My name is Lin Yuan, I'm 21 years old. I've been friends with A Fei for over ten years, from elementary school until now. His house is in another building in our complex, just a five-minute walk away. Because we're so close, I almost treat A Fei's house as my second home.
A Fei's mother's surname is Zhong, I always called her Auntie Zhong. Forty-two years old, a standard Shanghai housewife. Not very tall, her skin, due to years of busy housework and not paying much attention to upkeep, had fine lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, and her complexion was somewhat sallow. But her body was a completely different story. When dressed, she just seemed full-figured; undressed, you'd discover those breasts were round and plump, even with a bra they sagged slightly, yet it made them seem even more substantial. Her hips were wide and perky, swaying gently when she walked; although her waist had a bit of extra flesh, it made her whole figure appear even more womanly. Exactly the kind of middle-aged female physique that makes young men's hearts race.
When I was young, I didn’t feel much about these things. But these past few years have been different. I’ve increasingly come to like paying attention to mature women over thirty. Their bodies are no longer as thin as girls’, but carry the fullness and softness accumulated over time. Aunt Zhong is one of those I can’t let go of the most.
After A Fei bought a new game console, I visited his house even more often. One afternoon, Auntie Zhong went out to buy groceries, and A Fei and I were playing intensely. When she returned and saw the floor was a bit dirty, without a word she took a rag and squatted down to wipe it. That day she wore a round-neck dress, the hem reaching mid-thigh. The half-squatting posture naturally pulled the hem upward; from my sitting angle, I could clearly see the pink lace panties inside. The fabric tightly wrapped around her full buttocks, and in the middle, a faint dark shadow could be seen — the outline of pubic hair.
The game controller in my hand almost fell.
After a while, she wiped over to our area, still half-squatting. Her round collar was slightly open, revealing the edge of her pink half-cup bra. The deep cleavage gently rose and fell with her breathing. I forced myself to look back at the screen, but my heartbeat was already in disarray. That night, lying in bed, I kept recalling those pink panties and finally couldn't help but take care of myself once. The next morning, I found my shorts were wet. I felt ashamed of myself—I had actually had a wet dream over my good friend's mother. But my body was far more honest than my reason. I told myself: I must have her.
Their family was a very ordinary family of three. A Fei was still studying, Aunt Zhong worked at the cotton textile mill, and Uncle Zhong was a security guard, often on night shifts. That gave me an opportunity.
Finally, one day, I learned that Uncle Zhong was scheduled to work two consecutive night shifts, and Ah Fei was also pulled by a classmate to celebrate a birthday and would stay over for a few days. The opportunity had arrived.
That night I deliberately wore loose, easy-to-remove clothes and headed to A Fei's house after dinner. After ringing the doorbell, Auntie Zhong came to answer. She was wearing a thin silk nightgown, vaguely revealing the outline of red underwear beneath. Her breasts swayed gently under the nightgown with her movements, and the hem only reached above her knees. My lower body instantly tensed up.
"Looking for Xiao Fei? He's not here, he went to a classmate's house." Her tone was normal.
I pretended to be disappointed and was about to leave, but she politely said, 'Come in and sit for a while. I'm alone anyway.'
I immediately agreed. After entering, I sat on the sofa while she went to get drinks. I stared at her back; the edge of her red panties peeked in and out from under her nightgown, and her breasts swayed slightly with each step. She asked me what I wanted to drink, but I didn't even hear clearly until our eyes met. Her face flushed slightly, and then I said, 'Whatever.'
We sat down and chatted. I deliberately brought the conversation back to her, praising her good maintenance and attractiveness, especially for our age. She became a bit shy from the compliments but clearly happy, with a smile on her lips. My gaze kept drifting over her body—rounded shoulders, the rising chest under the nightgown, the faintly visible skin at the root of her thighs when she sat cross-legged.
After chatting for a while, I 'accidentally' knocked over a cup on the coffee table. Water spilled everywhere. Auntie Zhong quickly said, 'It's okay, I'll handle it,' grabbed a cloth, and crouched down to wipe it up. Her nightgown had a low neckline; as she leaned forward, her ample breasts, supported by a red bra, nearly spilled out, the deep cleavage impossible to look away from. The edge of her panties was also clearly visible.
