Me and the men who went from MOP to bed

page views:1 Publication date:2014-01-26

When I realized my memory had deteriorated to the point where I couldn't even recall the faces of the men I'd slept with two months ago—their faces were all blurred—I knew it was time to write it all down. Because what needs to be forgotten doesn't matter whether you remember it or not. 24 years old, not young anymore. Seven days a week, ha, exactly seven men I've slept with, except for two on weekends, the rest were all people I met on MOP. The past six months have been more eventful than the previous four years. Maybe some of the people involved will see this post, but it doesn't matter, just consider it me rambling. A new message on my phone: What have you been busy with lately? Have you forgotten me? Long time no see. This is a man 18 centimeters tall, and also the man I've slept with recently on MOP. I can't be sure if he's the last. But I can be sure that his size is absolutely unmatched. At first, we were mutually attracted. He lived in the same city as me, the closest man to me. His size gave me a masochistic pleasure. And I was happy to give him oral sex; it was long and neat, like hands that could play the piano. He had a girlfriend of over three years, stable and loving. I often receive phone calls during sex, and he'll patiently playfully tease her, but he won't slow down. I used to wonder why a thirty-year-old man wouldn't have a good sex life with his girlfriend and would instead seek out a sex partner, but I quickly realized that men are all like cats wanting to steal food, no matter how loyal they are to their partners. In fact, more than half of the men I've slept with had girlfriends or wives. We even had sex in their own homes. Now, looking back, I have no regrets about sex or men in my life. Here, I need to clarify some questions that some readers might have. First, my independence is something many people would be ashamed of. I started working in my senior year of college, and at that time, I lived with my boyfriend for six months, splitting expenses equally. So I've never taken money from any of the men I've slept with. I slept with them purely because I wanted to. Second, I have very principles. I don't do it without a condom, so I'm very healthy; I just had a checkup at the provincial hospital, and everything is fine. Third, I'm selective; I don't sleep with men I don't feel anything for. Although I feel a little ashamed now, well, I'll just treat them as free tools, after all, they're warmer than a cold vibrator. Alright, the show is about to begin. Please don't litter, everyone. Even if my performance is terrible, I'm still putting my heart into it. Thank you! Chapter One: A man for three years and a man for three minutes—there's no difference. My three-year first love ended on Valentine's Day. February 14, 2006. It was two weeks after I went to his rural hometown for the New Year. He said on the phone, "Find a rich man back home. I still have a long way to go working and can't afford to hold you back. I'm planning to marry a wife back home after I turn thirty..." That night, I wrote about the heartbreak of the breakup on MOP until 3 AM. I showed it to a few friends, and they were all moved to tears. A week later, I deleted that sad post. Because during that week, I understood that a man's decision is irreversible. So I won't waste another tear for any man. More than half a year later, I fell in love with being single, doing whatever I wanted on MOP, living a wild and unrestrained life. I could sleep with whichever man I wanted, without anyone interfering, and I was incredibly happy. I used to stubbornly only like his muscular physique, but none of the men I've dated since have been like him. And I didn't care at all. The reason is simple: if you don't care about the food, will you care about the tableware? Some people fall and keep falling; others, after falling, see the path ahead clearly and refuse to fall again. Most women belong to the former, and I, luckily, belong to the latter. Finding your place in a man's heart is the key to maximizing your value. A couple of times, I've imagined making love with him: snuggling under the covers, gazing deeply into each other's eyes before kissing. And then nothing more. We gave each other our first time, but what does it matter? It's just one of countless times. It has no special meaning. Classrooms, stairs, rooftops, dormitories… we once had that passion, knowing each other's bodies inside and out. I'm confident he'll never find a woman more compatible than me, so let him slowly reminisce about me. I vaguely remember the first time; it didn't work, so I gave him a blowjob. Because I had studied countless oral sex techniques beforehand, it turned out that as long as the man in bed pleased me, I was happy to give him a blowjob. A 5/7 man enjoyed this honor. A few months ago, he called, saying his job was incredibly good, couldn't be better. While continuing to look at the oral sex techniques, I said, "Yeah, the man I've chosen can't be wrong." He asked, "How are you doing now?" I said, "Still the same old story, just changed jobs and a new phone." He sighed, "You, you... but it doesn't matter anymore, just marry a rich man." At that moment, I realized that a man for three years and a man for three minutes are completely no different. They both entered my body, but what remains in my memory is just a number. The