clothes and put on makeup.

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/47407.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=47407&aspx=1

Previous Page : A dream of three or four years

Next Page : Playing mahjong with a young woman

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

An Unforgettable Romantic Encounter: My Romantic Encounter with My Female Client (Part 3)

comment Open a new window to view comments