My True Experience in France

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

Seeing so many reposted erotic articles, I must say, their writing is excellent, giving readers ample room for imagination. However, I don't know if it's because my life experience is insufficient, or if these articles are written in such a sensational way, but very little of them seem to reflect real-life experiences. Nevertheless, they at least accompanied me through many lonely nights and gave me the urge to tell my own story. I'll start with a bit, and if you find it interesting, I'll gradually unfold my story… I

only stayed in a small city in southern England for two months, without attending school once, before moving to France due to some family reasons back home. My family first helped me find a school in a relatively large city in northern France. Although it's called a relatively large city in France, it's actually smaller than a county town in China. I studied French while also attending classes for other majors. I actually always wanted to go to Paris, but I heard that it's impossible to learn a language well in a city like Paris, so I settled down in this northern city for ten months.

Looking back, I spent a total of three years in France, but only those ten months were truly dedicated to studying. The French I learned during that time is arguably my biggest gain from my French studies. The following two years of my master's degree were more of a casual affair. Let me first explain about master's programs in France. Actually, you can graduate in just one year, but because I was rather lazy, I asked my supervisor to submit my thesis in the second year. So, after the first year's exams, the second year passed easily. It was because of this that I had the opportunity to experience a romantic relationship in Paris—something I never even imagined before going abroad.

While it was a romantic relationship, it wasn't really love. For the first six months or so after arriving in Paris, I studied very hard, so I rarely thought about romantic relationships. Even my morning erections disappeared for almost six months. It wasn't until my studies in Paris were settled and the academic pressure lessened that I started to have some sexual desires again.

I came here right after graduating from university. I spent a few months preparing in China before leaving. I don't know if it's because I didn't get enough nutrition abroad, but my libido has been consistently low since then. Back in China, my girlfriend and I lived in different cities, and she was quite conservative, so I basically had to take care of myself every day. Occasionally, when we met, we'd struggle for ages but ultimately fail. Looking back, I wonder how I had so much energy back then, taking care of myself at least once a day, two or three times a day was common. After coming here, it's rare to see Chinese girls

, and when we do, we just say hello, without any romantic feelings whatsoever. This continued until a month before I was to go to Paris. While studying French at the Alliance Fran?aise in Shanghai, I met a girl. We were classmates for only a week, and then she stopped coming. She was from Suzhou, and I don't know her age, but I later found out she was older than all of us, which is why she kept it a secret. Everyone in my class was learning French to study abroad, but I only studied for a month and a half before finding it too difficult and giving up. She came to France on her own to prepare for training the following year, sent there by her company. However, due to her busy work schedule, she only attended for a little over a week and then disappeared. Fortunately, we exchanged MSN numbers, which allowed us to meet up later in France.

She was going to a small city near Paris for training for six months. A month before I was going to Paris, she added me on MSN, saying she had been in France for three months and was on vacation, asking if I had time to get together; ideally, we could go to Paris together. I thought, I'm going to Paris next month, and I'm still packing my bags, plus I'll have to pay for accommodation. I suggested she come to my city, and after I go to Paris next month, she could come and have a place to stay. She readily agreed. But once she confirmed her arrival date, I became a little uneasy. I wondered if something was going to happen.

She is indeed a pretty girl, not very tall, but with a great figure. When I saw her in Shanghai, I thought she had a nice bust and a nice butt. She's the kind of person who's easy to talk to, and being from a charming, demure family in southern Jiangsu, many guys are very enthusiastic about her. She's coming over in four days and will be staying in my little room! I'm so excited thinking about those days. I tidied up my tiny apartment, throwing away everything I didn't plan to take to Paris and packing up anything I didn't need. I made the 12-square-meter room look quite charming. I picked her up from the train station

on

Thursday, Thursday being a public holiday. The French like to build bridges, so they include Friday in the weekend, giving her four days to explore the area. It's less than a two-hour train ride from her city to mine, but I don't know why she chose the 7 am train, making me get up at 8 am and even make some corn porridge. She arrived at my place early in the morning, dropped off her luggage, ate some porridge, and then went out. Even after several months, she's still the same—very refined and womanly. When she casually took my trash bag with her before leaving, I felt a warm glow inside.

We walked and talked along the way. The city was too small and didn't have much scenery, so I had to tell her everything I'd seen and heard during the past six months to keep the conversation flowing. Luckily, she was good at keeping up with my topics, so we chatted happily until it was almost dark before heading back. We stopped at a supermarket and bought some vegetables and meat, plus a bottle of Bordeaux red wine.

Dinner was quickly prepared under her care. Since there were no candles, we dimmed the lights, opened the wine, and started chatting.

It was then that I learned she was at least five years older than me, had been working for many years, had a boyfriend of six years, and was preparing to get married. However, before leaving the country, she suddenly discovered that her boyfriend had been having an affair with a female client for two years. She hadn't noticed anything until she went to Shanghai to apply for her visa. She was supposed to stay in Shanghai for one day, but she had work to do the next morning, so she took the night train back that evening. When she got home and found the door locked from the inside, she realized she had also fallen into a very mundane emotional entanglement. After less than a month of this entanglement, she escaped and went to France. She told her story for over two hours, barely ate any food, but finished all the wine—she drank most of it, and later even drank six cans of beer from my fridge (she drank four).

Thankfully, she didn't cry or make a fuss, just her face was flushed.

After dinner, I insisted on washing the dishes, since she cooked, I wanted to appear diligent. Seeing nothing to do, she went to take a shower. When she came out a while later, she was already in her pajamas, her hair still wet, and asked for a hairdryer.

I didn't have one, so she went back to the bathroom, took my dry towel, and continued drying her hair. While complimenting her hair—long and black—I secretly glanced at it and immediately noticed two very obvious nipples under her pajamas, especially in the slightly damp fabric. My scalp tingled, and my penis instantly became erect. Realizing the situation was getting out of hand, I immediately said I needed to take a shower and went into the bathroom. I don't know if she saw me when she was drying her hair, but there was a big bulge under my Adidas sweatpants, and I think I saw a shy smile behind her messy hair. Of course, maybe she didn't even smile, and I was just imagining things.

That shower was so nerve-wracking. I lathered up with soap twice, and turned the water temperature down as low as it could go, but I still couldn't hold it in any longer. So, covered in soap suds, I masturbated, spraying a lot—on the floor, the walls, the shower curtain. Thinking about it, it's not surprising; it was the first time I'd masturbated in over half a year. It's abnormal if the amount wasn't much. My heart calmed down a bit after that, and I wasn't as panicked as before. I washed my penis clean and rinsed it until the water heater ran out of hot water. Then I looked around—where was the towel? Right, I took it out to dry her hair. Luckily, there was an extra light pink damp towel on the towel rack. Never mind, I'll take hers. It smelled nice, I don't know if it was her shampoo or shower gel, but it smelled really good, and there were little flowers on it, it was pretty too. When I wiped my penis, seeing it still wet in the pink towel after she ejaculated, I felt another surge of heat in my lower body. And when I put on my glasses, and through the fogged lenses I saw her black cotton underwear hanging next to me, my penis became active again. When

I

came out, she was already in my bed, and her sleeping bag was spread out on the carpet next to the bed. She was quite considerate, not even bothering to be polite and taking over my bed. Considering she was so much older than me, I decided to let her have it. So I sat down in my sleeping bag next to hers on the floor, and put my laptop on my lap to check my emails.

She turned to me and asked what good movies I recommended. I opened my movie folder; most were French films. Although she seemed to have never seen most of them, she asked again, "What's good to watch?" Actually, my penis was already tucked between my legs under the laptop. I had some impure thoughts, but I didn't know what to do and dared not make any moves. While introducing the movies on my computer to her, I casually opened the movie "Romans," turning the screen towards her. She tilted her head to watch, and I took the opportunity to sniff her hair. I think many people have had this experience: after a long time away from a woman, once you smell her scent, you'll see double eyelids even in a sow or a piece of pork, let alone a real beauty! Just

as I was thinking about what to do, she spoke. "My neck is about to break from looking at this. Can you sit on me?" Oh my god!

Just when I wanted to sleep, someone threw a pillow at me. While I was inwardly cheering, I said aloud, "The bed is too small; it's too cramped for two people." As soon as I said it, I wanted to slap myself. What if she said she'd put the computer on the bed to watch

TV? Then I'd be doomed! What a lustful idiot! She straightened up, shifted her butt towards the inside of the bed, and said, "I've said enough, I'm not going to do anything, this is wide enough." I shakily used my laptop to cover my penis as I climbed onto the 70cm wide bed, regretting not buying a box of condoms yesterday.

When my two icy feet slipped under the covers, she let out an "oh." I said, "The carpet is right under the concrete floor, of course it's cold!" She looked guilty and said, "Come in, I'll warm you up." My heart felt so warm!

Wait a minute, she suddenly cried out.

Oh no, is she regretting it, or is she embarrassed? I didn't dare move, looking at her, but not daring to look her in the eye. "

Didn't you wear these pants all day? And you're wearing them under the covers? Take them off! I just showered. You just showered too, didn't you?"

At that moment, I think I don't need to describe my feelings. Seeing her deliberately focusing her gaze on the laptop screen, I quickly took off my sweatpants and slipped into the warm bed from the side. 0.1 seconds later, I realized she wasn't wearing pajama bottoms either... Looking up again, they were already on the other side of the bed.

I didn't dare move, pretending to watch the movie with her. Soon, the movie showed some daring sex scenes, and I felt smug about my cleverness, observing how things would unfold. "

I'm going to the bathroom." Just as the two people in the movie were getting intimate, she suddenly said something.

Could it be that she felt embarrassed and wanted to skip this scene? Looks like we'll have to change the movie. But then she said, "Pause it for a moment, wait for me." She crawled out of the covers and got off the bed from the other side, wearing only a pair of white panties!

I put my two cold hands under the covers to warm them up, staring blankly at the paused white buttocks of the female protagonist on the screen, thinking how much I regretted not buying condoms. A woman's distinctive urinating sound came from the bathroom, and it lasted for a long time, probably from drinking beer. After I passed the bathroom, she came running over, saying how cold she was, and climbed over me. I could vaguely see a dark patch of skin just a foot away from my white panties; I could almost smell the fragrance of that meadow.

She crawled into bed, saying how cold she was, and immediately placed her two icy hands on my left thigh. My hands were warming my throbbing penis when her hands came in, touching my left hand. I grabbed her hand and said, "Your hands are so cold." She didn't struggle, rubbing her hands back and forth on my thigh a couple of times as if to warm them, and said, "Keep playing videos." I had to take my hands out and move the computer. Her hands were still rubbing against my left thigh to warm them, but her fingers had touched my penis several times already; I think she must have felt it too. There were many intimate scenes in

the

film, but to be honest, it wasn't very heartwarming or particularly enjoyable. Although it won some film awards, I can't remember any of the plot now. I only remember that there were many intimate scenes, some of which weren't aesthetically pleasing and were even a little unpleasant. However, when watching this film with her, I couldn't care less; I couldn't just start with porn.

My hands, which were outside the covers, quickly cooled down. I held my laptop with my left hand and quietly slipped my right hand under the covers from my right side. She was on my left and didn't see me. I warmed my right hand on my right leg, just in case. Hehe. As she watched, she would occasionally rub her hands together. Actually, her little hands were already warm, but she didn't stop. The frequency of touching my penis seemed to increase. My penis was straight inside my underwear, and her warm fingers would intentionally or unintentionally touch the base of my penis and my testicles.

She leaned to her right, resting on the pillow and my left shoulder. I could clearly smell her hair and body fragrance. I felt like her breasts were touching me through her pajamas, but I couldn't be sure, and I didn't dare move. Just as another sex scene appeared in the film, her hands, which had been rubbing together, suddenly stopped. Her fingertips were just lightly touching my penis, then she stopped. She looked up and said, "You're aroused."

My heart was pounding. I could hear it. Her cheeks were flushed, her breath sweet and fragrant, a fresh minty toothpaste scent with a hint of alcohol.

I thought, I'm not a beast, but I'm not that old man surnamed Liu either.

I lowered my head and gently placed my lips on her pink lips. Her tongue immediately responded, and I took it in and began to entwine our tongues.

She grabbed my penis, which she had been lightly touching with her fingertips. Through her underwear, she squeezed it firmly, then gently moved it up and down with one hand.

I closed my laptop and tossed it onto the sleeping bag beside the bed. Under my brilliant guidance, my warm right hand swiftly slipped under her pajamas and grasped her breast, her nipples already erect. I squeezed it a few times before gently kneading it, occasionally tugging at her nipples.

Her breasts weren't large, somewhere between a B and C cup, but they were very firm and elastic. I kissed her lips, her earlobes, and her neck, while moving my right hand down into her small panties. Her pubic hair was sparse and clustered, I couldn't tell what it looked like, but it felt very soft. After gently stroking it for a while, I smoothly moved downwards, pausing only on her clitoris for a few seconds before placing my fingers on her vulva. It was already completely wet, not much, but very slippery. With just one finger moving in and out of her opening, she began to moan; simultaneously, her other hand slipped under my panties, grasping my swollen penis and moving it up and down quickly. After a few moments, perhaps feeling the limited space inside her underwear, she used her other hand to help, pulling my penis and testicles out from the left side of her underwear and moving them around more vigorously.

My right middle finger was already deeply inserted into her slippery, beautiful vagina; it was very tight, so I didn't dare use two fingers. Just one finger moving back and forth was enough to make her wet. I took my right hand out first and started pulling down her underwear. She immediately stopped, first putting my penis into her underwear, then somewhat roughly pulling down my underwear. Because my penis was so swollen, it got stuck in the underwear, and she even peeked under the covers. After unbuttoning two buttons of her pajamas,

I

was a bit clumsy due to the angle, so she unbuttoned the remaining three herself, and I took off my t-shirt. When my head came out of the t-shirt, I immediately saw a pair of white, firm breasts—breasts I hadn't seen in years, very firm and elastic. I initially thought her areolas would have darkened after living with her boyfriend for so many years, but in fact, they were absolutely pink, very small and pink areolas, with small but already quite prominent nipples. They really looked like the breasts of those little girls in porn. I took one into my mouth immediately, while my other hand kept stroking it up and down. Her lower body was already a small pool of fluid, starting to trickle down her buttocks. She had one arm around my neck, and the other hand was gripping my penis, moving it up and down, occasionally kneading my testicles.

I climbed on top of her, moving my body between her spread legs. My throbbing penis rubbed against her pubic hair, probing the entrance several times; the glans was glistening with her vaginal fluid. Without a condom, I really wanted to use kitchen plastic wrap, but thankfully I still had a shred of rationality and didn't thrust in all at once. I whispered in her ear, "I don't have a condom."

She said, "It's okay, I've been taking medication.

" What else was there to say? My penis went in immediately. She was so wet down there, I didn't even need to slow down; it went all the way in. She gasped, wrapping her legs around my waist. I didn't move; it was too tight, and I figured I'd ejaculate immediately. Thinking about it, if I hadn't masturbated first, I might have ejaculated before even penetrating her.

Her legs were tightly wrapped around my waist, and I began to slowly thrust in and out. She closed her eyes, moaning softly, her hands gripping my back harder and harder. I didn't dare go fast, just thrusting slowly, without changing positions. This was the first time I'd done it with a girl without a condom, and it felt truly different. After two or three minutes of this slow thrusting, she suddenly squeezed my legs tightly, pressed her lower body against me, tilted her head back slightly, and her moans became more rapid. A sudden surge of heat rose in my penis, and I didn't care about rhythm anymore. After a series of hard thrusts, I ejaculated inside her with a short, loud cry. Lying on top of her felt

so good; I didn't want to move at all. She shifted slightly below me and said, "Let me wipe you." I felt embarrassed and kept saying, "I'll do it, I'll do it." I turned to let her out, but she said, "Don't move," and ran to the bathroom, covering herself with one hand. After showering, she came over naked, with toilet paper and a towel, and thoroughly dried me off, saying I must be tired and we could shower again tomorrow morning. Then she snuggled into the covers and held me close. I was incredibly tired and wanted to sleep immediately, but seeing how energetic she was, I felt awkward and started chatting with her.

She said my penis was the perfect size; any bigger and she wouldn't be comfortable, and any smaller and she wouldn't be comfortable either. I thought, even though my penis isn't large, it's at least 15cm long and quite thick, so why would she say that? I asked her about her past relationship with her boyfriend. She didn't mince words, saying they were like an old married couple. However, they were still very passionate about sex, having done it everywhere at home and even in her boyfriend's office after work. They did it every day until that incident, and it had been four or five months since then. Later, I learned that two months later, she went back to her home country and completely broke up with her boyfriend, selling their house and everything else. It had just been a long time since they'd done it, so today's encounter was very comfortable. I asked her again why she was taking birth control pills alone in France. She said she'd been taking them for over five years. Her cousin works as a department manager at Mafulong, so she knows the pills are effective, have no side effects, and are good for the skin (it sounds like I'm promoting the pills, haha). Plus, her cousin gave them to her for free, so she's been taking them, even taking one pill a day after coming abroad. She definitely looked much younger than me, maybe the pills really do work, or maybe I just look too old, making her look much younger.

The next morning, I woke up needing to pee around 9 a.m. It was Friday, a day off for everyone in France, so it was very quiet outside, with no car noise. After urinating, I pulled the thick curtains open a crack, and the room became much brighter. I climbed back into bed and hugged her from behind. She seemed to be groggily waking up. I held her hand and slowly stroked one of her breasts, playing with her nipple. After a few strokes, the nipple hardened. She moved, turning her body to lie flat. I moved my hand to her other breast, making the other nipple hard as well, while gently licking the previous breast. My penis had been erect since I got up to pee. Her legs moved gently under the covers, rubbing against my penis. I really wanted her to give me oral sex, but I had never done it before, so I didn't know how to ask. She didn't seem to be interested in licking me.

I didn't care about that for now. Feeling that the room was no longer cold, I suddenly pulled back the bottom of the blanket, revealing my four legs. She immediately and instinctively pulled her legs up, asking me what I was doing, getting up now? I didn't answer, just crawled back under the covers and rubbed my head against her pubic hair. That was the first time I'd really seen her beautiful private parts. Later I learned she was almost 10 years older than me, well into her late 30s, but her skin was incredibly taut, and she had a fantastic figure. She'd loved sports since childhood, was a great swimmer, and even attended a sports school for a few years before giving up due to academic difficulties. Plus, she didn't have many worries in her life and regularly got beauty treatments, which explained her youthful appearance. But I didn't understand why her private parts looked like a young girl's.

I'd always thought that excessive sex would darken the color of breasts and the genital area, and last night I thought her breasts were already beautiful, but I never imagined her genitals were so alluring. There wasn't much hair, concentrated in a small patch. As my tongue circled around her clitoris, she parted her legs a little more. Her labia were very small, or rather, her entire vulva was small and deeply recessed, completely unlike the "bun-like" vulva described online. The sides of her labia were very clean, without a single hair or pigmentation, just the same color as her skin. Gently parting them, it was already glistening with moisture. I had never given a girl oral sex before, and her clitoris was very small, not at all as prominent as in porn, so I didn't know where to start. I should have used my mouth. More importantly, perhaps she was embarrassed to let me see her genitals like that, as her legs weren't spread very wide. Plus, my tongue is rather short, making it difficult to lick inside. So I licked her clitoris, kissed around the area, and then directly inserted my penis. To be honest, it's

a little embarrassing; maybe because I have so little experience, I wanted to ejaculate as soon as I penetrated her. Back in China, I had basically never done it with my girlfriend. So, strictly speaking, I guess I was still a virgin in France, haha, I'm a little ashamed of myself. I originally thought I'd be like in porn movies, making this girl (who's practically a married woman) have multiple orgasms, but in reality, I haven't reached that level of skill. I only thrust for about five minutes before I ejaculated. Looking back now, the feeling of ejaculating inside without a condom is definitely different. She seemed comfortable, but not as excited as last night; maybe she was still a little unsatisfied.

For the next two days, we didn't go out except to the nearby supermarket. That night and the next day, we did it three more times. I don't know what the problem was, but I just couldn't be very vigorous. Although she kept telling me it felt good, I kept wondering why this was happening. Later, I reflected on myself and concluded that it was because she was too tight down there and I wasn't wearing a condom, which made me feel a little better.

On the last morning, her train was at 11:00. We had already eaten by 10:00 and packed her luggage, but the train station was only a 5-minute walk from my house, so there was no need to go so early. We stood by the window talking, dawdling over the time. Around 10:30, I saw it was time to leave and strolled over, so I leaned in and kissed her deeply, saying I was so reluctant to part. She immediately wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me passionately for almost a minute. At that point, I didn't care about time anymore and just started unbuckling her belt. She threw her small bag on the ground and came over to pull down my pants. I was still wearing my Adidas, and without a belt, I was completely naked. The most infuriating thing was that my penis went limp. It was erect when we kissed, but it went soft as soon as it was exposed to the light.

When she grabbed my penis, she was probably a little surprised and even laughed. I was a bit dumbfounded and didn't know what to say, so I blurted out that my penis was cold.

Behind us was a small table, the low kind I bought at Apple, a little over 9 euros. It served as a desk and a dining table. Our 12-square-meter apartment was too small, so we didn't have a writing desk. She sat on the small table, said "Let me warm you up," and immediately took my penis into her mouth. Oh my god, my legs went weak, I almost lost my balance, how pathetic! In no time, my penis was erect. At first, she was just moving it around inside, then she started moving it back and forth. I looked down at my 15cm penis going in and out of her mouth, my blood was boiling. I squatted down, pulled down her pants, and licked a few drops around her vulva—I don't know if it was her vaginal lubricant or my saliva, but it was all wet—and then I lifted my penis and inserted it.

That little IKEA table was so small, and our position was weird. Even though the bed was right next to us, I didn't want to change places. She hooked her arms around my neck and wrapped her legs around my waist. I braced myself on the small table behind her and started thrusting quickly. It was slippery down there, and there were splashing sounds. I didn't care about the nine shallow thrusts and one deep one; I was going all the way in every time. If I hadn't been bracing myself from behind, she would have pushed the table off. There was a wall clock above the bathroom door in front of me. I clearly remember that we went at it from 10:38 to 10:50, in the same position, at the same frequency. I never thought sex could be so tiring. My arms were sore because she was pressed tightly against me, her arms and legs gripping me tightly, her back almost lifting off the small table, and she was moaning loudly. When I ejaculated, I even wanted to use my hand to cover her mouth. Although I'd been ejaculating every day for the past few days, this time I still sprayed a dozen times. She held her back straight, trembling motionless for almost half a minute.

After that, there wasn't much lingering talk. I wiped myself quickly and stood up. Her vagina was still leaking semen. There was no time to wash, so she took a panty liner from her small bag, put it on her underwear, pulled up her pants, grabbed her luggage, and rushed out. When we got to the platform, the train conductor was blowing his whistle. Without even checking the carriage number, she rushed onto the platform. She looked back at me, and I wanted to lean in and kiss her, but she hurriedly said, "I'm leaving, the doors are closing." She

took a step inside. The doors slowly closed, and she waved to me from inside, saying, "Goodbye, Paris.

" (It wasn't easy to recall, I'll continue writing.)

7

Actually, there are many things I could write about, but there are also many things I can't make up. For example, some friends suggested writing about the kitchen, the balcony, or the sofa. Life in France is tough, especially in Paris. A 50-square-meter apartment costs 1,000 euros a month, and those with balconies are even more expensive. Kitchens are only two or three square meters, so finding romance in these places is difficult. However, those of us raised under the red flag aren't afraid of hardship. We fully utilize our intelligence to create enjoyment in life.

For my first month in Paris, I stayed in a friend's living room. She was a girl who had been in Paris for two years. My own rented apartment wouldn't be available until next month, so I temporarily stayed at a friend of a friend's house for almost a month.

Let me mention that things were relatively peaceful with this girl during that month. She was the girlfriend of a colleague of my friend back home, so we were acquaintances. Her last name was C, and she was studying finance at Paris Dauphine University. Her boyfriend worked in Jiangsu, and I even had dinner with him when I returned to China. She goes back twice a year, so in two years abroad, she's already been back three times, all with her boyfriend paying for the airfare—8,000 yuan per round trip, which isn't easy.

Apartments in Paris are very small; international students can't afford large ones. C's apartment was basically just one room; the living room was actually a slightly larger kitchen/hallway, about 5 square meters. There was a sofa bed, but it took up too much space when unfolded, and my luggage was too big, so I slept on that sofa that was never unfolded for a month. This apartment, less than 20 square meters in total, cost over 600 euros. Having a sofa to sleep on was already a luxury.

C was quite tall, almost 1.65 meters, with above-average looks, rather slim, and long hair, usually tied in a braid when she went out. At home, she sometimes let her long hair down, which looked quite nice. Because she was my friend's wife, I was very careful living there, not daring to say anything too inappropriate, and trying not to be home during the day. I didn't dare go to bed too early at night either, as she liked to sleep in late, staying up late in her room browsing the internet or reading, and occasionally coming out to use the bathroom or get something from the living room. I usually didn't fall asleep until almost 1 a.m., but sometimes I could vaguely hear her making internet calls, and sometimes I could hear her talking to her boyfriend. In that case, I'd be late for class most of the time the next day. Especially since my school is in the southeast corner of Paris, which is quite far. It normally takes 40 minutes to get to school by metro, so being late or even absent is quite normal. Another reason is that there are too many Chinese people in this public university, which seriously diminishes the feeling of studying abroad. This is also a major reason why I'm not interested in going to school. Unlike my previous city in the north, where there were very few Chinese people, and the French were very warm and polite to us.

Living in a room like this, there's hardly any privacy. I don't even dare to sleep in just my underwear; I wash a pair of sweatpants and use them as pajamas. Moreover, the apartment originally only had one large room, and the landlord used two layers of drywall to partition it into a one-bedroom apartment. I guess the landlord didn't put any soundproofing materials like asbestos in the walls when they were renovating, so the walls aren't soundproof at all. I think C inside probably doesn't know that I heard her making a phone call in there when I first moved in. If you listen carefully, you can make out what she's saying.

I was already living under someone else's roof, and it was someone I knew, so I never had any bad intentions. Although a little over a month ago I had finally gotten over my pent-up lust, I still couldn't make a move on my friend's wife. Besides, C seemed to be very careful; after every shower, she would bring her underwear, which she had washed casually, into the room to air it out, so I couldn't find anything to fantasize about.

After staying there obediently for three or four days, one night, it was almost 1 a.m., and I was lying on the sofa, half asleep. I vaguely heard C talking on the phone inside, it sounded like she was talking to her friend online, saying things like to take care of herself and not to go out with female colleagues at night. I covered my ears with the blanket and tried to sleep. In my dream, I vaguely heard a woman moaning. I woke up immediately, lifted my head, and listened carefully. It was coming from the other room. Damn, was she watching porn? I simply sat up and listened. Watching porn doesn't require playing it through the speakers, right? Headphones would be enough!

I got up and tiptoed to her door, wanting to eavesdrop. Suddenly, I noticed a ray of light coming from the keyhole. I looked down and, haha, it was an old-fashioned lock with a keyhole that worked from both the inside and outside. When she locked the door, the keyhole was exposed, allowing me to easily see inside. I quickly went to the sofa, fumbled for my glasses in the dark, put them on, and went to the door to look inside. My

first experience as a voyeur! Her room was small, only about ten square meters. Looking through the keyhole, I could see her desk. She was sitting in a small swivel chair, her back to the door, looking at her computer, her long hair draped over the back of the chair. She even had one leg propped up on the desk—a bare leg! Damn, was she masturbating? That was my first thought, and I immediately got excited. I never would have guessed. Students at Paris Dauphiné are usually very high achievers, and they're usually quite modest, not at all like the promiscuous type. I never imagined they'd be like this when they're alone. I guess everyone's like this; the more proper a girl seems, the more attracted they are. If she's usually quite promiscuous, seeing any part of her body wouldn't be so exciting. I carefully pressed my glasses against the keyhole and glimpsed half a butt through the gap between the swivel chair back and seat. She was definitely naked from the waist down. Judging from the exposed shoulder above the chair back, her upper body was probably naked too. Unfortunately, it was only a back view; I couldn't see anything else. " Did you see that? So annoying!" "Are you alone in your office?"... She seemed to be talking. Looking closer, I realized she was wearing a headset. Turns out she was video chatting with her boyfriend back home! Her boyfriend must be having a blast. Perhaps because of the microphone, C didn't realize her voice was quite loud, especially late at night. I excitedly knelt on the floor, my knees a little sore, so I grabbed my coat from the side and used it as a cushion, kneeling comfortably at the perfect height for the keyhole. Her backside was less than two meters away, but the lamp was too dim, and I was backlit, so I couldn't see her clearly. She was still talking inside, "See? Don't let your colleagues see." " Are you alone? Can't see? Then I'll move the camera closer..."

She put her legs down on the table, moved the laptop a little closer to her, and then tilted the screen down slightly to make the webcam clipped to the top of the laptop more focused. With this movement, I was practically pressed against the door, the screen directly facing the keyhole, less than two meters away! Although she had her back to the door and I couldn't see anything, I could see her entire body on the screen—completely naked! Her MSN window wasn't large, and the laptop was only 12 inches, but I used my full power, my eyes practically a magnifying glass. She seemed to have a lot of pubic hair; I couldn't tell how big her breasts were, but I could see her nipples were quite dark. She spread her legs to show her boyfriend, who seemed quite excited too. A man in a suit and tie was moving

his fingers back and forth in the small video window. While C was showing her boyfriend, she was also making soft moaning sounds. It was then I realized the moaning sounded a little unnatural; she was probably just moaning for her boyfriend. That guy came to the company early this morning just to watch live porn! Their company leaders must have thought he was a hardworking young man, haha, they were fooled! But later, I had dinner with this guy when I returned to China, and he really was a fairly ambitious young man, the kind that girls liked. Judging from his tone, he didn't seem to be idle during C's three years abroad. Fortunately, in the end, we waited for C to return to China to live together. If I

can't see clearly, fine, I shouldn't have bought it yesterday, it cost 29 euros! C was a little unhappy; it turned out this was her first time doing a live online show, I'm really lucky. If you can't see clearly, take the camera down and point it at her breasts, film them one by one! They clearly have no video experience; I really wanted to knock on the door and remind her. It seems the guy couldn't see clearly and was getting impatient; C also got impatient, saying she was going to log off if she couldn't see clearly, and immediately closed the video window, switching to audio. Seeing the show was over, I immediately got up and went to bed.

But I still listened intently, and then C started blaming her boyfriend, saying things like, "You still have books to read, why did you take so long to look at them when you can't even see them clearly?" and "I won't let you see them anymore..." and "Yours is so small, I won't look at it, it's all hair," etc. I laughed so hard in bed.

But actually, for the next month, she really didn't show it to her boyfriend again. Not even once. A little over a week later, I pretended to ask her if she had a webcam I could borrow. She said she had bought one before, but it wasn't clear and didn't work well. Luckily, it was from FNAC, and she returned it the next day with an excuse.

Although that was the only time I secretly saw her slightly lewd side, I learned the advantages of old-fashioned French door locks. What made me even happier was that the lock on her bathroom door was the same!

The

day after I secretly watched her video, my gaze towards her changed. When I saw her again that afternoon, I couldn't help but imagine what her lower body looked like, especially when I saw her simple and serious face. So ever since she got home around 7 PM, my penis hasn't gone down; it's been stuck in my pants the whole time, and I'm worried it might suffocate and die. Around 11 PM, she read for a while and then came out as usual, walking through the living room to the bathroom to shower. I was in the living room with the lights off, curled up on the sofa watching movies with headphones on. She probably greeted me as she passed by, but I deliberately turned the headphones up really loud, so I didn't even look up, pretending not to see her.

As soon as I caught a glimpse of her entering the bathroom, I took off my headphones and waited. The door closed, the plastic bag rattled twice, and then the door clicked shut. Soon, I heard urinating sounds from inside.

I immediately jumped up from the sofa, carefully darted to the bathroom door, took a deep breath, and squatted down.

