This happened many years ago. I had just graduated from school and was still a naive young man. This older sister was someone I met at work—the financial director of a partner company. Due to business relations, we worked together frequently for a period of time.
The first time we met, I was really stunned. She exuded the aura of a mature woman and a wife all over. Her figure was well-proportioned, not very tall, but with long legs and sexy curves. She looked a bit like Tang Can, who sings mainstream songs. The initial impression was that she was aloof and hard to approach. She just exchanged a few perfunctory words with me before taking her notebook to check the accounts.
At the time, I thought: if I could fuck her once, it would be amazing; just those small feet alone would be enough to kill me. So, I shamelessly served tea and water, trying to please her, and slowly, she became less cold towards me.
When work ended, I asked for her phone number and QQ, and we chatted online. Later, she mentioned she had always wanted to go out for exercise, but her husband, a vice president at the headquarters, simply had no time to accompany her.
Such a good opportunity couldn't be missed, of course. I advised her to get out more often, saying it helps prevent aging. Finally, she agreed to go play badminton with me.
On Saturday afternoon, we went to a school's badminton hall. The place had few people, making it convenient to talk. She wore sweatpants; I had thought it would be a skirt and was a bit disappointed. But it didn't matter. I deliberately increased the intensity, and in no time, she was sweating on her forehead and panting heavily.
I said, 'Look, the girls over there are all wearing short skirts. On such a hot day, how can you exercise in long pants?'
She laughed: "How could I compare to those young girls?"
I then said: "How can those unripe, green kids compare to you? I think your figure is much better than theirs. Are you afraid I'll get a nosebleed, so you don't dare wear short skirts?"
She laughed so hard her whole body shook, the seductive charm after exercise completely revealed, making me almost drool.
Nothing happened later, so I sent her home. For a while after that we chatted online, a sentence here and there. I found that her husband often went on business trips abroad and was rarely at home. She lived alone in a big house; her parents and relatives were all in other cities, her social circle was very small, and she had little entertainment. I advised her to come out and have fun more often to relieve stress, and said I could keep her company. I figured she could probably tell I was interested in her.
Later they also played tennis together and went to the seaside. Although there wasn’t much physical contact, the relationship still progressed quite a bit.
Until one day, things took a turn.
That day after work, I was playing games at home when I suddenly received a text message. It was Xiao Lei—that older sister. She asked what I was doing. I said I was at home with nothing to do. She said, 'Then come out for a walk with me!'
I drove to her company to pick her up. Seeing her looking exhausted, I asked what was wrong. She said work wasn't going well; she had been criticized by the boss. As she spoke, her eyes reddened, really like a little girl.
The stronger a woman appears on the outside, the more fragile she often is inside. I quickly found a less crowded place to park the car and comforted her softly. She couldn't hold back anymore and threw herself into my arms, crying.
Holding such a beauty, of course, my lower body reacted. She kept snuggling closer into my arms. I was in a dilemma when she gradually stopped crying and said, 'Let's go to the seaside.'
On summer nights in July, the seaside has an inexplicable air of flirtation. Many couples were being intimate. I accompanied her around for a few circles, chatting idly. She was especially strange today, as if hesitating about something. After walking for a while, she took off her high heels and threw them to me, then ran onto the beach.
I fantasized about those high heels for a long time, but couldn’t do anything in front of her, only holding them in my hands.
After walking around a while longer, it was almost completely dark. She suddenly ran over and asked, “What do you think of me?”
I said casually, 'It's pretty good.'
She asked again: 'You still prefer those young, pretty girls, don't you?'
I said, 'Of course not. Who would like those little girls? You have more of a woman's charm.'
She actually laughed and said, 'You're such a liar. Who would like me looking like this?'
I threw caution to the wind: 'In my eyes, no woman can compare to you. If you weren't married, I would have pursued you long ago.'
She didn't say anything, just got back in the car herself. I quickly followed to explain, begging her not to be angry. She said nothing. I had no choice but to drive her back to her neighborhood.
When she got off the car, she said for me to escort her back downstairs. My heart stirred.
