Me and the men who went from MOP to bed

Published Date: 2013-01-09 Author: yh-4479 Popularity: 2730

When I realized my memory had deteriorated to the point where I couldn't even recall the faces of the men I'd slept with two months ago, each
one a blur, I knew it was time to write it all down. Because what needs to be forgotten
doesn't matter whether it's remembered or not. 24 years old, not young anymore.

Seven days a week, ha, exactly seven men I've slept with, except for two on weekends, the rest were all met on MOP
. The past six months have been more eventful than the previous four years.

Perhaps some of the men involved will see this post, but it doesn't matter, just consider it me rambling.

A new message on my phone: What have you been busy with lately? Have you forgotten me? Long time no see. This is
a man 18 centimeters tall, and also the man I've slept with most recently on MOP, I can't be sure if he's the last
. But what's certain is that his size is absolutely unmatched.

At first, we were mutually infatuated; he lived in the same city as me, the closest man to me. His size
gave me a masochistic pleasure. I was happy to give him oral sex; it was long and neat, like hands that could
play the piano.

He had a girlfriend of over three years, stable and loving. He often received phone calls during sex, and he would patiently
playfully tease her, but without slowing down. I used to wonder why a thirty-year-old man wouldn't have
a good sex life with his girlfriend and instead seek out a sex partner, but I quickly realized that men are like cats wanting to steal food,
no matter how loyal they are to their partners.

In fact, more than half of the men I've slept with had girlfriends or wives. We even had sex in their own homes
. Now, looking back, I have no regrets about sex or men in my life.

Here, I need to clarify some questions that some readers might have.

First, my independence is something many people would be ashamed of. I started working in my senior year of college, and at that time, I lived with my boyfriend for six months,
splitting expenses equally. So I never took money from any of the men I slept with. I slept with them purely because I wanted to.

Second, my boundaries are very principled. I don't do it without a condom, so I'm very healthy. I just had
a check-up at the provincial hospital, and everything is fine.

Thirdly, I'm selective; I don't go for men I don't feel anything for. Although I feel a little ashamed now, well, I'll
just treat them as free tools, after all, they're warmer than a cold vibrator.

Okay, the show is about to begin. Please don't litter, dear readers. No matter how badly I perform, I
'm still putting my heart into it. Thank you!

Chapter One: A man for three years and a man for three minutes—there's no difference.

My three-year first love ended on Valentine's Day. February 14, 2006. It was two weeks after I went to his rural hometown for the New Year.

He said on the phone, "Find a rich man back home. I still have a long way to go working and can't afford to hold you back. I'm planning
to marry a wife back home after thirty..."

That night, I wrote about the heartbreak of the breakup on MOP until 3 AM. I showed it to a few friends, and they were all
moved to tears . A week later, I deleted that sad post. Because in that week, I understood that a man's decision is unchangeable. So I won't waste another tear

