My Youth

That was in 2006, when my ex and I were both in university. We lived in the same city, but far apart, so we could only meet on weekends. We'd hang out on Saturday and Sunday, and on Saturday I'd have to stay near her school. Her dorm was very strict; we couldn't stay outside, so I was always alone.
I didn't have much money then, so I stayed in a cheap hotel, and thinking back, I really felt bad for her.
I'm a lecher, very, very lecherous. Ever since we started dating, or rather, from our first kiss, I'd been constantly exploring her body. In high school, we often met in the basement of the teachers' dormitory. In the dimly lit, undisturbed basement, we'd whisper sweet nothings, kiss, and savor each other's taste. We were both very restrained then, mainly because she was very protective, only allowing me to put my hand inside her clothes and touch her flesh. If I touched her breasts, she'd scratch me for ages.
In university, I thought we were adults. Three out of her six roommates weren't virgins. Maybe it was because her best friend had been talking so much, but her defenses gradually crumbled under my advances.
Her school was in the suburbs, with few entertainment venues. Every time I went to her school, we'd go to her classroom. We'd kiss and caress. After my persistent nagging, I finally unhooked her bra and began to taste her nipples.
Many people have experienced such classroom passion.
With the arrival of spring, she changed from trousers to a skirt, and I finally had the opportunity to take it a step further—to rub.
Back then, I was clueless about sex. Finally, one time, I took my penis out and rubbed it against her vulva through her underwear. I felt great, and she felt great too. The classroom was filled with the scent of her vaginal secretions, a scent I can never forget. It was probably the unique scent of a virgin's secretions. She became aroused. Once, in the hallway, I stimulated her so much that she grabbed my penis and tried to put it down. That time, I was too scared to be seen and stopped her.
Later, I realized that a man's orgasm comes from constant stimulation of the glans, while a woman can enjoy many other types, such as clitoral orgasms, which don't require penetration. She seemed to enjoy the pleasure I gave her.
The more we rubbed, the more addictive it became. She started staying with me late at the small hotel. At first, she was reserved, and after a few times I pulled her down to just her panties, but she still wouldn't let me penetrate.
Finally, one day, before summer vacation, she went home for break, and I went to see her off. Because she had to wait for another classmate, she packed her bags early in the morning and came to the hotel to find me.
I forgot what day it was, only that CCTV5 was broadcasting NBA, and during halftime there was a Spurs highlight reel, with Xu Wei's "Blue Lotus" playing in the background.
Nothing could stop my desire for your body.
Our body temperature rose with friction, and she pulled aside a corner of her panties, and my little brother finally reunited with her little sister. She lay on the bed, her face covered in sweat, nervous and excited. I directed my little brother to linger at the muddy entrance, waiting for her invitation.
Just then, her phone rang; it was another female classmate calling her.
"Hurry up." She hung up the phone and hugged me.
I stupidly increased the speed of my friction, and she spread her legs to cooperate with me. I only remembered to penetrate when I was about to climax.
"Ah, it hurts." Her comfortable moan turned into one of pain, and we both stopped.
I was so busy comforting her and checking out that I forgot whether I'd actually penetrated her.
Later in the taxi, she whispered that it hurt down there, but I forgot whether she mentioned bleeding.
The second time was when she came back from summer vacation. That summer, I was working a summer job and rented a place. Because school was starting, I had to move back to my dorm, and she came back that day and we moved together.
Having not seen each other for a long time, we, still craving more, started our playful friction again. We went into the room and started kissing, then went to bed. The summer heat hadn't subsided, and we held each other tightly, feeling each other's fiery passion. Just then
, the doorbell rang, and my roommate came home. The passion abruptly ended.
Ten years ago is such a long time. I didn't think much about it afterward, and I can't remember what happened that day. I think there was penetration, but I forgot how deep. The main reason was because of our past friction games; I really enjoyed foreplay and always dragged it out. Basically, I only penetrated her when she couldn't take it anymore and wanted me to. This habit earned me a lot of praise later on; some even said my foreplay skills far surpassed my penetration skills—which sounded like an insult, so I tormented her for a whole Sunday because of it.
However, this habit did make me miss this rare opportunity. According to my habit, even if I did penetrate, I would go in little by little; given my love for her at the time, I would never have gone all the way in. So, it seems I didn't penetrate at all. But I also felt we did, and I vaguely remember her moans being very loud. Our
passionate encounter was interrupted, and we hurriedly packed our bags and left. As for whether there was any bleeding, I'm not sure.
The third time wasn't long after.
That year I was a junior in college. After the semester started, I didn't quit my job but frequently skipped classes to work. Also, I couldn't stand the chain smokers in my dorm, so I rented a place near the school. That little place became our love nest; we finally didn't have to rent a hotel room anymore.
To celebrate my housewarming, we cooked a chicken, a fish, bought vegetables and wine, and invited a few friends over.
After the meal, my friends left. My ex stayed.
Because I drank quite a bit, I can't really remember the passion of that night, though it seems we did have sex. Given my sexual preferences, I would never miss an opportunity for intimacy, and it's hard to say if things could ignite. Moreover, since then, she's come to my place every few weekends.
But I haven't seen any blood on the bed.
I have a virginity complex, especially with women I love. This suspicion still makes me doubt her. Because she has an ex-boyfriend, with whom she maintains an on-and-off relationship, yet she tells me I'm her first love. They met that summer; what happened, I don't know. Considering some things that happened after our breakup, some things really remain a mystery.
Maybe I'm just overthinking it; now, that's not important.
I've rambled on for a long time, pondering deeply, but I really can't remember when I had my first time. Maybe it was some time I stayed at a hotel near my school.
Perhaps she knows, but given our current relationship, how could I ask?
Let it remain a mystery.
The first time isn't important; what matters is that I had a beautiful and passionate period of my youth.
Thank you to her, and I wish her all the best.
[The End]

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