The residential complex she lives in is one of the most upscale in this city, like a park, with many small paths and quiet corners. She lives in the row of buildings at the very back. I followed her, walking on the small path through the woods. It was already quite late, and there were basically no people around.
Just as we were about to reach downstairs, there was a very secluded corner. She suddenly turned around, pulled me into the corner, and threw herself into my arms.
Unlike in the car earlier, she was very restless, rubbing her leg against my crotch. I immediately got hard. She gave me a mischievous smile and, without saying a word, pulled down my pants.
Inside my summer pants was just a pair of underwear, tented up. She pulled my thing out in two moves, stroking it while saying, 'You bad guy, you've had your eye on me for a long time, haven't you?'
She slowly crouched down, sniffed with her nose, then licked a few times with her tongue before taking it into her mouth.
Back then, I had just left school not long ago, and my experience with my girlfriend was only half-hearted. I had never seen such a scene. My mind went blank. For many years after, with many women, none had oral skills I remembered so clearly. My little brother was hard as if about to explode.
After oral sex for a while, she seemed tired from squatting, so she pulled me to a row of chairs nearby. That day she wore a standard OL outfit: a low-cut white blouse, a dark suit skirt, and black high heels. Because we were outside, I didn’t dare undo the buttons on her clothes, so I had to reach behind her to try to unhook her bra; after struggling for quite a while, I only managed to unfasten two hooks.
She gave a seductive smile, called me an idiot, then reached out and undid it herself in one go. Finally, I touched that pair of snow-white, beautiful breasts. With one hand that can grip a basketball, I actually couldn't fully grasp them. The feel was amazing. She liked to use a sweet, fragrant perfume that was very arousing.
One hand continued rubbing her beautiful breasts, while the other reached into her sweet spot and pulled her panties aside a little. She was already flooding like a river, and her panties were soaked through. Later I realized that she was the type who would start wetting as soon as she was touched.
After casually touching a few times and fingering for a while, she couldn't take it anymore. She turned her body around, bent over, and let me take her from behind.
I dipped a bit of her wetness at the entrance and almost slid right in. The vagina wasn't particularly tight, but definitely not loose either, my entire penis felt wrapped in warm water, extremely comfortable. There was a lot of fluid, each thrust brought out more. I couldn't care about technique anymore, relying on stamina to start thrusting hard. I could only hear her muffled grunts as she tried hard to suppress her cries.
Doing it in the residential area, who knows when someone might come. Half enjoyment, half fear. Fucked for over ten minutes without cumming. Worried she couldn't handle lying down for too long, I had to temporarily withdraw and pick her up. I sat on a chair, she sat on me, and we continued insertion.
Now I could see her face. She liked to close her eyes during sex, exuding full seductive charm. A wet kiss came over, and her fragrant tongue immediately probed into my mouth. While doing it, she wriggled around on me.
Because I didn't dare stay long, I asked her, 'How about going to your place?' She actually said her husband was home today, right on the third floor near us.
I almost came right then.
I whispered dirty talk in her ear. She told me not to cum inside, it wasn't safe today, to pull out when I was about to cum. But how could I withstand such stimulation. After thrusting a while longer, feeling I was about to come, I quickly pulled out. Just as I was about to spray on the floor, she grabbed it and put it in her mouth, her tongue continuously attacking the slit. I came so hard my world went dark, she almost sucked my little brother dry.
After the last drop was shot, she licked a while longer, not spitting it out until it was completely soft, also spitting out the semen. I later found out she doesn't like to swallow.
After finishing, we cuddled for a while longer, and surprisingly felt no awkwardness at all, like lovers in the heat of passion. When she went upstairs, we kissed for a long time again before I let her go back.
After she went upstairs, I walked alone on the path back home, looking at the sky full of stars, feeling like it was all just a dream. I made it home in a daze, and I really have to thank heaven and earth that I didn't get into a car accident on the way.
After getting home, I lay in bed, my mind replaying the scenes from earlier—the way she squatted in front of me and took it in her mouth, the seductive way she closed her eyes and rode me, twisting her waist, and finally the act of swallowing the semen and then spitting it out. Hard, then soft, soft, then hard, I tossed and turned until midnight before barely falling asleep.