for any man . After more than half a year, I fell in love with being single, doing whatever I wanted on MOP, living a wild and unrestrained life. I could sleep with whichever man I wanted, without anyone interfering, and I was incredibly happy. I used to be stubbornly attracted to his kind of muscular physique, but none of the men I dated afterward were like him. And I didn't care at all. The reason is simple: when you don't care about the food, will you care about the tableware? Some people fall, and they'll fall again and again; while others, after falling, see the path ahead clearly and refuse to fall again. Most women belong to the former, and I was lucky enough to belong to the latter. Finding your place in a man's heart is the key to maximizing your potential. A couple of times, I had a fleeting thought of making love with him: crawling into bed, gazing deeply into each other's eyes before kissing. And then nothing more. We gave each other our first time, but what does it matter? It was just one of countless times . It held no special meaning. The classrooms, staircases, rooftops, dormitories… we once shared that passion, knowing each other's bodies intimately. I was confident he'd never find a woman more compatible than me, so let him slowly reminisce. I vaguely remember the first time; it didn't work, and then I gave him a blowjob. Because I'd studied countless oral sex techniques early on, it proved true that as long as the man in bed pleased me, I was happy to give him a blowjob. A 5/7 man, I enjoyed this honor. A few months ago, he called, saying his job was incredibly good, couldn't be better. While continuing to look at the oral sex techniques, I said, "Yeah, the man I've chosen can't be wrong." He asked, "How are you doing now?" I said, "Still the same, just changed jobs and a new phone." He sighed, "You, you… but it doesn't matter anymore, just marry a rich man." At that moment, I realized that a man of three years and a man of three minutes are completely no different. They both entered my body, but what remains in my memory is just a number. The joy and pain of that time, like fleeting clouds in the sky, have vanished. I was attacked yesterday and can't update. Who's so bored? Whether it's a no-go or not, you'll find out by reading on. Chapter Two: Marrying a Rich Man the Size of a Toothpick 06.3.8. Blind Date. This was a man under 170cm tall and over 150kg. His mother introduced his family's factory, over 20,000 square meters, etc., and my mother also introduced herself: a Hong Kong-style suite, 120 square meters, etc… I rolled my eyes at my mother and blurted out: Do you think 120 is a lot? For the next few weeks, he basically drove his Audi A6 to meet me every day. I subtly found out he also used MOP (a Chinese social networking site) , and I immediately became much more restrained. This was a willful and naive man, who would talk on the phone for hours every night until I was speechless. Today he talked about his first love, tomorrow about his two-timing, the day after about his one-night stands… I really wanted him to finish telling me all at once. I expressed my understanding of his absurd past. This touched him deeply. It wasn't really about understanding; I'd always treated him like a stranger. Purely for the future, for my parents, I decided to sacrifice myself.

It's okay.

We talked a lot about sex on the phone, and he didn't mind at all that I wasn't a virgin. You have to believe,
there are still men like that in this world. I was so happy that we could be so frank with each other.

I told him I had a big problem: after sex, I didn't want any physical contact anymore. I was used to running far away
and then going to sleep separately. My ex-boyfriend and I had argued about this many times. He said very seriously, "That's a really
big problem. Usually, you should hold each other tightly and sleep together after sex." I said, "I don't like that."

I asked, "You've been with so many women, how do you prevent pregnancy?" He replied, "Have you heard of female
birth control pills ? You insert them beforehand, wait two minutes, and then have sex, and there's no problem." I was confused, "Then why don't you use condoms?" He
replied, "I never use condoms.

" I felt waves of nausea. Sex without a condom! For the past few years, even with the same
man, I've been reluctant to have sex without a condom because I dislike the sticky feeling of semen inside, and I also dislike the
irregular periods that come with medication. A friend of mine, with a devoted boyfriend, never used a condom and ended up with a serious gynecological
problem. Another friend, with different boyfriends, never used a condom or took medication, and never got pregnant, but still developed
a mild gynecological issue. So, using a condom is incredibly important. As I stated at the beginning, my principle is: no condoms,
no sex. Of course, this principle has been broken, which I'll probably explain in detail in Chapter Four.

Several times, he booked a hotel room and called me over. This adorable man completely misunderstands
what kind of woman I am. Does a hug and a passionate kiss mean we can sleep together? Darling, we're dating,
not a one-night stand. I'll remain reserved until our wedding day.

He held back for a long time before finally asking me, "If I propose to you, will you say yes?" I thought for a moment: "Let me ask
my parents first."

Having experienced the failure of a failed free-choice relationship, I didn't want to make decisions on my own anymore, nor did I trust my own judgment
. I wanted to let the person who loved me most decide.

I told my parents about all the conversations I had with him, but there was one thing that I couldn't bring myself to say and that gave me a
terrible headache. After I repeatedly criticized him for not wearing a condom, he finally told the truth: the condoms on the market were all
too big … and they hadn't grown since he had his penis circumcised at 17…

My head spun. Sex was so important, and my ex-boyfriend's size was acceptable, but
now I was being forced to live with a toothpick for the rest of my life—it seemed too cruel. Although I knew his penis wasn't large when I first met him,
I didn't expect it to be this small.

