【Ten Years of Studying Abroad: Me and My Teacher】(2)

(II)
I woke up the next day after ten o'clock. She was already up and busy in the kitchen, wearing my shirt and
pajama bottoms. Although I was taller than her, I wasn't very strong at that time, so the shirt was a bit
tight on her voluptuous body, making her chest look very constricted. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her nipples were showing through the fabric. The top two buttons were undone, revealing a
glimpse of her breasts. I hugged her from behind and kneaded her breasts with both hands.
She slapped my hand and said, "You're up to no good as soon as you wake up. Lazybones, did you sleep enough?" She turned her head
and looked at me with a half-smile.
I chuckled, "I've had enough sleep, but I was wondering if anyone could let me sleep enough again."
She sensed the double meaning in my words, and angrily punched my chest a few times, then grabbed my groin and laughed provocatively
, "Even if there were such a person, they'd have to be capable first." She tugged at it a few times, but after a
moment, she let out a soft cry, releasing her grip as if pricked by needles, scolding, "You little pervert, hopeless!"
It turned out my morning erection had just subsided, but her tugs and pulls had aroused it again.
I laughed heartily, which only fueled her anger, and she pinched and twisted me.
I hugged her, kissing her face and ear, rubbing my groin against her plump buttocks. She called
out to me breathlessly, "Stop messing around, do you still want breakfast? You're not hungry, but I am."
I wanted to indulge in some sensual pleasure during the day, but knowing she was still reserved, I lingered with her for a while before having breakfast with her.
It wasn't really breakfast anymore; it was already past eleven. We didn't want to go out, so we snuggled together in bed.
She looked worried and said sadly, "XX, did we do something wrong last night? Or maybe
I shouldn't have gotten involved with you in the first place. But I'm so addicted to being with you. I haven't felt this way in so long,
I've almost forgotten it. I can't bear to give it up. But our relationship is illicit, unacceptable to the world. I'm also
sorry to my family. What should I do?" Her eyes reddened, brimming with tears.
I didn't know what to say, so I just held her tightly, licking away her tears.
She cried for a while, then gradually calmed down. Looking at me, she said, "XX, tell me you love me. Only
then can I deceive myself into being with you, and feel less guilty. Tell me you love me!"
I said tenderly, "Ye Mei, I love you."
This was the first time I'd called her name. Her tears flowed again. She rested her head on my shoulder and murmured,
"Yes, XX, I love you too."
Now I just wanted her to forget her worries and stop being tormented by this guilt. I kissed her
lips deeply, removed her clothes, cupped her breasts, and sucked on her nipples. Her breathing became heavy,
and she pressed my head against hers, letting out soft moans.
I removed our clothes, carried her to the bed, and without further foreplay, lay on top of her, thrusting my
erect penis into her wet vagina. She cried out, hugged me tightly, and tears
streamed down her face again.
I thrust slowly in and out, feeling her vagina tightly envelop my penis, kissing her breasts, gently
biting her nipples, eliciting moans from her. I began to increase my speed, my hips arching rhythmically, and she
cried out "Ah ah," her buttocks moving incessantly.
I suddenly stopped, pulled out my penis, turned her over, and laid her face down on the bed, her plump buttocks raised. I held
her buttocks and thrust in from behind. She lay there obediently, accepting my rapid thrusts, emitting patient-like
moans. I pressed against her back, kissing and biting her spine, kneading her breasts, my lower body
thrusting faster.
She seemed unusually excited, her hands unable to support her weight, collapsing onto the bed, her head and neck
pressed against it: "Ah...ah..." she cried out, her buttocks raised high, thrusting backward repeatedly, panting and sobbing
, "Faster, xx, faster, I'm coming."
I thrust rapidly, and she suddenly cried out, her body convulsing, her vagina
contracting powerfully, spurting out a gush of fluid that hit my glans. I could no longer hold back, thrusting a few more times, ejaculating inside
her.
We reached orgasm together, I lay on the bed pressed against her body, both of us breathing heavily, enjoying
the afterglow of our climax, not wanting to think about anything else.
After a long while, she hugged me tightly, her face pressed against my chest, and murmured as if in a dream, "XX, you're so
good. I've never felt so comfortable before. I can't live without you."
I hugged her back, stroking her body, and said, "You can't leave even if you want to
. I'm destined to be with you for life. Even if I become a ghost, I won't let you go."
She smiled sweetly and said I was talking nonsense.
I suddenly remembered that I had ejaculated inside her several times since last night, so I asked her if she was
pregnant. She giggled, rolled her eyes at me, and said, "You're afraid I'll get pregnant? Then why did you ejaculate inside me? Don't
worry, silly, I had a tubal ligation. Otherwise, do you think I would let you ejaculate inside me?"
