The story I want to record today took place last year when my wife went back to her parents' house while she was pregnant.

Because she was eight months pregnant, she went to stay with her family for a while. I would visit her occasionally, but most of the time, a grown man like me was left guarding an empty room. Combined with my habit of browsing adult websites and reading erotic novels, the loneliness began to build up. A man can only hold it in for so long before he goes a little crazy.

As the saying goes: "With the wife away, the husband is happy—truly, incredibly happy."

With her far away, a sense of liberated happiness washed over me; there was no one left to restrain me. Just two days after she left, my body began to ache with longing for her, both above and below. I decided that over the next ten or twenty days, I would find someone to temporarily take her place to soothe the endless yearning in my heart.

*(Buddha, please forgive me.)*

So, I headed to a massage parlor. Because my wife was quite particular about such places, I rarely visited them to enjoy myself. I found a mid-range foot massage and bath parlor. Since I didn't have much money and didn't know the local customs, the place looked decent enough. Under a flickering neon sign, a red banner advertised: *Massage, Foot Wash, Bath, Back Rub, Full Service – $38.*

As soon as I entered, a clever young man greeted me and led me to a private room. After pouring some tea, he asked me to wait a moment while he called a service provider.

After a short while, a woman in a work uniform entered. She looked to be about twenty-five or twenty-six—an ordinary-looking woman of medium height, though she had a very slender, bony build. Once inside, she asked, "Boss, what service would you like?"

I ordered the full service. Following the routine, she asked me to change into the provided loungewear—a simple pair of drawstring pants that fell just below the knees. While I changed, she went to fetch the wooden foot basin. Not long after, she returned with the basin and motioned for me to place my feet inside. After noting that the water temperature was just right, she began to grasp my feet, rubbing them firmly between her hands. Since I wasn't a regular at these establishments and we were strangers, we didn't talk much, merely engaging in a bit of casual small talk as she washed my feet.

Once the washing was done, the massage finally began. She brought out a bottle of oil and began working it into my skin, her hands moving in a rhythmic dance of pressing and stroking, her strength varying from soft to firm. She started with my arms, then moved to my chest and thighs. As her hands glided along the inner part of my thigh, a surge of excitement rushed through me. My penis stiffened, stretching the fabric of my lounge pants high. She pretended not to notice and continued her work. When it came time to massage my head, she had me lie on my back with my head resting on her lap as she sat cross-legged. My eyes were fixed on her face, my mind racing with scandalous thoughts: *If she sees how hard he is, will she get excited too?*

Noticing my gaze, the masseuse smiled and asked, "Why do you keep staring at me?"

"Because you're beautiful," I replied. "Is that a crime? By the way, what is your name?"

She giggled. "My name is Wang. You're quite the smooth talker, Boss."

"I'm not lying," I insisted. "You have a very sexy figure."

She didn't say anything in response, so I continued, "Where are you from? Why do you do this kind of work?"

"I'm from Yuncheng," she answered. "This job pays better than being a waitress in a restaurant."

"How much do you make a month?" I asked.

"A base salary of 300, plus commissions from massages... it's about 1,500."

"That's not much," I noted. Then, testing the waters, I asked, "By the way, do you... do *that* here?" She paused her hands and looked up. "Do what?"

"You know," I said, "Are there girls here? Can you have sex?"

"No," she said plainly. "We are a very formal place; we only do massages. There is one girl who does 'breast rubs,' but she doesn't do full sex. Would you like to try that, Boss?"

"How much?"

"168."

*Damn, that's expensive!* I thought. "No, not today. I have things to do. I'll just head out after the massage. How old are you, anyway?"

"How old do you think?" she teased.

"You look about eighteen or nineteen."

She laughed. "You really are a liar."

I tried to sound sincere. "No, really. You give off that vibe. Are you twenty-one?"

"I'm twenty-six," she admitted.

"No way! You look so young. Are you married?"

"Yes," she replied. "I have a two-year-old."

"Really? Why aren't you at home with the child? Where do you live?"

"I live in the Hexi district. My mother watches the baby. I don't necessarily *want* to work, but since I'm from out of town, I want to save up enough money to go home and start a small business."

"And your husband? Is he in Yuncheng?"

"No, he's here. He works as a security guard at a supermarket."