The bathroom door faced the toilet. My heart was pounding because she was sitting naked on the toilet, urinating while stuffing her long hair into a plastic hairnet—she wasn't planning to wash her hair that night. As she adjusted her hair, her breasts were directly in front of the keyhole, right in front of my eyes! Under the 60-watt incandescent light, at a distance of less than a meter, my penis was extremely engorged.

Her breasts were small, maybe a B cup at most, with small areolas and rather dark nipples. Perhaps it was because she had just taken off her clothes and was cold, I could count the goosebumps on her breasts on my fingers, her nipples throbbing. I found that at this moment, I was even more excited than during our lovemaking more than a month ago. She finished fixing her hair, leaned forward slightly, put her hands down on her thighs, and sat on the toilet for about half a minute. During that half minute, her face and my face outside the door were less than 30 centimeters apart; I felt like I could hear her breathing.

Her two breasts hung there, not large, like two dark grapes. I looked closely at her face and then at her breasts, as if we were face to face. She would occasionally glance at the door lock in front of her nose, or even at the keyhole, but it was bright inside and dark outside; she could never see or imagine the peeping eye 30 centimeters away. That thrill is still vivid in my memory, and my heart beats faster every time I recall it.

She sat up and pulled out a roll of toilet paper to wipe herself. I really don't understand why she wasted toilet paper when she was about to shower. If it were me, I would have just peed in the shower, saving the water for flushing the toilet. After wiping herself, she stood up, and suddenly a patch of dark pubic hair blocked my view. A thick patch of pubic hair!

I never expected that such a refined, tall, and delicate girl would have such abundant pubic hair. Even from less than 30 centimeters away, I could faintly smell her pubic odor; the hair was a perfect inverted triangle, extending all the way to her lower abdomen above her pubic bone. It covered a large area, with even greater density, like a wool blanket, lying flat on her lower abdomen. In less than ten seconds, she stepped into the small shower stall next door, disappearing from view. But those ten seconds of visual impact left me breathless for a long time, as if inside was a hormonally charged, long-suppressed harlot waiting for a man to liberate her. I stood up, took out my throbbing penis, and started masturbating.

Girls always take a long time showering. As I played with my penis in the dark, I imagined the peach blossom pool hidden among her dark pubic hair. Suddenly, I noticed her half-open bedroom door. I usually didn't go in when she was home, and it was locked when she wasn't. Only at this time, when she showered every day, was she unguarded. I walked in quickly, my penis erect.

The room was small and tidy. On the table next to the small bed were a pile of books and photocopied lecture notes, a few dictionaries, and a small canvas wardrobe with a zipper. The only thing that caught my eye was a bra hanging on the clothes rack by the window. She probably took her panties into the bathroom. I pulled it down; it was Etam, 70A, indeed only an A cup. I guess it's not easy to find such a small bra in France! I wrapped the bra around my penis and quickly started moving it up and down. I soon felt the urge to ejaculate, so I quickly stopped, smoothed the bra down, checked for any lint, and hung it back on the rack.

I returned to the living room, still erect, and continued my penis massage by the kitchen sink in the corner.

Just as I was about to ejaculate, the water stopped. How could it be finished so quickly?

Maybe it's because she didn't wash her hair. I immediately stopped and squatted down by the bathroom door.

The shower curtain was pulled open with a whoosh, and two long, slender legs appeared one after the other in front of the lock. They were already wet, and the pubic hair stood up lively, fluffy. I didn't know why she was standing there with her pubic hair facing me; I stared intently at the shiny black carpet. Then she turned around, placed one foot on the shower step, and bent over towards the shower floor. I didn't know what she was doing, but this bend completely exposed her vulva, which I had been thinking about for so long, to the lock. It was a rather full vulva, with pubic hair that almost reached her anus. Although it wasn't long, there was still quite a bit. Her large labia hung outside, and it looked like there were still water droplets clinging to them. The color of her labia was also quite dark, and with each movement of her body, her labia seemed to sway, occasionally revealing the vaginal opening that made my nose bleed. My hand didn't stop, stroking my penis up and down, looking at her labia, and after a few strokes, I ejaculated violently. Luckily, I covered it with both hands, otherwise it would have gotten on my clothes and the door.

Less than two minutes later, she stood up and bent over again. I then saw that she had noticed the shower drain was clogged, and she had opened the small cover to remove the long hair. I quickly got up, washed my hands at the sink, dried them, sat back on the sofa, put on my headphones, and pretended to watch a movie.

This

little keyhole made every day of my first month in Paris so pleasant and anticipated. The first two weeks of classes were short, then gradually increased, and things got busy. Every morning I went to school in a good mood, always focusing my day on the half hour before bed. I

didn't feel any particular warmth at home, but I still looked forward to coming home from school every day.

As I stayed longer, C started talking to me a little more at home. She treated me like her boyfriend's good friend, so she was quite polite. However, she didn't seem to be a very talkative person, and being a diligent student, our conversations were mostly superficial—about school, major courses, internships, and job hunting. I feel like she's barely left school or even set foot in Paris. She's a complete bookworm. I tried asking her what's fun in Paris, but she didn't know. She'd lived there for almost two years and only visited the Louvre, the Musée d'Orsay, and a few smaller museums like the Guimet and Rodin; and even those were during the first weekend of each month when museums are free in France—she hadn't spent a single penny on entertainment. To me, she seemed like a really boring woman.

Later, I realized it was probably because the finance department at Paris Dauphine University was so prestigious, the academic pressure was immense, and she hadn't worked since arriving in France, so she was very frugal and unwilling to spend money on anything outside of her studies and daily life. The more frugal and dignified a girl is, the more stimulating it is to fantasize about her, especially after seeing her from head to toe. Now, every time she walks past me, in my eyes, she's practically naked. Even when her breasts suddenly seem bigger, I secretly chuckle to myself, thinking she must have changed to a bra with thicker padding.

Over the past month, C has been the woman whose body I've observed most closely in my life, truly seeing only a small part of her body. I felt my eyes had become bigger and smaller. Every inch of C's skin was dissected and examined bit by bit over more than 20 days. I especially remember her anus surrounded by a cluster of short hairs and the two small black moles on her labia majora. To this day, I can't quite remember her buttocks, her breasts, or her nipples, but those two long labia minora, her anus, and the two "beauty marks" are clear images imprinted in my mind.

Because I didn't collect rent, mainly because she resolutely refused, I felt really bad and could only go to the Belleville supermarket, where there are many Chinese supermarkets, every one or two days to buy all sorts of groceries to eat with her. She rarely cooks at home, and if she does, it's usually just one dish. I didn't want to make her house look like my own home, cooking all sorts of fancy dishes, so I mainly bought cooked food and snacks at the supermarket, and occasionally some vegetables. Once, I brought several large meat buns, and she was quite surprised, asking me how there could be meat buns in Paris. What a bookworm! We basically never ate at the same table. I would usually serve myself in a bowl, sit on the sofa, and eat while looking at my computer. She would silently and quickly finish hers. Eating at the same table without saying a word is very awkward.

Mainly because she seemed unable to respond to what I said, so from the second day after I moved in, I deliberately avoided eating at the table.

Time flew by at C's place; a month passed in the blink of an eye. My rented apartment became vacant. The previous tenant had taken or sold a lot of his belongings, even getting rid of the unsellable single bed, and actually wanted to sell it to me for 100 euros, claiming it was brand new. I thought, "You can't move it, you can't sell it, so it'll be mine anyway!" Unexpectedly, he was even more shameless than me. He posted online, saying the bidding started at 1 euro, no delivery, and even bought a new one online for 100 euros, having the store deliver it to his home since he didn't have a car.

The day I moved out of C's place was a Saturday. I didn't have much stuff—just one suitcase, three large cardboard boxes, and a bag; but it was definitely impossible to get there by subway. So I paid 40 euros online to a student with a car to help me move my things. It was a young man named Chen, driving a very new Rover. I was thinking, "Driving such a nice car and only making this little money?" Later I found out that he had previously driven a Renault 19 and earned this Rover, which cost over 6,000 euros, with that small amount of money. It made me realize the difference in perspective and mindset between international students from the provinces and those in Paris.

C helped me carry my laptop downstairs. Before the car arrived, she stood downstairs watching my luggage. I carried everything down three flights of stairs, sweating profusely. As soon as I finished, the car arrived. I was panting and didn't know what to say, just kept thanking her for her help over the past month. She politely said that she had gained weight from eating my food every day for the past month and that I should be the one thanking her. She didn't know that before I carried the last box down, I left a small box on her table containing a Vichy facial care set. C's skin was nice, but unfortunately, she only used domestic skincare products she brought from China.

Before I got in the car, she waved to me and said, "There won't be anyone to chat with at night anymore. Come back and visit sometime."

I thought to myself, "You never chatted with me when I was here; what does 'come back and visit sometime' mean? To see the house?

To see you? Or to see the good stuff in the keyhole?"

Later, I never saw her again in France, only exchanging pleasantries online until I saw her again when I had dinner with her and her husband after returning to China.

I was back to living alone. A small apartment similar to C's, perhaps even smaller. My so-called living room didn't even have a table, just a small folding sofa about 40cm wide. I call it a sofa because it's filled with foam. It folds into three sections, and unfolds into a nearly 2-meter-long foam mat that can be used as a bed. I don't know which tenant it came from, and I don't even know what the foam inside looked like. Anyway, when I used it as a sofa, I could easily sit through three layers of foam and land hard on the floor. Later, I bought a second-hand Ikea small square table online to match the sofa, and the height was just right. Ikea in Paris is too far, and I can't go without a car, so I got used to buying second-hand items on French student websites. They're cheap and practical, and I've made quite a few friends through this.

L is someone I met while buying second-hand items online. She's a girl from Beijing. I wanted her handheld vacuum cleaner, desk lamp, printer, writing desk, a folding chair, a bunch of clothes racks, and kitchen utensils, all for only 80 euros.

L is leaving Paris to study her third year in the provinces, so she's slowly selling things. She could have continued studying in Paris, but she wants to pursue a master's degree there. If she doesn't study in the provinces during that time, staying in Paris will be too boring, so she applied to a school in a tourist city on the French Riviera. She called the secretariat and learned she had been accepted; now she was just waiting for the notification letter to register. When I called her, it went straight to voicemail. A lively voice answered, first in French then in Chinese, asking me to leave a message. She was clearly from Beijing. I left a message and she replied in less than three minutes, saying she'd been chatting with a friend. Then she enthusiastically introduced me to her things. I said I'd seen her posts but didn't really want anything else. She said, "Come take a look, they're very cheap, they're going to be thrown away if no one wants them."

No need to transfer subway lines, just one direct train. As soon as I got off the subway, I saw a very energetic girl. To be honest, at first glance, I thought she was a boy. She had short hair, wore brightly colored sportswear, and walked with a slight bouncy gait. She looked athletic. Her features were quite nice, at least fairly regular. She waved very vigorously at me as soon as she saw me—was it really necessary to be so dramatic from only ten meters away?

We chatted casually as we walked to her apartment building. It was less than a five-minute walk, and we acted like we knew each other already.

She lived on the 7th floor, the top floor, and there was no elevator. I even stopped to rest once on the way up, and she looked at me with a smile from the floor above, saying, "You're so useless, a real man? Did you use too much last night?"

Damn it, we only chatted for a few minutes, are we really that close?

But she really didn't even breathe loudly; in a word, she was fierce.

Her room was indeed very simple: just one room, a combined shower stall in the corner, a double-burner stove and sink next to it, a bed, a canvas wardrobe, a small bookshelf about a meter high, and the things I wanted were already on the desk—quite a pile. This included three pots of different sizes, plates, bowls, chopsticks, soy sauce, and other items. There were several large bags and two unsealed cardboard boxes on the floor. "

Good deal for you." She bent down and rummaged through one of the cardboard boxes, pulling out a black bag. "Here!"

I took it and opened it; a pair of binoculars, almost brand new, high-powered binoculars. "What would I do with this? It's cheap, so what use is it?" I thought, I live on the second floor, and there's not much of a view outside. If someone like her lived on the seventh floor, buying one to play with wouldn't be bad.

"It's free, and you don't even want the freebie?" She was still smiling. "Why?" I was wary, afraid she was trying to sell me something else, or maybe she wanted to pick me up? Although she's a bit crazy, she's not bad looking, at least she's a girl.

What, why? Fine, take it or leave it. I don't need it anymore. I still don't believe her. Give me any reason, otherwise how can I accept it? Actually, I quite like this thing.

You look like my brother.

I'm speechless. She even used such a cheesy pickup line on me!

I gave a wry smile, "Is your brother as ugly as me? You look more like my mom!"

She wasn't angry, saying, "Why are you talking so much nonsense? Just take it." She kicked one of the bags on the ground a couple of times and said, "Take a look at this, do you want it?"

I almost wanted to shove my head into it; a huge pile of flashy but useless junk. A large Chinese knot, a pen holder, a portable iron, a folding umbrella, unused tissues, two small plush toys, a small vase, unopened laundry detergent, a stack of new rags, two small rugs, a CD case, a small tripod, three or four picture frames, an electric kettle, a coffee maker, a wad of USB cables, network cables, and a small cordless phone, etc. There were indeed some useful items, so I asked her how much the kettle, umbrella, and coffee maker cost. She said twenty euros. I said buying everything new would only cost thirty. She put a hand on my shoulder and said seriously, "Twenty is twenty.

But if you take everything in this bag without throwing anything away, it'll only be fifteen!"

I was stunned!

But I still tried to take advantage of the small bargain. Deal.

From her seventh-floor apartment (which doesn't have an elevator) to my second-floor apartment, a ten-minute subway ride in between. I made three round trips, and then two more the following night. Around 11 PM that night, on the last subway train home, she called the person who had bought her the microwave, but he stood her up. A large supermarket had advertised a sale next week—brand new microwaves for only €29.90. "That's a bargain for me! 15 euros, anyone?"

I thought, and once again, I took advantage of the situation. I finished my sixth round trip around 1 AM and collapsed onto the bed.

Honestly

, after spending a fortune on this pile of junk and tidying it up, it actually looked like a home. For the next ten days or so, I spent my time after school tinkering around, just like living a simple life. I didn't video chat with my girlfriend, but I sent her several photos. She immediately thought I was very good at managing a household and said she wanted to live in a small apartment like that with me. I understood; her company had given her a nearly 100-square-meter apartment to use for free. Although it wasn't a gift, as long as she worked there, she could use the apartment indefinitely. She spent some money to make the house feel cozy, but she still cried on the phone many times, saying she was cold at home alone and wanted me to come back and keep her company. She also blamed me for lying to her that I was only going to England for a year, but now I've been in France for a year and only just started my master's program, so I have to wait another year! It made my heart ache, and I immediately said I would go back to see her during the next holiday. She said she would come back for a month and then go back for another six months before returning to China permanently, and that I shouldn't waste money like that.

In those two days, I received two emails almost simultaneously, one from my old flame W, who had been doing training near Paris for six months, and the other from my girlfriend. After my passionate three-day trip with W in northern France, we haven't been in much contact, only exchanging emails and making a few phone calls. In our phone calls and emails, it was as if nothing had happened, with no words that went beyond ordinary friendship. Maybe there was never any real affection between us, only passion. She emailed to say that her training was basically over, and she wanted to join a tour group to Italy at the beginning of next month, spend a few days in Paris in the middle of the month, and then return to China from Paris. She asked if my place was okay for her to stay for a few days.

Just as I was about to reply, overjoyed, that everything was fine, I checked my girlfriend's email. She said her mom told her that her aunt's daughter, Xiao K, had just graduated high school and was coming to France to study next month at a business school in Lyon. Since all classes were taught in English, she hadn't learned a word of French. Hearing from my mom that I was in France, she insisted I help Xiao K with everything. I was to pick her up from the airport, let her stay in Paris for three or four days, to help her get used to French life—taking the subway, going to the supermarket, grocery shopping, using a phone, etc.—and to wait for a classmate Xiao K had found online, a girl flying from Beijing to Paris. After this girl arrived in Paris, I was to pick her up from the airport, take them both to the train station, buy them train tickets to Lyon, and see them off. This girl had already found someone to rent an apartment in Lyon, and Xiao K could share it with her. Damn, this was a daunting task!

Where did this little K come from? I later called my mom and found out that I'd seen her once when I was in college, at a cousin's wedding. She was still in elementary school then, a little girl. She sat next to me at the banquet. I don't remember what she looked like, just a chubby girl who ate a lot. She must have failed her college entrance exams and paid to come here to "gild her resume." If she had money, she should go to England or America. Why come to France for English classes? I really don't understand.

I noticed that this brat's arrival time seemed to conflict with W's. What to do? After some planning, I immediately replied to W, saying that my cousin was coming to stay in the middle of the month, and asked her to come to Paris at the beginning of the month to visit. She could leave her luggage at my place, and I could cancel her lease a few days early to save some money for my rent. After arriving in Paris, she could tour Paris first, then go on a tour to Italy a few days later, and then go straight back to China from Paris.

Later, it turned out I was wise. Three days after W went to Italy, that brat K arrived in Paris. If it had been the other way around, W and I wouldn't have had a single day together.

To welcome W, I dug out my nearly expired Wanji ginseng capsules and took one capsule twice a day for over a week. Those days, I was incredibly energetic, never daydreaming in class, and never late, which surprised the few girls in my class who were used to my tardiness. From two days before W arrived until she left for Italy, I took two capsules every morning, so for over a week, my penis was mostly erect. I even had to wear thicker jeans to cover it up. Even worse, I had a wet dream, something I hadn't experienced in a long time. That morning, looking at my hard underwear, I felt so bad—what a waste! Couldn't I have just endured it a couple more days?

Being a man is really tough!

W arrived at Saint-Nach train station in Paris in the morning. It happened to be the first weekend of the month, so museum admission was free. After helping her carry her two suitcases (one large and one small) home, I immediately went out again. At the metro station, I bought her metro tickets, explained the route, and then made an excuse about having class in the afternoon to go home. On the way to my house, we were as polite as ordinary classmates, without the slightest hint of romance. Her gaze wasn't exactly cold, but it didn't reveal any enthusiasm either. I suddenly didn't want to go shopping with her anymore, and I really didn't want to. We went to the Belleville Chinese supermarket, bought some cooked food and a bottle of red wine for 9 euros, and then went home. Now I think I can tell the difference between good and bad red wine, so I usually buy AOCs (Audiocrity) for 5 euros or more, and I've gained a little knowledge of wine regions. However, this 9-euro Mouton Cadet was still quite expensive, and it was my first time buying one.

W came back at 8 pm. When she hadn't returned by 7 pm, I thought she was lost. I didn't call her, though, and just enjoyed some red wine by myself at the small table in the living room. I was using stemmed glasses I bought from L.

As soon as she got back, I microwaved a few cooked dishes. She washed her hands and sat down cross-legged on the small sofa, while I sat on L's two small rugs. We clinked glasses twice to wish her success in her training, and then we started eating. There were quite a few dishes, and I hadn't cooked rice, so we ate slowly. By 10 pm, the red wine was almost finished, and we were still talking about pointless things, raising our glasses whenever there was an awkward silence, or exchanging compliments.

Then she suddenly asked me, "Is it really your cousin coming?"

I said yes. "I'm kidding, I'll show you the email." As soon as I said it, I regretted it. It was an email from my girlfriend; I wondered what she would think after reading it. Although I didn't care what she thought. She said, "Why would I look at your email? If she's coming, she's coming." I finally felt a weight lifted from my shoulders. I was also secretly pleased; she was still a little jealous, wasn't she?

She asked again, "Is she really your cousin?" I said yes, she's from my aunt's side. Actually, she's my cousin's aunt; we're not related by blood. But of course, I couldn't say "cousin." I added, "You can check my emails."

She said, "No need. I thought you didn't want me staying at your place." Hearing that, I felt a surge of joy; she really was jealous.

She said with a sigh of relief, "Okay then." She proactively raised her glass and said, "Let's finish this last bit," and downed it in one gulp, nearly a third of a glass of red wine. I was planning to sip it slowly, but now I had to gulp it down.

She stood up and said, "You clean up the leftovers; I'm going to take a shower. You tidy up the bed too." She then pulled out a large bag and went into the bathroom.

I dumped all the leftovers into the trash bag, quickly washed the two bowls and the glass, still pondering her words. What did "tidy up the bed" mean? Did she mean to put on a sofa bed, or something else?

I didn't dare do much, just gathered the clothes on the small bed and made the bed. I turned off the main light and switched to the bedside lamp. I was rummaging through the closet looking for my pajama bottoms when she came out of the bathroom, drying her long, black hair, wearing only a towel. "Little JJ, you should go take a shower too

," she said. I quickly rinsed off and came out. I walked up to her wearing only my underwear. She was already sitting on the bed, the blanket covering her chest. She glanced at my bulging underwear and asked, "Why didn't you come with me to the museum? You told me you were going to school this weekend?" I realized, oh yeah, I'd been caught. I said, "Actually, I was doing a project with my classmates and photocopying their class notes." She said, "Paris is so nice, even the copy shops near the school are open on weekends." I was speechless. " Okay, stop making things up, laziness is laziness. Stop pretending!" She didn't intend to investigate further. "Come here." I took a step forward, and she reached out and pulled down my underwear, my penis popping out. "Let me see if you've used it lately." She grabbed my testicles with one hand and started moving her hand around my penis. The blanket around my chest loosened under her movements, and my two firm breasts swayed out. I leaned forward, wanting her to give me oral sex, but she didn't turn her head. She continued to vigorously stroke my throbbing penis, rubbing my testicles, and said, "Looks like you've taken good care of yourself. You have a lot of hair." "I like men with lots of hair." "Get on top." I sat on the blanket, not kissing her, but directly taking her firm breast into my mouth and sucking hard, circling her nipples. One hand stroked her soft pubic hair, occasionally brushing against her deeply hidden clitoris; but she didn't touch any further down. She held my penis tightly the whole time, slowly but firmly masturbating me. I kissed one of her breasts, then moved upwards, lingering on her neck and behind her ears for a long time, all the way to the back of her neck. She cooperated by lowering her head, exposing the back of her neck. I could feel she was enjoying it, because the movements of her hand holding my penis noticeably slowed down. When I kissed back down to her throat and shoulders, she actively moved her shoulders towards me, her hips gently lifting upwards. One of my hands was still stroking her pubic hair, but I pressed her clitoris more often. As I kissed her from her shoulder down to between her breasts, her navel, and her lower abdomen, her hand holding my penis loosened slightly. Before she could grasp it again, I had already buried my nose in her soft pubic hair. My fingers slid from her clitoris to her vaginal opening, which was already completely wet. Looking closely, I saw a glistening, pale pink opening, slightly parted, with a few small bubbles of vaginal fluid quietly flowing out. I straightened her body and slowly inserted my swollen glans into her vagina, rubbing it against the opening. One hand gently stroked her neck and earlobe. After two or three minutes, I saw her slightly open eyes become glazed, and as her moans grew louder, I thrust my entire penis in, all the way in each time, only pulling it out halfway. Her voice suddenly became louder. There was a hissing sound of fluid being squeezed out from below. I didn't stop or adjust my rhythm, thrusting straight into her core for four or five minutes each time. Her legs went from being spread apart on the bed, to wrapped around my waist, to spreading open and standing upright, and finally back on the bed, lifting her waist and hips to meet my thrusts. A surge of heat rushed from my body to my penis. I didn't stop, supporting myself on either side of her head as I thrust harder. She was already pushed against the headboard, only able to turn her head to the side, her mouth open, emitting low sounds from her throat. Her hands gripped my arms, shaking them rapidly in rhythm with me, as if encouraging me. I used all my strength to ejaculate wantonly inside her, the bed frame thumping against the wall. She cried out, her head tilting back, her body motionless. I lay on top of her for about ten minutes before I came to my senses. She was just breathing heavily, her mouth open, completely still. When my limp penis fell out, a large gush of white liquid gushed out, running down her buttocks. She quickly stood up, saying she couldn't get it on the sheets. I lay on my side, still holding my penis, and saw that when she went into the bathroom, the milky white semen had already flowed down her inner thighs to her calves. 14 She washed herself and came out, and I immediately went in to rinse off and lather up with soap. When I came out, I thought she was asleep, but she was sitting on the bed holding my laptop. "Going online?" I asked her. "No, I can't sleep." "Let's see what movies you have on your computer." I crawled into bed, moved the laptop onto myself, and went into the movie folder to pick out some movies. She had sharp eyes and pointed to a folder called "Tutorials," saying, "Why did you put this in the movies folder?" I opened it for her, and she immediately understood—it was full of my treasured porn. " Let's watch this one." "Let's find something good." I figured she didn't like anything too explicit, so I put on a self-shot video of Paris Hilton for her. She still enjoys reading gossip news, and immediately recognized it as a famous online film. "I can't believe you even found this one." She seemed quite interested. The film started with oral sex, and also featured a handsome American man's large penis. She looked quite surprised as she watched that huge penis penetrate Hilton's vagina, thrusting powerfully. It was as if she never watched porn, but watching porn in China is indeed not as convenient as abroad. It's not easy to download, and you have to buy DVDs to watch. It's not as widespread as it is overseas. The film wasn't long; the last part was a long oral sex scene. It sounded monotonous, but she didn't ask to fast-forward. She kept staring at the large penis in the video, and her hand moved from my thigh to my penis, gently stroking it.

My penis looked quite impressive, it even got erect again. She pretended to be surprised and said, "Handsome guys are quite powerful too!" I grinned and said, "Beautiful girls are quite seductive too!" As I spoke, I reached down and touched her genitals. Oh dear, it was all wet. I took my fingers out and saw they were clear and transparent. She was a little embarrassed and said, "What are you looking at?" I didn't say anything, put down my laptop, and started fucking her as soon as I spread her legs. This time, I even paid attention to the nine shallow and one deep technique. She looked at me with great charm, moaning softly, and occasionally reaching down to touch my penis as I pulled it out.

I fucked her slowly and steadily, praising how tight and wet she was, and saying how good her skin was. She also asked me if it felt good and said she liked looking at my pubic hair. We chatted and made love intermittently for a good thirty minutes. My arms started to ache, so I sped up and went at it for another ten minutes or so before I was about to ejaculate. Suddenly, she said I should watch her cum, and quickly pulled my penis out and started masturbating me. Less than half a minute later, I ejaculated powerfully with a very pleasurable spasm, spraying it all over her breasts. As I ejaculated a second time, she immediately shoved her slippery penis back into her vagina and said, "Hurry up." Without her saying anything, I quickly started moving again and ejaculated about ten more times, and she convulsed a few times along with me. After I finished, I continued thrusting for a minute or two until my penis completely shrunk, at which point her convulsions finally stopped.

We were both exhausted. We didn't even shower; we just wiped ourselves with tissues from the bedside table, and she put a few more underneath before turning off the light and going to sleep.

I had class the next morning, but even after my phone alarm went off, I didn't move and went back to sleep. I was only half-asleep when I felt a pleasant itch in my lower body, which snapped me out of it. Her head was buried in the pillow, and one hand was already arousing my penis. I said, "Your moaning call service is pretty good. Let me moan for you too." I reached down and touched her vulva. She had removed the toilet paper, but I could still feel some scraps stuck to it. I directly inserted my finger into her half-dry, half-wet opening and started rubbing. It quickly became wetter, so I quickly knelt between her legs, moistened my penis with some saliva, and slowly inserted it into her vagina. Her lower body was a dark color, possibly a little swollen. After a few gentle thrusts, I suddenly realized something was wrong—there was red stuff.

She said, "Oh no, I've started my period," pushed me away, and looked down. There was a red patch on the head of my penis. "

Really," she muttered, "Annoying," and ran into the bathroom.

Naturally, we didn't do anything for the next three days, not even touching. I went to school during the day, she went out, we had dinner together in the evening, and even watched a movie. We also went to a travel agency together to book a tour for her. On the morning of the fourth day, she packed her bags and went to Italy. As soon as she left, I got up and went to school, mainly to ask the five Chinese girls in my class if anyone could let her stay one night when she returned from Italy in six days. Just one night was enough, because she was flying to Shanghai the next day.

I

really didn't want to host Xiao K, mainly because she bought a China Eastern Airlines ticket. I don't know if China Eastern is too stingy or if the French are bullying people, but they scheduled China Eastern's flight to land at 6:30 in the morning, which means she could normally get out with her luggage at 7:00. From my house to the airport, I have to take the subway first, then transfer to a suburban express train, which takes at least an hour. Damn it, I have to leave before 6:00 in the morning.

I packed up all the women's belongings. Actually, W had packed most of them before going to Italy. I checked carefully and there were no signs that any woman had been there, except for W's red suitcase. I'd just say a friend had left it at my place. When W returned from Italy, that girl K had already stayed at my house for a few days, so I didn't let W come over. Instead, I took her directly to my college classmate MM's house in the Jewish Quarter area south of Paris. I even treated MM to two meals at a Chinese restaurant in the 13th arrondissement.

W was visibly unhappy when she came back because I told her my cousin was visiting, and she knew she had to stay somewhere else. But she didn't say anything and politely said she was troubling me again. Fortunately, she was quite tactful, and my classmate had a good impression of her, so it wasn't too much of a burden. After staying at my classmate's house for one night, the next morning, the international student I had booked online drove to my building to pick me and my luggage, and then went to the Jewish Quarter to pick up W.

But W didn't let me see her off. She gave me a light hug and said there was no need. She explained that it would cost an extra ten euros to get her to the airport and back. I didn't insist. I closed the car door for her, rubbed my hand against her face, and said, "Take care." She hummed in agreement and said, "You too."

Then the car drove away.

Back to W's time in Italy, my girlfriend and I talked a lot online about that brat, K. My mom also repeatedly told me on the phone to take good care of my sister. She'd only just graduated high school and had never been away from home. My mom asked if I remembered what K looked like. I said I didn't, and that I could just bring a piece of paper with her name on it at the airport. My mom said, "That won't do. It's dangerous if others know her name. I'll send you a picture." That old lady was way too vigilant.

That night, I received an email from my girlfriend with a picture of K, reminding me that K would arrive early the day after tomorrow. I opened the attached photo and froze. That brat has blossomed into a beautiful young woman, dressed in summer clothes, with a slightly baby face and a full, rounded chest. With three rather plain-looking female classmates beside her as a foil, "pretty" isn't quite the right word; she was simply youthful and radiant. My girlfriend said that last week, Xiao K and her mother stayed at my house for three days. My girlfriend helped her buy a lot of household items; they're practically like sisters now. She said Xiao K would keep an eye on me when she comes over.

I replied that I wouldn't forget the day after tomorrow. MM is pretty good-looking, much younger than you. Aren't you afraid I'll take advantage of you? Lying in bed that night, I couldn't sleep. After having sex with W twice a few days ago, I'd been holding back, and now that I had someone to fantasize about, I felt really hot down there. While masturbating, I was thinking, "I definitely can't date this girl. Even though we're not related by blood, our families know each other, and her family knows about my girlfriend. Even if she wanted to, my mom, my girlfriend's mom, and Xiao K's mom would kill me!"

Thinking about this, I immediately deflated. Oh well, I'll just feast my eyes.

The next morning, I received an email from my girlfriend saying, "If you can get her, go for it. It's good to keep the good stuff in the family.

If you have the guts, go ahead and try. She's over 18. Just don't come crying to me afterwards."

I immediately replied with a guarantee-like letter, swearing I wouldn't lay a finger on Xiao K.

I had class in the morning, so I sat on the toilet, bored, waiting to poop. I stared at the bathroom door lock, but it wasn't an old-fashioned lock; it didn't have a keyhole like C's. I guess I wouldn't get to enjoy the view.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off! I could change the lock! Damn it, when lust takes hold, I'm capable of anything. Back home, I'd never even done a lightbulb job, and now I'm facing a huge challenge. I even skipped pooping, pulled up my pants, grabbed a ruler, quickly measured the inside and outside of the door lock, and took a few pictures with my phone. Then I rushed out the door.

I ran to school for class—no choice, attendance was taken. Luckily, today's class only had attendance taken before class started; it was two hours long, so I grabbed my bag and ran during the break. The afternoon class is a long lecture, no attendance taken, I can just photocopy my notes then.

