The Bath Girl's Kiss

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

I first learned about this bathhouse from a forum. I even searched for it on Baidu Maps, but the panoramic view was obscured by an overpass, leading me to mistakenly believe it was located inside a residential area, which caused me to search for quite some time.

I was quite nervous before going there. I drove around the area twice, parked far away, and then walked around the entrance. As I approached, I thought to myself, "Damn, with all this swaying around, will the staff mistake me for a policeman?" But as soon as I entered, I knew I was overthinking it; the receptionist and staff were all sound asleep, leaning against the wall. (For safety reasons, I went in the morning.) Inside, it was the same routine as all bathhouses: change shoes, get a number, undress, and shower. While showering, I looked around and noticed that the entrance to their rest area was inside the shower area—a layout that actually made me feel safe. After a quick shower and changing into a bathrobe, I went up to the second floor. The lounge area was dark, but by the light from the stairs, I could see rows of reclining chairs, packed with customers snoring all around. It seemed the bathhouse had been quite busy last night. I found a staff member and asked for a massage. He asked if I knew anyone there, and I told him to just arrange whatever he wanted. He spoke a few words into a walkie-talkie and led me to a private room.

The room was wallpapered, and under the dim pink lighting, it had a somewhat mysterious feel. There was a large bed in the center, with an ashtray and remote control on the bedside table. A flat-screen TV and a clock hung on the wall at the foot of the bed. The room was small but clean and tidy.

The staff member turned on the TV, lowered the curtain, and left. I took off my shoes, got into bed, and settled into a comfortable position. I absentmindedly flipped through channels with the remote, my eyes glued to the curtain, wondering what kind of beautiful figure would appear when it was lifted.

A short while later, a figure in a red suit lifted the curtain and entered. She was about 165 cm tall, with her hair tied back. Her forehead was slightly high, making her face appear a little long. A pair of gentle eyes framed her straight nose, and her thin lips curved upwards when she smiled, exuding both charm and cuteness. She didn't give the impression of being stunningly beautiful, but rather like the young woman next door. Like the older sister I had a childhood crush on, who had married young. The allure of a mature woman is undeniable for a young man like me. Like the poem says, "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, for time will be too late.

" "Hello, I'm number 18, it's a pleasure to serve you," a gentle voice interrupted my observation of her. I gave a perfunctory reply, sat up, took off my bathrobe, and rolled over onto the bed. Although I couldn't see her, the image etched in my mind became even clearer. She approached, sat on top of me, and began massaging my shoulders and arms. Those were soft hands, the pressure just right, like a gentle stream washing away my weariness.

Sometimes pinching, sometimes kneading, my restless heart slowly calmed down. Women are so wondrous; a woman's deft tug and smooth can make the sheets perfectly smooth, and this talent applies to men's hearts as well.

I enjoyed her massage with my back turned, and I don't know how long it lasted, but then her technique changed. Her fingers lightly scratched my back, like spring rain pattering on my skin. The places she touched felt comfortable, like ripples spreading across a calm lake, a kind of magic slowly seeping through my skin, stirring my newly calmed heart. This, I suppose, is temptation.

Her fingers slid down to my lower body, her small feet playfully reaching between my legs, her toes occasionally twitching restlessly as she massaged me. When her toes moved, my heart moved with them; when her toes stopped, my heart couldn't stop. I reached over and stroked her calves. Her skin was so smooth and delicate, it felt like it could drip water. The soft, supple touch of her skin was irresistible. "Your skin is so beautiful!" I couldn't help but exclaim. "I'm made of water, and your skin is pretty good too, even better than mine." I withdrew my hand and haphazardly touched myself a few times. "Then why don't I feel anything when I touch myself?" She laughed and lightly slapped me. "I've never seen anyone act so indecently towards themselves." As she spoke, she pulled her leg out from under me and slowly moved it up my body until her whole body was pressed against my back. The smooth touch felt like phosphorescent paper striking a match, igniting a raging fire of desire within me. She gently breathed into my ear, and along with the airflow came soft panting and moans, which fueled my lust even more. Now, all I wanted to do was turn around and embrace this maddening vixen.

I eagerly helped her turn over, and the first thing I saw was a pair of bright eyes, like twinkling stars in the night sky. Then came her gently smiling lips, like a newly risen crescent moon. The upturned corners of her mouth, like two hooks, drew my eyes in, but pulled my lips closer. I embraced her tightly, capturing those alluring, rosy crescent moons with my lips, savoring the cool spring water within. It was as if only in this way could I avoid being consumed by lust. A few minutes passed, but in my heart, the kiss felt like an eternity. She breathed slightly and whispered in my ear, "Are you trying to devour me?" "Yes, I wanted to devour you, but now I've changed my mind. I'll crush you before I eat you,"

I said with a wicked grin, as I peeled off her top, revealing a pair of jade-like breasts that sprang forth, followed by the intoxicating scent of milk, a fragrance that was as intoxicating as fine wine. Her breasts were as large as papayas, slightly sagging, but this did not detract from their beauty. Paired with the pink areolas in the center, they were truly a perfect work of art. Like a child who had finally received a long-awaited toy, I carefully played with them in my hands. I pressed my cheek against them; the soft, smooth touch felt like the finest silk down comforter, so comfortable that I wanted to sleep in her arms forever. I cupped them in my mouth; the texture was remarkably like crispy Japanese tofu, with a touch of bright red on top, like the freshest shrimp. I held them in my mouth for a long time, unwilling to swallow.