But I quickly reassured myself; even if things didn't work out, I had my own hard work and countless sex shops
to visit. So I expressed my understanding to him, which moved him to tears.

4.8. A month after we met, his mother called my house and loudly told my mother, "Your daughter
is good in every way, except she doesn't respect her elders. The first time we met, she was yelling at her mother, and
later when she came to my house for dinner, she wasn't very talkative. So, your daughter isn't suitable for my family..."

However, he was completely unaware of the decision his family had made for him and still called me wanting to have a long chat.

He expressed great indignation at his mother's behavior and firmly stated that he wouldn't marry anyone but me. I said, "
I understand your attitude, but your parents' attitude needs to be made clear to my parents."

A very satisfactory ending.

Thank God, three years have taught me that men without money are selfish; one month has
taught me that even men with money can't control themselves. The latter is actually more tragic.

From then on, I never had the thought of marrying a rich man again. Before, I relied on myself; now, I rely on myself;
and in the future, I will rely on myself!

Hehe, I had some time these past few days, so I put together a table of contents for everyone to review.

Chapter Three: My Second Man, a Truly Good Man.

Chapter Four: Three Nights, Three Cities, Three Men.

1. A handsome 33-year-old.

2. Three minutes at most, does that count as an erection?

3. An absolutely perfect one-night stand. Chapter Five: He tormented me with length, I tormented him with time.

There was once a man who cursed at me, calling me worse than a prostitute, shameless…

We used to be good friends, almost sleeping together. He was enraged because
while we were being intimate online, I was actually being intimate with other men.

Darling, what kind of relationship do we have? Do you understand?

People habitually slander what they can't have or can't achieve.

I can only laugh at myself again, and thank God again.
A man who doesn't even understand basic mutual respect is nothing more than an extremely selfish and despicable animal.

Chapter Three: My second man is an absolutely good man.

This was the first man from MOP. We met in a dating thread. We broke up around the same time,
comforting and warming each other. Occasionally, we fantasized. His attentiveness often annoyed me. He would
break down his questions about what I'd eaten into: What time did you eat? What did you eat? Was it good? Do you want some more?... I was driven
almost crazy, but I was happy. Because no one had ever cared about me like that before.

During that time, I worked very hard, only getting two days off a month. I also had to talk on the phone with that rich guy
until midnight, looking haggard. He finally couldn't bear to see me like that and told me to rest, inviting me to spend the weekend in a nearby city
. I told my then-boyfriend (less than a month, could I even call him my boyfriend? I never really thought so) that I was going
out with classmates. Then I turned off my phone.

The night after the rain was incredibly clear. In the hot spring pool, we joked and gently hugged. There was nothing
erotic about it.

Holding hands, we returned to the suite, where he dried my hair and massaged my stiff shoulders. He massaged for a long time until I
was almost asleep. I imagine his hands were aching.

We turned off the lights and went to sleep, and he gently held me and kissed me. Everything just happened naturally. The next day, we
visited a nearby scenic spot. Like a couple who had been together for years.

It was at the end of March. We met twice after that. Once, I quit my job and went to his city
to look for work. He helped me print my resume and accompanied me to all the job fairs. Then he took me sightseeing.

After dinner, while waiting for the bus back to my place, he insisted on driving me, but I refused because I had another person at my place.
A man. I didn't want him to know.

Finally, he whispered in my ear: "I hope you can stay and date me." Honestly, that was
the most beautiful love confession I'd ever heard.

The last time was in early September. My period was ten days late, and during my first date with my 18cm penis, the condom broke
. It was my fertile period, and I panicked. It was the first time I'd ever been so panicked. After a simple check-up at the local hospital,
confirming I wasn't pregnant, I decided to go to the largest gynecology hospital in the province for a full check-up.

He happened to be in a nearby city, so he bought train tickets and waited for me to go with him. I said I wanted to get a gynecological exam,
just a simple check-up. He said, "Okay, I'll go with you."