I was startled. "And he lets you work here?"

"What's wrong with that? I just do massages; I don't do anything else."

A hint of disappointment flickered in my heart, but I pressed on. "So, no customers ever want to sleep with you?"

"Not really. If they want that kind of service, they usually don't pick me."

"Don't you go home often? Hexi is quite far."

"I do. I go home once a week and get one day off."

"Can you avoid going out at night?"

"Why would I go out? This place can be chaotic. Besides, it's not like I'm wandering around; unless there's a reason to take leave, I usually stay right here."

"How much do you make from one client?"

"For a full service like yours, the commission is 15. If you do a 100-yuan breast rub, I get 30."

"You do breast rubs too?"

She gave a shy, embarrassed laugh. "Yes. It's not sex, so it's not like I'm being unfaithful to my husband, hehe."

To lighten the mood, I changed the subject. "What kind of food do you like?"

"Noodles, chocolate, pineapple, mutton hotpot... so many things!"

As we talked, my eyes drifted shut for a moment of rest. Then, leaning in, I whispered, "If I come back to see you, could you do a breast rub for me? I'll give you extra money directly, so you don't have to go through the parlor. That way, you get to keep more. How does that sound?"

She looked wary. "That might be risky. What if they find out?"

We continued chatting as the massage, foot wash, and back rub were completed. Finally, she told me to go downstairs and shower.

"I'll just wash at home," I declined. As we were finishing, I asked, "How will I find you next time?"

"Just ask for Number 8," she said.

When it came time to pay, I handed her 50 yuan. She took it, paid the 38-yuan fee to the house, and handed me 12 yuan in change.

"Keep the change," I said grandly. "You did a great job."

She beamed, tucking the money away. "Would you like some more tea?"

I checked my phone; it was already 11:30 PM. "No thanks, I'll head home and drink some there."

As I went to change back into my clothes, she didn't turn away. Taking advantage of the moment, I grew bold and stripped off the lounge pants right in front of her.

My nakedness was laid bare before her. My penis stood proud and excited, the rounded, thick head pulsing with a life of its own. She gave it a natural, casual glance before turning her head back toward the television, pretending to be occupied.

After I dressed, she walked me all the way to the door.

Once home, I turned on the computer and put on an adult film. As I watched, I fantasized about licking Number 8's lips, cupping her breasts, and feeling her mouth around me. Before long, an explosion of heat rushed through me, and I came with a forceful, long-reaching spray.

***

Three days later, dressed in clean clothes, I returned to the parlor. I asked specifically for Number 8 and ordered the 38-yuan full service.

After watching some TV in the private room for a while, she arrived. We chatted and laughed just like last time, but this time, my hands were less disciplined. I reached out to caress her breasts, and to my delight, she didn't pull away. They weren't massive, but they felt full and firm in my hands, especially her nipples, which were long and slender. Once again, I gave her 50 yuan; after the parlor took its cut, she walked away with a 12-yuan tip.

The night of my third visit, I had a little wine with dinner and watched a few more films. I hadn't planned on going, but a restless, gnawing hunger in my loins drove me out. By 10:00 PM, I was on my way. On the road, I picked up a large bar of chocolate—the cheap, six-yuan kind.

When I arrived and asked for Number 8, the receptionist told me she was currently with a client but would be finished soon. "Would you like to choose someone else or wait?" she asked. Naturally, I chose to wait. While waiting, I changed into my lounge pants.

Thirty minutes passed. Just as boredom was setting in, the door pushed open, and there she was: Number 8.

"Have you been waiting long?" she asked.

"Not too long," I replied.

"Let me get the basin," she said.

"Forget the basin, let's just do the massage," I said, reaching into my jacket pocket. "And this is for you." I pressed the chocolate into her hand.

Her eyes lit up. "How did you know I love chocolate?"

"You told me the last two times you were here. Did you forget?"

"Really? You actually remembered?"

"Of course. I also remember you like mutton hotpot, pineapple, and noodles."

She was clearly delighted. She tucked the chocolate away, kicked off her slippers, and climbed onto the bed. She knelt before me and began the massage. She started with my back, her fingers sliding from my shoulders all the way down to my calves, her hands lingering to knead my buttocks several times. She hadn't touched that area during the previous visits; perhaps the chocolate had put her in a more affectionate mood.

