As long as fate continues, so too will sin.

This was my first affair, and the beginning of my dissolute years. Before, I never imagined I would do such a thing; afterwards, I felt it was inevitable, as if fate had predetermined it.　It was a Friday in late

July 200x. The long-parched sky was overcast, and my heart felt as heavy as the weather. Around 3 PM, my phone rang. When I answered, a voice, both unfamiliar and familiar, came through. It was F! Seven years had passed, and that sweet voice had echoed countless times in my dreams, her captivating smile and gestures appearing countless times. Although I was now married with children, and the ordinariness of life had diluted much of the pain in my memories, that sweet voice still lingered in my dreams.

I hung up, hurriedly asked my supervisor for leave, and headed to the agreed-upon coffee shop. Along the way, many questions swirled in my mind: Where had she been all these years? Was she alright seven years later? How much wear and tear had time left on her face? Is she, still in the bloom of youth, even more captivating than she was seven years ago? What will she say to me today? Should I hug her tightly? Will she cry in front of me? Should I send her away after dinner? Should I book a hotel room or take her home (as a middle school teacher's wife, I'm taking the kids to my hometown for a summer getaway and to visit my parents who miss their children and grandchildren)? ...At the coffee shop entrance, I saw that familiar figure, still so alluring, though a little heavier than seven years ago, but even more charming. At the same time, I saw more admiration in F's eyes, and also a hint of tears glistening.

Perhaps encouraged by this gaze, I stepped forward and gently patted her shoulder: "It's been so many years, you're still so charming." Then I turned and led her, her eyes brimming with tears, to the reserved private room.

Having been strangers for so long, the two of us were still slightly awkward after sitting down. Taking the handkerchief I offered to stop her tears, F asked about my current situation and recounted her experiences over the past seven years.

Seven years ago, after five years of relentless pursuit, I finally failed to stop F from leaving. After graduating from junior college, she followed a wealthy man she met during her internship and never returned to the city where we studied together. We never heard from her again. The following year, I graduated from university in a daze, but stayed in the provincial capital to take care of my parents. Three years ago, heartbroken by F and somewhat numb, I was introduced to someone, and everything went smoothly. I married my current partner, my company provided me with housing, and we had a lovely daughter the following year.

Like the song by Li Zongsheng: "I once thought life was just like this, my calm heart refused any more waves… However, the threads of love, though severed a thousand times, could not be broken; they surrounded me through countless twists and turns."

Now, F is alive and well, sitting before me, beautiful and charming. Because of F, her boss, 17 years her senior, resolutely divorced his wife and married her. F also gave birth to his son. However, his ex-wife's family had great influence in the area, and after the divorce, his business became increasingly difficult, and his temper worsened. F, feeling down, took her son, who was on summer vacation, back to her hometown to relax. She got my contact information from a classmate and mustered up the courage to come see me.

For two hours, F kept wiping away tears. Before I knew it, it was pouring rain outside, and it was getting dark. I checked my watch and asked her, "With this weather, you can't make it back, can you? Let me get you a room."

"Didn't your wife and child go back to their hometown? Can I go home with you?" F answered cautiously.

After a slight pause, I nodded resolutely. I hugged F's shoulders tightly and took a taxi back to my apartment complex.

When we got home, we were both soaked to the bone. I dried my head with a towel, then handed my wife two pieces of clothing and told F to go take a shower.

When I came out, F wasn't in the living room. I went into the bedroom, and she, half-lying on the bed, patted the person next to her, gesturing for me to sit down.

I had barely sat down when F grabbed my neck: "Kiss me!"

Faced with this request, seven years too late, I couldn't refuse. Tears streaming down her face, she breathlessly kissed my face and neck: "Do you still hate me?"

"No, I still love you, I'll love you forever." I answered without hesitation.

"If you love me, then you have me!" F pulled me down onto her soft body, tearing at our clothes.

My blood rushed to my head, and I frantically grabbed and kneaded her breasts, my knees parting her legs. At this moment, F began to let out low moans like a mother animal in heat. Just as I was about to enter her, I realized my penis showed no sign of engorgement.

"You're lying to me, you don't love me?" F gripped my waist, tears welling up again on her flushed face.

"No, I—love—you! It's just that my mind is a mess right now, give me some time, just a little bit of time."

F smiled through her tears, and I lit a cigarette. She lay in my arms, pouring out our mutual longing. I suddenly realized that I had never forgotten her all these years. And she, in her moments of hardship, often imagined what her life would be like if she hadn't rejected me back then.

Seeing me today, after six or seven years of work, my first impression on everyone was one of composure and competence, which naturally stirred a slight sense of regret in her heart. Alone in the room, her desire for me became stronger than ever before; after all, her husband was approaching fifty, and she hadn't experienced truly satisfying sex in years.

Dinner time passed quickly, and since F couldn't go out with me, I called the restaurant downstairs to deliver a dish of pickled fish, several cold dishes, and two bowls of rice. The downpour outside had suddenly stopped, but even with the air conditioning on, it still felt somewhat stuffy. I opened the refrigerator and took out two bottles of beer.

Five years of bittersweet love, many meals together, but never had it felt so comfortable and sweet as today. F wiped her mouth, stretching lazily and saying, "The food here is so delicious! I'm so tired, I just want to sleep in your arms."

I cleared away the dishes and, while washing my face and brushing my teeth in the bathroom, thought of the beauty lying on the bed. The alcohol slowly washed away the doubts and struggles in my mind. As I relaxed my engorged bladder, I held my engorged penis: "How pathetic! What's the big deal? You won't be responsible if anything happens!" It

was already dark outside. The thirty-two dimly lit nightlights in the bedroom ceiling and walls cast a faint shadow of the naked body under the blanket, further arousing me to immerse myself in the experience, to feel the softness and fragrance I had imagined for years, to explore the warmth and throbbing deep within her body and soul, to satisfy the desires of both body and soul, a desire accompanied by deep disappointment and slight regret.

I pounced on her, and with a satisfied yet slightly painful gasp from F, I thrust into her with vigorous force… The sensation below was completely different from when I was with my wife. Every time I have sex with my wife, I always do plenty of foreplay. My wife is on the heavier side, so during sex, it initially feels slippery and soft. With each thrust, sometimes slow, sometimes fast, the grip of her vaginal walls increases, until finally, as her body trembles and spasms, the grip suddenly disappears, and my penis ejaculates at the same time, softening along with our bodies.

But her tender vagina, due to insufficient foreplay, feels as tight as a virgin's the moment I enter, and we both experience a painful pleasure. My wife has a small frame, but in recent years she has gradually become fuller, her skin even whiter and more delicate. The inside of my penis feels completely new, softer than ever before.

I can't help but stop moving to slowly savor the softness and envelopment my penis feels. Overwhelmed by this sensation, she trembles, her vagina spasms, and warm love juice quickly fills our joined parts.

After closing her eyes for a moment, she raises her head, grabs my arms which are supporting her on the bed, and slightly opens her eyes:

"I love this feeling, I want you to be powerful on me!"

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As long as fate continues, so too will sin.

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