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Blogger:Ah Hong 2022-03-31

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[A passionate encounter] 

Less than six months into our marriage, my graduate school acceptance letter arrived. While excited, I couldn't help but worry. My husband and I had only been together for less than six months, our relationship was going strong, and now I'd be gone for three years, living apart. Not only would there be no one to take care of things at home, but my husband, in his prime, was very eager for intimacy. I wondered what challenges and temptations he would face while I was away.
He knew I was worried, and in those few days, he would often hold me close late at night, repeatedly assuring me that I was the only one in his heart. Besides, the two cities weren't far apart; he could come to see me anytime.
And so, I began my intense studies, a busy and fulfilling life. But every night, when I talked to my husband, endless longing would grip my heart. He would whisper again and again, "I miss you so much." And how could I not feel the same way?
Moreover, what embarrassed me was that our nearly six months of intimacy had also "awakened my most primal desires as a woman"—his exact words, and they were absolutely true.
Especially late at night, lying alone on my small bed in a foreign dormitory, I would involuntarily yearn for my husband's warm embrace and gentle caresses. The most intense time was when I dreamt I was in his arms, filled with boundless joy and tenderness. But the dream was short-lived, and upon waking, nothing was there, leaving me with a profound sense of self-mockery. When I talked to my husband about it on the phone, he was silent for a while, then said, "To be honest, I have the same kind of dream."
My husband started actively seeking leave to visit me. When he finally had a week off to come, we laughed on the phone for a good half day.
He secretly told me that he had been holding back for so long and needed to "release" some tension. As for me, I applied for a room at the university for my husband's visit, even buying a box of condoms and cleaning the room spotlessly.
That day, when I went to pick him up at the station, standing outside the platform, I felt an indescribable mix of nervousness and excitement, like being back in the days of first love, my face flushed.
When he emerged from the crowd, we both stared at each other, grinning foolishly, unable to utter a word. Then we burst out laughing. He held me tightly, almost unable to breathe, and in my husband's arms, I didn't want to leave for a moment.
I took him straight to the guest room, which was quite simple, just a bed and a small table. But for us, it was enough. As soon as we entered, we tossed our things onto the bed and embraced, kissing passionately, exploring each other, almost breathless. Countless sweet nothings were transformed into tender glances.
We stopped, and he hugged me tightly from behind again. My body pressed against the table, and he kissed my neck, his breathing becoming heavier. My body began to heat up, and his hands began to explore.
My husband's hand slipped under my skirt, and I felt we were both about to lose control. We had never made love during the day before, and in such bright light, I felt incredibly shy.
Yet, at that moment, we both felt an intense longing for each other. My husband lifted my skirt, and I felt his intense desire rising behind me. I said, "Let's go to bed." He didn't speak; he continued exploring.
Then, the most unforgettable thing in my life happened. My husband entered me deeply from behind. The pleasure I had never experienced before deeply shocked us that day. And I, on that day, learned what an orgasm was for a woman, what true pleasure was.
Afterwards, we were both unable to calm down for a long time. My husband and I are a traditional couple, and we never imagined that after being separated for four months in a foreign land, we would experience such madness, and that such madness would be so intoxicating. During our week-long vacation, we tried this thing we had never done before again and again. I think this is what it means to be one with nature.

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