Who rode my beautiful wife?

page views:1 Publication date:2023-04-21

Time flies
like water, those days are long gone, and looking back, it's all a jumbled mess. I only remember fragments of time, some sad, some joyful, some sorrowful, some sweet.

I met her in the early autumn, which was when I entered high school. Back then, I was young and arrogant, thinking myself excellent, proud inside but outwardly easygoing, getting along well with a group of boys I had just met. My mind wasn't mature enough then, and like before, I wanted to attract the attention of the opposite sex, yet didn't want to pay too much attention to them, unwilling to initiate conversations. After more than ten days of school, I couldn't even remember the names of many girls. But what surprised me even more was the first time I saw her.

I didn't know how to describe her, afraid of being too beautiful at first sight, so I exaggerated subjectively. She was very beautiful, but her beauty was not ostentatious at all. She was very fair-skinned, without makeup, and her natural complexion was even more beautiful, her skin had a crystalline quality. When we first met, I thought she had big eyes, but they weren't as big as I initially thought. They were just very lively, clear and bright, as if you could see into the purity of her heart, or as if she could see through all her thoughts. Her nose was small and straight, and her lips were as tender as cherries. Later, I noticed her habitual gestures; she would often purse her lips or furrow her brows. Beautiful girls look good with any expression. Her hair was simply tied back, making her look pure and refreshing. Her beauty was so gentle, not aggressive, making people feel friendly and want to get closer, yet also respectful and not daring to be presumptuous.

I said to her in surprise, "Classmate... I don't think I've seen you before?"

She smiled sweetly, glanced at me, and said, "I suspect you haven't even gotten to know everyone in our class. You're only in the classroom during class time; you're never there at other times."

Hearing her say that she was paying attention to me, I felt both ashamed and excited. During breaks and lunch, I would always go out to do various sports activities, and even when I wasn't exercising, I would wander around the campus.

Our first conversation was brief, but she left a very deep and beautiful impression on me. I learned that her name was Ting, though this is just her name in this article; it's similar to her real name and suits her slender, 1.66-meter height perfectly.

From then on, I started to pay special attention to her. She sat a few desks behind me, so during self-study periods, I would often intentionally say a word to the person behind me or borrow something, and then secretly glance at her. She was always focused on her studies, never making eye contact with me. I really wanted to find an opportunity to talk to her, but we were too far apart and there was no good chance. It was my budding romance, a time of yearning and shyness. I wanted to sit next to her and ask her a question, but I felt those questions were too easy, and asking such questions would make me seem unintelligent. After all, I had the best grades in the class, and I was quite proud back then.

While I hesitated, the midterm exams arrived in the blink of an eye. I thought I was guaranteed to be first in the class, but to my surprise, she was first, and I ranked after her. This made me, who was usually a bit arrogant, feel ashamed. But it's fair that those who work hard get better grades than those who don't. After that, I became much more restrained and started doing problems during self-study periods. However, I was always distracted and not as focused as she was. And it seemed like there were no problems I couldn't solve, so I became lazy and stopped doing them.

After that exam, I felt even more ashamed to talk to her, and I almost stopped even nodding to her when we met.

After the exam, many people went to her for help with their problems, regardless of gender. She would always put aside her own things and patiently answer their questions. Those people were quite slow, but she explained things to them again and again without getting tired of it. At that time, she was especially beautiful in my eyes. In fact, no one wants their time to be taken up by others, especially high-achieving students. She was so kind, unwilling to disappoint anyone. I even suspected those boys had ulterior motives, wanting to strike up a conversation with her, but I felt I wasn't qualified to be her protector.

For the first time in my life, I felt jealousy, realizing I had fallen for her. The jealousy was slightly bitter, but the taste of unrequited love was indescribably sweet. I longed to see her, to see her beautiful face, even just for a fleeting moment. My heart would be filled with satisfaction and happiness, something I could savor, something I could look back on.

In the classroom, she sat diagonally behind me, but whenever I thought of her, she was there. Just turning around, I would see her. Her very existence was a blessing. Not only did we share the same world, but we were so close—that was true luck. A young heart is easily satisfied.

When I was alone, she would appear clearly in my mind, always in profile. I tried to make her face me, but I couldn't. I don't know how to explain that feeling; a young heart is strange indeed.

The following spring arrived, and as is school tradition, a football match and sports meet were held in the spring. Our city has a long-standing football tradition, and many children have been playing football since they were young. My turn to perform came; football is my passion and talent, and I unsurprisingly became the team captain.

Ting was unanimously chosen as the cheerleading captain. Actually, her quiet and gentle nature wasn't quite right for the role. There were some loud and enthusiastic girls in the class, and her selection as captain was unanimous among the male players. Seeing how much everyone liked her, I felt both happy and a little disappointed. So many people liked her, and I was just one of them.

Before the match started, I used my position to strike up a conversation with her: "Should we come up with some unified slogans?"

She lowered her head and said softly, "It seems like we should, but I don't know anything about football! Can you guys discuss it and tell us?"

Seeing her gentle demeanor and sweet breath, I really wanted to get closer and talk to her. I said, "Slogans don't need to be technical or professional, just inspiring. Let's brainstorm together!"

She chuckled, which seemed incredibly charming to me, and said, "Just the two of us, how broad can we be? How can we brainstorm?"

Actually, I was just happy to chat with her; the slogans didn't matter.

After the match started, I realized that playing football was the right choice in my life. I'm not tall or strong, but I have speed, explosiveness, and agility. I started as the midfield maestro, but I increasingly felt that our forwards' attacking firepower wasn't as good as mine. Also, selfishly, the class cheerleaders didn't understand the art of playmaking or the subtleties of assists; they only knew how to cheer wildly when a goal was scored. So, I moved to the forward line. Actually, our positions weren't clearly defined back then, and the referee was inconsistent with offside calls.

I finally had the chance to show off my skills and score. Often, after a dazzling series of dribbling feints, I'd be one-on-one with the goalkeeper. After scoring, I'd search for her in the cheering crowd, and see her, usually so calm and quiet, also excited. In my mind, that goal tripled in value, becoming a hat-trick. I felt like all my hard work was just to win her favor; I don't know when I became so selfless.

Our class won the championship that time, and I became a star on campus, enjoying unparalleled fame. I was a good student, had a flamboyant playing style, and was fairly handsome—definitely better than Ronaldinho, but probably far inferior to Beckham. So I felt a little smug again, and I even received letters from girls in other classes asking me to date them. But I really enjoyed it when the boys in class would shout, "Ah, another girl with a crush is writing you a letter!" And it had to be Ting who heard it. I would then pretend to be humble and say, "Oh, not at all, they're just naive girls. I don't reply to any of them." I wondered if Ting felt a little jealous. Even just a tiny bit would make me incredibly happy.

Then came the sports meet, and I couldn't be as glamorous because my absolute speed and strength weren't particularly outstanding. Interestingly, given the scarcity of athletic girls in the class, Ting was once again pushed to the front lines to run the 100 meters. It was the collective wisdom of those boys again; they probably wanted to see what the delicate Ting would look like running—a little prank, I suppose.

Actually, although the boys liked to talk to her, they always treated her with respect. Respect is the foundation of respect! At the same time, another arduous task assigned to Ting was to hold up a sign at the front of the group when she appeared at the opening ceremony. Both tasks made her pale and she kept waving her hands, but no one would let her refuse. Then a group of girls surrounded Ting and discussed what outfit to wear for the opening ceremony.

On the day of the opening ceremony, everyone was ushered out of the classroom early. Since everyone was wearing school uniforms, there was no need to change clothes. Only Ting needed space to change. What she was going to wear was a secret to avoid it being leaked to other classes, and of course, what the other classes wore was also a secret.

When she came out, we were immediately amazed. She was wearing a dress similar to the placard bearers at the Olympics—white, tight-fitting, revealing her shoulders, with red patterns on the neckline and waist. The skirt reached her knees; the school couldn't allow it to be any shorter, but there were slits on both sides, revealing glimpses of her thighs. She seemed a little hesitant to walk, blushing and lowering her head, which only added to her infinite beauty. We were all stunned.

Seeing that she was having second thoughts, the girls quickly encouraged her: "You're really beautiful, don't you think?" Everyone quickly agreed, saying that she would definitely make all the girls from the other classes pale in comparison.

She stood there somewhat reservedly. I stood to her side, almost greedily gazing at her. I hadn't expected her figure to be so good. She usually didn't care much about her clothes, wearing loose school uniforms and sportswear, so her figure wasn't apparent. Today, however, the tight-fitting skirt accentuated her curves perfectly: her snow-white neck, firm breasts, pert buttocks, and long legs. She was also wearing high heels and flesh-colored stockings—it seems like the term "stocking fetish" didn't exist a decade or so ago. Schools usually required students to wear uniforms, and the annual sports meet was the time when students dressed most daringly. Perhaps the girls were projecting all their pent-up desires onto her.

The opening ceremony began, and all the participating teams filed in. The most eye-catching were, of course, the beautiful girls holding up the placards. They were dressed in various styles, each vying for attention, most wearing skirts. In my eyes, Ting was the most beautiful.

"Now passing the podium is Class 5 of Grade 1, marching in neat steps..." A burst of applause erupted across the playground. To my ears, our class received the loudest applause, and I figured most of it was for Ting. Her face appeared calm, completely devoid of her earlier shyness. Her gait was graceful, light and elegant, with a perfect balance of pace and speed. With each gentle step, her beautiful legs moved alternately, and her hips swayed softly. I was momentarily mesmerized.

The weather was slightly chilly that morning, and I felt a pang of sympathy for her beautiful yet slender figure.

After the opening ceremony, she went back to the classroom to change into her school uniform and came back sitting right behind me. Everyone around her turned to talk to her, praising her success. I said to her seriously, "Comrade, you need to stay humble and not get complacent. There are even more challenging tasks ahead."

She smiled and said, "Anyway, I've never run before. No matter how difficult it is, it won't break me. The pressure is all on those sports scholarship students."

Just then, when she participated in the 100-meter preliminary round, my homeroom teacher asked me to deliver a script to the broadcasting station. I didn't want to say directly that I wanted to watch her race first. The teacher really had no sense of timing. I thought I'd go quickly and come back quickly so I could still see it. Just as I reached the broadcasting station room, I heard a burst of drumming and shouting outside. I was instantly anxious, threw the script on the table, and ran. Just as I reached the door, I saw that even the last person had reached the finish line. I was filled with despair, thinking that this might be her only performance, and I wouldn't see her run again until at least next year's sports meet.

When I dejectedly walked to my class's location, I found my classmates all excited. It turned out she had made it to the finals! A surge of joy welled up inside me. I hadn't expected this! I was just hoping she wouldn't be last, given her frail appearance!

Finally, the women's 100-meter final arrived. Seeing her, usually so delicate, in her shorts, t-shirt, and running shoes, she truly had the bearing of an athlete. My restless eyes kept glancing at her "unintentionally." Her skin was as white and delicate as snow, like that of a young child.

When Ting stepped onto the starting line, my heart pounded even harder than when I was competing myself. I didn't know if it was fear of her failure, or anticipation of her success, or simply the sheer excitement of seeing her compete. The moment the starting gun fired, she sprinted off. Her speed was astounding, which greatly surprised me. Her running form was beautiful; it's rare for a girl to run gracefully, but she was different. She moved like a rabbit, as light as a cloud. Although she wasn't in the lead, the athletes ahead of her all looked like tomboys, with masculine physiques and movements. Her figure, however, possessed a feminine beauty, and her speed was impressive. The cheers from the sidelines were deafening; we were practically going crazy.

In the end, she came in third place. The top two were both athletes. Our teacher—a strict, middle-aged woman in her forties—was beaming with joy. This was a completely unexpected surprise for our class. When she returned to our area, the whole class stood up and gave her a warm round of applause. Students from neighboring classes glanced at her sideways; she was even more glamorous than the champion.

She was a little shy but had a smile on her lips, looking incredibly cute. She took her coat from someone and put it on. She wanted to sit down, but seeing everyone still standing, she didn't know whether to sit or stand

. Finally, the teacher waved her hand, and everyone quieted down, but my heart was filled with joy that lingered for a long time. After the soccer tournament and sports meet, Ting and I were both considered top students in both academics and sports. Classmates noticed that I was trying to get closer to her, and gradually some people started joking about us. When they saw me talking to her, they would cough nearby, and she would always blush, not knowing what to say. I felt both annoyed and sweet inside, because while their coughs were certainly a disturbance, they were also an acknowledgment of our subtle relationship. Thinking about this always made my heart flutter. But after a while, she became hesitant to get too close to me, which panicked me. I knew girls like her cared a lot about what others thought. Actually, I didn't expect a romantic relationship with her; just talking to her regularly would be enough for me.

Being a sensible person, I reduced my contact with her, burying my feelings deep in my heart. But the more I suppressed my emotions, the more intense they became. It was as if a fire burned within me, surging through my body, as if I had a thousand words to say to her, to tell her how much I loved her.

Having just tasted love, I could sense that it was love, and I could tell anyone, but I had no one to confide in. So I picked up a pen and wrote down my longing for her—poems, letters, novels, all kinds of writing, with her as the sole protagonist and love as the sole theme. My writing was immature, but my feelings were sincere.

Finally, I couldn't hold back any longer and wanted to confess to her. Perhaps if she rejected me, I could finally give up. One evening after self-study, I mustered my courage and handed her the notebook filled with passionate words: "Take a look at this." She took it and asked, "What is this?" I said, "You'll see when you read it." Then I turned and ran away as if fleeing.

Back home, lying in bed, I wondered if she was reading it now. What would she think when she saw those words? What kind of expression would she have? She would definitely blush. Just thinking about her shy, blushing face filled me with immense joy, but I was also worried that she might be angry or annoyed. That night was spent in a state of excitement and anxiety.

The next day at school, I nervously walked into the classroom. She was studying with her head down, not seeing me. All morning, I received no reply. The afternoon was the same; my heart was tormented by this waiting. It was a strange kind of pain, filled with both immense hope and the fear of rejection when the answer finally arrived.

Until the end of self-study, I lingered, unwilling to leave. Finally, a slender hand placed a folded piece of paper on my desk and quickly left. It was Ting! My mind and body were simultaneously overwhelmed with a tremendous shock. The letter contained Ting's decision, and I couldn't wait to read it, yet I was also worried.

I tucked the letter into my pocket, rode my bike home as fast as I could, locked myself in my room, and carefully opened the paper. Her neat and beautiful handwriting came into view, but what excited me even more was its content. She said tactfully that she was very moved by the letters I had written, but she couldn't decide to accept me right away. However, she also had feelings for me. If we were truly interested, we could wait until after the college entrance exam. If it was true love, we could withstand the wait, and let time test us.

Although she didn't agree, my heart was still throbbing. As long as there was hope, I was willing to wait, no matter how long it took.

The days filled with hope were happy. We tried to communicate like ordinary friends, both knowing in our hearts that we were trying our best to control the boundaries and distance between us. Perhaps once things were made clear, the feelings could no longer be as pure as ordinary friendship; they would develop deeper and deeper, beyond the control of subjectivity and reason.

The way we looked at each other was different now. We understood each other better, and I learned more about her. Ting's father was a government official, and her mother was a doctor. Her parents raised her strictly, or as she put it, "strict yet loving." As a result, she had no bad habits. She didn't like to compare herself to

others; she was always clean-cut and never flashy. Although she was very intelligent, her heart was as pure as a blank sheet of paper, possessing many beautiful virtues. She was kind, considerate, compassionate, and very self-aware. She would never do anything to upset or embarrass others, preferring to suffer a loss herself rather than owe anyone anything. She didn't like to trouble others, but she never refused to help others. She always spoke softly and gently, and when chatting with others, she never tried to steal the spotlight or dominate the conversation, always listening quietly.

She was a quiet girl with a genuine smile on her face—not a stereotypical, frozen expression, but one that came from the heart. Only a peaceful and kind heart could produce such a smile. The more I learned about her, the more I loved and admired her.

No subtle change escaped the notice of our experienced homeroom teacher. Those happy days lasted less than six months before she finally called us in for separate talks. I insisted we weren't dating and assured her I wouldn't worry. Before I could even tell Ting, the tactfully skilled teacher called her in for a talk.

When she returned, I wrote her a note asking what she had said—passing notes in class was as common as texting is now. She told the truth: we weren't dating, although we had feelings for each other, but we agreed to be together after the college entrance exam. I was shocked after reading the note. Why was she so honest? Why tell the teacher all that? Sure

enough, the teacher called us in again after work; only the three of us were in her office. After she closed the door, she asked me with a serious face, "Didn't you say you weren't dating? Why are you two giving conflicting answers?" We both replied, "We really aren't dating!" The teacher said, "Then what about the agreement Ting mentioned?"

I was speechless. Ting timidly said, "Teacher, the agreement is for the future, we're not dating now..." The teacher sighed with a mixture of heartache and anger, "You two, having an agreement distracts you. How can you concentrate on your studies? I'm telling you, you're not even allowed to have that thought!"

I wanted to agree first, pretend to comply with the teacher, and then secretly carry on our relationship. I glanced at Ting; her delicate lips trembled slightly. She said to the homeroom teacher, "Teacher, it's just an agreement. It hasn't affected our studies. Can't we even have an agreement?"

I was very surprised. She had always been obedient and meek, always listening to the teacher. I never expected her to dare to speak to the teacher like that now. At first, I was a little annoyed by her stubbornness, but now I couldn't help but be moved by her courage. She's a shy person, and being called in by the teacher for something like this must have been incredibly shameful, yet she still told the teacher what she was talking about. It takes so much courage to overcome that.

The teacher got even angrier: "Don't I know more than you? All the students in early relationships promise me it won't affect their studies, and I've never seen one who isn't affected! I'm telling you, don't even think about it! Focus on your studies! If I can't control you, I'll tell your parents!"

Ting and I both lowered our heads. The teacher's words terrified us; neither of us wanted to worry our parents.

After that, we restrained ourselves for a long time, but we couldn't control our longing. We agreed not to talk in front of others, not even to exchange glances. We exchanged letters and poured our hearts out on the phone, but only when no one was home. The happiest time was during the break between evening self-study sessions, walking and chatting with her in the dark on the playground, but we didn't dare go out every day, fearing it would attract attention if we did it too often.

On a moonlit night, we walked side by side, hoping to find a secluded spot. But the campus was full of people exercising, strolling, and chatting; the woods and corners were occupied by couples. Only after the first bell rang did the students return to the classrooms.

Ting and I lingered at the edge of the woods. I looked at her; her profile was especially beautiful in the moonlight. The soft moonlight bathed her face, making her fair skin appear even purer. Her beautiful face was like a flawless piece of jade. At that moment, she seemed noble, holy, and untouchable. I was excited yet hesitant.

But I didn't have much time to hesitate. I grabbed her hand. She hesitated for a moment, then pulled away slightly. I held it tightly, not allowing her to escape. Her delicate, smooth, boneless hand was held in my grasp. She didn't struggle anymore, but lowered her head. Although I couldn't see clearly, I knew her face must be flushed. She looked up at me, hesitated, then lowered her head again. Shy girls are adorable.

This must have been the first time her hand had been held by a young man, and it was also the first time I had ever held a girl's hand. My heart was pounding. Time is fleeting, especially happy times. We had to rush back to the classroom, and that brief moment became an eternally beautiful memory.

High school life was stressful and tough, but in those busy days, she was there for me. We secretly dated, and no one noticed anything amiss. It took a lot of self-control to avoid speaking or making eye contact in front of others. I so wanted to shout to everyone that we were in love! I loved her, and she loved me—how wonderful it would be to have mutual affection! But I didn't tell anyone. How could I control myself and hold back?

Finally, the watershed moment arrived—the college entrance exam. In the days leading up to the exam, students were inexplicably anxious, fearful, and excited. Everyone was restless and needed a lot of psychological counseling from the teachers. We were both relatively emotionally stable because our grades were consistent, but mine were always a few to twenty points lower than hers. I worried that we wouldn't be able to get into the same university, and being separated like this might make our relationship unsustainable. We had already agreed to apply to the same university, but as the date approached, I didn't dare bring it up. I didn't want to force her to make our relationship work, but it was something I couldn't avoid.

One evening while we were walking, she casually asked me which university I wanted to apply to. I whispered the name of the university and added, "This university is also suitable for my current grades." Then I tentatively asked her, "Which one do you want to apply to? Before, when I asked you which one you liked, you always said it was about the same."

She smiled beautifully and easily, "Everyone likes Tsinghua and Peking University, but I can't get into those."

I said, "You're only a few dozen points behind."

She smiled, revealing her teeth, "Isn't that a big difference? Those few dozen points are an insurmountable chasm for me. No matter how well I perform, it won't be enough." She lowered her head again... She said shyly, "Didn't we agree before that we'd apply to the same school?"

I was both surprised and delighted, but I couldn't bear to see her do that. I said, "It's a pity you'd go to that school. As long as our hearts are together, that's enough, right?"

She shook her head seriously, "No, how can we change our promise? We need to be together, not just in our hearts, but in our very being."

I was so moved I almost cried. I held her hand tightly, wanting to tell her I would love her and be good to her forever, but I couldn't say it. I was shy then, too afraid to say "I love you" or make a promise to her face. Many years later, I still regret it. When a girl casts aside her reserve and entrusts her life to you without hesitation, not being able to immediately give her a promise in return makes me feel guilty.

However, her parents objected, her homeroom teacher objected, and the teacher hoped she could get into a better school. But she told her parents that getting into this school would allow her to study the best major, while going to a better school would mean she wouldn't be able to choose her major.

This was the first time she had acted independently against her parents' wishes. I knew it was all for my sake. She only said that her parents respected her choice, but I think they must have been saddened that their daughter had become disobedient. I could even imagine that they had gone through a long stalemate, but she didn't tell me anything. She didn't want me to feel grateful or guilty.

We finally got into the same university as we wished. Sadly, I didn't get into my most desired major and had to accept my second choice. Equally sadly, our dormitories were far apart. It was also because the university was so big that we didn't have classes in the same building or eat in the same cafeteria. Fortunately, we had just started using cell phones at that time, making it much easier to communicate and arrange to meet.

She would come to see me every night, have dinner with me, and then study together. I offered to go see her, but she insisted, saying the food in her cafeteria wasn't as good as here, and the study rooms were in poor condition, etc. But I knew she didn't want me to walk too far. We both insisted on going to each other ourselves, so we finally compromised and took turns. I would walk her back to her dorm at night, about halfway there, past the "Dark Zone," and then turn back. The "Dark Zone" wasn't actually dark; it was just a long path through the woods. If you didn't go through it, you'd have to go around the trees on either side and walk a much longer way.

Later I learned that the woods in every school are a sanctuary for couples. We walked hand in hand innocently through the winter. The following spring, everything came back to life, and our young hearts began to stir. The weather warmed up, and she wore less clothing, and started wearing tight jeans. She didn't have many clothes, but they were all tasteful and high-quality brand-name items. I suppose her mother had a good eye for fashion.

That night, I walked her home. When we reached the middle of the grove, the forest was quiet, filled with the fresh scent of trees. I grabbed her hand and ran quickly to the left. She asked me what we were doing, confused, but followed me anyway. We ran deep enough before I stopped, holding her hands and looking at her face. Moonlight filtered through the branches, illuminating her face, revealing only her outline. But even without seeing her clearly, I could imagine how beautiful that face, which I had gazed at countless times, was.

My breathing quickened, and she, too, seemed to be affected by my emotions. Whether from running, nervousness, or anticipation, she also breathed softly. I couldn't hold back any longer. I rushed forward and embraced her, pressing my lips to her soft, warm lips. The instant our lips touched, my mind went blank, as if my soul had left my body. It was such a sweet sensation.

Her sweet, delicate lips were sealed tightly by my kiss. She let out a soft "Mmm," and instinctively wrapped her arms around my waist, her lips pursed, letting me kiss her. We were both somewhat lost in passion, but my hands remained still still, holding her back tightly, kissing passionately for a long time—but not a French kiss. As our lips slowly parted, we both felt a little embarrassed; after all, it was our first kiss.

The pleasure of kissing is addictive; once you've tasted it, you can't help yourself. We found time, place, and opportunity to kiss more and more frequently. Finally, on another night—and almost every kiss happened at night—I gathered all my courage in my hands and, instead of always placing them on her back or waist, I moved them to her buttocks. She let out a soft moan, her body trembling slightly, but she didn't struggle. Actually, I think she wouldn't have refused if I had done it earlier; I just never dared to cross that line.

I kneaded her buttocks with both hands, my heart pounding. A kiss of a beautiful woman's fragrance was already immense happiness, but to actually touch her buttocks—this had always been my dream! Before, I only hoped to talk to her; I never imagined she would become my girlfriend, and I never imagined I could hold her, kiss her, and caress her body like this.

Panting heavily, I began kissing her cheeks and neck. It was the first time I'd ever been so wild. She tilted her head slightly to meet my kisses, her cherry lips parted, her chest heaving. My face suddenly pressed against her chest, kissing her passionately through her clothes. She let out a soft gasp, touched my hair, and then lowered her hand.

I became even more unrestrained, reaching for her other breast. I couldn't actually kiss it through her bra, just rubbing my face and mouth against it. My other hand encircled her slender waist, and she leaned back, humming softly. Those youthful, firm breasts, never before touched by any man, filled me with an overwhelming ecstasy. The desire within me was almost burning us alive.

Desire clouded my judgment; only testosterone controlled my actions. I sucked on her soft, sweet tongue, and her body gradually softened, her breathing becoming heavier. Her breathing seemed like a summons, further stimulating me. I moved my hand down from her breasts and slipped it inside her pants. Sensing my intention, she didn't cooperate again, arching her back to avoid my hand.

I moved my hand from her waist to her buttocks, pressing her closer to me to prevent her escape. My other hand touched her pubic hair; a little further down, and I would touch her most intimate part. The most exciting moment was about to arrive; my heart was in my throat, the feeling like the moment before orgasm during future sex.

Her pants caught my hand. I tried to undo her belt, but she suddenly pushed me away gently, and I was momentarily stunned. She took two deep breaths and said, "Darling, it's late, we should go back, okay?"

Just then, a cool breeze blew by, cooling my burning body and heart. I sighed in disappointment, feeling a pang of guilt. I felt it was too crude to treat such an innocent girl this way. I took her hand and we slowly walked down the path. I whispered, "I...I'm sorry."

Her blush hadn't faded. She smiled playfully and said, "What happened? I didn't know anything!"

I laughed and slapped her on the bottom, saying, "When did you become so naughty?"

She leaned in and gently kissed my cheek, saying, "You should go back now. You don't need to see me off." This was the first time she had kissed me first, and compared to the passionate kiss before, the sweetness was a different kind of happiness.

She squeezed my hand tightly, turned, and ran away. This shy yet persistent, quiet yet lively girl—how can I love you? I can never love you enough.

After that night, we still kissed, but my hands were much more docile; I didn't explore her genitals anymore. However, each kiss left me burning with desire, my penis swollen and aching. When I got home, I'd immediately run to the bathroom to masturbate, of course, using Ting as my sexual fantasy object, imagining how to make love to her.

Initially, I felt guilty, thinking that fantasizing about her in such a way was a desecration of her purity. She had been so sacred in my heart. But I tried to convince myself that she was my girlfriend, and would become my wife. Married life was natural; what was there to feel guilty about in imagining it? Gradually, I overcame myself and cleared away my psychological barriers.

The inability to fully release my desire during each kiss was also a kind of torment. I wondered how she felt, if she reacted at all. I knew that women's vaginas would become wet when aroused, a sign of wanting sex. Would she wet too? She was a normal woman; she definitely would. But she was so innocent and naive; yet, there… she wet herself. Thinking about this, I was thrilled by this contradictory fact.

I started mentioning these things intentionally in our text messages. I said, "Honey, every time I kiss you, my body reacts."

She replied, "Yeah, me too, it feels so hot."

I said, "Not only hot, but my lower body reacts too."

She replied after a while, "What kind of reaction?"

I said, "My thing gets thicker and bigger, it's swollen." At that time, I was too embarrassed to call it a penis or anything like that.

She usually replies to messages quickly, not wanting to keep me waiting, but this time she replied even slower, probably because she was shy or hesitant: "Honey, actually I also have a reaction down there, but I was too embarrassed to tell you."

I was excited and immediately texted, "What kind of reaction do you have down there? Are you hard too?"

She replied, "What? Every time I kiss you, I feel wet down there. At first, I thought it was my period, or that I accidentally peed, but then I realized it was coming from down there."

My hands trembled when I saw this message. I said, "Why didn't you ask me?"

She replied, "How could I? If you hadn't said you had a reaction today, I still wouldn't have told you. Honey, you won't think I'm a bad girl if I tell you this, will you?"

I quickly replied, "No, no, we can talk about anything. When men and women are aroused, both their lower bodies react; a man's penis gets bigger, and a woman's vagina secretes fluid."

She replied, "Oh, is that so? Then it seems normal."

I replied, "Yeah, of course it's normal. Every time I come back, I have to do it myself, otherwise I feel really uncomfortable."

Ting replied, "What do you mean by 'do it'?"

I couldn't help but chuckle. She didn't know anything about masturbation and had definitely never done it. I said, "It's masturbation! Both men and women masturbate."

She replied, "Masturbation? I know, I heard about it in elementary school, but I've never done it! Books say masturbation is bad, so you shouldn't either, darling."

I said, "It's not bad, and besides, I can't help it if I don't do it."

She said, "Then how do you do it? I'm a little curious."

Hearing her curiosity, I saw my chance. I should give her some sex education. I said, "This has to start from the beginning. When a man is aroused, his penis gets hard, and when a woman is aroused..." When aroused, the vagina becomes wet, which prepares for the penis to enter smoothly. Once inside, the back-and-forth motion and friction make it incredibly pleasurable for both of you. Male masturbation involves simulating that action, grasping the penis and stroking it up and down.

She also sent me a message: "Honey, what are you doing? Are you asleep?"

After receiving my previous message, she asked, "How pleasurable is it? More pleasurable than kissing?"

I replied, "Haha, silly girl, from a sensory perspective, the pleasure is incomparable."

She replied after a long wait: "Honey, hearing what you said makes me wet down there again, I'm so hot."

I know she always texts me under the covers every night to avoid disturbing others, so she's probably even hotter now. I imagined her holding her phone, looking at those messages that made her face flush and her heart race, her panties completely soaked with vaginal fluid—this imaginable scene made my penis swell to its peak.

I felt I should stop now, not let her be tormented by desire. Besides, saying anything more might be too much for her to handle. So I said, "Honey, let's calm down. It's late, we should go to sleep." Then I casually said something else and we said goodnight, but I was still thinking about how she was doing.

After that, I felt we could take things further. I even started to plan, always wanting to take it a step further. Our kisses became more frequent, and I became distracted when we studied together, always fantasizing about the passion that was about to unfold.

One night, we went to the grove as planned. Sometimes we could hear the murmurs and moans of men and women there. They were having sex in the open, going a step further than us. She seemed embarrassed when she heard those sounds. We walked deeper into the woods. The woods were quiet and mysterious at night, with a strange atmosphere, as if a faint fragrance wafted in the air, having an aphrodisiac effect.

I leaned her against a tree, stroked her cheek, and then gently pressed my lips to hers. I liked this gradual approach. She was much less nervous than during our first kiss, no longer trembling at the slightest touch. I licked her cherry-like lips, so alluring and tender, making me want to kiss her passionately, yet so soft that I dared not press too hard.

I inhaled her sweet fragrance. She slightly opened her mouth, and I slipped my tongue inside, slowly swirling it around, using the pleasure of soft contact to open her lips, our tongues gently touching and intertwining, then gradually increasing the intensity of the kiss. I held her tongue in my mouth, gently sucking, and her arms tightened around me. That delicious little tongue was smooth and tender, almost tempting to swallow whole, but I could only take it in from the tip until I couldn't take any more, then withdraw, repeating this over and over.

The pleasure I felt was so intense that my hands, not to be outdone, roamed and caressed her back and buttocks. Her body was conquered by this invasion. Although she tried to control herself and not make a sound, muffled moans escaped her lips, and the sounds of our French kiss were beyond our control. The breeze rustled the leaves, and our kissing made a soft, sizzling sound.

I used to always wear jeans, and even when my penis was erect, it was always pressed down by the thick denim fabric, a feeling of suppressed desire that had been building up for so long. But that day I was wearing sweatpants, and the soft fabric allowed my penis to move freely, straight forward. I leaned closer to her, my eager penis pressing against her lower abdomen. She let out a surprised "hmm," but she certainly knew what the hard thing was. She seemed to instinctively want to pull back, but the tree behind her blocked her way.

Thinking back to those spring days, the thin spring clothes were so wonderful; we could feel each other's bodies through them. My hard penis pressed against her soft lower abdomen—it was a wondrous contact and contrast, like the strength of a man and the gentleness of a woman. It was her first time being touched by a male's penis; one can imagine the tension, shyness, and excitement she felt.

Then I felt that the clothes weren't enough, so I removed my penis from her body, pulled down my pants with one hand, and my large penis sprang out eagerly. My hand slid down her shoulder until I touched her hand. I took her hand and placed it on my penis. She gasped, and just like during our first kiss, her body trembled.

The spring night wasn't cold, but it was still a little cool. Our exposed skin was slightly chilly because my penis was encased in my pants and, due to excitement and engorgement, it was burning hot. How could she not be startled and excited when her cool, soft hand suddenly grasped my hot, hard penis?

I was also incredibly excited. I kissed her wildly while taking her hand and stroking my penis. Those fair, soft, delicate hands I usually saw were now holding my throbbing member. If there had been light, the contrast between her white hands and my bright red penis would have been striking. Her hands were much softer than mine. I thought to myself, how soft can a woman's vagina be? Probably not this soft!

As I stroked her with her hand, I whispered in her ear, "You know, this is how men masturbate." She made two "hmm" sounds, whether in response or unconsciously, I couldn't tell.

Emboldened by lust, I couldn't restrain myself any longer and reached for her genitals. This time, she didn't resist. She let me unbuckle her belt and slip my hand inside her pants. When I touched the pubic hair on her mons pubis, she immediately stopped kissing me, as if anticipating what was about to happen.

I finally placed my hand on her vulva, and she could no longer suppress it, letting out a cry of "Ah!" as her body went limp. If it weren't for me in front of her and the tree behind her, she would have collapsed to the ground. I was also trembling slightly with excitement. My hand, which had reached for her vulva, was wet with fluid, as her vagina and panties were soaked. She was overflowing with moisture, completely drenched.

I was thinking to myself, "Oh my god! Oh my god! She's leaking so much!" I gently rubbed her vulva, not even knowing where her clitoris or labia were, only feeling the continuous flow of fluid from her vagina onto my hand.

Under my caresses, her mind became hazy, and she moaned softly, repeatedly calling out, "Husband...husband..." That soft, seductive, sweet voice intoxicated me, but it also made my penis even harder. I thought that hard penis would definitely be able to penetrate her wet vagina all the way in.

I suddenly turned her body around, abruptly pulled her pants down to her thighs, revealing her round buttocks. I pressed my erect penis against her firm buttocks. She grabbed my legs and arms, her hands sometimes gripping mine, sometimes gripping mine, clearly nervous and excited, unsure of what to do. I moved my penis in and out between her legs, rubbing against her labia. She immediately grabbed a tree trunk with one hand and covered her mouth with the other, afraid of accidentally making a loud noise.

I felt everything was ready, our bodies were both at their most eager state, and it was time for penetration. I placed my hands on her back, gesturing for her to bend over so I could insert myself. But as soon as my penis touched her vaginal opening, she cried out "Ah!" and shuddered, straightening up and saying, "Honey, no... please stop."

How could I possibly restrain myself then? So I pressed her again, but she turned around and started pulling up her pants with both hands. I was getting impatient, wondering how she could hold back. She could see my impatience too, and she wrapped her arms around my neck and said, "Honey, let's do this on our wedding day... okay?" As she spoke, she grabbed my penis and started stroking it.

I was initially discouraged and annoyed by her traditional and old-fashioned ways. Since we were going to get married sooner or later, what did it matter if it happened sooner? She's always been so stubborn. But her initiative excited me again, though my pitiful annoyance didn't subside. I thought her movements were too slow, so I grabbed her hands and started stroking them hard and fast.

She said with concern, "Honey, I'm sorry... don't do this... doesn't it hurt?" I didn't reply, gritting my teeth and continuing to speed up my movements, imagining her hands as her vagina, and I was frantically thrusting to release my pent-up desire.

