I slept with her 10 years later

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

"Last year on this day, in this very doorway, her face and the peach blossoms reflected each other's rosy hue." This is a famous line from the Tang Dynasty poet Cui Hu. The ancients expressed their pursuit of beauty in a subtle and restrained way, a style that deeply influenced those of us raised with traditional feudal education. This continued until the late 1980s when the internet, with its powerful force, completely overturned tradition, championing individuality and creating fast-paced, frenetic, and ultimately unremarkable forms of romantic love. Under traditional thought, love was a pair of twins: sin and temptation. When you felt temptation, guilt arose; when you felt sin, temptation lurked again. Repression became synonymous with adolescence in that era. Once this long-suppressed desire found an outlet, the resulting pleasure was unparalleled.
Ten years ago, we were in the same class, sitting in front of and behind each other. We were both academically excellent, came from well-off families, and grew up under the envious gazes of the opposite sex. We were both arrogant, pretending not to see each other. However, it was undeniable that she was the most beautiful girl in our school at the time. Her rosy cheeks, full breasts, and bouncy hips repeatedly awakened the twin brothers of temptation and sin. But at that time, my understanding of male-female sexuality was really poor. Every time I faced my swollen penis alone, I was at a loss. The only solution was to turn on the shower in the bathtub and let the tingling, warm water droplets wash over me until I ejaculated.
My intimate contact with her began with an exam. It was a test before the final exam, and for the first time ever, we both failed. After evening self-study, the teacher kept us behind for a long talk, mostly about avoiding arrogance and complacency. On the way home late at night, we both felt inexplicably relieved because of our failure. We started to have a sincere conversation for the first time. The topics were random, but sweet. After that, our relationship began to subtly change. When we met, we started exchanging shy smiles and simple greetings. We also started walking together more often after evening self-study. To be closer to her on the same route, I used the excuse of exercising to give up riding my bicycle to school, so as to avoid having a bicycle blocking our way every evening. My scheme worked. On the days I didn't ride my bike home from school, I could clearly see her heaving breasts and smell her faint fragrance. She was no longer distant and aloof; I even rode on her bicycle. Her round and exquisite buttocks so directly and shockingly entered my field of vision, her supple waist seemed not to be twisting for riding a bicycle, and the soft downy hairs behind her ears emitted a slight warmth. Behind her unseen back, I lewdly and greedily admired the passionate youth of a young girl. I fantasized about becoming the seat of her bicycle, forcefully parting her soft buttocks, reaching her full pubic bone, rubbing against her sacred private parts. Every time I thought of this, my penis in my pants became incredibly hard, and I used a book to cover my shame. I sank deeper into wild fantasies. This was the peak of our passion during high school. I recklessly defiled the angel in my imagination, believing her to be incomparably pure and oblivious. However, in a conversation ten years later, I learned that she was well aware of the intensity of my gaze back then. She, too, was deeply attracted to me; when a young girl faces the object of her love, courage often triumphs over reserve. She said she enjoyed being stared at by my burning gaze. Knowing this filled me with regret, hating myself for not carefully considering her feelings back then. Otherwise, I could have possessed her pure and complete body ten years ago.
Later, we went to different universities, and for various reasons, our love didn't develop, but we each continued our own wonderful lives. Later, I heard she married the son of a high-ranking official. And I, too, had an epiphany, marrying my beautiful college classmate. I thought time eroded everything, including the passion of youth, until I met her again at a high school reunion ten years later.
She wore a pale yellow business suit, and her fair skin and elegant demeanor were accentuated by a delicate diamond-encrusted cross around her neck, a testament to her continued Catholic faith. Her short skirt subtly revealed her more voluptuous curves, and she possessed a more mature charm than her youthful shyness. In the faint scent of her perfume, I could almost sense her alluring and seductive presence during intimate moments. We are not who we were back then; the changing times and the trials of life have altered us considerably. We are both grateful to have been chosen by this era, having both grown into CEOs of private companies over the past decade. At the class reunion that day, we unwittingly became the center of attention. This excited us both. So much so that, in our drunken remark, she disregarded our respective positions and exclaimed, "We're a match made in heaven!"
A match made in heaven, haha. Ten years ago, such a statement would have been nothing more than a compliment that made me feel smug, giving me a convenient excuse for masturbation on some late night. But now it's different. In these ten years, I've not only developed a superior upper body, but I've also enriched my lower body's experience. I had a premonition that my dream from ten years ago would now be fully realized… It was a rainy afternoon when I received her call. She said she had some free time on rainy days and wanted me to take her to see the new investment project I had mentioned at the last gathering. Half an hour later, I saw her BMW X5 arrive as promised at the window. Because it was still raining, she ran into the company after getting out of the car. From the window, I could clearly see her full breasts bouncing with each step in her light purple suit. Because of her large strides, the shape of her buttocks was also clearly visible. She burst into my office, her hair slightly disheveled, and the raindrops on her eyelashes added a touch of allure to her capable image. “You didn’t even give me a towel to dry off, you have no chivalry at all!” she exclaimed. “Haha, do you think you’re some kind of delicate beauty?” I joked. “Didn’t you want to see the project I invested in? Anyway, we’re leaving soon, so don’t bother drying yourself. Besides, I don’t have a towel. I usually just wipe the curtains myself.” She burst out laughing, her pearly white teeth as sharp as ever. My joke lightened the atmosphere. She seemed to have regained her former innocent and charming appearance. I couldn't help but say, "You're still so beautiful." "Really?" "Hehe, let's go, let me take you out for a look first." I knew there were many people and eyes in the company, and if I said or did anything inappropriate in front of such a beautiful woman, there would inevitably be criticism, so I wanted to arrange for her to go out for a walk first.
