My wife and I's best friend's ONS

Actually, saying "on" isn't quite accurate; "rekindling an old flame" is more fitting.

My wife's best friend (hereinafter referred to as Y) is more than just a one-night stand. Y claims to be my wife's best friend, but I actually knew her long before my wife; we were classmates in the same year but different departments at university.

To be honest, before university, I was a truly good student, diligently studying and almost completely oblivious to matters of love and relationships. My romantic experience was truly pitiful; I only had one childhood sweetheart, an innocent and ambiguous first love, if you can call it love. It was a hazy, ambiguous kind; the most intimate contact we ever had was holding hands. Back then, I was a bona fide virgin.

This is precisely why I almost satisfied all the requirements of my parents, who were educators. After a fresh yet tedious first year of university, I started to change from my sophomore year onwards. It wasn't that I stopped studying hard, but rather that I became incredibly adept at relationships, and quite dramatically at that. Of course, that's just a somewhat acceptable way to describe myself; to be honest, it boils down to two words: scumbag.

During my last three years of university, I ruined many girls, especially my first love. She's probably a permanent scar on my heart, something I still regret to this day. Perhaps it's only as people get older that they learn to reflect and repent.

My relationships during university were extremely messy and not suitable for detailed discussion; I'll just talk about Y.

I met Y at a school event, and we were instantly attracted to each other. Having become more adept at relationships, I naturally ended up dating Y as well. Although Y wasn't my first love, we were each other's. In our sophomore year, we said goodbye to being boys and girls and became men and women.

Later, I "actively" made my first love a woman. However, due to long-distance relationships (we were at different universities), I lost interest in that relationship and decisively dumped her, throwing myself wholeheartedly into my relationship with Y. My

relationship with Y was the longest I ever had in college, though it only lasted about eight months in total. For eight months, we had what could be described as a frenzied sexual relationship; we did everything imaginable, and occasionally even tried things we wouldn't normally dare to imagine.

Finally, we parted ways because I "saw" something new and developed feelings for other girls. Y reacted strongly and firmly disagreed, but I was young and impetuous, incredibly stubborn, and dumped Y, doing many wrong things, eventually turning us into sworn enemies.

After ruining a few more girls, I finally graduated from university.

I then worked at my first company for several years, remaining single throughout, and spent some time getting close to my distant cousin.

I then switched to my second company, working diligently and eventually rising to a management position in a very important department. A few years later, the company underwent a merger and restructuring, and my department absorbed the relevant departments of the acquired company.

The first time I appeared in the new department after the merger, I saw a familiar face—a former lover I hadn't spoken to in almost ten years, the woman I finally truly understood and possessed for the first time: Y.

During the self-introduction segment, Y embarrassed me in front of all the department members, ignoring my outstretched hand and looking at me with the terrifying gaze of someone looking at their father's killer. I had to find a way to save face.

At the time, I genuinely didn't care much. I was no longer the impulsive young person I once was. Besides, the breakup was ultimately my fault; she was just a victim, and I had no right to blame her.

Later in my work, I had a chance to talk to Y alone. When I apologized to her for what happened back then, there were tears in her eyes. However, her attitude towards me remained cold and aloof, just a normal superior-subordinate relationship.

In the daily grind, I kept an eye on Y and discovered that there was a woman in another department of the merged company who was very close to Y, eating meals together and leaving work together—this was the woman who would later become my boss at home.

Initially, I was just curious, so I learned about my wife's situation through various means.

After Y joined the original company, it was my wife who mentored her, so their relationship gradually transformed from teacher to best friend.

So I started to intentionally or unintentionally approach Y and his wife. I was shameless, and often used the guise of work to my advantage. After a period of contact, I, who had been single for a long time, slowly developed an interest in this woman, who was two years older than me and also single, and immediately launched an intensive offensive.

After all, my position was higher than his wife's, and I was shameless, shameless, and also quite humorous and considerate. So she gradually changed from her initial reluctant, perfunctory attitude to acceptance. And so, we began a secret relationship. At that time, the foreign company was very opposed to internal employee relationships.

While my wife and I were immersed in the sweetness of love, Y constantly spoke ill of me to his wife in an attempt to break us up.

One day after work, she even cornered me in her office, wanting to have a serious talk. She wanted me to let go of my wife and not hurt a good woman who was getting on in years and longing for love, because she didn't want my wife to go through the same experience as her.

When I calmly explained to her and assured her that I genuinely loved and wanted to truly cherish my wife, Y acted like a madwoman, hysterically launching into a barrage of sarcastic remarks before slamming the door and leaving.

Despite all the hardships and difficulties, in the end, perseverance paid off, and after overcoming countless obstacles, I finally won her heart.

Before the wedding, Y, despite emphasizing that she was not satisfied with me as the groom and felt I was unworthy of her, still offered us her blessings for the first time. She even specifically told me to love my wife well, otherwise she wouldn't let me off the hook, etc. In Y's eyes, I seemed to see the same tears as back then.

At the wedding, Y was very high, behaving unusually. I occasionally caught a glimpse of her eyes, a mixture of resentment and sadness.

Y didn't tell my wife about our past relationship, and I, like her, silently kept that secret until now.