As she massaged my rear, her fingers pressed against the thin fabric of my pants. A few strokes hit the base of my penis, causing it to swell and press hard against the bed beneath me. It was a delicious sort of torment.

When she finished my back, I rolled over onto my back. Because of the stimulation to my backside, my erection had subsided slightly. She sat beside me, one leg extended near my head and the other tucked beneath her. She began to massage my chest, her hands moving in a rhythm of light and heavy pressure. Her technique was truly impressive. When she reached my nipples, she lingered there on purpose.

I opened my eyes to look at her. She smiled back, meeting my gaze. Her thumbs and forefingers formed a pinching motion, rhythmically and steadily rolling my nipples between them. A sensation unlike anything I had ever felt—a tingling, electric itch—surged from my chest to my groin. My penis snapped to attention, creating a small tent in my lounge pants.

Our eyes locked. In her gaze, I saw a teasing glint; in mine, she saw a man consumed by raw, primal desire. Suddenly, she increased the pressure, her fingers squeezing my nipples with more intensity.

A low groan escaped my lips. "Oh... mmm... ah..." My penis throbbed violently with excitement. My hands gripped the bedsheets, bunching the fabric in my fists.

Just as the intensity reached a breaking point—just as the sensation threatened to make me cry out—she suddenly released them and began to massage my stomach. With the sudden loss of stimulation, my tension eased, and my hands slowly relaxed their grip on the sheets.

"Does it feel good?" she asked, her hands still moving.

"Yes, it feels amazing. You're incredible," I breathed.

She didn't say much, merely lowering her head to continue the massage. But now that she had primed me, my hands were becoming restless. I pretended to stretch, letting my hand land on her leg. When she didn't recoil, I began to slowly stroke her foot. Her feet were long and slender, with a delicate, bony structure. Even through her sheer, flesh-colored silk stockings, the texture of her soles felt distinct—not thick, but firm and smooth. Even through the fabric, the skin of her soles looked vibrant and healthy.

As my focus narrowed on her feet, her hands moved back to my thighs. As she worked the inner part of my leg, her fingers began to brush, almost accidentally, against my scrotum. She kept her head down, and I couldn't tell if she was lost in thought or if she was staring at the "tent" my penis had made in my pants.

To be honest, the man was at his limit. Since the first time she had massaged me—after which I had gone home to finish the job myself—it had been nearly a week since my last release.

Suddenly, I reached out. One hand gripped her foot tightly, while the other caught her hand as she massaged my thigh, pressing her hand firmly against my erection through the fabric. Seeing that she didn't pull away, but instead continued to massage my leg with her free hand, I knew she was consenting. I began to guide her hand, using her own fingers to stroke my penis. With my other hand, I pulled her foot up toward my face, pressing her sole against my cheek and rubbing my face against her skin.

Slowly, she took over the rhythm, her hand sliding up and down my length through the cloth. Seeing her take the initiative, I let go of her hand and moved it to her chest, cupping her breasts through her work shirt.

Luck was on my side; she wasn't wearing a bra. Her breasts were small but incredibly supple and well-maintained. As she continued to pleasure me with her hand, my other hand worked to slide her silk stocking off.

Her soles were smooth, not yet calloused. I loved the shape of her feet, so I leaned down to kiss them, then began to lick. The taste was salty and slightly musky, the scent of a long day's work.

My hand on her breast became bolder. I unbuttoned her shirt and slid my hand inside to touch her bare skin. Her skin was soft, and her nipples were long and delicate—perhaps a centimeter in length. They felt incredibly sensitive.

Perhaps the sensation of my tongue on her sole startled her, because she gasped, "Don't lick my feet! They're dirty! Oh, move your hand... what if someone sees?" She used both hands to pull my hand out from under her shirt and quickly buttoned it back up.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. "I forgot the door wasn't locked."

She rolled her eyes at me but immediately reached back down to stroke my penis through my pants, her eyes returning to the television, where a drama was playing.

I felt a surge of triumph. I lay back and closed my eyes, reaching up to wrap my fingers around her hand, playing with her fingers as she worked me. After a moment, I whispered, "What if... what if I'm about to come?"

