That was three years ago.
Back then, I was still a college student, majoring in English. University life was actually quite idle. Besides playing online games, the guys in the dorm took turns watching porn, which kept everyone constantly horny. Finances didn't allow for real outings, so we had to rely on ourselves to take care of it.
Besides these, I have a small hobby—buying lottery tickets, especially the Double Color Ball.
The lottery shop owner's wife is in her early thirties, about 1.6 meters tall, with long hair, an oval face, and a truly substantial pair up front that sway gently when she walks, particularly eye-catching. She speaks with a somewhat lazy tone, and her gaze occasionally drifts over, giving the impression that deep down she's actually quite wanton.
At first, when we went to buy lottery tickets, we only exchanged ordinary greetings. After going many times, we gradually became familiar. Occasionally I would make a joke or two, and she wouldn’t get angry; she would just blush and pout at me with a “bad guy.”
What completely changed our relationship was a rainy day.
That day, I came out of the internet cafe and stopped by a lottery shop. There were no other customers inside. The shop owner's wife was engrossed in playing a mobile game, not noticing my entrance. I quietly walked up to her, but my gaze uncontrollably fell on the soft curves of her chest.
Just after finishing the clip, my head was full of naked images. I ghosted my hand out, pretending to snatch her phone.
She instinctively dodged to the side, leaning her body forward. We were already close, and with this movement, her lips happened to bump into my mouth.
Both of them were stunned.
A few seconds later, she suddenly stepped back, her face instantly red all over, and muttered in a low voice, “Bastard... taking advantage of me.”
Still immersed in the soft, warm sensation from earlier, I stood there dumbly, not moving. Seeing my dazed expression, she reached out and hit me, chiding, 'What are you thinking about!'
I snapped back to reality and said with a smile, "I'm reminiscing about that taste just now, something only found in dreams."
“Hmph, bad guy.”
She reached out to hit me again. I dodged while deliberately provoking her. Amidst the playful fighting, the atmosphere quietly changed. From then on, the jokes between us grew bolder, and our gazes started to become different.
Another rainy weekend.
I was originally going to an internet cafe, but halfway there, I suddenly turned and headed straight to the lottery shop. Sure enough, only she was in the shop, wearing a short skirt and long stockings, reading a book with her head down.
My heart is beating a bit fast.
Walking behind her, I directly reached out from behind and grasped her breasts.
She was startled, let out a soft gasp, turned to look at me, her eyes filled with surprise but no real anger.
"Bad boy... you..."
I increased the pressure of my hand, kneading the soft mound through her clothes. Her breathing became erratic, her face flushed deeply, yet she didn't push me away forcefully.
"Hurry up and close the door already..." she finally said softly, with a slight trembling laugh in her voice.
I almost ran to lock the door.
When I turned around, she was already standing up, leaning against the counter and looking at me. I walked over, wrapped my arm around her waist, lowered my head, and kissed her lips. She let out a soft 'mm,' closed her eyes, and wrapped her arms around my neck.
This kiss was deeper than the last time. My tongue pried open her teeth, entangling with hers. One hand continued kneading her breast, the other slid to her rounded buttocks, squeezing firmly a few times.
Her body gradually softened, her breathing growing more and more rapid.
I couldn't resist pulling open her blouse and unhooking her bra. That pair of fair, full breasts sprang out, their shape still perfect, the pinkish-brown nipples already slightly hardened. I lowered my head, took one into my mouth, sucked hard, my tongue circling the areola, teeth gently nibbling. My other hand grabbed the other breast, constantly kneading and pulling.
“Mm... gentler...” She held my head, her fingers digging into my hair, her voice already carrying an obvious air of lust.
My hand reached down, lifted her skirt, and caressed the already warm spot through her stockings and panties. The middle of her panties was damp with a small wet patch. I pulled down her stockings and panties, my fingers directly touching the warm, wet, slippery slit.
Her pubic hair was sparse but very dark, her labia slightly parted from excitement, clear fluid seeping out.
I couldn't hold back any longer, quickly pulled down my pants, thrusting my already painfully hard thing, aiming at her entrance, and plunged in.
“Ah...” She let out a soft cry, and the inner walls immediately wrapped tightly around me.
The sensation was hot and tight, making my scalp tingle. I paused for a few seconds to adjust, then began thrusting forcefully. Her arms wrapped around my waist, her hips actively meeting mine, and intermittent moans escaped her lips.