My newly invested logistics transfer station was on the riverbank. The June rainstorm was swift and torrential. I drove her BMW X5 steadily and quickly through the downpour, the 255 tires accurately and violently squeezing out the water from the road and scattering it to both sides. The sky grew darker and darker, and the wind howled fiercely along the riverbank. She turned on the CD. "Why are you still listening to Tong Ange's songs?" I asked when the song "A Lifetime of Fate" came to my ears. “I’ve been listening to it all this time, for over a decade and I still love it so much…” “You’re so nostalgic.” “The past is always beautiful…” “Aren’t you happy now?” I slowed down and turned to look at her. “I always feel a sense of regret…” Her expression turned melancholic in the dim light of the dashboard buttons, and I stopped the car. “Regret about what?” “You idiot!” She suddenly threw herself at me and yelled. The sudden embrace was expected. I just didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. The sky was completely dark, like during a downpour. I parked below the riverbank flood control embankment, surrounded by tall reeds. In this kind of weather, there wasn’t even a ghost in sight. I turned off the engine and lights, leaving only the music on. In Tong Ange's song, I slowly returned to my high school days, to the era of sitting on the back of her bicycle, to the era of washing away passion with a shower… Her soft breasts were pressed completely against my chest. While I was marveling at the spaciousness of the BMW, her moist lips also explored my ear with fiery passion. Her nimble tongue, like a serpent luring out sin, stirred in my ear canal, completely igniting the volcano of desire that had been suppressed for over a decade. I knew that the scorching lava was about to erupt in the body of this childhood lover. Just moments ago, she was a capable company manager, a young woman from a high-ranking official's family, a voluptuous woman. Soon, no, now, she was to become the panting beauty beneath me. She would envelop my rampage with her moist, warm cavity. She would gallop like a horse under my command, roaring loudly, charging towards the peak of pleasure.
The electric chair reclined completely, her breasts heaving violently beneath her purple business attire. I rolled over and straddled her body, my hands now completely free from the previous seated embrace. Her smooth, long hair cascaded across the seat, her lips coated with a glossy, colorless lipstick, shimmering with a lustrous sheen. I could feel my genitals pressed against her lower abdomen, the temperature rising. I guessed she was wet, definitely wet, with a clear, oily secretion waiting for my penetration. But I couldn't. I couldn't let this always proud and beautiful woman reach ecstasy so quickly. I wanted to torment her, to make her beg me to fuck her, to feel as if a million ants were biting inside her. I wanted her to completely abandon her noble facade, to use every dirty thought I could muster to cleanse and elevate her.
My hands had already explored the two soft mounds of her breasts inside her bra. The scent of a mature woman wafted over me as I unbuttoned her clothes. The flush on her face had spread to her chest, and the diamond-encrusted cross was between my lips. Today, she was Jesus suffering, experiencing both pain and pleasure… Her nipples hardened into two small red dates under the licking of my tongue. “Mmm, I feel so good…” Her tongue was still sliding in my ear canal, and her indistinct moans kept my excitement escalating. I carefully bit her protruding areola with my teeth, and kept scraping the nipple that had entered my mouth with my tongue. Her lower body twisted and turned with my licking. I had already unbuttoned her skirt. The stockings had a smoothness different from flesh. They covered the woman's abdomen and buttocks beneath me, protecting them from my violation. I could feel that these were expensive stockings. They were what accentuated her usually slender legs and round buttocks, and they were part of maintaining her usual proud elegance. And now, it was in my hands, about to be torn apart, like tearing apart her high and mighty shell. I rubbed her lower abdomen, sliding down, about to explore the territory I should have explored ten years ago… I began to get extremely excited. Her mons pubis had only a few soft pubic hairs, a clean mons pubis that protruded high, incredibly soft to the touch. Further down, further down, her labia were so different, just a slit embedded in the flesh, without any protruding part. My middle finger felt like it was sinking into a lump of oil, and a lot of slippery fluid had already flowed out. I used my finger to dab this slippery fluid all over her mons pubis, rubbing faster. She writhed like a snake in agony, her legs constantly crossing and opening and closing, “I feel so good…” she cried out in a sob. I maintained the last bit of my consciousness and inserted my tongue deep into her mouth. She tried to shout, “Mmm… I want you, I want you, give it to me now!!!” "Call me husband, I'm your real husband!!" "Husband... um... I, I'm all yours now, take me, I can't take it anymore... ah..."