pleasure and pain of that time, like fleeting clouds in the sky, are gone forever. I was attacked yesterday, so I can't update. Who's so bored? Whether it's a blowjob or not, you'll find out by reading on. Chapter Two: Marrying a Rich Man the Size of a Toothpick March 8, 2006. Blind Date. This was a man under 170cm tall and weighing over 150kg. His mother introduced his family's factory, boasting about its 20,000+ square meter property, while my mother chimed in with her own: a Hong Kong-style suite, 120 square meters, etc… I rolled my eyes at her and blurted out: "Do you think 120 is a lot?" For the next few weeks, he drove his Audi A6 to meet me almost every day. I subtly learned he also used MOP (a Chinese online forum), and I immediately became much more reserved. He was a capricious and naive man, wanting to talk on the phone every night until I was speechless. Today he'd talk about his first love, tomorrow about his two-timing, the day after about his one-night stands… I really wanted him to finish telling me all at once. I expressed my understanding of his absurd past. This touched him deeply. Actually, it wasn't understanding, but rather that I'd always treated him as an unrelated person. Purely for the future, for my parents, I decided I was willing to sacrifice myself. We talked a lot about sex on the phone, and he didn't mind at all that I wasn't a virgin. You have to believe, there are still men like that in this world. I was so happy; we could be so open with each other. I told him I had a big problem: after sex, I didn't want any physical contact anymore. I was used to running away and going to sleep separately. My ex-boyfriend and I had argued about this many times. He said very seriously, "That's a really big problem. Usually, you should hold each other tightly and sleep together after sex." I said, "I don't like that." I asked, "You've been with so many women, how do you prevent pregnancy?" He replied, "Have you heard of female birth control pills? You insert one beforehand, wait two minutes, and then have sex, and there's no problem." I was confused, "Then why don't you use condoms?" He replied, "I never use condoms." I felt waves of nausea. Sex without a condom! For the past few years, even with the same man, I've been reluctant to have sex without a condom because I dislike the sticky feeling of semen inside, and I also dislike the irregular periods that come with medication. A friend of mine, with a devoted boyfriend, never used a condom and developed a serious gynecological problem. Another friend, with different boyfriends, never used a condom or took medication, and never got pregnant, but also developed a mild gynecological issue. So, using a condom is incredibly important. As I stated at the beginning, my principle is: no condoms, no sex. Of course, this principle has been broken, which I'll probably explain in detail in Chapter Four. Several times, he booked a hotel room and called me over. This adorable man completely misunderstands what kind of woman I am. Does a hug and a passionate kiss mean we can have sex? Darling, we're in a relationship, not a one-night stand.I will remain reserved until our wedding day. He held back for a long time before finally asking me, "If I propose to you, will you say yes?" I thought for a moment: "Let me ask my parents first." Having experienced the failure of a free-choice relationship, I didn't want to make decisions on my own again, nor did I trust my own judgment. Let the person who loves me most decide. I told my parents about all the conversations between him and me, but there was one thing that I couldn't bring myself to say and that gave me a terrible headache. After I repeatedly criticized him for not wearing a condom, he finally told the truth: "The condoms on the market are all too big... They haven't grown since I had my penis circumcised at 17..." My head suddenly throbbed. Sex is so important. My ex-boyfriend's size was acceptable, but now I had to face a toothpick for the rest of my life. This was too cruel. Although I knew his penis wasn't big when I first met him, I didn't expect it to be this small. But I immediately felt relieved. Even if things didn't work out, I still had my hardworking hands and countless sex shops to visit. So I expressed my understanding to him, which moved him to tears. 4.8. A month after we met, his mother called my house and loudly told my mother: "Your daughter is good in every way, except she doesn't respect her elders. The first time we met, she was yelling at her mother, and later when she came to my house for dinner, she didn't know how to talk properly. So, your daughter isn't suitable for my family..." However, he was completely unaware of the decision his family had made for him and still called me wanting to have a long chat. He expressed great indignation at his mother's behavior and firmly stated that he would marry no one but me. I said, "I understand your attitude, but your parents' attitude needs to be made clear to my parents." A very satisfactory ending. Thank God, three years have taught me that men without money are selfish; one month has taught me that even men with money cannot control themselves. The latter is actually more tragic. From then on, I never had the thought of marrying a rich man again. Before, I relied on myself; now, I rely on myself; and in the future, I will rely on myself! Hehe, I had some time these past few