Back in central Paris, I spent over an hour in a large building materials store near the Pompidou Centre. I spent ages asking the salesperson for help with the sketches and photos on my phone before finally figuring it out. I only wanted to change the lock cylinder, but now it seems I need to replace both side panels, both handles, and the entire lock cylinder—otherwise, they won't match. Gritting my teeth, this is a long-term investment! So, including two screwdrivers, it cost nearly 40 euros. My heart ached. 16

I didn't throw away the old lock; I hid it. If I move, I'll have to change it back. I can't let the next tenant benefit from it. But maybe the next tenant won't be as lewd as me. No matter how much I tidy up, the house is still so small. We definitely won't be sleeping in the same bed tomorrow night. I found new sheets and duvet covers and put the old ones aside to use as a mattress pad on the small, worn-out sofa in the living room. I only have one blanket, but thankfully I have a sleeping bag. People usually use sleeping bags for outdoor activities; I've never used one outside. I bought it on sale for 13 euros. I can't help it; I've discovered I'm like a woman—I want to buy cheap things, regardless of whether they're useful or not.

I was so excited that night, I couldn't sleep. My mind was filled with images of C's body through the keyhole. It was like looking at pornographic images, so vivid. Thick pubic hair, plump labia minora. The thought of this scene soon playing out again made me incredibly excited. It's a pity the keyhole is too small; I couldn't get enough of it. Thinking of this, I got out of bed, went to the bathroom, took the key out of the lock, and hid it. Without the key, the usable area of the keyhole doubled! I couldn't help but feel

smug. I tossed and turned in bed like a pancake, not knowing how many times I finally drifted off to sleep. Just as I was starting to dream, my phone alarm went off. I grabbed my laptop and put it on the bed, refreshed the flight information, and checked if there were any delays so I could sleep a little longer. It showed the expected arrival time was 6:05. Crazy! Why fly so fast?!

I quickly got up. After hesitating for a moment, I quickly washed my hair; I had shaved last night. First impressions are important. I didn't forget to spray on some perfume, chewed a piece of gum, and went downstairs. It

was already a little after 7 when I arrived at the airport arrival hall. The screen showed that baggage claim had started half an hour ago. I ran to the passenger exit and looked around. Everyone coming out was Chinese. I specifically looked at the young women, but none of them looked like Chinese. I regretted not printing out their photos and bringing them with me.

Just then, someone gently tapped my back. I turned around and saw the pretty girl from the photo right behind me. She called out shyly, "Brother."

That call made me feel like I was floating on air. "Little K! What happened to your hair? It's a little different from the photo." Seeing it was indeed me, her tone immediately changed. "I've been out for 10 minutes! Why did it take you so long? If you hadn't arrived, I would have cried." "

Sorry, sorry, it's too early, there aren't many subways." I quickly pushed the shopping cart next to her and headed out.

She followed, carrying a small red backpack, and casually hooked her arm around mine. As we walked, she said, "They say haircuts are expensive in France, so my mom made me get a lot cuts, so I can go a year without one." Her hair was tied up, with only a tiny tail less than five centimeters long. "

Brother, you smell so good! Do all French men wear cologne?" She immediately felt a connection with me. "You look much younger than in the photos," she said. "My sister said you look like a little old man." She called my girlfriend "sister."

We sat facing each other on the subway. She was curious about everything the whole way, asking questions non-stop. She kept talking about what my mom was saying, what my sister was saying, and how beautiful the photos of Paris I sent were, how pretty the girls on the street were, how well they dressed, etc. When she got excited, she grabbed my hand and shook it, wanting me to take her sightseeing in Paris.

We chatted and laughed intimately and arrived home quickly. As soon as we entered, she paused, rushed into the inner room without even taking off her shoes, and turned back to yell at me, "That's it?" I asked, "What's gone?" She asked, "Are there no other rooms?" I was stunned. She thought we were still at her house, a 200-square-meter apartment for the three of us.

Having never been to university, she had no idea that this was much more spacious than an eight-person dorm room. "

Let's go shopping," she suggested, sitting on my small bed and pulling out her camera from her backpack.

I boiled some water and sat down next to her, munching on bread. "You need to rest a bit, right? You slept for over ten hours on the plane, while I only slept three or four hours last night. You have class this afternoon." "

Oh right, you have class too. How about I go with you to listen to the lecture and see the Parisian campus?" "No way, she'll be very disappointed if she sees French university campuses." I said, "Forget it, I won't go to school, I'll go out with you." "

Really? You're skipping class? Won't the teacher say anything?" I said, "It's okay."

She was happy and said, "Then you can skip this once, I won't tell your mom." "Okay?"

She went to the restroom and we went out. I was still a little nervous outside when she went into the restroom. Luckily, she didn't mention there was no latch on the door, nor did she ask why it was this old-fashioned keyhole. She treated me like family, without any wariness, or maybe the little girl just wasn't wary at all, or maybe only a big pervert like me would think of the ingenious use of this keyhole.

I accompanied her to see the Eiffel Tower. As soon as we exited the subway, we saw the majestic tower standing tall in front of us. She excitedly grabbed my hand and ran forward, urging me to hurry. Around 5 PM on the

17th

, we headed home. Since we didn't have anything to eat, we bought a large pizza for two from a nearby pizzeria. She was very excited in the pizzeria, exclaiming how delicious it smelled. Watching the pizza slowly emerge from the oven, she was as happy as if she had made it herself. After

finishing the pizza at home, she said she was so full and flopped onto my bed without a sound. After a few minutes, she sat up and said, "Brother, I'm sleepy. I want to wash up and go to sleep." "

You little piggy, eating and then sleeping," I said, though I knew she hadn't adjusted to the time difference yet. She was probably sleepy by now. She took out toiletries and a change of clothes from her large suitcase and placed them on the small sofa. I was cleaning up the pizza mess next to her when my eyes immediately fell on her panties under her pajamas on the sofa—the kind covered in cartoon characters. Sigh, she's almost 19, still acting like a child.

While she was rummaging through her suitcase, I was having a fierce internal struggle. Should I take a look? She's my sister, though not really my biological sister, but she calls me "brother" so affectionately. How could I bring myself to do it? I was so conflicted.

I wanted to experience the romantic life in France. Suddenly, she said, "Find a French boyfriend and experience it. Or maybe we shouldn't come back to China and just stay here. Or maybe you shouldn't go back either, and after I've experienced the French, we can get married and live together in France."

"Are you crazy? I'm your brother!

You're not my biological brother, and my mom quite likes you. It's a pity you're with my sister, otherwise I would have been with you. Am I prettier than my sister?" Hehe.

After saying that, she wiggled her hips seductively at me, then smiled cutely and took her clothes into the bathroom. Her words immediately made me decide. She was just an ordinary girl, just like any other girl to me. I quickly dried my hands. As soon as she closed the bathroom door, she turned off the living room light. A faint, radiating beam of light immediately shone from the bathroom door lock.

After the sound of a plastic bag inside, I heard the toilet seat being lowered. I stood in the doorway, looking at that wicked little eye—she was truly wicked! I gritted my teeth and squatted down.

At first, I didn't dare get too close, but I could vaguely see someone moving around in the keyhole. I slowly pressed my eye to the keyhole, gently resting my glasses against the metal panel of the lock, making only a very slight sound. She was taking off her clothes with her back to the door, placing them one by one on the toilet seat to the left. The sound I heard earlier was from her lowering the toilet seat to put the clothes down.

My bathroom isn't as well-designed as C's, haha, from a voyeuristic perspective, it's not.

Pulling the bathroom door open, there's a large mirror mounted on the inside, about 60 centimeters high. I usually use it as a full-length mirror with the door open. Directly opposite the door is a small washbasin with a small mirror on it. Unlike C's, where the toilet is directly opposite the door. To the left of the washbasin is the toilet, and to the right is the shower stall, which is just a small table with a curtain.

When I peeked inside, she had already taken off her trousers, revealing a large Miffy holding a toilet plunger printed on the back of her underwear, which made me both laugh and cry. Then she took off her shirt, and I could only see her lower back. A few seconds later, she quickly pulled the Miffy shirt off, revealing her very white, large buttocks. Actually, her buttocks weren't big, but she had a bit of baby fat, the kind of cute plumpness, so there were two dimples on the upper sides of her buttocks. I don't know the academic term, but those two small fleshy indentations really did look like dimples, very cute. Her skin was very white, almost pearly white.

Because her buttocks were a bit chubby, I couldn't see her genitals from behind. I was expecting her to turn around, but to my disappointment, she went straight to the right into the shower room, pulled the curtain, and the sound of rushing water came out. I stood up with regret and a sense of unsatisfaction. Only then did I realize that her penis was quite well-behaved this time, remaining tucked in without any reaction.

I turned on the light, feeling dejected, and tidied up the things on the living room floor. Slowly, I unfolded the small, worn-out sofa, folded the sheets from the inner room (which I'd changed earlier) and put them back on. I also took out my sleeping bag, opened it, and tossed it onto the sofa. Lying on the sofa, I felt a bit cramped; I could barely feel my bottom touching the ground. Looking at the energy-saving light bulb above, I felt a wave of frustration. It seemed yesterday's 40-euro investment had gone down the drain. I hadn't properly researched the investment environment beforehand; I could only blame myself for investing blindly. It was like a penniless bourgeois trying to be sophisticated, skipping cheap hotels and insisting on spending more for a scenic view. Now, the money was gone, and I hadn't seen any view at

all. I even considered taking the lock off the door tomorrow and returning it to the hotel for a refund. The sound of water inside stopped. I got up from the sofa bed and squatted again by the bathroom door, wanting to confirm if my investment had completely failed.

A moment later, the shower curtain was suddenly pulled open. A white, plump bottom appeared before my eyes again. The bottom was beautiful, but 40 euros—wasn't that a bit too expensive? She had already dried herself off and was standing in front of the sink when I heard a series of slapping sounds, probably from applying some skincare product to her face. I stared at her dimples and buttocks for two minutes, but nothing new happened, so I was about to call it a day. Just then, she slowly turned around, her lower body right in front of my eyes!

My eyes widened, and my hand on the doorframe went limp. Thump! My forehead slammed hard against the door, the sound startling me so much that I instinctively sat back on the floor. I heard her shout from inside, "What are you doing?!

"

I sat on the floor, terrified. She was still yelling, "I'm asking you! Where are you?" I sat on the floor, one hand still on the sofa mattress, and answered her in a voice so loud it was almost audible, "Making up the sofa bed!" "

Oh, I thought you were tearing the house down!" Hearing her answer, I breathed a sigh of relief, wiped away non-existent cold sweat, and asked her, "What are you doing?" As soon as she said that, I was dumbfounded. Damn it, she was taking a shower! What was there to ask? Luckily, I didn't ask. "What are you doing standing behind the door?" "

I'm done showering, putting on a face mask." Listen. She deliberately slapped her face, making a "slap slap" sound.

No wonder she turned around; she was putting on a face mask in front of the big mirror behind the door. I composed myself and quietly climbed to the doorway to stick the mask on.

I couldn't believe my eyes. Little K had no pubic hair! A lot of words flashed through my mind: white tiger, rare, husband-killer, underdeveloped…

I remember reading an erotic novel where the author said he had slept with countless women, hundreds of prostitutes, and had never seen a truly white tiger. The occasional one was artificially created. Little K wouldn't have shaved it herself, would she?

Not even 20 years old, no boyfriend yet, why would she shave her pubic hair?

In the less than ten minutes she was putting on her face mask, I probably didn't even blink. What kind of genitals were they? Probably only one in a thousand, one in ten thousand women don't grow pubic hair, right? I suddenly remembered the email my girlfriend sent me. I said I wanted to pick up a girl, and she confidently told me to go for it if I dared. So that's what she meant! I suddenly understood. Then she couldn't have shaved herself. Isn't it said that anyone who sleeps with a virgin, except for a man with a green dragon (a man with a white tiger), will either die or be seriously injured? I'm a little scared. But I've never heard of

looking at a virgin being unlucky, right? In the limited time I had, I carefully examined this genital area less than 20cm away from me. It seemed to have some hair, albeit downy, but noticeably longer and darker than the surrounding hair. Although most of them were less than half a centimeter long, there were no more than 10 fine, straight hairs, nearly a centimeter long, near the small slit of the vulva. So, it couldn't really be considered a virgin. Before I could savor it, she turned around, playfully presenting her white buttocks to my face.

She bent over and went to wash her face at the sink. Needless to say, this was my only moment to observe her vulva. I gripped the doorframe with both hands, my nose and one side of my face pressed tightly against it. This was exactly like the so-called "young, beautiful vulva" I'd seen online—practically no pigmentation at all, only slightly yellowish compared to the white buttocks next to it. Perhaps the pores there were larger, causing different light reflection and creating a visual color difference.

The vulva resembled a white steamed bun with a slit in the middle, the labia minora only peeking out slightly, the entire vulva tightly closed, not a single hair visible. Unfortunately, the anus, which must have been quite beautiful, wasn't showing at all.

Little K was startled when she came out of the bathroom. I was lying on the sofa bed looking at the computer, and the sofa bed was right across the bathroom doorway. As she pushed the door open, she brought out a pleasant scent, which I took as the smell of a virgin. She stepped on my buttock and said, "Poor thing, you're so kind to me. Why don't you come over and squeeze in with me?"

I didn't even look up and said, "No, thank you. You should rest. You must be exhausted." I thought to myself, what makes someone a 90% White Tiger? I don't have that kind of inner strength to fight you; besides, if my girlfriend finds out, she definitely will too, and she'll make Little K's mom cut me up.

Little K was very touched, and immediately straddled my waist, saying, "You're so nice, let me give you a massage." She pretended to massage me a couple of times and then got up. She yawned and got onto the small bed in the inner room, and less than 5 minutes later, she was snoring softly. I turned over and

lay down, wondering why Little JJ hadn't gotten up even once tonight. Maybe it was also deeply ashamed of not being a Green Dragon, hiding in its fur, too embarrassed to come out. Although I was a little sleepy, it was still early, and I didn't want to

sleep

yet. I took my laptop to the inner room, put it on the small desk, and opened MSN to chat with someone. Little K was sleeping soundly beside me. She was wearing Disney floral pajama pants and a white t-shirt with three Mickey Mouse sons printed on the left chest. It was still quite warm, and she wasn't covered by a blanket, only draped a corner over her stomach, her legs spread wide open like a child's.

I sat on the folding chair, watching her with mixed feelings. Her face was rosy, not actually small, just a bit childlike, with fine downy hairs on her cheeks, like fuzzy peaches, glowing red from within, very tender. Her hair was messy and scattered on her forehead. Her eyelashes were long, somewhat like those of the female Mickey Mouse from Disney, if I remember correctly. Her lips were slightly parted, occasionally trembling slightly. I really, really wanted to kiss her. Of course, I wasn't that bold.

Lying there, her nipples were clearly visible under her white t-shirt; even lying down, the outline of her breasts was visible, very well-developed! Why wasn't her lower body developed? I wondered.

Suddenly, my laptop made a loud noise, startling me. I turned my head and saw it was a friend sending me a ringtone on MSN. I quickly turned off the computer sound, but the alarm still woke Little K up. Luckily, she lazily rolled over and said, "Brother, aren't you going to sleep yet?" Then she fell silent. As she turned, the middle part of her white t-shirt was tucked into her cleavage—and it was really quite large! At least a B cup, if not a C. Sigh, typical uneven development!

I turned around and emailed my girlfriend. I'd already called Xiao K's mom from a public phone booth at the airport using my Chinese SIM card to let her know I was safe, but I hadn't told my girlfriend yet. I briefly described the day's events, even praising Xiao K like a Sailor Moon. I shamelessly said I'd sleep with her that night and would definitely let her experience what it's like to be a woman, among other fantasies. Since my girlfriend and I have hardly ever had any intimacy back in China, I often act very aggressively, threatening to force myself on her or sleep with some other beautiful woman. My girlfriend knows I'm just being cheeky and never gets angry; sometimes she even gives me suggestions on how to do it. We often hug and laugh happily about this. I know my girlfriend isn't sexually mature yet, but she's a really good girl, as considerate and understanding as my little tank top.

Tonight I slept soundly, without fantasizing about anyone like usual, and without masturbating. I thought about my plans for the next few days and then went to sleep. I really didn't sleep much last night.

At 6 a.m., I was woken up by Xiao K. She went to the bathroom, got water, and walked back and forth near my head. I could feel the wind blowing through my hair as she walked. As she walked past me again, I suddenly grabbed her ankle, startling her. She laughed and squatted down to hit me. I pulled her, and she sat down on the edge of the sofa bed, patting my face and saying, "Brother, your snoring is so loud, it's comparable to my dad's!" Luckily, I'm immune to it, or I'd go crazy. "Get up, get up!"

she said, pinching my face. "Your face is so oily, I can't even pinch it!" She then scratched my stomach and waist with her other hand, trying to tickle me. Instinctively, I bent over to avoid her hand. But this movement caused her hand, which was scratching my stomach, to grab my erect penis firmly. Before she could react, she turned her head away, immediately flung her hand away, and blushed as she said, "Get up!" She then stood up and went into the bathroom. It felt like I had deliberately shoved my penis into her hand, which made me quite embarrassed.

While she was in the bathroom, I went online to chat with my girlfriend on MSN. As soon as she saw I was online at work, she sent me a message: "Did you have a good time last night?"

I said, "Yeah, it was amazing! Several times!" She asked again,

"How was it? Anything special?"

I said it was very exciting, her skills were great, her breasts were huge, her butt was very soft, and her vagina was very tight!"

She continued to ask, "What else

was special? Women are all pretty much the same, what else could be special? Like, maybe she has an extra breast?"

Upon hearing this, she sent a smiley face and said, "You silly girl, fantasizing again! Don't think I don't know, you're so timid! I still trust you, you definitely didn't do anything to her."

Hearing this, I knew my girlfriend knew that my pubic hair was relatively sparse. She was trying to test me with this, haha, she only knows she's a virgin after we've been together!

I dropped Xiao K off at the Louvre entrance to queue, gave her a few instructions, and then went to school. She'd have enough time to shop around for most of the day; she has two classes at school, and attendance is taken. I want to pass all my exams in my first year, so I can't miss too many classes.

I'll pick her up at 6 pm. After picking Xiao K up on the afternoon of the

20th

, we took the subway for a few stops to see the Arc de Triomphe. Walking hand-in-hand with her on the Champs-élysées, I felt warm inside, and also a little proud. Walking with a girl like Xiao K on the street, I felt a bit proud. It would be great if we could run into someone I knew. But Xiao K didn't think that way. She kept showing me this handsome guy, that handsome guy, as if I wasn't a man, completely disregarding my feelings. So I ruthlessly showed her foreign girls, and constantly compared them to her. "This one has bigger breasts than you, this one has a better figure, that one's a real woman, or maybe her waist is thinner than yours." Even when I saw a Japanese woman, who seemed utterly unremarkable, I'd say, "Don't judge a book by its cover, she's got great taste in men, and she's really good in that area!" This

really made K so angry she shook off my hand and walked away.

I used the same tricks I used to use to coax my girlfriends, catching up to her, placing my hand on her waist and showering her with sweet words, ending with, "Let me treat you to Western food." This time she grabbed my arm, beaming like a flower, "I love Western food!"

I pointed to a large "M" sign and cautiously asked, "McDonald's isn't Chinese food, is it?"

Her mouth twisted with anger.

When she stormed to the McDonald's, I grabbed her hand and rushed across the street as the pedestrian light turned green. I knew that on this street, besides burger and fries shops, only this one chain restaurant called Leon from Brussels was affordable for me.

The meal cost 35 euros for two people, plus two glasses of red wine. Little K ate very well, her cheeks flushed as she looked at me, saying she wished she could be with me like this every day. Damn it, I thought to myself, if it were like this every day, I'd be bankrupt and have to go back to China in less than six months; if it were like this every day, my dad would beat my leg into nunchucks; if it were like this every day, my girlfriend would be devastated…

I couldn't encourage this kind of thinking in the little girl, especially her wicked thoughts about me. I immediately told her about the stress of studying in France, the difficulty of the exams, the horror of the proctors; then the trivialities of life, the burden of expenses, the expectations of my family; finally, I specifically mentioned my girlfriend and our strong relationship.

She immediately deflated. On the way home, she kept sighing. She asked me what I would do going to Lyon alone.

But before we even got home, she forgot everything, happily saying she would definitely treat me to dinner tomorrow and asked me to find a place. Sigh, she really won't shed a tear until she sees the coffin.

After getting home, Xiao K wanted to write an email to a classmate, probably wanting to show off by posting some photos she'd taken the past couple of days. I went to take a shower first. While showering, I remembered that Xiao K would be coming to shower again soon, and my penis, which hadn't been used for days, immediately became erect. Since I'd already set a rule for myself—absolutely no messing around with Xiao K—it was understandable to glance at her a few times. But I couldn't just keep looking at her white butt! If some girl came over later, this 40-euro door lock couldn't just be a place for me to see her butt.

As I dried myself off, I looked around the small bathroom, which was only a little over one square meter, with my erect penis. There was no vent, and the bottom of the door had only a gap of about one centimeter, so it was impossible for her to see through. Even sticking a small mirror in wouldn't work; the door was a bit thick and wouldn't reflect anything. Actually, all I needed was a small, rotatable camera like those used by special forces in movies, but that would be a huge investment! So, the only way to see through was through the keyhole. But I couldn't exactly move the toilet to face the door lock, could I? There was no other way. Staring at the long mirror behind the door, I came up with a last resort.

I took down the small mirror hanging above the sink, and then, holding a few plastic bottles like shampoo and soap dishes, I gently tossed them all from about half a meter above the sink to the ground. With a loud crash, the small mirror shattered into three pieces.

"What happened? What happened?" came Xiao K's worried voice from outside. She quickly knocked on the door and asked, "What's wrong, brother?"

I pulled on my shorts and opened the door, shirtless. She seemed a little embarrassed to see me shirtless. I pretended to cover my chest with a towel and said, "I was trying to wipe the moisture off the mirror, and I accidentally knocked it down." "

Is the person alright? Did they get scratched?" She was quite concerned about me. It made me feel embarrassed about my own clumsiness. "

It's okay, it's okay, I was quick. Don't worry, I'll clean it up. You go to the internet cafe." Seeing that she didn't suspect anything, I was quite pleased with this small investment. Because I knew that such a mirror only cost a few euros.

Okay, be careful not to cut yourself. After saying that, she ripped the towel off my chest and said, "What are you covering yourself with? There's nothing there!"

After I finished cleaning up and made sure there was no broken glass on the floor, I called to her, "You can take a shower now." She had just sent out a very long email to a group and stood up to find some clean clothes.

As soon as she went into the bathroom, I waited for about two minutes, figuring she wouldn't come out again after realizing she'd forgotten something. Then I turned off the living room light and squatted in front of her "evil cave."

Buttocks! It immediately reminded me of throwing knives, and more throwing knives.

I figured she'd go in to shower after that, and I was just about to relax and wait for her to put on her face mask before looking again, when she suddenly turned around—brushing her teeth! She was brushing her teeth in front of the mirror! I'm so clever, small investment, big reward!

I guess she was studying something on her face while brushing her teeth.

Those few pubic hairs were flattened and lying above her clitoris; I could almost see a small fleshy growth above the slit that looked like the clitoris, but it was too tightly tucked in. The lock hole was on one side of the mirror; if she stood too close, I could only see one side of her hip. So my optimal viewing distance was about 30 centimeters. Closer would be clearer, but it would be more difficult, requiring me to tilt my head.

As she faced the sink, she would occasionally bend over to rinse her mouth. I seized those brief seconds to admire her fair and tender vulva from behind. She was as beautiful as a little girl; how wonderful it would be to bury my face in it! Thinking of this, my little penis finally managed to lift its head. But to be honest, even if Xiao K lay naked in front of me, I wouldn't sleep with her. There were too many reasons. Even disregarding the issue of her being a virgin, and ignoring her mother's scissors, she was still a virgin; I couldn't just sleep with her and then ignore it. Besides, I had already begun to like this little sister; therefore, I didn't want to use the unlucky term "virgin" on Xiao K.

After all, having a few pubic hairs meant she wasn't a virgin anymore.

For the next three days, I made good use of the opportunity gained from breaking the small mirror to thoroughly appreciate Xiao K's vulva; it was truly a feast for the eyes. Although I still prefer girls with some dark pubic hair, as it makes the lower body look more like a genital area and arouses sexual desire, I extremely cherished this rare opportunity to see Xiao K's lower body. I thought I would never have such an opportunity again, and such a lower body could definitely be called a work of art.

Works of art are not to be trifled with, so despite seeing Xiao K's lower body so many times, I never masturbated.

The day after 21-w returned from Italy, after putting her in the car that was picking her up, I felt rather complicated. Actually, there was no love at all, no feelings whatsoever, but just a few days ago we were being affectionate, like two people full of passion, and now it felt like the end of the road, which always felt strange. In fact, women can separate love and sex better than men. After having sex with a man who has no feelings for him, he always develops a lot of dependence, but women are different. Once they know there is no future, they will cut ties very decisively in their hearts.

Fortunately, Xiao K was at home, which quickly and temporarily freed me from the melancholy I shouldn't have felt. Every day after class, I hummed a little tune on my way home, imagining the delicious abalone I'd be seeing that night. Five days have passed since Xiao K stayed at my house. On the sixth day, I had no choice but to skip class again to pick up Xiao K's classmate, whom I'd never met before, from the airport. Xiao K said early in the morning that she had a stomachache and needed to pack her luggage, so she told me to go to the airport alone, saying we'd talk about it after I got her home.

Actually, I didn't want Xiao K to come along. A round-trip airport ticket costs over ten euros; if she came with me, I'd have to pay! I'm such a calculating person! Besides, Xiao K wouldn't be able to carry any luggage. I'd rather pack at home, and we could just put them on the train together in the evening. There are plenty of trains to Lyon; it only takes two hours, so there's no rush.

I didn't have a picture of Xiao K, so I printed out an A4 sheet welcoming Xiao Q and waited at the airport passenger exit.

I wondered if she might be a dinosaur from the north. Many girls' eyes lingered briefly on my A4 paper, but none of them did. When a chubby girl (nicknamed "Fat Dinosaur") walked towards it, I almost wanted to run away. Luckily, she squinted at the words on it, looked closer, and then walked away.

Just as my heart was pounding, a long-haired, curly-haired woman with glasses pushed a cart towards me with a polite smile. Because of the chubby girl, I thought she was a beauty, an intellectual beauty, but she didn't look like she was only a year or two older than Xiao K; she looked like she was two years older than me, probably because of her hairstyle.

I grabbed the cart and asked if she was Xiao Q. Xiao K was tidying up at home; I was her cousin. She said she'd heard Xiao K mention she had a cousin in Paris. She thanked me politely. She took something out of her pocket and clipped her hair back, then walked beside me carrying a small bag.

As I introduced her to France, regardless of how much she knew, I first reminded her of many things to be careful about in France, and even added, "A pretty girl like you needs to be extra careful when you're alone."

I'm the type to occasionally add a few flattering remarks like that, subtly ingratiating myself. Less than half an hour later, before we even got home, we were chatting away. Especially on the subway, when we were talking face-to-face, she was practically gesturing wildly, having completely forgotten the intellectual air she projected with her frameless glasses. Chatting with girls like this is basically one of my specialties. I also pretend to be quiet but thoughtful. Before we even got off the subway, she had already asked for my phone number. After

taking a second look at her on the subway, I realized she was just average-looking, nowhere near as attractive as Xiao K. When I asked, she was three years younger than me, but looked about my age. I had to insincerely compliment her, saying that if it weren't for her hairstyle, I would have thought she was a high school graduate! She even went so far as to say that I looked too young, so I got a more mature hairstyle to make myself appear more grown-up.

Sigh, if she were a high school graduate, my little K would still be in elementary school!

No matter how much you style your hair, you can't fake maturity. Without me even asking, she gave a very detailed self-introduction. She dropped out of university in China after only two years. Mainly due to precocious puberty, she started dating in high school. She was originally in the top three of her class (that's what she said, and she didn't seem like it), but her grades plummeted, and she only got into a third-rate university. She even managed to get the boy from the next class into a vocational college. Luckily, they both got into universities in the same city, and they rented an apartment together in their second year. But her mother found out soon enough that she was still with that good-for-nothing, and tricked her into coming to France with the promise of a wonderful life, breaking up the young couple. But judging from her tone, she seemed relieved; that guy didn't seem like someone you could rely on for life either.

Her family was well-off, but her mother still hoped she would bring a foreign son-in-law home. Seeing this, I immediately said, "Don't rush. A pretty and sensible girl like you doesn't need to look around. French guys will definitely come looking for you. Take your time choosing." When we got to her apartment building, I saw her 30 kilograms of luggage and asked if she wanted to leave it downstairs while I went up to carry Xiao K's luggage down so we could take a taxi to the train station for dinner and then buy train tickets, saving her the trouble of carrying it up and down again.

She actually said that the friend who was supposed to pick her up in Lyon was in Marseille tonight and had an internship interview tomorrow morning, so she wouldn't be back in Lyon until tomorrow afternoon to pick them up and take them to their accommodation. Could she share the night with Xiao K tonight?

I was speechless. I'd miss my class again tomorrow morning! Lately, when I've been at school, those girls have already thought something was wrong with me; it's like I'm the one who's supposed to be skipping classes. I can't skip anymore, or I won't graduate!

I had to pretend to be very welcoming and say, "Great! Two beautiful girls are staying at my place tonight. But don't worry, I'll sleep in the living room." I guess she's already taken me for a new good guy, haha.

I used the intercom to grab Xiao K's bag, but when she came down, she hugged and chatted with Xiao Q very affectionately, then said she had a stomachache and actually pulled Xiao Q upstairs by herself. I had to carry one bag on my back and lift the other by myself to climb up.

In the evening, I ordered a pizza for two. I originally called the store to have it delivered, but the clerk said there was a buy-one-get-one-free promotion if I picked it up myself. I thought I could take advantage of this again, so I told the two girls who were chatting enthusiastically that I was going downstairs to buy pizza. Xiao K happily said that since I wasn't leaving until tomorrow, let's have some red wine together tonight. It's the first time I've met Sister Q!

Damn it! I shouldn't have gone downstairs to take advantage of that free pizza, and I even had to buy some wine while I was there. I went downstairs feeling annoyed. While waiting for the pizza, I bought two bottles of wine for a

little over three euros at a nearby Arab-owned grocery store. Unexpectedly, the two girls had an amazing appetite today. They finished the two pizzas (for two people) quickly, and the bottle of wine was gone in no time. To make sure Q would take good care of K in the future, I even clinked glasses with Q twice and exchanged many polite words. Q kept praising me in front of K, saying how lucky K was to have a brother like me, and K, emboldened by the alcohol, hugged and kissed me.

At K's request, we opened a second bottle, but she only drank one glass before becoming a little sluggish. Q, however, seemed perfectly fine, her face only slightly flushed. We each poured a full glass and then plugged the remaining half-bottle with the cork.

After finishing the pizza, Xiao K was also exhausted and went to bed without saying much, lying there quietly. I told Xiao Q, "You go take a shower and rest; I'll take care of things." Actually, after that half-bottle of red wine, I had already started to have designs on Xiao Q, especially when Xiao K went to bed. I thought, "I can feast my eyes again."

But Xiao Q said, "You go first; I need to look for something in the closet. I don't know where I put my change of clothes." I quickly tidied up the small table, grabbed my pajama bottoms, and went into the bathroom, thinking, "Whether you shower early or late, I'm going to keep watching you."

While showering, I imagined what Xiao Q's genitals would look like. I guessed she was quite horny; she'd been living with her boyfriend for a year, so she must be a mature woman by now. Seeing her wearing frameless glasses, I guess that was just to appear demure. These days, most women wear contacts. If she let loose, she'd be incredibly sexy. Little JJ was now actively participating in the fantasy, full of life.

Drying myself, I bent down to pick up the socks I'd taken off before showering, intending to wash them with soap.

As I bent down, I suddenly noticed two motionless dark figures peeking through the crack in the door, just a centimeter away. I paused, then carefully lay down on the wet floor, peering through the crack. Two knee-sized things… Could it be…?

I stood up, placed one hand on the light switch, and rested my head against the keyhole. I turned the bathroom light off for a second and then immediately turned it back on. In that brief second of darkness, I quickly glanced at the keyhole and then looked away.