Later, I left my company and joined a state-owned enterprise, and Y also resigned a few months later to work for a company in Singapore, and soon after left China for Singapore.

Over the years, we've maintained close contact with Y. Either she returns to China or we visit her in Singapore. Her attitude towards me has changed a lot; she's no longer cold, and we mostly talk and laugh together. Occasionally, just like in college, she'll link arms with me for some physical intimacy.

Y has always been single. Although my wife tries her best to introduce her to men, she always subtly resists. Once, my wife got impatient and confronted her, and she said she was deeply hurt in college and hadn't fully recovered.

When my wife told me about it at home, she kept cursing the bad guy who hurt her. I could only laugh it off and change the subject.

This time with Y was purely accidental; I never even considered having any physical contact with her again.

Actually, Y started acting strangely at the end of last year. After she returned to China, we had dinner together, and my wife brought up Y's marriage prospects again. To my surprise, Y told my wife, "I'm not looking for a man anymore. Why don't you generously share your husband with me, and we can both be his wives?" I almost choked on my words.

My heartless wife just laughed and said, "Sure, he's getting off easy!" They even joked around for a while. Such a carefree guy!

Later, when Y returned to Singapore, my wife was busy with work, so I naturally went to see her off. Before going through customs at the airport, Y asked if I could hug her, and I didn't refuse. And so, after more than ten years, we hugged again, just like we did in our sophomore year of college.

Just as I was embracing Y and reminiscing about the past, Y pushed me away, tears welling in her eyes, and said to me, "I hate you." Then she turned and went into the border control, leaving me standing there in a daze.

In late May of this year, one evening I was working overtime, chatting with my "mother-in-law" when the phone rang. It was an unfamiliar landline number. When I answered, I heard Y's voice telling me to go to Pudong Airport HMD immediately.

Since she always tells my wife in advance when she goes back to China, and there had been no word of her return beforehand, I could only suspect it was a prank or something else. However, what came through the phone was a hysterical outburst, alternating between crying and laughter.

Annoyed, I hung up and continued chatting with my "mother-in-law," but the phone immediately rang again. I answered, and there was another fit of rage; I hung up again. It kept ringing; I didn't answer. The call kept ringing, and I finally had no choice but to answer. After venting for a while, the phone went silent and then hung up on its own.

I checked the number that had called, and it really was the hotel Y had mentioned. Now I was really worried, afraid that something had happened to Y. I told my wife that I might work late and wouldn't be home, and then I drove to the airport in the middle of the night.

When I got to the hotel, I found the room and knocked on the door. The door opened, and Y was wearing a t-shirt and shorts that were way too short. She giggled when she saw me and said, "You still came. You were worried something had happened to me

, weren't you?" "Are you crazy? Why are you making a fuss at night instead of sleeping? Is something wrong? If not, I'm going home."

Seeing that Y seemed to be alright and there was nothing seriously wrong, I yelled at her without any patience.

"I am sick, and you caused my illness. It's been going on for over ten years, and it's incurable."

Y yelled back at me without any hesitation.

"I'm too lazy to deal with you. Go to sleep!"

Faced with Y's reply, I knew I was in the wrong and couldn't argue back, so I could only change the subject. After saying that, I turned around to leave the room.

"XXX, I hate you, I hate you so much, I'll hate you for the rest of my life, but I can't forget you, I can't forget you, why do you have to show up again?"

Y cursed and cursed, and then she sat on the carpet, lay on the bed, and started crying loudly.

I was completely embarrassed at that moment. If I left, to be honest, I was afraid something would happen to her; if I didn't leave, I was afraid something that shouldn't happen would happen, so I could only stand there without moving.

After an awkward silence, Y finally stopped crying and leaned against the bed, sobbing softly. I continued standing, having to lean to the side to observe Y's actions.

"I thought I could completely forget you, but why did I have to run into you again? You even married XXX, my best friend. You even tried to take her away! Why are you doing this to me? Why are you treating me like this?" Y said loudly, looking at me with grief and indignation.

I listened quietly without responding.

Seeing that I didn't react, Y stood up on her own, walked to the table, picked up a can of beer, opened it, and started drinking.

Only then did I notice a pile of empty beer bottles on the table, some lying haphazardly. Glug glug, Y quickly finished a can of beer, threw away the empty can, and grabbed another one, opening it and continuing to drink.

Seeing Y drowning her sorrows in alcohol, I didn't care about anything else and went over to snatch the beer from her hand. In the ensuing scuffle, most of the beer spilled on me.

Y started hitting me repeatedly, crying as she did so.

I silently endured Y's crying and hitting, a pang of guilt rising in my heart. Finally, after Y had vented her emotions, I hugged her tightly and stroked her hair comfortingly.

After a long while, Y raised her head and softly asked me, "Don't go, stay with me, okay? I'm scared."

I nodded, helped her to the bedside, and gently placed her on the bed. Just as I was about to cover her with a blanket, she suddenly sat up and said, "I'm going to take a shower first. You promised you wouldn't leave."

"I won't leave, go ahead and shower."