He chose a hotel closest to the hospital, saying it would be convenient to come at six in the morning to register; you have to register for famous doctors that early
, otherwise you won't get an appointment. Being with him, I really didn't have to think about anything. This man would meticulously arrange
everything; all I needed to do was enjoy it.

That night, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I said, "Why are you holding it in?" He said, "I have a check-up tomorrow; it's best not to move."
I laughed, my hand reaching for his already erect member.

It wouldn't be right for two people in bed not to have something happen, would it?

The next day, I got up at six to register. The checkup went incredibly smoothly; the most famous old doctor in the province said, "Everything's fine
, just keep it up." Not even a single medication was prescribed! It felt like winning the lottery. When I came out
and saw him waiting for me, I almost wanted to rush over and hug him tightly.

Then I went on a shopping spree, spending all the money I'd saved for medicine.

In the afternoon, I went on a date with another man, a man ten years older than me. Can I call him an old man
? I didn't want to have sex with him, but I lowered my body, wearing a low-cut tank top, and flipped through the newspaper in front of him. Women are truly
contradictory and perverse; seducing men has become a habit, even if I don't want anything to happen. I considered this
my last meeting with this old man. I'll talk about it in the next chapter.

In the evening, I returned to the hotel and had dinner with him. He actually spent the whole afternoon watching TV in his room, completely bored. This
man was waiting for me, and what had I done?! People feel guilty. Overwhelmed by his overwhelming care,
I felt utterly ashamed.

I asked him, "Why are you so good to me? Is it worth it?" He looked at me and said, word by word, "Whether it's worth it
or not is my business."

Yes, whether it's worth it or not is everyone's business. He might have a new girlfriend, but I never ask.
The men who come and go in my life, he might genuinely be unaware, or he might pretend not to know. No promises between us, just
cherishing the moments we spend together—that's the most perfect relationship. Thank God for giving me such a man.

Ugh… I can't even format it into paragraphs…

I'm writing this online, I'll update as soon as possible. I've been working overtime lately, working hard, making more money is my only goal.
Thank

you to those who understand. Women, as long as they are independent, can absolutely have the same rights as men.
Don't think that one-night stands are a disadvantage for women; it's about who gets up and leaves first.

Please indicate the source as MOP when reprinting. If the audience likes it, I'm going to post it on the original site.

Ha, this is my first time writing a novel, and it's actually about sex. Actually, what I really wanted to write was titled: "Daughters Should Be
Self-Reliant," about how women should be independent and self-reliant, but I suspect the audience would be small.

This story will have an ending that is both unexpected and logical. The following chapters
may contain more explicit descriptions, haha, consider this a preview!

Chapter Four: Three Nights, Three Cities, Three Men.

During a period of job-hopping, I experienced the most incredible journey: three days, visiting three
cities, and encountering three men. Looking back, it's unbelievable, yet it really happened,
and all three men were closely related to MOP.

1. A handsome 33-year-old.

This was a middle-aged man ten years older than me. Handsome and mature. When he smiled, there was a slight
shyness. He was a senior manager who had business dealings with my former company. In the last cold winter, around January
, I left the company, facing the cold wind, and stood by the roadside waiting for a car.

Watching his blue car slowly pull out and stop beside me, he rolled down the window and asked, "Want
a ride?"

We exchanged business cards. We chatted occasionally on QQ that evening, talking about random things. At that time,
I had just broken up with my ex-boyfriend, and I showed him the posts I'd made on MOP until 3 AM. His mature, comforting words
were very effective. We gradually became familiar with each other.

After that month with the rich guy, I had lost all hope in men. I only knew
that what I needed now was to try different men and experience the life I could only imagine before. A mature
man was one of my targets.

I started showing him some of my fantasies on MOP, and this probing worked very well; his words immediately
became extremely restless. I responded with feigned reluctance. Two months later, he was on a business trip to a nearby city and specially
drove two hours to see me. We had dinner and went to karaoke.