The pleasure seemed to rise in a straight line, and finally, a stream of semen spurted from my penis, which she was holding. I let out a long breath, momentarily forgetting my anger and everything else. She carefully wiped my penis with a tissue, then cleaned her own hands, pulled up my pants, fastened her own belt, and then stood quietly beside me, one arm linked with mine, waiting for me to speak.

Having calmed down, I said to her, "Let's go, let's go back." After a few steps, I noticed she was still holding a tissue in her other hand. I raised my voice and said, "What are you still holding? Throw it away quickly." She said timidly in a low voice, "I want to throw it in the trash can later."

Her kind and lovely appearance softened my heart instantly. Toilet paper and condoms were often found in the grove; how many people were as thoughtful and considerate as her? I immediately felt guilty for speaking loudly to her earlier, and hugged her tightly, kissing her. On the way back, I realized I shouldn't have been angry with her. She was also suppressing her physical desires, and she was suffering just as much as I was. Despite her traditional views, I should still respect her decision. Maybe it's just not the right time yet!

There are all sorts of clubs and organizations in university, but they're all pretty much the same—a group of people getting together to do some kind of activity. But they're still attractive to newcomers. When I first entered university, I joined the public relations department of an association. The president thought I was pretty good in terms of appearance, language skills, and so on, and after six months, he made me the vice-minister. I was freed from the work of drawing bulletin boards, writing advertisements, and putting up slogans.

I got along well with all the brothers and sisters in the public relations department, except for the head of the department, who didn't really like me. He always acted like a leader, speaking in a condescending tone and likes to boss people around. I never listened to him. In stark contrast, there was a girl in the department named Ran who was exceptionally nice to me. Everyone could see she was interested in me, but I was already in a relationship, which everyone knew. She didn't care about that and remained very enthusiastic towards me.

To be honest, even without Ting, I'd still be single, and she's not my type. She's too fiery and outgoing; she talks loudly and laughs boisterously with guys. While being outgoing has its advantages, I always felt that girls without restraint aren't as endearing. Ran is only moderately attractive, a little over 1.6 meters tall, but with a very voluptuous figure—large breasts and hips—and she likes to wear revealing clothes. Some of the bolder guys in the department joked in front of her, saying she attracted attention and affected work, etc.

Once, she came to my dorm under the guise of work, and the way she talked to me was so seductive and alluring, coupled with her hot figure, that everyone in the room was stunned. I think she deliberately acted that way in front of my roommates; she's never that exaggerated in the department's activity room.

As soon as she left, my roommate—the notorious sleazy guy in our class—asked me, "Who is she? What's her name?"

I said, "Why do you care?"

My roommate said enviously, "Damn! His wife is so beautiful, and he's hooked up with such a sexy and alluring girl." Then he said mysteriously, "She's obviously interested in you, probably wants you to sleep with her. You should seize the opportunity! Or introduce her to me, you should be satisfied with a beauty like your wife." They all assumed that Ting and I must have slept together. I didn't say anything, because it would be embarrassing to tell them we hadn't.

I pushed him aside: "Go away, if you want to sleep with her, go meet her yourself. I'm not introducing you."

He said, seemingly to me, but also to himself, "Damn, those big breasts and big butt, it would be amazing to sleep with her!"

Before every big event organized by the association, it's busy time for our public relations department. We have to go to various companies to solicit sponsorships, which basically means asking for money. We go to telecommunications companies, beverage companies, clothing companies, etc., most of which don't like this kind of forced sponsorship.

Our task was quite demanding. The minister gave each of us a certain amount to spend, saying it was to fully mobilize our initiative. We cursed the minister as we worked, and he gave me the heaviest task. The two companies weren't large and weren't enthusiastic about sponsoring, so I felt he was just waiting to see me fail.

Sure enough, when I arrived, they greeted me politely, saying all the usual platitudes, that they were always enthusiastic about supporting university activities, but this time they weren't interested, hoping for future opportunities to cooperate. I returned empty-handed, not knowing what to do. The others hadn't finished either, and we were all at a loss, deciding to try again tomorrow.

When no one was around, Ran smiled mysteriously and said to me, "I've finished everything, so give me your task too!"

I was surprised: "You've finished yours?"

She was even more smug: "Exceeded the quota!"

I was even more surprised and asked her how she did it. She said, "No need to ask, just give me yours."

Sure enough, she successfully completed mine as well, making me feel indebted to her. After the association's event, the president especially praised our department during the summary. We had some funds to celebrate. Although it wasn't right to use the sponsor's money for our own consumption, that's how all clubs are, and we had also helped promote them, so we had fulfilled our responsibility.

Our department went to a hotel near the school for dinner. There were more than ten of us in a private room, drinking baijiu and beer. Everyone was in high spirits, liking everyone and feeling like we were all brothers and sisters. It was especially nice that our department head wasn't there that day.

After a few rounds of drinks, we started singing loudly. Singing was allowed in the private room, and the two microphones were being fought over. We sang without restraint. Suddenly, Ran grabbed both microphones and shoved one into my hand, shouting, "I want to sing a love song with our favorite vice-minister! Listen up!" Without waiting for a reply, she sat sideways on my lap. Everyone cheered and applauded. I was also too excited from the alcohol and didn't push her away. Instead, I sang along with her.

Her high, firm breasts were not far from my face, and in the summer, she was wearing a low-cut t-shirt, so I could see her deep cleavage just by looking down. Her full buttocks were pressed right against my penis, and she would occasionally shift her position, inevitably rubbing my penis against hers. This was absolutely maddening; the thin clothing between us allowed me to feel her buttocks, and my penis, restless and erect, sank into her cleft. I think she could feel it too; was this the effect she wanted?

When she reached the climax of the song, she turned and glanced at me, her eyes full of ambiguity. I was completely at a loss. After she got up, I quickly crossed one leg to clamp my erect penis between my legs to avoid being seen—it would be too embarrassing. Luckily, no one noticed me, except for Ran, who looked at me, then at my lower body, and gave me a smug smile. It was such an obvious sexual innuendo.

After returning to the dorm, I sent Ting a message, but she didn't reply. I called her, but her phone was switched off. I was so tired that I just collapsed into bed.

The next day when I met Ting, she was sullen and wouldn't speak to me. I started to panic and kept asking her what was wrong. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she began to sob. She rarely cried. I gently shook her shoulder and asked anxiously, "Ting, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" After crying for

a while, she said, "Yesterday, my classmate and I went to the supermarket and passed by the restaurant where you ate. I saw a woman sitting on your lap..." She became sad again as she spoke. My heart was struck a chord. I thought, could there be a more coincidence than this? I had only been improper that one time, and she had seen it. Why was that restaurant built on the side of the road? Why did it have a floor-to-ceiling window?

I quickly comforted her, "Darling, don't cry. Don't overthink it. Everyone drank too much yesterday and got carried away. Do you still doubt my feelings for you? I don't like any other girl."

Ting sobbed, "I know you only love me, but when I see other girls... I still feel sad in your arms. Actually, I'm not blaming you anymore, but I need a while to stop crying."

Hearing her adorable yet pitiful words, my heart ached terribly. I hugged her tightly and kissed her smooth forehead, "I'm sorry! Darling, I will never be close to other women again, and I won't make you sad at all."

"Mmm..." Ting answered in my arms, her voice trembling with tears.

After this incident, I reflected deeply. Since I only love Ting, I should keep my distance from other women, not even a hint of ambiguous feelings, so as not to cause Ting any anxiety or worry. Therefore, I decided to be cold towards Ran from now on, cutting off all private interactions. Even work-related contact must be kept within proper boundaries, with no physical contact allowed. After making this decision in secret, I felt a great sense of relief.

Real life is like my writing, a diary of events. After the stressful final exams, summer vacation arrived. On the train, Ting leaned on my shoulder as we returned to our hometown, free from the annoyances of school, back to the place where we met.

Before, in our hometown, we rarely had the chance to spend long stretches of time together, but that long summer vacation allowed us to see each other often. Even if we did nothing but lazily while away the afternoons, the feeling was serene and happy. We could hold hands without fear of parents and teachers, confidently strolling through malls, drinking coffee, and browsing bookstores.

After a while of this carefree time, I even felt like I was gaining weight, so I said to Ting, "Let's go for a summer outing?"

Ting blinked her puzzled eyes and asked, "What's a summer outing?" These two words didn't sound easy to understand.

I explained with a hint of pride, "It's just analogy! In spring, we can go for a walk in nature, but now that it's summer, we can only enjoy summer!"

Ting's eyes sparkled with lively curiosity. "Okay, okay, where to?"

I said, "Let's go to the southern suburbs. I went there many years ago, and the scenery is still familiar. It's not only beautiful, but also secluded. I wonder what it's like now."

Ting shook my hand. "We'll find out when we get there. Let's go tomorrow!"

Ting is truly a girl who is both quiet and lively. These two personalities may seem contradictory, but they are perfectly unified in her. When she is quietly there, she is like a classical woman in a painting. When facing strangers, she always smiles shyly without showing her teeth. But when she is with her best friends, or like now with me, she is much more cheerful. But even when she is lively, it is not unrestrained or reckless, but a gentle liveliness, like the warm morning sun, warm but not dazzling.

She held my hand and looked at me expectantly. One glance at her pure gaze and warm, sun-like smile felt like being enveloped in sunshine, a warmth spreading through my heart, making me feel that the whole world was sincere. Having spent so much time with her, I hadn't found any flaws in her. If I had to name one, it would be that she didn't like to show off, lacked the desire to perform in front of others, always preferred to stay in the background, and lacked leadership skills—but to me, that could be considered a strength!

I pretended to consider it for a moment, then said to her with feigned seriousness, "Okay, let's go tomorrow. Get a good rest tonight; you'll definitely need energy tomorrow." Since the bus didn't go there, the only way to get there was by car or bicycle, and I chose the latter without hesitation or reservation.

The next morning, I rode my bike to Ting's apartment building—I hadn't even entered her house yet, and she was already waiting at the entrance with her backpack; she was punctual.

I asked with a touch of concern, "Why are you out so early? How long have you been waiting?"

Ting said excitedly, "I didn't want to waste time. I just waited for you to arrive, it wasn't a long wait."

She sat on the back of my bike, and we set off for our destination. It had been a long time since I'd ridden a bicycle. Years later, I rode my beloved mountain bike again, but this time, there was a lovely girl behind me.

In those years, public transportation developed rapidly, and fewer and fewer people rode bicycles in the city. We rode through streets and alleys, skyscrapers gradually disappearing, buildings becoming shorter, and we left the city for the suburbs. There were a few more houses here than when I visited years ago, but it was still sparsely populated. The air seemed suddenly fresher, and even the sunlight became transparent.

Ting excitedly showed me everything, exclaiming, "Oh, honey, look! That cow is so big! And the calves following behind are so cute!" Then she said, "Oh, honey, there's a big dog over there! Let's run! Go! Go!"

I laughed and told her, "Don't worry, what's so scary about a dog on a leash?" As we passed that house, I deliberately made a provocative face at the dog. It barked and charged at us, its chain rattling loudly. Even though we were far away, I still jumped in fright, and Ting screamed too. Seeing there was no danger, she hugged my waist and giggled.

I don't know what kind of place this is. It's called the countryside, but there aren't any concentrated villages. Houses are scattered here and there, and the further we went, the fewer houses there were, but the scenery became more and more beautiful. It's a place untouched by human intervention or pollution, possessing natural beauty. The path was flanked by meadows of various species, untrimmed and uneven, yet their natural growth possessed a tenacious vitality. A vibrant, uplifting atmosphere permeated the fields, interspersed with unnamed wildflowers. A gentle breeze carried the mingled fragrance of flowers and grasses, making anyone feel refreshed and invigorated.

The path undulated but wasn't bumpy, the sunlight warm but not harsh. Ting wrapped her arms around my waist, resting her face against my back, and after a long while said, "Darling, it's so beautiful here." Then she took a deep breath, and I hummed in agreement. Then I felt her face leave my back, so I turned to look at her. She was basking in the sunlight, her head slightly tilted back, a look of pure bliss on her face. Her soft hair was being gently blown by the breeze, fluttering over her shoulders. I dared not speak, as if opening my mouth would shatter this beautiful moment.

Ting said to me, "You must be tired after riding for so long. How about I give you a ride?"

I said, "No, no, look at my strong thighs."

Ting wouldn't have it, hugging my waist from behind, swaying her body, and whining sweetly. Hearing her sweet voice that pierced my bones, I felt my bones go weak. I really couldn't ride anymore, so I got off and let her ride. I sat on the back, and the bike wobbled as I started it. She had enough strength in her legs to pedal, but she couldn't control the handlebars well.

I pretended to scream, "Oh dear, can you ride a bike? I'm so scared." Actually, I wasn't worried. To prevent falling, I had my legs spread apart on the back seat.

Ting happily cried out and laughed, "Ah, honey, don't be afraid. I'm here. Hold on tight to my waist and you won't fall off!"

I said to her, "It's precisely because you're here that I'm scared!" Then we both burst out laughing.

I listened to her and wrapped my arms around her slender waist. Although I didn't feel any more secure, I felt a surge of happiness. Her hair brushed against my face, making my face and heart tingle.

We got off the bus near a small grove of about a dozen trees. There were beads of sweat on her forehead, but her face couldn't hide her excitement. We sat on the grass by the trees, and she took out water and snacks from her bag. I looked at the scenery and the beautiful woman, eating the various snacks she had bought—it was truly a feast for the eyes. Although there were no famous mountains or rivers, no historical sites, and the scenery wasn't particularly special, the ordinary flowers, trees, and natural landscape were beautiful enough for us.

The grass on the ground was lush and green, a breathtaking sight. Two snow-white clouds made the clear sky appear even bluer, as clear as Ting's pure heart. A gentle breeze stirred the clouds, and the wind on the ground was barely perceptible, its direction imperceptible. The breeze simply drifted in and out from all directions, its gentle movements touching, as if nature were showing us special tenderness. There was no one around, yet we simply sat hand in hand, side by side, without doing anything else, afraid of polluting this rare natural beauty.

Ting packed all the food wrappers back into her schoolbag; wherever she was, she was an environmentalist.

After returning home, that wonderful summer trip left us reminiscing about the entire summer, and I still remember every scene and fragment of that time, and will always remember it.

After the happy summer vacation ended, we returned to school together. Home was certainly comfortable, but as long as we were together, it didn't matter where we were. At the start of the new semester, various activities were in full swing on campus. Ting didn't participate in the sports meet, while I participated in the campus soccer tournament. A few days before the tournament, Ting gave me a shoebox containing professional Nike soccer shoes, much better than the ones I was wearing.

I looked at her excitedly and in surprise. She proudly told me, "I bought these with my scholarship money; it's practically my first income. I even bought something for my parents."

I asked her, "What did you buy for yourself?"

She hesitated for a moment and said, "Me? Nothing. I don't need anything."

This selfless girl moved me deeply. In her heart, I was more important than herself.

The university soccer tournament was much larger than in high school. Although I was a key player in my department and one of the top players in the school, I was no longer the most prominent figure. Because our department's overall level wasn't high enough, we were eliminated before the final four. I was very sad and felt I had let Ting down with the soccer shoes she gave me.

Ting stayed with me and comforted me. She always attended our department's matches; she was a key member of the family cheerleading squad. After I stopped playing, I went with her to watch their department's basketball game. In their department, Ting was a formal cheerleader, responsible for dancing on stage with flowers. Like the other girls, Ting had no dance background; she was only chosen because of her good figure and looks. I thought their dancing was silly; besides youthful exuberance, there was nothing interesting about it. Actually, I didn't want Ting to dance either.

Their department had more girls than boys, so the overall level of basketball wasn't high. However, they had an exceptional basketball talent—over 1.8 meters tall, with excellent physical attributes and superb skills. It was hard to pinpoint his position; he was an all-rounder, and he was also quite masculine and handsome, exuding a strong sense of masculinity. He was an idol in their department and even on campus; when he played, there were always innocent girls screaming from the sidelines.

That expert single-handedly led the team to the semifinals, their department's best result in history. In the semifinals, he continued his outstanding performance. A spectacular dunk following a steal sent the audience into a frenzy, especially the girls—particularly those from his department—screaming wildly. After his successful dunk, he roared with triumphant abandon, displaying a true kingly presence. If I were a woman, I probably would have become his fan too.

But what happened next was completely unexpected. He ran to the cheerleaders on the sidelines, stood in front of Ting, and extended his hand to give her a high-five. From a distance, I saw Ting's face immediately turn red. She was flustered and unsure what to do, perhaps not wanting him to lose face in front of everyone. So, she hesitantly extended her hand, allowing him to give her a high-five. A chorus of envious gasps erupted from the girls, all eyes turning to Ting. Ting, however, was searching for me in the crowd, afraid I might be upset. I, however, turned my head to watch the game, avoiding her gaze. I couldn't blame Ting, but of course, I couldn't ignore it, feeling a pang of jealousy.

I left the venue alone, feeling dejected, and returned to my dorm. The dorm was empty. I lay quietly on my bed when Ting called to ask where I was. I listlessly told her I was in the dorm.

When Ting came to my dorm, she sat beside me, looking at me with concern. She didn't know how to explain, so she simply took my arm and said cautiously, "Honey, don't be sad, okay?" I kept a straight face and didn't say anything, letting her plead softly. But I'm a soft-hearted person, and I couldn't bear to see her plead for so long without responding. So I patted her head and forced a smile. She was happy to see me smile and opened her arms to hug me.

Actually, I felt a sense of insecurity and inferiority at that moment. That basketball star was so popular; what if he took my Ting away? I was terrified of losing her, so I held her tightly, kissing her face and neck. We'd never been intimate in the dorm. Ting was afraid someone would come in, so she was only half-heartedly going along with it. The hugs and kisses aroused me, and I really wanted to take off her pants and have sex with her, to release all that pent-up desire and the depression of the day. Just

then, Ting's phone rang. It was a call that infuriated me. When she answered, the voice on the other end made her blush instantly. Because I was so close, I could hear the conversation clearly. I knew it was that basketball star from her department calling to invite her to a victory celebration party; apparently, their department had won again.

Ting said, "Thanks, but I'd better not go."

Then came the chatter of girls on the phone:

"Ting, you're so popular! The basketball prince invited you personally, and you're not going?"

Another girl said, "Yeah, are you trying to distance yourself from us?"

"Honestly, our team always acts as a group."

"The department head is going too, do you want him to talk to you personally?"

Ting hurriedly said, "No, no!" Then she looked up at me with a pleading gaze. I slowly nodded. Ting hesitated and said to the other girl, "Okay!"

She stood up, looked at me with a guilty expression, then leaned down and kissed my cheek, saying, "Honey, I'll be back soon, I'll call you when I get back."

After she left, I was annoyed, but didn't know who to vent my anger on. My lust hadn't subsided; my penis was throbbing in my pants. I rubbed it hard a couple of times, and suddenly wanted to release it through masturbation. I took a disc from under the messy desk of the perverted guy in the dorm, thinking he wouldn't notice when he got back, and took the disc to our department office.

The office was on the rooftop of a building. Inside, there were desks, chairs, and a bed. On the bedside table were a TV and a DVD player. Not all associations have office space, especially since we were just a department; this was something our seniors had earned

through excellent public relations skills. The office was empty, and no one would come at this hour. I locked the door, turned on the TV and DVD player, and played a pornographic DVD at a very low volume, masturbating as I watched. Suddenly, I heard the sound of a key unlocking the door, but it was locked from the inside. I quickly turned off the power strip, which made a "click" sound.

Wondering who would come, I got up to open the door, only to find my erect penis bulging against my pants. I was momentarily at a loss, but the knocking left me no time to hesitate. I

opened the door and found Ran there. Her face was flushed; she looked like she had just been drinking, perhaps attending a victory celebration party.

I stammered, "Why are you here?"

She smiled, her eyes glazed, and said, "Why couldn't I come? I came as soon as I saw you." This building was close to Ran's dormitory.

Although I was facing her, I turned my body away to avoid her seeing my erection. But after she entered, I couldn't hide it anymore. She stared at my crotch, turned away, and laughed brazenly, swaying as she sat down on the bed. I was incredibly embarrassed, and I couldn't just walk backwards towards her.

After she sat on the bed, she reached for the light switch. I was immediately alarmed, thinking she probably knew what I had been doing. Ignoring my erection, I quickly walked to her and grabbed her hand. She didn't pull her hand away, letting me hold it.

When she turned her head, my erection was not far from her face. She looked at me with seductive eyes and said, "Why aren't you turning your back to me now?"

I didn't know what to say or do. If I took my hand away, she would definitely turn on the TV, and those scenes of men and women having sex would appear before our eyes; if I didn't take my hand away, it would be indecent for my penis to be erect in front of a girl.

Just as I was at a loss, Ran's face slowly moved towards my penis. Her action made my body tremble violently, and Ran's full breasts were also incredibly stimulating. I, who was already aroused, could no longer restrain myself. I pushed her down onto the bed and kissed and groped her breasts wildly. She didn't resist at all, obediently falling onto the bed, letting out a long, satisfied moan. The sound seemed to carry a sense of victory, a victory of finally conquering me. And I also felt a sense of conquest towards her. She always showed me affection, and this behavior gave me a man's confidence, proving that I still had a certain charm.

She reeked of a mixture of perfume and alcohol, which was stimulating to me as well. I pulled down her thin top, revealing her breasts, barely covered by her bra. I kissed her exposed flesh, and she moaned softly, then lifted her chest and unhooked her bra at the back, exposing both breasts completely.

Ting's breasts were just the right size, easily held in one hand, while Ran's breasts were too large to grasp with one hand. I buried my head in her chest, kissing and kneading her breasts frantically. Suddenly, I felt her hand grab my penis through her clothes. A woman's initiative excites a man especially. I hastily pulled down my pants, and my penis sprang out. Her hand grasped my penis completely and gently moved it, causing my hips to move back and forth.

At that moment, guilt towards Ting flashed through my mind, but the power of lust was too great, and Ran's breasts were too large. Deep down, I even felt a faint desire for revenge against Ting, even though she hadn't wronged me.

I never kissed Ran's lips. I saw her mouth slightly open, her tongue licking her lips—a sign of a woman's desire to kiss. But it wasn't the smell of alcohol on her breath that bothered me; it was just that I only felt physical attraction towards her. I didn't want to kiss someone I didn't love.

My hips moved faster and faster, but Ran pulled her hand away. I guessed she was afraid I'd ejaculate; she wanted to have sex, and her genitals must be full of lustful fluid. She pulled down her pants, turned around, and raised her buttocks towards me, swaying as she slowly drew closer…

Her snow-white, full buttocks were beautiful, and it was the first time I'd ever seen a woman's genitals. The fluid from her vagina had soaked her pubic hair, and her labia were glistening. This was a huge visual stimulus for me at the time, and I couldn't resist the urge to insert my penis into her vagina. But her proactive actions reminded me of how promiscuous she was; I wondered how many men she'd slept with. I didn't want to enter such a woman's body. My first time had to be with Ting. I don't know where I found that kind of willpower back then.

But I couldn't resist the alluring pleasure, so I masturbated while looking at Ran's buttocks. This unusual act of infidelity was nerve-wracking, and the scene before me was too stimulating. After only a few strokes, I cried out, "Ah!" as pleasure coursed through my body, and my semen sprayed onto Ran's buttocks. Ran turned around in surprise, and seeing that I had ejaculated, she looked disappointed. She reached out and grasped my penis, trying to make it erect again.

After the climax, my lust quickly subsided, and I was filled with guilt towards Ting. How could I do this to another woman behind her back? How heartbroken she would be if she knew. I pushed Ran's hand away, pulled up my pants, and ran out. Ran called after me, dissatisfied. I didn't dare turn back; I couldn't face her. My semen was still on her buttocks, yet I ran away. It was truly absurd and ridiculous.

After that, I felt very awkward whenever I saw Ran, and Ran still teased me from time to time. I felt her gaze towards me had become contemptuous; perhaps she thought I lacked courage and wasn't manly enough. But a man who wouldn't cross the final line still kept her interested!

I felt very guilty towards Ting and didn't know whether I should tell her and ask for her forgiveness. We had always been honest with each other and never hid anything from one another, but after much thought and deliberation, I decided not to tell her, as long as I didn't make the same mistake again.

However, that basketball expert stopped attacking the basket and instead targeted my Ting, which made me very angry and worried. He clearly knew that Ting had a boyfriend, yet he still launched his pursuit, calling and asking her out to dinner. Although I believed in Ting's loyalty, I was also worried that she would change her mind over time. Ting told me that she had never eaten alone with that person or had any private contact with him, and asked me to believe her. Looking at her sincere expression, I couldn't help but believe her.

One evening, while Ting and I were having dinner, her phone rang. She saw the caller ID and hung up—it was that same person again. Two minutes later, the phone rang again. I took it and answered, barely containing my anger, saying, "Please stop harassing my girlfriend, okay?" and then hung up.

Ting probably thought my behavior was impolite; I rarely get angry, but seeing me lose my temper made her a little scared, and she hesitated to speak to me.

This incident bothered me for several days, and I unconsciously took my anger out on Ting. She must have felt very wronged, but she didn't blame me; she just told me to have faith in myself and in her. I thought about how I had done something wrong to her, and I hadn't even told her, while Ting hadn't done anything wrong to me. What right did I have to be angry with her?

But one afternoon, I went to Ting's campus and witnessed something shocking: Ting and that man were walking side-by-side on campus, chatting and laughing, and Ting was listening with a smile. My heart was struck a heavy blow. Anger, resentment, sadness, and panic surged within me all at once. I wanted to rush up and fight that man, but seeing Ting's smiling face, it felt as if I were the one who was superfluous. I instantly deflated. I could fight to the death for Ting, but if she didn't love me anymore, why should I be delusional? Extreme emotions easily lead to biased thinking.

I stood there blankly for a few seconds, then turned and walked away dejectedly. Just then, Ting saw me. She called my name and ran towards me, but I ignored her and continued walking alone. Ting reached me and grabbed my arm, but I disheartened, shook her hand off. She didn't dare grab it again, but simply walked with me.

She whispered, "I ran into him on the street, and he talked to me. It's not what you think." I ignored her.

She said, "I want to get back to the dorm quickly and get rid of him." I thought about it; she was indeed heading towards the dorm, but I still couldn't let it go.

She kept talking, but I didn't respond. Finally, she said, "Honey, can you say something to me?" I still didn't speak.

Ting started to sob softly, crying, "Honey... don't ignore me..." Her cries and pleas broke my heart. I couldn't harden my heart anymore, so I took her hand, looked at her with infinite tenderness, and wiped her tears from her face. When she saw that I had forgiven her, her eyes glistened with gratitude.

But I later realized that I was only moved at the time. This incident always left a shadow in my heart, and I would sometimes be suddenly cold towards Ting, but I would quickly return to normal. Ting noticed my change. She was very gentle and considerate towards me, and blocked that man's calls, not having any contact with him, to put my mind at ease.

Two weeks later, Ting texted me one night. She suddenly said, "Honey, let's make love. I want to give you my body."

Seeing this message, I was shocked. Was my long-held wish finally going to come true? But then I wondered if this was her way of making amends for what happened, trying to reassure me with her body? That would make me seem petty—of course, I am petty by nature, and I don't want to accept such pity.

So I replied, "No need, darling, don't worry, I will believe you. You also said you wanted to save it for our wedding night."

Ting quickly replied, "No, honey, I've thought it through. Since I've already decided to be with you for life, there's no difference between saving it for then and doing it now."

I hesitated, wanting to say something more, and as I was typing the text message, Ting's message came again: "And...and...I've been really wanting to try what it feels like lately!"

I didn't know if she didn't want to hurt my pride, or if she really wanted to do it. Either way, seeing her so proactive was incredibly exciting and touching. A long-held wish was finally about to come true. I imagined embracing her beautiful body, entering her—what an ecstatic feeling that would be.

We set a date, a Saturday afternoon. Ting didn't dare stay out all night; she was afraid her roommates and classmates would suspect something. We looked for rental ads on the walls of buildings around the school. When we stopped in front of an ad, Ting's face turned red, as if afraid passersby would know we were going to a hotel to have sex. Unfortunately, rooms were scarce on Saturday afternoons. We made many calls, which made Ting blush for a long time, but she held my hand firmly the whole time.

Finally, we found a room. The middle-aged man looked at Ting's blushing face and my awkwardness, seemingly able to tell that Ting was still a virgin and it was our first time out. A smug smile appeared on his face, as if he had seen right through us. I quickly gave him the agreed-upon fifty yuan, hoping he would leave soon.

The room was simply furnished with only a bed, a table, chairs, and a television, but it was clean and hygienic. Ting sat on the edge of the bed, legs together, hands on her lap, not looking at me, her head bowed, staring at the ground, clearly very nervous. Actually, I was nervous too, but at the same time, I was filled with great anticipation.

I sat down next to Ting and turned on the television. Ting finally looked up at the TV, finding something to ease her current embarrassment. I had no interest in what holiday was on; I was just constantly changing channels with the remote. The frequency with which someone changes channels indicates their level of nervousness. Actually, Ting wasn't watching the content either. Her chest was heaving, and her cheeks were flushed; the upcoming event must have been overwhelming her thoughts.

I was already thinking about making love to her, but in my nervousness, I started having sexual fantasies. I imagined her still dressed, soon to be naked, her body sprawled on the bed, me on top of her, kissing her every inch of her body passionately… Thinking about it, I actually got an erection. I glanced at her; she was repeating her classic pose—biting her lip, looking both delicate and stubborn.

Ting's unwavering expression moved me deeply, and her beautiful face instantly aroused my desire. I grabbed her and held her tightly in my arms. She let out a soft "ah," her body trembling briefly before slowly calming down. I laid her down on the bed, and as I kissed her cheeks and neck, she began to tremble again. Perhaps this passionate kiss was different from any other; it was the calm before a storm.

Ting was wearing a t-shirt and skirt, so soft and thin that I could clearly feel her flesh. I suddenly wondered if she had considered making it easy for me to undress her. As I kissed her, one hand explored her body, lifting her skirt from her knees and caressing her smooth inner thighs. She involuntarily squeezed her legs together slightly. I placed both hands between her legs, preventing them from closing. Realizing things shouldn't be the same as before, she slowly parted her legs, letting my right hand slide upwards along her inner thighs.

That smooth, tender flesh made me want to grab and knead it, to express my love for it, but there were more crucial parts waiting for me to explore. My hand finally reached her vulva, pressing against the entrance of her vagina through her panties. I couldn't help but gasp. My God! Her panties were completely soaked with vaginal fluid. She couldn't have produced so much fluid in the few seconds I had been caressing and kissing her; it must have started while she was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Thinking that she had also been fantasizing about sex back then, imagining herself dripping with desire, I became wildly excited. I grabbed her skirt and pulled it down, and she lifted her buttocks to cooperate, the skirt coming off in an instant. Then I took off her t-shirt, and she obediently raised her arms above her head.

At this point, she was only wearing a bra and panties. It was the first time I had ever seen her dressed so scantily. I could only see her two long, beautiful legs pressed together, expressing Ting's shyness at that moment. I couldn't help but exclaim in amazement, "Darling, your body is so beautiful!" She blushed, crossed her arms over her chest, hummed in agreement, and turned her head towards the bed.

My amazement only lasted a few seconds before I was eager to see what the parts covered by the bra and panties looked like, so I went to remove the last two pieces of clothing she was wearing. After the bra was unhooked, a pair of white, firm breasts were presented before me, the small, pink nipples already hardened, and her chest heaving.

It was the first time I'd ever seen her breasts naked. I swallowed hard, grasped her delicate breasts with both hands, and squeezed them tightly—this was also the first time I'd ever held them completely in my hands, skin to skin, without any clothing between them. Her body jolted, and she cried out, "Ah!"

I quickly asked her, "Darling, did I hurt you?"

She whispered, "It's okay, it doesn't hurt." It seemed that having her young breasts held like this for the first time was a revolutionary experience for her.

I fondled her breasts, lowering my head to suckle one nipple while kneading the other, kissing her as I looked up at her. She closed her eyes, biting her lip, making suppressed "mmm" sounds. Her

breasts looked firm, yet felt incredibly soft to the touch, making me want to hold them completely in my hands, not even letting a sliver of flesh peek out between my fingers, trying my best to completely grasp them without spilling any. The hardening nipples stimulated my tongue and hands, a strange sensation; even small nipples could bring such immense pleasure.

I resisted the temptation and straightened up, kneeling between her legs. My gaze moved down from her chest, her flat stomach rising and falling with it. Below her abdomen lay the place I had longed to enter—a budding flower amidst the lush grass, and I was about to open it with my own hands. How could I not be excited?

Her pubic hair was soft, shiny, and beautifully distributed. She was a little embarrassed by my greedy, prolonged gaze and dared not look into my bloodshot eyes. When I quickly stripped off my clothes and appeared naked before her, what she dared not look at was my engorged, erect penis.

That swollen penis throbbed gently not far in front of her. It was the first time she had seen a man's penis in the light, and the visual impact must have been no less than when I had seen her genitals. I understood her state of mind at that moment, and I also knew her personality. She wanted to see what a penis looked like, but at the same time, she was shy and afraid, her eyes secretly glancing at it, just like when she watched a horror movie, wanting to see but also afraid, so she covered her head with the blanket and peeked at the TV through a small gap. Girls are so cute like that.

I imitated the actions of the male protagonist in Japanese adult films, spreading her legs and kissing her genitals. She cried out, looked up in surprise, and said, "Darling...?"

I didn't answer, but just kissed her passionately, trying to keep her from being surprised by the pleasure. Sure enough, she stopped talking and just frantically stroked my head with her hands. Her hand movements made me feel that she sometimes wanted to push me away, and sometimes wanted me to kiss her harder.

My head was buried between her legs, and I couldn't see her expression, only hear her moans, which were different from usual. Her voice was very beautiful, but her moans were even more melodious and sweet. It turned out that this kind of moaning didn't need to be practiced; it came out naturally and made me lose my soul.

The sound was so soft and delicate it seemed to penetrate every pore of her body, melting her entire being, reaching her very core, and seeping into her very soul. A dignified and quiet girl, usually speaking softly and politely, was now making such alluring sounds as my tongue teased her genitals—the contrast was almost unbelievably strange.

Of course, it was my first time giving a woman oral sex, and I didn't know much technique, but the touch of my lips to her labia was enough to make her tremble. She began to instinctively twist her hips to increase the friction on her genitals.

I licked from the opening of her vagina upwards and downwards, repeating this motion. Finally, she moaned and made her request: "Darling…you…take me…I can't take it anymore…"

Her words gave me a tremendous sense of conquest and satisfaction. I teased her a little longer, then got up. I saw her face was flushed, her eyes looking at me expectantly. I looked back at her, and this time her gaze didn't waver; it clearly told me she really wanted it.

I bent and lifted her legs, spreading them to her sides, and slid my penis along the entrance of her vagina, which was covered in her vaginal fluid and my saliva. She knew she was about to be penetrated, so she breathed heavily, anxiously awaiting that moment.

But suddenly, I felt a sacred yet heavy feeling about taking a girl's virginity, and I hesitated to go forward. She couldn't hold back; she wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me forcefully towards her. My hesitation was only momentary, and I slowly inserted my penis. She cried out "Ah!" and gripped my arm tightly with her fingers. Then she opened her mouth wide, but no more sound came out.

I immediately stopped trying to penetrate her and hurriedly asked, "Darling, does it hurt a lot?"

She bit her lip and said, "It's okay... go in slowly..."

Her vagina was full of vaginal fluid, but it was still very tight, so I could only go in slowly. However, I didn't feel any obstruction from her hymen. My penis went in little by little until it was fully inserted. She finally exhaled after suppressing her breath for so long, letting out a long "Ah."

I've heard that many women experience a lot of pain the first time, but she didn't seem to be in much pain. I was startled. Could she not be a virgin? But I thought she had never had sex with other men before, so it was impossible for her not to be a virgin. When I pulled my penis out, I found blood on it. My worries about her not being a virgin finally subsided, but seeing the blood made my heart ache again.

I saw her expression earlier, her eyes tightly closed, her brow furrowed. I thought she was also in a lot of pain, but she was desperately trying not to cry out so that I wouldn't hesitate to go in. So I carefully inserted my penis again. This time it seemed smoother, and I could clearly feel the pleasure of being enveloped and sucked.

I looked at her tightly closed lips, and it even felt like it was her mouth that was inside. Her small mouth was tightly shut, and it seemed like a small tongue was teasing her inside, trying to resist the large penis, yet unable to stop the irresistible masculine power. The penis still went deep in, all the way to the deepest point. When the penis was pulled out, her small mouth seemed to have tasted the deliciousness of the meat stick, and didn't want it to leave, so it tightly wrapped the penis with its mouth, but the penis still slowly withdrew, in preparation for the next insertion, and so on.