I knew that when she got married, the one-child policy was strictly enforced, not to mention for people like her with jobs.
I feigned a sigh and said, "I wish you hadn't had a tubal ligation, so you could have given me a son or daughter, leaving behind an heir.
Ah, what a pity."
She laughed and scolded, "Pah! Who's going to give you a child? You wish!"
I then told her about getting into a top high school, which made her very happy. She told me to study hard and get into a good university
.
We lay quietly in each other's arms for over half an hour before I wanted to shower. I insisted she
come with me, and she couldn't resist, so she reluctantly agreed.
We washed each other's bodies, and of course, I took the opportunity to caress her. I gently washed her
genitals and combed her pubic hair. She was shy and didn't dare look at me, biting her lower lip tightly.
Then she knelt down to wash my penis, pulled back the foreskin, and looked at my bright red glans, feeling somewhat embarrassed
. My penis is about fifteen or sixteen centimeters long when erect, and even now, though shrunken, it's still quite large.
I asked with a laugh, "Is it big?"
She playfully slapped my penis lightly, annoyed, and said, "It's as thin as a toothpick."
I laughed and said, "Then why did someone scream and yell because of this toothpick just now?"
She pulled hard on my penis angrily, and I quickly begged for mercy, which made her giggle triumphantly.
We washed and played around in the bathroom for a long time before finally coming out; it was already evening. We went out to buy
some groceries to cook dinner. My parents aren't home often, so I usually cook for myself, and I've actually developed some culinary skills.
I cooked dinner, and she praised me, saying it was pretty good. She ate happily; I knew her husband didn't do housework
, and she rarely got to eat food cooked by someone else. Before, she would serve me food, but now I was serving her.
After we finished eating and washed the dishes, we sat snuggled on the sofa watching TV, doing nothing, quietly
enjoying this cozy moment—something I rarely experienced with my aunt, Teacher Chen. I stayed at her house until
10 pm before she reluctantly told me to go home. I had to leave; I hadn't been home for a day and a night and was worried
my parents would be anxious. She understood and told me to come back the next day. 　　 Although I was young and recovered quickly then, doing it so many times was still exhausting. When I got home, I lied to my parents, saying I'd 　　gone to a classmate's house, and ignored their scolding before going to sleep.
I 　　 've always wondered why Teacher Ye and I had this illicit affair. She was a virtuous wife and mother, 　　upright and gentle, and had never had much contact with other men. 　　 I later subtly asked her if she regretted being with me, and she said it was fate, something she couldn't resist. She 　　had few friends, rarely interacting with anyone except her family, and was somewhat indifferent to others. If I hadn't been her student, and hadn't been her 　　teacher for so many years, and hadn't genuinely liked me because of my academic performance, it would have been difficult to get close to her. 　　 In middle age, her relationship with her husband became increasingly bland, and he prioritized his career, 　　showing her less and less care. For her, this didn't seem to bother her; after all, that's how life was, peaceful and 　　uneventful, which was quite comfortable. But she later discovered that her husband had also developed bad habits from business and was having an affair with 　　a younger, prettier woman. She was disappointed. She knew she couldn't control it, and she didn't want to anymore; it was too 　　tiring. As long as he came home, she let him be, never confronting him, and continued to maintain the family. 　　 This is a common marital crisis for middle-aged couples. Some survive and continue living together, the young couple becoming 　　companions in old age. Some don't survive and separate, like swallows flying away. 　　 Or some don't survive, but don't separate either, finding emotional solace elsewhere, living a life of superficial harmony. 　　My parents also went through this problem, arguing constantly. Fortunately, they survived. I want to 　　thank them; otherwise, I don't know what I would have become. Many children succumb to the devastation of family upheavals. 　　 She was a somewhat traditional and rational woman. She had no intention of cheating to retaliate against her husband; that would be meaningless, 　　only hurting herself in the end. Otherwise, a woman as attractive and intelligent as her, with a casual wave of her hand, 　　wouldn't she have no shortage of suitors? There wasn't even a place for me in the queue anymore. 　　 Three years later, when she saw me again, the memory of our past teacher-student relationship made her feel like she had found 　　someone close to her. My quiet care and affection for her gave her a sense of security and support. 　　 She became infatuated with this long-lost feeling. My further confession made her feel confused, joyful, and 　　afraid. She was afraid of this illicit relationship, yet unwilling to let it go. She silently accepted and enjoyed our 　　kisses and caresses, yet self-deceivingly clung to the bottom line that I could easily take away but wouldn't force. 　　 Until the day her husband mentioned divorce, it completely shattered her. Although she resolutely refused, her husband 　　eventually left in shame. 　　 