He sang very well; he could sing Andy Lau's songs with incredible depth. Later, I concluded that men who sing well
are usually very skilled in bed.

I fed him fruit with a toothpick, looked at him with adoration, and kept praising him: "You sing so well, it
makes me feel inferior!!!"

He reached out, gently patted my head, and then lightly stroked my chin. He said, "You sing much better than me
!"

I said I had to go home at ten. So he took me home, we strolled in the park for a while, chatting about the three great characters on the computer,
our eyes meeting intensely, but neither of us dared to make a move.

Later, we met on QQ, and he said, "You, I came all this way to see you, and you're so disrespectful...
" I said, "I can't do that on a first date." He was silent for a moment: "I
can't do that either." Then he continued to daydream. In May, I quit my job. Before reporting to my new company, I had a ten-day
break, so I decided to travel. I wanted to travel around the province. He just came online and warmly invited me to his city.
I checked the route and decided to go there first.

The next day, I set off. I arrived at the deluxe double room I had booked and took a shower. He was with his boss.
I had a social engagement and wouldn't be able to leave until later. Bored, I went to an internet cafe I hadn't been to in ages to let the receptionists from
my second third stops know I was there. They all seemed like handsome guys, which pleased me. But I imagine they
were even more delighted.

Back in my room, I changed into my bathrobe and watched TV. At ten o'clock, just as I was getting ready for bed, the doorbell rang.
A man reeking of alcohol stumbled in, leaned against the window, and vomited for a while. I'd never seen anything like it before,
so I made him a cup of hot tea. But then I was grabbed and pushed down onto the bed. At this point, the man had
shed his suit and tie, leaving only his alcohol-fueled brain.

My hands, clutching my bathrobe, weakly resisted his advances. I knew it was pointless
; it was bound to happen. But should I just open my genitals and let him in? So, I decided to put in the effort
and do some foreplay.

When I was stripped naked and presented to him, the man, like an impatient child, greedily
began to suckle. I closed my eyes; I completely understood. He had longed for a young body for far
too long.

His technique was excellent; he had done plenty of foreplay. Both our bodies were already burning hot. Before he entered, I asked, "Where's the condom?"
He shook his head: "Should we buy this now?" "Don't worry, I'll take responsibility for you. Don't be afraid." I
knew things were already out of control, and I didn't want them to stop. Okay, let's take the risk.

His entry was gentle, but quickly turned violent. Suddenly, he stopped and went to the bathroom to vomit violently.
Haha, poor man, enduring the churning in his stomach while still satisfying his lower body.

After a shower, I felt much more awake. We entered again, changing positions many times. I enjoyed it, and he enjoyed it too
.

That night, we did it three times. The next morning, we made love again. Then he went to his company, and I went
sightseeing. At noon, he took me to my next destination. After arranging the room, I naturally wanted to use it, but in the midst of the excitement, I was
interrupted by a phone call from his wife.

He left in a hurry. I immediately dialed the number of the second person in charge of reception: I'm already at XX Hotel
, when will you arrive?

In the following months, we met twice, and the chats were still very pleasant. But in bed, he was clearly
not up to the task. Once, I lost my phone, and he helped me buy a new one. From then on, I cut off all
contact with him. Having tasted it, that was enough.

After all, it's an adult game, and we both know when to stop. No need for further explanation, no need to say goodbye.
Because perhaps we never even met.

2. Three minutes at most, is that considered ED?

This is a man I met on MOP less than a week ago. (I posted a PP thread earlier, which led
to many men on QQ.) He's a year older than me. He's very lively, and in SP, he looks fair-skinned and refined.

After having dinner at Pizza Hut, the atmosphere became much more harmonious. He always has some very witty remarks that make people laugh
. We got along well, and naturally, something happened next.

His skin was smooth and delicate, without a single stray hair. The feel was superb. He could be in a shower gel commercial
. He confidently declared: "I'll definitely try to have sex with at least ten women!" I immediately chimed in: "I'll try to have sex with
at least ten men!" We laughed heartily.

