Recalling past sexual encounters

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

The aunties at Chaoyang Park weren't about to let anyone who was still craving the morning get away. Their rendition of "The Most Dazzling Ethnic Style" was louder and more jarring than an alarm clock! I jumped out of bed, looking at Chuan—no, San—sleeping soundly beside me, and felt a strange sense of amusement. Is that what you call sleeping? I don't smoke, but at this moment I felt like something was missing. What was it? I just couldn't resist showing off!

I checked my phone; it wasn't even 8 a.m. I really wanted to stab that lead dancer to death with a dart, but seeing her agile movements and nimble movements, I was afraid she might leap up and I wouldn't be able to catch her. I wanted to get out of bed to pee, but that groin kick was so insidious. Just as I was about to pull away, she saw I'd rolled over, and her right hand shot up from the side of the bed like a tidal wave, drawing a semicircle in the air, palm outstretched, hurtling towards my face. In a flash, I grabbed her right wrist, which was about to land on my head, and swiftly placed it on her face.

She suddenly woke up, looked at me with a confused yet displeased expression, wiped the drool from her mouth with her right hand, turned over, and fell asleep with her back to me. I got out of bed and went to the bathroom to empty my bladder. I went to the balcony to check if my clothes were dry. The auntie in the building across the street was already preparing breakfast, and I was starving.

I opened the refrigerator and found it was full—half full of drinks and a whole fridge full of snacks. After rummaging around, I could only manage to grab a bottle of Anmuxi yogurt and a small bottle of Xianqu yogurt for breakfast. I personally prefer something hot. Just as I was about to drink it, she came out of the bedroom. I quite liked that blue silk nightgown; seeing her prominent breasts swaying in it in the morning was a pleasant surprise. She put her hair up, sat on me, and drank the yogurt I had chosen, leaving a small sip in her mouth. Then she looked at me and kissed me. I tossed a cookie into her mouth, then scooped her up in my arms and gently slammed her onto the sofa.

She swallowed the small bite, then sat up, half a cookie still in her mouth, one foot on the floor, the other bent and leaning against the sofa. Her pajamas had completely slipped down to her hips, revealing two smooth, clean mounds of flesh beneath. I bent down, embraced her, and pressed my entire body against hers, one hand bracing against the sofa, slowly crushing the cookie in her mouth. Then came the sensation of our passionate kisses, the yogurt leaving a semi-fermented sweetness and cheesy, thick flavor in her unbrushed mouth.

We slowly lay flat, one leg still dangling off the sofa, bracing against the floor. My hairy thigh pressed against her flesh, one hand gliding across her waist, slipping inside her pajamas, roaming over her buttocks and anus, then moving up her spine to grasp her left breast—so open, yet so soft and tender. Her lips slowly brushed against my chin and Adam's apple. Her hands wrapped around my chest, hooking my shoulder blades, and she slowly buried her face in my chest. I clutched one breast, my nose catching the scent of Sanlitun's alcohol, the cacophony of voices, and the man named Jing through her piled-up hair.

She lightly touched my nipple with her tongue, and my body jolted as if electrified. My body was burning hot, and I was hard to the core. When her fingers traced my waist and gripped my right buttock, my buttocks felt unusually tight, and my back slowly arched, my latissimus dorsi and serratus posterior muscles bulging slightly. My hands were pressed against her face, and the moisture from between my legs almost dripped onto the sofa.

She suddenly pushed me away, quickly pulled away from me, and ran back to her room. I chased after her and pinned her against the wall. She was facing away from me, her legs together, tiptoeing, her buttocks exploring the area below my abdomen and along the edge of my pubic hair. I held her hands behind her head with my left hand, and she braced her elbows against the wall, leaving space between her chest and front for my hands to roam freely. I wasn't going to let her go. She arched her back, her head resting on my left shoulder and collarbone. My tongue slid from her right cheek into her right ear, then stopped on her earlobe. Her breathing and coquettish moans grew more rapid, and my lower body was ready to join her.

Her vulva was the fullest I had ever encountered, the two lips like Tony Leung's luscious lips in "East Meets West," firm and fleshy. I could forgive her for not having a very muscular chest. My pectoral muscles pressed against her shoulders, my psoas muscles were ready to thrust, and my glutes were taut, forming dimples on both sides. Her warm buttocks landed heavily on the connecting rod, and I completed the connection with almost no movement. She immediately released her body's energy, a slight tremor spreading through every inch of her skin. Her nipples hardened, even the areolas around them tightened.

"Are you going to break through? Haven't you done this in a long time? Why are you so energetic! Slow down!" I slowed my pace, listening to her coquettish tone, each syllable rising higher. Until she said "faster," I resumed my high-torque output. Her body stiffened instantly, I was enveloped, tightening more and more, her hands grabbing my hair, roughly pulling it aside and then gathering it again, her body pressed tightly against me, her toes pointed upwards. I stopped moving; it seemed she was going to crush me. I still pushed forward with all my might, "Coming! Coming! Don't move!" I stopped again, waiting for her to pass, and then started again. It

had indeed been a long time; I couldn't even remember the last time. It didn't take long, probably six or seven minutes, before she completed a cycle of energy gathering and release. I carried her to the bed, laid her on her side, and stood beside her. Her legs were together, one in front of the other. I grabbed her breasts; lying on my side, I could feel they were C-cups. "New position! Teach me! It feels so good!" "Don't move!" A series of thrusts followed. My right hand was on the bed, while her left hand was pulled to her lips, sucking on my index finger. Desire echoed in my chest. I went faster and faster, her cries were pitiful, and I finished my morning's activity with a climax. The fluids were indistinguishable from where they came from; I splashed them all over her waist. I collapsed in front of her, exhausted, closing my eyes, savoring everything that had happened. Who was the slut here?

She took a deep breath. "Jing is not as good as you, in both technical and non-technical aspects! But I get all wet when I see him! I'm hopelessly in love with him, but you're my life!" "So he's the one who made you drink so much with me, the one who has children but still flirts with you, the one you call an idiot while crying! I'm the one who lets you release your energy, the one who makes you throw up without feeling any pressure, the one who touches your chest but can't feel your heartbeat!" "No, he's the one who slept with me three times, you're the one who slept with me for a lifetime! He's Jing, you're Xing, and I'm San!" She wiped the liquid on her waist into her palm and slapped me across the face. I shamelessly stared at the ceiling. "So, I'm San, an obstacle in your path!

