My Second Single Life (Part 6)

Thinking about this complicated problem, I found the tall apartment building and pressed the button on the intercom system at the door. She opened the door without saying anything.

Her apartment wasn't high up, only on the third floor, so I walked to her door. It was a residential building with two apartments per floor, so you could imagine how big the apartment was. I opened the slightly ajar security door and slipped inside. Just as I turned to close the door, someone grabbed me from behind, and a rush of hot breath sprayed onto my neck.

I turned around and hugged her, finally getting a chance to look at her. Because she was at home, she wasn't wearing any outer clothes, just a bathrobe. Judging from her damp hair, she must have just taken a shower; her hair smelled faintly of conditioner, and she had obviously sprayed on some perfume, her usual scent. The pink bathrobe wasn't long, just reaching her knees, tied in the middle with a belt. A patch of her snow-white breasts was exposed, half of her cleavage seemingly hinting at something. Below, her legs were exposed, barefoot in slippers, with red-painted nails. All of this indicated her needs; otherwise, why would a woman at home dressed like this to receive a guest?
I smiled at her; nothing needed to be said, we both understood. She cautiously locked the door again, and then we went to the living room. As soon as we sat down on the sofa, she threw herself into my arms.

I began to stroke her face, kneading her earlobes and the hair behind her ears with my fingers. Most women are quite sensitive to this area, and this trick worked wonders. Her breathing became heavy. I lowered my head and began to kiss her neck, then casually pulled open the belt of her robe. When I touched her, I realized she wasn't wearing a bra at all; you could imagine how much she desired it.
What followed was predictable: we had a passionate encounter on the sofa. I quickly dried myself off, got dressed, and knew I shouldn't linger in such a dangerous place; it was best to leave as soon as possible.
Sister Wang told me that every time they made love, she would imagine me as him, the one far away. Only then could she find some psychological comfort. I asked her what kind of comfort it was—was it the pleasure she gained from making love with me that relieved her longing, or was it the comfort she felt for her guilt by imagining me as him?

Her answer was that she didn't know. She said she didn't understand herself and didn't know what she wanted. She had loved so deeply before. When she met her husband, conditions were very difficult, but they both persevered. Later, her husband's career also had its ups and downs; he achieved his current stable position after experiencing many trials. You could say they were a couple who had weathered hardships together, but they were happy and fulfilled then.

Now, life is better, and they have no worries about food or clothing, but she suddenly finds that she and her husband seem to have grown distant. Although she knows his body and lifestyle inside and out, she doesn't know what he's thinking. For a couple, what could be more worrying than emotional estrangement?

The appearance of Yang (the one from Shenyang) made her feel as if she had found the love she once had with her husband. She became a little woman again, and she regained the pride of being loved and cared for, even though all of this was just a fleeting dream.

Sister Wang said that she and Yang were truly in love. In my opinion, regardless of whether Yang truly loved her, at least she had given her all. She cried for him, worried about him, and after knowing each other for almost a year, she couldn't even remember how much she missed him.
"Then why didn't you hold on to your love for him?" I suddenly interrupted her and asked this question.
Do you think I'm a promiscuous woman? Actually, I don't know why I'm with you… I've said I treat you like a younger brother, but I don't actually have one. I have two sisters, and I'm the eldest. As for my feelings for you, I can't define them. From the first moment I met you, I felt a sense of closeness. I even genuinely wished I had a younger brother like you. Therefore, I was happy to date you. And regarding the topics we discussed online, I can't explain my purpose. Please don't be upset if I tell you, but I feel very confused, as if I'm talking to him, imagining us, even though he's only four years older than you. I feel he loves me, so I can love him wholeheartedly in return. But these repeated temptations and stimulations are truly torturous. I don't know why my desires are so strong. Whenever you say those things, I feel a burning heat all over, and I can feel my vagina contracting violently, even the urge to flow out.
“Then you can use your hands or buy a tool,” I couldn’t help but interrupt her again.
Silly brother, do you think I'm like you? Actually, a woman's sexual needs aren't just about physical pleasure; it's a dual enjoyment of mind and body. If I were to say I need the thrill of orgasm, I'd say I need the satisfaction of being held tightly and penetrated by a man, the feeling of being pampered and valued. That's the same as the desire I'm talking about. Do you know why I indulged myself with you in the first place? Even though you said you wouldn't be my lover, from the first time we met, I understood the longing in your eyes. You made me feel attractive, you gave me confidence, you satisfied my vanity, and that time when you held me tight, I felt intoxicated. You made me rediscover the joy of being a woman. As a woman, to be loved so much by a man is a very happy thing, whether that love is mental or physical. After all, it means I still have that charm.

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My Second Single Life (Part 6)

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