Against the bright light of the living room, I clearly saw an eye in the keyhole!

22.

The feeling of a man discovering his naked body being spied on is completely different from a woman's; it can even feel a sense of accomplishment. I was extremely happy; I never thought someone would look at my figure. I couldn't let Little Q's hard work lying there go to waste; I knew how hard it was, haha.

Actually, if you want to see, just tell me. You can look however you want, why bother like this? I thought to myself happily. I decided to put on a good show.

First, I put the socks in the sink. I was originally planning to wash them with the soap on the side, but now I deliberately bent down and grabbed some laundry detergent from the bottom of the sink. The bending process was very slow, so that my hairy butt crack and testicles were perfectly aligned with the keyhole. I even spread my legs slightly to make it easier for her to observe. Sigh, it's actually more convenient to squat down to get the laundry detergent. I really went to great lengths!

I stuck my butt out for about half a minute, and I also took the opportunity to look down between my legs to observe the crack in the door. Sure enough, the shadow was still there; I shouldn't perform like an idiot by myself without an audience. But Little Q is still dumber than me. She didn't even know to turn off the living room light. She's also braver than me. Little K is sleeping in the inner room. She might suddenly wake up at any time to go to the toilet or get a drink of water. This woman, when she gets horny, is far more ruthless than a man.

She straightened up and finished washing the socks; then, repeating the same trick, she bent down again to grab laundry detergent and wash her underwear as well, hanging them all on the clothes rack beside her. Foreplay complete, now for the exciting part. I turned around and positioned my penis less than fifteen centimeters from the keyhole, and started masturbating. In no time, my penis, which had shrunk by half while washing clothes, was erect. As I masturbated, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, my eyes were fixed on the two faint shadows beneath the crack in the door, imagining her kneeling outside, her hands braced against the doorframe. That feeling was definitely more thrilling than peeping at her.

To satisfy the audience's needs, I kept changing angles, showing my penis to Xiao Q from the front and side. I even lifted it up and touched my testicles, basically just holding them up in my hand for her to see. I also touched my penis with both hands, probably making her aroused and wet. But with Xiao K there, I definitely couldn't have sex with her. And if I did, her attitude towards me would definitely change. If Xiao K found out, he would be very unhappy and would definitely tell my girlfriend. It wasn't worth offending Xiao K and my girlfriend for a woman like that.

With the dual stimulation of my hand and that eye, my penis became very hard. I added some water and shampoo to the glans, creating some foam, and quickly made a splashing sound as I moved my penis up and down. I could almost hear Xiao q's panting outside the door. The urge to ejaculate came quickly, and my glans was swollen and red like an egg. Just then, my head throbbed, and another wicked idea popped into my head. I immediately stopped.

I turned around, cleaned myself in the sink, put on my t-shirt, and went back to the door lock. I held my penis less than 5 centimeters from the keyhole, alternating between my hands, performing a performance of moving it around. At the same time, I quietly pulled up my sweatpants, up to my knees.

Then, while vigorously masturbating with one hand, I lightly placed the other on the doorknob, leaning my shoulder against the door.

Suddenly, I lifted the doorknob upwards, using my shoulder to forcefully but not too quickly push the bathroom door open. I felt the door being blocked by something solid for a moment before I continued to push it open forcefully. Then, I quickly pulled up my pants, which were stuck at my knees, and walked out of the bathroom as if nothing had happened.

Haha. It was Xiao Q, sitting awkwardly on the floor after being slammed in the door. Her glasses were so badly knocked off that only one was hanging from her ear. She was propping herself up with one hand, rubbing her forehead, which must have hurt terribly, her skirt was pulled up to her thighs, and her face was even redder than when she was drinking. She managed to say one word, "I…", but couldn't finish. Her nervous expression made me feel a surge of joy. Pretending not to notice anything, I quickly knelt down and gently helped her put her glasses back on her nose. I gently removed her hand from her forehead, rubbed it a couple of times, and said apologetically, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were at the door."

She was so embarrassed she couldn't say a word, not even daring to look up. Taking one of her hands and placing the other on her waist, I helped her up. I let go, looked at her forehead, and said, "Thank goodness, you're not disfigured, otherwise I'd be in big trouble." Hearing this, she gave an awkward laugh and said, "It's okay, how could I let you take responsibility? Xiao K would kill me!"

The atmosphere improved a bit. Seeing the pajamas she'd found on her suitcase, I said, "I'm going online for a bit, you go take a shower." She obediently said "Okay" and went to get her clothes. I went straight into the inner room and sat down at the computer.

Little K had fallen asleep without changing her clothes, and I figured it wasn't convenient to help her change, so I put her legs, which were draped over the edge of the bed, on top of them and covered her with a blanket. Seeing Little Q go into the bathroom, I kissed Little K's rosy, fuzzy cheek. She didn't react at all, sleeping soundly.

After browsing the internet for a while and writing two emails, I heard the water in the bathroom stop. I immediately grabbed a bottle of Centrum vitamins from the side and placed it near Little K's feet on the side of her bed, closed the door, and came out. Now it was my turn to check on Little Q.

Of course, I didn't forget to turn off the living room light. Even when doing something naughty, you have to use your brain, after all, a bad guy isn't the same as a fool.

The shower curtain was pulled open. After what had just happened, I was more careful this time. I didn't press my face against the door to look at the keyhole; instead, I stepped back about a meter and sat on the small, worn-out sofa, looking at the keyhole and the crack in the door below from a distance.

First, I saw Xiao q's shadow peek through the crack in the door, then I saw part of her body moving in the keyhole—it looked like her buttocks or hip. A few seconds later, an eye suddenly appeared in the keyhole. Haha, I guessed right! Xiao q is really funny. It was pitch black outside; what could you see? I watched her eye from a meter away, amused. She hadn't noticed me peeking; I wondered if she was a little disappointed.

When she realized there was nothing suspicious and straightened up to do something inside, I quietly climbed from the sofa to the bathroom door, carefully pressed my eye against it, and listened to the sounds from inside. If Xiao q woke up, Jin Shierkang would call the police.

After seeing Xiao q through the keyhole, I actually regretted not taking advantage of the situation earlier.

Xiao Q is average-looking, even a bit older than her age, but she has a really good figure. She's about the same height as Xiao K, but without much excess fat; her waist is slim, and her buttocks are slightly perky. Her pubic hair is fairly standard-length, not large in area, but very dense and dark. The hair is also quite long; after showering, a small, shiny black patch of forest stands upright, quite interesting from the side. Because her pubic hair is so concentrated, and she's quite thin, her thighs aren't as tightly closed as Xiao K's, so you can see a relatively clean pubic area from the front. Xiao Q's labia aren't too big or too small, just slightly protruding, and the color is a bit dark. I don't know if it's because her skin isn't very fair, or if she's had too much sex. After seeing W's genitals, I know that pubic color doesn't have much to do with how much sex one has; there's no comparison between people. But for the same person, the more sex one has, the darker the color becomes—that's a fact.

Her buttocks were alright, not very white, but still quite firm, slightly upturned, and rather alluring. I imagine it would be really enjoyable to fuck her while watching her buttocks from behind. Little QQ didn't seem to be wearing a face mask, so she didn't spend much time in front of the mirror, but she brushed her teeth for quite a while. Although she didn't bend over much while brushing her teeth, just leaning her head a little closer to the sink, that small bending over still exposed quite a bit of her labia majora. The color was much darker than the surrounding skin, especially her labia minora, which weren't very exposed, but were quite dark. There were some hairs on her labia majora, not many, but rather long, extending down to just below her anus. Unfortunately, she didn't bend over enough, so I could only tell that her anus was also quite dark, but I couldn't see it clearly. Although she later used laundry detergent from under the sink to wash clothes, she didn't do it in such an exaggerated way as I did; she squatted down to get it, so I didn't get a chance to observe her dark anus again.

To avoid a repeat of Xiao q's embarrassing situation, I stopped and went back to the inner room as soon as I saw her start getting dressed. When Xiao q came into the room, I was at the table, seriously surfing the internet.

After her shower, she looked a bit fairer, and her wet, curly hair looked quite pretty. As soon as she entered the room, I stood up, intending to let her go to sleep.

She said, "No rush, no rush, you can go online, I don't want to sleep right now." I said, "Even if you don't want to sleep, you can lie down and rest for a while. You're jet-lagged, you'll get sleepy soon."

As I walked out of the small room, I complimented her, saying, "You look quite pretty after your shower." She snorted and said, "You're not pretty if you don't shower?" "

Pretty, pretty, but you're even prettier after showering and with wet hair," I teased her, then closed the door and went to the living room.

The next morning, I was still sprawled out on the sofa with one leg on the floor when I was woken up by the sound of Xiao K taking a shower. When I opened my eyes, I saw Xiao Q boiling water on the kitchen stove near my feet. She was staring at my sweatpants, which were bulging with morning erection, while waiting for the water to boil. My opening startled her, and she immediately looked away to find a cup.

In the afternoon, after buying tickets at the train station and loading their luggage onto the train, they came down to say goodbye before departure. Xiao K hugged me tightly and said, "You must come to see me and Sister Q!" I said, "I definitely will, and you will definitely come to Paris often." Then I said to Xiao Q, "You're welcome to come see me again next time." I emphasized the word "come see" a little more. Xiao Q's face seemed to turn slightly red, as if she was implying, "You'll really welcome me when I come to see you again?"

I smiled and said, "Of course, just like when you came to see me yesterday." Little Q blushed and subconsciously touched her forehead.

Little K chimed in, "My brother is definitely happy to welcome you! He's been saying how pretty you are all morning!" I gritted my teeth inwardly. What nonsense is that brat talking about? When did I ever say she was pretty? Of course, I didn't say it aloud. But Little K was overjoyed to see me staring at her intently. Finally, there was someone else in

the

house, I could sleep in my own little bed, and go to school on time again. To make a better impression on the teachers, I asked one or two questions after almost every class. French teachers usually left as soon as class ended, but I still actively seized every opportunity to ask. Fortunately, the teachers were very enthusiastic and patiently explained things to me in detail in the hallway or office. I didn't really understand their explanations, but I still nodded frequently to show I understood. Sigh, it was all to become a familiar face so it would be easier to talk to them during exams.

My normal life didn't last long. One day, while in class, an unfamiliar number called my phone. It looked familiar, but I didn't have that person in my contacts. I didn't answer. After class, as I walked towards the subway station, I dialed the number back. It was a girl's voice. "It's L." "

Which L?" I couldn't recognize her. I searched my memory but couldn't recall. "

The one who sold you a lot of things, like microwaves and stuff. Don't you remember?" "

I remember, I remember now." "How are you? Enjoying the scenery at the beach every day?" I was surprised she would call me. It's been almost a month since I bought things from her, and I haven't contacted her since. "

No, I'm still in Paris." Her voice sounded dejected. I couldn't even remember what she looked like, but I remembered her as a sunny and lively person. I quickly tried to sound concerned. "What's wrong? Are you reluctant to leave Paris?"

It turned out that after learning of her acceptance into the school, she was packing her things in Paris while contacting friends there to help her find an apartment. She was also trying to find someone to fill her current place in Paris. After nearly a month, she still hadn't received a confirmation letter from the school. When she called again, they said the confirmation had been sent long ago, registration was over, and classes had already started for about ten days. Because she hadn't registered, her place was taken by someone else. With no other option, she went through a lot of trouble and transferred back to her original school in Paris. She only finished the paperwork for the school here yesterday. "

If I can't go, I'll just stay in Paris and try again next year," I said, offering her some simple comfort. I still didn't understand why she had called me. "

I'm living in my old place now," she continued, sounding a little hesitant. "So, so…"

I wondered if she wanted me to be her brother, to take care of her and comfort her? I didn't have time for that. I waited for her to continue.

She cautiously asked, "So, could you return everything I sold you?"

My legs went weak!

It's not about the money. Just think about how many times she climbed up and down the seven flights of stairs to her apartment building, which doesn't have an elevator—it was terrifying! And to move it all back up, would be even worse! I flatly refused her request, saying that everything was already used and had become part of my pile of belongings; it was practically worn and dirty.

She wasn't angry at all, saying, "I knew you'd refuse. I gave you so much stuff, and you're so stingy. I treated you like a brother. Fine, forget it, do you think I'm blind?" She hung up!

I immediately panicked. She'd never said that to me before. I yelled into the phone, "Don't hang up! Don't hang up!" Then I explained to her that the main problem was the hassle of moving everything. She said that she herself had spent two years buying everything, carrying it all up to the seventh floor by herself. Buying new things would not only cost money, but she also couldn't carry so much stuff all at once.

Hearing her pitiful story, my heart softened, and I told her, "Forget it, I've already used everything so much, I won't return it. You can buy new ones yourself, and I'll pay a third of the price, okay?" She thought for a moment and said a fifth would be fine. I thought, "You're quite polite," and said, "It's settled then."

She added, "But you need to help me move them."

Of course, I refused, but she said again, "If you help me move them, you can come to my house for half a month's meals." I did the math: there's a direct subway line from her house to mine, so it won't take long without transfers, and eating there for half a month would save money, plus I wouldn't have to buy or cook for myself. What a bargain!

We agreed, and I'd go this weekend.

The main items I needed were the microwave, table, chair, lamp, and printer. I could return any other small items I didn't need from my house. It wasn't much, but on Saturday, I ran to her house three times, from 10 am to past 8 pm. Luckily, the microwave was delivered by the store.

We were both exhausted from moving on Saturday night, so I didn't let her cook at home. We agreed that she would come over for dinner starting Monday night. Before leaving, I said we'd spent 150 euros in total. I took out 40 euros and said to keep the change. She was lying on the bed, too tired to move, and said, "Who wants your money? I just wanted you to come with me shopping. Your labor cost more than that. Consider it me exploiting your labor." I thought that made sense; I wasn't anyone to her, and labor could be paid for, so I went home without a second thought. I

went to class every day and went straight to L's house for dinner. Life was really comfortable; at most, I'd have to wash the dishes. However, L had more classes than me and got home a little later, so I often went home first to chat with Xiao K online before going to L's house for dinner. Mainly, L had said from the beginning that she considered me a brother, and that title put a lot of pressure on me. If I had any impure thoughts, it would feel a bit inappropriate. And she immediately asked me if I had a girlfriend, so I didn't lie to her. I told her a lot about my girlfriend and me, and she listened with great interest, thinking we were a perfect couple. She even said she would keep an eye on me and make sure I didn't mess around in France.

I also took the opportunity to ask her if I really looked like one of her brothers. She didn't want to say, so I said, "I've told you my whole story, and you still treat me like this." Only then did she tell me a long story. She does have a cousin, from her aunt's side, who doesn't look like me, but his voice and tone are very similar. Her aunt and uncle went to a small city in Jiangsu Province during the Cultural Revolution and stayed there for more than ten years. When they returned to Beijing, they brought her cousin, who was only in middle school. Because of L's father's help, her aunt and uncle got jobs at the same large state-owned enterprise where L's father worked, and they both retired a few years ago. They both worked for the same company and lived in company housing. Their two families lived in different units of the same building, and were as close as family, especially L's family, who were better off. L had always taken care of her cousin's family, and their children played together for ten years. L, in particular, spent many years following her cousin around with a group of boys, which shaped her current personality. When L entered middle school, her feelings for her cousin changed. She was still very dependent on him, but there was a hint of teenage infatuation. Fortunately, her cousin didn't realize it and still treated his short-haired cousin like a younger brother. When L entered high school and her cousin went to university, they met again during a holiday. L suddenly realized that her feelings for her cousin were no longer those of cousins. Her cousin, who had grown up in university, also looked at L with a special kind of affection.

Just as a tragedy was about to unfold, L's mother noticed something amiss. After talking to her cousin, she asked a friend working in France to help L with her emigration procedures. At this point, L solemnly told me that she and her cousin had never even held hands, and that adults were too sensitive. I asked about now, and she said her cousin was getting married next year. Nothing had actually happened between them before, but when she returned to China last year, they were still getting along very well, and he even got along well with his future sister-in-law.

Because I went to university in Jiangsu, and my father is also from Jiangsu, I speak Mandarin with the same slight accent as her cousin, so she thinks I resemble him, except that her cousin is very handsome. The implication is that I'm not handsome at all.

Then again, after Xiao K instilled this sense of brotherly responsibility in me, I immediately carried it over to L, so even today, despite many opportunities, I haven't been intimate with L. Of course, this was after

I ate at L's house for half a month. We didn't stop then; we got into the habit of sending each other a text message after class every day to see who got home first. L's school was in the center of Paris, close to home, but she had a lot of classes and frequent quizzes, which were part of her final grade. So, I often bought groceries and ate at her place; I only cooked occasionally. If I couldn't eat at her place, I'd just make noodles at home.

Living alone was really boring, especially for someone as talkative as me. My first year in France was in the north, where there weren't many Chinese people, so I made countless long-distance calls (15 euros each), enough to buy a round-trip plane ticket. Most of those calls were to my girlfriend; now I call much less. Often, she'll say online that I haven't called for three or five days, and I'll rush downstairs to find a phone booth to call her. Unlike now, where everyone has a landline with unlimited calls, back then, having internet was a luxury.

After K went to Lyon, we chatted online almost every day. A week later, Q added me to MSN, but we didn't have much to talk about online, so after a few greetings, I blocked her from joining.

I heard from Xiao K that Xiao Q was very popular there; not only were all the Chinese boys nice to her, but she also had no shortage of foreign suitors. However, her school was just a very average business school, far inferior to the nearby Lyon Business School, so it seemed there weren't many genuine French people there. Less than two weeks later, one evening, Xiao K suddenly told me that Xiao Q had found a boyfriend in a different class in the same year—a Frenchman who had immigrated from Algeria as a child, and quite good-looking. I said, "Most Arabs aren't good people. Don't worry about her; just be careful and don't have much contact with him."

Xiao K said I was being racist. I said, "Just you wait and see. To be honest, it's not that there aren't good Arabs, but in France, the majority of Arabs are bad guys. Don't think that going to a business school makes you a civilized person. It's like stopping gnawing on bones and starting to eat canned food—you're still a dog." I hope this hasn't offended any of my Chinese brothers who have deep feelings for the Arab people.

Less than a week later, Xiao K said that Xiao Q had brought her boyfriend home and didn't leave that night.

I asked her if she heard any noises next door, and she said yes. It seems Xiao Q is fulfilling the task her mother assigned her back home. I told Xiao K to lock her bedroom door at night, and to lock it before showering and using the toilet. Xiao K said she knew, but she couldn't sleep at night because of the noise, and it wouldn't quiet down until after 1 a.m.

We have to admit that Xiao A, who eats beef and mutton, has a rather strong sex drive. But that just suits Xiao Q's taste; I'm afraid she's still not satisfied. I don't know why I'm so sour, like a sour grapes.

Less than a week after Xiao K started complaining about the noise next door, Xiao K's latest news was that Xiao Q and that guy broke up, for reasons unknown. Breakups like this aren't usually a big deal, but the only lingering effect was that no Chinese guys pursued Xiao q anymore. The reason was simple: few Chinese guys had the courage to date a girl who had a foreign boyfriend before.

Time passed quickly and uneventfully. Fortunately, I had L to talk to every day, so life didn't feel too hard. However, I noticed my bank account was dwindling; in just over a year, I'd already spent nearly 20,000 euros. I suddenly felt a little anxious. Seeing other friends who weren't so busy with their studies working or earning money, I started paying attention too.

I didn't have time to work. Chinese restaurants were too tiring and didn't pay much, and French restaurants took too much time.

Finally, I decided to start looking for an internship early so I could start at the beginning of the next semester and earn some money. So, on one hand, I sent out resumes everywhere, and on the other hand, I focused on preparing for my school courses, trying to pass all my courses in the first semester so I wouldn't have to wait until the next.

There weren't many people looking for internships at that time, and of course, not many companies were offering internships either. I mainly sent my resume to French companies that had business ties with China, and occasionally to some small Chinese companies doing foreign trade. After waiting for about two weeks, I started receiving interview invitations. I quickly rushed to the Zara store and bought a suit for a little over 200 euros. It was 100% wool, not much more expensive than in China. I was still hesitating about whether to buy it or not, thinking I should just wear a more formal casual outfit. But then I saw a young Chinese couple in the store also picking out suits, and I vaguely heard them talking about internships and interviews, so I finally decided to buy it. Later on, I didn't wear it more than a few times; I'll just take it back to China to wear later.

Going for interviews is actually a very confidence-dampening experience. I went to two companies, and at the company entrance, I saw several other Chinese people who were also there for interviews. When we chatted, I realized they were either from business schools or the Sorbonne in Paris. If they weren't from prestigious universities, their French was so good I thought they were French. If it weren't for the requirement for internships at my school, I really wouldn't have gone. The French interviewers were generally very warm and polite, rarely asking any professional questions; it was mostly just chatting. After the first two interviews, I quickly received letters from them thanking me for my interest but saying that based on my characteristics, I wasn't a good fit for their positions and they hoped I could find a more suitable company.

I had a total of seven or eight interviews, and I realized that the difference between talent and scum is just one word, even though they all wore suits. A month after my first interview, I finally received an interview invitation from a Chinese-owned trading company—the only one I received from a Chinese company. It was relevant to my major, and they spoke Chinese, so I thought the gap between me and students from prestigious universities would be smaller. When I arrived at the company near the Paris Opera, I saw more than ten Chinese students, but not a single foreigner. The receptionist was a fairly attractive Chinese girl who answered phone calls while arranging for everyone to go in for interviews, patiently answering everyone's questions. The interview order was alphabetical by last name; I was second to last. I wasn't in a hurry, so I listened to everyone's questions and gradually learned about the company. They needed to hire three people: two men to handle business with China, and a woman to replace her, as her internship ended in two months. Her position required fluency in French and English, but the other two positions didn't have such high language requirements.

The boss was from Zhejiang, a chubby guy who had been importing goods from the Jiangsu and Zhejiang region to France for 20 years and was doing quite well. Actually, these kinds of private companies don't really have a hiring system; it all depends on the boss's mood. Plus, he'd already interviewed more than ten people and seemed a bit tired. He just went over the company information he'd already explained a dozen times and asked me to introduce myself and say something casually.

He didn't ask any questions, so how could I just say anything? I had no work experience in China, and if I was to brag, I needed at least some topics! So, I started bragging about how I'd been in contact with many large companies with my dad since childhood, how I'd organized various activities at university, collaborated with various large companies, and had dealings with various government departments. I also bragged about some recent developments in Sino-French trade that I'd learned online. He suddenly asked me, "Is your father also in business?" I said no, he works in some department of the provincial party committee. Upon hearing this, he asked again, "Do you know so-and-so?" I said I thought I'd heard of him, maybe a section chief. He said he'd been promoted to deputy section chief two years ago, a friend of his. I said I didn't know, but that department was very lucrative.

At this point, I thought getting into this company shouldn't be a problem. Sure enough, a few days later, the girl at the door called to inform me. She even praised me, saying that many people with domestic work experience hadn't been hired. I didn't dare tell the truth and modestly declined. Not finding an internship

at 25

through my own abilities was a huge regret, but on one hand, I was too lazy to look again, and on the other hand, I really lacked confidence in my abilities. So I settled on this internship company and waited for three months to pass. They were supposed to hire someone next month; the previous intern's contract expired this month, but I wouldn't be available for several months. So I asked the girl at the door to discuss it with the boss. Fortunately, the previous intern wanted to earn more money and was willing to work a few more months, which made things much easier for me.

Continuing to eat at L's house was quite comfortable; I didn't have to cook and rarely washed dishes. However, my food expenses actually increased. Even L said I bought too much food and wasted a lot. I also noticed I seemed to be gaining weight, especially around my stomach. We discussed it, and we agreed that if she got home before me, I wouldn't go over. If I got home earlier, I would buy the groceries, but she would pay half; I had previously refused to accept her payment. This reduced my visits to L's house significantly. Besides making money online, I started having more time to go out and look for business opportunities to plan for the future. One day, I

chatted with an older woman in front of the LV store on the Champs-élysées. She wanted me to buy her a few LV bags, promising me 40 euros. At first, I thought she was a scammer, but after talking for a while, I realized it was actually true. The LV store was deliberately mysterious, only allowing customers to buy two bags with their passports; you couldn't buy more even if you had the money. So there's this group of Chinese people who buy LV bags for others, saying they'll resell them in Japan. I don't know if they're really going to Japan or if it's just for money laundering. This really made me realize that even in France, with its sound legal system, there are still many opportunities to make money, whether it's legitimate or not, I still need to explore them carefully.

While chatting with the older woman, I suddenly saw a familiar-looking girl walking towards me. She was also looking at me, seemingly trying to remember, when she immediately called out my name. I then remembered she was the receptionist from the Chinese trading company. I immediately thanked her for helping me coordinate my internship schedule. She said it was nothing, no need to thank her.

I immediately left the older woman and walked with her towards the Arc de Triomphe. I asked her if she was shopping. She said she was just doing a quick look around, mainly to see a movie. Hearing this, I immediately said I'd treat her to a movie as a thank you; I hadn't seen a movie in France yet. She said let's watch together, since I was alone anyway, but she didn't need to pay, she had a movie card, 18 euros a month, unlimited movies.

Several cinemas in France offer annual movie passes for €18 a month, allowing unlimited viewing of movies of all genres. This is much cheaper than in China, where movies are already inexpensive, less than €10. With only €18 a month, you can easily make it worthwhile after just two or three movies. I asked her how to get one, and she said I could get one at the cinema nearby. Luckily, I had my passport and checks in my bag, so she helped me get one in ten minutes. We immediately went in and watched a French film together. I only understood less than 30%, and barely grasped the relationships between the characters, which was quite frustrating.

She comforted me, saying that it's always difficult to understand at first, especially the spoken French, and suggested I watch English films with French subtitles first, as that would help me learn spoken French faster.

I said watching movies alone wasn't very interesting, and asked her to invite me to join her next time she went to the movies. She readily agreed and gave me her phone number and MSN; that's when I learned her name was N.

She watches movies once or twice a week, mainly art films, but also some American blockbusters. From then on, I basically stopped downloading movies online, except for pornographic films, of course. I didn't dare tell L that I often went to the movies with N. I only saw L once or twice a week, but we chatted online every day.

N has a dignified appearance; not exceptionally beautiful, but she has a pleasant look. She also has long hair with a slight reddish tint, which I assumed was dyed—it's natural. When she was little, relatives called her "Little Yellow Hair" because her hair was a little yellow, but it turned a little reddish as she grew up, and it was prettier than if it were dyed. Her internship ends this month, and she'll continue her studies for her master's degree.

I don't know if N genuinely has no one to go to the movies with, or if she's interested in me, but she almost always invites me to go with her. I try not to refuse her invitations; in fact, sometimes when I can't go, she'll reschedule and go with me. She's never asked me many personal questions, like whether I have a girlfriend, and I haven't asked her any either. But I can sense the subtle changes in our relationship. Sometimes in the dark of the movie theater, my hand touches hers, which is also resting on the armrest, and she doesn't pull away, just leaves it there naturally. I didn't have the heart to grab them. What if they already considered me a friend? If I grabbed them, I'd be in big trouble.

French cinemas are quite open about showing movies; they don't prohibit pornography or violence, only specifying that they're not suitable for those under 16 or 12. She would often invite me to watch them. Actually, I'm a bit timid and don't like watching violent or scary movies, but she wasn't against it. As long as it was recommended online, she'd watch it regardless of the style. Even pornography—we'd watch it together. There were scenes with full nudity and passionate love scenes, and when the characters were rolling around on the bed, I'd often sneak peeks at her with my erection, always finding her staring intently, completely unfazed, which made me despise my own wicked thoughts.

One Saturday, after watching a two-hour movie, it was almost 7 pm. Afterwards, she asked me what I wanted to eat for dinner, and I said noodles. She said, "Come to my place, I'll make you a roujiamo (Chinese hamburger)." I knew she went to university in Xi'an, but I didn't know she could make roujiamo. How could I refuse such an invitation?

I knew she shared an apartment with a girl, but when I arrived, I discovered they shared a one-bedroom apartment without a living room, living in the same room. I asked her why they lived so cramped, saying it was inconvenient.

She said the rent was less than 200 euros per person. She added that she and the other girl had known each other since China, so they were like sisters, and sharing an apartment wasn't inconvenient.

Her roommate was out working and hadn't returned yet, so she was making roujiamo (Chinese meat sandwiches) in the kitchen. A pot of meat was already cooking on the stove, chunks of fat and lean meat soaking in a dark brown broth. My stomach was already rumbling. Under the four-burner stove was an oven. She took some round flatbread from the refrigerator and put it in the oven, then started chopping the meat on the cutting board. I offered to chop, but she said she made it often and could do it quickly. I watched as she cut the larger pieces of meat into smaller pieces, then sliced them, and finally chopped them into small minced pieces with two cleavers. The kitchen was small; it was difficult for two people to turn around in it. I slowly moved behind her, one hand on the sink, and whispered in her ear, very close, because the two kitchen knives were clattering loudly.

I could already smell the fragrance of her hair, and my breath stirred the hair behind her ear. Seeing that she didn't pull away, I glanced at the cleavers whistling in her hand, swallowed hard, and moved one foot towards the kitchen doorway. I tentatively touched her earlobe with the tip of my nose. The clattering of the two knives slowed down; the alarm had been averted. I boldly, but without taking my eyes off the knives, I took her ear into my mouth, tracing the tip of my tongue back and forth along her earlobe, then slowly moved to the back of her ear, kissing her gently. By this time, the two knives had stopped clattering. I saw that her eyes were closed, and her head was slightly turned to the side.

I knew I had succeeded. I gently wrapped my arms around her waist from behind; it was so soft. I placed my lips on the back of her neck, leaving a little dampness at the base of her hair.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. Before I could hear it, N didn't say anything or push me away; she just continued banging two kitchen knives together, which startled me.

After dinner with her roommate, the three of us ate. Seeing that her roommate didn't seem to like me, I wisely slipped away early. I don't know what N is thinking. Although she didn't show any aversion today, she might become more rational after calming down. After all, we haven't had any deep conversations; our usual chats haven't gone beyond friendship.

For four days in a row, she hasn't asked me to go to the movies, and I haven't dared to call her. I just keep looking at her MSN avatar, waiting for it to light up so I can talk to her, but it hasn't. I feel like I can't take the initiative anymore. After all, I have a girlfriend, and N doesn't seem like the kind of girl who'll just play around. I can't let her suffer too much.

I held back from contacting N, and two more days passed in waiting until the weekend arrived. Instead of N's call, I received a call from Xiao Q, which surprised me.

She first asked how I was doing, and I said the same as always, nothing changed. She then asked if I'd invited any girls over, and I said I'm not that kind of person; even guys don't come to my house, so why would I invite girls? As soon as I said that, she immediately said she wanted to come to Paris to see me, asking if I was welcome. Good grief, how could that be? This woman is having a great time in Lyon! Something must be going on. I said I was welcome, but she couldn't possibly spend so much money just to see me. If she really missed me, I'd personally deliver myself to her door and come to Lyon to see her, and I'd also visit Xiao K while I'm at it.

Then she said she'd received an internship interview invitation from a company in Paris for next Monday, and asked if I could stay at her place Sunday night and visit her. I knew this woman wouldn't come so easily, so I asked her if Xiao K knew about it. She said she hadn't told Xiao K yet and wanted to ask me first. I said she was welcome, but not to tell Xiao K. She said no problem, she'd let me know once she bought the tickets, see you on Sunday.

If Xiao K found out, she'd be very angry, and the consequences would be serious. Although I didn't really want this girl who'd slept with foreigners living in my house, I couldn't find a good excuse to refuse. I'd already tricked her into thinking I lived alone; on the other hand, I might still be a little longing to peek at her body again.