Because it was the first real time, I couldn't control the rhythm at all. Before long, I felt I was about to cum, so I had to lift her legs and rest them in the crook of my arms, speeding up and thrusting fiercely a dozen times, ejaculating entirely inside her.
She patted my head and said with a laugh, 'You're just so impatient... slow down next time.'
We each straightened our clothes. But when I saw her bending over to adjust her skirt from behind, the thing that had just softened actually hardened again.
I lifted her skirt from behind again, pressed her against the counter, and thrust inside for the second time.
This time I deliberately slowed down, feeling every inch of her inner contractions. She let out soft moans with each thrust, her fingers tightly gripping the edge of the counter. When I came for the second time, I purposely pushed to the deepest point, letting her receive it fully.
From that day on, there was no going back between us.
As long as there are no customers in the shop, I’ll find an excuse to go over. Sometimes I’d just hug her from behind, sometimes pin her to the chair, and sometimes I’d simply make her legs go weak.
She also seemed to be letting go more and more. She would proactively wait for me wearing stockings, would intentionally tighten when I entered, would bite my shoulder during climax to keep herself from crying out too loudly.
Once her period had just ended a few days before, but I still couldn't resist doing it. Afterwards, she leaned on my chest and said lazily, 'You little rascal... don't go getting me pregnant later.'
I smiled and went to kiss her; she wasn’t really angry.
During that time, university life suddenly became something to look forward to. Every rainy day, or when the shop had few customers, my heart would race as I headed to the lottery store.
And she would always look at me with that half-smiling gaze, then walk to the door and hang up the 'Closed' sign.
With the door closed, our secret time began.
Some desires, once ignited, can never be put out.
And we, are all immersed in it, unwilling to wake up.
Ever since that first time, I went to the lottery shop noticeably more often. Before, it was to buy Double Color Ball; now, more often it was for her.
She also seemed to cooperate tacitly. Whenever there were few customers in the shop, or it was nearing the shift change at noon or evening, she would prepare the "Closed" sign in advance. As soon as I entered, the look in her eyes would change—no longer a normal greeting, but with a hint of testing, a hint of anticipation, and unconcealed desire.
The second time I went was on a weekday afternoon.
There was only one regular customer in the shop filling out a form. I pretended to casually look at the numbers. After that person left, she looked up at me, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly, then walked to the door, flipped the sign over, and locked it from the inside.
“So urgent?” she leaned against the doorframe, her voice tinged with a smile.
I didn't answer, just walked over directly, pinned her against the door panel, and kissed her. Her lips were softer than last time, and her response was more active. While our tongues tangled, her hand had already slipped under the hem of my shirt, stroking back and forth on my waist.
I grabbed her and carried her onto the counter, lifting her skirt. Today she was wearing a dark pencil skirt with a black lace thong underneath. I pushed the thong aside and my finger went straight in. She was already wet.
“Was the person still there just now, and you were already wet?” I asked on purpose.
Her face flushed, but she didn't deny it, only reaching out to undo my pants: 'Less talk... hurry up.'
When I thrust into her, she let out a satisfied sigh and actively wrapped her legs around my waist. The counter was a bit hard, her back was knocked painfully, yet she still pushed hard to meet me. Every time I reached deepest, she would gently bite my shoulder, muffling the sound in her throat.
After finishing once, neither of us hurried to separate. She leaned against my chest, gasping, her fingers unconsciously drawing circles on my back.
"Tomorrow... will you still come?" she suddenly asked.
I nodded.
She smiled, her voice a bit hoarse: 'Then come early. There are fewer customers at noon.'
From that day on, we almost formed a fixed rhythm.
As long as I have no afternoon classes, or on weekends, I’ll run to the lottery shop. Sometimes I go twice in one day. She seemed to become more and more unable to do without that feeling too. Once I didn’t go for three straight days (because I was studying for final exams). When I went again on the fourth day, she pulled me into the small back lounge, locked the door, and took the initiative to straddle me herself.
The resting room had only an old sofa and a small table. The space was cramped, but the air soon grew scorching hot.
She unbuttoned her top herself, brought her breasts to my mouth, and while moving up and down, whispered: 'I've missed you so much... I've been doing it myself these past few nights, but it's not enough...'
I gripped her waist and thrust upward, asking her how she did it herself. Blushing, she described using her fingers, sometimes a small vibrator, but it never felt full enough. I said I'd bring something for her next time, her eyes lit up, but then she shook her head: "I don't want things... I want yours."