When Y came out of the shower, she had changed into a bathrobe. Although she was over 30, Y was still so beautiful. I sat on the sofa and just looked at Y.

Y slowly walked to me, took my head in her hands, and leaned her body against my lowered head, stroking my hair as I had stroked hers before.

Y pulled me up and pushed me onto the bed. She slowly took off her robe, revealing a familiar yet unfamiliar naked upper body, her breasts slightly drooping, though her nipples were still so tender.

As the robe fell completely onto the carpet, a pair of flesh-colored panties came into view, the most intimate part of her body faintly showing a dark hue, and obvious water stains on the panties.

Y slowly walked to the soft bed and climbed on top of me, holding my head and pressing her beautiful lips to mine.

More than a decade later, I once again slipped my tongue into Y's mouth, our tongues intertwining tightly, exchanging saliva, while my hands caressed her waist.

After leaving Y's beautiful lips, I moved my mouth to the breasts hanging on my chest. The nipples, like ripe grapes, stood erect on the mountain peaks. With a moan from Y, I took the nipple completely into my mouth and teased it with my tongue, eliciting waves of pleasurable groans from her.

While her nipples were being sucked and teased in my mouth, Y's hands weren't idle. She unzipped her pants, reached inside, and grasped my already aroused penis, squeezing it tightly and stroking it up and down a few times.

My hands weren't idle either; they were directly caressing her buttocks, occasionally slipping inside her panties to touch her vagina between her buttocks. Each time I touched her, her vagina would tremble, and her grip on my penis would tighten.

After lingering like that for a while, I couldn't hold back any longer. I grabbed her, rolled over, and pinned her beneath me. I stripped myself naked as quickly as possible, my penis, red from her grip, ripped off her panties, lifted her legs, and, without even putting on my favorite condom, aimed at that honeyed cave I hadn't entered in over a decade. Without the slightest hesitation or reservation, I thrust my glans against her soft, sponge-like cervix.

Perhaps because I used too much force, she gripped my shoulders tightly, drawing blood, but her vagina still clenched and massaged against my penetrating penis.

More than a decade later, we made love again.

Her vagina felt a little looser than it had been a decade ago, no longer feeling tightly bound; she moaned more often than she had back then, and knew better how to use her voice to stimulate a man's desire; her body was more feminine than it had been a decade ago, her once small breasts had sagged a bit with the ravages of time, but were noticeably fuller, perhaps from being fondled and sucked by men countless times over the years. Thinking of this, a pang of sadness welled up in my heart, and I couldn't help but thrust faster, ramming my glans hard against her cervix, causing her to hug me even tighter.

With a series of fierce and relentless thrusts, the sounds of slapping became noticeably more frequent. Just as the Simmons mattress was being 'tortured' to the point of being unrecognizable, I suppressed the urge to urinate, withdrew my penis, and, letting it contract and throb against her labia, ejaculated thin streams of semen onto her body. My output was too high during that period, with homework and school assignments, and my work wasn't easy, so thick, sticky semen was unlikely.

Lying sprawled on the bed, my penis, which had just exerted itself so vigorously, drooped limply on my legs, the glans and shaft covered in white, sticky fluid. Feeling both refreshed and exhausted, I closed my eyes and rested comfortably.

Y lay there for a while, then sat up. Without even going to the bathroom to clean the "glue" off her body, she unexpectedly grabbed my penis and opened her mouth, taking it in.

Damn, that felt amazing! More than a decade later, Y was putting my penis in her mouth again. A decade ago, getting her to do that was a real struggle—washing and wiping it thoroughly. But a decade later, without a second thought, she grabbed my unwashed penis, still covered in white glue, and shoved it into her mouth. Women need to be explored.

Watching my penis go in and out of her mouth, feeling her tongue rubbing against the glans, and occasionally her teeth leaving a painful mark on my penis, the stimulation of my scrotum, played with by her tender hands, sent waves of pleasure shooting up my spine. Gradually, it went limp and then straightened up again, and I couldn't help but moan with pleasure.

Hearing my cry, Y stopped all movement, looked up at me, and then with a wicked smile, lowered her head again to take my penis in her mouth. This time, her small mouth perfectly enveloped the glans, tightly closing below the coronal sulcus, and then she suddenly moved downwards, thrusting rapidly upwards and downwards, her tongue constantly teasing and prodding. Feeling so good, I even started doing a different kind of sit-up, repeatedly thrusting forward to pull her head or hair.

At this speed, I estimate it didn't even take a minute before I helplessly ejaculated in her mouth, moaning as I did so. Then, as if I had been tortured, I collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Y spit the semen from her mouth onto a piece of paper, then climb up to me

, laughing as she looked at me. Before I could react, she suddenly kissed me, and then her tongue, like an alien, burrowed into my mouth, accompanied by a strong, fishy smell. I snapped back to reality—damn, it was my semen! A wave of nausea washed over me, and I quickly pushed Y away and ran to the bathroom to rinse my mouth. Behind me, Y lay naked on the bed, laughing maniacally.

After I finished rinsing my mouth and cleaning myself up, I went to the outer room, sat on the sofa, lit a cigarette, and maliciously "praised" her sitting on the bed in the inner room while puffing out smoke: "You must have slept with a lot of men over the past ten years, right? You must have given a lot of oral sex to men, right? You're so skilled, you made me ejaculate in a minute."