The next day was Sunday. I deliberately waited until noon to text her: 'How did you sleep last night?'
She replied quickly, "Not bad. And you?"
"I've missed you."
After a few minutes, she replied: 'Don't talk nonsense. Husband is home today.'
My heart tightened, yet I couldn't help feeling excited. So I replied: 'Then I'll wait until you have time.'
She didn't reply again.
On Monday at work, I deliberately detoured near their company and took a distant glance. She entered the building wearing a suit skirt, her steps steady, completely unlike how she looked last night when I pressed her onto a chair in the corner of the neighborhood and did her. The disguise skills of a mature woman are truly impressive.
For the next half month, we only chatted occasionally online. She would complain that her husband had to go on business trips again, send some selfies after working out (of course only up to the collarbone), and ask me whether I’d been seeing any other girls lately. I honestly answered no, and she would reply with a smiling face.
The real second time was after her husband went abroad again.
That night she called me on her own initiative, her voice lazy: 'Want to go out for a drink? It's boring being home alone.'
Without another word, I drove to pick her up. She had changed into casual clothes: a white dress, a thin coat over it, and still those black high heels on her feet. After getting in the car, she didn't speak, just leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes to rest. I drove to a very remote hotel in the suburbs and checked in.
The moment we entered, she pushed me against the wall and kissed me eagerly. This kiss was more urgent than the last one. Her hand went straight into my pants, gripping and stroking as we kissed. I carried her to the bed, lifted her dress, and discovered she wasn't wearing any underwear underneath.
“On purpose?” I asked.
She nodded, blushing: "To save trouble."
I lowered my head and buried it between her legs. Her scent was stronger than last time, already a mess of wetness. As soon as my tongue touched her clitoris, she trembled slightly, her fingers threading into my hair. I licked attentively, using the tip of my tongue to part her labia, occasionally sucking. Her moans gradually changed from suppressed to unrestrained, her legs tightening around my head.
“Come in…… stop licking……” her voice trembled.
I wasn't in a hurry to satisfy her. Instead, I continued using my fingers and tongue to bring her to a small climax. After her body went soft, I took off my clothes, held myself, and pressed against the entrance. She actively lifted her hips, letting me sink all the way in.
This time we did it longer. She liked it when I entered from behind, arching her back high and looking back at me. I liked this position too, able to clearly see how I plunged into her body with each thrust, and reach around to knead her nipples. Later on, she started begging me to go faster, her voice soft and seductive: 'Come for me... it's safe today... inside...'
I quickened my pace, finally releasing everything deep inside her. She clenched tightly, squeezing out every last drop from me.
Afterward she lay on her side, letting me hold her from behind. Only the bedside lamp was on in the room, and her skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat in the light.
"Have you ever thought about what would happen if this kept going?" she suddenly asked.
“I thought about it.” I answered honestly, “but I can’t stop.”
She was silent for a moment, then reached out and grasped my already half-soft thing, gently stroking: 'Then don't stop. Anyway, my husband is away for most of the year.'
Since then, we developed a certain tacit understanding.
As long as her husband is on a business trip, she will look for me. Sometimes it’s in a hotel, sometimes at her home (with the curtains drawn tightly), sometimes even in the car. She has become more and more uninhibited, actively asking for different positions, whispering dirty talk in my ear, and after climaxing, using her mouth to clean me up.
Once we did it at her house. The floor-to-ceiling window in the living room overlooked the community garden. Although the curtains were drawn, you could vaguely see people walking outside. She rode on top of me, deliberately keeping her voice low but making her movements large. Halfway through, she suddenly stopped, looked down at me, her eyes bright:
“What if someone pushes the door open and comes in now... what do you think would happen?”
Her words instantly made me even harder. She felt it, smiled with satisfaction, and continued swaying her hips.
That night we did it three times. The last time she lay face down on the sofa, letting me enter deeply from behind. When I came, I deliberately stayed pressed deep inside without moving, feeling myself gushing out in waves. She softly cursed me: 'Bastard... you've filled me up...'
