The scent of a seductive woman

She had a captivating, almost foxy beauty, a womanly charm, and a rosy complexion—I only understood the reason after getting to know her better. She was eloquent, had a good personality, and was a quiet, refined girl. She had willow-leaf eyebrows, eyes that were neither too big nor too small, thin lips, and a straight nose—the kind of delicate, pretty girl from a modest family. She wasn't very tall, and her frame wasn't large, but she was quite voluptuous, with flesh all over her body, and felt wonderful to touch.

She should have been in the same year as me, but she didn't pass the entrance exam and retook it for a year, so she was a year below me. It was during this time, while retook the exam in my hometown, that I met her boyfriend at the time, who later became her husband. So, although I thought she was a very nice girl, I didn't have any other romantic feelings for her.

The story actually started by coincidence. I was a third-year graduate student then, preparing for my doctoral entrance exam and my graduation thesis, under a lot of pressure, studying alone in my office every day. That day, I saw her going downstairs with a classmate back to her dorm, so I texted her, wanting her to come and study with me. To my surprise, she jokingly replied: "A lone man and a lone woman shouldn't be alone in the same room." I was a little angry, thinking, "I wasn't trying to do anything to you." The next day, I called a friend and casually mentioned it. I compared her to her classmate, saying I didn't really like her personality and thought her classmate was more outgoing and confident. The door wasn't fully closed when I was on the phone, and I vaguely heard some noise behind me, but when I turned around, no one was there, so I didn't think much of it.

A little while later, she texted me, saying she had intended to say hello, but I was on the phone, and although she wasn't intentionally eavesdropping, she overheard me talking about her. She asked if she was really that bad, and said she went to the bathroom and cried for a while.

I was immediately stunned. Apologize? Would that help? You said those things about her. Not apologize? That's impossible too, since you did hurt her.

So I went to their lab and asked her to come over. She didn't say anything, but after my repeated requests, she packed up her computer and came with me. I don't quite remember how I explained it at the time, but I knew an apology wouldn't help. Looking at her standing there, so pitiful, I suddenly remembered a saying: "When words fail, use body language." So I went over and hugged her, feeling her soft, warm body nestled in my arms. For a while, she remained silent. Having not been intimate with a girl in a long time, seeing her lack of reaction, I kissed her cheek and earlobe until I pretended to kiss her lips, at which point she turned her head away. Then I held her hand and talked for a long time on the sofa. She said, "Senior, if you want to get a girl to come out and keep you company, there are many ways." Gradually, the atmosphere eased. I said I wanted to hug her again, and she said, "Don't you think this is awkward?" I said, "What's awkward about it? I wanted to hug you, so I said it and did it."

In the time that followed, it was just hugging her, kissing her cheek, and my hands roaming freely over her back. Sometimes I could even feel her bra strap wasn't properly fastened—that was all. After all, she had a boyfriend, and I had my own girl. One time, I said to her, "When I looked at you, I didn't think much of it, but when I hugged you, I realized your breasts are quite well-endowed." She blushed and punched me playfully. Another time, she was standing in my office talking, and the afternoon sunlight streamed in. Her skirt was see-through, and I could clearly see a dark shadow underneath. I thought to myself, "Her boyfriend is pretty lucky."

Later, when a test subject went to her office for an experiment, I glanced at the data on her computer and, almost without thinking, clicked on her QQ profile picture, seeing her chat history with her boyfriend. It was basically just mutual longing; she said she wanted to see his whole body, and he replied that he felt the same way—a normal couple's relationship. Later, I saw her say her period was late, and her boyfriend said she used a condom and then told her to take a pregnancy test. Afterwards, I thought, "What am I doing? She and her boyfriend have such a good relationship, and I'm hugging, kissing, and cuddling her." So, I didn't contact her for a long time.

But as mentioned above, preparing for exams alone for a long time inevitably leads to loneliness. One day, I called her over for a chat. I told her that since she has a boyfriend, it was inappropriate for me to hug her, which is why I hadn't contacted her recently. Later, I confessed that I had looked at her chat history and didn't know the results of her pregnancy test. She asked me nervously, "You won't tell anyone, will you?" I said, "Who would I tell? After all, I'm invading someone's privacy, and isn't it normal for boyfriends and girlfriends to have sex?"

That day, I hugged her and repeated my usual routine: kissing her cheek, her earlobe, and her lips. She used to avoid kissing me when I tried, and I never forced a kiss because we weren't boyfriend and girlfriend. But that day, she quickly kissed me on the lips, and when she pulled back, she seemed to think it wasn't enough, so she kissed me again, leaving a long trail of saliva at the corner of our mouths when we parted.

I was a little dizzy. After I came to my senses, I said I wanted to kiss her again.