My breathing became ragged.
At that moment, reason was completely overwhelmed by desire. I stood up, walked behind her, and reached out to gently encircle her waist from behind. Her body stiffened, she turned her head, her eyes full of surprise.
"Lin Yuan... what are you doing?"
I didn't exert force immediately, just buried my face in the crook of her neck and whispered, 'Auntie... I like you. I've liked you for a long time.'
She tried to break free, her voice tense: 'Stop fooling around, you're still a kid... let go quickly.'
"I'm already twenty-one." I kissed down along the back of her ear, my palm covering the breast beneath her nightgown, gently kneading through the bra. "Auntie's body... is so soft. I've been thinking about it every night.",
Her struggling wasn't very forceful, more panicked. 'No... I have a husband... you're Xiao Fei's friend...'
I gently pressed her down onto the sofa. The motion wasn't rough but was firm. I pushed her nightgown up, revealing her red panties and slightly rounded stomach. I lowered my head to kiss her collarbone, my hand slipping under the edge of her bra to directly touch the soft, warm flesh of her breast. Her nipple was already slightly hard.
“Auntie... look, it’s reacting on its own.” I slowly traced circles around the nipple with my fingertip.
She bit her lip, her eyes slightly red, but didn't shout loudly again. Her body gradually softened under my caress. I unfastened her bra, and that pair of full breasts immediately sprang out, larger and heavier than when clothed. I lowered my head to suck on one nipple gently, while my other hand reached down into her panties.
It was already a bit wet there.
“...Don’t do that...” Her voice became faint, tinged with sobs, but she did not truly push me away with any force.
I pulled her panties down to her knees and parted her legs. Beneath the thick black pubic hair, her labia were slightly parted, glistening with moisture. I lowered my head and licked. When my tongue swept over her clitoris, her whole body trembled, and she let out a suppressed whimper. My fingers probed into her vagina—it was hot and tight inside, and her juices flowed out between my fingers.
“Auntie is so wet down there...” I looked up at her, “Do you actually want it too?”
She turned her face away, unwilling to answer, but her lower body unconsciously pressed against my fingers. I intensified the licking, focusing on that already swollen clitoris. Before long, her thighs suddenly clamped together, her body shook violently, and a rush of warmth flowed out. She had climaxed.
I climbed up and took off my clothes. My painfully hard penis pressed against her wet entrance. She opened her eyes, panic and desire in them. "Don't... go in... something will happen..."
I kissed her lips, my waist slowly but firmly pushing forward. The glans gradually parted the tight flesh until it was fully buried inside. She let out a long, tearful moan, her hands gripping my shoulders, nails digging into my skin.
"It's too deep... slow down..."
I started thrusting. The body of a mature woman is completely different from that of a young girl—softer, hotter, and more skilled at gripping and sucking. Each time I pulled out and entered again, it brought out sticky, wet sounds. Her breasts swayed up and down with the impact; I lowered my head and took one into my mouth, sucking hard. Her moans gradually changed from resistance to suppressed enjoyment, and her legs actively wrapped around my waist.
“Auntie... it’s clamping so tight...” I said softly as I thrust, “It’s even more comfortable than I imagined.”
She closed her eyes, tears sliding from the corners, but her body matched my rhythm. I lifted her legs onto my shoulders, going deeper, hitting the deepest point with every thrust. Her vagina began to contract rhythmically; she was clearly about to climax again. I sped up, releasing at the moment of her orgasm, shooting all my semen deep into her body.
Afterward, we were all gasping for breath. I was still buried inside her, unwilling to pull out. She reached over and pushed me, her voice hoarse: "...Get out. It's dirty."
I pulled out, watching the milky white liquid slowly flow out from her swollen slit. She turned on her side, back facing me, shoulders trembling slightly. I hugged her from behind, kissing the nape of her neck. 'Auntie, I'm sorry... but I really like you so much.'
She was silent for a long time, then said softly: '...Don't ever do this again. If Xiao Fei finds out...'
"He won’t know." I buried my face in her hair, "it’s just the two of us."