Seeing so many reposted erotic articles, I have to say, their writing is excellent, giving readers plenty of room for imagination. But I don't know if my life experience is too limited, or if these erotic articles are too explicit, but I feel that only a very small fraction of them resemble real-life experiences. However, at least they've kept me company through many lonely nights and given me the urge to tell my own story. Let me start with a bit, and if you're interested, I'll gradually unfold my story… I

only stayed in a small city in southern England for two months, without going to school a single day. Due to some family reasons back home, I ended up in France. My family first helped me find a school in a relatively large city in northern France. Although it was called a relatively large city, it was actually smaller than a county town in China. I studied French while also attending some professional courses for other majors. I actually wanted to go to Paris, but I heard that it's impossible to learn a language well in a city like Paris, so I settled down in this northern city and stayed there for ten months.

Looking back, I spent a total of three years in France, and only those ten months were truly dedicated to studying. The French I learned during that time is arguably my biggest gain from my studies in France. The following two years of my master's degree were more of a casual affair. Let me first explain about master's programs in France. You can actually graduate in just one year, but because I'm rather lazy, I asked my supervisor to submit my thesis in the second year. So, after the first year's exams, the second year passed easily. That's why I had the opportunity to experience a romantic relationship in Paris that I never even imagined before going abroad.

It was a romantic relationship, but it wasn't really love; I was emotionally involved. For the first six months or so after arriving in Paris, I studied very hard and rarely thought about relationships. Even my morning erections disappeared for almost six months. It wasn't until my studies in Paris were settled and the academic pressure lessened that I started to have some sexual desires again.

I had just graduated from university and spent a few months preparing before coming here. I don't know if it was because of insufficient nutrition abroad, but my sexual needs were consistently low. Back in China, my girlfriend and I lived in different cities, and she was quite conservative, so I usually took care of myself. When we occasionally met, we would struggle for a long time without success. Looking back, I wonder how I had so much energy back then, taking care of myself at least once a day, two or three times a day was common. After coming here, it was rare to see Chinese girls, and when we did, we would just say hello without any romantic feelings. This situation continued until a month before I went to Paris.

While studying French at Alliance Fran?aise in Shanghai, I met a girl. We were classmates for only a week before she stopped attending. She was from Suzhou, and her age was unknown, but I later learned she was older than most of us, which is why she kept it a secret. Everyone in our class was learning French to study abroad. I only studied for a month and a half before giving up because I found it too difficult. She was learning on her own to prepare for training in France the following year, sent there by her company. However, due to her busy work schedule, she only studied for a little over a week before disappearing. Fortunately, we exchanged MSN contacts, which allowed us to meet up later in France.

She was going to a small city near Paris for training for six months. A month before I was to go to Paris, she added me on MSN, saying she had been in France for three months and was on vacation, asking if I had time to get together; ideally, we could go to Paris together. I thought, I'm going to Paris next month, and I'm still packing, plus I'll have to pay for accommodation. She said it would be better for her to come to my city, and then she could visit after I left for Paris, and she'd have a place to stay. She readily agreed. But once she confirmed her arrival date, I started to feel uneasy. I wondered if something was going to happen.

She's definitely the pretty type, not very tall, but with great proportions. When I saw her in Shanghai, I thought she had a nice figure. She's the kind of girl who's very talkative, and being from a charming, demure family in southern Jiangsu, many guys were very enthusiastic towards her. She's coming in four days and will be staying in my little room! I was so excited thinking about those days. I tidied up my tiny room, throwing away everything I didn't plan to take to Paris and packing up anything I didn't need. I made the 12-square-meter room look quite charming. I picked her up from the train station

on

Thursday. Thursday is a public holiday, and the French like to combine it with Friday, so she has four days to explore the area. It's less than a two-hour train ride from her city to mine, but I don't know why she chose to take the 7 a.m. train, making me get up at 8 a.m. and even make some corn porridge. She arrived at my house early in the morning to drop off her luggage, ate some porridge, and then went out for a stroll. It had been months since I'd seen her, and she still looked the same—refined and womanly. When she casually took my trash bag with her before leaving, I felt a warm glow in my heart.

We walked and chatted along the way. The city was too small, and there weren't many sights, so I had to tell her everything I'd seen and heard during my six months there to keep the conversation flowing. Luckily, she was good at keeping up with my topics, so

we chatted happily until it was almost dark before heading back. We stopped at a supermarket and bought some vegetables and meat, plus a bottle of Bordeaux red wine. Dinner was quickly prepared under her care. Since there were no candles, she dimmed the lights, opened the wine, and we started chatting.

That's when I learned that she was at least five years older than me, had been working for many years, had been in a relationship for six years, and was preparing to get married. However, before leaving the country, she suddenly discovered that her boyfriend had been having an affair with a female client for two years. She hadn't noticed anything until she went to Shanghai to apply for her visa. She was supposed to stay in Shanghai for a day, but she had work to do the next morning, so she took the night train back that evening. When she got home and opened the door to find it locked from the inside, she realized she had also fallen into a very mundane emotional entanglement. After less than a month of this mess, she escaped and went to France. She told her story for over two hours, barely eating any food, but finishing most of her drinks—she drank more than half—and then drank six cans of beer from my fridge (she drank four).

Thankfully, she didn't cry or make a scene, just her face was flushed.

After dinner, I insisted on washing the dishes, since she cooked, and I wanted to appear diligent. Seeing there was nothing to do, she went to take a shower. When she came out a while later, she was already in her pajamas, her hair still wet, and asked for a hairdryer.

I didn't have one, so she went back to the bathroom and took my dry towel to dry her hair. While I complimented her on her hair, saying it was long and black, I secretly glanced at it a couple of times and immediately noticed two small nipples under her pajamas, especially since they were slightly damp. My scalp tingled, and my penis immediately sprang to attention. Realizing something was amiss, I quickly said I needed to take a shower and went into the bathroom. I don't know if she saw me while drying my hair, but there was a huge bulge under my Adidas sweatpants, and I think I saw a shy smile behind her messy hair. Of course, it's possible she didn't even smile, and I was just imagining things.

That shower was incredibly nerve-wracking. I lathered myself twice with soap, and turned the water temperature down as low as it could go, but I still couldn't hold it in any longer. So, covered in soap suds, I masturbated, spraying a lot—on the floor, the walls, the shower curtain. Thinking about it, it's not surprising; this was the first time I'd masturbated in over half a year. It would be abnormal if the amount wasn't much. My heart calmed down a bit, and I wasn't as panicked as before. After washing my penis clean, I rinsed it until the water heater ran out of hot water before coming out. Then I looked around—where was the towel? Oh right, I took her out to dry her hair. Luckily, there was an extra light pink damp towel on the towel rack. Never mind, I'll take hers. It smelled nice, I don't know if it was from her shampoo or shower gel, but it smelled really good, and it had little flowers on it, which was pretty too. When I got to dry her penis, seeing it in the pink towel after she had ejaculated, I felt another surge of heat in my lower body. And when I put on my glasses and looked through the fogged lenses at her black cotton underwear hanging next to me, my penis became active again. When

I

came out, she was already in my bed, and her sleeping bag was spread out on the carpet next to the bed. She was quite considerate, not even bothering to be polite and just taking over my bed. Considering she's so much older than me, I decided to let her have it. So I sat down in my sleeping bag next to hers on the floor next to her bed and checked my emails with my laptop on my lap.

She turned to me and asked what good movies I recommended. I opened my movie folder; most were French films. Although she seemed to have never seen most of them, she asked again, "What's good to watch?" Actually, my penis was already tucked between my legs under the laptop. I had some impure thoughts, but I didn't know what to do and dared not make any moves. While introducing the movies on my computer to her, I casually opened the movie "Romans," turning the screen towards her. She tilted her head to watch, and I took the opportunity to sniff her hair. I think many people have had this experience: after a long time away from a woman, once you smell her scent, you'll see double eyelids even in a sow or a piece of pork, let alone a real beauty! Just

as I was thinking about what to do, she spoke. "My neck is about to break from looking at this. Can you sit on me?" Oh my god!

Just when I wanted to sleep, someone threw a pillow at me. While I was inwardly cheering, I said aloud, "The bed is too small; it's too cramped for two people." As soon as I said it, I wanted to slap myself. What if she said she'd put the computer on the bed to watch

TV? Then I'd be doomed! What a lustful idiot! She straightened up, shifted her butt towards the inside of the bed, and said, "I've said enough, I'm not going to do anything, this is wide enough." I shakily used my laptop to cover my penis as I climbed onto the 70cm wide bed, regretting not buying a box of condoms yesterday.

When my two icy feet slipped under the covers, she let out an "oh." I said, "The carpet is right under the concrete floor, of course it's cold!" She looked guilty and said, "Come in, I'll warm you up." My heart felt so warm!

Wait a minute, she suddenly cried out.

Oh no, is she regretting it, or is she embarrassed? I didn't dare move, looking at her, but not daring to look her in the eye. "

Didn't you wear these pants all day? And you're wearing them under the covers? Take them off! I just showered. You just showered too, didn't you?"

At that moment, I think I don't need to describe my feelings. Seeing her deliberately focusing her gaze on the laptop screen, I quickly pulled off my sweatpants and slipped into the warm bed from the side. 0.1 seconds later, I realized she wasn't wearing her pajama bottoms either… Looking up again, I saw they were already on the other side of the bed.

I didn't dare move, pretending to watch the movie with her. Soon, the movie showed some daring sex scenes, and I felt smug about my cleverness, observing how things would unfold. "

I'm going to the bathroom." Just as the two people in the movie were getting intimate, she suddenly said…

Could it be that she felt awkward and wanted to skip this scene? Looks like we need to change the film. Then she said, "Pause for a minute, wait for me." She crawled out from under the covers and got off at the foot of the bed, wearing only a small white pair of panties!

I warmed my two icy hands under the covers, staring blankly at the paused image of the female lead's white buttocks on the screen, thinking I really regretted not buying condoms. A woman's characteristic urinating sound came from the bathroom, and it lasted a long time; it seemed to be from drinking beer. After rushing past the bathroom, she came running over, saying, "So cold, so cold," and climbed over me in a flash. I could vaguely see a dark patch of her white panties just a foot away from my eyes; I could almost smell the fragrance of that meadow.

She crawled back under the covers, saying, "So cold," and immediately placed her two icy hands on my left thigh. My hands were warming up my swollen penis when her hands slipped in, touching my left hand. I grabbed her hand and said, "Your hands are so cold." She didn't struggle, rubbing her hands back and forth on my thighs to warm them, and said, "Keep playing the movie." I had to take my hands out and move the computer. Her hands were still rubbing against my left leg to warm them, but her fingers had touched my penis several times. I think she must have felt my swollen and erect penis too. There were many intimate scenes in

the

movie, but to be honest, it wasn't very tender or enjoyable. Although it won some film award, I can't remember any of the plot now. I only remember many intimate scenes, some of which weren't aesthetically pleasing and were even a little unpleasant. But when watching this movie with her, I couldn't care less; I couldn't just start with porn.

My hands, which had been outside the covers, quickly cooled down. My left hand held the laptop, while my right hand quietly slipped under the covers from my right side. She was on my left and didn't see me. I warmed my right hand on my right leg, just in case. Hehe. She watched, occasionally rubbing her hands together. Actually, her hands were already warm, but she didn't stop. The frequency of touching her penis seemed to increase. Her

penis, still covered by her underwear, had her warm fingers intentionally or unintentionally touching the base and testicles. She leaned to her right, resting on the pillow and my left shoulder. I could clearly smell her hair and body fragrance now. I felt like her breasts were touching me through her pajamas, but I couldn't be sure, and I didn't dare move. Just as another sex scene appeared in the video, her rubbing hands suddenly stopped. Her fingertips barely touched her penis before stopping. She looked up and said to me, "You're aroused."

My heart was pounding. I could hear it myself. Her cheeks were flushed, her breath sweet and fragrant, a refreshing minty scent of toothpaste mixed with a hint of alcohol.

I thought, I'm not a beast, but I'm not that old comrade surnamed Liu either.

I lowered my head and gently placed my lips on her pink lips. Her tongue immediately met mine, and I instantly took it in and we began to entwine.

And her penis, which she had been lightly touching with her fingertips, was now firmly grasped by her. Through her underwear, she squeezed it firmly for a moment, then gently moved it up and down with one hand.

I closed my laptop and casually tossed it onto the sleeping bag beside the bed. Under my brilliant command, my hot right hand swiftly slipped under her pajamas and grabbed her breast, her nipples already erect. I squeezed it a few times before gently kneading it. While kneading, I flicked her nipples a couple of times.

Her breasts weren't large, between a B and a C cup, but they were very elastic and not loose at all. I kissed her lips, then her earlobes and neck, while simultaneously moving my right hand down into her small panties. Her pubic hair was sparse and clustered, I couldn't tell what it looked like, but it felt incredibly soft. After gently stroking it for a while, I smoothly moved downwards, pausing only on her clitoris for a few seconds before placing my finger on her vulva. It was completely wet, not much, but very slippery. With just one finger moving in and out of her opening, she already moaned. At the same time, her other hand slipped directly into my panties, grasping my swollen penis and moving it up and down rapidly. After a few strokes, perhaps feeling the limited space inside the panties, she used her other hand to help, pulling my penis and testicles out from the left side of the panties and moving them vigorously.

My right middle finger was already deeply inserted into her slippery, beautiful opening; it was very tight, so I didn't dare use two fingers. With just one hand moving back and forth, she was already soaking wet down there. I took my right hand out first and started pulling down her panties. She immediately stopped, first putting my penis into her panties, then somewhat roughly pulling them down. Because my penis was so swollen, it got stuck in her panties, and she even peeked under the covers.

After

I unbuttoned two buttons of her pajamas, I was a bit clumsy due to the angle, so she unbuttoned the remaining three herself, and I took off my t-shirt. When my head came out of my t-shirt, I immediately saw a pair of white, firm breasts, the firmest and most elastic breasts I hadn't seen in all these years. I had thought that after living with her boyfriend for so many years, her areolas would have darkened, but in fact, they were absolutely pink, very small and pink areolas, and small but already very prominent nipples. They really looked like the breasts of those little girls in porn movies. I took one in my mouth at once, while my other hand kept stroking her up and down. Her lower body was already a small pool of fluid, starting to trickle down her buttocks. She had one arm around my neck, and the other hand gripped my penis, moving it up and down, occasionally rubbing my testicles.

I climbed on top of her, moving my body between her spread legs, my painfully hard penis rubbing against her pubic hair, probing the entrance several times; the glans was already glistening with her love juice. Without a condom, I really wanted to use kitchen plastic wrap at that moment, but thankfully I still had a shred of rationality and didn't thrust in all at once. I whispered in her ear, "I don't have a condom."

She said, "It's okay, I've been taking medication."

What else was there to say? My penis went in immediately. She was so wet down there, so I didn't thrust slowly, it went all the way in in one go. She gasped, wrapping her legs around my waist. I didn't move; it was too tight, I'd probably ejaculate immediately. Thinking back, if I hadn't masturbated first, I probably would have ejaculated before penetration.

Her legs were tightly clamped around my waist, and I started slowly thrusting. She closed her eyes, moaning softly, her hands gripping my back harder and harder. I didn't dare go fast, just thrusting slowly, without changing positions. This was the first time I'd done it with a girl without a condom, and it felt really different. I thrust slowly like this for two or three minutes, and suddenly she squeezed my legs tightly, pressed her lower body against me, tilted her head back slightly, and her moans became more rapid. My penis suddenly felt a surge of heat, and I didn't care about the rhythm anymore. After a series of hard thrusts, I ejaculated inside her with a short, loud cry. It

felt so good to be on top of her; I didn't want to move at all. She moved a little below and said, "Let me wipe you." I was embarrassed and kept saying, "I'll do it, I'll do it." I turned to let her out, and she said, "Don't move," and ran to the bathroom, covering herself with one hand. After showering, she came over naked, with toilet paper and a towel, and dried me off thoroughly, saying I must be tired and we could shower again tomorrow morning. Then she snuggled into bed and hugged me. I was really, really tired and wanted to go to sleep right away, but seeing how energetic she was, I felt a little embarrassed to sleep, so I started chatting with her casually.

She said my penis was the perfect size; any bigger and she'd be uncomfortable, any smaller and she wouldn't be comfortable either. I thought, even though my penis isn't huge, it's at least 15cm long and quite thick, so why would she say that? I asked her about her past relationship with her boyfriend. She didn't mince words, saying they were like an old married couple. However, they were still very passionate about sex, doing it everywhere at home and even in her boyfriend's office after get off work. They did it every day until that incident, and it had been four or five months since then. Later I learned that two months later she went back to China and completely broke up with her boyfriend, selling their house and everything else. It was just that they hadn't done it for a long time, so today's session felt very comfortable. I then asked her why she was taking birth control pills while living alone in France. She said she'd been taking this medicine for over five years. Her cousin works as a department manager at the company that makes Mafulong, so she knows it's effective, has no side effects, and is good for the skin (it sounds like I'm promoting this medicine, haha). Plus, her cousin gave it to her for free, so she's been taking it continuously, even taking one pill a day with her after going abroad. She definitely looked much younger than me, maybe the medicine really works, or maybe I just look too old, making her look much younger.

The next morning, I woke up needing to urinate around 9 a.m. It was Friday, a day of rest for everyone in France, so it was very quiet outside, with no car noise. After urinating, I opened the thick curtains a crack, and the room became much brighter. I climbed back into bed and hugged her from behind. She seemed to be groggily waking up too. I gently stroked one of her breasts with my arm around her, playing with her nipple. After a few strokes, her nipple hardened, and she moved, turning over to lie flat on her back. I moved my hand to her other breast, making the other nipple hard as well, while gently licking the previous breast. My penis had been erect since I got up to pee, and her legs were gently moving under the covers, rubbing against my penis. I really wanted her to give me oral sex, but I had never done it before, so I didn't know how to ask. She didn't seem to be interested in licking me either.

I didn't care about that for now. Feeling that the room was no longer cold, I suddenly pulled back the bottom of the blanket, revealing my four legs. She immediately and instinctively pulled her legs up, asking me what I was doing, getting up now? I didn't answer, just crawled under her and rubbed my head against her pubic hair. It was then that I saw her beautiful private parts for the first time. Later I found out she was actually almost 10 years older than me, well into her late 30s, but her skin was very firm and her figure was amazing. She'd loved sports since she was little, was a great swimmer, and even attended a sports school for a few years before giving up because she couldn't keep up with her studies. Plus, she didn't have many worries in her life and regularly got beauty treatments, which is why she maintained her figure like that. But I don't understand why her private parts were like a young girl's.

I always thought that if you did it too much, your breasts and genitals would darken. Last night I saw her breasts and thought they were beautiful, but I didn't expect her genitals to be so alluring. There wasn't much hair, concentrated in a small patch. As my tongue circled around her clitoris, she parted her legs a little more. Her labia were very small, or rather, her entire vulva was small and deeply recessed, completely unlike the "bun-like" vulva described online. The sides of her labia were very clean, without a single hair or pigmentation, just the same color as her skin. Gently parting them, it was already glistening with moisture. I had never given a girl oral sex before, and her clitoris was very small, not at all as prominent as in porn, so I didn't know where to start. I should have used my mouth. More importantly, perhaps she was embarrassed to let me see her genitals like that, as her legs weren't spread very wide. Plus, my tongue is rather short, making it difficult to lick inside. So I licked her clitoris, kissed around the area, and then directly inserted my penis. To be honest, it's

a little embarrassing; maybe because I have so little experience, I wanted to ejaculate as soon as I penetrated her. Back in China, I had basically never done it with my girlfriend. So, strictly speaking, I guess I was still a virgin in France, haha, I'm a little ashamed of myself. I originally thought I'd be like in porn movies, making this girl (who's practically a married woman) have multiple orgasms, but in reality, I haven't reached that level of skill. I only thrust for about five minutes before I ejaculated. Looking back now, the feeling of ejaculating inside without a condom is definitely different. She seemed comfortable, but not as excited as last night; maybe she was still a little unsatisfied.

For the next two days, we didn't go out except to the nearby supermarket. That night and the next day, we did it three more times. I don't know what the problem was, but I just couldn't be very vigorous. Although she kept telling me it felt good, I kept wondering why this was happening. Later, I reflected on myself and concluded that it was because she was too tight down there and I wasn't wearing a condom, which made me feel a little better.

On the last morning, her train was at 11:00. We had already eaten by 10:00 and packed her luggage, but the train station was only a 5-minute walk from my house, so there was no need to go so early. We stood by the window talking, dawdling over the time. Around 10:30, I saw it was time to leave and strolled over, so I leaned in and kissed her deeply, saying I was so reluctant to part. She immediately wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me passionately for almost a minute. At that point, I didn't care about time anymore and just started unbuckling her belt. She threw her small bag on the ground and came over to pull down my pants. I was still wearing my Adidas, and without a belt, I was completely naked. The most infuriating thing was that my penis went limp. It was erect when we kissed, but it went soft as soon as it was exposed to the light.

When she grabbed my penis, she was probably a little surprised and even laughed. I was a bit dumbfounded and didn't know what to say, so I blurted out that my penis was cold.

Behind us was a small table, the low kind I bought at Apple, a little over 9 euros. It served as a desk and a dining table. Our 12-square-meter apartment was too small, so we didn't have a writing desk. She sat on the small table, said "Let me warm you up," and immediately took my penis into her mouth. Oh my god, my legs went weak, I almost lost my balance, how pathetic! In no time, my penis was erect. At first, she was just moving it around inside, then she started moving it back and forth. I looked down at my 15cm penis going in and out of her mouth, my blood was boiling. I squatted down, pulled down her pants, and licked a few drops around her vulva—I don't know if it was her vaginal lubricant or my saliva, but it was all wet—and then I lifted my penis and inserted it.

That little IKEA table was so small, and our position was weird. Even though the bed was right next to us, I didn't want to change places. She hooked her arms around my neck and wrapped her legs around my waist. I braced myself on the small table behind her and started thrusting quickly. It was slippery down there, and there were splashing sounds. I didn't care about the nine shallow thrusts and one deep one; I was going all the way in every time. If I hadn't been bracing myself from behind, she would have pushed the table off. There was a wall clock above the bathroom door in front of me. I clearly remember that we went at it from 10:38 to 10:50, in the same position, at the same frequency. I never thought sex could be so tiring. My arms were sore because she was pressed tightly against me, her arms and legs gripping me tightly, her back almost lifting off the small table, and she was moaning loudly. When I ejaculated, I even wanted to use my hand to cover her mouth. Although I'd been ejaculating every day for the past few days, this time I still sprayed a dozen times. She held her back straight, trembling motionless for almost half a minute.

After that, there wasn't much lingering talk. I wiped myself quickly and stood up. Her vagina was still leaking semen. There was no time to wash, so she took a panty liner from her small bag, put it on her underwear, pulled up her pants, grabbed her luggage, and rushed out. When we got to the platform, the train conductor was blowing his whistle. Without even checking the carriage number, she rushed onto the platform. She looked back at me, and I wanted to lean in and kiss her, but she hurriedly said, "I'm leaving, the doors are closing." She

took a step inside. The doors slowly closed, and she waved to me from inside, saying, "Goodbye, Paris."

(It wasn't easy to recall, I'll continue writing.)

7

Actually, there are many things I could write about, but there are also many things I can't make up. For example, some friends suggested writing about the kitchen, the balcony, or the sofa. Life in France is tough, especially in Paris. A 50-square-meter apartment costs 1,000 euros a month, and those with balconies are even more expensive. Kitchens are only two or three square meters, so finding romance in these places is difficult. However, children raised under the red flag are not afraid of hardship. They fully utilize their intelligence to create enjoyment in life.

For my first month in Paris, I stayed in a friend's living room. She was a girl who had been in Paris for two years. My own rented apartment wouldn't be available until next month, so I temporarily stayed at a friend of a friend's house for almost a month.

Let me mention that things were relatively peaceful with this girl during that month. She was the girlfriend of a colleague of my friend back home, so we were practically acquaintances. Her last name was C, and she was studying finance at Paris Dauphine University. Her boyfriend worked in Jiangsu, and I even had dinner with him when I returned to China. She goes back home twice a year, so in the two years I've been abroad, she's already gone back three times, all with her boyfriend paying for her airfare—around 8,000 RMB per round trip, which isn't easy for him.

Apartments in Paris are very small; international students can't afford large ones. C's apartment was basically just one room; the living room was actually a slightly larger kitchen/hallway, I'd estimate about 5 square meters. There was a sofa bed, but since it took up too much space when unfolded, and my luggage was too big, I slept on that sofa that was never unfolded for that entire month. This apartment, less than 20 square meters in total, cost over 600 euros. Having a sofa to sleep on was already a luxury.

C is quite tall, probably close to 1.65 meters. She's of above-average looks, rather slender, with long hair, usually tied in a braid when she goes out. At home, she sometimes lets her long hair down, which looks quite nice. Since she's my friend's wife, I'm very careful living there, not daring to say anything too inappropriate, and trying not to appear at home during the day. I also don't dare go to bed too early at night; she likes to sleep in and stays up quite late, browsing the internet or reading in her room, occasionally coming out to use the bathroom or grabbing something from the living room. I usually don't get to sleep until almost 1 a.m., but sometimes I can vaguely hear her making internet calls, and sometimes I can even hear her talking to her boyfriend. That means I'm usually late for class the next day. Especially since my school is in the southeast corner of Paris, quite far away; it normally takes 40 minutes by metro to get there, so being late or even absent is quite normal. Another reason is that there are too many Chinese students at this public university, severely diminishing the feeling of studying abroad, which is also a major reason why I'm not interested in going to school. Unlike my previous city in the north, where there were very few Chinese people and the French were quite warm and polite to us.

Living in a room like this, there's practically no privacy. I don't even dare sleep in just my underwear; I wash a pair of sweatpants and use them as pajamas. Besides, the apartment originally only had one large room; the landlord partitioned it in the middle with two layers of plasterboard to create this one-bedroom apartment. I guess the landlord didn't put any soundproofing materials like asbestos in the walls when he renovated his own place, so the walls are completely uninsulated. I think C probably doesn't know this; I heard her making a phone call on the first day I moved in, and if you listen carefully, you can make out what she's saying.

Since I'm staying with someone I know, I didn't have any bad intentions, even though I'd aroused my pent-up lust over a month ago, I still couldn't make a move on my friend's wife. And C seems to be very careful; after every shower, she brings her washed underwear into the room to dry, so I can't find any reason to fantasize.

After staying there obediently for three or four days, one night it was almost 1 a.m., and I was lying on the sofa, half-asleep. I vaguely heard C talking on the phone inside, seemingly talking to her friend online. They were saying things like taking care of themselves and not going out to see female colleagues at night. I covered my ears with the blanket and tried to sleep again. In my dream, I vaguely heard a woman moaning. I woke up immediately and listened carefully. The sound was coming from the inner room. Damn, was she watching porn? I sat up and listened. Watching porn wouldn't require playing it through the speakers, right? Headphones would be enough!

I got up and tiptoed to her door, wanting to listen more closely. Suddenly, I noticed a light shining through the keyhole of the lock. I looked down and, haha, it was an old-fashioned lock with a keyhole that could be locked from both the inside and outside with one of those old-looking keys. When she turned the key to lock the door, the lower half of the keyhole was exposed, and I could easily see inside. I quickly went to the sofa , fumbled for my glasses in the dark, put them on, and went to the door to peek inside.

My first experience as a voyeur! Her room was small, only about ten square meters. Looking through the keyhole, I could see her desk. She was sitting in a small swivel chair, her back to the door, looking at her computer, her long hair draped over the back of the chair. She even had one leg propped up on the desk—a bare leg! Damn, was she masturbating? That was my first reaction, and I immediately got excited. I never would have guessed. Students at Paris Dauphin University are usually very high-achieving, and quite unassuming, not at all promiscuous. I never imagined she'd be like this when she's alone. Maybe everyone's like this—the more proper a girl seems, the more attracted they are. If she's usually very promiscuous, seeing any part of her body wouldn't be as exciting. I carefully pressed my glasses against the keyhole and glimpsed half a butt through the gap between the swivel chair back and seat. She was definitely naked from the waist down, and judging from the exposed shoulder above the chair back, her upper body was probably naked too. Unfortunately, it was only a back view; I couldn't see anything. " Did you see that? So annoying. Are you alone in your office?" she seemed to be talking. Looking closer, I realized she was wearing a headset. Turns out she was video chatting with her boyfriend back home! Her boyfriend must be having a blast. Perhaps because of the microphone, C didn't realize her voice was quite loud, especially late at night. Excitedly, I knelt on the floor. It was a bit uncomfortable on my knees, so I grabbed my coat from the side and placed it on top, comfortably kneeling with the perfect height facing the keyhole. Her butt was less than two meters away, but the desk lamp was too dim, and it was backlit, so I couldn't see clearly. She was still talking inside. "Did you see that? Don't let your colleagues see!" " Are you alone? Can't see?" "I'll move the camera closer..." She put her legs down on the table, moved the laptop a little closer to her, and then tilted the screen down a bit so that the camera clipped to the top of the laptop was more focused. With this movement, she saw that I was practically pressed against the door, the screen directly facing the keyhole, less than two meters away! Although she had her back to the door and I couldn't see anything, I could see her entire body on the screen—completely naked! Her MSN window wasn't very big, and the laptop was only 12 inches, but I used all my inner eye, my eyes practically a magnifying glass. She seemed to have a lot of pubic hair; I couldn't tell how big her breasts were, but I could see her nipples were quite dark. She spread her legs to show her boyfriend, who seemed quite excited too; a man in a suit and tie was moving his fingers back and forth in the small video window. When C moved her fingers around below to show her boyfriend, she occasionally made some humming sounds. That's when I realized the humming sounded a little unnatural; she was probably just humming for her boyfriend to hear. That guy came to the company early this morning just to watch live porn! Their company leaders must have thought he was a hardworking young man, haha, they were fooled! But later, I had dinner with this guy when I returned to China, and he really was a fairly ambitious young man, the kind that girls liked. Judging from his tone, he didn't seem to be idle during C's three years abroad. Fortunately, in the end, we waited for C to return to China to live together. If I can't see clearly, fine, I shouldn't have bought it yesterday, it cost 29 euros! C was a little unhappy; it turned out this was her first time doing a live online show, I'm really lucky. If you can't see clearly, take the camera down and point it at her breasts, film them one by one! They clearly have no video experience; I really wanted to knock on the door and remind her. It seems the guy couldn't see clearly and was getting impatient; C also got impatient, saying she was going to log off if she couldn't see clearly, and immediately closed the video window, switching to audio. Seeing the show was over, I immediately got up and went to bed. But I kept listening intently, and then C started blaming her boyfriend, saying things like, "You still have books to read, why are you reading for so long when you can't even see anything clearly?" and "I won't let you read anymore..." and "Yours is so small, I won't read it, it's all hair," etc. I laughed so hard in bed.

However, to be honest, she really didn't show it to her boyfriend again for the next month. Not even once. A little over a week later, I pretended to ask her if she had a webcam I could borrow. She said she had bought one before, but it wasn't clear and didn't work well. Luckily, it was from FNAC, and she returned it the next day with an excuse.

Although that was the only time I secretly saw her slightly lewd side, I learned about the advantages of old-fashioned French door locks. What made me even happier was that the lock on her bathroom door was the same!

The

day after I secretly watched her video, my gaze towards her changed. When I saw her again in the afternoon, I couldn't help but imagine what her lower body looked like, especially when I saw her simple and serious face. So from around 7 pm when she got home, my penis didn't go down. It was constantly bulging in my pants, and I was worried it might suffocate from lack of oxygen. I waited until around 11 pm, when she read for a while and then came out as usual, passing through the living room to go to the bathroom to take a shower. I was watching a movie on the sofa in the living room with the lights off, headphones on. She probably greeted me as she passed by, but I deliberately turned the headphones up really loud so I didn't even look up, pretending not to see her.

As soon as I caught a glimpse of her going into the bathroom, I took off my headphones and waited. The door closed, the plastic bag rattled twice, and then slammed shut. Soon after, I heard urinating sounds from inside.

I immediately jumped up from the sofa, carefully darted to the bathroom door, took a deep breath, and squatted down.

The bathroom door faced the toilet. My heart was pounding because she was sitting naked on the toilet, urinating and stuffing her long hair into a plastic hairnet—she wasn't planning to wash it that night. As she fiddled with her hair, her breasts were right in front of the keyhole, right in front of my eyes! Under the 60-watt incandescent light, less than a meter away, my penis was extremely engorged.

