Top three experiences with casual sex

page views:1 Publication date:2023-06-04

Let me introduce myself first. I'm 38 years old, 1.7 meters tall, weigh 68 kilograms, a voluptuous mature woman, highly educated, with a 10-year-old daughter, and work for a foreign trade company. Last year, I was sent by my company to a city in northern China for a year, where I had casual sex with 42 men, all younger than me, the youngest born in 1994. My biggest takeaway is that young men have more unusual tastes than I imagined. At my age, my youth and figure are gone, yet I'm incredibly attractive to them. Almost every time we had sex, they wanted to have sex again. It wasn't about any financial gain, just pure pleasure. This is my darkest secret, so please don't take it personally. If you've ever had a one-night stand with me, you'll understand. Don't try to find me; I've returned to my hometown and am living a peaceful life. You are a landscape in my memory filled with mixed emotions. I wish you all a better life than mine! I want to write down my most memorable casual sex partners here, ranking them. The top three are still vivid in my memory, the ecstasy is still fresh. Fortunately, none of the 42 people were scumbags. They all respected me, didn't force me to do anything, and none of them took photos of me or did anything like blackmail. I'll stop here for today because I need to tutor my daughter and don't have time to write about the first person I met. I'll update next time. PS: Because of work and taking care of my child, I can only update irregularly. I wish everyone a happy Year of the Horse and all the best!
Before recounting my specific hookup experiences, let me share some thoughts, if you'd like to hear them: When I first came to this new city last year, I was unfamiliar with everything and felt lonely at night. I'm the introverted type, with a dignified and gentle demeanor, exuding a strong sense of being a respectable person. In my previous city, I was a typical virtuous wife and mother, never having cheated. But I never expected that in this new city, I would discover the slut's heart hidden deep within me. By slut, I mean someone who indulges their desires, abandons ethics and morality, and doesn't restrain themselves with reason. If there's a bad intention, then I become a femme fatale; if there's an ulterior motive, then it becomes a transaction—none of that matters to me. From a feminist perspective, I control my own body, and it's no one else's business. I prefer pure relationships; "friends with benefits" is cleaner and more concise than "lover." It's about physical intimacy that doesn't interfere with each other's lives. In bed, we are the most familiar strangers; outside of bed, we are complete strangers. Therefore, I don't hook up with acquaintances, nor do I pay for sex. What we crave is each other's bodies, tender caresses, warm embraces, and passionate penetration. In the face of primal desires, we are equal. Safety is paramount; we almost always use condoms, so I've never had an abortion or any hidden health issues—a sign of a mature woman taking responsibility for herself.
First encounter: I met "Bodily Pain Guy,"
who had just moved to another city and wasn't used to the food, so he was feeling down. Plus, a Canadian client was being unreliable, which annoyed me greatly. I was chatting with an old friend on QQ when I stumbled upon a message in a bottle feature. I'd never used it before and didn't know what it was for, so I clicked on it and retrieved a bottle. It was a "relationship bottle," and it said: "Born in 1988, 1.85 meters tall, 75 kg, feeling very lonely lately, looking for a lover." It was my first time using a message in a bottle, and I felt incredibly lucky. After retrieving more, I realized there were countless such "connections." I tried replying to one, saying I was lonely living alone in the city, and even mentioned my age. He replied: "I like mature women," etc. Being of mature woman age, I felt a girlish excitement, thinking, "What a coincidence, I've met a 'mature woman fetishist.'"
