Senior loves junior

I previously wrote a story about my ex-girlfriend, who was born in the 2000s. She was young, had a cute appearance, but was incredibly sexy, the kind who masturbated every day while reading novels—completely my type. I logged in a long time ago to add some pictures, but the post was gone. Going through the "likes" section in the history showed "ID invalid," I don't know why, and I didn't have a backup on my phone, which is quite a shame. Today, I'll write about my college ex-girlfriend.

She was born in '95, and I was 18 when we met, a freshman in college, and I was her senior.

Young love always begins with shyness and blushing, like an electric current running through our bodies, stimulating every nerve.

We sat on the stone benches by the campus lake for three consecutive nights before we finally kissed. That was her first kiss. She said she was always a bit naive before college, blushing and having a physical reaction whenever she saw kissing scenes on TV.

As her senior, I helped her with her luggage when she first entered university, and afterwards, she often chatted with me; I could tell she liked me. She was fair-skinned, shy, and quiet—exactly my type. After chatting for two nights, we agreed to take a walk and chat by the lake on campus.

The lakeside was quiet at night, the lights from the teaching buildings on the opposite bank were dim, and occasionally we could see couples lying embracing on the grass beside the bushes. In this ambiguous environment, after two days of restraint, we finally couldn't resist. When my lips approached, she responded passionately, our lips and teeth intertwining, sucking and exploring—it seemed like something she could do without any instruction. The summer breeze of the night carried a sticky feeling, and the scent of her youthful body made me lose control. We passionately sucked each other's saliva.

She was the most sensitive girl I had ever met; kissing or touching her always made her moan loudly. At first, I suspected it was just a trick of experienced people, but after spending more time together, I realized that was just her nature; she just couldn't help it.

Once, we went to see a movie together. Midway through, we got carried away and hugged. As our passion intensified, she started moaning loudly, panting heavily. Her roommate was sitting nearby, and I was sure she could hear us. I tried to get her to be quiet, but to no avail. Finally, I had to suppress my desire and watch the movie. She described how, when we were intimate, her mind felt empty, and her body felt like it wasn't her own anymore.

From then on, every night, the lakeside grove became a place for this passionate couple. It seems the Creator's design for us wasn't just about the physical contact of lips and teeth; the next step was exploring each other's most intimate parts.

While kissing, I started to slip my hands inside her clothes to undo her bra, lifting her shirt and kissing her breasts. She trembled uncontrollably; if it weren't for the tree for support, she probably wouldn't have been able to stand. She seemed to enjoy it, yet was also shy. She later told me that it was the first time I licked her breasts; it was both itchy and pleasurable, and coupled with a strong sense of shame, her dry throat could only keep her breathing by constantly swallowing. Later, this strange feeling of "shame" guided us to explore the boundaries of sex.

The first time I unbuckled my belt and guided her hand into my underwear, she was shy, hesitant to touch, afraid to grasp, and afraid to move. With my patient guidance, she slowly learned to caress and tease. My hands were no longer satisfied with just kneading her breasts; they began to attack the most alluring and mysterious area of a young girl.

I always carried a pack of disinfectant wipes and would wipe my hands before being intimate with her, which would help her, who was slightly obsessive about cleanliness, relax and ensure hygiene.

Since she usually wore jeans, I had to unbutton them first. At first, my hands would caress her through her underwear; it was warm and moist, and she enjoyed it without resistance, letting me caress and knead her. When my hand was about to part her underwear and make direct contact with her private parts, she moaned and tried to stop me with her hands. This was clearly just a young girl's shyness and reserve, and I easily slipped through the fuzzy area to touch her even warmer and moist clitoris. As her breathing quickened, I could feel my fingers and palms becoming wet with liquid. I pulled my hand away, and in the dim light, my fingers looked like they were covered in glistening dew. I gently stroked her face with my "dew-covered" hands, from her ear to the corner of her mouth. She gasped and murmured in a voice barely above a whisper, "Ugh, so dirty." I whispered in her ear, "Girls are the most beautiful things in the world; they're never dirty."

Then came a long, passionate kiss. The chirping of insects in the grass, the sounds of people playing ball on the playground, the noise from the dormitory—all vanished. In our hearts, only each other remained. At that moment, I thought I would cherish this beautiful girl before me for the rest of my life.

[The End]

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