Ten years of hard work culminated in this masterpiece: Me and my junior classmate

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I'm afraid I won't have enough time, I'm afraid I'll forget.
Just last Wednesday, on a moonlit, slightly cool early autumn night, I finally completed the union of body and soul with my junior, Y.
Before, I was struggling with what person and event to write about in the fourth installment, but now I don't need to worry anymore. I'm afraid I'll forget certain details later, afraid I won't be able to express those emotions, because they've been building up for so long.
I first met my junior sixteen years ago.
That summer, she had just enrolled and was undergoing a month-long military training. Our school's military training is quite strict, with a high intensity. Many male students couldn't handle it, and it was even more difficult for the female students. During the freshman military training period, it was a crucial time for various student organizations to recruit members. In order to gain an advantage, as the head of the second largest student organization after the student union, I led several department heads to distribute flyers and application forms to each dormitory after dinner and answer questions on the spot. A group of three or four people, holding club activity cards, moved freely through the male and female dormitories. Most of the freshmen were wearing camouflage uniforms and T-shirts, their faces covered in grime from the daytime sun; there was no scene of the expected allure. When I pushed open her dormitory door, a flash of white light streaked across my vision. It was a four-person room. I couldn't remember what the other girls were doing, but they immediately turned and stood at attention when they saw us enter. Only one girl, with her camouflage pants rolled up, sat on the edge of the bed, soaking her feet. Her shapely legs radiated a dazzling white light. Looking up, I saw an oval face, a ponytail, willow-leaf eyebrows, a small, well-defined nose, and very fair skin—a pretty girl, I thought. She seemed flustered, her feet still in the basin, unsure whether to stand up or sit. She reached for the railing to stand, but worried she might lose her balance, I quickly said, "Sit still." She smiled nervously, stopped moving, and quietly observed who and what we were doing. The publicity minister explained our purpose: "Give me an application form. I really want to try." Judging from her accent, she was probably from Beijing, a guess that later proved correct. It wasn't convenient to linger in the girls' dormitory, so we quickly moved on to the next one. The rest of the night was mostly uneventful, except for this one girl who left a deep impression. Even years later, when we talked about it again, she playfully scolded us, saying we'd gone too far—who would have thought we'd break into the girls' dormitory at night? Yes, what I ca
n't forget is that fair-skinned girl sitting on the edge of the bed, soaking her feet. Later, as she wished, she successfully joined the club, always with a sweet smile, as radiant as the sun. I had a girlfriend at the time and didn't have many wicked thoughts; I just paid attention to her actions and offered her advice and guidance, which she always accepted happily. Later, I learned that her father was a vice-ministerial level official in Beijing, and the so-called spoiled arrogance of a second-generation official was completely absent in her. During that time, another club organized a charity handicraft sale, collecting handicrafts from students, auctioning them off, and donating the proceeds to a children's welfare home. She made a small bracelet, reportedly costing less than two yuan. After numerous rounds of fierce bidding, it finally sold for over 100 yuan to a boy who had a crush on her, causing a sensation on campus. Back then, 100 yuan was a significant sum for a freshman, many students only having 300-400 yuan for monthly living expenses. However, he ultimately didn't get his wish; she chose one of the campus's top ten singers as her boyfriend. Campus life was peaceful and beautiful. Soon, I graduated, and that year, she left her club.
