I met a woman who sprayed water.

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It must have been around 2006. I was in XX at the time, and I met her in the stock exchange hall I frequented. She was around 40 years old, a little older than me, single, and still quite attractive. We became close because of our shared interests (stocks and making money, of course). At the time, she was a completely obedient younger sister to me, and I had no ulterior motives towards her. We often ate and drank together or went to nightclubs to have fun, which was all normal. As time went by, the weaknesses of women (especially single women) were exposed. Unconsciously, she became dependent on me. She listened to me when it came to stock trading, eating and playing, and sometimes she would call me in the middle of the night, saying she had inside information to tell me, but really she just wanted to say a few words. I knew things were getting complicated. I was working alone in XX, and my family was still in mainland China, so I enjoyed being close to women. Slowly, I started to have impure thoughts. Our conversations became more off-topic, and she was happy when I held her tightly while dancing. Sometimes, the conversations went even further off-topic than mine. She repeatedly said that she wasn't an ordinary woman; her sex drive was so strong that the men she had sex with couldn't satisfy her with their penises, and most of the time they had to finish with their hands. This piqued my curiosity and solidified my determination to get her. I knew she had several casual sexual partners (she told me this herself), but I didn't care; I had more than one woman. What I cared about was just how strong her sex drive was and what exactly made her so "extraordinary." Our first sexual encounter was at her house. When she emerged naked from the bathroom, carrying a towel, after showering, I finally got a full look at her: a superb figure, radiant skin, and well-proportioned breasts. Aside from her buttocks showing signs of middle-aged womanly sagging, she was truly flawless. After getting into bed, I began to examine her more closely and deeply: her thick, dark pubic hair was unparalleled; her vulva was indistinguishable from other women's; her breasts were well-maintained and felt slightly soft to the touch. As we lay embracing, her true nature was revealed—to be precise, a complete slut. Her usual reserve had vanished, her body and expression brimming with lust. She moved swiftly and efficiently. Before I was even ready, she had launched a full-scale attack, her primary targets being my penis and testicles, using both hands and mouth in one fluid motion. I wouldn't presume to praise her skill, but her focus and dedication (this term shouldn't be used for non-monetary transactions) moved me. After a while, she asked me to serve her in return, which I didn't refuse (it was only right to reciprocate). She turned and rubbed her breasts against my knees, wanting me to insert my fingers into her vagina. Despite my reluctance, I did it. Putting aside my own merits and demerits, I have my own unique insights into the female vagina. The vagina is a vital "department" for human reproduction; without it, would humanity still exist? Where did we come from to this world we cherish? We must never forget our roots! So whether I'm with my lover or having sex, I rarely abuse their vaginas. I cautiously show my reverence for them. I inserted two fingers, and there was already quite a bit of fluid inside. She asked me to insert another one, and after hesitating for a moment, I did as she asked. It felt like there was still some space inside, and her twisting movements were constantly widening the opening of her vagina, which gave me an indescribable feeling. Could this vagina still be used? Her drawn-out moans were also strongly stimulating me. I was trying my best to control my excitement and didn't want to get into actual sex so soon. But soon she got excited, and under the stimulation of my fingers, fluid flowed out of her vagina, running down her legs, and more and more. At first, I didn't pay attention. But just as she was about to reach her climax, she suddenly turned around and sat back on the four layers of bath towels, grabbed my hand, and told me to thrust into her hard. Before I could understand what was happening, she screamed, and even her tone changed. I felt intense vaginal contractions tightening around my fingers, followed by gushes of hot fluid gushing out, shooting straight at my fingers. I was almost stunned. Could such a thing really happen? This was truly unprecedented. I had lost interest in her and her body; I was more interested in the secrets of her vagina. A few minutes later, she returned to normal, smiling as she said, "Now you know what kind of woman I am, right?" I was still in shock, staring straight at her. She added, "I didn't spray on your face, did I?" I... remained stunned. Seeing the towel was wet, she pulled it out and threw it on the floor, then turned and threw herself into my arms, hugging and kissing me. Looking at her in my arms and my now limp penis, I was speechless. The scene just now was like a magician's trick. I intentionally