How did we begin?

Chuan isn't some tough, ruthless woman I met in the countryside, robbing and assaulting people. Her company is a partner of mine, and we initially communicated via email. Email is slow, and my replies weren't timely enough. She has a fiery temper, so she directly asked for my WeChat. After we started communicating on WeChat, I was fooled by her incredibly sweet voice. She used a deceptively charming Japanese announcer's voice to send me audio messages; I bet she needed a throat lozenge after shouting at me. We got closer and closer, and her voice grew increasingly rough. Sometimes I couldn't be bothered to listen anymore; recently I just transcribed it into text, just enough to understand the gist.

Their office is about the distance between Jianguomen and Financial Street, which doesn't seem like much to me. I took the opportunity of talking to her boss to catch a glimpse of this voice that constantly bombarded me on WeChat. Her face is deceptively attractive too; she was very welcoming when she saw me, leading me..." I toured around and met some key personnel from our sister company. There were hardly any men, and I was wondering what our boss's hiring criteria were. She was definitely one of the prettiest among them, dressed in a business suit. Whether her figure was revealing or not, who could see? But long legs are still essential for navigating the financial district.

That day, her boss dragged her along for a meal to strengthen our friendship, and we chatted about our relationship experiences. The gist was that we were all in relationships. As for what kind of people we are now, we're pretty much evenly matched.

That's why I said she's a "third party" in this situation. She has extensive experience with long-distance relationships, which just dragged on and on until they ended. She also learned to find someone else while dragging things out, managing to balance work and sex. I'm busy with work, sometimes so busy that it's practically a long-distance relationship, and so it really became one, though of course, I managed to balance both.

Sanlitun is a place I always make sure to meet up with close friends and family whenever I have free time, and Chuan has become a regular there.

Then, without realizing it, we became each other's tools, basically fulfilling every request. Of course, she didn't just have me; there was also Jing.

Jing was, in her words, incredibly handsome, a man whose looks would last forever. The two of them together were like a calm, still lake and a towering, majestic mountain. She would sometimes share about him, but she never directly mentioned his name. I could only glean from snippets that he was an unparalleled, universally admired, incredibly handsome man! Damn!

From what she said, Jing was a married man with children and a mistress. I guess in her eyes, he was a concubine from an official family. Given that he got into the prestigious Peking University (the university next to Heshen's family) with his athletic talent, I'd venture to guess it was related to his powerful family background in Beijing. An athletic talent like him must be incredibly muscular, possessing both soft and hard skills—the kind of person who would scrutinize everyone in a nightclub, picking and choosing. I just couldn't stand this kind of behavior that trampled on the self-esteem of "average men" (average looks, average physique, average salary), so I chose her. Of course, I'd never even met her, but based on Chuan's description, I wanted to slap her awake!

The two first met at a lewd gathering organized by a friend, where Chuan deliberately twisted her breasts to make them look incredibly impressive. Since they had mutual friends, they hit it off immediately. Coupled with her deceptive appearance, any man with normal hormone levels would unconsciously want to stick to her. And then it continued, and then the hotel room door opened with a beep, followed by a dull thud as the door closed, and the two started tearing at each other. The scene was so intense that I imagined it was like an old lady impulsively beating a mistress, wanting to expose the whole thing to the public. Then it was like a zombie encountering fresh meat and aimlessly devouring the other's flesh.

He got hungry halfway through cooking, ordered noodles, and continued until his wife texted him, waking him up when he was almost hungry. Only then did Chuan reluctantly put the thick, phlegm-like liquid he'd been holding in his mouth into a tissue. He probably ate too much sugar; she described the aftertaste as like drinking condensed milk with canned black bean dace.

Chuan's description: From the first second he saw Jing, he felt an involuntary tingling sensation in his lower body, a burning sensation in his lower abdomen, and his legs went from standing to unconsciously moving back and forth. From their first intimate dance at the party, things escalated, all the way to the bathroom where they passionately rubbed against each other, the vibrator caught between her buttocks and bowl, almost causing an ejaculation and leaving behind a trail of unborn children. In the end, the two restrained themselves and went to a hotel so far away in the east that it was impossible to find. To avoid leaving a record, Jing only registered Chuan's name; if someone called the police, he could probably become a suspect for providing prostitution. I had absolutely no interest in their story, but her description made me instinctively want to compare myself to her, to see who was taller, thinner, fatter, and more persistent.

Of course, I don't know why Chuan insisted on describing it to me, but I do know that two nights before she got drunk, Jing threw a few wads of cash at Chuan, promising him she could be at his beck and call anytime. The money was essentially for spending freely, and then Chuan threw it in Jing's face. Well, that's enough for a few hotel rooms; a decent hotel room would cost at least 1500 yuan, even with discounts. Jing must be quite wealthy; if she's so stingy, she should at least buy an apartment within the Third Ring Road. She'd save wherever she could. The more I listened, the angrier I got, and the faster I ate the watermelon and the more grapes I ate. The fruit platter I ordered was basically just the decorative artificial flowers and plastic forks left uneaten. I chewed the watermelon rind until it was crunchy, even Chuan was amazed by my appetite.

That's all for Jing… after all, I didn't know her very well; it was all just what others described.

This "jade-faced scumbag" in Chuan's words was actually someone with an unhappy marriage. A typical arranged marriage, of course, the one being arranged was the woman (I guess she was quite good-looking). The two seemed to be doing their own thing, but they agreed to go home on time, since they had a child. Chuan felt for the first time that a sports-savvy person was different. Although it was hard to find sharp, defined muscles in Jing's current physique, her rounded, firm outline and faintly visible pectoral muscles still indicated she used to exercise. My abs also went through a process of development, from nothing to vaguely defined, to becoming fully integrated.