After graduation, I went to Beijing to make a living, in the place where she grew up. We had more in common, but it was limited to weather forecasts, tourist attractions, and work experiences. She loved photography; the people and scenery she captured had a serene beauty. Back then, phone cameras were getting better, and I liked to casually take pictures of scenery, occasionally sending them to her, where she would give thoughtful comments. Later, I often traveled to Europe for work, taking pictures of the customs and culture of capitalist countries, which also earned her some praise. Soon after, she graduated and went to Western Europe for graduate studies. Before she left, I said I'd give her a farewell dinner, and she gladly accepted. That day, she wore wedge heels, light blue jeans, and a fitted brown thin sweater. I suddenly realized that my junior had a really good figure. Although she was only about 164 cm tall, her bust was quite prominent. She used to wear loose-fitting clothes in school, so she really hid it well. We went to eat at a liaison office in Beijing. Back then, these liaison offices were still responsible for the important function of "lobbying for funding," and every province and city had its own large and small liaison office in Beijing. You could eat authentic local cuisine in Beijing. We talked about various memories of university life, having a lot in common, so we didn't need to find topics. Time flew by, and I suggested going to a nightclub. She was a little nervous and excited, saying she'd never been to a nightclub before. What a sweet girl! I said, "Let me take you to see the world today." We went to MIX at the Workers' Stadium, which was incredibly popular back then, along with VICS, and even required tickets on weekends and holidays. As we entered that dazzling place, I took her small hand and led her through the crowded throng. She didn't pull away; it was warm. I don't remember exactly what we drank or talked about. I'm not a big drinker, but she was constantly excited. We finished our drinks at the bar, then went to the center of the dance floor to dance. When we got tired, we went back to the side to drink some more, then went back to dancing. It was almost midnight when she said she had to go home; she was afraid of getting scolded if she went home too late. I was reluctant to leave, so I took a taxi to her apartment building. I opened the car door for her, and she was standing in front of me. I said, "Let me hug you, as a farewell." She didn't say anything, but I pulled her into my arms and hugged her tightly twice. Her full, elastic breasts sent a wave of pleasure through my body, and my penis instantly became erect. In a moment of impulse, I turned and lightly kissed her lips. She didn't have time to pull away. To avoid embarrassment, I released her. She stared at me blankly and whispered, "Why did you do that?" I was speechless for a moment. She then said thank you, turned, and went into the apartment complex, disappearing into the night.
During her two years studying in Western Europe, she carried her DSLR camera, exploring every street and alley. She would often say, "Oh, this is a place you've been before. You took photos here," like a lively little bird. Through her lens, I also saw more of the people and their lives. I told her, "You are my eyes." She laughed, "Are your eyes as beautiful as mine?" Indeed, no. Even after she returned from her studies, we continued our lukewarm conversations. I never made my intentions clear, and neither did she. Looking back now, I think I was still too afraid, stemming from deeply ingrained class consciousness. Back then, renting a small apartment in Beijing, without a car or a house, I was just a poor guy. Talking about ideals was one thing, but how could I possibly marry the daughter of a minister? Matching social status was a complete pipe dream. Time slipped away quietly in this ambiguous relationship.
In 2011, a friend introduced me to a girl who seemed perfect in every way, and I decided to start dating her. But the girl didn't know. We still occasionally exchanged photos and chatted. Actually, I wasn't very clear about her relationship status either; it became a taboo subject that we both consciously avoided. Not long after, two of my best buddies from university brought their girlfriends to Beijing for a trip, and I treated them to dinner that evening. They said they heard I had a girlfriend and wanted to bring her along to see what kind of woman had caught my eye. I didn't think much of it and invited them. Not long after we got to the private room and were ordering, a familiar figure walked in. It was my junior from college. She hesitated when she saw a girl sitting next to me, and we both sensed the awkwardness. I quickly stood up to introduce them, and my buddies introduced their girlfriends as well, and we were all seated. It turned out my buddies and the junior were quite close, and since there were no outsiders, they'd invited her along without telling me beforehand. I was speechless with frustration. Just as the cold dishes started to arrive, the junior said she had to leave because her boyfriend was nearby and she wanted to have dinner with him. My two buddies egged her on, saying, "Let him come! We'll check him out!" She couldn't refuse, so she added a seat next to her. Soon after, the guy arrived. To be precise, he was a man who looked older than me—short and stocky, and supposedly starting a business. Seriously, were they blind? I thought angrily. During the gathering, everyone drank and joked around, masking their awkwardness. After the two parties, we went to a nightclub together. My junior and her boyfriend made an excuse and left first. Later, we chatted on WeChat about that meeting. She said she hadn't originally planned to invite that guy; he was still pursuing her but hadn't admitted to being her boyfriend. That day, seeing me with my girlfriend, she felt wronged and depressed, so she invited that guy to meet everyone as her boyfriend. Damn it! I was so angry inside, but I said aloud that that idiot should have treated me to dinner; I helped him. Thinking about it now still makes me furious. Women are truly incomprehensible creatures; they're terrifying.