After that night, we had a few more times. They were all chosen when Uncle Zhong was on night duty and Ah Fei wasn't around. Each time she would initially resist, saying she was too old, not good enough, sorry to her husband, but her body became more proactive each time. Sometimes she would actively climb on top and move herself; sometimes she would press my head between her legs, making me lick her carefully. She said in all her years of marriage, her husband had never treated her like this, let alone gone down on her.
I know this won't last. She has a family, and I'm her son's friend. But every time I leave her house, I look back at her figure standing in the doorway—her nightgown disheveled, hair messy, desire still lingering in her eyes.
That mature body has been completely etched into my memory.
And I know that I will go look for her again.
After that night, I waited almost every day for the next opportunity.
Auntie Zhong didn't give me a clear rejection, nor did she initiate contact. She seemed to bury everything that happened that night deep in her heart, going to and from work as usual during the day, calling Ah Fei as usual to remind him about homework, nodding and smiling when she met me in the complex as usual, still addressing me as 'Xiao Lin'. But only I knew, the moment her eyes avoided mine, the tips of her ears would quietly turn red.
The real second time was two weeks later.
Uncle Zhong is on night shift again, Ah Fei has gone out of town for a school activity and won't be back for three days. Around seven in the evening, I deliberately loitered in the residential complex, waiting until the lights in her living room turned on before ringing the doorbell. She was clearly taken aback when she opened the door, having changed from her nightgown into a loose home-wear T-shirt and capri pants, her hair casually tied up, with little makeup on her face.
“...Why are you here?”
"Passing by. Wanted to come up and sit for a while." I looked straight into her eyes. "Is that okay?"
She hesitated for a few seconds, then stepped aside to let me in. The moment the door closed behind me, the air seemed to change. I didn't touch her immediately, just followed her into the living room and accepted the glass of warm water she poured. We sat at opposite ends of the sofa, silent for nearly a minute.
Finally, she spoke first, her voice very low: 'What happened that day... let's just pretend it never happened, okay?'
I put down the cup and moved closer to her. 'Auntie, I can't do it.'
She looked up at me, her eyes showing weariness and something familiar—the moistness and fluster from that night's climax. 'You're still young; you'll meet the right girl someday. At my age, I've already...'
I reached out and covered her hand resting on her knee. Her hand was slightly larger than mine, the knuckles somewhat rough from years of housework, but very warm. 'But I only want you.'
This sentence was like a key, unlocking the defenses she had barely maintained. She didn't pull her hand back, just sighed softly. I leaned over, first kissing her forehead, then the space between her eyebrows, and finally landing on her lips. Her lips were somewhat dry, but they slowly parted as I licked them, responding awkwardly yet earnestly.
This time we didn't start on the floor; we went straight into the master bedroom.
Her bed was neatly made, carrying a faint scent of laundry detergent. I pressed her onto the bed, took off her T-shirt and pants. Inside were plain cotton underwear, far less provocative than the red lace from that night, but more real. I unhooked her bra, and those full breasts fell onto her chest. The areolas were larger than a young girl's, and darker in color. I lowered my head to take one into my mouth, sucking hard, while my other hand kneaded the other. She soon let out suppressed moans, her hands digging into my hair.
"A little gentler... the neighbors will hear..."
I looked up and nibbled on her earlobe: 'Then bite the pillow.'
I kissed downward, passing over her soft lower abdomen, finally stopping before that dense patch of pubic hair. She instinctively tried to close her legs, but I separated them with my hands. Her labia were already somewhat wet. I extended my tongue, carefully licking from bottom to top across the entire slit, paying special attention to that clitoris which had already slightly peeked out. Her reaction was stronger than the first time; her waist involuntarily lifted, pushing herself toward my mouth.
“Ah... don’t... there is too sensitive...”
I didn't stop. Instead, I slowly inserted two fingers, curving them to search for that rough patch of soft flesh. Once found, I rubbed and pressed it, while my tongue quickly flicked her clitoris. She didn't last long before climaxing, her thighs clamping my head, her vagina contracting violently, a warm gush of fluid welling out, wetting my chin.