We hugged again, and she put her tongue in my mouth, circling it several times. It took me a while to realize that this was a French kiss, so I started to chase her lips with my own, sucking on her upper and lower lips, our French kiss lingering. As we kissed, my hands began to stroke her back, thinking that I could do what her boyfriend could do. I unhooked her bra and reached up to touch her breasts. She clung to me tightly, but I persisted until I touched her nipples before she pulled them away. Then she tried to stop kissing me, but I let go after I'd had enough. She asked me, "Do you want me?" I hesitated for a moment, then said, "Yes, I want you." We kissed again, and I unhooked her bra once more, reaching up each time, only to be pulled away each time. I reached up again, and she pulled again, until I placed her hands on my shoulders, and she finally gave up, unable to resist any longer. Both her breasts were now under my grasp. Her nipples were small, and I dared not squeeze them too hard. I pushed her down onto the sofa, pulling up her clothes and bra. She resisted, saying no. I said, "Then scream." She didn't scream. I held her hands firmly with my own, and used my mouth to lift her clothes until I saw her nipples. Her nipples were darker in color, and her areolas were small. Without hesitation, I took her breast into my mouth. In the end, despite watching countless pornographic films and masturbating many times, I still didn't touch her lower body.

In the days that followed, our daily interactions changed from hugging and kissing on the cheek to kissing, touching her breasts, and sucking her nipples.

One day, as usual, I laid her down and touched her breasts, then slipped my hand inside her panties. She bit my tongue hard, but I persisted until I touched her pubic hair and felt her sanitary pad. Only after I pulled my hand out did she stop biting me. I asked her, "You really bit me?" and then, in retaliation, kissed her even harder with my tongue.

Graduation was approaching, I found a job, and was about to leave school. That day was my birthday; she gave me a gift, and I treated her to dinner. However, the north gate of the school was unexpectedly closed, and other restaurants were a bit far, so I took her to the restaurant of the Home Inn near the west gate. After dinner, we checked into a room to rest.

When I was taking off her pants, I encountered fierce resistance. I unbuttoned her jeans with one hand and pulled down her pants and underwear together, but she still didn't comply. I caught a glimpse of her crimson vulva and thick pubic hair. It took a long time and considerable effort before she resignedly turned her head away, ceasing her resistance. She asked me, "Senior, is this rape?" I replied, "So what if it is rape? I just want you." Tears streamed down her face. I licked away her tears, moving my fingers down her face from her eyes, nose, eyebrows, mouth, neck, chest, and stomach, finally stopping at her genitals. I put her pubic hair in my mouth, parted her clitoris and kissed it, inserting my fingers inside her, continuing downwards, my gaze fixed on her vulva. To get a better view, I spread her thighs wider with my hands. She let out a soft moan, but no longer resisted. I leaned down, carefully admiring her secret garden. Her pubic hair was just the right amount, with longer hairs clustered at the mons pubis, extending to the outer labia majora, where the hair grew horizontally—beautiful and alluring. I tried to separate her labia with my thumb, but it was too slippery, and only with more force did I see her delicate, smooth vulva. The tips of her labia minora were slightly dark, which was understandable given that she and her boyfriend were in a long-distance relationship at the time and couldn't have sex too often. Her vaginal lubrication was light but slippery enough. The entrance to her vagina had an irregular shape and was a delicate, pinkish color. After admiring it for a while, I kissed her genitals, but unexpectedly, a pungent, unbearable smell assaulted my nostrils. I could only manage one kiss before having to get up. Later, I discovered that the smell was strongest at the vaginal opening; when I put her labia in my mouth, kissing her inner thighs didn't have this effect.

That day, I kissed her repeatedly, touched her breasts, and touched her genitals, even putting my fingers inside, but I couldn't get an erection and penetrate her.

What I remember most vividly is when I held her, my fingers tracing her slit, and when I touched her clitoris, she trembled. After kissing her breasts, I prepared to mount her, and she cooperatively spread her legs. Girls with sexual experience are great; they know when and what you're going to do. As I was enjoying her body, she looked up and bit my shoulder, leaving a hickey. When we were about to leave, she deliberately glanced at my penis and the style of my underwear.

After that day, I learned what it felt like for a woman to have body odor. The smell wasn't exactly unpleasant, but it was suffocating. I think it was precisely because of this smell that she seemed like a seductive woman—that was the root of it!

The night before I left school, I asked her out again. We walked past a Home Inn, and she teased me, saying, "Senior, let's go to a hotel." Unfortunately, I was short of money that day and couldn't afford the deposit, so I went back. When I returned from a year-long training program in another city, she had already graduated and gone back to her hometown.

She said her interactions with her senior were very warm. Looking back, I also feel it was a precious time.

I hope I can meet her again someday and rekindle our friendship.

[The End]

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