In 2013, I went to N City to attend a government-organized industry forum. During a casual chat, I learned that my junior colleague was also going, but staying at a different hotel. I checked the distance; it wasn't far. At that time, she had already broken up with her boyfriend, while I was already married. The forum was large, and both companies sent delegations. On the registration day, she arrived late. A senior colleague who worked in N City treated me to dinner, and I invited a colleague who was also going. After dinner, my senior colleague said he'd show us the local nightlife; he was a gamer back in college, and he'd taught me how to play dice. My junior colleague arrived at the hotel after landing and dropped off her luggage before meeting us at the nightclub. I hadn't seen her in a long time, and seeing her again still made my heart flutter. Time seemed to have left no trace on her face; she had only become more mature and beautiful. The four of us opened a bottle of liquor and started playing dice. I quickly became too drunk to drink anymore, watching the other three wrestle, each winning and losing, and soon finished theirs, ordering another bottle. Surprisingly, my senior colleague and colleague, both grown men, also started to look unsteady on the head; they were both drunk, and she... Later, my senior shook his head at me, saying, "This girl can drink too much; I can't handle it." Meanwhile, she was still waving a glow stick, swaying to the music. Her face changed colors with the alternating indoor lights. She glanced back at the dance floor, breathtakingly beautiful. I raised my phone and snapped a few photos, capturing this beautiful moment. Around 1 a.m., the other two finally gave up and headed home. The three of us first took her to the hotel entrance, and then my senior accompanied the other two to the hotel lobby.
Back in my room, I was filled with excitement, unable to calm down. Such a great opportunity—I had to seize it. After giving myself a pep talk, I texted her. She said she wasn't drunk and was going to shower and go to bed. I asked for her room number, and she actually gave it to me! That meant she agreed… I quickly got dressed and rushed out. I arrived at her door in a flash, calmed my wildly beating heart, and knocked softly, careful not to disturb the neighbors; it was very likely her colleague. I knocked a few times but no one answered. I dialed her number, and it finally connected on the third ring. I was at the door. I whispered, "Open the door." "Huh? What are you doing here?" she asked, clearly surprised, but the door opened gently anyway. I quickly slipped inside and closed the door behind me. She had already washed up and changed into her pajamas. I hung up my coat and sat with her on the edge of the bed, chatting idly. Finally, I turned and hugged her, sealing her lips with mine. Her breathing quickened, and she slowly opened her mouth, our soft tongues intertwining. My hands slowly moved from her waist to her alluring breasts, still firm and full, probably a C cup. She gave them a couple of symbolic tugs, then stopped struggling. Mission accomplished! I was secretly pleased and was about to make my move when she suddenly resisted, grabbing my pajama bottoms and refusing to let go, repeatedly saying, "No, no, you're married, you can't do this, no, I feel guilty, no..." I was stunned; the situation had taken a sharp turn for the worse. I've never liked forcing others, especially when it comes to mutual affection. I said, "Some things, if you don't do them now, you might never have the chance again." She remained silent.
