Liu Yan's Secret Indulgence
But after slipping on her panties, Liu Yan hesitated and decided against putting her bra back on. Wearing it all day had been a constraint on her breasts, and she always took it off the moment she got home to let them relax. She'd paused just now because there was an extra person in the house tonight, but then she realized Ma Jun wasn't exactly a stranger— he'd already fondled her breasts, so there was no point in playing coy. Better to let him see them openly.
Liu Yan pulled on her nightgown and glanced back to see the disappointment flickering across Ma Jun's face. She couldn't help but chuckle inwardly. She'd left the door open on purpose while changing right in front of him, partly because he'd already seen her naked and there was no need to hide, but mostly to quench his curiosity.
There was a saying: distance breeds beauty. The more mysterious and forbidden something was, the stronger the urge to peek. Liu Yan figured that with these two days alone together, she might as well let him look his fill— maybe then he'd stop obsessing over her body.
She wasn't sure if he'd appreciate her good intentions. With a soft sigh, Liu Yan stepped out of the bedroom and said to Ma Jun, “Ma Jun, make do on the sofa tonight. I'll tidy up the guest room tomorrow, and you can sleep there then.”
Liu Yan's home had two bedrooms: the spacious master where she slept, and a tiny guest room cluttered with household junk that no one ever used. She hadn't had time to clean it during the workweek, so she'd have to wait for the weekend.
Ma Jun didn't reply, just stared at her. Liu Yan had changed into a black silk nightgown of exquisite quality, smooth as satin and clinging softly to her curvaceous figure. Her glossy black hair cascaded over her snowy shoulders, carrying the faint scent of shampoo. Her jade-like arms hung gracefully at her sides, supple and boneless. The nightgown's wide neckline revealed the lofty peaks of her full, firm breasts straining to burst free, a deep cleavage squeezed between them that quivered subtly with each breath. The hem rode high, baring her long, porcelain thighs, while her round, perky ass exuded raw sensuality.
This wasn't the first time he'd seen her like this, but Ma Jun was utterly entranced. When he was with Zhang Li, Cao Meng, or Li Wen, he always compared them subconsciously to Liu Yan. But in her presence, no other woman crossed his mind. To him, Liu Yan was one of a kind.
“I'm talking to you— why aren't you answering?” Liu Yan shot him a glance, her almond eyes sparkling with life, her cherry lips lush and tempting, stirring all sorts of illicit thoughts.
Ma Jun eyed the master bedroom's king-sized bed and grinned. “Cousin, that sofa's too soft— uncomfortable as hell. Your bed's huge. Mind if I crash with you? No one'll know. We could even chat at night.”
“In your dreams. Sofa or go home— your choice.” Liu Yan knew exactly what he was after. She wouldn't dare share a bed with him. Her body had gone too long without, and he was freshly hooked on sex— it would be like dry tinder meeting a spark. If anything happened, she'd betray her husband and have no face to show Ma Jun's mother. Song Ping had trusted her with her son; she couldn't abuse that.
“Fine, sofa it is.” Ma Jun knew his odds were slim anyway. He sighed dejectedly, stealing another glance at that tantalizing bed. God knows when I'll get to sleep there.
Liu Yan grabbed a pillow and blanket, tossed them on the sofa, and smiled sweetly at him. “There you go— be a good boy and stay put. Take a shower soon and get some rest. I'm heading back to my room. Sweet dreams.” With that, she turned and slipped into the bedroom, softly closing the door behind her.
Sleep well? Fat chance. Ma Jun thought wryly, sprawling on the sofa with the blanket, flipping through TV channels out of boredom. His mind replayed Liu Yan's busty, bubbly ass, his cock stirring uncomfortably. He racked his brain for a way onto her bed— claim he was scared to sleep alone? Hate the living room? Lame excuses, all of them.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up. He remembered what Zhang Li had told him after school. Perfect excuse. He bolted up, knocked on the bedroom door, and called, “Cousin, you asleep yet?”
“Not yet. Come in.” Liu Yan's voice drifted out, lazy and inviting.
Ma Jun pushed the door open. Liu Yan reclined against pillows on the massive bed, a book in hand. Her snowy, rounded thighs overlapped, glowing with an ivory sheen under the lamplight. Inside the nightgown, her massive tits thrust upward defiantly, begging to spill from the neckline. Without a bra, Ma Jun could make out her crimson nipples through the sheer black silk— peanut-sized nubs tenting the fabric, begging to be sucked.
