[Ten Years of Sex]

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

(1) My Na?ve "First Time"
I was 15 years old when I had my "first time". In these ten years, I have had harmonious sex, as well as simple sex and

simple love.
When I was 15, I was a freshman in high school. At that time, a girl who sat in front of me always put a small mirror

on her desk. It was very interesting because several times our eyes met in that mirror. She was in

front, looking at me behind her with the mirror; I was behind, and I could see her in front of me through the mirror.
We slowly and secretly went through the stages of holding hands, hugging and kissing. During the winter vacation of my freshman year, I went to

her house. The winter in the north is very cold. When I entered the house, I was dressed like a bear. She was only wearing a

thin dress that I thought was very attractive and showed off her curves at the time. In just an instant, my heart started to heat up like the heating in the room

. She helped me take off my coat. I turned around and hugged her tightly, hooking my arms around her waist,

and then slowly groped inside. Until I felt her skin and her breasts, whose size I have now forgotten.
I forced myself to hold back my pounding heart and labored breathing as I carried her to bed.
When I was little, I loved reading comics. I remember in those comics, nine times out of ten, the guy would

get a nosebleed when he saw a scantily clad woman. At that moment, I had one arm around her waist and the other gently caressing her soft breasts when I suddenly felt my nose

getting wet. I thought, "Oh no, I'm getting

a nosebleed." I quickly took a deep breath and said to her, "Look, I'm getting a nosebleed." She looked up, smiled gently, and said, "I told you not to take your clothes off, you've caught a cold." Just as I

was feeling embarrassed, she turned and pulled back the covers, covering me with them, then lay down beside me, resting her head on my

chest. I rolled over, gently pressing her beneath me, kissing her deeply, then slowly removing

her clothes, leaving kisses on her neck, breasts, lower abdomen, and the inside of her thighs.
We didn't do it that day because I couldn't find the right spot. She was very nervous, and so

was I moved around outside her little hole for a long time before finally ejaculating. My first time ejaculating on a girl. The

feeling was wonderful. Watching the white stuff fall onto her underwear and lower abdomen was very exciting. She said

it seemed like it had shot inside her a little because of the smell of "it". This made us very nervous.
We almost did it a few times. But we didn't make it happen until we broke up. I thought at the time that maybe I was still young and

that my thing wasn't hard enough. More than half a year after the breakup, I finally felt relieved: thankfully, she wasn't pregnant.
Looking back now, I realize that I didn't have much desire when I was a teenager. Finding a girlfriend was more

out of curiosity and because it was cool. On my 16th birthday, I had already broken up with my first "her", but I had a very happy and relaxed

year .

(2) A First Love That Was Unforgettable
The order is very special: I almost had my "first time" when I was 15. But

the time when I truly felt that I loved someone and was willing to do anything for them was when I was 17. Even after all these years, I still

remember . I even liked to look at her during class. Once, our Chinese teacher was lecturing

when she suddenly stopped and said, "Why do I notice some students have such dreamy eyes?"
One hundred days before the college entrance exam, I passed her a note in the morning, finally confessing my feelings.
That evening, I received her reply; I only remember one sentence: "Actually, I've accepted you from the bottom of my heart for a long time."
Even now, I still remember that happy moment.
I don't know if every boy, or many boys, has ever had a

girl like a goddess in their lives. For her, you'd fall into an irrational frenzy. Every

smile of hers could nourish your soul. You'd confess your love to her at a rate of n love letters a day. You'd look at

her, hold her, and feel like you'd never be apart, never go hungry; even if the world ended, you wouldn't be afraid.
After the college entrance exam, we still parted ways.
At first, I still called her many times a day, but she gradually became cold towards me. Until one day,

she told me on the phone: "Let's break up."
I cried and said, "Don't go, I just want to be with you, no matter what."
She laughed and said, "You're such a grown-up, why are you acting like a child? I'm hanging up."
I continued to bother her every day, writing her letters. Of course, there was no reply, no response whatsoever.
I remember in middle school, magazines like *Reader's Digest* and *Youth Digest* were popular for their cheesy, sentimental articles. So much so that
everyone's essays were uniformly sour, enough to cure the graders' indigestion and

insufficient . But that's secondary; the most crucial thing is that it poisoned the minds of teenagers.
I still remember one article: written from the daughter's perspective, the daughter asked her father, "Why are you

so good to Mom?" The father smiled but didn't answer; then one day, the mother, like Doraemon, produced

a , containing nearly a thousand love letters from years ago; the daughter secretly resolved, "I, too, will find a

lover willing to wait three years and write me nearly a thousand love letters."
That's what I thought back then, diligently pursuing my ideal of three years and a thousand love letters every day.
We never had sex. Only once, we were completely naked, she hooked her arms around my neck, and said she

didn't want to . I immediately got off her, put her pants back on, and lay back down. That's how it is; every

word she says is my decree, with no room for negotiation.
It's really a strange thing. Why would someone be so infatuated with another person?
A few days ago, I even dreamed of being with her. Six years ago, such a dream would make me wake up with tears streaming down my face. But

that day, 0.1 seconds after waking up, I quickly turned on my computer to see if my Italy had advanced from the European Cup group stage

.