The foreplay was plentiful, but after struggling for most of the night, we still hadn't succeeded. His penis went limp as soon as we put on a condom. He
explained that it was because he hadn't had sex in a long time. I reflected on my actions, but my conscience was clear.

We met a few more times afterward, mainly out of sympathy and because we enjoyed chatting. The final conclusion was: this
man, at most three minutes. He himself admitted that although he had been with many women, it was always the same. I thought to myself
: "Then you should stop ruining people's lives... and you want to reach ten..."

My good friend COCO poured out her woes to me, unable to tolerate her boyfriend any longer, mainly because he was simply impotent. I
said: "At least you can last three minutes, right?" COCO angrily retorted: "If he can last three minutes, I'll kneel down and thank him
!"

Sex is important to men, but isn't it just as important to women?

It's a proven fact that men with weak sexual abilities are mostly emotional and unpredictable. To put it simply, they're spineless.
What else can you describe a man who can't even satisfy a woman's most basic needs but is weak?

Being a man is difficult; not only do they have to support their families, but they also have to meet other needs. Those who can handle both are becoming
increasingly rare.

Is three minutes considered erectile dysfunction (ED)? Strictly speaking, three minutes is already a huge success for someone with ED.
In practical terms, well, women might as well rely on themselves for a quick and easy time. But the most painful one is probably
the owner of that unreliable penis.

I've been too busy with work lately, my mind is a mess, I'll update another section tonight. Thank you for your attention.

The most perfect one-night stand. I'd give the male protagonist of this story a name: J. He's the only
man in the entire story with a name. Even now, he's the only one I can't forget. We met at MOP, had a
very warm chat, and he seemed like an extremely handsome man, with clear features and elegant speech—a standard "oxygen beauty
." It made my mouth water.

Since I was traveling, going to his city was entirely because of him.

J picked me up at the station and naturally took my tattered travel bag, making sure I didn't have to
lift a finger the whole way. It was indeed very refreshing.

J led me to a rather stylish local restaurant, where we had a pleasant dinner. Then he suggested we go to the supermarket to buy some snacks
. In the bread section, J looked at the large loaf I had picked out with a puzzled expression and asked, "Can you finish this?" I glanced at him
and lowered my head: "Isn't this for two people?!" His handsome face immediately turned bright red.

Next, we went to karaoke. I'm quite confident in my singing, but J's voice made me feel utterly ashamed.
He sang Tao Zhe's "Find Myself" and Wang Leehom's "The Only One" even more movingly than the originals. (Even now,
I always choose these two songs when I go to karaoke; I can't sing them well, it's purely to commemorate him.) I looked at J
with a newfound appreciation. Because men who sing well often perform well in bed too.

Back in the room. One of us was on one side of the large bed. J's face flushed again: "I didn't expect us to end up
like this so soon, haha." The atmosphere was awkward. He tilted his head: "Why are you so far away? Come a little closer." I chuckled and ran
even further away.

After an agonizing dozen seconds, J leaned in, our eyes five centimeters apart. I could feel his
breath and the fresh scent of his shower. No words were needed; he kissed my lips precisely. From gentle to
intense, his kiss made me feel dizzy. This was a feeling I'd never experienced with my boyfriends of the past three years.
Kissing J, I could never tire of it; his lips seemed born for kissing, giving me a feeling that once
I held them I never wanted to let go.

He carefully and gently cared for every inch of my skin, moving downwards. It made my whole body burn, a feeling I hadn't
felt in a long time. Just as we were about to reach my most private area, he stopped, looked at me, and said, "Shall I kiss your whole body?" At that moment,
I was speechless, only breathing heavily.

J simply kissed me naturally, his kiss as fluid and graceful as a kiss on the lips. His technique and his
attitude were so good that I would never forget it. I couldn't hold back any longer and shouted, "How could you
do this?!" He replied naturally, "I wasn't single before."