While cleaning, she looked at the stains on the bedsheet and suddenly laughed: 'Let's use a condom next time. Always like this, I feel uneasy inside.'
I nodded.
Nearly a year passed just like that.
She was still that haughty Finance Director, and I was still that young man just starting his career. On the surface, we were just ordinary cooperative partners, but privately we knew each other's bodies inside out. She taught me many things—how to make a woman wet faster, how to flirt with eyes in public, how to satisfy both parties in a short time.
I gradually understood that for her, I was probably just a safe outlet. No entanglement, no demand for status, no disruption to her existing life. And what I gained was the most scorching and also most real memory of my youth.
One day she suddenly said that her husband was being transferred back to work locally long-term.
That night we took it very slowly at the hotel. She kept looking into my eyes, as if trying to remember something. After finishing, she leaned against my chest, not speaking for a long time.
"From now on... we probably won't be able to see each other so easily." she finally said.
I nodded without pressing further.
As she got up and dressed, I lay in bed watching her. Her mature body was still enticing under the light, but her movements had already regained their usual composure. After putting on her shoes, she walked over and gently kissed my forehead.
“Take care of yourself.” she said.
Then opened the door and left.
I sat alone in the room for a long time. The city lights outside the window were bright, and that secret time with the married female director thus came to an end.
Later, we would still occasionally meet at work. She would nod politely to me, and I would return a professional smile. No one knew that this proud, composed woman had once, in a corner of the neighborhood, on a hotel bed, and in my arms, made such soft, alluring sounds.
And I have finally come to understand one thing—
Some fires, once burned, are enough.
If it keeps burning, the whole person will be set on fire.
Even though that's what they say, people always fail to do it.
In the first two months after we split up, I lived a fairly normal life. I worked during the day, went home to play games at night, and occasionally went out drinking with colleagues. Xiao Lei’s name gradually sank lower and lower in the chat history until one day I scrolled through my phone and realized we had already gone nearly a month without speaking.
I thought I had let go.
Until one Friday night.
At a company dinner, I drank a bit too much. On the way back to the rental room, I ghost-like opened our chat window and sent a message: “Are you okay?”
The moment I sent it, I regretted it. But the read receipt showed up very quickly.
After three minutes, she replied: 'Not bad. And you?'
“Kind of miss you.”
This time she didn't reply immediately. I threw my phone aside, washed my face, and told myself not to be stupid again. But just as I lay down on the bed, my phone vibrated.
“Come out for a bit?”
I almost jumped up.
When I drove to the hotel she specified, it was almost eleven. She stood at the end of the corridor, wearing a loose sweatshirt and jeans, her hair tied up casually, looking much more relaxed than before. Seeing me, she just slightly lifted her chin, turned, swiped her card, and entered the room.
As soon as the door closed, the two were entangled together.
No unnecessary words. She pushed me onto the bed, straddled me, and quickly took off her clothes. Her mature body was still enticing under the light, her breasts gently rising and falling with her breath. She grasped me, aligned herself, and slowly sat down, letting out a satisfied sigh.
“Just once.” She looked down at me, her voice a little hoarse. “Let’s just think of it as... ending more completely.”
I nodded, but in my heart I knew that such words were never to be trusted.
That night we did it for a long time. She was more proactive and more open than before. She would adjust the angle herself, say things in my ear she used to be too shy to say, and after climaxing, she would actively use her mouth to clean me up, then look up with bright eyes and ask, 'Can you still get hard?'
Of course it can get hard.
The second time, she let me enter from behind. She supported herself on the headboard with both hands, arching her back very low. I held her hips, thrusting in stroke by stroke, listening to her suppressed yet uncontrollable moans. Later on, she started begging me to cum inside her, her voice so soft it didn't sound like that proud financial director.
I did as told.
After finishing, neither of us moved. She lay on the bed, I lay on her back, feeling myself still buried deep inside her. After a long time, she softly said: 'Don't contact me again.'
“Good.”
But at noon the next day, she sent another message: “Are you free tonight?”
I replied with a "Yes."