days, so I compiled a table of contents for everyone to review. Chapter 3: My Second Man, A Truly Good Man. Chapter 4: Three Nights, Three Cities, Three Men. 1. A 33-Year-Old Handsome Man. 2. Three Minutes at Most, Does That Count as ED? 3. An Incredibly Perfect One-Night Stand. Chapter 5: He Tortured Me with Length, I Tortured Him with Time. There was once a man who cursed me, calling me worse than a prostitute, shameless… We used to be good friends, almost sleeping together. He was enraged because while we were being intimate online, I was actually being intimate with other men. Darling, what kind of relationship do we have? Do you understand? People habitually slander what they can't have or can't achieve. I can only laugh at myself again, and thank God again. A man who doesn't even understand basic mutual respect is nothing more than an extremely selfish and despicable animal. Chapter 3: My Second Man, A Truly Good Man. This was the first man from MOP. We met in a dating thread. We broke up around the same time, comforting and warming each other. Occasionally, I'd daydream. His attentiveness often annoyed me. He'd break down eating habits into: What time did you eat? What did you eat? Was it good? Do you want some more?... I was driven almost crazy, but I was happy. Because no one had ever cared about me like that before. During that time, I was working very hard, only getting two days off a month. I also had to talk on the phone with that rich guy until midnight, looking haggard. He finally couldn't bear to see me like that and told me to rest, inviting me to spend the weekend in a nearby city. I told my then-boyfriend (less than a month, could he really be considered my boyfriend? I never thought so) that I was going out with classmates. Then I turned off my phone. The night after the rain was incredibly clear. In the hot spring pool, we joked and gently hugged. There was nothing erotic about it. Holding hands, we went back to the suite, where he dried my hair and massaged my stiff shoulders. He massaged for a long time until I was almost asleep. I imagine his hands were aching. We turned off the lights and went to sleep, and he gently held me and kissed me. Everything happened so naturally. The next day, we visited a nearby scenic spot. Like a couple who had been together for years. That was at the end of March. We met twice more after that. Once, I quit my job and went to his city to look for work. He helped me print my resume and accompanied me to all the job fairs. Then he took me sightseeing. After dinner, while waiting for the bus back to my place, he insisted on taking me home, but I refused because there was another man there. I didn't want him to know. Finally, he whispered in my ear: "I hope you can stay and date me." Honestly, that was the most beautiful love confession I had ever heard. The most recent time was in early September. My period was ten days late, and my 18cm condom broke during my first date with my fertile breast. It was my fertile period, and I panicked. It was the first time I had ever been so panicked. After a simple check-up at the local hospital, which confirmed I wasn't pregnant, I decided to go to the largest gynecology hospital in the province for a full check-up. He happened to be in a nearby city, so he bought a train ticket and waited for me to come with him. I said I wanted to get a gynecological exam, just a simple check-up. He said, "Okay, I'll go with you." He chose a hotel closest to the hospital, saying it would be convenient to register at six in the morning; even top doctors require registration that early, otherwise you won't get an appointment. Being with him, you really don't need to think about anything; this man will meticulously arrange everything, you just need to enjoy yourself. That night, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I asked, "Why are you holding back?" He said, "I have a check-up tomorrow, it's best not to." I laughed, my hand reaching for his already erect penis. It wouldn't be right for two people in bed not to do something, would it? The next day, we got up at six to register. The check-up went incredibly smoothly. The most famous old doctor in the province said, "Everything is fine, just keep it up." Not even a single medication was prescribed! It felt like winning the lottery. When I came out and saw him waiting for me, I just wanted to rush over and hug him tightly. Then I went shopping like crazy, spending all the money I had saved for medicine. In the afternoon, I went on a date with another man, a man ten years older than me. Can I call him an older man? I didn't want to have sex with him, but I lowered my body, clad in a low-cut tank top, and flipped through the newspaper in front of him. Women are truly contradictory and perverse; seducing men has become a habit, even if they don't want anything to happen. I considered this my last meeting with this older man. I'll talk about that in the next chapter. I returned to the hotel in the evening and had dinner with him. He actually spent the whole afternoon watching TV in his room, completely bored. This man was waiting for me, and what had I done?! People feel guilty. Overwhelmed by his overwhelming concern, I felt utterly ashamed. I asked him, "Why are you so good to me? Is it worth it?" He looked at me and said, word by word, "Whether it's worth it or not is my business." Yes, whether it's worth it or not is everyone's