It was my turn to return the favor to J. I kissed this charming man, from his lips to his throat, to his shoulders,
to his nipples, to his waist, to his inner thighs, to his groin, to his penis… attending to every cell, wet and forceful
, my teeth gently rubbing against it. J's penis, like his face, was rosy and firm, the most handsome
penis I had ever seen. Watching his rapid breathing, I increased the frequency, each time licking the shaft with my tongue,
then making a 360-degree rotation at the tip. Hehe, a man's sensitive areas are actually quite simple. J, like me,
couldn't hold back under the assault of my technique.

The temperature rose to its peak. I couldn't wait any longer. J's size was excellent; I
had already guessed from his high, straight nose.

J was being annoying, circling around the spot where his hot penis was supposed to enter, it was truly unbearable. I
begged him, pleading with him in a low voice, to stop. He chuckled; yes, he had achieved his goal. So
he moved on to the next step, as if the woman beneath him were a virgin, gently penetrating a little, then immediately withdrawing,
repeating this several times. I was furious. I had never felt this burning sensation throughout my body, unable to release it. I couldn't let
him tease me any longer.

I reached out and pressed down on his buttocks, thrusting my body upwards. The overwhelming pleasure instantly spread throughout my body. I
tightened my vaginal muscles, as if trying to squeeze him out. Of course, I only used this technique on him; other men never
had this privilege.

At this point, J began to unleash his full power. His strength was extremely fierce, his speed extremely intense.
I felt as if my entire body was floating on clouds, my mind spinning, constantly releasing the flames accumulated deep within my body. My whole
body was numb, limp and boneless. I could only respond with loud gasps and moans, letting him know what I wanted to say: J, you
are truly amazing!

When he ejaculated, I didn't know how much time had passed, nor could I calculate how many times I had contracted violently
; I only knew that this lovemaking couldn't have been more intense.

A newfound adoration filled our eyes. A harmonious sexual encounter can enhance feelings—it's an undeniable
truth. He leaned against me and asked, "Do you know why I don't have a girlfriend?" We'd talked about past relationships;
he still loved his first girl and his college girlfriend. He was a passionate but not promiscuous man;
after graduating and breaking up, he hadn't dated anyone else.

I said, "Why? A man like you probably gets a lot of suitors, right?" He smiled: "Because I'm going
abroad." He broke up with his college girlfriend because he couldn't provide her with a good life (a reason almost
identical to my college boyfriend's). Now his job is mundane, so he's choosing to study abroad.

My heart skipped a beat; it meant I'd never see J again. But what could I do? I could only
offer him my congratulations and best wishes, feigning nonchalance.

The second and third times began immediately. I wanted to become one with this man as much as possible. Exhausted, it
was the next morning. As usual, I slept far away; I didn't like any contact afterward. He reached out and gently
turned my shoulder, saying tenderly, "Shall I hold you while we sleep?

" What could I say to a man like that? The irresistible warmth was suffocating. I rested my head on his arm
until dawn .

The next day, J took the day off to be with me. We went to the park and watched a movie. My hands never let go. In the movie theater, I
couldn't help but kiss the back of his hand and his fingers. This man was simply too intoxicating.

That night, I got my period, several days early. I knew it was because of the medication I took the day before. With that 33
-year-old man, I didn't use a condom. I used my mouth and hands to help him. For the first time, I swallowed his semen. Because this
man is someone I will remember in my limited life. He said, "You really drained me! But having sex with you was really
great." Just those words made me content. After returning, I carefully selected two Jack Jones items and sent them to him.
I knew this was the last time I would be so good to a man, so I gave it my all.

Two months later, J went abroad. We met online and exchanged simple pleasantries. He never flirted with me online;
our conversations were always very serious. How many people could sense the fervor hidden beneath this seemingly calm exterior
?

Knowing he was doing well brought me a sense of relief. But I didn't really care how he was doing. He
felt the same way .