Ting's vagina had never had a foreign object enter it before, let alone a man's penis. I was the first person to enter her body, which gave me a huge sense of conquest. The physical pleasure was equally intense. The penis was wrapped and rubbed by the warm, moist, and tight vagina, squeezed and massaged by the flesh of the inner walls of the penis from all sides. Waves of electric-like pleasure spread from the penis throughout the body, melting and softening wherever it flowed.

As I increased the speed of my thrusts, I kneaded Ting's breasts with both hands, sometimes grabbing them, sometimes flattening them, sometimes swaying them from side to side. Ting's most sensitive areas were being invaded simultaneously, something she had never experienced before. This extreme pleasure left her flustered, her delicate hands grabbing my arm one moment, then her own legs the next, her mouth emitting uncontrollable moans: "Mmm...mmm...husband..."

I asked her, "What's wrong, darling?"

She didn't answer, still unconsciously calling out, "Mmm...husband..."

Ting's legs were spread open between my bodies. To the side, her pretty little feet swayed adorably with each thrust. I hoisted her legs onto my shoulders so I could see them more closely. What a pair of tiny feet they were! They were as translucent as jade. I took back the hand that had been caressing her breasts and held her feet to my face, rubbing them against my skin. The delicate, smooth, and tender feel made me want to swallow them whole. I could only kiss them incessantly—the white insteps, the pink toes. Ting's toes would even twitch restlessly with my thrusts, so adorable. I was even distracted by it, slowing down my thrusts.

I suddenly remembered the position of penetration from behind and wanted to try it. So I tried to turn Ting over, but she was enjoying herself and was a little confused by my actions, yet she still obediently complied with my movements. After she lay face down on the bed, she didn't know which position would be suitable for my penetration, so I held her buttocks and adjusted her position up and down. Ting's figure was slender overall, but full in certain areas—a narrow waist, long legs, and a full bottom. The contrast between her plump buttocks and her tiny waist was striking; one glance was enough to captivate me. As

I gazed at her buttocks, I inserted my penis into her vagina. Changing positions changed the angle of penetration, and she gasped, clearly experiencing a different sensation. Moreover, a woman arching her back towards a man was a very lewd position, and I imagine she felt a sense of shame.

Her hair cascaded down her back, her slender, supple waist was held in my hands, and my powerful thrusts pounded into her full, white buttocks. I noticed a small dark patch on her right buttock and suddenly realized how much her delicate skin had suffered from sitting on the hard chairs in the classroom every day for so many years. This diligent and earnest girl was so lovely and admirable. Thinking of this, I tenderly touched it with my hand.

She buried her head in the pillow, but the moans she couldn't suppress grew louder and louder. The sounds were like sobs, long and lingering, yet there was an indescribable pleasure mixed in with the crying—a strange feeling that blended pain and joy. The scene before my eyes stimulated my vision, while her ecstatic cries stimulated my hearing. The feeling of my hands caressing her waist and buttocks, the sensation of my penis thrusting in and out of her vagina—all these sensory impacts were too much for me to bear.

At this moment, Ting suddenly said to me intermittently, "Husband, I knew... sex would be good... but I didn't expect... it to be this good... sob sob..."

Hearing her words, my excitement reached its peak, and my body was about to climax. I roared, grabbed her waist, and began to thrust rapidly and violently. Ting's moans were no longer under her own control; perhaps she had lost consciousness. Her loud moans could surely be heard clearly outside and next door.

My roars mingled with Ting's moans and the sounds of my thrusts against her buttocks, echoing in the small room. Sweat beaded on our bodies. Like a motor at maximum speed, I pounded into Ting with all my might, letting out the loudest screams.

The intense pleasure from my penis left my mind blank, then I began to breathe heavily. Ting stopped screaming and began to moan softly, her vagina still contracting rhythmically, her body trembling. The arrival of orgasm was like climbing a mountain; the pleasure gradually intensified until I reached the summit, the peak of pleasure enveloping my entire body in extreme comfort, before I floated down the mountain.

After ejaculating, I collapsed beside Ting. Without my support, Ting also slumped weakly onto the bed. We looked at each other tenderly, face to face, but our bodies were utterly exhausted, even our eyes were glazed over.

After resting, we got up, dressed, and left the room where we had experienced our first time. Later, thinking back to how our precious first time happened in such a simple environment, I couldn't help but feel a little sad. But then I thought, how many young students have gone through the same thing, so I didn't need to worry too much.

Walking on the street, walking on the campus paths, I felt that in just a few hours, everything had changed. It was as if the eyes of passersby could see right through what we had just experienced.

Life was peaceful and warm. The basketball guy and Ran gradually faded from our lives, becoming a history we didn't want to mention. People still often showed interest in Ting, and she wouldn't ignore them, but would remain polite and keep a distance. I was satisfied with her approach. I didn't care how many people pursued her, as long as she remained unmoved.

We went out about once every two weeks. I preferred a hotel that was quite shrewd; students could get a significant discount with their student ID. But Ting always suggested renting a short-stay room, whispering to me, "Even if the hotel is cheaper, one trip there is enough for two or three short-stay rooms." She was so considerate and thoughtful; her shy yet playful manner was incredibly endearing. I really wanted to grab her and make love right away, whether in a hotel or a short-stay room, as long as I could make love with her.

The initial shyness gradually faded, and the tension and trepidation I felt the first time were gone. I enjoyed the pleasure of sex itself more. I loved kissing her pink and pure vulva, looking up at her ecstatic expression as I kissed her, listening to her melodious moans. One time, she suddenly said to me, "Honey, it feels so good when you kiss me there. I want you to feel it too. Can I kiss you there too?"

I was instantly blown away. The happiness came so fast and was so exciting that I didn't know where I was. How could I not want her to give me oral sex? Her beautiful little mouth and tender lips were so tempting, yet so sacred in my heart. To kiss her sweet lips was already happiness. How could I bear to put my penis into such a mouth?

But faced with her proactive request, I couldn't bear to refuse, so I mumbled an "Mmm." She climbed down my body until her face was above my penis. She picked it up, looking at it cautiously and timidly. She had never seen it this close before. My penis, held in her small hand, trembled slightly with anticipation. My heart felt like it was about to jump out of my chest. She imitated me, gently licking the underside of my penis with the tip of her tongue. A jolt of electricity shot through me. It was her cute little tongue licking my penis! The psychological stimulation was greater than the physical pleasure. She didn't quite know how to do it properly, only licking the underside of my penis with her tongue, sometimes kissing it with her lips, but never touching the glans. So, I nervously moved my penis towards her mouth and gently said to her, "Darling...can you put it in your mouth?"

She looked up at me with some surprise and asked, "Can I put it in?" I didn't know if she thought my penis was too big for her mouth, or if she thought it was dirty.

I simply nodded and hummed in response. After receiving my affirmative answer, she lowered her head and looked at my penis for about ten seconds before opening her tender, flower-like lips and gently taking the glans into her mouth. Even so, only half of it was inside, but I was still visibly aroused. Her lips lingered there for a while, neither penetrating nor withdrawing. I grew impatient, thrusting my hips upwards, wanting to push my penis deeper into her mouth. Her head involuntarily lifted as well. I was frantic, and my movements became rougher. I pressed her head down, immobilizing her, and then slowly pressed it down. She obediently opened her mouth wide, allowing my penis to enter little by little.

Her mouth was a unique experience—warm, smooth, and soft. My penis felt as if it were entering a vagina, yet it was a completely different sensation and psychological experience. Her moist lips pressed tightly against the skin of my penis, a trickle of saliva flowing from her mouth onto my penis. I couldn't wait to thrust deep into her mouth, so I pressed her head down urgently and thrust my hips forcefully. My penis went in almost completely, and she coughed violently. I quickly pulled out my penis, stood up, and stroked her back, my heart filled with pity and self-reproach. She coughed a few more times, her face flushed, and as soon as she stopped coughing, she said to me, "It's okay, honey...you lie there...let's continue." Her eyes were still blinking, her eyelashes fluttering, clearly not fully recovered. The surge of emotion rising within me was almost burning me alive.

She cleared her throat and said, "Honey, I got it...don't worry this time." Then she lowered her head again, trying her best to take my penis in as deep as possible. My vision blurred. How could she be so obedient and considerate? How could I love her enough that even giving my life for her would be insignificant?

Although she said she knew how, in reality, she obviously didn't. She simply took the penis deep into her mouth and licked it with her tongue in small movements. But what did it matter? Technique was irrelevant; as long as she was willing to do it for you, love was the greatest pleasure. The intertwining of emotion and pleasure was an indescribable experience. To have the woman you deeply love perform oral sex on you was the greatest happiness in the world.

Later, as the frequency of oral sex increased, she gradually became more skilled. She knew how to move the penis in and out of her mouth like during intercourse, how to use varying pressure and speed with her lips and tongue, how to hold the penis with one hand while sucking on the glans and stroking the scrotum with the other, or how to kiss the scrotum while stroking the penis with her hand. She knew my preferences and how much pressure to use. Some of these skills were self-taught, some were learned from my instructions, and some were learned from watching porn.

It was really funny when Ting watched that kind of movie for the first time at my house. She hid behind me and watched. When I turned around sharply to look at her, she quickly lowered her head. I laughed and said to her, "What's there to be embarrassed about? Just watch." Encouraged by me, she still kept her head down, glancing at the screen. When I came back from the bathroom, I used the sound of the flushing to cover my tracks and tiptoed to the door to peek at her. She was staring intently at the screen, watching naked men and women having sex without restraint, the man roughly ravaging the woman. Ting's blank expression was quite cute. I went into the room, wanting to see her nervous. Sure enough, she suddenly saw me, fidgeted a few times, and looked very embarrassed.

I couldn't resist pouncing on Ting, quickly stripping her clothes off. She was aroused by the explicit scenes, her body limp and weak, completely at my mercy. I touched her genitals; her buttocks were wet. My penis was already erect, so I could penetrate her without any foreplay. We watched the positions on the screen, mimicking the same actions. I thought Ting's moans were much more beautiful than the women in the films.

Ting lay on the bed, her round, white buttocks raised towards me. I thrust into her from behind, and Ting gasped, "Husband…be rough with me like in the movies…" In the films, men grab women's hair and squeeze their breasts. I couldn't bear to treat Ting like that, so I gently slapped her buttocks. Ting let out moans. Should I selectively imitate the actions in the films? Seeing my red finger marks on Ting's white buttocks, although I felt excited, I couldn't bear to continue hitting her, gently stroking them with tenderness.

After the climax, Ting lay in my arms, burying her head in my chest, and said shyly, "Honey... this is so embarrassing... it feels like I'm looking at someone and being looked at." Then she chuckled, "But it's also so exciting." I laughed heartily and kissed her smooth forehead hard.

Time flies, and before we knew it, we were juniors in college. Ting and I had become increasingly in sync and harmonious in our sex life and our daily lives, feeling that our days were full of sunshine, fragrance, and color. Choosing various elective courses based on our interests was, in itself, a kind of hobby for us. One of Ting's music elective teachers learned that she could play the piano and wanted her to perform at the New Year's Eve party. I already knew she could play the piano; she had practiced since childhood and passed the amateur level 10 exam, but I had never had the chance to hear her perform. The teacher's insistence was hard to refuse, but Ting wasn't one to show off. She said to me with concern, "I've never played in front of so many people before. Will I be nervous?"

I encouraged her, saying, "Remember when you led the team at the high school sports meet? You were very nervous before, but you were very calm and confident on stage, with strong, rhythmic steps."

Ting added, "But I haven't practiced much in recent years, and I've become rusty."

I comforted her, "Don't worry, it's like riding a bicycle or swimming—once you learn it, you don't forget it. You'll recover after a few days of practice."

Ting nodded somewhat wistfully, as if facing a huge challenge. After that, she frequently spent time in the music room. Fortunately, the music teacher was an elderly woman.

The New Year's Eve party was held a few days before the New Year. The school auditorium was full of people, and the open space was also full of people. I gathered many classmates from my class to cheer for Ting. Her performance was scheduled for the later part of the show. I casually watched the performances before that. The school was full of artistic talents. It was truly a vibrant and energetic event. But my mind was not on the performance. I was just nervously waiting for Ting to appear.

Finally, the host announced the piano solo and called out Ting's name. My roommate nudged me with her elbow, and our whole class cheered loudly. The loudest cheers came from two areas in the auditorium: the area where Ting's classmates were sitting, and our classroom.

Ting was wearing a white dress again, but this time it wasn't the one from high school; it was even more elegant and refined. The piano was also very impressive; it probably always stayed backstage in the auditorium, otherwise moving it from elsewhere would have been too much trouble.

She bowed slightly and sat down on the piano bench. Beautiful music flowed gently from her fingers. It would be a waste if her slender, white fingers weren't used for playing the piano. The beautiful woman in white and the black piano complemented each other perfectly; the scene was so harmonious that the music seemed to be just background noise. For some reason, the piano always seemed to envelop people in an elegant atmosphere. The audience fell silent, listening intently. Ting's long, flowing hair cascaded down her back; she was focused solely on the piano before her, her fingers like notes dancing on the black and white keys, her body swaying gently to the rhythm. She was completely immersed in the world of music. I was captivated as well. At that moment, she seemed so sacred and ethereal, distant and noble. Was this the woman I spent every day with? I even felt a sense of disorientation, needing to recall our intimate moments to convince myself. But thinking of those things made me feel utterly despicable. How could I have done such a thing to her, desecrating her flawless purity? Thinking of those things now was wrong.

When the piece ended, the audience applauded enthusiastically until the lingering sound faded away. Even our two groups of friends and family were rendered powerless; our applause was drowned out. Ting rose to thank everyone, her beautiful face and graceful figure appearing even more striking. A proud happiness made me dizzy. She was my girlfriend.

When I saw Ting after the party, she had changed back into her usual clothes and was smiling brightly at me. She was clearly happy, experiencing the sense of accomplishment and joy of being admired by others, but she never became overjoyed to the point of losing herself. I went up and hugged her to celebrate her success.

After that, Ting always attracted attention on campus; those were undoubtedly people who had seen the party. Ting didn't enjoy the attention. Like any other day, she calmly went to class, ate, and studied. One weekend, we went to a hotel and made love.

Happy days always seem too short. Finally, June arrived, and a somber mood permeated the campus. The hysterical revelry was merely a mask for the sadness. Gatherings after gathering—from classes, colleges, hometowns, and associations—were filled with endless reminiscences and heartfelt farewells. The nostalgia for the past, the uncertainty of the future, and the inevitable partings of lovers—how could anyone bear it? The only recourse was to get drunk, dream, and then go our separate ways.

Ting and I were determined never to break up, no matter what. As long as our hearts were together, what obstacles were there?

We saw our classmates off one by one. Some went home, some went straight to their jobs. Countless tears fell at the train station as we parted. I chose this major out of my love for nature—I won't go into the specifics—and now I was going to work in the field. I had already gone home, then returned to school, and now I was going straight to work. Ting was working at a local school.

It was already July, and most people had left. My ticket was for July 11th, and farewell was imminent. Those few days, I was with Ting every moment, as if we would never see each other again. We made love passionately, kissed deeply, our lips reluctant to part, or watched each other chat, or sat quietly together. Although it wasn't a final farewell, how long would it be before we met again? Maybe six months, maybe a year—it didn't matter to us; it was all too long.

No matter how much you fear parting, it will always come. I said goodbye to the few classmates who hadn't left in the dorm, telling them not to see me off. I'd already sent all my things home, and there weren't many left, so there was no need for them to see me off.

I said the same thing to Ting. It might seem a little cruel, but I really didn't want to see the scene of heartbreaking farewells on the platform. Ting said to me, feeling wronged, "You saw so many people off, why didn't you see me off?"

I teased her, "I guess you cried as many times as you saw off people."

Ting said firmly, "I only cried twice. We agreed beforehand that no crying was allowed. Whoever cries is a little dog, okay? I definitely won't cry, I have to see you off." I couldn't persuade her otherwise, so I had to agree.

On the 11th, after Ting and I finished eating, we dawdled and arrived at the station. Looking at the people seeing each other off around us, I felt a little pitiful and lonely. Luckily, Ting was by my side. It's funny, Ting and I had met several times at the station while seeing off other people, but we were seeing off different people and didn't talk much to each other. This time, it was finally her turn to see me off. She wasn't as sad as when she saw others off before; instead, she smiled and kept talking to me. But neither my heart nor her laughter felt so bright.

We were about to board the train. I gave her a light kiss on the lips, not a forceful one—too intense, and neither of us would be able to handle it. A light kiss was just right.

I whispered in her ear, "Don't be silly and run after the train, understand? It's like something out of a movie, so cliché. Just stand there quietly, wave, and turn back. You'll be reporting for duty in a few days."

Ting nodded obediently.

I released her hand, and she took two steps forward, finally stopping. I sat down, looking at her below the window. She tried to smile at me, as if she wanted to say something, but then a long whistle sounded, and the train slowly started moving. Before Ting could say anything, she suddenly burst into tears: "When will you come back…when will you come back…" She kept repeating this one sentence, pushing aside the people in front of her, and walked behind my window, looking at me with teary eyes.

I waved to her, telling her not to follow: "It'll be quick... quick... listen to me, don't cry... what did you say before?"

Ting still wouldn't listen and started running, but the train was getting faster and faster, and she couldn't keep up. I leaned out the window, waved to her, and then turned away without looking at her. If she could see me, she probably would keep running.

After a while, I couldn't help but lean out the window again to look at her. Ting's figure in the distance had become very small. She slowly followed the train. The train took my body away, but my heart remained with Ting.

"Don't cry, whoever cries is a little dog." I thought of Ting's words, and the tears I had suppressed for so long finally flowed uncontrollably. I took out my phone and sent Ting a message: "I'll be a little dog with you too."

I thought to myself, is there such a cute little dog in the world as you, whom I love so deeply?

Trains evoke a sense of wanderlust, a feeling of being far from home and loved ones. Trees, houses, and fields rush past, falling behind time, fading into memory. This vivid image of the passage of time always makes me inexplicably sad, and this time, parting with Ting made the sadness even more profound.

Upon arriving at the base, I realized I had underestimated the hardship. The food and lodging were inconvenient; surrounded by men and cold equipment, life was utterly dull. Where were the magnificent landscapes I had envisioned? They probably only existed in my imagination. At first, I didn't know how to do anything, only able to assist my mentor. But even then, I had to brave wind and rain, sometimes sleeping in tents. Waking up in the morning, the cold dew clinging to my clothes, thinking of my family and Ting, I felt a pang of sorrow. Whenever I had the chance to call home, I always said, "Everything's fine, everything's fine." Ting said she was doing well too, that the teachers took good care of her, and the students liked her. She told me to stay put and that since I had chosen this path, I should embrace it.

Every time I hung up the phone, I would let out a long, wistful sigh. Life itself didn't matter; the hardest part was the intense longing for her, sometimes unbearable. But I didn't want to say it. What was the point of telling her about this unsolvable problem? Just saying "I love you" and "I miss you" was enough. I knew she felt the same way, so why make her worry? Ting then talked more about office life, the clever and mischievous students, and the lively life in the teachers' dormitory, making her seem like she was still a student. The stories I could tell were much more dull. I often thought that with our grades back then, things shouldn't be like this now.

Later, the school provided housing subsidies to some teachers, so Ting rented a place outside by herself. First, she rented a one-bedroom apartment far from the school; the indoor and outdoor environment was nice, but she had to commute for a long time every day. So she moved to a place closer to the school, but the rent was higher and the space smaller. Ting always told me about these difficulties and inconveniences in a light tone, as if they weren't so difficult.

But this time, Ting couldn't help but cry and tell me, "Honey... the landlord next door is really a bad person. Several times when I came home at night, things in the room had been moved, but nothing was missing. However, there were signs that someone had slept on the bed, and the underwear in the closet had been rummaged through... I'm really scared..."

I was angry and anxious: "Then don't live there anymore, find somewhere else quickly."

Ting said, "I told that person I wanted to move out, but I paid three months' deposit, and only half of it has been paid, and that person won't give it back."

I said, "Then don't move out. Safety is the most important thing. Besides, it's not worth living in constant fear and being disgusted by him. Listen to me, darling."

Ting then said pitifully, "I..." "I'm worried about the money, it'll just benefit that bad guy... he's so wicked..."

After a moment's thought, I made up my mind: "Let's get married. Once we buy a house, you won't have to work so hard running around anymore. Let's talk to our families and ask our parents for help."

Ting was a little excited: "We're getting married... but... I want us to earn our own money..."

I sighed: "Sigh... how many years would it take if we relied on ourselves? Neither of us earns much. Even if it's a loan, we can pay it back slowly later, so we can borrow less from the bank. It's better than paying a lot of interest to the bank."

Ting agreed, and both sets of parents agreed. They were all looking forward to our marriage.

The following January, I went home for vacation, and Ting also had her winter break. We looked at houses, bought a house, and started decorating. Although we bought a ready-built house and tried our best to speed up the construction, it wasn't finished by the end of the vacation, so I applied for an extension of my vacation.

Regarding the decorating style, I respected Ting's opinion. Deep down, she prefers a romantic and cozy style, so the bedroom was decorated in a country style. Looking at the pink floral patterns, I felt like I was falling into a gentle paradise, which I didn't particularly appreciate, but I didn't object. As long as Ting liked it, that was enough.

After the main construction was completed, I returned to the base. We planned to get married during the summer vacation. I wanted to use my own income to buy her a diamond ring, clothes, and a piano, so I actively saved money, avoiding drinking and dining with the senior craftsmen, as my income was much less than theirs. Some people would go to the city to visit prostitutes whenever they had the chance, but I never did. Not only did I not want to spend the money, but more importantly, I didn't want to betray Ting. So, my way of dealing with sex was masturbation accompanied by sexual fantasies about Ting. People said to me, "Why live so poorly, eating that boring food every day? Why not improve your diet?" I said, "The cafeteria is free! If you pay for your own meals, you won't get the free ones, and they'll even make your portion—isn't that a waste?"

Ting's summer vacation finally arrived, which was also my wedding leave. Ting and I bought a diamond ring and a piano together. Ting originally said her parents wanted to give her the piano in their house, but I said, "Your mother can play too, so if we give it to you, she won't have a piano to play with. Let's buy one ourselves." Although it cost most of my savings, seeing the tears glistening in Ting's eyes filled my heart with immense happiness.

At the wedding, many people said she was the most beautiful bride they had ever seen. I believe they weren't just flattering her, but genuinely. She was radiant and dazzling that day, so beautiful that it was almost blinding to look directly at her; once you did, you couldn't look away. We followed the emcee's instructions through the tedious procedures. Although I didn't like these formalities, they didn't matter in the face of such overwhelming joy.

After the wedding, the guests left, and Ting and I sat down, simply holding hands and looking at each other quietly. We didn't need to say anything; we both knew each other's feelings. After so many years, we had finally waited for this day. There was a sense of peace and relaxation in our hearts.

During our honeymoon, we left all the hardships of the past behind, escaping the city and indulging in the beauty of nature. We didn't particularly like crowded tourist destinations, preferring quiet and secluded paradises. We stayed in hotels, traditional guesthouses, and all sorts of other accommodations; those were the most carefree, joyful, and leisurely days of our lives. Though physically on the road, our hearts were at peace, as if we were back home, living a tranquil rural life. Seeing her smiling face as she slept at sunrise, I felt like a happy and content farmer, working at sunrise and resting at sunset, a loving and harmonious life, where we thought our happy days would last forever. However, in reality, we traveled to many places during this time. It seems that a person's sense of belonging doesn't depend on where they are, but on who they are with. As long as I'm with Ting, the whole world is my home, and my heart is at peace.

While visiting a fisherman's guesthouse in a small seaside village, we embraced the sea to our hearts' content. The sea at the beach resort wasn't the real sea, but rather a tourist attraction. We walked a long way along the beach until we reached a place far from the crowds. In this remote fishing village, undisturbed by throngs of tourists and free from worldly worries, this was truly our own sea. Only we and the ocean existed between us, evoking a sublime sense of solitude. We sat on the sand, letting the gentle seawater caress our feet, as if the depths of the ocean were softly singing. The setting sun painted the clouds in wondrous, strange colors, its afterglow scattering across the shimmering sea like shattered gold. The colors of heaven and earth harmonized so perfectly; beneath the azure sky lay the deep blue ocean, the sky crystal clear, the sea blue imbued with a sense of mystery.

The setting sun, tinged with orange and gold, bathed Ting's profile in a soft light, making her profile indescribably beautiful. She sat there quietly, ethereal and otherworldly, like a three-dimensional oil painting, or perhaps a colored sculpture. Yet, even the most exquisite work of art could not capture her vibrancy and spirit. Her lips were slightly upturned, her eyelashes fluttered occasionally, and she gazed intently at the horizon where the sea met the sky. "My dear, you are here admiring the scenery, but you are the most beautiful scenery in my eyes."

Ting leaned on my shoulder, silent for a long time. At this moment, words were unimportant. I gently pulled her into my arms; her hair exuded a faint fragrance. I lowered my head to kiss her lips. She closed her eyes, opened her cherry lips to meet mine, and our tongues intertwined. As we kissed, desire rose within us, unquenched by the cool sea breeze. My kisses turned from gentle to wild, a frenzied kiss on her face and neck. She lay in my arms, one hand gripping my arm, her breathing rapid. I caressed her breasts and unbuttoned her blouse, kissing the exposed flesh. Ting's body grew even more restless. Judging from her current state, she must be wet down there. I wanted to slip my hand inside her pants and feel the fluid flowing from her vagina, but my hands were dirty from the sand and seawater, so I refrained.

My penis was already erect, pressing against Ting's back, yearning to enter her body. Ting also twisted her body, rubbing against my penis. She was also aroused, softly calling out, "Husband...husband..." We knew each other's habits well. I knew this was Ting's euphemistic expression of wanting sex. She almost never asked directly with words, but rather indirectly expressed it through her body language and moaning calls. That's why her occasional lewd words excited me so much; the lewdness of a pure woman is most likely to stir a man's heartstrings.

I helped Ting up and laid her face down on the sand. Then, I lifted her skirt from behind and pulled down her panties, revealing her snow-white buttocks to the world. I took a deep breath; the vast ocean and her round, beautiful buttocks, the magnificent nature and the graceful human body—such a contrast and combination was truly a unique sight. As dusk approached, we looked around and saw no one, so we felt fearless.

I knelt behind Ting, kissed her buttocks, straightened up, and inserted my penis into her vagina. The fine sand beneath my legs was still warm, and Ting's vagina was equally warm; I imagined my penis was even hotter. Ting's soft, moist vagina eagerly swallowed my burning penis, and we both let out a pleasurable groan, which was quickly swallowed by the waves. Making love in this vast space created a feeling of oneness with nature.

I slowly thrust in and out of Ting, her long hair cascading like a waterfall onto the sand, the ends brushing against the grains with each movement. The waves gently rippled and crashed towards us, occasionally creating white foam. Ting's plump buttocks swayed in the same way, the trembling flesh like white foam, surging wave after wave into the sea.

For billions of years, the sound of the waves has never ceased. The ocean, which has nurtured life on Earth, seems to be gently singing the most primal desires of life, while Ting also whimpers softly, expressing the desires and pleasures of her body.

Ting's vagina gently envelops my penis, warming and comforting it. It is the compassion of nature, like the heavens and earth, nurturing life, embracing life, and giving it the softest care. Yet life has never known gratitude. My hot, hard penis is the same, churning and ravaging within Ting's soft vagina. Ting's melodious moans, like heavenly music, blend with the sound of the ocean.

I caress Ting's breasts with both hands, lift her up, turn her face, and thrust my tongue into her mouth, stirring it around. Ting is invaded from both above and below, causing her to moan even louder, but these sounds are silenced by my mouth.

Ting's vagina gradually tightened, giving me increasingly intense pleasure. I released Ting's body, letting her lie down again, then grabbed her slender waist, and with a low growl, made my final thrust. Ting's buttocks rolled wildly as I pounded into her, and on the deserted beach, she groaned loudly without restraint—a sound I had never heard before. My pleasure surged through my body, and suddenly a gush of hot semen erupted, shooting entirely into Ting's vagina. I would never have done this before. At the same time, Ting's vagina throbbed, and she screamed, burying her head in her hair on the sand. She stretched her hands forward, digging into the sand, and slowly swung them backward, leaving deep marks on the beach with her slender fingers.

After the intense pleasure and exhaustion, I slumped to the ground. Ting remained lying on the ground, her back heaving, her breathing still catching in her throat. I helped her pull up her underwear and lower her skirt, then lay down on the beach, pulling her to my chest. Ting could surely feel my heart pounding. I reached out and touched her left breast; her heart was beating at the same pace as mine. I just kept touching it, waiting for it to calm down.

Ting said weakly, "Honey...you feel so good when you're hot...I wish it could stay there forever, always at that temperature, never cooling down."

She was, of course, referring to my semen. I stroked her hair and said, "Silly girl, how could it not cool down? But from now on, I can hot you without any worries. Are you happy?"

Ting shyly hummed in agreement, burying her head in my chest. I combed her hair, and we remained silent for a long time.

Unbeknownst to us, the beach gradually cooled, the moon had risen, and the cool sea breeze was pleasant. It was already late, but we remained lying side by side, unwilling to get up, gazing at the vast sky. The twinkling stars seemed within reach, yet remained unattainable. The loneliness that Ting and I felt in the face of such a vast expanse made us hold each other tightly. We were so small, yet we truly existed in the boundless universe, and we had met by chance in the vast river of time, possessing each other at this moment—what a fortunate thing!

That moment felt like a dream, one we didn't want to wake from, but we eventually had to get up and return to reality. Bathed in moonlight, facing the sea breeze, we walked on the waves.

Those days themselves felt like a dream, a happiness that seemed unreal even in retrospect. After returning to our separate lives, we remained far apart. In the solitude of those years, in the desolate wilderness, I countless times recalled each moment, wondering what Ting was doing, whether she was asleep, and whether she was thinking of me too. I felt incredibly guilty leaving her alone in our new home so soon after our marriage. I decided to return to her city as soon as possible, no matter what it took; what could be more important than being together? I wondered how she endured and dealt with the agonizing longing and nagging sexual desire.

I asked her, and she told me with a sense of relief that when she masturbated, she imagined her fingers as my penis, as if we were really having sex, and it felt wonderful. The more relaxed she seemed, the more guilty I felt. Why should a young woman go without sexual pleasure for months on end? I think she was just pretending to be relaxed to avoid making me feel guilty. I understood her suppressed sexual desire; it wasn't as easy as it seemed.

So, during our holidays, in our own home, we always made love passionately, as if trying to make up for what we lacked in the past and future.

During that holiday, Ting's colleagues had a gathering, and those with spouses were required to bring them, so I joined them. The teachers, after a few drinks, started singing loudly. After singing two songs, I felt the private room was too stuffy, so I went to the restroom to wash my face and went to get some fresh air by the window in the corridor. Just then, someone patted me on the back. It was one of Ting's colleagues, about my age, who smiled at me politely. I nodded and smiled back politely.

He offered me a cigarette, but I said I didn't smoke.

After lighting it himself, he said to me, "This is the first time I've seen you today."

I politely replied, "Me too, nice to meet you."

He was in the same position as me, leaning on the windowsill, and said, "Everyone is very curious about Ting's husband, wondering what kind of extraordinary person he is."

I couldn't help but laugh, "Just an ordinary person, sorry to disappoint everyone."

He quickly said, "No, no, I can tell you're a very good person, cultured and refined, and very good to Ting. I believe Ting won't misjudge you."

I felt that this person's feelings for Ting were more than just ordinary colleagues, so I politely thanked him.

He sighed and said, "You're very lucky. Ting is truly a good woman. Perhaps I shouldn't be telling you this on our first meeting. You don't know how many male teachers at school are lusting after Ting."

My heart skipped a beat, and I was momentarily speechless.

He continued, "But don't worry, Ting is a virtuous woman. She ignores all the advances of men, but she's not completely indifferent. This dignified attitude... To be honest, I was one of those men who were attracted to her at first, but later I came to admire her. But not everyone is like me."

I stared intently at him, as if all my anger was focused on him, trying to read more from his eyes. He smiled helplessly, "Believe me, if I still had any feelings for Ting, I wouldn't be telling you this. I'm only trying to be helpful." "Go back to her. This separation isn't a long-term solution. Don't think all teachers are noble soul engineers. Some male teachers are incredibly lecherous; even men in their forties aren't young at heart. I know their feelings for Ting very well. They don't care if she's married or not, or if her husband isn't around. In their eyes, a single woman is just an easier target for sex. I know of at least two couples like that at our school. They're playing with fire; things will inevitably come to light sooner or later."

I don't care how many extramarital affairs there are at their school; I only care who's harassing Ting.

He continued talking about Ting: "Ting rejects all advances, is popular, and is very chaste, which makes other female teachers very jealous. What's most infuriating is that a female teacher who's having an affair with someone else actually said Ting was pretending to be pure. Damn it, a whore has the nerve to be right! What kind of world is this?" He lost his composure in anger and started swearing, but this actually made me feel a lot more favorably towards him.

I squeezed his arm, unsure what to say, only managing to stammer, "Thank you..."

He said, "No need to thank me. I had my own selfish reasons. If you trust me, come back. Ting seems to be very popular with teachers and students, but she also has her own hardships. It's really not easy for a woman."

My heart sank. I told him, "You're right. I was already considering coming back, but now it seems I need to hurry."

He nodded, turned, and went back to the loudly singing private room. I stood alone by the window, lost in thought.

Just then, Ting came out. Seeing that I hadn't returned for so long, she came looking for me. She asked me with concern, "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

I looked at her with boundless affection and said, "It's nothing. I just came out for some fresh air and to see the night view."

Having heard others' stories, I felt both love and heartache for Ting, thinking I couldn't let her endure any more of that.

I called my boss and told him my thoughts. I said I really didn't want to work anymore. He was surprised, since it came out of nowhere and was quite sudden. He asked why, and I said I missed my family. He thought for a moment and said, "I didn't want to tell you so soon. I had originally decided to transfer you back to the company in another year, with a promotion. You have a solid theoretical foundation and two years of practical experience. It would be a waste to just quit like this. Why don't you hold on for a few more months?"

The company he mentioned was in the city where Ting lived, which gave me a glimmer of hope. I quickly asked him, "Are you sure you can be transferred then?"

He said confidently, "You can rest assured, but don't let your mind waver."

I was overjoyed that I could be back with Ting in a few more months. I even wanted to kiss my boss over the phone. I thanked him profusely, and he said it was no trouble and that he could extend my leave for a few more days. It's amazing that a state-owned enterprise can have such an understanding and kind boss. I was actually a little reluctant to leave him. He's a good person; he's settled down and started a family in that small town. I think he's the one who truly loves his work.

Ting's winter vacation was over, and I was leaving in a few days. But this departure was different from the past; ahead wasn't a vast wilderness, but a field full of hope.

During the day, I was home alone, and the leisurely life made me a little bored, so I went online to kill time. I hadn't used QQ in a long time, and I couldn't find anyone to chat with. Suddenly, I had a whim to check Ting's QQ and see who she was chatting with. I knew it wasn't very ethical to peek at other people's chats, but once the thought popped into my head, my curiosity was uncontrollable. So I tried entering Ting's birthday as my password, but it wouldn't log in. I changed it to my own birthday, and it logged in successfully. A wave of emotion washed over me; Ting's love for me permeated every little detail of her life.

She didn't have many friends, so it seemed they didn't chat often. I randomly scrolled through a few, and found that they only exchanged a few perfunctory words before stopping. The ones she chatted with most were old classmates. Suddenly, I discovered a chat history spanning hundreds of pages—so much chat in just two months! My heart skipped a beat. The other person started with the usual farewells, asking where I was from, etc., suggesting a complete stranger online. But Ting had been chatting with a stranger for so long! I scrolled on.

At first, Ting was just chatting casually, but the person was very talkative and persistent, greeting me every night, showing concern and care. Gradually, Ting talked more with him, touching on real-life topics. I realized Ting was truly an open and honest person. She was intelligent, but overly honest, a trait she'd maintained since high school, even after entering the workforce. Everything she told him was true, including her age, her job, my job, and that I wasn't home. After she told him this, the person became noticeably more enthusiastic, and they chatted every night.

Seeing this, my heart ached. I didn't want Ting to have such deep conversations with other men, but thinking of Ting spending each night alone in her empty house, with no one to talk to, I told myself I had to try my best to understand her.