Her breasts weren't large, maybe a B cup at most, with small areolas and dark nipples. Perhaps it was a bit cold since she had just taken off her clothes; I could count the goosebumps on her breasts, her nipples throbbing. I realized that I was even more excited than I had been during our lovemaking over a month ago. She fixed her hair, leaned forward slightly, and placed her hands on her thighs. She sat on the toilet for about half a minute. During that half minute, her face and my face outside the door were less than 30 centimeters apart; I felt like I could hear her breathing.

Her breasts hung there, not large, two dark grapes. I looked closely at her face and then at her breasts, as if we were face to face. Occasionally, she would glance at the door lock in front of her nose, or even at the keyhole, but it was bright inside and dark outside; she could never see or imagine the peeping eye 30 centimeters away. I can still vividly recall that thrill, and every time I remember it, my heart beats much faster.

She sat up and pulled out a roll of toilet paper to wipe herself. I really don't understand. Why waste toilet paper when you're about to shower? If it were me, I'd just pee in the shower and save the water for flushing. After she finished drying herself, she stood up, and suddenly a thick patch of dark pubic hair blocked my view. A lush patch of pubic hair!

I never expected such a refined, tall, and delicate girl to have such abundant pubic hair. Even from less than 30 centimeters away, I could faintly smell her pubic odor; the hair was a perfect inverted triangle, extending all the way to her lower abdomen above her pubic bone. It covered a large area, with even greater density, like a wool blanket, lying flat on her lower abdomen. In less than 10 seconds, she stepped into the small shower stall next door, and I couldn't see anything anymore. But those 10 seconds of visual impact made my breath catch in my throat for a long time, as if inside was a hormonally charged, long-suppressed harlot waiting for a man to liberate her. I stood up, took out my engorged penis, and started masturbating.

Girls always take a long time to shower. While I played with my penis in the dark, I imagined the hidden depths of her pubic hair. Suddenly, I noticed her half-open bedroom door. I usually didn't go in when she was home, and it was locked when she wasn't. Only at this time, during her daily shower, was she unguarded. I quickly went in, my penis

erect. The room was small and tidy. On the table next to the small bed were a pile of books and photocopied lecture notes, a few dictionaries, and a small canvas wardrobe with a zipper. The only thing that caught my eye was a bra hanging on the clothes rack by the window. She probably took her panties to the bathroom. I pulled it down. Etam, 70A, indeed only an A cup. I guess it's not easy to find such a small bra in France! I wrapped my penis in the bra and quickly started moving it up and down. I soon felt the urge to ejaculate, so I quickly stopped, smoothed the bra down, checked for any loose hair, and hung it back on the rack.

I returned to the living room, still erect, and continued my masturbation by the kitchen sink in the corner.

Just as I was about to ejaculate, the water stopped. How could she be done so quickly?

Maybe she hadn't washed her hair. I immediately stopped and squatted down by the bathroom door.

The shower curtain swung open with a whoosh, and two long, slender legs appeared one after the other in front of the lock. They were already wet, and the pubic hair stood up lively, fluffy. I wondered why she was standing there with her pubic hair facing me. I stared intently at the shiny black carpet. Then she turned around, placed one foot on the shower step, and bent over towards the shower floor. I didn't know what she was doing, but this bend completely exposed her vulva, which I had been thinking about for so long, to the lock. It was a rather full vulva, with pubic hair almost reaching her anus—not very long, but still quite a bit. Her large labia hung outside, seemingly still damp with water droplets. Her labia were a darker color, and with each movement of her body, they seemed to sway, occasionally revealing the vaginal opening that made my nose bleed. My hand didn't stop, stroking my penis up and down, watching her labia, and after a few strokes, I ejaculated violently. Luckily, I covered myself with both hands, otherwise it would have gotten on my clothes and the door.

Less than two minutes later, she stood up and bent over again. I then saw that she had found the shower drain was clogged, and she had opened the small cover to clean out the long hair inside. I quickly got up, washed my hands in the sink, dried them, sat back on the sofa, put on my headphones, and continued pretending to watch a movie.

10

This little keyhole made every day of my first month in Paris so pleasant and anticipated. The first two weeks of school classes were short, and then classes gradually increased, and things got busy. Every morning when I went to school, I was in a good mood, always focusing my day on the half hour before going to bed at night.

I didn't feel any particular warmth at home, but I still looked forward to coming home from school every day.

After living there for a while, C started talking to me a little more. She treated me like her boyfriend's good friend, so she was quite polite. However, she didn't seem to be very talkative, and being a diligent student, our conversations were mostly superficial—about school, her major, internships, and job hunting. I felt like she hadn't really left the school or experienced Paris much. She seemed like a complete bookworm. I tried to ask her what was fun in Paris, but she didn't know. She'd lived in Paris for almost two years and only visited the Louvre, the Musée d'Orsay, and a few smaller museums like the Guimet and Rodin; and even those were during the first weekend of each month when museums were free in France—she hadn't spent a single penny on entertainment. To me, she seemed like a really dull woman. Later

, I realized it was probably because the finance department at Paris Dauphine University was so prestigious, the academic pressure was immense, and since she hadn't worked since arriving in France and was very frugal, she simply couldn't bear to spend money on anything outside of her studies and daily life. The more frugal and dignified a girl is, the greater the stimulation of fantasies she evokes, especially after seeing her from head to toe. Now, every time she walks past me, in my eyes, she seems completely naked. Even when her breasts suddenly seem to have grown larger, I secretly laugh to myself, thinking she must have changed to a bra with thicker padding.

Over the past month, C has been the woman whose body I've observed most closely in my life, truly seeing only a small part of her body. I felt my eyes had become bigger and smaller. Every inch of C's skin was dissected and examined bit by bit over more than 20 days. I especially remember her anus surrounded by a cluster of short hairs and the two small black moles on her labia majora. To this day, I can't quite remember her buttocks, her breasts, or her nipples, but those two long labia minora, her anus, and the two "beauty marks" are clear images imprinted in my mind.

Because I didn't collect rent, mainly because she resolutely refused, I felt really bad and could only go to the Belleville supermarket, where there are many Chinese supermarkets, every one or two days to buy all sorts of groceries to eat with her. She rarely cooks at home, and if she does, it's usually just one dish. I didn't want to make her house look like my own home, cooking all sorts of fancy dishes, so I mainly bought cooked food and snacks at the supermarket, and occasionally some vegetables. Once, I brought several large meat buns, and she was quite surprised, asking me how there could be meat buns in Paris. What a bookworm! We basically never ate at the same table. I would usually serve myself in a bowl, sit on the sofa, and eat while looking at my computer. She would silently and quickly finish hers. Eating at the same table without saying a word is very awkward.

Mainly because she seemed unable to respond to what I said, so from the second day after I moved in, I deliberately avoided eating at the table.

Time flew by at C's place; a month passed in the blink of an eye. My rented apartment became vacant. The previous tenant had taken or sold a lot of his belongings, even getting rid of the unsellable single bed, and actually wanted to sell it to me for 100 euros, claiming it was brand new. I thought, "You can't move it, you can't sell it, so it'll be mine anyway!" Unexpectedly, he was even more shameless than me. He posted online, saying the bidding started at 1 euro, no delivery, and even bought a new one online for 100 euros, having the store deliver it to his home since he didn't have a car.

The day I moved out of C's place was a Saturday. I didn't have much stuff—just one suitcase, three large cardboard boxes, and a bag; but it was definitely impossible to get there by subway. So I paid 40 euros online to a student with a car to help me move my things. It was a young man named Chen, driving a very new Rover. I was thinking, "Driving such a nice car and only making this little money?" Later I found out that he had previously driven a Renault 19 and earned this Rover, which cost over 6,000 euros, with that small amount of money. It made me realize the difference in perspective and mindset between international students from the provinces and those in Paris.

C helped me carry my laptop downstairs. Before the car arrived, she stood downstairs watching my luggage. I carried everything down three flights of stairs, sweating profusely. As soon as I finished, the car arrived. I was panting and didn't know what to say, just kept thanking her for her help over the past month. She politely said that she had gained weight from eating my food every day for the past month and that I should be the one thanking her. She didn't know that before I carried the last box down, I left a small box on her table containing a Vichy facial care set. C's skin was nice, but unfortunately, she only used domestic skincare products she brought from China.

Before I got in the car, she waved to me and said, "There won't be anyone to chat with at night anymore. Come back and visit sometime."

I thought to myself, "You never chatted with me when I was here; what does 'come back and visit sometime' mean? To see the house?

To see you? Or to see the good stuff in the keyhole?"

Later, I never saw her again in France, only exchanging pleasantries online until I saw her again when I had dinner with her and her husband after returning to China.

I was back to living alone. A small apartment similar to C's, perhaps even smaller. My so-called living room didn't even have a table, just a small folding sofa about 40cm wide. I call it a sofa because it's filled with foam. It folds into three sections, and unfolds into a nearly 2-meter-long foam mat that can be used as a bed. I don't know which tenant it came from, and I don't even know what the foam inside looked like. Anyway, when I used it as a sofa, I could easily sit through three layers of foam and land hard on the floor. Later, I bought a second-hand Ikea small square table online to match the sofa, and the height was just right. Ikea in Paris is too far, and I can't go without a car, so I got used to buying second-hand items on French student websites. They're cheap and practical, and I've made quite a few friends through this.

L is someone I met while buying second-hand items online. She's a girl from Beijing. I wanted her handheld vacuum cleaner, desk lamp, printer, writing desk, a folding chair, a bunch of clothes racks, and kitchen utensils, all for only 80 euros.

L is leaving Paris to study her third year in the provinces, so she's slowly selling things. She could have continued studying in Paris, but she wants to pursue a master's degree there. If she doesn't study in the provinces during that time, staying in Paris will be too boring, so she applied to a school in a tourist city on the French Riviera. She called the secretariat and learned she had been accepted; now she was just waiting for the notification letter to register. When I called her, it went straight to voicemail. A lively voice answered, first in French then in Chinese, asking me to leave a message. She was clearly from Beijing. I left a message and she replied in less than three minutes, saying she'd been chatting with a friend. Then she enthusiastically introduced me to her things. I said I'd seen her posts but didn't really want anything else. She said, "Come take a look, they're very cheap, they're going to be thrown away if no one wants them."

No need to transfer subway lines, just one direct train. As soon as I got off the subway, I saw a very energetic girl. To be honest, at first glance, I thought she was a boy. She had short hair, wore brightly colored sportswear, and walked with a slight bouncy gait. She looked athletic. Her features were quite nice, at least fairly regular. She waved very vigorously at me as soon as she saw me—was it really necessary to be so dramatic from only ten meters away?

We chatted casually as we walked to her apartment building. It was less than a five-minute walk, and we seemed to know each other already.

Her apartment was on the 7th floor, the top floor, with no elevator. I even stopped to rest once on the way up, and she watched me with a smile from the next flight of stairs, saying, "You're really useless, a man, huh? Did you use too much last night?"

Damn, we'd only chatted for a few minutes, were we that close?

But she really didn't even breathe loudly; in a word, she was fierce.

Her room was indeed very simple, just one room, a combined shower stall in the corner, next to it a double-burner stove and sink, a bed, a canvas wardrobe, a small bookshelf about a meter high, and the things I wanted were already on the desk—quite a pile. This included three pots of different sizes, plates, bowls, chopsticks, soy sauce, and other items. There were also several large bags and two unsealed cardboard boxes on the floor. "

Good deal for you." She bent down and rummaged through one of the cardboard boxes, pulling out a black bag. "Here!"

I took it, opened it, and saw a pair of binoculars, almost brand new, high-powered binoculars. "What do I need this for?" "Cheap is useless! I live on the second floor, and there's not much of a view outside. If someone like her lived on the seventh floor, buying one to play with wouldn't be bad.

" "It's free, and you don't even want the freebie?" She was still smiling. "Why?" I was wary, afraid she was trying to sell something else, or maybe she was trying to pick me up? Although she was a bit crazy, she was decent-looking, at least she was a woman. "

Why what? Fine, take it or leave it. I don't need it." I still didn't believe her. Give me any reason, otherwise how could I accept it? Actually, I quite like this thing. "

You look like my brother."

I was stunned. She used such a cliché pickup line on me!

I smiled wryly, "Is your brother as ugly as me? You look like my mom!"

She wasn't angry, saying, "Why are you talking so much nonsense? Just take it." She kicked one of the bags on the ground a couple of times and said, "Take a look at this, do you want it?"

I practically shoved my head into it—a whole bunch of flashy but useless junk. A huge Chinese knot, a pen holder, a portable iron, a folding umbrella, unused tissues, two small plush toys, a small vase, unopened laundry detergent, a stack of new rags, two small rugs, a CD case, a small tripod, three or four picture frames, an electric kettle, a coffee maker, a wad of USB and network cables, a small cordless phone, and so on. There were some useful items, so I asked her how much the kettle, umbrella, and coffee maker cost. She said twenty euros. I said buying everything new would only cost thirty. She put a hand on my shoulder and said seriously, "Twenty is twenty.

But if you take everything in this bag without throwing anything away, it'll only be fifteen!"

I was stunned!

But I still succumbed to the temptation of a bargain. Deal.

From her apartment on the seventh floor (no elevator) to my apartment on the second floor. A ten-minute subway ride in between. I made three round trips, and then two more the following night. Around 11 PM that night, on the last subway train home, she called the person who had bought her the microwave, but he stood her up. A large supermarket had advertised a sale next week—brand new microwaves for only €29.90. "That's a bargain for me! 15 euros, anyone?"

I thought, and once again, I took advantage of the situation. I finished my sixth round trip around 1 AM and collapsed onto the bed.

Honestly

, after spending a fortune on this pile of junk and tidying it up, it actually looked like a home. For the next ten days or so, I spent my time after school tinkering around, just like living a simple life. I didn't video chat with my girlfriend, but I sent her several photos. She immediately thought I was very good at managing a household and said she wanted to live in a small apartment like that with me. I understood; her company had given her a nearly 100-square-meter apartment to use for free. Although it wasn't a gift, as long as she worked there, she could use the apartment indefinitely. She spent some money to make the house feel cozy, but she still cried on the phone many times, saying she was cold at home alone and wanted me to come back and keep her company. She also blamed me for lying to her that I was only going to England for a year, but now I've been in France for a year and only just started my master's program, so I have to wait another year! It made my heart ache, and I immediately said I would go back to see her during the next holiday. She said she would come back for a month and then go back for another six months before returning to China permanently, and that I shouldn't waste money like that.

In those two days, I received two emails almost simultaneously, one from my old flame W, who had been doing training near Paris for six months, and the other from my girlfriend. After my passionate three-day trip with W in northern France, we haven't been in much contact, only exchanging emails and making a few phone calls. In our phone calls and emails, it was as if nothing had happened, with no words that went beyond ordinary friendship. Maybe there was never any real affection between us, only passion. She emailed to say that her training was basically over, and she wanted to join a tour group to Italy at the beginning of next month, spend a few days in Paris in the middle of the month, and then return to China from Paris. She asked if my place was okay for her to stay for a few days.

Just as I was about to reply, overjoyed, that everything was fine, I checked my girlfriend's email. She said her mom told her that her aunt's daughter, Xiao K, had just graduated high school and was coming to France to study next month at a business school in Lyon. Since all classes were taught in English, she hadn't learned a word of French. Hearing from my mom that I was in France, she insisted I help Xiao K with everything. I was to pick her up from the airport, let her stay in Paris for three or four days, to help her get used to French life—taking the subway, going to the supermarket, grocery shopping, using a phone, etc.—and to wait for a classmate Xiao K had found online, a girl flying from Beijing to Paris. After this girl arrived in Paris, I was to pick her up from the airport, take them both to the train station, buy them train tickets to Lyon, and see them off. This girl had already found someone to rent an apartment in Lyon, and Xiao K could share it with her. Damn, this was a daunting task!

Where did this little K come from? I later called my mom and found out that I'd seen her once when I was in college, at a cousin's wedding. She was still in elementary school then, a little girl. She sat next to me at the banquet. I don't remember what she looked like, just a chubby girl who ate a lot. She must have failed her college entrance exams and paid to come here to "gild her resume." If she had money, she should go to England or America. Why come to France for English classes? I really don't understand.

I noticed that this brat's arrival time seemed to conflict with W's. What to do? After some planning, I immediately replied to W, saying that my cousin was coming to stay in the middle of the month, and asked her to come to Paris at the beginning of the month to visit. She could leave her luggage at my place, and I could cancel her lease a few days early to save some money for my rent. After arriving in Paris, she could tour Paris first, then go on a tour to Italy a few days later, and then go straight back to China from Paris.

Later, it turned out I was wise. Three days after W went to Italy, that brat K arrived in Paris. If it had been the other way around, W and I wouldn't have had a single day together.

To welcome W, I dug out my nearly expired Wanji ginseng capsules and took one capsule twice a day for over a week. Those days, I was incredibly energetic, never daydreaming in class, and never late, which surprised the few girls in my class who were used to my tardiness. From two days before W arrived until she left for Italy, I took two capsules every morning, so for over a week, my penis was mostly erect. I even had to wear thicker jeans to cover it up. Even worse, I had a wet dream, something I hadn't experienced in a long time. That morning, looking at my hard underwear, I felt so bad—what a waste! Couldn't I have just endured it a couple more days?

Being a man is really tough!

W arrived at Saint-Nach train station in Paris in the morning. It happened to be the first weekend of the month, so museum admission was free. After helping her carry her two suitcases (one large and one small) home, I immediately went out again. At the metro station, I bought her a ticket, explained the route, and then made an excuse about having class in the afternoon to go home. On the way to my house, we were as polite as ordinary classmates, without the slightest hint of romance. Her gaze wasn't exactly cold, but it didn't reveal any enthusiasm either. I suddenly didn't want to go shopping with her anymore, and I really didn't want to. We went to a Chinese supermarket in Belleville, bought some cooked food and a bottle of red wine for 9 euros, and then went home. Now I think I can tell the difference between good and bad wine, so I usually buy AOCs (Audiocrity) for 5 euros or more, and I've gained some knowledge about wine regions. However, this 9-euro Mouton Cadet was quite expensive, and it was my first time buying one.

W returned at 8 pm. When she hadn't returned by 7 pm, I thought she was lost. I didn't call her, and just enjoyed some red wine by myself at the small table in the living room. I was using stemmed glasses I bought from L.

As soon as she came back, I microwaved a few cooked dishes. She washed her hands and sat down, cross-legged on the small sofa, while I sat on L's two small rugs. We clinked glasses twice to wish her success in her training, and then we started eating. There were quite a few dishes, and I hadn't cooked rice, so we ate slowly. By 10 pm, the red wine was almost finished, and we were still talking about some pointless things, raising our glasses whenever there was an awkward silence, or exchanging a few compliments.

Then she suddenly asked me, "Is it really your cousin coming?"

I said yes. "I'm not kidding, I'll show you the email." As soon as I said it, I regretted it. It was an email from my girlfriend; I wondered what she would think after reading it. Although I didn't care what she thought. She said, "Why would I look at your email? If she's coming, she's coming." I felt relieved. I was also secretly pleased; she was probably a little jealous.

She asked again, "Is it really your cousin?" I said, "Really, it's my aunt's side." Actually, she's my cousin's aunt; we're not related by blood. But of course, I couldn't say "cousin's" out loud. I added, "You can check my emails."

She said, "No need." I thought you didn't want me staying at your house. Hearing that, I felt a surge of joy; she was really jealous.

She said with a sigh of relief, "Okay then." She proactively raised her glass and said, "Let's finish this last bit," and downed it in one gulp, finishing almost a third of the glass of red wine. I was planning to sip it slowly, but now I could only gulp it down.

She stood up and said, "You clean up the leftovers; I'm going to take a shower. You can make the bed too." Then she pulled out a large bag and went into the bathroom.

I dumped all the leftovers into the trash bag, quickly washed the two bowls and cups, and was still pondering her words about tidying up the bed. Did she mean to put on another sofa bed, or something else?

I didn't dare do much, just gathered the clothes on the small bed and made the bed. I turned off the main light and switched to the bedside lamp. I was burying my head in the closet looking for my pajama bottoms when she came out of the bathroom, drying her long, black hair, wearing only a bath towel. "

You should go take a shower too," she said. I quickly

took

a shower and came out. I walked up to her wearing only my underwear. She was already sitting on the bed, the blanket covering her chest. She glanced at the bulging middle of my underwear and asked, "Why didn't you come to the museum with me? You told me you were going to school this weekend?" I realized, oh yeah, I'd been caught. So I said, "Actually, I was doing a project with my classmates and photocopying their class notes." She said, "Paris is so nice, even the copy shops near the school are open on weekends."

I was speechless.

Okay, stop making things up, laziness is laziness. Stop pretending! She didn't intend to delve deeper. "Come here."

I took a step forward, and she reached out and pulled down my underwear, my penis popping out. "Let me see if you've used it lately." She grabbed my testicles with one hand and started moving her hand around my penis. The blanket around my chest loosened under her movements, and my two firm breasts swayed out.

I leaned forward, wanting her to give me oral sex, but she didn't turn her head, continuing to vigorously stroke my throbbing penis, rubbing my testicles and saying, "Looks like you've taken good care of yourself, so much hair." I like men with lots of hair. "Get on top."

I sat on the blanket, without kissing her, and directly took her firm breast into my mouth, sucking hard, circling her nipples. One hand stroked her soft pubic hair, occasionally brushing against her deeply hidden clitoris; but never moving further down. Her hand, gripping my penis, never let go, slowly but firmly helping me masturbate.

I kissed one of her breasts, then moved upwards, lingering on her neck and behind her ears for a long time, all the way to the back of her neck. She cooperated by lowering her head, exposing the back of her neck. I could feel she was enjoying it, because the movements of her hand holding my penis noticeably slowed. When I kissed back down to her throat and shoulders, she actively moved her shoulders towards me, her hips gently lifting. My hand was still stroking her pubic hair, but I pressed her clitoris more frequently.

As I kissed her from her shoulder down to between her breasts, her navel, and her lower abdomen, her hand holding my penis loosened slightly. Before she could grasp it again, I had already buried my nose in her soft pubic hair. My fingers slid from her clitoris to her vaginal opening, which was already completely wet. Looking closely, I saw a glistening, pale pink opening, slightly parted, with a few small bubbles of vaginal fluid quietly flowing out.

I straightened her body and slowly inserted my swollen glans into her vagina, rubbing it against the opening. One hand gently stroked her neck and earlobe. After two or three minutes, I saw her slightly open eyes become glazed, and as her moans grew louder, I thrust my entire penis in, all the way in each time, only pulling it out halfway.

Her voice suddenly became louder.

There was a hissing sound of fluid being squeezed out from below. I didn't stop or adjust my rhythm, thrusting straight into her core for four or five minutes each time. Her legs went from being spread apart on the bed, to wrapped around my waist, to spreading open and standing upright, and finally back on the bed, lifting her waist and hips to meet my thrusts. A surge of heat rushed from my body to my penis. I didn't stop, supporting myself on either side of her head as I thrust harder. She was already pushed against the headboard, only able to turn her head to the side, her mouth open, emitting low sounds from her throat. Her hands gripped my arms, shaking them rapidly in rhythm with me, as if encouraging me. I used all my strength to ejaculate wantonly inside her, the bed frame thumping against the wall. She cried out, her head tilting back, her body motionless. I

lay on top of her for about ten minutes before I came to my senses. She was just breathing heavily, her mouth open, completely still.

When my limp penis fell out, a large gush of white liquid gushed out, running down her buttocks. She quickly stood up, saying she couldn't get it on the sheets. I lay on my side, still holding my penis, and saw that when she went into the bathroom, the milky white semen had already flowed down her inner thighs to her calves.

14

She washed herself and came out, and I immediately went in to rinse off and lather up with soap. When I came out, I thought she was asleep, but she was sitting on the bed holding my laptop. "Going online?" I asked her.

"No, I can't sleep." "Let's see what movies you have on your computer." I crawled into bed, moved the laptop onto myself, and went into the movie folder to pick out some movies. She had sharp eyes and pointed to a folder called "Tutorials," saying, "Why did you put this in the movies folder?" I opened it for her, and she immediately understood—it was full of my treasured porn. "

Let's watch this one." "Let's find something good."

I figured she didn't like anything too explicit, so I put on a self-shot video of Paris Hilton for her. She still enjoys reading gossip news, and immediately recognized it as a famous online video. "I can't believe you even found this one," she said, seemingly very interested.

The video started with oral sex and a handsome American guy's huge penis. She looked quite surprised as she watched that large penis penetrate Hilton's vagina, thrusting powerfully. It was as if she never watched porn. But watching porn in China is definitely not as convenient as abroad; it's not easy to download, and you have to buy DVDs to watch it. It's not as widespread as it is overseas. The video wasn't long; the last part was a long oral sex scene. It sounded monotonous, but she didn't fast-forward. She kept staring at the huge penis, her hand moving from my thigh to my penis, gently stroking it.

My penis also seemed quite capable, actually getting erect again. She feigned surprise, saying, "The handsome guy is quite powerful!" I grinned and said, "The beautiful woman is quite seductive!" As I spoke, I reached down and touched her genitals. Oh dear, they were soaking wet. I pulled my fingers out and saw they were clear and transparent. She seemed a little embarrassed, saying, "What are you looking at?" I didn't say anything, put down my laptop, and immediately spread her legs and started fucking her. This time, I even paid attention to the "nine shallow

, one deep" technique. She looked at me with a seductive air, moaning softly, and occasionally reaching down to touch my penis as I withdrew. I fucked her slowly and steadily, constantly praising how tight and wet she was, and commenting on her beautiful skin. She asked me if it felt good, saying she liked looking at my pubic hair. We chatted and made love intermittently for a good thirty minutes. My arms started to ache, so I sped up and went at it for another ten minutes or so before I was about to ejaculate. Suddenly, she said I should watch her cum, and quickly pulled my penis out and started masturbating me. Less than half a minute later, I ejaculated powerfully with a very pleasurable spasm, spraying it all over her breasts. As I ejaculated a second time, she immediately shoved her slippery penis back into her vagina and said, "Hurry up." Without her saying anything, I quickly started moving again and ejaculated about ten more times, and she convulsed a few times along with me. After I finished, I continued thrusting for a minute or two until my penis completely shrunk, at which point her convulsions finally stopped.

We were both exhausted. We didn't even shower; we just wiped ourselves with tissues from the bedside table, and she put a few more underneath before turning off the light and going to sleep.

I had class the next morning, but even after my phone alarm went off, I didn't move and went back to sleep. I was only half-asleep when I felt a pleasant itch in my lower body, which snapped me out of it. Her head was buried in the pillow, and one hand was already arousing my penis. I said, "Your moaning call service is pretty good. Let me call you back." I reached down to touch her vulva. She had removed the pad, but I could still feel some scraps of paper stuck to it. I directly inserted my finger into her half-dry, half-wet opening and started rubbing. It quickly became wetter, so I quickly knelt between her legs, moistened my penis with saliva, and slowly inserted it into her vagina. Her lower body was a dark color, possibly a little swollen. After a few gentle thrusts, I suddenly realized something was wrong—there was red stuff.

She said, "Oh no, I've started my period," pushed me away, and looked down. There was a red patch on the head of my penis.

"Seriously," she muttered, "annoying," and ran into the bathroom.

Naturally, we didn't do anything for the next three days, not even touching. I went to school during the day, she went out, we had dinner together in the evenings, and even saw a movie. We went to a travel agency together and booked a tour for her. On the morning of the fourth day, she packed her bags and went to Italy. As soon as she left, I got up and went to school, mainly to ask the five Chinese girls in my class if anyone could let her stay one night when she returned from Italy in six days. Just one night was enough, because she was flying to Shanghai the next day.

I

really didn't want to host Xiao K, mainly because she bought a China Eastern Airlines ticket. I don't understand if China Eastern is stingy or if the French are bullying people, but they scheduled a China Eastern flight to land at 6:30 am, meaning she could normally be out with her luggage by 7 am. Getting to the airport from my house requires taking the subway and then transferring to a suburban express train, which takes at least an hour. Damn it, she had to leave before 6 am!

I packed up all the women's belongings. Actually, W had packed most of them before going to Italy. I checked carefully and there were no signs that any woman had been there, except for W's red suitcase. I'd just say a friend had left it at my place. When W returned from Italy, that girl K had already stayed at my house for a few days, so I didn't let W come over. Instead, I took her directly to my college classmate MM's house in the Jewish Quarter area south of Paris. I even treated MM to two meals at a Chinese restaurant in the 13th arrondissement.

W was visibly unhappy when she came back because I told her my cousin was visiting, and she knew she had to stay somewhere else. But she didn't say anything and politely said she was troubling me again. Fortunately, she was quite tactful, and my classmate had a good impression of her, so it wasn't too much of a burden. After staying at my classmate's house for one night, the next morning, the international student I had booked online drove to my building to pick me and my luggage, and then went to the Jewish Quarter to pick up W.

But W didn't let me see her off. She gave me a light hug and said there was no need. She explained that it would cost an extra ten euros to get her to the airport and back. I didn't insist. I closed the car door for her, rubbed my hand against her face, and said, "Take care." She hummed in agreement and said, "You too."

Then the car drove away.

Back to W's time in Italy, my girlfriend and I talked a lot online about that brat, K. My mom also repeatedly told me on the phone to take good care of my sister. She'd only just graduated high school and had never been away from home. My mom asked if I remembered what K looked like. I said I didn't, and that I could just bring a piece of paper with her name on it at the airport. My mom said, "That won't do. It's dangerous if others know her name. I'll send you a picture." That old lady was way too vigilant.

That night, I received an email from my girlfriend with a picture of K, reminding me that K would arrive early the day after tomorrow. I opened the attached photo and froze. That brat has blossomed into a beautiful young woman, dressed in summer clothes, with a slightly baby face and a full, rounded chest. With three rather plain-looking female classmates beside her as a foil, "pretty" isn't quite the right word; she was simply youthful and radiant. My girlfriend said that last week, Xiao K and her mother stayed at my house for three days. My girlfriend helped her buy a lot of household items; they're practically like sisters now. She said Xiao K would keep an eye on me when she comes over.

I replied that I wouldn't forget the day after tomorrow. MM is pretty good-looking, much younger than you. Aren't you afraid I'll take advantage of you? Lying in bed that night, I couldn't sleep. After having sex with W twice a few days ago, I'd been holding back, and now that I had someone to fantasize about, I felt really hot down there. While masturbating, I was thinking, "I definitely can't date this girl. Even though we're not related by blood, our families know each other, and her family knows about my girlfriend. Even if she wanted to, my mom, my girlfriend's mom, and Xiao K's mom would kill me!"

Thinking about this, I immediately deflated. Oh well, I'll just feast my eyes.

The next morning, I received an email from my girlfriend saying, "If you can get her, go for it. It's good to keep the good stuff in the family.

If you have the guts, go ahead and try. She's over 18. Just don't come crying to me afterwards."

I immediately replied with a guarantee-like letter, swearing I wouldn't lay a finger on Xiao K.

I had class in the morning, so I sat on the toilet, bored, waiting to poop. I stared at the bathroom door lock, but it wasn't an old-fashioned lock; it didn't have a keyhole like C's. I guess I wouldn't get to enjoy the view.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off! I could change the lock! Damn it, when lust takes hold, anything can happen. Back home, I'd never even done a lightbulb job, and now I'm facing a huge challenge. I even skipped pooping, pulled up my pants, grabbed a ruler, quickly measured the inside and outside of the door lock, and took a few pictures with my phone. Then I rushed out the door.

I ran to school for class—no choice, attendance was taken. Luckily, today's class only had attendance taken before class started; it was two hours long, so I grabbed my bag and ran during the break. The afternoon class is a long lecture, no attendance taken, I can just photocopy my notes then.

