Sexual activity in junior high school

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Middle School Sexual Encounters
Word Count: 26466
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(I)
The night was cool and still. I lit a cigarette and lay quietly on the bed, pondering a question: why would my girlfriend dump me for a guy who was unemployed, uneducated, and unattractive?
After a long while, I came to the conclusion that he must be better than me in bed. But there was nothing I could do; I'm really not interested in younger girls, and in bed I often just go through the motions. No wonder! Although I feel some regret, whenever I think back to that experience, I feel that my life has been worthwhile.
It was back in middle school. Although I look a bit shabby now, with a full beard and pockmarked skin, I was quite unremarkable back then. Being the top student in the entire school for the junior high entrance exam made me quite famous in my grade. Plus, I was starting to mature, and I liked to deliberately mingle with the girls (girls were generally half a head taller than boys when I first entered junior high), telling jokes, so I was quite popular with them. They were always chatting and laughing with me, but that was about it; I didn't understand much more back then. There
was this guy in my class, a bit older than the rest of us, nicknamed "Milk Hat." He always liked to talk about men and women, but only some classmates around his age understood, and they would burst into laughter. The rest of us didn't get it.
One day in class, I noticed Milk Hat and some classmates passing books back and forth, and there was a smell, like they were striking matches. I was really curious.
I'd been secretly watching him the whole time, and finally the book reached the guy in front of me. I noticed he first cautiously glanced at the teacher on the podium, while our history teacher, Mr. Zhu, was spitting out his saliva with his eyes closed, then he lowered his head.
I quickly turned my head to see what he was doing. "Sizzle," he struck a match, then picked up a piece of paper. I looked closely—it was a playing card. He then heated the card over the fire and stared intently at it. Damn, what is that? It's so captivating!
I reached out and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked like he'd been bitten, his hands jerking into his drawer. He looked up, relieved not seeing the teacher beside him, and then, remembering I'd tapped him, grabbed the book to cover his face, his hand over his mouth, and half-turned to ask,
"What are you doing? You scared me to death!"
"What are you looking at?" I asked, getting straight to the point.
"Nothing, really nothing."
Nobody believed him. "I saw it, a playing card, let me see it."
Just then, Old Zhu noticed our odd behavior. "Fang Ming, tell me, what measures did Yelü Abaoji take?"
Good grades have their advantages; if you break the rules in class, the teacher usually gives you some leeway and won't call you out directly. But our Bald Donkey (Fang Ming's nickname) was in trouble—who told him to have such bad grades?
"Hmm, hmm, it seems to be three aspects," someone grumbled. A burst of laughter erupted around him. Old Zhu glared at him.
"How many times have I told you? No talking in class! You stand at the back!"
"I didn't talk." Despite muttering under his breath, Bald Donkey obediently stood at the back. Old Zhu started shaking his head and talking about his predecessors, now reduced to ashes. I had to keep my questions to myself for the time being.
Class was over, and as soon as Old Zhu said "Goodbye, students," I dashed to Baldy's desk and frantically searched inside. Baldy, seeing this from behind, yelled "No!" and rushed forward, but it was too late. I found the playing card. I looked at it and saw it was one of those "beauty" playing cards—a woman in a bikini posing provocatively on it. Nothing special.
Baldy, seeing that I'd discovered him and several girls staring at him in surprise, blushed slightly. He came over and took my hand, saying, "Come on, let's go to the bathroom." He whispered, "I'll tell you on the way."
"What is it? Why so mysterious?"
"Come on, let's go." Baldy's tone was almost like a pleading smile.
On the way, Baldy whispered in my ear, "If you heat this card with fire, that woman's clothes will disappear."
"What? Really?" I was skeptical.
"Why would I lie to you? Try it if you don't believe me!"
"Okay, where are the matches?"
"They're still in the drawer. Wait a minute, I'll go get them." The bald monk, probably wanting me to believe him, ran like a dog to get the matches.
After the bald monk brought the matches, we went to a secluded spot. I lit the matches and burned them under the playing cards. Sure enough, the woman's clothes were gone, leaving only a pair of large breasts on top, shining brightly.
