Brothers, best friends, teachers and students

I had my first time at eighteen; she was six years older than me. At 24, looking back, she was just a young woman who hadn't been working for very long, but back then, she seemed mature and aloof. In fact, we were indeed from different generations, as she was my high school teacher.

For about a year before we became intimate, we were more like genderless best friends, like brothers and sisters, not like teacher and student. She said I was like her younger brother (her brother is two years older than me), and for her, living far from home, I was perhaps a practical substitute for her homesickness. Plus, I did well in her class, and because I was relatively precocious, the extracurricular books I read often appealed to her, so we could talk about anything. I also frequently brought her home for meals. My parents liked her too, always feeling sorry for a young girl working so far from home without anyone to take care of her, and often asked me to invite her over for soup and meals. My family was quite strict with me; I wasn't allowed to leave the house after dinner, with one exception: going to her single dormitory to study or do homework, which was unconditionally permitted.

By today's standards, she'd probably be considered "slightly chubby," but she's actually quite pretty, with big eyes, a round face, and a cheerful, talkative personality. She even has dimples when she smiles. After getting to know her, I discovered she also had a very sentimental and artistic side—a side few people knew. During

the summer break after my first year of high school, my parents were worried about my poor math grades and used their connections to arrange for me to attend a boarding school at a prestigious high school in another city for a month. She, on the other hand, worked as a tutor at the same school, teaching in a class to earn extra money. Of course, she also shouldered the "important responsibility" of being my guardian.

Because it was the holidays, there weren't many people at the school, and the student dormitories were closed. My mother's acquaintance arranged for us to share a teachers' rest room with partitions and two single beds. She slept in the inner room, and I slept in the outer room. For the entire month, our lives were very regular. During the day, we went to different classrooms; I attended classes, and she taught. At noon, we went to the cafeteria to get food, ate in the dorm, and then took a nap. In the afternoon, we continued with classes, and then I went to play soccer. Sometimes we ate dinner at the cafeteria, and sometimes we went to a friend's house for a meal. After dinner, we walked back to the dorm together; I did my homework, and she read. There was no intimate, affectionate, or even ambiguous behavior or conversation. Of course, as a teenage boy, I was always curious about women. But it only went as far as sneaking into her room during her nap to peek under her skirt at the foot of her bed. I even felt it was "disloyal" to peek at her showering, so I didn't dare to do it...

Looking back now, things started to change a few days before I left. We usually had a lot to talk about after class, always laughing and having a good time. I don't know when it started, but she began picking on me, saying I was wrong in this way and that way. I'm used to being a pushover, so I never argued back. I humbly accepted whatever she said, but resolutely refused to change. There had been similar situations before, but they were usually quickly resolved with a joke or two, leaving no lingering resentment. Those days, I don't know what was wrong, she seemed to be irritable, and my jokes didn't work; they even added fuel to the fire…

This day, she picked on me again. Being a rebellious teenager, I couldn't stand it and started arguing back. She blushed with anger at my retort, looking quite adorable. Seeing her like that, I had already calmed down and started to playfully tease her. But she wasn't buying it at all; the more we talked, the angrier she got, and she actually hit me…

At that time, I was half a head taller than her, so how could she possibly hit me? Even if she did, it wouldn't hurt. But I didn't let her hit me. At first, I blocked with my hand, but after a couple of times, I realized my hard bones hurt her hand. So, I stopped blocking and started grabbing her wrist, usually hitting her accurately and then letting go. Unexpectedly, she didn't stop and continued hitting me, so I had to dodge. I hid from the outer room to the inner room, but she chased after me and continued to attack. To stop her "violent" behavior, I had to grab her wrists and hold on. After restraining both of her hands, I even said with a cheeky smile, "Let's see how you hit me now." Then, she started kicking me...

I play soccer every day, why would I be afraid of being kicked by a girl? I didn't even bother to block, letting her kick me. One of her kicks probably hit my shinbone, which hurt her a lot, and this made her even more furious. She started hitting me with all her legs, feet, and knees, without any aim. If this continued, my little brother might be "indiscriminately injured"... I quickly grabbed both of her wrists and pushed her onto the bed. I thought, "Let's see how you throw a tantrum after I pin you down." She's not exactly short, maybe 164 or 165 cm, but it wasn't too difficult to pin her to the bed. She hadn't stopped moving, and because she was sitting, it was even easier for

her to move her legs around... I couldn't think of a better way at the time, so I just kept pushing her flat, pinning her hands to either side of her head. To stop her legs from kicking, I had to use my knees to hold them down. Then, awkwardly... the position was really hard to explain. Even more awkward was that because we were chest to chest, face to face, I could feel her breathing, and my little brother, quite resiliently, had a strong reaction... pressing against her lower abdomen... She seemed to quiet down immediately. Then, I hesitated for half a second (or maybe many half a second), quickly propped myself up, and moved my "crime weapon" out of the sensor's range. While doing so, I said in a very brotherly manner, "Stop messing around, okay?" and ruffled her hair. Hey, she's clearly much older than me, so how did I become the older brother...? Then I made up an excuse and left the inner room.