She looked at me, then slid her hand inside my lounge pants, grasping my penis firmly and increasing the speed. As the climax neared, I grabbed her bare foot and took three or four of her toes into my mouth, sucking them hard. Between the intense suction of my mouth on her toes and the frantic motion of her hand, the dam finally broke. My semen exploded, pulsing out in heavy, hot waves.

As the tension left my body, I lay there, still holding her toes, watching as she pulled her hand from my pants, coated in white, creamy fluid. She grabbed a disposable white towel from the table, wiped her hand, and then reached into my pants to clean me up.

I was exhausted, yawning repeatedly, while she went back to her casual massage.

"Thank you," I said.

She looked at me with a smile and turned her attention back to the TV.

After a period of quiet, I spoke up. "Can I take you out to dinner in a couple of days?"

She looked at me. "I can't just 'go out.' This isn't like that."

"But you said you can take leave if you need to, right?"

"Let me think about it."

"Don't think so hard," I teased. "It's just a simple dinner. Don't let your mind wander!"

She laughed. "Not me! It's always you men who let your minds wander."

"Tell you what," I said. "The night after tomorrow, around 10:00 PM, I'll call the parlor. I'll pretend to be your family calling you home for something. How does that sound?"

She thought for a moment. "Alright."

Since she didn't have a phone, I asked her to write down the parlor's number. When it came time to pay, I gave her 100 yuan. As she handed me 62 yuan in change, I acted the part of the generous gentleman. "Keep it," I said. "Buy yourself some more chocolate. You need to stay healthy and plump!"

She playfully swatted my chest. "You think you're plump? You're as skinny as a pole! Look at you!" (Note: I am 180cm and about 65kg, quite lean.)

As I left, I looked at the number she had written down. Beside it, she had written her name: *Wang Hui.*

***

The night finally arrived. At home, I scrubbed myself clean, paying extra attention to my manhood. After a bit of "preparation" watching adult films, it was nearly 10:00 PM. I arrived at a spot near the parlor and called the number. A man answered.

"Put Wang Hui on," I said. "I'm her family."

Ten minutes later, she appeared.

"Where do you want to go?" I asked.

"Wherever you want to decide," she replied.

"How about the Mutton Hotpot place? We can have some mutton."

"Great! You actually remembered I like mutton," she smiled.

At the restaurant, we ordered a lavish spread. Halfway through the meal, I decided to play a little trick. "I actually bought a phone for you," I said, fumbling through my pockets. "Oh, damn! I left it at home in such a rush!" I let out a long, dramatic sigh. "It's a shame my wife is at home. If she weren't there, I'd give it to you right now. I told her it was a gift for a colleague."

She looked at me with skepticism. Seeing she was almost convinced, I moved on to other topics. After the bill was settled, I asked, "We're full. Want to go out for a bit more fun?" When she didn't refuse, I decided to push a little further. "How about we go dancing?"

She nodded.

We had a decent time at the disco, but by the time we emerged, it was 1:00 AM.

"Are you thirsty?" I asked, taking her hand. "There's a supermarket nearby."

"No, not really."

I led her down the street. "It's so late, and there's nowhere left to go. Why don't we find a hotel and spend the night together?"

She hesitated. "I don't know... I'm afraid you'll try something. I don't want to be unfaithful to my husband."

I patted my chest reassuringly. "Don't worry. If you really want to, you can just help me 'finish' by hand. That's it, okay?"

"Alright," she conceded.

As we walked toward a nearby hotel, a mischievous thought crossed my mind: *Once we get inside, there's no way you'll be able to resist. Heh heh.*

Once we checked in and the door was locked, the atmosphere changed. "It's so hot in here," I said, naturally stripping down to just my underwear.

She was still fully dressed, watching TV. "You should undress too," I suggested.

She hesitated, but eventually, she slowly peeled off her clothes until she was left in only her bra and panties.

We lay on the bed for a while, watching TV, before I said, "You're always massaging me. Let me massage you tonight."

"Are you any good at it?" she teased.

"Don't underestimate me!" I told her to lie on her stomach. As I worked on her back, I whispered, "Unclip that bra. It's getting in the way of my technique."

As my hands moved to her buttocks, I gave them a playful squeeze. "So much elasticity!"

"You're such a rogue," she giggled.

"Me? You've already taken advantage of me several times!"