This handsome guy (ugh, that's an insult to my words!) probably had many partners, plus he was often under the influence of alcohol, so he sometimes couldn't get an erection, or sometimes it would just disappear during penetration. Chuan said that when she first mentioned him to me, she was very excited, saying he was very long, but then regretfully told me that Jing was too thin, which was the key point—the user experience was so-so. But as soon as his face appeared, Chuan could fast-forward to the point of skipping foreplay.

I'm so glad Jing gave Chuan money, because she's a woman who doesn't care about money. Her strong personality stemmed from her wealthy family background and a Beijing residency permit, which benefited this person who offered her heart and soul without spending money.

I was still staring at the ceiling, "Broken up with him?" "Yeah, broken up!" We always knew what kind of relationship we had—mutual mistresses—but we crossed the emotional line that friends with benefits shouldn't cross. She would ask me every day if I wanted her to go out for dinner, or to go for a walk in the village on Fridays. Of course, we never stopped each other from meeting attractive prey in the village; we would even cooperate, agreeing to be each other's wingman… She fell asleep next to me. The whole thing had only lasted about forty minutes, but for a man like me who had slept for less than four hours, didn't do it often, and lacked exercise, what I needed was a buffer, and sleep was the best buffer.

I fell asleep with my own face mask on, looking ugly and fishy. I slept until the afternoon, and when I woke up, she had already prepared a sumptuous afternoon tea for me: Yili yogurt and Taiping soda (salty). "Is this a patient's meal? Why don't you have anything else at home besides yogurt and cookies?" Chuan glanced at me. "No, this is dog food." She rarely cooks at home, and probably rarely comes home either. Things at home usually last a long time: cookies, potato chips, sausages, instant noodles. Unfortunately, the sausages and instant noodles had already been wasted before I arrived.

She turned and kissed my cheek, and I offered her the part of my face mask that I had on. "Why did you shoot yourself all over your face! It's so fishy!" Of course, the thick, dried face mask on my face was a bit difficult to wash off. After washing and eating, we started another battle, a fierce struggle. I scratched her chest with my handprint, and her cleavage was so swollen that she couldn't close it even on Monday when she went to work. Of course, I also felt that I had no feeling in my lower body anymore. It felt like an appendix hanging out, and even if I removed it, it wouldn't hurt or itch. My back was covered in scratches. I told my colleagues my neck was scratched by a cat, but no one believed me. Only the little girl I knew well guessed it was a panda scratch.

5.

Summer always comes and goes without a trace. Before the beer and cold dishes are even finished, the ginkgo leaves on Embassy Street are already scattered all over the ground.

But my ability to sense summer is by looking at the long legs on Sanlitun Street. When those long legs turn into long underwear, I can save some money on drinks. I still count the days on my fingers. There are only 52 weekends a year, and only 13 in summer. Half of them are spent working overtime, leaving less than 7.

In order to still be able to see those fair, long legs, I occasionally have to walk to Embassy Street. The ginkgo trees over there are beautiful. Following the direction the ginkgo leaves fall, you can always see long legs in high heels. The ginkgo trees over there aren't just beautiful; the two fan-shaped, pale yellow leaves have a small slit between them. Some are very full, like a girl kneeling naked on a bed on a Sunday afternoon, fiddling with her hair and looking at me. The four or five o'clock sunlight shines through the sheer white curtains between her legs, vaguely revealing the fullness of the ginkgo leaves. Sunlight splits through a slit. I stand by the window, grateful for the beauty and such a fleeting memory that summer left me before it left.

"Am I beautiful?" This is the first time she's asked me this. "I'm passable. I could easily get a leading role in a movie! But being involved in some kind of shady deal is another story." She slowly crawled over. "Director, could you take a closer look? What number am I playing?" She ran her hands through her hair, slowly brushing it upwards. Strands of hair brushed against her back, her back straight. Her two cat-eye-like nipples became increasingly defined against her bulging breasts. "Whether you get the lead role depends on your performance!" I stroked her face, running my hand down over her breasts and back again. She leaned against me, her face pressed against my chest, her arms wrapped around my waist.

My body had already given itself to her as the leading lady, my erect penis embedded itself into her skin. She started panting and moaning, mostly just "uh-huh" and "ah-ah," or telling me to fast forward or push harder. She controlled the whole rhythm; I thought I was the director, but everyone was just following her script. So, what about directors

using unspoken rules, or who gets unspoken rules? It's all uncertain. Outside, the elderly folks were asking each other questions in loud voices, then engaging in a friendly and cordial discussion about whether to make braised fish head or shredded pork with green peppers for dinner. The guy upstairs was probably still playing Dota; a familiar voice boomed from the speakers: "First Blood!" and the guy exclaimed excitedly, "Damn!" A second later, a mouse flew past the window. Our exercise reached its climax after the noisy young couple next door sincerely exchanged ancestral insults.

Summer makes you sweat profusely without even realizing it, while autumn is a season for gaining weight. No matter what happens, what comes next is always food. "We've finished the noodles, but there seem to be a few sausages left. If you're hungry, you can grab some cookies," I chuckled. I hadn't expected her first words in this hormone-filled scene to be like this. "I remember besides texting, you can also order takeout on the phone!"

I picked up the phone, searched for the nearest Pizza Hut, and dialed. Just as I was about to speak, she took my little thing, coated in her bodily fluids, into her mouth with her tongue. My "hello" sounded unusually melodious and wistful, and the young woman on the other end of the line seemed unusually friendly. Every word I uttered was exactly as Chuan intended, emphasizing the key points and using the tip of my tongue for softer sounds. This phone call felt like a full-on workout routine, complete with gasps and shouts.

I did many more workouts afterward, but unfortunately, I never experienced being sucked. Different people tried the workouts, but none of them worked. Chuan loved doing it to me while I was on the phone, especially when I was talking to my girlfriend, until after a few times she realized I was basically immune.

Conversely, she couldn't resist me doing exercises with her. Every time, she begged me to stop, but she held my head down, and I seemed to have no other way to escape except to let her continue. But if I was doing exercises with her while Chuan was on the phone with her friend, she would kick me in the mouth without mercy, her big toe almost shoving into my nostril.