“What's up, Ma Jun?” Liu Yan set down Wuthering Heights and eyed him curiously from the doorway.
“Cousin, too early to sleep. Mind lending me a book? Something on essays, maybe.” Ma Jun's gaze roamed her voluptuous form as he spoke. “Teacher Zhang said there's an essay contest coming up. Figured I'd grab some references.”
“Sure, I'll find one.” Liu Yan nodded. She knew about the contest— Lu Qihang had brought it up in a recent meeting, urging all Chinese teachers to prep their classes.
She rose and rummaged through the bookshelf opposite, pulling out a high school essay guide. Handing it to him, she said, “This one's good. Full of top essays from key schools nationwide, with analyses after each. Perfect for your level. Teacher Zhang says your writing's solid— just needs more depth. Study some deeper pieces closely.”
Ma Jun took the book but lingered, grinning. “Cousin, can I read here? Living room light's dim, and I can ask you stuff if I'm stuck.”
“All right.” Liu Yan paused, then agreed. She knew his game, but the excuse was ironclad, and she hoped it'd steer him toward studying.
The master bedroom was roomy: king bed straight ahead, wardrobes to the right, vanity and desk to the left. Ma Jun could read on the bed like her or at the desk. He wanted the bed but knew she'd nix it, so he settled at the desk, flipping open the book. At first it was for show, but the content hooked him after a few pages. He even murmured lines aloud.
Liu Yan resumed reading on the bed, glancing occasionally at Ma Jun. Seeing him actually absorbed, she was pleasantly surprised— she'd pegged it as a ploy. His studious face brought a warm smile; the kid was likable when he behaved.
Truth be told, Zhang Li's affair with him probably stemmed more from his innate charm than just his oversized cock. She sometimes saw him as childish only because she measured him against adults.
Among boys his age, Ma Jun was mature and steady. During Feng Kun's harassment, he'd shielded her without demanding anything in return. Had she been too harsh on him before?
Her gaze softened with guilt. He'd had plenty of chances to take her— during their close encounters, she'd all but surrendered. A firmer push, and he'd have claimed her. But he'd held back, fearing her anger.
And that unforgettable night, with her passed out naked, he'd reined in his lust, guarding her all night. Few men could manage that.
From then on, her wariness faded; she truly accepted him. Without her marriage and cousin tie, she'd have yielded like Zhang Li— half-hearted at first, then fully. Sex with a tall, handsome guy like him wasn't a hardship.
Purely sexually, younger men were ideal for older women. Men's prowess waned with age, women's desires waxed— explaining many middle-aged couples' mismatches. She and her husband weren't there yet, but the early fire had cooled.
Recalling Zhang Li's vivid account of fucking Ma Jun yesterday, Liu Yan felt a heat building in her belly. Her snowy thighs shifted restlessly.
She glanced nervously at the engrossed Ma Jun, bit her plump lip, and pulled the blanket over herself. Her hand slipped underneath, hiking up her nightgown. Through her panties, she rubbed her slit gently. This lonely, horny housewife was secretly masturbating right in front of him.
But fabric dulled the thrill. She shot Ma Jun a wistful look. Why isn't he leaving? I'd ditch the panties and go wild. He was too into his book to interrupt, though. Shouldn't have let him stay.
She tried to hold out till he left, but his male presence amplified her raging lust. It wouldn't subside— only intensified, itching her thighs, making her squirm.
With Ma Jun showing no sign of going, Liu Yan couldn't take the inner blaze. She dimmed the bedside lamp, draped the blanket fully, and turned sideways— even if he looked, he'd never spot it.
Finally, she plunged her hand into her damp panties, fingering her plump labia. The instant relief nearly drew a moan. She stifled it, sliding fingers into her hole, stirring slowly amid the building ecstasy.
Liu Yan kneaded her full breast while digging her pussy. Ma Jun's nearness made it hypersensitive, far beyond solo sessions. Juices soaked her fingers; waves of pleasure crested toward climax.
Just as eruption loomed, a chair scraped behind her— Ma Jun standing. Panic surged; she yanked her fingers free, froze still, eyes shut, feigning sleep. Hurry up and leave.
But no sound followed. Curious, she nearly peeked when Ma Jun whispered from behind. She held her breath, waiting him out. No need to fake sleep— he might not notice anyway. But guilt made her overplay it, handing him an opening.