I thought she would have a strong reaction, but to my surprise, she was very calm. She got off the bed, walked out, picked up a cigarette, lit it, sat on the coffee table, looked at me, took a puff, and said softly: "I've slept with a lot of men, but you're still the only one I've ever given oral sex to..."

After saying that, she turned her head and stared blankly at the moon in the night sky outside the window.

After she finished speaking, I silently stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray, then picked up another and lit it. She stubbed it out and said softly, "Smoke less. Smoking too much can cause impotence. You're not as hard as you used to be."

After saying that, she reached out and touched my penis, then got up, her breasts jiggling and her hips swaying, and walked towards the bathroom. Then came the sound of running water in the shower.

I held her in my arms on the big bed. She talked a lot, and I listened quietly.

She said that seeing me at the company that year brought back her painful memories. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became, wishing she could expose all the things I had done at the company, letting everyone know that I was a scumbag who toyed with women's feelings. But seeing me every day, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Every time I took the initiative to talk to her, she endured it so much, pretending to ignore me and keep it as just a normal colleague relationship.

Later, when I set my sights on my wife, she was mostly driven by jealousy, so she tried everything to stop me. However, I was so shameless and persistent that my wife's heart was captured by me, and she finally gave up.

Later, she also came to terms with it. Although I was indeed a scumbag, she just couldn't forget me. She got tired of pretending to be indifferent and forgave me for the sake of her wife.

Actually, she had a boyfriend in Singapore, but she hadn't told her wife. Last time I went back, she hugged me at the airport and cried for a long time. She still loves me, but it's impossible now.

So after I got back, I discussed marriage with my boyfriend, and we were actually very happy together. But a few days ago, we had a disagreement over something small, and she couldn't find anyone to talk to. She happened to have a business trip back to attend a meeting, so she secretly came back. She was conflicted about wanting to see me but also not wanting to see me, so she stayed near the airport and drank to relieve her boredom. When she got drunk, she called me. After I refused, she got even angrier and, fueled by alcohol, started harassing me with the attitude that the more you don't want to come, the more you want to come. When I actually came, she took the opportunity to vent, and then I, that scumbag, took advantage of her.

I listened to her for a long time before she finally finished. She flicked my nose with her hand and said, "How can I not forget you, you scumbag?"

"Women love bad boys, what else could it be?" I replied 'contemptuously'.

A sharp pain shot through my chest, and a delicate hand pinched and twisted a small piece of skin. "Shameless," Y said angrily, then reached down to my crotch, touching my limp penis, and said, "It originally belonged to me." "It

belonged to you just now. Go to sleep, you still have to go to work," I said wearily.

"I want more," Y said, pressing closer and gripping my penis tightly.

"Queen, spare me, I've already ejaculated twice, I really can't take it anymore, I'll die from exhaustion if I go on." I was really tired and had no desire for it.

"Only twice and you're done? I don't believe it. Are you saving it to pay the grain tax back home? Fine, I'll let you off today. You can pay me back next time..." Y said playfully.

"It's true what they say, 'There's no such thing as a land that's been overworked, only oxen that die from exhaustion.'" I muttered helplessly.

A few hours later, I got up and went to work with dark circles under my eyes. Before leaving, I kissed Y, who was still fast asleep, left her a note, and quietly left.

In the afternoon, I received a call from my wife saying that Y had returned from Singapore and we could have dinner together after work. I agreed verbally, but in

my heart, I was thinking that I had been eating Y's food last night and this morning. Y's behavior during dinner made me realize that women's acting skills are innate, and her performance was absolutely perfect, but I still felt uneasy and a little chilly. Later, I got confirmation from my "mother-in-law" that you really need a strong heart.

During dinner, Y told her wife about her boyfriend. Her wife was overjoyed and kept insisting that Y bring him over for her to "check up"—she couldn't let her best friend go so easily. She even asked me to "check up" him too! Haha, it's quite funny—a first boyfriend checking if the current boyfriend is good enough. What should we check? Who's harder? Who lasts longer?

During summer vacation, my wife took me and the kids on a grand trip to Singapore for the "check-up."

Seeing Y nestled sweetly beside that person, radiating happiness, I admit I felt a little heartbroken, but mostly I felt relieved and grateful, and also a sense of guilt towards my wife.

That day in Sentosa, my wife took the kids to buy ice cream, and I stayed with Y. I said to her, "Seeing you happy makes me really relieved and at ease."

"Happiness? You scumbag should feel guilty for the rest of your life," Y said, shaking her head and laughing.

"Come on, let this scumbag hug you again. It won't be so easy to hug you again later. Who knows who will approve my application," I said with a wicked smile.

"Not necessarily... you'll take advantage of me. Remember, you still owe me... you'll have to pay me back at the right time..." Y said shyly, then let me hug her tightly.

Y is getting married this November, but my affair with her isn't over yet...

I only chatted with her a few times during the summer with her mother-in-law, and we had coffee together once. This scumbag also made up for what he owed her in bed while we were both on business trips.

