So you're pregnant.

She took off her clothes in front of me, revealing a pair of large breasts, with dark areolas at the tips. My gaze moved down from her breasts, to her protruding belly, thick pubic hair, smooth thighs, and large, unpainted feet.

Her skin was still very, very fair, just as it had been two years ago when we parted. The only difference was that her breasts had sagged somewhat, no longer standing proudly before me, awaiting my caresses.

"So you're pregnant. Congratulations." I knew I wasn't truly sincere in my congratulations.

But, on our first reunion after two years, polite words were necessary; I couldn't just jump in and embrace her smooth, voluptuous body without a word. Besides, her pregnancy was something I hadn't expected.

"Yes, I'm five months along." She was naked, but not at all shy, as she slowly walked towards me.

"When did you get married?"

"I didn't get married. I'm a mistress."

"Oh..." I fell silent. I know people change, but in just two short years apart, she became someone else's mistress and had another man's child—things I never imagined in those two years.

I find it hard to imagine someone else's penis penetrating her vagina, mercilessly ejaculating into her uterus, and then the sperm even germinating there. Thinking about this, my penis involuntarily became erect.

"It's okay, he won't come tonight."

"Oh..." I fell silent again.

When I heard her say it was okay, my heart skipped a beat. Was it an implication? Why was she emphasizing that her husband wouldn't come back? Was it a sexual innuendo, or was I overthinking it? But that completely naked body was now gradually moving closer to me; it was real.

I reached forward and placed my hand on her bare waist, confirming the reality of her body through touch!

For the past two years, countless nights I had practiced how to caress her body. Which part of her body should I touch when we meet again? In those nights, I always asked myself these questions. Should I use my waist, head, buttocks, or simply spread my five fingers and grab her breasts tightly? Would it be a bit abrupt to use my fingers to poke her wet genitals through her pants?

In the past two years in Thailand, I often practiced these movements on my wife. Sometimes she would complain that my movements were too sudden and made her breasts hurt for days. Sometimes she would tease me for not moving and keeping my hands on her buttocks while staring blankly elsewhere. I think she will never know that during most of our intercourse, my mind was actually thinking about another woman.

"Do you still like my body?"

"Yes..." We both laughed.

She finally came to me, suddenly sat on my lap, and hugged my head tightly with both hands, burying my eyes, nose, and mouth in her huge breasts. My glasses were pressed tightly against my eyelids, and I breathed in several mixed smells: her sweat, perfume, shower gel, and of course, a little bit of milk.

Her dark areolas and enormous breasts were right next to my eyes. She was still a long way from giving birth, but it seemed the thick milk inside her was already trying to break free of her body and spray before my eyes.

Many years ago, I had seen a Japanese erotic cartoon with a scene of a large-breasted loli being violated. The beastly male protagonist forcefully inserted his monstrous penis into the loli's enormous breasts, her nipples completely indented, and then two white jets of milk spurted from the sides of his enormous penis.

"Where have you been these past two years?" Her voice trembled slightly, probably from the friction of her naked body against a man.

"I went to Thailand," I said, turning my head slightly away from her enormous chest, managing to say, "I couldn't stay here anymore," I added after catching my breath.

"What were you doing there?" Her eyes were fixed on me, but I didn't want to meet her gaze.

"Besides drug trafficking, what else can I do?" I said with a bitter smile.

Whether in the past or now, I'm always willing to tell her all the secrets of my life without reservation. I feel relaxed around her, even if she knows my secrets and might secretly call the police to arrest me, I wouldn't care.

Sometimes I think I've long since disregarded life and death and everything in this world; the only thing I can't let go of is her. That's why, two years after we separated, I returned to my homeland and came to find her again.

She shifted her position on my lap, hugging me even tighter. My head was once again pressed against her large breasts. Although all I could see was a thick layer of flesh, my retinas clearly retained the image of her dark areolas and the long, erect nipples I had seen when I slightly moved my head away.

Her nipples looked a lot like Tang Wei's. I remember when we were still together, we would watch "Lust, Caution" starring Tang Wei and Tony Leung while making love. I would often tease her about her nipples, saying that Tang Wei's were nothing special.

She would playfully bite my ear, pretending to be jealous, and press down on my moving penis, trying to pull it out of her wet vagina. At that time, I would immediately apologize and continue thrusting while passionately kissing her.