"It's real!" I couldn't help but say in surprise.
"Of course, would I lie to you?" the bald monk said smugly, his face glowing red, making his face full of huge pimples look even bigger.
"Bald monk, where are the things?" Suddenly, a shout came, and it was Milk Hat's voice.
Before the words were even finished, Milk Hat had already come over. She saw the playing cards in my hand, paused for a moment, and then stared at the bald monk with cold eyes.
The bald monk quickly put on a fawning smile and explained, "I didn't give it to him, Xiaobai snatched it himself."
"What, Milk Hat, you have something good but won't show your brother?" Since the whole thing started because of me, I naturally had to help the bald monk.
Milk Hat turned around and said to me with a big smile, "Actually, it's nothing, we're all brothers. How about it? Want to see more? I have a few more here!"
"Sure, let me have them and enjoy them."
From then on, Milk Hat and I became friends, and he never hid anything from me.
To be honest, Milk Hat was practically the sex education teacher for all the boys in our class. Not long after, he got his hands on a book written by a Japanese author named Nishimura Beastly Exploration. I've forgotten the title, but it was about a female spy, and it contained some erotic descriptions. Of course, it was far inferior to the articles on the coastline, but back then everyone was incredibly naive. As soon as
we saw the descriptions of "honey pot" and "honey nectar" in the book… Although I didn't quite understand, I at least got the general idea, and everyone was incredibly excited. My penis instantly stood at attention, so much so that after class for a while, many students wouldn't stand up because their crotches would be sticking out so high, which was embarrassing. My first ejaculation was also during that period, and I believe other students' experiences were probably similar.
Then came Sunday, when a dozen or so boys in the class went to watch videos together. Nai Mao was the one who chose the video rental stores. At each store, Nai Mao would go in, pick up the videotape covers the owner had placed aside, flip through them, and then conclude that they weren't good. At first, the rest of us were too embarrassed to look at those videotape covers and instead flipped through covers of Hong Kong martial arts films. Later, we didn't care anymore and joined Nai Mao in flipping through them, but he still made the decisions.
"This one isn't good." I don't know what his basis was, but I guess it was the title, the appearance of the cover girl, and how much clothing she was wearing.
Finally, we chose a theater. I still remember the title of the movie they showed; it was a Category III film called "Youthful Fury." I don't remember the plot, but I vividly recall the heavy breathing in the room and how everyone propped their legs up to cover their crotches while watching.
Thanks to my friend's guidance, and given that we were going through puberty, I felt my perspective on women had changed. Before, I usually looked at faces—good faces were good, bad faces were bad. Now, I not only paid attention to faces but also to figures, especially breasts. Every time I went out, my eyes
scanned every woman on the street, from top to bottom and bottom to top, over and over again, like a radar.
In my second year of junior high, my life finally turned a new page. In the second year of junior high, a new politics class started. On the first day, a young woman walked in and introduced herself in a soft voice:
"I'm your politics teacher, my name is Hu Shuizi. You can call me Teacher Hu. I hope we can become friends."
After a year of training, I had developed a certain appreciation for women. Teacher Hu had long hair, bangs framing her forehead, rosy cheeks, and bright, blinking eyes. Her most attractive feature was her chest—high and full, revealing glimpses of her white breasts through the opening of her shirt. Her buttocks were also large. Compared to her, the girls in the class seemed like firewood. I really liked her. I
don't know how others act in front of women they like, but my method was to constantly ask her questions in class, constantly argue with her, sometimes even to the point of being unreasonable. For example, when she said that people can't live without society, I gave the example of Robinson Crusoe living alone, and then sat down to slowly appreciate Teacher Hu's explanations.
For some reason, Ms. Hu never got angry. Maybe she already knew I had feelings for her. Because it's easy for me to notice my feelings for women. I always like to stare directly at the women I like, and I haven't changed this habit to this day.