(3) The Boundary Between Love and Friendship
It's special to put her here. Because I've never even seriously held her hand.
In college, there was a period when I thought I liked her. I even showed my parents her picture, and

my mom said: This girl is not bad looking; she looks a lot like the chubby Han Hong who sang "Come Home Often." I was

speechless. But I think my mom meant Chen Hong; she can never remember the names of those

stars . Han Hong is actually quite chubby, and her lung capacity is at the level

of a girl who can sing "Qinghai-Tibet Plateau". In high school, we called them "suffocating cows", meaning that a kiss without panting could suffocate a cow.
We often studied and chose courses together. Once, a group of us were playing Truth or Dare, and she said she'd never had a boyfriend

before . Later, on QQ, I said, "I have." She didn't say anything. In the following days,

I felt our relationship was strange. It was this strange feeling that made me think she actually liked me a little and

cared about me.
Back then, I watched those Hong Kong Category III films, especially Wong Jing's "Jade Girl Heart Sutra" series, and I thought they were practically philosophical films

about sex .
What is invincible skill? It's making the other person completely overwhelmed, yet you remain unmoved; but if the other person is

in the heat of the moment, and you ejaculate first, then your spirit has been captured by them.
So, in this sense, what is a Casanova? It's making the other person love you to the point of madness,

yet you remain in control; you act before the other person, that's called being a Casanova.
I think relatively speaking, there are more Casanovas than women, and more Casanovas than women.

Guided principle, I handled our relationship very carefully. After countless attempts and delays,

the fleeting possibility between us finally disappeared. I met my girl, and she met her boyfriend.
Now we often chat, talking about our lives, relationships, and work.
I slowly realized that there are many people of the opposite sex in the world worth appreciating, but not in the name of love.

(4) Love and Sex
The summer of my twenties was my first real experience, a week after I met her. I met her

at the swimming pool. A friend who came with me was an old acquaintance of hers. We started dating soon after. During that time,

some friends came to my city, and I booked hotels for them. After they left, I kept the hotel for

a few more days because I had a feeling that something might happen between us.
That day, her period had just ended. We hugged each other and leaned against the bed watching TV. I called her name,

started kissing her, and took off her clothes. Her breasts were very nice to touch, and I pressed my face and lips against them, and started taking off her

skirt and panties. I didn't know if I was ready, but I just instinctively placed my already hard and hot

penis between her legs. She hugged my shoulders and cooperated with me.
She tried to hold back, but a cry still escaped her lips, tears unconsciously spilling from the corners of her eyes and sliding down her cheeks.
That moment felt like a lifetime ago.
I almost forgot to enjoy my first time; it felt like merely fulfilling a

procedure . I held her, there was no passionate lovemaking, only muffled, almost imperceptible moans.
My mind was filled with all sorts of thoughts: Is this it? Is this really what it's like? The lovemaking I'd

fantasized about for so long.
For the first dozen or so times, I was quick, but we started to enjoy it. Once, at my house, some friends

were watching TV and playing computer games in the living room. I got up to go to the bathroom, and she followed. I sat on the toilet seat and helped her onto me

. She was still moving excitedly, and I innocently told her, "Honey, I'm coming." She stopped,

wrapped her arms around my neck, gently biting my ear, her breasts rubbing against my chest. That position was incredibly

alluring . Soon, my penis, which had just softened, was hard again before it had fully slipped out, and

it continued to penetrate me while we were still embracing. We kissed passionately as we made love, and that time, she said she felt a tingling sensation

on her neck .
The poet said, "Winter is here, can spring be far behind?" He was actually implying that if the numbness reached her neck, the climax

wasn't far off, and comrades should keep trying.
A few weeks later, we checked into a hotel near her school. That night, she climaxed. There were no

prior signs; if there were any, it was that our time together was getting longer and longer. From less than a

minute the first time, to ten minutes, to several times in a row over several hours, twice a day, morning and evening.
She held me tightly with all her might; that feeling was wonderful.
During the year and a half we were together, we made love countless times in countless places, in countless positions, bringing

each other to orgasm countless times.
Initially, we didn't use contraception, only waiting until her safe period to climax. Until later, one of her

friends apparently got pregnant during her safe period. We were terrified and started using condoms. But I still preferred

unrestricted intimacy, and after making love, seeing her lying naked beside me, saying sweet words,

carefully wiping away the semen that had flowed out. During repeated sex, you can see the semen

from the previous time being slowly squeezed out.
The most beautiful thing is the flush on her chest and the intimacy of sleeping in each other's arms after sex.

