Typical stories of the post-80s generation, please listen to me slowly 6 -- The taste of green 2

The saying goes, "What is separated for a long time will unite, and what is united for a long time will separate again." But once you get used to arguing and breaking up, it doesn't matter anymore. This is why my wife and

I have always avoided this kind of relationship after we got married. After our on-again, off-again relationship, the third time we reconciled, we lost the passion we once had. Being together felt like we should be together, not a necessity. Especially after she had another man with her, I felt we were one step further away from marriage. When we went to bed, the unchanging topic was how he kissed her, touched her, and penetrated her that night, what his actions were like, how the experience was, and how he always managed to get wet and orgasm faster. I encouraged her that if she met someone reliable and liked, she could tell me, and she could sleep with others, but she had to tell me afterwards. She said I had a problem, but she sounded very unsure, and I knew she was thinking the same thing.
During that time, I was away for training for a whole month. One night, we were talking on the phone for a long time, our voices were passionate, and at the most emotional part, she couldn't help but tell me that she had cheated on me again, this time with her classmate's fiancé, whom she was about to marry. Upon hearing this, my heart raced, and I instantly became energized. My penis throbbed painfully, and I felt a surge of intense pleasure. I quickly asked what had happened and how it had occurred.
Apparently, she and I had bought a computer together a while ago. Back then, it was dial-up internet, mainly for studying. She had mentioned wanting to get internet access once before, but I was out of town and didn't say anything. During a dinner with her classmates, one of her female friends brought her boyfriend, who was supposedly tall, handsome, and five or six years older than us, making him seem much more mature (she always said I was immature). Her friend introduced him as someone who worked at the telecommunications company, in charge of internet services. They got to know each other at the dinner table and then arranged for installation. One Saturday morning, while she was still asleep, her classmate's husband (Jian) came to her house. Still half asleep, she put on her pajamas and went to open the door. Jian came alone, and whether he had a purpose or not, he quickly set up the internet in her room. Because his hands were dirty from connecting the cable, Yan asked him to wash them in the bathroom. However, she forgot that there were still her underwear left in the bathroom sink from the night before. She remembered and rushed in to get it. The bathroom was crowded, so the two of them squeezed together, and they could smell each other's body odor. Suddenly, a pair of strong, powerful hands embraced her. She already had a good impression of Jian, so she didn't resist at all. Her whole body went limp, and they kissed passionately in the bathroom. Then Jian washed his hands, carried her to the bed, and on this bed that I had never lain on before, he took off her thin pajamas and entered her directly. Yan said that the scent of a mature man is really charming, unlike me who just starts with moaning. Instead, he used various grinding, rotating, and different positions, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Even the climaxes were different. Mine was intense, like being hit on the head with a heavy object, while with Jian it was a blissful, drifting experience. That morning, they finished, afraid her parents might suddenly return. The adulterers even agreed to contact each other via pager next time.

A few nights before I returned, Yan paged me, saying Jian had asked her out. From her tone, I knew she really wanted to go, but she pretended to be reluctant. I felt a mix of emotions, both hopeful and angry. I thought, well, since your family doesn't approve, go if you want, just tell me what happened when you get back.
She left at seven o'clock, just as it got dark. I started pagering her at ten o'clock that night, and she didn't call me back until almost one o'clock. I still held onto a sliver of hope, and my first question was, "Did you two do it?" "Yes." "How many times?" "Where?" "Twice, by the stream, in the car, his engineering four-wheeler used for wiring." Silence. After two minutes of silence, I composed myself and continued, "How did it feel?" "Very comfortable."
Hundreds of kilometers away, I masturbated so much that night that my little brother got all swollen...

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Typical stories of the post-80s generation, please listen to me slowly 6 -- The taste of green 2

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