Continuing on, the man asked Ting, "Your husband isn't home, are you lonely all alone?"

Ting said she was alright. The man said, "Don't lie to me. How can you not be lonely sleeping alone in one bed all night?"

Ting said, "Forget it, let's not talk about this." The man tactfully changed the subject, but I could sense a hint of disappointment in Ting's voice; he had touched a raw nerve.

Later in the conversation, the man brought up the topic again, asking Ting, "Living alone, how do you deal with your sexual desires?"

Ting answered readily, "I take care of myself."

The man pressed on, "How do you take care of yourself?"

Ting said, "Why ask so many questions? I don't want to talk about this." I agreed with Ting's attitude; discussing sex with other men was disrespectful.

The man said, "Anyway, I don't know who you are, and you don't know who I am. Once the computer's off, nobody knows anyone. What's wrong with chatting casually?" Ting said

she was hungry and going to get some late-night snacks, ending the chat that night.

I was furious with that man; he clearly had ill intentions. But Ting couldn't see it, so why did she continue talking to him? I couldn't help but feel resentful towards Ting as well.

The man clearly hadn't given up on the topic. Seeing that Ting wasn't talking about her, he took the initiative to talk about his own sex life, describing in detail the details of his lovemaking. Ting didn't interrupt him, only occasionally humming in agreement. But wouldn't Ting's body react to all this?

The man then said, "We've talked so much today, it's gotten me excited. My penis has been hard, and I really want to masturbate. Can I masturbate for you to see?" Then, without waiting for Ting's reply, he initiated a video call, and Ting actually accepted. My heart ached terribly. Another man's penis had insulted Ting's eyes; how could it not break my heart?

After the video call ended, the man said, "Although I can't see you, it's very exciting to have you watching me masturbate. Do you think it looks good?"

Ting only vaguely replied, "Oh, goodnight, time for bed." Was she saying she thought it looked good? What was Ting thinking at that moment? She infuriated me! She actually watched another man masturbate.

Later, during our chat, that person asked Ting, "That night you saw me masturbating, did your body react?"

Looking at the chat history, Ting took a long time to reply, "Yes."

The person then asked, "What reaction?"

Ting didn't answer for a while, so the person pressed, "What reaction did your body have? Tell me, don't be shy, nobody can see, this is our secret, and neither of us knows who the other is, what are you afraid of?" I hated that person so much. He must do this often and have experience, knowing how to disarm a woman's defenses.

Ting hesitated for a long time again before saying, "I got wet down there." Ting actually reacted to watching another man masturbate! I don't know how to describe my feelings; I simply couldn't continue watching. Tears of grief and anger welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision.

The person said, "Did you touch your genitals afterwards?"

Ting slowly replied, "Yes."

The person immediately asked, "Did you also reach orgasm?"

Ting nodded again.

These glaring words pierced my heart, leaving countless holes. Not only did I dare not continue looking at them then, but every time I recalled them afterward, it was painful. Yet, those words kept replaying in my mind, refusing to let me go, tormenting me.

The man said, "Then can I see you masturbating?"

This time, Ting answered quickly and decisively, "No."

The man said, "Don't you have a camera?"

Ting was still as infuriatingly honest as ever, "Yes, but no."

The man said, "Okay then, you watch me masturbate, and you show me your body. You don't show your face, you're dressed, you don't need to take it off, and you don't need to touch me."

Ting said, "No."

The man said, "Why not? Let me see." Then he kept coaxing and cajoling, saying just one glance, just one glance.

Finally, Ting hummed in agreement, and then the video call connected.

The man shamelessly said, "Wow, you have a great figure. You'd be even more beautiful naked. Let's chat by voice

instead of typing, okay?" Ting typed, "No, let's type."

The man said, "Okay, I'm going to masturbate while looking at your body. You should also look closely at my penis. It will ejaculate thick semen for you in a moment."

Then he kept typing out obscene and vulgar language. I couldn't bear to watch anymore, so I flipped through the pages. Ting had shared many of her innermost thoughts with that person, things she had never told me before. I felt so sad. Why did she have to open her heart to a stranger? Ting said she felt her libido had been increasing over the past two years. She didn't like masturbating; she preferred having sex with her husband, but she felt compelled to do so. Sometimes she felt very sad. Her words saddened me as well. Ting always appeared so strong in front of me, as if all difficulties were insignificant to her. But how could anyone not have a vulnerable spot deep inside?

Suddenly, I noticed a page where that person had sent Ting a video file. I opened it, and the image on the screen was Ting. The small image in the lower right corner was of that person, a dark-skinned, muscular man who looked to be in his thirties. He was typing such lewd things, completely naked. It seemed they had video chatted again, and he had recorded it and sent it to Ting.

The man said, "Baby, turn on the microphone. It's too inconvenient for me to masturbate and type at the same time."

Ting continued typing, "I'll type instead. I don't want anyone to hear my voice."

The man said, "I'm not just anyone. Fine, then you can watch me masturbate." Then he grabbed his thick, long, black penis and started stroking it. Ting, why do you want to look at that ugly thing?

The man typed again, "Baby, can I see your breasts? Just one look, just one look, and I'll get really excited."

Ting's hands lingered on the keyboard for a long time before moving to her clothes. She took her top off her shoulders, unhooked her bra, and revealed the breasts I had loved and longed for countless times. They were so beautiful, white, round, and full, with two pink nipples already erect. Ting was excited, and I felt infinitely sad.

The man typed excitedly, his fingers flying: "Ah, baby, your breasts are so beautiful! I really want to pounce on them and kiss them like crazy. Can you touch them for me?"

Ting obediently kneaded her breasts a few times, then put on her clothes.

The man seemed unsatisfied: "Don't put them on so quickly, I haven't seen enough yet."

Then he stared at Ting's body on the screen, masturbating. Ting was wearing a very thin nightgown; she sat in a chair in front of the computer, letting a man masturbating lewdly grope her body.

The man masturbated excitedly, still typing to Ting: "Baby, you must be so wet, you must want to have sex. Let my big cock inside you, don't hold back."

Ting's chest heaved violently; although her face couldn't be seen, she was definitely staring intently at the screen.

The man said again, "Don't hold back. You can touch your clitoris through your clothes. It hurts me to see you holding back like this."

Ting reached down and pressed her hand between her legs. Her body jolted, and her fingers gently rubbed her vulva. The man was excited and quickened his stroking.

He said, "Baby, touching through clothes isn't very satisfying. Take your clothes off. We can both watch each other masturbate naked and masturbate ourselves. It'll be so exciting. Let's use voice chat instead of typing."

His words seemed to have some kind of magic, or perhaps Ting's lust was too high. She obediently took off her clothes one by one and started a voice chat. The man kept exclaiming, "Ah, baby, your breasts are so beautiful, your waist is so slim, and your legs are so pretty too. I really want to know what you look like. You must be a beauty. I really want to fuck you, baby."

Ting leaned back in her chair, spread her legs, rubbed her clitoris with one hand, and touched her breast with the other, making the moans she only made when she had sex with him.

The man said excitedly, "Baby, your voice is so beautiful! I just heard it, and your moans have made me weak all over." His voice was deep and rough, as lewd as his penis.

He then ordered Ting, "Please squeeze your breasts together with both hands, okay? I'm imagining you giving me a blowjob. You have such beautiful breasts."

Ting actually obeyed and squeezed her breasts together with both hands. The man said, "Baby, you're so good. Okay, go touch your clitoris. My hand was only gone for a moment, and you're already so impatient."

Ting indeed went to rub her clitoris again, and the fingers of her other hand went into her vagina. Ting moaned, her body twisting, and she sat lower and lower on the chair. Her confused and infatuated face appeared on the screen! That beautiful face that I loved so much, at this moment, was in a state of sexual confusion, her brows furrowed, her lips parted, and her eyes were still looking at another man masturbating on the screen.

The man yelled again, "Oh my god, you're so beautiful! You're so beautiful, I can't take it anymore!"

Ting, oblivious to her exposed face, continued masturbating. Her legs were spread apart, resting on the armrests of the chair. Her small, white feet, which I had played with and kissed, trembled in the air, her toes curling restlessly. Her genitals were clearly visible; the glistening fluid was her discharge. Ting's hands were rubbing her genitals, her right hand rapidly rubbing her clitoris, her left hand's fingers moving in and out of her vagina. Her eyes were fixed on the man's penis. Ting must have longed for that man's penis to penetrate her vagina, I sadly guessed.

Suddenly, the man stood up, shouting, "Ahhh... I'll fuck you... I'll fuck you to death..." Then a stream of white semen shot onto the screen.

Hearing his rude words and seeing him ejaculate, Ting suddenly screamed, frantically rubbing and thrusting her genitals with both hands. Her head tilted back, pressing against the back of the chair. She froze for a few seconds, then her body trembled, and her hand movements gradually slowed down. Finally, she lay back in the chair, one hand hanging outside the armrest, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed over, no longer looking at the screen. After several seconds, she suddenly remembered something, got up, and turned off the video.

They reached climax simultaneously, as if Ting had really slept with that man. My tears almost dried up, and in this extreme grief and anger, my penis actually became erect. I pounded it hard: "What's so hard... what's so hard... my wife is with someone else..."

I looked around; the white walls seemed empty. Suddenly, panic gripped me. I didn't think about what to do when I saw Ting; I only thought about what I should do now, what I should do now. It was as if even my existence had suddenly lost its meaning. Ting was so important to me, the pillar and faith of my life. I had lost myself in love, or rather, I had become one with Ting. Now that my faith had collapsed, where should I go? My mind was a blank. No matter how desolate the field of work was, there was always a beautiful and warm hope in my heart. I had a family; my wife was waiting for me at home. But now, my home had become the most hopeless field, with nothing left to look forward to.

I had been trying to understand Ting; I understood her loneliness and anguish, but I couldn't understand to this extent, couldn't understand her having a naked chat with another man in the middle of the night. Why is she like this? At school, she can keep her distance from all men, so why can't she control herself online? Maybe it's because of this overcorrection; without normal male friends, she has developed a greater desire for men? Or is it because she can't control her sexual desires and is seeking stimulation in this way? I'm getting a headache from thinking about it. When I'm emotionally confused, I can't think rationally. All sorts of thoughts are jumping around in my head. I stare blankly at the screen, my trembling hand holding the mouse, scrolling through the chat history with fear and sorrow. I'm terrified that my worst fears will come true.

The man asked Ting, "Baby... why do you get so excited when I say vulgar and crude things to you? You're so beautiful and innocent, and you like those kinds of things too. It's interesting."

Ting said, "When you say those things to me, I feel like I become smaller and weaker, like I'm shrinking in your palm and you can squeeze me at will, but you won't hurt me, you'll protect me, which makes me feel safe."

The man said, "Is it because you feel particularly like a little woman then?"

Ting said, "Yes, sometimes I really want to be a little woman, small enough to be held in someone's hand and held in someone's mouth. I've been holding on for a long time, and I'm so tired, really tired. I'm not as strong as I thought I was."

Seeing this, tears welled up in my eyes again. My heartache for Ting made me forget my anger towards her. Yes, I could imagine how difficult things were for her, how much suffering she endured, but I couldn't truly understand. She thought of me and didn't want me to worry about her, so she wouldn't confide in me. But this also prevented me from getting close to her, from truly comforting her heart, leaving her to bear this loneliness alone. Coupled with the torment of sexual desire, how could she control herself?

These things happened before my vacation. During the vacation, Ting didn't contact that person again, but he still left messages frequently. No wonder when I came back, I saw that Ting's eyes were somewhat evasive; it was guilt. I thought, don't feel guilty. As long as you don't contact me again, I won't mention it. Let it disappear forever, as if nothing happened. I will come back to you as soon as possible.

But I still couldn't let go, couldn't be completely without sadness, so I decided to go back to the base early, hoping to change my environment and forget all this. I bought a ticket for the next day. When Ting came back, she asked me in surprise, "Weren't there still a few days left? Why are you leaving tomorrow?" I said the last-minute notice brought forward. I wasn't really angry with Ting anymore, just sad, but I didn't want to show it.

Ting still noticed my change in mood. She asked considerately, "Honey, what's wrong? You seem a little unhappy."

I shook my head, forced a smile, and said, "It's nothing, I'm just unhappy because I'm leaving." After saying that, I hugged Ting tightly and didn't want to let go for a long time. I love her so much, I didn't have time to vent my anger on her. My heartache for her occupied a larger space in my heart, so I couldn't bear

to leave. After returning to the base, I was constantly worried. That incident became a heartache for me, something that couldn't be forgotten just by changing environments. I regretted leaving in such a hurry, not bringing it up with Ting, not having a proper talk. Now I always suspect that she is still in contact with that person, but I don't know how to tell her.

Every Sunday afternoon, Ting and I rest. In the past, we would call each other, and I would take a long bus ride to an internet cafe in the city to chat with her. My mind became increasingly suspicious. I downloaded software that allowed me to forcibly turn on her webcam, and while chatting, I secretly watched Ting, gazing at her face with boundless affection, while also checking if she was chatting with anyone else. The light on my home webcam had been off; I was thinking of replacing it, but it ironically helped me, preventing Ting from noticing the webcam was on.

That day, I was chatting with Ting in a private room at an internet cafe, watching her face without her knowing. The sweet smile that appeared on her face while we chatted made me have no doubt that she deeply loved me. Only when chatting with someone you love would you show such a genuine, heartfelt smile—it couldn't be faked, and she didn't know I was watching her; she wouldn't try to fake it. This made me feel guilty; secretly spying on her like this was truly despicable.

We talked about sex for a while, reminiscing about our past lovemaking. I said, "No matter what, I can't help but masturbate whenever I think of you. What should I do? I just love you too much."

Ting didn't understand the meaning of "no matter what." She said, "Ugh, talking about those things makes me feel all hot and bothered. Honestly, in broad daylight."

Just then, the doorbell rang. Ting typed, "Honey, wait a minute."

Ting got up and left the bedroom to open the living room door. I could hear Ting talking to a man through my earphones. Judging from the voice, it sounded like the man she had been video chatting with! My heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be him. How could he be at my house? I

heard Ting say nervously, "What are you doing here? How did you find my way home?"

The man chuckled in a low voice and said, "I came to see you, baby. If you had given me the address, I would have come much sooner. I only told you the name of the neighborhood. Do you know how long I had to wait for you at the entrance?" Oh my god, this man had been following Ting! But how could Ting tell a stranger the truth? I was so worried.

Ting whispered, "You should leave now." Then she heard the door close, but the man said, "You're already here, why are you leaving?" He actually went inside and closed the door.

Ting's voice was anxious: "What are you doing? Why did you come in?"

The man said, "When you were video chatting with me, weren't you always crying and begging me to sleep with you? Now that I'm here, why are you trying to kick me out?"

Ting's voice sounded tense and scared: "Don't say anything, just leave... leave now."

The man whispered, "My darling... I missed you so much, I can't take it anymore." Then she screamed, and the man carried her into the bedroom. My eyes were blazing with anger.

Ting struggled incessantly, her voice low and angry as she cried out, "What are you doing? Let me go... I'm calling the police if you keep this up."

The man was a head taller and stronger than Ting, and she was held tightly in his arms, unable to break free.

The man said, "Let's do it once, okay? It's not enough to just do it on video all the time. I'm so horny looking at your body but can't have you."

He grabbed Ting with both hands and tried to kiss her. Ting desperately tilted her head back to dodge, but how could she escape? His dark face rubbed against Ting's fair face and neck. Ting's arms were bound by him, and she couldn't move. She didn't cry for help, but just used her knees to hit him and her feet to stomp on him. Perhaps the man was hurt by the stomping, because he grimaced and turned Ting around so that her back was to him. He used his left hand to firmly fix Ting's arms around her waist, and his other hand to rub Ting's breasts. Ting kept twisting her body, but she couldn't escape his control. She kicked backward with her feet, but the man behind her didn't care at all. She bent her legs, trying to use her own weight to make the man let go, but the man was very strong. He lifted her up with his hand, and Ting was lifted into the air. Her legs kicked wildly in the air, but to no avail.

The man reached between Ting's legs and began to grope her. Ting cried out softly, "What are you doing... How could you do this..."

The man grinned lewdly and menacingly, "What do you think I'm doing... Of course, I'm doing it to you."

Ting sobbed, "Please... Don't do this to me... Please let me go."

The man didn't answer and continued to grope between Ting's legs. Ting squeezed and twisted her legs, trying to get rid of the man's hands, but it was impossible.

All of this happened so fast that I was completely stunned. When I came to my senses, I quickly grabbed my phone and called the police. My fingers were trembling as I dialed. I accidentally pressed the wrong button and hung up. I was frantic with worry. When I finally got through, I remembered from the other end's accent that I had called the police station in my city, so I hung up again. How could I get through to the police station in Ting's city? I was desperate. I thought I should try contacting the local police station, but this time, no matter how many times I dialed, I couldn't get through. I was so anxious that I couldn't even curse anymore. Should I call a friend in that city and ask them to call the police? But what will Ting do if word gets out? How can I get through directly?

At that moment, the man pulled down Ting's pants and began to grope her genitals without any resistance. Ting screamed, but her cries did nothing to move him. She twisted helplessly, kicking her legs in the air, but that did nothing to stop his actions; he continued to rub her genitals.

Suddenly, he pulled his hand from her genitals and held it in front of her eyes. His hand was covered in her vaginal fluid. Ting looked extremely ashamed and turned her head away from his hand. The man laughed and continued to grope her genitals. Gradually, Ting's legs drooped limply, and her cries subsided. She stopped struggling. Her two little feet intertwined and rubbed together. I thought to myself, "Oh my god, has Ting been aroused?" Why did I say those provocative things to Ting before, letting her be violated when she was excited?

The man loosened his grip on Ting's left arm, and Ting's legs went weak, almost collapsing onto the floor. He caught her again to prevent her from falling. He held her in his arms, his right hand still touching her genitals, while his left hand reached inside her shirt to touch her breasts. Ting didn't wear a bra at home, so her breasts were directly touched by the man's hand. I held my phone, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of sorrow and indignation.

Ting's pants were already pulled down to her knees, revealing her snow-white, pert buttocks. The man's legs were spread apart, his crotch bulging high, pressing against Ting's buttocks. His hands continued their actions, and his mouth was still nibbling at Ting's neck and shoulders.

The man began to take off his clothes one by one, placing them on the table. Ting was temporarily free from the man's control, and as if suddenly waking up, she pulled up her pants and ran towards the door. The man hadn't finished taking off his clothes when he chased after her and grabbed her, his thick arms tightly encircling her body as he said viciously, "Where do you think you're going...try running again."

Ting was in a lot of pain from being strangled, and a painful expression appeared on her face. She cried out, "Ah, it hurts...it hurts...let me go...please!"

The man asked, "Are you still going to run?"

Ting said timidly in a tearful voice, "I'm not running anymore."

The man released Ting and went to take off his clothes again. Ting obediently stood in place. The man was naked. He had thick arms and legs, a bulging chest, but also a protruding belly. He then turned to undress Ting. Ting crossed her arms over her chest, but the man twisted her arms, and Ting, powerless to resist, had her top ripped off. He kicked her pants, which had fallen to her knees, then picked her up, stepping on them as well, leaving her naked before him. Her legs were together, her arms crossed over her chest, like a wounded fawn, her terrified expression heartbreaking.

The man stepped back, scrutinizing Ting's body, clicking his tongue in admiration: "This woman... fucking amazing." Then he lunged forward and grabbed Ting, kissing her cheek like a wild beast. Ting turned her head left and right, avoiding his kiss, but the man grabbed her chin, causing her to cry out in pain, forced to open her mouth, unable to turn her head any further.

The man said gruffly, "Stick your tongue out!" Ting obediently stuck out her tender little tongue. The man opened his mouth wide and took it in, sucking roughly and making smacking noises, as if he were eating something delicious. Ting tilted her head back, her waist pulled forward by the man, her buttocks sticking out backward. Her once neatly combed hair was now loose down her back.

The man and Ting stood naked facing each other, his thick, long penis stretching forward, almost touching Ting's body. His right hand, which had been pinching Ting's face, suddenly opened its fingers to grab Ting's breasts. Ting instinctively dodged backward, but the man's left arm pulled her even closer. Her breasts were squeezed and kneaded in his hands, their once beautiful shape now deformed beyond recognition.

My heart ached. I never dared to use too much force on Ting's breasts, fearing they couldn't withstand rough treatment. At this moment, I no longer hoped anyone could stop it; it was too late. I only hoped that the man wouldn't hurt Ting, wouldn't be too brutal, and that Ting wouldn't struggle, lest she anger him and cause further physical harm. I was forced to think only this way. Watching my wife being violated helplessly, yet still hoping everything would happen peacefully and smoothly, my heart was bleeding.

The man's erect, enormous penis pressed against Ting's lower abdomen, thrusting forward repeatedly, as if trying to pierce her body. Ting's tongue was held in his mouth, and she could only make muffled sounds. Suddenly, the man grabbed Ting's shoulders and turned her around. Ting's mouth was no longer gagged, and she finally let out a long sigh of relief. But the man grabbed Ting's breasts from behind, making her cry out again. She grabbed the man's wrists with both hands, but couldn't make him stop. She just kept crying and begging, "Please be gentle...please be gentle...please be gentle..."

The man's penis was pressed against Ting's buttocks and rubbing against them. He lowered his head and nibbled at Ting's smooth shoulders. Ting's hands fell down hopelessly. Although only her profile could be seen, the pitiful expression of pain and sorrow on her face was unbearable to look at.

The man pushed Ting forward until they reached the piano. With a "whoosh," he lifted the piano lid. Ting, heartbroken, immediately reached out to steady it, afraid of breaking it. The man said to Ting, "You can play the piano, right? Play me a little tune to liven things up while I'm fucking you." Ting didn't move, her hands still hanging at her sides. The man grabbed Ting's hands and pressed them onto the keys, then grabbed her breasts. Ting's hands remained on the keys, and she didn't play. The man swore and commanded, "You fucking disobedient girl, hurry up and play, or I'll pinch your breasts off!" Ting cried out and bent over. It seemed the man had used too much force. My heart ached terribly, and I cursed that man and his ancestors for eighteen generations. When Ting straightened up, tears streamed down her face. She bit her lip and sobbed softly as she began to play. She played the same piece from the party years ago, but the music was stagnant and mournful, completely lacking its former charm. The man, however, was delighted, repeatedly saying, "Beautiful...beautiful...it's fucking great to listen to her play while touching her breasts."

After touching her breasts for a while, he grabbed Ting's buttocks with one hand and slapped them hard on her buttocks. Her plump buttocks trembled from the slaps, and the music became louder and softer with each slap. Soon, many red finger marks appeared on her buttocks. He reached between Ting's legs, moving upwards from her thighs, forcibly separating them. His fingers touched her genitals. Ting cried out, squatting down with her legs together. The music suddenly stopped. She turned and grabbed his hand. He immediately said, "Turn around and play your piano! Does touching your pussy affect your playing? Say something... Does it affect you? Say something!"

He must have used force. Ting's voice was strained with pain: "It doesn't affect me..."

He said, "Then keep playing!" But his hand kept moving, saying as he did so, "Slut, you're so wet after just a little touching, it's all over your legs. What are you pretending for?"

Ting's body suddenly trembled, and she cried out. It seemed he had inserted his fingers into her vagina. He commanded, "Don't stop, keep playing." So the music continued intermittently. When his hand moved slowly, the music flowed more smoothly; when it moved quickly, the music almost stopped, accompanied by a low, suppressed moan from Ting's throat.

Ting seemed to suddenly remember something and pleaded with the man, "Let me say something on the computer, just one sentence, please..."

The man refused without hesitation, "No, I'm about to have sex with you. What are you going to say to anyone else?"

Ting continued to beg, "I was just chatting with my husband. I'll tell him I'm going out for a bit, I won't say anything else, so he won't worry, please..."

The man smiled and said, "You were just chatting with your husband... I'm sorry I interrupted you. Go tell him, I'll carry you." As he spoke, he pushed Ting from behind and slowly walked her to the computer.

Ting's beautiful, sorrowful face appeared before me. She bent over, her slender hands trembling as she typed on the keyboard, constantly making mistakes and deleting. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I didn't even realize it until it reached my lips.

The man stood behind Ting, grinning smugly. "Don't be nervous, type slowly. Do you want to tell your husband you're about to be fucked by me?"

Ting ignored him and continued typing. Suddenly, she screamed, "Ah..." and stopped typing, collapsing onto the keyboard. The man grabbed Ting's waist, grinning maliciously, "Fuck...this vagina...so slippery and tight...so good...so good..."

He had actually inserted his penis into Ting's vagina right in front of me. Even though I was mentally prepared, seeing it was still unbearable.

He thrust into Ting repeatedly, saying, "Keep typing, we're not finished yet. How about we turn on the webcam and let your husband see you being fucked by me, hahaha..." They had no idea that I was watching that scene with the webcam on, heartbroken and devastated. Ting struggled to sit up and continued typing. That pretty face that had once smiled at me, acted coquettishly, been angry with me, and cried before now held an expression I'd never seen before: her brows were furrowed, her eyes vacant. The anger had faded, replaced by profound humiliation, despair, and sorrow. She bit her lower lip tightly, as if enduring immense pain. The man continued, saying, "Damn it, why aren't you moaning? Aren't you enjoying this? Moan... moan while you're talking to your husband!" Ting still bit her lip tightly, as if trying to draw blood, remaining silent. She didn't want her body and soul to be conquered by another man while she was talking to me.

The words were finally typed out and appeared on my screen: "Honey, my colleague just called and said she wants to go shopping with me. I don't want to go, but I can't persuade her otherwise. We chatted for a while. I was changing clothes earlier. I have to go out now. Talk to you later."

The man laughed loudly: "Was it changing clothes or taking them off, haha..." After saying that, he grabbed Ting's slender waist with both hands and began to thrust even harder. Ting immediately closed QQ after sending that message, and then let out a long, suppressed moan, as if she thought I wouldn't hear it now. But I could still hear it. The moan pierced my eardrums. That sound was so familiar. I used to only hear it when we were making love, but now it was coming from under another man's crotch.

Ting's hands were on the table, her face was close to mine. Every thrust of the man caused a change in Ting's expression, and every time she made a low moan, I could see every little expression of hers clearly. Every sound rang in my ears, making it unbearable. Ting's breasts were right in front of me, swaying back and forth from the impacts from behind. Her pink nipples were engorged and erect, like two cherries. Only when the man grabbed them with his hands did her breasts stop swaying. He roughly squeezed and rubbed her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples, flattening the full, plump cherries.

Suddenly, the man said, "That piece isn't finished yet, is it? Keep playing!" Ting kept gently shaking her head, but the man ignored her and picked her up, carrying her towards the piano. But under the man's thrusting, Ting could only use the piano keys as a table to support her body, unable to play at all. The man yelled, "Finish playing quickly, or you'll suffer!"

Ting struggled to stand, playing each key one by one with difficulty, like a beginner, her rhythm much slower. The man became excited, holding Ting and thrusting his hips back and forth forcefully, Ting's buttocks slapping loudly. Ting's fingers gradually clenched, and suddenly she screamed, slamming her hands down on the piano keys. The piano emitted a huge roar, and Ting's upper body slumped onto the piano, her body going limp. Had Ting reached orgasm? I thought sadly.

The man lifted one of Ting's legs and placed it on the piano, continuing to thrust into her. Ting's legs were spread apart, her genitals clearly exposed, soaking wet, and the man's thick, long penis still wouldn't let go, tirelessly thrusting in. Ting's hands gripped the edge of the piano, unconsciously moaning. Ting was completely immersed in the pleasure of sex.

The man teased her, slowly backing away. Ting followed suit, eventually even taking her legs off the piano to follow his movements. Suddenly, he pulled back sharply, his penis slipping out of her vagina. Ting let out a disappointed groan, then began swaying her hips, rubbing against his penis! She was seeking re-insertion… The man triumphantly brought his legs together, raising his penis little by little. Ting raised her hips accordingly, and when he stood upright with his legs fully together, she actually stood on tiptoe, rubbing her hips against his penis! The man laughed, slapping Ting's hips repeatedly with his penis. Ting groaned softly, her voice filled with urgent desire, her body trembling, then her hips swaying even more violently. Ting, why are you rubbing your beautiful, white buttocks against that ugly penis?

The man asked Ting smugly, "Do you want me to fuck you? Say it... just like we did in our video chat."

Ting didn't answer, still wriggling her hips. The man slapped Ting's buttocks hard: "Say it, or I won't fuck you."

Ting immediately whispered, "Mmm..."

The man laughed loudly: "Come on... let my cock go in your little mouth." He turned Ting around, and Ting naturally squatted down on the ground. The man grabbed Ting's hair with his right hand, making her tilt her head back, and pinched Ting's cheek with his left hand. Ting opened her mouth, and the man used his right hand to hold his penis, rubbing the large glans against Ting's lips, then squeezed it into Ting's little mouth. The penis went in little by little, and Ting's mouth opened wider and wider. My heart was bleeding. That beautiful little mouth was meant for me to give oral sex. I don't know why I couldn't save Ting and had to continue watching this scene that caused me unbearable pain. What kind of mentality is that?

The man's hips moved back and forth, his penis going in and out of Ting's mouth. After a while, he commanded Ting, "I'm tired, you do it for me." Ting actually did the same to me, swaying her head back and forth, stroking the penis. At this point, Ting was kneeling at the man's feet, saliva dripping from the corner of her mouth. The man reached to Ting's mouth, dabbed some saliva, and then smeared it on her nipples. While Ting was giving him oral sex, he didn't forget to assault her breasts, squeezing, releasing, and kneading them. Ting's mouth was completely blocked, only able to make muffled sounds and sizzling noises.

The man closed his eyes, enjoying himself immensely, praising it with obvious pleasure. Then I saw Ting actually reach down and touch her own genitals! Ting was so excited that she was masturbating while giving another man oral sex.

The man opened his eyes, saw Ting's movements, and his voice was a mixture of anger and laughter: "Oh...you little slut, you dared to touch yourself when I wasn't looking, so eager to be fucked, huh?" He bent down, reached under Ting's thighs, and suddenly lifted her up, placing her on his lap. Ting gasped in surprise, instinctively reaching out to grab the man's shoulder. The man thrust his hips forward, supporting Ting, and with one hand, he thrust it into her vagina. Ting let out a relieved groan. The man tossed Ting up and down, thrusting his hips forward with force as he did so, the impact almost knocking her unconscious. He gripped Ting's buttocks tightly with both hands, his fingers digging deep into her soft, white flesh. Ting was tossed about, sometimes reaching peaks, sometimes plummeting to the bottom, and judging from her voice, her physical sensations were perhaps the same.

The man whispered in Ting's ear, "Did I fuck you good...? Now do you feel the same way as when we have sex on video?" Ting just mumbled "uh-huhs," whether unconscious or a conscious admission, it was hard to tell.

The man tossed Ting up even higher while continuing to ask, "Did you enjoy it...? Was it..." Ting let out a long "uh-huh—" her voice trembling with tears. Was this an admission? Had Ting's psychological defenses completely crumbled? The man laughed triumphantly.

After a while, the man seemed tired, so he put Ting down and carried her to our bed, the one Ting and I had bought together, along with the sheets, pillowcases, and duvet cover—everything we had carefully chosen. Ting's legs dragged limply on the ground, her entire weight being carried by the man to the bedside. He threw Ting onto the bed and then manipulated her position. Ting completely gave up resisting and let the man do as he pleased. He made Ting lie face down on the bed with her buttocks raised high. He stood by the bed and then penetrated Ting's vagina from behind. Ting's face was completely covered by her loose hair, so no expression could be seen on her face. Only her almost crying moans could be heard.

The man bumped into Ting's buttocks, then suddenly grabbed her hair, forcing her to lift her head off the bed. He said to her, "Look at the wedding photo on the wall. You look so beautiful in your wedding dress, but you look even more beautiful now, naked and being fucked by me, haha. Your husband is watching you get fucked, and he's laughing too, haha..." Ting turned her head away, not wanting to look, but her hair was held tightly, preventing her from moving. Her moans sounded painful as she cried and begged, "Please... don't treat me like this... don't torture me like this... my heart aches so much."

The man laughed, "You've come at the worst time. I was just about to let you go, but your plea makes me feel so good. You can keep looking." He then grabbed Ting's hair even harder, forcing her face towards the photo on the wall. I couldn't see Ting's expression, but I could imagine the sadness and self-reproach she felt.

The man penetrated Ting from behind for a while, then gently pushed her away. Ting collapsed weakly onto the bed. He turned her over, put her legs on his shoulders, and thrust his strong buttocks forward. Ting screamed and grabbed the sheets haphazardly beside her. The man thrust his buttocks repeatedly, and Ting's screams continued, sounding very miserable. Was it really in pain, or was that big penis giving her the ultimate pleasure?

The man continued thrusting, his legs straight, only his feet resting on the sheets, pressing Ting's legs against his body. Ting's long, beautiful legs were not far in front of her, swaying with each thrust. Her buttocks were also lifted off the bed because her legs were pressed down. This position allowed for deep penetration, so Ting's moans grew louder, and she crumpled the sheets beside her into a ball with her hands. This position also allowed me to see the man's penis going in and out of Ting's vagina. Ting's performance excited the man. He lowered Ting's legs from his shoulders to his sides and thrust even faster, groaning deeply. Ting's moans grew louder with his increasing speed. Gradually, she wrapped her legs around the man's waist. Due to the constant thrusting, her pretty little feet swayed continuously, and the curling of her toes was due to the pleasure she felt.

The man suddenly straightened up and stopped moving. Ting's two feet began to rub against the man's buttocks. At this moment, she really wanted to climax. The man bent down again and thrust into Ting faster and more violently. It turned out that he was going to make his final sprint. Ting finally let out the loudest moan without any restraint. The sound was soul-stirring. My penis had become very hard without me even realizing it. I watched that scene and actually took off my pants, picked up my penis, and started masturbating.

Ting's legs were wrapped around the man's waist, as if afraid he would leave, and her breasts were shaking violently. Suddenly, she reached out and groped randomly on the man's back and arms. The ring I bought for her was still on her slender finger, but now that ring was touching another man's body. Ting cried out, "Husband...fuck me...fuck me...I want to be fucked to death by you..." Hearing Ting's lewd request, I felt a little comforted. I knew these words very well; she would sometimes say them to me during her orgasms. It turned out that at this moment, Ting was still fantasizing about having sex with me. For a moment, I felt a sense of happiness. In my heart, I said to that man, "You have possessed Ting's body, but you cannot possess her heart. Her sexual fantasy is still about me. Let you be my substitute for once."

The man was also excited by Ting's words. He hummed and whispered, "I'm enjoying it too... I just wanted to hear you call me 'husband' in person... say those lewd things from those videos, you finally said them... It feels so good... you slut... keep going... ahhh..." He then began to thrust violently.

Ting cried out, "Husband... husband, fuck me... fuck me... I'm coming... ahhh..." Her usual gentle, melodious moans were gone, replaced by a frenzied scream like a wild animal: "Ah... ah... ah..." The neighbors could probably hear, but Ting was overwhelmed by the ultimate sexual pleasure, forgetting everything else.

It turned out that Ting wasn't calling for me, but for that man. I felt utterly devastated. I wouldn't blame Ting for being violated, as long as she was forced into it. But if she was thinking of another man, that was something I could never accept.

The man's buttocks throbbed rapidly like a motor. He growled as he asked Ting, "I'm going to cum... I'll cum inside you... please cum inside you..." Ting continued to moan loudly, her moans seeming to agree. For Ting, where the man ejaculated didn't matter; what mattered was that he could bring her to the pinnacle of sexual ecstasy, to the most frenzied peak.

The man roared, thrusting with unprecedented speed, and Ting screamed with unprecedented volume, gripping his arm tightly, her fingertips digging into his muscles. The man roared again, his hips thrusting violently, then gradually slowing down until finally stopping. Ting's body convulsed, her legs trembling on his back.

Watching this lewd scene, my feelings were indescribably complex, yet the physical stimulation remained. I looked at the screen, masturbated, and after a few strokes, I also ejaculated. All three of us had reached orgasm together—how ironic and tragic!

The man got up and lowered Ting's legs. Ting's legs, as if out of control, fell onto the bed with a thud. Aside from the violent heaving of her chest, Ting had no strength left to move.

After getting up, the man came to Ting's face, squeezing the semen remaining from his penis onto her face, and smearing the semen from her urethra onto her lips. Ting remained motionless, as if it were no longer her own body.