I got up, and to ease the awkwardness, said I'd go take a shower to calm down, not daring to look back at her. When I returned, she had moved to the far end of the bed, pulled the covers up tightly, and was lying with her back to me. I turned off the light and lay down on my side, unsure what to say. We were both tense; the room was so quiet I could hear heavy breathing and heartbeats. "Go back to sleep, it's too late, and there are colleagues all around. If they see us tomorrow morning, it'll be all over," she murmured. I didn't know how to reply. Was this how it was supposed to end, with the enemy at our gates? I mustered my courage again and hugged her from behind, teasing and arousing her relentlessly. Her body was honest; her writhing was proof. Her mind resisted; her pushing away was evidence. In the darkness, I stripped her naked. We met naked before each other, yet she didn't give up the fight. Her hands remained on her crotch, her legs swaying and clamping, resisting the onslaught of my penis. At this crucial moment, the turning point arrived—my penis, uncooperatively, went limp. Perhaps it was exhaustion, perhaps it was the effects of too much drinking, perhaps it was the fierce resistance that extinguished its fighting spirit; whatever the reason, it went limp. I pressed myself against her, gathering all my emotions, wanting my penis to sense the intensity of the battle, to feel that success or failure hinged on this moment. Unfortunately, it didn't get hard. This must be fate, I thought. I silently kissed her lips and forehead, then got up. She didn't struggle anymore, nor did she say anything, groping in the darkness to put on her pajamas. This silence was unsettling. Did she know I was impotent? Did she know I had given up my lust because I couldn't? Thankfully, it was pitch black, and she couldn't see my ashen face and utterly dejected heart. At the door, she waited to lock it, and I turned and hugged her. "I'm sorry I scared you today. I won't do it again. Goodnight."
She didn't reply. I heard the soft sound of the door locking behind me and breathed a sigh of relief. "The future?" I'd already failed after all this; what future was there? Forget it. The early winter weather outside was already quite cold. Under the cold streetlights along the hotel road, I hunched my shoulders and walked back. Maybe if I had gone all out the first time; maybe if I had stuffed my penis in her mouth, I could have gotten it up again; maybe… What the hell was the point of thinking so much! Back in the room, I was freezing. I checked the time: four in the morning.
The next time I saw her was two years later at her wedding. Receiving her wedding invitation filled me with mixed emotions. Having gained so many advantages, yet achieving nothing, I was worse than a pig that only managed to steal a cabbage. When I arrived, the newlyweds were already taking photos with family and friends in front of the backdrop in the lobby. She wore a white wedding dress, a delicate silver crown that shimmered, and tassel earrings that made her radiant. Her red nail polish and red lipstick were her favorite shade of red—festive yet not gaudy. The groom, also a local resident, worked in a government department. He wore a sharp, dark blue suit, and his serious demeanor made him seem somewhat rigid next to her. Just as I was hesitating whether to join her for a photo, she saw me and called my name. I quickly went over, shook hands with the groom, and after a brief introduction, I stood on her other side for the three of us to pose for a picture. During the reception, I went to toast her parents, but without waiting for them to come down to offer their congratulations—afraid my eyes would betray me—I excused myself. Life after marriage is going well for both of us. Her social media posts show her delicious food, beautiful scenery, her children, and family trips—a happy family, their faces beaming with joy. We still chat occasionally, nothing romantic, nothing nostalgic, just casual conversation.
One morning a little over two months ago, she told me she dreamt about me, after I'd dreamt about her several times. I pressed her for details, and she said it seemed to be a class reunion. I was slightly disappointed and teased her, saying there wasn't any passionate scene, to which she replied that I was overthinking it. Then she sent me a group photo from our club, saying someone had posted it in a group chat, and because it was a photocopy, it wasn't very clear. She said she couldn't match many of the photos, so I helped her check them one by one. We then started talking about the girl soaking her feet during military training, and her farewell party before she went abroad. She said she hadn't been to a nightclub in years, and didn't have the time, now she was considered an "old auntie." I said "old aunties" are popular these days, how about we go again? I haven't been in ages either. It's true, nightclubs are really a young person's world now. She laughed and said, "Sure, I'll go find that feeling sometime." Because of work, I'm often away, mostly in S city, so we agreed to meet again next time I'm back. She said she had to wait until her child was at her grandmother's house before she could go out in the evening. We're both parents now, so I understand.