But after all, her thigh couldn't twist my arm. When I pried her open and tried to probe inside, she would make up an excuse to her boyfriend, saying her boss was calling, and hang up. She knew that as soon as I touched her ginkgo-leaf-like lips, her voice would switch to an AV mode. Chuan's boyfriend probably knew Chuan better than I did.

In the afternoon, when Beijing was at its best, long-legged people started coming out to find food. The bustling legs passed by Soho, Yintai, and the Workers' Stadium, and Chuan was no exception. The sunset had already reddened most of Beijing. I held a half-empty bottle of Budweiser and watched the sunset burn from Shijingshan all the way to Tuanjiehu. This was also my favorite moment. I thought, "This is how the day will pass."

6.

Not long after I met Chuan, I met a handsome, rich, and successful guy in Sanlitun. He was a returnee from overseas, nicknamed "Egg Bro" because his name was "Egg Blue." At first, I didn't understand what he meant. He said it was the "egg" with the "day" radical, and combined with his unrefined pronunciation and nasal tone, I realized he meant "warm guy." So, what do you want me to call him? I'll just say it too, Egg Blue.

The first time Chuan met Egg Bro, we were flirting with the girl at the next table. She was an exchange student from Australia, studying Chinese, but it seemed like all she did besides daily conversations were use vulgar language. I fooled her into thinking Egg Bro really was an "egg blue." The foreign girl and I teased Egg Bro together. He was shy, saying, "The 'egg' in 'warm egg'..." I made the foreign girl stick her finger in to feel it. "Little crazy, can you tell her to stop talking? What 'warm egg'? What 'fucking egg'?"

He actually didn't like coming to Sanlitun for drinks with me because his girlfriend often called from overseas to check up on him. But Sanlitun was noisy everywhere, and while he was a rational person, he became most irrational after drinking. His language skills rapidly deteriorated, and he couldn't explain himself clearly no matter how much he gestured. At this point, he was even more unable to explain, looking as anxious as if he were constipated. Chuan's appearance ended Luan's awkwardness in front of the foreign girl with a long-lost but friendly "how do you do?" A second later, another awkward situation ensued. But Beijing girls always have their own way of being friendly, and after some introductions, she actually started chatting enthusiastically with the foreign girl.

Luan and I looked at the girl in front of us with admiration. Chuan was none other than Han Meimei in her past life. She used all her skills to integrate her failing college level 4 English into New Concept English 1, which she hadn't memorized in ten years. Half an hour later, the foreign girl looked completely bewildered and sat further and further away. Egg Bro looked the girl over with amusement. "Your friend? It feels like I went back to Chaozhou and took a first-year junior high English class. Her English is worse than my Mandarin." At this point, we were just innocent friends, not trained together. That was Egg Bro's explanation for me and Chuan later—nothing had really happened yet.

Since Chuan came along, Egg Bro loved coming to Sanlitun even more. Because there was someone with even worse language skills than him, a Beijing girl whose English sounded like Cantonese, a Cantonese guy whose Mandarin sounded like English, and me, whose Cantonese sounded like Mandarin. So, when we chatted, it seemed like we didn't have a better way to communicate than by gesturing. Egg Bro never got drunk again because we were all the same. Why didn't we speak Mandarin? Because we couldn't understand Egg Bro's Mandarin.

After that, Chuan became Egg Bro's ideal goddess. Actually, Egg Bro had studied abroad and got along quite well with that foreign girl, but Chuan thought I was flirting with her, so she just stopped me and unleashed her ultimate move without warning. Afterwards, Egg Bro was still quite regretful. "If only Chuan hadn't come, it's been so long since I've practiced my spoken English with anyone." "You could have asked Chuan!" "No, that's still not good. I'm afraid that after practicing with her, her English will sound like your Cantonese!" Egg Bro has a dream: to flirt with a foreign girl using his Mandarin.

November in Beijing is a good time. You can't see me, I can't see her. Smog rises and falls, floating along Chang'an Avenue. I sit in a taxi, shuffling around the entrance of the Great Hall of the People. The grandfather on Tiananmen Gate is becoming increasingly blurry. The resounding declaration from 1949 and Wang Feng's overused "Beijing, Beijing" echo at the city gate.

I can't see anything outside the car window, but I think of Egg Bro because it's almost time for egg donation. In the autumn of 2013, Beijingers were still talking about three-digit PM2.5 levels and the relationship between centralized egg donation and air pollution in the Beijing-Tianjin-Hebei region. What does it have to do with anything? But ever since I met Egg Bro, my tongue has been straightened out.

That autumn, my impression of Luan Ge was his straightened tongue and the various flavors of condoms in his bedside table—all because of Singles' Day. His girlfriend was supposed to visit him, but even the strongest feelings couldn't cross the 20,000-kilometer distance.

He bought something he didn't need, and his girlfriend bought something he didn't need. They, who hadn't planned on

being together, were now going to start celebrating this holiday. On the 12th, the three of us got completely drunk. We were supposed to go home soberly, but in the end, I took Chuan home, and Luan Ge was going to sleep at the bar. He was waiting for that foreign girl; maybe she would show up again, maybe she would understand his Mandarin, what if she had put her hand inside him… I took Chuan home. It was the first time I touched a 32B breast, the first time I saw ginkgo leaf-like labia, and the first time she vomited all over me. The next day, she actually washed all my clothes! I was astonished that this person, who hadn't even washed the dishes from last month, had washed my underwear and socks. I was completely stunned. All that was in the house were her skirts, pants thinner than my arms, and a drawer full of thongs. She'd been so visibly upset last night, her eyes practically popping out of her nose, how could she still have

time to try and charm me? Frustrated, I decided to kill time by exercising. I picked her up and carried her to the room. Autumn is dry, but why weren't her underwear dry? I wondered, as she rocked me back and forth. Originally, both Luan Ge and I were on her shortlist. We both had girlfriends, but Luan Ge broke up and was eliminated because he was single. Chuan didn't want to and wouldn't break up with her boyfriend, because at that time she just wanted someone carefree and her equal. At least we both had over twenty missed calls.

7.