For now, this scumbag is still focused on his wife and this troublemaker.
[The End]

Actually, saying "on" isn't accurate; "rekindling an old flame" is more appropriate.

My wife's best friend (hereinafter referred to as Y) and I have a relationship that's more than just a one-night stand. Y says she's my wife's best friend, but I actually knew her long before my wife; we were classmates in the same year but different departments at university.

Actually, before I went to university, I was a truly good kid. I studied hard and was almost oblivious to matters of love and relationships. My romantic experience was truly pitiful. I only had one childhood sweetheart, a pure and innocent first love, if that can be called love. It was a hazy and ambiguous kind of love. The most intimate contact we had was just holding hands. Back then, I was a proper virgin.

This almost satisfied all the demands of my parents, who were educators. After a fresh yet tedious first year of university, I started to change from my second year onwards. It wasn't that I stopped studying hard, but rather that I became incredibly adept at relationships, and quite dramatically at that. Of course, that's just a somewhat acceptable description I used for myself; to be honest, it's simple: scumbag.

In the last three years of university, I ruined many girls, especially my first love. She may be a permanent scar in my heart, something I still regret to this day. Perhaps people only learn to reflect and repent when they start to grow old.

My relationships during university were extremely messy and not suitable for detailed discussion; I'll just talk about Y.

I met Y at a school event, and we were instantly attracted to each other. Having become more adept at relationships, I naturally ended up dating Y as well. Although Y wasn't my first love, we were each other's. In our sophomore year, we said goodbye to being boys and girls and became men and women.

Later, I "actively" made my first love a woman. However, due to long-distance relationships (we were at different universities), I lost interest in that relationship and decisively dumped her, throwing myself wholeheartedly into my relationship with Y. My

relationship with Y was the longest I ever had in college, though it only lasted about eight months in total. For eight months, we had what could be described as a frenzied sexual relationship; we did everything imaginable, and occasionally even tried things we wouldn't normally dare to imagine.

Finally, we parted ways because I "saw" something new and developed feelings for other girls. Y reacted strongly and firmly disagreed, but I was young and impetuous, incredibly stubborn, and dumped Y, doing many wrong things, eventually turning us into sworn enemies.

After ruining a few more girls, I finally graduated from university.

I then worked at my first company for several years, remaining single throughout, and spent some time getting close to my distant cousin.

I then switched to my second company, working diligently and eventually rising to a management position in a very important department. A few years later, the company underwent a merger and restructuring, and my department absorbed the relevant departments of the acquired company.

The first time I appeared in the new department after the merger, I saw a familiar face—a former lover I hadn't spoken to in almost ten years, the woman I finally truly understood and possessed for the first time: Y.

During the self-introduction segment, Y embarrassed me in front of all the department members, ignoring my outstretched hand and looking at me with the terrifying gaze of someone looking at their father's killer. I had to find a way to save face.

At the time, I genuinely didn't care much. I was no longer the impulsive young person I once was. Besides, the breakup was ultimately my fault; she was just a victim, and I had no right to blame her.

Later in my work, I had a chance to talk to Y alone. When I apologized to her for what happened back then, there were tears in her eyes. However, her attitude towards me remained cold and aloof, just a normal superior-subordinate relationship.

In the daily grind, I kept an eye on Y and discovered that there was a woman in another department of the merged company who was very close to Y, eating meals together and leaving work together—this was the woman who would later become my boss at home.

Initially, I was just curious, so I learned about my wife's situation through various means.

After Y joined the original company, it was my wife who mentored her, so their relationship gradually transformed from teacher to best friend.

So I started to intentionally or unintentionally approach Y and his wife. I was shameless, and often used the guise of work to my advantage. After a period of contact, I, who had been single for a long time, slowly developed an interest in this woman, who was two years older than me and also single, and immediately launched an intensive offensive.

After all, my position was higher than his wife's, and I was shameless, shameless, and also quite humorous and considerate. So she gradually changed from her initial reluctant, perfunctory attitude to acceptance. And so, we began a secret relationship. At that time, the foreign company was very opposed to internal employee relationships.

While my wife and I were immersed in the sweetness of love, Y constantly spoke ill of me to his wife in an attempt to break us up.

One day after work, she even cornered me in her office, wanting to have a serious talk. She wanted me to let go of my wife and not hurt a good woman who was getting on in years and longing for love, because she didn't want my wife to go through the same experience as her.

When I calmly explained to her and assured her that I genuinely loved and wanted to truly cherish my wife, Y acted like a madwoman, hysterically launching into a barrage of sarcastic remarks before slamming the door and leaving.

Despite all the hardships and difficulties, in the end, perseverance paid off, and after overcoming countless obstacles, I finally won her heart.

Before the wedding, Y, despite emphasizing that she was not satisfied with me as the groom and felt I was unworthy of her, still offered us her blessings for the first time. She even specifically told me to love my wife well, otherwise she wouldn't let me off the hook, etc. In Y's eyes, I seemed to see the same tears as back then.

At the wedding, Y was very high, behaving unusually. I occasionally caught a glimpse of her eyes, a mixture of resentment and sadness.