Sometimes I even felt that Ms. Hu would deliberately pause during her lectures, looking at me with a smile, as if inviting me to ask questions. Subconsciously, I was also very intoxicated by this feeling of being in front of the girl I liked, and I was always very eager to use my brain to ask questions. Gradually, I felt that we had developed some tacit understanding.
And one day, things finally happened.
(II)
Originally, what happened that day was nothing special, but now that I think about it, it can be considered a breakthrough in my relationship with Ms. Hu. That day was also her class, and the day before, I had just watched Chow Yun-fat's "God of Gamblers." The girl sitting next to me found out and kept pestering me to tell her about the movie.
In fact, this girl is the prettiest girl in our class. She has a very well-developed chest, and she always walks with her head held high, her small breasts almost spilling out, which definitely attracts the boys' attention. The thing I remember most about her is when we boys stand on either side of the road, and she walks through the middle of us, puffing out her chest
. The boys on both sides invariably stare at her breasts.
Although I have a crush on Teacher Hu, it's just a feeling in my heart. I think it's just something to make my finger exercises more stimulating, not very realistic, and it won't stop me from dating pretty girls because of that. But now that I have the opportunity to show off in front of the prettiest girl in the class, I naturally won't let it pass. Although we've only been deskmates this semester, we haven't talked much yet, and I'm still thinking of ways to get closer to her as soon as possible.
So, I started talking to her non-stop, occasionally adding a little humor, making her laugh from time to time, but she didn't dare to laugh out loud, covering her mouth with her hand. Her chest rose and fell with her laughter, and that look was really quite alluring.
For a moment, I couldn't control myself. I reached out and secretly grabbed her other hand, watching her expression closely. If she seemed to react negatively, I was ready to let go quickly.
She blushed, glanced up at the teacher, and said, "No, the teacher saw."
Then she pulled her hand back, though not very tightly. My eyes were still fixed on her. She secretly looked up at me, noticed me watching, and quickly looked away,
though a shy smile lingered on her lips.
By this time, I'd read a lot of romance and erotic novels, and seeing her expression, I felt a surge of excitement.
Suddenly, Teacher Hu called me: "Zhang Yushan, what did I just say?"
"This, this," I quickly stood up, "It seems like..."
I stammered, bracing myself for any possible rescue signals. Sure enough, the bald monk was already leaning back, preparing to cover his mouth with a book.
"No one is allowed to teach next to you, or you'd better stand at the back!" For some reason, Ms. Hu was unusually fierce today.
The bald monk seemed frightened, slowly inching forward before collapsing onto his desk like a mangy dog with a broken spine. I looked around; the other students were also acting cautiously.
It was hopeless today. I could only lower my head and say, "I didn't hear you."
"Didn't hear you? What were you doing in class? You stand at the back!" I looked up at Ms. Hu's expression. She seemed very angry; her face was flushed, her chest heaving, and her eyes seemed to be glistening with tears, as if she had suffered a great injustice.
Unfortunately, at that moment, my mind was completely devoid of my usual romantic thoughts. Helpless, I could only lower my head and stand at the back of the classroom, feeling very strange. What was wrong with her today?
Ms. Hu wasn't usually like this. It was just a few words; many students in the class talked, so why was I the only one singled out? Just because I have good grades, does that mean I'm being used as a scapegoat to scare these monkeys? I felt pretty wronged. Since I was standing at the back, my eyes could only look forward, and the only person facing me was Ms. Hu. For some reason, I felt like she was deliberately avoiding looking at me, but her peripheral vision kept glancing at me. The whole class passed in this state of constant speculation.
When class ended, Ms. Hu said "Class dismissed" and left, and I was finally free. Then a few classmates came up—Bald Donkey, Milk Hat, Paul, and Er Gou—laughing wildly and asking me how I felt. Damn. What a bunch of bastards. But I'd been called to the back to stand as punishment before, so it wasn't like the sky was falling.
Immediately afterwards, everyone ran to the corridor outside the classroom and started our favorite recess activity. I don't know when it started, but our class spontaneously formed this kind of entertainment activity. Our classroom was on the top floor of the school building, the fourth floor.