Egg Bro, after all, grew up in the South. The sandstorms and dryness of Beijing left purplish-red circles on his cheeks, spreading with the winter snow. His crow's feet deepened with the approaching winter nights. This was his first Spring Festival, but he was too ugly to go home. Chuan thought he looked like he'd just returned from teaching in Tibet, but Tibetan rosy cheeks are a down-to-earth, fashionable look; Egg Bro's rosy cheeks were rather plain. Egg Bro wasn't afraid of the cold. He always said, "You northerners have heating; it's not as cold as it is in the South."

Relying on his tough skin honed in the South, he wore flip-flops and peed on the streets of Beijing in early January. A gust of cold wind blew the urine onto his feet, and by the time he got home, his big toe was frostbitten. I was downstairs at his house with a bottle of red wine that someone had been giving me; the grapes on it looked exactly like his big toe, while his little toe was very red, like the two cherries on Chuan's chest.

That winter, we put on our skateboard shoes and met up in Sanlitun as usual. After a few bottles of liquor, we were both starving. Drinking was quite a workout; we had to chat, listen, and talk while drinking, sometimes even crying while listening. "Help me see if there are any Yangliu (a female friend/boyfriend), I'm heartbroken. Yangliu is good at comforting people, very compassionate," I said. I didn't know if he had gotten over his heartbreak so quickly; I even doubted if he was really heartbroken. I still felt like he hadn't lost his virginity.

His eyes swept over the females within a ten-square-meter radius. As long as they were within his sight, he practically gave them a full-body scan with an X-ray machine. After leaving Sanlitun, Chuan led me and Luan Ge to an alley near Wangfujing to find a place to eat lamb spine hot pot. As soon as Luan Ge entered the restaurant, the owner said, "Move the gas cylinder to the kitchen later." I could understand; with Luan Ge's face, as dry as a riverbed, even his Mizuno shoes, costing over a thousand yuan, looked like cheap cheap cheap sneakers. I remember that day we ordered a pot of lamb spine, 10 skewers of lamb kidneys, and 10 bottles of baijiu (a type of Chinese liquor). After the meal, Luan Ge had a row of bones in front of him, I had a row of metal skewers, and Chuan had a row of green glass bottles. "

You are what you eat," so I'm replenishing my "eggs" (referring to my fertility), worried that I often overexert myself. Luan Ge sat in front of the pot, I sat diagonally opposite him, and Chuan sat next to him, opposite me. The pot blocked Luan Ge's view; I could only see Chuan. Luan Ge, being a Cantonese, wasn't picky about food. A pot of lamb spine hotpot was enough to keep him occupied, preventing him from idly chatting with us—it would be too much trouble. I could actually understand him, but I was afraid my Mandarin would sound more and more like Cantonese, and I also had to translate for Chuan. Then, because Chuan spoke so fast, I had to translate for two people, using Cantonese-accented Mandarin. Even though it was Mandarin, it felt like I was learning another foreign language. We sat around the stove, eating, laughing, and joking around.

The heat of the lamb spine hotpot and the steaming broth softened

the dry smile on Luan Ge's face and the tears welling in his eyes.

He snatched the small bottle from Chuan's mouth, held the green bottle at a 45-degree angle, and said that the tear flowed freely. "Luan Ge, it's not worth it, I'll find you a sister!" Chuan couldn't bear to watch anymore and felt sorry for the big boy in front of her . But her foot stepped on my egg, her toes rubbing against each other.

That winter, besides skateboard shoes, there was Miss Dong. Luan Ge didn't understand, but he cried very sadly. I didn't go home for the Spring Festival. Instead, I strolled around the deserted streets of Beijing with my friend, Luan Ge. We walked from Dongzhimen to Xizhimen, but there were no green trees or red walls, only barren trees and a desolate landscape. Shichahai was unusually quiet, except for a few hooligans ice skating and even a convenience store that hadn't closed yet. These days, wealthy people go abroad for the Spring Festival. I told Luan Ge we shouldn't be idle either, let's go to Xinmatai (a shopping mall). Before we knew it, we were at the century-old braised pork shop. Xizhimen Outer Street is lined with hutongs (alleyways), and we finished exploring Xinjiekou in the time it takes to drink a bottle of beer. But I didn't remember anything; it felt like every hutong was the same as the ones Chuan had taken us through, except for the lack of lamb spine soup

. My girlfriend didn't come to Beijing to see me, and I didn't go to her house either, saying I was busy. Chuan was with her boyfriend meeting his parents. My phone was in my hand the whole time, but it never rang.

My hospitality and my aching legs ultimately couldn't keep Luan Ge there. Egg Bro said this city doesn't belong to him; he still prefers the morning tea of the South and can't get used to Beijing's soy dregs. He wished me and Chuan a good beginning and a good end, and I remembered that.

8.

During the 2014 Spring Festival, my first phone call was to my parents, the second to my girlfriend, and I thought about it but didn't make the third.

On New Year's Eve, I opened the "People Nearby" feature. Besides the nearby ads, there were only lonely men like me. The first person I chatted with was very concise: "Happy Spring Festival, wanna hook up?" When I added this woman with an unusually sexy profile picture, I realized she was a guy who worked in micro-loans. He recommended a basic consumer loan to me, with a monthly interest rate of 10%, up to 100,000 yuan, a must-have for showing off when going back to my hometown. I replied to him: "100,000 yuan might not be enough for me to show off!" The Spring Festival is tough, so I sent him a 50-cent red envelope and then blocked him. This was the first greeting on my phone during the Spring Festival besides 10086 (China Mobile's customer service number).

The lights in Taikoo Li were still on, but the crowds downstairs were sparse. I turned and walked towards the Workers' Stadium, calling my friend Luan Ge. "Shall we go find a girl?" "No way, I just broke up not long ago!" "33 days have passed, hurry up and release all your youthful energy!" "I booked a flight back to Guangzhou, I'll rest for two months and then find an easy job." "Okay, let's get a foot massage, I know there's still one open in the Olympic Village, consider it my early farewell." We were both afraid of pain, but we couldn't resist the two voluptuous girls in front of us. When the girl pressed Luan Ge's Yongquan acupoint, I got hard. I hadn't had sex for over a month, and I felt like I wasn't picky anymore.

Finally, Chuan sent me a text message on the afternoon of the third day of the Lunar New Year, "Come to my house tomorrow!" The afternoon sun was the most comfortable, even if I was still under the covers, a fart would smell sweet at this time.

