The path of youth is like yesterday that has vanished; it cannot be found or retrieved, but it remains forever in our memories.

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This post was last edited by go2014 on 2017-10-29 22:12.

From the time I met my husband until we got married, he has always doted on me. From our dating days to our marriage, he has satisfied me both in our daily lives and in our sex life. I've always considered myself a sexually fulfilled woman. People who have read my husband's posts probably think I'm a slut or a whore, but actually, I should blame him. He's the one who started all of this, letting me experience many different feelings and different flavors from different men. So I should thank God for giving me such a wonderful husband!

Let me tell you about my experience. My husband has always explained it simply. We met in college. At first, we were just classmates and good friends. Later, our relationship grew stronger and stronger, eventually becoming best friends. But neither of us crossed any boundaries. Almost every night, we would go for a walk like a couple. The area outside the school was quite desolate, and we would often go out after dark and not come back until almost midnight. Many classmates thought we were dating, but we hadn't even touched hands. We always had so much to talk about. What made me happiest was walking with him every night because we had so many similar habits. Even when we went out to eat, we would order the exact same dishes. When I came back from eating hot pot with my girlfriends, he could guess what I ordered because he would definitely order the same thing. So, we were practically in sync, except that I was the woman and he was the man.

Gradually, taking walks became our daily routine. Almost every day, we would walk west from the school gate to the fourth traffic light, where there was a stone bench. We would sit there for a while. When it was cold, he would take off his scarf and put it on the bench, saying that girls shouldn't get cold, or their bottoms would hurt. I would laugh and walk back after a while. Sometimes, we would walk for three or four hours. At that time, I didn't consider him my other half; I just considered him a very good friend. Because when I was in trouble, he would always help me without hesitation, unlike some people who would ask me out for dinner after helping me with a small favor and then send me harassing text messages. But he wasn't like that. He seemed cold on the outside, but... I could feel that he was good to me, and that he treated me differently from other girls. At the same time, I didn't know if his purpose in caring for me so much was to get me into bed and then dump me, or to marry me. I didn't know, and I didn't dare to think about it. I hadn't even thought about how I would answer him if he asked me to be his girlfriend one day. I couldn't imagine what that day would be like. I was a little excited and a little scared. I was afraid of losing such a good friend, and I was also afraid of missing out on a handsome husband. But later, I don't know when, my heart changed. I felt that I was becoming more and more dependent on him. I would even get angry if he talked to other girls. That's when I realized that he had already firmly settled in my heart, and I was completely unaware of it.

We talked about everything, even my menstrual cycle. He said he had a pimple on his butt that rubbed against his skin and was very painful. I told him it was a boil. Once, while we were walking, I think I ate something bad, because when we got to the traffic light, my stomach started hurting terribly, and I needed to poop. But I didn't know how to say it, so I urged him to go back quickly. He didn't understand and kept dragging his feet. I couldn't hold it in any longer, so I told him the truth: I ate something bad and had a stomachache, so I needed to go back to the toilet. He quickened his pace a few steps, but I still couldn't hold it in. There were no toilets nearby, so he told me to sneak out into the grass by the roadside, saying he'd keep watch. I didn't hesitate and went. It was already dark, and it was the suburbs; who would look there? Even if they did, they probably wouldn't see me. I secretly pooped in the grass. Because it was winter, my butt was freezing, and there was some cold air around. It was dark, and I felt a little scared. The thought of a snake biting my butt in the grass made me even more frightened. I talked to him, asking him to come closer. He stood about 3-5 meters away and talked to me, his eyes constantly looking away, avoiding my gaze. Although I was afraid of him looking, I didn't care if he saw my bottom. He kept staring straight ahead. From that moment on, I realized I had fallen in love with him. If he had come over and hugged me then, I think I would have agreed to go to a hotel with him 90% of the time. But he never looked at me once, never said a flirtatious word, as if my exposed white bottom was just a pile of grass or a white leaf to him. But then the funny thing happened—neither of us had any toilet paper. He said he would find two twigs for me to wipe myself with, saying he used to do that when he was a kid. I was persuaded because I couldn't stand the cold feeling on my bottom. He handed me the twigs... He kept his head turned away, so I took the sock and tried it out. It hurt terribly. He heard me hiss and asked if I'd scratched myself. I said it hurt terribly, this was no good. A little while later, I saw him sit on the ground and start taking off his shoes. I didn't know what he was going to do, and when I asked him, he didn't answer. To my surprise, he handed me a sock. This time, he didn't look away, just stared at my face and grinned. I knew he'd seen my butt, but I didn't mind. I took the sock and wiped my butt while looking at him. He looked at me too, asking if it was enough, and if not, there was another one. He kept watching me until I finished dressing. After I finished dressing, my heart was pounding. He'd seen my genitals, he must have seen my pubic hair! On the way back, I hugged his arm and said I was cold. He didn't object. We chatted idly. When we got to the dorm, I texted him to ask if his eyes hurt. He said... Ouch! I told him he deserved it, for looking around like that! He said he didn't see anything—nobody believes that! I remember in my junior year of college, there was a girl in our class who was pursuing him. She would deliberately sit next to him every day, even though I never sat next to him in class. But seeing that girl sitting next to him made me furious, especially when I saw him laughing while talking to her. The more I looked, the angrier I got. I didn't even talk to him for a few days, and I didn't go for walks with him at night. He noticed that I had changed and texted me to ask what was wrong. I didn't want to reply. I couldn't very well tell him to stay away from that girl, could I? After all, I wasn't his girlfriend, and I had no right to say those things. But that's what I really felt. I wanted to strangle him! We had a cold war for about a week. Then one day he called me. I didn't answer, but he kept calling. I kept ignoring him. Later, he texted me: "Waiting for you at the gate tonight, something's up!" I didn't want to go, but curiosity drove my legs. I kept wondering what he wanted. Was he going to introduce me to his new girlfriend? If that happened, I'd just strangle him. I'd definitely turn around and go back, then lie on my bed and cry for two days straight. Or maybe he'd ask me to go to a hotel? No way! What if that happened? What if I didn't comply? Would he force me into a hotel and rape me? Thinking about this, I chuckled to myself, then realized how stupid I was... After class, I went back and quickly washed up, put on some light makeup, and went to the door when it was almost time. He had obviously been waiting for a long time. From a distance, I could see he looked unhappy, but when he saw me, he still came over with a smile, as if he was afraid of offending me. He was also very enthusiastic, asking if I was cold and why I wasn't wearing a scarf. Then he chuckled like an idiot, leaving me completely confused.