I climbed up and took off my clothes. She looked at my erect penis with a complex expression, yet actively reached out to grasp it, stroking it up and down a few times. I pressed against her entrance, not entering immediately, but instead rubbed the head back and forth over her clit and wet slit.
“Auntie, look at me.”
She opened her eyes. Under her gaze, I slowly and firmly pushed in. This time was smoother than the first, and when I was fully inside, she let out a long sigh, as if finally giving up on something. I began to thrust, first slow and deep, each time reaching the deepest part, feeling the suction and squeezing of her inner walls. Her breasts swayed violently with the movement. I lowered my head and took one into my mouth, teeth gently nibbling the nipple.
"Is it comfortable?" I asked.
She bit her lower lip, nodded, then shook her head, and finally admitted honestly, '...Much more comfortable than when I did it with your uncle.'
This sentence was like a catalyst. I sped up, lifting her legs onto my shoulders, going deeper. The sound of wetness was especially clear in the quiet room. Her moans gradually became impossible to suppress, and she could only bury her face in the pillow. I reached down to rub her clitoris, feeling she was about to climax again, so I deliberately slowed down, only shallowly thrusting, teasing her sensation.
"Beg me." I said in a low voice.
She opened her eyes, her eyes full of watery light. '...Please... faster... let me go...'
Only then did I thrust in heavily, pumping rapidly and continuously. She climaxed on the third stroke, her entire body tensing, her vagina clamping down on me tightly, her fluids spraying all over my lower abdomen. I gritted my teeth and thrust another dozen times before fully releasing inside her.
Afterward we lay side by side. She turned over with her back to me, and I held her from behind, my palm covering her slightly rising and falling lower abdomen. Semen was slowly flowing out from between us, wetting the bedsheet.
"From now on... it can’t be too frequent." Her voice was muffled, "Xiaofei is very sensitive. And your uncle too."
“I know.” I kissed the back of her neck, “but as long as there’s a chance, I’ll still come.”
She did not answer, just gripped my hand a little tighter.
The third time was on a rainy afternoon.
A Fei went to tutoring, Uncle Zhong was at a meeting at work. I deliberately chose this time slot to visit, saying I came to get the charger I left here last time. After she let me in, I locked the main door. She looked at my actions, and her eyes showed understanding.
This time we were on the sofa in the living room.
I had her straddle me, letting her control the rhythm. At first, she was still a bit shy, her hands braced on my chest, her waist moving awkwardly. But before long, she found the rhythm, lifting herself up and sitting back down, taking me to the deepest point each time. Her breasts swayed in front of me. I reached out to hold them, kneading firmly, my thumbs teasing the hard nipples.
“Auntie moving by herself is so obscene.” I said deliberately.
Her face flushed intensely, but she didn't stop; instead, she sped up. The sound of water and the slapping of flesh mixed together. I arched my hips to match her, each upward thrust making her let out fragmented gasps. When she climaxed, she collapsed onto me, her vagina contracting in waves, squeezing me almost to the point of surrender. I held back, laid her down on the sofa, entered from behind, and held her waist as I thrust rapidly. This position went extremely deep; she buried her face in the sofa cushion, letting out intermittent sobs.
During ejaculation, I deliberately asked her: 'Can I cum inside?'
She shook her head, but didn't truly stop me. I still gave it all to her.
Since then, we had a tacit understanding.
As long as Uncle Zhong is on night duty or away on a business trip, and A Fei isn’t at home, she will dim the lights in the living room around nine o’clock at night. That’s the signal. I would ring the doorbell around nine-thirty. Sometimes we’d do it only once, sometimes until midnight. She started to prepare proactively, occasionally changing into that set of red lace underwear; sometimes she wore nothing at all, only a robe while waiting for me.
I gradually became familiar with every part of her body.
She enjoys having her clit licked but is too shy to ask directly, always gently pressing the back of my head when I lower it. When she climaxes, she clenches tightly and produces a lot of fluid, sometimes even squirting. Her breasts are sensitive; lightly biting her nipples makes her shiver. During doggy style, she unconsciously pushes her hips back. What drives her over the edge is when I thrust while using my fingers to rub her clit and whisper dirty things in her ear—about how tight she is, how wet she is, how it feels to be fucked by her son's friend.