I dressed neatly, adding a few drops of Davidoff perfume—a blend of liniment and bone-setting lotion—to my personal, traditional fragrance. Back when I was six or seven, I used floral water to woo girls. When I arrived at Chaoyang Park, it was already past dinnertime for the older women. I was too busy to even exchange pleasantries after hitting her door. She pounced on me, asking about the smell on my neck, thinking a dog had licked it. I explained it was Poison, a drug that makes you weak all over.

"Then you don't need liniment, just send a nude photo!" I was pleased she seemed infatuated with my body. "Show your face?" "No, showing your face won't work!" I slapped her buttocks hard, leaving my handprint on the white egg, almost pulling out the yolk. I picked her up; her legs wrapped around my waist. I supported her buttocks and thighs with my right hand, my left hand inside her clothes. Even as I walked to the bed, I hadn't unhooked her bra.

We licked each other from neck to earlobe and from earlobe to ear canal. My panting made her unrestrained, and her coquettishness spurred me on. She was only wearing a tight-fitting hoodie that looked like thermal underwear and a pair of big cotton slippers. I asked her if she dressed like this when she went out, and she said she did, but she would wear underwear. At that moment, my excited little guy was about to break free of the zipper's restraint. I threw Chuan onto the bed, watched her bounce twice on the bed and then hide under the covers. I skillfully stripped myself naked, and she threw her clothes out from under the covers one by one, including the bra that I couldn't undo no matter what I did.

I crawled under the covers from the foot of the bed, grabbed her feet, and slid my lower lip inch by inch along her calves, thighs, inner thighs, and groin. Then I pressed my lips tightly against hers and gave her a deep kiss. My tongue told me that her body was about 38.5 degrees Celsius, with a humidity of 99.999%. I couldn't smell any fishy odor. She didn't have a thick forest; she hadn't shaved, but her pubic hair was sparse. I swallowed hard. I realized she could be so sweet. I heard her almost suffocating moans.

She clamped my head between her legs, and my tongue kept slapping and probing. I couldn't see anything, but I enjoyed it, and she enjoyed it too. "I can't take it anymore, come in!" I didn't let her go because of her pleas. I went north, past her flat stomach, and stopped between her two fertile mounds. Chuan squeezed her breasts with both hands, and my hands rested on her protruding nipples, trembling as I sucked on the left one, then the right. Her erect breasts told me they liked me.

She pressed herself against me, my body arching upwards but stopping at the doorway. The little one kept pacing at the door until my back door was lubricated, but I'm a traditional person. Until she begged again, we became one. This was a traditional missionary, constantly slapping and shouting, "Bump me! Hold me tight!" At first, it was mostly physical pounding, later mixed with the sounds of water and gas flowing in and out. She screamed, her breathing melodious; I slapped, the slapping sounds pleasant. She held my head tightly with both hands, the winter blankets were so warm, the headboard pounding against the wall, faster and faster. Chuan almost lost his voice. I raised my head, her legs hooked tighter and tighter, not letting go. I instantly ejaculated 5 to 8 milliliters of fluid, which she accepted without hesitation.

I held her tight, her legs spread wide with exhaustion, my breathing rapid in her ear, her eyes tightly closed, her fingers running through my hair, humming some song, which I couldn't make out. "You're crazy! Marry me!" I blurted out in surprise, "Okay!" I had prepared a thousand different answers for this, but none of them could beat "okay." A second later, "You wish! Don't be lazy, let's do it again!" We kept going until we were practically dying in bed. Exhausted, naked, I staggered to the living room to get some water. I was almost out of spitting out; I had ejaculated all my essence and the soul I could love her with, leaving behind only a carcass. I drank the water and flipped through the almanac; it seemed like today was an inauspicious day for sex.

On the fifth day, I ate with Luan Ge. The first meal Chuan had with Luan Ge after returning was a farewell dinner. Luan Ge said he was going back to the beautiful mountains and rivers of the south. Chuan kissed the crow's feet at the corner of Luan Ge's right eye, "Don't forget there are still good girls here!"

Luan Ge suddenly looked at me, "You've let down good girls!" Actually, I've let down many girls.

Afterwards, Chuan and I took Luan Ge to the airport. Chuan then gave Luan Ge a gift, which I think was a selfie of her left breast. After that, I didn't go to Sanlitun for a while, and Chuan also didn't contact me for a while. Then Chuan met Jing.

9.

A girl in my office who's good to me said, "This scratch is really well done; it seems she doesn't want to let go." I smiled at her and asked if she'd used it on anyone. She said she'd scratched like that before and hadn't managed to catch anything. Looking at my thick skin, she guessed it wouldn't hurt or itch after scratching me. But imagine scratching so hard; this girl must have been heartbroken. I thought about it, and Chuan's cries were heartbroken, full of longing. So, on Friday night, I decided to take Chuan out for beef offal and skewers, and on Saturday morning, for fried liver. We couldn't miss out on any of the necessary nourishment. It was the beef heart that was so hard to chew, even harder than beef tendon. We both knew it was tough, but neither of us wanted to spit it out. But what can't a mouthful of Yanjing beer digest?

This season, the days are filled with the beauty of willows and flowers, the nights with short skirts and big breasts, the mornings with steamed buns and fried liver, and the evenings with beer and skewers. Sometimes I go to karaoke with colleagues, but the chances of Chuan and I being in a karaoke bar together are rare. Only in Sanlitun can we really let loose and the effects of alcohol reach their peak. Chatting in a karaoke bar is a waste of alcohol, chatting in Sanlitun is a waste of girls. Since I met Chuan, my Sanlitun social media feed hasn't been updated in ages. I've led Chuan through crowds and traffic, and we rarely share a taxi, except when I throw up all over myself or when we're drunk and alone.

That day, I hailed a taxi, and for the only time we were both still sober before midnight. She was wearing a fresh, floral dress, a bohemian style, the loose skirt making her legs look exceptionally long and slender. I wasn't obsessed with those long legs, but the soft flesh at the top of her thighs was still somewhat captivating. Our tongues and hands were constantly moving the whole way. We felt like we were being stared at by a pair of sharp, resentful eyes. I was worried the driver wasn't paying attention, but thankfully Beijing's speed limit wasn't high, giving us more time to build our passion. That desire, which we wanted but had to suppress, continued to build within Chuan and me.