That night, everything was peaceful, and she returned to her cheerful, joking self. We both tacitly avoided mentioning what happened that afternoon. That night, I tossed and turned quite a bit. For the virgin, those few seconds of that scene were still quite impactful. Separated by the thin partition, afraid she'd hear anything, I didn't dare masturbate, and could only struggle with that fleeting desire for a long time before finally falling asleep.

The next day, the morning was peaceful. By noon, she started acting up again, basically perfectly replicating the entire process from the previous day, until I pinned her down on the single bed in the inner room again...

She was still struggling under me, trying to flip me over, but her efforts were becoming increasingly feigned. Perhaps because we were face to face, too close, her wide-open eyes closed, her breathing became rapid and disordered, and her face turned red. Then, I kissed her. Not on the lips, but on her forehead and eyes... Thinking about it now, I was so cowardly. Thankfully, she didn't slap me. My hands and legs, which were still restraining her, suddenly lost their strength, and I felt as if my whole body went limp. Her eyelids trembled, and her hands seemed to shake too. I mustered my courage and kissed her lips. Her lips seemed to tremble as well; I couldn't tell if it was hers, mine, or both. At first, I could sense her bewilderment (and I was no different myself). Gradually, her bewilderment and evasion turned into a response. Both of us were awkward, tentative and groping, then a new greed... The technical details of that kiss are long gone, but the thrill of that moment still lingers. It was my first kiss, and supposedly hers too.

Receiving a response, not rejection, encouraged me to continue exploring. The kiss left her lips, landing on her neck, shoulders, and chest. That afternoon we lingered, and I completed my first exploration and intimacy with most areas of a woman's body. But technically, we hadn't changed our virginity. The most I was allowed to do was press, bump, and rub my hardness against her softest spot through our underwear.

The next day, we finished our tutoring session and took the bus home. On the long-distance bus, surrounded by complete strangers, we initially sat side by side, maintaining a facade of propriety. But then she grew tired and sleepy, and slowly leaned her head on my not-so-strong shoulder, revealing her girlish side completely, so obedient. And I, suddenly, felt like a man.

Once that door was opened, the inexperienced Shao Feng naturally became captivated. In the days that followed, I craved every opportunity to be alone with her. Her tiny single dormitory room, less than eight square meters, became our secret sanctuary. We both demanded from and explored each other there, but she always strictly adhered to the bottom line—no entry allowed… From the height of summer to the depths of winter, all my efforts and progress could be summarized as: first base, rubbing against each other through two pairs of underwear; second base, rubbing against each other through her underwear; third base, rubbing against each other through my underwear (which seemed no different from second base… anyway, no matter how soaking wet, there had to be at least one pair of underwear covering (protecting) her or my genitals). Every time I became erect and swollen, even when I couldn't bear it any longer, I could only relieve myself when I was alone afterwards. She was shy and had no experience in helping me with my hands, let alone oral sex.

Of course, I wasn't without reward. At least, it allowed me to escape the ranks of premature ejaculation, cultivating my patience, endurance, and service awareness; I explored and tested every part of her body… I learned about sensitive spots and how to bring her different levels of pleasure without focusing solely on the soft center. I also learned how to rub the outer edges to quickly bring her to the peak of pleasure. Perhaps most importantly, I learned to appreciate the beauty of a woman's various charming, shy, innocent, dreamy, and even frenzied states during intimacy. Penetration and ejaculation were no longer the ultimate goals of intimacy. This "preparatory" course lasted for about half a year. One deep winter night, after attending my first concert together, we stayed in a small, vacant house belonging to one of her relatives. The dim lighting, the hard wooden single bed, the thin blankets—we could only try to stay close to each other for warmth. That night, I caressed her entire body, rubbing my erection against her and licking the tip with my tongue, bringing her to the peak of pleasure twice. Then, with her eyes half-closed, she sighed softly, "Come in..."

[The End]

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Brothers, best friends, teachers and students

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