Every time she hears it, she gets wetter.
Of course, afterward, she always has a period of silence and self-blame.
Once after finishing, she sat on the edge of the bed smoking (I only then learned she occasionally smoked), the red glow of the cigarette tip flickering in the dark. 'What am I doing...' she murmured softly, 'at my age, still doing this with a young person. If Xiao Fei knew, how would he see me.'
I hugged her from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder. 'He won't know. And... Auntie hasn't wronged anyone. Your uncle hasn't touched you properly in a long time, right?'
She did not refute.
Once, she cried after orgasm. It wasn’t pain, but some kind of complex emotion. I wiped her tears, but she grabbed my hand and placed it on her own heart. “Here... it feels like it’s broken.”
I knew what she was saying. We both understood that this relationship wouldn't have a future. I was still young; someday I would leave this city, have my own job and wife. And she would continue being the housewife of this family, continuing to be Ah Fei's good mother and Uncle Zhong's wife. But as long as we could keep going, neither of us was willing to stop first.
When summer was about to end, Ah Fei was going to another city for a two-month internship. Uncle Zhong's night shifts also became more frequent. That was our craziest period.
Almost every other day I would go over. Sometimes in the afternoon, sometimes at night. We were in the master bedroom, in the living room, in the bathroom, and once even on the balcony—she was pinned against the clothes rack by me, taken from behind, with the city’s night view outside, and someone could look up at any moment. She bit the back of her own hand, not letting any sound escape, but down below she was clenched so tightly.
I started bringing some small props.
A thin vibrating wand was inserted into her vagina and she was told to clamp it in place while doing housework. A blindfold covered her eyes, and she could only feel me through touch and hearing. Once I tied her hands to the bedhead with a silk scarf, slowly kissed her from head to toe, and only then entered her. She was left hanging in torment, breathing hard and begging me in a voice thick with tears.
"Lin Yuan... come in... please..."
The feeling of being actively pleaded with by her excited me more than any technique.
There were gentle moments too.
One rainy night, after we finished, we didn't separate immediately. She lay in my arms, her fingers tracing the contours of my chest. 'You'll marry a young, beautiful wife someday,' she suddenly said. 'When that time comes, just forget about Auntie.'
I held her hand. "Can't forget."
She smiled and said no more. The rain tapped against the window, leaving only our breathing in the room.
Autumn arrived in the blink of an eye.
A Fei's internship is ending and he's coming back. We both know that such frequent meetings are about to end. The last time was the night before he returned.
She broke her usual rule and took the initiative to send a message: 'Come tonight.'
When I arrived, she had already showered and was wearing only that thin nightgown, with nothing underneath. Only one lamp was on, the light dim and yellow. She walked over, actively kissed me, and her hands were already undoing my pants.
That night we did it three times.
The first time was in the entranceway by the door; I picked her up, her back against the wall, her legs wrapped around my waist. The second time was on the sofa; she straddled me and moved on her own, crying halfway through but not stopping. The third time was on the master bedroom bed; I entered from behind, one hand reaching around to rub her clit, the other gripping her breast. When she climaxed, her whole body went soft, leaving only faint, broken sobs.
After ejaculating, I was still buried inside, reluctant to withdraw. She reached back to touch my cheek, her voice hoarse: '... Enough. It's time to end.'
I knew she wasn't just talking about tonight.
I pulled out, helped her clean up, and held her for a long time. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes still held lingering desire, but more than that, there was a certain resoluteness.
"From now on... let’s just be ordinary neighbors." she said, "After Xiaofei comes back, you can still come over to play, but don’t come upstairs alone again."
I nodded, but said in my heart: I can't do it.
When I left her house, the night wind was chilly. I walked to the entrance of the residential complex and looked back at the window where the light had already gone out. That mature body, those suppressed moans, those moments of silence and dependence afterward, were already completely etched into my memory.
And I know that I will go look for her again. Even if it's just to catch a distant glimpse, it's better than nothing.
And I know that I will go look for her again. Even if it's just to catch a distant glimpse, it's better than nothing.