Her clitoris was fully erect under the friction of my slippery palm. I slid my middle finger into her opening along with her juices, feeling the contractions and undulations of her flower-like inner flesh. I couldn't hold on any longer. I pulled my finger out and put it into her rosy mouth. She had completely lost her dignity. "Lick it, it's your own juices!" She licked her own fluids while helping me unzip my pants... When my erect penis was fully exposed before her, her entire body was enveloped in a light pink. At that moment, I was a god creating the world, my penis like a pillar reaching to the sky, shining with a dazzling red, and she transformed into a gentle angel in the pink glow. A man's root is actually a symbol of spirit and power, a totem of a woman. Therefore, in the harmonious and ecstatic act of lovemaking, it's a natural process for the woman to perform oral sex on the man. She cups my scrotum in her hands, her crystal-clear mouth stretched into a round "O" shape by my thick penis. I can sense that she has no experience with oral sex; she doesn't use her teeth to touch my glans, doesn't use the tip of her tongue to press against my urethral opening, and certainly doesn't use the depths of her mouth to receive my thrusts. Yet all of this has already driven me into a frenzy of ecstasy. Right now, the noble woman I've waited ten years for is completely mine. I can freely enjoy any cavity in her body. She is so beautiful, and her beauty transforms into such lewd and alluring charm. She metamorphoses in pain and pleasure, transforming into an even more seductive and wanton woman. I pull my fingers out of her mouth and attack her soft, wet genitals again. Her lower body is completely overwhelmed; the wanton fluids are completely out of control, from her mons pubis to her buttocks, it's all become a wanton swamp.
With a high-pitched "Oh," my penis finally entered her vagina. It was a chaotic insertion, to hell with the nine shallow and one deep methods, to hell with the cycle of life and death. I didn't want to control myself; I only knew that my penis had to penetrate her deepest depths, that I had to have a deep, internal exchange with her. I didn't get her virginity, but I knew that I possessed her deepest mystery and charm, her most precious emotions and soul. This possession was unprecedented and unparalleled. She belonged only to me in this world, and only I could unite with her to reach the pinnacle of pleasure, life and death. Her moans were no longer moans, but cries and roars from her chest. In her ecstatic frenzy, I could feel my penis hard and thicker than ever before. The extreme swelling made me clearly feel the countless rings of muscles clenching inside her vagina. I pressed my hands hard against her snow-white, flat abdomen, the edges of her pelvis forming two perfect curves. My sweat dripped continuously around her navel. I thrust wildly, my hands able to feel the powerful impact of my penis even through her abdomen.
Her orgasm was as fierce and rapid as a torrential downpour outside the car. In an instant, she lost control: "I'm going to die...!" The pink hue that enveloped her body seemed to disappear. Her waist was no longer taut, her hips and thighs lost their tension, and her entire body, like her breasts, sank into a powerless softness, like a puddle of mud. With a spasm in her lower abdomen, the muscles in her vagina, which had been tightly clenched, began to contract rhythmically, responding to the throbbing of the blood vessels in my penis. Finally, even the muscles in her vagina lost all strength; I could no longer feel the warmth of her vaginal embrace. Her pink hue faded, leaving her completely white. She lay surrounded by sweat and bodily fluids, her eyes closed, utterly unconscious. The cross on her chest still gleamed faintly. I slowly withdrew my penis, which was still erect despite being close to ejaculation. I could see that the flesh inside her vagina was the bright red of her post-orgasmic state. The vaginal opening, though empty, remained the same cavity I had entered, deep enough to see to the bottom.
Facing her unconscious state, I couldn't help but be transported back to my fantasies of ten years ago. Now, like the person sitting behind her on her bicycle, I was outside her conscious awareness. I rolled over her body, and her perfect back was softly presented before me. Ten years ago, I admired her delicate neck, slender back, supple waist, and rounded hips through her heavy clothes. Ten years later, all of this was presented in an even more perfect form, completely unobstructed within my reach. Soft down still clung to her pink neck, her waist was as soft and alluring as ever, and following the curve of her waist were her even rounder and fuller hips, which together formed a perfect pear shape. My gaze finally settled on her back. Her delicate shoulder blades must have been the wings of an angel, pure white and flawless. I had never imagined that a woman's back could be a thousand times more captivating than her breasts.
I masturbated in her tranquility, my semen shooting wantonly onto her back—no, onto her wings. The same white semen splattered on her snow-white skin like blooming white flowers. I imagined these flowers would seep into the angel's skin, never to disappear… Some say men think with their lower bodies. That's wrong. I think, before orgasm, men do think with their lower bodies, but after orgasm, only women think with their lower bodies. After that, she said she would agree to anything I asked, she was willing to do anything for me. I joked, "You don't need to do anything for me, you're my angel. Just give me one thing you consider most precious as a keepsake." Unexpectedly, she took the cross from her neck and hung it around mine. "Is this thing really that precious?" "Anyway, ten BMWs couldn't buy it!" she said firmly. I smiled and said, "I believe."
I'm not Catholic, but I'll keep this exquisite cross around my neck; I don't want to take it off.

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I slept with her 10 years later

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