Actually, among my 42 casual sex partners, very few were truly mature woman fetishists. By "mature woman fetishist," I mean someone who only likes mature women. Most people who claim to like mature women are either curious individuals who haven't tried it before, or desperate men who don't miss out on anything, young or old. At that time, I had no experience with casual sex; I just felt it was such a coincidence, an unbelievable coincidence. I was feeling down at the time, so I met him in person. He suggested we go to Pizza Hut. As a mature woman with a large, curvy figure, I usually attract shorter, thinner men. I was quite nervous around this 1.85-meter-tall guy and didn't dare approach him to say hello. He called me repeatedly, urging me to come out, and I finally showed up. The streetlights were on, and on the bustling street, I felt uneasy and trembled with nervousness. He suggested we take a taxi to Pizza Hut, and I
agreed. We got into the taxi, but didn't say much; the atmosphere was a little awkward. In the brightly lit restaurant, we chatted quite well. I'm quite understanding, knowledgeable, and lively. I offered to pay, but he disagreed and insisted on paying. Afterwards, I felt lost. He suggested we go to a hotel. Looking into his sincere eyes, although I was scared, I went to a hotel with this stranger. I like it dark; I feel more relaxed then. After showering, as soon as the lights were off, he pounced on me like a bear. I thought to myself, if I were a skinny beauty, I might have broken a bone; thankfully, I have a full and bouncy figure. Without giving me a chance to be shy or hesitate, he took off my clothes, saying, "Let me have some fun." I reminded him to wear a condom, and he pulled out a Durex. Suddenly, I heard him scream, which startled me so much I immediately jumped up to see what had happened. He said with a pained expression that he had accidentally pulled the condom while putting it on, and it had hit his testicles, causing him excruciating pain and making him unable to get an erection. "It's so embarrassing; we can't do it this time," he said dejectedly, covering his face. Our first date, and this happened! The self-deprecating humor about "testicle pain" that's often seen online was actually happening to me. I was speechless, unsure whether to comfort him, try again, or just quietly go to sleep.
A while later, his phone rang. He probably texted his buddy to call him so he could get away. He couldn't get an erection all night; sleeping next to me would be incredibly humiliating. He quickly got dressed and told me before leaving, "Get a good night's sleep. You can check out with the receipt tomorrow morning." Sigh, I said goodbye and checked out in the morning. Later, I messaged him on QQ to return the deposit, but he said no need, just buy some food for your daughter. I never saw him again. A first hookup, even if it went wrong, is much better than a gun going off and hitting you on the head. I think he was a kind person. It reminds me of the last line from Kazan's film *A Streetcar Named Desire*: "I always believe in the kindness of strangers."
II. The "Mini-Brother" Who Looks Like Astro Boy
. This "Mini-Brother" was found in a message in a bottle. A rough count revealed that my top three casual sex partners were all people I met on WeChat, and several of the less-than-ideal partners came from "message in a bottle" (a type of online chatbot). I was initially disheartened and confused by this practice: if you're not good enough, why bother with dating? It just disappoints the women who come to meet you. Later, after reading a fellow casual sex enthusiast's experience, I understood a little better. This enthusiast's advice boiled down to one word: "deception." He boasted about how amazing he was, and once she was in bed, she had no choice. The problem was, once in bed, if you performed terribly, lacking both inherent and acquired skills, leaving the woman regretting her actions, there was no chance of a "comeback." Some time later, on a whim, I went back to "message in a bottle" and surprisingly found a partner with the best stamina, longest duration, and most frequent encounters—ranking fourth overall. This improved my impression of casual sex partners. But that's a story for another time. No matter what tools you use, luck plays a significant role. Finding a hookup is also about fate, but not every encounter will be delightful. Take this "Mini Brother," for example.
He wasn't tall, but in the photos he sent, his expressive eyes made him look incredibly cute, instantly captivating me and reminding me of Astro Boy from my childhood. When we met, we were still in the early stages of casual hookups; we went straight to a hotel room. Looking back, it was very risky. Luckily, "Mini Brother" wasn't a bad person, and the photos were indeed of him. News reports often feature unscrupulous individuals using other people's photos to impersonate themselves, engaging in various nefarious schemes. Opportunities and risks always go hand in hand in casual hookups.