business. He might have a new girlfriend, but I never ask. The men who come and go in my life, he might genuinely be unaware, or he might pretend not to know. No promises between us, just cherishing the moments we spend together—that's the most perfect relationship. Thank God for giving me such a man. Ugh... I can't even format it into paragraphs... I wrote this online, I'll update it as soon as possible. I've been working overtime lately, trying to earn more money. That's my only goal. Thank you to those who understand. Women, as long as they are independent, can have the same rights as men. Don't think that one-night stands are a disadvantage for women; it's about who gets up and leaves first. Please indicate the source as MOP when reprinting.If the audience likes it, I'm going to post it on the original content section. Ha, this is my first time writing a novel, and it's actually about sex. Actually, what I really wanted to write was titled: "Daughters Should Be Self-Reliant," about how women should be independent, but I doubt there will be many readers. This story will have an ending that's both unexpected and logical. The next few chapters might have more explicit descriptions, haha, consider it a preview! Chapter Four: Three Nights, Three Cities, Three Men. During a period of job-hopping, I experienced the most incredible journey: three days, visiting three cities, and encountering three men. Looking back, it's unbelievable, yet it really happened, and all three men were closely related to MOP. 1. A handsome 33-year-old. This is a middle-aged man ten years older than me. Handsome and mature. When he smiles, there's a slight shyness. He's a senior manager who had business dealings with my former company. It was in the last cold winter, January, I think. I came out of the company, facing the cold wind, and stood by the roadside waiting for a car. Watching his blue car slowly pull out and stop beside me, he rolled down the window and asked, "Want a ride?" We exchanged business cards. We chatted occasionally on QQ that evening, talking about random things. At that time, my ex and I had just broken up, and I showed him the posts I'd made on MOP until 3 AM. His mature, comforting words were very effective. We gradually became familiar with each other. After that month with the rich guy, I had lost all hope in men. I only knew that what I needed now was to try different men and experience the life I could only imagine before. A mature man was one of my targets. I started showing him some of my fantasies on MOP, and this probing worked very well; his words immediately became extremely restless. I responded with a mix of acceptance and rejection. Two months later, he was on a business trip to a nearby city and specially drove two hours to see me. We had dinner and went to karaoke. He sang very well; he could sing Andy Lau's songs with incredible depth. Later, I concluded that men who sing well are usually very skilled in bed. I fed him fruit with a toothpick, looked at him with adoration, and kept praising him: "You sing so well, it makes me feel inferior!!!" He reached out, gently patted my head, and then lightly stroked my chin. He said: "You sing much better than me!" I said I had to go home at ten o'clock. So he took me home, we strolled in the park for a while, chatting about the three best guys on the computer, our eyes meeting intensely, but neither of us dared to make a move. Later, we met on QQ, and he said, "You, I came all this way to see you, but you don't give me any face..." I said: "I can't do that on a first date." He was silent for a moment: "I can't do that either." Then he continued to daydream. In May, I quit my job, and before reporting to my new company, I had a ten-day break, so I decided to travel. I wanted to travel around the province. He happened to be online and warmly invited me to his city. I looked at the route and decided to go to his place first. The next day, I set off. Arriving at the reserved deluxe double room, I took a shower. He was entertaining his boss and wouldn't be able to leave until later. Bored, I went to an internet cafe I hadn't been to in ages to let the reception managers from the second and third stops know. They all seemed handsome, which pleased me. But I imagine they were even more delighted. Back in my room, I changed into my bathrobe and watched TV. At ten o'clock, just as I was getting ready for bed, the doorbell rang loudly. A man reeking of alcohol stumbled in, leaned against the window, and vomited for a while. I'd never seen anything like it before, so I made him a cup of hot tea. But I was suddenly grabbed and pushed down onto the bed. At this point, the man had shed his suit and tie, leaving only his alcohol-fueled brain. My hands, clutching my bathrobe, weakly resisted his advances. I knew it was futile; it was inevitable. But should I just open my genitals and let him in? So, I decided to put in the effort and do some foreplay. When I was stripped naked and presented to him, the man, like an impatient child, greedily began to suckle. I closed my eyes; I completely understood. He had longed for a young body for far too long. His technique was excellent; he had done plenty of foreplay. Both our bodies were already burning hot. Before he entered, I asked, "Where's the condom?" He shook his head: "Should we buy this now? Don't worry, I'll take responsibility for you. Don't be afraid." I knew things