The night wind blew through the plane trees lining the street, carrying the unique dryness and coolness of early autumn. I shoved my hands into my coat pockets, but didn't immediately quicken my pace. My mind kept replaying the scenes from that double bed just moments ago.
Her skin was very fair, but not the sickly pallor of a young girl. It was the kind of delicate, slightly warm-toned fairness that comes from being covered by clothing for years. When I lifted her nightgown to her waist, that soft lower abdomen rose and fell slightly. Beside her navel was a faint stretch mark, like a thin silver trace under the light. When I gently ran my thumb over it, her breathing noticeably faltered.
“Don’t... don’t look there.” That was what she said then, her voice low and hoarse, carrying a kind of shy embarrassment at having been seen through.
But I still looked. Not only looked, but lowered my head to touch it with my lips. Her fingers slipped into my hair, trying to push me away, but in the end she only weakly grasped it. Her legs also slowly parted a little, revealing the already wet place. A mature woman’s body is just this honest. Even if her mouth is still gently refusing, her body has already long been ready to be entered.
I entered very slowly.
Not because of any hesitation, but because I wanted to see every subtle change in her expression clearly. When I pushed all the way in, her brow furrowed slightly, and a heavily suppressed nasal sound escaped from her throat. Her hands climbed onto my back, her nails sinking slightly into my skin. The satisfaction and shame after being completely filled were both written on her face.
"Gentler... I’m afraid the child will wake up." She turned her head and said this in my ear.
The voice was so soft it almost seemed to melt.
I didn't answer at the time, just began moving slowly in and out. Each time pulling out until only the tip remained, then plunging the entire length back in. Her inner walls were hot and tight, as if countless little mouths were sucking simultaneously. A mature body is like this: it knows how to please a man, yet reveals rare vulnerability when truly entered.
The mattress emitted a soft creak. She buried her face in the pillow, muffling all sounds in the fabric. Only the occasional overly deep thrust would force out a short, choked sob. Those sounds were like tiny hooks, catching on my nerves one by one.
At the end, I came inside.
She did not refuse. Just at the moment of my release, her legs wrapped around me tighter, her lower abdomen contracting slightly, as if trying to keep everything inside. Afterwards, she lay on her side, back to me, her shoulders somewhat stiff. I hugged her from behind, my palm covering her slightly soft lower abdomen. That place had once nurtured life, and now it held my essence.
"Next time... wear a condom." She took a long time before speaking, her voice very soft.
I didn't agree, nor did I deny. I just let my lips brush against the skin on the back of her neck. She trembled slightly but didn't pull away.
That silence was very dangerous.
More dangerous than any entreaty or refusal. It implies a tacit agreement, a silent acquiescence that quietly hands over the right to use the body. I know I would become addicted. Not to her face, nor to her identity, but to this complex reaction of being needed, being depended on, and yet being forcefully suppressed.
Now I'm standing at the entrance of the residential complex. The night breeze gradually blows away the lingering warmth from earlier. The phone in my pocket vibrates. I take it out to look; it's a message from her.
"Have you arrived home?"
Only four words. Yet it made me stand there and look for a long time.
I replied, "Just arrived at the neighborhood entrance."
After over ten seconds, she sent another: 'Be careful on the road.'
No more followed.
I put my phone back in my pocket and walked towards the bus stop. My steps were heavier than when I came. Yet, my mind uncontrollably began to imagine the next time. Maybe on a weekend afternoon when the child is at an extracurricular class. Maybe on a weekday noon when she finds an excuse to come home. Once the door closes, the outside world is temporarily irrelevant to us.
She would open the door wearing loungewear. The collar was loose, revealing her collarbone and a bit of skin on her chest. Her eyes held weariness, along with a hint of barely noticeable anticipation. As soon as I entered, I would press her against the wall and kiss her. She would put up a symbolic resistance a couple of times, then quickly soften, letting me carry her to the sofa or press her directly onto the dining table.
The most moving thing about a mature body is that it knows exactly what it's doing.
It won't be flustered and helpless like a young girl, nor will it be unreservedly passionate. It will frown slightly when entered, bite its lower lip when pleasure builds up, and grip the bedsheet or my arm tightly before climax arrives. Those subtle, life-worn reactions are more addictive than any exaggerated moans.