My free hands greedily slid down her back to her buttocks, finding two large, round mounds. I carefully pulled down her panties. My gaze passed through her cleavage, around her flat stomach, and settled on a patch of glossy black grass, more captivating than the tender green fields of spring. The grass held an endless magic, drawing my hand to part the tender grass and explore its mysterious depths. After a short search, I indeed discovered the mechanism. I stroked the newly discovered red bean up and down, slowly at first, then faster, until a soft, muffled hum escaped her throat. The moist stream flowing nearby drew my fingers closer to an even more mysterious opening. My fingers slid in little by little; at first it was a bit narrow, the tight walls enveloping them like a small mouth sucking, but that didn't stop my fingers from restlessly exploring and teasing inside. Something seemed to have stirred the spring, and the stream inside gradually overflowed, while my fingers moved more and more freely and joyfully, like fish.

At this moment, she turned around with a hum, pulled off my bath pants, and grabbed my already swollen member. She first kissed it carefully, then took it entirely into her mouth, sucking on it up and down, her gentle tongue occasionally grazing the tip, bringing a tingling sensation. After a while of teasing, she turned her head and provocatively said, "Didn't you want to devour me? I'll devour you first, you rascal." I smiled without saying a word, thinking to myself, "Let's see how I deal with you, you vixen."

The battle was about to begin. She kissed my glans, then opened the bedside drawer, took out a transparent suit of armor, and put it on. Then, straddling my waist, she aimed her spear at her entrance and slowly sat down. The narrow opening struggled to swallow my penis until it was fully inside. She carefully moved a few times to let her vagina adapt to my penis, and then she galloped on top of me like a female knight. Her breasts, like embroidered balls in the hands of cheerleaders; her flowing ponytail, like a victory flag behind a general; her murmurs, like the shouts of soldiers charging into battle. We fought like this for five minutes, then she gradually grew tired, panting as she lay on top of me, softly saying in my ear, "I can't take it anymore, you take over." Hearing her plead for mercy, I sat up in her arms, pressing my chest against her breasts, gently supporting the back of her head with one hand, silencing her murmurs with my mouth, and using my other hand to move her hips up and down. My penis experienced immense pleasure from these simple movements. Her body went limp, and I gradually became dissatisfied with such limited and simple actions.

My penis was reluctant to leave her soft spot, so I had to carefully shift my weight while moving, gently lowering her down and pressing her beneath me. Adjusting my position, I began to thrust forcefully, entering like a tiger descending a mountain, withdrawing with lingering affection, sometimes nine shallow thrusts followed by one deep one, sometimes grinding against her inside. My proud penis was asserting its dominance over her honeyed cave in various ways. My lips kissed her earlobes and neck haphazardly, then my body arched, my tongue tracing down her sexy collarbone until it reached her nipple, circling it in circles. Her released lips began to moan softly again, the sound gradually changing from gentle to high-pitched, her body slowly stiffening and trembling slightly. "Mmm... mmm... I... I'm dying... I... I'm really going to... be crushed." Soon, I felt a warm stream of water moisten my testicles. I reached down and stroked her fragrant buttocks, which were already soaking wet. I was panting heavily, sweat dripping from my cheeks onto her chest, then rolling onto the sheets like dewdrops on lotus leaves. The sheets were so wet they formed two lakes, my sweat on top, her juices below. We were pressed tightly together, indistinguishable from one another.

She closed her eyes, her brows furrowed adorably, lying limply and languidly, enjoying the afterglow of her orgasm, her vagina still undulating and contracting, making a final resistance. My hands cupped her softening buttocks from below, my penis quickly withdrawing to near the entrance, then thrusting in again, pounding deep into her flower. I held my breath, my penis pumping wildly and desperately. At this moment, the meaning of life was no longer the fresh air, but the rhythmic throbbing beneath me. *Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap*, like increasingly rapid drumbeats, pounded against every nerve in my body, sending shivers of pleasure through me. "So...so good...I...I'm almost there too," a hot ejaculation shot from my penis. This final ejaculation seemed to drain all my strength; my body went limp, collapsing onto her, my no longer hard penis still inside her, twitching as it squeezed out the last few drops of semen. With my last strength, I cupped her face and pressed my lips to hers. She awoke with a start, her hands on my shoulders, responding to my passionate kiss.

Time seemed to stand still; the heaviness of my body couldn't stop my soul from soaring higher and higher, until it ascended to a blissful paradise. Angels danced and sang around me, their songs like echoes of her moans, not loud but melodious, not solemn but alluring.

A woman's secret place is the entrance to paradise; the beginning is there, the end is in the deepest recesses of our souls. In the paradise of desire, did you also hear the song of the angels? Falling back to the mortal realm, does that beautiful song still echo in your mind?

No one understands me better than you.

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