Y didn't tell my wife about our past relationship, and I, like her, silently kept that secret until now.

Later, I left my company and joined a state-owned enterprise, and Y also resigned a few months later to work for a company in Singapore, and soon after left China for Singapore.

Over the years, we've maintained close contact with Y. Either she returns to China or we visit her in Singapore. Her attitude towards me has changed a lot; she's no longer cold, and we mostly talk and laugh together. Occasionally, just like in college, she'll link arms with me for some physical intimacy.

Y has always been single. Although my wife tries her best to introduce her to men, she always subtly resists. Once, my wife got impatient and confronted her, and she said she was deeply hurt in college and hadn't fully recovered.

When my wife told me about it at home, she kept cursing the bad guy who hurt her. I could only laugh it off and change the subject.

This time with Y was purely accidental; I never even considered having any physical contact with her again.

Actually, Y started acting strangely at the end of last year. After she returned to China, we had dinner together, and my wife brought up Y's marriage prospects again. To my surprise, Y told my wife, "I'm not looking for a man anymore. Why don't you generously share your husband with me, and we can both be his wives?" I almost choked on my words.

My heartless wife just laughed and said, "Sure, he's getting off easy!" They even joked around for a while. Such a carefree guy!

Later, when Y returned to Singapore, my wife was busy with work, so I naturally went to see her off. Before going through customs at the airport, Y asked if I could hug her, and I didn't refuse. And so, after more than ten years, we hugged again, just like we did in our sophomore year of college.

Just as I was embracing Y and reminiscing about the past, Y pushed me away, tears welling in her eyes, and said, "I hate you." Then she turned and went into border control, leaving me standing there in a daze.

At the end of May this year, one evening I was working overtime, chatting with my "mother-in-law," when the phone rang. It was an unfamiliar landline number. When I answered, I heard Y's voice, telling me to go to Pudong Airport HMD immediately.

Because she always tells my wife in advance when she goes back to China, and there had been no word of her return beforehand, I could only suspect it was a prank or something else. However, the phone call was filled with a hysterical outburst, alternating between crying and laughter.

I angrily hung up the phone and continued chatting with my "mother-in-law," but the phone immediately rang again. I answered, experienced another bout of emotional outburst, and hung up again. It rang again, and I didn't answer. It disconnected and then rang again, until finally I had no choice but to answer. After a brief outburst, the phone went silent, and then hung up on its own after a while.

I checked the number that had called, and it really was the hotel Y had mentioned. Now I was nervous, worried that something had happened to Y. I told my wife I might work late and not come home, and then drove to the airport late at night.

When I arrived at the hotel, I found the room and knocked on the door. The door opened, and Y was wearing a t-shirt and extremely short shorts. Seeing me, she giggled and said, "You still came. You're still worried

something might happen to me, aren't you?" "Are you crazy? Why are you up at night? If you're okay, I'm going home."

Seeing that Y seemed mostly normal and nothing serious, I yelled at her without any patience.

"I am sick. My illness is all your fault. It's been over ten years, and it's incurable."

Y retorted with her own howl.

"I'm too lazy to deal with you. Go to sleep!"

Knowing I was in the wrong, I couldn't argue, so I changed the subject. With that, I turned and prepared to leave the room.

"XXX, I hate you, I hate you so much, I'll hate you for the rest of my life, but I can't forget you, I can't forget you, why did you have to show up again?"

Y cursed and cursed, then suddenly sat on the carpet, lay on the bed, and started crying loudly.

I was completely embarrassed at that moment. Should I leave? To be honest, I was afraid something might happen to her. If I didn't leave, I was afraid something that shouldn't happen might happen. So I could only stand there without moving.

After this awkward period of time, Y finally stopped crying and leaned against the bed, sobbing softly. I continued to stand there, having to turn sideways to observe Y's actions.

"I thought I could forget you completely, but why did I have to run into you again? You even married XXX, my best friend. You even tried to take her away! Why are you doing this to me? Why are you treating me like this?" Y shouted angrily at me.

I listened quietly without responding.

Seeing that I didn't react, Y stood up on her own, walked to the table, picked up a can of beer, opened it, and started drinking.

Only then did I notice a pile of beer bottles on the table, some empty and carelessly tossed about. Glug glug, Y quickly finished the can, threw away the empty one, picked up another, opened it, and continued drinking.

Seeing Y drowning her sorrows in alcohol, I didn't care about anything else. I went over and snatched the beer from her hand. In the ensuing struggle, most of the beer spilled on me.

Y started hitting me repeatedly, crying

as she did so. I silently endured her hitting and crying, a pang of guilt rising in my heart. Finally, after Y had vented her emotions, I pulled her tightly into my arms and stroked her hair comfortingly.

After a long while, Y raised her head and softly asked me, "Don't go, stay with me, okay? I'm scared."

I nodded, helped her to the bedside, and gently placed her on the bed. Just as I was about to cover her with a blanket, she suddenly sat up and said, "I'm going to take a shower first. You promised you wouldn't leave."

"I won't leave, go ahead and shower."

When Y came out of the shower, she had changed into a bathrobe. Although she was over 30, Y was still so beautiful. I sat on the sofa and just looked at Y.