As soon as I entered the room, I saw Astro Boy sitting peacefully on the bed watching TV, dressed in thermal underwear, looking like an old man from a cave dwelling in northern Shaanxi. How old-fashioned! When he saw me, he smiled brightly and eagerly tried to hug me. Then I touched his genitals, and my heart sank. His erect penis was so tiny. I didn't want to describe him as "Toothpick Brother," because that's too harsh. "Mini Brother" is more appropriate; though small, he might even be cute, like my favorite car: a Mini Cooper. But Mini Brother's lovemaking style is languid. He wants me on top, which is okay, but he always wants me on top. I was sweating profusely, and he kept saying, "So comfortable, so comfortable, so comfortable." I couldn't help but tease him with a line from the TV drama "Empresses in the Palace": "This is truly the most comfortable thing imaginable." He laughed heartily: "Absolutely right!" But his tiny penis couldn't give me any pleasure. I felt no joy; it was one-sided labor, one-sided pleasure. My eyes were filled with tears. He ejaculated twice, and I experienced firsthand the workload of a sex worker. Little brother, don't you understand the principle of "paying money but not effort, effort but not money"? Sigh, consider it a trip to the horse farm for some exercise! Later, he asked me out several times, but I politely declined each time, never telling him the real reason. He'll understand eventually.
III. Sexy Details: The Most Comfortable Embrace
One night before bed, someone suddenly greeted me; it was a "People Nearby" feature on WeChat. I clicked on his profile picture, and my first impression wasn't good. It was a shirtless guy in warm lighting, his face unclear, but his posture and physique were very good. I didn't add him; I thought he was a gigolo. But he kept greeting me, and I said I wasn't looking for gigolos, so please go elsewhere. He typed a message that shocked me: "Sister, I'm not a gigolo, I'm still a virgin, please take my virginity." What?! A triangular physique, broad shoulders, a thick chest—his posture was quite sexy. He said that after he posted the photo, no women greeted him; he only attracted gay men, and he only loved women. After a conversation, I was certain he was a virgin; my intuition is always sharp. That day, the indoor heating was broken, and I felt particularly cold. Seeing him in the warm light, I suddenly had an urge to meet him.
We agreed to meet at the convenience store near my place. When I was about ten meters away, I recognized him immediately. He was wearing a yellow down jacket, and the thick clothes couldn't hide his model-like figure. My heart pounded. He was from Shandong, and his straightforwardness instantly wounded me: "I've thought about it. I don't care who takes my virginity, as long as they're not a prostitute." Handsome guy, how can I bear to hear that? I became the representative of non-prostitutes, and suddenly I felt like nobody, as light as a feather. I could be Xi Shi, or Ru Hua, either a bean sprout or a scallion pancake; my personality and charm were all nothing. There was a postmodern absurdity, meaning dissolved, reduced to fragments. A gust of cold wind blew, and before my head could freeze, he pulled me into a tight embrace. What a comfortable hug! I stopped thinking.
His caresses and kisses were expert; he'd had girlfriends before, though he'd never reached third base. After foreplay, he started asking, "Sis, where should I insert it?" Clearly, he was being cute. I couldn't believe he hadn't watched Japanese adult films—clear, uncensored tutorials—and he didn't even know where the entrance was? I refused to answer such a childish question. He "laboriously" found the entrance. His penis wasn't thick, but it was slightly longer than average. His insertion was clumsy, rhythmic, and slightly trembling. He lasted longer than I expected. Just as I was about to praise him, he suddenly stopped: "Oh no, my knee's scraped." I immediately flipped over and pulled a band-aid from my bag. What does it mean to be prepared? This is it!!!
Considering the minor knee injury, we tried different positions—me on top, to the side, and standing—and successfully completed two rounds of ejaculation. I asked him how it felt to lose my virginity, and he said in a low voice, "Much more tiring than masturbating." I gently patted him, "Take it slow, practice makes perfect." He nodded. Then he lay flat on his back, and I lay on top of him. He hugged me tightly with both arms, and I was uneasy: "Am I too heavy? Will I hurt you?" He smiled gently and said, "No, I'm very strong." I felt like I was lying on Totoro from a Miyazaki film, and I quickly fell asleep.
Time passed little by little, and I grew older day by day. One day I will forget what you look like, but I will never forget the most comfortable and warm embrace you gave me on that cold night!

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