Back in central Paris, I spent over an hour in a large building materials store near the Pompidou Centre. I spent ages asking the salesperson for help with the sketches and photos on my phone before finally figuring it out. I only wanted to change the lock cylinder, but now it seems I need to replace both side panels, both handles, and the entire lock cylinder—otherwise, they won't match. Gritting my teeth, this is a long-term investment, so I bought two screwdrivers, totaling nearly 40 euros. It hurt my wallet terribly. I didn't throw away the old door lock I

replaced; I hid it. If I move in the future, I'll have to replace it again. I can't let the next tenant benefit from it. But maybe the next tenant won't be as lewd as me. No matter how much I tidy up, the house is still so small. We definitely won't be able to sleep in the same bed tomorrow night. I found new sheets and duvet covers and put the old ones aside; I'll use them as a mattress pad on the small, worn-out sofa in the living room tomorrow. I only have one blanket, but luckily I have a sleeping bag. People usually use sleeping bags for outdoor activities; I've never used one outside. I bought it on sale for 13 euros. I can't help it; I've discovered I'm like a woman—I want to buy cheap things, regardless of whether they're useful or not.

I was very excited that night and couldn't sleep. My mind was filled with images of C's body through the keyhole. It was like looking at pornographic pictures, very clear. Thick pubic hair, plump labia minora. The thought of this scene soon playing out again made me incredibly excited. It's a pity the keyhole is too small; I couldn't get enough of it. Thinking of this, I got out of bed, went to the bathroom, took the key out of the lock, and hid it. Without the key, the usable area of the keyhole doubled! I couldn't help but feel

smug. I tossed and turned in bed like a pancake, not knowing how many times I finally drifted off to sleep. Just as I was starting to dream, my phone alarm went off. I grabbed my laptop and put it on the bed, refreshed the flight information, and checked if there were any delays so I could sleep a little longer. It showed the expected arrival time was 6:05. Crazy! Why fly so fast?!

I quickly got up. After hesitating for a moment, I quickly washed my hair; I had shaved last night. First impressions are important. I didn't forget to spray on some perfume, chewed a piece of gum, and went downstairs. It

was already a little after 7 when I arrived at the airport arrival hall. The screen showed that baggage claim had started half an hour ago. I ran to the passenger exit and looked around. Everyone coming out was Chinese. I specifically looked at the young women, but none of them looked like Chinese. I regretted not printing out their photos and bringing them with me.

Just then, someone gently tapped my back. I turned around and saw the pretty girl from the photo right behind me, shyly and timidly calling out, "Brother!"

That call made me feel like I was floating on air. "Little K! What happened to your hair? It's a little different from the photo." Seeing it was indeed me, her tone immediately changed. "I've been out for 10 minutes! Why did it take you so long? If you hadn't arrived, I would have cried." "

Sorry, sorry, it's too early, there aren't many subways." I quickly pushed the shopping cart next to her and headed out.

She followed, carrying a small red backpack, and casually hooked her arm around mine. As we walked, she said, "They say haircuts are expensive in France, so my mom made me get a lot cuts, so I can go a year without one." Her hair was tied up, with only a tiny tail less than five centimeters long.

"Brother, you smell so good! Do all French men wear cologne?" She immediately felt a connection with me. "You look much younger than in the photos," she said. "My sister says you look like a little old man." She called my girlfriend "sister."

We sat facing each other on the subway. She was curious about everything the whole way, asking questions non-stop. She kept talking about what my mom was saying, what my sister was saying, and how beautiful the photos of Paris I sent were, how pretty the girls on the street were, how well they dressed, etc. When she got excited, she grabbed my hand and shook it, wanting me to take her to see Paris properly.

We chatted and laughed intimately and arrived home quickly. As soon as we entered, she paused, rushed into the inner room without even taking off her shoes, and turned back to yell at me, "That's it?" I asked, "What's gone?" She asked, "Are there no other rooms?" I was stunned. She thought we were still at her house, a 200-square-meter apartment for the three of us.

Having never been to university, she had no idea that this was much more spacious than an eight-person dorm room. "

Let's go shopping," she said. She sat on my small bed, rummaged through her backpack for a camera, and offered me a suggestion.

I boiled some water and sat on the chair next to her, munching on bread. "You need to rest a bit. You slept for over ten hours on the plane, while I only slept three or four hours last night. You have class this afternoon." "

Oh right, you have class too. How about I go with you to listen to the lecture and see the Parisian campus?" "No way, she'll be very disappointed if she sees the French university campus." I said, "Forget it, I won't go to school, I'll go out with you."

"Really? You're skipping class? Won't the teacher say anything?" I said, "It's okay."

She was happy and said, "Then you can skip this once, I won't tell your mom." "Okay?"

She went to the bathroom, and we went out. I was still a little nervous outside when she went into the bathroom. Fortunately, she didn't mention that there was no latch on the door, nor did she ask why it was such an old-fashioned keyhole. She treated me like family, without any wariness, or maybe the little girl just wasn't wary at all, or maybe only a big pervert like me would think of the ingenious use of such a keyhole.

I accompanied her to see the Eiffel Tower. As soon as we exited the subway, we saw the majestic tower standing tall in front of us. She excitedly grabbed my hand and ran forward, urging me to hurry. Around 5 PM on the

17th

, we headed home. Since we didn't have anything to eat, we bought a large pizza for two from a nearby pizzeria. She was very excited in the pizzeria, exclaiming how delicious it smelled. Watching the pizza slowly emerge from the oven, she was as happy as if she had made it herself. After

finishing the pizza at home, she said she was so full and flopped onto my bed without a sound. After a few minutes, she sat up and said, "Brother, I'm sleepy. I want to wash up and go to sleep." "

You little piggy, eating and then sleeping," I said, though I knew she hadn't adjusted to the time difference yet. She was probably sleepy by now. She took out toiletries and a change of clothes from her large suitcase and placed them on the small sofa. I was cleaning up the pizza mess next to her when my eyes immediately fell on her panties under her pajamas on the sofa—the kind covered in cartoon characters. Sigh, she's almost 19, still acting like a child.

While she was rummaging through her suitcase, I was having a fierce internal struggle. Should I take a look? She's my sister, though not really my biological sister, but she calls me "brother" so affectionately. How could I bring myself to do it? I was so conflicted.

I wanted to experience the romantic life in France. Suddenly, she said, "Find a French boyfriend and experience it. Or maybe we shouldn't come back to China and just stay here. Or maybe you shouldn't go back either, and after I've experienced the French, we can get married and live together in France."

"Are you crazy? I'm your brother!

You're not my biological brother, and my mom quite likes you. It's a pity you're with my sister, otherwise I would have been with you. Am I prettier than my sister?" Hehe.

After saying that, she wiggled her hips seductively at me, then smiled cutely and took her clothes into the bathroom. Her words immediately made me decide. She was just an ordinary girl, just like any other girl to me. I quickly dried my hands. As soon as she closed the bathroom door, she turned off the living room light. A faint, radiating beam of light immediately shone from the bathroom door lock.

After the sound of a plastic bag inside, I heard the toilet seat being lowered. I stood in the doorway, looking at that wicked little eye—she was truly wicked! I gritted my teeth and squatted down.

At first, I didn't dare get too close, but I could vaguely see someone moving around in the keyhole. I slowly pressed my eye to the keyhole, gently resting my glasses against the metal panel of the lock, making only a very slight sound. She was taking off her clothes with her back to the door, placing them one by one on the toilet seat to the left. The sound I heard earlier was from her lowering the toilet seat to put the clothes down.

My bathroom isn't as well-designed as C's, haha, from a voyeuristic perspective, it's not.

Pulling the bathroom door open, there's a large mirror mounted on the inside, about 60 centimeters high. I usually use this as a full-length mirror with the door open. Directly opposite the door is a small sink with a small mirror on it. Unlike C's, where the toilet is directly opposite the door. To the left of the sink is the toilet, and to the right is the shower stall, just a small table with a curtain drawn.

When I looked inside, she had already taken off her trousers, revealing a large cartoon rabbit holding a toilet plunger printed on the back of her underwear, which made me both laugh and cry. Then she took off her shirt; I could only see her lower back. A few seconds later, she quickly pulled the cartoon rabbit off. She revealed her very white, large buttocks. Actually, her buttocks weren't very big, but she had a bit of baby fat, the kind of cute plumpness, so there were two dimples on the upper sides of her buttocks. I don't know the academic term, but those two small fleshy indentations really looked like dimples, very cute. Her skin was very white, a kind of pearly white.

Because her buttocks were a bit chubby, I couldn't see her genitals from behind. I was expecting her to turn around, but to my disappointment, she went straight to the right into the shower room. She pulled the curtain, and the sound of rushing water came out. I stood up with regret and a sense of unfulfilled desire. Only then did I realize that her little penis was quite obedient this time, curled up without any reaction.

I turned on the light with a low mood, tidied up the things on the living room floor and piled them up, slowly unfolded the small, worn-out sofa, folded the sheets that had been changed earlier in the inner room and put them back on, and took out the sleeping bag, opened it and threw it on the sofa. Lying on the sofa, which was a bit small, I could vaguely feel my bottom touching the ground. Looking at the energy-saving light bulb above, I felt a wave of frustration. It seemed yesterday's 40 euro investment had gone down the drain. I hadn't properly researched the investment environment beforehand; I could only blame myself for investing blindly. It was like a penniless bourgeois trying to be sophisticated, skipping cheap hotels and insisting on spending extra money for a room with a view. Now, the money was gone, and I hadn't seen any view at all. I even considered taking the lock off the door tomorrow and returning it to the hotel for a refund.

The sound of water inside stopped. I got up from the sofa bed and squatted again by the bathroom door, wanting to confirm if my investment had completely failed.

A moment later, the shower curtain was suddenly pulled open. A white, plump bottom appeared before my eyes again. The bottom was beautiful, but 40 euros—wasn't that a bit too expensive? She had already dried herself and was standing in front of the sink, making a slapping sound—probably applying some skincare product to her face. I stared at those two dimples on her bottom for two minutes, but nothing new happened. I decided to call it a day. Just then, she slowly turned around, her lower body directly in my eyes!

I stared wide-eyed, and my hand, which was bracing against the doorframe, went limp. With a thud, my forehead slammed hard against the door. The sound startled me, and I instinctively sat back on the floor. I heard her shout from inside, "What are you doing?!"

I

sat on the floor, terrified. She was still yelling, "I'm asking you! Where are you?" Sitting on the floor, one hand still bracing against the sofa mattress, I answered her in a voice so loud it almost floated, "Making up the sofa bed!"

"Oh, I thought you were tearing the house down!" Hearing her reply, I breathed a sigh of relief, wiping away nonexistent cold sweat, and asked, "What are you doing?" As soon as I said that, I froze. Damn it, she was taking a shower! What was there to ask? Luckily, I didn't ask, "What are you doing behind the door?" "

I'm done showering, putting on a face mask." Listen. She deliberately slapped her face, making a "slap slap" sound.

No wonder she turned around; she was doing her face mask in front of the large mirror behind the door. I composed myself and quietly climbed to the doorway to stick the mask on.

I couldn't believe my eyes—Little K had no pubic hair! A multitude of words flashed through my mind: bald, rare, bad luck for husbands, underdeveloped…

I remembered reading an erotic novel where the author said he had slept with countless women, hundreds of prostitutes, and had never seen a truly bald woman; the occasional one was artificially created. Little K couldn't have shaved it herself, could she?

Not even 20 years old, no boyfriend yet, why would she shave her pubic hair?

In the less than ten minutes she was wearing a face mask, I probably didn't blink once. What kind of pubic area was that? I guess only one in a thousand, one in ten thousand women don't have pubic hair, right? I suddenly remembered the email my girlfriend sent me. I said I wanted to pick up a guy, and she confidently said, "Go for it if you dare!" So that's what she meant! I suddenly understood. Then she couldn't have shaved it herself. Isn't it said that anyone who sleeps with a pubic hair (unlike a male prostitute) will either die or be seriously injured? I'm a little scared. But I've never heard of looking at a pubic hair being unlucky.

In the limited time I had, I carefully examined this pubic area less than 20cm away from me. It seemed to have hair, albeit downy, but noticeably longer and darker than the surrounding hair. Although most of them were less than half a centimeter long, there were no more than ten small, straight hairs, nearly a centimeter long, near the small slit of the pubic area. So, it couldn't be considered a pubic hair area. Before I could even savor it, she turned away, playfully presenting her white buttocks to my face.

She bent over and washed her face at the sink. Needless to say, this was my only chance to observe her vulva. I gripped the doorframe with both hands, my nose and one side of my face pressed tightly against it. It was exactly like the so-called "young and beautiful vulva" I'd seen online—practically no pigmentation at all, only slightly yellowish compared to the white buttocks next to it. Perhaps the pores there were larger, causing a different reflection of light and creating a visual color difference. Her

vulva resembled a white steamed bun with a slit in the middle, the labia minora only peeking out slightly, the entire vulva tightly closed, not a single noticeable hair visible. Unfortunately, her anus, which must have been equally beautiful, wasn't showing at all.

Little K was startled when she came out of the bathroom. I was lying on the sofa bed looking at my computer, and the sofa bed was right across the bathroom doorway. When she pushed the door open, she brought out a pleasant scent, which I took as the scent of a virgin. She stepped on my butt and said, "Poor thing, you're so kind to me. Why don't you come and squeeze in with me?"

I didn't even look up and said, "No need, you should rest. You must be exhausted." I thought to myself, "How can I be considered a 90% white tiger? I don't have that kind of inner strength to fight you; besides, if my girlfriend finds out, she'll definitely find out too, and she'll make Little K's mom cut me up."

Little K was very touched and immediately straddled my waist, saying, "You're so kind, let me give you a massage." She pretended to massage me a couple of times and then got up. She yawned and got onto the small bed in the inner room, and less than five minutes later, she was snoring softly.

I rolled over and lay down, wondering why Little JJ hadn't gotten up even once tonight. Maybe it was also deeply ashamed of not being a green dragon, hiding in its fur, too embarrassed to come out. Although I was a little sleepy, it was still early, and I didn't want to sleep yet

.

I carried my laptop into the inner room, placed it on the small desk, and opened MSN to chat. Little K was sleeping soundly beside me. She was wearing Disney-themed pajama bottoms and a large white t-shirt with three Mickey Mouse sons printed on the left chest. It was still quite warm, so she wasn't covered by a blanket, only a corner draped over her stomach, her legs spread wide open like a little child.

I sat on the folding chair, watching her with mixed feelings. Her little face was rosy, actually not small, just a bit childlike, with fine downy hairs on her cheeks, like fuzzy peaches, glowing red from within, very tender and delicate. Her hair was messily scattered on her forehead. Her eyelashes were long, somewhat like those of the female Mickey Mouse in Disney movies, if I remember correctly. Her lips were slightly parted, occasionally trembling slightly. I really, really wanted to kiss her. Of course, I wasn't that bold.

As she lay there, her nipples were clearly visible beneath her white t-shirt. Even lying down, the outline of her breasts was still discernible—they were very well-developed! Why wasn't her lower body developed? I just couldn't understand it.

Suddenly, my laptop made a loud noise, startling me. I turned my head and saw it was a friend sending me a ringtone on MSN. I quickly turned off the computer sound, but the ringtone still woke Xiao K up. Luckily, she lazily rolled over and said, "Bro, aren't you going to sleep yet?" Then she fell silent. Her turn revealed the middle part of her white t-shirt tucked into her cleavage—and they were really quite large! At least a B cup, if not a C. Sigh, typical uneven development!

I turned back to email my girlfriend. I had already called Xiao K's mom from a public phone booth at the airport using my Chinese SIM card to let her know I was safe, but I hadn't told my girlfriend yet. I briefly described the day's events, even praising Xiao K like a Sailor Moon. He shamelessly said that he would sleep with her that night and would definitely let her experience what it's like to be a woman, and other such lewd things. Since my girlfriend and I had basically never successfully enjoyed intimacy back in China, I would often arrogantly boast that I would force myself on her or want to sleep with some other beautiful woman. My girlfriend knew that I was just being sarcastic and never got angry. Sometimes she would even give me suggestions on how to do it. We would often hug and laugh happily about this. I know that my girlfriend is still immature sexually, but she is indeed a very good girl, as considerate and understanding as my little tank top.

Tonight I slept very well, without fantasizing about anyone as usual, and without playing with my penis. I thought about the plans for the next few days and then went to sleep. I did sleep very little last night.

At 6 a.m., I was woken up by Xiao K. She went to the bathroom and got water, walking back and forth beside my head. I could feel the wind blowing my hair as she walked. As she walked past me again, I suddenly grabbed her ankle, startling her. She laughed and squatted down to playfully hit me. I pulled her away, and she casually sat on the edge of the sofa bed, patting my face and saying, "Brother, your snoring is so loud, it's comparable to my dad's!" Luckily, I'm immune to it, or I'd go crazy. "Get up, get up!"

she said, pinching my cheek. "Your face is so oily, I can't even pinch it!" She then scratched my stomach and waist with her other hand, trying to tickle me. Instinctively, I bent over to avoid her hand. But this movement caused her hand, which was scratching my stomach, to grab my erect penis firmly. Before she could react, she turned her head away and immediately flung her hand away, turning back with a flushed face, saying, "Get up!" and then got up and went into the bathroom. It felt like I had deliberately shoved my penis into her hand, which made me quite embarrassed.

While she was in the bathroom, I went on MSN to chat with my girlfriend. As soon as she saw me online at work, she texted me, "Did you have a good time last night?"

I said, "Yeah, it was amazing! Several times!"

She asked again, "How was it? Anything special?"

I said it was very exciting, she's really good, her breasts are huge, her butt is super soft, and she's super tight down there!"

She continued, "What else is special?

Women are all pretty much the same, what else could be special? Like, maybe she has an extra pair of breasts?"

She sent a smiley face and said, "You silly girl, you're fantasizing again! Don't think I don't know, you're so timid! I still trust you, you definitely didn't do anything to her."

Hearing this, I knew my girlfriend knew that Xiao K had relatively little pubic hair. She was trying to test me with this, haha, she only knew she was a "white tiger" after we slept together!

I dropped Xiao K off at the Louvre entrance to queue, gave her a few instructions, and then went to school. She'd have enough time to shop around for most of the day; I had two classes at school, and attendance was taken. I wanted to pass all my exams in my first year, so I couldn't miss too many classes.

I'd pick her up at 6 pm to go home. After picking Xiao K up on the afternoon of the

20th

, we took the subway for a few stops to see the Arc de Triomphe. Walking hand-in-hand with her on the Champs-élysées, I felt warm inside, and also a little proud. Walking with a girl like Xiao K on the street, I felt a bit proud. It would be great if we could run into someone I knew. But Xiao K didn't think that way. She kept showing me this handsome guy, that handsome guy, as if I wasn't a man, completely disregarding my feelings. So I retaliated by showing her foreign girls, constantly comparing them to her. "This one has bigger breasts than you, this one has a better figure, that one's a real woman, or maybe her waist is thinner than yours." Even when I saw a Japanese woman, who seemed utterly unremarkable, I'd say, "Don't judge a book by its cover, she's got great taste in men, and she's really good in that area!" This

really made K so angry she shook off my hand and walked away.

I used the same tricks I used to use to coax my girlfriends, catching up to her, placing my hand on her waist and showering her with sweet words, ending with, "Let me treat you to Western food." This time she grabbed my arm, beaming like a flower, "I love Western food!"

I pointed to a large "M" sign and cautiously asked, "McDonald's isn't Chinese food, is it?"

Her mouth twisted with anger.

When she stormed to the McDonald's, I grabbed her hand and rushed across the street as the pedestrian light turned green. I knew that on this street, besides burger and fries shops, only this one chain restaurant called Leon from Brussels was affordable for me.

The meal cost 35 euros for two people, plus two glasses of red wine. Little K ate very well, her cheeks flushed as she looked at me, saying she wished she could be with me like this every day. Damn it, I thought to myself, if it were like this every day, I'd be bankrupt and have to go back to China in less than six months; if it were like this every day, my dad would beat my leg into nunchucks; if it were like this every day, my girlfriend would be devastated…

I couldn't encourage this kind of thinking in the little girl, especially her wicked thoughts about me. I immediately told her about the stress of studying in France, the difficulty of the exams, the horror of the proctors; then the trivialities of life, the burden of expenses, the expectations of my family; finally, I specifically mentioned my girlfriend and our strong relationship.

She immediately deflated. On the way home, she kept sighing. She asked me what I would do going to Lyon alone.

But before we even got home, she forgot everything, happily saying she would definitely treat me to dinner tomorrow and asked me to find a place. Sigh, she really won't shed a tear until she sees the coffin.

After getting home, Xiao K wanted to write an email to a classmate, probably wanting to show off by posting some photos she'd taken the past couple of days. I went to take a shower first. While showering, I remembered that Xiao K would be coming to shower again soon, and my penis, which hadn't been used for days, immediately became erect. Since I'd already set a rule for myself—absolutely no messing around with Xiao K—it was understandable to glance at her a few times. But I couldn't just keep looking at her white butt! If some girl came over later, this 40-euro door lock couldn't just be a place for me to see her butt.

As I dried myself off, I looked around the small bathroom, which was only a little over one square meter, with my erect penis. There was no vent, and the bottom of the door had only a gap of about one centimeter, so it was impossible for her to see through. Even sticking a small mirror in wouldn't work; the door was a bit thick and wouldn't reflect anything. Actually, all I needed was a small, rotatable camera like those used by special forces in movies, but that would be a huge investment! So, the only way to see through was through the keyhole. But I couldn't exactly move the toilet to face the door lock, could I? There was no other way. Staring at the long mirror behind the door, I came up with a last resort.

I took down the small mirror hanging above the sink, and then, holding a few plastic bottles like shampoo and soap dishes, I gently tossed them all from about half a meter above the sink to the ground. With a loud crash, the small mirror shattered into three pieces.

"What happened? What happened?" came Xiao K's worried voice from outside. She quickly knocked on the door and asked, "What's wrong, brother?"

I pulled on my shorts and opened the door, shirtless. She seemed a little embarrassed to see me shirtless. I pretended to cover my chest with a towel and said, "I was trying to wipe the moisture off the mirror, and I accidentally knocked it down." "

Is the person alright? Did they get scratched?" She was quite concerned about me. It made me feel embarrassed about my own clumsiness. "

It's okay, it's okay, I was quick. Don't worry, I'll clean it up. You go to the internet cafe." Seeing that she didn't suspect anything, I was quite pleased with this small investment. Because I knew that such a mirror only cost a few euros.

Okay, be careful not to cut yourself. After saying that, she ripped the towel off my chest and said, "What are you covering yourself with? There's nothing there!"

After I finished cleaning up and made sure there was no broken glass on the floor, I called to her, "You can take a shower now." She had just sent out a very long email to a group and stood up to find some clean clothes.

After she went into the bathroom, I waited for about two minutes, figuring she wouldn't come out again because she realized she'd forgotten something. Then I turned off the living room light and squatted in front of the "evil cave."

Butt, another butt! It immediately reminded me of throwing knives, another throwing knife. I guessed

she'd go into the shower after that, and I was just about to rest and wait for her to put on her face mask before checking on her again, when she suddenly turned around—brushing her teeth! She was brushing her teeth in front of the mirror! I'm so clever, small investment, big return!

I guess she was examining something on her face while brushing her teeth.

The few pubic hairs were flattened and lay above her clitoris, and I could vaguely see a small fleshy part above the slit that looked like the clitoris, but it was too tightly tucked in. The keyhole was on one side of the mirror, and if she stood too close, I could only see one side of her hip. So my optimal viewing distance was about 30 centimeters. Getting closer would give me a clearer view, but it would be more difficult, and I'd have to tilt my head to look.

As she faced the sink, she would occasionally bend over to rinse her mouth. I seized those brief seconds to properly admire her fair vulva from behind. She was as beautiful as a little girl. How wonderful it would be to bury my face in it! Thinking of this, my penis finally managed to lift its head a little. But to be honest, even if she were lying naked in front of me, I wouldn't sleep with her. There were too many reasons. Even disregarding the issue of her being a virgin, and her mother's scissors, she was still a virgin. I couldn't just sleep with her and then forget about it. Moreover, I had already begun to like this little girl from the bottom of my heart; therefore, I never wanted to use the unlucky term "white tiger" to describe Xiao K.

After all, someone with a few pubic hairs can't be considered a "white tiger."

For the next three days, I made good use of the opportunity I got from breaking the small mirror to thoroughly appreciate Xiao K's genitals, and it was no exaggeration to describe it as pleasing to the eye. Although I still prefer girls with some dark pubic hair, as that makes it look like a proper lower body and arouses sexual desire, I extremely cherished this rare opportunity to see Xiao K's lower body. I thought that I would never have such an opportunity again, and that such a lower body could definitely be called a work of art.

Works of art are not to be defiled, so despite seeing Xiao K's lower body so many times, I never masturbated. The

day after I returned from Italy, after seeing her off in the car that was picking her up, I felt rather complicated. There wasn't a trace of love, not even any real affection, but just days before they'd been all lovey-dovey, and now they were like two people at the end of the road – it just felt strange. Actually, women are better at separating love and sex than men. When men and women without feelings have sex, men often develop a lot of dependence, but women are different. Once they know there's no future, they cut ties very decisively in their hearts.

Luckily, I had Xiao K at home, which quickly helped me temporarily shake off my unwarranted melancholy. Every day after class, I hummed a little tune on my way home, imagining the delicious abalone I'd be enjoying that night. Before I knew it, Xiao K had been staying with me for five days. On the sixth day, I had no choice but to skip class again to pick up Xiao K's classmate, whom I'd never met before, from the airport. Xiao K said early in the morning that she had a stomachache and needed to pack her luggage, so she told me to go to the airport

alone, saying we'd talk about it after I brought her home. Actually, I didn't want Xiao K to come along. A round-trip airport ticket costs over ten euros; if she came with me, I'd have to pay! I'm such a calculating person! Besides, Xiao K wouldn't be able to carry any luggage. I'd rather pack at home and we could just put them on the train together in the evening. There are plenty of trains to Lyon; it only takes two hours, so there's no rush.

I didn't have a picture of Xiao K, so I printed out an A4 sheet welcoming Xiao Q and waited at the airport passenger exit.

I wondered if she might be a dinosaur from the north. Many girls' eyes lingered briefly on my A4 paper, but none of them did. When a chubby girl (nicknamed "Fat Dinosaur") walked towards it, I almost wanted to run away. Luckily, she squinted at the words on it, looked closer, and then walked away.

Just as my heart was pounding, a long-haired, curly-haired woman with glasses pushed a cart towards me with a polite smile. Because of the chubby girl, I thought she was a beauty, an intellectual beauty, but she didn't look like she was only a year or two older than Xiao K; she looked like she was two years older than me, probably because of her hairstyle.

I grabbed the cart and asked if she was Xiao Q. Xiao K was tidying up at home; I was her cousin. She said she'd heard Xiao K mention she had a cousin in Paris. She thanked me politely. She took something out of her pocket and clipped her hair back, then walked beside me carrying a small bag.

As I introduced her to France, regardless of how much she knew, I first reminded her of many things to be careful about in France, and even added, "A pretty girl like you needs to be extra careful when you're alone."

I'm the type to occasionally add a few flattering remarks like that, subtly ingratiating myself. Less than half an hour later, before we even got home, we were chatting away. Especially on the subway, when we were talking face-to-face, she was practically gesturing wildly, having completely forgotten the intellectual air she projected with her frameless glasses. Chatting with girls like this is basically one of my specialties. I also pretend to be quiet but thoughtful. Before we even got off the subway, she had already asked for my phone number. After

taking a second look at her on the subway, I realized she was just average-looking, nowhere near as attractive as Xiao K. When I asked, she was three years younger than me, but looked about my age. I had to insincerely compliment her, saying that if it weren't for her hairstyle, I would have thought she was a high school graduate! She even went so far as to say that I looked too young, so I got a more mature hairstyle to make myself appear more grown-up.

Sigh, if she were a high school graduate, my little K would still be in elementary school!

No matter how much you style your hair, you can't fake maturity. Without me even asking, she gave a very detailed self-introduction. She dropped out of university in China after only two years. Mainly due to precocious puberty, she started dating in high school. She was originally in the top three of her class (that's what she said, and she didn't seem like it), but her grades plummeted, and she only got into a third-rate university. She even managed to get the boy from the next class into a vocational college. Luckily, they both got into universities in the same city, and they rented an apartment together in their second year. But her mother found out soon enough that she was still with that good-for-nothing, and tricked her into coming to France with the promise of a wonderful life, breaking up the young couple. But judging from her tone, she seemed relieved; that guy didn't seem like someone you could rely on for life either.

Her family was well-off, but her mother still hoped she would bring a foreign son-in-law home. Seeing this, I immediately said, "Don't rush. A pretty and sensible girl like you doesn't need to look around. French guys will definitely come looking for you. Take your time choosing." When we got to her apartment building, I saw her 30 kilograms of luggage and asked if she wanted to leave it downstairs while I went up to carry Xiao K's luggage down so we could take a taxi to the train station for dinner and then buy train tickets, saving her the trouble of carrying it up and down again.

She actually said that the friend who was supposed to pick her up in Lyon was in Marseille tonight and had an internship interview tomorrow morning, so she wouldn't be back in Lyon until tomorrow afternoon to pick them up and take them to their accommodation. Could she share the night with Xiao K tonight?

I was speechless. I'd miss my class again tomorrow morning! Lately, when I've been at school, those girls have already thought something was wrong with me; it's like I'm the one who's supposed to be skipping classes. I can't skip anymore, or I won't graduate!

I had to pretend to be very welcoming and say, "Great! Two beautiful girls are staying at my place tonight. But don't worry, I'll sleep in the living room." I guess she's already taken me for a new good guy, haha.

I used the intercom to grab Xiao K's bag, but when she came down, she hugged and chatted with Xiao Q very affectionately, then said she had a stomachache and actually pulled Xiao Q upstairs by herself. I had to carry one bag on my back and lift the other up myself.

In the evening, I ordered a pizza for two. I originally called the store to have it delivered, but the clerk said there was a buy-one-get-one-free promotion if I picked it up myself. I thought I could get a little bargain again, so I told the two girls who were chatting enthusiastically that I was going downstairs to buy pizza. Xiao K happily said that since I wasn't leaving until tomorrow, we should have some red wine together tonight, since it was the first time I'd met Sister Q!

Ugh! I should have known better than to go downstairs to take advantage of that free pizza, and I also had to buy red wine. I went downstairs feeling depressed. While waiting for the pizza, I bought two bottles of red wine for a little over three euros at a nearby Arab-owned grocery store.

Unexpectedly, the two girls had an amazing appetite today. They quickly finished two pizzas for two and went down a bottle of red wine in no time. To encourage Xiao Q to take better care of Xiao K in the future, I toasted with Xiao Q twice and exchanged many polite words. Xiao Q kept praising me in front of Xiao K, saying how lucky she was to have a brother like me. Xiao K, emboldened by the alcohol, hugged and kissed me.

At Xiao K's request, we opened a second bottle, but she only drank one glass before becoming a little sluggish. Xiao Q, however, seemed perfectly fine, her face only slightly flushed. We each poured a full glass and then plugged the remaining half-bottle with the cork.

After finishing the pizza, Xiao K also felt unwell and went to bed without saying much. I told Xiao Q, "Go take a shower and rest; I'll take care of everything." Actually, after drinking half a bottle of red wine, I had already started eyeing Xiao Q, especially when Xiao K went into the room to sleep. I thought, "I can feast my eyes again."

But Xiao Q said, "You go first, I need to look for something in the closet. I don't know where I put my change of clothes." I quickly tidied up the small table, grabbed my pajama bottoms, and went into the bathroom, thinking, "Whether you shower early or late, I'm going to keep watching you."

While showering, I imagined what Xiao Q's genitals looked like. I guessed they were quite fertile; she'd been living with her boyfriend for a year, so she must be a mature woman by now. She wore frameless glasses, probably just to appear demure. These days, most women wear contacts. If she let loose, she'd be incredibly sexy. Xiao JJ was also actively participating in this fantasy, full of life.

After drying myself, I bent down to pick up the socks I'd taken off before showering, intending to lather them with soap.

As I bent down, I suddenly noticed two motionless dark figures peeking through the crack in the door, just a centimeter away. I paused, then carefully lay down on the damp floor, peering through the crack. Two knee-sized things… Could it be…?