were already out of control, and I didn't want them to stop. Okay, let's take the risk. His entry was gentle, but quickly turned violent. Suddenly, he stopped and went to the bathroom to vomit violently. Haha, poor man, enduring the churning in his stomach while still satisfying his lower body. After a shower, I felt much more awake. We entered again, changing positions many times. I enjoyed it, and he enjoyed it too. That night, we made love three times. The next morning, we made love again. Then he went to his company, and I went sightseeing. At noon, he took me to my next destination. After arranging the room, I naturally wanted to use it, but in the midst of the excitement, I was interrupted by a phone call from his wife. He left in a hurry. I immediately dialed the number of the second receptionist: I'm already at the XX Hotel, when will you arrive? In the following months, we met twice, and the chats were still very pleasant. But in bed, he was clearly not up to the task. Once, I lost my phone, and he helped me buy a new one. From then on, I cut off all contact with him. Having tasted it, that was enough. After all, it's an adult game, and we both know when to stop. No need for further explanation, no need to say goodbye. Because perhaps we never even met. 2. Three minutes at most, is that considered ED? This is a man I met on MOP less than a week ago. (I posted a PP thread earlier, which led to many men on QQ.) He's a year older than me. He's very lively, and in the SP, he looks fair-skinned and refined. After having dinner at Pizza Hut, the atmosphere became much more harmonious. He always has some very witty remarks that make people laugh. We got along well, and naturally, something happened next. His skin was smooth and delicate, without a single stray hair. The touch was superb. He could be in a shower gel commercial. He confidently declared: "I'm going to try to have sex with at least ten women!" I immediately chimed in: "I'm going to try to have sex with at least ten men!" We laughed heartily. The foreplay was plentiful, but after struggling for most of the night, we still hadn't succeeded. His penis went limp as soon as we put on a condom. He explained that it was because he hadn't had sex in a long time. I reflected on my actions, but my conscience was clear. We met a few more times afterward, mainly out of sympathy and because we enjoyed chatting. The final conclusion was: this man, at most three minutes. He himself admitted that although he had been with many women, it was always the same. I thought to myself: "Then you should stop ruining people's lives... and you still want to have sex with ten..." My good friend COCO poured out her woes to me, unable to tolerate her boyfriend any longer, mainly because he was simply impotent. I said: "At least you can last three minutes, right?" COCO angrily retorted: "If he could last three minutes, I'd kneel down and thank him!" Sex is important to men, but isn't it just as important to women? It's a proven fact that men with weak sexual abilities are mostly emotional and unpredictable. To put it simply, they're spineless. What else can you describe a man who can't even satisfy a woman's most basic needs but is weak? Being a man is tough; not only do they have to support their families, but they also have to meet other needs. Those who can manage both are becoming increasingly rare. Is three minutes considered erectile dysfunction (ED)? Strictly speaking, three minutes is already a huge success for someone with ED. In practical terms, well, women might as well rely on themselves for a quick and easy time. But the most painful one is probably the owner of that unreliable penis. I've been too busy with work lately, my mind is a mess, I'll update again tonight. Thank you for your attention. The most perfect one-night stand.I'd like to give the male protagonist of this story a name: J. He's the only man in the entire story with a name. Even now, he's the only one I can't forget. We met in MOP, had a very pleasant chat, and he seemed like an extremely handsome man—clear features, elegant speech, a classic "oxygen beauty." I was completely smitten. Since I was traveling, going to his city was entirely because of him. J picked me up at the station and naturally took my tattered travel bag, making sure I didn't have to lift a finger the rest of the way. He was indeed very refreshing. J led me to a rather stylish local restaurant, where we had a pleasant dinner. Then he suggested we go to the supermarket to buy some snacks. In the bread section, J looked at the large loaf I picked out with a puzzled expression and asked, "Can you finish this?" I glanced at him and lowered my head: "Isn't this for two people?!" His handsome face immediately turned bright red. Next, we went to karaoke. I was confident in my singing skills, but the moment J opened his mouth, I felt utterly ashamed. He sang Tao Zhe's "Finding Myself" and Wang Leehom's "The Only One" even more movingly than the originals. (Even now, I always choose these two songs when I go to karaoke, even though I can't sing them well; it's purely to commemorate them.) My gaze towards J held a newfound appreciation. Because men who sing well often perform well in bed too. Back in the room, we sat on one side of the large bed. J's face flushed again: "I didn't expect us to end up like this so quickly, haha." The atmosphere was awkward. He tilted his head: "Why are