or unintentionally slipped my hand into her vagina again; it was still wet. I asked her, "Was it always like this?" She replied, "It wasn't like this before. It was the first man who made me experience an orgasm after I came here that made me like this." I asked, "How long has it been? Do you always squirt during sex?" She said, "Not necessarily. I squirt every time I'm with him. Once, I even sprayed it on his face and in his mouth, haha." After she finished speaking, she snuggled closer to me, holding me even tighter. She continued, "His penis isn't small either, much bigger than my ex-husband's, but when he put it in, I didn't feel anything, just pleasure, but no orgasm. So he switched to using his hand. I remember the first time I orgasmed, I squirted using my hand, and after that, it was always by hand. We were together for almost three years, but his family found out and made a huge fuss, so he had to go back to his old job. He never came back. I went to Beijing to see him, but I haven't slept with him since he left. When we meet, we just chat and have a meal, then go our separate ways. Our feelings have faded a lot, and I've come to terms with it." I stuck to the point and asked her, "What about the men you dated after that?" She said, "I didn't think the later ones were very good. Some were because of face-saving, some were... they all broke up after a short time. They could do it with their hand, but not with his penis. I told you I'm not an ordinary woman, now you know?" I said, "Yes, you know about the hand, but you don't know about the penis." She understood what I meant and started stroking her penis. After our brief encounter, I felt a little apprehensive. She'd said she had a very high sex drive; was an even more intense battle waiting for me? It would be humiliating to lose on my first try. I should try to understand her better and be determined to win. I said, "Do you want more? Have you ever had consecutive orgasms?" She said, "Do you think I'd let you off now? I'm the kind of person who values both quantity and quality. If I'm going to do something, I'll do it well, thoroughly. This is our first time, so I'm a little reserved. Don't laugh at me later. When I'm lonely, I want to treat you like a lover. From now on, the initiative is yours." To break the potential stalemate, I started moving my hands again. She said, "Wait a minute," got out of bed, grabbed a clean towel, spread it out, and lay back in my arms. I started the second cycle, everything was the same, except the amount of fluid was less than the first time, the vaginal contractions were weaker, and the towel was still wet. As we began the third cycle, I shoved my already hard penis into her mouth, ready to mount her. The prelude was the same, so I'll skip the details. Just as she was about to climax and needed more intense stimulation, I pulled my fingers out of her vagina, inserted my penis, and then tightly embraced her buttocks, my tongue swirling vigorously in her mouth. She was too late; she gripped my penis tightly, undulating rhythmically, her face etched with an expression of unbearable hunger and desperate helplessness. I believe that if you satisfy a woman at that moment, she'll agree to anything you ask. I've seen many women's expressions at this time; her vaginal discharge is different from other women, but her facial expression is exactly the same. My vagina, which was originally loose, didn't feel loose at all. The muscle spasms combined with the squeezing of her legs made my penis, which had been erect for a long time, feel incredibly comfortable inside—no less than that of a young girl. After a while, she shook her head away from my kisses and screamed loudly. I knew she was about to climax again. I held my penis still and calmed down, savoring the pleasure her squirting vagina was giving me. With each intense contraction of her vagina, streams of hot fluid rushed towards my penis. There was no escaping it; my pubic hair, testicles, and inner thighs were filled with fluid. During her contractions, I wanted to continue thrusting for more pleasure, but it was already difficult to penetrate. I didn't know what "vaginal insufficiency" (medically known as vaginismus) was, but I knew it was strange that I couldn't move my penis when there was plenty of fluid. After the contractions subsided, I continued thrusting. Her vagina gradually returned to its previous relaxed state, but the previous contractions had been stimulating enough; now the tightness of her vagina didn't matter. I thrust a few times and ejaculated. I still clearly remember that when I left that day, there were four bath towels on the floor. As I was leaving, she saw me downstairs and said, "I was going to treat you to seafood to nourish you, but you had to leave so soon, I'll have to treat you another time." I teased her, saying, "If I don't leave now, will you even have the energy to walk me downstairs? You should take good care of yourself! Next time I come, don't forget to bring a few more towels." With that, I laughed and left her house.

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I met a woman who sprayed water.

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