When she turned over to face me, I unclipped her bra and moved my hands to her breasts. They were exquisite. I cupped them both in my palms, kneading them like a cat's paws against a tree. Her eyes drifted shut as she tried to suppress her pleasure, but small moans escaped her lips.

I leaned down, kissing her eyebrows, her ears, and her eyes before finding her lips. My tongue forced its way past her teeth, tangling with hers. Finally, she couldn't hold back any longer; she wrapped her arms around me and kissed me back passionately. While kissing her, I stripped off my underwear and pressed my body against her hips, letting my penis squeeze against her. My hand wandered down, slipping under her panties to find her heat.

She was already wet, her juices slick and sticky. I slid a finger into her core while my thumb pressed against her clitoris. She began to tremble under my touch. I moved down, licking her breasts in slow, swirling circles. Her nipples were so delicate, almost like a child's. I made loud, wet slurping sounds as I teased her, making sure she felt every bit of it.

When her panties were gone, I moved over her in a kneeling position. I lifted her legs, pulling her hips up toward my chest so we were face to face. Her vulva was glistening with translucent nectar, small bubbles of froth forming in the moisture. Her labia were a deep, dark brownish-red at the tips.

I buried my face in her, licking the nectar and pulling long, silken threads of moisture with my tongue. I pulled her into my arms, spreading her labia wide so her clitoris was fully exposed. I took her clitoris into my mouth, sucking gently.

She cried out repeatedly, her legs twitching and curling against my back. Seeing her so wanton and beautiful, I decided to go deeper, using my tongue to probe her vagina while my nose brushed against her clitoris.

She began to shudder violently, her hands gripping my buttocks. "Quick... just come inside! Stop torturing me!"

I laid back, positioning us in a 69 position. "You stay on top," I whispered. "Come on, take me. My penis is aching to be inside you."

She scrambled up, guiding my erection to her entrance and beginning to ride me. After only a few minutes, the sensation became too much. I pushed her off, pinning her beneath me. Once she had guided me to her opening, I began to thrust with everything I had.

The bed creaked rhythmically with my movements. Our breathing became ragged and heavy. Because she was small and slender, her entrance felt incredibly tight. Every time I plunged inside, it felt as though I were sliding through a narrow, velvet passage, the friction from the tip to the base driving me to the brink of madness.

I held her tight, our mouths fused in a kiss, our chests pressed together. Our bodies were slick with a mixture of sweat and juices, making every thrust even more visceral.

Suddenly, a wave of madness took over. I began to hammer into her with frantic, deep strokes, hitting her cervix with every thrust until, finally, I erupted deep inside her.

She wrapped her legs around my waist, moaning incoherently, "Ah... ah... it's so hot... so hot!"

I paused for a moment, but to my surprise, the sensation didn't fade. My erection remained hard. I began to thrust again, even more vigorously. Leaning into her ear, I panted, "You're so lucky... I didn't even need a break. Being with you is incredible... I can go for a second round!"

Having not had sex for nearly ten days, the "double round" was intense. Every thrust was deep and punishing, our skin sticking together with sweat. After about eight or nine minutes of vigorous pounding, my stamina began to flag. To finish, I had her take the lead, letting her ride me in the "cowgirl" position.

She moved with a frantic, urgent rhythm. Finally, after another ten minutes of intense sensation, I gripped her breasts and let out a final, roaring cry as I came a second time.

From 1:00 AM until 10:00 AM the next morning, we made love roughly seven times. As we were preparing to check out, we showered together. As she washed herself, she pointed to her swollen, reddened labia and scolded me playfully, "I didn't know you were such a beast! Six or seven times in one night? You almost broke me!"

I reached down and gave her a gentle caress. "Don't worry," I teased. "In a couple of days, when you get that phone from me, you'll be all better."

After that night, I didn't visit her for several days. The sheer exhaustion of our marathon session had completely drained my libido. When my wife returned from her parents' house a few days later, my window of opportunity closed.

Even now, a sense of regret lingers. Why didn't I go back to see her one more time? Now, even if the urge returns, I feel too ashamed to face her. After all, I vanished right after our most intimate night, leaving her with nothing but fragmented memories.

Sometimes, when the thought of a "wild flower" crosses my mind, I wonder: *Is she still working at that massage parlor?*