It was an indescribable feeling; everyone cherishes beautiful things, especially something so perfect. If he
hadn't gone abroad, nothing would have changed; we would still be living our own lives.

I don't know if J knew how unforgettable I was of him, even though I had told him. In the days that followed
, I understood that there could never be another man like J. So, I will always remember him, unless a man
appears leaves an even deeper impression.

4. Standard ONS: From meeting at MOP to sleeping together, we only chatted two or three times. I had no idea what kind of
person he was. I happened to be visiting his city, so we met up. He was a man with a boyish charm.

We didn't say much that night; we turned off the TV and immediately ended our first time. There wasn't a single word exchanged;
the atmosphere was very heavy. I asked, "How many times do you usually do it in one night?" He said, "Once."

So we went to sleep. Half an hour later, I felt uncomfortable. Too lazy to think further, I tentatively touched his penis...
The hardness was okay, so I sat on him and moved on my own. His length was suitable for this position, and soon I reached
the climax I wanted.

Then, I put a pillow in the middle of the bed. I slept until dawn. There was no further contact after that.

Standard one-night stand, the difference between a man and a vibrator is just whether or not there is heat. Reaching the desired climax, fulfillment
over. Chapter 5: He tormented me with his length, I tormented him with time.

The first few days after leaving J were really hard. Soon I met another man in MOP. Surprisingly, he was from
the same city as me.

During those days controlled by desire, we frequently went on dates, indulging in wild pleasures. There was basically no foreplay
, only the most primitive activities. Each time it ended, only emptiness remained after satisfaction. YJ came ten days late,
I know it was because of his 18cm, which violated ZG. All of this has already been mentioned at the beginning of the article.

The first time I went to the hospital because of a man whose name I didn't even know. That indescribable feeling, more self-reproach
than confusion, made me reflect on the past six months of my life. What was I pursuing after such indulgence? Physical
pleasure? If it started with curiosity and desire, now it's hard for any man
to arouse me. Only J remains in my mind; others are basically ignored or completely forgotten.

If that's the case, what else do I want? In this world, only I am truly reliable,
and the responsibility of caring for my parents must gradually take full effect. I should do my best to fulfill that responsibility.

Having clarified the path I wanted to take, I began to plan how to walk it.

I agreed to the 18cm date again, frantically ordering him not to stop, not to ejaculate, to keep going.
I heard my own cries, almost desperate. Each thrust slammed heavily against my vulnerable penis; it was
a masochistic pain, but I yelled at him: Don't stop! His sweat began to cool, his voice trembling:
Haven't you had enough? I really can't take it anymore! Before, I was always the one begging him to stop; this time, he begged me. I coldly
replied, "Stop in half an hour," completely ignoring his groans.

This was an extremely BDSM session; he tortured me with his length, and I tortured him with my time. It far exceeded
the normal range of pleasure.

My goal for this final date was to make myself lose all interest in sex, to the point of nausea. And I
achieved that goal.

Then this man, with his exceptional size and stamina, was discarded like a worn-out shoe. I ignored all his texts and messages, and I
didn't answer his calls.

If sex can't be enjoyable, then what's the point? After all this, I finally understand that sex isn't easy
, and a perfect partner is a 1/7 probability. I don't reject one-night stands, but I want a partner like J. All
others are out of the question. This is my settled mindset. Now, more than two months later, I haven't slept with a man, and
I don't want to sleep with any more.

Women, if you want sex, choose a good partner. First, study their face and hands to
determine their size and ability. If you feel they can satisfy you, then continue the relationship. This is based on experience. Later, if
any viewers are interested, I will explain in detail how to judge men by their appearance. Let everyone know that men are actually very
simple things.

But most importantly, women must be independent and decisive. Then no one has the right to tell you what to do
. Their anger stems from wanting something but not being able to, or wanting something but not being able to get it—isn't that the most pathetic thing?
We can face criticism and ridicule with equanimity because we live authentically, without needing to hide anything. Desire is desire; controlling
desire and striving towards clear career goals is the highest level.

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