That time, she climaxed particularly intensely, her inner walls spasming in waves, squeezing me so hard I almost came immediately. I held back and thrust a few dozen more times before releasing everything inside.
Afterward she lay on top of me and lazily said: "The feeling of you ejaculating inside me... is so strange. So full and hot."
I asked her if she wasn't afraid. She was silent for a few seconds, then softly said, 'Safe period. And... I like it.'
This sentence made me even harder.
Later, we began trying more positions and places.
Once when it rained, there were almost no customers. We did it on the sofa, against the wall, even on the high stool she usually sat on. When I entered her from behind while she was wearing stockings, she was especially sensitive. The stockings were stretched out of shape, her toes tensed, and every time she was thrust to the deepest point, she let out fragmented whimpers.
Once she came two days before her period, originally saying we wouldn't do it, but in the end, she couldn't resist. That time she was especially wet and sensitive, and her orgasm came quickly and intensely. Afterwards, she leaned against my chest and said somewhat regretfully: 'It's all your fault... we clearly agreed not to do it.'
I kissed her ear, and she leaned her body even closer to me.
Over time, the tacit understanding between us grew deeper.
She started preparing in advance. Sometimes wearing open-front clothes, convenient for me to reach in directly; sometimes not wearing panties, just stockings; sometimes getting herself a bit wet before I even entered, waiting for me to go straight in.
I also became bolder. I would hug her from behind while she was on the phone, my hand moving inside her skirt. She had to force herself to speak calmly to the client, but her body trembled uncontrollably. As soon as she hung up, she would turn around and bite me, scolding me for being bad, but her lower body would clamp tighter.
Once we were almost discovered.
A regular customer suddenly pushed the door open (she had forgotten to lock it that day), and we were making love on the sofa. I quickly used my body to block her, while she frantically straightened her clothes. The guest only thought we were arguing, smiled to smooth things over, and left. When the door was locked again, she went limp all over me, both terrified and excited.
“Scared me to death...” she said.
But I felt her body was even hotter than before. So that time we did it especially fiercely, as if trying to transform all the earlier fright into pleasure.
The relationship lasted for nearly half a year.
During that time, I had final exams, she went out of town to stock up on goods, I returned to my hometown for the holidays—we were interrupted a few times. But each time we met again, it was more intense than the last. As if making up for all the desire from the days apart in one go.
She gradually began to make requests on her own.
“Today I want you from behind……”“Today I want it slower, I want you to do me for a long time……”“Today I want to see you cum on my chest……”
Once she even suggested spending the night in the shop. That day, her husband was on a business trip, and she had left the child with her mother. We locked the shop door, spread a blanket on the sofa in the break room, and did it over and over. Around two in the morning, she lay on top of me and suddenly looked at me very seriously.
"After you graduate... will you still come?"
I was taken aback.
She immediately laughed and dismissed the topic: 'Just asking casually. Don't take it to heart.'
But what was in those eyes was no longer just simple desire as it had been at the start.
I didn't answer.
Because I myself didn't know the answer either.
University life continued—coursework, classmates, future plans... all these realities reminded me that this relationship was destined to be a secret. And she had a family, children, her own life trajectory.
But whenever she moaned in confusion and passion under me, or lazily leaned in my arms afterward, all reason would temporarily fail.
We both knew that once this fire started burning, it would be hard to truly extinguish.
You can only carefully control it and not let it spill into reality.
Another rainy afternoon.
I walked into the shop as usual. She was organizing lottery tickets, and when she saw me, her eyes lit up, but she didn't lock the door immediately.
“It’s a bit busy today, come again tonight.” she said softly.
I nodded, bought a few lottery tickets, and left.
After nine in the evening, I appeared again. The shop was already closed, with only the inner lights left on. She opened the door to let me in, and the first thing she did after locking it was kiss me.
This kiss was more urgent than any before.
She pulled me toward the break room, undoing her clothes as we walked. By the time I closed the door, she was already down to her underwear.
"I missed you all day today." she said, her voice a little hoarse, "I was already wet by noon."
I pressed her down on the sofa, starting by kissing her neck and moving downward. She was especially sensitive today; just lightly licking her nipple with my tongue made her arch her back. By the time my lips moved between her legs, she was already trembling slightly.
I wasn't in a hurry to enter, instead using my tongue to carefully attend to her. Her fingers tangled in my hair, her voice intermittent: 'Don't... don't do that... just come in...'