"Are you single over there?" she whispered. As she said this, she kept adjusting the position of her legs as she sat on my lap. I could feel the gradually increasing heat from her body. Even through the thick jeans, I could feel the warm liquid flowing between her legs. As she adjusted her leg position, her pubic hair rubbed against my jeans, making a soft, low rustling sound.

"I'm married. I have a Thai wife," I told her frankly. It wasn't out of spite. Despite the disappointment and regret, I wouldn't hold a grudge against her for having a child with another man.

I knew that up to this moment, I still loved her deeply. But I also understood that it was a pipe dream for someone to be willing to wait so long for another person. Of course, that might be just me making excuses. And neither the past me nor the present me could give her enough happiness.

"Oh..." This time she was silent, but she didn't let go of my arms. "Can you tell me about her?

" She spoke to me in a strange tone. I couldn't tell if it was jealousy, anger, indifference, or confusion, but I knew it wasn't a positive one.

"She's not very pretty, but she's very good to me." I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

I had practiced this answer many times before meeting her. I tried using different phrases, such as that she was born into a poor family in Thailand, that some of her ancestors had done business in China and could speak some Chinese, that she dropped out of school early to work, or that, like her in China, we fell in love at first sight in a lounge or karaoke bar. But in the end, I settled on this particular phrase because it reflected the facts and wouldn't hurt either of us emotionally.

"Did you think about having sex with me before you came?" She seemed not to have heard my answer and asked the question I expected.

"Yeah, I've thought about it." I was honest, so my face flushed a little.

"Does she know you're here?" Her hand loosened a little, and I took the opportunity to take a deep breath. In that instant, her dark areolas and long nipples came into my view again.

Compared to her in China, her breasts in Thailand were a bit too small. My not-so-large hand could easily grasp them completely, and her nipples weren't the long kind, but like small peas. Occasionally, I would flick them with my fingers, and she would giggle and curse at me in Thai.

Every time that happened, I felt particularly lost. I always felt that a person's physiological state was the most essential thing. I couldn't fully accept her Thai, just as she couldn't understand why I always liked to shout things like "Fuck you, you slut!" or "You're so fucking tight!" in Chinese at the moment of ejaculation. But why was I thinking about her now?

Seeing that I didn't answer, she shook my head vigorously again.

I regained my composure and calmly replied, "I don't know, she's just afraid I won't go back." "If I weren't pregnant, would you stay?" She suddenly became agitated.

"Whether you're pregnant or not doesn't really matter." I felt I spoke from the heart.

"Really?" She stopped talking.

She started kissing me passionately, while reaching to unbuckle my belt. The belt buckle wasn't complicated, and soon her sweaty hand slipped into my underwear, touching my pubic hair. My body began to stir, no longer passively accepting her kisses, but actively kissing her face, her nose, her mouth, her breasts, her nipples. I lovingly held her nipple in my mouth, sometimes sucking hard, trying to draw out the swollen milk, sometimes circling her areola with my tongue, or repeatedly flicking it up and down to tease it. This was a sexual technique I often practiced in Thailand, one of the few ways I had kept in mind for the past two years—the way she loved to be caressed.

She stopped asking me questions, letting out low moans. Her head was tilted back, one hand exploring deep inside me, the other roaming over her other breast, which I hadn't yet suckled, sometimes drifting to her neck, flushed with excitement.

Her lower body was so aroused that a steady stream of slightly odorous vaginal fluid flowed out. If before, my ability to feel the wetness between her legs through my jeans might have been a figment of my imagination, then this time, I was certain that the part of my jeans she had been sitting on would be a large, dark patch from the fluid.

Her hand touched my erect penis.

This hand was unfamiliar and stiff; perhaps my swollen, erect penis had become accustomed over the past two years to another pair of hands with darker, rougher skin. She was no longer sitting on my lap, nor was she holding my head, which meant I could no longer fully suckle her nipples. She half-squatted in front of my thighs, forcefully pulling down my underwear (I love the word "pulled down," it perfectly describes how simple and efficient her movements were), all the way down to my knees.

Freed from external restraint, my penis stood erect without restraint, the glans swollen and prominent, the veins on the shaft thicker than usual. I adjusted my posture, so that my entire penis was stretched straight out in front of her; I understood what this meant to her.