I boarded the last bus, leaning against the window. The neon lights outside the window receded in segments. I closed my eyes, my mind filled with the image of her back slightly arched during orgasm, and afterwards, lying on the bed, covering her eyes with her arm.
That appearance was very quiet.
It was so quiet, as if all the things unwilling to be seen in daylight were temporarily hidden in the darkness.
The next day at work, I could hardly concentrate.
I read through the document on the computer screen over and over, but not a single word sank in. What kept replaying in my mind were the two shallow marks I had pinched into the roots of her thighs and the way she breathed when she said 'slow down' in my ear.
At noon, while resting, I still couldn't hold back and sent her a message.
"Are you free tonight?"
This time she replied quickly.
"The child's father is entertaining clients today and may be very late. You... can come after nine o'clock."
I stared at that line of text, looked at it for a long time.
After nine o'clock.
It means I can stay at her place very late, even until the early hours. It means that bed will become messy again, and it means she'll tremble beneath me with that suppressed yet honest voice once more.
The afternoon’s work had become pure agony. I kept looking at the time; the second hand moved extraordinarily slowly. As soon as it passed five, I left the company early. After getting home I took a quick shower, changed into clean clothes, and then ate something casually at a nearby restaurant. By seven o’clock, I was already standing once again at the entrance to that residential complex.
The night was darker than last night.
I didn't go up immediately. Instead, I sat on a nearby bench for a while, smoking. The smoke dispersed under the lamplight. I told myself to stay calm, but couldn't help imagining what she might be doing at that moment. Perhaps helping the child with homework, perhaps tidying the kitchen, perhaps standing in front of the wardrobe, hesitating over which set of loungewear to wear while waiting for me.
At 8:50, I rang the doorbell.
The door opened very quietly.
She stood in the entryway, wearing a light gray silk nightgown with a thin knitted cardigan over it. Her hair was casually tied up at the back of her head, her face without makeup, yet exuding a softness as if washed by hot water. Seeing it was me, her eyes brightened slightly, then quickly lowered again.
“Come in.” She stepped aside.
The moment the door closed behind me, the air in the entire space changed.
She didn't turn on the main living room light, only left the two wall lamps in the hallway and bedroom on. The lighting was ambiguous and intimate. Before I could say anything, she had already taken a step closer. It wasn't an enthusiastic hug, just a gentle grasp of the hem of my shirt.
“Want some water first?” she asked.
I shook my head.
Then he reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his embrace.
The body beneath the silk fabric was warm and soft. My hand slid from the small of her back to her buttocks, giving a firm squeeze. She let out a soft moan but didn't pull away. Instead, she buried her face in the crook of my shoulder, as if confirming something.
“Is the child asleep?” I asked.
“Mm. I only just got him to sleep.”
“Then let’s be quieter.”
She did not answer, just nodded.
I lowered my head and kissed her.
Her lips were very soft, with a faint taste of toothpaste. At first a bit clumsy, she soon opened her mouth, letting me go deeper. As our tongues tangled, her breathing became rapid, her body slightly feverish. My hand had already slipped under the hem of her nightgown, directly covering the flesh of her buttocks. She wasn't wearing panties. My palm touched nothing but smooth skin.
“So anxious?” I asked softly by her lips.
She didn't speak, just buried her face a little deeper.
I understand.
Some nights, mature women don't need much foreplay. They want to be filled, affirmed, and temporarily lifted from the trivialities of life.
I picked her up. She was light, yet she clung obediently to my neck in my arms. After entering the bedroom, I laid her on the bed and stood beside it to undress. She lay there, eyes open, watching me. The strap of her nightgown had slipped off one shoulder, exposing most of that side of her chest. Her breasts, due to her side-lying position, pressed together slightly, their shape soft and heavy.
I climbed onto the bed and completely removed her nightgown.
Under the lights, her body was completely exposed. Her waist still carried the soft curve typical of having given birth, with a few shallow marks on her inner thighs from my last visit. I ran my fingers along those marks upward, finally stopping at the slightly opened gap. It was very wet, and my fingertip touched it and got covered in a slick substance.