Last month when I went back, I asked her if she was going. She said she was away on a business trip and we missed each other. She laughed and said, "You're in quite a hurry." I am in a hurry, it's not easy to see you. About two weeks ago, I said I was going back again and asked how she was. She replied that next week was fine, since the child wouldn't be there, and suggested we meet on Tuesday. Tuesday was a day when my car is restricted from driving, which was a bit of a disappointment. I had planned to meet in the enclosed space of my car, hoping for some interesting moments. She said she drove, it was convenient for her commute, and it didn't matter. Up until then, I just wanted to have a meal and chat, maybe recreate yesterday's night at the club, without any ulterior motives. The time was approaching. A friend asked me to meet up on Tuesday, but I said no, I had a classmate from school. He laughed, "You beast!" I said it was just for a meal, I hadn't succeeded in over ten years, and now I'm a mother. He said now might actually be an opportunity. Dude, you know too much, you're the beast! That morning, I couldn't resist probing, "How about we watch a movie after dinner? Otherwise, we'll just sit there, and the club will be empty if we go too early." "Let's have dinner and chat, it's been so long," she said. Okay, looks like she wasn't thinking much of it. Dinner was arranged at a Japanese restaurant in the China World Trade Center. I was late from my meeting, and she arrived first and was waiting. Everything was perfect – time, place, and people – all that was left was to meet. Entering the private room, I saw a familiar face again. She smiled brightly, "You arrived faster than I expected!" I said, "I wish I could be lightning fast." She was wearing red Ferragamo heels, a beige skirt that reached above her knees, a black undershirt, a floral silk blouse, milky white nails, cherry-red lips, and long, wavy hair. Her smile made her even more mature and charming. Seeing me staring blankly, she joked, "What are you looking at? Haven't you ever seen such a beautiful auntie?" I laughed, "Never seen one before, but today I'm especially beautiful." We chatted about work, life, and family, and before we knew it, it was past nine. I said, "Let's go somewhere else, let's go for a lively drink." She said, "Oh, really? Let's just find a bar nearby." I said no, today's a revisit, I've already done my research, asked my friends in Beijing which place is the best, let's go. She obediently followed behind. We
parked at the Workers' Stadium, and seeing all sorts of young men and women downstairs, we looked around like country bumpkins in the city, searching for the place my friend recommended. Up on the second floor, there was a huge logo, and we excitedly took photos. We went in and chose a bar seat; it was just past ten o'clock, and people were already starting to sit down. "We're early," she laughed. A girl next to us sat alone, clutching a half-empty bottle of liquor, playing dice with the bartender, engrossed in a fierce battle. I ordered a Long Island, she ordered Sex on the Beach. She laughed at me, "That's for young girls." "Why?" "Because Long Island is strong, easy to drink too much." I was surprised, "You know that? It's okay, if I drink too much, you can protect me." "Well, I won't care about you. If you drink too much, I'll have some other girls drag you away," she grinned mischievously. We ordered a pair of dice and started playing a game of dice. We each won and lost, and soon we'd both finished two drinks. I started to feel slightly tipsy, and tentatively placed my right hand on her thigh, or even just on her knee, feeling her smooth skin. She didn't resist. I grew bolder, grabbing her small hand on her lap and kneading it into various shapes, but she still didn't pull away. The music in the nightclub gradually grew louder, and sometimes I'd whisper in her ear and kiss her cheek; she'd just smile and say nothing. After losing five or six rounds in a row, I pleaded, "No, I've had too much to drink, you have to reward me." She asked, "How?" "Come here, I'll tell you," she said, turning her face closer. I hooked her face with my right hand and kissed her. She flinched slightly but then stopped resisting, opening her mouth to meet my advances. There were other people around, and I was too embarrassed to kiss her for too long, so she pulled away. In a moment of excitement, my penis stood up, and I also felt the urge to urinate. I stood up, went behind her, put my hands on her waist, and whispered in her ear, "I'm going to get the water. You stay here and don't talk to other men, okay?" My hands slid down and covered her breasts. She instinctively squeezed her arms together to avoid me, and I pulled away. On the way back, I thought, "Maybe there's a chance. Let's give it a try." When we got back, I ordered two drinks and continued. She said she wanted to go home at 11, but I said the music would change at 12, so let's wait a bit. She didn't insist anymore
. At midnight, the music indeed became more energetic, and the lights became even more dazzling. She said to me, "Let's go to the middle and take a look." I cleared a path for her, squeezed into the middle of the dance floor, and pulled her to my chest. It was crowded, and we were almost pressed together. Feeling her soft, round buttocks, my penis stood up again. I held her hips with both hands and secretly pulled her back; she must have felt her buttocks rubbing against my penis through her pants and skirt. She slowly lowered her raised right hand, then placed it on my buttocks, gradually moving to the point where our bodies met, kneading my penis. My breathing quickened. People were crammed together, oblivious to what others were doing. I gently guided her hand through my shirt and trousers; she was now holding my penis only through my underwear. A crowd of revelers surrounded us; the excitement made us forget everything around us. She pulled her hand away and continued waving it with the crowd. Thousands of confetti rained down, swirling in the puffs of smoke, the crowd reaching a fever pitch of screams and friction.