She cooperated by taking my penis into her mouth, while her right hand moved up and down rhythmically.

I looked down at her half-squatting, giving me oral sex; the scene was too beautiful, too alluring, too arousing.

Because she was half-squatting, her pregnant belly was even more prominent, many times larger than when she was standing. At the same time, my downward angle allowed me a clearer view of her darkened areolas, her long nipples, and her deep cleavage. I suddenly thought that it would feel good if my testicles were tightly gripped by her cleavage.

Her hands and mouth never stopped moving. She not only teased my glans with her tongue, but occasionally gently probed the small opening at the tip. Her hands continuously stroked my entire penis, initially focusing on the front half, then slowly moving to my testicles, gently holding them in her hands.

I comfortably closed my eyes, partly to better enjoy the oral sex, and partly out of fear that if I looked down at her protruding belly in such a wonderful situation, I might not be able to control my ejaculation.

I think many years later, when I recall a pregnant woman undressing and half-squatting in front of me performing oral sex, that memory alone will be enough to make me ejaculate violently. What's more, this pregnant woman is the one I've been longing for countless nights over the past two years!

Is it fair to her? A question suddenly popped into my head.

Because my eyes were closed, I actually became more rational. I thought that after this oral sex, we might have to have sex. I suddenly realized I was facing two problems: First, was it fair to her in Thailand?

Second, could I have sex with a pregnant woman? And she, who was currently giving me oral sex, didn't seem to have any intention of stopping. Would we have sex? Should we have sex? I had a lot of thoughts.

She suddenly bit my glans lightly, as if she could see through my thoughts.

I quickly opened my eyes, immediately grabbed her head with both hands and pulled it towards my genitals, while straightening my back to allow my penis to penetrate her throat as far as possible.

It was a mechanical action, something I had practiced repeatedly while living in Thailand, but this time I clearly felt that while giving my Thai wife deep throat oral sex, I wasn't thinking about her in China.

Why was that? And why did I remember it so clearly? As I thought this, I kept pushing her head forward, trying to get our bodies in sync with her oral sex.

After a while, "Ah..." she finally couldn't take the prolonged deep throating anymore and suddenly pulled her mouth away from my penis, but her hands continued to stroke it up and down. She started breathing heavily, and beads of sweat appeared on her chest and forehead. I began to worry about whether such intense deep throating was suitable for a pregnant woman. I even thought about the child in her womb, a life that had nothing to do with me but was about to be born.

I wondered, in this situation, should I have sex with her? Should I insert my large penis into her vagina? Should I ejaculate inside her?

My thoughts were quickly interrupted by her actions.

She rested for a while and then continued to suck on my penis. I thought, she was going to use her mouth to help me ejaculate. This thought crossed my mind, and I briefly breathed a sigh of relief, because I probably wouldn't have to face a very difficult choice.

I continued to enjoy the prolonged oral sex.

I closed my eyes again, trying to engage every sensory cell in my body to experience this bliss. However, this bliss didn't last long. Although my penis didn't ejaculate, and even became slightly numb from her constant sucking, the two questions I had been pondering resurfaced in this brief moment of peace.

I thought of my wife in Thailand.

We had no children, not even a desire for them. I told her that life was too unstable now, that we didn't know what tomorrow would bring, and that even if a child was born, there was no guarantee of security. But deep down, I had never considered having a child with her. I had given my Thai wife as a gift to local officials and police officers; she was part of my business.

Compared to China, Thailand is far more corrupt. Although the courts and government occasionally talk about the rule of law, fairness, and justice, it remains largely lip service. In actual political operations, rule by man is always the only rule.

In Thailand, the most important thing in drug trafficking is bribing officials and police, smoothing things over at every level. This requires different levels of bribery at each stage, depending on rank and position. In Thailand, not only do I have to bribe officials and police, but lower-ranking officials and police also have to bribe their superiors. Moreover, the prevailing form of bribery is no longer simply giving money; it involves taking advantage of the briber's relatives—wives, sisters, mothers, or even daughters. They will openly say that only through physical relations can cooperation be strengthened, but this relationship is always top-down, a one-way possession.

My Thai wife often became a gift for bribing officials and police. In Thailand, all I had was some money and her.