Y slowly walked to me, took my head in her hands, and leaned her body against my lowered head, stroking my hair as I had stroked hers before.

Y pulled me up and pushed me onto the bed. She slowly took off her robe, revealing a familiar yet unfamiliar naked upper body, her breasts slightly drooping, though her nipples were still so tender.

As the robe fell completely onto the carpet, a pair of flesh-colored panties came into view, the most intimate part of her body faintly showing a dark hue, and obvious water stains on the panties.

Y slowly walked to the soft bed and climbed on top of me, holding my head and pressing her beautiful lips to mine.

More than a decade later, I once again slipped my tongue into Y's mouth, our tongues intertwining tightly, exchanging saliva, while my hands caressed her waist.

After leaving Y's beautiful lips, I moved my mouth to the breasts hanging on my chest. The nipples, like ripe grapes, stood erect on the mountain peaks. With a moan from Y, I took the nipple completely into my mouth and teased it with my tongue, eliciting waves of pleasurable groans from her.

While her nipples were being sucked and teased in my mouth, Y's hands weren't idle. She unzipped her pants, reached inside, and grasped my already aroused penis, squeezing it tightly and stroking it up and down a few times.

My hands weren't idle either; they were directly caressing her buttocks, occasionally slipping inside her panties to touch her vagina between her buttocks. Each time I touched her, her vagina would tremble, and her grip on my penis would tighten.

After lingering like that for a while, I couldn't hold back any longer. I grabbed her, rolled over, and pinned her beneath me. I stripped myself naked as quickly as possible, my penis, red from her grip, ripped off her panties, lifted her legs, and, without even putting on my favorite condom, aimed at that honeyed cave I hadn't entered in over a decade. Without the slightest hesitation or reservation, I thrust my glans against her soft, sponge-like cervix.

Perhaps because I used too much force, she gripped my shoulders tightly, drawing blood, but her vagina still clenched and massaged against my penetrating penis.

More than a decade later, we made love again.

Her vagina felt a little looser than it had been a decade ago, no longer feeling tightly bound; she moaned more often than she had back then, and knew better how to use her voice to stimulate a man's desire; her body was more feminine than it had been a decade ago, her once small breasts had sagged a bit with the ravages of time, but were noticeably fuller, perhaps from being fondled and sucked by men countless times over the years. Thinking of this, a pang of sadness welled up in my heart, and I couldn't help but thrust faster, ramming my glans hard against her cervix, causing her to hug me even tighter.

With a series of fierce and relentless thrusts, the sounds of slapping became noticeably more frequent. Just as the Simmons mattress was being 'tortured' to the point of being unrecognizable, I suppressed the urge to urinate, withdrew my penis, and, letting it contract and throb against her labia, ejaculated thin streams of semen onto her body. My output was too high during that period, with homework and school assignments, and my work wasn't easy, so thick, sticky semen was unlikely.

Lying sprawled on the bed, my penis, which had just exerted itself so vigorously, drooped limply on my legs, the glans and shaft covered in white, sticky fluid. Feeling both refreshed and exhausted, I closed my eyes and rested comfortably.

Y lay there for a while, then sat up. Without even going to the bathroom to clean the "glue" off her body, she unexpectedly grabbed my penis and opened her mouth, taking it in.

Damn, that felt amazing! More than a decade later, Y was putting my penis in her mouth again. A decade ago, getting her to do that was a real struggle—washing and wiping it thoroughly. But a decade later, without a second thought, she grabbed my unwashed penis, still covered in white glue, and shoved it into her mouth. Women need to be explored.

Watching my penis go in and out of her mouth, feeling her tongue rubbing against the glans, and occasionally her teeth leaving a painful mark on my penis, the stimulation of my scrotum, played with by her tender hands, sent waves of pleasure shooting up my spine. Gradually, it went limp and then straightened up again, and I couldn't help but moan with pleasure.

Hearing my cry, Y stopped all movement, looked up at me, and then with a wicked smile, lowered her head again to take my penis in her mouth. This time, her small mouth perfectly enveloped the glans, tightly closing below the coronal sulcus, and then she suddenly moved downwards, thrusting rapidly upwards and downwards, her tongue constantly teasing and prodding. Feeling so good, I even started doing a different kind of sit-up, repeatedly thrusting forward to pull her head or hair.

At this speed, I estimate it didn't even take a minute before I helplessly ejaculated in her mouth, moaning as I did so. Then, as if I had been tortured, I collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Y spit the semen from her mouth onto a piece of paper, then climb up to me

, laughing as she looked at me. Before I could react, she suddenly kissed me, and then her tongue, like an alien, burrowed into my mouth, accompanied by a strong, fishy smell. I snapped back to reality—damn, it was my semen! A wave of nausea washed over me, and I quickly pushed Y away and ran to the bathroom to rinse my mouth. Behind me, Y lay naked on the bed, laughing maniacally.

After I finished rinsing my mouth and cleaning myself up, I went to the outer room, sat on the sofa, lit a cigarette, and maliciously "praised" her sitting on the bed in the inner room while puffing out smoke: "You must have slept with a lot of men over the past ten years, right? You must have given a lot of oral sex to men, right? You're so skilled, you made me ejaculate in a minute."

