Night Rain

page views:1 Publication date:2023-08-26 23:12:47

When I first met her, I thought her words were very concise.

Later I learned that was her usual way of dealing with strangers, and her cold tone was a habitual armor.

She always went online at the same time every night, and sometimes I really wondered if she did it on purpose, because the timing of her greetings was off by less than a few seconds several times in a row.

If there's a so-called golden 72 hours in disaster relief, is there one for first meetings?

It's hard to say. I can only be sure that first impressions are very important, but what about actual interactions?

Some people are like ice cream, melting away if not enjoyed quickly.

Some are like kimchi, needing fermentation to become crisp and spicy.

Some are like fine wine, requiring long aging, bursting forth with a fiery passion once opened.

She was clearly a slow-to-warm-up type, but a rainstorm prematurely brought her to maturity.

That day, a rainy night.

Several days of rain, while not disrupting city traffic, had isolated her heart and thoughts.

Confucius said, "A gentleman is watchful over himself when alone."

Although I am not a gentleman, I also approach solitude with caution.

(The hard drive contains a complete collection of romantic and adult films.)

Outside the window, the monotonous sound of rain, drip-drop, drip-drop, is most mesmerizing.

But undeniably, rainy nights, besides being a place for making love, are also suitable for writing.

If writing is about bringing a person or an event to a close, then a rainy night is also a suitable occasion for farewell.

Just as I was all ready, having finished showering, drunk my coffee, and switched my mind to memory mode,

just as I was about to start typing, she abruptly interrupted:

"I'm so bored, what should I do?"

My first reaction was to be startled, because I had turned the speakers up very loud, letting the piano music drown out the rain, but she sent the message precisely during a break in the music, and a loud ding-dong instantly sent my heart soaring to the heavens.

After calming down, I switched my focus back to chatting and quickly gave her my advice:

"Find a stranger who understands you and pour out all your negative emotions to them." "But I don't want to talk, and I even feel like I don't have the energy to type." "Then what you need is a deep hug, without words, just quiet companionship.

That person can unconditionally accept all of you, whether it's laughter, tears, or unreasonable whims.

No need to ask reasons, no need to give explanations."

"You understand," she said.

This doesn't require special understanding or observation of someone. On a rainy night like this, when you have something on your mind but don't want to talk about it or can't express it, a hug is undoubtedly a simple and effective way to vent.

As a responsible client, I can't just give a prescription; I also need to provide differentiated service, even preparing and delivering the medicine.

So I told her that while it's not too late, let's give each other a deep hug.

She was clearly taken aback by my suggestion because we had never met before, and had never even heard each other's voices.

She probably thought I was fearless, but she didn't know I was a daredevil who walked a tightrope every day, risking my life.

Even if there were a million leopards instead of a million bao (a type of fish), I would still go.

I trust my intuition more than mathematical probability. Even

death makes mistakes; what's the fun in calculating everything?

More importantly, perhaps after this night, we might never have the same feelings or needs again.

Opportunity isn't for those who are prepared, but only for those who are willing to act.

She fell into a brief silence on the other end. I knew that although she was annoyed, she was still capable of thinking.

After all, the difference between an embrace and sex is often very thin.

I waited while carefully trimming my nails, wanting to emulate Zhuge Liang's elegant use of the Empty City Stratagem, only lacking the incense burning, the zither playing, and the beaming smile.

I knew she would agree, but it would take some time.

"Thank you, I believe you, but I can't believe in myself," she finally replied.

This wasn't reserve or hesitation; she simply needed someone to give her a word.

This word had to clearly point out the most crucial point.

Good words can send you to heaven; bad words can leave you in a cold bed.

This truth is self-evident without me even putting down my pen.

"The key is, right now, do you need someone to completely accept and embrace you?" I said.

"Hmm...yes."

"It's okay, don't rush into a decision. You can calm down and think it over." "No, I can't think." "Then, you'd better give me your phone number before your heart succumbs." "09oo-ooo-ooo" "Will you appear before I run out of energy?" She sent the question in two parts.

"Yes."

So I immediately dialed the number and arranged to meet her downstairs at her house.

After a quick wash, I changed my clothes and set off.

The streetlights were hazy because of the drizzle. I watched the roadside trees recede like a fast-forwarding video. This road, it's always rainy nights, the scene is so familiar, yet so strange.

Half an hour later, I arrived near her house.

Because my phone was almost dead before I left, and even the spare battery was dead, I had to bring another phone. But I didn't enter the number first; I just wrote it down on a note, which was lying leisurely on the table.

I watched the rain falling from the sky, the tiny raindrops dancing in the wind, the scene replaying in slow motion.

I carefully felt around, jumping up and down, hoping the slip of paper would float out.

Suddenly, a white, paper-like object jumped out of my pocket.

I picked it up with the joy of seeing a winning lottery ticket.

Home, it felt like home.

It was a FamilyMart receipt.

I had even lost all hope; this wasn't the time to rush. She was still waiting for me; I couldn't just turn back.

So I calmed myself, banishing the thought of ringing the doorbell and scaling walls like Spider-Man, and carefully recalled the number I had dialed a few minutes earlier.

A set of vague, blurry numbers actually appeared in my mind.

I dialed the number like grabbing a reed in a flood, but

a strange ringtone played, and my heart sank.

This was completely different from the ringtone I had heard before!

But there was nothing I could do; I waited patiently for it to connect. After a long while, I finally heard a response.

"Hello?" It was a woman's voice on the other end of the phone, but I couldn't be sure it was her just by that.

"Hello?" Because I wasn't sure if I had dialed the right number, I could only give a vague reply.

"Hello hello?" The person gave me the same response again, which almost made me faint.