you so far away? Come a little closer." I chuckled and moved even further away. After an agonizing ten seconds, J leaned in, our eyes five centimeters apart. I could feel his breath and the fresh scent of his shower. No words were needed; he kissed my lips precisely. From gentle to intense, his kiss made me feel dizzy. This was a feeling I'd never experienced with my boyfriends of the past three years. Kissing J was something I could never tire of; his lips seemed born for kissing, giving me a feeling that once I held them, I never wanted to let go. He tenderly and meticulously cared for every inch of my skin, moving downwards. It made my whole body burn, a feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time. Just as we were about to reach my most private area, he stopped, looked at me, and said, "Shall I kiss your whole body?" At that moment, I was speechless, only breathing heavily. J kissed me so naturally, his kisses as gentle and lingering as his lips. His technique and his attitude were so wonderful that I would never forget them. I couldn't hold back any longer and shouted, "How could you?!" He replied naturally, "I wasn't single before." It was my turn to return the favor. I kissed this charming man, from my lips to my throat, to my shoulders, to my nipples, to my waist, to my inner thighs, to my genitals, to my penis… caring for every cell, moist and forceful, my teeth gently brushing against his skin. J's penis, like his face, was rosy and resolute, the most handsome penis I'd ever seen. Watching his rapid breathing, I quickened my pace, each thrust followed by a lick of the shaft with my tongue, then a 360-degree rotation at the tip. Heh, a man's sensitive spots are actually quite simple. J, like me, couldn't hold back under the onslaught of technique. The temperature reached its peak. I couldn't wait any longer. J's size was excellent; I'd already guessed from his high, straight nose. J was being incredibly annoying, circling his burning-hot penis around the point where it should enter, it was truly unbearable. I begged him, pleading with him in a low voice, to stop. He chuckled; yes, he'd achieved his goal. So he moved on to the next step, as if the woman beneath him were a virgin, gently entering a little, then immediately withdrawing, repeating this several times. I was furious. I'd never felt this burning sensation all over my body, unable to release it. I couldn't let him tease me any longer. I reached out and pressed down on his buttocks, thrusting upwards. The intense pleasure of being filled instantly spread throughout my body. I tightened my vaginal muscles as if trying to squeeze him out. Of course, I only used this tactic on him; other men didn't have the privilege. At this point, J began to unleash his full power. His strength was incredibly fierce, his speed incredibly intense. I felt like my whole body was floating on clouds, my head spinning, constantly releasing the flames accumulated deep within my body. My whole body was numb, limp and boneless. I could only respond with loud gasps and moans, letting him know what I wanted to say: J, you're amazing! When he ejaculated, I didn't know how much time had passed, nor could I calculate how many times I had contracted violently; I only knew that this lovemaking couldn't have been more intense. In our eyes, there was a new kind of adoration. Harmonious sex can enhance feelings; it's a rule that doesn't need much explanation. He leaned against me and asked, "Do you know why I don't have a girlfriend?" We had talked about past relationships; he still loved his first girl and his girlfriend from university. He was a passionate but not promiscuous man; after breaking up after graduation, he hadn't been in a relationship again. I said, "Why? A lot of guys like you would chase after you, right?" He smiled and said, "Because I'm going abroad. I broke up with my college girlfriend because I couldn't give her a good life (the same reason as my college boyfriend). Now my job is mundane, so I'm choosing to study abroad some more." My heart skipped a beat. It meant I would never see J again. But what could I do? I could only pretend to be relaxed and congratulate him. The second and third times began immediately. I wanted to become one with this man as much as possible. Exhausted, it was the next morning. As usual, I slept far away; I didn't like any contact afterward. He reached out and turned my shoulder, gently saying, "Shall I hold you while we sleep?" What could I say to a man like that? The irresistible warmth was suffocating. I rested my head on his arm until dawn. The next day, J took the day off to be with me. We went to the park and watched a movie. Our hands never parted. In the movie theater, I couldn't help but kiss the back of his hand and fingers. This man was simply too intoxicating. That night, I got my period, several days early. I knew it was because of the medication I took the day before. I was with that 33-year-old man, and we didn't have a condom. I used my mouth and hands to help him. It was the first time I swallowed his semen. Because of this man, I will remember him in my limited life. He said, "You really drained me! But having sex with you was really great." Just hearing that made me content. After he came back, I carefully picked out two Jack Jones items and sent them to him. I knew this was the last time I would be so good to a man, so I gave it my all. Two months later, J went abroad. We met online and exchanged simple pleasantries. He never flirted with text; our chats were always serious. How many people could sense the passion hidden behind this seemingly calm man? Knowing he was doing well made me feel relieved. But I didn't care how he was doing. He felt the same way. It was an indescribable feeling; everyone cherishes beautiful things, especially something so perfect. If he hadn't gone abroad, nothing would have changed; we would still be living our own lives. I don't know if J knows how unforgettable I am to him, even though I've told him. In the days that followed, I understood that there could never be another man like J. Therefore, I will always remember him, unless a man appears who leaves an even deeper impression. 