Time flows like water, those days are long gone. Looking back and trying to sort them out, it's all a jumbled mess. I only remember fragments of time, some sad, some joyful, some sorrowful, some sweet.

I met her in the early autumn, which was simply the time when I entered high school. At that time, I was young and arrogant, thinking myself excellent enough. I was proud inside, but on the surface, I was very easygoing, getting along well with a group of boys I had just met. At that time, I wasn't mature enough. Like before, I wanted to attract the attention of the opposite sex, yet I didn't want to focus on them excessively. I was reluctant to initiate conversations, and even after more than ten days of school, I couldn't remember the names of many girls. But what surprised me even more was the first time I saw her.

I didn't know how to describe her, afraid of being too beautiful at first sight, so I exaggerated subjectively. She was very beautiful, but her beauty was not ostentatious at all. She was very fair-skinned, without makeup, and her natural complexion was even more beautiful. Her skin had a crystalline quality. When I first met her, I thought she had big eyes, but they weren't as big as I initially thought. They were just very lively, and those clear eyes seemed to reveal the purity in her heart, as if she could see through all my thoughts. Her nose was small and straight, and her lips were as tender as cherries. Later, I noticed her habitual gestures; she would often purse her lips or furrow her brows. Beautiful girls look good with any expression. Her hair was simply tied back, making her look pure and refreshing. Her beauty was so gentle, not aggressive, making people feel friendly and want to get closer, yet also respectful and hesitant to be presumptuous.

I was a little surprised and said to her, "Classmate... I don't think I've seen you before?"

She smiled sweetly, glanced at me, and said, "I suspect you haven't even gotten to know everyone in our class. You're only in the classroom during class time; you're never there."

Hearing her say that, I realized she was paying attention to me, and I felt both ashamed and excited. During breaks and lunchtimes, I always went out to do various sports activities, and even when I wasn't exercising, I would stroll around the campus.

Our first conversation was brief, but she left a very deep and beautiful impression on me. I learned that her name was Ting, which is just her name in this article, but it's similar to her real name and suits her slender, 1.66-meter-tall figure.

From then on, I started paying special attention to her. She sat a few desks behind me, so during self-study periods, I would often intentionally say a word to the person behind me or borrow something, and then secretly glance at her. She was always focused on studying, never making eye contact with me. I really wanted to find an opportunity to talk to her, but we were too far apart and there was no good chance. It was my budding romance, a blossoming age of longing and shyness. I thought about sitting next to her and asking her a question, but I felt those questions were too easy, and asking such questions would make me seem unintelligent. After all, I had the best grades in the class, and I was arrogant back then.

While I was hesitating, the midterm exams arrived in the blink of an eye. I thought I would definitely be first in the class, but to my surprise, she was first, and I ranked after her. This made me, who was usually quite arrogant, feel ashamed. But it's fair that those who work hard get better grades than those who don't. After that, I toned it down a lot and started doing practice problems during self-study periods. However, I was always distracted and never as focused as she was. Besides, it seemed like there weren't any problems I couldn't solve, so I got lazy and stopped doing them.

After that exam, I felt even more ashamed to talk to her, and I almost stopped even the usual nods when we met.

After the exam, many people went to her for help with their problems, both boys and girls. She would always put aside her own things and patiently answer their questions. Those people were quite slow-witted, but she explained things to them again and again without getting tired of it. At that time, she was incredibly beautiful in my eyes. Actually, no one wants their time to be taken up by others, especially high-achieving students. She was so kind, unwilling to disappoint others. I even felt that those boys had ulterior motives, wanting to strike up a conversation with her, but I didn't feel qualified to be her protector.

For the first time in my life, I felt jealousy, which told me I had fallen for her. The jealousy was slightly sour, but the taste of unrequited love was indescribably sweet. I longed to see her, to see her beautiful face, even just for a fleeting moment. My heart would be filled with satisfaction and happiness, something I could savor and then want to see again.

In the classroom, she sat diagonally behind me, but whenever I thought of her, she was there. Just turning around, I would see her. Her very existence was a blessing. Not only did we share the same world, but we were also so close—that was a kind of luck. A young heart is easily satisfied. When I was

alone, she would appear clearly in my mind, always in profile. I tried hard to make her face me, but I couldn't. I don't know how to explain that feeling; a young heart is strange indeed.

The following spring arrived. It was the school's tradition to hold a football match and sports meet in the spring. Our city had a long football tradition, and many children had played football since childhood. My turn to perform came, and since football is both my passion and my forte, I was chosen as the team captain without any doubt.

Ting was unanimously elected as the cheerleading captain, but actually, her quiet and gentle nature wasn't quite right for the job. There were some loud and enthusiastic girls in the class, and the male players unanimously agreed that she should be the cheerleading captain. Seeing how much everyone liked her, I felt both happy and a little disappointed. So many people liked her, and I was just one of them.

Before the match started, I used my position to strike up a conversation with her: "Should we come up with some unified slogans?"

She lowered her head and said softly, "It seems like we should, but I don't know anything about football! Can you guys discuss it and tell us?"

Seeing her gentle demeanor and sweet breath, I really wanted to get closer and talk to her. I said, "Slogans don't need to be technical or professional, just inspiring. Let's brainstorm together!"

She chuckled, which seemed incredibly charming to me, and said, "Just the two of us, how broad can we be? How can we brainstorm?"

Actually, I was just happy to chat with her; the slogans didn't matter.

After the match started, I realized that playing football was the right choice in my life. I'm not tall or strong, but I have speed, explosiveness, and agility. I started as the midfield maestro, but I increasingly felt that our forwards' attacking firepower wasn't as good as mine. Also, selfishly, the class cheerleaders didn't understand the art of playmaking or the subtleties of assists; they only knew how to cheer wildly when a goal was scored. So, I moved to the forward line. Actually, our positions weren't clearly defined back then, and the referee was inconsistent with offside calls.

I finally had the chance to show off my skills and score. Often, after a dazzling series of dribbling feints, I'd be one-on-one with the goalkeeper. After scoring, I'd search for her in the cheering crowd, and see her, usually so calm and quiet, also excited. In my mind, that goal tripled in value, becoming a hat-trick. I felt like all my hard work was just to win her favor; I don't know when I became so selfless.

Our class won the championship that time, and I became a star on campus, enjoying unparalleled fame. I was a good student, had a flamboyant playing style, and was fairly handsome—definitely better than Ronaldinho, but probably far inferior to Beckham. So I felt a little smug again, and I even received letters from girls in other classes asking me to date them. But I really enjoyed it when the boys in class would shout, "Ah, another girl with a crush is writing you a letter!" And it had to be Ting who heard it. I would then pretend to be humble and say, "Oh, not at all, they're just naive girls. I don't reply to any of them." I wondered if Ting felt a little jealous. Even just a tiny bit would make me incredibly happy.

Then came the sports meet, and I couldn't be as glamorous because my absolute speed and strength weren't particularly outstanding. Interestingly, given the scarcity of athletic girls in the class, Ting was once again pushed to the front lines to run the 100 meters. It was the collective wisdom of those boys again; they probably wanted to see what the delicate Ting would look like running—a little prank, I suppose.

Actually, although the boys liked to talk to her, they always treated her with respect. Respect is the foundation of respect! Meanwhile, another daunting task assigned to Ting was to hold up a placard at the front of the procession during the opening ceremony. Both tasks left her flustered and she kept waving her hands, but no one would let her refuse. Then, a group of girls surrounded Ting, discussing what outfit to wear.

On the day of the opening ceremony, everyone was ushered out of the classroom early. Since everyone was wearing school uniforms, there was no need to change clothes. Only Ting needed space to change. Before that, what she would wear was a secret to avoid being leaked to other classes, and of course, what the other classes wore was also a secret.

When she came out, we were immediately amazed. She was wearing a dress similar to the placard-holding hostesses at the Olympics—white, tight-fitting, revealing her shoulders, with red patterns on the neckline and waist. The skirt reached her knees; the school couldn't allow it to be any shorter, but there were slits on both sides, revealing glimpses of her thighs. She seemed hesitant to walk, her face flushed and her head lowered, adding to her infinite beauty. We were all stunned.

Seeing her hesitate, the girls quickly encouraged her: "She's really beautiful, don't you think?" Everyone readily agreed, saying she would definitely make all the girls from other classes pale in comparison.

She still stood there somewhat reservedly. I stood to her side, almost greedily gazing at her. I hadn't expected her figure to be so good. She usually didn't care about her clothes, wearing loose school uniforms and sportswear, so you couldn't see her figure. Today, this tight-fitting dress accentuated her curves perfectly: her snow-white neck, her firm breasts, her pert buttocks, her long legs, and she was wearing high heels and flesh-colored stockings. It seems like the term "stocking fetish" didn't exist more than ten years ago. Schools usually require students to wear uniforms, and the annual sports meet is when students dress most daringly. Perhaps the girls had projected all their pent-up desires onto her.

The opening ceremony began, and all the participating teams filed in. The most eye-catching were, of course, the beautiful girls holding up the placards. They were dressed in various styles, vying for attention, most wearing skirts. In my eyes, Ting was the most beautiful.

"Now passing the podium is Class 5 of Grade 1, marching in neat steps..." A burst of applause erupted across the playground. To my ears, our class received the loudest applause, and I suspected most of it was for Ting. She appeared calm, completely devoid of her earlier shyness. Her gait was graceful, light and elegant, with a perfect pace. With each light step, her beautiful legs moved alternately, her hips swaying gently. I was momentarily mesmerized.

That morning, the weather was slightly chilly, and I felt a pang of sympathy for her beautiful yet slender figure.

After the opening ceremony, she went back to the classroom to change into her school uniform and came back sitting right behind me. Everyone around her turned to talk to her, praising her success. I said to her seriously, "Comrade, you need to stay humble and not get complacent. There are even more challenging tasks ahead."

She smiled and said, "Anyway, I've never run before. No matter how difficult it is, it won't break me. The pressure is all on those sports scholarship students."

Just then, when she participated in the 100-meter preliminary round, my homeroom teacher asked me to deliver a script to the broadcasting station. I didn't want to say directly that I wanted to watch her race first. The teacher really had no sense of timing. I thought I'd go quickly and come back quickly so I could still see it. Just as I reached the broadcasting station room, I heard a burst of drumming and shouting outside. I was instantly anxious, threw the script on the table, and ran. Just as I reached the door, I saw that even the last person had reached the finish line. I was filled with despair, thinking that this might be her only performance, and I wouldn't see her run again until at least next year's sports meet.

When I dejectedly walked to my class's location, I found my classmates all excited. It turned out she had made it to the finals! I was overjoyed. I never expected that she, who seemed so frail, wouldn't be last!

Finally, the women's 100-meter final arrived. Seeing her, who was usually so delicate, wearing a short-sleeved shirt, shorts, and running shoes, she really had the bearing of an athlete. My restless eyes kept glancing at her "unintentionally." Her skin was as white and delicate as snow, just like that of a child.

Ting stepped onto the starting line, and my heart pounded even harder than when I was competing myself. I didn't know if it was fear of her failure, or anticipation of her success, or simply the sheer excitement of seeing her compete. The moment the starting gun fired, she sprinted off. Her speed was astounding, which greatly surprised me. Her running form was graceful; it's rare for a girl to run so beautifully, but she was different. She moved like a rabbit, as light as a cloud. Although she wasn't in the lead, the sports students ahead of her all looked like tomboys, their movements masculine, while her figure possessed a feminine beauty, and her speed wasn't slow either. The cheers from the sidelines were deafening; we were practically going crazy.

In the end, she came in third place. The top two were both sports students. Our teacher—a stern, middle-aged woman in her forties—was beaming with joy. This was a completely unexpected delight for our class. When she returned to our section, the entire stadium stood up and gave her a thunderous applause. Students from neighboring classes glanced at her sideways; she was even more glamorous than the champion.

She was a little shy but had a smile on her lips, looking incredibly cute. She took a coat from someone and draped it over herself. She wanted to sit down, but seeing everyone still standing, she hesitated, unsure whether to sit or stand. Finally, the teacher waved, and everyone quieted down, but my heart was filled with a joyful excitement that lingered for a long time.

After the soccer tournament, Ting and I were both considered top students in both academics and sports. Classmates noticed my intention to get closer to her, and gradually, some started joking about us. They would cough when they saw me talking to her, and she would always blush, unsure what to say. I felt both annoyed and sweet, because while their coughs were certainly a disturbance, they were also a tacit acknowledgment of our subtle relationship. Thinking about this always made my heart flutter. But after a while, she became hesitant to get too close to me, which alarmed me. I knew that girls like her were very concerned about what others thought. Actually, I didn't expect to be in a relationship with her; just talking to her often would be enough for me.

I'm a sensible person, so I reduced my contact with her, burying my feelings deep in my heart. But the more I suppressed my emotions, the more intense they became. It was as if a fire burned within me, surging through my body every day, as if I had a thousand words to say to her, to tell her how much I loved her.

Having just tasted love, I could sense that it was love, or that I could tell anyone, but I had no one to confide in. So I picked up a pen and wrote down my longing for her—poems, letters, novels, all sorts of writing, with her as the sole protagonist and love as the sole theme. My writing was immature, but my feelings were sincere.

Finally, I couldn't hold back any longer and wanted to confess to her. Perhaps if she rejected me, I could finally give up. One evening after self-study, I mustered my courage and gave her the notebook filled with passionate words: "Take a look at this." She took it and asked, "What is this?" I said, "You'll see when you read it." Then I turned and ran away as if fleeing.

Back home, lying in bed, I wondered, is she reading this now? What will she think when she sees those words? What kind of expression would she have? She'd definitely blush. Just thinking about her shy, blushing face made me incredibly happy, but I also worried she might be angry or annoyed. That night passed in a mix of excitement and anxiety.

The next day at school, I nervously walked into the classroom. She was studying with her head down, not seeing me. All morning, I received no reply. The afternoon was the same; my heart was tormented by this waiting. It was a strange kind of pain, filled with immense hope yet terrified of receiving a rejection.

Even after evening self-study ended, I lingered, unwilling to leave. Finally, a slender hand placed a folded letter on my desk and quickly left. It was Ting! My mind and body were simultaneously overwhelmed with a tremendous shock. The letter contained Ting's decision. I couldn't wait to read it, yet I was also worried about something.

I tucked the letter into my pocket, rode my bike home as fast as I could, locked myself in my room, and carefully unfolded the paper. Her neat and beautiful handwriting greeted my eyes, but what excited me even more was its contents. She said tactfully that she was very moved by the letters I had written, but she couldn't decide to accept me right away. However, she also had feelings for me. If we were truly interested, we could wait until after the college entrance exam; if it was true love, we could withstand the wait, and time would test us.

Although she didn't agree, I was still overjoyed. As long as there was hope, I was willing to wait, no matter how long it took.

The days filled with hope were happy. We tried to communicate like ordinary friends, both knowing in our hearts that we were trying our best to control the boundaries and distance between us. Perhaps once things were made clear, the feelings could no longer be as pure as ordinary friendship; they would develop deeper and deeper, beyond the control of subjectivity and reason.

The way we looked at each other was different now. We understood each other better, and I learned more about her. Ting's father was a government official, and her mother was a doctor. Her parents raised her strictly, or as she put it, "strict yet loving." As a result, she had no bad habits. She didn't like to compare herself to

others; she was always clean-cut and never flashy. Although she was very intelligent, her heart was as pure as a blank sheet of paper, possessing many beautiful virtues. She was kind, considerate, compassionate, and very self-aware. She would never do anything to upset or embarrass others, preferring to suffer a loss herself rather than owe anyone anything. She didn't like to trouble others, but she never refused to help others. She always spoke softly and gently, and when chatting with others, she never tried to steal the spotlight or dominate the conversation, always listening quietly.

She was a quiet girl with a genuine smile on her face—not a stereotypical, frozen expression, but one that came from the heart. Only a peaceful and kind heart could produce such a smile. The more I learned about her, the more I loved and admired her.

No subtle change escaped the notice of our experienced homeroom teacher. Those happy days lasted less than six months before she finally called us in for separate talks. I insisted we weren't dating and assured her I wouldn't worry. Before I could even tell Ting, the tactfully skilled teacher called her in for a talk.

When she returned, I wrote her a note asking what she had said—passing notes in class was as common as texting is now. She told the truth: we weren't dating, although we had feelings for each other, but we agreed to be together after the college entrance exam. I was shocked after reading the note. Why was she so honest? Why tell the teacher all that? Sure

enough, the teacher called us in again after work; only the three of us were in her office. After she closed the door, she asked me with a serious face, "Didn't you say you weren't dating? Why are you two giving conflicting answers?" We both replied, "We really aren't dating!" The teacher said, "Then what about the agreement Ting mentioned?"

I was speechless. Ting timidly said, "Teacher, the agreement is for the future, we're not dating now..." The teacher sighed with a mixture of heartache and anger, "You two, having an agreement distracts you. How can you concentrate on your studies? I'm telling you, you're not even allowed to have that thought!"

I wanted to agree first, pretend to comply with the teacher, and then secretly carry on our relationship. I glanced at Ting; her delicate lips trembled slightly. She said to the homeroom teacher, "Teacher, it's just an agreement. It hasn't affected our studies. Can't we even have an agreement?"

I was very surprised. She had always been obedient and meek, always listening to the teacher. I never expected her to dare to speak to the teacher like that now. At first, I was a little annoyed by her stubbornness, but now I couldn't help but be moved by her courage. She's a shy person, and being called in by the teacher for something like this must have been incredibly shameful, yet she still told the teacher what she was talking about. It takes so much courage to overcome that.

The teacher got even angrier: "Don't I know more than you? All the students in early relationships promise me it won't affect their studies, and I've never seen one who isn't affected! I'm telling you, don't even think about it! Focus on your studies! If I can't control you, I'll tell your parents!"

Ting and I both lowered our heads. The teacher's words terrified us; neither of us wanted to worry our parents.

After that, we restrained ourselves for a long time, but we couldn't control our longing. We agreed not to talk in front of others, not even to exchange glances. We exchanged letters and poured our hearts out on the phone, but only when no one was home. The happiest time was during the break between evening self-study sessions, walking and chatting with her in the dark on the playground, but we didn't dare go out every day, fearing it would attract attention if we did it too often.

On a moonlit night, we walked side by side, hoping to find a secluded spot. But the campus was full of people exercising, strolling, and chatting; the woods and corners were occupied by couples. Only after the first bell rang did the students return to the classrooms.

Ting and I lingered at the edge of the woods. I looked at her; her profile was especially beautiful in the moonlight. The soft moonlight bathed her face, making her fair skin appear even purer. Her beautiful face was like a flawless piece of jade. At that moment, she seemed noble, holy, and untouchable. I was excited yet hesitant.

But I didn't have much time to hesitate. I grabbed her hand. She hesitated for a moment, then pulled away slightly. I held it tightly, not allowing her to escape. Her delicate, smooth, boneless hand was held in my grasp. She didn't struggle anymore, but lowered her head. Although I couldn't see clearly, I knew her face must be flushed. She looked up at me, hesitated, then lowered her head again. Shy girls are adorable.

This must have been the first time her hand had been held by a young man, and it was also the first time I had ever held a girl's hand. My heart was pounding. Time is fleeting, especially happy times. We had to rush back to the classroom, and that brief moment became an eternally beautiful memory.

High school life was stressful and tough, but in those busy days, she was there for me. We secretly dated, and no one noticed anything amiss. It took a lot of self-control to avoid speaking or making eye contact in front of others. I so wanted to shout to everyone that we were in love! I loved her, and she loved me—how wonderful it would be to have mutual affection! But I didn't tell anyone. How could I control myself and hold back?

Finally, the watershed moment arrived—the college entrance exam. In the days leading up to the exam, students were inexplicably anxious, fearful, and excited. Everyone was restless and needed a lot of psychological counseling from the teachers. We were both relatively emotionally stable because our grades were consistent, but mine were always a few to twenty points lower than hers. I worried that we wouldn't be able to get into the same university, and being separated like this might make our relationship unsustainable. We had already agreed to apply to the same university, but as the date approached, I didn't dare bring it up. I didn't want to force her to make our relationship work, but it was something I couldn't avoid.

One evening while we were walking, she casually asked me which university I wanted to apply to. I whispered the name of the university and added, "This university is also suitable for my current grades." Then I tentatively asked her, "Which one do you want to apply to? Before, when I asked you which one you liked, you always said it was about the same."

She smiled beautifully and easily, "Everyone likes Tsinghua and Peking University, but I can't get into those."

I said, "You're only a few dozen points behind."

She smiled, revealing her teeth, "Isn't that a big difference? Those few dozen points are an insurmountable chasm for me. No matter how well I perform, it won't be enough." She lowered her head again... She said shyly, "Didn't we agree before that we'd apply to the same school?"

I was both surprised and delighted, but I couldn't bear to see her do that. I said, "It's a pity you'd go to that school. As long as our hearts are together, that's enough, right?"

She shook her head seriously, "No, how can we change our promise? We need to be together, not just in our hearts, but in our very being."

I was so moved I almost cried. I held her hand tightly, wanting to tell her I would love her and be good to her forever, but I couldn't say it. I was shy then, too afraid to say "I love you" or make a promise to her face. Many years later, I still regret it. When a girl casts aside her reserve and entrusts her life to you without hesitation, not being able to immediately give her a promise in return makes me feel guilty.

However, her parents objected, her homeroom teacher objected, and the teacher hoped she could get into a better school. But she told her parents that getting into this school would allow her to study the best major, while going to a better school would mean she wouldn't be able to choose her major.

This was the first time she had acted independently against her parents' wishes. I knew it was all for my sake. She only said that her parents respected her choice, but I think they must have been saddened that their daughter had become disobedient. I could even imagine that they had gone through a long stalemate, but she didn't tell me anything. She didn't want me to feel grateful or guilty.

We finally got into the same university as we wished. Sadly, I didn't get into my most desired major and had to accept my second choice. Equally sadly, our dormitories were far apart. It was also because the university was so big that we didn't have classes in the same building or eat in the same cafeteria. Fortunately, we had just started using cell phones at that time, making it much easier to communicate and arrange to meet.

She would come to see me every night, have dinner with me, and then study together. I offered to go see her, but she insisted, saying the food in her cafeteria wasn't as good as here, and the study rooms were in poor condition, etc. But I knew she didn't want me to walk too far. We both insisted on going to each other ourselves, so we finally compromised and took turns. I would walk her back to her dorm at night, about halfway there, past the "Dark Zone," and then turn back. The "Dark Zone" wasn't actually dark; it was just a long path through the woods. If you didn't go through it, you'd have to go around the trees on either side and walk a much longer way.

Later I learned that the woods in every school are a sanctuary for couples. We walked hand in hand innocently through the winter. The following spring, everything came back to life, and our young hearts began to stir. The weather warmed up, and she wore less clothing, and started wearing tight jeans. She didn't have many clothes, but they were all tasteful and high-quality brand-name items. I suppose her mother had a good eye for fashion.

That night, I walked her home. When we reached the middle of the grove, the forest was quiet, filled with the fresh scent of trees. I grabbed her hand and ran quickly to the left. She asked me what we were doing, confused, but followed me anyway. We ran deep enough before I stopped, holding her hands and looking at her face. Moonlight filtered through the branches, illuminating her face, revealing only her outline. But even without seeing her clearly, I could imagine how beautiful that face, which I had gazed at countless times, was.

My breathing quickened, and she, too, seemed to be affected by my emotions. Whether from running, nervousness, or anticipation, she also breathed softly. I could no longer restrain myself. I rushed forward and embraced her, pressing my lips to her soft, warm lips. The instant our lips touched, my mind went blank, as if my soul had left my body. It was such a sweet sensation.

Her sweet, delicate lips were sealed tightly by my kiss. She let out a soft "Mmm," instinctively wrapping her arms around my waist, her lips pursed, letting me kiss her. We were both somewhat lost in passion, but my hands remained still still, holding her back tightly, kissing passionately for a long time—but not a French kiss. As our lips slowly parted, we both felt a little embarrassed; after all, it was our first kiss.

The pleasure of kissing is addictive; once you've tasted it, you can't help yourself. We found time, place, and opportunity to kiss more and more frequently. Finally, on another night—and almost every kiss happened at night—I gathered all my courage in my hands and, instead of always placing them on her back or waist, I moved them to her buttocks. She let out a soft moan, her body trembling slightly, but she didn't struggle. Actually, I think she wouldn't have refused if I had done it earlier; I just never dared to cross that line.

I kneaded her buttocks with both hands, my heart pounding. A kiss of a beautiful woman's fragrance was already immense happiness, but to actually touch her buttocks—this had always been my dream! Before, I only hoped to talk to her; I never imagined she would become my girlfriend, and I never imagined I could hold her, kiss her, and caress her body like this.

Panting heavily, I began kissing her cheeks and neck. It was the first time I'd ever been so wild. She tilted her head back slightly to meet my kisses, her lips parted, her chest heaving. My face suddenly pressed against her chest, kissing her passionately through her clothes. She let out a soft gasp, touched my hair, and then lowered her hand.

I became even more unrestrained, reaching for her other breast. I couldn't actually kiss it through her bra, just rubbing my face and mouth against it. With my other hand, I wrapped my arms around her slender waist, and she leaned back, humming softly. Those youthful, firm breasts, never before touched by any man, filled me with an overwhelming ecstasy. The desire within us was practically burning us alive.

Desire clouded my judgment; only testosterone controlled my actions. I sucked on her soft, sweet tongue, and her body gradually softened, her breathing becoming heavier. Her breaths seemed like a summons, further stimulating me. I moved my hand from her breasts down to her pants. Sensing my intention, she didn't cooperate again, arching her buttocks to avoid my hand. I

moved my hand from her waist to her buttocks, pressing her closer to me, preventing her escape. My other hand touched her pubic hair; a little further down, and I would touch the most private part of a woman. The most exciting moment was about to arrive; my heart was in my throat, the feeling like the moment before orgasm during future sex.

Her pants caught my hand, and I tried to undo her belt, but she suddenly pushed me away gently, and I was momentarily stunned. She took two deep breaths and said, "Darling, it's late, we should go back, okay?"

Just then, a cool breeze blew by, cooling my burning body and heart. I sighed in disappointment, feeling a pang of guilt. I felt it was too crude to treat such an innocent girl this way. I took her hand and we slowly walked down the path. I whispered, "I...I'm sorry."

Her blush hadn't faded. She smiled playfully and said, "What happened? I didn't know anything!"

I laughed and slapped her on the bottom, saying, "When did you become so naughty?"

She leaned in and gently kissed my cheek, saying, "You should go back now. You don't need to see me off." This was the first time she had kissed me first, and compared to the passionate kiss before, the sweetness was a different kind of happiness.

She squeezed my hand tightly, turned, and ran away. This shy yet persistent, quiet yet lively girl—how can I love you? I can never love you enough.

After that night, we still kissed, but my hands were much more docile; I didn't explore her genitals anymore. However, each kiss left me burning with desire, my penis swollen and aching. When I got home, I'd immediately run to the bathroom to masturbate, of course, using Ting as my sexual fantasy object, imagining how to make love to her.

Initially, I felt guilty, thinking that fantasizing about her in such a way was a desecration of her purity. She had been so sacred in my heart. But I tried to convince myself that she was my girlfriend, and would become my wife. Married life was natural; what was there to feel guilty about in imagining it? Gradually, I overcame myself and cleared away my psychological barriers.

The inability to fully release my desire during each kiss was also a kind of torment. I wondered how she felt, if she reacted at all. I knew that women's vaginas would become wet when aroused, a sign of wanting sex. Would she wet too? She was a normal woman; she definitely would. But she was so innocent and naive; yet, there… she wet herself. Thinking about this, I was thrilled by this contradictory fact.

I started intentionally bringing these things up in our text messages. I said, "Honey, every time we kiss, my body reacts."

She replied, "Yeah, me too, it feels so hot."

I said, "Not just hot, my lower body reacts too."

She replied after a while, "What kind of reaction?"

I said, "My thing gets thicker and bigger, it's swollen." At that time, I was still too embarrassed to call it a penis or anything like that.

Usually, she would reply to messages very quickly, she didn't want to make me wait too long, but this time she replied even slower, probably because she was shy or hesitant: "Honey, actually, I also react down there, I just didn't dare to tell you."

I was very excited when I saw this, and then sent another message: "What kind of reaction do you have down there? Is it hard too?"

She replied, "What? Every time we kiss, I feel wet down there. At first, I thought it was because I had my period, or that I accidentally peed, but then I realized it was coming out from down there."

After seeing this message, my hands started trembling, and I said, "Then why didn't you ask me?"

She replied, "How could I... " "How dare you? If you hadn't said you had a reaction too, I still wouldn't have said it. Honey, you don't think I'm a bad girl for telling you all this, do you?"

I quickly replied, "No, no, we can talk about anything. When men and women are aroused, their lower bodies will react; a man's penis will get bigger, and a woman's vagina will secrete fluid."

She replied, "Oh, is that so? Then it seems normal."

I replied, "Yes, of course it's normal. Every time I come back, I have to do it myself, otherwise I feel really uncomfortable."

Ting replied, "What do you mean by 'do it'?"

I couldn't help but laugh. What did she mean by that? She didn't understand, and definitely had never masturbated. I said, "It's just masturbation! Both men and women masturbate."

She replied, "Masturbation? I know, I heard about it in elementary school, but I've never masturbated! Books say masturbation is bad, darling, you shouldn't either."

I said, "It's not bad, besides, you can't help it if you don't do it."

She said, "Then how do you do it? I'm a little curious."

Hearing her curiosity, I saw my chance; it was time to give her some sex education. I said, "This has to start from the beginning. When a man is aroused, his penis gets hard, and when a woman is aroused, her vagina gets wet. That's preparing the penis for smooth insertion into the vagina. After penetration..." The friction from the movement makes both of us feel incredibly good. When a man masturbates, he simulates that action by grabbing it and stroking it up and down.

She also sent me a message: "Honey, what are you doing? Are you asleep?"

After receiving my previous message, she asked, "How good is it? Better than kissing?"

I replied, "Haha, silly girl, from a sensory perspective, the pleasure is incomparable."

After a long wait, she replied: "Honey, hearing what you said makes me wet down there again, I'm so hot."

I know she always texts me under the covers every night to avoid disturbing others, so she's probably even hotter now. I imagine her holding her phone, looking at those messages that make her face flush and her heart race, her face blushing with embarrassment, her panties completely soaked with vaginal fluid—this imaginable scene made my penis swell to its peak.

I felt I should stop now, not let her be tormented by desire. Besides, saying anything more might be too much for her to handle. So I said, "Honey, let's calm down. It's late, we should go to sleep." Then I casually said something else and we said goodnight, but I was still thinking about how she was doing.

After that, I felt we could take things further. I even started to plan, always wanting to take it a step further. Our kisses became more frequent, and I became distracted when we studied together, always fantasizing about the passion that was about to unfold.

One night, we went to the grove as planned. Sometimes we could hear the murmurs and moans of men and women there. They were having sex in the open, going a step further than us. She seemed embarrassed when she heard those sounds. We walked deeper into the woods. The woods were quiet and mysterious at night, with a strange atmosphere, as if a faint fragrance wafted in the air, having an aphrodisiac effect.

I leaned her against a tree, stroked her cheek, and then gently pressed my lips to hers. I liked this gradual approach. She was much less nervous than during our first kiss, no longer trembling at the slightest touch. I licked her cherry-like lips, so alluring and tender, making me want to kiss her passionately, yet so soft that I dared not press too hard.

I inhaled her sweet fragrance. She slightly opened her mouth, and I slipped my tongue inside, slowly swirling it around, using the pleasure of soft contact to open her lips, our tongues gently touching and intertwining, then gradually increasing the intensity of the kiss. I held her tongue in my mouth, gently sucking, and her arms tightened around me. That delicious little tongue was smooth and tender, almost tempting to swallow whole, but I could only take it in from the tip until I couldn't take any more, then withdraw, repeating this over and over.

The pleasure I felt was so intense that my hands, not to be outdone, roamed and caressed her back and buttocks. Her body was conquered by this invasion. Although she tried to control herself and not make a sound, muffled moans escaped her lips, and the sounds of our French kiss were beyond our control. The breeze rustled the leaves, and our kissing made a soft, sizzling sound.

I used to always wear jeans, and even when my penis was erect, it was always pressed down by the thick denim fabric, a feeling of suppressed desire that had been building up for so long. But that day I was wearing sweatpants, and the soft fabric allowed my penis to move freely, straight forward. I leaned closer to her, my eager penis pressing against her lower abdomen. She let out a surprised "hmm," but she certainly knew what the hard thing was. She seemed to instinctively want to pull back, but the tree behind her blocked her way.

Thinking back to those spring days, the thin spring clothes were so wonderful; we could feel each other's bodies through them. My hard penis pressed against her soft lower abdomen—it was a wondrous contact and contrast, like the strength of a man and the gentleness of a woman. It was her first time being touched by a male's penis; one can imagine the tension, shyness, and excitement she felt.

Then I felt that the clothes weren't enough, so I removed my penis from her body, pulled down my pants with one hand, and my large penis sprang out eagerly. My hand slid down her shoulder until I touched her hand. I took her hand and placed it on my penis. She gasped, and just like during our first kiss, her body trembled.

The spring night wasn't cold, but it was still a little cool. Our exposed skin was slightly chilly because my penis was encased in my pants and, due to excitement and engorgement, it was burning hot. How could she not be startled and excited when her cool, soft hand suddenly grasped my hot, hard penis?

I was also incredibly excited. I kissed her wildly while taking her hand and stroking my penis. Those fair, soft, delicate hands I usually saw were now holding my throbbing member. If there had been light, the contrast between her white hands and my bright red penis would have been striking. Her hands were much softer than mine. I thought to myself, how soft can a woman's vagina be? Probably not this soft!

As I stroked her with her hand, I whispered in her ear, "You know, this is how men masturbate." She made two "hmm" sounds, whether in response or unconsciously, I couldn't tell.

Emboldened by lust, I couldn't restrain myself any longer and reached for her genitals. This time, she didn't resist. She let me unbuckle her belt and slip my hand inside her pants. When I touched the pubic hair on her mons pubis, she immediately stopped kissing me, as if anticipating what was about to happen.

I finally placed my hand on her vulva, and she could no longer suppress it, letting out a cry of "Ah!" as her body went limp. If it weren't for me in front of her and the tree behind her, she would have collapsed to the ground. I was also trembling slightly with excitement. My hand, which had reached for her vulva, was wet with fluid, as her vagina and panties were soaked. She was overflowing with moisture, completely drenched.

I was thinking to myself, "Oh my god! Oh my god! She's leaking so much!" I gently rubbed her vulva, not even knowing where her clitoris or labia were, only feeling the continuous flow of fluid from her vagina onto my hand.

Under my caresses, her mind became hazy, and she moaned softly, repeatedly calling out, "Husband...husband..." That soft, seductive, sweet voice intoxicated me, but it also made my penis even harder. I thought that hard penis would definitely be able to penetrate her wet vagina all the way in.

I suddenly turned her body around, abruptly pulled her pants down to her thighs, revealing her round buttocks, and pressed my erect penis against her firm buttocks. She grabbed my legs and arms, her hands sometimes gripping, sometimes gripping mine, clearly nervous and excited, unsure what to do. I moved my penis in and out between her legs, rubbing against her labia. She immediately grabbed a tree trunk with one hand and covered her mouth with the other, afraid of accidentally making a loud noise.

I felt everything was ready, our bodies were at their most eager state, and it was time for penetration. I placed my hands on her back, gesturing for her to bend over so I could insert myself, but as soon as my penis touched her vaginal opening, she cried out "Ah!" and shuddered, straightening up and saying, "Honey, no... please stop!"

How could I resist then? I pressed her back down, but she turned around, pulling up her pants with both hands. I was frantic, wondering how she could hold back. She could see my impatience, and wrapped her arms around my neck, saying, "Honey, let's do this...on our wedding day, okay?" As she spoke, she grabbed my penis and started stroking it.

I was initially deflated, annoyed by her traditional and old-fashioned ways. Since we were going to get married sooner or later, what did it matter if it happened sooner? She was always so stubborn. But her initiative excited me again, though my pitiful annoyance didn't subside. I thought her movements were too slow, so I gripped her hand tightly and began stroking it rapidly and forcefully.

She said with concern, "Honey, I'm sorry...don't...doesn't it hurt?" I didn't reply, gritting my teeth and continuing to speed up my movements, imagining her hand as her vagina, and that I was frantically thrusting to release my pent-up desire.