"It's me, I'm near your house." I actually used that kind of scammer-level rhetoric.

"You're here? I just finished showering, wait for me a minute." It really was her!

So she was showering, no wonder it took her so long to answer.

After the crisis was over, I couldn't help but complain about the doorbell. Wouldn't it be better if these things were fixed and consistent?

Why do they keep changing themselves? They really shorten people's lives.

After waiting for a while, she came downstairs to meet me. I could tell her hair wasn't dry yet.

After entering the room, she asked me to sit down as I pleased, and then went into the bathroom to dry her hair.

Coincidentally, there was a full-length mirror in front of us that allowed us to see what was happening in the bathroom. I chatted casually with her across the wall while watching her do her hair.

Suddenly, there was silence. After she turned off the hairdryer, she began to take off her clothes.

Her movements were calm and graceful.

Perhaps she knew, or perhaps she didn't know, that someone was watching this scene through the full-length mirror.

She picked up a silk nightgown and gently put it on. Beneath it, there was a hint of skin that made one want to explore further, and the flowing folds of the fabric changed with her movements.

She walked out with a smile, irresistibly drawing me forward. Without a word or hint, I naturally embraced her. She lowered her head, but her arms wrapped around me as well.

I gradually increased the pressure until my chest was completely pressed against her full breasts, then I loosened my grip slightly. She let out a soft sigh, but I didn't give her much of a chance to catch her breath, embracing her tightly again, lightly brushing my lips against her ear, letting my breath tell her how much I felt fulfilled by the embrace.

After we separated, her face was flushed, but she remained composed. "I'm too tired to talk, do you want to rest?" she asked.

"Okay."

After the lights were turned off, the room was plunged into darkness, but the coldness was instantly melted by her body heat. We held each other, whispering slowly, words that could only be heard clearly when we were pressed close together.

Her fingertips traced lightly across my back, while I explored the unobstructed softness beneath my pajamas.

This didn't seem like the embrace we were supposed to have!

But no one complained; instead, it all seemed perfectly natural.

(Readers have no right to complain xd)

Finally, she couldn't help but moan. I turned to her and pulled her onto me, one hand cupping her full breasts, the other sliding down her back and hips to her vulva. Her thighs were already stained with desire, my fingers merely assisting her in release.

She retorted by kissing my chest, not to be outdone. I gently stroked her soft hair, kissing her all the way to my penis, before finally stopping with my warm lips.

I could feel her wholeheartedly serving me with her mouth, the friction against the air producing pleasurable and erotic sounds, but not wanting to tire her out too much, I gently lifted her head after a while, letting her lie on her side with her back against me.

I held her tightly in my arms, my penis pressed against her warm vulva, and with each sway of her hips, I penetrated inch by inch until I was completely inside her.

The air of the rainy night was damp and slightly cold.

Her vulva was warm and moist, her body exuding fragrance.

The slow friction was a slow symphony, the shift to a prone position with thrusting from behind was a minuet, and the final movement was the missionary position, our lower bodies tightly joined, exchanging warmth seamlessly.

Having been abstinent for so long, she couldn't take much more after reaching climax. Although I hadn't ejaculated yet, it didn't matter. We embraced face-to-face, and the night returned to its tranquility.

After a while, perhaps because the air conditioning was too cold, she got up to adjust the temperature.

A sliver of light filtering through the gaps revealed her location.

Looking at her back, I couldn't let this perfect scene pass me by. I got up and slowly walked towards her, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind. She turned around in surprise, "I thought you were asleep!" How could I possibly fall asleep like that? I'm the kind of person who, even after two rounds of self-pleasure, can still go on for a whole night! (Looking into the distance) We embraced tightly again.

The warmth of our bodies after making love felt wonderful, and her skin seemed even softer. After a long, gentle embrace, I led her to the window, drew back the curtains, and saw that the rain had stopped. Only a few lights remained nearby, creating a peaceful and serene atmosphere.

She seemed uncomfortable standing naked by the window, glancing briefly outside before trying to return to bed. But I didn't give her a chance to leave, quickly pressing down on her from behind, her arms wrapped around her breasts, my penis already inside her still-wet vagina.

Right there by the window, facing the city shrouded in the veil of night after the rain, I fucked her.

She seemed unable to withstand the stimulation; her legs buckled, and I held her waist to maintain the position, my penis thrusting in and out relentlessly, reveling in the passionate contractions of her vagina.

Seeing that she could no longer support her weight, I paused, moving us both without withdrawing my penis, until we reached the edge of the bed.

I lay on the bed, my feet on the floor, and she straddled me, facing the window view, swaying her hips.

Perhaps because it was inconvenient to exert force this way, she got up and straddled me, facing me. Moonlight streamed in through the window, bathing her in a flowing veil of light.

As if to prevent the strands of hair covering her chest from ruining the beautiful scene, she tossed her head, pulling her hair back. That moment seemed frozen in time, imprinted in my mind.

We made love passionately in various positions on the bed until finally, she couldn't bear it any longer and slapped my thigh, signaling me to stop, her words already slurred.

But I had also reached my climax, unable to hold back any longer. My penis contracted violently, releasing all the passion of the night. We were

both exhausted. After a short rest, we got up, cleaned up briefly, and fell asleep in each other's arms.

Perhaps because I was used to waking up early, I woke up at the crack of dawn and saw her still sleeping soundly beside me. I looked at her carefully; she looked so sweet, I didn't want to wake her, so I abandoned the idea of sneaking up on her.

When I woke up again, she was smiling at me from the bedside.

She didn't sneak up on me either; we were quite in sync in that respect.

So we gave each other another deep hug and said goodbye in the fresh morning air after the rain.

After that day, the city began to have good weather.

(8458 words)

[The End]

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