She herself didn't know why she was still holding onto this marriage—perhaps for her son, perhaps for 　　her family, or perhaps to prevent her husband from being satisfied. 　　 I asked her if she had sex with me to get revenge on her husband. 　　 She laughed and said, "I don't care about revenge anymore. I just want to feel your love and tenderness completely. 　　Nothing else matters." 　　 "We'll see," she glared at me, "Do you think you'll let me go if I keep insisting? I knew 　　I couldn't escape." 　　 I slept until after nine the next morning. Then a classmate came to visit, and we discussed high school entrance exams. I invited him to stay for 　　lunch, and it wasn't until after one in the afternoon that I went to her house. 　　 As soon as I entered, she snuggled against me, saying she'd missed me terribly, and asked if I missed her too. I said I was so dizzy from missing her. She was surprised 　　and asked why I was dizzy, if I was sick. I laughed and said all the blood was flowing down there, so of course I was 　　dizzy from lack of blood to my head. 　　 She realized what I meant, blushed, and tried to pinch my cheek. I laughed and dodged to the side, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into 　　my arms. She struggled for a moment, then stopped moving. 　　 I kissed her ear and asked if she had eaten. She said she'd only eaten a little in the morning, and thought I would come at noon, 　　so she waited until now. I scolded her for waiting so long and told her to eat quickly. After warming up the food, she playfully asked me to feed her. 　　When I actually did, she only ate a few bites before becoming embarrassed, blushing, and snatching the bowl and chopsticks to eat by herself. 　　 After she finished eating and cleaned up, we went for a walk. Afraid of being seen by acquaintances, she wore sunglasses, giving her 　　a somewhat sophisticated urban look. 　　 She linked her left arm with mine, and we walked side-by-side. I was a third taller than her, but we still looked quite like 　　a couple. 　　 Mid-August in the south was still incredibly hot and humid, making the streets difficult to walk on, so we went to a shopping mall to browse and 　　enjoy the air conditioning. 　　 She doesn't particularly enjoy shopping, but she liked to drag me around, looking at this and that. I know she rarely goes shopping 　　, and although I don't like shopping either, seeing her interest, I was happy to accompany her. When we got to the cosmetics counter, 　　she, who was usually so plain and rarely wore makeup, lingered there for a long time, carefully inquiring about 　　the uses and effects of each product from the saleswoman. 　　 The saleswoman complimented her on her excellent skincare, saying everything she used worked well, and then asked 　　if we were siblings. But she kept pushing the most expensive products on her. 　　 Ms. Ye happily accepted everything, taking one of each kind. I chuckled to myself, feeling sorry for the saleswoman 　　; her boss and manager lacked foresight and should have promoted her long ago.

She wanted to buy me some things, but I was afraid my parents would see them and ask where they came from, so I politely declined. She
said she wasn't asking me to take them home, but just to leave them at her house. She said if her husband found them, he would only think they were for her son
and wouldn't suspect me. I had no choice but to let her have them.
We walked around a few more times and then went out carrying several bags. It was getting late, and the heat on the street had dissipated considerably
; a gentle evening breeze was blowing, making it less hot.
She said she was tired from shopping and didn't want to go home to cook, so she ate out. After we finished eating, we walked towards her house. I
wanted to take a bus home, but she said she didn't want to and wanted to walk with me. She made me carry all the things, then
cheerfully took my arm and pulled me along, urging me to hurry.
When we got back to her house, it was almost 10 pm. Afraid my parents would worry, I called home and said
I was sleeping at my classmate's house. Ms. Ye was reclining on the sofa, her shoes and socks off. She rubbed her feet, frowning, and said, "I haven't walked this
much in a long time; my feet are killing me."
I often play soccer, so I didn't feel anything, but I was worried her feet would be even more sore and she'd have trouble walking the next day. So I
soaked her feet in hot water and massaged her soles and calves to improve blood circulation.
Her feet were snow-white, except for some calluses on her heels; the rest were soft and boneless. Her toes were small and neatly
arranged, just like when I secretly watched her years ago. Her arches were beautifully curved, like small arched bridges in Jiangnan. Her calves
were fleshy yet slender, rounded and long, like two beautiful jades.
I started by massaging, but gradually my eyes became glazed over, and I couldn't help but caress them. Ms. Ye
initially reclined on the sofa, watching me carefully massage her legs and feet with a happy expression, her eyes dreamy and her face full of tenderness
. Later, I realized I wasn't really massaging her, but rather playing with her feet and calves, unable to stop.
Her face flushed, but she didn't pull away, biting her lower lip tightly, letting me caress her as I pleased. I
looked at her beautiful feet, stroking them for a long time, and couldn't resist kissing the itchy spot on her toes.