The pleasure seemed to rise in a straight line, and finally, a stream of semen spurted from my penis, which she was holding. I let out a long breath, momentarily forgetting my anger, forgetting everything else. She carefully wiped my penis with a tissue, then cleaned her own hands, pulled up my pants, fastened her own belt, and stood quietly beside me, waiting for me to speak. Once I

calmed down, I said to her, "Let's go back." After a few steps, I noticed she was still holding a tissue in her other hand. I raised my voice and said, "What are you holding that for? Throw it away quickly." She said timidly in a low voice, "I was thinking of throwing it in the trash can later."

Her kind and lovely appearance softened my heart instantly. Toilet paper and condoms are often found in the woods; how many people are as thoughtful and considerate as her? I immediately felt guilty for raising my voice at her earlier, and hugged her tightly, kissing her. On the way back, I thought I really shouldn't have been angry with her. She was also suppressing her physical desires, and she was suffering just as much as I was. Even though she's traditional, I should still respect her decision. Maybe it's just not the right time yet!

Universities have all sorts of clubs and organizations with different names, but they're all pretty much the same—groups of people getting together to do some kind of activity. However, they're still attractive to newcomers. When I first entered university, I joined the public relations department of an association. The president thought I was pretty good in terms of appearance, language skills, and so on, and after six months, he made me the vice-minister. I was freed from the work of drawing bulletin boards, writing advertisements, and posting slogans.

I got along well with all the brothers and sisters in the public relations department, except for the head of the department, who didn't really like me. He always acted like a leader, speaking in a condescending tone and always trying to boss people around, and I never listened to him. In stark contrast, there was a girl in the department named Ran who was exceptionally nice to me. Everyone could see that she was interested in me, but I was already in a relationship, which everyone knew. She didn't seem to care and remained very enthusiastic towards me.

To be honest, even without Ting, I was single, and she wasn't my type. She was too fiery and outgoing, talking loudly and laughing boisterously with boys. While being outgoing has its advantages, I always felt that girls who lacked reserve weren't as endearing. Ran was only moderately attractive, a little over 1.6 meters tall, but with a very voluptuous figure—large breasts and a large bottom—and a penchant for wearing revealing clothes. Some of the bolder boys in the department joked in her presence, saying she attracted attention and affected work, etc.

Once, she came to my dorm under the guise of work, and the way she spoke to me was incredibly seductive, coupled with her hot body, leaving everyone in the room speechless. I felt she was deliberately acting that way in front of my roommate; she wasn't nearly as overtly provocative in the department's activity room.

As soon as she left, my roommate—the notorious sleazy guy in our class—asked me, "Who was that? What's your name?"

I said, "Why do you care?"

My roommate said enviously, "Damn! Your wife is so beautiful, and you've hooked up with such a sexy and alluring woman." Then he added mysteriously, "She's obviously interested in you, probably wants you to sleep with her. You'd better seize the opportunity! Or introduce her to me, you should be satisfied with a beauty like your wife." They all assumed that Ting and I had definitely slept together. I didn't say anything, because it would be embarrassing to tell them we hadn't.

I pushed him aside, "Go away, if you want to sleep with her, go meet her yourself. I'm not introducing you."

He said, seemingly to me, but also to himself, "Damn, those big breasts and big butt, it would be amazing to sleep with her!"

Before every big event organized by the association, it's busy time for our public relations department. We have to go to various companies to solicit sponsorships, which basically means asking for money. We go to telecommunications companies, beverage companies, clothing companies, etc., most of which don't like this kind of forced sponsorship.

Our task is quite heavy; the department head gives each of us a certain amount of funding, saying it's to fully mobilize our initiative. We cursed the minister as we went, and he gave me the heaviest task. The two companies weren't big and weren't enthusiastic about sponsoring, so I felt he was just waiting to see me fail.

Sure enough, when I arrived, they greeted me politely, saying all the usual platitudes—that they were always enthusiastic about supporting university activities, but had no interest this time, hoping for future collaborations. I returned empty-handed, not knowing what to do. The others hadn't finished either, and we were all at a loss, deciding to try again tomorrow.

When no one was around, Ran smiled mysteriously and said to me, "I've finished everything, so I'll take your task!"

I was surprised: "You've finished yours?"

She was even more smug: "Exceeded the target!"

I was even more surprised and asked her how she did it. She said, "No need to ask, just leave yours to me."

Sure enough, she successfully completed mine, making me feel indebted to her. After the association's event, the president especially praised our department during the summary. We had some funds to celebrate. Although it wasn't right to use the sponsor's money for our own consumption, that's how all student organizations are, and we had also helped promote them, so we had fulfilled our responsibility.

Our department went to a hotel near the school for dinner. A dozen or so of us shared a private room, drinking baijiu and beer. Everyone was in high spirits, liking everyone and feeling like we were all brothers and sisters. The fact that our department head wasn't there that day made everyone especially happy.

After a few rounds of drinks, we started singing loudly. Singing was allowed in the private room, and the two microphones were constantly being fought over as we sang unrestrainedly. Suddenly, Ran grabbed both microphones, shoved one into my hand, and shouted, "I want to sing a love song with our beloved vice-minister! Listen up!" Without waiting for a reply, she sat sideways on my lap. Everyone cheered and applauded. I was also a little too excited from the alcohol, so I didn't push her away and started singing with her.

Her high breasts were not far in front of my face, and in the summer, she was wearing a low-cut t-shirt. I could see her deep cleavage just by looking down. Her full buttocks were pressing against my penis, and she would occasionally shift her position, inevitably rubbing against it. This was absolutely maddening. The thin fabric of our clothes allowed me to feel her buttocks, and my penis, restless and erect, nestled within them. I was sure she could feel it too—was this the effect she wanted?

During the climax of the song, she turned and glanced at me, her eyes full of ambiguity. I was completely at a loss. After she stood up, I quickly crossed one leg to clamp my erect penis between my legs, trying to avoid being seen—it would be too embarrassing. Luckily, no one noticed. Only Ran looked at me, then at my lower body, and gave me a smug smile. It was such an obvious sexual innuendo.

Back in the dorm, I texted Ting, but she didn't reply. I called, but her phone was off. I was so tired I just collapsed into bed.

The next day, when I met Ting, she was sullen and wouldn't speak to me. I started to panic, repeatedly asking her what was wrong. Tears welled in her eyes, and she began to sob. She rarely cried. I gently shook her shoulder and asked anxiously, "Ting, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

She cried for a while before saying, "Yesterday, my classmate and I were coming back from the supermarket, and we passed by the restaurant where you ate. I saw a woman sitting on your lap..." She started to get sad again. My heart was struck a chord. I thought, could there be a more coincidence than this? I only ever misbehaved that one time, and she actually saw it. Why did that restaurant have to be built by the roadside? Why did it have to have a floor-to-ceiling window?

I quickly comforted her, "Darling, don't cry. Don't overthink it. Everyone drank too much yesterday and got carried away. Do you still doubt my feelings for you? I don't like any other girl."

Ting sobbed, "I know you only love me, but when I see other girls... I still feel sad in your arms. Actually, I'm not blaming you anymore, but I need a while to stop crying."

Hearing her adorable yet pitiful words, my heart ached terribly. I hugged her tightly and kissed her smooth forehead, "I'm sorry! Darling, I will never be close to other women again, and I won't make you sad at all."

"Mmm..." Ting answered in my arms, her voice trembling with tears.

After this incident, I reflected deeply. Since I only love Ting, I should keep my distance from other women, not even a hint of ambiguous feelings, so as not to cause Ting any anxiety or worry. Therefore, I decided to be cold towards Ran from now on, cutting off all private interactions. Even work-related contact must be kept within proper boundaries, with no physical contact allowed. After making this decision in secret, I felt a great sense of relief.

Real life is like my writing, a diary of events. After the stressful final exams, summer vacation arrived. On the train, Ting leaned on my shoulder as we returned to our hometown, free from the annoyances of school, back to the place where we met.

Before, in our hometown, we rarely had the chance to spend long stretches of time together, but that long summer vacation allowed us to see each other often. Even if we did nothing but lazily while away the afternoons, the feeling was serene and happy. We could hold hands without fear of parents and teachers, confidently strolling through malls, drinking coffee, and browsing bookstores.

After a while of this carefree time, I even felt like I was gaining weight, so I said to Ting, "Let's go for a summer outing?"

Ting blinked her puzzled eyes and asked, "What's a summer outing?" These two words didn't sound easy to understand.

I explained with a hint of pride, "It's just analogy! In spring, we can go for a walk in nature, but now that it's summer, we can only enjoy summer!"

Ting's eyes sparkled with lively curiosity. "Okay, okay, where to?"

I said, "Let's go to the southern suburbs. I went there many years ago, and the scenery is still familiar. It's not only beautiful, but also secluded. I wonder what it's like now."

Ting shook my hand. "We'll find out when we get there. Let's go tomorrow!"

Ting is truly a girl who is both quiet and lively. These two personalities may seem contradictory, but they are perfectly unified in her. When she is quietly there, she is like a classical woman in a painting. When facing strangers, she always smiles shyly without showing her teeth. But when she is with her best friends, or like now with me, she is much more cheerful. But even when she is lively, it is not unrestrained or reckless, but a gentle liveliness, like the warm morning sun, warm but not dazzling.

She held my hand and looked at me expectantly. Just one glance at her pure gaze and her gentle, sunny smile felt like being enveloped in sunshine, warming my heart and making me feel that the whole world was sincere. Having known her for so long, I haven't found any flaws in her. If I had to name one, it would be that she doesn't like to be in the spotlight, lacks the desire to perform in front of others, always prefers to stay in the background, and doesn't have leadership skills. But in my opinion, these could even be considered her strengths!

I pretended to consider it for a moment, then said to her with feigned seriousness, "Okay, let's go tomorrow. Get a good rest tonight; you'll definitely need energy tomorrow." Since the bus didn't go there, the only way to get there was by car or bicycle, and I chose the latter without hesitation or room for choice.

The next morning, I rode my bike to Ting's apartment building—I hadn't even entered her house yet, and she was already waiting at the entrance of the complex with her backpack; she was a punctual person.

I asked her with a little concern, "Why did you come out so early? How long have you been waiting?"

Ting said excitedly, "I didn't want to waste time. I just waited for you to come and left; I didn't wait more than a few minutes."

She sat on the back of my bike, and we set off for our destination. It had been a long time since I'd ridden a bicycle. Years later, I rode my beloved mountain bike again, but this time, there was a lovely girl behind me.

In those years, public transportation developed rapidly, and fewer and fewer people rode bicycles in the city. We rode through streets and alleys, the tall buildings gradually disappeared, and the buildings became shorter. We left the city and arrived in the suburbs. There were a few more houses here than when I came years ago, but it was still sparsely populated. The air seemed fresher, and even the sunlight felt transparent.

Ting excitedly showed me this and that, saying things like, "Oh, honey, look! That cow is so big! And the calves following behind are so cute!" Then she exclaimed, "Oh, honey, there's a big dog over there! Let's run! Go! Go!"

I laughed and told her, "Don't worry, what's so scary about a dog on a leash?" As we passed that house, I deliberately made a provocative face at the dog. It barked and charged at us, its chain rattling loudly. Even though we were far away, I still jumped in fright, and Ting screamed too. Seeing there was no danger, she hugged my waist and giggled.

I don't know what kind of place this is. It's called the countryside, but there aren't any concentrated villages. Houses are scattered here and there. The further we went, the fewer houses there were, but the scenery became more beautiful. It was a place untouched by human intervention or pollution, possessing natural beauty. The path was flanked by meadows of various species, untrimmed and uneven, yet their natural growth possessed a tenacious vitality. A vibrant, uplifting atmosphere permeated the fields, interspersed with unnamed wildflowers. A gentle breeze carried the mingled fragrance of flowers and grasses, making anyone feel refreshed and invigorated.

The path undulated but wasn't bumpy, the sunlight warm but not harsh. Ting wrapped her arms around my waist, resting her face against my back, and after a long while said, "Darling, it's so beautiful here." Then she took a deep breath, and I hummed in agreement. Then I felt her face leave my back, so I turned to look at her. She was basking in the sunlight, her head slightly tilted back, a look of pure bliss on her face. Her soft hair was being gently blown by the breeze, fluttering over her shoulders. I dared not speak, as if opening my mouth would shatter this beautiful moment.

Ting said to me, "You must be tired after riding for so long. How about I give you a ride?"

I said, "No, no, look at my strong thighs."

Ting wouldn't have it, hugging my waist from behind, swaying her body, and whining sweetly. Hearing her sweet voice that pierced my bones, I felt my bones go weak. I really couldn't ride anymore, so I got off and let her ride. I sat on the back, and the bike wobbled as I started it. She had enough strength in her legs to pedal, but she couldn't control the handlebars well.

I pretended to scream, "Oh dear, can you ride a bike? I'm so scared." Actually, I wasn't worried. To prevent falling, I had my legs spread apart on the back seat.

Ting happily cried out and laughed, "Ah, honey, don't be afraid. I'm here. Hold on tight to my waist and you won't fall off!"

I said to her, "It's precisely because you're here that I'm scared!" Then we both burst out laughing.

I listened to her and wrapped my arms around her slender waist. Although I didn't feel any more secure, I felt a surge of happiness. Her hair brushed against my face, tickling my face and my heart.

We got off the bus near a small grove of about a dozen trees. She had a few beads of sweat on her forehead, but her face couldn't hide her excitement. We sat on the grass by the trees. She took out water and snacks from her bag. I looked at the scenery and the beautiful woman, eating the various snacks she had bought. It was truly a feast for the eyes. Although there were no famous mountains or rivers, no historical sites, and no particularly special scenery, the ordinary flowers, trees, and natural landscape were beautiful enough for us.

The grass on the ground was lush and green, so vibrant it was intoxicating. Two snow-white clouds made the clear sky even bluer, as clear as Ting's pure heart. A gentle breeze blew the clouds slowly, and the wind on the ground was barely perceptible, drifting gently from all directions. The movement was so gentle it was touching, as if nature was showing us special favor. There was no one around, yet we simply sat side by side, hand in hand, making no other movements, afraid of defiling this rare natural beauty.

Ting packed all the food wrappers back into her backpack; wherever she is, she's an environmentalist.

Back home, that wonderful summer trip left us reminiscing about the entire summer, and I still remember every scene and fragment of that time, and will always remember it.

After the happy summer vacation ended, we returned to school together. Home was certainly comfortable, but as long as we were together, anywhere was fine. At the beginning of the new semester, various activities were in full swing on campus. Ting didn't participate in the sports meet, while I participated in the school soccer tournament. A few days before the competition, Ting gave me a shoebox containing professional Nike soccer shoes, much better than the ones I was wearing.

I looked at her with excitement and surprise. She proudly told me, "I bought these with my scholarship money; it's my first income in life. I even bought things for my parents."

I asked her, "What did you buy for yourself?"

She hesitated for a moment and said, "Me? Nothing. I don't need anything."

This selfless girl moved me deeply. In her heart, I was more important than herself.

The university football tournament was much larger than in high school. Although I was a key player in my department and one of the top players in the school, I was no longer the most prominent figure. Because our department's overall level wasn't high enough, we were eliminated before the final four. I was very sad and felt I had let Ting down after she gave me the football shoes.

Ting stayed by my side and comforted me. She always attended our department's matches and was an important member of the family cheerleading team. After I stopped playing, I went with her to watch their department's basketball game. In their department, Ting was a full-fledged cheerleader, and she was supposed to go on stage with flowers and dance. Like the other girls, Ting had no dance background; she was only chosen because of her good figure and looks. I thought their dancing was silly; besides youthful exuberance, there was nothing interesting about it. Actually, I didn't want Ting to dance either.

Their department had more girls than boys, so the overall level of basketball wasn't high. However, there was one exceptional basketball talent—over 1.8 meters tall, with excellent physical attributes and superb skills. It was hard to pinpoint his position; he was an all-rounder, and quite masculine and handsome, exuding a strong sense of masculinity. He was an idol in their department and even on campus. When he played, there were always screams from the adoring girls.

This expert single-handedly led the team to the semifinals, their department's best result ever. In the semifinals, he continued to excel. A spectacular dunk after a steal drove the audience wild, especially the girls—the ones from their department—who screamed in unison. After his successful dunk, he roared with triumphant arms, truly displaying a kingly demeanor. If I were a woman, I probably would have become his fan too.

But what happened next was completely unexpected. He ran to the cheerleaders on the sidelines, stood in front of Ting, and extended his hand to give her a high-five. From a distance, I saw Ting's face immediately turn red. She was flustered and didn't know what to do. Perhaps she couldn't bear to embarrass him in front of everyone, so she hesitantly extended her hand and let him give her a high-five. A chorus of envious gasps erupted from the girls in the stadium, all eyes turning to Ting. Ting's gaze, however, searched for me in the crowd. She was afraid I would be unhappy, but I turned my head to watch the game and avoided her gaze. I couldn't blame Ting, but of course, I couldn't ignore it, feeling a pang of jealousy.

I left the venue alone, feeling dejected, and returned to my dorm. The dorm was empty. I lay quietly on my bed when Ting called to ask where I was. I listlessly told her I was in the dorm.

When Ting came to my dorm, she sat beside me, looking at me with concern. She didn't know how to explain, so she simply took my arm and said cautiously, "Honey, don't be sad, okay?" I kept a straight face and didn't say anything, letting her plead softly. But I'm a soft-hearted person, and I couldn't bear to see her plead for so long without responding. So I patted her head and forced a smile. She was happy to see me smile and opened her arms to hug me.

Actually, I felt a sense of insecurity and inferiority at that moment. That basketball star was so popular; what if he took my Ting away? I was terrified of losing her, so I held her tightly, kissing her face and neck. We'd never been intimate in the dorm. Ting was afraid someone would come in, so she was only half-heartedly going along with it. The hugs and kisses aroused me, and I really wanted to take off her pants and have sex with her, to release all that pent-up desire and the depression of the day. Just

then, Ting's phone rang. It was a call that infuriated me. When she answered, the voice on the other end made her blush instantly. Because I was so close, I could hear the conversation clearly. I knew it was that basketball star from her department calling to invite her to a victory celebration party; apparently, their department had won again.

Ting said, "Thanks, but I'd better not go."

Then came the chatter of girls on the phone:

"Ting, you're so popular! The basketball prince invited you personally, and you're not going?"

Another girl said, "Yeah, are you trying to distance yourself from us?"

"Honestly, our team always acts as a group."

"The department head is going too, do you want him to talk to you personally?"

Ting hurriedly said, "No, no!" Then she looked up at me with a pleading gaze. I slowly nodded. Ting hesitated and said to the other girl, "Okay!"

She stood up, looked at me with a guilty expression, then leaned down and kissed my cheek, saying, "Honey, I'll be back soon, I'll call you when I get back."

After she left, I was annoyed, but didn't know who to vent my anger on. My lust hadn't subsided; my penis was throbbing in my pants. I rubbed it hard a couple of times, and suddenly wanted to release it through masturbation. I took a disc from under the messy desk of the perverted guy in the dorm, thinking he wouldn't notice when he got back, and took the disc to our department office.

The office was on the rooftop of a building. Inside, there were desks, chairs, and a bed. On the bedside table were a TV and a DVD player. Not all associations have office space, especially since we were just a department; this was something our seniors had earned

through excellent public relations skills. The office was empty, and no one would come at this hour. I locked the door, turned on the TV and DVD player, and played a pornographic DVD at a very low volume, masturbating as I watched. Suddenly, I heard the sound of a key unlocking the door, but it was locked from the inside. I quickly turned off the power strip, which made a "click" sound.

Wondering who would come, I got up to open the door, only to find my erect penis bulging against my pants. I was momentarily at a loss, but the knocking left me no time to hesitate. I

opened the door and found Ran there. Her face was flushed; she looked like she had just been drinking, perhaps attending a victory celebration party.

I stammered, "Why are you here?"

She smiled, her eyes glazed, and said, "Why can't I come? I came as soon as I saw you." This building was close to Ran's dormitory.

Although I was facing her, I turned my body away to avoid her seeing my erection. But after she entered, I couldn't hide it anymore. She stared at my crotch, turned around, and laughed brazenly. She swayed and sat down on the bed. I was incredibly embarrassed, but I couldn't walk backwards towards her.

After she sat on the bed, she reached for the light switch. I was immediately alarmed, thinking she probably knew what I had been doing. Ignoring my erection, I quickly walked to her and grabbed her hand. She didn't pull her hand away, letting me hold it.

When she turned her head, my erect penis was not far from her face. She looked at me with seductive eyes and said, "Why aren't you turning your back to me now?"

I didn't know what to say or do. If I took my hand away, she would definitely turn on the TV, and those scenes of men and women having sex would appear before our eyes; if I didn't take my hand away, it would be very indecent for a penis to be erect in front of a girl.

Just as I was at a loss, Ran's face slowly moved towards my penis. Her movement made my body tremble violently, and Ran's full breasts were also incredibly stimulating. Already aroused, I could no longer restrain myself. I pushed her down onto the bed and frantically kissed and caressed her breasts. She didn't resist at all, obediently falling onto the bed, letting out a long, satisfied moan, a sound that seemed to carry a sense of victory, a victory in finally conquering me. And I felt the same sense of conquest towards her. She always showed me affection, and this behavior gave me a man's confidence, proving that I still had a certain charm.

She reeked of a mixture of perfume and alcohol, which was stimulating to me as well. I pulled down her thin top, revealing her breasts, barely covered by her bra. I kissed her exposed flesh, and she moaned softly, then lifted her chest and unhooked her bra at the back, exposing both breasts completely.

Ting's breasts were just the right size, easily held in one hand, while Ran's breasts were too large to grasp with one hand. I buried my head in her chest, kissing and kneading her breasts frantically. Suddenly, I felt her hand grab my penis through her clothes. A woman's initiative excites a man especially. I hastily pulled down my pants, and my penis sprang out. Her hand grasped my penis completely and gently moved it, causing my hips to move back and forth.

At that moment, guilt towards Ting flashed through my mind, but the power of lust was too great, and Ran's breasts were too large. Deep down, I even felt a faint desire for revenge against Ting, even though she hadn't wronged me.

I never kissed Ran's lips. I saw her mouth slightly open, her tongue licking her lips—a sign of a woman's desire to kiss. But it wasn't the smell of alcohol on her breath that bothered me; it was just that I only felt physical attraction towards her. I didn't want to kiss someone I didn't love.

My hips moved faster and faster, but Ran pulled her hand away. I guessed she was afraid I'd ejaculate; she wanted to have sex, and her genitals must be full of lustful fluid. She pulled down her pants, turned around, and raised her buttocks towards me, swaying as she slowly drew closer…

Her snow-white, full buttocks were beautiful, and it was the first time I'd ever seen a woman's genitals. The fluid from her vagina had soaked her pubic hair, and her labia were glistening. This was a huge visual stimulus for me at the time, and I couldn't resist the urge to insert my penis into her vagina. But her proactive actions reminded me of how promiscuous she was; I wondered how many men she'd slept with. I didn't want to enter such a woman's body. My first time had to be with Ting. I don't know where I found that kind of willpower back then.

But I couldn't resist the alluring pleasure, so I masturbated while looking at Ran's buttocks. This unusual act of infidelity was nerve-wracking, and the scene before me was too stimulating. After only a few strokes, I cried out, "Ah!" as pleasure coursed through my body, and my semen sprayed onto Ran's buttocks. Ran turned around in surprise, and seeing that I had ejaculated, she looked disappointed. She reached out and grasped my penis, trying to make it erect again.

After the climax, my lust quickly subsided, and I was filled with guilt towards Ting. How could I do this to another woman behind her back? How heartbroken she would be if she knew. I pushed Ran's hand away, pulled up my pants, and ran out. Ran called after me, dissatisfied. I didn't dare turn back; I couldn't face her. My semen was still on her buttocks, yet I ran away. It was truly absurd and ridiculous.

After that, I felt very awkward whenever I saw Ran, and Ran still teased me from time to time. I felt her gaze towards me had become contemptuous; perhaps she thought I lacked courage and wasn't manly enough. But a man who wouldn't cross the final line still kept her interested!

I felt very guilty towards Ting and didn't know whether I should tell her and ask for her forgiveness. We had always been honest with each other and never hid anything from one another, but after much thought and deliberation, I decided not to tell her, as long as I didn't make the same mistake again.

However, that basketball expert stopped attacking the basket and instead targeted my Ting, which made me very angry and worried. He clearly knew that Ting had a boyfriend, yet he still launched his pursuit, calling and asking her out to dinner. Although I believed in Ting's loyalty, I was also worried that she would change her mind over time. Ting told me that she had never eaten alone with that person or had any private contact with him, and asked me to believe her. Looking at her sincere expression, I couldn't help but believe her.

One evening, while Ting and I were having dinner, her phone rang. She saw the caller ID and hung up—it was that same person again. Two minutes later, the phone rang again. I took it and answered, barely containing my anger, saying, "Please stop harassing my girlfriend, okay?" and then hung up.

Ting probably thought my behavior was impolite; I rarely get angry, but seeing me lose my temper made her a little scared, and she hesitated to speak to me.

This incident bothered me for several days, and I unconsciously took my anger out on Ting. She must have felt very wronged, but she didn't blame me; she just told me to have faith in myself and in her. I thought about how I had done something wrong to her, and I hadn't even told her, while Ting hadn't done anything wrong to me. What right did I have to be angry with her?

But one afternoon, I went to Ting's campus and witnessed something shocking: Ting and that man were walking side-by-side on campus, chatting and laughing, and Ting was listening with a smile. My heart was struck a heavy blow. Anger, resentment, sadness, and panic surged within me all at once. I wanted to rush up and fight that man, but seeing Ting's smiling face, it felt as if I were the one who was superfluous. I instantly deflated. I could fight to the death for Ting, but if she didn't love me anymore, why should I be delusional? Extreme emotions easily lead to biased thinking.

I stood there blankly for a few seconds, then turned and walked away dejectedly. Just then, Ting saw me. She called my name and ran towards me, but I ignored her and continued walking alone. Ting reached me and grabbed my arm, but I disheartened, shook her hand off. She didn't dare grab it again, but simply walked with me.

She whispered, "I ran into him on the street, and he talked to me. It's not what you think." I ignored her.

She said, "I want to get back to the dorm quickly and get rid of him." I thought about it; she was indeed heading towards the dorm, but I still couldn't let it go.

She kept talking, but I didn't respond. Finally, she said, "Honey, can you say something to me?" I still didn't speak.

Ting started to sob softly, crying, "Honey...don't ignore me..." Her cries and pleas broke my heart. I couldn't harden my heart anymore, so I took her hand, looked at her with infinite tenderness, and wiped her tears from her face. When she saw that I had forgiven her, her eyes glistened with gratitude.

But I later realized that I was only moved at the time. This incident always left a shadow in my heart, and I would sometimes be suddenly cold towards Ting, but I would quickly return to normal. Ting noticed my change. She was very gentle and considerate towards me, and blocked that man's calls, not having any contact with him, to put my mind at ease.

Two weeks later, Ting texted me one night. She suddenly said, "Honey, let's make love. I want to give you my body."

Seeing this message, I was shocked. Was my long-held wish finally going to come true? But then I wondered if this was her way of making amends for what happened, trying to reassure me with her body? That would make me seem petty—of course, I am petty by nature, and I didn't want to accept such pity.

So I replied, "No need, darling, don't worry, I'll believe you. You said you wanted to save it for our wedding night."

Ting quickly replied, "No, honey, I've thought it through. Since I've already decided to spend my life with you, there's no difference between saving it for then and doing it now."

I hesitated, wanting to say something more, and as I was typing the message, Ting's message came again: "And...and...I've been really wanting to try what it feels like lately!"

I didn't know if she didn't want to hurt my pride or if she really wanted to do it. In any case, seeing her so proactive was very exciting and touching. My long-held wish could finally come true. I imagined embracing her beautiful body and entering her—what an ecstatic feeling that would be.

We set a date, a Saturday afternoon. Ting didn't dare stay out all night; she was afraid her roommates and classmates would suspect something. We looked for rental ads on the walls of buildings around the school. When we stopped in front of the ads, Ting's face turned red, afraid that passersby would know we were going to a hotel to make love. Unfortunately, rooms were scarce on Saturday afternoons. I made many phone calls, and Ting blushed for a long time, but she held my hand firmly the whole time.

Finally, we found a room. The middle-aged man who rented it looked at Ting's blushing face and my awkwardness, seemingly able to tell that Ting was still a virgin and that this was our first time out together. A smug smile spread across his face. I quickly gave him the agreed-upon fifty yuan, hoping he would leave soon.

The room was simply furnished with a bed, a table, chairs, and a TV, but it was clean. Ting sat on the edge of the bed, legs together, hands on her lap, not looking at me, her head bowed, staring at the ground, clearly very nervous. Actually, I was nervous too, but at the same time, I was filled with great anticipation.

I sat down next to Ting and turned on the TV. Ting finally looked up at the television, finding something to ease her current embarrassment. I had no interest in what was on TV; I just kept changing channels with the remote. The frequency with which someone changes channels reflects their level of nervousness. Actually, Ting hadn't been watching TV. Her chest heaved, and her cheeks were flushed; the impending event must have been overwhelming her thoughts.

I also thought about making love to her soon, but in my nervousness, I started fantasizing. I imagined her still wearing clothes, soon to be naked, her body lying on the bed, me pressing down on her, kissing her every inch of her body passionately… Thinking about it, I actually got an erection. I glanced at her; she was repeating her classic gesture—biting her lip, looking both delicate and stubborn.

Ting's unwavering expression moved me deeply, and her beautiful face instantly aroused my desire. I grabbed her and held her tightly in my arms. She let out a soft "ah," her body trembling briefly before slowly calming down. I laid her down on the bed, and as I kissed her cheeks and neck, she began to tremble again. Perhaps this passionate kiss was different from any other; it was the calm before a storm.

Ting was wearing a t-shirt and skirt, so soft and thin that I could clearly feel her flesh. I suddenly wondered if she was planning to make it easy for me to undress her. While kissing her, I explored her body with one hand, lifting her skirt from her knees and caressing her smooth inner thighs. She involuntarily squeezed her legs together. I placed both hands between her legs, preventing her from closing them. She realized things shouldn't be the same as before, so she slowly parted her legs, letting my right hand slide upwards along her inner thighs.

That smooth, tender flesh made me want to grab and knead it, to express my love for it, but there were more crucial parts waiting for me to explore. My hand finally reached her vulva, pressing against the entrance of her vagina through her panties. I couldn't help but gasp. My God! Her panties were completely soaked with vaginal fluid. She couldn't have produced so much fluid in the few seconds I had been caressing and kissing her; it must have started while she was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Thinking that she had also been fantasizing about sex back then, imagining herself dripping with desire, I became wildly excited. I grabbed her skirt and pulled it down, and she lifted her buttocks to cooperate, the skirt coming off in an instant. Then I took off her t-shirt, and she obediently raised her arms above her head.

At this point, she was only wearing a bra and panties. It was the first time I had ever seen her dressed so scantily. I could only see her two long, beautiful legs pressed together, expressing Ting's shyness at that moment. I couldn't help but exclaim in amazement, "Darling, your body is so beautiful!" She blushed, crossed her arms over her chest, hummed in agreement, and turned her head towards the bed.

My amazement only lasted a few seconds before I was eager to see what the parts covered by the bra and panties looked like, so I went to remove the last two pieces of clothing she was wearing. After the bra was unhooked, a pair of white, firm breasts were presented before me, the small, pink nipples already hardened, and her chest heaving.

It was the first time I'd ever seen her breasts naked. I swallowed hard, grasped her delicate breasts with both hands, and squeezed them tightly—this was also the first time I'd ever held them completely in my hands, skin to skin, without any clothing between them. Her body jolted, and she cried out, "Ah!"

I quickly asked her, "Darling, did I hurt you?"

She whispered, "It's okay, it doesn't hurt." It seemed that having her young breasts held like this for the first time was a revolutionary experience for her.

I fondled her breasts, lowering my head to suckle one nipple while kneading the other, kissing her as I looked up at her. She closed her eyes, biting her lip, making suppressed "mmm" sounds. Her

breasts looked firm, yet felt incredibly soft to the touch, making me want to hold them completely in my hands, not even letting a sliver of flesh peek out between my fingers, trying my best to completely grasp them without spilling any. The hardening nipples stimulated my tongue and hands, a strange sensation; even small nipples could bring such immense pleasure.

I resisted the temptation and straightened up, kneeling between her legs. My gaze moved down from her chest, her flat stomach rising and falling with it. Below her abdomen lay the place I had longed to enter—a budding flower amidst the lush grass, and I was about to open it with my own hands. How could I not be excited?

Her pubic hair was soft, shiny, and beautifully distributed. She was a little embarrassed by my greedy, prolonged gaze and dared not look into my bloodshot eyes. When I quickly stripped off my clothes and appeared naked before her, what she dared not look at was my engorged, erect penis.

That swollen penis throbbed gently not far in front of her. It was the first time she had seen a man's penis in the light, and the visual impact must have been no less than when I had seen her genitals. I understood her state of mind at that moment, and I also knew her personality. She wanted to see what a penis looked like, but at the same time, she was shy and afraid, her eyes secretly glancing at it, just like when she watched a horror movie, wanting to see but also afraid, so she covered her head with the blanket and peeked at the TV through a small gap. Girls are so cute like that.

I imitated the actions of the male protagonist in Japanese adult films, spreading her legs and kissing her genitals. She cried out, looked up in surprise, and said, "Darling...?"

I didn't answer, but just kissed her passionately, trying to keep her from being surprised by the pleasure. Sure enough, she stopped talking and just frantically stroked my head with her hands. Her hand movements made me feel that she sometimes wanted to push me away, and sometimes wanted me to kiss her harder.

My head was buried between her legs, and I couldn't see her expression, only hear her moans, which were different from usual. Her voice was very beautiful, but her moans were even more melodious and sweet. It turned out that this kind of moaning didn't need to be practiced; it came out naturally and made me lose my soul.

The sound was so soft and delicate it seemed to penetrate every pore of her body, melting her entire being, reaching her very core, and seeping into her very soul. A dignified and quiet girl, usually speaking softly and politely, was now making such alluring sounds as my tongue teased her genitals—the contrast was almost unbelievably strange.

Of course, this was my first time giving a woman oral sex, and I didn't know much technique, but the touch of my lips to her labia was enough to make her tremble. She began to instinctively twist her hips to increase the friction on her genitals.

I licked from her vaginal opening upwards and downwards, repeating this motion. Finally, she moaned and made her request: "Darling…you…take me…I can't take it anymore…"

Her words gave me a tremendous sense of conquest and satisfaction. I teased her a little longer, then stood up. I saw her face flushed, her eyes looking at me expectantly. I looked back at her, and this time her gaze didn't waver; it clearly told me she truly wanted it.

I bent and lifted her legs, placing them on either side of her body. My hand, holding my penis, slid it against her vaginal opening, which was covered in her vaginal fluid and my saliva. She knew she was about to be penetrated, and her breathing quickened as she anxiously awaited the moment.

But suddenly, I felt a sacred yet heavy feeling, a sense of impending destruction of a girl's virginity. I hesitated, unable to move forward. She, however, couldn't resist, wrapping her legs around my waist and pulling me closer. My hesitation was only momentary; I slowly inserted my penis. She cried out, "Ah!" her fingers gripping my arm tightly, then opened her mouth wide, but no sound came out.

I immediately stopped, hurriedly asking, "Darling, does it hurt?"

She bit her lip, saying, "It's okay… go in slowly…"

Her vagina was full of vaginal fluid, but still very tight. I could only enter slowly, but I didn't feel any obstruction from her hymen. My penis slowly entered, finally fully inserted. She finally exhaled, letting out a long, suppressed breath.

I'd heard that many women experience a lot of pain the first time, but she didn't seem to be in much pain. I was startled; could she not be a virgin? But I thought she had never been with another man, so it was impossible for her not to be. When I pulled my penis out, I noticed blood on it, and my worries about her not being a virgin finally subsided. But seeing the blood, my heart ached again.

I saw her expression earlier—eyes tightly closed, brows furrowed—and I realized she was in pain too, but desperately trying not to cry out, so I wouldn't hesitate to enter. So I carefully inserted my penis again. This time it seemed smoother, and I clearly felt the pleasure of being enveloped and sucked.

Looking at her tightly closed lips, I even felt like I was penetrating her mouth, a small mouth tightly shut, as if a tiny tongue was teasing inside, trying to resist the large penis, yet unable to stop the irresistible masculine power. My penis still plunged in, all the way to the deepest point. As the penis was withdrawn, her small mouth seemed to savor its deliciousness, yet it didn't want it to leave. So it tightly enveloped the penis with its mouth, but the penis slowly withdrew, preparing for the next insertion, repeating this process repeatedly.