I asked him what was wrong, and he said he'd treat me to dinner to make amends. I hadn't eaten, so I went with him. But the taxi drove a long way, about half an hour, before stopping. The driver said we'd arrived. I thought it would be a small restaurant near the school, because we often eat there, but I didn't know why he drove so far this time.

When we entered, I realized it didn't look like a restaurant at all; it was more like a small bar with a restaurant-like atmosphere. The decor was quite charming. After sitting down, we ordered a few dishes, but I've forgotten what we ordered. I only remember that each plate had very little food—I thought it wouldn't be enough for me at all! In a few bites, the plate was empty. He asked if I was full, and I said yes, but in my heart I was thinking, "Full my ass! What rubbish!"

Then he ordered a few bottles of beer. I knew he wasn't a big drinker, but he didn't know how much I could drink. We started drinking and chatting, one bottle each. After one bottle, his face turned red, and that's when I realized what he was up to—he wanted to use his drinking capacity to get me drunk, and then… Thinking about this, I felt a little nervous and excited. I was secretly pleased watching him pretend to be something he wasn't. He clearly wanted to trick me and take advantage of me, yet he was still pretending. Time flew by, and it was already 10:30. The school locks the dorms at 11:00 sharp. I knew his time was up. He remained silent for a long time, thinking about something. I knew he was plotting something. I thought he would say it was too late and the school was closing, and not to go back. But instead, he ordered several more bottles of beer and kept drinking. What an idiot! My meaning was clear: I said it was almost 11:00 and the school was closing, but I didn't say I wanted to go back. Didn't he understand? Why did he still want more beer? Was he going to get me drunk and then…do that to me while I was in a daze? So stupid! Sometimes men are so dense, as dense as a donkey! One bottle... his mouth was already watering, but he was still holding on. Time—11 o'clock, two bottles, his speech was already slurred. 11:30... three bottles... he said he had a headache and was going to lie down for a while, but he never got up. I sat there, my lungs about to explode, thinking: Idiot! Get up! Take me to a hotel! Idiot! Get up! I'll go with you! Idiot! What can you do with me like this?! Around 12:00 AM, he was slumped over the table like a dead pig. I tried to pull him up, but he said his head hurt and he wanted to stay put a little longer. I had no choice but to pay the bill and drag him to the hotel like a limp dog. The hotel staff gave me strange looks, as if they were used to seeing men with drunk women, but never women with drunk men. I was so embarrassed I blushed and booked a room. After finally getting him to the room, he immediately vomited, covering me and himself in vomit. The strong smell of alcohol mixed with a pungent odor was unbearable. I put him on the bed, but he didn't move, covered in vomit. I wiped him with tissues. I tried wiping it off a few times but couldn't get it off, so I simply took off his outer clothes. I saw that his inner clothes and pants were also covered in it, so I just took them off too. It took me ages to get his pants off. I threw the clothes on a chair and sat on the edge of the bed looking at his lifeless, pig-like state. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. He was the one who had bad intentions and wanted to sleep with me, and now look what happened! I paid for the meal, I paid for the hotel, and if he wants to sleep with me again when he wakes up, I'll have to give in. I thought to myself, how could I be so stupid... Then I suddenly laughed. He's like a weasel offering New Year's greetings to a chicken, and he didn't even succeed, ending up looking like a dead pig. He was shirtless... http://vietnam daily.net">а√Paradise Online Address, he was wearing fleece pants underneath, and his knees were wet. After hesitating for a long time, I finally got up and took off his fleece pants too. Halfway off, my heart was pounding because he was only wearing a small pair of briefs, and they were tucked together, with his testicles exposed. I stared at his testicles, which looked like walnuts. I wanted to touch them, but I was also scared and found it particularly funny. Looking at his deadpan expression and then at his testicles, I reached out and touched them. He didn't react. I thought it was really funny, so I put my face close to examine them closely and poked them with my hand, thinking to myself, "You didn't want to..." "Did you rape me? Get up, you little brat! Get up! Hahaha~~" After washing his clothes, I washed mine too. It took me over an hour, and it was almost 2 AM. I sat on the chair for a while, and my head started to feel hot. After all, I had drunk so much, and the room was especially cold. So I crawled into bed. But I don't like sleeping in clothes, and I tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. I simply took off my clothes and slept in my underwear and bra. He lay flat on his back, breathing evenly. I... I turned to look at him, hoping he would wake up, look at me, kiss me, and then... But