We were so engrossed that the driver had to constantly remind us not to go too far in the car by pressing the accelerator, brake, and then accelerator again. And I only realized after getting out that there were cameras in the car. Thankfully, we didn't go too far. Aside from me secretly slipping my hand under her skirt and almost tearing her flesh-colored bra, her constantly trying to apply the handbrake, and her five-second "vacuum" act, our behavior was relatively proper. Otherwise, we'd probably be on someone's hard drive.

After getting out of the car, we strode forward, one after the other, through the still-standing square dancing crowd and men and women walking their dogs in the neighborhood. She didn't look back at me once, until we entered the elevator, thankfully empty-handed. The moment the elevator doors closed, she grabbed me like a madwoman, and I kissed her like a madwoman. Her skin was smooth and bouncy. Neither of us are big fans of French kissing, but I felt like she licked all the plaque off my teeth the whole way. I kept chewing on the beef tendon she had stuck between her teeth; there was too much cumin, and the beef flavor lingered on my lips until I swallowed it.

She opened the door, and I slipped my left hand under her skirt to support her buttocks, and with my right hand on her waist, I lifted her up forcefully. She was incredibly quick to react; she lightly jumped up and wrapped her legs around my waist. I locked the door with my heels, turned around, and pressed her against it. Aside from our verbal exchange and her hands running through my hair, we remained in that position until the square dance medley downstairs reached "Unforgettable Tonight." Amazing! It was the first time in my life I'd heard a square dance version of "Unforgettable Tonight," and it felt like it was barely 11 pm.

Chuan said it was hot, but besides underwear, socks, sandals, and a bohemian-style top, she wasn't wearing anything. I carried her back to the room. She looked at me, and I still remember the sweetness in her eyes and the happy dimples on her face when she smiled. I walked slowly from the living room to the bedroom, a distance of less than four meters, deliberately prolonging the time so I could remember her forever. When we reached the bed, I bent down and gently put her down. She pushed herself up with her hands, shifted her body backward, and sat up, pulling off her Bohemian dress from bottom to top. She still had two intact breasts. One was given to my boyfriend, and I thought the right one should be mine. Unfortunately, her right breast had already been given to her ex-boyfriend, but she was mine completely.

After she finished speaking, I angrily stripped off my clothes, grabbed her breasts, and took the left one into my mouth, my left index finger constantly fiddling with it. She took my right hand and sucked on my index finger. I teased her nipple with the tip of my tongue, my tongue swaying, and she sucked with extra force. My head sank down, wandering between her full, moist thighs encased in flesh-colored panties. I don't know where the strength came from, but I forcefully tore them open. I kissed her passionately. She grabbed my head, gasped, took a deep breath, and roared, "I want it! I want it!"

She sat up, cupped my head in her hands, and kissed my upper lip without hesitation. She slowly pulled away, but I couldn't let her go. I gently bit her lower lip as it was about to leave, kissing her deeply, without touching her tongue, just a light, fleeting exchange between our lips. My body slowly lowered, and she gradually lay flat. I parted her legs; the sheets were already slightly damp, perhaps from her sweat, perhaps from the desire and passion surging within her. I thrust straight in, her legs draped over my shoulders. I propped myself up with my hands, and she hooked her arms around my neck, enjoying my repeated thrusts, my vigorous exploration, my stirring, my arousal. This was my favorite game. I saw her ecstasy, heard her rapture. I closed my eyes, feeling each strike. Chuan tightened her grip, unlike before; she seemed to be competing with me, and this round ended in a draw.

Suddenly, I heard the loud crash of a bottle smashing on the rooftop. It seemed to be Germany vs. Portugal that day. I was looking at my German jersey on the ground, feeling relieved. Even though I hadn't watched, I hadn't been idle for the past three hours. I'd only used less than a third of the drawer full of treasures my friend had left me.

"Ignite a shattered dream, watch the light and shadow scatter like flying geese," I thought, wearing headphones, watching Beijing under the night sky. A taxi slowly drove across Sanyuan Bridge, the lights under the bridge like a slow aperture, the camera stretching the light from points to lines. I was on my way to the airport then; Chuan was probably still in bed, having finally escaped the Sunday afternoon sun. I was going on a business trip to my favorite city in the south, also to see my girlfriend, in a city with less smog, a young city where the nights are lively. I hadn't missed a single lonely night, and I believed Chuan hadn't either.

That summer was wonderful. Besides spending countless nights in bed together, I spent time watching anime or playing games with my beloved. Sometimes, when Chuan had to spend time with her boyfriend, I would watch sports while she played with his ball. After her boyfriend left, she would rush to see me. Aside from occasionally flying south to see my girlfriend, I spent at least half my time in Beijing. In Beijing, I wanted to be with her every step of the way.

I tried to wait for her, but my longing for her was only fleeting and fluctuating in front of her. Forgetting takes me only 0.05 seconds. From the moment I closed my eyes to the moment I opened them, I saw her again. No matter who was above me, I could always see her. I believe that when we parted, she imprinted herself on my cornea.

I'm not an old man; Chuan is actually a year older than me. She initially didn't accept this fact until she saw the photo on my ID card, and she was convinced I looked older than my age. Because I had a beard in school, my friends always thought I grew up using shortcuts. My freshly shaved beard sprouts barbs from my chin after just one ejaculation. Every time, whether it's my girlfriend or Chuan, they say it's not just prickly, it's heart-wrenching. I'm not sure about our separation, but how do you express indifference after a separation? We both encountered that problem: is it about sharing our bodies or our hearts? Not long after, I gave up; I couldn't afford to give her heart.

The update is finished quickly. Since it's a story, I'll finish it in Sanlitun. Brother Luan said, "A good beginning and a good end," so I updated to 10. Is "perfect" a bit of a stretch? But I guess Brother Luan is reading it too. This drawer full of treasures, I'll squander it for you.

This is a setup before the ending.