Ting's vagina had never had a foreign object enter it before, let alone a man's penis. I was the first person to enter her body, which gave me a tremendous sense of conquest. The physical pleasure was equally intense. The penis was enveloped and rubbed by the warm, moist, and tight vagina, squeezed and massaged from all sides by the flesh of the inner walls of the penis. Waves of electric-like pleasure spread from the penis throughout the body, melting and softening wherever they flowed.

As I increased the speed of my thrusts, I kneaded Ting's breasts with both hands, sometimes grabbing them, sometimes flattening them, sometimes swaying them from side to side. The most sensitive parts of Ting's body were being invaded by me simultaneously—something she had never experienced before. This extreme pleasure left her flustered, her delicate hands grabbing my arm one moment, then her own leg the next, her mouth emitting uncontrollable moans: "Mmm...mmm...husband..."

I asked her, "What's wrong, darling?"

She didn't answer, still unconsciously calling out, "Mmm...husband..."

Ting's legs were spread open on either side of my body, her pretty little feet swaying adorably with each thrust. I hoisted her legs onto my shoulders so I could see them more clearly. What a pair of little feet they were! They were so delicate and translucent, like pieces of jade. I took back the hand that had been caressing her breasts and held her feet to my face, rubbing them against my skin. The smooth, soft texture was so alluring, I couldn't help but want to devour them. I could only kiss them incessantly—the white insteps, the pink toes. Ting's toes would even twitch restlessly with each thrust, so adorable! I even became distracted, slowing down my thrusts.

I suddenly remembered the position of penetration from behind and wanted to try it. So I tried to turn Ting over, but she was enjoying herself and was a little confused by my actions, yet she still obediently complied with my movements. After she lay face down on the bed, she didn't know which position would be best for penetration, so I held her buttocks and adjusted her position. Ting's figure was slender overall, but full in certain areas—a narrow waist, long legs, and a full bottom. The contrast between her plump buttocks and her tiny waist was striking; one glance was enough to captivate me. As

I gazed at her buttocks, I inserted my penis into her vagina. Changing positions changed the angle of penetration, and she gasped, clearly experiencing a different sensation. Moreover, a woman arching her back towards a man was a very lewd position, and I imagine she felt a sense of shame.

Her hair cascaded down her back, her slender, supple waist was held in my hands, and my powerful thrusts pounded into her full, white buttocks. I noticed a small dark patch on her right buttock and suddenly realized how much her delicate skin had suffered from sitting on the hard chairs in the classroom every day for so many years. This diligent and earnest girl was so lovely and admirable. Thinking of this, I tenderly touched it with my hand.

She buried her head in the pillow, but the moans she couldn't suppress grew louder and louder. The sounds were like sobs, long and lingering, yet there was an indescribable pleasure mixed in with the crying—a strange feeling that blended pain and joy. The scene before my eyes stimulated my vision, while her ecstatic cries stimulated my hearing. The feeling of my hands caressing her waist and buttocks, the sensation of my penis thrusting in and out of her vagina—all these sensory impacts were too much for me to bear.

At this moment, Ting suddenly said to me intermittently, "Husband, I knew... sex would be good... but I didn't expect... it to be this good... sob sob..."

Hearing her words, my excitement reached its peak, and my body was about to climax. I roared, grabbed her waist, and began to thrust rapidly and violently. Ting's moans were no longer under her own control; perhaps she had lost consciousness. Her loud moans could surely be heard clearly outside and next door.

My roars mingled with Ting's moans and the sounds of my thrusts against her buttocks, echoing in the small room. Sweat beaded on our bodies. Like a motor at maximum speed, I pounded into Ting with all my might, letting out the loudest screams.

The intense pleasure from my penis left my mind blank, then I began to breathe heavily. Ting stopped screaming and began to moan softly, her vagina still contracting rhythmically, her body trembling. The arrival of orgasm was like climbing a mountain; the pleasure gradually intensified until I reached the summit, the peak of pleasure enveloping my entire body in extreme comfort, before I floated down the mountain.

After ejaculating, I collapsed beside Ting. Without my support, Ting also slumped weakly onto the bed. We looked at each other tenderly, face to face, but our bodies were utterly exhausted, even our eyes were glazed over.

After resting, we got up, dressed, and left the room where we had experienced our first time. Later, thinking back to how our precious first time happened in such a simple environment, I couldn't help but feel a little sad. But then I thought, how many young students have gone through the same thing, so I didn't need to worry too much.

Walking on the street, walking on the campus paths, I felt that in just a few hours, everything had changed. It was as if the eyes of passersby could see right through what we had just experienced.

Life was peaceful and warm. The basketball guy and Ran gradually faded from our lives, becoming a history we didn't want to mention. People still often showed interest in Ting, and she wouldn't ignore them, but would remain polite and keep a distance. I was satisfied with her approach. I didn't care how many people pursued her, as long as she remained unmoved.

We went out about once every two weeks. I preferred a hotel that was quite shrewd; students could get a significant discount with their student ID. But Ting always suggested renting a short-stay room, whispering to me, "Even if the hotel is cheaper, one trip there is enough for two or three short-stay rooms." She was so considerate and thoughtful; her shy yet playful manner was incredibly endearing. I really wanted to grab her and make love right away, whether in a hotel or a short-stay room, as long as I could make love with her.

The initial shyness gradually faded, and the tension and trepidation I felt the first time were gone. I enjoyed the pleasure of sex itself more. I loved kissing her pink and pure vulva, looking up at her ecstatic expression as I kissed her, listening to her melodious moans. One time, she suddenly said to me, "Honey, it feels so good when you kiss me there. I want you to feel it too. Can I kiss you there too?"

I was instantly blown away. The happiness came so fast and was so exciting that I didn't know where I was. How could I not want her to give me oral sex? Her beautiful little mouth and tender lips were so tempting, yet so sacred in my heart. To kiss her sweet lips was already happiness. How could I bear to put my penis into such a mouth?

But faced with her proactive request, I couldn't bear to refuse, so I mumbled an "Mmm." She climbed down my body until her face was above my penis. She picked it up, looking at it cautiously and timidly. She had never seen it this close before. My penis, held in her small hand, trembled slightly with anticipation. My heart felt like it was about to jump out of my chest. She imitated me, gently licking the underside of my penis with the tip of her tongue. A jolt of electricity shot through me. It was her cute little tongue licking my penis! The psychological stimulation was greater than the physical pleasure. She didn't quite know how to do it properly, only licking the underside of my penis with her tongue, sometimes kissing it with her lips, but never touching the glans. So, I nervously moved my penis towards her mouth and gently said to her, "Darling...can you put it in your mouth?"

She looked up at me with some surprise and asked, "Can I put it in?" I didn't know if she thought my penis was too big for her mouth, or if she thought it was dirty.

I simply nodded and hummed in response. After receiving my affirmative answer, she lowered her head and looked at my penis for about ten seconds before opening her tender, flower-like lips and gently taking the glans into her mouth. Even so, only half of it was inside, but I was still visibly aroused. Her lips lingered there for a while, neither penetrating nor withdrawing. I grew impatient, thrusting my hips upwards, wanting to push my penis deeper into her mouth. Her head involuntarily lifted as well. I was frantic, and my movements became rougher. I pressed her head down, immobilizing her, and then slowly pressed it down. She obediently opened her mouth wide, allowing my penis to enter little by little.

Her mouth was a unique experience—warm, smooth, and soft. My penis felt as if it were entering a vagina, yet it was a completely different sensation and psychological experience. Her moist lips pressed tightly against the skin of my penis, and a trickle of saliva flowed from her mouth onto my penis. I couldn't wait to thrust as deep as possible into her mouth, so I pressed her head down urgently and thrust my hips forcefully. As a result, my penis went in more than halfway, and she coughed violently. I quickly pulled out my penis, stood up, and stroked her back, my heart filled with pity and self-reproach. She coughed a few more times, her face turning red from coughing. As soon as she stopped coughing, she said to me, "It's okay, honey...you lie there...let's continue." As she spoke, her eyes kept blinking, her eyelashes fluttering, clearly not fully recovered. The emotion rising in my heart was almost burning me up.

She cleared her throat and said, "Honey, I've got it... Don't worry about it this time." Then she lowered her head again, taking my penis as deep as she could into her mouth. My vision blurred. How could she be so obedient and considerate? How could I possibly love her? Even giving my life for her would be insignificant.

Although she said she knew how, in reality, of course, she couldn't. She simply held my penis deep in her mouth, her tongue gently licking it. But what did it matter? Technique was irrelevant; as long as she was willing to do it for me, love was the greatest pleasure. The intertwining of emotion and pleasure was an indescribable experience. To have the woman I deeply love perform oral sex on me—there was no greater happiness in the world.

As we performed oral sex more often, she gradually became more skilled. She learned to move the penis in and out of her mouth like during intercourse, understanding the varying pressure and speed of her lips and tongue. She knew how to hold the penis with one hand and suck on the glans while stroking the scrotum with the other, or to kiss the scrotum while stroking the penis with her hand. She knew my preferences and how much pressure to use. Some of these skills were self-taught, some were learned from my instructions, and some were learned from watching porn.

It was quite amusing when Ting first watched those kinds of films at my house. She hid behind me and watched. When I turned around sharply to look at her, she quickly lowered her head. I laughed and said to her, "What's there to be embarrassed about? Just watch." Encouraged by me, she still kept her head down, glancing at the screen. When I came back from the bathroom, I used the sound of the flushing to cover my tracks and quietly walked to the door to peek at her. She was staring intently at the screen, watching naked men and women making love without restraint, the man roughly ravaging the woman. Ting's blank expression was quite adorable. I entered the room, hoping to see her nervous. Sure enough, she suddenly saw me and shifted uncomfortably, looking embarrassed.

I couldn't resist pouncing on Ting and quickly stripped off her clothes. She was aroused by the explicit scenes, her body going limp and yielding to my every whim. I reached out and touched her genitals; her juices were flowing down her buttocks. My penis was already erect, so I could penetrate her without any foreplay. We watched the positions on the screen and imitated the same movements. I thought Ting's moans were much more beautiful than the women in the films.

Ting lay face down on the bed, her fair, round buttocks raised towards me. I thrust into her from behind, and Ting gasped softly, "Honey... be a little rougher with me, like in the movies..." In the movies, men grab women's hair and violently squeeze their breasts. I couldn't bear to treat Ting like that, so I slapped her buttocks a little harder. Ting let out moans. I wondered if I should selectively imitate the actions in the movies. Seeing the red finger marks on Ting's fair buttocks, although I felt excited, I couldn't bear to continue hitting her. I gently stroked them with tenderness.

After the climax, Ting lay in my arms, buried her head in my chest, and said shyly, "Honey... this is so embarrassing... it feels like I'm looking at someone and being looked at." Then she chuckled, "But it's also so exciting." I laughed heartily and kissed her smooth forehead hard.

Time flies, and before we know it, we're juniors. Ting and I have become increasingly in sync and harmonious in our sex life and daily routines, and our days are filled with sunshine, fragrance, and color. Choosing various elective courses based on our interests is, in itself, a hobby of ours. One of Ting's music elective teachers learned that she could play the piano and wanted her to perform at the New Year's Eve party. I already knew she could play the piano; she had practiced since childhood and passed the amateur level 10 exam, but I had never had the chance to hear her perform. The teacher's insistence was hard to refuse, but Ting wasn't one to show off. She said to me with concern, "I've never played in front of so many people before. Will I be nervous?"

I encouraged her, saying, "Remember when you led the team at the high school sports meet? You were very nervous before, but you were very calm and confident on stage, with strong, rhythmic steps."

Ting added, "But I haven't practiced much in recent years, and I've become rusty."

I comforted her, "Don't worry, it's like riding a bicycle or swimming—once you learn it, you don't forget it. You'll recover after a few days of practice."

Ting nodded somewhat wistfully, as if facing a huge challenge. After that, she frequently spent time in the music room. Fortunately, the music teacher was an elderly woman.

The New Year's Eve party was held a few days before the New Year. The school auditorium was packed, and the open space was also full of people. I gathered many classmates to cheer for Ting. Her performance was scheduled for later, and I casually watched the earlier performances. The school was full of artistic talents; it truly was a vibrant and energetic event. But my mind wasn't on it; I was just nervously waiting for Ting to appear.

Finally, the host announced the piano solo and called out Ting's name. My roommate nudged me with her elbow, and our whole class cheered loudly. The loudest cheers came from two places in the auditorium: the area where Ting's classmates were sitting and our class's area.

Ting was wearing a white dress again, but this time it wasn't the one from high school. This one was even more elegant and refined. The piano was also very impressive; it probably usually stayed backstage in the auditorium, otherwise, moving it from elsewhere would have been too much trouble.

She bowed slightly and sat on the piano bench. Beautiful music flowed slowly from her fingers. It would be a waste if her slender, white fingers weren't used to play the piano. The beautiful woman in white and the black piano complemented each other perfectly, the scene so harmonious that the music seemed merely background. For some reason, the piano always seemed to envelop the listener in an elegant atmosphere. The audience fell silent, listening intently. Ting's long, flowing hair cascaded down her back; she was focused solely on the piano before her, her fingers like notes dancing on the black and white keys, her body swaying gently to the rhythm. She was completely immersed in the world of music. I, too, was captivated. At that moment, she seemed so sacred and ethereal, distant and noble. Was this the woman I spent every day with? I even felt a sense of disorientation, needing to recall our intimate moments to convince myself. But thinking of those things made me feel utterly despicable; how could I have done such a thing to her, desecrating her flawless purity? Thinking of those things now was utterly wrong.

When the piece ended, the audience applauded enthusiastically only after the lingering sound faded away. Even our two groups of friends and family were rendered powerless; our applause was drowned out. Ting stood up to thank everyone. Her beautiful face and graceful figure seemed even more outstanding at that moment, and her proud happiness made me dizzy. She was my girlfriend.

When I saw Ting after the party, she had changed back into her usual clothes and was smiling at me. I could tell she was also very happy, experiencing the sense of accomplishment and joy of being appreciated by others, but she never became so overjoyed that she forgot herself. I went up and hugged her to celebrate her success.

After that, Ting always attracted attention on campus, undoubtedly from people who had seen the party. Ting didn't enjoy the attention. Like any other day, she calmly went to class, ate, and studied. One weekend, we went to a hotel and made love.

Happy days always seem to pass too quickly. June, the month of farewell, finally arrived. A somber mood permeated the campus. Hysterical revelry was merely a mask for the release of sadness. Gatherings after gathering—classes, colleges, hometown friends, associations—were held, with glass after glass of wine, endless reminiscences, countless heartfelt farewells, lingering memories of the past, uncertainty about the future, and the inevitable partings of lovers. How could one bear it? Only a drunken dream could suffice before everyone went their separate ways.

Ting and I were determined never to break up; as long as our hearts were together, what obstacle was there?

We saw our classmates off one by one. Some returned home, others went directly to their workplaces. Countless tears fell at the train station as we parted. I had chosen this major out of love for nature—I won't go into the specifics—and now I was destined for fieldwork. I had already gone home, then returned to school, and now I was going straight to work. Ting was working at a local school.

By then it was July, and almost everyone had left. I had a ticket for July 11th, and the farewell was imminent. Those few days, I was with Ting every single moment, as if we would never see each other again. We made love passionately, shared long, passionate kisses, our lips reluctant to part. Sometimes we watched each other's chats, sometimes we sat quietly together. Although it wasn't a final farewell, how long would it be before we met again? Maybe six months, maybe a year. For us, it didn't matter; it was all far too long.

No matter how much you fear parting, it will always come. I said goodbye to the few classmates who hadn't left in the dorm, telling them not to see me off. I'd already sent all my things home, and there weren't many left, so there was no need for them to see me off.

I said the same thing to Ting. It might seem a little cruel, but I really didn't want to see the scene of heartbreaking farewells on the platform. Ting said to me, feeling wronged, "You saw so many people off, why didn't you see me off?"

I teased her, "I guess you cried as many times as you saw off people."

Ting said firmly, "I only cried twice. We agreed beforehand that no crying was allowed. Whoever cried is a little dog, okay? I definitely won't cry, I have to see you off." I couldn't persuade her otherwise, so I had to agree.

On the 11th, after Ting and I finished eating, we dawdled and arrived at the station. Looking at the people seeing each other off around me, I felt a little pitiful and lonely. Luckily, Ting was by my side. It's funny, Ting and I had met several times at the station while seeing off other people, but we were seeing off different people and didn't talk much to each other. This time, it was finally her turn to see me off. She wasn't as sad as when she saw others off before; instead, she smiled and kept talking to me. But neither my heart nor her laughter felt so bright.

We were about to board the train. I gave her a light kiss on the lips, not a forceful one—too intense, and neither of us would be able to handle it. A light kiss was just right.

I whispered in her ear, "Don't be silly and run after the train, understand? It's like something out of a movie, so cliché. Just stand there quietly, wave, and turn back. You'll be reporting for duty in a few days."

Ting nodded obediently.

I released her hand, and she took two steps forward, finally stopping. I sat down, looking at her below the window. She tried to smile at me, as if she wanted to say something, but then a long whistle sounded, and the train slowly started moving. Before Ting could say anything, she suddenly burst into tears: "When will you come back…when will you come back…" She kept repeating this one sentence, pushing aside the people in front of her, and walked behind my window, looking at me with teary eyes.

I waved to her, telling her not to follow: "It'll be quick... quick... listen to me, don't cry... what did you say before?"

Ting still wouldn't listen and started running, but the train was getting faster and faster, and she couldn't keep up. I leaned out the window, waved to her, and then turned away without looking at her. If she could see me, she probably would keep running.

After a while, I couldn't help but lean out the window again to look at her. Ting's figure in the distance had become very small. She slowly followed the train. The train took my body away, but my heart remained with Ting.

"Don't cry, whoever cries is a little dog." I thought of Ting's words, and the tears I had suppressed for so long finally flowed uncontrollably. I took out my phone and sent Ting a message: "I'll be a little dog with you too."

I thought to myself, is there such a cute little dog in the world as you, whom I love so deeply?

Trains evoke a sense of wanderlust, a feeling of being far from home and loved ones. Trees, houses, and fields rush past, falling behind time, fading into memory. This vivid image of the passage of time always makes me inexplicably sad, and this time, parting with Ting made the sadness even more profound.

Upon arriving at the base, I realized I had underestimated the hardship. The food and lodging were inconvenient; surrounded by men and cold equipment, life was utterly dull. Where were the magnificent landscapes I had envisioned? They probably only existed in my imagination. At first, I didn't know how to do anything, only able to assist my mentor. But even then, I had to brave wind and rain, sometimes sleeping in tents. Waking up in the morning, the cold dew clinging to my clothes, thinking of my family and Ting, I felt a pang of sorrow. Whenever I had the chance to call home, I always said, "Everything's fine, everything's fine." Ting said she was doing well too, that the teachers took good care of her, and the students liked her. She told me to stay put and that since I had chosen this path, I should embrace it.

Every time I hung up the phone, I would let out a long, wistful sigh. Life itself didn't matter; the hardest part was the intense longing for her, sometimes unbearable. But I didn't want to say it. What was the point of telling her about this unsolvable problem? Just saying "I love you" and "I miss you" was enough. I knew she felt the same way, so why make her worry? Ting talked more about office life—the clever students, the mischievous students, and the lively life in the teachers' dormitory—it made her seem like she was still a student. My stories were much more mundane. I often thought that with our grades back then, things shouldn't be like this now.

Later, the school gave some teachers a housing subsidy, and Ting rented a place outside. First, she rented a one-bedroom apartment far from the school; the indoor and outdoor environment was nice, but the commute was long. So she rented a place near the school, but the rent was higher and the space smaller. Ting always told me about these hardships and inconveniences in a light tone, as if they weren't so difficult.

But this time, Ting couldn't help but cry to me, "Honey... the landlord next door is really a bad person. A few nights when I came back, things in the room had been moved, but nothing was missing. There were signs that someone had slept on the bed, and the underwear in the closet had been rummaged through... I'm really scared..."

I was angry and anxious: "Then don't stay there anymore, find somewhere else quickly."

Ting said, "I told him I wanted to move out, but I paid a three-month deposit, and only half of it has been paid, and he won't give it back."

I said, "Then don't stay there. Safety is the most important thing. Besides, it's not worth living in constant fear and being disgusted by him. Listen to me, darling."

Ting then said pitifully, "I..." "I'm worried about the money, it'll just benefit that bad guy... he's so wicked..."

After a moment's thought, I made up my mind: "Let's get married. Once we buy a house, you won't have to work so hard running around anymore. Let's talk to our families and ask our parents for help."

Ting was a little excited: "We're getting married... but... I want us to earn our own money..."

I sighed: "Sigh... how many years would it take if we relied on ourselves? Neither of us earns much. Even if it's a loan, we can pay it back slowly later, so we can borrow less from the bank. It's better than paying a lot of interest to the bank."

Ting agreed, and both sets of parents agreed. They were all looking forward to our marriage.

The following January, I went home for vacation, and Ting also had her winter break. We looked at houses, bought a house, and started decorating. Although we bought an existing house and tried our best to speed up the construction, it wasn't finished by the end of the vacation, so I applied for an extension of my vacation.

Regarding the decorating style, I respected Ting's opinion. Deep down, she prefers a romantic and cozy style, so the bedroom was decorated in a country style. Looking at the pink floral patterns, I felt like I was falling into a gentle paradise, which I didn't particularly appreciate, but I didn't object. As long as Ting liked it, that was enough.

After the main construction was completed, I returned to the base. We planned to get married during the summer vacation. I wanted to use my own income to buy her a diamond ring, clothes, and a piano, so I actively saved money, avoiding drinking and dining with the senior craftsmen, as my income was much less than theirs. Some people would go to the city to visit prostitutes whenever they had the chance, but I never did. Not only did I not want to spend the money, but more importantly, I didn't want to betray Ting. So, my way of dealing with sex was masturbation accompanied by sexual fantasies about Ting. People said to me, "Why live so poorly, eating that boring food every day? Why not improve your diet?" I said, "The cafeteria is free! If you pay for your own meals, you won't get the free ones, and they'll even make your portion—isn't that a waste?"

Ting's summer vacation finally arrived, which was also my wedding leave. Ting and I bought a diamond ring and a piano together. Ting originally said her parents wanted to give her the piano in their house, but I said, "Your mother can play too, so if we give it to you, she won't have anything to play. Let's buy one ourselves." Although it cost most of my savings, seeing the tears glistening in Ting's eyes filled my heart with immense happiness.

At the wedding, many people said she was the most beautiful bride they had ever seen. I believe they weren't just flattering her, but genuinely sincere, because she was radiant and dazzling that day, so beautiful that it was almost blinding to look directly at her; once you did, you couldn't look away. We followed the emcee's instructions through the tedious procedures. Although I didn't like these formalities, they didn't matter in the face of such immense joy.

After the wedding, the guests left, and Ting and I sat down, simply holding hands and looking at each other quietly. We didn't need to say anything; we both knew each other's feelings. After so many years, we had finally waited for this day, and there was a sense of peace and relaxation.

On our honeymoon, we left all the hardships of the past behind, escaping the city and indulging in the beauty of nature. We didn't particularly like crowded tourist destinations; we preferred quiet and beautiful havens. We stayed in hotels, traditional guesthouses, and all sorts of other accommodations. Those were the most carefree, joyful, and leisurely days of our lives. Though we were on the road, our hearts were at peace, as if we were back home, living a peaceful, idyllic life. Seeing her smiling face as she slept at sunrise, I felt like a happy and content farmer, working at sunrise and resting at sunset, a loving and fulfilling life. I thought these beautiful days would last forever. However, in reality, we traveled to many places. It seems that a person's sense of belonging doesn't depend on where they are, but on who they are with. As long as I'm with Ting, the whole world is my home, and my heart is at peace.

While enjoying a visit to a guesthouse in a small seaside village, we embraced the sea to our hearts' content. The sea at the beach resort wasn't the real sea; it was just a tourist attraction. We walked a long way along the beach until we reached a secluded spot, far from the crowds. In this remote fishing village, undisturbed by throngs of tourists and free from worldly worries, this was the true sea that belonged to us. Between heaven and earth, only the sea and we existed, evoking a sublime sense of solitude. We sat on the sand, letting the gentle seawater caress our feet, as if the depths of the ocean were softly singing. As the sun set, it painted the clouds on the horizon with strange and magnificent colors. The afterglow spilled onto the shimmering sea, like scattered gold. The colors of heaven and earth complemented each other so harmoniously; beneath the azure sky lay the deep blue ocean, the sky crystal clear, the sea blue imbued with a sense of mystery.

The setting sun, tinged with orange and gold, bathed Ting's profile in a soft light, making her profile indescribably beautiful. She sat there quietly, ethereal and otherworldly, like a three-dimensional oil painting, or perhaps a colored sculpture. Yet, even the most exquisite work of art could not capture her vibrancy and spirit. Her lips were slightly upturned, her eyelashes fluttered occasionally, and she gazed intently at the horizon where the sea met the sky. "My dear, you are here admiring the scenery, but you are the most beautiful scenery in my eyes."

Ting leaned on my shoulder, silent for a long time. At this moment, words were unimportant. I gently pulled her into my arms; her hair exuded a faint fragrance. I lowered my head to kiss her lips. She closed her eyes, opened her cherry lips to meet mine, and our tongues intertwined. As we kissed, desire rose within us, unquenched by the cool sea breeze. My kisses turned from gentle to wild, a frenzied kiss on her face and neck. She lay in my arms, one hand gripping my arm, her breathing rapid. I caressed her breasts and unbuttoned her blouse, kissing the exposed flesh. Ting's body grew even more restless. Judging from her current state, she must be wet down there. I wanted to slip my hand inside her pants and feel the fluid flowing from her vagina, but my hands were dirty from the sand and seawater, so I refrained.

My penis was already erect, pressing against Ting's back, yearning to enter her body. Ting also twisted her body, rubbing against my penis. She was also aroused, softly calling out, "Husband...husband..." We knew each other's habits well. I knew this was Ting's euphemistic expression of wanting sex. She almost never asked directly with words, but rather indirectly expressed it through her body language and moaning calls. That's why her occasional lewd words excited me so much; the lewdness of a pure woman is most likely to stir a man's heartstrings.

I helped Ting up and laid her face down on the sand. Then, I lifted her skirt from behind and pulled down her panties, revealing her snow-white buttocks to the world. I took a deep breath; the vast ocean and her round, beautiful buttocks, the magnificent nature and the graceful human body—such a contrast and combination was truly a unique sight. As dusk approached, we looked around and saw no one, so we felt fearless.

I knelt behind Ting, kissed her buttocks, straightened up, and inserted my penis into her vagina. The fine sand beneath my legs was still warm, and Ting's vagina was equally warm; I imagined my penis was even hotter. Ting's soft, moist vagina eagerly swallowed my burning penis, and we both let out a pleasurable groan, which was quickly swallowed by the waves. Making love in this vast space created a feeling of oneness with nature.

I slowly thrust in and out of Ting, her long hair cascading like a waterfall onto the sand, the ends brushing against the grains with each movement. The waves gently rippled, crashing towards us, occasionally splashing up white foam. Ting's full buttocks swayed in response, the trembling flesh like white waves surging into the sea.

For millions of years, the sound of the waves has never ceased. The ocean, which has nurtured life on Earth, seems to be softly singing the most primal desires of life, while Ting also whimpered softly, expressing her body's desires and pleasures.

Ting's vagina gently enveloped my penis, warming and comforting it. It was a woman's natural compassion, like heaven and earth, nurturing life, embracing life, giving it the softest care. Yet life never seemed to know gratitude. My hot, hard penis was the same, churning and ravaging within Ting's soft vagina. Ting's melodious moans, like heavenly music, blended with the sound of the sea.

I caressed Ting's breasts with both hands, lifted her up, turned her face, and thrust my tongue into her mouth, stirring it around. Ting was simultaneously invaded from above and below, causing her to moan even louder, but these sounds were silenced by my mouth.

Ting's vagina gradually tightened, giving me increasingly intense pleasure. I released Ting's body, letting her lie down again, then grabbed her slender waist, and with a low growl, made my final thrust. Ting's buttocks rolled wildly as I pounded into her, and on the deserted beach, she groaned loudly without restraint—a sound I had never heard before. My pleasure surged through my body, and suddenly a gush of hot semen erupted, shooting entirely into Ting's vagina. I would never have done this before. At the same time, Ting's vagina throbbed, and she screamed, burying her head in her hair on the sand. She stretched her hands forward, digging into the sand, and slowly swung them backward, leaving deep marks on the beach with her slender fingers.

After the intense pleasure and exhaustion, I slumped to the ground. Ting remained lying on the ground, her back heaving, her breathing still catching in her throat. I helped her pull up her underwear and lower her skirt, then lay down on the beach, pulling her to my chest. Ting could surely feel my heart pounding. I reached out and touched her left breast; her heart was beating at the same pace as mine. I just kept touching it, waiting for it to calm down.

Ting said weakly, "Honey...you feel so good when you're hot...I wish it could stay there forever, always at that temperature, never cooling down."

She was, of course, referring to my semen. I stroked her hair and said, "Silly girl, how could it not cool down? But from now on, I can hot you without any worries. Are you happy?"

Ting shyly hummed in agreement, burying her head in my chest. I combed her hair, and we remained silent for a long time.

Unbeknownst to us, the beach gradually cooled, the moon had risen, and the cool sea breeze was pleasant. It was already late, but we remained lying side by side, unwilling to get up, gazing at the vast sky. The twinkling stars seemed within reach, yet remained unattainable. The loneliness that Ting and I felt in the face of such a vast expanse made us hold each other tightly. We were so small, yet we truly existed in the boundless universe, and we had met by chance in the vast river of time, possessing each other at this moment—what a fortunate thing!

That moment felt like a dream, one we didn't want to wake from, but we eventually had to get up and return to reality. Bathed in moonlight, facing the sea breeze, we walked on the waves.

Those days themselves felt like a dream, a happiness that seemed unreal even in retrospect. After returning to our separate lives, we remained far apart. In the solitude of those years, in the desolate wilderness, I countless times recalled each moment, wondering what Ting was doing, whether she was asleep, and whether she was thinking of me too. I felt incredibly guilty for leaving her alone in our new home so soon after our marriage. I decided to return to her city as soon as possible, no matter what it took; what could be more important than being together? I wondered how she endured and dealt with the agonizing longing and nagging sexual desire.

I asked her about it, and she told me quite casually that when she did it herself, she imagined her fingers as my penis, as if she were really having sex with me, and it felt really good. The more relaxed she seemed, the more guilty I felt. Why shouldn't a young woman get the satisfaction of sex for months on end? I think she was just pretending to be relaxed to avoid making me feel guilty. I empathized with the repression of unreleased sexual desire; it wasn't so easy.

So, during the holidays, when we were together in our own house, we always made love passionately, as if trying to make up for what we lacked in the past and future.

During that holiday, Ting's colleagues had a gathering, and those with spouses were required to bring them, so I joined them. The teachers would sing loudly after drinking. After singing two songs, I felt the room was too stuffy, so I went to the bathroom to wash my face and went to the window in the corridor for some fresh air. At that moment, someone patted me on the back. It was one of Ting's colleagues, about my age, who smiled at me kindly. I nodded and smiled back politely.

He offered me a cigarette, but I said I didn't smoke.

After lighting his own, he said to me, "This is the first time I've seen you today."

I politely replied, "Me too, nice to meet you."

He was in the same position as me, leaning on the windowsill, and said, "Everyone is very curious about Ting's husband, wondering what kind of extraordinary person he is."

I couldn't help but smile, "Just an ordinary person, sorry to disappoint everyone."

He quickly said, "No, no, I can tell you're a very good person, cultured and refined, and very good to Ting. I believe Ting won't make a mistake in choosing you."

I seemed to feel that this person's feelings for Ting were not just ordinary as colleagues, and I politely thanked him.

He sighed and said, "You are also very fortunate. Ting is truly a good woman. Perhaps I shouldn't have told you this on our first meeting, but you don't know how many male teachers at school are lusting after Ting."

My heart skipped a beat, and I was momentarily speechless.

He continued, "But don't worry, Ting is a virtuous woman. She ignores all men's advances, but she's not completely indifferent. This dignified yet respectful attitude... To be honest, I was once attracted to her group, but I later came to admire her. Not everyone is like me."

I stared intently at him, as if concentrating all my anger on him, trying to read more from his eyes. He smiled helplessly, "Believe me, if I still had feelings for Ting, I wouldn't be telling you this. I'm only trying to be helpful." "Go back to her. This separation isn't a long-term solution. Don't think all teachers are noble soul engineers. Some male teachers are incredibly lecherous; even men in their forties aren't young at heart. I know their feelings for Ting very well. They don't care if she's married or not, or if her husband isn't around. In their eyes, a single woman is just an easier target for sex. I know of at least two couples like that at our school. They're playing with fire; things will inevitably come to light sooner or later."

I don't care how many extramarital affairs there are at their school; I only care who's harassing Ting.

He continued talking about Ting: "Ting rejects all advances, is popular, and is very chaste, which makes other female teachers very jealous. What's most infuriating is that a female teacher who's having an affair with someone else actually said Ting was pretending to be pure. Damn it, a whore has the nerve to be right! What kind of world is this?" He lost his composure in anger and started swearing, but this actually made me feel a lot more favorably towards him.

I squeezed his arm, unsure what to say, only managing to stammer, "Thank you..."

He said, "No need to thank me. I had my own selfish reasons. If you trust me, come back. Ting seems to be very popular with teachers and students, but she also has her own hardships. It's really not easy for a woman."

My heart sank. I told him, "You're right. I was already considering coming back, but now it seems I need to hurry."

He nodded, turned, and went back to the loudly singing private room. I stood alone by the window, lost in thought.

Just then, Ting came out. Seeing that I hadn't returned for so long, she came looking for me. She asked me with concern, "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

I looked at her with boundless affection and said, "It's nothing. I just came out for some fresh air and to see the night view."

Having heard others' stories, I felt both love and heartache for Ting, thinking I couldn't let her endure any more of that.

I called my boss and told him my thoughts. I said I really didn't want to work anymore. He was surprised, since it came out of nowhere and was quite sudden. He asked why, and I said I missed my family. He thought for a moment and said, "I didn't want to tell you so soon. I had originally decided to transfer you back to the company in another year, with a promotion. You have a solid theoretical foundation and two years of practical experience. It would be a waste to just quit like this. Why don't you hold on for a few more months?"

The company he mentioned was in the city where Ting lived, which gave me a glimmer of hope. I quickly asked him, "Are you sure you can be transferred then?"

He said confidently, "You can rest assured, but don't let your mind waver."

I was overjoyed that I could be back with Ting in a few more months. I even wanted to kiss my boss over the phone. I thanked him profusely, and he said it was no trouble and that he could extend my leave for a few more days. It's amazing that a state-owned enterprise can have such an understanding and kind boss. I was actually a little reluctant to leave him. He's a good person; he's settled down and started a family in that small town. I think he's the one who truly loves his work.

Ting's winter vacation was over, and I was leaving in a few days. But this departure was different from the past; ahead wasn't a vast wilderness, but a field full of hope.

During the day, I was home alone, and the leisurely life made me a little bored, so I went online to kill time. I hadn't used QQ in a long time, and I couldn't find anyone to chat with. Suddenly, I had a whim to check Ting's QQ and see who she was chatting with. I knew it wasn't very ethical to peek at other people's chats, but once the thought popped into my head, my curiosity was uncontrollable. So I tried entering Ting's birthday as my password, but it wouldn't log in. I changed it to my own birthday, and it logged in successfully. A wave of emotion washed over me; Ting's love for me permeated every little detail of her life.

She didn't have many friends, so it seemed they didn't chat often. I randomly scrolled through a few, and found that they only exchanged a few perfunctory words before stopping. The ones she chatted with most were old classmates. Suddenly, I discovered a chat history spanning hundreds of pages—so much chat in just two months! My heart skipped a beat. The other person started with the usual farewells, asking where I was from, etc., suggesting a complete stranger online. But Ting had been chatting with a stranger for so long! I scrolled on.

At first, Ting was just chatting casually, but the person was very talkative and persistent, greeting me every night, showing concern and care. Gradually, Ting talked more with him, touching on real-life topics. I realized Ting was truly an open and honest person. She was intelligent, but overly honest, a trait she'd maintained since high school, even after entering the workforce. Everything she told him was true, including her age, her job, my job, and that I wasn't home. After she told him this, the person became noticeably more enthusiastic, and they chatted every night.