4. Standard ONS: From meeting at MOP to sleeping together, we only chatted two or three times. I had no idea what kind of person he was. I happened to be visiting his city, so we met up. He was a man with a boyish charm. We didn't say much that night; we turned off the TV and immediately ended our first time. There wasn't a single word exchanged; the atmosphere was very heavy. I asked, "How many times do you usually do it in one night?" He said, "Once." Then we went to sleep. Half an hour later, I felt uncomfortable. Too lazy to think too much, I tested his penis; it was hard enough. I sat on him and moved myself. His length was suitable for this position, and soon I reached the orgasm I wanted. Then, I put a pillow in the middle of the bed. I slept soundly until morning. There was no further contact after that. Standard ONS: The difference between a man and a vibrator is just whether or not there's heat. I got the GC I wanted, and it was over. Chapter 5: He tormented me with his length, and I tormented him with my time. The first few days after leaving J were truly unbearable. Soon, I met another man in MOP. Surprisingly, he was from the same city as me. During those days controlled by desire, we frequently went on dates, indulging in wild pleasures. There was basically no foreplay, only the most primal activities. Each time it ended, only emptiness remained after satisfaction. YJ arrived ten days late; I knew it was because of his 18cm, which violated ZG.All of this was mentioned at the beginning of the article. It was the first time I'd gone to the hospital because of a man whose name I didn't even know. That indescribable feeling, more self-reproach than confusion, made me reflect on the past six months of my life—how I'd indulged myself so much, and what I was really pursuing. Physical pleasure? If at first it was driven by curiosity and desire, then now, it's hard for any man to arouse me. Only J remains in my mind; the others are basically ignored or completely forgotten. If that's the case, then what else do I want? In this world, only I am truly reliable, and the responsibility of caring for my parents must gradually take full effect. Therefore, I should fulfill my responsibilities to the best of my ability. Having clarified the path I wanted to take, I began to plan how to walk it. I once again agreed to a date with 18cm, frantically ordering him not to stop, not to ejaculate, to keep going. I heard my own cries, almost desperate. Every thrust of his pounded heavily against my fragile penis; it was a masochistic pain, but I yelled at him: Don't stop! His sweat began to cool, and his voice trembled: "Have you had enough? I really can't take it anymore!" Before, I was always the one begging him to stop; this time, he was begging me. I coldly replied: "Screw it in half an hour." I completely ignored his groans. This was an extremely BDSM session; he tortured me with his length, and I tortured him with my time. It far exceeded the normal range of pleasure. My goal for this final date was to make myself lose all interest in sex, to the point of feeling nauseous. And I achieved that goal. Then this man, with his perfect size and stamina, was discarded like a worn-out shoe. I ignored all his texts and messages, and I didn't answer his calls. If sex can't be satisfying, then what's the point? After all this, I finally understand that sex isn't easy; a perfect partner is a 1/7 probability. I don't reject one-night stands, but I want a partner like J. Everything else is out of the question. This is my settled mindset. It's been over two months now; I haven't been with a man, and I don't want to be with any man anymore. Women, if you're looking for sex, choose a good partner. First, study their face and hands to determine their size and capabilities. Only proceed if you feel they can satisfy you. This is based on experience. Later, if any viewers are interested, I'll explain in detail how to judge men through physiognomy. Let everyone know that men are actually quite simple. But most importantly, women must be independent and decisive. Then no one has the right to tell you what to do. Their anger stems from wanting something but not being able to, or desiring something but not being able to have it—isn't that the most pathetic thing? We can face criticism and ridicule with equanimity because we live authentically, without needing to hide anything. Desire is desire; controlling desire and striving towards clear career goals is the highest level.

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Me and the men who went from MOP to bed

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