Stories are always embellished. I tried to show my raw side. I won't describe the remaining premature ejaculation; use your imagination.

10.

Sitting with my back to the sorrowful city, talking to myself about the future. The story begins with me swirling a wine glass, drunk, unable to grasp or hold on. Before the longing spread, I smashed the glass.

Summer in Beijing belongs to the ruins of the Old Summer Palace and the willow-lined banks and red walls of Beihai Park; few people want to go there anymore. I wandered aimlessly with a friend who was visiting Beijing through vast stretches of greenery, yet the sunlight still managed to penetrate the branches and leaves, scorching you. This sweltering heat evaporated our hormones; even a naked woman couldn't resist a bottle of Coke, its exterior condensed with a thin layer of water droplets, taken directly from the refrigerator by a shopkeeper. A 600ml bottle wasn't as good as a 350ml one, and a 350ml one wasn't as good as a 200ml one. I love the slender shape of bottled Coke; the moment my lips touched the glass felt like a first kiss.

I sat in front of the White Pagoda, holding my Coke, waiting for it to turn from white to red, for the willow branches to turn from green to yellow, for the first ginkgo leaves to fall, and for autumn to approach, so that I could hold Chuan's hand and embrace him when the splendor faded.

On the day Brazil was thrashed by Germany, I was planning to enjoy beer and chips at home, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. The first text I received that morning was from Chuan, "Can you come to my place tonight?" She, who was usually so bossy, was suddenly so gentle. It was my first day off, and also my last vacation in Beijing. I replied to her and went back to bed to rest for the entire afternoon, thinking I wouldn't need to sleep that night.

I visited her with a gift for the first time—a goddess-style seashell necklace. I had something to tell her. We met downstairs, ate at a Thai restaurant outside the complex, and then went to see a movie. It was the first time we appeared together in a crowd, without buying anything—no Coke, no popcorn. She said, "I only have two hands, and I'll always hold you, and I'll always hold your arm!" I was overwhelmed with happiness and sadness.

We weren't used to having too much physical contact in public. We were always very reserved when mutual friends or colleagues were present, but that night my arm was constantly against her chest, and she hugged me, leaning against me. The movie that day was something like "The Breakup Guru," and I didn't laugh once throughout the entire film. I ca

n't even remember what it was about. I rested my head on hers, the only scent being the fruity fragrance of Herbal Essences. I remembered nothing of the plot, Chuan's clothes, or whether the taxi driver was handsome.

When we reached her apartment building, we embraced, each understanding our own feelings. I sensed she was enjoying it, yet also feeling uncomfortable and uneasy. I walked her inside, sat her on the sofa, and besides kissing, we didn't have any other way to express ourselves.

She cradled my face, and I pulled her onto my lap, supporting her waist. She straddled me, arching her back, and I slipped my hands inside her clothes. Despite all our time together, it was the first time I'd untied the silk covering Chuan's chest. Her back was so smooth, like the pajamas she often wore. I was afraid my hangnails would cut her.

Cars on Chaoyang Street illuminated the roads on the outskirts of Beijing. Street vendors selling snacks were busy without any hawking, the lights in the apartment across the street flickered, and a neighbor's child cried. In the distance, I couldn't see the moon.

This was the first time I'd used this position. I only knew it was convenient. She was wearing a skirt, so all I had to do was pull her panties to one side, and they slid in easily through my unzipped pants. I pushed and pulled her plump buttocks back and forth, and she continued to kiss, pant, and moan. I can only say that this position wasn't very comfortable, especially the metal zipper, which chafed us both painfully, but we didn't want to stop.

I picked her up, pressed her against the wall, and vigorously swung my hips. I put her down, pulled her panties down to her knees, unbuckled my belt, and filled her from behind. Her legs came together, tighter and tighter, one hand on the wall, the other reaching back to pull my left hand to her chest. I admit, it felt good. I listened to her beautiful, soft moans, each wave higher than the last. Suddenly, as if she was about to climax, she said, "Marry me! I love you!" "Okay!" I thrust harder and harder... I held her, pressing her against the wall. "I'm getting married. I know you're leaving too. I overheard the boss talking to my boss," she cried. "Why didn't you tell me first!" I took a deep breath. "Yes, I'm leaving. Probably before the start of autumn," I pulled up my pants and took out the necklace I'd sold her from my pocket. "Congratulations. I heard you're getting married. I'm going south too..." I slowly put the necklace on her. We barely spoke all night. She cried and fell asleep in my arms. In the morning, she received a phone call and had to go to the company. After getting dressed, we went our separate ways. Since it was a casual encounter, we decided to make it professional, agreeing to be evenly matched and have a good ending.

After getting into the taxi, I called her:

"Don't invite me to the wedding!"

"You're dreaming! I definitely won't let you drink! The necklace is a gift, and the monetary gift is a must! WeChat transfer!

Hahaha! Wishing you happiness!"

The days leading up to my departure were filled with meals. My boss asked the girl I was close to to take me home. Having drunk too much, I took her to Sanlitun to sober up. We found a slightly upscale barbecue place near the Workers' Stadium. The five-yuan lamb skewers were so small I couldn't bear to eat them, except for the beef tendon that nobody wanted to touch. I couldn't swallow it; if I chewed it carefully, I might have been able to taste the Sichuan flavor. The owner gave us two bottles of Beibingyang soda. I returned one; I'm not from Beijing, I don't drink Beibingyang. "Please give me a Coke." She told me how much she loved this city, how even waiting for the bus was a happy moment. She was looking for someone worth meeting, waiting for a moment worth turning around for. I took a sip of my Coke and told the little girl who had been eating with me that I was also waiting, but I wouldn't be able to wait for that moment when the hustle and bustle faded away, or for that person to hold me tightly in their arms. After I

finished chewing the beef tendon, the little girl offered to take me home. I told her I was sober now, and I put her in a taxi. Then I walked towards Gongti North Road, wanting to say a proper goodbye to this place. It was the middle of the night; I knew I'd never see the ginkgo trees on Embassy Street again. We

barely keep in touch anymore. She's very happy now, and I'm doing well too. My friend got married; I missed being a groomsman because I got married even earlier than him.

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