(5) One-night stand abc
After breaking up with "her", I found myself becoming a sex addict. Even without love.
I have had three one-night stands, or rather, three one-night stand partners:
one is an online friend a who is studying at the same university in the same city as me;
one is an American girl b who lives in the same apartment as me;
and one is a nursing student c from Southeast Asia.
During the winter break of my junior year, I was preparing for the exam to go abroad at school and met a online at night. Because the entire dormitory

floor was basically empty, and I was afraid that the police would conduct surprise inspections of hotels before the New Year, I took her back to

the dormitory . We sat together and surfed the Internet, and then I said to her, "Go to my bed and sleep, it's very late." She got into bed,

reached out and turned off the dormitory light, and then started to take off her clothes. My heart was pounding, but I was still sitting at my desk.
There was no movement on the bed, and she lay quietly. I stood up, moved closer to the bed, and took her exposed

hand.
She said softly, "Come on up."
We lay down together, and I took off her clothes. I straddled her and stupidly asked, "Is this your

first time?"
I guess she was almost going crazy at that moment, but she still politely replied, "I've had boyfriends before." I suppressed

the urge to penetrate her, pulled a condom from under the mattress, and put it on, just in case.
Her little hole was very special, or rather, different from my ex-girlfriend's, which dampened my enthusiasm, and

I didn't want to do it a second time.
Later, I realized that, just like Leonardo da Vinci's teacher once told him, there are no

two penises and testicles (or "eggs") in the world. Similarly, there shouldn't be two little holes.
B was my roommate when I was studying in the United States, a graduate student majoring in acting. She was extremely excited.

She spent all day bouncing around at school, and then came home at night to learn Tai Chi with me, saying it was to relax her muscles. One

day at 3 a.m., I had just finished my homework and went to the bathroom to wash up when I suddenly saw a figure flailing about in

the dark I was so scared I almost fainted. When I turned on the light, I saw her practicing Tai Chi with a face mask on. She said she

had a mental problem and only needed three hours of sleep a day, but the doctor told her to sleep more, otherwise she would die young.
Then we started chatting.
She said her friend told her that sex helps with sleep. I said, "Uh, um..."
She said, "Why don't we try it?" I didn't dare say a word. When I came to my senses, she was already gently hugging

me.
We had sex. Actually, I think I was raped that time. I remember that I

did my homework , only eating two boiled eggs in between. I ejaculated very quickly. She wanted more, and I

couldn't refuse , so I used my fingers—my poor, almost cramped, fingers from typing—to help her reach orgasm.
I almost burst into tears at that moment. I finally understood

how much torture it is to beg for sex when your girlfriend or partner doesn't want it.
After trying it a few more times, I became completely insecure. Her speed and frequency were very fast; she later nicknamed me

"Mr. Three Minutes." I really should have told her I was actually Japanese, to avoid embarrassing Chinese people.
C was a young girl I met on a business trip, six years younger than me. Because I didn't have any condoms, I forced myself

to let her bend down, stroked her breasts, and ejaculated into her mouth. It was originally a last resort, but later

I found myself liking it, and I simply stopped bothering to buy condoms, getting it into her

mouth .
At first, she frowned and said the taste was extremely unpleasant. I remembered that eating more vegetables and fruits would be good, so for those

days I didn't eat any meat, drank buckets of juice, and even my sneezes smelled of oranges mixed with coconut.
According to her, the taste seems to have improved. So if you want your partner to do this for you,

it's best to "cleanse" yourself for two or three days first, and it's also good for your health.
Actually, after any one-night stand, I want to "invite" the other person out of my room and then

sleep with my pillow.

(6) Afterword
My current girlfriend is actually a bit frigid. One of her wishes is to only

have sex when she wants to have a child, and otherwise just hold each other. Very soulful, very beautiful.
We play a "game" when we go to sleep at night.
I say: Honey, want to make love?
She says: No.
I say: Why don't you say "love"? Then I say, Honey, you're tired, let's not make love, let's go to sleep.
This makes us seem more understanding of each other.
She chuckles and says: Okay...
and then I jump up. She innocently exclaims: You still have lines to say.
After doing this two or three times, she never says "okay" again :)
But I still want to be with her. Because in love, sex is just a supporting role. Nothing compares to

the connection, understanding, and cherishing of souls. And the passage of time will eventually wear down that youthful restlessness.
Suddenly I realize my writing is very thematic. Even my writing about sex seems to glorify love and denigrate sex. It's like

writing a whole piece about being a prostitute and then erecting a virtuous archway.
Actually, to put it another way, there's a big difference in sexual satisfaction and pleasure between loving and not loving.
Making love with someone you love feels like hitting your heart, a gentle yet powerful experience. Afterwards, you chat,

kiss, and take a nap.
Making love with someone you don't love feels like hitting your bones, much less effective. Afterwards, you rub your sore

bones and aching thighs, hug your pillow, and snort silently, dreaming different dreams. But even so, it's still

somewhat better than making love with yourself.
That's all.
[The End
]

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