She gasped, her face flushed, and said, "No, it's dirty there." Her
cry brought me back to my senses. Thinking of my earlier lapse, I stood up, slightly embarrassed,
and said, "That's enough. If it's still sore tomorrow, I'll massage it again."
She hummed in agreement, half-sitting, half-lying on the sofa without speaking, just
looking at me with a flushed face.
There was a little sweat on her forehead; I didn't know if it was from the hot weather and the hot water, or something else. After
I poured out the dirty water and sat down, she snuggled up to me, wrapping her arms around my neck, her face pressed against my chest
, flushed.
I inhaled her scent, a mixture of perfume and sweat, slightly sour and fragrant, which intoxicated me. I
gently stroked her rounded buttocks and said, "Tired? Take a shower and go to bed early." She just murmured "Mmm," still not speaking, burying her head in my chest, 　　rubbing
against my chest like a kitten . 　　 My heart stirred, and I cupped her flushed face. Her eyes were watery, as if about to 　　drip, her lips slightly parted, and hot breath escaped from her mouth and nose. 　　 I knew she wasn't sick. Seeing her expression, similar to when she aroused Teacher Chen and Aunt Chen in the past 　　, I knew she was inexplicably aroused. 　　 I chuckled inwardly and teased her with a surprised look, saying, "Teacher Ye, are you sick? Should we see a doctor?" 　　 She buried her head in my chest and said in a soft moan, "I'm fine, as long as you hold me." 　　 I pretended to be worried and said, "But I feel your face is burning hot, and your body is very hot too. Are you really 　　okay?" 　　 She said softly in my arms, a little reproachfully, "I'm fine, don't guess." Then she whispered, 　　"Don't you want to kiss me?" After saying that, she snuggled into my arms a few more times. 　　 I said I wanted to, but didn't move. She waited for a while, and when I didn't move, she got a little impatient and said coquettishly, 　　"Then why aren't you coming?" 　　 I laughed and said, "I do want to, but your face is down there, and my mouth isn't long enough to reach you." 　　 She said reproachfully, "Then you wouldn't..." As she spoke, she looked up and saw my expression as I tried hard to suppress my laughter 　　. She realized I was teasing her and said shyly and angrily, "You're playing a trick on me." She started hitting and pinching me. 　　 I grabbed her hands and pleaded, "I'll kiss you now, I'll kiss you now, I can reach you now." 　　 She snorted and turned her face away, saying, "I don't want it." 　　 I grinned and said, "I do want it." I cupped her head and kissed her lips. 　　 At first, she struggled and said, "No, I don't want it." Gradually, she closed her eyes and stopped moving, began to hug 　　me, responding to my kisses, and slipped her tongue into my mouth, intertwining with mine. We didn't stop until we 　　couldn't hold back anymore and parted our lips to breathe. 　　 She nestled in my arms, her face flushed. I held her, caressing her smooth, full body, knowing that 　　her desire hadn't subsided. I removed her top and, through her bra, kneaded her breasts, kissing her face, ears, and neck 　　. She wrapped her arms around my neck, letting out soft moans. 　　 I unhooked her bra, turned her to face me, and bent down to suckle her breasts and nipples. Her moans grew louder 　　, and she gasped, "No...not here, let's go to the bed, okay?" 　　 I picked her up and carried her to her bedroom. She weighed a hundred pounds, and it was a bit difficult for me to carry her. I placed her on the bed, 　　took off my shirt, and kissed her as I pulled down her pants. She arched her back, making it easy for me to remove her underwear 　　. Her genitals were already wet, with pubic hair clinging to her flesh. 　　 I ran my index finger across her vulva, and she shuddered, letting out a soft "Ah!" 　　I pulled down my own underwear, propped myself up on my hands, and leaned over her, looking at her. Her face was flushed, her eyes almost 　　watering, but they were fixed on my erect penis. 　　 I smiled and said, "Want to touch it?" 　　 She glanced at me sideways, then suddenly flipped me over and sat on my lap, her right hand gripping 　　my penis and stroking it. Her eyes were half-closed, and she would occasionally glance at me. I was very excited; I hadn't expected her to be so 　　excited today.

I groaned too. She moved for a while, then suddenly bit her lower lip, spat on my glans
, and actually bent down to take it in her mouth, sucking a few times. Then she lifted her head, puffed out her cheeks as if she had saliva in her mouth,
glanced at me, and spat what was in her mouth into the trash can.
She bent down again, took my glans in her mouth, sucking and licking it with her tongue. She seemed skilled, but in reality,
she was very clumsy. Her teeth accidentally bit my glans several times, making me grit my teeth and hiss.
I was incredibly excited; I never expected her to do this for me.

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