So there was a third time, a fourth time, and a fifth time.
We both knew deep down that the so-called 'last time' was just self-comfort. Although her husband had been transferred back locally, his social engagements were still many, often not coming home until midnight. She found the time gap, and I willingly cooperated.
Sometimes it's a hotel, sometimes it's in the car, once even in the parking lot under her office building. That time was especially thrilling. She was wearing her professional suit, I pressed her into the back seat, her skirt pushed up to her waist, biting her lip to keep the sounds in. After finishing, she straightened her clothes, looked at herself in the rearview mirror, and suddenly laughed:
"Does this count as being very cheap of me?"
I hugged her from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder: 'It counts. But only show your depravity to me.'
She didn't argue, just reached out and patted my face.
And so, another half a year passed.
The relationship gradually turned from something fresh at the beginning into a habit. She would send me her location when she worked overtime until very late, and I would show up on time. After she came, she would lie in my arms in a daze, and I would hold her silently. Occasionally she would mention her husband, saying he had been under a lot of pressure lately, or that the house needed renovation. Every time she brought these things up, the air would fall silent for a few seconds, and then we would interrupt the topic with our bodies.
One night, after we finished, she suddenly looked at me very seriously:
"Have you ever thought about finding a normal girlfriend in the future?"
“I thought about it.”
“Then go find it. Don’t waste time on someone like me.”
I didn't speak, just held her a little tighter. She struggled for a moment but ultimately didn't push me away.
What truly drew a conclusion to this relationship was an accident.
That night she changed the location at the last minute, asking me to go to her house. She said her husband had gone out of town for a meeting and wouldn't be back for two days. When I arrived, she had already opened red wine and dimmed the lights. We did it once on the sofa, and once more in the bedroom. After it ended, she went to shower, and I lay on the bed playing with my phone.
The sound of water was still running in the bathroom when the sound of a key turning suddenly came from outside the door.
I froze completely.
The door opened. Footsteps approached from afar. It was a male voice, tinged with fatigue: "Xiao Lei? I came back early, the meeting was canceled..."
The sound of water in the bathroom abruptly stopped.
I practically rolled off the bed, grabbed my clothes, and fled to the balcony. Luckily, she lived on a high floor, and the balcony had a small storage space. While hiding there, I could still hear faint voices inside. Her voice sounded calm, as if nothing had happened.
I stayed in the dark for nearly two hours. Only after confirming it was completely quiet outside did I cautiously leave. My legs were weak going downstairs.
The next day she sent me a message, just one sentence:
"It's over. Don't contact me again."
I replied with a "Good."
Then deleted all the chat records.
Later on, we would occasionally run into each other at work. She was still that calm, professional finance director, nodding to me, speaking in meetings, laughing and chatting with others. No one knew that this woman had once cried beneath me, begging me to ejaculate inside her, and had also once cleaned me thoroughly with her tongue after orgasm.
And I have finally pushed those days deep into the furthest recesses of my memory.
Some fires, once burned, are enough.
If it keeps burning, the whole person will be set on fire.
But sometimes, even knowing you’ll get burned, you still reach out your hand.
It’s just that this time, we all learned to let go in time.
A year passed.
I've already changed jobs and moved to another city. I still think of her occasionally. I think of that chair in the corner of the neighborhood, of her with her eyes closed in the hotel room, of the tone in her voice when she said 'just once.'
One night, while on a business trip in a hotel, I was scrolling through my phone and suddenly saw her WeChat Moments. It hadn't been updated for a long time; this time she only posted a blurry photo of the seaside, with just four words: 'All is well.'
I stared at that photo for a long time, ultimately didn't like it, nor did I comment.
Putting down my phone, I walked to the window. The city lights spread out below like a silent sea.
Some people are destined to only be an interlude in each other's lives.
Some fires are destined to burn only briefly in the dark.
And I, had finally learned to seal that fire away deep in the recesses of memory.
No longer touch it.
And no longer think about it.
Only occasionally, on some late night, when the wind blew through the window crack, would that sweet perfume scent still faintly drift by.
Then, let out a soft sigh.
The story truly ends here.
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