It was time. I pulled her towards the edge of the crowd. She asked, dazed, where to go. I said, "Let's get some fresh air." We made our way through the sea of people to the parking lot. This was it, I thought. Her car window tint was dark, perfectly positioned between two cars—a stroke of luck. I offered her a seat in the back. She asked if I'd called a driver. I said I'd arrange it later, then slipped into the back from the other side. I locked the door, kissed her, lifted her blouse, and began to grope her. She responded passionately, and I reached in to alternately knead her breasts. They were somewhat soft, losing their fullness, but still very comfortable. I unbuckled my belt, pulled out my penis, and pulled her towards me. She obediently bent down and called to my penis, her oral skills adept. My penis, entangled in its own desire, quickly couldn't resist. I parted her legs with my hands and touched her sensitive area—a narrow lace panty. I used my ring finger to pry it open to the side, and my middle finger probed the entrance; it was already soaking wet. I then inserted it. She trembled and clung tightly to me. The car was cramped, and I struggled to remove her panty. She said dazedly, "No, there are people around." I didn't reply, successfully removing the panty and revealing the dark, mysterious area at the base of her snow-white thighs—the wet ground I had longed for. I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. I helped her lie down on the back seat, aimed at the opening, and thrust all the way in. Her hands slipped through my T-shirt, gripping my back tightly, a burning, stinging sensation. I pressed myself against her, kissing her cherry lips, repeatedly asking her if she liked me fucking her, telling her if she wanted me to fuck her... She kept responding, "I... I like it, I miss you... Fuck... I..." Sixteen years... Today, my wish has finally come true. I held her tightly, thrusting in and out, and she responded with soft moans and gasps. Finally, I began to pound inside her, ejaculating like a pillar. I thrust in and out as I ejaculated, feeling the bone-deep pleasure from her inner walls. She clung to me tightly, whispering, "Why did you ejaculate inside? I'm in my fertile period." My penis softened and withdrew. I pulled out some tissues from the car and gently wiped her clean. She slowly sat up straight, and a lot more had flowed onto the seat. She laughed, "Why did you ejaculate so much? I saved it all up for you, sixteen years." She murmured, "You drank too much, and I drank too much too." I was perfectly sober. I waited for over ten years, and I wanted to fuck you sober. She lowered her head, too embarrassed to look at me. After a long silence, she said, "Let's take your medicine. I'm afraid something might happen." "Okay, I'll go to the pharmacy to buy it for you in a bit. I just... want to give you everything, all of it," I said shamelessly yet sincerely. "I know, me too," she buried her head in my chest again.
After cleaning up, I called a designated driver. The bright moon hung high in the sky; it felt like a dream, yet so real.
The next day, I asked her, "Will I see you again in the next few days?" "I'm taking the kids to the suburbs for a few days; I won't be back until the weekend." "Okay, then I'll make plans with you next time I come back." "I miss you. Do you miss me?" I asked. Guess what? She sent a shy smiley face.
I understood; this was just the beginning.

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Ten years of hard work culminated in this masterpiece: Me and my junior classmate

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