Standing on the railing, girls of other grades would pass by our building during breaks to go to the toilet or do other things. We, on the other hand, would lean on the railing and call out the names of the girls passing by—basically, any slightly prettier girls in the whole school.
This was our class's unique and most popular break-time entertainment. Watching the boys from other classes
fooling around, we would spit on the ground disdainfully, mutter "Idiot!" and then turn back to continue our entertainment. The most enthusiastic among us was Baldy, who would shout, "Song Yun, Song Yun!!"
He was as happy as ever, and sure enough, the girls downstairs, hearing his calls, would quickly run away.
"Hahaha!!!" The bald monk laughed triumphantly. His body twisted like a pretzel, the acne scars on his face glowing red, his dark face seemingly dripping oil in the sunlight.
I wasn't in a good mood today, so I watched them having fun. After a while, for some reason, the boy in the hat suddenly shouted, "Zhang Xiaolin! Zhang Xiaolin!"
I peeked out and saw it was our music teacher. His name was the same as those of a gangster from old Shanghai, and he wasn't very old either. I thought he looked a bit like a gangster.
"Zhang Xiaolin!" "Zhang Xiaolin!" Several classmates nearby showed a strong ability to accept and imitate, shouting along, followed by a burst of laughter. I found it quite amusing and joined in the laughter.
Soon, the break was over. The next class was our homeroom teacher's class, and everyone obediently went to their seats. When class started, two people unexpectedly entered: the homeroom teacher and Zhang Xiaolin. I guessed what it was about. I thought to myself, "That old rogue's going to get his revenge. This is going to be good.
" Sure enough, as soon as the old rogue came in, he arrogantly pointed at Milk Hat, Bald Donkey, and their gang. "And you, Zhang Yushan, you guys come here."
I was a little surprised when he called my name, since I had been standing quietly to the side all day and hadn't joined them. But then I thought, "A clear conscience fears no accusation, " and they probably had something else to ask me for. So I went with them. Zhang Xiaolin led us to the office. Teacher Hu happened to be free this period and was a little surprised to see me enter.
As soon as I entered the office, Zhang Xiaolin started to unleash his fury. "Line up in a row! What's this? Is my name so nice that you're all so happy calling it? Huh? I'll make you happy!"
When I heard this, I thought, "Oh no, how did they drag me into this? I'm innocent!" I quickly declared, "Teacher Zhang, I didn't call out!"
"What do you mean 'didn't'? Do you think I'd be mistaken? Huh? I told you to call out!" He then viciously slapped the boy in the first position. The boy tried to block with his hand, but Zhang Xiaolin yelled, "Still moving! Don't move!"
and slapped him hard again. A loud "smack!" echoed as the boy staggered back several steps, five finger marks appearing on his face. He stood there, covering his face, too afraid to move.
Next, everyone received a slap; the sound was crisp and clear. The bald monk cried from the blows.
When it was my turn, Zhang Xiaolin swung his arm at my face again. Naturally, I couldn't let him hit me, because I hadn't done anything.
I stepped forward, grabbed his arm, and stopped him from hitting me.
Zhang Xiaolin yelled again, "I told you not to dodge! Who told you to move?!"
I shouted, "I didn't call your name, why are you hitting me?" "
Damn it, I saw it with my own eyes, and you still say you didn't?!"
At this point, Zhang Xiaolin no longer cared about being a teacher, and he started swearing.
"I didn't! If you don't believe me, ask them if I called you!"
"Damn it, I don't believe I can't deal with you! You guys go back first, I'll come back to you tomorrow!"
Nai Mao and the others quickly covered their faces and ran away, leaving only Zhang Xiaolin, Teacher Hu, and me in the office.
Seeing that there were no students around, Zhang Xiaolin started to exert his strength. Of course, I, a small child, couldn't handle an adult like him. He quickly punched me in the nose, and I immediately felt my vision go black. I fell to the ground, and then I felt hot liquid flowing out of my nose and into my mouth.
I knew I had been hit in the nose. My nose is usually prone to bleeding, even a slight touch will make it bleed, let alone being punched like this.

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