he remained asleep. I reached out and wrapped my arms around him, resting my head on his shoulder, my chest pressed tightly against his. Even though I was wearing a bra, I could still feel his body heat. I wanted him to wake up, but he wouldn't. After lying there for a while, the underwire in my bra became so uncomfortable that I decided to take it off. He'd take it off anyway when he woke up, so it was better to take it off myself for a while; I was practically being strangled. After taking off my bra, I pressed my chest tightly against him. I could feel my nipples hardening; I could feel the heat from his skin to my nipples. I tried to wake him up because of his temperature, but after a few tries, he didn't wake up and turned away. I followed him and pressed my breasts tightly against his back. His back was so hot. My throat became very dry from excitement. I wanted to reach out and touch his testicles, but I was scared and embarrassed. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep. In my hazy state, I felt a hand touching my chest. I woke up and realized that I had turned to my side with my back to him. I felt it; he was touching my chest, and he was awake. I was so happy. Although I didn't know how long I had slept, the room was dark, and I couldn't see anything. I could only feel... He was touching my breasts, very lightly. I was pretending to be asleep. One of his hands was completely covering my breast, like he was holding a precious treasure. At that moment, I felt his other hand under my head. I don't know when, but I was resting my head on his arm. He gently touched my breasts, my lower abdomen, and then my underwear. He came up and squeezed my breasts again. I was so excited, but I didn't dare to move and could only pretend to be asleep. He touched me for a long time, and then pressed his whole body against me, holding me tightly. I was having a little trouble breathing, so I pretended to wake up. I turned my head to the side, and he knew I was awake. He rubbed his face against my hair. After a few moments, I turned around and leaned my head against him. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He leaned in and started kissing me, then climbed on top of me. We kissed continuously, and slowly he started kissing my neck, breasts, and nipples. At that moment, I forgot everything. I couldn't even remember what the girl who was pursuing him looked like. I felt smug, excited, and happy. I was smug because I had won. Right now, he was enjoying my body on top of him, while that girl was probably still sound asleep in her bed, completely unaware. Tomorrow, I'll walk into the classroom arm in arm with him, feed him snacks to show her, and make her furious! Finally, he removed the last piece of clothing from my body. I was naked beneath him, and he was naked on top of me. Slowly, he parted my legs, and I felt his thing, gently rubbing against my lower body, ready to enter at any moment. He whispered in my ear, "Will you be my wife?"

I nodded and answered, "Yes."

Then he pressed down and kissed my lips, slowly lifting himself up. I felt his thrusting, felt something hard penetrating me. It hurt terribly, like someone stabbing a knife into my flesh. I gripped the blanket tightly, tears streaming down my face. I knew that from this moment on, I had transformed from a young girl into a true woman. I endured the pain, clinging to him tightly, refusing to let him move. After a long time, the pain almost subsided, and he began to slowly thrust in and out. Warm currents flowed from below to my brain—comfortable, pleasurable, exciting—like a place that's incredibly itchy but you can't scratch it yourself, and then someone comes to scratch it for you. My whole body felt like it was enjoying itself. I've forgotten if I moaned or made any of those "mmm" sounds like in porn movies. At that moment, I savored the pleasure he gave me, as if each entry was into my very being. Although it wasn't long, I experienced a feeling I'd never felt before, because I'd never felt so good anywhere. I admit, I've masturbated, but it's completely different from this feeling. Compared to sex, I swear I'll never masturbate again. I want him; he'll enter my body whenever I want, bringing me pleasure. Commemorating my first time!

And right now, he's fast asleep behind me, the marks of his recent struggles still visible beneath me. Looking at him, I think back to the years we've spent together, to that stone bench that may no longer exist, to the fourth red light—it feels like yesterday, as if we just stepped out of the gates of our youthful school days, and today we've quickly merged into this noisy society. Thinking about every little thing over the years, he's been there for me, giving me what I wanted and what many women desire but cannot have. I don't regret marrying him. But now, I'm suddenly filled with inexplicable fear. I'm afraid that if I weren't the one sitting here typing this, but the girl who once pursued him, where would I be then?

Word count: 4752

[The End]
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The path of youth is like yesterday that has vanished; it cannot be found or retrieved, but it remains forever in our memories.

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