I stood up, placed one hand on the light switch, and rested my head against the keyhole. I turned the bathroom light off for a second and then immediately turned it back on. In that brief second of darkness, I quickly glanced at the keyhole and then looked away.

Against the bright light of the living room, I clearly saw an eye in the keyhole! The feeling of

a

man discovering he's being spied on while naked is completely different from a woman's; it's even a little bit of a sense of accomplishment. I was extremely happy; I never thought someone would look at my figure. I couldn't let that little q's hard work lying there go to waste; I know how hard it is to lie there, haha.

Actually, if you want to see, just tell me. You can look however you want, why bother like this? I thought to myself happily. I decided to put on a good show.

First, I put the socks in the sink. I was originally planning to wash them with the soap on the side, but now I deliberately bent down and grabbed some laundry detergent from the bottom of the sink. The bending process was very slow, so that my hairy butt crack and testicles were perfectly aligned with the keyhole. I even spread my legs slightly to make it easier for her to observe. Sigh, it's actually more convenient to squat down to get the laundry detergent. I really went to great lengths!

I stuck my butt out for about half a minute, and I also took the opportunity to look down between my legs to observe the crack in the door. Sure enough, the shadow was still there; I shouldn't perform like an idiot by myself without an audience. But Little Q is still dumber than me. She didn't even know to turn off the living room light. She's also braver than me. Little K is sleeping in the inner room. She might suddenly wake up at any time to go to the toilet or get a drink of water. This woman, when she gets horny, is far more ruthless than a man.

She straightened up and finished washing the socks; then, repeating the same trick, she bent down again to grab laundry detergent and wash her underwear as well, hanging them all on the clothes rack beside her. Foreplay complete, now for the exciting part. I turned around and positioned my penis less than fifteen centimeters from the keyhole, and started masturbating. In no time, my penis, which had shrunk by half while washing clothes, was erect. As I masturbated, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, my eyes were fixed on the two faint shadows beneath the crack in the door, imagining her kneeling outside, her hands braced against the doorframe. That feeling was definitely more thrilling than peeping at her.

To satisfy the audience's needs, I kept changing angles, showing my penis to Xiao Q from the front and side. I even lifted it up and touched my testicles, basically just holding them up in my hand for her to see. I also touched my penis with both hands, probably making her aroused and wet. But with Xiao K there, I definitely couldn't have sex with her. And if I did, her attitude towards me would definitely change. If Xiao K found out, he would be very unhappy and would definitely tell my girlfriend. It wasn't worth offending Xiao K and my girlfriend for a woman like that.

With the dual stimulation of my hand and that eye, my penis became very hard. I added some water and shampoo to the glans, creating some foam, and quickly made a splashing sound as I moved my penis up and down. I could almost hear Xiao q's panting outside the door. The urge to ejaculate came quickly, and my glans was swollen and red like an egg. Just then, my head throbbed, and another wicked idea popped into my head. I immediately stopped.

I turned around, cleaned myself in the sink, put on my t-shirt, and went back to the door lock. I held my penis less than 5 centimeters from the keyhole, alternating between my hands, performing a performance of moving it around. At the same time, I quietly pulled up my sweatpants, up to my knees.

Then, while vigorously masturbating with one hand, I lightly placed the other on the doorknob, leaning my shoulder against the door.

Suddenly, I lifted the doorknob upwards, using my shoulder to forcefully but not too quickly push the bathroom door open. I felt the door being blocked by something solid for a moment before I continued to push it open forcefully. Then, I quickly pulled up my pants, which were stuck at my knees, and walked out of the bathroom as if nothing had happened.

Haha. It was Xiao Q, sitting awkwardly on the floor after being slammed in the door. Her glasses were so badly knocked off that only one was hanging from her ear. She was propping herself up with one hand, rubbing her forehead, which must have hurt terribly, her skirt was pulled up to her thighs, and her face was even redder than when she was drinking. She managed to say one word, "I…", but couldn't finish. Her nervous expression made me feel a surge of joy. Pretending not to notice anything, I quickly knelt down and gently helped her put her glasses back on her nose. I gently removed her hand from her forehead, rubbed it a couple of times, and said apologetically, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were at the door."

She was so embarrassed she couldn't say a word, not even daring to look up. Taking one of her hands and placing the other on her waist, I helped her up. I let go, looked at her forehead, and said, "Thank goodness, you're not disfigured, otherwise I'd be in big trouble." Hearing this, she gave an awkward laugh and said, "It's okay, how could I let you take responsibility? Xiao K would kill me!"

The atmosphere improved a bit. Seeing the pajamas she'd found on her suitcase, I said, "I'm going online for a bit, you go take a shower." She obediently said "Okay" and went to get her clothes. I went straight into the inner room and sat down at the computer.

Little K had fallen asleep without changing her clothes, and I figured it wasn't convenient to help her change, so I put her legs, which were draped over the edge of the bed, on top of them and covered her with a blanket. Seeing Little Q go into the bathroom, I kissed Little K's rosy, fuzzy cheek. She didn't react at all, sleeping soundly.

After browsing the internet for a while and writing two emails, I heard the water in the bathroom stop. I immediately grabbed a bottle of Centrum vitamins from the side and placed it near Little K's feet on the side of her bed, closed the door, and came out. Now it was my turn to check on Little Q.

Of course, I didn't forget to turn off the living room light. Even when doing something naughty, you have to use your brain, after all, a bad guy isn't the same as a fool.

The shower curtain was pulled back. After what had just happened, I was much more cautious this time. I didn't press my face against the door to look through the keyhole; instead, I stepped back about a meter and sat on the small, worn sofa, watching the keyhole and the crack in the door from a distance.

First, I saw Xiao Q's shadow walk to the door through the crack. Then, I saw some part of her body moving through the keyhole, like her buttocks or hip. A few seconds later, an eye suddenly appeared in the keyhole. Haha, I guessed right! Xiao Q is really funny. It's pitch black outside, what can you see? I looked into her eyes from a meter away, amused. She hadn't noticed me peeking; I wondered if she was a little disappointed.

When she realized there was nothing suspicious and straightened up to do something inside, I quietly climbed from the sofa to the bathroom door, carefully pressed my eye against it, and listened to the sounds coming from inside. If Xiao Q woke up, Jin Shierkang would call the police.

After seeing Xiao Q through the keyhole, I actually regretted a little that I hadn't taken advantage of her earlier.

Xiao Q wasn't particularly attractive, and even looked a bit older than her age, but she had a really good figure. She was about the same height as Xiao K, but without much excess fat; her waist was very slim, and her buttocks were slightly perky. Her pubic hair was fairly standard, not large in area, but very dense and dark. The hair was also quite long, and after a shower, a small patch of shiny black forest stood upright, which looked quite interesting from the side. Because her pubic hair was relatively concentrated, and she was also quite thin, her thighs weren't as tightly closed as Xiao K's, so from the front, you could see a fairly clean pubic area. Xiao Q's labia weren't too big or too small, just slightly peeking out, and the color was a bit dark. I didn't know if it was because her skin wasn't very fair, or if she had done too much sex. After seeing W's genitals, I knew that pubic color didn't have much to do with how much sex she had; there's no comparison between people. But for the same person, the more sex she had, the darker the color would become, that's a fact.

Her buttocks were alright, not very white, but still quite firm, slightly upturned, and rather alluring. I imagine it would be really enjoyable to fuck her while watching her buttocks from behind. Little QQ didn't seem to be wearing a face mask, so she didn't spend much time in front of the mirror, but she brushed her teeth for quite a while. Although she didn't bend over much while brushing her teeth, just leaning her head a little closer to the sink, that small bending over still exposed quite a bit of her labia majora. The color was much darker than the surrounding skin, especially her labia minora, which weren't very exposed, but were quite dark. There were some hairs on her labia majora, not many, but rather long, extending down to just below her anus. Unfortunately, she didn't bend over enough, so I could only tell that her anus was also quite dark, but I couldn't see it clearly. Although she later used laundry detergent from under the sink to wash clothes, she didn't do it in such an exaggerated way as I did; she squatted down to get it, so I didn't get a chance to observe her dark anus again.

To avoid a repeat of Xiao q's embarrassing situation, I stopped and went back to the inner room as soon as I saw her start getting dressed. When Xiao q came into the room, I was at the table, seriously surfing the internet.

After her shower, she looked a bit fairer, and her wet, curly hair looked quite nice. As soon as she entered the room, I stood up, intending to let her go to sleep.

She said, "No rush, no rush, you go online, I don't want to sleep right now." I said, "Even if you don't want to sleep, you can lie down and rest for a while. You're jet-lagged, you'll get sleepy soon."

As I walked out of the small room, I complimented her, saying, "You look quite pretty after your shower." She scoffed, "You're not pretty if you don't shower, are you?" "

Pretty, pretty, but you're even prettier with wet hair," I teased her, then closed the door and went to the living room.

The next morning, I was sprawled out on the sofa with one leg on the floor when I was woken by the sound of water running from Xiao K's shower. When I opened my eyes, I saw Xiao Q boiling water on the kitchen stove near my feet. She was staring at my sweatpants, which were bulging with morning erection, while waiting for the water to boil. My opening startled her, and she immediately looked away to find a cup.

In the afternoon, after buying tickets at the train station and loading our luggage onto the train, which still had a while before departure, they both came down to the platform to say goodbye. Xiao K hugged me tightly and said, "You must come to see me and Sister Q!" I said, "I definitely will, and you will definitely come to Paris often." Then I said to Xiao Q, "You're welcome to come see me again next time." I emphasized the word "see" a little more. Xiao Q's face seemed to turn slightly red, as if she was implying, "If I come to see you again, will you really welcome me?"

I smiled and said, "Of course, just like when you came to see me yesterday." Xiao Q really blushed and subconsciously touched her forehead.

Xiao K chimed in, "Of course my brother welcomes you! He's been saying how pretty you are this morning!" I gritted my teeth inwardly, thinking, "What nonsense is that brat talking about? When did I ever say she was pretty?" Of course, I didn't say that out loud. But Xiao K was overjoyed to see me staring at her intently. Finally,

there

was someone else at home, she could sleep in her own little bed, and she could go to school on time again. To make a good impression on my teachers, I asked one or two questions after almost every class. French teachers usually left as soon as class ended, but I was still eager to seize every opportunity to ask. Fortunately, the teachers were all very enthusiastic and patiently explained things to me in detail in the hallway or office. Although I didn't really understand their explanations, I still nodded frequently to show that I understood. Sigh, it was all to become a familiar face so it would be easier to talk to them during exams.

My normal days didn't last long. One day in class, an unfamiliar number called my phone. It looked familiar, but I didn't have that person in my contacts. I didn't answer. After class, as I walked towards the subway station, I dialed the number back. It was a girl's voice. "It's L." "

Which L?" I couldn't recognize the voice. I searched my memory but couldn't recall. "

The one who sold you a lot of things, like microwaves and stuff." "Don't you remember?" "

I remember, I remember now." "How are things going? Enjoying the scenery at the beach every day, huh?" I was very surprised that she would call me. It had been almost a month since I bought things from her, and I hadn't contacted her since.

"No, I'm still in Paris." She sounded very dejected. I couldn't quite remember what she looked like anymore, but I remembered her as a very sunny and lively person. I quickly tried to comfort her, "What's wrong? Are you reluctant to leave Paris?"

Apparently, after learning she'd been accepted by the school, she was packing her things in Paris while contacting friends there to help her find an apartment. She was also trying to find someone to fill her current place here. She'd been waiting for almost a month without receiving a confirmation letter from the school. When she called again, they said they'd already sent it, registration was over, and classes had been going on for over ten days. Because she hadn't registered, her place had been taken. With no other option, she went through a lot of trouble and transferred back to her original school in Paris. She only finished the paperwork for her new school yesterday. "

If I can't go, I'll just stay in Paris and try again next year," I offered a simple word of comfort, still not understanding why she'd called me. "

I'm staying where I used to be," she continued, sounding a little hesitant. "So, so…"

I wondered if she wanted me to be her brother, to take care of her and comfort her? I didn't have time for that. I waited for her to continue.

She cautiously asked me, "So, could you give me back everything I sold you?"

My legs went weak!

It wasn't about the money; just thinking about how many times she'd climbed up and down her seven-story building without an elevator—it was terrifying! And carrying it all back up was even worse! I flatly refused her request, saying that everything was already used and had become part of my collection; it was practically worn and dirty.

She wasn't angry, though, and said, "I knew you'd refuse. I gave you so much stuff, and you're so stingy. I treated you like a brother. Fine, forget it. Do you think I'm blind?" She hung up!

I panicked immediately. She'd never said that to me before. I yelled into the phone, "Don't hang up! Don't hang up!" Then I explained to her that it was just too much trouble to move everything. She said that she'd spent two years buying everything herself, carrying it all up to the seventh floor by herself. Buying new things would be expensive, and she couldn't carry so much stuff all at once.

Hearing her pitiful story, my heart softened, and I told her, "Forget it, I've already used everything so much, I won't return it. You can buy new ones yourself, and I'll pay a third of the price, okay?" She thought for a moment and said a fifth would be fine. I thought, "You're quite polite," and said, "It's settled then."

She added, "But you need to help me move them."

Of course, I refused, but she said again, "If you help me move them, you can come to my house for half a month's meals." I did the math: there's a direct subway line from her house to mine, so it won't take long without transfers, and eating there for half a month would save money, plus I wouldn't have to buy or cook for myself. What a bargain!

We agreed, and I'd go this weekend.

The main items I needed were the microwave, table, chair, lamp, and printer. I could return any other small items I didn't need from my house. It wasn't much, but on Saturday, I ran to her house three times, from 10 am to past 8 pm. Luckily, the microwave was delivered by the store.

We were both exhausted from moving on Saturday night, so I didn't let her cook at home. We agreed that she would come over for dinner starting Monday night. Before leaving, I said we'd spent 150 euros in total. I took out 40 euros and said to keep the change. She was lying on the bed, too tired to move, and said, "Who wants your money? I just wanted you to come with me shopping. Your labor cost more than that. Consider it me exploiting your labor." I thought that made sense; I wasn't anyone to her, and labor could be paid for, so I went home without a second thought. I

went to class every day and went straight to L's house for dinner. Life was really comfortable; at most, I'd have to wash the dishes. However, L had more classes than me and got home a little later, so I often went home first to chat with Xiao K online before going to L's house for dinner. Mainly, L had said from the beginning that she considered me a brother, and that title put a lot of pressure on me. If I had any impure thoughts, it would feel a bit inappropriate. And she asked me right away if I had a girlfriend, so I didn't lie to her. I talked to her a lot about my girlfriend and me, and she listened with great interest. She thought we were a perfect couple and said she would keep an eye on me to make sure I didn't mess around in France.

I also took the opportunity to ask her if I really resembled one of her brothers. She didn't want to say, so I said, "I've already told you my whole story, and you still treat me like this." Only then did she tell me a long story. She does have a cousin, from her aunt's side, who doesn't look like me, but his voice, tone, and intonation are very similar. Her aunt and uncle went to a small city in Jiangsu Province during the Cultural Revolution and stayed there for more than ten years. When they returned to Beijing, they brought her cousin, who was only in middle school at the time. Because of L's father's help, her aunt and uncle got jobs at the same large state-owned enterprise where L's father worked, and they both retired a few years ago. Working for the same company meant they lived in company housing. The two families lived in different units of the same building, and they were as close as family. L's family was better off, and they always took good care of her cousin's family. The children from both families played together for ten years, especially L, who followed her cousin around and hung out with a group of boys for many years, which shaped her current personality. When L entered junior high school, her feelings for her cousin changed. She was still very dependent on him, but there was a hint of teenage infatuation. Fortunately, her cousin didn't quite grasp it and still treated his short-haired cousin like a younger brother. However, when L entered high school and her cousin went to university, they met again during a holiday. L suddenly realized that her feelings for her cousin were no longer those of cousins. Her cousin, who seemed to have grown up at university, also looked at L with a very special gaze. Just

as a tragedy seemed to be unfolding, L's mother noticed something amiss. After talking to her cousin, she asked a friend working in France to help L with her emigration. At this point, L solemnly told me that she and her cousin had never even held hands; the adults were too sensitive. I asked what was happening now, and she said her cousin was getting married next year. Nothing had actually happened between them before; when she returned to China last year, they were still getting along well, and he even got along very well with his future sister-in-law.

Because I went to university in Jiangsu, and my dad is also from Jiangsu, I speak Mandarin with a slight accent, just like her cousin. So she thinks I look a lot like her cousin, except her cousin is very handsome. The implication is that I'm not handsome at all.

On another note, after Xiao K instilled this sense of brotherly responsibility in me, I immediately carried it over to L. So, to this day, despite many opportunities, I haven't been to L's house. Of course, this is after

I ate at L's house for half a month. We didn't stop there; we got into the habit of sending each other a text message after class every day to see who got home first. L's school is in the center of Paris, so it's relatively close to home, but she has many classes and frequent quizzes. The quiz grades are included in the final exam grade, so later on, I often bought groceries and went to her house to eat together. I only occasionally cooked a couple of dishes. If I couldn't go to her house for dinner, I would just make noodles at home.

Living alone is really boring, especially for someone as talkative as me. My first year in France was in the north, where there weren't many Chinese people. So, I made countless long-distance calls, each costing 15 euros—enough for a round-trip plane ticket! Most of those calls were to my girlfriend. Now I call much less; often, she'll say online that I haven't called in three to five days, and I'll rush downstairs to find a phone booth to call her. Unlike now, where everyone has a landline with unlimited calls, back then having internet was a luxury.

After Xiao K went to Lyon, we chatted online almost every day. A week later, Xiao Q added me to her MSN, but we didn't have much to talk about online, so after a few greetings, I blocked her.

Xiao K told me that Xiao Q was very popular there; not only were all the Chinese boys nice to her, but she also had no shortage of foreign suitors. However, her school was just a very average business school, far inferior to the nearby Lyon Business School, so it seemed there weren't many truly French students there. Less than two weeks later, one evening, Xiao K suddenly told me that Xiao Q had found a boyfriend in the same grade but a different class. He was French, but had immigrated from Algeria when he was young, and was quite good-looking. I said, "Most Arabs aren't good people. Don't worry about her, just be careful and don't have much contact with him."

Xiao K said I was being racist. I said, "Just you wait and see. To be honest, it's not that there aren't good Arabs, but in France, most Arabs are bad. Don't think that going to a business school makes you civilized. It's like stopping gnawing on bones and starting to eat canned food—you're still a dog." I hope this didn't offend any of my Chinese brothers who have deep feelings for the Arab people.

Less than a week later, Xiao K said that Xiao Q had brought her boyfriend home and didn't leave that night.

I asked her if she heard any noises next door, and she said yes. It seems Xiao Q is fulfilling the task her mother assigned her back home. I told Xiao K to lock her bedroom door at night, and to lock it before showering and using the toilet as well. Xiao K said she understood, but the noise kept her awake all night, not quieting down until after 1 a.m.

We have to admit, Xiao A, who eats beef and mutton, has a rather strong "sex appeal." But that just suits Xiao Q's taste; I'm afraid she's still not satisfied. I don't know why I'm so sour, like a sour grapes.

Less than a week after Xiao K started complaining about the noise from next door, Xiao K's latest news was that Xiao Q and that guy broke up, for reasons unknown. Breakups between boyfriends and girlfriends aren't usually a big deal, but the only lingering effect is that no Chinese boy is pursuing Xiao Q anymore. The reason is simple: few Chinese boys have the courage to date a girl who has had a foreign boyfriend.

Time flew by, and it was uneventful. Thankfully, I had L to talk to every day, so life didn't feel too hard. However, I noticed my bank account was dwindling; in just over a year, I'd already spent nearly 20,000 euros. I suddenly felt a little anxious. Seeing other friends who weren't so busy with their studies working or earning money, I started paying attention too.

I didn't have time to work. Chinese restaurants were too tiring and didn't pay much, and French restaurants also took too much time.

Finally, I decided to start looking for an internship early so I could start working at the beginning of the next semester and earn some salary. So, I sent out resumes everywhere while simultaneously preparing for my school courses, hoping to pass all my courses in the first semester and not have to wait until the next.

At that time, there weren't many people looking for internships, and of course, not many companies were looking for interns either. I mainly sent my resume to French companies with business ties to China, and occasionally to small Chinese companies doing foreign trade. After about two weeks, I started receiving interview invitations. I quickly went to a Zara store and bought a suit for a little over 200 euros—all wool, not much more expensive than in China. I was initially hesitant about buying it, thinking I should just wear a more formal casual outfit. But then I saw a young Chinese couple in the store also picking out suits, and I vaguely heard them talking about internships and job interviews, which finally made me decide to buy it. And indeed, I haven't worn it much since; I'll probably take it back to China to wear later.

Going for job interviews is actually quite confidence-dampening. I went to two companies, and outside the offices, I saw several other Chinese people also interviewing. Chatting with them, I realized they were either from business schools or the Sorbonne in Paris. If they weren't from prestigious universities, their French was so good I almost mistook them for French. If it weren't for the requirement for internships at my school, I really wouldn't have gone. The French interviewers were generally very warm and polite, rarely asking any professional questions; it was mostly just chatting. After these two interviews, I quickly received letters from them, thanking me for my interest in their companies, but saying that based on my characteristics, I wasn't a good fit for their positions, and hoping I could find a more suitable company, etc.

I had seven or eight interviews in total, and I realized that the difference between talent and scum is just one word, even though they all wore suits. A month after my first interview, I finally received an interview invitation from a Chinese-owned trading company—the only one I received from a Chinese company. It was relevant to my major, and they spoke Chinese, so I thought the gap between me and students from prestigious universities would be smaller. When I arrived at the company near the Paris Opera, I saw more than ten Chinese students, but not a single foreigner. The receptionist was a fairly attractive Chinese girl who answered phone calls while arranging interviews and patiently answering everyone's questions. The interview order was alphabetical by last name; I was second to last. I wasn't in a hurry, so I listened to everyone's questions and gradually learned about the company. They needed to hire three people: two men to handle business with China, and a woman to replace her, as her internship was ending in two months. Her position required fluency in French and English, but the other two positions didn't have high language requirements.

The boss was from Zhejiang, a chubby guy who imports goods from the Jiangsu and Zhejiang area to France for sale. He'd been doing quite well there for 20 years. Actually, these kinds of privately owned companies don't really have a hiring system; it all depends on the boss's mood. Plus, he'd already interviewed over ten people and seemed a bit tired. He just went over the company details again, which he'd already explained a dozen times, and asked me to introduce myself and say something casual.

He didn't ask any questions, so how could I just say anything? I had no work experience in China, and if I was to brag, he had to give me something to say! So, I started rambling, saying I'd been in contact with many large companies with my dad since I was little, that I'd organized various activities at university, collaborated with various large companies, and had dealings with various government departments. I also bragged about some recent developments in Sino-French trade that I'd learned online. Suddenly, he asked, "Is your father also in business?" I said no, he worked in some department of the provincial government. He immediately asked, "Do you know so-and-so?" I said I thought I'd heard of him, maybe a section chief. He said he'd been promoted to deputy section chief in some department two years ago; he was a friend of his. I can't explain it clearly, but that department is very lucrative.

I figured getting into this company shouldn't be a problem, and sure enough, a few days later, the girl at the door called to let me know. She even complimented me, saying that many people with domestic work experience hadn't been hired. I was too embarrassed to tell the truth and just modestly said so. Not finding an internship through my own abilities

at 25

was a huge regret, but on one hand, I was too lazy to look again, and on the other hand, I really lacked confidence in my abilities. So I settled on this internship company and waited for three months to pass. They were supposed to hire someone next month; the previous intern's contract expired this month, but I wouldn't be available for several months, so I asked the girl at the door to discuss it with the boss. Fortunately, the previous intern wanted to earn more money and was willing to work a few more months, which made things much easier for me.

Continuing to eat at L's house was quite comfortable; I didn't have to cook and rarely washed dishes, but my food expenses actually increased. Even L said I bought too much food and was wasting it. I also noticed that I seemed to be gaining weight, mainly the roll of fat around my stomach. Later, we discussed it, and I agreed that if she got home before me, I wouldn't go over. If I got home earlier, I would go buy groceries, but she would have to pay half; I had previously refused to accept her money. This significantly reduced my visits to LV stores. Besides making money online, I started having more time to go out and look for business opportunities to plan for the future.

One day, I chatted with an older woman in front of the LV store on the Champs-élysées. She wanted me to buy her a few LV bags, promising me 40 euros. At first, I thought she was a scammer, but after talking for a while, I realized it was actually true. LV stores are deliberately mysterious, only allowing customers to buy two bags with their passports; you can't buy more if you have the money. So, there are groups of Chinese people who hire others to buy LV bags, saying they'll resell them in Japan. I don't know if they're really going to Japan or if it's just for money laundering. This really made me realize that even in France, with its sound legal system, there are still many opportunities to make money, whether legitimate or not, I still need to explore them carefully.

I was chatting with the older woman when I suddenly saw a familiar-looking girl walking towards me. She was also looking at me, seemingly trying to remember, when she immediately called out my name. I then realized she was the receptionist from the Chinese trading company. I immediately thanked her for helping me coordinate my internship schedule. She said it was nothing, no need to thank her.

I quickly left the older woman and walked with her towards the Arc de Triomphe. I asked her if she was shopping. She said she was just passing by, mainly to see a movie. Hearing this, I immediately said I'd treat her to a movie as a thank you; I hadn't seen a movie in France yet. She said we could go together, since I was alone anyway, but I didn't need her to pay. She had a movie pass, 18 euros a month, unlimited movies.

Several cinemas in France offer annual passes for 18 euros a month, unlimited movies of all sizes. It's much cheaper than in China; movies here aren't expensive, less than ten euros. With only 18 euros a month, you can see two or three movies and it's enough. I asked her how to get one, and she said I could get one at the cinema up ahead. Luckily, I had my passport and checks in my bag, so she helped me get one in ten minutes. We immediately went inside and watched a French film together. I only understood less than 30%, and didn't even grasp the relationships between the characters, which was quite frustrating.

She comforted me, saying that movies are usually difficult to understand at first, especially the spoken French, and suggested I watch English films with French subtitles first, as that would help me learn spoken French faster.

I said watching movies alone wasn't very interesting, and asked her to invite me to join her next time she went to the movies. She readily agreed and gave me her phone number and MSN. That's when I learned her name was N.

She watched movies once or twice a week, mostly art films, but also some American blockbusters. From then on, I basically stopped downloading movies online, except for porn, of course. I didn't dare tell L that I often went to the movies with N, and I only met L once or twice a week, but we chatted online every day.

N has a rather dignified appearance; she's not exceptionally beautiful, but she has a pleasant look. She also has long hair with a slight reddish tint, which I assumed was dyed—it's natural. When she was little, relatives called her "Little Yellow Hair" because her hair was a bit yellow then, but as she grew up, it developed a slight reddish tint, which is actually prettier than if it were dyed. Her internship ends this month, and she'll continue her studies for her master's degree.

I don't know if N genuinely has no one to go to the movies with, or if she's interested in me, but she almost always invites me to go with her. I try not to refuse her invitations; in fact, sometimes when I can't go, she'll reschedule and go with me. She's never asked me many personal questions, like whether I have a girlfriend, and I don't ask her any either. But I can sense the subtle shift in our relationship. Sometimes in the movie theater, in the darkness, my hand brushes against hers, which is also resting on the armrest. She doesn't pull away; it's just there naturally. I haven't dared to grab her hand. What if she already considers me a friend? If I grab her hand, it'll ruin everything.

French cinemas are quite open about showing movies; they don't prohibit pornography or violence, only specifying that they're not suitable for those under 16 or 12. She would often invite me to watch them. Actually, I'm a bit timid and don't like watching violent or scary movies, but she wasn't against it. As long as it was recommended online, she'd watch it regardless of the style. Even pornography—we'd watch it together. There were scenes with full nudity and passionate love scenes, and when the characters were rolling around on the bed, I'd often sneak peeks at her with my erection, always finding her staring intently, completely unfazed, which made me despise my own wicked thoughts.

One Saturday, after watching a two-hour movie, it was almost 7 pm. Afterwards, she asked me what I wanted to eat for dinner, and I said noodles. She said, "Come to my place, I'll make you a roujiamo (Chinese hamburger)." I knew she went to university in Xi'an, but I didn't know she could make roujiamo. How could I refuse such an invitation?

I knew she shared an apartment with a girl, but when I got to her place, I found out that she and this girl were sharing a one-bedroom apartment without a living room, and the two of them were living in one room. I asked her why she was living so crampedly, saying it was very inconvenient.

She said that with two people sharing the room, it would only cost less than 200 euros per person. She and the other girl had known each other since China, so they were like sisters, and sharing a room wasn't inconvenient at all.

Her roommate was out working and hadn't returned yet, so she was making roujiamo (Chinese meat sandwiches) in the kitchen. A pot of meat was already simmering on the stove, chunks of meat, some lean and some fatty, soaking in a dark brown broth. My stomach was already rumbling. Under the four-burner stove was an oven. She took a few round flatbreads from the refrigerator and put them in the oven, then started chopping the meat on the cutting board. I offered to chop it, but she said she made it often and could do it quickly. I watched as she cut the larger pieces of meat into smaller pieces, then sliced them, and finally chopped them into small minced pieces using two cleavers. The kitchen was small; it was difficult for two people to turn around in it. I slowly moved behind her, one hand on the sink, and whispered in her ear, very close, because the two kitchen knives were clattering loudly.

I could already smell the fragrance of her hair, and my breath stirred the hair behind her ear. Seeing that she didn't pull away, I glanced at the cleavers whistling in her hand, swallowed hard, and moved one foot towards the kitchen doorway. I tentatively touched her earlobe with the tip of my nose. The clattering of the two knives slowed down; the alarm had been averted. I boldly, but without taking my eyes off the knives, I took her ear into my mouth, tracing the tip of my tongue back and forth along her earlobe, then slowly moved to the back of her ear, kissing her gently. By this time, the two knives had stopped clattering. I saw that her eyes were closed, and her head was slightly turned to the side.

I knew I had succeeded. I gently wrapped my arms around her waist from behind; it was so soft. I placed my lips on the back of her neck, leaving a little dampness at the base of her hair.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. Before I could hear it, N didn't say anything or push me away; she just continued banging two kitchen knives together, which startled me.

After dinner with her roommate, the three of us ate. Seeing that her roommate didn't seem to like me, I wisely slipped away early. I don't know what N is thinking. Although she didn't show any aversion today, she might become more rational after calming down. After all, we haven't had any deep conversations; our usual chats haven't gone beyond friendship.

For four days in a row, she hasn't asked me to go to the movies, and I haven't dared to call her. I just keep looking at her MSN avatar, waiting for it to light up so I can talk to her, but it hasn't. I feel like I can't take the initiative anymore. After all, I have a girlfriend, and N doesn't seem like the kind of girl who'll just play around. I can't let her suffer too much.

I held back from contacting N, and two more days passed in waiting until the weekend arrived. Instead of N's call, I received a call from Xiao Q, which surprised me.

She first asked how I was doing, and I said the same as always, nothing changed. She then asked if I'd invited any girls over, and I said I'm not that kind of person; even guys don't come to my house, so why would I invite girls? As soon as I said that, she immediately said she wanted to come to Paris to see me, asking if I was welcome. Good grief, how could that be? This woman is having a great time in Lyon! Something must be going on. I said I was welcome, but she couldn't possibly spend so much money just to see me. If she really missed me, I'd personally deliver myself to her door and come to Lyon to see her, and I'd also visit Xiao K while I'm at it.

Then she said she'd received an internship interview invitation from a company in Paris for next Monday, and asked if I could stay at her place Sunday night and visit her. I knew this woman wouldn't come so easily, so I asked her if Xiao K knew about it. She said she hadn't told Xiao K yet and wanted to ask me first. I said she was welcome, but not to tell Xiao K. She said no problem, she'd let me know once she bought the tickets, see you on Sunday.

If Xiao K found out, she'd be very angry, and the consequences would be serious. Although I didn't really want this girl who'd slept with foreigners living in my house, I couldn't find a good excuse to refuse. I'd already tricked her into thinking I lived alone; on the other hand, I might also be a little tempted to peek at her body again.

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My True Experience in France

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