On one hand, I felt I was a ruthless person because, as a stranger in Thai society, survival and wealth required extreme measures. My purpose will justify my methods; this has been my conviction from the past to the present.

On the other hand, it's not that I dislike my Thai wife. Whenever she's given as a bribe, I feel guilty and weep alone on the streets of Chiang Mai. I won't stop having sex with her just because she still smells of other men; I'll continue to kiss her, hug her, caress her, and buy her medicine to treat the bruises from her beatings. But I know clearly that I am a true foreigner, forever keeping a cold and lonely heart in Thailand. At the very bottom of this cold heart, there has always been a place reserved for her—her Chinese self.

Now, my penis is a little numb.

I'm starting to feel that even the stimulation of ejaculation has disappeared. I shifted my buttocks, slowly releasing my grip on her head, letting myself slump onto the sofa. I looked down at her and noticed a bright liquid on the yellow carpet, probably vaginal discharge from the intense stimulation.

Some people have said that pregnant women have a lot of vaginal discharge, often leaving their genitals wet. To confirm this, I leaned forward slightly and reached down to her genitals. First, I touched her pubic hair, then her slightly warm skin. I might have touched her labia majora, her clitoris, or even her urethra. I kept exploring her genitals, searching for an entrance.

During this search, she was already moaning loudly, and my entire palm was soaked with her vaginal fluid. Finally, she couldn't hold back any longer. She suddenly stood up, grabbed my other hand (the one not touching her genitals), and quickly pulled me to the edge of the bed.

The moment had finally arrived! I felt a surge of excitement. My penis became even more erect, even twitching slightly.

"Push me in hard," her voice was almost choked with emotion. "Don't worry too much," she preemptively answered, dispelling any questions I was about to ask.

She lay sprawled on the bed, her pregnant belly stretched and flattened, her legs spread wide, revealing her pubic area, which gleamed. A few strands of pubic hair clung together with secretions. She seemed more engrossed in the erotic atmosphere than I was. Her breathing was heavy, her chest and belly rising and falling with each breath. Instead of covering her exposed genitals, her hands were constantly caressing her breasts, neck, and mouth.

I didn't speak, my arms supporting my body, my lower body naked, ready to penetrate. I had a condom in my backpack, the kind I often used with my wife, bought in Thailand, but I didn't intend to take it. I thought it was probably unnecessary.

"Use your hands to spread her vagina," I said, my voice trembling with excitement.

"Oh?" she exclaimed, seemingly expecting me to be more proactive, but she complied, slowly parting her thick labia with her hands, revealing the moist entrance to her vagina.

"You look so beautiful," I exaggerate. Indeed, the lewd scene and her rosy skin were enough to make few men not marvel.

"I feel so shy," she blushed, swaying her hips as her hands still parted her labia. I saw tiny white specks in the fluid flowing from her vagina. "Come in... I really want you to come in," she pleaded.

"Just stay like that," I said calmly.

I moved to the edge of her bed, no longer lying on top of her. My eyes were fixed on her beautiful genitals, and I unconsciously licked my lips a few times. I began to stroke my penis with my right hand. She was surprised by my actions, but I gestured for her to stay still, my right hand moving faster and faster, my eyes fixed solely on those few inches of her lower body: her tender flesh, her pink vulva, the constant flow of vaginal fluid, her thick labia, her sensitive clitoris, and her urethra opening, throbbing with excitement… I could no longer contain my excitement, nor control the waves of pleasure sending through my penis to my central nervous system from the intense stimulation of my hand. I ejaculated wildly.

Semen splattered on her sheets, on her carpet, on her feet, but she remained with her hands spread apart, revealing her pink vagina.

“Are you leaving?” she asked, a little frightened.

“Yes,” I answered confidently.

“Will you come back?” she asked, even more frightened, her voice filled with sadness.

“Probably not,” I said, my tone becoming increasingly firm.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” she asked, on the verge of tears.

“Thank you!” I said.

After saying that, I turned to put on my pants, and we didn't exchange another word.

I pushed open the door and left the room, which still reeked of lewdness. The sun outside was bright and the sunlight was blinding; I had to blink to adjust to the sudden brightness. I thought my world might just be beginning, and somewhere far away, there was someone worth embracing and kissing passionately. As for the semen left in that room, I knew very well what it meant.

(Word count: 14757

) [The End]

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So you're pregnant.

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