Sexual journey, growth theme 6

page views:1 Publication date:2021-10-05

I haven't written anything for almost a year. Work has been busy and stressful, leaving me with insufficient time and inclination to sit quietly in front of the computer and share my sex life. However, browsing 69 is a regular occurrence, relieving stress and stimulating my wife's passion.
I've mostly forgotten where I left off in my previous writings. But recently, with so much sex, there's still plenty to write about. Every time I finish with my wife, she's moaning and panting, and I'm satisfied, I fall asleep sweaty and exhausted. The next day, I'm busy with work, and I forget to continue writing. Plus, logging into this website lately has been difficult and unreliable, so the urge to write has diminished. Consequently, my attention to it has decreased considerably.
Many people think it's a boring thing, that it's better to be busy with work. But people get more sensual with age; the sensuality of youth is nothing compared to the sensuality of now. Back then, it was about being brave and skilled; now it's about mature relaxation, hypnosis, and enjoyment without worry. So I admit, I'm sensual, and so is my wife. Now, even our WeChat chats are flirtatious.
In the previous growth-themed post (5), I wrote about taking my girlfriend back to the dorm for sex, only to have my colleague's brother and his girlfriend beat me to it, and our two tanned bodies ignited passion. Later, I met my wife. I've written about her and our initial sexual encounters, but time seems to have smoothed over many memories; some hasty, unexciting sex has been forgotten, but that time on the long-distance bus remains vivid in my memory. Before the Spring Festival in 1995, we traveled from her home to mine on a sleeper bus. Back then, there weren't many highways, let alone high-speed rail. The journey from her home to mine took about seven hours by national highway, mostly at night. Our berths were next to each other, only about a meter wide combined, essentially sleeping in the same bed. It was a bit cold at night, so we shared two blankets, and I cuddled her as we slept. The train hadn't been moving for long when it got dark. Both of us were curled up facing the window; she was the woman, so naturally she slept on the inside. I touched and rubbed her breasts, my lower body pressed against her buttocks. At that time, she weighed only about 90 pounds; her breasts weren't large, just enough to be grasped in one hand. She had a small frame, and although not fat, she had a very voluptuous figure. The train swayed intermittently, and the streetlights flickered on and off. I figured everyone else on the train must be asleep; some were snoring. The driver in front of our berth had already lit a cigarette to stay awake, and the carriage reeked of cigarette smoke. Touching my wife's breasts, I noticed her nipples were hard, and my already erect penis became even more restless. I moved my hand away from her breasts and... I pulled down her waistband; for comfort, she was wearing a tracksuit, and her shorts and thermal underwear were elasticated. It was easy to pull her buttocks out. Surprisingly, her vagina was already soaking wet. Men are very sensitive to this. I quickly pulled down my own pants, explored her from behind, and then thrust inside her. It was easy for me. I held her waist with both hands and started to move slightly, or press hard against her buttocks, rubbing up and down. My wife's breathing became heavier and heavier, and her body began to twist. I could feel the blanket on top rising and falling with her movements, but the car was constantly shaking, the lights were flickering, and there was noise from outside the car, so our breathing and twisting were basically drowned out. I freed my hands and spread her buttocks apart. They were wet, and I could touch her smooth labia and my young, vigorous, wet penis. I had measured it before; at 1.8 meters tall, my penis was a full 17 centimeters. So, our thrusting was quite extensive. If we weren't covered by a blanket, I could see a long section of my penis moving in and out. When I pressed against her buttocks and rubbed against her cervix, she even felt a slight pain. It took about ten minutes; her vagina was short. I ejaculated. I knew she hadn't orgasmed because no matter how much stimulation she received in this position, she wouldn't orgasm. She only orgasmed when there was direct friction against her clitoris. Never mind, I'd ejaculated. I pulled up my pants, and she pulled up her waistband too. We drifted off to sleep, only waking up at our stop at dawn. I could even feel my penis, covered in both of our fluids, stuck to my underwear like a piece of candy that had fallen onto paper—firmly stuck and difficult to tear off, otherwise it would hurt. We hurriedly got off the train to get our luggage. That's how our sex on the long bus trip ended. Years later, when we made love, if I mentioned it, she would excitedly squeeze me tighter and slowly recall it.

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Sexual journey, growth theme 6

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