But I deliberately teased and rubbed until she was almost pleading. When I finally thrust in, she let out a long sigh, her inner walls tightly gripping me as if trying to swallow me whole.
That night we did it for a long time.
We tried several positions, rested twice in between, and continued. She came over and over again, until her voice grew hoarse and she could only weakly grip my arm, letting me do as I pleased.
The last time I came inside her, she had almost no strength left, just slightly lifting her hips to take me deeper.
Afterward we lay side by side on the narrow sofa, listening to the rain outside.
Her fingers slowly traced something on my chest, and she suddenly spoke: 'Next month... I might have to close for a few days for renovations.'
“And then?”
“After the renovation... will you still come?”
I turned to look at her. She wasn't looking at me, just staring at the ceiling.
“Come.” I said.
She softly uttered an 'mm,' leaning her body slightly toward me.
The rain was still falling.
The air in the shop was damp and warm, mixed with the scent of post-lust.
Neither of us spoke again.
Because once some things start, they can only go where they are meant to go.
And we, have gone too deep, and can never go back.
After the renovation was completed, the shop took on a new look, with a slightly more spacious inner room added. She specifically placed a foldable bed in the inner room that could accommodate someone lying down.
"It's convenient for resting." she explained like that.
But we all know the bed’s true purpose.
Since then, our meetings became more regular and more secretive. She would send messages in advance telling me which days there were fewer guests, which days her husband was away, and which days she could stay a little longer. I would adjust my schedule according to my classes and try to show up when it was most convenient for her.
The physical rapport has reached an astonishing level.
Her fingers had just touched me, and I would get hard; my hand had just reached under her skirt, and she would get wet. Often, we didn't even need much foreplay; entering directly, we could quickly find the rhythm most comfortable for each other.
But the more familiar things become, the more one wants to try something new.
Once she suggested she wanted to be blindfolded with a silk scarf. I did as she asked. After losing her sight, she became unusually sensitive, every touch making her tremble slightly. I deliberately prolonged foreplay, teasing her with fingers, lips, and breath until she couldn't help but beg me.
I also once brought a little toy—a pair of vibrating nipple clamps. She was somewhat resistant at first, but after putting them on she adapted quickly, even taking the initiative to turn the vibration to maximum. When I entered her, the stimulation on her chest made her climax come fast and hard, and the walls of her inner passage clenched so tightly that I nearly surrendered immediately.
The craziest time was spending the night in the store.
That day, her husband took the child back to their hometown, and she told me in advance I could stay. We did it from evening until late at night, only taking short breaks in between. She hardly ever let me pull out, always using various methods to make me hard again soon after I softened, then swallowing it once more.
"No need to hurry off today..." she said against my ear, "we can do it all the time."
That night I came four times. The last time was almost empty, but she still clenched tightly around me, unwilling to let me pull out.
When dawn arrived, we were both exhausted. She lay on my chest, listening to my heartbeat, and suddenly said very softly:
“Days like this... I wish they could just keep going forever.”
I didn't respond.
Because I knew this was impossible.
The final year of university arrived quickly. Internships, graduation theses, job hunting... real-life matters piled up one after another. My visits to the lottery shop began to decrease. Sometimes, I couldn't find time for two consecutive weeks.
She didn't complain, just hugged a little tighter and made love a little more intensely each time we met.
It was like trying to hold on to every last bit of time that was still within reach.
The last time I went to see her before graduation was a sunny day.
There were no customers in the shop. She saw me, paused for a moment, then slowly walked over and locked the door.
We weren't in a hurry to start as usual. We just sat on the small bed in the inner room, chatting idly. We talked about my work, her children, and some trivial matters.
Later, it still happened.
This time was slower and quieter than any before. She buried her face in the crook of my neck, her body gently rising and falling with my movements, occasionally letting out fragmented sounds.
When it ended, she didn't get up immediately, but remained in the position of being entered, lying quietly for a while.
"Once you graduate, work hard." she said, "Don't keep running to places like this."
I let out an "Mmm."
She smiled, reached out to touch my face: 'Go. What must end will end.'
When I left, she didn't see me to the door, just stood in the inner room watching me.
Sunlight streamed in from outside the door, clearly outlining her silhouette.
I looked back at her one last time, then pushed the door open and walked out.
The door closed gently behind me.
Some desires, once ignited, can never be completely extinguished.
But some relationships, after all, can only stop where they should stop. And we had already burned away every part that could burn.
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