“Do you miss me?” I asked.
She turned her face away, but the tips of her ears turned red.
I didn't wait any longer. I directly parted her legs, holding my already fully hard thing, pressing against the entrance. Her breath immediately hitched. I didn't go in immediately, but rubbed the tip back and forth along that moist slit, spreading her fluids.
"Beg me." I looked down at her.
Her eyelashes fluttered, and in the end, she opened her mouth extremely softly.
“Come in…… please.”
Those two words struck me like an electric current.
I sank my hips, burying myself to the hilt.
Her back instantly arched, letting out a moan that was tightly suppressed in her throat. Her hands gripped the bedsheet beneath her, knuckles turning white. Her inner walls tightly clenched around me, hot and soft, as if trying to suck me into the deepest part.
I started moving.
At first I still remembered to be quiet, thrusting deep and slowly. But her reaction was too honest. With every entry, the center of her brows would crease; with every withdrawal, her waist would unconsciously lift. That restrained, almost pained expression of pleasure made me lose patience very quickly.
The pace gradually quickened.
The sound from the mattress began to grow noticeable. She hurriedly reached out to cover her mouth, but I grabbed her wrist and pinned it beside the pillow. Thus, those suppressed moans became impossible to hide. Short, wet, tearful, yet melting into a puddle with each deep penetration.
"G-gentler... he'll wake up..." she pleaded haltingly.
But I leaned down and whispered in her ear, 'Then squeeze tighter. Don't moan so loudly.'
She really tightened up.
The inner walls contracted violently, as if trying with all their strength to swallow me. That feeling was so comfortable that I almost immediately wanted to cum. I gritted my teeth and steadied myself, my palm gripping one of her breasts and kneading hard. Her nipple stood hard against my palm, and I repeatedly ground my thumb over it, earning even more intense trembling from her.
I don’t know how much time had passed.
Her voice suddenly rose a little, then she immediately bit her lower lip hard. Her insides tightened as if splashed, a surge of hot fluid gushed out, pouring over my tip. She climaxed. Her eyes rolled back slightly, her lower abdomen spasmed violently, and her toes stretched straight.
I didn't stop.
While she was still in the aftermath, I pressed her legs wider apart, thrusting quickly and deeply several dozen times, finally burying myself to the hilt in the deepest part and releasing everything inside.
Thick liquid gushed in, one stream after another. Her inner walls still contracted irregularly, as if trying to swallow every last drop. I lay on top of her, gasping for air, feeling the sensation of being completely accepted.
After a long time, I slowly withdrew.
A large amount of thick, white fluid immediately overflowed from her swollen, reddened entrance, flowing down her butt crack. She lay there, eyes closed, chest heaving violently. One hand rested weakly on her own lower abdomen, as if confirming something.
I turned over and pulled her into my arms.
Her body was still trembling slightly. I kissed her forehead, my palm slowly stroking her back. She didn't speak, just buried her face in my chest, her breathing gradually steadying.
Silence fell once again.
This silence was the same as last night's. Dangerous, yet addictive.
I know I'll come again.
It would ring this door again and again in the night, pin her down again and again on this bed belonging to another man, and again and again listen to her suppressed moans, watching her out-of-control expression at the moment of climax.
And she would open the door again and again.
Looking at me with that tired yet expectant gaze, then offering up her body.
The night was still long.
The sound of the wind outside the window whispered softly. My palm still covered her slightly damp inner thigh, fingertips occasionally touching those warm fluids. She didn't pull away, just nestled her body closer into my embrace.
It was like a silent permission.
It also seemed like a deeper kind of downfall.
I closed my eyes and held her tighter.
After waking up tomorrow, this relationship will still remain in the shadows. She will still be someone else's wife, someone else's mother. And I will still only appear in the night, appearing when she needs to be filled.
But at this moment, none of that mattered.
What's important is her breath is right on my chest, her body temperature is slowly seeping into my skin, and those things I just left inside her are slowly flowing out from within her.
I lowered my head and placed a very light kiss on her sweaty forehead.
Then, in the darkness, I began to imagine the next time.
And then the next next time.
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