Seeing this, my heart ached. I didn't want Ting to have such deep conversations with other men, but thinking of Ting spending each night alone in her empty house, with no one to talk to, I told myself I had to try my best to understand her.

Continuing the conversation, the person asked Ting, "Your husband isn't home, are you lonely all alone?"

Ting said she was alright. The person said, "Don't lie to me. How can you not be lonely sleeping alone in one bed all night?"

Ting said, "Forget it, let's not talk about this." The person tactfully changed the subject, but I could sense a hint of disappointment in Ting's voice; the person had touched a raw nerve.

Later in the conversation, the person brought up the topic again, asking Ting, "Living alone, how do you deal with your sexual desires?"

Ting answered quite readily, "I take care of it myself."

The man pressed on, asking, "How did you solve it?"

Ting said, "Why ask so many questions? I don't want to talk about this." I agreed with Ting's attitude; discussing sex with other men was disrespectful.

The man said, "Anyway, I don't know who you are, and you don't know who I am. Once the computer is off, nobody knows anyone. What's wrong with chatting casually?"

Ting said she was hungry and going to get some late-night snacks, ending the chat that night.

I was furious with the man; he clearly had ill intentions, but Ting didn't seem to notice. Why did she continue talking to her? I couldn't help but feel resentful towards Ting as well.

The man clearly hadn't given up on the topic. Seeing that Ting wasn't talking about her, he took the initiative to talk about his own sex life, describing in detail some aspects of his lovemaking. Ting didn't interrupt him, only occasionally humming in agreement, indicating she was listening. But wouldn't Ting's body react to all this?

The man said again, "We've talked so much today, it's gotten me excited. My penis has been hard, and I really want to masturbate. Can I masturbate for you to see?" Then, without waiting for Ting's reply, he initiated a video call, and Ting actually accepted. My heart ached terribly. Another man's penis had insulted Ting's eyes; how could I not be heartbroken?

After the video call ended, the man said, "Although I can't see you, it's very exciting to have you watching me masturbate. Do you think it's good?"

Ting only vaguely replied, "Oh, goodnight, time for bed." Was she saying she thought it was good? What was Ting thinking at that moment? She infuriated me; she actually watched another man masturbate.

Later in the chat, the man asked Ting, "That night you saw me masturbating, your body reacted, right?"

Looking at the chat history, Ting took a long time to reply, "Yes."

The man continued, "What reaction?"

Ting didn't answer for a while, so the man pressed, "What reaction did your body have? Tell me, don't be shy, nobody can see, this is our secret, and neither of us knows who the other is, what are you afraid of?" I hated that man so much; he must do this often, he must have experience and know how to disarm a woman's defenses.

Ting hesitated for a long time before saying, "I got wet down there." Ting actually reacted to seeing another man masturbate! I don't know how to describe my feelings; I simply couldn't bear to watch anymore. Tears of grief and anger welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision.

The man said, "Did you touch your genitals afterwards?"

Ting slowly replied, "Yes."

The man immediately asked, "Did you also reach orgasm?"

Ting hummed in agreement again.

These glaring words pierced my heart, leaving countless holes. Not only did I dare not continue looking at them then, but every time I recalled them afterward, it was painful. Yet, those words kept replaying in my mind, refusing to let me go, tormenting me.

The man said, "Then can I see you masturbating?"

This time, Ting answered quickly and decisively, "No."

The man said, "Don't you have a camera?"

Ting was still as infuriatingly honest as ever, "Yes, but no."

The man said, "Okay then, you watch me masturbate, and you show me your body. You don't show your face, you're dressed, you don't need to take it off, and you don't need to touch me."

Ting said, "No."

The man said, "Why not? Let me see." Then he kept coaxing and cajoling, saying just one glance, just one glance.

Finally, Ting hummed in agreement, and then the video call connected.

The man shamelessly said, "Wow, you have a great figure. You'd be even more beautiful naked. Let's chat by voice, okay? We won't type anymore."

Ting continued typing, "No, let's type."

The man said, "Okay, I'm going to masturbate while looking at your body. You should also look closely at my penis; it'll ejaculate thick semen for you in a bit."

Then he kept typing lewd and obscene words. I couldn't bear to read any longer, so I flipped through the pages. Ting and the man shared many of her innermost thoughts, things she had never told me. I felt so sad. Why did she have to open her heart to a stranger? Ting said that she felt her libido had been increasing over the past two years. She didn't like masturbating; she preferred having sex with her husband. However, she felt compelled to masturbate, and sometimes she felt very sad. Her words made me sad too. Ting always appeared so strong in front of me, as if all difficulties were insignificant to her. But how could anyone not have a vulnerable spot deep inside?

Suddenly, I noticed a video file that the man had sent to Ting on one of the pages. I opened it, and the screen showed Ting, while the smaller image in the lower right corner showed the man—a dark-skinned, muscular man who looked to be in his thirties. He was saying such cheesy things, and he was typing naked. It seemed they had video chatted again, and the man had recorded it and sent it to Ting.

The man said, "Baby, turn on the microphone. It's too inconvenient for me to masturbate while typing."

Ting continued typing, "I'd rather type. I don't want anyone to hear my voice."

The man said, "I'm not just anyone. Fine, then you can watch me masturbate." Then he grabbed his thick, long, dark penis and started stroking it. Ting, why did you have to watch that ugly thing?

The man typed again: "Baby, can I see your breasts? Just one look, just one look, and I'll get really excited."

Ting's hands lingered on the keyboard for a while before finally moving to her clothes. She pulled her top off her shoulders, unhooked her bra, and revealed the breasts I had loved and longed for countless times. They were so beautiful—fair, round, and full, with two pink nipples already erect. Ting was excited, and I felt infinitely sad.

The man typed frantically with excitement: "Ah, baby, your breasts are so beautiful. I really want to pounce on them and kiss them desperately. Can you touch them for me?"

Ting actually obeyed and kneaded her breasts a few times before putting on her clothes.

The man seemed unsatisfied: "Don't put them on so quickly. I haven't seen enough yet."

Then he stared at Ting's body on the screen, stroking his penis. Ting was wearing a very thin nightgown. She sat in a chair in front of the computer, allowing a man masturbating to lewdly grope her body.

The man masturbated excitedly, typing to Ting, "Baby, you must be so wet, you definitely want to have sex. Let my big cock inside you, don't hold back."

Ting's chest heaved violently. Although her face couldn't be seen, she was definitely staring intently at the screen.

The man continued, "Don't hold back, you can touch your clitoris through your clothes. It hurts me to see you holding back like this."

Ting indeed reached down and pressed her hand between her legs. Her body jerked violently, and her fingers lingered on her vulva, gently rubbing it. The man watched with great excitement and increased his masturbation.

He said again, "Baby, touching through clothes isn't very satisfying. Take your clothes off, we can both watch each other masturbate naked, and then masturbate ourselves, how exciting! Come on, let's use voice chat instead of typing."

His words seemed to have some kind of magic, or perhaps Ting's lust was too high, she obediently took off her clothes one by one and started the voice chat. The man kept exclaiming, "Ah, baby, your breasts are so beautiful, your waist is so slim, and your legs are so pretty too. I really want to know what you look like, you must be a beauty, I really want to fuck you, baby."

Ting leaned back in her chair, spread her legs, rubbing her clitoris with one hand and touching her breast with the other, making the moans she only made when she had sex with me.

The man said excitedly, "Baby, your voice is so beautiful, I just heard it, and your moans made me weak all over." His voice was deep and rough, as lewd as his penis.

He then commanded Ting, "Push your breasts together, okay? I'm imagining you giving me a blowjob. You have such beautiful breasts."

Ting obediently squeezed her breasts together. The man said, "Good girl, now go touch your clitoris. My hand was only gone for a moment, look how impatient you are."

Ting indeed went to rub her clitoris again, her other hand's fingers entering her vagina. Ting moaned, her body twisting, lowering herself further and further down the chair. Her face, lost in passion, appeared on the screen! That beautiful face I loved so dearly, now, in the throes of lust, her brow furrowed, her lips parted, her eyes fixed on another man masturbating on the screen.

The man shouted again, "Oh my god, you're so beautiful! So beautiful! I can't take it anymore!"

Ting, oblivious to her exposed face, continued masturbating, her legs spread and resting on the armrests of the chair. Her small, white feet, which I had played with and kissed, trembled in the air, her toes curling restlessly. Her genitals were clearly visible; the glistening fluid was her discharge. Ting rubbed her genitals with both hands, her right hand rapidly rubbing her clitoris, her left hand's fingers moving in and out of her vagina, her eyes fixed on the man's penis. I sadly imagined that Ting must be yearning for that man's penis to penetrate her vagina.

Suddenly, the man stood up and shouted, "Ahhh... I'll fuck you... I'll fuck you to death..." Then a stream of white semen shot onto the screen.

Hearing his crude words and seeing him ejaculate, Ting suddenly screamed too, frantically rubbing and thrusting her genitals with both hands, her head tilting back against the chair back, frozen for a few seconds, then her body trembled, her hand movements gradually slowing down, finally lying back in the chair, one hand hanging off the armrest, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed over, no longer looking at the screen. After several seconds, she suddenly remembered something, got up, and turned off the video.

They reached climax simultaneously, as if Ting had really slept with that man. My tears almost dried up, and in this extreme grief and anger, my penis actually became erect. I pounded it hard: "What's so hard... what's so hard... my wife is with someone else..."

I looked around; the white walls seemed empty. Suddenly, panic gripped me. I didn't think about what to do when I saw Ting; I only thought about what I should do now, what I should do now. It was as if even my existence had suddenly lost its meaning. Ting was so important to me, the pillar and faith of my life. I had lost myself in love, or rather, I had become one with Ting. Now that my faith had collapsed, where should I go? My mind was a blank. No matter how desolate the field of work was, there was always a beautiful and warm hope in my heart. I had a family; my wife was waiting for me at home. But now, my home had become the most hopeless field, with nothing left to look forward to.

I had been trying to understand Ting; I understood her loneliness and anguish, but I couldn't understand to this extent, couldn't understand her having a naked chat with another man in the middle of the night. Why is she like this? At school, she can keep her distance from all men, so why can't she control herself online? Maybe it's because of this overcorrection; without normal male friends, she's developed a greater craving for men? Or is it because of uncontrollable sexual desire that she seeks stimulation this way? My head is throbbing with worry. When my emotions are in turmoil, I can't think rationally; all sorts of thoughts are jumping around in my head. I stare blankly at the screen, my trembling hand holding the mouse, scrolling through the chat history with fear and sorrow. I'm terrified that my worst fears will come true.

The man asked Ting, "Baby... why do you get excited when I say vulgar and obscene things to you? You're so beautiful and innocent, and you like those kinds of things too. That's interesting."

Ting said, "When you say those things to me, I feel like I become smaller, weaker, like I'm shrinking in your hand and being squeezed at will, but you won't hurt me, you'll protect me, which makes me feel safe."

The man said, "Do you feel particularly feminine then?"

Ting said, "Yes, sometimes I really want to be a feminine woman, small enough to be held in someone's hand." "I held it in my mouth for a long time, until I was exhausted, really exhausted. I wasn't as strong as I thought."

Seeing this, tears welled up in my eyes again. My heartache for Ting made me forget my anger towards her. Yes, I could imagine how difficult things were for her, how much she suffered, but I couldn't truly understand. She thought of me and didn't want me to worry about her, so she wouldn't confide in me, but that also prevented me from truly understanding her, from truly comforting her heart, leaving her to bear the loneliness alone. Coupled with the torment of sexual desire, how could she control herself?

These things happened before my vacation. During the vacation, Ting didn't contact that person again, but he still frequently left messages. No wonder when I came back, I saw that Ting's eyes were somewhat evasive; it was guilt. I thought, don't feel guilty. As long as you don't contact me again, I won't mention it. Let it disappear forever, as if nothing happened. I will return to your side as soon as possible.

But I still couldn't let go, couldn't be completely without sadness, so I decided to return to the base early, hoping to change my environment and forget these things. I bought a ticket for the next day. When Ting came back, she asked me in surprise, "Weren't there still a few days left? Why are you leaving tomorrow?" I said the last-minute notice brought forward. I wasn't really angry with Ting anymore, just sad, but I didn't want to show it.

Ting still noticed my change in mood. She asked considerately, "Honey, what's wrong? You seem a little unhappy."

I shook my head, forced a smile, and said, "It's nothing, I'm just unhappy because I'm leaving." After saying that, I hugged Ting tightly and didn't want to let go for a long time. I love her so much, I didn't have time to vent my anger on her. My heartache for her occupied a larger space in my heart, so I couldn't bear

to leave. After returning to the base, I was constantly worried. That incident became a heartache for me, something that couldn't be forgotten just by changing environments. I regretted leaving in such a hurry, not bringing it up with Ting, not having a proper talk. Now I always suspect that she is still in contact with that person, but I don't know how to tell her.

Every Sunday afternoon, Ting and I rest. In the past, we would call each other, and I would take a long bus ride to an internet cafe in the city to chat with her. My mind became increasingly suspicious. I downloaded software that allowed me to forcibly turn on her webcam, and while chatting, I secretly watched Ting, gazing at her face with boundless affection, while also checking if she was chatting with anyone else. The light on my home webcam had been off; I was thinking of replacing it, but it ironically helped me, preventing Ting from noticing the webcam was on.

That day, I was chatting with Ting in a private room at an internet cafe, watching her face without her knowing. The sweet smile that appeared on her face while we chatted made me have no doubt that she deeply loved me. Only when chatting with someone you love would you show such a genuine, heartfelt smile—it couldn't be faked, and she didn't know I was watching her; she wouldn't try to fake it. This made me feel guilty; secretly spying on her like this was truly despicable.

We talked about sex for a while, reminiscing about our past lovemaking. I said, "No matter what, I can't help but masturbate whenever I think of you. What should I do? I just love you too much."

Ting didn't understand the meaning of "no matter what." She said, "Ugh, talking about those things makes me feel all hot and bothered. Honestly, in broad daylight."

Just then, the doorbell rang. Ting typed, "Honey, wait a minute."

Ting got up and left the bedroom to open the living room door. I could hear Ting talking to a man through my earphones. Judging from the voice, it sounded like the man she had been video chatting with! My heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be him. How could he be at my house? I

heard Ting say nervously, "What are you doing here? How did you find my way home?"

The man chuckled in a low voice and said, "I came to see you, baby. If you had given me the address, I would have come much sooner. I only told you the name of the neighborhood. Do you know how long I had to wait for you at the entrance?" Oh my god, this man had been following Ting! But how could Ting tell a stranger the truth? I was so worried.

Ting whispered, "You should leave now." Then she heard the door close, but the man said, "You're already here, why are you leaving?" He actually went inside and closed the door.

Ting's voice was anxious: "What are you doing? Why did you come in?"

The man said, "When you were video chatting with me, weren't you always crying and begging me to sleep with you? Now that I'm here, why are you trying to kick me out?"

Ting's voice sounded tense and scared: "Don't say anything, just leave... leave now."

The man whispered, "My darling... I missed you so much, I can't take it anymore." Then she screamed, and the man carried her into the bedroom. My eyes were blazing with anger.

Ting struggled incessantly, her voice low and angry as she cried out, "What are you doing? Let me go... I'm calling the police if you keep this up."

The man was a head taller and stronger than Ting, and she was held tightly in his arms, unable to break free.

The man said, "Let's do it once, okay? It's not enough to just do it on video all the time. I'm so horny looking at your body but can't have you."

He grabbed Ting with both hands and tried to kiss her. Ting desperately tilted her head back to dodge, but how could she escape? His dark face rubbed against Ting's fair face and neck. Ting's arms were bound by him, and she couldn't move. She didn't cry for help, but just used her knees to hit him and her feet to stomp on him. Perhaps the man was hurt by the stomping, because he grimaced and turned Ting around so that her back was to him. He used his left hand to firmly fix Ting's arms around her waist, and his other hand to rub Ting's breasts. Ting kept twisting her body, but she couldn't escape his control. She kicked backward with her feet, but the man behind her didn't care at all. She bent her legs, trying to use her own weight to make the man let go, but the man was very strong. He lifted her up with his hand, and Ting was lifted into the air. Her legs kicked wildly in the air, but to no avail.

The man reached between Ting's legs and began to grope her. Ting cried out softly, "What are you doing... How could you do this..."

The man grinned lewdly and menacingly, "What do you think I'm doing... Of course, I'm doing it to you."

Ting sobbed, "Please... Don't do this to me... Please let me go."

The man didn't answer and continued to grope between Ting's legs. Ting squeezed and twisted her legs, trying to get rid of the man's hands, but it was impossible.

All of this happened so fast that I was completely stunned. When I came to my senses, I quickly grabbed my phone and called the police. My fingers were trembling as I dialed. I accidentally pressed the wrong button and hung up. I was frantic with worry. When I finally got through, I remembered from the other end's accent that I had called the police station in my city, so I hung up again. How could I get through to the police station in Ting's city? I was desperate. I thought I should try contacting the local police station, but this time, no matter how many times I dialed, I couldn't get through. I was so anxious that I couldn't even curse anymore. Should I call a friend in that city and ask them to call the police? But what will Ting do if word gets out? How can I get through directly?

At that moment, the man pulled down Ting's pants and began to grope her genitals without any resistance. Ting screamed, but her cries did nothing to move him. She twisted helplessly, kicking her legs in the air, but that did nothing to stop his actions; he continued to rub her genitals.

Suddenly, he pulled his hand from her genitals and held it in front of her eyes. His hand was covered in her vaginal fluid. Ting looked extremely ashamed and turned her head away from his hand. The man laughed and continued to grope her genitals. Gradually, Ting's legs drooped limply, and her cries subsided. She stopped struggling. Her two little feet intertwined and rubbed together. I thought to myself, "Oh my god, has Ting been aroused?" Why did I say those provocative things to Ting before, letting her be violated when she was excited?

The man loosened his grip on Ting's left arm, causing her legs to buckle and she nearly collapsed to the floor. He caught her again to prevent her from falling. Holding her close, his right hand continued to grope her genitals, while his left hand slipped inside her shirt to touch her breasts. Ting didn't wear a bra at home, so her breasts were directly exposed to his touch. I gripped my phone, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of sorrow and indignation.

Ting's pants were pulled down to her knees, revealing her white, pert buttocks. The man's legs were spread wide, his groin pressing against her buttocks, his hands continuing their actions, while his mouth groped and nibbled at her neck and shoulders.

The man began to undress, placing his clothes on the table. Ting, temporarily freed from his control, seemed to suddenly regain her senses. She pulled up her pants and ran towards the door. Before the man had finished undressing, he chased after her, grabbing her tightly with his strong arms, and said menacingly, "Where do you think you're going...try running again!"

Ting was in pain from the tightness, her face contorted in agony. She cried out, "Ouch...it hurts...let me go...please!"

The man asked, "Are you still going to run?"

Ting, her voice trembling with tears, timidly replied, "No, I'm not running anymore."

The man released Ting and continued undressing. Ting obediently stood still. The man was now naked; he had thick arms and legs, a bulging chest, and a protruding belly. He then turned to undress Ting. Ting crossed her arms over her chest, but the man twisted her arms, and Ting, powerless to resist, had her top ripped off. He kicked her pants, which had fallen to her knees, then picked her up, stepping on them as well, leaving her naked before him. Her legs were together, her arms crossed over her chest, like a wounded fawn, her terrified expression heartbreaking.

The man stepped back, scrutinizing Ting's body, clicking his tongue in admiration: "This woman... fucking amazing." Then he lunged forward and grabbed Ting, kissing her cheek like a wild beast. Ting turned her head left and right, avoiding his kiss, but the man grabbed her chin, causing her to cry out in pain, forced to open her mouth, unable to turn her head any further.

The man said gruffly, "Stick your tongue out!" Ting obediently stuck out her tender little tongue. The man opened his mouth wide and took it in, sucking roughly and making smacking noises, as if he were eating something delicious. Ting tilted her head back, her waist pulled forward by the man, her buttocks sticking out backward. Her once neatly combed hair was now loose down her back.

The man and Ting stood naked facing each other, his thick, long penis stretching forward, almost touching Ting's body. His right hand, which had been pinching Ting's face, suddenly opened its fingers to grab Ting's breasts. Ting instinctively dodged backward, but the man's left arm pulled her even closer. Her breasts were squeezed and kneaded in his hands, their once beautiful shape now deformed beyond recognition.

My heart ached. I never dared to use too much force on Ting's breasts, fearing they couldn't withstand rough treatment. At this moment, I no longer hoped anyone could stop it; it was too late. I only hoped that the man wouldn't hurt Ting, wouldn't be too brutal, and that Ting wouldn't struggle, lest she anger him and cause further physical harm. I was forced to think only this way. Watching my wife being violated helplessly, yet still hoping everything would happen peacefully and smoothly, my heart was bleeding.

The man's erect, enormous penis pressed against Ting's lower abdomen, thrusting forward repeatedly, as if trying to pierce her body. Ting's tongue was held in his mouth, and she could only make muffled sounds. Suddenly, the man grabbed Ting's shoulders and turned her around. Ting's mouth was no longer gagged, and she finally let out a long sigh of relief. But the man grabbed Ting's breasts from behind, making her cry out again. She grabbed the man's wrists with both hands, but couldn't make him stop. She just kept crying and begging, "Please be gentle...please be gentle...please be gentle..."

The man's penis was pressed against Ting's buttocks and rubbing against them. He lowered his head and nibbled at Ting's smooth shoulders. Ting's hands fell down hopelessly. Although only her profile could be seen, the pitiful expression of pain and sorrow on her face was unbearable to look at.

The man pushed Ting forward until they reached the piano. With a "whoosh," he lifted the piano lid. Ting, heartbroken, immediately reached out to steady it, afraid of breaking it. The man said to Ting, "You can play the piano, right? Play me a little tune to liven things up when I'm fucking you." Ting didn't move, her hands still hanging at her sides. The man grabbed Ting's hands and pressed them onto the keys, then grabbed her breasts. Ting's hands remained on the keys, and she didn't play. The man swore and commanded, "You fucking disobedient girl, hurry up and play, or I'll pinch your breasts off!" Ting cried out and bent over. It seemed the man had used too much force. My heart ached terribly, and I cursed that man and his ancestors for eighteen generations. When Ting straightened up, tears streamed down her face. She bit her lip and sobbed softly as she began to play. She played the same piece from the party years ago, but the music was stagnant and mournful, completely lacking its former charm. The man, however, was delighted, repeatedly saying, "Beautiful...beautiful...it's fucking great to listen to her play while touching her breasts."

After touching her breasts for a while, he grabbed Ting's buttocks with one hand and slapped them hard on her buttocks. Her plump buttocks trembled from the slaps, and the music became louder and softer with each slap. Soon, many red finger marks appeared on her buttocks. He reached between Ting's legs, moving upwards from her thighs, forcibly separating them. His fingers touched her genitals. Ting cried out, squatting down with her legs together. The music suddenly stopped. She turned and grabbed his hand. He immediately said, "Turn around and play your piano! Does touching your pussy affect your playing? Say something... Does it affect you? Say something!"

He must have used force. Ting's voice was strained with pain: "It doesn't affect me..."

He said, "Then keep playing!" But his hand kept moving, saying as he did so, "Slut, you're so wet after just a little touching, it's all over your legs. What are you pretending for?"

Ting's body suddenly trembled, and she cried out. It seemed he had inserted his fingers into her vagina. He commanded, "Don't stop, keep playing." So the music continued intermittently. When his hand moved slowly, the music flowed more smoothly; when it moved quickly, the music almost stopped, accompanied by a low, suppressed moan from Ting's throat.

Ting seemed to suddenly remember something and pleaded with the man, "Let me say something on the computer, just one sentence, please..."

The man refused without hesitation, "No, I'm about to have sex with you, what are you going to say to anyone else?"

Ting continued to beg, "I was just chatting with my husband, I'll tell him I'm going out for a bit, I won't say anything else, so he won't worry, please..."

The man smiled and said, "You were just chatting with your husband... I'm sorry I interrupted you, go tell him, I'll carry you." Saying that, he held Ting from behind and slowly walked her to the computer.

Ting's beautiful, sorrowful face appeared before me. She bent over, her slender hands trembling as she typed on the keyboard, constantly making mistakes and deleting. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I didn't even realize it until it reached my lips.

The man stood behind Ting, grinning smugly. "Don't be nervous, type slowly. Do you want to tell your husband you're about to be fucked by me?"

Ting ignored him and continued typing. Suddenly, she screamed, "Ah..." and stopped typing, collapsing onto the keyboard. The man grabbed Ting's waist, grinning maliciously, "Fuck...this vagina...so slippery and tight...so good...so good..."

He had actually inserted his penis into Ting's vagina right in front of me. Even though I was mentally prepared, seeing it was still unbearable.

He thrust into Ting repeatedly, saying, "Keep typing, we're not finished yet. How about we turn on the webcam and let your husband see you being fucked by me, hahaha..." They had no idea that I was watching that scene with the webcam on, heartbroken and devastated. Ting struggled to sit up and continued typing. That pretty face that had once smiled at me, acted coquettishly, been angry with me, and cried before now held an expression I'd never seen before: her brows were furrowed, her eyes vacant. The anger had faded, replaced by profound humiliation, despair, and sorrow. She bit her lower lip tightly, as if enduring immense pain. The man continued, saying, "Damn it, why aren't you moaning? Aren't you enjoying this? Moan... moan while you're talking to your husband!" Ting still bit her lip tightly, as if trying to draw blood, remaining silent. She didn't want her body and soul to be conquered by another man while she was talking to me.

The words were finally typed out and appeared on my screen: "Honey, my colleague just called and said she wants to go shopping with me. I don't want to go, but I can't persuade her otherwise. We chatted for a while. I was changing clothes earlier. I have to go out now. Talk to you later."

The man laughed loudly: "Was it changing clothes or taking them off, haha..." After saying that, he grabbed Ting's slender waist with both large hands and began to thrust even harder. Ting immediately closed QQ after sending that message, and then let out a long, suppressed moan, as if she thought I wouldn't hear it now. But I could still hear it. The moan pierced my eardrums. That sound was so familiar. I used to only hear it when we were making love, but now it was coming from under another man's crotch.

Ting's hands were on the table, her face was close to mine. Every thrust of the man caused a change in Ting's expression, and every time she made a low moan, I could see every little expression of hers clearly. Every sound rang in my ears, making it unbearable. Ting's breasts were right in front of me, swaying back and forth from the impacts from behind. Her pink nipples were engorged and erect, like two cherries. Only when the man grabbed them with his hands did her breasts stop swaying. He roughly squeezed and rubbed her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples, flattening the full, plump cherries.

Suddenly, the man said, "That piece isn't finished yet, is it? Keep playing!" Ting kept gently shaking her head, but the man ignored her and picked her up, carrying her towards the piano. But under the man's thrusting, Ting could only use the piano keys as a table to support her body, unable to play at all. The man yelled, "Finish playing quickly, or you'll suffer!"

Ting struggled to stand, playing each key one by one with difficulty, like a beginner, her rhythm much slower. The man became excited, holding Ting and thrusting his hips back and forth forcefully, Ting's buttocks slapping loudly. Ting's fingers gradually clenched, and suddenly she screamed, slamming her hands down on the piano keys. The piano emitted a huge roar, and Ting's upper body slumped onto the piano, her body going limp. Had Ting reached orgasm? I thought sadly.

The man lifted one of Ting's legs and placed it on the piano, continuing to thrust into her. Ting's legs were spread apart, her genitals clearly exposed, soaking wet, and the man's thick, long penis still wouldn't let go, tirelessly thrusting in. Ting's hands gripped the edge of the piano, unconsciously moaning. Ting was completely immersed in the pleasure of sex.

The man teased her, slowly backing away. Ting followed suit, eventually even taking her legs off the piano to follow his movements. Suddenly, he pulled back sharply, his penis slipping out of her vagina. Ting let out a disappointed groan, then began swaying her hips, rubbing against his penis! She was seeking re-insertion… The man triumphantly brought his legs together, raising his penis little by little. Ting raised her hips accordingly, and when he stood upright with his legs fully together, she actually stood on tiptoe, rubbing her hips against his penis! The man laughed, slapping Ting's hips repeatedly with his penis. Ting groaned softly, her voice filled with urgent desire, her body trembling, then her hips swaying even more violently. Ting, why are you rubbing your beautiful, white buttocks against that ugly penis?

The man asked Ting smugly, "Do you want me to fuck you? Say it... just like we did in our video chat."

Ting didn't answer, continuing to wiggle her hips. The man slapped Ting's butt hard: "Say it, or I won't fuck you."

Ting immediately whispered, "Mmm..."

The man laughed loudly, "Come on... let my cock go in your little mouth." He turned Ting around, and she naturally squatted down. He grabbed her hair with his right hand, forcing her head up, and pinched her cheek with his left. Ting opened her mouth, and he used his right hand to hold his penis, rubbing the large glans against her lips before forcing it into her mouth. His penis slid in slowly, and Ting's mouth opened wider and wider. My heart was bleeding. That beautiful little mouth was meant for me to give her oral sex. I don't know why I couldn't save Ting and had to continue watching this agonizing scene. What was wrong with me?

The man's hips moved back and forth, his penis going in and out of Ting's mouth. After a while, he commanded Ting, "I'm tired, you do it for me." Ting actually did it as if she were giving me oral sex, swaying her head back and forth, stroking his penis. Now Ting was kneeling at the man's feet, drool dripping from the corner of her mouth. The man reached for Ting's mouth, dabbed some saliva, and smeared it on her nipples. While Ting was giving him oral sex, he didn't forget to assault her breasts, squeezing, releasing, and kneading them. Ting's mouth was completely covered, and she could only make muffled and sizzling sounds.

The man closed his eyes, enjoying himself immensely, praising and admiring the sensation. At that moment, I saw Ting actually reach down to touch her own genitals! Ting was so excited that she masturbated while giving another man oral sex.

The man opened his eyes, saw Ting's movements, and his voice was a mixture of anger and laughter: "Oh...you little slut, you dared to touch yourself when I wasn't looking, so eager to be fucked, huh?" He bent down, reached under Ting's thighs, and suddenly lifted her up, placing her on his lap. Ting gasped in surprise, instinctively reaching out to grab the man's shoulder. The man thrust his hips forward, supporting Ting, and with one hand, he thrust it into her vagina. Ting let out a relieved groan. The man tossed Ting up and down, thrusting his hips forward with force as he did so, the impact almost knocking her unconscious. He gripped Ting's buttocks tightly with both hands, his fingers digging deep into her soft, white flesh. Ting was tossed about, sometimes reaching peaks, sometimes plummeting to the bottom, and judging from her voice, her physical sensations were perhaps the same.

The man whispered in Ting's ear, "Did I fuck you good...? Now do you feel the same way as when we have sex on video?" Ting just mumbled "uh-huhs," whether unconscious or a conscious admission, it was hard to tell.

The man tossed Ting up even higher while continuing to ask, "Did you enjoy it...? Was it..." Ting let out a long "uh-huh—" her voice trembling with tears. Was this an admission? Had Ting's psychological defenses completely crumbled? The man laughed triumphantly.

After a while, the man seemed tired, so he put Ting down and carried her to our bed, the one Ting and I had bought together, along with the sheets, pillowcases, and duvet cover—everything we had carefully chosen. Ting's legs dragged limply on the ground, her entire weight being carried by the man to the bedside. He threw Ting onto the bed and then manipulated her position. Ting completely gave up resisting and let the man do as he pleased. He made Ting lie face down on the bed with her buttocks raised high. He stood by the bed and then penetrated Ting's vagina from behind. Ting's face was completely covered by her loose hair, so no expression could be seen on her face. Only her almost crying moans could be heard.

The man bumped into Ting's buttocks, then suddenly grabbed her hair, forcing her to lift her head off the bed. He said to her, "Look at the wedding photo on the wall. You look so beautiful in your wedding dress, but you look even more beautiful now, naked and being fucked by me, haha. Your husband is watching you get fucked, and he's laughing too, haha..." Ting turned her head away, not wanting to look, but her hair was held tightly, preventing her from moving. Her moans sounded painful as she cried and begged, "Please... don't treat me like this... don't torture me like this... my heart aches so much."

The man laughed, "You've come at the worst time. I was just about to let you go, but your plea makes me feel so good. You can keep looking." He then grabbed Ting's hair even harder, forcing her face towards the photo on the wall. I couldn't see Ting's expression, but I could imagine the sadness and self-reproach she felt.

The man penetrated Ting from behind for a while, then gently pushed her away. Ting collapsed weakly onto the bed. He turned her over, placing her legs on his shoulders. As his strong buttocks thrust forward, Ting cried out, her hands frantically grabbing at the sheets beside her. The man thrust his hips repeatedly, and Ting's cries continued, sounding very pitiful. Was it genuine pain, or was the large penis giving her extreme pleasure? As the man continued thrusting

, his legs straightened, only his feet touching the sheets, pressing Ting's legs against his body. Ting's long, beautiful legs were not far in front of her, swaying with the man's thrusts. Her buttocks were also lifted off the bed because her legs were pressed down. This position allowed for deep penetration, so Ting's moans grew louder, and her hands crumpled the sheets beside her into a ball. This position allowed me to see the man's penis moving in and out of Ting's vagina. Ting's performance excited the man. He lowered Ting's legs from his shoulders to his sides and began thrusting even faster, groaning deeply. Ting's cries grew louder with his increasing speed. Gradually, she wrapped her legs around the man's waist. Her pretty little feet swayed constantly from the man's thrusts, her toes curling up in pleasure.

Suddenly, the man straightened up and stopped. Ting's feet began rubbing against the man's buttocks. She was truly craving an orgasm. The man bent down again, thrusting into Ting faster and more violently. He was about to make his final sprint. Ting finally let out a loud moan without restraint, a sound that was breathtaking. My penis had become very hard without me realizing it. Watching that scene, I pulled down my pants, grabbed my penis, and began masturbating.

Ting's legs were wrapped around the man's waist, as if afraid he would leave, and her breasts were shaking violently. Suddenly, she reached out and groped randomly on the man's back and arms. The ring I bought for her was still on her slender finger, but now that ring was touching another man's body. Ting cried out, "Husband...fuck me...fuck me...I want to be fucked to death by you..." Hearing Ting's lewd request, I felt a little comforted. I knew these words very well; she would sometimes say them to me during her orgasms. It turned out that at this moment, Ting was still fantasizing about having sex with me. For a moment, I felt a sense of happiness. In my heart, I said to that man, "You have possessed Ting's body, but you cannot possess her heart. Her sexual fantasy is still about me. Let you be my substitute for once."

The man was also excited by Ting's words. He hummed and whispered, "I'm enjoying it too... I just wanted to hear you call me 'husband' in person... say those lewd things from those videos, you finally said them... It feels so good... you slut... keep going... ahhh..." He then began to thrust violently.

Ting cried out, "Husband... husband, fuck me... fuck me... I'm coming... ahhh..." Her usual gentle, melodious moans were gone, replaced by a frenzied scream like a wild animal: "Ah... ah... ah..." The neighbors could probably hear, but Ting was overwhelmed by the ultimate sexual pleasure, forgetting everything else.

It turned out that Ting wasn't calling for me, but for that man. I felt utterly devastated. I wouldn't blame Ting for being violated, as long as she was forced into it. But if she was thinking of another man, that was something I could never accept.

The man's buttocks throbbed rapidly like a motor. He growled as he asked Ting, "I'm going to cum... I'll cum inside you... please cum inside you..." Ting continued to moan loudly, her moans seeming to agree. For Ting, where the man ejaculated didn't matter; what mattered was that he could take her to the pinnacle of sexual ecstasy, to the most frenzied peak.

The man roared, thrusting with unprecedented speed, and Ting screamed with unprecedented volume, gripping his arm tightly, her fingertips digging into his muscles. The man roared again, his hips thrusting violently, then gradually slowed, finally coming to a stop. Ting's body convulsed, her legs trembling on the man's back.

Watching this lewd scene, my feelings were indescribably complex, yet the physical stimulation remained. I looked at the screen, masturbated, and after a few strokes, I ejaculated. All three of us had reached orgasm simultaneously—how ironic and tragic!

The man got up and lowered Ting's legs. Ting's legs, as if out of control, fell onto the bed with a thud. Aside from the violent heaving of her chest, Ting had no strength left to move.

The man got up and went to Ting's face, squeezing the remaining semen from his penis onto her face, and smearing the semen from her urethra onto her lips. Ting remained motionless, as if it were no longer her own body.

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Who rode my beautiful wife?

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