Chapter 2 Wendy's Long‑Droughted Forest
The beautiful woman, Quinn Liu, was Wendy's daughter
a 23‑year‑old white‑collar office worker whose height of 170 centimeters rivaled that of her mother.
Her stunning face was lightly made up, radiating a heart‑captivating beauty.
She wore big, loose waves, the standard hairstyle for a working woman, and a white suit wrapped around the inner lewd, ripe, and plump body underneath.
Her bra squeezed her full breasts into a deep cleavage, visible through the gap left by a seemingly unintentionally unbuttoned button at the front of her chest.
Those tantalizing, massive breasts seemed about to burst out at any moment, and the mature woman's enticing scent drifted from within.
This half‑revealed, half‑hidden, unconcealed‑but‑concealed feeling was Quinn's killer weapon for walking through the workplace and controlling men's minds.
The fact that she herself had climbed to a white‑collar position owed no small part to this pair of enormous breasts, inherited from her mother.
Her slender waist was unlike her mother Wendy's slightly overweight, soft plumpness and instead showed the unique vitality and charm of a young woman.
Below her chest, a white pencil skirt wrapped tightly around her luscious, fleshy buttocks and the mysterious area that countless men longed to explore.
The skirt's length was just right, reaching the very top of her thighs.
As long as Quinn's stride was a bit larger, the person behind her could easily catch a glimpse of the mysterious area between her two thigh roots.
Though thick black stockings covered it and nothing could be seen clearly, careful observation still made it hard to miss the outline of plump labia, instantly making one's blood boil.
Fleshy, jade‑like legs were wrapped in thin black stockings that shone brilliantly under the light.
In the shadows, her fair thigh skin showed through faintly, and the rounded, firm muscle lines contrasted with her slender calves.
Above all, the abundant, full buttocks appeared even larger and perkier, making it impossible for anyone's gaze to look away after a single glance.
On her feet were a pair of pointed, open‑toe stilettos.
Through the thin black stockings one could see the bright red nail polish on her toes, and the long heel pulled her body even straighter, making her buttocks more uplifted and accentuating her proud figure.
Quinn sat beside her mother, talking in a rambling way, when she suddenly noticed her mother's tired expression and the worsening condition of her skin.
She abruptly blurted out:
"Mom, how long has it been since you had sex?"
When Wendy heard her daughter say this, her heart skipped a beat.
She quickly glanced around to see if anyone else was there, and when she saw that the other teachers in the office had not yet returned, she breathed a sigh of relief and shot her daughter a sideways glance.
"You little brat, what nonsense are you spouting?
After your dad left, I devoted myself to work, lived honestly and kept to myself.
I've never done anything like running around behind his back.
And what are you asking for, anyway?
I haven't even asked you about "
Quinn knew right away that her mother was about to use the fact that she still had no boyfriend to pressure her, so she hurriedly cut her off:
"Mom, I'm not talking about that.
I'm just asking if you've felt lately that you're really tired, lack enthusiasm for doing anything, and your skin has gotten worse?"
Wendy heard this, thought for a moment, and then touched the faint new wrinkles on her face as she replied:
"There is some truth to that, but what does that have to do with sex?"
Wendy was deeply puzzled, unsure what dirty tricks her daughter was up to this time.
"Mom, this is clearly because you're lacking a man's nourishment.
A woman in her thirties is like a wolf, and a woman in her forties is like a tiger.
Mom, you're 45 now this is exactly the time you need a man.
Don't tell me you aren't lonely at night?"
When Wendy heard her daughter's outrageous words, her temper flared.
She tapped Quinn's head and laughed while scolding her:
"Now you've learned how to worry about your mom, but this isn't something you need to concern yourself with.
I admit that lust does get stronger as I get older, but I can handle it myself.
I don't have to go find some man.
Besides, if your dad were watching from above "
"Mom, don't be so superstitious.
The wall's already gone; what's there to be afraid of?
Besides, don't you think your dad would feel bad if he saw you torturing your own body like this?
I "
Seeing that her daughter would not easily back down, Wendy quickly waved her hands.
"Fine, fine.
I'll agree to consider it, all right?"
Quinn looked at her mother's familiar evasive expression and knew that her earlier heartfelt pleading had mostly been casting pearls before swine.
She sighed quietly to herself, then suddenly had a flash of inspiration and said:
"Mom, do you usually solve it by hand?"
"Yeah, why? What about it?"
Wendy felt puzzled by this, until she saw her daughter pull out a small case that looked like an earphone box from her bag and whisper into her ear:
"Mom, I've tried this thing myself, and it's really good.
Use this from now on."
Before Wendy could even reject it, Quinn had already stuffed it into her hand, grabbed her bag, and dashed out like a gust of wind.
Wendy looked at her daughter's retreating back, shook her head helplessly, and then smiled faintly as she opened the "earphone box" her daughter had given her.
After turning the two small objects out of the box, Wendy's smile instantly froze.
"This… this is…"
She picked up one of them.
The oval shape, the smooth surface, and the rubber strap at one end made it clear this was a vibrating egg.
"And the other one…"
Wendy picked up the other object.
As expected, it was a standard clit‑sucking device.
Her face turned bright red in an instant.
She glanced around and, seeing that no one else was around, hurriedly tidied the set of masturbation toys, then stuffed them into her bag.
Her heavy breathing reflected the embarrassment and tension she felt at that moment.
Wendy had never used this kind of toy in her life.
Although she was a teacher and had to maintain the dignity of setting a good example, years of pent‑up sexual desire had nonetheless made her heart itch.
"It's starting to itch again."
Wendy felt wave after wave of itching welling up from deep inside her thighs and, without thinking, reached down to lift her pants, slowly sliding her hand toward the crotch buried at the top of her thighs.
In fact, she had just lied to her daughter.
She was far from "occasionally" jerking off;
she went at it one or two times every night when she got home.
Sometimes she tried to fall asleep directly, but as soon as she lay down, it felt as if there were worms biting inside her pussy itching so badly she couldn't stand it.
So she had to rub her thighs, gradually easing the rising desire while trying to fall asleep.
But this was nothing more than robbing Peter to pay Paul.
Desire was like fuel, burning hotter and hotter.
In the end, she would sit up, pull the blanket aside, and reach down toward the panties between her legs.
Her warm, plump labia clung to the underwear, instantly wrapping around her fingers.
"Oh, completely soaked," she sighed helplessly.
Warm, lustful juices thoroughly soaked through the triangle of fabric.
The wet, lace‑trimmed underpants stuck tightly to Wendy's cunt, and the lush, dark forest beneath had overflowed like a flood.
She had to push the panties aside, then extend her middle and ring fingers to probe into the deep, gaping slit and start digging.
"Mmm… haa… ahh…"
Wendy stretched out her swan‑like neck and let out soft moans.
Her plump, juicy clam was being hit by her palm, making a wet "psh‑psh‑psh" sound as it slapped against her hand.
Filthy juices kept flowing out from the entrance of her hole, and as the mature woman kept digging and rubbing, the lubrication surged like a spring, steaming hot with each stroke.
The room was quickly filled with a lewd, sultry atmosphere.
The lubricating juice flowed down the mature woman's thick snatch and anus, spilling onto the area beneath her, spreading and staining the white bedsheet…
Almost every night, Wendy spent her time in lonely, unsatisfying digs.
She truly wouldn't have minded finding a man to let go and enjoy herself, but at forty‑five, where on earth could she find a man who could satisfy her?
If she went looking for younger men, she would also, for the sake of her own dignity, feel too ashamed to do so.