I thought she would have a strong reaction, but to my surprise, she was very calm. She got off the bed, walked out, picked up a cigarette, lit it, sat on the coffee table, looked at me, took a puff, and said softly: "I've slept with a lot of men, but you're still the only one I've ever given oral sex to..."

After saying that, she turned her head and stared blankly at the moon in the night sky outside the window.

After she finished speaking, I silently stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray, then picked up another and lit it. She stubbed it out and said softly, "Smoke less. Smoking too much can cause impotence. You're not as hard as you used to be."

After saying that, she reached out and touched my penis, then got up, her breasts jiggling and her hips swaying, and walked towards the bathroom. Then came the sound of running water in the shower.

I held her in my arms on the big bed. She talked a lot, and I listened quietly.

She said that seeing me at the company that year brought back her painful memories. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became, wishing she could expose all the things I had done at the company, letting everyone know that I was a scumbag who toyed with women's feelings. But seeing me every day, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Every time I took the initiative to talk to her, she endured it so much, pretending to ignore me and keep it as just a normal colleague relationship.

Later, when I set my sights on my wife, she was mostly driven by jealousy, so she tried everything to stop me. However, I was so shameless and persistent that my wife's heart was captured by me, and she finally gave up.

Later, she also came to terms with it. Although I was indeed a scumbag, she just couldn't forget me. She got tired of pretending to be indifferent and forgave me for the sake of her wife.

Actually, she had a boyfriend in Singapore, but she hadn't told her wife. Last time I went back, she hugged me at the airport and cried for a long time. She still loves me, but it's impossible now.

So after I got back, I discussed marriage with my boyfriend, and we were actually very happy together. But a few days ago, we had a disagreement over something small, and she couldn't find anyone to talk to. She happened to have a business trip back to attend a meeting, so she secretly came back. She was conflicted about wanting to see me but also not wanting to see me, so she stayed near the airport and drank to relieve her boredom. When she got drunk, she called me. After I refused, she got even angrier and, fueled by alcohol, started harassing me with the attitude that the more you don't want to come, the more you want to come. When I actually came, she took the opportunity to vent, and then I, that scumbag, took advantage of her.

I listened to her for a long time before she finally finished. She flicked my nose with her hand and said, "How can I not forget you, you scumbag?"

"Women love bad boys, what else could it be?" I replied 'contemptuously'.

A sharp pain shot through my chest, and a delicate hand pinched and twisted a small piece of skin. "Shameless," Y said angrily, then reached down to my crotch, touching my limp penis, and said, "It originally belonged to me." "It

belonged to you just now. Go to sleep, you still have to go to work," I said wearily.

"I want more," Y said, pressing closer and gripping my penis tightly.

"Queen, spare me, I've already ejaculated twice, I really can't take it anymore, I'll die from exhaustion if I go on." I was really tired and had no desire for it.

"Only twice and you're done? I don't believe it. Are you saving it to pay the grain tax back home? Fine, I'll let you off today. You can pay me back next time..." Y said playfully.

"It's true what they say, 'There's no such thing as a land that's been overworked, only oxen that die from exhaustion.'" I muttered helplessly.

A few hours later, I got up and went to work with dark circles under my eyes. Before leaving, I kissed Y, who was still fast asleep, left her a note, and quietly left.

In the afternoon, I received a call from my wife saying that Y had returned from Singapore and we could have dinner together after work. I agreed verbally, but in

my heart, I was thinking that I had been eating Y's food last night and this morning. Y's behavior during dinner made me realize that women's acting skills are innate, and her performance was absolutely perfect, but I still felt uneasy and a little chilly. Later, I got confirmation from my "mother-in-law" that you really need a strong heart.

During dinner, Y told her wife about her boyfriend. Her wife was overjoyed and kept insisting that Y bring him over for her to "check up"—she couldn't let her best friend go so easily. She even asked me to "check up" him too! Haha, it's quite funny—a first boyfriend checking if the current boyfriend is good enough. What should we check? Who's harder? Who lasts longer?

During summer vacation, my wife took me and the kids on a grand trip to Singapore for the "check-up."

Seeing Y nestled sweetly beside that person, radiating happiness, I admit I felt a little heartbroken, but mostly I felt relieved and grateful, and also a sense of guilt towards my wife.

That day in Sentosa, my wife took the kids to buy ice cream, and I stayed with Y. I said to her, "Seeing you happy makes me really relieved and at ease."

"Happiness? You scumbag should feel guilty for the rest of your life," Y said, shaking her head and laughing.

"Come on, let this scumbag hug you again. It won't be so easy to hug you again later. Who knows who will approve my application," I said with a wicked smile.

"Not necessarily... you'll take advantage of me. Remember, you still owe me... you'll have to pay me back at the right time..." Y said shyly, then let me hug her tightly.

Y is getting married this November, but my affair with her isn't over yet…

I only chatted with her a few times during the summer, and we had coffee together once. This scumbag of mine also made up for what I owed her in bed while we were traveling for work.

For now, this scumbag of mine is still focused on his wife and this nuisance.
[The End]

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